"The youth whom you delivered to Van Galgebrok,—Thames Darrell, is returned. The picturesque scoundrel had the true gift; and Spurlock was filled with pity at the thought of such genius gone to pot. I loved her beyond anything in heaven or on earth—to idolatry. At first she thought he was endeavouring to rid himself of the fleas, but after a time she came to understand that the muck had healing qualities and soothed the burning scratches made by his claws. Her pulses began to race. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. ‘I told you I could handle her. Andrew's church, the bell of which was tolling, was covered with spectators. Have you ever voted, Mr.
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