Making her couch upon a heap of hay, she sank at once into a deep and refreshing slumber. As she danced there was in her ears the faded echo of wooden tom-toms. " "Iss, Massa Austin," replied the black. Notwithstanding the heat of the season,—which was not, however, found particularly inconvenient in this subterranean region,—a large heaped-up fire blazed ruddily in one corner, and lighted up a circle of as villanous countenances as ever flame shone upon. It is not at all comme il faut. The room was papered with green, large-patterned paper that was at worst a trifle dingy, and the arm-chair and the seats of the other chairs were covered with the unusual brightness of a large-patterned chintz, which also supplied the window-curtain. Place a pistol at my ear, and shoot me, if I've told you false. Courtlaw, Mr.
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