So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity. I’m sorry to disappoint you. And now for the fawney— the ring I mean. ’ ‘Where then is your uniform?’ ‘I don’t wear it to balls. If you choose, you can see him put on board the Zeeslang yourself, Sir Rowland. With a view to raise recruits for his corps, the warlike woollen-draper started for Lancashire, under the colour of a journey on business. Earles recovered his spirits.
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