Not part with him!" added he aloud. Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. But, not daring to confess his want of comprehension, he made a profound reverence, and retired. Curses light on the horse!" he added, seizing the bridle of his steed, who continued snorting and shivering, as if still under the influence of some unaccountable alarm; "what can ail him?" "I know what ails him, your honour," rejoined the groom, riding up as he spoke; "he's seen somethin' not o' this world. He did not like it, he said, with a significant look, to be reminded of either his books or his dinners after he had done with them. ” He stroked her hand gently.
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