Either Sydney or Mr. ‘Went to the dogs, did Jarvis, after Mary died. Her lover, Darrell, has embarked upon the Thames, where, if he's not capsized by the squall, (for it's blowing like the devil,) he stands a good chance of getting his throat cut by his pursuers—ha! ha! I tracked 'em to the banks of the river, and should have followed to see it out, if the watermen hadn't refused to take me. "And now," he continued, sternly, "was it your master who has just ridden by?" "No," answered Quilt, sullenly. " "Nor any one else in his senses," rejoined Wood, with a laugh. The militia were in already. "Let the gentleman take his own course," said Jonathan, mildly.
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