"Don't burn it, Frank, read. Well, there is one comfort that Selby Sly shall have to-morrow evening a collection of aching ribs, if the Hamiltons are not degenerated: read, man," and, as usual, there was a running comment on the text.
"'Dublin,—March, 1818.
"'Colonel Hamilton,—Sir,
"'It is my melancholy duty to inform you—'"
"That you have foreclosed the mortgage. Frank, if you don't break a bone or two, I'll never acknowledge you again."
"'That my honored and valued client and patroness, Mrs. Catharine O'Gorman, suddenly departed this life at half-past six o'clock, P.M., yesterday evening, when drinking a glass of sherry, and holding sweet and spiritual converse with the Reverend Carter Kettlewell.'"
"It's all up, no doubt: the canting scoundrels have secured her—or, as blackguard gamblers say, have 'made all' safe?"
"'She has died intestate, although a deed, that would have immortalized her memory, was engrossed, and ready for signature. Within an hour after she went to receive her reward—'"
My father gave a loud hurrah! "Blessed be Heaven that the rout came before the old fool completed the New Zealand business!"
"'As heir-at-law, you are in direct remainder, and the will, not being executed, is merely wastepaper: but, from the draft, the intentions of your inestimable aunt can clearly be discovered. Although not binding in law, let me say there is such a thing as Christian equity that should guide you. The New Zealand bequest, involving a direct application of 10,000l. to meet the annual expenditure of gospel-soldiers—there being a constant drain upon these sacred harbingers of peace, from the native fancy of preferring a deviled missionary to a stewed kangaroo—that portion of the intended testament I would not press upon you. But the intentional behests of 500l. to the Rev. Carter Kettlewell, the same sum to myself, and an annuity to Miss Grace Lightbody of 50l. a year, though not recoverable in law, under these circumstances should be faithfully confirmed.