“Why,” replied the sagacious old rascal, “for you to mind your business, if you have any, and to let me mind mine, without making impertinent inquiries, Master Harry.” With these words he went and. locked up both letters in his desk. As we, however, possess the power of unlocking his desk, and reading the letter to boot, we now take the liberty of laying it in all its graphic beauty and elegance before our readers—
“To MISTHER KLINTON, SIR:
“Af you go this nite bout seven clocks or thereaway, you'd find a Still-Hed an' Worm At full work, in they tipper End iv The brown Glen in Ahadarra. Sir, thrum wan iv Die amstrung's Orringemen an' a fren to the axshize.”
The gauger after breakfast again resumed the conversation as follows:—
“Have you changed your mind, Harry, regarding the Excise? because if you have I think I may soon have an opportunity of getting you a berth.”
“No, sir, I feel an insurmountable repugnance to the life of a Still—hem.”
“Go on, man, to the life of a Still-hunter. Very well. Your father's death last year left you and your sister there dependent upon me, for the present at least; for what could a medical man only rising into practice, with a, family to support and educate, leave behind him?”
“Unfortunately, sir, it is too true.”
“In the mean time you may leave 'unfortunate' out, and thank God that you had the shelter of my roof to come to; and be on your knees, too, that I was a bachelor. Well, I am glad myself that I had and have a home for you; but still, Harry, you ought to think of doing something for yourself; for I may not live always, you know, and beside I am not rich. You don't relish surgery, you say?”
“I can't endure it, uncle.”