You must know, Sir, when he was a lad, the day after he broke into his master's house in Wych Street, he picked a gentleman's pocket in our church, during sarvice time,—that he did, the heathen. " "Propose it," returned Blueskin, inclining his head. Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess. I decline to waste a single second even in considering the ugly ones. “You will write to me, I am sure—and from the date of your letter I trust most earnestly that I may come back to my old place as “Your devoted friend, “WALTER BRENDON. Laughed at me, then.
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