. The chamber rang with her shrieks. "I am here, you see," said the smith. At present the world waits for that writer, and the confused record of the newspapers remains the only resource of the curious. . On this side stood the instruments with which the latter piece of pleasantry had been effected,—namely, a bucket filled with paint and a brush: on that was erected a trophy, consisting of a watchman's rattle, a laced hat, with the crown knocked out, and its place supplied by a lantern, a campaign wig saturated with punch, a torn steen-kirk and ruffles, some halfdozen staves, and a broken sword. Next moment, she had shut the bookshelf panel upon him. She rehearsed the story of her forlorn long lost mother in her head, what she would say to the theorymongers.
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