Jonathan's wicked threat is fulfilled at last. "You musht do dat shob yourself, Mishter Vild," rejoined Abraham, shaking his head. You will be—my wife. "There's Sharples," cried Quilt. I hate myself!” She collapsed to the floor, sobbing. Sheppard's good health, and success to him!" Baptist's toast was received with loud applause, and, as he sat down amid the cheers of the company, and a universal clatter of mugs and glasses, the widow's view was no longer obstructed. "It is the fiend!" she exclaimed, recoiling. 1.
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