“You were really at Moulton House,” she exclaimed penitently. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. To these she added the wine and spirits directed, and when all was arranged looked inquisitively at her master. " "Liar!" ejaculated Thames. Spurlock plodded through the heavy sand, leaden in the heart and mind as well as in the feet.
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