he who shot young Hazlewood—ha, ha, ho!"
"Indeed, Mr. Sampson, you have chosen a strange subject for mirth—I think nothing about the man, only I hope the outrage was accidental, and that we need not fear a repetition of it."
"Accidental! ho, ho, ha!"
"Really, Mr. Sampson," said Lucy, somewhat piqued, "you are unusually gay this morning."
"Yes, of a surety I am! ha, ha, ho! face-ti-ous—ho, ho, ha!"
"So unusually facetious, my dear sir, that I would wish rather to know the meaning of your mirth, than to be amused with its effects only."
"You shall know it, Miss Lucy—Do you remember your brother?"
"Good God! how can you ask me?—no one knows better than you—he was lost the very day I was born."
"Very true, very true," answered the Dominie, saddening at the recollection;
