sabulum. By the way, how is Squire Cartwright of the Hall? "
"If," said I, "you mean my father, Angus Cartwright, he is dead these twelve years."
"Hey?" cried the old gentleman, and added after a moment, "Ah, to be sure, time flies—quo dives Tullus et—Angus, eh? And yet a hearty man, to all seeming. So you are his son." He took another pinch. "It is very sustaining," he said.
"The snuff?"
"You have construed me, sir. Since I set out, just thirteen hours since, it has been my sole viaticum." As he spoke he put his hand nervously to his forehead, and withdrew it.
"Then," thought I, "you must have started in the middle of the night," for it was now little past noon. But looking at his face, I saw clearly that it was drawn and pinched with fasting. Whereupon I remembered my flask and sandwich-box, and pulling them out, assured him; with some apology for the offer, that they were at his service. His joy was childish. Again he whipped off his hat, and
