The man was thick set, with a bright roving eye. " "Ah!" ejaculated the widow, hiding her face. "My child! my child!" exclaimed Mrs. She responded at once, rapping him on the knuckles with her fan. The Protestant Flagellant, who whipped his soul rather than his body, who made self-denial the rack and the boot, who believed that on Sunday it was sacrilegious to smile, blasphemous to laugh! Spurlock had gone back spiritually three hundred years. Though within the last two days he had committed several heinous offences, and one of a darker dye than any with which the reader has been made acquainted, his breast was not yet so callous as to be wholly insensible to the stings of conscience. It gave her joy to see them laughing, even though she was unsure of what she had done wrong.
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