ly.

"And what's to become of me?" cried Squills, very petulantly. "Am I
to be left here in my old age, not a rational soul to speak to, and no
other place in the village where there's a drop of decent punch to be
had? 'A plague on both your houses!' as the chap said at the theatre the
other night."

"There's room for a doctor in our neighborhood, Mr. Squills," said the
Captain. "The gentleman in your profession who does for us, wants, I
know, to sell the business."

"Humph," said Squills,--"a horribly healthy neighborhood, I suspect!"

"Why, it has that misfortune, Mr. Squills; but with your help," said my
uncle, slyly, "a great alteration for the better may be effected in that
respect."

Mr. Squills was about to reply when ring--a--ting--ring--ting!
there came such a brisk, impatient, make-one's-self-at home kind of
tintinnabular alarum at the great gate that we all started up and looked
at each other in surprise. Who could it possibly be? We were not kept
long in suspense; for in another moment Uncle Jack's voice, which was
always very clear and distinct, pealed through the hall, and we were
still staring at each other when Mr. Tibbets, with a bran-new muffler
round his neck, and a peculiarly comfortable greatcoat,--best double
Saxony, equally new,--dashed into the room, bringing with him a very
considerable quantity of cold air, which he hastened to thaw, first
in my father's arms, next in my mother's. He then made a rush at the
Captain, who ensconced himself behind the dumb-waiter with a "Hem!
Mr.--sir--Jack--sir--hem, hem!" Failing there, Mr. Tibbets rubbed off
the remaining frost upon his double Saxony against your humble servant,
patted Squills affectionately on the back, and then proceeded to occupy
his favorite position before the fire.

"Took you by surprise, eh?" said Uncle Jack, unpeeling himself by the
hearth-rug. "But no,--not by surprise; you must have known Jack's heart:
you at least, Austin Caxton, who know everything,--you must have seen
that it overflowed with the tenderest and most brotherly emotions; that
once delivered from that cursed Fleet (you have no idea what a place it
is, sir!), I could not rest, night or day, till I had flown here,--here,
to the dear family nest,--poor wounded dove that I am," added Uncle
Jack, pathetically, and taking out his pocket-handkerchief from the
double Saxony, which he had now flung over my father's arm-chair.

Not a word replied to this eloquent address,