rom the coarse stunted turf, were quite in keeping
with the scene, and would have suggested (if the houses had not done so,
sufficiently, of themselves) how very poor the people were who lived in
the crazy huts adjacent, and how foolhardy it might prove for one who
carried money, or wore decent clothes, to walk that way alone, unless by
daylight.

Poverty has its whims and shows of taste, as wealth has. Some of these
cabins were turreted, some had false windows painted on their rotten
walls; one had a mimic clock, upon a crazy tower of four feet high,
which screened the chimney; each in its little patch of ground had a
rude seat or arbour. The population dealt in bones, in rags, in broken
glass, in old wheels, in birds, and dogs. These, in their several ways
of stowage, filled the gardens; and shedding a perfume, not of the most
delicious nature, in the air, filled it besides with yelps, and screams,
and howling.

Into this retreat, the secretary followed the two men whom he had held
in sight; and here he saw them safely lodged, in one of the meanest
houses, which was but a room, and that of small dimensions. He waited
without, until the sound of their voices, joined in a discordant song,
assured him they were making merry; and then approaching the door, by
means of a tottering plank which crossed the ditch in front, knocked at
it with his hand.

'Muster Gashfordl' said the man who opened it, taking his pipe from
his mouth, in evident surprise. 'Why, who'd have thought of this here
honour! Walk in, Muster Gashford--walk in, sir.'

Gashford required no second invitation, and entered with a gracious air.
There was a fire in the rusty grate (for though the spring was pretty
far advanced, the nights were cold), and on a stool beside it Hugh sat
smoking. Dennis placed a chair, his only one, for the secretary, in
front of the hearth; and took his seat again upon the stool he had left
when he rose to give the visitor admission.

'What's in the wind now, Muster Gashford?' he said, as he resumed his
pipe, and looked at him askew. 'Any orders from head-quarters? Are we
going to begin? What is it, Muster Gashford?'

'Oh, nothing, nothing,' rejoined the secretary, with a friendly nod to
Hugh. 'We have broken the ice, though. We had a little spurt to-day--eh,
Dennis?'

'A very little one,' growled the hangman. 'Not half enough for me.'

'Nor me neither!' cried Hugh. 'Give us something to do with life in
it--with life in it