ere is some damned expression in it that takes away one's
strength. Well," as I said, "we must beware of him."

Woodward's next step was to pay a visit to Lord Cockletown, who, as he
had gained his title in consequence of his success in tory-hunting, and
capturing the most troublesome and distinguished outlaws of that day,
was, he thought, the best and most experienced person to whom he could
apply for information as to the most successful means of accomplishing
his object. He accordingly waited on his lordship, to whom he thought,
very naturally, that this exploit would recommend him. His lordship
was in the garden, where Woodward found him in hobnailed shoes, digging
himself into what he called his daily perspirations.

"Don't be surprised, Mr. Woodward," said he, "at my employment; I am
taking my every-day sweat, because I feel that I could not drink as I
do and get on without it. Well, what do you want with me? Is it anything
about Tom? Egad, Tom says she rather likes you than otherwise; and if
you can satisfy me as to property settlements, and all that, I won't
stand in your way; but, in the meantime, what do you want with me now?
If it's Tom's affair, the state of your property comes first."

"No, my lord, I shall leave all dealings of business between you and my
mother. This is a different affair, and one on which I wish to have your
lordship's advice and direction."

"Ay, but what is it? Confound it, come to the point."

"It is a tory-hunt, my lord."

"Who is the tory, or who are the tories? Come, I'm at home here. What's
your plan?"

"Why, simple pursuit. We have the _posse comitatus_."

"The _posse comitatus!_--the posse devil; what do the tories care about
the posse comitatus? Have you bloodhounds?"

"No, my lord, but I think we can procure them."

"Because," proceeded his lordship, "to go hunt a tory without
bloodhounds is like looking for your grandmother's needle in a bottle of
straw."

"I am thankful to your lordship for that hint," replied Harry Woodward;
"but the truth is, I have been almost since my infancy out of the
country, and am consequently, very ignorant of its usages."

"What particular tory are you going to hunt?'"

"A fellow named Shawn-na-Middogue."

[Illustration: PAGE 736-- _Shawn-na-Middogue_, your mother's victim]

"Ah! _Shawn-na-Middogue_, your mother's victim? Don't hunt him. If you're
wise you'll keep your distance from that young fellow. I tell you, Mr.
Woodward, th