appeared--Lucy was no longer there. His
friend Birney was also in town, and as in town his business now lay, to
town therefore he went.

In the meantime, we must turn a little to our friend Crackenfudge, who,
after the rough handling he had received from the baronet, went home,
if not a sadder and a wiser, at least a much sorer man. The unfortunate
wretch was sadly basted. The furious baronet, knowing the creature he
was, had pitched into him in awful style. He felt, however, when cooled
down, that he had gone too far; and that, for the sake of Lucy, and in
order to tie up the miserable wretch's babbling tongue, it was necessary
that he should make some apology for such an unjustifiable outrage. He
accordingly wrote him the following letter before he went to town:

"DEAR SIR,--The nature of the communication which, I am sure from kind
feelings, you made to me the other day, had such an effect upon a temper
naturally choleric, that I fear I have been guilty of some violence
toward you. I am, unfortunately, subject to paroxysms of this sort, and
while under their influence feel utterly unconscious of what I do or
say. In your case, will you be good enough to let me know--whether I
treated you kindly or otherwise; for the fact is, the paroxysm I speak
of assumes an affectionate character as well as a violent one. Of what I
did or said on the occasion in question I have no earthly recollection.
In the meantime, I have the satisfaction to assure you that Miss Gourlay
has not eloped, but is residing with a friend, in the metropolis. I
have seen the gentleman to whom you alluded, and am satisfied that their
journey to town was purely accidental. He knows not even where she is;
but I do, and am quite easy on the subject. Have the kindness to mention
this to all your friends, and to contradict the report of her elopement
wherever and whenever you hear it.

"Truly yours,

"Thomas Gourlay.

"Periwinkle Crackenfudge, Esq.

"P. S.--In the meantime, will you oblige me by sending up to my address
in town a list of your claims for a seat on the magisterial bench. Let
it be as clear and well worded as you can make it, and as authentic. You
may color a little, I suppose, but let the groundwork be truth--if you
can; if not truth--then that which comes as near it as possible. Truth,
you know, is always better than a lie, unless where a lie happens to be
better than truth.

"T. G."

To this characteristic epistle our bedrubbed f