to reply "Psha! to hear is to obey," and this was such a period.
I broke the black wax, and the epistle proved to be from the very
gentleman whom I was to be dispatched per mail to qualify next morning
for surgical assistance.

"Out with it!" roared my father, as I unclosed the foldings of the
paper; "What is the signature? I remember that my uncle Hector always
looked at the name attached to a letter when he unclosed the post-bag;
and if the handwriting looked like an attorney's he flung it, without
reading a line, into the fire."

"This letter, sir, is subscribed 'Selby Sly.'"

"Don't burn it, Frank, read. Well, there is one comfort that Selby
Sly shall have to-morrow evening a collection of aching ribs, if the
Hamiltons are not degenerated: read, man," and, as usual, there was a
running comment on the text.

"'Dublin,--March, 1818.

"'Colonel Hamilton,--Sir,

"'It is my melancholy duty to inform you--'"

"_That you have foreclosed the mortgage. Frank, if you don't break a
bone or two, I'll never acknowledge you again._"

"'That my honored and valued client and patroness, Mrs. Catharine
O'Gorman, suddenly departed this life at half-past six o'clock, P.M.,
yesterday evening, when drinking a glass of sherry, and holding sweet