"_Stop, Frank. Pass over the detail. It might be too affecting._"

"'I await your directions for the funeral. My lamented friend and
client had erected a catacomb in the Siloam Chapel, and in the
minister's vault, and she frequently expressed a decided wish that
her dust might repose with faithful servants, who, in season and out
of season, fearlessly grappled with the man of sin, who is arrayed
in black, and the woman who sitteth on the seven hills, dressed in
scarlet.'"

"_Hang the canting vagabond--why not call people by their proper
titles; name Old Nick at once, and the lady whose soubriquet
is unmentionable, but who, report says, has a town residence in
Babylon._"

Constance and I laughed; my mother, as usual, looking demure and
dignified. Another twinge of the gout altogether demolished the
commander's temper.

"_Stop that scoundrel's jargon. Run your eye over the remainder, and
tell me what the fellow's driving at._"

I obeyed the order.

"Simply, sir, Mr. Sly desires to know whether you have any objection
to old Kitty taking peaceable possession of her catacomb in the Dublin
gospel-shop which she patronized, or would you prefer that she were
'pickled and sent home,' as Sir Lucius says."