had said, I'd jist up and say, 'Minister,' I'd say, 'it
is a cussed oninglish, onmanly, niggerly business, is
this of pumpin', and spyin', and tattlin'. I don't like
it a bit. I'll have neither art nor part in it; I wash
my hands clear of it. It will jist break the spirit of
my people. So, minister look here. The next report that
is brought to me of a spy, I'll whip his tongue out and
whop your ear off, or my name ain't Queen. So jist mind
what I say; first spy pokes his nose into your office,
chop it off and clap it up over Temple Bar, where they
puts the heads of traitors and write these words over,
with your own fist, that they may know the handwritin',
and not mistake the meanin', _This is the nose of a Spy_."




CHAPTER II.

THE PATRON; OR, THE COW'S TAIL.

Nothing is so fatiguing as sight-seeing. The number and
variety of objects to which your attention is called,
and the rapid succession in which they pass in review,
at once wearies and perplexes the mind; and unless you
take notes to refresh your memory, you are apt to find
you carry away with you but an imperfect and indistinct
recollection.

Yesterday was devoted to an inspection of the Tunnel and