"My horse has had a fall," replied Jack, assuming to perfection—for he was a capital mimic,—the tones of Quilt Arnold. But women—women as a rule don’t throw themselves into things like that. But don't let my name frighten you. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. They are for serving me. "He has passed this way," cried Jonathan, exultingly; "I have him safe enough. ” “You are separated from your wife?” “Yes, but do you know how?” “Not exactly. “I remember when you walked me home. ’ ‘But what a perfectly famous adventure.
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