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134 TYLNEY HALL.

CHAPTER XIX.

Death and destruction ! Are all the horrors of air, fire, and water, to be

levell'd only at me ? Am I only to be singled out for gunpowder-plots, combustibles

and conflagration ? Here it is an incendiary letter dropped at my

door ! *****

I'm so frightened 1 scarce know whether I sit, stand, or go. Perhaps this

moment I'm treading on lighted matches, blazing brimstone, and barrels of

gunpowder! They are preparing to blow me up into the clouds! Murder!

We shall all be burnt in our beds! We shall all be burnt in our beds !

Croaker,

I have met with so many axidents, surprisals, and terrifications, that I am in

a perfect fantigo, and believe I shall never be my own self again.

Win. Jenkins.

JUST as the Baronet entered the drawing-room, Mrs. Twigg

began to give signs of returning animation. Her snub nose,

almost excoriated by smelling-salts, worked with convulsive

twitchings ; and as her daughter fanned her she gave at

every puff of air a gasp like a gudgeon ; at last she opened

her eyes, and sat staring about her like the Lady in Comus,

in the Enchanted Chair.

"

Upon my honour, Sir Mark/' said Twigg, " I am

really ashamed of this rumpus. It's so ridiculous having

these family things in a strange house. Curse it, madam,

if you must

"

faint, I wish you'd contrive to do it at

home r

u

Really, Pa', you're rather unfeeling," lisped Miss

"

Twigg. When insensibility affects the nerves we can't

always faint where we like."

"

That's all gammon," said Twigg, in the very spirit of

Major Oakley, " you take precious good care never to

and catch you swooning away into

flop down in a kennel ;

a fish-pond, or having a kicking fit in the fender. But,

says you, that would spoil one's clothes."

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