190 TOM draw's visit to pine brook. 



see him doon i' t' mossy meadows laike — he'll swear, Ayse 

 warrant him," 



And with a burst of merriment, that no one pair of 

 mortal lips save Timothy's alone could ever have accom- 

 plished, he withdrew, leaving: me to complete my toilet; 

 in which, believe me, gentle reader, mindful of a good 

 feed, and of short law, I made no needless tarrying. 



The last stroke of the hour appointed had not yet 

 stricken when I was on the steps of Harry's well-known 

 snug two-storied domicile; in half a minute more I was 

 at my ease in his study, where, to my no small wonder, 1 

 found myself alone, with no other employment than to 

 survey, for the nine hundredth time, the adornments of 

 that exquisite model for that most snug of all things, a 

 cozy bachelor's peculiar snuggery. It was a small back 

 room, with two large windows looking out upon a neatly 

 trimmed grass-plat bordered with lilacs and laburnums; 

 its area, of sixteen feet by fourteen, was strewn with a 

 rich Turkey carpet, and covered with every appurtenance 

 for luxury and comfort that could be brought into its 

 limits without encumbering its brief dimensions. A bright 

 steel grate, with a brillant fire of Cannel coal, occupied 

 the centre of the south side, facing the entrance, while a 

 superb book-case and secretaire of exquisite mahogany 

 filled the recess on either hand of it, their glass doors 

 showing an assortment, handsomely bound, of some eight 

 hundred volumes, classics, and history, and the gems of 

 modern poesie and old romance. Above the mantel-piece, 

 where should have hung the mirror, was a wide case, 

 covering the whole front of the pier, with doors of plate 

 glass, through which might be discovered, supported on a 

 rack of ebony, and set off by a background of rich crim- 

 son velvet, the select armory, prized above all his earthly 

 goods by their enthusiastic owner — consisting of a choice 

 pair of twin London-made double-barrels, a short splendid- 

 ly finished once-ball rifle, a heavy single pigeon gun, a 

 pair of genuine Kuchenreuter's nine-inch duelling pistols, 

 and a smaller pair by Joe Manton, for the belt or pocket — 

 all in the most perfect order, and ready for immediate use. 

 Facing this case upon the opposite wall, along the whole 

 length of which ran a divan, or wide low sofa, of crimson 

 damask, hung two oil paintings, originals by Edward 

 Landseer. of dogs — hounds, terriers, and all, in fact, of 



