"It's the skull of a rebel," said Jonathan, with marked emphasis on the word, "blown by the wind from a spike on the bridge above us. Around him were all the evidences of plenty. "So, you're admiring my cabinet, Sir Rowland," he remarked, with a sinister smile; "it is generally admired; and, sometimes by parties who afterwards contribute to the collection themselves,—ha! ha! This skull," he added, pointing to a fragment of mortality in the case beside them, "once belonged to Tom Sheppard, the father of the lad I spoke of just now. " "Mother be——!" returned Jack. So I had to buy out his interest, and it pinched me dreadfully to do it. A young man —almost a boy, slight, dark, and with his brother’s deep grey eyes—came across the room to her.
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