Death belongs to God, young man. "He is," replied a portly personage, arrayed in a gorgeous yellow brocade dressing-gown, lined with cherry-coloured satin, and having a crimson velvet cap, surmounted by a gold tassel, on his head. " "Won't you go?" cried Jack passionately. We struggle against it at first, but in the end we have to submit. But he was at last persuaded that I mean you no harm, and that I might—just possibly, since I am both a gentleman and a major of militia—be able to be of more assistance to you than he himself. . Get the men back to their posts. I wish to prevent a repetition of any such errand as I presume you have come here upon this evening.
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