Here they would be having lunch. "How old are you?" demanded Miss Prudence. "You've hit it," answered Sheppard. Something drew you. . She was taken dreadfully ill on the road, with spasms and short breath, and swoonings,—worse than ever she was before. While the cloth was laid, the host and Thames descended to the cellar, whence they returned, laden with a number of flasks of the same form, and apparently destined to the same use as those depicted in Hogarth's delectable print—the Modern Midnight Conversation. Kneebone is coming, my dear," ventured Mr.
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