Wood heard the cry. You see, I kidnapped poor Jack and made him promise to send me word if you went careering off anywhere. "Where am I?" she cried, passing her hand across her brow. On this side stood the instruments with which the latter piece of pleasantry had been effected,—namely, a bucket filled with paint and a brush: on that was erected a trophy, consisting of a watchman's rattle, a laced hat, with the crown knocked out, and its place supplied by a lantern, a campaign wig saturated with punch, a torn steen-kirk and ruffles, some halfdozen staves, and a broken sword. Wood," observed Jackson, in a slightly-sarcastic tone. If you ride past the church, and mount the hill, you'll come to Neasdon and then you'll not have above half a mile to go.
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