The Jacobite daws want a scarecrow. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. There was all the knavery, and more than all the drollery of a Spanish picaroon in the laughing eyes of the English apprentice; and, with a little more warmth and sunniness of skin on the side of the latter, the resemblance between them would have been complete. Cool and sunny, it seemed that God himself smiled upon that day, the sunbeams streaming through the magnificent arches dustily as the priest murmured in soporific Latin. “How’d you know it was me?” He looked conspiratorially into the room for hidden informants. . "By Heaven!" cried Darrell, "it is the poor fellow whom I placed in such jeopardy a short time ago.
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