"
Therewith he laid on the table a sort of goatskin pouch, such as
Highlanders gird about their loins, and marched forth.
I set to work at opening his pouch, that was fastened by a spring
and button, seeming easy enough of access. But I had scarce
pressed the button when lo! a flash, a pistol shot, and my right
hand is grazed with a bullet that flew out of the bag. This
Highlander of the Devil had some mechanism in his purse that
discharged a small steel pistol when unwarily opened. My hand is
but slightly wounded, yet I cannot hold my sword, nor hath my
search brought me any news of Alan Breck. He has vanished like an
emissary of the Devil or the Pretender, as I doubt not he is. But
I will have his blood, if he is not one of their Scotch fairies.--
Your loving Nephew,
REDMOND BARRY, OF BALLYBARRY.
P.S.--The Fredericks were in the bag, all told.
LETTER: From Mrs. Gamp to Mrs. Prig.
Mrs. Gamp nurses an old friend who is under a singular delusion.
Todgers's.
My precious Betsy,--Which when last we parted it was not as I could
wish, but bearing malice in our hearts. But, as often and often
Mrs. Harris have said it before me, with the tears in her angel
eyes--one of them having a slight cast from an accident with the
moderator lamp, Harris being quick in his temper--often and often
have she said to me: "Ah, Sairey, the quarrels of friends is
affection's best restorer.
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