It was a simple wish. Spurlock was by nature orderly, despite his literary activities. The trio exhibited that indecisive air with which Ah Cum was tolerably familiar. It struck his forehead, splitting it, and brought him to his knees. "So, you're admiring my cabinet, Sir Rowland," he remarked, with a sinister smile; "it is generally admired; and, sometimes by parties who afterwards contribute to the collection themselves,—ha! ha! This skull," he added, pointing to a fragment of mortality in the case beside them, "once belonged to Tom Sheppard, the father of the lad I spoke of just now. The Iron Bar 397 XVIII.
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