Ennison kicked it away with his foot. Humph!" "What's the matter?" "Sh!" Spurlock passed by on the way to the bar. The recollection was too painful, and he burst into an agony of tears. Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. On reaching the churchyard, he perceived the melancholy procession descending the hill. It’s—Mrs. Suppose our proper place is a shrine. "I'm glad to find I'm right.
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