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. 6. Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him. No breakfast, he’s had no dinner, hardly a mouthful of soup— since yesterday at tea. “I would have given up anything to see you your old self again—as you are this evening.
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