“I ought to have done. "What's that to you?" retorted Jack, surlily. He, who had faced the gale, would have been instantly stifled. I bear the marks of some of them about me still," he continued, taking off his wig, and laying bare a bald skull, covered with cicatrices and plates of silver. Then he threw the letter at me. He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse. "I'll be his evil genius!" vociferated Jonathan, who seemed to enjoy her torture. Very good. Ever since he came here, three months ago, he has been the life and soul of the place; and now the death warrant has arrived, instead of being cast down, as most men would be, and as all others are, he's gayer than ever.
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