He looked around, and as he heard that deafening shout,— as he felt the influence of those thousand eyes fixed upon him,—as he listened to the cheers, all his misgivings—if he had any—vanished, and he felt more as if he were marching to a triumph, than proceeding to a shameful death. " "You shall be treated according to your deserts, then," said Jonathan, maliciously. . ” “Maybe I should stay away. He cocked an eyebrow. . . Halloa, Ben!" cried he, shaking a broad-backed fellow, equipped in a short-skirted doublet, and having a badge upon his arm,—"scullers wanted. Wood!" "Leave go!" thundered Blueskin—"leave go—you'd better!"—and he held the sack as firmly as he could with one hand, while with the other he searched for his knife. Jonathan, though a very powerful man, was like an infant in his gripe. ‘Lover’s tiff indeed.
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