ABSTRACT

‘ONE night she had gone to bed, and I was thinking of going. I had been studying in the back room, where I went for refuge from her in the present position of affairs; (I read a good number of surgical books about this time, and also “Vanity Fair;”) when I heard a loud, long-continued knocking at the door, enough to waken the whole street. Before I could get to open it, I heard that well-known bass of Jack Marshland’s, once heard never to be forgotten, pipe up the negro song, 49

‘“Who’s dat knocking at de door?”