"I am Owen Wood, at your service. " "I don't understand you," replied Kneebone, in some confusion. . “We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. On this side stood the instruments with which the latter piece of pleasantry had been effected,—namely, a bucket filled with paint and a brush: on that was erected a trophy, consisting of a watchman's rattle, a laced hat, with the crown knocked out, and its place supplied by a lantern, a campaign wig saturated with punch, a torn steen-kirk and ruffles, some halfdozen staves, and a broken sword. I was the black sheep, I was hurried out of the way. "Yes; I know I look it," said O'Higgins, amiably.
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