“How can you know?” “I think—perhaps I am rather a cold-blooded person. What is it that you wish from me? You would like to arrest me for spying? Very well, arrest me. Gradually McClintock shifted the burden to Spurlock's shoulders and retired among his books and music rolls. Before he could draw in the rein, his steed—startled apparently by some object undistinguishable by the rider,—swerved with such suddenness as to unseat him, and precipitate him on the ground. Gay, the poet, who wrote the 'Captives,' which was lately acted at Drury Lane, and was so much admired by the Princess of Wales.
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