'Doctor Sturk, that droav
into town Yesterday, as grand as you Please, in Mrs. Strafford's coach,
all smiles and Polightness--whood a bleeved! Well He's just come back,
with two great Fractions of his skull, riding on a Bear, insensible into
The town--there's for you. Only Think of poor Mrs. Sturk, and the Chock
she's got on sight of Him: and how thankful and Pleasant you should be
that Charles Nutter is not a Corpes in the Buchar's wood, and jiggin
Home to you like Sturk did. But well in health, what I'm certain shure
he is, taken the law of Mary Matchwell--bless the Mark--to get her
emprisind and Publickly wiped by the commin hangman.' All which rhapsody
conjured up a confused and dyspeptic dream, full of absurd and terrific
images, which she could not well comprehend, except in so far as it
seemed clear that some signal disaster had befallen Sturk.
That night, at nine o'clock, the great Doctor Pell arrived in his coach,
with steaming horses, at Sturk's hall-door, where the footman thundered
a tattoo that might have roused the dead; for it was the family's
business, if they did not want a noise, to muffle the knocker.
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