"Here," said Mr. Summerville, "give this girl a good, genteel whipping; but no cruelty, Monkton, and here is your fee;" so saying he handed him a half-dollar, then left the dismal cellar. I have since read long and learned accounts of the gloomy, subterranean cells, in which the cruel ministers of the Spanish Inquisition performed their horrible deeds; and I think this cellar very nearly resembled them. There it was, with its low, damp, vault-like roof; its unwholesome air, earthen floor, covered with broken wine bottles, and oyster cans, the debris of many a wild night's revel! There stood the monster Monkton, with his fierce, lynx eye, his profuse black beard, and frousy brows; a great, stalwart man, of a hard face and manner, forming no bad picture of those wolfish inquisitors of cruel, Catholic Spain! Over this untempting scene a dim, waning lamp, threw its blue glare, only rendering the place more hideous. "Now, girl, I am to lick you well. You see the half-dollar. Well, I'm to git the worth of it out of your hide. Now, what would you think if I didn't give you a single lick?" I looked him full in the face, and even by that equivocal light I had power to discern his horrid purpose, and I quickly and proudly replied, "I should think you did your duty poorly." "And why?" "Because you engaged to do _the job_, and even received your pay in advance; therefore, if you fail to comply with your bargain, you are not trustworthy." "Wal, you're smart enough for a lawyer." "Well, attend to your business." "This is my business," and he held up a stout wagon-whip; "come, strip off." "That is not a part of the contract." "Yes; but it's the way I always whips 'em." "You were not told to use me so, and I am not going to remove one article of my clothing." "Yes, but you _shall_;" and he approached me, his wild eye glaring with a lascivious light, and the deep passion-spot blazing on his cheek. "Girl, you've got to yield to me. I'll have you now, if it's only to show you that I can." I drew back a few steps, and, seizing a broken bottle, waited, with a deadly purpose, to see what he would do. He came so near that I almost fancied his fetid breath played with its damnable heat upon my very cheek. "You've got to be mine. I'll give you a fine calico dress, and a pretty pair of ear-bobs!" This was too much for further endurance. What! must I give up the angel-sealed honor of my life in traffic for trinkets? Where is the woman that would not have hotly resented such an insult? I turned upon him like a hungry lioness, and just as his wanton hand was about to be laid upon me, I dexterously aimed, and hurled the bottle directly against his left temple. With a low cry of pain he fell to the floor, and the blood oozed freely from the wound.