"Mum!" said Uncle Jack, releasing me; "not a word to Mr. Trevanion, to any one." "But why?" "Why? God bless my soul. Why? If my scheme gets wind, do you suppose some one will not clap on sail to be before me? You frighten me out of my senses. Promise me faithfully to be silent as the grave." "I should like to hear Trevanion's opinion too." "As well hear the town-crier! Sir, I have trusted to your honor. Sir, at the domestic hearth all secrets are sacred. Sir, I--" "My dear Uncle Jack, you have said quite enough. Not a word will I breathe!" "I'm sure you may trust him, Jack," said my mother. "And I do trust him,--with wealth untold," replied my uncle. "May I ask you for a little water--with a trifle of brandy in it--and a biscuit, or indeed a sandwich. This talking makes me quite hungry." My eye fell upon Uncle Jack as he spoke. Poor Uncle Jack, he had grown thin! (1) "Some were so barbarous as to eat their own species." The sentence refers to the Scythians, and is in Strabo. I mention the authority, for Strabo is not an author that any man engaged on a less work than the "History of Human Error" is expected to have by heart.