“I'm afraid, Maria, we don't properly understand Master Harry. I am much troubled by what has occurred just now. I fear he is a hypocrite in morals, and without a single atom of honorable principle. Did you observe the expression of his face? Curse me if I think the devil himself has so bad a one. Besides, I have heard something about him that I don't like--something which I am not going to mention to you; but I say that in future we must beware of him.” “I was sorry, papa, to see the expression of his face,” replied Maria; “it was fearful; and above all things the expression of his eye. It made me feel weak whenever he turned it on me.” “Egad, and it had something of the same effect on myself,” replied her father. “There is some damned expression in it that takes away one's strength. Well,” as I said, “we must beware of him.” Woodward's next step was to pay a visit to Lord Cockletown, who, as he had gained his title in consequence of his success in tory-hunting, and capturing the most troublesome and distinguished outlaws of that day, was, he thought, the best and most experienced person to whom he could apply for information as to the most successful means of accomplishing his object. He accordingly waited on his lordship, to whom he thought, very naturally, that this exploit would recommend him. His lordship was in the garden, where Woodward found him in hobnailed shoes, digging himself into what he called his daily perspirations. “Don't be surprised, Mr. Woodward,” said he, “at my employment; I am taking my every-day sweat, because I feel that I could not drink as I do and get on without it. Well, what do you want with me? Is it anything about Tom? Egad, Tom says she rather likes you than otherwise; and if you can satisfy me as to property settlements, and all that, I won't stand in your way; but, in the meantime, what do you want with me now? If it's Tom's affair, the state of your property comes first.” “No, my lord, I shall leave all dealings of business between you and my mother. This is a different affair, and one on which I wish to have your lordship's advice and direction.” “Ay, but what is it? Confound it, come to the point.” “It is a tory-hunt, my lord.” “Who is the tory, or who are the tories? Come, I'm at home here. What's your plan?” “Why, simple pursuit. We have the _posse comitatus_.” “The _posse comitatus!_--the posse devil; what do the tories care about the posse comitatus? Have you bloodhounds?” “No, my lord, but I think we can procure them.” “Because,” proceeded his lordship, “to go hunt a tory without bloodhounds is like looking for your grandmother's needle in a bottle of straw.” “I am thankful to your lordship for that hint,” replied Harry Woodward; “but the truth is, I have been almost since my infancy out of the country, and am consequently, very ignorant of its usages.” “What particular tory are you going to hunt?'” “A fellow named Shawn-na-Middogue.”