Rainscourt again made a precipitate retreat to his own lodgings, accompanied by the faithful animal, who, delighted at the unusual rapidity of his master's movements, bounded before him with his treasure, of which he was much too polite to think of making a repast until a more seasonable opportunity. Rainscourt knocked at the door--as soon as it was opened, the dog bounced up before him, entering the chamber of woe, and crouching under the table upon which the golden urn was placed with the heart between his paws, saluted his master with a rap or two of his tail on the carpet, and commenced his dinner. The servant was summoned, and Rainscourt, without looking at either the urn, the dog, or the man, cried--in an angry tone, "Take that heart, and throw it away immediately." "Sir!" replied the domestic with astonishment, who did not observe the dog and his occupation. "Throw it away immediately, sir--do you hear?" "Yes, sir," replied the man, taking the urn from the table, and quitting the room with it, muttering to himself, as he descended the stairs "I thought it wouldn't last long." Having obeyed his supposed instructions, he returned--"If you please, sir, where am I to put the piece of plate?" "The piece of plate!" Rainscourt turned round, and beheld the vacant urn. It was too much--that evening he ordered the horses, and left Cheltenham for ever. Various were the reports of the subsequent week. Some said that the fierce dog had broken open the urn, and devoured the embalmed heart. Some told one story--some another; and before the week was over, all the stories had become incomprehensible. In one point they all agreed--that Mr Rainscourt's grief was all humbug. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "'Tis well!--Thou hast `done thy spiriting gently,' or, for thy tardy coming, I would have sentenced thee to the task of infusing thy spirit into the consistent Eldon, or into Arthur Duke of Wellington--where, like a viper at a file, thou shouldest have tortured thyself in vain." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Note 1. Bustle. I am not certain whether I spell this modern invention correctly; if not, I must plead ignorance. I have asked several ladies of my acquaintance, who declare that they never heard of such a thing, which, perhaps, the reader will agree with me, is all humbug. CHAPTER FORTY NINE. There leviathan, Hugest of living creatures, on the deep, Stretch'd like a promontory, sleeps or swims. MILTON.