Mac would have some new yarns to spin and a fresh turn-over to his celebrated liver. The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. " "Hear me, Blueskin," said Jonathan, restraining his choler. Spurling, formerly, it may be remembered, the hostess of the Dark House at Queenhithe,—whence wine, ale, and brandy of inferior quality were dispensed, in false measures, and at high prices, throughout the prison, which in noise and debauchery rivalled, if it did not surpass, the lowest tavern.
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