here is Mr. Snark. Heed every word of his instructions. Good-bye, lad, and God go with you!"
Straightway Mr. Snark stepped forth, and led his charge to where the horse awaited him, whilst as he did so, he threw a cloak about his shoulders, and poured a volume of instructions into his receptive ear. And with such alacrity was the full affair accomplished that the soldiers were yet wrestling with the mob, and I had barely time to reascend the stairs, and withdraw with divers of my friends to an adjacent chamber which commanded a view of Piper's Alley instead of Tyburn Tree, ere the rebel was on his horse, and fleeing through London for his life. It seemed that there was also a second horse in readiness, and he who mounted it was no less a person than the celebrated Mr. Snark. 'Twas he that accompanied my dearest Anthony.
"There he goes!" cries I to my dear friend Hilda Flummery as the sorrel's hoofs rang out upon the stones. "There goes my future husband! He'll be in France before to-morrow."
"Your future what, dear Bab?" cries she.
"My future husband, dear," says I, demurely.
All who heard shook their heads, of course, or smiled broadly at the jest that they chose to call it. But they were not aware that I had made my mind up on this point, and I have writ a little epilogue to this strange memoir of my wooing to prove to those who may not know, how formidable I do become when I make my mind up on any point soever.
