of the acclamations in the time of Nero, when the Romans shouted in concert, and birds fell from the skies with the noise!"
"La! papa, is that true?" asked Clara.
"Och, and that's a strange kind of a question," said Father Murphy, "and one I wouldn't like a child of mine to be putting."
"And why not?" asked Mr. Montagu; somewhat indignantly.
"Because a child ought always to belave what his father says, before he hears him open his mouth."
"How well the Queen looks!"" observed Mrs. Montagu, to whom the reverend father's remark was far from agreeable. "It was said a short time since, that she had lost her appetite and could get no rest; but I think she doesn't seem to have much the matter with her now."
"My nurse says she's being poisoned," cried Clara, "and that it would be no great matter if she was, for then the people would have to choose a Queen for themselves, and they might make what terms they pleased with her."
"And is this the kind of servant you suffer to attend on my daughter, Mrs. Montagu?"
