’ The sharp eyes twinkled. Do you know whoso portrait this is?" "I do not," replied Thames, repressing his tears, "but I believe it to be the portrait of my father. " "You can give me a little of his history, can't you? Something about his people?" "Oh, his folks were all right. Come along with us in the morning. I always told you some accident would happen. "Go—go!" "I see what you mean," rejoined Blueskin, tossing a large case-knife, which he took from his pocket, in the air, and catching it dexterously by the haft as it fell; "you owe Jonathan a grudge;—so do I. I care for you. .
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