The present divinity of the cellar was a comely middle-aged dame, almost as stout, and quite as shrill-voiced, as the Billingsgate fish-wives above-mentioned, Mrs. The raising of twenty-five pounds was a task altogether beyond her powers. I picked up her handkerchief on the floor. Had it not been lashed to the adjoining wherry, it must have been upset, and have precipitated the opponents into the water. "'Sdeath! do you trifle with me, sirrah?" cried Rowland fiercely. McClintock does it; and he knows why.
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