This fellow, who was a country lout, the son of one of my father’s tenants, only popped his head into the door, and saw the ladies lying on the carpet; he had probably formed no very good opinion of me from the manner in which I had received the news of my own demise, and seemed very much inclined to act the part of a mandarin, that is, nod his head and stand still.

“Desire some of the women to come here immediately,” said I; “some one that can be of use; tell them to bring salts, eau de cologue, any thing.  Fly, blockhead, goose, what do you stand staring at?”

The fellow looked at me, and then at the supposed corpses, which he must have thought I had murdered; and, either thunderstruck, or doubting whether he had any right to obey me, kept his head inside the door and his body outside, as if he had been in the pillory.  I saw that he required some explanation, and cried out, “I am Mr Frank; will you obey me, or shall I throw this jar at your head?” brandishing one of the china vases.

Had I been inclined to have thrown it, I should have missed him, for the fellow was off like a wounded porpoise.  Down he ran to my father in the library; “Oh, Sir—­good news—­bad news—­good news—­”

“What news, fool?” said my father, rising hastily from his chair.

“Oh, Sir, I don’t know, Sir; but I believe, Sir, Mr Frank is alive again, and both the ladies is dead.”

My poor father, whose health and constitution had not recovered the shock of my supposed death, tremblingly leaned over his table, on which he rested his two hands, and desired the man to repeat what he had said.  This the fellow did, half crying, and my father, easily comprehending the state of things, came upstairs.  I would have flown into his arms, but mine were occupied in supporting my sweet Emily, while my poor sister lay senseless on the other side of me; for Clara’s lover was not at hand, and she still lay in abeyance.

By this time “the hands were turned up,” every body was on the alert, and every living creature in the house, not excepting the dog, had assembled in the drawing-room.  The maids that had known me cried and sobbed most piteously, and the new comer kept them company from sympathy.  The coachman, and footman, and groom, all blubbered and stared; and one brought water, and one a basin, and the looby of a footman something else, which I must not name; but in his hurry he had snatched up the first utensil that he thought might be of use; I approved of his zeal, but nodded to him to retire.  Unluckily for him, the housemaid perceived the mistake which his absence of thought had led him into; and, snatching the mysterious vessel with her left hand, she hid it under her apron, while with her right she gave the poor fellow such a slap on the cheek, as to bring to my mind the tail of the whale descending on the boat at Bermuda.  “You great fool,” said she, “nobody wants that.”

“There is matrimony in that slap,” said I; and the event proved I was right—­they were asked in church the Sunday following.