other than the venerable and white-haired gentleman who filled
the position, in the tale, of a wealthy and benevolent uncle. The
author, having always felt a sentiment of exceptional respect and
admiration for this reverend and patriarchal personage, who
by his gentle words and sage counsels, no less than his noble
generosity, had done so much to elevate and sweeten the tone
of his book, fell into an ecstasy of terror at witnessing the
approach of his seemingly inevitable destruction; especially as
he perceived that the poor old fellow (who never in his life had
met with aught but reverence and affection, and knew nothing
of the nature of deadly weapons and impulses) was, so far, from
attempting to defend himself, or even escape, actually opening
his arms to the widest extent of avuncular hospitality, and
preparing to take his assassin, sword and all, into his fond and
forgiving heart!

"You old fool!" shrieked the author, in the excess of his
irritation and despair; "he isn't your repentant nephew! Why
can't you keep your forgiveness until it's wanted?"

But Uncle Dudley having been created solely to forgive and
benefit, was naturally incapable of taking care of himself, and
would certainly have been run through the ample white waistcoat,
had not an unexpected and wholly unprecedented interruption
averted so awful a catastrophe.

A small, graceful figure, wearing a picturesque white cap, with
jaunty ribbons, and a short scarlet petticoat, from beneath which
peeped the prettiest feet and ancles ever seen, stepped suddenly
between the philanthropic victim and his would-be-murderer,