" "I'm sorry I can't indulge you," replied her master, a little piqued. Raising him in his arms, Jonathan passed the rope round his body, and in this way the poor boy was drawn up without difficulty. A full-curled wig descended half-way down his back and shoulders; a neckcloth of "right Mechlin" was twisted round his throat so tightly as almost to deprive him of breath, and threaten him with apoplexy; he had lace, also, at his wrists and bosom; gold clocks to his hose, and red heels to his shoes.
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