on its grotesque appearance, and unprovoked by the recurrence to the history of his former ludicrous adventure.  Finding that Cranstoun was inaccessible, they again, with the waywardness of their years and humour, adverted to the retreat of Raymond, to whom Molineux, Middlemore, and St. Clair —­the latter a volunteer in the expedition—­attributed the unpardonable fact of the breaking up of a most delightful party, and the deprivation of a capital supper.  Such was the conversation—­such were the serious complaints of men, who, before another sun should rise, might see cause to upbraid themselves, and bitterly, for the levity in which they were so inconsiderately indulging.

During the whole of the march, Raymond had evinced a seriousness of demeanor by no means common to him, and, although he had made one of the party in the general bivouac, he had scarcely opened his lips, except to reply to the most direct questions.  The renewed attack, at first, drew from him no comment, although it was evident he felt greatly pained; but when he had finished smoking his cigar, he raised himself, not without difficulty, from the ground, (a circumstance, which, by the way, provoked a fresh burst of humour from the young men,) and began, with a seriousness of manner, that, being unusual, not a little surprised them:  “Gentlemen, you have long been pleased to select me as your butt.”

“Of course,” hastily interrupted Molineux, hazarding his pun, “we naturally select you for what you most resemble.”

“Captain Molineux—­gentlemen!” resumed Raymond with greater emphasis.

“He is getting warm on the subject,” observed Middlemore.  “Have a care Molineux, that the butt does not Churn until in the end it becomes the Butter.”

“Ha! ha! ha!” vociferated St. Clair, “good, excellent, the best you ever made, Middlemore.”

“Gentlemen,” persevered Raymond, in a tone, and with a gesture, of impatience, “this trifling will be deeply regretted by you all tomorrow; I repeat,” he pursued, when he found he had at length succeeded in procuring silence, “you have long been pleased to select me as your butt, and while this was confined to my personal appearance, painful as I have sometimes found your humour, I could still endure it; but when I perceive those whom I have looked upon as friends and brothers, casting imputations upon my courage, I may be excused for feeling offended.  You have succeeded in wounding my heart, and some of you will regret the hour when you did so.  Another perhaps, would adopt a different course, but I am not disposed to return evil for evil.  I wish to believe, that in all your taunts upon this subject, you have merely indulged your bantering humour—­but not the less have you pained an honest heart.  Tomorrow will prove that you have grievously wronged me, and I am mistaken, if you will not deeply regret it.”

“Noonsense, noonsense, Raymoond, ma deer fallow; do na’ heed the queeps of the hair-breened deevils.  Ye see a neever tak any nootice o’ them, but joost leet them ha’ their way.”