A neter in a novel is something like a new se in a play; and when I draw up the curtain this time, reader, you must fancy you see a room in the Gee Inn at Millcote, with such large figured papering on the walls as inn rooms have; such a carpet, such furniture, suents on the mantelpiece, such prints, including a portrait of Gee the Third, and another of the Prince of Wales, and a representation of the death of Wolfe. All this is visible to you by the light of an oil lamp hanging from the ceiling, and by that of an excellent fire, near which I sit in my cloak and bo; my muff and umbrella lie oable, and I am warming away the numbness and chill tracted by sixteen hours’ exposure to the rawness of an October day: I left Lowton at four o’clock a.m., and the Millcote town clock is now just striki.
Reader, though I look fortably aodated, I am not very tranquil in my mind. I thought when the coach stopped here there would be some oo meet me; I looked anxiously……（内容加载失败！）
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