“Permit me to offer you the English paper which has just arrived, Sir John,” he said, holding out a Daily Telegraph. "Was that thunder?" he faltered, as a terrible clap was heard overhead. Someone had thoughtfully wrapped a bit of tissue paper round the electric bulb. Curses light on the horse!" he added, seizing the bridle of his steed, who continued snorting and shivering, as if still under the influence of some unaccountable alarm; "what can ail him?" "I know what ails him, your honour," rejoined the groom, riding up as he spoke; "he's seen somethin' not o' this world. E. ’ ‘I have no game.
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