human
is a wise saw, unhappily, like many others of the same thrifty kind, but little heeded in this our day. So it was with Lord Edward. A rent had, by some mischance, been made in the central seam, and, on the morning of the hurricane, was still unmended. When the gale came, it sought a quarrel with anything it could lay hold of, and the harmless trousers of Lord Edward became subject to its mighty and resistless devastation; the blustering Boreas entered by the seam aforesaid, and filled the trousers like the cheeks of a trumpeter. Yorkshire wool could not stand the inflated pressure, the dress split to ribbons, and soundly flagellated the very part it was intended to conceal. What could he do,