HENRY AND ISABELLA. CHAPTER I. THE HIS is the coldeft evening for September! exclaimed Sir George Maitland, rubbing his hands and drawing his chair clofe to a blazing fire. Come, John, place the backgammon table; you beat me laft night, Harry, but this evening I mean to have my revenge. I have got the most intolerable head-ach, exclaimed Mr. Maitland, the noife of the dice will distract me. Well, then, (replied Sir George) we'll play at piquet. I can attend to nothing, (anfwered his brother.) Sir George VOL. I. B arofe, |