“不过,能得到主上的传承,又岂是般人,这小子,我相中了,我们即使再等个数万年,也不定能等到这么个合适的人。”We must again beg the reader's indulgence while accompanying us in a retrograde necessary to the connection of our narrative. When we left Mr. M'Fadden at the crossing, more than two years ago, he was labouring under the excitement of a wound he greatly feared would close the account of his mortal speculations.