A very snug, comfort-suggesting apartment is the parlor of Squire Bulworthy, the rich grazier, upon which you and I, friend reader, are about so unceremoniously to intrude ourselves. If you will but look around you, you will see that all the appliances of home delectation, procurable in so insignificant a town as Ballinasquash, are here gathered together; that looking-glass is the pride of the domestic circle and the envy of the neighborhood; those easy-chairs look as though tired humanity might find instant relief from their ample plumpness; the side-board, with its brilliant array of flashing decanters and hospitable-looking glasses, not mean, tailor-souled, thimble-measure aggravators, b…
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