At the last moment, I stopped the pony chaise, and begged as a favour that he would let us hear from him by letter.

He didn't seem to heed what I said--he was looking round from one thing to another, taking a sort of farewell of the old house and grounds.

"Tell us where you are going to, sir!" I said, holding on by the chaise, and trying to get at his future plans in that way.

Mr.Franklin pulled his hat down suddenly over his eyes.
"Going ?" says he, echoing the word after me.

"I am going to the devil!" The pony started at the word, as if he had felt a Christian horror of it.