CHAPTER IV. GRAFTON WOULD HEAL AN OLD BREACH
Doctor Hilliard, my grandfather's chaplain, was as holy a man as everwore a gown, but I can remember none of his discourses which moved meas much by half as those simple words Captain Clapsaddle had used. Theworthy doctor, who had baptized both my mother and father, died suddenlyat Carvel Hall the spring following, of a cold contracted while visitinga poor man who dwelt across the river. He would have lacked but threeyears of fourscore come Whitsuntide. He was universally loved andrespected in that district where he had lived so long and ably, byrich and poor alike, and those of many creeds saw him to his lastresting-place. Mr. Carroll, of Carrollton, who was an ardent Catholic,stood bareheaded beside the grave.
Doctor Hilliard was indeed a beacon in a time when his profession amongus was all but darkness, and when many of the scandals of the communitymight be laid at the door of those whose duty it was to prevent them.The fault lay without doubt in his Lordship's charter, which gave to theparishioners no voice in the choosing of their pastors. This matter wasleft to Lord Baltimore's whim. Hence it was that he sent among usso many fox-hunting and gaming parsons who read the service ill andpreached drowsy and illiterate sermons. Gaming and fox-hunting, didI say? These are but charitable words to cover the real characters ofthose impostors in holy orders, whose doings would often bring theblush of shame to your cheeks. Nay, I have seen a clergyman drunk in thepulpit, and even in those freer days their laxity and immoralitywere such that many flocked to hear the parsons of the Methodists andLutherans, whose simple and eloquent words and simpler lives were worthyof their cloth. Small wonder was it, when every strolling adventurer andsoldier out of employment took orders and found favour in his Lordship'seyes, and were given the fattest livings in place of worthier men, thatthe Established Church fell somewhat into disrepute. Far be it from meto say that there were not good men and true in that Church, but the wagwho writ this verse, which became a common saying in Maryland, was notfar wrong for the great body of them:--
"Who is a monster of the first renown? A lettered sot, a drunkard in a gown."
My grandfather did not replace Dr. Hilliard at the Hall, afterwardssaying the prayers himself. The doctor had been my tutor, and in spiteof my waywardness and lack of love for the classics had taught meno little Latin and Greek, and early instilled into my mind thoseprinciples necessary for the soul's salvation. I have often thought withregret on the pranks I played him. More than once at lesson-time have Igone off with Hugo and young Harvey for a rabbit hunt, stealing two dogsfrom the pack, and thus committing a double offence. You may be sureI was well thrashed by Mr. Carvel, who thought the more of the lattermisdoing, though obliged to emphasize the former. The doctor would neverraise his hand against me. His study, where I recited my daily tasks,was that small sunny room on the water side of the east wing; and I wellrecall him as he sat behind his desk of a morning after prayers, hishorn spectacles perched on his high nose and his quill over his ear,and his ink-powder and pewter stand beside him. His face would grow moreserious as I scanned my Virgil in a faltering voice, and as he descantedon a passage my eye would wander out over the green trees and fields tothe glistening water. What cared I for "Arma virumque" at such a time? Iwas watching Nebo a-fishing beyond the point, and as he waded ashorethe burden on his shoulders had a much keener interest for me than thatAEneas carried out of Troy.
My Uncle Grafton came to Dr. Hilliard's funeral, choosing thisopportunity to become reconciled to my grandfather, who he feared hadnot much longer to live. Albeit Mr. Carvel was as stout and hale asever. None of the mourners at the doctor's grave showed more sorrow thandid Grafton. A thousand remembrances of the good old man returned tohim, and I heard him telling Mr. Carroll and some other gentlemen, withmuch emotion, how he had loved his reverend preceptor, from whom he hadlearned nothing but what was good. "How fortunate are you, Richard,"he once said, "to have had such a spiritual and intellectual teacher inyour youth. Would that Philip might have learned from such a one. AndI trust you can say, my lad, that you have made the best of youradvantages, though I fear you are of a wild nature, as your father wasbefore you." And my uncle sighed and crossed his hands behind his back."'Tis perhaps better that poor John is in his grave," he said. Graftonhad a word and a smile for every one about the old place, but littleelse, being, as he said, but a younger son and a poor man. I was nearto forgetting the shilling he gave Scipio. 'Twas not so unostentatiouslydone but that Mr. Carvel and I marked it. And afterwards I made Scipiogive me the coin, replacing it with another, and flung it as far intothe river as ever I could throw.
As was but proper to show his sorrow at the death of the old chaplain hehad loved so much, Grafton came to the Hall drest entirely in black. Hewould have had his lady and Philip, a lad near my own age, clad likewisein sombre colours. But my Aunt Caroline would none of them, holding itto be the right of her sex to dress as became its charms. Her silks andlaces went but ill with the low estate my uncle claimed for his purse,and Master Philip's wardrobe was twice the size of mine. And the familytravelled in a coach as grand as Mr. Carvel's own, with panels wreathedin flowers and a footman and outrider in livery, from which my auntdescended like a duchess. She embraced my grandfather with much warmth,and kissed me effusively on both cheeks.
"And this is dear Richard?" she cried. "Philip, come at once and greetyour cousin. He has not the look of the Carvels," she continued volubly,"but more resembles his mother, as I recall her."
"Indeed, madam," my grandfather answered somewhat testily, "he hasthe Carvel nose and mouth, though his chin is more pronounced. He hasElizabeth's eyes."
But my aunt was a woman who flew from one subject to another, and shehad already ceased to think of me. She was in the hall. "The dear oldhome?" she cries, though she had been in it but once before, regardinglovingly each object as her eye rested upon it, nay, caressingly whenshe came to the great punch-bowl and the carved mahogany dresser, andthe Peter Lely over the broad fireplace. "What memories they must bringto your mind, my dear," she remarks to her husband. "'Tis cruel, as Ionce said to dear papa, that we cannot always live under the old rafterswe loved so well as children." And the good lady brushes away a tearwith her embroidered pocket-napkin. Tears that will come in spite ofus all. But she brightens instantly and smiles at the line of servantsdrawn up to welcome them. "This is Scipio, my son, who was with yourgrandfather when your father was born, and before." Master Philip nodsgraciously in response to Scipio's delighted bow. "And Harvey," myaunt rattles on. "Have you any new mares to surprise us with this year,Harvey?" Harvey not being as overcome with Mrs. Grafton's condescensionas was proper, she turns again to Mr. Carvel.
"Ah, father, I see you are in sore need of a woman's hand about the oldhouse. What a difference a touch makes, to be sure." And she takes offher gloves and attacks the morning room, setting an ornament here andanother there, and drawing back for the effect. "Such a bachelor's hallas you are keeping!"
"We still have Willis, Caroline," remonstrates my grandfather, gravely."I have no fault to find with her housekeeping."
"Of course not, father; men never notice," Aunt Caroline replies in anaggrieved tone. And when Willis herself comes in, auguring no good fromthis visit, my aunt gives her the tips of her fingers. And I imagine Isee a spark fly between them.
As for Grafton, he was more than willing to let bygones be bygonesbetween his father and himself. Aunt Caroline said with feeling thatDr. Hilliard's death was a blessing, after all, since it brought along-separated father and son together once more. Grafton had beenmisjudged and ill-used, and he called Heaven to witness that the quarrelhad never been of his seeking,--a statement which Mr. Carvel was at nopains to prove perjury. How attentive was Mr. Grafton to his father'severy want. He read his Gazette to him of a Thursday, though the oldgentleman's eyes are as good as ever. If Mr. Carvel walks out of anevening, Grafton's arm is ever ready, and my uncle and his worthy ladyare eager to take a hand at cards before supper. "Philip, my dear,"says my aunt, "
thy grandfather's slippers," or, "Philip, my love, thygrandfather's hat and cane." But it is plain that Master Philip has notbeen brought up to wait on his elders. He is curled with a novel in hisgrandfather's easy chair by the window. "There is Dio, mamma, who hasnaught to do but serve grandpapa," says he, and gives a pull at the cordover his head which rings the bell about the servants' ears in the hallbelow. And Dio, the whites of his eyes showing, comes running into theroom.
"It is nothing, Diomedes," says Mr. Carvel. "Master Philip will fetchwhat I need.". Master Philip's papa and mamma stare at each other ina surprise mingled with no little alarm, Master Philip being to allappearances intent upon his book.
"Philip," says my grandfather, gently. I had more than once heard himspeak thus, and well knew what was coming.
"Sir," replies my cousin, without looking up. "Follow me, sir," said Mr.Carvel, in a voice so different that Philip drops his book. They went upthe stairs together, and what occurred there I leave to the imagination.But when next Philip was bidden to do an errand for Mr. Carvel mygrandfather said quietly: "I prefer that Richard should go, Caroline."And though my aunt and uncle, much mortified, begged him to give Philipanother chance, he would never permit it.
Nevertheless, a great effort was made to restore Philip to hisgrandfather's good graces. At breakfast one morning, after my aunt hadpoured Mr. Carvel's tea and made her customary compliment to the blueand gold breakfast china, my Uncle Grafton spoke up.
"Now that Dr. Hilliard is gone, father, what do you purpose concerningRichard's schooling?"
"He shall go to King William's school in the autumn," Mr. Carvelreplied.
"In the autumn!" cried my uncle. "I do not give Philip even the shortholiday of this visit. He has his Greek and his Virgil every day."
"And can repeat the best passages," my aunt chimes in. "Philip, my dear,recite that one your father so delights in."
However unwilling Master Philip had been to disturb himself for errands,he was nothing loth to show his knowledge, and recited glibly enoughseveral lines of his Virgil verbatim; thereby pleasing his fond parentsgreatly and my grandfather not a little.
"I will add a crown to your savings, Philip," says his father.
"And here is a pistole to spend as you will," says Mr. Carvel, tossinghim the piece.
"Nay, father, I do not encourage the lad to be a spendthrift," saysGrafton, taking the pistole himself. "I will place this token of yourappreciation in his strong-box. You know we have a prodigal strain inthe family, sir." And my uncle looks at me significantly.
"Let it be as I say, Grafton," persists Mr. Carvel, who liked not to bebalked in any matter, and was not over-pleased at this reference to myfather. And he gave Philip forthwith another pistole, telling his fatherto add the first to his saving if he would.
"And Richard must have his chance," says my Aunt Caroline, sweetly, asshe rises to leave the room.
"Ay, here is a crown for you, Richard," says my uncle, smiling. "Let ushear your Latin, which should be purer than Philip's."
My grandfather glanced uneasily at me across the table; he saw clearlythe trick Grafton had played me, I think. But for once I was equal tomy uncle, and haply remembered a line Dr. Hilliard had expounded, whichfitted the present case marvellously well. With little ceremony I tossedback the crown, and slowly repeated those words used to warn the Trojansagainst accepting the Grecian horse:
"Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes."
"Egad," cried Mr. Carvel, slapping his knee, "the lad bath beaten you onyour own ground, Grafton." And he laughed as my grandfather only couldlaugh, until the dishes rattled on the table. But my uncle thought it nomatter for jesting.
Philip was also well versed in politics for a lad of his age, and coulddiscuss glibly the right of Parliament to tax the colonies. He denouncedthe seditious doings in Annapolis and Boston Town with an air of easyfamiliarity, for Philip had the memory of a parrot, and 'twas easy toperceive whence his knowledge sprang. But when my fine master spokedisparagingly of the tradesmen as at the bottom of the trouble, mygrandfather's patience came to an end.
"And what think you lies beneath the wealth and power of England,Philip?" he asked.
"Her nobility, sir, and the riches she draws from her colonies," retortsMaster Philip, readily enough.
"Not so," Mr. Carvel said gravely. "She owes her greatness to hermerchants, or tradesmen, as you choose to call them. And commerce mustbe at the backbone of every great nation. Tradesmen!" exclaimed mygrandfather. "Where would any of us be were it not for trade? We sellour tobacco and our wheat, and get money in return. And your fathermakes a deal here and a deal there, and so gets rich in spite of hispittance."
My Uncle Grafton raised his hand to protest, but Mr. Carvel continued:"I know you, Grafton, I know you. When a lad it was your habit to layaside the money I gave you, and so pretend you had none."
"And 'twas well I learned then to be careful," said my uncle, losingfor the instant his control, "for you loved the spend-thrift best, and Ishould be but a beggar now without my wisdom."
"I loved not John's carelessness with money, but other qualities in himwhich you lacked," answered Mr. Carvel.
Grafton shot a swift glance at me; and so much of malice and of hatredwas conveyed in that look that with a sense of prophecy I shudderedto think that some day I should have to cope with such craft. For hedetested me threefold, and combined the hate he bore my dead father andmother with the ill-will he bore me for standing in his way and Philip'swith my grandfather's property. But so deftly could he hide his feelingsthat he was smiling again instantly. To see once, however, the whitebelly of the shark flash on the surface of the blue water is sufficient.
"I beg of you not to jest of me before the lads, father," said Grafton.
"God knows there was little jest in what I said," replied Mr. Carvellsoberly, "and I care not who hears it. Your own son will one day knowyou well enough, if he does not now. Do not imagine, because I am old,that I am grown so foolish as to believe that a black sheep can becomewhite save by dye. And dye will never deceive such as me. And Philip,"the shrewd old gentleman went on, turning to my cousin, "do not let thyfather or any other make thee believe there cannot be two sides to everyquestion. I recognize in your arguments that which smacks of his tongue,despite what he says of your reading the public prints and of formingyour own opinions. And do not condemn the Whigs, many of whom are worthymen and true, because they quarrel with what they deem an unjust methodof taxation."
Grafton had given many of the old servants cause to remember him. Harveyin particular, who had come from England early in the century with mygrandfather, spoke with bitterness of him. On the subject of my uncle,the old coachman's taciturnity gave way to torrents of reproach. "Bewareof him as has no use for horses, Master Richard," he would say; for thistrait in Grafton in Harvey's mind lay at the bottom of all others. Atmy uncle's approach he would retire into his shell like an oyster,nor could he be got to utter more than a monosyllable in his presence.Harvey's face would twitch, and his fingers clench of themselves ashe touched his cap. And with my Aunt Caroline he was the same. Hevouchsafed but a curt reply to all her questions, nor did her rapturesover the stud soften him in the least. She would come tripping into thestable yard, daintily holding up her skirts, and crying, "Oh, Harvey,I have heard so much of Tanglefoot. I must see him before I go."Tanglefoot is led out begrudgingly enough, and Aunt Caroline goes overhis points, missing the greater part of them, and remarking on the depthof chest, which is nothing notable in Tanglefoot. Harvey winks slylyat me the while, and never so much as offers a word of correction. "Youmust take Philip to ride, Richard, my dear," says my aunt. "His fatherwas never as fond of it as I could have wished. I hold that everygentleman should ride to hounds."
"Humph!" grunts Harvey, when she is gone to the house.
"Master Philip to hunt, indeed! Foxes to hunt foxes!" And he gives ventto a dry laugh over his joke, in which I cannot but join. "Horsemengrows. Eh, Master Richard? There was Captain Jac
k, who jumped from thecradle into the saddle, and I never once seen a horse get the bettero' him. And that's God's truth." And he smooths out Tanglefoot's mane,adding reflectively, "And you be just like him. But there was scarce ahorse in the stables what wouldn't lay back his ears at Mr. Grafton, andsmall blame to 'em, say I. He never dared go near 'em. Oh, MasterPhilip comes by it honestly enough. She thinks old Harvey don't know athoroughbred when he sees one, sir. But Mrs. Grafton's no thoroughbred;I tell 'ee that, though I'm saying nothing as to her points, mark ye.I've seen her sort in the old country, and I've seen 'em here, and it'sthe same the world over, in Injy and Chiny, too. Fine trappings don'tmake the horse, and they don't take thoroughbreds from a grocer's cart.A Philadelphy grocer," sniffs this old aristocrat. "I'd knowed herfather was a grocer had I seen her in Pall Mall with a Royal Highness,by her gait, I may say. Thy mother was a thoroughbred, Master Richard,and I'll tell 'ee another," he goes on with a chuckle, "Mistress DorothyManners is such another; you don't mistake 'em with their high headsand patreeshan ways, though her father be one of them accidents as willoccur in every stock. She's one to tame, sir, and I don't envy no younggentleman the task. But this I knows," says Harvey, not heeding my redcheeks, "that Master Philip, with all his satin small-clothes, willnever do it."
Indeed, it was no secret that my Aunt Caroline had been a Miss Flaven,of Philadelphia, though she would have had the fashion of our provinceto believe that she belonged to the Governor's set there; and she spokein terms of easy familiarity of the first families of her native city,deceiving no one save herself, poor lady. How fondly do we believe, withthe ostrich, that our body is hidden when our head is tucked underour wing! Not a visitor in Philadelphia but knew Terence Flaven, Mrs.Grafton Carvel's father, who not many years since sold tea and spicesand soap and glazed teapots over his own counter, and still advertisedhis cargoes in the public prints. He was a broad and charitable-mindedman enough, and unassuming, but gave way at last to the pressure broughtupon him by his wife and daughter, and bought a mansion in Front Street.Terence Flaven never could be got to stay there save to sleep, andpreferred to spend his time in his shop, which was grown greatly,chatting with his customers, and bowing the ladies to their chariots.I need hardly say that this worthy man was on far better terms thanhis family with those personages whose society they strove so hard toattain.
At the time of Miss Flaven's marriage to my uncle 'twas a piece ofgossip in every month that he had taken her for her dower, which was notinconsiderable; though to hear Mr. and Mrs. Grafton talk they knew notwhence the next month's provender was to come. They went to live in KentCounty, as I have said, spending some winters in Philadelphia, whereMr. Grafton was thought to have interests, though it never could bediscovered what his investments were. On hearing of his marriage, whichtook place shortly before my father's, Mr. Carvel expressed neitherdispleasure nor surprise. But he would not hear of my mother's requestto settle a portion upon his younger son.
"He has the Kent estate, Bess," said he, "which is by far too good forhim. Never doubt but that the rogue can feather his own nest far betterthan can I, as indeed he hath already done. And by the Lord," cried Mr.Carvel, bringing his fist down upon the card-table where they sat,"he shall never get another farthing of my money while I live, norafterwards, if I can help it! I would rather give it over to Mr. Carrollto found a nunnery."
And so that matter ended, for Mr. Carvel could not be moved from apurpose he had once made. Nor would he make any advances whatsoever toGrafton, or receive those hints which my uncle was forever dropping,until at length he begged to be allowed to come to Dr. Hilliard'sfuneral, a request my grandfather could not in decency refuse. 'Twas apathetic letter in truth, and served its purpose well, though it was notas dust in the old gentleman's eyes. He called me into his bedroom andtold me that my Uncle Grafton was coming at last. And seeing that Isaid nothing thereto, he gave me a queer look and bade me treat them ascivilly as I knew how. "I well know thy temper, Richard," said he, "andI fear 'twill bring thee trouble enough in life. Try to control it, mylad; take an old man's advice and try to control it." He was in one ofhis gentler moods, and passed his arm about me, and together we stoodlooking silently through the square panes out into the rain, at theducks paddling in the puddles until the darkness hid them.
And God knows, lad that I was, I tried to be civil to them. But mytongue rebelled at the very sight of my uncle ('twas bred into me, Isuppose), and his fairest words seemed to me to contain a hidden sting.Once, when he spoke in his innuendo of my father, I ran from the room torestrain some act of violence; I know not what I should have done. AndWillis found me in the deserted, study of the doctor, where my hot tearshad stained the flowered paper on the wall. She did her best to calmme, good soul, though she had her own troubles with my Lady Caroline tothink about at the time.
I had one experience with Master Philip before our visitors betookthemselves back to Kent, which, unfortunate as it was, I cannot butrelate here. My cousin would enter into none of those rough amusementsin which I passed my time, for fear, I took it, of spoiling his finebroadcloths or of losing a gold buckle. He never could be got towrestle, though I challenged him more than once. And he was a well-builtlad, and might, with a little practice, have become skilled in thatsport. He laughed at the homespun I wore about the farm, saying itwas no costume for a gentleman's son, and begged me sneeringly to donleather breeches. He would have none of the company of those lads withwhom I found pleasure, young Harvey, and Willis's son, who was beingtrained as Mr. Starkie's assistant. Nor indeed did I disdain to join ina game with Hugo, who had been given to me, and other negro lads. Philipsaw no sport in a wrestle or a fight between two of the boys from thequarters, and marvelled that I could lower myself to bet with Harvey theyounger. He took not a spark of interest in the gaming cocks we raisedtogether to compete at the local contests and at the fair, and knewnot a gaff from a cockspur. Being one day at my wits' end to amusemy cousin, I proposed to him a game of quoits on the green beside thespring-house, and thither we repaired, followed by Hugo, and youngHarvey come to look on. Master Philip, not casting as well as he might,cries out suddenly to Hugo: "Begone, you black dog! What business haveyou here watching a game between gentlemen?"
"He is my servant, cousin," I said quietly, "and no dog, if you please.And he is under my orders, not yours."
But Philip, having scarcely scored a point, was in a rage. "And I'llnot have him here," he shouted, giving poor Hugo a cuff which sent himstumbling over the stake. And turning to me; continued insolently: "Eversince we came here I have marked your manner toward us, as though myfather had no right in my grandfather's house."
Then could I no longer contain myself. I heard young Harvey laugh, andremark: "'Tis all up with Master Philip now." But Philip, whatever elsehe may have been, was no coward, and had squared off to face me by thetime I had run the distance between the stakes. He was heavier than I,though not so tall; and he parried my first blow and my second, and manymore; having lively work of it, however, for I hit him as often as I wasable. To speak truth, I had not looked for such resistance, and seeingthat I could not knock him down, out of hand, I grew more cool and beganto study what I was doing.
"Take off your macaroni coat," said I. "I have no wish to ruin yourclothes."
But he only jeered in return: "Take off thy wool-sack." And Hugo,getting to his feet, cried out to me not to hurt Marse Philip, that hehad meant no harm. But this only enraged Philip the more, and he sworea round oath at Hugo and another at me, and dealt a vicious blow at mystomach, whereat Harvey called out to him to fight fair. He was moreskilful at the science of boxing than I, though I was the betterfighter, having, I am sorry to say, fought but too often before. Andpresently, when I had closed one of his eyes, his skill went all topieces, and he made a mad rush at me. As he went by I struck him so hardthat he fell heavily and lay motionless.
Young Harvey ran into the spring-house and filled his hat as I bent overmy cousin. I unbuttoned his waistcoat and felt his heart, and
rejoicedto find it beating; we poured cold water over his face and wrists. Bythen, Hugo, who was badly frightened, had told the news in the house,and I saw my Aunt Caroline come running over the green as fast as hertight stays would permit, crying out that I had killed her boy, her dearPhilip. And after her came my Uncle Grafton and my grandfather, with allthe servants who had been in hearing. I was near to crying myself at thethought that I should grieve my grandfather. And my aunt, as she kneltover Philip, pushed me away, and bade me not touch him. But my cousinopened one of his eyes, and raised his hand to his head.
"Thank Heaven he is not killed!" exclaims Aunt Caroline, fervently.
"Thank God, indeed!" echoes my uncle, and gives me a look as much as tosay that I am not to be thanked for it. "I have often warned you, sir,"he says to Mr. Carvel, "that we do not inherit from stocks and stones.And so much has come of our charity."
I knew, lad that I was; that he spoke of my mother; and my blood boiledwithin me.
"Have a care, sir, with your veiled insults," I cried, "or I will serveyou as I have served your son."
Grafton threw up his hands.
"What have we harboured, father?" says he. But Mr. Carvel seized him bythe shoulder. "Peace, Grafton, before the servants," he said, "and ceasethy crying, Caroline. The lad is not hurt." And being a tall man, sixfeet in his stockings, and strong despite his age, he raised Philip fromthe grass, and sternly bade him walk to the house, which he did, leaningon his mother's arm. "As for you, Richard," my grandfather went on, "youwill go into my study."
Into his study I went, where presently he came also, and I told himthe affair in as few words as I might. And he, knowing my hatred offalsehood, questioned me not at all, but paced to and fro, I followinghim with my eyes, and truly sorry that I had given him pain. And finallyhe dismissed me, bidding me make it up with my cousin, which I wasnothing loth to do. What he said to Philip and his father I know not.That evening we shook hands, though Philip's face was much swollen, andmy uncle smiled, and was even pleasanter than before, saying that boyswould be boys. But I think my Aunt Caroline could never wholly hide themalice she bore me for what I had done that day.
When at last the visitors were gone, every face on the plantation worea brighter look. Harvey said: "God bless their backs, which is the onlypart I ever care to see of their honours." And Willis gave us a supperfit for a king. Mr. Lloyd and his lady were with us, and Mr. Carvel toldhis old stories of the time of the First George, many of which I caneven now repeat: how he and two other collegians fought half a dozenMohocks in Norfolk Street, and fairly beat them; and how he discoveredby chance a Jacobite refugee in Greenwich, and what came of it; nor didhe forget that oft-told episode with Dean Swift. And these he rehearsedin such merry spirit and new guise that we scarce recognized them, andColonel Lloyd so choked with laughter that more than once he had to behit between the shoulders.
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