been long in my employ. But I think, if you have nothing more to

say to me I will be stepping. If you have nothing more to say?" he

added, with that burning, childish eagerness that was now so common

with the man.

"No, my lord, I have nothing more," said I, dryly enough.

"Then I think I will be stepping," says my lord, and stood and

looked at me fidgeting with his hat, which he had taken off again.

"I suppose you will have no errands? No? I am to meet Sir William

Johnson, but I will be more upon my guard." He was silent for a

time, and then, smiling: "Do you call to mind a place, Mackellar -

it's a little below Engles - where the burn runs very deep under a

wood of rowans. I mind being there when I was a lad - dear, it

comes over me like an old song! - I was after the fishing, and I

made a bonny cast. Eh, but I was happy. I wonder, Mackellar, why

I am never happy now?"

"My lord," said I, "if you would drink with more moderation you

would have the better chance. It is an old byword that the bottle

is a false consoler."

"No doubt," said he, "no doubt. Well, I think I will be going."

"Good-morning, my lord," said I.

"Good-morning, good-morning," said he, and so got himself at last

from the apartment.

I give that for a fair specimen of my lord in the morning; and I

must have described my patron very ill if the reader does not

perceive a notable falling off. To behold the man thus fallen: to

know him accepted among his companions for a poor, muddled toper,

welcome (if he were welcome at all) for the bare consideration of

his title; and to recall the virtues he had once displayed against

<<BackPagesTo menuNext>>