says,—says I,—'No! I'm a man of the world—see through a millstone; Miss Madeline's too easy like; Miss Nelly blushes when he speaks; 'scarlet is love's regimentals—it was ours in the forty-second, edged with yellow—pepper and salt pantaloons! For my part I think,—but I've no business to think, howsomever—baugh!"
"Pray what do you think, Mr. Bunting? Why do you hesitate?"
"'Fraid of offence—but I do think that Master Aram—your honour understands—howsomever Squire's daughter too great a match for such as he!"
Walter did not answer; and the garrulous old soldier, who had been the young man's playmate and companion since Walter was a boy; and was therefore accustomed to the familiarity with which he now spoke, continued, mingling with his abrupt prolixity an occasional shrewdness of observation, which shewed that he was no inattentive commentator on the little and quiet world around him.
"Free to confess, Squire Walter, that I don't quite like this larned man, as much as the rest of 'em—something queer about him—can't see to the
