"Your reverend opponent really got the better of you, I think, sir," says a quiet, plain, simple gentleman, with a fine face and eye. "The Twopenny-Act made out too clear a case, in mere point of law, to need the afterclap."
"True, sir," his friend replies, smiling so pleasantly that his very name seemed to indicate his character, "but I would willingly be unhorsed again by the Reverend Mr. Camm, in a cause so good. Everything concerning Virginia, you know, is dear to me. I believe some of my friends consider me demented on the subject—or at least call me the 'Virginia Antiquary.'"
"I consider it a very worthy designation, sir; and in spite of my opinion that 'The Colonel's Dismounted' is an appropriate title,—I cannot be otherwise than frank ever,—I am fully convinced that equity was with you. But here comes our noble Roman."
As he speaks, a tall, fine-looking gentleman approaches, with an eagle eye, a statuesque head, inclined forward as though listening courteously, a smile upon his lips, his right hand covered with a black bandage.
"What news from Westmoreland, pray, seigneur of Chantilly?" asks the opponent of the Reverend Mr. Camm. "Do they think of testing the Twopenny-Act by suits for damages?"
"No, sir," says the newcomer, very courteously; "I believe, however, that in Hanover County the Reverend Mr. Maury has brought suit against the collector."
"Ah, then we shall get some information from our friend from Caroline! See, here he is. Good day, sir!"
He who now approaches has the same calm, benignant expression as the rest—an expression, indeed, which seems to have dwelt always on those serene noble faces of that period, so full of stirring events and strong natures. The face was not unlike that which we fancy Joseph Addison's must have been: a quiet, serene smile, full of courtesy and sweetness, illuminated
