My son immediately recollected his voice and features, though he had before seen him in disguise, and taking him by the hand, with a smile forgave him. "Yet," continued he, "I can't help wondering at what you could see in my face, to think me a proper mark for deception."
"My dear sir," returned the other, "it was not your face, but your white stockings and the black ribband in your hair, that allured me. But no disparagement to your parts, I have deceived wiser men than you in my time; and yet, with all my tricks, the blockheads have been too many for me at last."
"I suppose," cried my son, "that the narrative of such a life as yours must be extremely instructive and amusing."
"Not much of either," returned Mr. Jenkinson. "Those relations which de-"scribe
