"Scotland, sir,—all our family come from Scotland; namely, all who live long do,—the rest die young."
"Ay, particular air does agree with particular constitutions. I, for instance, could not live in all countries; not—you take me—in the North!"
"Few honest men can live there," said Clifford, dryly. "And," resumed the squire, a little embarrassed by the nature of his task, and the cool assurance of his young friend,—"and pray, Captain Clifford, what regiment do you belong to?"
"Regiment?—oh, the Rifles!" answered Clifford. ("Deuce is in me," muttered he, "if I can resist a jest, though I break my neck over it.")
"A very gallant body of men," said the squire.
"No doubt of that, sir!" rejoined Clifford.
"And do you think, Captain Clifford," renewed the squire, "that it is a good corps for getting on?"
"It is rather a bad one for getting off," muttered the Captain; and then aloud, "Why, we have not much interest at court, sir."
"Oh! but then there is a wider scope, as my brother the lawyer says—and no man knows better—for merit. I dare say you have seen many a man elevated from the ranks?"
"Nothing more common, sir, than such elevation; and so great is the virtue of our corps, that I have also known not a few willing to transfer the honour to their comrades."