“‘You must have seen some queer things,’ said Tom, with an inquisitive look.
“‘You may say that, Tom,’ replied the old fellow, with a very complicated wink. ‘I am the last of my family, Tom,’ said the old gentleman, with a melancholy sigh.
“‘Was it a large one?’ inquired Tom Smart.
“‘There were twelve of us, Tom,’ said the old gentleman; ‘fine, straight-backed, handsome fellows as you’d wish to see. None of your modern abortions—all with arms, and with a degree of polish, though I say it that should not, which would have done your heart good to behold.’
“‘And what’s become of the others, sir?’ asked Tom Smart.
“The old gentleman applied his elbow to his eye as he replied, ‘Gone, Tom, gone. We had hard service, Tom, and they hadn’t all my constitution. They got rheumatic about the legs and arms, and went into kitchens and other hospitals; and one of ’em, with long service and hard usage, positively lost his senses:—he got so crazy that he was obliged to be burnt. Shocking thing that, Tom.’
“‘Dreadful!’ said Tom Smart.
“The old fellow paused for a few minutes, apparently struggling with his feelings of emotion, and then said:
“‘However, Tom, I am wandering from the point. This tall man, Tom, is a rascally adventurer. The moment he married the widow, he would sell off all the furniture, and run away. What would be the consequence? She would be deserted and reduced to ruin, and I should catch my death of cold in some broker’s shop.’
“‘Yes, but——’