"Peter--we have been friends from boys."
"To be sure we have," said the admiral, looking up in a little surprise at this unexpected commencement--"and it will not be my fault if we do not die such, Frederick."
Dying was a subject the general did not much delight in although of conspicuous courage in the field; and he proceeded to his more important purpose--"I could never find, although I have looked over our family tree so often, that we are in any manner related, Howell."
"I believe it is too late to mend that matter now," said the admiral, musing.
"Why no--hem--I think not, Howell; take a glass of this Burgundy."
The admiral shook his head with a stubborn resolution to taste nothing French, but he helped himself to a bountiful stock of Madeira, as he replied--
"I should like to know how you can bring it about this time of day, Denbigh."
"How much money will you be able to give that girl of yours, Peter?" said his friend, evading the point.
"Forty thousand down, my good fellow, and as much more when I die," cried the open-hearted sailor, with a nod of exultation.
"George, my youngest son, will not be rich--but Francis will be a duke, and have a noble estate; yet," said the general; meditating, "he is so unhappy in his disposition and uncouth in his manners, I cannot think of offering him to your daughter as a husband."