Thank you, my good sir, said the colonel: I am perfectly satisfied. For my own part I am contented to exhibit three cockle-shells on the handles of my spoons, but where I picked them up, and how I came by them, I know no more than the man in the moon, nor care.
At this instant Cecilia entered the room, and, running up to her father, joyfully announced the welcome entrance of our hero on this mortal stage in the character of a lovely boy, adding in the usual phrase that the mother was quite as well as could be expected.
I rejoice to hear it; I rejoice to hear it, exclaimed the grandfather. But, my dear Cecilia, are you quite certain that it is a boy?
Dear sir, replied Cecilia, you wont suppose the people about my sister can be deceived as to that.
Why no, said De Lancaster, upon better recollection I presume they cannot.
Cecilia directed a congratulatory look to her brother, and nodding to him, as she left the room, said, I give you joy, Philip, I give you joy with all my heart. Philip received it with many thanks, and entertained it with much composure.
Reach me the family bible, son, said De Lancaster, and looked at his watch, observing that it wanted half an hour of midnight. He thereupon entered the day and hour of his grandson’s birth in the recording leaf of the aforesaid holy book; observing, that he would postpone engrossing the event into his pedigree roll till his attorney could attend for that purpose—I confess, added he, it is more properly the office of my bard David Williams, but as he, poor man, is blind, I shall wink at his excusing himself from that branch of his duty.
I don’t see how you can well do less, said the colonel.
He will be christened John, continued the old gentleman, not attending to the colonel’s remark: the links in the chain of my genealogy have long been distinguished by the alternate names of John, Robert and Philip, and the brightest of the three has fallen to his turn. The Johns have been the heroes of the family: That was my father’s name; he was a gentleman of the most punctilious honour, but he was killed in a duel with a foreign officer, who happened to tread upon the train of my mother’s gown in a ball-room. The Philips universally, without the exception of my worthy son here present, have been lovers of their ease, and my great-grandfather was very generally distinguished by the style and title of Robert the Philologist: by manuscripts, which are now in my possession, it appears, that he had been at considerable pains and study in writing comments and annotations for a new and splendid edition of the Incredibilia of Palæphatus: This he did not live to complete, but he is said more than once to have declared, that he would convince the world, that Palæphatus told many more truths than he himself was aware of.
Perhaps Palæphatus atoned for it, said the colonel, by telling many untruths, that he was aware of;—but is it not time to go to bed?