"Ha! major—never was so happy to see any one in my life," exclaimed Chatterton, seizing the hand of his friend—a tall, raw-boned, red-faced man, with a good-natured expression of face, not unmixed with a considerable share of good sense.
"I really," replied the major, in an accent that was a great deal more redolent of Renfrew than Middlesex—"I really jist at this moment dinna happen to have a single guinea aboot me, so ye needna go on wi' your compliments; but at hame in the kist,—the arca, as a body may say"—
"Poh! I don't want to borrow just now—except, indeed, your assistance in a matter of the highest importance. You have always been so kind, so obliging, that I am sure you wont refuse."
"Weel, say awa', speak on; perge, puer, as a body may say," interrupted the major, who seemed resolved to show what command of language he had, for he uniformly began his speeches in his vernacular, and translated them, though with an effort, into English, or any other tongue he chanced to recollect.
"Did you see a lady near the Waterloo? tall, graceful, timid; by heavens, a shape to dream of, not to see?"
"Then, what for did ye look at it?—answer that if you please—responde, s'il vous plait."
"A creature so sweet, so beautiful; ah, McToddy!"
"What's a' this aboot. What's the meaning of all this? Is't in some wild play aboot a woman—une femme,—a fæmina, as a body may say, you want my help? Gae wa' wi' ye—be off with you,—apage, Sathanas, as a body may say—I'm owre auld in the horn for sic nonsense—non mihi tantas."
"I tell you, major, she is the loveliest creature in Europe. Such a foot —such shoulders—such a walk—by heavens! I'll shoot him as dead as Julius Cæsar."
"Who are you going to shoot?—is't a woman in man's claes?" enquired the major, astonished.