"Did you address any of your observations to me, sir?"
"Didn't I? to be sure I did. There was a certain Arabella Rayleigh in Temp. Geo. Prim., that means in the time of George I. or II., I forget which—but it is ages ago—that married Martin Hicks, and had a daughter, who married in Temp. of another of the Geos John Smith, and had a daughter; which married James Brown, and had a daughter; which married grandfather, Thomas Jeeks, in Temp. Geo. Tert.—which makes us cousins; and that's the reason why father thinks it so hard your old governor won't part with the rest of the lands. Isn't it too bad, Mr Shookers?"
"It seems very unfriendly in old Rayleigh to keep such a hold on the property, when Mr Jeeks is willing to buy him off."
"Are you aware, sir, in whose presence you allow yourself such vulgar and insulting language? I am Mr Rayleigh's son."
"Well, and I'm his cousin," interposed young Jeek; "and it's rather hard if a man can't stand a word or two about his relations. I don't care what Shookers may say about my cousin. I have too much philosophy to care."
Mr Shookers, however, took the hint, and made no further observation on the subject. I looked out of the window, and endeavoured to abstract my thoughts from the conversation of my companions; but it was impossible. I kept my looks turned to the window; but I soon began to listen with all my ears.
"You'll find it uncommon hot at Singapore," said Mr Jeeks. "It's always the dog-days there; but all the Juffleses can stand fire like reg'lar bricks, as they are."
"I like it," replied Mr Shookers; "and I am very much obligated to your father."
"He's a trump, is the old fellow—he's out of business himself—wound all up at Canton; but his interest will do great things for you at Singapore."
"Oh! I consider my fortune made; and I am sure we shall both be grateful to him till the end of time."