Faringfield. Tom and I, though we only looked our thoughts, saw more
than accident in this. The officer occupied the large parlour, which
he divided by curtains into two apartments, sitting-room and
sleeping-chamber. By his courtesy and vivacity, he speedily won the
regard of the family, even of Mr. Faringfield and the Rev. Mr.
Cornelius.
"Damn the fellow!" said Tom to me. "I can't help liking him."
"Nor I, either," was my reply; but I also damned him in my turn.
CHAPTER X.
_A Fine Project._
Were it my own history that I am here undertaking, I should give at
this place an account of my first duel, which was fought with swords,
in Bayard's Woods, my opponent being an English lieutenant of foot,
from whom I had suffered a display of that superciliousness which our
provincial troops had so resented in the British regulars in the old
French War. By good luck I disarmed the man without our receiving more
than a small scratch apiece; and subsequently brought him to the
humbleness of a fawning spaniel, by a mien and tone of half-threatening
superiority which never fail of reducing such high-talking sparks to
abject meekness. 'Twas a trick of pretended bullying, which we
long-suffering Americans were driven to adopt in self-defence against
certain derisive, contemptuous praters that came to our shores from
Europe. But 'tis more to my purpose, as the biographer of Philip
Winwood, to continue upon the subject of Captain Falconer.
Pages:
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174