oke a cargo of coffee, he would
not forget twelve packets of sealing-wax and two hampers of Dutch
tobacco pipes for his store. He would descend without difficulty from
instructions to a captain who had lost his ship, to the most minute
details respecting certain stove pipes which he had seen in London,
and which he wished to introduce into the town hospital.

But when the post had been despatched, and the hour of three--the
usual hour for dinner parties--approached, and when the Consul had
shaved himself carefully, and had applied himself to sundry pots and
flasks of pomades and essences, he stepped up the broad staircase,
dressed in a long-skirted blue coat with bright buttons, a closely
fitting waistcoat, and a frilled shirt with a diamond breast-pin, his
comely iron-grey hair slightly powdered and curled. Perhaps, too, he
would be humming some French ditty of questionable propriety,
thinking of the gallantries of his youth; and as he stepped daintily
forward with his shapely legs, he would sometimes indulge in a hope
that knee breeches would again come into fashion.

In spite of his gallantries, however, Consul Garman had been an
exemplary husband, according to the standard of the times; and when
his wife died he really grieved for her, placing sundry tablets with
affectionate inscriptions in those parts of the garden which were her
special favourites.

After her death he gave up society, so that this item of expenditure
diminished perceptibly. Two other items, however, showed a tendency
to increase--the expenses connected with his sons, especially
Richard.

His affections were now bestowed upon these sons. Richard was at once
his pride and his weakness; a handsome exterior and easy temperament
were a reflection of his own youth; and when Richard took his best
horse and saddle, as well as his riding whip, which no one else was
allowed to touch, he stole from window to window, as long as his son
was in sight, pleased to observe his bearing and his seat on
horseback.

With his eldest son, Christian Frederik, the Consul was, however,
more strict.

He would write to Richard somewhat after the following fashion, when
his extravagance became serious:

"I can well understand that the _carriere_ which you, with the
sanction of your parents, have adopted, involves you in sundry
expenses, which, although apparently unnecessary, may on a closer
scrutiny be found, to a certain extent, warranted by circumstances.
On