had never known my father so entertaining as at these moments, when his
life was but too evidently drawing to a close. I had no idea that he
knew and had seen so much; my respect for him increased, and I looked
upon him almost with admiration. His anecdotes were in general highly
curious; some of them related to people in the highest stations, and to
men whose names were closely connected with some of the brightest glories
of our native land. He had frequently conversed--almost on terms of
familiarity--with good old George. He had known the conqueror of Tippoo
Saib; and was the friend of Townshend, who, when Wolfe fell, led the
British grenadiers against the shrinking regiments of Montcalm. "Pity,"
he added, "that when old--old as I am now--he should have driven his own
son mad by robbing him of his plighted bride; but so it was; he married
his son's bride. I saw him lead her to the altar; if ever there was an
angelic countenance, it was that girl's; she was almost too fair to be
one of the daughters of women. Is there anything, boy, that you would
wish to ask me? now is the time."

"Yes, father; there is one about whom I would fain question you."

"Who is it? shall I tell you about Elliot?"

"No, father, not about Elliot; but pray don't be angry; I should like to
know something about Big Ben."

"You are a strange lad," said my father; "and, though of late I have
begun to entertain a more favourable opinion than heretofore, there is
still much about you that I do not understand. Why do you bring up that
name? Don't you know that it is one of my temptations? You wish to know
something about him. Well! I will oblige you this once, and then
farewell to such vanities--something about him. I will tell you--his--skin
when he flung off his clothes--and he had a particular knack in doing
so--his skin, when he bared his mighty chest and back for combat; and
when he fought, he stood so--if I remember right--his skin, I say, was
brown and dusky as that of a toad. Oh me! I wish my elder son was
here."

CHAPTER XXVIII.

At last my brother arrived; he looked pale and unwell; I met him at the
door. "You have been long absent!" said I.

"Yes," said he, "perhaps too long; but how is my father?"

"Very poorly," said I, "he has had a fresh attack; but where have you
been of late?"

"Far and wide," said my brother; "but I can't tell you anything now, I
must go to my father. It was only by chance that I hea