s Servants
laid down a Mourning Sword and Belt on the Table: _Miles_ was amaz'd at
the Sight of all these Things, and kept his Eyes fix'd on 'em, 'till his
Friend cry'd, Come, _Tom_! Put on your Linnen first! Here! (continu'd he
to his Servant) Bid 'em light some Faggots here! For, tho' 'tis Summer,
the Linnen may want Airing, and there may be some ugly cold Vapours
about the Room, which a good Fire will draw away. _Miles_ was still in a
Maze! But the Fire being well kindled, the Gentleman himself took a
Shirt, and air'd it; commanding one of his Servants to help _Tom_ to
undress. _Miles_ was strangely out o' Countenance at this, and told his
Friend, that he was of Age and Ability to pull off his own Cloaths; that
he never us'd to have any _Valets de Chambre_; (as they call'd 'em) and
for his Part, he was asham'd, and sorry that so worshipful a Gentleman
should take the Trouble to warm a Shirt for him. Besides (added he)
chave Heat enough (zure) to warm my Shirt. In short, he put on his
Shirt, half Shirt, his Cloaths and all Appurtenances, as modishly as the
best _Valet de Chambre_ in _Paris_ could. When _Miles_ was dress'd, his
Friend told him, That he believ'd he look'd then more like himself than
ever he had done since his Return to _England_. Ah! Noble Sir! said
_Miles_. _Vine Feathers make vine Birds._ But pray, Sir, Why must I wear
Mourning? Because there is a particular Friend of mine dead, for whose
Loss I can never sufficiently mourn my self; and therefore I desire that
all whom I love should mourn with me for him, return'd the Gentleman;
not but that there are three other Suits in Hand for you at this Time.
_Miles_ began then to suspect something of his Father's Death, which had
like to have made him betray his Grief at his Eyes; which his Friend
perceiving, took him by the Hand, and said, Here, my dear Friend! To the
Memory of my departed Friend! You are so very like what he was,
considering your Difference in Years, that I can't choose but love you
next to my Wife and my own Sister. Ah! Sir! (said he, and lapping his
Handkerchief to his Eyes) How can I deserve this of you? I have told you
(reply'd t'other.) But--Come! Take your Glass, and about with it! He did
so; and they were indifferently pleasant, the Subject of Discourse being
chang'd, 'till about a quarter after Five; when the Gentleman call'd to
pay, and took Coach with _Miles_ only, for the _Gun-Tavern_; where he
order'd a very noble Supper to be got r