brother and relations at
Ealing; what his old grandfather had taught him; what languages he knew;
whether he could read and write, and sing, and so forth. And Mr. Holt
found that Harry could read and write, and possessed the two languages
of French and English very well; and when he asked Harry about singing,
the lad broke out with a hymn to the tune of Dr. Martin Luther, which
set Mr. Holt a-laughing; and even caused his grand parrain in the laced
hat and periwig to laugh too when Holt told him what the child was
singing. For it appeared that Dr. Martin Luther's hymns were not sung in
the churches Mr. Holt preached at.

"You must never sing that song any more: do you hear, little mannikin?"
says my Lord Viscount, holding up a finger.

"But we will try and teach you a better, Harry," Mr. Holt said; and
the child answered, for he was a docile child, and of an affectionate
nature, "That he loved pretty songs, and would try and learn anything
the gentleman would tell him." That day he so pleased the gentlemen by
his talk, that they had him to dine with them at the inn, and encouraged
him in his prattle; and Monsieur Blaise, with whom he rode and dined the
day before, waited upon him now.

"'Tis well, 'tis well!" said Blaise, that night (in his own language)
when they lay again at an inn. "We are a little lord here; we are a
little lord now: we shall see what we are when we come to Castlewood,
where my lady is."

"When shall we come to Castlewood, Monsieur Blaise?" says Harry.

"Parbleu! my lord does not press himself," Blaise says, with a grin;
and, indeed, it seemed as if his lordship was not in a great hurry, for
he spent three days on that journey which Harry Esmond hath often since
ridden in a dozen hours. For the last two of the days Harry rode with
the priest, who was so kind to him, that the child had grown to be
quite fond and familiar with him by the journey's end, and had scarce
a thought in his little heart which by that time he had not confided to
his new friend.

At length, on the third day, at evening, they came to a village standing
on a green with elms round it, very pretty to look at; and the people
there all took off their hats, and made curtsies to my Lord Viscount,
who bowed to them all languidly; and there was one portly person that
wore a cassock and a broad-leafed hat, who bowed lower than any one--and
with this one both my lord and Mr. Holt had a few words. "This, Harry,
is Castlewood church,