ssist me, I thought it better to leave it alone.
However, they taunted me so, by calling me fighting Tom, that my uncle
shut his door upon me as a disgrace to the family, saying, he wished the
first bullet had laid me dead--very kind of him;--at last my patience
was worn out, and I looked about to find whether there were not some
people who did not consider courage as a _sine qua non_. I found that
the Quakers' tenets were against fighting, and therefore courage could
not be necessary, so I have joined them, and I find that, if not a good
soldier, I am, at all events, a very respectable Quaker; and now you
have the whole of my story--and tell me if you are of my opinion."

"Why, really it's a very difficult point to decide. I never heard such
a case of disintegration before. I must think upon it."

"Of course, you will not say a word about it, Newland."

"Never fear, I will keep your secret, Talbot. How long have you worn
the dress?"

"Oh, more than a year. By-the-by, what a nice young person that
Susannah Temple is. I've a great mind to propose for her."

"But you must first ascertain what your body says to it, Talbot,"
replied I, sternly. "I allow no one to interfere with me, Quaker or
not."

"My dear fellow, I beg your pardon, I shall think no more about her,"
said Talbot, rising up, as he observed that I looked very fierce. "I
wish you a good morning. I leave Reading to-morrow. I will call on
you, and say Good-bye, if I can;" and I saw no more of friend Talbot,
whose mind was all courage, but whose body was so renegade.

PART THREE, CHAPTER TWELVE.

I FALL IN WITH TIMOTHY.

About a month after this, I heard a sailor with one leg, and a handful
of ballads, singing in a most lachrymal tone,--

"Why, what is that to you if my eyes I'm a wiping?
A tear is a pleasure, d'ye see, in its way--

"Bless your honour, shy a copper to Poor Jack, who's lost his leg in the
sarvice. Thanky, your honour," and he continued,--

"It's nonsense for trifles, I own, to be piping,
But they who can't pity--why I pities they.
Says the captain, says he, I shall never forget it,
Of courage, you know, boys, the true from the sham.

"Back your main-topsail, your worship, for half a minute, and just
assist a poor dismantled craft, who has been riddled in the wars.--`'Tis
a furious lion.' Long life to your honour.--`In battle so let it--'

"'Tis a furious lion, in battle so let it;
But duty appease