ousand a year in
our country, and was respected by all his neighbours as much for his
personal merit as for his family fortune. With respect to his son
Launcelot, whom you have seen, I can remember nothing until he returned
from the university, about the age of seventeen, and then I myself was
not more than ten years old. The young gemman was at that time in
mourning for his mother; though, God knows, Sir Everhard had more cause
to rejoice than to be afflicted at her death:--for, among friends" (here
he lowered his voice, and looked round the kitchen), "she was very
whimsical, expensive, ill-tempered, and, I'm afraid, a little--upon the--
flightly order--a little touched or so;--but mum for that--the lady is
now dead; and it is my maxim, de mortuis nil nisi bonum. The young
squire was even then very handsome, and looked remarkably well in his
weepers; but he had an awkward air and shambling gait, stooped mortally,
and was so shy and silent that he would not look a stranger in the face,
nor open his mouth before company. Whenever he spied a horse or carriage
at the gate, he would make his escape into the garden, and from thence
into the park; where many is the good time and often he has been found
sitting under a tree, with a book in his hand, reading Greek, Latin, and
other foreign linguas.

"Sir Everhard himself was no great scholar, and my father had forgot his
classical learning; and so the rector of the parish was desired to
examine young Launcelot. It was a long time before he found an
opportunity; the squire always gave him the slip.--At length the parson
catched him in bed of a morning, and, locking the door, to it they went
tooth and nail. What passed betwixt them the Lord in heaven knows; but
when the doctor came forth, he looked wild and haggard as if he had seen
a ghost, his face as white as paper, and his lips trembling like an
aspen-leaf. 'Parson,' said the knight, 'what is the matter?--how dost
find my son? I hope he won't turn out a ninny, and disgrace his family?'
The doctor, wiping the sweat from his forehead, replied, with some
hesitation, 'he could not tell--he hoped the best--the squire was to be
sure a very extraordinary young gentleman.'--But the father urging him to
give an explicit answer, he frankly declared, that, in his opinion, the
son would turn out either a mirror of wisdom, or a monument of folly; for
his genius and disposition were altogether preternatural. The knight was
sorely