And lo! you are canonized.
Think of it, son-ingrate, assassin, robber of the dead, drunken brawler among thieves and harlots in the slums of Boston one month, and the pet of the pure and innocent daughters of the land the next! A bloody and hateful devil--a bewept, bewailed, and sainted martyr--all in a month! Fool!--so noble a fortune, and yet you sit here grieving!" "No, madam," I said, "you do me wrong, you do, indeed.

I am perfectly satisfied.

I did not know before that my great-grandfather was hanged, but it is of no consequence.

He has probably ceased to bother about it by this time--and I have not commenced yet.

I confess, madam, that I do something in the way of editing and lecturing, but the other crimes you mention have escaped my memory.