"I can't think of these French names without getting my brain in a twist.

Do you happen to recollect the Captain's name, Lieutenant ?" "Yes, sir; Gaspard Roussillon it reads in Colonel Clark's order; but I am told that he's away on a trading tour," said the young man.
"You may be told anything by these hair-tongued parlyvoos," Helm remarked.

"It won't hurt, anyway, to find out where he lives and make a formal call, just for appearance sake, and to enquire about his health.
I wish you would try it, sir, and let me know the result." The Lieutenant felt that this was a peremptory order and turned about to obey promptly.
"And I say, Beverley, come back sober, if you possibly can," Helm added in his most genial tone, thinking it a great piece of humor to suggest sobriety to a man whose marked difference from men generally, of that time, was his total abstinence from intoxicating drinks.
Lieutenant Fitzhugh Beverley was a Virginian of Virginians.

His family had long been prominent in colonial affairs and boasted a record of great achievements both in peace and in war.

He was the only son of his parents and heir to a fine estate consisting of lands and slaves; but, like many another of the restless young cavaliers of the Old Dominion, he had come in search of adventure over into Kentucky, along the path blazed by Daniel Boone; and when Clark organized his little army, the young man's patriotic and chivalrous nature leaped at the opportunity to serve his country under so gallant a commander.
Beverley was not a mere youth, although yet somewhat under thirty.
Educated abroad and naturally of a thoughtful and studious turn, he had enriched his mind far beyond the usual limit among young Americans of the very best class in that time; and so he appeared older than he really was: an effect helped out by his large and powerful form and grave dignity of bearing.