Barbarous broad-drawlers, murderers of his Majesty's English, could they even pronounce the name of an officer highly distinguished for many years in both of the royal services?
That was his description, and the Yorkshire yokels might go and read it--if read they could--in the pages of authority.
Like the celebrated calf that sucked two cows, Carroway had drawn royal pay, though in very small drains, upon either element, beginning with a skeleton regiment, and then, when he became too hot for it, diving off into a frigate as a recommended volunteer.

Here he was more at home, though he never ceased longing to be a general; and having the credit of fighting well ashore, he was looked at with interest when he fought a fight at sea.

He fought it uncommonly well, and it was good, and so many men fell that he picked up his commission, and got into a fifty-two-gun ship.

After several years of service, without promotion--for his grandfather's name was worn out now, and the wars were not properly constant--there came a very lively succession of fights, and Carroway got into all of them, or at least into all the best of them.

And he ought to have gone up much faster than he did, and he must have done so but for his long lean jaws, the which are the worst things that any man can have.