I'm no sportsman." "No, indeed," said Mr.Washington, with a look of scarcely repressed scorn.
"Yes, I understand you.

I am a milksop.

I have been bred at my mamma's knee.

Look at these pretty apron-strings, Colonel! Who would not like to be tied to them?
See of what a charming colour they are! I remember when they were black--that was for my grandfather." "And who would not mourn for such a gentleman ?" said the Colonel, as the widow, surprised, looked at her son.
"And, indeed, I wish my grandfather were here, and would resurge, as he promises to do on his tombstone; and would bring my father, the Ensign, with him." "Ah, Harry!" cries Mrs.Esmond, bursting into tears, as at this juncture her second son entered the room--in just such another suit, gold-corded frock, braided waistcoat, silver-hilted sword, and solitaire, as that which his elder brother wore.

"Oh, Harry, Harry!" cries Madam Esmond, and flies to her younger son.
"What is it, mother ?" asks Harry, taking her in his arms.