By this time I had remembered that he was Doctor James Blair, the lately come commissary of the diocese of London, who represented all that Virginia had in the way of a bishop.

He had a shrewd, kind face, like a Scots dominie, and a mouth that shut as tight as the Governor's.
"Your tongue proclaims you my countryman, sir," he said.

"Did I hear right that your name was Garvald ?" "Of Auchencairn ?" he asked, when I had assented.
"Of Auchencairn, or what is left of it," I said.
"Then, gentlemen," he said, addressing the company, "I can settle the dispute on the facts, without questioning his Excellency's dogma.

Mr.
Garvald is of as good blood as any in Scotland.

And that," said he firmly, "means that in the matter of birth he can hold up his head in any company in any Christian land." I do not think this speech made any man there look on me with greater favour, but it enormously increased my own comfort.