No one, whether of his own class or any other, liked a bone in his skin.

Nothing could infect him with the genial and hospitable spirit of the country, whilst at the same time no man living was so anxious to partake of the hospitality of others, merely because it saved him a meal.

All that sustained his character at the melancholy period of which we write was what people called the uncompromising energy of his principles as a sound and vigorous Protestant.
"Sink them all together," he exclaimed upon this occasion, in a kind of soliloquy--"Church and bishop and parson, what are they worth unless to make the best use we can of them?
Here I am prevented from going to that girl to-night--and that barbarous old blockhead of a squire, who was so near throwing me off for a beggarly Papist rebel: and doubly, trebly, quadruply cursed be that same rebel for crossing my path as he has done.

The cursed light-headed jade loves him too--there's no doubt of that--but wait until I get him in my clutches, as I certainly shall, and, by -- -, his rebel carcass shall feed the crows.

But what noise is that?
They have returned; I must go down and learn their success." He was right.