Gillespie, on the occasion in question, not only met Fenton within a short distance of the town, and in a lonely place, but also found him far advanced in a state of intoxication.
"Is this Mr.Fenton ?" said he.

"How do you do, Mr.Fenton?
A beautiful night, sir." "Yes, sir," replied the unfortunate young man; "it is Mr.Fenton, and you are a gentleman.

Some folks now take the liberty of calling me Fenton, which is not only impudently familiar and ridiculous, but a proof that they do not know how to address a gentleman." "You are leaving the town, it seems, Mr.Fenton ?" "Yes, there's a wake down in Killyfaddy, where there will be a superfluity, sir, of fun; and I like to see fun and sorrow associated.
They harmonize, my friend--they concatenate." "Mr.Fenton," proceeded Gillespie, "you are a young gentleman--" "Yes, sir, that's the term.

I am a gentleman.

What can I do for you?
I have rare interest among the great and powerful." "I don't at all doubt it," replied Gillespie; "but I was go in' to say, sir, that you are a young gentleman that I have always respected very highly." "Thanks, my friend, thanks." "If it wouldn't be takin' a liberty, I'd ask a favor of you." "Sir, you are a gentleman, and it should be granted.