"Yes--L1000--Wycherly Wychecombe--royal navy--" Atwood's pen was running rapidly over the paper, and had just reached the name of the contemplated legatee, when his hand was arrested by the voice of the young man himself.
"Stop, Mr.Atwood--do not insert any clause in my favour!" cried Wycherly, his face the colour of crimson, and his chest heaving with the emotions he felt it so difficult to repress.

"I decline the legacy--it will be useless to write it, as I will not receive a shilling." "Young sir," said Sir Gervaise, with a little of the severity of a superior, when he rebukes an interior, in his manner; "you speak hastily.

It is not the office of an auditor or of a spectator, to repel the kindness of a man about to pass from the face of the earth, into the more immediate presence of his God!" "I have every sentiment of respect for Sir Wycherly Wychecombe, sir;--every friendly wish for his speedy recovery, and a long evening to his life; but, I will accept of the money of no man who holds my country in such obvious distaste, as, it is apparent, the testator holds mine." "You are an Englishman, I believe, _Lieutenant_ Wychecombe; and a servant of King George II. ?" "I am _not_ an Englishman, Sir Gervaise Oakes--but an American; a Virginian, entitled to all the rights and privileges of a British subject.

I am no more an Englishman, than Dr.Magrath may lay claim to the same character." "This is putting the case strongly,--hey! Atwood ?" answered the vice-admiral, smiling in spite of the occasion.

"I am far from saying that you are an Englishman, in all senses, sir; but you are one in the sense that gives you national character and national rights.