He's too clever, too cosmopolitan,--a sort of man white-washed of all prejudices, who wouldn't mind whether he ate horseflesh or beef if horseflesh were as good as beef, and never had an association in his life.

I'm not sure that he's not on the safest side.

Good night, old fellow.

Pluck up, and send us plenty of grouse if you do go to Scotland." John Fletcher, as I hope may have been already seen, was by no means a weak man or an indifferent brother.

He was warm-hearted, sharp-witted, and, though perhaps a little self-opinionated, considered throughout the county to be one of the most prudent in it.