and you shall see that my feet carry me well enough on the dry land."
"I thank you, sir, and I would most willingly have accepted your kind offer, but I'm engaged to dine with one who is, I believe, a neighbor of yours—Squire Waldron, of Hurst Court."
"Why, God bless my soul, so am I!" cried the parson, in amazement at his own momentary lapse of memory. "Then, sir, I shall be happy to meet you there; and I warrant you'll be happy too, for the squire's port wine, let me tell you, is a tipple not to be despised by his Majesty himself."
"Ay, sir, and there at any rate I shall feel comfortable in the thought that the wine has paid duty, which, I give you my word, is what I have not felt in any other house in the neighborhood, public or private, since I arrived here."
But at these words a sudden and singular alteration had occurred in the parson's features. He seemed to remember the office of the person to whom he was speaking, and to become more reserved.
"Ay, sir, certainly," was all he said.
The lieutenant went on, with a return to the
