night betwixt Hounslow and London; when in fact he may be found sound asleep on his feather-bed, with a candle placed beside him on one side, and a Bible on the other, to fright away the goblins.”
“And your nephew, mine host, this same Michael Lambourne, who is lord of the feast—is he, too, such an would-be ruffler as the rest of them?”
“Why, there you push me hard,” said the host; “my nephew is my nephew, and though he was a desperate Dick of yore, yet Mike may have mended like other folks, you wot—And I would not have you think all I said of him, even now, was strict gospel—I knew the wag all the while, and wished to pluck his plumes from him—And now, sir, by what name shall I present my worshipful guest to these gallants?”
“Marry, mine host,” replied the stranger, “you may call me Tressilian.”
“Tressilian?” answered mine host of the Bear, “a worthy name; and, as I think, of Cornish lineage; for what says the south proverb—
You may know the Cornish men.’
Shall I say the worthy Mr Tressilian of Cornwall?”
“Say no more than I have given you warrant for, mine host, and so shall you be sure you speak no more than is true. A man may have one of those honourable prefixes to his name, yet be born far from Saint Michael’s Mount.”
Mine host pushed his curiosity no farther, but
