"Yes, Missare Ou-at-you-call-it, and jentlemans, I am a man of figure in mine own land; and you laughs, par de deb'l! I come invite myself to de marriage, _néanmoins_, juste like Ménélas in l'Iliade d'Homère, _mort de diable, parce qu'il etait_ jentleman. You are soldiare! _Et moi_, by mine _honneur_, and so am I; for _autre fois, jadis_, (ou-at de deb'l you call him?) I use de sword for de violon, ride de horse, chargé _sur mon ennemi_, in ou-at you' Shakaspeare call de 'war glorieuse.'-- 'Ah! cruel souvenir de ma gloire passée! OEuvre de tant de jours en un jour effacée!' Yes, missares, I am jentleman-soldiare, ou-id fiddle. How de deb'l you make mariage wi'sout de fiddle, _l'aimable violon, l'instrument des amours? Ecoutez!_ you s'all hear. How de ladies and jentlemans s'all dance when dey hears, '_Qu'elle est grande, qu'elle est belle!_'"--And, in a rapture, he forthwith began sawing his instrument, and singing, with a voice exceedingly cracked and enthusiastic, the words of the old chorus of shepherds, 'Ah! qu'elle douce nouvelle! Qu'elle est grande! qu'elle est belle! Que de plaisirs! que de ris! que de jeux!' nor did he cease, even when the merriment of his auditors became as uproarious as his own harmony. In the midst of the chorus and the laughter, young Falconer looked up, and beheld his father, who had suddenly checked his horse at the entrance of the little oak-yard, and was looking towards him. He was struck with the unusual agitation of his parent's countenance, and ran towards him; but before he could speak, the Colonel demanded quickly, as if with an effort to change the current of his own thoughts, "What do you here, Henry! Is this a place, is this a sport for a bridegroom?" "'Pon my soul, pa," said the hopeful son, "I find it more agreeable than up among the tabbies. This fellow, this Monsieur Tiqueraque, as he calls himself, is decidedly the most agreeable person I have seen to-day,--a gentleman fiddler, who swears by all the gods of a Frenchman, he has trudged twenty miles on foot, to have the honour of dancing at my funeral--that is, my wedding; but the lord knows, pa, you look as solemn as if to-day was to be the end of me. Pray, sir, what is the matter? I hope you are not offended? Egad, sir, I am acting under orders,--under Harry's, who has taken as much command of me as if she were my wife, instead of my sister. She ordered me away, to be out of Catherine's sight,--the lord knows why, but women are all mad, and I think Catherine is growing as whimsical and absurd as the rest."