part, for I demanded a
sprightly devotion to my interests, considering love so holy a thing,
that where it existed, all surrounding persons were bound to do it homage
and service. We were thrown together a great deal in attending on poor
old Sewis, who would lie on his pillows recounting for hours my father's
midnight summons of the inhabitants of Riversley, and his little Harry's
infant expedition into the world. Temple and Heriot came to stay at the
Grange, and assisted in some rough scene-painting--torrid colours
representing the island of Jamaica. We hung it at the foot of old Sewis's
bed. He awoke and contemplated it, and went downstairs the same day,
cured, he declared: the fact being that the unfortunate picture testified
too strongly to the reversal of all he was used to in life, in having
those he served to wait on him. The squire celebrated his recovery by
giving a servants' ball. Sewis danced with the handsomest lass, swung her
to supper, and delivered an extraordinary speech, entirely concerning me,
and rather to my discomposure, particularly so when it was my fate to
hear that the old man had made me the heir of his savings. Such was his
announcement, in a very excited voice, but incidentally upon a solemn
adjuration to the squire to beware of his temper--govern his temper and
not be a turncoat.

We were present at the head of the supper-table to hear our healths
drunk. Sewis spoke like a half-caste oblivious of his training, and of
the subjects he was at liberty to touch on as well. Evidently there was a
weight of foreboding on his mind. He knew his master well. The squire
excused him under the ejaculation, 'Drunk, by the Lord!' Sewis went so
far as to mention my father 'He no disgrace, sar, he no disgrace, I say!
but he pull one way, old house pull other way, and 'tween 'em my little
Harry torn apieces, squire. He set out in the night "You not enter it any
more!" Very well. I go my lawyer next day. You see my Will, squire. Years
ago, and little Harry so high. Old Sewis not the man to change. He no
turncoat, squire. God bless you, my master; you recollect, and ladies
tell you if you forget, old Sewis no turncoat. You hate turncoat. You
taught old Sewis, and God bless you, and Mr. Harry, and British
Constitution, all Amen!'

With that he bounded to bed. He was dead next morning.

The squire was humorous over my legacy. It amounted to about seventeen
hundred pounds invested in Government Stock, and he aske