a dozen stories of his sayings regarding my family, and was
determined neither to avoid him nor seek him; but to call him to account
whensoever we met; and, chancing one day to be at a coffee-house in a
friend's company, my worthy kinsman swaggered in with a couple of young
lads of the army, whom he found it was his pleasure and profit now
to lead into every kind of dissipation. I happened to know one of Mr.
Will's young companions, an aide-de-camp of General Clinton's, who had
been in my close company both at Charleston, before Sullivan's Island,
and in the action of Brooklyn, where our General gloriously led the
right wing of the English army. They took a box without noticing us
at first, though I heard my name three or four times mentioned by
my brawling kinsman, who ended some drunken speech he was making by
slapping his fist on the table, and swearing, "By----, I will do for
him, and the bloody rebel, his brother!"

"Ah! Mr. Esmond," says I, coming forward with my hat on. (He looked a
little pale behind his punch-bowl.) "I have long wanted to see you, to
set some little matters right about which there has been a difference
between us."

"And what may those be, sir?" says he, with a volley of oaths.

"You have chosen to cast a doubt upon my courage, and say that I shirked
a meeting with you when we were young men. Our relationship and our age
ought to prevent us from having recourse to such murderous follies" (Mr.
Will started up, looking fierce and relieved), "but I give you notice,
that though I can afford to overlook lies against myself, if I hear from
you a word in disparagement of my brother, Colonel Warrington, of the
Continental Army, I will hold you accountable."

"Indeed, gentlemen! Mighty fine, indeed! You take notice of Sir George
Warrington's words!" cries Mr. Will over his punch-bowl.

"You have been pleased to say," I continued, growing angry as I spoke,
and being a fool therefore for my pains, "that the very estates we hold
in this country are not ours, but of right revert to your family!"

"So they are ours! By George, they're ours! I've heard my brother
Castlewood say so a score of times!" swears Mr. Will.

"In that case, sir," says I, hotly, "your brother, my Lord Castlewood,
tells no more truth than yourself. We have the titles at hone in
Virginia. They are registered in the courts there; and if ever I hear
one word more of this impertinence, I shall call you to account where no
constables