lemen fell a
laughing, telling the captain he had been at home two months before him.
Captain Froade swore it could never be; however, they confirmed it to him
that it was so.

Soon after this Mr. Carew went and paid his respects to Sir William
Courtenay, returning him many thanks for what he had furnished him with
when he sailed for Maryland; adding, he had been as good as his word, in
coming home before Captain Froade. Sir William told him he thought he
had; and then called to his butler to give him something to drink. In a
little time Sir William came to him again, with his brother, Mr. Henry
Courtenay, who conducted him to a noble parlour, where was a great
company of fine ladies sitting, whom our hero accosted with all that
respect which is ever due to beauty and merit. Sir William then asked
him jocosely if he could find out which was his dove. He replied, he
knew some of the ladies there; and that, unless his judgment deceived
him, such a lady, (singling out one of them) was the happy person. You
are right, replied Sir William; this is indeed my dove, and turtle-dove.
Sir William then put a piece of money in his hat, as did Mr. Courtenay,
and bid him go round to the ladies, which he did, addressing them in a
very handsome manner; and, we need not add, gathered a plentiful harvest,
as the fair sex are, in general, so much inclined to humanity and
good-nature. Sir William asked him if he would not drink to the ladies'
health? and filled him up a bumper of excellent wine; he then took his
leave of this truly noble and hospitable gentleman.--Here, reader, if my
pen were equal to the task, I would describe to you one whom, in this
degenerate age, thou mayest gaze at as a prodigy; one who, like the
phoenix rising from the ashes of his father, inherits all the virtues of
his glorious ancestors; I would describe to you magnificence without
extravagance, pomp without ostentation, plenty without luxury or riot,
and greatness undiminished by little pride; I would set before you
something more than a king, surrounded and imprisoned by worthless and
impervious favourites, fawning sycophants, and tasteless grandeur. Such
are the scenes within thy walls, such thy master, happy Powderham!

From hence our hero went to Squire Bell's, of Mamheap; in the way he met
with Mr. Jackson, his steward, who was lame with the gout; he presently
knew Mr. Carew, gave him half-a-crown, and told him, he would hop back on
his crutches to