mother died very young, and I was left a poor orphan--well, bless
us! if Thomas haven't kissed her!--to the care of Mrs. Score, my
aunt, who has been a mother to me--a stepmother, you know;--and I've
been to Stratford fair, and to Warwick many a time; and there's two
people who have offered to marry me, and ever so many who want to,
and I won't have none--only a gentleman, as I've always said; not a
poor clodpole, like Tom there with the red waistcoat (he was one
that asked me), nor a drunken fellow like Sam Blacksmith yonder, him
whose wife has got the black eye, but a real gentleman, like--"

"Like whom, my dear?" said the Captain, encouraged.

"La, sir, how can you? Why, like our squire, Sir John, who rides in
such a mortal fine gold coach; or, at least, like the parson, Doctor
Dobbs--that's he, in the black gown, walking with Madam Dobbs in
red."

"And are those his children?"

"Yes: two girls and two boys; and only think, he calls one William
Nassau, and one George Denmark--isn't it odd?" And from the parson,
Mrs. Catherine went on to speak of several humble personages of the
village community, who, as they are not necessary to our story, need
not be described at full length. It was when, from the window,
Corporal Brock saw the altercation between the worthy divine and his
son, respecting the latter's ride, that he judged it a fitting time
to step out on the green, and to bestow on the two horses those
famous historical names which we have just heard applied to them.

Mr. Brock's diplomacy was, as we have stated, quite successful; for,