obedience as an example to the others, ordered the four to the hearth
rug, ran his eye along the mantel to see what letters had arrived in his
absence, and disappeared into his bedroom. From thence he emerged half
an hour later attired in the costume of the day--a jaunty brown
velveteen jacket, loose red scarf, speckled white waistcoat--single-
breasted and of his own pattern and cut--dove-gray trousers, and white
gaiters. No town clothes for St. George as long as his measure was in
London and his friends were good enough to bring him a trunk full every
year or two. "Well-cut garments may not make a gentleman," he would
often say to the youngsters about him, "but slip-shod clothes can spoil
one."

He had drawn up to the table now, Todd in white jacket hovering about
him, bringing relays of waffles, hot coffee, and more particularly the
first of a series of great scallop-shells filled with oysters which he
had placed on the well-brushed hearth to keep hot while his master was
dressing.

Fifty he was by the almanac, and by the old family Bible as well, and
yet he did not look it. Six feet and an inch; straight, ruddy-checked,
broad-shouldered, well-rounded, but with his waist measure still under
control; slightly gray at the temples, with clean-shaven face, laughing
eyes, white teeth, and finely moulded nose, brow, and chin, he was
everything his friends claimed--the perfect embodiment of all that was
best in his class and station, and of all that his blood had bequeathed
him.

And fine old fellows they were if we can believe the historians of the
seventeenth century: "Wearing the falchion and the rapier, the cloth
coat lined with plush and embroidered belt, the gold hat-band and the