impostor?"

"I am Jack Carvel's son, dear Captain Daniel, and that is why I am here,"
I replied. "I am a stouter Whig than ever, and I believe I might have
converted Mr. Fox himself had I remained at home sufficiently long,"
I added, with a solemn face. And, for my own edification, I related how
I had bearded his Majesty's friends at Brooks's, whereat he gave a great,
joyful laugh, and thumped me on the back.

"You dog, Richard! You sly rogue!" And he called to Mr. Claude for
another bottle on the strength of that, and we pledged the Association.
He peppered me with questions concerning Junius, and Mr. Wilkes, and Mr.
Franklin of Philadelphia. Had I seen him in London? "I would not doubt
a Carvel's word," says the captain, "(always excepting Grafton and his
line, as usual), but you may duck me on the stool and I comprehend why
Mr. Fox and his friends took up with such a young rebel rapscallion as
you--and after the speech you made 'em."

I astonished him vastly by pointing out that Mr. Fox and his friends
cared a deal for place, and not a fig for principle; that my frankness
had entertained rather than offended them; and that, having a taste for
a bit of wild life and the money to gratify it, and being of a tolerant,
easy nature withal, I had contrived to make many friends in that set,
without aiming at influence. Whereat he gave me another lick between the
shoulders.

"It was so with Jack," he cried; "thou art a replica. He would have made
friends with the devil himself. In the French war, when all the rest of
us Royal Americans were squabbling with his Majesty's officers out of
England, and cursing them at mess, they could never be got to fight with