Hawk,' the wind fortunately came ahead, and thinks I to myself, I will
put in there, and pull foot1 for Windsor and see the Squire, give him
my Journal, and spend an hour or two with him once more. So here I am,
at least what is left of me, and dreadful glad I am to see you too;
but as it is about your dinner hour I will go and titivate up a bit,
and then we will have a dish of chat for desert, and cigars, to remind
us of by-gones, as we stroll through your shady walks here."


1 The Americans are not entitled to the credit or ridicule, whichever
people may be disposed to bestow upon them, for the extraordinary
phrases with which their conversation is occasionally embellished.
Some of them have good classical authority. That of "pull-foot" may be
traced to Euripides, [Greek text].


My old friend had worn well; he was still a wiry athletic man, and his
step as elastic and springy as ever. The constant exercise he had been
in the habit of taking had preserved his health and condition, and
these in their turn had enabled him to maintain his cheerfulness and
humour. The lines in his face were somewhat deeper, and a few
straggling grey hairs were the only traces of the hand of time. His
manner was much improved by his intercourse with the great world; but
his phraseology, in which he appeared to take both pride and pleasure,
was much the same as when I first knew him. So little indeed was he
changed, that I could scarcely believe so many years had elapsed since
we made our first tour together.

It was the most unexpected and agreeable visit. He enlivened the
conversation at dinner with anecdotes that were often too much for the