"How?"

"Why the Colonel's Lady--had lots of plays--and she marked a scene here--
a jest there--a line in one place--a sentiment in t' other--and the
Colonel sate by with a great paper book--cut 'em out, pasted them in
book. Augh! but the Colonel pleased the town mightily."

"Well, so he saw a great many authors; and did not they please you?"

"Why they be so damned quarrelsome," said the Corporal, "wringle,
wrangle, wrongle, snap, growl, scratch; that's not what a man of the
world does; man of the world niver quarrels; then, too, these creturs
always fancy you forgets that their father was a clargyman; they always
thinks more of their family, like, than their writings; and if they does
not get money when they wants it, they bristles up and cries, 'not
treated like a gentleman, by God!' Yet, after all, they've a deal of
kindness in 'em, if you knows how to manage 'em--augh! but, cat-kindness,
paw today, claw to-morrow. And then they always marries young, the poor
things, and have a power of children, and live on the fame and forten
they are to get one of these days; for, my eye! they be the most
sanguinest folks alive!"

"Why, Bunting, what an observer you have been! who could ever have
imagined that you had made yourself master of so many varieties in men!"

"Augh! your honour, I had nothing to do when I was the Colonel's valley,
but to take notes to ladies and make use of my eyes. Always a 'flective
man."

"It is odd that, with all your abilities, you did not provide better for