Well --
Pray when does your excellency set sail? -- For God's sake have a
care of your health, and cat stewed prunes in the passage. Next to
your own precious health, pray, my dear excellency, take care of
the Five Nations -- Our good friends the Five Nations. The
Toryrories, the Maccolmacks, the Out-o'the-ways, the Crickets,
and the Kickshaws -- Let 'em have plenty of blankets, and
stinkubus, and wampum; and your excellency won't fail to scour
the kettle, and boil the chain, and bury the tree, and plant the
hatchet -- Ha, ha, ha!' When he had uttered this rhapsody, with his
usual precipitation, Mr Barton gave him to understand, that I was
neither Sir Francis, nor St Francis, but simply Mr Melford,
nephew to Mr Bramble; who, stepping forward, made his bow at the
same time. 'Odso! no more it is Sir Francis -- (said this wise
statesman) Mr Melford, I'm glad to see you -- I sent you an
engineer to fortify your dock -- Mr Bramble -- your servant, Mr
Bramble -- How d'ye, good Mr Bramble? Your nephew is a pretty young
fellow -- Faith and troth, a very pretty fellow! -- His father is my
old friend -- How does he hold it? Still troubled with that damned
disorder, ha?' 'No, my lord (replied my uncle), all his troubles
are over -- He has been dead these fifteen years.
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