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Slowly I plodded homeward across the somber moorland, where
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"Young man," said the Deacon to the servant, filling a glass, "ye'll no be the waur o' this, after your ride."
"Not a feather, sir,--thank ye--your very good health, sir."
"And wha may your master be, friend?"
"What, the gentleman that was here?--that's the famous Colonel Mannering, sir, from the East Indies."
"What, him we read of in the newspapers?"
"Ay, ay, just the same. It was he relieved Cuddieburn, and defended Chingalore, and defeated the great Mahratta chief, Ram Jolli Bundleman--I was with him in most of his campaigns."
"Lord safe us," said the landlady, "I must go see what he would have for supper--that I should set him down here!"
"Oh, he likes that all the better, mother;--you never saw a plainer creature in your life than our old Colonel; and yet he has a spice of the devil in him too."
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