"
The village exciseman, who was half asleep, could just ejaculate, "very
true," to every thing he said.
The conversation turned upon cattle; he boasted of his breed, his mode
of managing it, and of the general management of his estate. This
unluckily drew on a history of the place and of the family. He spoke of
my late uncle with the greatest irreverence, which I could easily
forgive. He mentioned my name, and my blood began to boil. He described
my frequent visits to my uncle when I was a lad, and I found the
varlet, even at that time, imp as he was, had known that he was to
inherit the estate.
He described the scene of my uncle's death, and the opening of the
will, with a degree of coarse humor that I had not expected from him,
and, vexed as I was, I could not help joining in the laugh, for I have
always relished a joke, even though made at my own expense. He went on
to speak of my various pursuits; my strolling freak, and that somewhat
nettled me. At length he talked of my parents. He ridiculed my father:
I stomached even that, though with great difficulty. He mentioned my
mother with a sneer--and in an instant he lay sprawling at my feet.
Here a scene of tumult succeeded. The table was nearly overturned.
Bottles, glasses, and tankards, rolled crashing and clattering about
the floor. The company seized hold of both of us to keep us from doing
farther mischief. I struggled to get loose, for I was boiling with
fury.
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