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Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894

"St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England"

Seizing occasion by the forelock, I drew up
as I came alongside and inquired what he had found to interest him.
He turned upon me a countenance not much less broad than his back.
'Why, sir,' he replied, 'I was even marvelling at my own
indefeasible stupeedity: that I should walk this way every week of
my life, weather permitting, and should never before have NOTTICED
that stone,' touching it at the same time with a goodly oak staff.
I followed the indication. The stone, which had been built
sideways into the wall, offered traces of heraldic sculpture. At
once there came a wild idea into my mind: his appearance tallied
with Flora's description of Mr. Robbie; a knowledge of heraldry
would go far to clinch the proof; and what could be more desirable
than to scrape an informal acquaintance with the man whom I must
approach next day with my tale of the drovers, and whom I yet
wished to please? I stooped in turn.
'A chevron,' I said; 'on a chief three mullets? Looks like
Douglas, does it not?'
'Yes, sir, it does; you are right,' said he: 'it DOES look like
Douglas; though, without the tinctures, and the whole thing being
so battered and broken up, who shall venture an opinion? But allow
me to be more personal, sir. In these degenerate days I am
astonished you should display so much proficiency.


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