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Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 1804-1864

"Fanshawe"

He
was rather a thickset man, but with no superfluous flesh; his hair was of
iron-gray; he had a few wrinkles; his face was so deeply sunburnt, that,
excepting a half-smothered glow on the tip of his nose, a dusky yellow was
the only apparent hue. As the people gazed, it was observed that the
elderly men, and the men of substance, gat themselves silently to their
steeds, and hied homeward with an unusual degree of haste; till at length
the inn was deserted, except by a few wretched objects to whom it was a
constant resort. These, instead of retreating, drew closer to the
traveller, peeping anxiously into his face, and asking, ever and anon, a
question, in order to discover the tone of his voice. At length, with one
consent, and as if the recognition had at once burst upon them, they
hailed their old boon-companion, Hugh Crombie, and, leading him into the
inn, did him the honor to partake of a cup of welcome at his expense.
But, though Hugh readily acknowledged the not very reputable acquaintances
who alone acknowledged him, they speedily discovered that he was an
altered man. He partook with great moderation of the liquor for which he
was to pay; he declined all their flattering entreaties for one of his old
songs; and finally, being urged to engage in a game at all-fours, he
calmly observed, almost in the words of an old clergyman on a like
occasion, that his principles forbade a profane appeal to the decision by
lot.


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