30 LEAVES . fc'ilOM A LOG. 



Cordillac had often dined with me and pressed me to visit him in 

 return ; he swore "cadedie"* if I accepted his invitation he would 

 kill the fattest sheep on his estate. Now though I knew he never 

 had any sheep, yet I doubted not a hearty welcome from the Gascon, 

 and as I began to feel certain qualms from not having had breakfast, 

 his proffered hospitality was acceptable. I rode up to his dwelling, a 

 little thatched cottage, which he denominated his chateau. " An En- 

 glishman's house is his castle," so is a Frenchman's if he happen to 

 be a native of the banks of the Garonne. But ere I approached 

 within a hundred yards of his residence, he came out and saluted me 

 with a degree of warmth that even surprised me ; he squeezed my 

 hand with a grasp that was painful, swore sandie cadedie, that he was 

 " ravished, charmed, and enchanted" at the pleasure of seeing me at 

 his domicile, and wished I had come a little sooner as he had just 

 dined : (at this my face lengthened). 



" I dined well to-day," said he ; "I had a little capon very fat, 

 and a good bottle of very old Madeira ;" while he said this he picked 

 his teeth with the air of one who had been an inmate at Verray's. 

 He protested that if I would honour his "chateau" by taking up my 

 residence there for the night he would give me a glorious " dejeune 

 a la fourchette" in the morning; this offer I declined on account ot 

 having business with my friend the Spaniard. The fact is, I did not 

 like the prospect of fulfilling the prophecy of Quaco, which now 

 began to stare me in the face. I took a kind leave of the little 

 Gascon, and cursed my hard fortune in not being in time for his fine 

 fat capon and bottle of old Madeira, though I have been since in- 

 formed that he dined that day off a tureen of onion soup, and half a 

 bottle of sour " vin de cote. 1 ' 



On I went, carried rather slowly by my eomewhat jaded horse, 



until the neat-built mansion of Mr. I beg his pardon of T heo- 



philus Grumbleton, Esq. appeared in view. Here all men expect 

 the title of esquire ; I have written letters for slaves to their brother 

 bondsmen, and was always requested to address them by this title; 

 nay, one .made me conclude his letter thus 



" I remain, dear Quashee, 

 " Your obedient servant to command, 



" Tom Codgo, Esquire." 



But to describe Grumbleton's mansion. It was a wooden structure, 

 covered with cedar shingles ;* standing on hard wooden posts ; the 

 floor of the house was about fourteen feet off the ground, so that a 

 carriage might drive under it; the sides were painted lead colour, 

 and the roof had a coat of tar and red ochre. The walks to it were 

 covered with bitumen got from the pitch lake, which, next to Maca- 

 damising, makes the best roads ; these black traces afford a curious 

 contrast to the deep-green velvet-like Bahama grass which was 

 planted round the mansion. This was the house. Its owner was 

 what is called a fine-looking man ; yet there was a gloom in his look, 

 a surliness of expression, that to me was any thing but prepossessing ; 



* A Gascon exclamation. 



f- Small pieces of wood used like fiat tiles. 



