'Twas by advice of Sir Harry, with meet attention to the philosophy of
Lord Chesterfield in respect to the particular accomplishments
essential to one who would both please and rise in the world, that my
uncle commanded the grand tour to further my education and to cure my
twisted foot. "'Tis the last leg o' the beat, lad;" he pleaded; "ye'll
be a gentleman, made t' order, accordin' t' specifications, when 'tis
over with; an' I'll be wonderful glad," says he, wearily, "when 'tis
done, for I'll miss ye sore, lad--ecod! but I'll miss ye sore."
Abroad, then, despite the gray warning, went John Cather and I, tutor
and young gentleman, the twain not to be distinguished from a company
of high birth. 'Twas a ghastly thing: 'twas a thing so unfit and
grotesque that I flush to think of it--a thing, of all my uncle's
benefits, I wish undone and cannot to this day condone. But that
implacable, most tender old ape, when he bade us God-speed on the
wharf, standing with legs and staff triangularly disposed to steady
him, rippled with pride and admiration to observe the genteel
performance of our departure, and in the intervals of mopping his
red, sweaty, tearful countenance, exhibited, in unwitting caricature,
the defiant consciousness of station he had with infinite pains sought
to have me master.
"Made t' order, lad," says he, at last, when he took my hand,
"accordin' t' the plans an' specifications o' them that knows, an'
quite regardless of expense."