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- 772
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- 2026-01-30T20:48:52.918Z
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- 708
- text
- VI.
There was one little uncelestial trait, which, in the opinion of some,
may mar the romantic merits of the gentlemanly Pierre Glendinning. He
always had an excellent appetite, and especially for his breakfast. But
when we consider that though Pierre's hands were small, and his ruffles
white, yet his arm was by no means dainty, and his complexion inclined
to brown; and that he generally rose with the sun, and could not sleep
without riding his twenty, or walking his twelve miles a day, or felling
a fair-sized hemlock in the forest, or boxing, or fencing, or boating,
or performing some other gymnastical feat; when we consider these
athletic habitudes of Pierre, and the great fullness of brawn and muscle
they built round about him; all of which manly brawn and muscle, three
times a day loudly clamored for attention; we shall very soon perceive
that to have a bountiful appetite, was not only no vulgar reproach, but
a right royal grace and honor to Pierre; attesting him a man and a
gentleman; for a thoroughly developed gentleman is always robust and
healthy; and Robustness and Health are great trencher-men.
So when Pierre and his mother descended to breakfast, and Pierre had
scrupulously seen her supplied with whatever little things were
convenient to her; and had twice or thrice ordered the respectable and
immemorial Dates, the servitor, to adjust and re-adjust the
window-sashes, so that no unkind current of air should take undue
liberties with his mother's neck; after seeing to all this, but in a
very quiet and inconspicuous way; and also after directing the unruffled
Dates, to swing out, horizontally into a particular light, a fine joyous
painting, in the good-fellow, Flemish style (which painting was so
attached to the wall as to be capable of that mode of adjusting), and
furthermore after darting from where he sat a few invigorating glances
over the river-meadows to the blue mountains beyond; Pierre made a
masonic sort of mysterious motion to the excellent Dates, who in
automaton obedience thereto, brought from a certain agreeable little
side-stand, a very prominent-looking cold pasty; which, on careful
inspection with the knife, proved to be the embossed savory nest of a
few uncommonly tender pigeons of Pierre's own shooting.
"Sister Mary," said he, lifting on his silver trident one of the
choicest of the many fine pigeon morsels; "Sister Mary," said he, "in
shooting these pigeons, I was very careful to bring down one in such a
manner that the breast is entirely unmarred. It was intended for you!
and here it is. Now Sergeant Dates, help hither your mistress' plate.
No?--nothing but the crumbs of French rolls, and a few peeps into a
coffee-cup--is that a breakfast for the daughter of yonder bold
General?"--pointing to a full-length of his gold-laced grandfather on
the opposite wall. "Well, pitiable is my case when I have to breakfast
for two. Dates!"
"Sir."
"Remove that toast-rack, Dates; and this plate of tongue, and bring the
rolls nearer, and wheel the stand farther off, good Dates."
Having thus made generous room for himself, Pierre commenced operations,
interrupting his mouthfuls by many sallies of mirthfulness.
"You seem to be in prodigious fine spirits this morning, brother
Pierre," said his mother.
"Yes, very tolerable; at least I can't say, that I am low-spirited
exactly, sister Mary;--Dates, my fine fellow, bring me three bowls of
milk."
"One bowl, sir, you mean," said Dates, gravely and imperturbably.
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