"Well, Master Andrew, how fare you?" said Oswald.
"Let me see," said the corpulent landlord, throwing back his head, and
putting out his stomach, as he peered at Oswald. "Why, Oswald
Partridge, as I am a born man. Where have you been this many a day!"
"In the forest, Master Andrew, where there are no few chops and
changes."
"Yes, you have a sort of Parliamentary keeper, I'm told; and who is
this with you?"
"The grandson of an old friend of yours, now dead, poor old Jacob
Armitage."
"Jacob dead, poor fellow! As true as flint was Jacob Armitage, as I'm
a born man! And so he is dead! Well, we all owe Heaven a death.
Foresters and landlords, as well as kings, all must die!"
"I have brought Edward Armitage over here to introduce him to you,
Master Andrew. Now that the old man is dead, you must look to him for
forest meat."
"Oh, well, well, it is scarce now. I have not had any for some time.
Old Jacob brought me the last. You are not one of the Parliamentary
foresters, then, I presume?" continued the landlord, turning to
Edward.
"No," replied Edward, "I kill no venison for Roundheads."
"Right, my sapling; right and well said. The Armitages were all good
men and true, and followed the fortunes of the Beverleys; but there
are no Beverleys to follow now.
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