CHAPTER XIII
I will stand to and feed,
Although my last.
--Tempest.
The savor of preparation which had been noticed by Captain Lawton began
to increase within the walls of the cottage; certain sweet-smelling
odors, that arose from the subterranean territories of Caesar, gave to
the trooper the most pleasing assurances that his olfactory nerves,
which on such occasions were as acute as his eyes on others, had
faithfully performed their duty; and for the benefit of enjoying the
passing sweets as they arose, the dragoon so placed himself at a window
of the building, that not a vapor charged with the spices of the East
could exhale on its passage to the clouds, without first giving its
incense to his nose. Lawton, however, by no means indulged himself in
this comfortable arrangement, without first making such preparations to
do meet honor to the feast, as his scanty wardrobe would allow. The
uniform of his corps was always a passport to the best tables, and this,
though somewhat tarnished by faithful service and unceremonious usage,
was properly brushed and decked out for the occasion. His head, which
nature had ornamented with the blackness of a crow, now shone with the
whiteness of snow; and his bony hand, that so well became the saber,
peered from beneath a ruffle with something like maiden coyness.
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