“ ‘You may say that, Tom,’ replied the old fellow, with a very complicated wink. ‘I am the last of my family, Tom,’ said the old gentleman, with a melancholy sigh.

“ ‘Was it a large one?’ inquired Tom Smart.

“ ‘There were twelve of us, Tom,’ said the old gentleman; ‘fine, straight-backed, handsome fellows as you’d wish to see. None of your modern abortions⁠—all with arms, and with a degree of polish, though I say it that should not, which it would have done your heart good to behold.’

“ ‘And what’s become of the others, Sir?’ asked Tom Smart⁠—