and, refusing the influence of other people, they had their little
revenges, and called him names. It is a habit not exclusively
tropical. I think I have seen the same thing even in this city. But he
was greatly beloved--my bland and bountiful grandfather. He was so
large-hearted and open-handed. He was so friendly, and thoughtful, and
genial, that even his jokes had the air of graceful benedictions. He
did not seem to grow old, and he was one of those who never appear to
have been very young. He flourished in a perennial maturity, an
immortal middle-age.

"My grandfather lived upon one of the small islands, St. Kit's,
perhaps, and his domain extended to the sea. His house, a rambling
West Indian mansion, was surrounded with deep, spacious piazzas,
covered with luxurious lounges, among which one capacious chair was
his peculiar seat. They tell me he used sometimes to sit there for the
whole day, his great, soft, brown eyes fastened upon the sea, watching
the specks of sails that flashed upon the horizon, while the
evanescent expressions chased each other over his placid face, as if
it reflected the calm and changing sea before him. His morning costume
was an ample dressing-gown of gorgeously flowered silk, and his
morning was very apt to last all day.

"He rarely read, but he would pace the great piazza for hours, with
his hands sunken in the pockets of his dressing-gown, and an air of
sweet reverie, which any author might be very happy to produce.

"Society, of course, he saw little. There was some slight apprehension
that if he were bidden to social entertainments he might forget his
coat, or arrive without some other essential part of his dress; and
there is a sly tradition in the Titbottom family that, having been