"'Oh, that,' said Montaigne, with a smile, 'is Mr. William
Shortley, commonly called Billy Shortlegs. He is very popular,
well up in classics, and stands a good chance of being Governor
some day. Shall I introduce you?'
"'Thank you, presently. Whom are they calling for now?' inquired
Sir Hugh, as a chorus of voices cried out 'Amos Blackstone!
Amos Blackstone! Amos, Amos, Amos!'
"Montaigne himself was chanting 'Blackstone! Blackstone!'
with great gusto. When that gentleman rose, a perfect storm
of cheers went up, during which Montaigne said: 'Now you will
hear something, Sir Hugh. I shall want to know what you think
of him.'
"Sir Hugh put up his eye-glass, not that his sight was defective
but the occasion was important. Mr. Amos Blackstone had arrived
at the dignified age of three score years. In some respects
he curiously resembled the previous speaker, though considerably
his senior. He stood perhaps five feet five inches in his
boots. With the exception of his legs, he was a heavily built
man, with a large head, an ample brow, a hairless face, very
red, with large cheeks, and an under jaw like a lion.
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