His nephew will not be with him long, he tells his
provision-dealers, and so must be petted and made much of. While
out on his hospitable preparations, he looks in on Mr. Sapsea; and
mentions that dear Ned, and that inflammable young spark of Mr.
Crisparkle's, are to dine at the gatehouse to-day, and make up
their difference. Mr. Sapsea is by no means friendly towards the
inflammable young spark. He says that his complexion is 'Un-
English.' And when Mr. Sapsea has once declared anything to be Un-
English, he considers that thing everlastingly sunk in the
bottomless pit.
John Jasper is truly sorry to hear Mr. Sapsea speak thus, for he
knows right well that Mr. Sapsea never speaks without a meaning,
and that he has a subtle trick of being right. Mr. Sapsea (by a
very remarkable coincidence) is of exactly that opinion.
Mr. Jasper is in beautiful voice this day. In the pathetic
supplication to have his heart inclined to keep this law, he quite
astonishes his fellows by his melodious power. He has never sung
difficult music with such skill and harmony, as in this day's
Anthem. His nervous temperament is occasionally prone to take
difficult music a little too quickly; to-day, his time is perfect.
These results are probably attained through a grand composure of
the spirits. The mere mechanism of his throat is a little tender,
for he wears, both with his singing-robe and with his ordinary
dress, a large black scarf of strong close-woven silk, slung
loosely round his neck.
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