Other sounds of laughter were like echoes.
Strange to say, I lost the links of my familiarity with him when he left us on a short visit to his trunks and portmanteaux, and had to lean on Temple, who tickled but rejoiced me by saying: 'Richie, your father is just the one I should like to be secretary to.' We thought it a pity to have to leave this nice foreign place immediately.

I liked the scenery, and the wine, and what I supposed to be the habit of the gentlemen here to dress in silks.

On my father's return to us I asked him if we could not stay till morning.
'Till morning, then,' he said: 'and to England with the first lark.' His complexion was ruddier; his valet had been at work to restore it; he was getting the sanguine hue which coloured my recollection of him.
Wearing a black velvet cap and a Spanish furred cloak, he led us over the villa.

In Sarkeld he resided at the palace, and generally at the lake-palace on the removal of the Court thither.

The margravine had placed the villa, which was her own property, at his disposal, the better to work out their conspiracy.
'It would have been mine!' said my father, bending suddenly to my ear, and humming his philosophical 'heigho,' as he stepped on in minuet fashion.