I'm not noble; so my honourable ancestors will not turn over in their graves. A nod was exchanged. Sir John felt and looked several years younger. During the narration Jack's features lighted up, and an expression, which would have been in vain looked for in repose, was instantly caught and depicted by the skilful artist. He growled in his throat and, thrusting his coat open, revealed his own buckled sword-belt. Adjoining it was the Lower Ward,—"Though, in what degree of latitude it was situated," observes Ned Ward, "I cannot positively demonstrate, unless it lay ninety degrees beyond the North Pole; for, instead of being dark there but half a year, it is dark all the year round.
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