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The scratching of the foot on the sandy floor is admirable.
During a vacation, Lord Sandwich took him to Holland; and he sported on
his return a Dutch-built coat for many weeks. The boys used to call him
_Mynheer Montague_; but his common habit of oddity soon got the better
of his coat.
He rose to be a young man of great promise, as to abilities; and died
too immaturely for his fame.
Tickell, the elder. _Manu magis quam capite_ should have been his motto.
By natural instinct he loved ~83~~ fighting, and knew not what fear
was. He went amongst his school-fellows by the name of Hannibal, and Old
Tough. A brother school-fellow of his, no less a man than the Marquis of
Buckingham, met, and recognised him again in Ireland, and with the most
marked solicitude of friendship, did every thing but assist him, in
obtaining a troop of dragoons, which he had much at heart.
Tickell, minor, should then have had the eulogy of how much elder art
thou than thy years! In those early days his exercises, read publicly
in school, gave the anticipation of what time and advancing years have
brought forth. He was an admirable scholar, and a poet from nature;
forcible, neat, and discriminating. The fame of his grandsire, the
Tickell of Addison, was not hurt by the descent to him.
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