"Are you aware, all this time, that you are giving these descriptions of a friend of mine,--a most learned, lofty, reverend--but, pshaw! what nonsense it is, getting angry with folks like you. Eagles should fight with eagles." But the lofty assumptions of Mr Bullion made no impression on his audience. One word, however, had stuck in the tympanum of Miss Smith's ear, and was beating a tremendous tattoo in her heart-- "Reverend, did you say, brother-in-law. If that little man is reverend, mark my words. I know very well what he's after. If we're not all spirited off to the Disquisition in Spain, I wish I may never be marr--I mean--saved." "Nonsense, aunt," said Louise. "You're not going to turn Dissenter, father?" "Better that than be a Papist, anyhow," sulked out Lucretia. "Miss Smith," said Mr Bullion, "have the kindness, madam, to make no observation on what I do, or what friends I visit or receive in this house. If the gentleman who has now left me were a Mahommedan, he should be sacred from your impertinent remarks. Give me another potato, and hold your tongue." "To you, Mr Hope," continued the senior, "and to you, Mr Cocker, and to you, Miss Lucretia, who are unmixed plebeians from your remotest known ancestry, it may appear surprising that a man so willingly undertakes the onerous duties entailed on him by his lofty extraction, as to surrender the peace and contentment which he feels to be the fitter accompaniments of your humble yet comfortable position. For my daughter and me far other things are in store--we sit on the mountain-top exposed to the tempest, though glorified by the sunshine, and look without regret to the contemptible safety and inglorious ease of the inhabitants of the vale. Take a glass of wine, Mr Cocker. I shall always look on you with favour." Mr Cocker took the glass as ordered, and supposed his patron was repeating a passage out of Enfield's _Speaker_. "Fine language, sir, very fine language, indeed! particular that about sunshine on the mountains. A remarkable clever man, Mr Enfield; and I can say Ossian's Address to the Sun myself." But in the mean time Louisa walked round the table, and laid hold of her father's hand, and putting her finger on his pulse, looked with a face full of wisdom, while she counted the beats; and giving a satisfied shake of the head, resumed her seat. "A day or two's quiet will do, without a strait waistcoat," she said; "but I will certainly tell the porter never to admit that slouch-faced muffled-up impostor, who puts such nonsense into his head." But at this moment a violent pull at the bell startled them all. When the door was opened a voice was heard in the hall which said, "Pour un instant, Monseigneur;" whereupon Mr Bullion started up, and replying, "Oui, mon père," hurried out of the room, and left his party in more blank amazement than before.