It was ten o'clock in the forenoon as I arrived at her door, and sent in Captain Pike's letter, announcing my arrival. I found Mrs. D. in what she called her own room,--a little den of about eleven feet square, shelved all round, and showing an array of jars and preserve-pots that was most imposing,--the offerings of skippers from the West India Islands and Madeira, who paid a kind of black-mail in preserved ginger, guavas, yams, pepper-pots, chili, and potted crabs that would have given liver complaints to half the Province. Mrs. D. was standing on a step-ladder, arranging her treasures by the aid of a negro boy of about twelve years old, as I entered; and not feeling that I was of consequence sufficient to require a more formal audience, she took a steady and patient observation of me, and then resumed her labors. The little window, about six feet from the ground, threw a fine Rembrandt light upon me as I stood in my showy habiliments, endeavoring, by an imposing attitude, to exhibit myself to the best advantage. "Forty-seven; Guava jelly, Sambo!--where is forty-seven?" "Me no see him," said Sambo; "missus eat him up, perhaps." "Monsonze! you filthy creature; look for it, sirrah!" So saying, Mrs. Davis applied her double eye-glass to her eyes, and again surveyed me for some seconds. "You are the"--she hesitated--"the young person my friend Pike brought out, I believe?" "Yes, my lady," said I, bowing profoundly. "What's your name? The captain has not written it clearly." "Cregan, my lady,--Con Cregan." "Con--Con," repeated she twice or thrice; "what does Con mean?" "It's the short for Cornelius, my lady." "Ah, the abbreviation for Cornelius! And where have you lived, Cornelius?" "My last place, my lady, was Sir Miles O'Ryan's, of Roaring Water." "What are you doing, you wretch? Take your filthy fingers out of that pot this instant!" screamed she, suddenly. "Me taste him, an' he be dam hot!" cried the nigger, dancing from one foot to the other, as his mouth was on fire from tasting capsicum pods. I thought of my own mustard experience, and then, turning a glance of ineffable contempt upon my black friend, said, "Those creatures, my lady, are _so_ ignorant, they really do not know the nature of the commonest condiments." "Very true, Cornelius. I would wish, however, to observe to you that although my family are all persons of rank, I have no title myself,--that is to say," added she, with a pleasing smile, "I do not assume it here; therefore, until we return to England, you need n't address me as ladyship." "No, my lady,--I beg your ladyship's pardon for forgetting; but as I have always lived in high families, I 've got the habit, my lady, of saying, 'my lady.'"