They resided in a detached villa, very Moorish-looking, with windows small enough to satisfy even the jealousy of a Turk, a flat roof admirably calculated for taking cold on, and a turret that threateningly overlooked a classic villa opposite, and gave the whole building a fortified, chivalric, arabesque air, confirmed by its euphonious name-- Alhambra Lodge. I knew the Alhambra through the medium of Geoffrey Crayon, and devoutly hoped it did not resemble this. On the left of the Alhambra arose an imitation old English cottage, with tiny gable-ends and transversal beams artistically painted on the walls; on the right a Swiss chalet told a whole story of pastoral innocence, and made one transform into an English _Ranz des Vaches_ the cry of "milk from the cow" coming up the street; further on arose a Gothic mansion--but peace be to the domestic architecture of England! We were received in a comfortable- looking parlour--not in the least Moorish--by Miss Mary Clapperton. She was short, deformed, grotesquely plain, but had a happy, good-natured face, and intelligent black eyes, of bird-like liveliness. She spoke volubly, called me "a dear," and laughed and chatted at an amazing rate. We had scarcely sat down, when her sister, Ann Clapperton, entered the room. She proved to be the very counterpart of Mary. There never was such a perfect likeness, even to their voice and their very expressions. As they dressed alike they puzzled every one. All the time I was with them, I never could know which was which; to this day I remember them as a compound individual, answering to the name of Mary-Ann Clapperton. Everything had been settled beforehand, so Kate only had to bid me good- bye. It was a quiet parting; she promised to come and see me soon, and, in return, made me promise not to fret. So far as tears went, I kept my word. I was not much given to weeping, and pride alone would have checked outward grief in the presence of strangers. I sat looking at the Misses Clapperton, who looked at me very kindly, and conversed about me as much as two persons who never had a separate thought could be said to converse. The only difference I found between them was that one, I believe it was Mary, suggested ideas which the other immediately converted into facts, as in the following whispered dialogue-- "Ann, she looks delicate." "She is delicate, Mary." "I fancy she is intelligent." "I am sure she is." I did not hear the rest of the conference; it was brief, and ended by one of the Misses Clapperton---I think it was Mary, but I am not quite sure, for in turning about they had, as it were, mingled--asking me if I should not like to become acquainted with my future companions; on my replying "Yes," she took me by the hand, and led me out into a green garden, all lawn and gravel path, where I was formally introduced to, and left alone with, the two Misses Brook.