"And that should remind me, Mr. Pleydell," said Julia, "to offer you tea--that is, supposing you have dined." "Anything, Miss Mannering, from your hands," answered the gallant jurisconsult; "yes, I have dined-that is to say, as people dine at a Scotch inn." "And that is indifferently enough," said the Colonel, with his hand upon the bell-handle "give me leave to order something." "Why, to say truth," replied Mr. Pleydell, "I had rather not; I have been inquiring into that matter, for you must know I stopped an instant below to pull off my boot-hose, "a world too wide for my shrunk shanks,"' glancing down with some complacency upon limbs which looked very well for his time of life, "and I had some conversation with your Barnes, and a very intelligent person whom I presume to be the housekeeper; and it was settled among us--tota re perspecta--I beg Miss Mannering's pardon for my Latin--that the old lady should add to your light family-supper the more substantial refreshment of a brace of wild-ducks. I told her (always under deep submission) my poor thoughts about the sauce, which concurred exactly with her own; and, if you please, I would rather wait till they are ready before eating anything solid." "And we will anticipate our usual hour of supper," said the Colonel. "With all my heart," said Pleydell, "providing I do not lose the ladies' company a moment the sooner. I am of counsel with my old friend Burnet; [*See Note VIII. Lord Monboddo.] I love the caena, the supper of the ancients, the pleasant meal and social glass that wash out of one's mind the cobwebs that business or gloom have been spinning in our brains all day.' " Mr. Pleydell's look and manner, and the quietness with which he made himself at home on the subject of his little Epicurean comforts, amused the ladies, but particularly Miss Mannering, who immediately gave the counsellor a great deal of flattering attention; and more pretty things were said on both sides during the service of the tea-table than we have leisure to repeat. As soon as this was over, Mannering led the counsellor by the arm into a small study which opened from the saloon, and where, according to the custom of the family, there were always lights and a good fire in the evening. "I see," said Mr. Pleydell, "you have got something to tell me about the Ellangowan business--Is it terrestrial or celestial? What says my military Albumazar? Have you calculated the course of futurity? have you consulted your Ephemerides, your Almochoden, your Almuten?" "No, truly, counsellor," replied Mannering, "you are the only Ptolemy I intend to resort to upon the present occasion--a second Prospero, I have broken my staff, and drowned my book far beyond plummet depth. But I have great news notwithstanding. Meg Merrilies, our Egyptian sibyl, has appeared to the Dominie this very day, and, as I conjecture, has frightened the honest man not a little." "Indeed?"