My aunt received me in the most gracious manner. The first question she asked me was, if I had breakfasted: and, on my replying in the affirmative, eagerly questioned me about my lodgings. Was I quite sure I was comfortable, she wanted to know; because, if I was not, there was a delightful bed-room, entirely at my service, at the back of the house, and she would give orders at once for it to be got ready. I hope I showed her that my gratitude was equal to her kindness. Indeed I was almost embarrassed by the extraordinary civilities I had met with; and, though I believe there was not another man in England, at that time, who had a better opinion of himself than I had, yet I must do myself the justice to declare that I did not conscientiously believe I deserved the kindness I received. Presently the door opened and in came Conny. She gave me her hand, which I raised to my lips. “That is a German fashion,” said I, rather dismayed by her extravagant blush. “Is it?” she answered, turning her head aside and looking half angry and half pleased. “I thought it wasn’t English.” “The French kiss each other on both cheeks, don’t they?” inquired my aunt with naïve interest. “The men do, and I also believe it is customary among lovers. But I fancy that the custom does not prevail amongst the married folks, from the story that is told of a Frenchman, who, hearing that a friend of his had kissed his wife, cried ‘_Quoi! sans y etre obligé!_’” You see, I meant to mingle sarcasm with humour, and to shine as a wit; but to crack a joke with my aunt was like pulling a cracker at a supper-table with your partner, who gets only a piece of the paper, and leaves the sweetmeat and the motto with you. “Dear me!” said she. “Now I should have thought such a custom would have been entirely confined to the married people.”