When this letter had been read to De Lancaster, joy brightened in his hospitable countenance: his orders circulated through the Castle for all things and all people to be put in order to pay proper honours to his expected visitor. He commented with great good humour upon some passages in the letter, that seemed to strike his fancy--Though the good man, he said, is so shy of what he calls my learned disquisitions, I believe it is only a copy of his countenance, for in fact he is no mean scholar; but we will muzzle the learned languages, and trust to nothing but our mother tongue; so take notice, my good Colonel, you will incur heavy penalties if you give us any of your heathen Greek, whilst my brother Morgan is in the house. And if I do when he is out of it, replied the Colonel, I’ll give you leave to hang me. The next morning when the sun turned out upon the mountain tops, so did the whole Castle garrison from their sky-chambers on the turret tops, and gave cheerful note of preparation--Not indeed by _the armourers accomplishing the knights_, but by the warders and liverymen brushing up their orange tawnies, and by the squeaking of the pigs and quacking of ducks, that came unwillingly to be killed and roasted, whilst the mute inhabitants of the waters resigned themselves to their fate without a murmur. When the family assembled in the breakfast-room, the Colonel appeared in his uniform, not quite in its first bloom, nor altogether in the last cut of the fashion; whilst Major Wilson, bright as bullion could make him, was perfectly caparisoned for court or camp. This ceremonious kind of etiquette, now thought troublesome and thrown by as obsolete, was understood by the family of Kray Castle as an acceptable attention to the good old lord of the soil upon certain gala days, when he was anxious to receive a visitor with particular respect. When the approach of Morgan of Glen Morgan was descried from the castle windows, and the green and red liveries began to show their colours in the sunbeams, the alarm bell sounded, the servants mustered in the gothic hall, and David Williams seated himself on his tripod. Coaches were not made, as they are now, to accommodate the horses that draw them, but with due regard to the ease and safety of the company, who were conveyed in them. Old Morgan of course made his landing good, and found himself in the arms of his venerable host, surrounded by his friends, all emulous to greet him with a welcome.