She had no sooner finished her fluttered welcome, than she presented to me the Brobdingnagian, Miss Lucretia Flint, who, in a stiff green damask gown and petticoat, might have conveyed to a soberer imagination than mine the idea of a mountain clothed in the livery of spring; but on raising my eyes to measure its elevation, a stern countenance of “Burdoth’s” sort intercepted my curiosity, and I caught only a glimpse of its snowy summit. She condescended to bend, and offered me her glowing cheek, which I approached with fear and trembling. In order to recover myself, I begged Sir Murdock to introduce me to his son, who had modestly kept at a distance. He made his bow; and we began to chat on the little occurrences of the journey. “You must have found it very tiresome,” observed the stately Miss Flint, fixing her eyes on the contented baronet, “I am sure I have pitied you, Miss Cowley.” “Pitied me!” repeated I, with an air of astonishment, “I wished our journey had been as long again! and could Sir Murdock have forgotten the road to Tarefield, I would have kidnapped him, and made the tour of England.” The saver of links and torches was silenced, and I talked with Malcolm Maclairn of a country and a route which he appeared to know perfectly. Miss Flint at length with much gravity asked how long we should have to wait for supper. Mrs. Allen requested permission to retire to her room before it was served, pleading a slight sense of fatigue. The courteous mistress of the mansion accompanied us to the destined apartments, and with the utmost solicitude for Mrs. Allen’s accommodation, urged her to have a maid-servant to assist her. This she declined; and I returned to the family party with her ladyship, well knowing that Mrs. Allen’s _whim_, not the _head-ach_, was at the bottom of the business; for she will have it that the spoiled child does not sleep unless she places the pillow. Malcolm Maclairn is the image of his mother; but he is glowing with health, and his manly countenance is embrowned by air and exercise: I do not believe that Sidney’s Arcadia has a handsomer shepherd than this village beau.