To begin, however, with your “_method_.” My first night’s repose at Tarefield was disturbed by Mary Howard’s image and my own fretfulness. The dawn of day presented to my sight Solomon, in his judgment-seat, who grinned upon me with an aspect not less savage than that of the two viragoes who held the sprawling boy between them; for, sooth to say, no one could have traced the mother’s features, or the clemency of the judge in the mass of worsted employed; and I believe the face of the lions that decorated the ascent to the throne, was the common one for the whole multitude of countenances that filled the room. Weary of looking at this odious tapestry, I arose, and explored my way into the garden. Here, indeed, I found the sweet perfumes of nature and the god of day; but for the rest let the poet speak— “Grove nods at grove, each alley has a brother, And half the platform just reflects the other; The suffering eye inverted Nature sees, Trees cut as statues, statues cut as trees.” This being too much in the style of the tapestry in the bed-chamber, soon tired me; and seeing the servants about, I sauntered into the avenue. Here the horse-chesnut trees, in all their pride, attracted my attention for a few minutes; but I was soon allured towards an object still more inviting. Mary was before me, walking with the light-foot of a Dryad, and your not inactive friend bounded after her. Exercise and surprise heightened the vermillion in her cheek, and with a sweet and graceful modesty she saluted me with the usual compliments. I gave the reins to my heart, and it was not idle. She said I was very good; that indeed it would greatly enhance to her the pleasure of walking in a morning if she were _permitted_ to attend me, but her aunt frequently wanted her services. She would, however, endeavour to gain an hour sometimes, for the honour of walking with me. A certain trepidation and looking on all sides marked some fear; and I was on the point of encouraging more confidence, when we saw the baronet approaching us. He was wrapped up in an old plaid morning gown, his head enveloped in a black silk cap, and his attention was engaged by clearing a tattered silk sash from the interposing brambles. He started on seeing me, and would, I believe, have retracted had not my voice detained him. On accosting him his poor sallow face was in confusion, and with a forced smile he asked me whether he had not frightened me, glancing his eyes to his uncouth habiliments. I took his arm, and rattled over some account of my having frightened Miss Howard. He became easy and cheerful, and told me that Mary and he had very often an assignation to keep in the avenue at too early an hour for the business of the toilet. The turret clock sounded eight, and Mary left us. You may suppose she became the subject of our conversation. “She is,” said he, “as faultless in mind as