her visitors out of the kitchen window, with "How d'ye do Mrs. Crosbie, how d'ye do Mrs. Lucas; beautiful evening; thank you kindly; I'm quite well, and Lucy's charming; pray step in Mr. Crosbie--give me your hat; Mr. Lucas, I'll hang your cane up by the clock here; sit down my dear Nanny, I hope your shoes are dry--indeed, I don't think they can be wet; we've scarcely had a drop of rain this fortnight.--Peggy! bring in the kettle." And now, what with the disposal of the bonnets, the arrangement of the chairs, and the repetition of observations on the weather, and inquiries after the health of each individual present, the time was fully occupied, till the arrival of Peggy, with a bright copper tea kettle in one hand, and a well buttered, smoking hot Sally Lunn in the other, put an end to the confusion of tongues, and assembled the party in temporary silence round the tea table.--But Mrs. Martin's natural loquacity, added to her incessant desire to be civil, soon induced her to interrupt the momentary calm, and, while she spread her snow white pocket handkerchief on her knees, as a preparation for her attack on the Sally Lunn, she addressed her neighbour, the attorney, with--"Well, Mr. Crosbie, what did you think of our sermon last evening; it was a delightful one, wasn't it?"--"Yes, a very good, plain sermon, Mrs. Martin; but, with all deference to your better judgment, Mrs. Martin, I think your friend Mr. Temple doesn't show as much learning in the pulpit as he might do."--"Learning!" quoth his amicable spouse, "I never can believe that man is a learned man; I could make as good a sermon myself."--"_Non constat_, my love," replied Mr. Crosbie; "though I often think you would have done very well for a parson, you are so fond of always having the last word." Probably the gentle Mrs. Crosbie would have given the company a specimen of her talents for lecturing, had she not acquired a habit of never attending to what her husband said: she had therefore, fortunately, no doubt, during his speech, profited by the opportunity of overhearing Mrs. Martin's and Mrs. Lucas's discussion, respecting the appearance at church the evening before of the party from Webberly House, consisting of Mrs. Sullivan and her two elder daughters, the Miss Webberlys.--"I declare, I wasn't sure they were come down yet," said Mrs. Martin, "till I saw their two great footmen bring their prayer books into church, and their cushions; Mrs. Sullivan looks quite plump and well."--"Yes, indeed, she looks remarkably well;" answered the assenting Mrs. Lucas.--"Well!" retorted Mrs. Crosbie--"I think she is going into a dropsy; her face is for all the world like a Cheshire cheese."--"It certainly does look as if it was a little swelled," replied the complacent Mrs. Lucas--"Dear me," rejoined Mr. Lucas, "I must certainly call at Webberly House, and inquire after the health of the family; I thought they never left town till August: perhaps they are