His lips were thin, but his whiskers were tremendously thick. Of his person he was naturally and justly proud. Who ever possessed such a person and was not proud of it? Now when this superb and elegant specimen of nobility condescended to patronize Mrs Greendale’s party, was it not enough to account for the exquisitely high spirits in which the good lady appeared, and for the unparalleled courtesy with which she accepted the offer of her niece to assist in preparation for the evening’s entertainment? Penelope herself was very much pleased; for though she had often endeavoured to persuade herself that she did not heed Mrs Greendale’s ill-humours, yet she could not help feeling the difference between good-humour and moroseness. It is not pleasant to be always within hearing even of the snarling of a dog, or the creaking of a rusty hinge, and far less pleasant is the language and tone of human censoriousness. The young lady was not only pleased with her aunt, but she also regarded Lord Spoonbill with some degree of approbation. Of his lordship indeed, she knew but little, save that when she passed him he used to stare at her with great rudeness and earnestness. That was not agreeable; but, for aught her simplicity knew to the contrary, such behaviour might be the mark of that superiority of mind which so exclusively belongs to persons of rank. Penelope was also in good spirits at the thought of meeting Mr and Mrs Darnley, from whom it was possible that she might hear something of Robert Darnley; for though she had frequently said to herself, “I am sure he has forgotten me,” yet she did not believe herself when she said so. Most highly proper and suitable was that feeling; for it was possible that the neglect was only apparent and not real; in such case, therefore, common candour required the most favorable view of the matter. It should be stated, that Smatterton and Neverden were adjoining villages, both of them at some distance from the high road, and Neverden was in the line between Smatterton and the nearest post town. The letters were carried by a great lubberly boy, called Nick Muggins, who rode upon a little half-starved weazel-faced animal, that might pass for a horse, ass, or mule; but the poor animal was so grievously insignificant, that the inhabitants of Neverden and Smatterton did not even take the trouble to decide to what species it belonged. But let that pass. Now Nick Muggins was not one of the best readers in the world; he had unfortunately left school before he came to that part of his education. There is many a man of letters who does not know how to read. In consequence of this defect, Nick was forced to call in the aid of the more learned, and it was not unfrequently the case that when he asked Mr Darnley, saying; “Please sir, what’s the ’rection of this here?” that if the letter was for Penelope, Mr Darnley would take it of the boy and carry it to Smatterton in the course of