The stranger was soon discovered to be a Major Snapwell, a rich and eccentric old bachelor, who had served in various campaigns in different parts of the globe, and received a competent number of wounds, in the defence of his king and country. His income was reported to be large, and it was said, that he had not any near relative to enjoy the reversion, since his nephew had perished about two years before by shipwreck. The circumstances that led to this disastrous event were believed to have so affected the veteran, as to have occasioned a very serious illness, and a consequent state of despondency, for which his physicians advised a constant change of scene; so that he had been rambling about the Continent during the last year and a half, accompanied only by his faithful servant, Jacob Watson, who was as much attached to the Major, as was ever a Newfoundland dog to his master. Such was the information derived from Annette, the vicar’s housekeeper: what proportion of fiction was mingled with its truth, the reader will probably soon be able to discover. “Well, Jacob,” said the Major, as his trusty but asthmatic valet was leisurely buttoning on the long gaiters of his master the morning after his arrival, “what do you hear about this village of Overton? Are there any sociable neighbours? I like the country; it is beautiful, Jacob, and the air appears mild: it promises to be the very place to kindle the sparks of my expiring constitution; and should you, at the same time, get your broken-winded bellows mended, my vital flame might, perhaps, burn a little brighter. But tell me, what do you hear of it, Jacob?” “Why, and please you, Major, I just now met an old crony of mine, Mrs. Annette Brown, at the Devil and the Bag of Nails----” “And pray, Jacob,” exclaimed the Major, “who taught you to speak thus irreverently of the village blacksmith?” “The village blacksmith! Lord love you, it is the sign of the village alehouse!” “Then it is a very odd one; but go on with your story.” “As I was saying, Major, I met an old acquaintance who is housekeeper to Mr. Twaddleton, a bachelor gentleman, and the vicar of the parish. She tells me her master is downright adored in the place: though he must needs be a queer mortal, for she says he is so fond of _antics_ that he won’t suffer a mop or broom in his house, lest, I suppose, it should spoil the hopping of the fleas, and put an end to the fly’s rope-dance upon a cobweb.” “Jacob, Jacob, you are a wag, and had better go and offer your services to this merry parson; although, I fear, your asthmatic pipes would prove but a sorry accompaniment to his capering. But pshaw!--fiddlestick!--stuff and nonsense!--who ever heard of a vicar being fond of antics!--you are imposed upon, Jacob.” “I am sure that how Annette told me as much. Ay, and she said he had all sorts of _curiosities_ in his parlour--such as grinning faces, dogs with three heads, rusty swords, and I do not know what besides.”