“I see it!--see it all plainly!” exclaimed the Major; “and your story has so delighted me that I could almost dance myself.” This respectable clergyman, thought he, is, doubtless, an antiquary, a virtuoso--what a delightful companion will he prove! And a bachelor like myself!--what _tête-à-têtes_ do I anticipate! “Jacob,” exclaimed the Major, “you should have said that the vicar was fond of, or, to speak more correctly, devoted to _antiques_, not to _antics_. But, tell me whether there are any other agreeable persons in this village?” “There’s the squire and his family,” answered the valet. “The name, the name, Jacob?” “Squire Seymour, and please you, Major.” “Seymour, Seymour!” repeated the Major; “I seem to know that name--let me remember.” The Major’s cogitations, however, were abruptly cut short by the entrance of the servant-maid, who informed him that Mr. Vicar Twaddleton had called. “I beg that Mr. Twaddleton may be admitted.--Jacob, place a chair.” “Mr. Twaddleton,” said the Major, as he advanced towards the door to meet his visitor, “I feel obliged and honoured by your kind attention. As a perfect stranger, I could scarcely have expected this civility; but your village, surrounded as it is by all the softer charms of Nature, is calculated to impress the hearts of its inhabitants with a kindred amenity. The inhabitants are, doubtless, much attached to their country.” “Proverbially so: never was Ulysses more attached to his Ithaca! Allow me, also, to say that we all rejoice at the arrival of visitors; and, as vicar of the parish of Overton, I should consider myself criminally deficient in my duty were I to suffer a respectable stranger to depart from us without his having received the mark of my respect, and the tender of my humble but cordial hospitality. I am an old-fashioned person, Major Snapwell, and am well aware that these antiquated notions do not altogether accord with the cold and studied forms of the present day.” “Mr. Twaddleton,” exclaimed the delighted Major, “I thank thee, most heartily thank thee, in the name of all those whose hearts have not yet been benumbed by worldly indifference. Sit thee down--I abhor ceremony--and let me beg of you not to take offence at a question to which I am most anxious you should give me an answer. Are you, my dear Sir, as I have just reasons for supposing, an ANTIQUARY?” “I am undoubtedly attached to pursuits which might have favoured such a report.”