“Misther Lindsay, or rather Misther Charles, and you will have a fine time of it, sir. There's delightful fishin' here, and the best of shootin' and huntin' in harvest and winter--that is, if you stop so long.” “What kind of a man is Mr. Lindsay?” “A fine, clever (*Portly, large, comely) man, sir; six feet in his stockin' soles, and made in proportion.” “But I want to know nothing about his figure; is the man reputed good or bad?” “Why, just good or bad, sir, according as he's treated.” “Is he well liked, then? I trust you understand me now.” “By his friends, sir, no man betther--by them that's his enemies, not so well.” “You mentioned a son of his, Charles, I think; what kind of a young fellow is he?” “Very like his father, sir.” “I see; well, I thank you, my friend, for the liberality of your information. Has he any daughters?” “Two, sir; but very unlike their mother.” “Why, what kind of a woman is their mother?” “She's a saint, sir, of a sartin class--ever and always at her prayers,” (_sotto voce_, “such as they are--cursing her fellow-cratures from mornin' till night.”) “Well, at all events, it is a good thing to be religious.” “Devil a better, sir; but she, as I said, is a saint from--heaven” (_sotto voce_, “and very far from it too.) But, sir, there's a lady in this neighborhood--I won't name her--that has a tongue as sharp and poisonous as if she lived on rattlesnakes; and she has an eye of her own that they say is every bit as dangerous.” “And who is she, my good fellow?” “Why, a very intimate friend of Mrs. Lindsay's, and seldom out of her company. Now, sir, do you see that house wid the tall chimleys, or rather do you see the tall chimleys--for you can't see the house itself? That's where the family we spake of lives, and there you'll see Mrs. Lindsay and the lady I mention.” Woodward, in fact, knew not what to make of his guide; he found him inscrutable, and deemed it useless to attempt the extortion of any further intelligence from him. The latter was ignorant that Mrs. Lindsay's son was expected home, as was every member of that gentleman's family. He had, in fact, given them no information of his return. The dishonest fraud which he had practised upon his uncle, and the apprehension that that good old man had transmitted an account of his delinquency to his relatives, prevented him from writing, lest he might, by subsequent falsehoods, contradict his uncle, and thereby involve himself in deeper disgrace. His uncle, however, was satisfied with having got rid of him, and forbore to render his relations unhappy by any complaint of his conduct. His hope was, that Woodward's expulsion from his house, and the withdrawal of his affections from him, might, upon reflection, cause him to turn over a new leaf--an effort which would have been difficult, perhaps impracticable, had he transmitted to them a full explanation of his perfidy and ingratitude.