What passed between him and the master of the house I did not hear; but I saw the latter laugh and shake him by the hand; and, a moment after, he re-entered the dining-room, having on his arm a lady about three-and-thirty years of age, who looked scared and somewhat aghast, but, I think, rather from the effects of storm through which she had passed than from the scene presented by her own dining-room, for the sight of which she had probably been prepared as she came from the carriage to the house. Three young boys, from seven to ten years of age, followed close upon their mother's steps; and at last, after a short pause, appeared Mr. Stringer, in whom, now without his hat, I instantly recognized a gentleman whom I had met at dinner in New York. "Farewell to my incognito!" I thought; but Mr. Stringer's first attention was paid to Mrs. Thornton, and then to Miss Davenport, who seemed an especial favourite both with himself and his wife; and I had time to remark, ere he noticed me, a singular-looking man by whom Mr. Stringer was followed. He could not have measured less than six feet two inches in height, while, from shoulder to shoulder, I do not think the extent was more than a foot. His whole frame was about an equal width; only his legs, pack them together how you would, must still have remained more bulky than his body. His arms were thin, and his hands long and bony; but his face, though exceedingly ugly, and not improved by the ill-cut, long sandy hair which thatched his head, or the rawish white skin that covered it, was highly intelligent, with a quick, eager, grey eye, which ran over every thing and every person in the room in a moment. The dress of this apparition was of no particular date, and had nothing very remarkable in form. I only remarked that it was all of black, not very new, and that the white cravat rolled round his neck and tied in a bow, with two little ends like a young pig's ears, might have been whiter and, perhaps, cleaner. While I was making my mental observations upon this gentleman, who still stood near the door without saying a word to any one, Mr. Stringer's eyes turned upon me, and the expected explosion took place. "Why, Sir Richard Conway!" he exclaimed, "this is an unexpected pleasure. Nevertheless, welcome to Virginia, and especially to my house. My dear, allow me to introduce Sir Richard Conway." While my introduction to Mrs. Stringer was taking place, I know not what bursts of surprise and wonder were going on amongst the rest of the party. All I do know is, that Bessy Davenport was laughing heartily, and feeling, I fancy, a little conceited at being the only one who had discovered my secret. Mrs. Stringer was peculiarly civil and condescending; and I do believe, if I had been a _real live_ lord,--a thing less frequently found in this country than mammoths and mastodons,--she could not have been more gratified to find me in her house.