These visitors were not Mr. Erin’s personal friends; they did not fall into raptures, or affect to do so; they were by no means so courteous as the ordinary folks who came from curiosity; they had been invited for the special purpose of having their minds satisfied, or of coming to an adverse conclusion. It was like the Star Chamber, and they did not (as it seemed to William Henry) spare the thumbscrew or the boot. After an hour or two of this gentle pressure, Mr. Warton observed, ‘Your testimony, young man, so far as it goes, is satisfactory to us, while your behaviour does you great credit.’ ‘Yes,’ assented Dr. Parr, ‘I think, Mr. Erin, you have a son of whom you may be justly proud. I heard you address him as Samuel; it is a gratifying coincidence to me that it is also my baptismal name.’ Mr. Erin felt that it would be discourteous as well as embarrassing to undeceive him. Then Mr. Pye was asked to read the Profession of Faith (which had by this time been fully investigated and discussed) aloud, which he did in a solemn and sonorous voice, with the company reverently upstanding as during Divine Service. Then, amid a profound silence, Dr. Parr delivered himself as follows:— ‘Sir, we have very fine passages in our Church Services, and our Litany abounds in beauties; but here, sir, is a man who has distanced us all.’ Most of the learned company bowed assent, and two, who were nonconformists, murmured ‘hear, hear.’ The tears trickled down Mr. Erin’s cheeks; it was the proudest moment, so far, in the old man’s life. Later on in the day another gratifying circumstance took place. A visitor called who either had not received his invitation in time, or, what was more probable, not wishing his personal importance to suffer by comparison with that of others, had preferred to come alone. His face was fat and puffy, and exhibited an unparalleled self-sufficiency. He had a sharp nose, a double chin, and eyebrows superciliously elevated; he carried a gold-headed cane in his hands, clasped behind him, and spoke in a thick, slow voice. Mr. Erin received him with great respect, and submitted his literary treasure for examination with an unwonted humility. The investigation was a prolonged and apparently an exhausting one, for the visitor called three times (as though he had been in a public-house) for hot whisky and water! As Dr. Porson had drunk all there was in the case, Margaret herself, who kept the key of the cellar, took him in a fresh bottle, and curiosity compelled her to remain. Her presence seemed somewhat to distract the attention of the guest from the precious manuscript. ‘No doubt authentic,’ he murmured, ‘and devilish pretty; antiquity is stamped upon it.’ ‘And the right sort of antiquity,’ suggested Mr. Erin. ‘It has the stamp of the time.’ ‘Just so. I should think twenty years of age, at most.’ ‘Sir!’ ejaculated his host.