'What, Doctor,' said the Baronet,'must I call to your recollection your own sermon on the late general fast? Did you not encourage us to hope that the Lord of Hosts would go forth with our armies, and that our enemies, who blasphemed him, should be put to shame?' 'It may please a kind father to chasten even his beloved children,' answered the Vicar. 'I think,' said a gentleman near the foot of the table,'that the Covenanters made some apology of the same kind for the failure of their prophecies at the battle of Dunbar, when their mutinous preachers compelled the prudent Lesley to go down against the Philistines in Gilgal.' The Vicar fixed a scrutinizing and not a very complacent eye upon this intruder. He was a young man, of mean stature, and rather a reserved appearance. Early and severe study had quenched in his features the gaiety peculiar to his age, and impressed upon them a premature cast of thoughtfulness. His eye had, however, retained its fire, and his gesture its animation. Had he remained silent, he would have been long unnoticed; but when he spoke there was something in his manner which arrested attention. 'Who is this young man?' said the Vicar in a low voice to his neighbour. 'A Scotchman called Maxwell, on a visit to Sir Henry,' was the answer. 'I thought so, from his accent and his manners,' said the Vicar. It may be here observed that the northern English retain rather more of the ancient hereditary aversion to their neighbours than their countrymen of the south. The interference of other disputants, each of whom urged his opinion with all the vehemence of wine and politics, rendered the summons to the drawing-room agreeable to the more sober part of the company. The company dispersed by degrees, and at length the Vicar and the young Scotchman alone remained, besides the Baronet, his lady, daughters, and myself. The clergyman had not, it would seem, forgot the observation which ranked him with the false prophets of Dunbar, for he addressed Mr. Maxwell upon the first opportunity. 'Hem! I think, sir, you mentioned something about the civil wars of last century? You must be deeply skilled in them, indeed, if you can draw any parallel betwixt those and the present evil days--days which I am ready to maintain are the most gloomy that ever darkened the prospects of Britain.' 'God forbid, Doctor, that I should draw a comparison between the present times and those you mention. I am too sensible of the advantages we enjoy over our ancestors. Faction and ambition have introduced division among us; but we are still free from the guilt of civil bloodshed, and from all the evils which flow from it. Our foes, sir, are not those of our own household; and while we continue united and firm, from the attacks of a foreign enemy, however artful, or however inveterate, we have, I hope, little to dread.'