s pride in a corpulent dog, which is
ever at his heels; he is afflicted with face-ache, and swears at any
body who calls it _tic-douloureux._

When you go to dine with him, you are met at the door by a rosy-checked
lass, with ribands in her cap, who smiles a hearty welcome, and assures
you, though an utter stranger, of the character of the house and its
owner. You are conducted to the drawing-room, a plain, substantial,
_honest_-looking apartment; there you find the old couple, and are
received with a warmth that gives assurance of the nearest approach to
what is understood by _home_. The sons, released from business, arrive,
shake you heartily by the hand, and are really glad to see you; of the
daughters we say nothing, as there is nothing in _them_.

The other guests of the day come dropping in--all straightforward,
business-like, free, frank-hearted fellows--aristocrats of wealth, the
best, because the _unpretending_, of their class; they come, too,
_before_ their time, for they know their man, and that Joe Stimpson
keeps nobody waiting for nobody. When the clock--for here is no
_gong_--strikes five, you descend to dinner; plain, plentiful, good, and
well dressed; no tedious course, with long intervals between; no
oppressive _set-out_ of superfluous plate, and what, perhaps, is not the
least agreeable accessory, no piebald footmen hanging over your chair,
whisking away your plate before you have done with it, and watching
every bit you put into your mouth.

Your cherry-cheeked friend and another, both in the family from
childhood, (another good sign of the house,) and looking as if they
really were glad--and so they are--to have an opportunity of obliging
you, do the servitorial offices of the table; you are sure of a glass of
old sherry, and you may call for strong beer, or old port, with your
cheese--or, if a Scotchman, for a dram--without any other remark than an
invitation to "try it again, and make yourself comfortable."

After dinner, you are invited, as a young man, to smoke a cigar with the
"boys," as Joe persists in calling them. You ascend to a bed-room, and
are requested to keep your head out o' window while smoking, lest the
"Governor" should snuff the fumes when he comes up stairs to bed: while
you are "craning" your neck, the cherry-cheeked lass enters with brandy
and water, and you are as merry and easy as possible. The rest of the
evening passes away in the same unrestrained interchange of friendly