gentleman, dressed in
dingy black, who personated her father, the Curate; and who was, on this
occasion (I presume through unavoidable circumstances), neither more nor
less than--drunk. There was no mistaking the cause of the fixed leer in
the reverend gentleman's eye; of the slow swaying in his gait; of the
gruff huskiness in his elocution. It appeared, from the opening
dialogue, that a pending law-suit, and the absence of his daughter Fanny
in London, combined to make him uneasy in his mind just at present. But
he was by no means so clear on this subject as could be desired--in
fact, he spoke through his nose, put in and left out his _hs_ in the
wrong places, and involved his dialogue in a long labyrinth of
parentheses whenever he expressed himself at any length. It was not
until the entrance of his daughter Fanny (just arrived from London:
nobody knew why or wherefore), that he grew more emphatic and
intelligible. We now observed with pleasure that he gave his children
his blessing and embraced them both at once; and we were additionally
gratified by hearing from his own lips, that his "daughters were the
h'all on which his h'all depended--that they would watch h'over his
'ale autumn; and that whatever happened the whole party must invariably
trust in heabben's obdipotent power!"

Grateful for this clerical advice, Fanny retired into the garden to
gather her parent some flowers; but immediately returned shrieking. She
was followed by a Highwayman with a cocked hat, mustachios, bandit's
ringlets, a scarlet hunting-coat, and buff boots. This gentleman had
shown his extraordinary politeness--although a perfect stranger--by
giving Miss Fanny a kiss in the garden; conduct for which the Curate
very properly cursed him, in the strongest language. Apparently a quiet
and orderly character, the Highwayman replied by beginning a handsome
apology, when he was interrupted by the abrupt entrance of another
personage, who ordered him (rather late in the day, as we ventured to
think) to "let go his holt, and beware how he laid his brutal touch on
the form of innocence!" This newcomer, the parson informed us, was "good
h'Adam Marle, the teacher of the village school." We found "h'Adam," in
respect of his outward appearance, to be a very short man, dressed in a
high-crowned modern hat, with a fringed vandyck collar drooping over his
back and shoulders, a modern frock-coat, buttoned tight at the waist,
and a pair of jack-boots of the p