has then been an irregular liver?' insinuated I.

My father replied by that famous brocard with which he silences all
unacceptable queries turning in the slightest degree upon the failings
of our neighbours,--'If we mend our own faults, Alan, we shall all of us
have enough to do, without sitting in judgement upon other folks.'

Here I was again at fault; but rallying once more, I observed, he had
the air of a man of high rank and family.

'He is well entitled,' said my father, 'representing Herries of
Birrenswork; a branch of that great and once powerful family of Herries,
the elder branch whereof merged in the house of Nithesdale at the
death of Lord Robin the Philosopher, Anno Domini sixteen hundred and
sixty-seven.'

'Has he still,' said I, 'his patrimonial estate of Birrenswork?'

'No,' replied my father; 'so far back as his father's time, it was
a mere designation--the property being forfeited by Herbert Herries
following his kinsman the Earl of Derwentwater to the Preston affair in
1715. But they keep up the designation, thinking, doubtless, that their
claims may be revived in more favourable times for Jacobites and for
popery; and folks who in no way partake of their fantastic capriccios
do yet allow it to pass unchallenged, EX COMITATE, if not EX
MISERICORDIA.--But were he the Pope and the Pretender both, we must get
some dinner ready for him, since he has thought fit to offer himself. So
hasten home, my lad, and tell Hannah, Cook Epps, and James Wilkinson, to
do their best; and do thou look out a pint or two of Maxwell's best--it
is in the fifth bin--there are the keys of the wine-cellar. Do not leave
them in the lock--you know poor James's failing, though he is an honest
creature under all other temptations--and I have but two bottles of the
old brandy left--we must keep it for medicine, Alan.'

Away went I--made my preparations--the hour of dinner came, and so did
Mr. Herries of Birrenswork.

If I had thy power of imagination and description, Darsie, I could make
out a fine, dark, mysterious, Rembrandt-looking portrait of this same
stranger, which should be as far superior to thy fisherman as a shirt
of chain-mail is to a herring-net. I can assure you there is some matter
for description about him; but knowing my own imperfections, I can only
say, I thought him eminently disagreeable and ill-bred.--No, ILL-BRED
is not the proper word on the contrary, he appeared to know the rules of
good-breeding perf