e
surrounded me in the home of my forefathers. A natural taste for them
must have lurked at the bottom of my heart, which awakened when I was
in foreign countries, and becoming by degrees a favourite passion,
gradually turned its eyes inwards, and ransacked the neglected stores
which my memory had involuntarily recorded, and, when excited, exerted
herself to collect and to complete.

I began now to regret more bitterly than ever the having fooled away
my family property, the care and improvement of which I saw might have
afforded an agreeable employment for my leisure, which only went to
brood on past misfortunes, and increase useless repining. "Had but
a single farm been reserved, however small," said I one day to Mr.
Fairscribe, "I should have had a place I could call my home, and
something that I could call business."

"It might have been managed," answered Fairscribe; "and for my part, I
inclined to keep the mansion house, mains, and some of the old family
acres together; but both Mr. -- and you were of opinion that the money
would be more useful."

"True, true, my good friend," said I; "I was a fool then, and did not
think I could incline to be Glentanner with L200 or L300 a year, instead
of Glentanner with as many thousands. I was then a haughty, pettish,
ignorant, dissipated, broken-down Scottish laird; and thinking my
imaginary consequence altogether ruined, I cared not how soon, or how
absolutely, I was rid of everything that recalled it to my own memory,
or that of others."

"And now it is like you have changed your mind?" said Fairscribe. "Well,
fortune is apt to circumduce the term upon us; but I think she may allow
you to revise your condescendence."

"How do you mean, my good friend?"

"Nay," said Fairscribe, "there is ill luck in averring till one is sure
of his facts. I will look back on a file of newspapers, and to-morrow
you shall hear from me. Come, help yourself--I have seen you fill your
glass higher."

"And shall see it again," said I, pouring out what remained of our
bottle of claret; "the wine is capital, and so shall our toast be--'To
your fireside, my good friend.' And now we shall go beg a Scots song
without foreign graces from my little siren, Miss Katie."

The next day, accordingly, I received a parcel from Mr. Fairscribe with
a newspaper enclosed, among the advertisements of which one was marked
with a cross as requiring my attention. I read, to my surprise:--

"DESIRABLE ESTA