een part and pendicle thereof
in my forefather' time, which passed very well.

I do not intend to possess any one with an exact knowledge of my
lodging; though, as Bobadil says, "I care not who knows it, since the
cabin is convenient." But I may state in general, that it is a house
"within itself," or, according to a newer phraseology in advertisements,
SELF-CONTAINED, has a garden of near half an acre, and a patch of
ground with trees in front. It boasts five rooms and servants'
apartments--looks in front upon the palace, and from behind towards the
hill and crags of the King's Park. Fortunately, the place had a name,
which, with a little improvement, served to countenance the legend which
I had imposed on Janet, and would not, perhaps have been sorry if I had
been able to impose on myself. It was called Littlecroft; we have dubbed
it Little Croftangry, and the men of letters belonging to the Post
Office have sanctioned the change, and deliver letters so addressed.
Thus I am to all intents and purposes Chrystal Croftangry of that Ilk.

My establishment consists of Janet, an under maid-servant, and a
Highland wench for Janet to exercise her Gaelic upon, with a handy lad
who can lay the cloth, and take care, besides, of a pony, on which I
find my way to Portobello sands, especially when the cavalry have a
drill; for, like an old fool as I am, I have not altogether become
indifferent to the tramp of horses and the flash of weapons, of which,
though no professional soldier, it has been my fate to see something in
my youth. For wet mornings I have my book; is it fine weather? I visit,
or I wander on the Crags, as the humour dictates. My dinner is indeed
solitary, yet not quite so neither; for though Andrew waits, Janet--or,
as she is to all the world but her master and certain old Highland
gossips, Mrs. MacEvoy--attends, bustles about, and desires to see
everything is in first-rate order, and to tell me, Cot pless us, the
wonderful news of the palace for the day. When the cloth is removed, and
I light my cigar, and begin to husband a pint of port, or a glass of old
whisky and water, it is the rule of the house that Janet takes a
chair at some distance, and nods or works her stocking, as she may be
disposed--ready to speak, if I am in the talking humour, and sitting
quiet as a mouse if I am rather inclined to study a book or the
newspaper. At six precisely she makes my tea, and leaves me to drink it;
and then occurs an inte