covered with
newly-washed embroidery in raspy woollens and starched linen thread.
There had also been a tablecloth, and upon it (neatly arranged by Mrs.
Craven's daughter Amelia) a selection of the family "good books"--to
wit, the Holy Bible containing entries of the Craven family, with the
dates of birth altered or erased, Josephus with steel pictures, the
_Saint's Rest_ and some others. These had at once been removed,
according to agreement made before taking possession, and now, wrapped
in the tablecloth, reposed in a cupboard.

Only _The Cloud of Witnesses_ and Fox's _Martyrs_ were spared at my
special request. As for Freddie, he needed no other literature than his
text-books, and set himself to win medals like one who had been fitted
by machinery for that purpose.

Mrs. Craven was an Englishwoman who had brought herself to this by
marrying a carter from Gilmerton. So she retained a pleasant habit of
curtseying which her daughter, born in Edinburgh and given to snuffing
up the east wind, did not in the least strive to imitate, so far at
least as we were concerned.

But on the whole those rooms in Rankeillor Street were pleasant and even
model lodgings. Many a fine gentleman settled in the new town fared
worse, even artistically. We had on the wall in little black frames many
browned prints by a man of whom we had never heard, one Hogarth by name,
some of the details of which made Freddie blush and me laugh aloud. But
these doubtful subjects were counterbalanced by an equal number
illustrative of the Pilgrim's Progress, beginning at the sofa-back with
the Slough of Despond, going through the Wicket Gate, past fierce Giant
Pope and up craggy Hills of Difficulty to a flaming Celestial City
apparently being destroyed by fire with extreme rapidity.

In a glass-fronted corner cupboard were memorials of the late Mr.
Craven. To wit, a large punch-bowl, remarkable for having melted down a
flourishing business in the "carrying" way, four pair of horses with
wagons to match, a yard and suitable stabling, and, finally, Mr.
Craven, late of Gilmerton, himself.

On the top shelf was all that remained of the tea-service he had
presented to his "intended" when he was still at the head of the
Gilmerton "yard"--she being at the time lady's-maid at Dalkeith Palace
and high in favour with "her Grace." Much art was needed in dusting
these and arranging them to make cups and saucers stand so that their
chipped sides would not show.