UNCLE IN ENGLAND. 155 



The summer did pass happily. Mr. P. had 

 such a variety of tastes, and so kindly adapted 

 them to mine ; we enjoyed so much our studies at 

 home; our mineralogical and botanical rambles; 

 and our sketching and boating parties, that our 

 life glided away in real felicity. As autumn and 

 winter advanced, we spent less time out of doors, 

 and more was given to our visiters, who re- 

 marked that now there might be some chance of 

 seeing us comfortably. But the house was 

 never comfortable to visiters. My dinners were 

 ill arranged, and every thing was irregular. An 

 old gentleman, who had been intimate with Mr. 

 P.'s father, and who continued the warm friend 

 and counsellor of the son, used frequently to 

 ride over of a frosty day to dine and sleep ; 

 or sometimes called upon us for luncheon after 

 he had been shooting. But he always came at 

 some unfortunate time ; when our dinner was 

 shabby, or ordered at some late hour : or per- 

 haps there was no fire to warm him after a cold 

 ride ; the unswept hearth strewed with cinders ; 

 the room all littered, no one to receive him, and 

 when I did appear, probably my dress untidy, 

 and a frown on my brow. He had long had the 

 habit of speaking his mind, and very mortifying 

 things he sometimes said, which made me hate 

 him. 



" Why, madam," (a beginning which, from 

 him, always shewed displeasure,) " you seem to 



