not only these two, but likewise another bit of you, which will be coming soon.”  At this he smiled, and said, “What, Cranstoun! a little bit, indeed, I think!  They are very well matched—­I was surprised not to find him here—­I thought they could not have been so long asunder.”  My father went away and left his family there.  The next day my mother and I were invited to dine at Mrs. Pocock’s, in order to meet the present Lord Crauford,[24] then Lord Garnock, and Mr. Cranstoun.  The latter attended Mrs. Pocock in a coach she had hired to fetch me and my mother into her house.  My father met us in the Strand, and stopped the coach, crying out, “For God’s sake, Mrs. Pocock, what do you with this rubbish every day?” “Rubbish, do you call them,” replied she, “your wife, your daughter, and one who may be your son?” “Aye, aye,” said he, “they are very well matched; ’tis pity they should ever be asunder.”  On which, Mr. Cranstoun took hold of my father’s hand, and cried out, “God grant they never may; don’t you say Amen, papa.”  At this my father smiled, and said, “Make her these fine speeches seven years hence.”  He then took his leave of them, saying, “He had so much business upon his hands, that he could not stand idling there”; bidding the coachman to drive on, and crying out, “God bless you, I wish you merry.”  Mrs. Pocock then asked him, “If he could not contrive to come to them?” To which he made answer, alluding to the distance of her house, “God bless you, do you think I can come down now to Henley?” Then our coachman drove on to St. James’s Square; and soon after my father left the town, in order to return home.

Whilst I was now in London, Mr. Cranstoun proposed a private marriage to me, saying, “It might help us with regard to the affair in Scotland; since a real marriage, according to the usage of the Church of England, if matters went hard, might possibly invalidate a contract that arose only from cohabitation.”  In order to understand which, it must be observed, that Mr. Cranstoun had before cohabitated with one Miss Murray, by whom he had had a child then living; and was consequently considered, by the Laws of Scotland, as her husband.  This, he said, was the only thing that intituled her to him, as he never was married by any priest.  To Mr. Cranstoun’s proposal I answered, “I won’t, Cranstoun, do you so much injury, as well as myself; for my father never will forgive it, nor give me a farthing.”  To which he replied, “There will be no occasion to discover it, but upon such an interesting event; and then surely, if you love me, you will suffer anything rather than part with me.  What would I not suffer for you!” To this I made answer, “I would do nothing in the affair without he could procure the advice of the best council, and be certainly informed by this that such a marriage would be valid.  Consider with Yourself,” said I, “Cranstoun, what a condition I should be in, if I should lose my character, my friends, and yourself?—­And