A mutual recognition now took place, and much pleasure was manifested on both sides at this unexpected rencontre.  No time was allowed to explain their embarrassments, for Mr. Gawffaw had already tipped the post-boy the wink (which he seemed easily to comprehend); and forcing Mr. Douglas to resume his seat in the carriage, he jumped in himself.

“Now for Howffend and Mrs. Gawffaw! ha, ha, ha!  This will be a surprise upon her.  She thinks I’m in my barn all this time—­ha, ha, ha!”

Mr. Douglas here began to express his astonishment at his friend’s precipitation, and his apprehensions as to the trouble they might occasion Mrs. Gawffaw; but bursts of laughter and broken expressions of delight were the only replies he could procure from his friend.

After jolting over half a mile of very bad road, the carriage stopped at a mean vulgar-looking mansion, with dirty windows, ruinous thatched offices, and broken fences.

Such was the picture of still life.  That of animated nature was not less picturesque.  Cows bellowed, and cart-horses neighed, and pigs grunted, and geese gabbled, and ducks quacked, and cocks and hens flapped and fluttered promiscuously, as they mingled in a sort of yard divided from the house by a low dyke, possessing the accommodation of a crazy gate, which was bestrode by a parcel of bare-legged boys.

“What are you about, you confounded rascals?” called Mr. Gawffaw to them.

“Naething,” answered one.

“We’re just takin’ a heize on the yett,” answered another.

“I’ll heize ye, ye scoundrels!” exclaimed the incensed Mr. Gawffaw, as he burst from the carriage; and, snatching the driver’s whip from his hand, flew after the more nimble-footed culprits.

Finding his efforts to overtake them in vain, here turned to the door of his mansion, where stood his guests, waiting to be ushered in.  He opened the door himself, and led the way to a parlour which was quite of a piece with the exterior of the dwelling.  A dim dusty table stood in the middle of the floor, heaped with a variety of heterogeneous articles of dress; an exceeding dirty volume of a novel lay open amongst them.  The floor was littered with shapings of flannel, and shreds of gauzes, ribbons, etc.  The fire was almost out, and the hearth was covered with ashes.

After insisting upon his guests being seated, Mr. Gawffaw walked to the door of the apartment, and hallooed out, “Mrs. Gawffaw,—­ho!  May, my dear!—­I say, Mrs. Gawffaw!”

A low, croaking, querulous voice was now heard in reply, “For heaven’s sake, Mr. Gawffaw, make less noise!  For God’s sake, have mercy on the walls of your house, if you’ve none on my poor head!” And thereupon entered Mrs. Gawffaw, a cap in one hand, which she appeared to have been tying on—­a smelling-bottle in the other.