By this time we were arrived as high as the stairs would permit us to ascend, till we came to what he was facetiously pleased to call the first floor down the chimney; and knocking at the door, a voice from within demanded, who’s there?  My conductor answered that it was him.  But this not satisfying the querist, the voice again repeated the demand:  to which he answered louder than before; and now the door was opened by an old woman with cautious reluctance.

When we were got in, he welcomed me to his house with great ceremony, and turning to the old woman, asked where was her lady?  “Good troth,” replied she, in a peculiar dialect, “she’s washing your two shirts at the next door, because they have taken an oath against lending out the tub any longer.”  “My two shirts,” cries he in a tone that faltered with confusion, “what does the idiot mean!” “I ken what I mean well enough,” replied the other, “she’s washing your two shirts at the next door, because—­” “Fire and fury! no more of thy stupid explanations,” cried he.  “Go and inform her we have got company.  Were that Scotch hag to be for ever in the family, she would never learn politeness, nor forget that absurd poisonous accent of hers, or testify the smallest specimen of breeding or high life; and yet it is very surprising too, as I had her from a parliament man, a friend of mine, from the highlands, one of the politest men in the world; but that’s a secret.”

We waited some time for Mrs. Tibbs’ arrival, during which interval I had a full opportunity of surveying the chamber and all its furniture; which consisted of four chairs with old wrought bottoms, that he assured me were his wife’s embroidery; a square table that had been once japanned, a cradle in one corner, a lumbering cabinet in the other; a broken shepherdess, and a mandarin without a head, were stuck over the chimney; and round the walls several paltry, unframed pictures, which, he observed, were all his own drawing.  “What do you think, sir, of that head in a corner, done in the manner of Grisoni?  There’s the true keeping in it; it’s my own face, and though there happens to be no likeness, a countess offered me an hundred for its fellow.  I refused her, for, hang it, that would be mechanical, you know.”

The wife at last made her appearance, at once a slattern and a coquette; much emaciated, but still carrying the remains of beauty.  She made twenty apologies for being seen in such odious dishabille, but hoped to be excused, as she had stayed out all night at the gardens with the countess, who was excessively fond of the horns.  “And, indeed, my dear,” added she, turning to her husband, “his lordship drank your health in a bumper.”  “Poor Jack,” cries he, “a dear good-natured creature, I know he loves me; but I hope, my dear, you have given orders for dinner; you need make no great preparations neither, there are but three of us, something elegant, and little will do; a turbot, an ortolan, or a—­” “Or what