I had so much hospitality.  In fact, except for a week in Paris, I never had any hotel expenses.  I had got the money to enjoy it and I did.  This was what my friend wished.  I made a few presents.  I bought some to take home with me.  I spent money on dress freely, so as to present a proper appearance when visiting.  I was liberal with veils, though I hate the practice.  To a woman who had to look on both sides of a shilling since 1839 this experience was new and delightful.  Among other people I went to see was Mrs. C——. the widow of the Tory writer and branch bank manager, who was my father’s successful rival.  He was not speculative like my father.  He was a keen business man and had a great hunger for land.

On the gravestones around Melrose Abbey are many names with the avocation added—­John Smith, builder; William Hogg, mason—­but many with the word portioner.  They were small proprietors, but they were not distinguished for the careful cultivation which in France is known as “La Petite culture.”  No; the portions were most carelessly handled, and in almost every instance they were “bonded” or mortgaged.  I recollect in old days these portioners used to make moonlight, flittings and disappear, or they sold off their holdings openly and went to America, meaning the United States.  The tendency was to buy up these portions, and a considerable estate could be built up by any shrewd man who had money, or the command of it.  Before we left Melrose in 1839, Mr. C——­ had possession of a good deal of land.  When he died he left property of the value of 90,000 pounds, an unheard-of estate for a country writer before the era of freetrade and general expansion.  He had asked so much revenue from the railway company when the plan was to cut through the gardens we as children used to play in, that the company made a deviation and left the garden severely alone.  The eldest daughter had married a landed proprietor, the second was single, the third married to a wealthy man in the west, the fourth the richest widow in Scotland.  One son had land, and the other son land, and another business training.  All was material success, and I am sure I did not grudge it to them, but when I took stock of real things I had not the least glimmering of a wish to exchange.  One generally desires a little more money than one has; but even that may cost too much.  I think my dear old Aunt Reid felt that the Spences had gone down in my father’s terrible smash in 1839, and the C——­ family had steadily gone up, and she was pleased that a niece from Australia, who had written two books and a wonderful pamphlet, and, more important still in the eyes of Mrs. Grundy, had money to spend and to give, was staying with her in Melrose, and wearing good and well made clothes.  Old servants—­the old laundress—­old schoolfellows were visited.  My father’s old clerk, Allan Freer, had a good business in Melrose, though not equal to that of the Tory firm.  I