‘Who is this young man?’ said the Vicar in a low voice to his neighbour.

‘A Scotchman called Maxwell, on a visit to Sir Henry,’ was the answer.

‘I thought so, from his accent and his manners,’ said the Vicar.

It may be here observed that the northern English retain rather more of the ancient hereditary aversion to their neighbours than their countrymen of the south.  The interference of other disputants, each of whom urged his opinion with all the vehemence of wine and politics, rendered the summons to the drawing-room agreeable to the more sober part of the company.

The company dispersed by degrees, and at length the Vicar and the young Scotchman alone remained, besides the Baronet, his lady, daughters, and myself.  The clergyman had not, it would seem, forgot the observation which ranked him with the false prophets of Dunbar, for he addressed Mr. Maxwell upon the first opportunity.

’Hem!  I think, sir, you mentioned something about the civil wars of last century?  You must be deeply skilled in them, indeed, if you can draw any parallel betwixt those and the present evil days —­days which I am ready to maintain are the most gloomy that ever darkened the prospects of Britain.’

’God forbid, Doctor, that I should draw a comparison between the present times and those you mention.  I am too sensible of the advantages we enjoy over our ancestors.  Faction and ambition have introduced division among us; but we are still free from the guilt of civil bloodshed, and from all the evils which flow from it.  Our foes, sir, are not those of our own household; and while we continue united and firm, from the attacks of a foreign enemy, however artful, or however inveterate, we have, I hope, little to dread.’

’Have you found anything curious, Mr. Maxwell, among the dusty papers?’ said Sir Henry, who seemed to dread a revival of political discussion.

’My investigation amongst them led to reflections at which I have just now hinted,’ said Maxwell; ’and I think they are pretty strongly exemplified by a story which I have been endeavouring to arrange from some of your family manuscripts.’

‘You are welcome to make what use of them you please,’ said Sir Henry;’ they have been undisturbed for many a day, and I have often wished for some person as well skilled as you in these old pot-hooks to tell me their meaning.’

‘Those I just mentioned,’ answered Maxwell, ’relate to a piece of private history, savouring not a little of the marvellous, and intimately connected with your family; if it is agreeable, I can read to you the anecdotes in the modern shape into which I have been endeavouring to throw them, and you can then judge of the value of the originals.’