his extensive information, and pride of knowledge, he commonly admits
her superior accuracy. He seldom returns to the Hall, after one of his
visits to the other branches of the family, without bringing Mrs.
Wilkins some remembrance from the ladies of the house where he has been
staying.

Indeed all the children in the house look up to the old lady with
habitual respect and attachment, and she seems almost to consider them
as her own, from their having grown up under her eye. The Oxonian,
however, is her favourite, probably from being the youngest, though he
is the most mischievous, and has been apt to play tricks upon her from
boyhood.

I cannot help mentioning one little ceremony which, I believe, is
peculiar to the Hall. After the cloth is removed at dinner, the old
housekeeper sails into the room and stands behind the squire's chair,
when he fills her a glass of wine with his own hands, in which she
drinks the health of the company in a truly respectful yet dignified
manner, and then retires. The squire received the custom from his
father, and has always continued it.

[Illustration: "She drinks the health of the company"]

There is a peculiar character about the servants of old English families
that reside principally in the country. They have a quiet, orderly,
respectful mode of doing their duties. They are always neat in their
persons, and appropriately, and, if I may use the phrase, technically
dressed; they move about the house without hurry or noise; there is
nothing of the bustle of employment, or the voice of command; nothing of
that obtrusive housewifery that amounts to a torment. You are not