is at home, sir; but it is Sunday night." Recognising, however, my face
and voice, he opened the door wider, admitted me, and conducted me to
the parlour, where I found Mr. Fairscribe and the rest of his family
engaged in listening to a sermon by the late Mr. Walker of Edinburgh,
[Footnote: Robert Walker, the colleague and rival of Dr. Hugh Blair, in
St. Giles's Church Edinburgh] which was read by Miss Catherine with
unusual distinctness, simplicity, and judgment. Welcomed as a friend of
the house, I had nothing for it but to take my seat quietly, and making
a virtue of necessity, endeavour to derive my share of the benefit
arising from an excellent sermon. But I am afraid Mr. Walker's force of
logic and precision of expression were somewhat lost upon me. I was
sensible I had chosen an improper time to disturb Mr. Fairscribe, and
when the discourse was ended, I rose to take my leave, somewhat hastily,
I believe. "A cup of tea, Mr. Croftangry?" said the young lady. "You
will wait and take part of a Presbyterian supper?" said Mr.
Fairscribe.--"Nine o'clock--I make it a point of keeping my father's
hours on Sunday at e'en. Perhaps Dr.----(naming an excellent clergyman)
may look in."

I made my apology for declining his invitation; and I fancy my unexpected
appearance, and hasty retreat, had rather surprised my friend, since,
instead of accompanying me to the door, he conducted me into his own
apartment.

"What is the matter," he said, "Mr. Croftangry? This is not a night for
secular business, but if any thing sudden or extraordinary has happened"--

"Nothing in the world," said I, forcing myself upon confession, as the
best way of clearing myself out of the scrape,--"only--only I sent you a
little parcel, and as you are so regular in acknowledging letters and