are not Munitos might have seen with half an eye that the parson's
discourse had produced a very genial and humanizing effect upon his
audience.

[Munito was the name of a dog famous for his learning (a Porson of a
dog) at the date of my childhood. There are no such dogs nowadays.]

When all was over, and the congregation stood up to let Mr. Hazeldean
and his family walk first down the aisle (for that was the custom at
Hazeldean), moistened eyes glanced at the squire's sun-burned manly face,
with a kindness that bespoke revived memory of many a generous benefit
and ready service. The head might be wrong now and then,--the heart was
in the right place after all. And the lady leaning on his arm came in
for a large share of that gracious good feeling. True, she now and then
gave a little offence when the cottages were not so clean as she fancied
they ought to be,--and poor folks don't like a liberty taken with their
houses any more than the rich do; true that she was not quite so popular
with the women as the squire was, for, if the husband went too often to
the ale-house, she always laid the fault on the wife, and said, "No man
would go out of doors for his comforts, if he had a smiling face and a
clean hearth at his home;" whereas the squire maintained the more gallant
opinion that "If Gill was a shrew, it was because Jack did not, as in
duty bound, stop her mouth with a kiss!" Still, notwithstanding these
more obnoxious notions on her part, and a certain awe inspired by the
stiff silk gown and the handsome aquiline nose, it was impossible,
especially in the softened tempers of that Sunday afternoon, not to
associate the honest, comely, beaming countenance of Mrs. Hazeldean with
comfortable recollections of soups, jellies, and wine in sickness, loaves
and blankets in winter, cheering words and ready visits in every little
distress, and pretexts afforded by improvement in the grounds and gardens