somewhat more ruddy than was consistent with even pure health, presented
the personage whom I was to know as my future companion and kinswoman!

Mr. Harris looked like a venerable Hawthorn; a brown fustian coat, a
scarlet waistcoat edged with narrow gold, a pair of woollen
spatter-dashes, and a gold-laced hat, formed the dress he generally
wore. He always rode a small Welsh pony, and was seldom in the house,
except at eating-time, from sunrise to the close of the evening.

There was yet another personage in the domestic establishment, who was
by Mr. Harris regarded as of no small importance: this was a venerable
housekeeper of the name of Mary Edwards. Mrs. Molly was the female
Mentor of the family; she dined at the table with Mr. Harris; she was
the governess of the domestic department; and a more overbearing,
vindictive spirit never inhabited the heart of mortal than that which
pervaded the soul of the ill-natured Mrs. Molly.

It may easily be conjectured that my time passed heavily in this
uninteresting circle. I was condemned either to drink ale with "the
squire," for Mr. Harris was only spoken of by that title, or to visit
the Methodistical seminary which Lady Huntingdon had established at
Trevecca, another mansion house on the estate of Mr. Harris. Miss
Robinson was of this sect; and though Mr. Harris was not a disciple of
the Huntingdonian school, he was a constant church visitor on every
Sunday. His zeal was indefatigable; and he would frequently fine the
rustics (for he was a justice of the peace, and had been sheriff of the
county) when he heard them swear, though every third sentence he uttered
was attended by an oath that made his hearers shudder.

I soon became a considerable favourite of "the squire," but I did not