ascend, till we came to what he was facetiously pleased to call the
first floor down the chimney; and knocking at the door, a voice from
within demanded, who's there? My conductor answered, that it was him.
But this not satisfying the querist, the voice again repeated the
demand: to which he answered louder than before; and now the door was
opened by an old woman with cautious reluctance.

When we were got in, he welcomed me to his house with great ceremony,
and turning to the old woman, asked where was her lady? "Good troth,"
replied she, in a peculiar dialect, "she's washing your two shirts at
the next door, because they have taken an oath against lending out the
tub any longer."--"My two shirts," cries he in a tone that faultered
with confusion, "what does the idiot mean!"--"I ken what I mean well
enough," replied the other, "she's washing your two shirts at the next
door, because----"--"Fire and fury, no more of thy stupid
explanations," cried he,--"Go and inform her we have got company. Were
that Scotch hag to be for ever in the family, she would never learn
politeness, nor forget that absurd poisonous accent of hers, or
testify the smallest specimen of breeding or high life; and yet it is
very surprising too, as I had her from a parliament-man, a friend of
mine, from the highlands, one of the politest men in the world; but
that's a secret."

We waited some time for Mrs. Tibbs's arrival, during which interval I
had a full opportunity of surveying the chamber and all its furniture;
which consisted of four chairs with old wrought bottoms, that he
assured me were his wife's embroidery; a square table that had been
once japanned, a cradle in one corner, a lumbering cabinet in the
other; a broken shepherdess, and a mandarine without a head were stuck
over the chimney; and round the walls several paltry, unframed
pictures, which he observed, were all his own drawing: "What do you
think, sir, of that head in a corner, done in the manner of Grisoni?
there's the true keeping in it; it's my own face, and though there
happens to be no likeness, a countess offered me an hundred for its
fellow; I refused her, for, hang it, that would be mechanical, you
know."

The wife at last made her appearance, at once a slattern and a coquet;
much emaciated, but still carrying the remains of beauty. She made
twenty apologies for being seen in such odious dishabille, but hoped
to be excused, as she had staid out all night at the gardens