the wide door of the kitchen,
just as the twilight was darkening down into night.

I found my host sitting as was his wont--his nightcap on his head, his
long staff in his hand, and two greyhounds at his feet--behind the
fire upon his oaken settle. "I'm thinkin', Willie," he began as he saw
me enter--"I'm thinkin' ye hae catched a wet sark. Janet, lass, fetch
your cusin a dram. Nane o' your piperly smellin' bottles," cried he,
as she produced some cordials in an ancient liquor-stand--"Nane o'
your auld wife's jaups for ane o' my name--fetch something
purpose-like; for when my nevoy has changed himsell, we'll hae a stoup
o' whisky, and a crack thegither." In a few minutes I was seated in
dry clothes, before a bowl of punch and a blazing fire, beside the old
gentleman on his oaken sofa. At any other time I would have enjoyed
the scene with infinite satisfaction; for the national tipple, in my
mind, drinks nowhere so pleasantly as on a bench behind the broad
hearthstone of such a kitchen-hall as my friend's. Our smaller gentry
had, it is true, long since betaken themselves to their parlours and
their drawing-rooms; and the steams of whisky-punch had already risen
with the odours of bohea, and the smoke of sea-borne coals, to the
damask hangings and alabaster cornices of many high-ceiled and stately
apartments. Yet there were still some of the old school, who, like my
good friend, continued to make their headquarters, after the ancient
fashion, among their own domestics, and behind their own hearthstone;
for in all old houses the fire is six feet at least from the gable,
and the space between is set apart for the homely owner.

It was strange then, that I, who hitherto had so intensely relished
such a scene, should be so absent now that it was spread round me in
its perfection. The peat and bog-fir fire before me, and the merry
faces glistening through the white smoke beyond; the chimney overhead,
like some great minster bell (the huge hanging pot for the clapper);
the antlers, broadsword, and sporting tackle on the wall behind; the
goodly show of fat flitches and briskets around me and above, and that
merry and wise old fellow, glass in hand, with endless store of good
stories, pithy sayings, and choice points of humour, by my side; yet
with all I sat melancholy and ill at ease. In vain did the rare old
man tell me his best marvels; how he once fought with Tom Hughes, a
wild Welshman, whom he met in a perilous journey thr