ee that he had to do with an obstinate,
capricious old man, who, with the best intentions in the world, chose
to have every thing in his own way; and, like most petty politicians,
was disposed to throw intrigue and mystery over matters which had much
better be prosecuted boldly and openly. But he perceived at the same
time, that Touchwood, as a sort of relation, wealthy, childless, and
disposed to become his friend, was a person to be conciliated, the
rather that the traveller himself had frankly owned that it was Francis
Tyrrel's want of deference towards him, which had forfeited, or at least
abated, his favour. Mowbray recollected, also, that the circumstances
under which he himself stood, did not permit him to trifle with
returning gleams of good fortune. Subduing, therefore, the haughtiness
of temper proper to him as an only son and heir, he answered
respectfully, that, in his condition, the advice and assistance of Mr.
Scrogie Touchwood were too important, not to be purchased at the price
of submitting his own judgment to that of an experienced and sagacious
friend.

"Well said, Mr. Mowbray," replied the senior, "well said. Let me once
have the management of your affairs, and we will brush them up for you
without loss of time.--I must be obliged to you for a bed for the night,
however--it is as dark as a wolf's mouth; and if you will give orders to
keep the poor devil of a postilion, and his horses too, why, I will be
the more obliged to you."

Mowbray applied himself to the bell. Patrick answered the call, and was
much surprised, when the old gentleman, taking the word out of his
entertainer's mouth, desired a bed to be got ready, with a little fire
in the grate; "for I take it, friend," he went on, "you have not guests
here very often.--And see that my sheets be not damp, and bid the
housemaid take care not to make the bed upon an exact level, but let it
slope from the pillow to the footposts, at a declivity of about eighteen
inches.--And hark ye--get me a jug of barley-water, to place by my
bedside, with the squeeze of a lemon--or stay, you will make it as sour
as Beelzebub--bring the lemon on a saucer, and I will mix it myself."

Patrick listened like one of sense forlorn, his head turning like a
mandarin, alternately from the speaker to his master, as if to ask the
latter whether this was all reality. The instant that Touchwood stopped,
Mowbray added his fiat.

"Let every thing be done to make Mr. Touchwoo