The door of the carriage being opened, there descended a small slight man, richly dressed (for lace and silk vestments were not then quite discarded, though gradually growing less the mode), and of an air prepossessing and distinguished rather than dignified.

His years--for his countenance, though handsome, was deeply marked, and evinced the tokens of dissipation--seemed more numerous than they really were; and though not actually past middle age, Lord Mauleverer might fairly have received the unpleasing epithet of elderly.

However, his step was firm, his gait upright, and his figure was considerably more youthful than his physiognomy.

The first compliments of the day having passed, and Lord Mauleverer having expressed his concern that his long and frequent absence from the county had hitherto prevented his making the acquaintance of Mr.Brandon, the brother of one of his oldest and most esteemed friends, conversation became on both sides rather an effort.

Mr.Brandon first introduced the subject of the weather, and the turnips; inquired whether his lordship was not very fond (for his part he used to be, but lately the rheumatism had disabled him; he hoped his lordship was not subject to that complaint) of shooting! Catching only the last words,--for, besides the awful complexity of the squire's sentences, Mauleverer was slightly affected by the aristocratic complaint of deafness,--the earl answered, with a smile,-- "The complaint of shooting! Very good indeed, Mr.Brandon; it is seldom that I have heard so witty a phrase.