What name shall I send up ?' I gave him my card, and was shown into the library, while he carried it up to his master.
"Years had fled away, since I last stood within that room, a happy thoughtless boy.

How vividly did every book and picture recall the blessed hours I had passed there, with Margaret and Alice, when the weather was wet, and we could not play abroad! It was in this apartment, with its carved oak wainscoting and antique windows of stained glass, in which we generally held our revels, turning over the huge folios in search of pictures.
"There was the Book of Martyrs, with all its revolting details of human bigotry; and its dreadful exhibitions of human endurance amidst scorn and agony.

On these we gazed in mysterious awe; and as we turned over the horrible pages, we said to one another, 'that we were glad we were not Christians in those days.' "Then, there was Descartes' ancient philosophy.

A huge tome, full of quaint pictures of gods and goddesses, and angels and devils, on which we were never tired or gazing; infinitely preferring the latter, with their curious tails and horns, to the former; whom we called, 'Fat lazy-looking children with wings.' 'Goldsmith's World,' 'Buffon's Natural History,' and the whole family of Encyclopedias, with their numerous prints, were among our chief favourites, and helped to beguile the long wet day.

Sir Alexander often assisted himself at these exhibitions, and seemed as much pleased with showing us the pictures as we were in looking at them.
"From the cherished memories of former years, I was recalled by the entrance of the servant, who, with an air of rude familiarity, told me--'that Sir Alexander Moncton would never be at home to _Mister Philip Mornington_.' "Thunder-struck with this unexpected blow, and writhing under a bitter sense of humiliation, I affected an air of contemptuous indifference and turned to depart; when a light grasp was laid upon my arm, and I encountered the dark soul-lighted eyes of Margaret Moncton, moistened with tears, and fixed upon me with a gaze of mournful interest, "'Stay, Mr.Mornington.Dear, Philip! stay, I beseech you, for one little moment.' "'Let me go, Miss Moncton.