The brass-plate bearing my friend's name and designation was
still on the door, and when it was opened, the old domestic ap-
peared a good deal older, I thought, than he ought naturally to
have looked, considering the period of my absence. "Is Mr.
Sommerville at home ?" said I, pressing forward.
"Yes, sir," said John, placing himself in opposition to my en-
trance, "he is at home, but "

" But he is not in," said I. " I remember your phrase of old,
John. Come, I will step into his room, and leave a line for him."

John was obviously embarrassed by my familiarity. I was some



33° CHRONICLES OF THE CANONGATE.
one, he saw, whom he ought to recollect, at the same time it was
evident he remembered nothing about me.
" Ay, sir, my master is in, and in his own room, but "

I would not hear him out, but passed before him, towards the
well-known apartment. A young lady came out of the room a
little disturbed, as it seemed, and said, " John, what is the matter?"

" A gentleman. Miss Nelly, that insists on seeing my master."

"A very old and deeply indebted friend," said I, "that ventures'
to press myself on my much-respected benefactor on my return
from abroad."

"Alas, sir," replied she, "my uncle would be happy to see you,
but"

At this moment, something was heard within the apartment like
the falling of a plate, or glass, and immediately after my friend's
voice called angrily and eagerly for his niece. She entered the
room hastily, and so did I. But it was to see a spectacle, com-
pared with which that of my benefactor stretched on his bier would
have been a happy one.
