True to her promise in the advertisement by which I had been enticed to become her tenant, Miss Beeny Needles lost no opportunity of procuring me hospitable attentions from the higher class of the inhabitants. On the Monday morning after the adventure of the amatory rustics, a card was brought from the Provost, inviting my son and me to dine with him on the Monday following. Before I had time to answer it, for I received it while at breakfast, Miss Beeny herself came to advise what should be done on the occasion. She did not tell me that such was the object of her visit: the pretext was, that in consequence of not seeing me at church in the afternoon, she was apprehensive I had taken cold; but the end of the errand came out before she retired.

Observing the card of invitation on the table, she said, “So, you have at last received one: well, better late than never. But such procrastination! I told Mrs. Badge, as we were coming last night from the evening rites, that it was a duty in all men of authority to make themselves attentive to strangers; and that it was thought you had not been treated with the circumspection and solicitude due to the fortune you had imported, and with which you might be conciliated to enliven the town. She has taken the hint, and the Provost has made at last an honourable capitulation. I hope you will accept their condescension; for I do assure you, that it is not every new incomer who is deemed amenable to be a receptacle of Provost Badge's hospitable assiduities.”

“Monday is far off,” replied I hesitatingly; “and three o’clock is not an hour for me to dine at;” meaning that it was later than my custom.

“Dear me!” exclaimed Miss Beeny, “it is not consistent either with their own station or the progress of knowledge, that you should be invited to dine at such a preternatural hour.