At a premature hour in the morning the family were disturbed by a clamorous knocking at the door; Mrs. Corbet, who was always on the alert, and had a constant fear of a wooden house on fire before her eyes, was the first who heard the summons. She sprang from bed; up went the window, out went her head, and, with a shrill and eager voice, she inquired who was there?

The voice of Horace Evelyn, the eldest grandson of Mrs. Paddock, replied—

The afflicted old woman, in the course of the night, had, in the opinion of the nurse, rallied her strength, and required only cordials to be soon afoot again.

The intelligence gave the whole of my household great joy. Every one was soon astir; the lad was admitted—bottles of port wine and of brandy, together with various sorts of condiments and medicines, were put in requisition. Every one, young and old, was in as much activity as if a lord had broken his leg, and we were all country surgeons summoned to attend him.

After the required medicaments were provided, Mrs. Corbet recollected, and she was the first to do so, that the lad had ridden on what she called an uneasy lame horse from Stockwell, nearly ten miles, that morning, and ought not to be allowed to return so far without his breakfast. Accordingly all the needfuls were immediately gathered together, breakfast ordered, and the whole of my domestic economy thrown into hurry and jeopardy.