There was
no chair for me. The Squire suspended his reading of the Bible with
a deadly sort of resignation, and made a gesture to the portly
butler. That functionary rose from his own chair, and with loudly
creaking boots carried it across the room for my acceptance. I sat
down, covered with confusion. The butler returned; and two footmen,
who were sitting on a little form, made reluctant room for him. The
butler sat down on one end of the form, unfortunately before his
equipoise, the second footman, had taken his place at the other
end. The result was that the form tipped up, and a cataract of
flunkies poured down upon the floor. There was a ghastly silence;
then the Gadarene herd slowly recovered itself, and resumed its
place. The Squire read the chapter in an accent of suppressed fury,
while the remainder of the party, with handkerchiefs pressed to
their faces, made the most unaccountable sounds and motions for the
rest of the proceeding. I was really comparatively guiltless, but
the shadow of that horrid event sensibly clouded the whole of my
visit.
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