regimental military appearance.  They were made of white leather, with bright metal buttons at the knees and bright metal buttons at the top.  They owned no pockets, and were, with the exception of the legitimate outlet, continuous in the circumference of the waistband.  No dangling strings gave them an appearance of senile imbecility.  Were it not for a certain rigidity, sternness, and mental inflexibility,—we will call it military ardour,—with which they were imbued, they would have created envy in the bosom of a fox-hunter.

Mr. Horne was no fox-hunter, but still he seemed to be irresistibly taken with the lady-like propensity of wishing to wear them.  “Surely, George,” he said, “the general must have been a stouter man than I am”—and he contemplated his own proportions with complacency—“these what’s-the-names are quite big enough for me.”

I differed in opinion, and was obliged to explain that I thought he did the good living of Ollerton insufficient justice.

“I am sure they are large enough for me,” he repeated, with considerable obstinacy.  I smiled incredulously; and then to settle the matter he resolved that he would try them on.  Nobody had been in these rooms for the last hour, and it appeared as though they were never visited.  Even the guide had not come on with us, but was employed in showing other parties about the fortifications.  It was clear that this portion of the building was left desolate, and that the experiment might be safely made.  So the sportive rector declared that he would for a short time wear the regimentals which had once contained the valorous heart of General Chassé.

With all decorum the Rev. Mr. Horne divested himself of the work of the London artist’s needle, and, carefully placing his own garments beyond the reach of dust, essayed to fit himself in military garb.

At that important moment—at the critical instant of the attempt—the clatter of female voices was heard approaching the chamber.  They must have suddenly come round some passage corner, for it was evident by the sound that they were close upon us before we had any warning of their advent.  At this very minute Mr. Horne was somewhat embarrassed in his attempts, and was not fully in possession of his usual active powers of movement, nor of his usual presence of mind.  He only looked for escape; and seeing a door partly open, he with difficulty retreated through it, and I followed him.  We found that we were in a small dressing-room; and as by good luck the door was defended by an inner bolt, my friend was able to protect himself.

“There shall be another siege, at any rate as stout as the last, before I surrender,” said he.

As the ladies seemed inclined to linger in the room it became a matter of importance that the above-named articles should fit, not only for ornament but for use.  It was very cold, and Mr. Horne was altogether unused to move in a Highland sphere of life.  But alas, alas!  General Chassé had not been nurtured in the classical retirement of Ollerton.  The ungiving leather would stretch no point to accommodate the divine, though it had been willing to minister to the convenience of the soldier.  Mr. Horne was vexed and chilled; and throwing the now hateful garments into a corner, and protecting himself from the cold as best he might by standing with his knees together and his body somewhat bent so as to give the skirts of his coat an opportunity of doing extra duty, he begged me to see if those jabbering females were not going to leave him in peace to recover his own property.  I accordingly went to the door, and opening it to a small extent I peeped through.

Who shall describe my horror at the sight which I then saw?  The scene, which had hitherto been tinted with comic effect, was now becoming so decidedly tragic that I did not dare at once to acquaint my worthy pastor with that which was occurring,—and, alas! had already occurred.

Five country-women of our own—it was easy to know them by their dress and general aspect—were standing in the middle of the room; and one of them, the centre of the group, the senior harpy of the lot, a maiden lady—I could have sworn to that—with a red nose, held in one hand a huge pair of scissors, and in the other—the already devoted goods of my most unfortunate companion!  Down from the waistband, through that goodly expanse, a fell gash had already gone through and through; and in useless, unbecoming disorder the broadcloth fell pendant from her arm on this side and on that.  At that moment I confess that I had not the courage to speak to Mr. Horne,—not even to look at him.

I must describe that group.  Of the figure next to me I could only see the back.  It was a broad back done up in black silk not of the newest.  The whole figure, one may say, was dumpy.  The black silk was not long, as dresses now are worn, nor wide in its skirts.  In every way it was skimpy, considering the breadth it had to cover; and below the silk I saw the heels of two thick shoes, and enough to swear by of two woollen stockings.  Above the silk was a red and blue shawl; and above that a ponderous, elaborate brown bonnet, as to the materials of which I should not wish to undergo an examination.  Over and beyond this I could only see the backs of her two hands.  They were held up as though in wonder at that which the red-nosed holder of the scissors had dared to do.

Opposite to this lady, and with her face fully tamed to me, was a kindly-looking, fat motherly woman, with light-coloured hair, not in the best order.  She was hot and scarlet with exercise, being perhaps too stout for the steep steps of the fortress; and in one hand she held a handkerchief, with which from time to time she wiped her brow.  In the other hand she held one of the extremities of my friend’s property, feeling—good, careful soul!—what was the texture of the cloth.  As she did so, I could see a glance of approbation pass across her warm features.  I liked that lady’s face, in spite of her untidy hair, and felt that had she been alone my friend would not have been injured.

On either side of her there stood a flaxen-haired maiden, with long curls, large blue eyes, fresh red cheeks, an undefined lumpy nose, and large good-humoured mouth.  They were as like as two peas, only that one was half an inch taller than the other; and there was no difficulty in discovering, at a moment’s glance, that they were the children of that over-heated matron who was feeling the web of my friend’s cloth.

But the principal figure was she who held the centre place in the group.  She was tall and thin, with fierce-looking eyes, rendered more fierce by the spectacles which she wore; with a red nose as I said before; and about her an undescribable something which quite convinced me that she had never known—could never know—aught of the comforts of married life.  It was she who held the scissors and the black garments.  It was she who had given that unkind cut.  As I looked at her she whisked herself quickly round from one companion to the other, triumphing in what she had done, and ready to triumph further in what she was about to do.  I immediately conceived a deep hatred for that Queen of the Harpies.

“Well, I suppose they can’t be wanted again,” said the mother, rubbing her forehead.

“Oh dear no!” said she of the red nose.  “They are relics!”  I thought to leap forth; but for what purpose should I have leaped?  The accursed scissors had already done their work; and the symmetry, nay, even the utility of the vestment was destroyed.

“General Chassé wore a very good article;—I will say that for him,” continued the mother.

“Of course he did!” said the Queen Harpy.  “Why should he not, seeing that the country paid for it for him?  Well, ladies, who’s for having a bit?”

“Oh my! you won’t go for to cut them up,” said the stout back.

“Won’t I,” said the scissors; and she immediately made another