[At the Rector's house in the village of Laceby] On seeing a pianoforte, I ventured to observe, "You are fond of music, ladies" ? "O yes," says my hostess, "Jane plays divinely, and Rebecca sings charmingly." "What a delightful resource is music," said I, "to fill up the dull hours of winter." "Indeed it is," said my kind hostess, "especially in a place like this — the very corner of the world." I was pressed to give them a song... I sat down to the pianoforte, and sang Haydn's Canzonet, "My mother bids me bind my hair" which seemed to touch their little hearts. At this moment, the rector returned, and I was requested to sing it again. Detecting some of the northern brogue in my friend, like Timotheus, I changed my hand to the Scotch air, " The lass of Paty's mill." — This moved the divine to a degree of merriment, that drew peals of laughter from the fair ones.