I had just time to give a glance at these matters, when about twelve blue-coated servants burst into the hall with much tumult and talk, each rather employed in directing his comrades than in discharging his own duty. Some brought blocks and billets to the fire, which roared, blazed, and ascended, half in smoke, half in flame, up a huge tunnel, with an opening wide enough to accommodate a stone seat within its ample vault, and which was fronted, by way of chimney-piece, with a huge piece of heavy architecture, where the monsters of heraldry, embodied by the art of some Northumbrian chisel, grinned and ramped in red free-stone, now japanned by the smoke of centuries. Others of these old-fashioned serving-men bore huge smoking dishes, loaded with substantial fare; others brought in cups, flagons, bottles, yea barrels of liquor. All tramped, kicked, plunged, shouldered, and jostled, doing as little service with as much tumult as could well be imagined. At length, while the dinner was, after various efforts, in the act of being arranged upon the board, "the clamour much of men and dogs," the cracking of whips, calculated for the intimidation of the latter, voices loud and high, steps which, impressed by the heavy-heeled boots of the period, clattered like those in the statue of the _Festin de Pierre,_* announced the arrival of those for whose benefit the preparations were made.

* Now called Don Juan.

The hubbub among the servants rather increased than diminished as this crisis approached. Some called to make haste,--others to take time,--some exhorted to stand out of the way, and make room for Sir Hildebrand and the young squires,--some to close round the table and be _in_ the way,-- some bawled to open, some to shut, a pair of folding-doors which divided the hall from a sort of gallery, as I afterwards learned, or withdrawing-room, fitted up with black wainscot. Opened the doors were at length, and in rushed curs and men,--eight dogs, the domestic chaplain, the village doctor, my six cousins, and my uncle.

If Sir Hildebrand Osbaldistone was in no hurry to greet his nephew, of whose arrival he must have been informed for some time, he had important avocations to allege in excuse. "Had seen thee sooner, lad," he exclaimed, after a rough shake of the hand, and a hearty welcome to Osbaldistone Hall, "but had to see the hounds kennelled first. Thou art welcome to the Hall, lad--here is thy cousin Percie, thy cousin Thornie, and thy cousin John--your cousin Dick, your cousin Wilfred, and--stay, where's Rashleigh?--ay, here's Rashleigh--take thy long body aside Thornie, and let's see thy brother a bit--your cousin Rashleigh. So, thy father has thought on the old Hall, and old Sir Hildebrand at last-- better late than never--Thou art welcome, lad, and there's enough. Where's my little Die?--ay, here she comes--this is my niece Die, my wife's brother's daughter--the prettiest girl in our dales, be the other who she may--and so now let's to the sirloin."--