LETTER I. Helter Skelter Hall. Mr. HENRY HEWSON to Mr. GABRIEL HEWSON.

ACCORDING to cuſtom, I am to ſend you joy upon the caſſion of grandfather's ſtealing off. As you and I were in at the death, and got ſuch a ſwinging edition to our fortune, it would [2]be the moſt ungratefulleſt thing in the world not to pray for the peace of the old fellow's ſoul, ſeeing too, that his body is now out of the way. Our Par⯑ſon ſays, it behoves us to direct a bit of a monument to his memory: for my part, I ſee no matter in theſe ſame monu⯑ments: none of the folk of our county need to be told what concerns old Heid⯑edger Hewſon; and ſo, what's the uſe of making a long preachment, and flouriſh⯑ing away upon a marble ſlab, about a dead man? Parſon prates ſo much about gratitude, that I begin to think he magines we ought to tell it on tomb⯑ſtone about our fortune. As 'tis a ſtrange affair altogether, I have a good mine to do this—nay, I have already drawn up a piece of writing, which I ſend you: let me know in your anſwer by Nicholas the carrier, whether 'twill do, and whether you will be half the [3]money towards the direction of the mo⯑nument, ſeeing as how, gold letters, and church maſonry, and indeed all bu⯑ſineſs about dead corpſeſſes, comes heavy. But yet, I think, we ought to touch off the old fellow with a few flouriſhes, ſee⯑ing that ſomebody may do the ſame for us one day or another. Let me know how you feel yourſelf, ſince you became a man of fortune. Do you eat, ſleep, talk, walk as you did?—For my part— but I won't tell you a ſillabel, 'till you anſwer me. I ſhall only ſay, at pre⯑ſent, that I find I am no more the man I was ſince my fortune, than a hare is like a hand-ſaw. Nevertheleſs,

P.S.

I ha'n't the gift of writing; ſo, may⯑be you won't eaſily hit of my letter: be⯑ſides, my head aches with thinking about my fortune, and then, I am as ſtupid as a hound. Wife is turn'd a madcap, ſo I don't mention her, only juſt to tell you ſhe an't the woman ſhe was.

[5] The incloſed Epitaph, Intended by Mr. H. HEWSON for his grandfather HEIDEDGER'S Monument.

LETTER II. Mr. GABRIEL to Mr. HENRY HEWSON.

IF any thing which relateth to that aweful period, to which all human beings are precipitating, and to which all that hath vivification muſt ſoon ar⯑rive—that period, whereto every thing that is now ſporting in the jollities of ſanity muſt ſooner or later come—I ſay, brother, were it poſſible for any thing ſo aweful, ſo moral, ſo moving, ſo — all that—to ſuffer the face to be upon the ſmile, I could border upon the ſimper [7]at certain turns in your epiſtle. There are ſome few words in your favour miſ⯑ſpelled: for inſtance; the words caſſion, preachment, magines, corpſeſſes, &c. have not yet come under thoſe eyes which have, from firſt to laſt, dipt into twenty thouſand compoſitions. Neither is your epitaph devoid of inaccuracies: there being neither pathos in your poetry, nor chaſtity in your rhyme, all which is abſolutely neceſſary to the preſent times. No ſon does not echo very melodiouſly to Hewſon: daughter and ater might be improved: kin and ſkin are ſo very near, my dear HENRY, that they abſo⯑lutely ſeem one fleſh; their ſounds are too ſimilar: reſpect and neglect may do: but ſlab and Gab are the moſt prepoſte⯑rous words that ever terminated in the way of verſe, ſince rhyming began: nor is a tombſtone, with any propriety, called a marble ſlab.—No, HARRY, [8]no—your meaning is, as it ought to be; but, for your poetry, the leſs you have to do with the Muſes the better: at leaſt wait a little till my dictionary comes out, and then if you have but a ray of Apollo, it will have it out of you; for I will take on me to ſay no work extant, that is, or that ſhall be, will give a man ſuch a knack, or kindle in him ſuch a furor Phoebi, as I may call it, as my dictionary.

As to the monument, I cheriſh your Parſon's idea, and will readily pay my quota. Pray ſubmit to your clerical friend, who, doubtleſs, is a judge of theſe matters, the following inſcription. 'Tis written calamo currente, and there⯑fore its purities are queſtionable, but the idea is perhaps as competent as it ſhould be.

[10] I will reply, brother HENRY, by poſt, to the other parts of your letter. NICHOLAS waits for this, ſo that I can⯑not be explicit, and beſides which, I am as little as you the man I was, tho' I am, always,

LETTER III. Mr. HENRY to Mr. GABRIEL.
In anſwer.

IT'S a lye, GAB; it's all a confounded lye; you are juſt the man you ever was to a T: or, if there is any alteration, 'tis ninety times nine out of a hundred for the worſe. You was al⯑ways a feller who run rambling round about a ſtory, and never come to the end on't; you know you was. You always talked forty times more than needs muſt, and the devil a word did you ſay to the pint, ater all. Thof you are a fine ſcholar, I'l make five words go better to a bargain than you can ten, at any [12]time: cuſs me, if I believe you un⯑derſtand half you ſay, yourſelf. Don't you remember, once at Skelter wake, when a lady, your partner, fainted away with dancing, and loſt her hand⯑kerchief, you ſaid—I ſhall never forget it—"the ſudorifical drops ſtood on azure forehead," when the poor wench might have SWEATED (for that, it ſeems, was your meaning) her heart out for you; for the devil an inch will you ſtir when that flea bites, till all that is in your cuſs'd crinkum-crankum cranium comes out. And pray, wiſe Sir, who is obliged to underſtand your grecum, latinum lingo, do you think? I was not cramb'd with ſuch conundrums when I was young, and I ant ſorry for it, now I'm turn'd of thirty.

With regard to the anſwer you have made me, 'tis no anſwer at all: inſtead [13]of talking of your old grandfather's monument, you have been plaguing yourſelf with my noſon, and Hewſon, daughter and ater, kin and ſkin, Gab and ſlab; though, if the truth were known, they are as good as your cillity and gevity, nignance and guinity, and the like. And as to your dictionary, it may go, for HARRY. To cut the matter ſhort, brother, I wrote you a very civil, rea⯑ſonable letter, and in return, you have ſent me a cuſſed thing of which I can make neither head nor tail, only I can ſee plain enough that you think yourſelf a very clever fellow, and I no wiſer than I ſhould be: for that matter, GAB, none of your family were con⯑jurors, and I don't believe you are the ſenfibleſt o'um neither. But to come to the point: do you chooſe to anſwer my letter? Saying I write like a fool, is ſaying nothing. I want to know whe⯑ther, [14]ſetting aſide your Greek and Latin, you are the man you was. I have rea⯑ſons good for axing this, and if you don't like to make anſwer, why you have only to ſay ſo, and you never ſhall be troubled again by

LETTER IV. ROBERT DE GREY, Eſq to Mr. GA⯑BRIEL HEWSON.

YOU did ill, to reply ſo ſe⯑verely as you ſeem to have done, to your brother HENRY: literature, you know, is not his province, and be⯑ſides, if it were, you ſhould not touch him on a part where every man upon earth is ſuſceptible of ſmart. A perſon may ever receive a wound, if you aim at his underſtanding. My dear and amiable Ward, Mr. Carliſle, is ſo aware of this, that, tho' he is never guilty of a [16] falſhood, I do not think he ever hurt a man in his own eſteem, in his life. I ex⯑pect you will pay ſo much honour to an old friend's advice as to make all up with HENRY directly. He is a very honeſt, odd man: you have read and lived to little effect, if you do not be⯑lieve there are ſome things to pardon in yourſelf.

LETTER V. Mr. GABRIEL to HENRY HEWSON.

I MEANT no ill-nature to my dear HENRY by my laſt—fraternal tran⯑quillity is the firſt wiſh of my heart; and I write this haſty note, to crave pardon for having unintentionally of⯑fended him, whom the feelings of a brother, as well as the ſovereign laws of Nature, our imperial miſtreſs, conjoin to render dear as "the ruddy drops," that animate the pulſe of

P. S.

I will reply to your firſt letter, ſully, to-morrow; and depoſit with you all the ſecrets that are in the receſſes of my ſoul.

LETTER VI. Mr. HENRY to Mr. GABRIEL HEWSON.

ENOUGH ſaid. I wiſh I had hold of your hand, that I might ſhake it: if it was not for thoſe curſed fellows, Ocrates, Ophacles, Trully, and Omare, who, ſometimes, put you almoſt beſide yourſelf, I know we ſhould never ex⯑change a warm word. I lov'd you when you was not worth a coat off and a coat on: I like you neither more nor leſs, now you are worth ten thouſand pound. So write me all about what I deſire, and I will then tell you why.

LETTER VII. Mrs. HENRIETTA HEWSON to Miſs DE GREY.

THE pleaſure I expected in your company this ſeaſon at Helter Skelter Hall muſt, of neceſſity, be poſtponed till the ſummer following. Every thing is at ſixes and ſevens; be⯑ſides which, the large addition to my fortune makes it very improper I ſhould ſee my friends in the hugger-mugger man⯑ner I did, while I was as poor as my neighbours. I have poſitively found out, my dear DE GREY, that there is not a ſingle room in this up and down old manſion fit to ſit in, much leſs to receive [21]the moſt delicate of her ſex. But ſince I am deprived of the pleaſure I expected in having you with me, as uſual, I pro⯑poſe to commence a correſpondence with you, that I may tell you from time to time how we go on in thoſe alterations that I am reſolved immediately to make. I deſign to fit up the ſweeteſt retreat in the univerſe, your father's not excepted —I ſay retreat, becauſe I ſhall occaſion⯑ally retreat to it: for, I certainly ſhall not paſs my winters for the future out of Pall-Mall (that is, I think I have heard you ſay, the beſt quarter of the town) beſides its having the double re⯑commendation of being the winter reſi⯑dence of Miſs DE GREY.

Juſt as I writ your name, I happened to look at the chimney-piece, and I ab⯑ſolutely thought it had undergone a per⯑fect change within this week; as, in⯑deed, [22]in my opinion, hath every thing about the houſe. I cannot look at an object in the hall or the great garden that does not diſguſt me. Heaven have mercy on me! how they wanted taſte in building formerly! Such huge, horrid, outward doors, ſtudded with ſuch mon⯑ſtrous nobs of non; ſuch dreadful arches to every entrance, like the porches of ugly ſtone-work before a church; ſuch corners, lanes, entries, and alleys, run⯑ning like laby rinths through every room: the fire-places ſo large, the windows ſo little, the glaſs of them ſo diminutive, the wainſcotings ſo figured, the beams ſo bulky, and the paſſages ſo dark and dirty, that they ſeem built rather to be the dens for beaſts of prey, than for ſuch harm⯑leſs little creatures as men and women. Then the gardens are as hideous as the habitations: only to think, LUCIA, of a con-ſumed great mote, divided only by [23]a naſty drawbridge, running quite round the manſion, moſt gloriouſly cropped with duck-weed, and inviting all the fowls of the air to flap their wings and feed about us, to the great annoyance of ſleep and every other comfort. Add to this, the gardens themſelves—I am now lifting up my head from the vulgar old table on which I am writing, and I am taking—I declare to you, almoſt with tears in my eyes—a view of our precious platform. I behold in pro⯑ſpect about three acres of ground, as completely murdered in the diſpoſition, as a modern gardener could wiſh: eight-and-twenty yew-trees, interſperſed with an equal number of boxes and hollies, riſe before me, to whoſe flouriſhing ſhades I am to attribute half the vermin that ſwarm like a peſtilence about us. Let not the abominable walls that ſur⯑round our dwelling and its environs, be [24]forgotten; high above all height; brown above every thing embrowned.—But I have not patience to proceed. And ſhall I invite the lovely LUCIA to this Gothic ſcene? No, LUCIA, no; now that kind Fortune hath put it into my power, I will level with the duſt this ruinous pile of building, and raiſe up in its ſtead ſo different a ſtructure, that the very ground ſhall thank me for dreſſing it out ſo charmingly. The moment I have compleated my deſign you ſhall come and confeſs I have a reliſh for improve⯑ments. I have, this moment, the exact image of my intentions. Where there are now mountains, will I make vallies; where there are at preſent crops of nettles, or vulgar flowers that are to me worſe than nettles, will I ſet rows of lillies and beds of roſes; roſes I mean of moſs, that ſcarce burſt forth from the bearded bud, elegant, ſmall, odorife⯑rous, [25]and not ſuch flaring, flaſhing, old-faſhioned things, as figure away in our garden, that look as if the ſeeds were ſown and the trees planted imme⯑diately after the fall; juſt when all the beautiful in Nature firſt felt the curſe upon it. As to the yew-trees, I will not leave one of them alive, no not even that which is cut into the form of a ſugar-loaf; and, ſo inveterate is my vengeance in regard to theſe, that I will, yea even after they are fell'd— make the infected wretches perform quarantine at a mile's diſtance, in open air, before I will allow them the honour of being burned in my preſence: as to my old friend the mote, with whom I have exchanged watry looks, ever ſince I ſaw him, I will cauſe all his channels to be dried up, and terra firma, as brother GAB calls it, to flouriſh about him. The drawbridge will I alſo remove; and, to [26]ſhew my diſlike and ridicule of ſuch an antique, I will ſubſtitute, by way of mockery and the mode, an ha! ha! in his ſtead. Neither ſhall any part of our houſe furniture fare better, for there ſhall be a general clearance. Stags heads ſhall give place to Hogarth's prints: family pictures, notwithſtanding the large ruffs on my grandmother's neck, the whiſkers on my great uncle's upper lip, and the profuſion of chitterlin on my god-papa's boſom, muſt all yield to politer decorations.—In ſhort, I will create a paradiſe about me, and that without delay. In the mean time, I will commence the woman of faſhion, by giving orders never to be ſeen by any body but tradeſmen, till I am all to⯑rights—not even by LUCIA DE GREY. How I ſhall bring Mr. HEWSON over to this genteel way of thinking, I don't know; particularly as he is not, you [27]know, the beſt bred man in the world. However, done it muſt be—that's flat; for I cannot breathe any longer in ſuch a place! Oh Heavens, how have I breath'd ſo long! It is equally an affront to my perſon, my underſtanding, and my fortune! If any little ornaments ſtrike you, that may aſſiſt my ſcheme of embelliſhing, pray think of them in your next. I deſign to call one of my new rooms Lucia's Saloon. Pray, there⯑fore, let LUCIA's fancy aſſiſt me in fitting it up.

P. S.

Have you had any news yet of Cap⯑tain CARLISLE?

LETTER VIII. Mr. GABRIEL to Mr. HENRY HEWSON.

YES, brother, yes: thou be⯑loved branch of the ſame family; thou dear ſcyon of the ſame ſtock; I again confeſs, I am not, in any degree, the man I was. This ſudden gale of gay Proſperity, whoſe beams are ſo burniſhed to the eyes of fragile mortals, hath, I confeſs, a good deal interrupted the oeconomy of my former affairs; which were too ſcanty to diſtract attention, and too abſtract from all circumvolutions to re⯑quire much mathematical diligence. Two days before the ſudden exit of him, to [29]whom I am indebted for this weight of wealth, I was as ſtill and ſtudious a man, as bachelorſhip and neat 64l. 11s. per annum could make me. I had a decent collection of claſſics; I had Homer, in honeſt ſheepſkin binding; Horace, with a little edging of gold; and Ci⯑cero, my dear Cicero, with his name upon the back of every volume. I had, beſides, juſt ſuch a houſhold, as ſuited well the propenſities of my ſequeſtered no⯑tions. I had an old creature, who pre⯑pared my beverage, and was ſo uſed to my humour, that ſhe always went out to cough, when I was at my ſtudies: I had a toothleſs dog, that ſlept away his leiſure, and was too feeble to diſturb me by barking; and my cat was the quieteſt animal that ever purred at the elbow of a ſcholar in a cloiſter: Sombre Hedges were exactly to my paſſion. The two prodigious trees, whoſe over⯑ſhadowing [30]ramifications ſpread, the ſublime of darkneſs viſible over my cottage, gave ſuch a ſet-off to my ſtudy, that I was abſolutely the hero of an hermitage. I ſat and read, till I fancied myſelf, in the fervor of the intellectual feelings, a philo⯑ſopher in the ſhades. In the dim hour of evening I uſed to be the companion of the ſooty-pinioned bat, and walked forth to meditate on the readings I had made in the day. I rejoiced in the name that the people of the village gave me, and I had a ſecret pride in ſeeing them in the twilight, ſtealing a look at the learned gentleman in the dark houſe i'th' midſt of Sombre Hedges. I was juſt lighting up my lamp, and ſetting down to a chapter of Cicero, with Gri⯑malkin by my ſide, when news of my new honours, broke like too mighty a flood of light, upon the ſerenity of my darkneſs. I was dazzled, and knew [31]not what to do. For want of habitude, wealth, like a robe firſt put on, and made not conſonant to our uſual faſhion, ſat uneaſy upon me. As my ſoul was not fitted to my fortune, neither was my fortune fitted to my ſoul. I hit upon a paſſage, where Tully, the prince of La⯑tian eloquence, recommended an equal mind in all revolutions; an hour before, I ſhould have given to the very printed page an holy kiſs of approbation, but, at preſent, it was no ſuch matter:—I was now to conſider myſelf as maſter of ten thouſand pounds, and I was taken ſo unawares that I trimmed my lamp in order to ſee the will clearer; and when I had the misfortune to find the thing was certain, I was much agitated, and crept at length into the cloſet, which contained the wholeſome bed of a ſcho⯑lar, upon the ſurface of which I laid [32]down, with a heart that throbbed, and a head that ach'd till the morning.

I roſe early, brother, but not to my accuſtomed ſatisfaction, for I found my feelings were altered. Thoſe ſmall, but dear attentions, which the day before belonged to an eſtate of 60l. per year, were over. I could not any longer think I was the proprietor of a ſnug box, when the load of ten thouſand pounds ſell abruptly upon my ſhoulders in the lump. I never looked into a book that whole day, and to ſay truth, I hardly thought there was a cover in my ſtudy fit to come into the hand of a man of fortune. Was it not ſome Demon, think you, that put it into my head to take down, three days after, the only coxcomb volume in my whole library? and the ſcope of this was to recommend taſte, elegance, faſhion, and commerce [33]with men, on purpoſe to give a finiſhing to the man of ſpeculation. With an avidity for which I deſpiſe myſelf, did I peruſe this work quite through, and from that moment I became a prophane, excentric, diſſipated fellow. I ſaid unto the woodman, Fell me thoſe horrid trees that hide me from the blooming face of Phoebus; down inſtantly with theſe chil⯑dren of darkneſs, that there may be light. I am aſhamed to tell you, that I di⯑rected my windows to be cleaned; yea, even the little lattice that emitted ſcarce half a ſun-beam into my library, and which was almoſt vegetable with the over-growth of ivy, did I order to be laid bare to all the ſplendors of day— Why ſhould I conceal the moſt egregious of my follies? I have at this minute two artificers in my houſe, and perhaps the paſſion may gain ſuch ſway in a few hours, that, by to-morrow, the corner⯑ſtone [34]of the building may not be ſuffered to ſtand. I am already not the dark gentleman of Sombre Hedges, but the poor fellow who hath, like a ſwal⯑low in the winter, emerged unſeaſon⯑ably from his corner, to blind himſelf with light. Upon the whole, my heart, like my houſe, is totally diſarranged. I pray Heaven, yours may be more com⯑poſed, and I hope to hear, that your hopes and happineſs ſtand juſt where they did, before the death of our kinſ⯑man HEIDEDGER.

LETTER IX. Mr. HENRY HEWSON to Mr. GABRIEL.
In anſwer.

I LIKE you ten times better than ever; for I finds you are as much altered as I am. There never was a more miſerable dog than either of us. I dare not ſay this before, for fear you ſhould laugh at me; but now, that I find you are as ſtrange a fellow as my⯑ſelf, I tell you, without farther permable, that I hant ſhot a partridge this three weeks, and my dogs are yelping in the kennel for freſh air and their ſport. People now give me ſo much joy when I go about, that I am quite [36]miſerable. My wife HETTY, too, has been at me about pliteneſs, and bids me look in the glaſs to ſee if it is not a ſin and a ſhame, for ſuch a par⯑ſonable man as I to go ſuch a figure, and ſhut myſelf up in an old timber houſe among hounds and horſes, guns and game traps. She ſays I ſhould be a very ſightly man, if beard was ſmoothed oft⯑ner, and ruffles put on wriſt-bands, after the faſhion of young Captain CARLISLE. She ſays, too, we might now alter our courſe of life, and live upon our wealth like Mr. and Mrs. Somebody, in a dif⯑ferent gueſs place than Helter Skelter Hall. Upon this I clapt me on a clean ſhirt, and a pair of ſilken ſtockings, after I had doft leathern hunting breeches; and, without ſhamming, I ve⯑rily thought, what with the powder in my hair, and ribbon behind in beau⯑knot, not forgetting black crevat, [37]which the jade tied ſo as to make me look—I don't know how—I was one of your bettermoſt perſons. As I was walk⯑ing along the large hall thus quipp'd, old Daſhgrove, the ſetting bitch, barked at me, as if ſhe did not known Maſter HENRY thro' his finery, upon which I lent her a douze, to teach her how to behave to man of pliteneſs: after this, Tippler the ſpaniel came and fawn'd on me, leaving the track of her paws on my ſilken ſtockings, upon which I fa⯑voured her alſo with ſuch a flick that the poor thing howled for a quarter of an hour. In ſhort, I can't help ſpeaking haſh, and taking a little upon me, more than uſual: and this was partly the caſion of my writing you ſuch a rough letter; for, I finds I am grown deviliſh touchey, ſince I came to be a great man; and SUSAN, the maid, ſays, I am not like to be much the better for my riches; [38]ſeeing, that I have got them, and loſt my good-nature. I am moſt conſum⯑edly troubled to know what to do; and, mayhap, that makes me growl more than I otherwiſe ſhould. Sometimes I think of giving up my farm at Skelter, ſometimes of buying racing horſes; ſometimes of making myſelf cuſſed gay in the pareil way; ſometimes I have a mind to crackle it away in a coach; ſometimes to put worſted of different colours on JOE JOBSON's coat, and clap a cue to his head—But then again I can't help telling HETTY, this would be damn'd nonſenſe for a feller like I, who have as good a pair of legs as ever worked under a man, and who has gone rough as he run this many [...] day. I wiſh grandfather had thought fit to let us know what he meant to do for us about four or five years agone, that we might have prepared ourſelves to be gentlemen [39]againſt he died. With ſuch warning I don't doubt but I ſhould have been ſcho⯑lar enough to deck myſelf off, to ſtrut forth with a little black bag at the end o'me, and to have popp'd in and out of a carriage, very decently: for, damn it, I know how the thing ſhould goe, tho' I can't ſo neatly do it. As to Cap⯑tain CARLISLE, neither you nor I can ever expect to cut the daſh, he cuts; 'caſe why? he was papp'd in pliteneſs, and ſuck'd civility in his cradle: beſides which, he has travelled for it, far and near; ſo that all the difference in that there matter lies only in the alteration you know. But for all that, if we could, when he comes from broad (which is to be ſoon) get into's company now and then, and take notice how he carries himſelf, how he talks, opens his lips, and the like, I don't doubt but we could make ourſelves no ſmall fools, in the [40]way of haviour, when he is not by. At preſent, as I can't think of doing as I did, becauſe HETTY ſays, that would be very unnatural; I am horridly out of ſorts, and know not what will be the end on't. I think, as you are the beſt ſcholard, you ought to write to Mr. DE GREY bout it, cauſe he had once the care of us, and, as the world ſays, made Captain CARLISLE what he is.

To live thus, is out of the queſtion, ſo pray think of mending the matter. HETTY is airing me another ruffled ſhirt, and ſays, I muſt ſhift every day now I am a man of property. The linen is rare and hot, ſo I muſt ene put it on; have only time, therefore, to ſay, that

LETTER X. Mrs. HEWSON to Miſs DE GRAY.

CONGRATULATE me; ſing ſongs of triumph to me, my dear DE GREY; I have brought Mr. HEWSON over to my politeſt wiſhes. A little flat⯑tery, and a looking-glaſs, have com⯑pleated the buſineſs. All the fine things I deſign, may be put in practice; aſſiſt me, therefore, I beg of you, that I may be perfectly elegant. Every hint of your taſte will be now welcome to the impatient

LETTER XI. Captain CARLISLE to ROBERT DE GREY, Eſq

THE ſpirit of affection and duty made me haſten to leave the gar⯑dens of Italy, that I might be in time to enjoy the pleaſures of Prudence Green, at this beautiful period of the year. That which was Rome herſelf, had no charms to attract me, when the lure of ſuch a ſociety, as that which your letter deſcribes to me, was thrown out for my heart. And, is it poſſible, that I am ſo ſoon to return again to all thoſe be⯑witching [43]ſcenes wherein, I firſt received thoſe admirable precepts which have, hitherto, enabled me to reſiſt temptation in almoſt every form? I am in London. Nothing can ſeduce me to continue here beyond the time that is abſolutely neceſ⯑ſary to my journey; ſo that I ſhall be at Prudence Green almoſt as ſoon as this ſhort letter, which announces me to you: yet, if there ſhould be a moment's advantage on the ſide of the letter, pray employ it to tell Miſs DE GREY, and the reſt of your party, how lingeringly I ſhall think the time, till I ſalute them.

LETTER XII. From the Same to Mr. LASCELLES in London.

I AM in the moſt diſtreſſing ſtate of mind in the world—the Lady of the Marquis of N. with whom I was on friendly terms in Italy, hath very inad⯑vertently, and under colour of an attach⯑ment (which I never before diſcovered) followed me to England. To my utter aſtoniſhment ſhe is now before me, too beautiful to be denied protection; and yet, in a ſituation, on all hands too ſacred for me long to beſtow it. She [45]ſet off in a packet that ſailed, it ſeems, at the ſame time mine did. She is in the habit of a boy: her huſband doats upon her. She looks with the brighteſt eyes into my face, while, with the moſt perſuading voice, ſhe tells me, ſhe is in a ſtrange land, where ſhe knows not a ſingle friend. What is to be done? She came in upon me, juſt after I had ſent Mr. DE GREY's letter to the poſt, ſo that it cannot be recalled, and truth requires my promiſes ſhould be fulfilled —But the Lady muſt be, ſome way, accommodated, at leaſt, till ſhe can be perſuaded to return to the Marquis.

To your care, therefore, I commit her for a little time, and I ſhall, in the evening, when I have reconciled her to this mode, bring the fair fugitive to your houſe, where, in the mean time, you will prepare your ſiſter, to receive [46]her. Tell her at once the truth, and depend on it, that will ever, in the end, turn out for the beſt.

LETTER XIII. From the Same to the Same.
(After delivering the Lady to the latter.)

I WRITE this to my dear LASCELLES, with a hand that trembles for the ſituation of your fair charge. She diſcovered, methought, as I deli⯑vered her to you, an impatience of temper that may be fatal. She talks of her huſband with an ardour of reſent⯑ment that I believe it is impoſſible ſo ac⯑compliſhed a man ſhould have deſerved. I feel a compunction, not very unlike reproach, at being obliged to refuſe her my addreſs. Do you not agree with me, that ſtrong marks of diſapprobation [48]were painted in her countenance, when I obſerved, that all her ſentiments would reach me by incloſing them, either ſealed or unſealed, to you? I did propoſe to have ſet out this day for Mr. DE GREY's, but I muſt apologize for a little delay, becauſe I judge it beſt to ſee how ſhe ſettles with your family, and to write to the Marquis before I ven⯑ture into the country, where I had flat⯑tered my imagination with enjoying the moſt uninterrupted happineſs. As ſhe is a native of England, you know, it is poſſible you may, by ſome means, trace out her relations, ſome of whom are, as I have been informed, in Lon⯑don; and yet, till we have the Mar⯑quis's anſwer, it may perhaps be a more de⯑licate piece of integrity to keep the matter out of every body's mouth, but the worthy family to whom it was neceſſary to entruſt it. On ſecond thoughts, therefore, I beg [49]matter may reſt where it is, in your faithful boſom, and in that of Miſs LASCELLES. In the mean time, if AUGUSTA remains prudent and com⯑poſed, the whole indiſcretion may be done away: every thing may be huſhed, and the Marquis be again made happy, without the confuſion of being con⯑gratulated by people, who turn acci⯑dents into table-talk. For my own part, I dare ſay, it will be eaſy for me to convince the huſband that I dealt ho⯑nourably. At beſt, the dilemma is very diſpleaſing, and the only way leſt, is to act in it, and to ſtruggle through it, as becomes a man of prudence and principle.

LETTER XIV. The Marchioneſs of N. to Signora D. at Rome.

I FOLLOWED him, my VIOLA. I practiſed to the very utmoſt, my more than romantic reſolution—I eluded even the vigilance of the Marquis—I never loſt ſight of the exquiſite CARLISLE—I ſurmounted every fatigue—I paſſed every where, as a beardleſs youth of the Italian ſoil; and I am now returned to thoſe ſhores from whence I drew my firſt breath, and from whence I was ſo early carried to that part of your coun⯑try where he who is now my huſband firſt ſaw me.

[51] Yes, VIOLA, I am here—I am in London.—I am within a ſhort mile of the houſe of CARLISLE.—But, alas! to what purpoſe? My paſſion is in de⯑ſpair; my mode of gratifying it has been irregular—I bluſh at my weak⯑neſs—but I am ſtill weak enough to love—to love, Viola, with a fervor that is equally my ſhame and my agony. Yet, I propoſe only to be within his view—a ſight of him—a touch of his hand—his converſation—his ſmile.— Theſe were my ambition: violent as I am, I tell you the extent of my guilt— But th [...]eſe are already denied me. He has left me in charge of his friends, who are brother and ſiſter—they treat my misfortune with tenderneſs—the ſiſter ſpeaks warmly of Mr. CARLISLE's vir⯑tues. I perceive that the words honour⯑able attachment are favourites—Confu⯑ſion, VIOLA! perhaps ſhe is—yet that's [52]not likely—I will not have it ſo. I could not bear it. At a village on the borders of Italy, my ſpeed brought me near enough to ſee him ſalute a female acquaintance; and though modeſty and reaſon, all concurred to ſanctify the ci⯑vility, yet I wanted dignity enough in my nature, to reſtrain the execration which I uttered againſt her beauty. No, no, it is ſome comfort yet (even were I never more to behold him, which would kill me)—it is ſome comfort yet, that his heart is without other attachments.

My condition calls for ten thouſand comforts, and I foreſee, not one will be allowed me—I have numberleſs circum⯑ſtances to tell you, but I want eaſe and compoſure to write. The Marquis has, I ſuppoſe, left Rome in a rage. For the firſt time in my life, although I have long deſpiſed him, have I taken [53]advantage of his confidence, but it was only to eſcape from the object of my averſion to that of my fondneſs—of my adoration.

Perhaps the Marquis may ſuſpect every thing I was ſo cautious to con⯑ceal. If ſo, my dear CARLISLE is in danger. I am not ignorant of the Mar⯑quis's temper. I have felt its violence —He ſtruck me, VIOLA; the villain in his meanneſs ſtruck me! I never ſhall either forget or forgive it.

CARLISLE in danger!—In danger!— for what—for his unparallelled integrity —for his dignity—for his truth? Ah, Signora, were he the moſt guilty, in⯑ſtead of being the moſt innocent, of men, my romantic ſoul would take fire at the proſpect of his peril, and ſet life, fame, hope, and Heaven itſelf, at a [54]hazard to defend him. I am inter⯑rupted—Let my ſecret be your's.

LETTER XV. GEORGE LASCELLES, Eſq to Captain CARLISLE.

ABOUT two hours ago, AU⯑GUSTA very earneſtly requeſted the uſe of pen and paper, which, you may be ſure, was directly brought her. She hath ſince had wax and a candle, and, I ſuppoſe, will preſently deſire a letter to be put into the Poſt-office—It may, very poſſibly, my friend, be addreſſed to ſome friend of her's, or your's: in one caſe, we might, perhaps, were we in poſſeſſion of the facts, eſcape danger; and in the other, we might, it is likely, get a clue to thoſe circumſtances which would bring this diſagreeable affair the [56]ſooner to an iſſue. Either way it may ſerve our purpoſes: I ſhall, therefore, inſtead of putting this letter into the poſt, incloſe it for you, that no oppor⯑tunity of aſſiſting us may eſcape.

LETTER XVI. Captain CARLISLE.
In anſwer.

YOUR zeal to ſerve a friend, muſt have thrown you from your guard, my dear LASCELLES; for, I am cer⯑tain it could not require more than a moment's recollection to convince you of the impropriety of breaking a ſeal for any private purpoſe whatſoever. Neither you nor I have, certainly, any farther controul over the lady, than juſt to entertain her as her condition may require, till ſhe is invited home by the Marquis, to whom I was preparing to write juſt as your favor came to hand. [58]I lay aſide this buſineſs, however, for a minute, juſt to intreat you will ſuffer your ſervants to obey her wiſhes, as you would, I know, order them to obey the wiſhes of

LETTER XVII. Captain CARLISLE to the Marquis of N***, at Signor —'s, in Rome; or elſewhere.

WERE it not that your ſitu⯑ation called rather for condolence than mirth, I could acquaint you, in very jocular language, of a circumſtance that carries with it the air of an adventure in the days of chivalry.

The heroine, or rather the lady-errant of this enterprize, is your AUGUSTA, who, taking advantage of your journey [60]about the time of my departure, was reſolved to be even with you for the anxieties of ſeparation, and ſo paid you in kind by taking a trip to England. I dare ſay ſhe intended, at firſt, only to amuſe herſelf with a ſhort excurſion to deceive the time till your return: but the ſpirited creature, with all that ardor which, you know, belongs to her cha⯑racter, laid her plan of operation in ſuch a manner, that, when ſhe was once em⯑barked, it was abſolutely impoſſible to retreat. She contrived the matter ſo as to paſs upon every body for an Italian ſtripling travelling to Eng⯑land, properly equipped for the opera houſe: the better to ſupport which, ſhe was provided with ſuitable habi⯑liments, and above all, a diſtinguiſh⯑ing kind of head-dreſs, that maſked her from every thing but the moſt critical inſpection. It will demand all your [61]beſt opinion of my veracity, to credit me when I proteſt to you, that ſhe eſcaped my notice through the whole journey, nor was I acquainted with any part of the circumſtance till, in compleating the project, ſhe diſcovered herſelf to me in my own apartments in London. It was not for me to upbraid her upon the principle of the pain you was ſuffering; nor was it proper ſhe ſhould remain with one, who has not the honour to be in the married ſtate. I therefore ad⯑viſed her to be as eaſy as her reflec⯑tions would allow, at the houſe of a particular friend of mine, who has a ſiſter that will preſerve her ſafe, till ſhe is once more in the arms of her Mar⯑quis. The ſtep ſhe has taken was cer⯑tainly carrying the joke too far, and, no doubt, ſhe herſelf thinks ſo; but when you conſider her youth, her high ſpirits, her well-known fidelity to you, and [62]above all, the perils ſhe has ſafely paſſed, without a ſingle ſoul to protect her, you have, I think, on the whole, rather more reaſon to laugh it off as a frolic, than to chide her for it as an im⯑propriety.

Whatever mode of receiving her you propoſe ſhall be attended to, and if you cannot come all the way yourſelf, I will ſee that ſhe is re-conducted to the bor⯑ders of Italy, or even to your very houſe in Rome, or to that in Paris, if you judge it neceſſary. Your anſwer will determine me in every thing that relates to the lady, whom I have the honour, in the mean time, to have in protection. Be aſſured, Sir, the truſt is as ſafe as it is ſacred; and that I am, with all a friend's anxiety, Your

P. S.

Your lady, Sir, is at the houſe of Mr. LASCELLES, in Bond-ſtreet, Lon⯑don, whither you will pleaſe to direct your reply; and where, ſhould you, on the preſent, or any future occaſion, chooſe to viſit London, I take the li⯑berty of friendſhip to ſay, you will be cordially received.

LETTER XVIII. The Marchioneſs of N*** to Mr. CARLISLE.

(Incloſed by Mr. Laſcelles.)

I MUST ſee you, though it be but for five moments: but ſince it is ſo very irkſome to you, I give you a whole week to prepare yourſelf for a viſit; in the mean time, your repoſe ſhall not be invaded by

LETTER XIX. Mr. GABRIEL HEWSON to ROBERT DE GREY, Eſq.

MY brother (dear to me by affinity of blood, and by the coadjoin⯑ing bonds of a ſettled friendſhip) my brother and I, Sir, have lately been much inveloped in the deep abyſs of me⯑ditation. The additions to our for⯑tunes, have, as is but too generally the caſe, brought with them addi⯑tions of carking care, and perturbed reflection—we find it impoſſible to en⯑joy ourſelves as we uſed to do, be⯑fore the benevolence of Fate diſtin⯑guiſhed us by her ſplendid favours. My [66]brother is unable to take the ſalutary exerciſes of the fields and foreſts, crown'd with leafy honours; and I, for my part, can find neither gaiety in Horace, nor argument in Tully. We conceive ſome⯑thing ſhould be done to make riches ſit eaſy on us. We believe books will not do this for me, nor hounds for him.— In fine, we are ſollicitous, even to a con⯑ſiderable degree of anxiety, to acquire a reliſh of thoſe exterior ornamentals which ſo particularly mark you and Captain CARLISLE, from all men of our acquaintance. We underſtand the Captain is ſhortly to be at the Green; and therefore, as your indulging nature has very often preſſed upon us an invi⯑tation, we could, conjointly, wiſh it might be agreeable to your leiſure, and conſonant to your convenience, to permit us to paſs a few days, under the ſanctifi⯑cation of your hoſpitality while the Captain [67]is with you, that we may have the ad⯑vantage of making ourſelves very paſſ⯑able copies from the reiterated imitation of ſo admirable an original. My brother HENRY and I, Sir, are very impatient for the honour of your anſwer to this our conſequential requeſt.

LETTER XX. Mr. HENRY HEWSON to ROBERT DE GREY, Eſq.

I UNDERSTANDS that GAB has 'form'd you of our reſolution to be bet⯑termoſt perſons; whereof the reaſon's good and natural, ſeeing that we are not the folks we was; ſeeing we are richer; our ideerers are no more the ſame they was than any thing, and I ha' put it into's head to ſee what hand may be made on us, ſuppoſin we had a good ſightly moral before us. For certain, the Captain is as fine a pattern as need to be taken for any man's ſample, and you are no [69]ſmall fool at making a bow yourſelf. You and he, therefore, are the men we mean to cut out by, and my HETTY would have no 'jection to make a ſample of your daughter, who, every body muſt own, has more the jig of a gentlewoman than any body within ten miles o'her. I ſend theſe few lines by JOE, juſt to clap brother GAB's letter, as it were, on the back, and do the thing more plitely; for, certainly, the more parſons write to a man out of one family, the more reſpectful. We underſtands alſo that you are to have viſitors go lore, over and above the Captain. That we have no ſort of rejection to: 'caſe why? We are ſure for ſartain, none are harboured at Prudence Green but your tip-top ſpecie. So much the better for we; 'caſe why? As we go on purpoſe to make a hand on't, and get as much as we can out of every body, why we can take one bit [70]of haviour from one, another bit from another, and ſo on, till we are up to the whole gig of the thing. HETTY is 'ene almoſt ready to fly over the moon upon caſion of this—ſhe's a duced cute one, at taking any thing in hand ſhe has a mind to, and I ſurſpect ſhe'll pull the feathers out of the fine ones till ſhe's as pretty a bird as the beſt of them. I'd lay two o' my teeth to a teeſter, that ſhe bridles and briggles to a nicety, in leſs time than I ſhall want to make me doff hat with decency; for, to tell you the truth, I have a cuſſed way of being cover'd in company; and, I think, it's a pity you was not guardian of my manners, as well as my money.—But I have ſaid enough to ſhew you what I would be at, and therefore I have no caſion to make a long affair ont, like Maſter GAB, who, I don't doubt, has muddled his brains never ſo long, to write to you a fine long rigmerol, and pick and chooſe words [71]out of dikſonnerry. Mayhap I may be one of your better ſort as ſoon as he, for all his ſcholarſhip: not that I would have you magine, 'Squire, I don't think GAB knows how to handle a pen: but I think a man may talk a little plainer than GAB: aye, and write a little plainer too, for I do ſure you, parſon of our pariſh, who put on his gown at varſity, has ſome⯑times enough to do to make him out, when he writes his flourididdles to me, and HETTY ſays, he is no more fit for pliteneſs than my dog Daſhgrove. But this is atween ourſelves, 'Squire. I have written my paper all through, purpoſe 'caſe you ſhould not be fended, and if it had been more I would ha' gone to the end on't, I 'ſure you; for you are juſt the ſort of man I like, and, after all, I don't know when I come to ſet this over againſt that, whether I ſha'n't take more of the bettermoſt perſon from you, than [72]from the Captain himſelf. I am, with HETTY's love to Miſs DE GREY,

P. S.

I think I would not have you ſay to any of the folks at the Green, what lay GAB and I are upon; for, 'tis natural to think, gentlemen and ladies (who have bought breeding, and pliteneſs dear) may not chooſe to have, as it were, their pockets pickt on't, by a couple of chaps who come a purpoſe to carry off the beſt part of 'em. I ſhould not like it myſelf.

LETTER XXI. Miſs DE GREY to Mrs. HEWSON.

MY father is writing billets of invitation to your huſband and bro⯑ther; and he hath aſſigned to me the pleaſing taſk of requeſting you will not forget to join our ſociety, which is to meet on the 30th inſtant, when it is expected the Green will be exceedingly gay. Beſides Captain CARLISLE, there will be a Lord and Lady BLESSING⯑BOURNE, and Sir ANDREW FLIGHT, their nephew: they are all perſons who are able to form the taſte, as far as it depends on faſhionable carriage. At [74]the ſame time, if you will take my ad⯑vice, it would rather recommend to you the perpetuation of your original con⯑tent, than any attempts at copied ſplen⯑dor. But this is a ſentiment out of the line of my commiſſion; and the letter you favoured me with will better be anſwered in converſation, than upon paper. Do not forget the 30th; and remember, in the mean time,

P. S.

Mr. MEDWAY is already with us.

LETTER XXII. OLIVER MEDWAY, Eſq to Mr. TOWNSEND.

I HAD ſcarce ſet my foot on Prudence Green, when DE GREY put into my hand a letter which not only mentions the arrival of CARLISLE in England, but his coming poſt into the country. This news was confirmed by the charming LUCIA, with a ſmile upon her face. In my opinion, TOWNSEND, a better intentioned ſmile than ſhe ever beſtowed upon me. To be ſure, an old friend hath a claim upon one's cordi⯑ality, and no man deſerves ſo large a ſhare as Captain CARLISLE.—No man better loves him and his virtues than I [76]do—and, certainly, a ſmile upon the ſubject of expecting him, was not wrong. —But why ſo very kind a formation of the features? why muſt the eyes ſparkle ſo brilliantly on the occaſion? why this rapture ſo directly upon the very front of his arrival?—I have the tendereſt re⯑gard for CARLISLE in the world, but if —confuſion!—I muſt not be ſported with—my paſſion is too nice, too noble, and too near my heart for that. I muſt look about me a little.

LETTER XXIII. From the Same to Captain CARLISLE in London.

AFTER having told you in a few words, that you are as welcome to me as ever was friend to friend, I muſt aſk you a queſtion, which, if you have time (as your laſt billet to Mr. DE GREY mentioned a ſhort delay) I intreat you will anſwer by the poſt, even before you come amongſt us. You are not igno⯑rant of my regard for LUCIA: I have ſent you, from time to time, fifty ſheets of paper on the ſubject. I have reaſon to think you are as great a favourite as [78]myſelf. No woman ſhould dare to di⯑vide her heart. I inſiſt upon an entire paſſion, or none. You know my hu⯑mour. I love you above all men; but if you have, even in thought, ſupplanted me, let the needful be done without noiſe. Seconds are out of the queſtion, when combatants know each other. You are as brave as Heaven. I am not apt to retreat myſelf. There was a ſort of ſatisfaction in LUCIA's face, I muſt ab⯑ſolutely have explained. I have, in DE GREY's green paddock, the beſt and fleeteſt horſe in England at this time grazing—He knows when I travel upon life and death—you underſtand me.

Farewell till I ſee you.

P. S.

The reſt of DE GREY's party come to night: our laughing philoſopher and whimſical wag, Sir ANDREW, is in the groupe.

LETTER XXIV. Captain CARLISLE's Anſwer.

How can you, my dear MEDWAY, ſtill continue your cruel hu⯑mour? How few moments thinking would have been neceſſary to ſet your fluttering heart to reſt on every ſubject that concerns LUCIA DE GREY! The vehemence with which you firſt diſcloſed your paſſion to me, and the large ſtrides you ſaid you had made towards gaining HER affections, put an entire end to all attempts which, perhaps, might other⯑wiſe have been made by me upon the ſubject. Neither by look nor letter have I, ever ſince that time, addreſſed any thing to LUCIA that aimed at her [81]heart, and your three lateſt letters (which came to my hands in Italy) wherein you aſſure me, your tenderneſs for that lady is fully returned, put ſuch an additional check upon my conduct, that I looked upon the buſineſs as too far gone for any third perſon, except Mr. DE GREY, who, it ſeems, ap⯑proves the match, to interfere without infamy. Beſides that I ſhall embrace you ſhortly, I have juſt now ſuch a kind of engagement to fulfill, that I muſt apologize for having replied to your letter ſo haſtily. I am, as for many years I have been,

LETTER XXV. Captain CARLISLE to GEORGE LASCELLES, Eſq.

WHAT is to be done now, my dear LASCELLES?—a circumſtance hath fallen out, even worſe than the affair of AUGUSTA. Mr. DE GREY forgot to inform me, that the only per⯑ſon whom I ſhould not meet at Pru⯑dence Green would make a diſtinguiſh⯑ed member of his ſummer ſociety! But yet, how ſhould he imagine it was ne⯑ceſſary to apprize me of it, knowing, as he does, of our long friendſhip, and not knowing there is any delicate matter on which it depends? The nature of my difficulty will appear to you better, when [83]I tell you Medway is of the party— MEDWAY, the moſt generous, poſitive, good-humoured, quarrelſome man in the univerſe—MEDWAY, whoſe ſenſibi⯑lity of honour, and jealous miſconcep⯑tions, expoſe him every hour to a ha⯑zard of his life. If you have forgot my ſituation with this flaming hero, the incloſures will revive the whole track of the ſtory in your memory. Had I not apprehended that he was to paſs the ſummer in Oxfordſhire, I ſhould, by no means, have accepted of an invitation even from Mr. DE GREY; nor indeed ſhould I, by right, have left Italy till the ſecret cauſe of my going thither be⯑came Mrs. MEDWAY, and had retired with her huſband from Prudence Green. As the good of ſociety is no way con⯑cerned in the communication of this my private boſom ſecret, no man but Mr. LASCELLES is truſted with it.

[84] As to AUGUSTA, I am glad to find ſhe is ſo well reconciled to our laſt con⯑verſation. Your ſiſter will certainly, by her enchanting treatment, make a tho⯑rough convert of her; and at leaſt keep her quiet without more interviews till I get the Marquis's anſwer. Were it not, therefore, for MEDWAY's affair, I ſhould now go down to the Green in high ſpi⯑rits. With regard to LUCIA, I conſider her ſo much the property of another, that I could certainly meet her unalarm⯑ed, were not that other under the ſame roof.

[85]

LETTER XXVI. Miſs DE GREY to Miſs LASCELLES.

HE comes! he comes!—this night he will be here—yes, my dear LASCELLES—CARLISLE will this very night be here; but, perhaps, your bro⯑ther, his old friend, may have already heard from him. We all wiſh for him with the fondeſt impatience. Even the impetuous MEDWAY acknowledges him to be a man of the fineſt honour in the world. By the bye, CAROLINE, that MEDWAY is a ſtrange being; I know not what to make of him—he is always begging me to ſmile upon him, and when I do ſmile, he whiſpers in my [90]ear, "huſh! huſh! my dear ſoul, huſh! don't ſpeak about it—a ſmile is enough; a ſmile is enough." He came to me yeſterday evening in the garden, and muſt needs change flowers—I agreed to his humour, and he cried out (in a tranſport that almoſt frightened me) "ſuch a little tranſaction as this, with thoſe who act upon terms of honour, binds the bargain as firmly as the bonds of Hymen." He may be a very gallant man, my dear, but he is the ſtrangeſt creature I know, for all that, and though our acquaintance is of two years ſtanding, he is as much a riddle to me as ever. The beſt part of him is, that he is the friend of CARLISLE—I am CARLISLE's FRIEND too, but I ſtill enjoin you not to hint this to any crea⯑ture breathing. A little before I firſt ſaw MEDWAY, I really thought CAR⯑LISLE had an affection for me; but [91]many things have concurred ſince, to perſuade me, that I am not only indif⯑ferent, but diſagreeable to him. His excurſion to Italy, above all other things, confirms this.—Ah, CAROLINE! how can ſo gentle and ſuſceptible a heart as his be inſenſible to—But I have done.

LETTER XXVII. Mr. DE GREY to Captain CARLISLE.

WELCOME, thrice welcome to your native ſhore; welcome to thoſe ſhades which are now blooming at your arrival. I have this minute attended Lord and Lady BLESSINGBOURNE, and their nephew the antic Sir ANDREW, from their carriage. MEDWAY, alſo, is with us, and your old neighbours Mr. and Mrs. HEWSON, with the ſtu⯑dious Mr. GABRIEL. LUCIA ſays, when you are come down, we ſhall have quite a company of contraſts: there may be, for ought I know, ſome truth in the [93]obſervation; at leaſt, there is a pretty oppoſition in ſome of the characters, I am ſure. Mr. GABRIEL is no bad con⯑traſt to Mr. HENRY: Lord BLESSING⯑BOURNE and his Lady are not amiſs, in the ſame way: LUCIA and Mrs. HEW⯑SON have a marking difference; and I very well know how and where the diſ⯑tinction is to be made betwixt Mr. MEDWAY and Captain CARLISLE. I hope, by the time this reaches you, all impediments to your journey will be paſt, and that I ſhall have it in my power perſonally to aſſure you, with what unalterable truth I am

LETTER XXVIII. Sir ANDREW FLIGHT to Mr. HEATH⯑COATE.

OH! joy, joy, give me joy without end, my dear HEATHCOATE! Such game, ſuch fun, ſuch a ſummer is before me, that neither you or I can poſſibly want amuſement. Prudence Place is abſolutely crammed with the entertainment which, of all others, you and I moſt adore; even with the plea⯑ſures of ridicule. There are no leſs than three originals in the houſe, beſides my uncle and aunt, who, even yet, are not entirely out of date. Here is a farmer who would be a gentleman; his wife, beautiful as Venus, who would be a [95] lady. The farmer's brother, who, tho' neither fiſh, fleſh, nor fowl, deſigns to be a ſcholar; and my dear aunt and uncle, who are magnificent, ſuperb, high-bred—nothings at all. With ſuch a groupe, (not forgetting that ſon of the ſeven Furies, OLLY MEDWAY) if I don't have ſome precious ſport, and ſend you from time to time ſome ſheets full of fun, why then I have loſt my knack, and nature tries to entertain me in vain, this ſummer. That's all I ſay on the ſubject.

As to LUCIA DE GREY, and her dad, they are quite upon the grave order you know, and a man may look at their tempers for twelve months together, without finding a tittle that is ludicrous; ſo that, I fear, we can ſcarce rank any of theſe amongſt our ſources: no mat⯑ter, ridicule is pregnant in every mo⯑ther's [96]child of the others, and you may expect to have a diſh of the dear, dear ridiculous (to me more palatable than ortolans) at leaſt every ſecond poſt-day. But, heighty-teighty, who have we here! What figure comes prancing down yon avenue, majeſtic as the oaks which ſhade, and debonnair as the ſkies which encanopy it! It gains upon me as I ſurvey it from the window. Thoſe little animals called men, when mounted upon the backs of thoſe larger animals called horſes, are proper objects for the ſport⯑ings of ſuch ſpirits as our's, my HEATH⯑COATE. But, in this particular inſtance, in this moſt brilliant exception, there is no hinge whereon to faſten a joke: this object looks like a man even while he is beſtriding a beaſt. His hair is caught by the gale—his proportions charm away the very genius of burleſque. I have not a jeſt in my imagination to [97]throw at him. No fun in this viſitor neither!—He alights—Zounds, HEATHCOATE, this fellow hath found out the art of diſplaying the graces in getting from his ſtirrup: the very horſe ſeems conſcious of his burthen: he gives a paw of reluctance at quitting him. The family are all flocking about the ſtranger—what prince—what deity is it who can thus attract univerſal at⯑tention, and turn my deſcriptions out of their accuſtomed channel!

I muſt lay down the pen to enquire.

LETTER XXIX. Captain CARLISLE to GEORGE LASCELLES, Eſq.

I AM arrived ſafe, my dear friend; but freſh embarraſſments riſe before me. I was more affected at the ſight of LUCIA DE GREY than I ought to be. Amidſt all the air of general gaiety, the eyes of MEDWAY were in⯑tently fixed on me the whole evening. Much of what is commonly called fun, paſſed at the ſupper table, at the ex⯑pence of two or three fooliſh people, who are out of their element.—Neither MEDWAY, nor LUCIA, partook of this. [102]The night, however, cloſed harmoni⯑ouſly; and my return to Prudence Place was honoured by a general bumper of Burgundy. But, about ten minutes after the company ſeparated for the night, MEDWAY's valet tapped at my door, and preſented the incloſed billet:

[104] If this proſpect of being perpetually tormented by the vigilant jealouſies of this hot-headed man continues, and if I cannot ſo far maſter my own ſenſibilities on a certain occaſion, my ſtay in this quarter will certainly not be long. It is living under a double impriſonment both of ſoul and body. Nor, till the Marchioneſs is gone, can I, with pro⯑priety, repair again to your houſe. The rule of my life hath ever been, not to throw myſelf unneceſſarily into the path of temptation. It is to my feelings (which are always poignantly wounded by the leaſt ſhaft of ſelf-reproach) as well as to my ſenſe of religion, that I owe eſcape from many a miſchief into which I otherwiſe might fall. I pique myſelf a little upon the virtue of making a ſeaſonable retreat. My ſenſibility tells me now, that I am here in danger: I ſhould be, by no means, in a road abſolutely ſafe, if I [105]were with you. It will require ſome adroitneſs to diſentangle myſelf. If matters do not mend, I muſt alter my preſent addreſs; although, were my heart quite eaſy, I could be well enough amuſed with this motley groupe at Pru⯑dence Place, and enter into every inof⯑fenſive levity with the moſt ſerious ſpirit imaginable. You ſee, by the air of my letter, that at preſent I can neither write or ſpeak with certainty of any thing. I can only ſay, in general terms, that the joys I anticipated, like moſt things fore⯑ſtalled, do not ſparkle in the cup ſo briſkly as I expected; they are daſhed by ſome bitter diſappointments. I have a paſſion fretting my heart, which hath no lawful right to lie in my boſom. I feel it to be the tyrannizing ſerpent;—I ſmart under the ſharpneſs of its tooth, and yet, like the man in the fable, I foſter it. Do you not think, my LAS⯑CELLES, [106]that LUCIA's paſſion for the boiſterous Medway, is a little inconſiſt⯑ent with that uncommon delicacy and gentleneſs which ſeem to mark her own mind? But there is nothing ſo idle as an attempt to decypher the hierogly⯑phics of love. Mr. MEDWAY is the man of her choice; Mr. MEDWAY is, therefore, not to be queſtioned upon the ſubject of his ſucceſs.

LETTER XXX. GEORGE LASCELLES, Eſq to Captain CARLISLE.
(Previous to receiving the above.)

IT touches me very nearly to be ſo ſoon under a neceſſity of tranſ⯑mitting to you a letter from our fair lady, which, if I may judge from the air of anger with which it was given, does not contain the ſentiments of a quiet diſpoſition. Previous to your com⯑ing here the other night, I ſaw through the little artifice of her dreſſing at you in full taſte: it brought to my mind that ſweet line of the poet: ‘Now aweful beauty puts on all her charms.’ [108]Notwithſtanding this, you had fortitude of reſiſtance ſuperior even to her beauty. How you are able to do theſe things is wonderful: for my part, I fairly con⯑feſs, if I knew any lady, of any country, half ſo lovely, and half ſo longing, I certainly ſhould ſuffer any little ſcruples I might have to be ſoon over-ruled; and were it in my power to make ſuch a wo⯑man happy, happy ſhe ſhould be. As to the Marchioneſs, ſhe hath fire enough in her eyes even to talk down the conti⯑nence of an anchorite. Not that I blame your virtue, or accuſe your taſte. No, my dear CARLISLE, I admire both; I look up to the one with envy, to the other with deſpair. But this is no time either for comment or compliment: the Marchioneſs's letters to you ought in⯑ſtantly to be forwarded, ſince, from the peculiar violence of her temper, a mo⯑ment's delay might produce the moſt [109]diſagreeable conſequences. My ſiſter wiſhes every hour for the Marquis's letter, although it is impoſſible he ſhould get your's for ſome time. The two la⯑dies parted from each other yeſterday in tears. I am not yet maſter of the meaning. CAROLINE's confidence is impregnable; unleſs ſhe thinks it right to diſcloſe any matter, her deareſt friends would not be let into the ſecret.

LETTER XXXI. The Marchioneſs to Captain CARLISLE.

HAVE I not ſufficient cauſe to curſe my fate, that hath left me without one ſolid reaſon to ſanctify my affection? Have I not reaſon too, to curſe that barbarous father, who ſacrificed me to the moſt hateful man upon earth—who ſold me for a title which I deſpiſe, and to embraces which are bitter to me as the bonds of death? The great, the counterbalancing arguments, Mr. CAR⯑LISLE, are all on your ſide, and there⯑fore my pleadings are all againſt the tide. But I ſee all that is to happen— you will never ſee me more—you refuſe me your direction—you will have your [111]London apartments—your friends will grow weary of me, and I ſhall be in utter deſpair. Ah! what a foundation have I for ſuch ſuſpicions! How cuttingly cold was the air with which you laſt ad⯑dreſſed me! How cautiouſly cruel your civility!—You took my hand, but it trembled as if at the touch of infection, while mine, on the contrary, throbbed with a violence that denoted the agita⯑tions of my heart. Your whole diſ⯑courſe was general; or, if it ever be⯑came particular, it turned upon my huſband—the moſt deteſted of all ſub⯑jects. But this was not enough; you dare not truſt yourſelf with me alone: I am reduced to ſuch infamy that it was neceſſary to converſe with me in the preſence of a third perſon; that third perſon, too, muſt needs be a wo⯑man. But you were deceived: I did not in that complotted interview ſhew [112]myſelf ſo abandoned as you expected: I was conſcious of the deepneſs of the tri⯑umph, and I fell before it. My ſitu⯑ation is not even yet, perhaps, quite eraſed from your memory. You recol⯑lect ſome part of my confuſion. I con⯑jure you, however, Mr. CARLISLE, by love, and I charge you by what is due to diſtreſs, not to inſult her whom you cannot redreſs. Pity is at leaſt my due, and when you are not diſpoſed to beſtow that, for honour's ſake, do not ſubſti⯑ture contempt. Pray what is to become of the unfortunate

LETTER XXXII. Miſs DE GREY to Miſs LASCELLES.

OH, my beloved CAROLINE! Mr. CARLISLE is at our houſe, and yet I am more wretched than I was before his arrival. He certainly deteſts me. He ſpeaks in form, and though he can never loſe his politeneſs, which is a part of his very nature, yet he has wholly loſt his friendſhip. How can I poſſibly have forfeited this? We were bred up together, you know, CAROLINE; al⯑ways in the ſame houſe, for ſome time in the ſame cradle: it is to CARLISLE I owe my early reliſh for reading, and every better ornament. Nothing could poſſibly be more cordial, or more fami⯑liar, [114]than we were formerly. Wherefore hath he robbed me of his attention—of his brotherly attention?—But, I ſuppoſe he hath been fortunate in his Italian at⯑tachments—the friendſhips of a warmer clime are, doubtleſs, more attracting and more animated. I know not what to think. Certainly, Mr. CARLISLE never gave me reaſon to imagine I was more in his eſteem than—than—than—. But why do I talk, CAROLINE? he ab⯑ſolutely does every thing but flatly ſhun me.

To increaſe my vexation, that tire⯑ſome wretch MEDWAY becomes more ſtrange than ever. Half an hour ago he put into my hand the nonſenſe I in⯑cloſe:

[116] Surely the man is a fool; but I am in no humour to comment on his abſur⯑dity—For Heaven's ſake write, CARO⯑LINE, to

LETTER XXXIII. Sir ANDREW FLIGHT to Mr. HEATH⯑COATE.

HA! Ha! Ha! Ha!—Oh laugh, thou divine cure for every care; thou celeſtial convulſion, let me enjoy thee; and let me at the ſame time ſhew my generoſity, by ſharing thee with my friend!

I have laid a plot, my friend, ſuch a plot as will enſure thy felicity for a month: you are to have two new cor⯑reſpondents, ſuch as before never ho⯑noured thee, and I beg thou will pay proper reſpect, and make thy reſponſes in due and decent form. Not a word [118]more till thou heareſt farther of this matter from another quarter. In the mean time let me end as I began, with one of thoſe ever-delicious burſts of the ſoul, which mark the conſtitution of.

LETTER XXXIV. Mr. GABRIEL HEWSON to Mr. HEATH⯑COATE.

I HAVE juſt been informed that you take a liberal delight, and a generous joy, in being a witneſs to the progreſs of any gentleman's inſtruction; and the worthy Sir ANDREW, with affa⯑bility ineffable, and complaiſance correſpond⯑ing, has aſſured me, that you are of opinion the talents will receive a quicker poliſh from letter-writing, or the art epiſtolary, than even by reading or con⯑verſing: he adds, that although my improvements have been conſiderable, they would make double impreſſion, by [120]being communicated in writing to an in⯑genious abſent perſon. Now, Sir, it hap⯑pens that I am thought to be the moſt enlightened man of my acquaintance, which I ſhould account unlucky, was I not comforted by the idea given me by Sir ANDREW, of finding in you, Sir, a perſon who will kindly receive my ſentiments upon breeding, as I am enabled to pick them up from time to time. I ſhall enjoy by theſe means a double honour and advantage; and I wait only for your kind permiſſion to commence.

P. S.

My brother is ſetting pen to paper, or at leaſt deſigns ſo to do ſoon, for a ſimilar honour.

LETTER XXXV. Mr. HENRY HEWSON to Lord BLES⯑SINGBOURNE.

I HAVE a mind to try my hand at a 'piſtle nearer home, before I venture abroad; juſt as your Lordſhip may have ſeen a parcel of young birds fly a few yards back wards and forwards upon the neighbouring hedges, before they are ſo bold as to loſe ſight of their neſt. This I find by your nephew is a ſimula⯑rius, ſo that you ſee I have got ſome⯑thing already. But the meaning of my writing to your Lordſhip is, as I ha' got a corr [...]ſ [...]en [...] [...], that I may [...] [122]get one for my HETTY, who is ſo much improved ſince ſhe came to Prudunce Pleace, that ſhe'd be hang'd as ſoon as write to any thing under a gentlewoman of the bettermoſt ſpecie. Now I think your Lady is of this genii: ſo I write, unknown to HETT, that I may get your leave for ſhe to write to ſhe; where⯑of the honour would be clear as the noon-tide. Pray put your reply to this privately into my hand, when we next walk, for ſake of the genteel thing, up and down the garden. Mean time know me to be what I am,

LETTER XXXVI. Sir ANDREW FLIGHT to Mr. HEATH⯑COATE.

BETTER and better ſtill! the gudgeons bite this warm weather at Prudence Place moſt gloriouſly. Every minute teems with ridicule. I have played off that heavieſt of the Hewſon lump, Mr. Henry, upon my uncle, yea even upon the pompous muſcles of Lord BLESSINGBOURNE, to whom the farmer hath written in form, juſt to get into's fiſt, as he elegantly phraſes it. I ſpi⯑rited him up to this, and ſo contrived it, that the letter ſhould be given to his Lordſhip exactly at the proper criſis— even while he was at a magnificent tête⯑à-tête [124]with my Lady upon that conſtant ſubject of theirs, the dignity of rank and family. I took care alſo to enter his room, by the way of morning devoir, juſt as the epiſtle was delivered—No co⯑ronet at the top of the ſeal—and yet— the ſcrawling and genteel up-and-down of the ſuperſcription is politely illegible enough, to come from ſomebody of rank, ſays the Earl — Doſt thou know the hand, my Lady—No indeed, my Lord —It is not in my liſt of hands—If it ap⯑proaches towards any of my correſpon⯑dents — continues my lady — it is the Counteſs of Cannotſpell. In my opinion, my Lady, ſaid I, it bears ſtrong marks of the Ducheſs of Letterblot; that copious command of capitals in the L.O.R.D. looks aſtoniſhingly like the finger and thumb of her Grace.—Whew, ſays my uncle, there's no poſt-marks: I can't poſſibly account for this, my Lady. Ten [125]to one, uncle, replied I, the contents will unravel the myſtery in a moment; that is to ſay, if the writing is not too faſhionable.

His Lordſhip broke the ſeal which Mr. HENRY told me he once valued much, it being the exact effigy of the fineſt greyhound bitch that ever nabbled the ſcut of a bare—None of my friends faſten letters, nephew, with the engrav⯑ing of a dog—

Heaven and family-honours, exclaims my never-to-be-forgotten uncle, what have we here, with my very good Lord at the top, and your H. Hewſon at the bot⯑tom? H. HEWSON! Pray, who is this familiar Mr. H. HEWSON? I ſuf⯑fer no freedoms from ſuch pens as theſe.

[126] No, indeed, don't you, ſaid my Lady.

Suffer me to read it to you, my Lord, ſaid I; I can't poſſibly conceive the meaning of it.

I read it, HEATHCOATE, and gave it all its graces. It was not without great difficulty the angry Earl ſat it out. His comments were exquiſite. I incloſe the original, on purpoſe that you may com⯑pare a few of them—a ſimularius! cried his Lordſhip, what does the fellow mean by that? Prudunce Pleace: and pray, how could Mr. DE GREY, at his grave time of life, admit ſuch a creature as this to Prudunce Pleace? Prudunce Pleace, rejoined my Lady; oh! the illi⯑terate—ha! ha! ha!

I went on, but was ſoon ſtopped again. A woman of the bettermoſt ſpecie, [127]a lady of this genii, and for ſhe to write to ſhe—did you ever hear ſuch impu⯑dence, ſaid I, my Lord?

Impudence, replied my Lady! Pray, nephew, order my coach this very day. Does Mr. DE GREY (who, though a very worthy man, is only a Mr.) imagine we are to be inſulted by rifraff, whom he thinks fit to make our equals? They may, perhaps, be equals for a Mr. but they are no proper company for perſons whoſe names move upon a different con⯑ſtruction.

That's very true, aunt, ſaid I, and it's perfectly unpardonable in that little, low-minded monoſyllable Mr. to behave thus rudely to names of a nobler ſound, and a different conſtruction. Mr. in⯑deed! I ſhould not have thought of it!

[128] Don't be witty, ANDREW, neither, ſays my aunt.

Madam, your Ladyſhip does me wrong, ſaid I, I deſpiſe Mr. as cordially as your Ladyſhip, and I even bought Sir Andrew, that I might never have any thing more to do with him. Mr. quotha!

Be that as it may, nephew, rejoined my Lord (riſing upon his toes, and ſwelling out his breaſt, as is uſual with him when he feels the might of any ſen⯑timent) be that, I ſay, as it may— You very well know the ſtock from whence our family ſprung. You very very well know, that we have not a plebeian particle about us; and though it is very true you bought Sir Andrew with my money, on account of my ab⯑horrence of Mr. yet you have the beſt [129]of blood in your veins.—Yes, nephew, I will take upon me to ſay, with very little exaltation of voice, you have the beſt blood. Heaven, and family-ho⯑nours, here's uſage indeed!

Thank Heaven and my noble-blooded anceſtors, my Lord, nobody better, ſaid I.

The veins of your aunt are not leſs dignified—

Senſible of that, my Lord, ſaid I, her Ladyſhip's fine blood ſhines beſide her fair complexion, like the violet that groweth among the lillies of the valley.

Not amiſs, ſaid my uncle, ſimpering!

'Pſhaw, you madcap, cried my aunt, patting my ſhoulder, and looking at [130]the back of her hand, after gently rubbing it.

Hang it, rejoined my uncle, forget⯑ting for a moment his dignity, this poor H. HEWSON means no harm after all; he is a poor ſimple thing.

An unfortunate fiſh out of water, you may ſee by all his actions, ſaid I, and I dare ſay thinks he has lived upon ſhore long enough, ſince he has had the ho⯑nour to write a letter to Lord and Lady BLESSINGBOURNE.

Do you think ſo, nephew? cried my uncle and aunt (tickled by the flat⯑tery); well, then, let us not be offend⯑ed: let the affair drop.

I do really think, my Lord, rejoined I, if you were to write him an anſwer, [131]you would make the poor fellow feel, as if he were in Heaven.

Anſwer him, ſaid my Lord; what can I ſay to ſuch a being?

Say ſomething, however, ſaid my Lady, to the poor devil.

My uncle ordered the writing appa⯑ratus; and after as much writing as might have been neceſſary to lay the plot of a comedy, he wrote upon a large gilt card, in a hand very little better than HEWSON's, the following ſenti⯑ments:

[133] This card, HEATHCOATE, penn'd ſo exactly to my wiſh, after being ſealed with a flouriſh of the beſt wax, and ſtamped with the broad BLESSING⯑BOURNE arms, capped with a coronet, and decorated with ſupporters, was de⯑livered to my care.

I carried it to the farmer-gentleman, whom I found diſputing the point of politeneſs with that beautiful piece of ignorance his wife.—She was pleaſed to be hugely offended by the contents of his Lordſhip's card, and declared, that Mr. HEWSON writ without her know⯑ledge.—As to acquaintances, ſhe had plenty—that ſhe wrote every night to Miſs DE GREY, and choſe to owe her improvements to her own ingenuity.

Then it's not my fault, cried the huſband; you will bear me witneſs, Sir [134]ANDREW, I have done my duty; 'tis none of my ſeeking that ſhe won't hor⯑reſpond with a Ladyſhip, and a Count⯑eſs: as for my part, I am not above getting all I can out of high and low; ſo I ſhall write juſt as I ſee caſſion, either to my Lord or Maiſter HEATHCOATE. And now you talk o'that, I muſt go ſcheme out a letter for the laſt-named borreſpondent directly.

Away he went, and I enjoyed the ſociety of his HETT. all alone. She is abſolutely a more charming woman, in my eyes, HEATHCOATE, even than LUCIA DE GREY; nor does ſhe want ſenſe, if ſhe was not ſo conſumedly ad⯑dicted to admire every thing which you and I deſpiſe. But her beauty—her lips—eyes—neck—cheſt—waiſt—arm —cheek—boſom—ancle—

LETTER XXXVII. Captain CARLISLE to GEORGE LASCELLES, Eſq.

I HAVE had a very fooliſh ac⯑cident happen to aggravate the uneaſineſs of the Marchioneſs's laſt letter. It is in itſelf a trifle, yet the conſequence to my peace will make it important to you. Sir ANDREW FLIGHT was playing off his witticiſms and waggeries upon the igno⯑rance of ſome country ſimpletons that are now at the Place, when I became ſo weary of his vociferous amuſement; for where is the pleaſure of ſporting with inexperience —that I withdrew to Mr. DE GREY'S garden, unobſerved, or at leaſt uninter⯑rupted, by the company. MEDWAY [136]was watching his fiſhing-rod: Lord BLESSINGBOURNE was withdrawn to his chamber for his afternoon's nap. Mr. DE GREY'S garden is exceedingly large, and part of it is diſpoſed into a wilder⯑neſs, whoſe zig-zag is ſo intricate that you may ſometimes have your whole proſpect terminated by a yard's diſtance. The ſurrounding foliage, too, is of the thickeſt growth, being ſuffered to ex⯑pand for ſeveral years, receiving from the gardener, from time to time, only ſuch cares and loppings as to render the beautiful confuſion more agreeable. Seats and bowers, apparently artificial, with here and there a dripping grotto, are diſtributed irregularly, and the ſhades are every where ſo abundant, that the ſun-beams rather cheer you by ſtealth, than by permiſſion. I have, for my own part, an attachment—a ſort of ſen⯑timental friendſhip, and good-will, for [137]every bench, and for every tree: they were all favourites of my infancy: I ſat upon the benches, and I caught inſtruc⯑tion from the lips of Mr. DE GREY, under the trees. This, therefore, was the firſt time of my hailing them ſince my return. Believe me, I felt ſenſa⯑tions that thrilled me, as I re-viſited the places of my accuſtomed contemplation; I bade them welcome with as much ar⯑dour as if they were animate. I walked along the green meander, recognizing my old acquaintances; I liſtened to birds whoſe notes I affected to be intimate with my ear, as if they iſſued from the ſame warblers I had heard formerly. I com⯑plimented the caſcades upon an improved melody in their cadence: every breeze that played upon every leaf, revived the balmy pleaſures of infancy. Even in⯑tercourſe with other countries (not odo⯑rous Italy herſelf) had not been able to [138]ſupplant the tenderneſs I bore to the ver⯑nal beauties of Prudence Place.

Ah, LASCELLES! what could be the reaſon of this? Preſently I came to an alcove, which was originally the archi⯑tecture of two children, who grew up together. It was a whole week's labour, divided betwixt Miſs DE GREY and your CARLISLE: our little hands twiſted the twigs, formed the archings, and ſub⯑dued the obſtinate ſhrubs with inconceiv⯑able induſtry. Many a time we reſted from the toil, and, as often being de⯑lighted with our progreſs, we renewed it. When it was compleated, we gave —oh, I ſhall never forget it—a kiſs of tendereſt congratulation, as at having finiſhed a work of infinite importance. Big with this innocent flattery, we ran, hand in hand, to our guardian, and with elated hearts bade him ſurvey well [139]our workmanſhip. The gravity with which he commended, and his affected aſtoniſhment at our ingenuity, gave the laſt and fulleſt ſtroke of our pride and vanity. Over the entrance, our guardian cauſed to be imprinted upon a label, in golden letters, this ſoothing intelligence to the ſtranger:

This Bower was raiſed by Clement and Lucia.

The robin-redbreaſt built in it the next, the very next year, and we had then, you know, the beſt reaſon in the world to think that Heaven itſelf was pleaſed with our amuſement. The neſt, you may be ſure, was preſerved, for both piety and pity were concerned in its protection. We trod with caution while the ſacred bird was hatching: the whole feathered family preſently took wing; and I do verily believe I hear one of them now whiſtling near my window.

[140] Oh, LASCELLES! how ſoon is the heart that wiſhes to be inoffenſive, lulled by little circumſtances! Smile not, then, if I tell you, that I ſaw with tranſport the names of LUCIA and CLEMENT ſtill legible on their bower—the branches of ſweetbriar, on either ſide, were eagerly extending as if to embrace—and I beheld the initials of my name very recently cut in the rind of a hawthorn, that formed one of the ſupports of our alcove.

What ſweet circumſtances — how they melt the heart! cried I.

At that moment the ſofteſt-tuned voice in the world repeated diſtinctly the following verſes, from her favourite poet:

You are not to be told it was LUCIA DE GREY. In the next inſtant ſhe paſſed within ſight of me, the book ſtill in her hand. Unprepared on both ſides for the ſurprize, we were inexpreſſibly confuſed. Beautiful lines, Miſs DE GREY, ſaid I. Yes, indeed, replied ſhe. I think, Miſs DE GREY, in a former part of our life we uſed fre⯑quently to read the charming Mr. POPE together—In this very garden, Mr. CAR⯑LISLE; do you recollect your old bower, ſaid ſhe? If I miſtake not, Madam, ſaid I—Madam, CLEMENT? Madam, [142]Mr. CARLISLE? replied ſhe, as if a little offended. I ſay, continued I, Miſs DE GREY, if I remember right, this is that bower. You had almoſt forgot it, then, Mr. CARLISLE, had you? I ſuppoſe Italy (the garden of the univerſe) hath put all our Engliſh roſes quite out of countenance: Prudence Place is, to be ſure, a mere nettle-bed.—Ah, no, Ma⯑dam! (ſaid I, upon the edge of an ex⯑planation, but happily checking myſelf in time) though certainly Italy hath its charms. Oh, no doubt of it, replied LUCIA; but I believe, Sir, the com⯑pany will have loſt their chief felicity by your abſence. I hear Mr. Medway coming; I know his rapid, random ſtep; and I dare ſay his errand is from the deſerted ſociety to the runaway Cap⯑tain CARLISLE. If you pleaſe, Miſs DE GREY, we will retire, then. I will juſt finiſh my poem and follow you, Sir. [143]We parted. 'Tis evident ſhe loves MEDWAY to diſtraction, LASCELLES — She knows his ſtep.—He was then in ſearch of her, doubtleſs, by her appoint⯑ment.—I wiſh them happy—very, very happy. But my head aches; my heart is not quite well; and I muſt wiſh you a good night.

LETTER XXXVIII. Mr. MEDWAY to Mr. TOWNSEND.

CONFUSION, TOWNSEND! I have diſcovered the plot—I have got a clue to the whole matter. I am, I per⯑ceive, a very catſpaw. I am made the convenient cloak to conceal the paſſion of another. Yes, TOWNSEND, I ſaw CARLISLE at the very fartheſt end of DE GREY's garden in earneſt converſa⯑tion with LUCIA: at my approach he turned into a different walk, and went into the houſe. I overtook the guilty fair one, and caught her in the very act of reading ELOISA to ABELARD; which is as much as to ſay, if I can't talk with him, I can at leaſt write a letter to him; [145]and I dare ſay they do correſpond: every body in this family ſcribbles, and I don't at all doubt but there is fine flouriſhing penwork going forward be⯑tween LUCIA and CARLISLE. As to the firſt, I only walked quickly by her, without deigning to ſpeak, and I pulled off my hat with unuſual reſpect, as much as to ſay—Oh, oh, my young lady, have I caught you! I ſhall repeat the ſame behaviour when I meet her again, and then it is impoſſible ſhe ſhould miſtake my meaning. With re⯑ſpect to the Captain, whom I honour as a friend and gentleman, in every other matter, his life is not worth ſixpence, for he muſt as ſurely die this night, as that he inſulted me this day; or elſe he muſt injure me ſtill more, by taking me off. I only write this to you, TOWN⯑SEND, juſt to account for any delay in my correſpondence, ſhould it be my fate [146]inſtead of his. In that caſe I deſire you will be at the breaking open my will, becauſe you are mentioned therein, by

LETTER XXXIX. From the Same to Captain CARLISLE.

NOT a word more than is neceſſary ſhall be uſed. I ſuppoſe you know the little green lane at the ſouth ſide of DE GREY's paddock—the far⯑theſt end of it is out of the report of a piſtol's getting to the ear of the family— ſix yards the diſtance—twelve the hour —LUCIA the word—you underſtand me —mum—good evening. Huſh.

LETTER XL. Captain CARLISLE, in Anſwer.

I SHALL certainly give you the meeting, MEDWAY, in the hope of con⯑vincing you, that the chance of duelling might be poor ſatisfaction to a man who has, as you have, all the reaſon in the world to think himſelf moſt tenderly beloved by ſuch a woman as Miſs DE GREY. However, if you chooſe to ha⯑zard the continuance of this bleſſing, which at preſent you ſo fully enjoy, why, take your own way, and do not blame

LETTER XLI. Mr. MEDWAY to Captain CARLISLE.

MY dear Captain, I would not now die for the world: nor would I have you die: it is plain, then, to you, that I am tenderly beloved; and ſince you are, as well as I, convinced, I fully en⯑joy this bleſſing, what in the devil's name ſhould I run my neck into danger for? So, ſhe told you as much. How ſhy all the ſex to the men they love, when they have a mind to it! But 'tis nature: pray, my dear boy, go to bed—ſleep heartily—don't come near me—I won't be met—I ſhall go to bed [150]myſelf—I am a jealous fool—whew, whew.—There, there; the fit's over. Good night.

LETTER XLII. Miſs LASCELLES to Miſs DE GREY.

I SYMPATHIZE moſt tenderly with my deareſt Miſs DE GREY: yet, ſurely, ſhe makes to herſelf more miſery than is neceſſary: it is impoſſible for Captain CARLISLE to be ſo intimately acquainted with LUCIA's charms and virtues without admiring them; and, as to any Italian attachments, I think I can take upon me to ſay, he is bound by none of thoſe. Perhaps ſome uneaſi⯑neſs may look like diſreſpect in him at preſent. Depend upon it, all will in a little time be happy; in which aſſur⯑ance [152]it is that I venture to ſay you are much happier than ſome women. It is with pleaſure I ſubſcribe the name of

LETTER XLIII. Sir ANDREW FLIGHT to Mr. HEATH⯑COATE.

TRIUMPH, more triumph, HEATHCOATE! I have got a treaſure! In a cloſe lane, as I purſued my walk, I found the paper which I incloſe: it is evidently the property of the pretty would-be bred Mrs. HEWSON, and is ſo much in the true taſte of that bur⯑leſque we love (although ſo ſeriouſly intended) that I eſteem it the moſt inva⯑luable eſſay upon the elements of high life in the world. Read and re-incloſe it, for it will ſerve a purpoſe now forming in the boſom of

• Mem.—Miſs DE GREY always ſips her wine ſoftly.
• Note.—It is unlike a lady to drink heartily, as if one were adry.
• Mem.—Miſs D. G. inclines the head a little tiny bit on one ſide, when ſhe returns thanks. 'Tis charming.
• Mem.—Lady BLESSINGBOURNE half cloſes her eye-lids, and does not chooſe to ſee too plainly. Strong eyes vulgar.
• [155] Note.—Very like a gentlewoman to be ſhort-ſighted.
• Mem.—Miſs D. G. never lets her hands drop down.
• Note.—It makes them red ſo to do. Hands ſhould not ſink below the bottom of the waiſt.
• Mem.—Miſs D. G. ſpeaks low and ſweet.
• Note.—Very rude for any thing under a Counteſs to talk at the top of the voice. A Dutcheſs may uſe a great bad word.
• Mem.—Lady B. takes ſnuff—Miſs D. G. does not. Counteſſes may ſnuff.
• [156] Note.—Horrid for any body under a title, or under forty years of age, to in⯑dulge in ſnuff; but they may hold it up to the noſe, in order to ſhew a pretty hand, and affect to take it.
• Mem.—Miſs D. G. ſteps modeſtly, and with an eaſy motion: Lady B. wriggles and totters.—Lovely weak⯑neſſes!
• Note.—Inconceivably polite to totter and wriggle. I can hardly hold my pen! Lord, how I will totter! how I will wriggle!
• Mem.—Knife and fork ſweetly held by Miſs D. G.
• Note.—I attend too much to the vic⯑tuals, and not enough to the manner of cutting and putting it into my mouth.
• [157] Mem.—Lady B. paſſed yeſterday by a tradeſman of her's, and did not ſee him.
• Note.—Highly polite to overlook an inferior.
• Mem.—A young perſon ſaluted her Ladyſhip this morning with a curteſy down to the ground. The perſon had, formerly, been waiting-woman to her Ladyſhip: her Ladyſhip had not the fainteſt recollection of ever having ſeen her before. The words bleſs me, who ſhould that thing be, very proper on ſuch occa⯑ſions.
• Note.—Exceedingly genteel not to re⯑collect obſcure creatures.
• Mem.—I actually heard the Counteſs hawk, ſpit into her handkerchief, and [158]then look at it.—Mis D. G. never gives more than a gentle hem, and then half turns away her head, ſo that when you again ſee her face, you ſee it tinged with a bluſh.
• Note.—Very faſhionable for perſons of quality to do that which would ill become Miſſes. I believe I muſt never venture to ſpit; but I do more than hem now.
• Mem.—Lady B.'s countenance always encourages certain innuendoes — well⯑bred indecencies.
• Note.—Charmingly polite to be above ſhyneſs—a great defect in Miſs D. G. who is always ſerious, holds down her head, and won't hear on theſe occaſions.
• [159] Mem.—The Counteſs frequently cants one leg over the other, and ſits in that poſture. Miſs D. G. ſcarce ſhews her ancle, although it is finely turned. She has not yet got the better of prejudices.
• Note.—Faſhion gives a freedom to the limbs.
• Mem.—Miſs D. G. ſits upright, and attends too much to her ſhape. The Counteſs lolls careleſly, and leans upon her arm.
• Note.—Nothing ſhews breeding more than a loll, &c.

LETTER XLIV. Mr. HENRY HEWSON to Mr. HEATH⯑COATE, Eſq

GIVE every man his title and dignification, as Lord BLESSINGBOURNE ſays, therefore I begin my horreſpondunce with you, at the inſtigation of Sir AN⯑DREW, with calling you Eſquire, which is certainly your due, ſeeing you are out of trade, and do nothing at all for your livelyhood. I am to write what I get in the way of breedin, it ſeems, to you, which is a thing pleaſing, ſee⯑ing that you muſt, without doubt, be a maſter of the buſineſs.

[161] But I believe I ſhall have a weariſome ſpell o'work on't, before I am as I ſhould be: caſe why? there goes more to the making an honeſt man a gentle⯑man than I had at firſt any ideerer of. I ha' been i'th'way on't only three or four days, and I can ſee, already, t'an't to be run up, as a man would run up a rick of hay. Ods woundlikins, Eſquire HEATHCOATE, there is no end on't. But howſomever, to ſhew you that I am not quite a numſcull, I'll juſt mention a few matters that I ha' got in memory, which is as thof one were to call it a ſtorehouſe to lay by things for future uſe. In the firſt place you muſt under⯑ſtand, that I ſee plain enough that the firſt rule of your bettermoſt perſon is to make a bit of a pleaſant grin come into's phiſihog whenever he firſt meets any one, as much as to ſignify, that he knows how to carry his head. In the next [162]place, I find 'tis proper to make up this bit of a grin at firſt ſight, whether you like the man or not. Caſe why? a gentleman ſhould not ſhew that he is cuſs'd angry, cept upon caſſion of intereſt, ſeeing that pliteneſs knows how to ſmile i'th' face, while it puts finger in pocket. 3dly, I ha' noticed, that the leſs a man puts bat on's head, the better: Caſe why? it's the ſooner doff'd without pinching out the corners; beſides which, its plite to carry powder and pummadum enough to keep the cranium comfort⯑able without it. I find a ſtrange dif⯑culty, Eſquire, in getting my foot into the right ſlide of pliteneſs; for, I per⯑ceives head and foot dive together— out goes foot, down goes head: this is a cuſs'd crankum piece of buſineſs. Sav⯑ing your preſence, I can't ſee the fun of bowing and ſcraping too: nay, ifack, what do I talk of that? ſome here, at [163] Prudunce Pleace muſt needs kiſs their hands, and then ſwing 'em out at the ſame time. The young Captain does this; aye, Eſquire, young CARLISLE's hands, head, and heels, all work at once, as ſmooth and cutely as a bird i'th' air. I'd give almoſt more than I'm worth, if I could but wriggle out the hinder part o'me, juſt like Lord BLESSINGBOURNE: when he firſt comes into room, I warrant me, he does no⯑thing but treat and vance, ſhuffle and cut, and go backwards and forwards, ſticking out his rump, and craning his fine, thin, long, meagre, nine-haired head, which I find is the pliteſt head a man can have. Yet he knows who's to have a wriggle of the bum, and who not, too: I warrant you he is a cute one: he don't gig and drop his fine plite head to every body alike: no, be⯑lieve me; he has the meaſure of what's [164]every man's due, from the Duke to the ſtable-boy. Down goes his genteel head quite on's breaſt, to Captain CAR⯑LISLE; but when I puts in for a bit of civility, I can't get his neck to move downward half ſo civilly—Caſe why? I am but a poor fellow juſt come among plite ſpecie. But I don't allow myſelf any 'vantages; for though I ha' put on the beſt ſuit to my back, t'an't at all the thing. Sir ANDREW ſays my wig is enough to ruin me for ever, if there were nothing elſe in the way. 'Tis as good a bob as ever was bought, and ſits as ſnugly to feace; but, alas! what's a bob where you ſhan't ſee any thing under a bag, and that flourididdled with rib⯑bons and toſſicums? Young CARLISLE, indeed, lets his hair fly to and fro, juſt as he and the wind can ſettle it: Caſe why? he has ſo much on't, and 'tis ſo well coloured, and twirls itſelf off into [165]ſuch ringlets, that he is plite any way. I ha' beſpoke a bag, though I know afore⯑hand 'twill make a devil o'me, and ſo I told GAB, who is to ha' the fellow on't. Comfort, tho', that I can't look worſe than GAB when I'm bag'd, bag me when they will. For at any rate, I ha' gotten fleſh on my feace, and a little jot of colour i'my cheeks to ſet it off, as well as a ſtout pair of ſhoulders; whereas GAB has werretted all the fleſh off's bones by larning. Without a word of a joke, Eſquire, I don't be⯑lieve GAB has a pound of ſubſtance on's whole carkiſs; and as to's jaws, has no more meat upon them than upon the bill of chicken: his back is quite a ſkelitum; and though his hair is no bad raven-colour, yet it grows ſo cuſs'd odd on's head, and is ſo lankum rat-eaten'um, as a body might [166]ſay, if they were mind to talk larned, that I would not gee frap of a finger for's whole growth. But now I'm upon good breeding, Eſquire, I deſire to know whether a trick I ſaw Lord BLES⯑SINGBOURNE (who is ever acold) do to⯑day 'fore men, women, and children, is the common practiſe of your bettermoſt ſpecie: that is, ſtanding with bumfiddle to fire with coat up, and now and then popping hand below waiſtband. May⯑hap, my Lord mayn't be quite ſo well as he would be thereabouts, juſt at pre⯑ſent; and it may be a comfort to'un to feel now and then how matters go; for which reaſon I won't venture upon this action till I know whether 'tis a general thing or not. Not that I diſlike it, but that juſt yet it ſeems aukward to ſuch an ignorant feller as I.

[167] Nothing i'th'way of breeding more, at preſent—But I ha' filled my paper, which I take to be always the plite thing. So I reſt, at the bottom of the ſheet,

LETTER XLV. Mr. DE GREY to Mr. CARLISLE.

MY beſt and deareſt CAR⯑LISLE muſt pardon the formality of re⯑ceiving an old friend's letter, dated, written, and directed from the ſame houſe that contains both the writer and reader of it. The reaſon is, Prudence Place is at this time ſo crouded with different ſorts of people, and one has ſo little opportunity to ſteal leiſure for con⯑verſation of the higher kind, that I do not imagine a ſubject which is at this criſis ſo very warm at my heart, can be ſo well or ſo explicitly handled as upon [169]paper. So much for the apology: I come now to the matter.—The days, the months, the years of tuition are now paſt—thoſe ſeaſons, my CLEMENT, in which I had the honour and the happi⯑neſs (for it was both) to point out to you the paths of propriety and of virtue, are over; for the Pupil is even already, at the moſt early age of twenty-one, be⯑come the Preceptor: he is the Tutor of Truth: he hath already got orphans and widows under his guardianſhip — the nobleſt of all guardianſhip, my CLE⯑MENT—the guardianſhip of Senſibility. I thank you, Sir, for doing me ſo much honour. When you left this country for ITALY, I did not imagine there was room for improvements; you were ami⯑able, polite, and prudent; as free from pedantry, on the one hand, as from diſ⯑ſipation and the diſtracted joys of an overgrown boy, on the other. Yet, on [170]my firſt beholding you, the other day, I was ſtruck with an additional finiſhing, an elegant compleatneſs, which, though not before ſeeming to be wanted, was, as it now appears, abſolutely neceſſary. Forgive the garrulous vanity of an old man, Sir; forgive me, if I lodge, with all the narrative tediouſneſs of age, a little longer on this part of the ſubject. There are circumſtances, which allow us to ſwell out the heart, without making it ridiculous. You, Sir, occaſion in me a pride of this nature. Some men's ambition, in the laſt ſtate of life, is gratified by walking, or rather hobbling, into their fields and gardens, to recognize thoſe flouriſhing ſhades which are the produce of their own cul⯑tivation. I have heard a veteran neigh⯑bour of mine, a thouſand times ex⯑claim,—See, Mr. DE GREY, how in⯑duſtrious I have been! that long and [171]luſty range of oaks, extending from this paſture even to the farthermoſt avenue in the next, did I plant with my own hand.—I remember the day when the whole row (containing, perhaps, two hundred ſticks of timber) were ſo many petty acorns not ſo big as a walnut; and ſee, only ſee how they have ſped. I could raiſe a little navy—verily, neigh⯑bour, I could fit out a fleet, with a wood of my own raiſing.

Such ideas, I own, are not diſpleaſ⯑ing, CLEMENT: but they are far from being expanded enough, for my emula⯑tion; my emulation chooſes a nobler object, and takes a wider courſe. My object, Sir, is not circumſcribed by any thing within the ſcope of inanimate na⯑ture; and though I could be able to look out upon whole foreſts of my own cultivation, it would not ſatisfy me. [172]No, Mr. CARLISLE, I have a far finer pleaſure. I have it to ſay, that the politeſt gentleman, and the beſt man of his age, was once the child of my in⯑ſtruction. He was left by that Hea⯑ven, which took to itſelf his natural parents, at an age when gentle treat⯑ment makes a parent of any one. I received this dear and delicate truſt from the trembling arm of a dying man, and I value it, as a legacy given me in the moment that the ſoul of a friend was departing. Yes, at ſuch a tender period, was you bequeathed to me, Mr. CAR⯑LISLE: my child, LUCIA, was exactly of the ſame age; and you grew together. The beauty of your forms, like the power of your minds, was ſimilar. I can only ſay farther, that nature points out to me none of her nice diſtinctions or partia⯑lities. In the hour of your childhood I careſſed you both with the ſame ſenſi⯑bility, [173]and now that you are mature I divide my heart evenly between you. But this touch of tranſport hath ſeduc⯑ed me into a digreſſion. Old folks are, I perceive, on their favourite ſubject, as tireſome in their writing as in their talking; and therefore they have as few correſpondents as hearers. It is time, however, to return to my ſubject.

On looking back at my account⯑book, my dear Mr. CARLISLE, I find that your birth-day hath gone by almoſt a month. You ſeem to have forgot that it entitles you to the command and ſole diſpoſition of an immenſe fortune. Mo⯑ney was, I am proud to ſay, never a diſputable point with us, except when coercive meaſures were obliged to be taken in order to force upon you a re⯑mittance. This, however, by no means exculpates me for detaining what ought [174]to be in more amiable, as well as more able hands. I reproach myſelf, when I conſider how many cruelties my delay may have been guilty of, Mr. CARLISLE, to thoſe whoſe fortunes you have in truſt: methinks, I hear the curſe of the wi⯑dow, the languiſhing ſigh of ſickneſs, and the murmur of merit in the dark⯑ſome vale: I ſee, too, the tears ſtream from the eyes of the fatherleſs—Oh! for Heaven's ſake, my friend, relieve me—reſcue me, inſtantly, from conti⯑nuing the injury to that part of your family which Providence hath put un⯑der your care.

I ſhall, moſt readily, be prepared to render up an ample account of my agency, whenever (and the ſooner the better) you will honour me with your appointment.

[175] Thus much for fortune. I had it in my mind, CLEMENT, to venture a few ſentiments upon happineſs, which are, by no means, things incompatible, al⯑though they are not often inſeparable. But any thing I could advance on this head is unneceſſary to ſuch a mind as your's. With reſpect to your heart, I own, I meditated a few words upon that ſubject alſo: but I am in great doubt, whether this is the proper point of time to ſpeak to it; yet my propenſity is ſo warm, and the prattling, or rather, at preſent, ſcribbling, old man, is ſo ſtrong, or, to ſpeak more truly, ſo feeble in me, that I can ſcarce reſiſt.

The intereſt of your heart muſt naturally, my dear CLEMENT, be of more concern to me than any other that belongs to you. You are exactly at the age when tenderneſs falls with the [176]fulleſt force upon our nature; as you have a form to command love, ſo have you feeling to return it. That ſenſibi⯑lity, which makes you a parent to the poor, and thoſe accompliſhments which endear you to ſociety, in general, will aſſiſt and even lead to connexions of a ſofter kind. I am afraid, it would border a little upon that impertinence which I would avoid, elſe I ſhould aſk you, in the cordiality of my good wiſhes, whether it is poſſible for ſo amia⯑ble a man, to have paſſed through Italy, and to have reſided in the capital of England, (the very court of female beauty) with an inclination unattached, and paſſions unalarmed. This is too great a paradox for me to credit, even in imagination; and yet, I am mightily intereſted in the queſtion and its an⯑ſwer. Perhaps you will humour an old friend's caprices, and, for once, truſt [177]him (who can be no rival) with a love⯑ſecret. Suppoſe you were to ſteal an hour from the ſtrange mixture of our preſent family, and ſcribble a line or two on this matter. I diſpatch this by your truſty grey-headed GEOFFREY, who, you know, may be the confident of eve⯑ry meſſage that can come from ſuch a maſter.

P. S.

The HEWSONS are juſt what you call them, honeſt, imprudent people, [178]who have had the great misfortune to come in for ten thouſand pounds a piece, at a very unlucky criſis. I had the management of their affairs when their whole expectations were bounded by a ſmall annuity; and they ſtill call me Guardian. I wiſh I had influence enough over [...]ſe random wards to perſuade each o [...] them to remain quiet, and be happy, in deſpite of this un⯑ſeaſonable win [...]l. They are here upon a polite ſcheme; I heartily wiſh they would go home upon a prudent one. This may be the caſe, by and by.

LETTER XLVI. The Marchioneſs of N. to Captain CARLISLE.

YOU confeſs then that you have written to the deteſted Marquis: you even avow the ſentiments of your letter to him; you own, that they are to haſten him to England. But do you think, Sir, I am to be thus treated like a child, and threatened with being chid by that bugbear, my huſband? or do you imagine, I will ever allow myſelf to be re-united to him. Prepoſterous ex⯑pectation! No, Mr. CARLISLE, tho' I am a ſlave to my own paſſions, I will [180]never more be a ſlave to thoſe of ano⯑ther! You argue in vain about rights and laws and duties—in vain you urge the maxims of the world, and the cuſ⯑tom of nations. I have lived ſo long under the Italian heavens, that I have forgot—utterly forgot—the colder atmo⯑phere of cloudy England. I have learn⯑ed to follow my feelings, and to abhor chains that were forced upon me by pa⯑ternal authority. You direct me to the ſacred circle of gold upon my fingers; you call it the caeſtus of fidelity. I grew enraged to conſider a man, ſcarce more than twenty, thus coldly argue upon a tender offer of no contemptible paſſion. My pride took the alarm, and I tore your epiſtle, and threw the ring from my finger at the ſame time. I ſtampt upon it with indignation. Miſs LASCELLES appeared, and, as if you had pre-inſtructed her, ſhe acted upon [181]the occaſion as the very prieſteſs of pie⯑ty. "Fie, my dear Marchioneſs, (ſaid ſhe, folding her palms together in the true conventicle manner) theſe outrages are ever dreadful, but when they ariſe from ſo bad a cauſe, what ſtrength of terms can ſufficiently reprobate them! Conſider the reſerve and decorum of your ſex!—conſider the conſequences!— conſider your character!"

Ah frigid inſolent! is this the mode of Britiſh hoſpitality? Do you leſſon thoſe whom you protect? and do you, never⯑theleſs, boaſt of your iſland as an aſy⯑lum for the wretched, and for the ſtranger? Where are your ſanctua⯑ries for an unhappy woman—where is your courteſy for tenderneſs and the wounded heart in deſpair? But you northern Iſlanders grow upon too frozen [182]a ſoil to feel the power of ſentiment, which glows nearer to the ſun.

The ſubject muſt be hateful to you, and I will quit it: but, ſtill, Mr. CAR⯑LISLE, ſomething is due to my pride, whatever is denied to my paſſion. I will not ſtay here to [...] the triumph of thoſe, who have cha [...]ty becauſe they have not hearts. Miſs LASCELLES hath, of late, aſſumed a language of lofty advice to which I am not accuſtomed. She pi⯑ties me—ſhe is ſorry—ſhe wiſhes me well—ſhe will do every thing warranted by diſcretion—ſhe wiſhes Captain CAR⯑LISLE and I had met ſooner. The af⯑fair is delicate—ſhe hopes that pru⯑dence will prevail.

Ah! CARLISLE, that my extrava⯑gance of affection ſhould have reduced [183]me to this! Oh! that I could change— Oh! that I could reverſe the paſſion—I would ſacrifice fifty years of my life to hate you.

Ah! what have I ſaid? To what violation of the truth hath my paſſion led me? No, my CARLISLE, no; I would not wiſh to hate you—wretched as I am, I would not even wiſh to love you leſs. Though the agony is extreme, there are moments of tranſport, known only to boſoms like mine, that repay me for it. Hate you—O heavens! what a word! what an idea to mix with that, which dreſſes up the irre⯑ſiſtible CARLISLE! Pardon the blot⯑tings which are ſtaining this part of my paper. They are made by tears that ſhew at leaſt ſome tincture of virtue. In other circumſtances you ſay it would [184]have been your pride to have courted the ſoftneſs which is now ſo preſſingly offered. How then is it poſſible my eyes ſhould be dry, when I perceive thoſe circumſtances ſo unlikely ever to hap⯑pen? Yet, I cannot loſe the idea—I cannot diſengage myſelf from the delu⯑ſion, though I know it to be no more. Perſiſt then in your virtue, Sir; but de⯑ny me not the little gale of pleaſure that blows from fancy. Continue to let me hope—continue to correſpond— only condeſcend to allow me the flattery of thinking I am not hated by the lovelieſt of men, and I will ſuſtain any thing for his ſake. I will remain quiet where I am, and ſit compoſed under the frown of virtue without temptation. I will bear the thought of even ſeeing again the Marquis. I will do any thing you would have me, if you will ſtill [185]continue to ſay you do not utterly exe⯑crate me, for a guilt occaſioned by ten⯑derneſs.

LETTER XLVII. Captain CARLISLE to Mr. LASCELLES.

MY dilemma is even greater than before. The incloſed, from Mr. DE GREY, is even more perplexing than that which you tranſmitted from the Marchioneſs. Both perplex my ima⯑gination, in what manner to anſwer them. Mr. DE GREY'S reaſon for in⯑quiring into the ſtate of my affections, is, evidently, for fear my return to Prudence Place, (now that his daugh⯑ter is in the full bloom of her ſenſe and beauty there) ſhould inſpire me with a paſſion that, he knows, would terminate in deſpair; appriſed too as he is of her engagement to Mr. MEDWAY. [187]It is very natural for him to imagine I ſhould fall into this charming tempta⯑tion; ſo that this is a little generous ſtratagem (under the guiſe of ordinary curioſity) to prevent the mortification, and the miſery in time. Mr. MEDWAY is ſo ſingular a man, that, if he did not conſtantly aſſure me almoſt every time he ſees me, that his paſſion runs before the wind, I ſhould ſcarce credit, that a perſon whom I hardly ever ſaw ſpeak to Miſs DE GREY, ſhould have made ſuch a progreſs in her affections. It is plain, however, now from her own conduct, that ſhe is fervently at⯑tached; for her addreſs, air, manner, and whole deportment to me, are utter⯑ly changed. I am no longer delighted by that lovely affability, which, though playful, was ever corrected by modeſty. She no longer conſults my taſte, which ſhe was wont to flatter, about her [188]dreſs, her ornaments, and ten thouſand innocent trifles, that, nevertheleſs, (tri⯑fles as they are) make up the chief en⯑dearment of domeſtic ſociety. She ſpeaks in form; her eye is averted; her ſentiments ſound ſtudied. We are no longer like CLEMENT and LUCIA, who employed their infant cares in rearing the ſame bower. Mr. DE GREY'S letter therefore, joined to Mr. MEDWAY'S aſſurances, and Miſs DE GREY'S beha⯑viour point out to me, pretty plainly, what kind of an anſwer it is proper for me to make to the former. I am ſome⯑what conſoled to reflect, that, even in my moſt familiar moments, I never en⯑tered flatly into overtures with LUCIA, ſo that I cannot create any uneaſineſs in her boſom upon my account; for, had that been the caſe, her ſenſibility is ſo uncommon, LASCELLES, ſhe would have felt for my diſappointment, amidſt [189]all the gaity of her own ſucceſſes. Since her heart is happily engaged (if ſhe thinks it ſo, it certainly is ſo) it now becomes a duty, more than ever, in me, to conceal the feelings of mine. Whatever be the violence of my paſ⯑ſion, it has no right to be troubleſome to any other boſom: and I was never able to account for that cowardly con⯑duct, which induces us to embitter the joy of a rival and a miſtreſs becauſe they were more fortunate or happy than ourſelves. Beſide, that ſuch complaints never awaken more than compaſſion which is not deſirable, they aggravate diſappointment till it ruſhes upon diſ⯑grace. But, methinks I hear you re⯑tort upon me: "Why trouble me with your miſery then, CLEMENT?" Ah LASCELLES, we are not ſuch abſtracted beings as to lock up our ſentiments, either of joy or ſorrow, in abſolute ſo⯑litude. The very thoughts would ſtag⯑nate, [190]by ſuch means. On ſome gene⯑rous breaſt every man muſt, by the ve⯑ry gravitation of his nature, lean for ſupport in [...] miſery. Every man culls from [...] ſpecies his congenial counterp [...] and it is as neceſſary to have a [...] our confidence, as a miſtreſs [...] tenderneſs. Away with thoſe [...] minds, which feel an ava⯑rice [...] their nobleſt feelings. Plu⯑rali [...] of friendſhips may, perhaps, like plu [...]a [...]ity of lovers, be [...]admiſſible; but, ſurely, it is very poſſiole to be fond of one miſtreſs and faithful to one friend, at the ſame time. Oh! Mr. LASCELLES, what hourly occaſion is there for one or other of theſe bleſſ⯑ings! As joys and ſorrows alternately prevail, how ſoothing is the congratu⯑lating hand and chearful voice to the one! and the gentle tear, or ſympathiz⯑ing ſigh to the other! Ah enchanting [191]communication! without which, even tranſport muſt lie languiſhing at the heart! and in misfortune the wretch who is ſe⯑parated from his ſpecies, and ſits looſe to the kindneſs of an individual, ſhall, like a wounded deer, lament his diſaſ⯑ter without pity, and die forlorn.

With reſpect to the Marchioneſs, I am every way ſo circumſtanced that I am puzzled even to reply to her. It would be too much like affectation, and a kind of male prudery in me to ſay, that, if matters were in another channel, I ſhould not be flattered by this over⯑bearing tide of tenderneſs in ſo beauti⯑ful an object. Heaven knows I am not inſenſible to the charms of beauty. Some⯑thing that at this moment preſſes hard upon my heart, convinces me I am not. But ſituated as I am, how is it poſſible to receive ſuch a letter as her laſt with⯑out [192]diſtreſs? Believe me, LASCELLES, I feel no elation at the compliment of ſo diſtinguiſhed a preference, although I acknowledge the Marchioneſs to be as you ſay, with your favourite Yorick, "amongſt the firſt order of fine forms." I acknowledge too her command over the paſſions: her fire; her eloquence; the delicacy of her ſhape; the dignity of her deportment: yet, I feel nothing but anxiety at her preſent conduct. The reaſon you will ſay, is, my ſecret attachment to another. Be it ſo. Yet, were even that barrier removed, I ſhould, I am poſitive, ſtill be unhappy, and not flattered, by the attentions of the charm⯑ing Marchioneſs. You are an animated man, and no doubt call me a cold⯑blooded creature! By no means. My paſſions are as lively as they generally are in any boſom at my age, but, per⯑haps, my taſte of voluptuouſneſs differs a [193]little from the general juvenile idea. I have a great pleaſure in pleaſing my own mind: nay, I have a great intereſt in ſo doing; whenever I have done wrong, I have always found that the pain reſult⯑ing from it, is too heavy to be counter⯑balanced by the pleaſure which pro⯑duced it. I have my wayward propen⯑ſities as well as another: a whim hath often ſeized me by the heart, and I have at all events indulged it. For the time, it was extaſy, and, for ought I can tell, the extaſy was heightened by a ſenſe of the venture at which the deed was done. Preſently (and indeed cloſe upon the heel of it) comes the per con⯑tra of the action, if you will ſuffer me to borrow a term from trade. My frolic being over, memory is command⯑ed, by a power we cannot reſiſt, to re⯑trace it; and if in going through the mazes of the paſt I met any thing [194]wrong, or uneven, againſt the cauſe of that integrity which I profeſs to love, the thorns are from that moment in my boſom, and for ſo much mirth, I am rewarded ſeven-fold in miſery. I am ſo conſtructed that I can no more ſtand againſt the rebuff of a bluſh on my own cheek than againſt the thunder of a cannon: the ſigh which my weak⯑neſs may at any time have extorted from another boſom, agonizes my own; and a tear, which I once, very unde⯑ſignedly, drew from an innocent crea⯑ture, haunts me from place to place, and the precious drop, for it was wrung from the eyes of Lucia, is ſtill trembling in my imagination.

I have enlarged upon this ſubject, becauſe my behaviour might want (to your fancy) an apology. That people do not all act on the ſame principle, is, [195]becauſe they do not all analyze the real cauſe of that anguiſh which ſo often treads upon pleaſure. There is, me⯑thinks, one ſimple law, that comprizes all the wiſdom of the prophets, and all the ſagacity of philoſophers: I feel it better than I can deſcribe it; but to give you ſome idea of it, I ſhall juſt lay it down as a note, that, whenever a man is upon the edge of an enjoyment, (let it relate to whatever part of indulgence it may) he has only to conſider, whe⯑ther it will not, ſooner or latter, be re⯑turned by more than an equal miſery: if, however, even the proſpect of greater pain does not deter, let him hazard the joy: then while the actual agony is full upon him, let him again compare the actual pleaſure: after this, his heart muſt be very perverſe, and his head very much intoxicated, if for the future his pleaſures are not ſuch as will not [196] burt him after they are over. Innocent pleaſures are, indeed, never over: they ſpring directly from the ſoul; and like that, they are immortal. Like mercy too, they are "twice bleſt:" they de⯑light us while they are acting, and con⯑ſcience makes them ſacred in reflec⯑tion.

It is upon this principle I am pro⯑ceeding with regard to AUGUSTA. She is the wife of a man to whom I had the honour to tender what he reckoned an obligation. This makes his property more eſpecially ſacred to me. She is, alſo, the wife of a man whom, not⯑withſtanding the roughneſs of his man⯑ners, I believe to be valuable. She is in truſt—In ſhort ſhe is every thing that ſhe ſhould not be to make a mi⯑ſtreſs of; and as I told you before, my taſte of voluptuouſneſs muſt have the pre⯑ſent [197]circumſtances wholly inverted — that is to ſay—ſhe muſt be unmarried, and averſe to marriage; unconnected, and unclaimed in the way of connexion, and I, unattached too—before I could congratulate myſelf upon the conqueſt of this flower of Italy.

Yet, till the Marquis comes, for Heaven's ſake uſe every method to ſoothe, and quiet her: do not adviſe your ſiſter to oppoſe her in the heat of her ſentiments. She is too furious for admonition. Her imagination is too much in its hey dey. Her paſſions will die of themſelves; and ſhe will conſo⯑lidate perhaps, after all, into a regular character. Her ſituation with you is ſo very delicate, that I know your ſiſter is in a dilemma; but ſtill, AU⯑GUSTA has many virtues. I have ſeen a thouſand inſtances of her benevolence: [198]the Italian peaſants bleſs her door, and kiſs the very threſhold of it, becauſe imprinted by her footſteps. She is at this time under the influence of Fancy; it is a ſort of feveriſh fit that attacks ſmartly at firſt, and will away again. The handſome creature is but juſt touching nineteen. She is a child, my dear LASCELLES, and this truant diſpo⯑ſition is a trick of the leading ſtring: without parents and of a vigorous ima⯑gination, ſhe is yet, as to human life, in the nurſery. No more, my friend— think not of her as of one abandoned: that is not the caſe. As to her glowing language, let not that diſpleaſe your ſiſter, though unaccuſtomed to her ear. The Italian women know nothing of that reſerve and pathetic baſhfulneſs, which guards the expreſſions of the Bri⯑tiſh fair. They ſpeak freely and flow⯑ingly—the Marchioneſs adds to the [199]cuſtom, even the ardours of conſtitu⯑tion. But, indeed, ſhe is not a baſe character—Once it is ſaid the Marquis in his violence ſtruck her. Her pride was hurt. She thought it beneath the dignity of the man who had figured at the front of an army—ſhe never forgave it—'twas wrong. But who hath not a fault to be forgiven? Fare⯑well. I have written myſelf into ſome compoſure, and that will plead my ex⯑cuſe for having ſo long intruded.

LETTER XLVIII. Miſs DE GREY to Miſs LASCELLES.

SURELY every day is com⯑miſſioned to preſent ſome new myſtery, and no hour decreed to unfold or ex⯑plain it! My father whiſpered, as I ſat at dinner yeſterday, that he had a little private converſation for me, and would contrive an opportunity very ſoon to chat with me. You know his me⯑thod of treating his children, CARO⯑LINE. Towards the cloſe of the even⯑ing (when Lord and Lady BLESSING⯑BOURNE were airing, Mrs. HEWSON at her looking-glaſs, where ſhe is prac⯑tiſing breeding, Mr. MEDWAY at the [201]river with his fiſhing-rod, and Mr. CAR⯑LISLE at his writing-deſk) we found the leiſure we wanted, and walked into the garden together. We will ſettle a little while in this very bower, my dear, ſays my father: 'tis as pretty and cooling as any in the garden.

Oh, CAROLINE, it was the bower of CLEMENT and LUCIA!

Yes, Sir, replied I; it is very pretty and cooling, indeed.

I ſuppoſe, LUCIA, your fellow-la⯑bourer who helped to make it has not paid it a viſit ſince his return. Such humble ſhades muſt yield to the ſpices of Italy. He has, to be ſure, forgot an arbour of mere Engliſh hawthorns and woodbines.

I — I — believe he has, Sir.

[202] A-propos, LUCIA, do you hold in the ſame mind ſtill? Do you ſtill think him the incomparable CARLISLE? Pru⯑dence Place can boaſt juſt at pre⯑ſent, ſeveral brilliant men. We have the laughter-loving Sir ANDREW, of a ve⯑ry agreeable perſon. We have the man⯑ly Mr. MEDWAY, odd, but amiable. Putting theſe both againſt Mr. CAR⯑LISLE, is he ſtill the ſuperlative degree? There are two to one LUCIA. What ſay you?

I believe they have all their merit, Sir.

But is their merit perfectly equal in your opinion, my dear?

As to that, Sir, I—ſhould ſuppoſe— no doubt—that is—in ſhort, Sir, as I have not known them all the ſame time— [203]as one can judge more of intimates than caſual acquaintances—

You prefer CLEMENT, I ſuppoſe?

I have known him the longeſt, Sir.

MEDWAY, my dear, has great con⯑nexions.

Sir?

Sir ANDREW has good humour, and will be heir to Lord BLESSINGBOURNE.

Sir —?

But CARLISLE is the more accom⯑pliſhed gentleman.

Moſt certainly he is, Sir, beyond compariſon.

[204] Do you think beyond compariſon, LU⯑CIA?

Sir—?

I ſay, my dear LUCIA, do you real⯑ly think—that—that?

Bleſs me, Sir, how faint the air gets when the breeze falls, at this ſeaſon of the year—

Yonder comes GEOFFRY.

From Mr. CARLISLE; perhaps upon private buſineſs—I will, if you pleaſe, withdraw, Sir.

If the heat is troubleſome, pray do, my dear.

Very troubleſome, indeed, Sir—Lord bleſs me! there is not a breath of wind. [205]As ſure as can be, there is a tempeſt in the ſkies.

Thus ended our dialogue—What does it mean, CAROLINE? I never was more confuſed in my life. What could old GEOFFRY be coming for? The old fellow, who only wiſhes himſelf young again to diſpatch with more haſte the commands of his maſter, quite ran on the occaſion.

On my return into the houſe, I met Mr. MEDWAY with an handkerchief full of fiſh, and in the higheſt degree pleaſ⯑ed with his ſucceſs. By way of courteſy en paſſant, I told him, he muſt certainly carry a charm about him to attract ſo many fiſh out of the water in ſo little a time. Upon which he caught hold of my wriſt, and, after looking round the [206]room to ſee if any body was preſent— huſh—huſh—for God's ſake, child— walls have eyes—and worms have ears, as I always told you.

From this, and ſome other ſtrange things, I have ſeen in this man, I am convinced his head is not exactly as it ſhould be.

Not a view of CARLISLE all this morning ſince breakfaſt. No ſollicita⯑tion to ſing, to touch the guittar, to walk in the garden, to count the fruit, to read Pope, to—to—to—

It is very barbarous he ſhould all at once take ſuch a diſlike to me!

I wiſh Italy had been far enough be⯑fore he had ſeen it. Pray, my dear, [207]are the ladies ſo very beautiful in that country? Towards Rome for inſtance! I have been looking into my father's library for a ſort of hiſtory, and manners of that country. Not, indeed, that I am concerned in the matter; but yet, if any thing of this kind happens to fall in your way, you may purchaſe and ſend it me by the firſt con⯑veyance.

P. S.

Lord B. ſets out this evening from our Place to his ſeat in Shropſhire. Sir [208]ANDREW continues with us, on pur⯑poſe to teaze the ſilly HEWSONS. MED⯑WAY is to be mad with us all the ſea⯑ſon.

LETTER XLIX. Lord BLESSINGBOURNE to Mr. DE GREY.

WE got, without miſchance, to the Abbey. I beg to know whether you have conſidered the ſubject we diſ⯑courſed upon. Sir ANDREW is no mean match, Mr. DE GREY. He will, one day, be Earl of BLESSINGBOURNE, for which change of his name, I have a peremptory command in my Will. If you ſend me word you are ſatisfied as to the matter, I will tranſmit directions for him to think more particularly of the young Lady, whoſe good qualities [210]my Lady and I have determined with⯑in ourſelves to be equivalent to want of title, and that is certainly ſaying a great deal. Sir ANDREW is worthy, though he is too great a laugher, and he will make a good huſband. Your offer of forty thouſand pounds with Miſs DE GREY is liberal: half that with a coronet would be ſufficient. How⯑ever, if there are honours on one ſide, it reflects dignity on both. If ſhe mar⯑ries Sir ANDREW ſhe ſtands a chance of being a Counteſs; to which brilliant probability I will add the fellow ſum to your's down, two thouſand pounds worth of diamonds; a thouſand pounds for a wedding dinner, and the hand⯑ſomeſt ſet of cream-colours, with ſil⯑ver trappings, and the BLESSINGBOURNE creſt engraven thereon. I have the ho⯑nour [211]to encloſe for you the ſalutations of the Counteſs, and to be,

LETTER L. Captain CARLISLE to R. DE GREY, Eſq.

TO ſhew my eſteem for your mode of conveying your laſt ſentiments, I adopt it. To imitate, is to admire. Many parts of your favour went quite home to the ſeat of the tendereſt ſen⯑ſations; particularly where you diſ⯑cover to me, in a ſtyle peculiar to your pen, that regard, which has ever been the moſt diſtinguiſhed honour and bleſſing of my life.

All your queſtions have a claim upon my anſwer, and upon my ſincerity. [213]You addreſs me on a delicate ſubject. I ſee, plainly, how much my happi⯑neſs, in every ſtate of my life, is at your heart. Of the conjugal con⯑nexion, I think with veneration and ſenſibility; but I am exceedingly young, and ſhall, in all probability, gain a lit⯑tle more domeſtic knowledge, and of that prudence which belongs to family, before I change my condition. When⯑ever there is the ſmalleſt proſpect of this happening, it cannot be long a ſe⯑cret out of Mr. DE GREY's boſom.

P. S.

I had almoſt forgotten to mention the money-affair. It is not poſſible [214]for the poor to want a friend or an in⯑ſtructor while Mr. DE GREY is at Pru⯑dence Place; and if the charge of my fortune is not abſolutely troubleſome to him, there is no bank wherein it can lie with ſo much ſatisfaction to me.

LETTER LI. Mr. LASCELLES to Captain CARLISLE.

HOW pitiable it is, my dear CARLISLE, that you ſhould be ſo cir⯑cumſtanced as to find it utterly impoſ⯑ſible to return the extatic fondneſs of this bewitching woman! She is abſo⯑lutely an angel. Some new dreſſes have lately been put on, and ſhe ſets them off with ſuch an elegance, ſuch a taſte, ſuch a naiveté, it is impoſſible to look at her without an ejaculation of plea⯑ſure and admiration. Allowing all your arguments their full force, I muſt ſtill confeſs, there is a ſomething cold and icy about your heart, that cannot be [216]melted by ſuch a blaze of beauty—eſ⯑pecially as the lady is ſo perfectly will⯑ing, and not at all unreaſonably nice. She loves your perſon well enough to take it on your own terms: ſhe does not pre⯑tend to capitulate: the citadel is your own, and you may do what you will with it. Oh—ſaid ſhe, the other day (while the tears were ſtreaming from her lovely eyes)—oh, that I could ſee him but one moment in every day, I would be content with annihilation for the reſt of the twenty-four hours. By Heavens, CARLISLE, if any woman half ſo beautiful had avowed ſuch a ſentiment in my favour, I would have ſhewn my gratitude for it at the price of my exiſtence—but you, on the contrary, though as virtuous as a ſaint, are as frigid as a Freezelander. I queſ⯑tion whether you ever approached the [217]lips of this lovely one ſince they firſt de⯑clared a paſſion for you. It requires, I confeſs, all the elaborate excuſes you have made, to wipe off the imputation of an inſenſible; and even after all your pains, I freely tell you, that I think you are too ſcrupulous upon this occa⯑ſion. I ſpeak frankly, out of pity to the Marchioneſs, and for your pleaſure. Ad⯑mitting your paſſion for Miſs DE GREY to be ever ſo great, what, I wonder, has that to do with a ſnug convenient beauty, by way of, my friend in a corner, at ano⯑ther quarter of the world? Your no⯑tions are abſolutely antediluvian. I do not know another man in the world, who would not leap at your ſituation. In the name of pleaſure then, make the beſt of it! I thought at firſt as you do, but I ſpeak now upon mature deli⯑beration. There is no doubt but the Marchioneſs would change her name, [218]live quietly in the place you provide for her, be happy as if in Heaven to get a ſight of you once a fortnight, and there would be an end of the thing. Do then, let me adviſe you, put a pe⯑riod to theſe complaints; open the cage of the beautiful priſoner, and ſet the pretty little heart, that is now beating as it were at the wires till it pants again, perfectly at eaſe. It is with great dif⯑ficulty I keep her from writing to you every day. The idea of the Marquis ſets her already raving; but I cannot by any means draw from her, nor can my ſiſter, any account of her family, ſup⯑poſed to be in town. She ſays, they would force her again to the arms of the deteſted Marquis. But I have pro⯑poſed a proper ſalvo for all thoſe ſores, and, if you have the leaſt lively ſpark of the young man, or of merry human [219]nature in you, you will not neglect it. Compliments to our friend Sir ANDREW.

LETTER LII. Captain CARLISLE to G. LASCELLES, Eſq.

YOUR letter has not been an hour in my hand, and, although my heart was full of other matter, I have now neither ear nor pen for any thing but an anſwer to it. Do you know, in the firſt place, that I looked at your ſeal, and at your ſuperſcription, and at the very cut of your letters, before I would credit the thing to be your's? In this age of forgery, I was in good hope, ſomebody had made free with my friend. But as it appears that the letter did ab⯑ſolutely proceed from you, I muſt pro⯑ceed to an explicit reply.

[221] Make a proſtitute of the poor girl, Mr. LASCELLES? Seek out a conve⯑nient apartment, and compel the charm⯑ing eyes, which you ſay now weep with love, grow wild with the ſparklings of rage and deſpair? What, Sir, would you wiſh me to ſeclude her from all va⯑luable ſociety, and to ſink her from a Marchioneſs of the firſt figure and faſhion, to a mere miſtreſs—from a young, elegant woman, to a ſcorned, abandoned daughter of the brothel! Is this the method in which you would have me return my compliment, for a long, a weary, an hapleſs, and an un⯑fortunate journey of a thouſand miles? However miſplaced the affection ſhe is pleaſed to beſtow upon me, and how⯑ever impoſſible it is for me to reward it, I am ſtill bound to her even for her very misfortune. It is my fate, and not me, that declines what, in ſome [222]caſes, might have been my greateſt bleſſing. Surely, Mr. LASCELLES, I owe her gratitude of a very different complexion from that bluſhleſs one, you recommend. My heart bleeds for her. From me ſhe ſhould claim an at⯑tentive anxiety how to recompenſe the throbbings in her boſom; the moſt in⯑duſtrious care to reconcile her again to her huſband, to contrive means of heal⯑ing up any breach, which my unfortu⯑nate acquaintance with that gentleman may have occaſioned. Theſe are the ſervices ſhe ſhould expect from me, and to offer theſe is at once my ſtudy, and my effort. But I will not believe you ſerious; or, if you are, your compaſſion has hurried you into a precipitancy, that only wants ſhewing you, to be repented of.

[223] This, my dear LASCELLES, is aſ⯑ſuredly the caſe. Beſides which, de⯑pend upon it, you have miſtaken the Marchioneſs. She could not ſtoop to the ignominious terms you have pro⯑poſed to me for her. If ſhe really loves, there muſt be ſome degree of refine⯑ment in the partiality; and believe me, LASCELLES, many a woman has felt a ſecret predilection in favour of a man, who would ſtart with hor⯑ror from an act of predetermined per⯑fidy. If it were not for the appearance of an implied compliment to myſelf, I ſhould not at all ſcruple to ſay, I be⯑lieve, any partiality, AUGUSTA may have, unluckily, conceived in my fa⯑vour, proceeds, wholly, from ſome imaginary virtues which ſhe is pleaſed to think I poſſeſs. I dare ſwear ſhe is taken by certain qualities in your friend, which (as ſhe has enriched and magni⯑fied [224]them) appear to her deſerving eſteem. Upon this principle, you have, indeed, propoſed an effectual plan for making her deteſt me. To diſcolour the image ſhe has flatteringly dreſſed up, by placing in its ſtead a ſeducer and ingrate, might perhaps prove a ſucceſſful remedy: but this, my dear LASCELLES, would be pur⯑chaſing averſion more fatally than any thing that can reaſonably ariſe out of the partiality itſelf. No, no, my friend.

Enough however has been urged: you are convinced, and, therefore, you are dear as you ever were, to

P. S.

Sir ANDREW returns your devoir. He is as merry as ridicule can make [225]him; his preſent objects, now his uncle is gone, are two fooliſh bumpkin bro⯑thers, and a handſome ſimpleton of a wife to one of them.