LETTER V. Arthur Howard to Charles Falkland.

My dear Falkland,

Here comes the day for sealing my promised packet, which you will find to contain the last week's register of matters and things as time glides on at Glenalta.—Well; shall I begin by giving you this day's impression, or travel, like a crab, backwards, in order to get forward? As the latter will be in the Irish style, and also conformable to my promise, I suppose that I must give it the preference. To return then—I made up my budget on Wednesday night, went to bed, tossed about rather feverishly for an hour or two, partly from this plaguy cough, which was, I conclude, excited by my journey, and partly, no doubt, from the irritation of my temper. Sleep, however, that "sweet restorer," as our poet so beautifully calls it, came ere long to my aid, and my eyes were closed until they opened at once upon Lewis, and the most brilliant sunshine I ever beheld!

"Lewis, I will get up before the family are stirring—I want to look about me, and see something of this place before breakfast." "Lord, sir," replied my squire, "the people of this house I believe live without sleep, at least if I may judge by what I have seen as yet. I was up myself at half past six, and the young ladies were coming then from the sea when I went down stairs. They are off upon some other prank now, for I saw two of them on donkies, and Mr. Frederick is, I know not where, but certainly not in his room, for the door and windows of it are wide open."

I jumped up, and at eight o'clock sallied forth in quest of adventures. The Glen, in which my aunt's dwelling is situated, is most assuredly quite lovely; and this time of the year is so charming in itself, that it is provoking that all things here should not be in harmony. Just conceive a set of Blue Stockings in a scene fit for nothing but love-music and romance,—faith it is mortifying; not that I am near so angry as I was when I last wrote. No; they are all very prudent, I must own; but the accursed thing is there, and only waiting for an opportunity to overwhelm me;—but to my diary.

I had not gone ten yards from the hall door, along a winding pathway that leads through a wood to the sea, when, fascinated by the beauty of every thing around me, I thought that I would run back for my sketch-book, and try if I could not at least take notes of the view near the house, particularly as I shall leave it so soon, before I joined the family party. Just as I regained my own room, I met pretty Fan, looking like a rose-bud. "Fred. and I have been searching every where for you, Arthur, to give you your little dose of milk warm from the cow, which I am determined shall cure your cough, and make you as fat as my Flora." So saying, off she skipped, desiring me to wait for her return, and in a few seconds she came back in the character of Hebe, bearing a goblet of high-frothed milk instead of nectar, not for Jupiter, but your humble servant. Never having been paid such an attention in all my life before, I felt rather at a nonplus. Not a line from Scott, Byron, or any of our British bards!—no, not even the "Thought upon new milk," at which you and I have laughed in the Rolliad, came to my relief. Not intimate enough to be thus served by a princess of the castle, without returning some acknowledgment, and nothing either chivalric or poetical starting to my rescue, I was completely at fault, and looked, perhaps for the first time, something like Simon Pure. Fanny, however, did not seem to observe any thing but the main point of whether the draught were honestly dregged to the very bottom.—"Drink it all; the conserve of roses, I dare say, will reward the last gulp,—there, that is a dear boy—it will do you good;" and away flitted my nymph of the mountain, saying, as she sped along, that she would come and walk with me in a moment. Scarcely had I lost sight of her, before she was back again; and all animation, with youth, health, and good humour, she ran up to me and said—"Old Lawrence does not treat me so formally as you do; he does not look surprised when I offer him a glass of milk; but smiles kindly, with a 'bless you, missy,' as my reward."

"What," answered I, "have you been meting out your favors this morning to a set of pensioners, amongst whom I have the honour to be classed? If that be the case, my gratitude might be taken from the general tribute, and hardly missed."—"Oh, then, I see how it is," replied my little coz, "you are offended at me for having taken care of a helpless old man in company with a smart and fashionable young one; but you will not be angry when I tell you, that this dear old soul is the precious mother's foster-father." "And pray, my amiable Fan, what is the meaning of foster-father, for in my life I never happened to hear of such a relation."—"Well, you astonish me, Arthur; I find that you have a great deal to learn. Old Lawrence, or Lorry, as you will soon be taught to call him, was husband to mamma's nurse. Nanny is dead, and much did we grieve for her; but it is a great consolation for her loss, that we are enabled to make her excellent and aged partner so happy and comfortable as he is at Glenalta. Remember, too, that the blessed sun does not shine less brightly upon you, dear Arthur, because it warms our poor old man: and when you think of this, you will never grudge him a share of Drimindhu's milk."

"And who, may I ask, is Drimindhu?" rejoined I. "A favourite cow. Our Kerry cows are beautiful, and not unlike those of Alderney; but Drim is my own property, and her milk is better than any other; at least, I think so, or I would not give it to you and Lorry. Have your sisters pets of this kind at Selby?" "No, indeed, my sisters know very little of cows; and I question whether they ever heard that it is these animals which supply us with milk. Louisa and Adelaide live for a great part of every year in town, and when they go down into Buckinghamshire, or to Brighton, or elsewhere, they ride and drive, but never take any part in domestic affairs."—"Well, then," answered Fanny, "I am sorry for it—they lose a very great pleasure by not cultivating a love for the country and its pursuits. The act of loving is so delightful, that it always seems like the soul's sunshine; and I never understand the character of the Deity so well as when I think of Him as a God of Love."

Though I could not refrain from smiling, I felt for the time that Fanny's view of things was very contagious. The splendor of a May morning, the freshness of Nature, and the concert of singing birds, had put me into a disposition to be pleased, and the simplicity of this dear little girl had all the stimulating effect of novelty on my senses.

At this moment, turning round a wooded knoll which we had been skirting while thus engaged in a sort of conversation so unlike what I had ever been accustomed to, a group of three donkies appeared in view. "Here they come," exclaimed Fanny; and, darting with the fleetness of a greyhound, she flew to meet her sisters, who were attended by a peasant-boy, carrying a basket before him. Nothing could be more picturesque than the scene, and it was much heightened by the approach of these rustic equestrians. While I was moving towards them, a fine pointer passed me by at full speed, and a tap on my shoulder announced Frederick, who came running across the grass to join the party. A few moments brought us together, and, to my amazement, the brother and sisters met with as much demonstration of gladness at sight of each other as Louisa, Adelaide, and I could have mustered after a year's separation. The effect was pleasant; and, if sincere, this affection which the people here discover towards each other has something very comfortable in it; but it is only calculated for this sort of place, and, like hospitality, naturally flies into these recesses of the earth, where the objects are scarce upon which one's practice can be exercised. Politeness is necessary to a certain degree in the world, and even that may be overdone; but beyond this how little of the heart does one see brought into play, and indeed on a great theatre the thing would be impracticable, if it were not such a bore as to render an attempt to love every one that a man meets as absurd as it is impossible. But I digress.—Large coarse straw hats shaded my pretty cousins from the sun, which shone brightly. The eldest has a peculiar expression, made up of the intellectual and pensive, which is singularly agreeable, though her features are not regular enough for what requires no periphrasis to describe, but is at once called beauty. Charlotte is very pleasing also; her countenance is less strongly marked than Emily's by reflection, but it is quick as lightning—and full of sensibility; while Fanny's face exhibits a mixture of all the varied characteristics of both her sisters', or may perhaps be more properly denominated a mirror, in which every movement of their minds that makes it way to the surface, is shadowed with fidelity.

All were in a hurry to get home lest my aunt should be kept waiting a moment; and so quick were the subsequent operations, that Frederick has assisted the two damsels from their donkies, the riding costume was doffed, as if by magic; and ere it seemed possible to have gone through half the preliminary work of preparation for breakfast, a bell tingled, and hastily pocketing my sketch-book, I quitted my station near the house, where I had lingered to make a memorandum of the spot, and was met at the door by Fred. who stopped my entrance, saying, "Arthur, my mother fears it may not be agreeable to you to attend family prayers; and, as you are an invalid, I am desired to say, that you are not to consider yourself bound to our hours, or observances; therefore, my dear fellow, as you have of course said your own prayers, do not think it necessary to join us; but Lewis has been asked, and as it is pleasant to be sure of religious instruction for the servants, I came to mention the circumstance, lest you should want your valet."

Now the fact was, that though you know I do say my prayers generally, and think the practice a right one, I had not knelt down on that morning. The stimulus of a new place, the vexation of the preceding evening, and a sort of restless curiosity to look about me, and make my observations while I had an opportunity of being alone; all excited me to quit my room as fast as I could, and I did so without a syllable of devotion: behold me, then, again caught in the trap; and having blundered out something of being "very happy, &c. &c." Frederick led the way, and in a small room where there was no appearance of eatables, I found Mrs. Douglas and her daughters.

My aunt, who is about forty, is a heavenly looking being, without being handsome in the common sense of the word. Her character of countenance, manner, dress, is entirely and exclusively her own, without conveying in any thing the idea of eccentric. Her smile is lovely, and seems to warm into life and serenity whatever it rests upon.

The exquisite lines, written by I know not whom, from which I have made this extract, seem to have been drawn for my aunt. The portraiture is perfect; but I must not forget that we are all fasting. I was received with "welcome, my Arthur," which I do not know why, gave me a lump in my throat—a mixed sensation of pain and pleasure, which I have very seldom experienced. The servants, neatly dressed, and decorously arranged, lined the room. Fanny placed old Lawrence's cushion, and a psalm, which was read by Frederick, was succeeded by a prayer from his mother, pronounced with such a thrilling pathos, that I felt it "knock at my heart," as our friend Russell said one day of an Irish melody. I admire not only my aunt's selection, but since she must have family devotion, her judgment in limiting the time which it occupies to so short a period. Nobody seems either tired or inattentive; but the petition is so simple, so energetic, and so reasonable in point of duration, that really one cannot say much against the practice, after all: custom, too, familiarizes one in a day or two to kneeling down among the servants, so that on the whole I have no right to complain; and as I shall not describe our genuflections again, you may fancy me performing my matins and vespers with monastic regularity. The Roman Catholic servants here attend as punctually as the Protestants, and of their own free will, as my aunt dreads hypocrisy, and therefore deprecates the idea of compelling her household to a mere lip-worship; but her prayers include all who require divine assistance, of whatever kind; and the people seem to feel that she is truth itself.

Well, we went to breakfast, and a very nice one it was. The soil of this country and its humid atmosphere appear favourable to grass, and all the dairy department is much better managed than in England, at least as to the excellence of the milk, cream, and butter, when brought upon the table; for I do not profess to be acquainted, as yet, with the manipulations which they undergo.

"My children, have you been fortunate in your ramble this morning? What plants have you brought me?" asked Mrs. Douglas. I now expected a first dissertation upon stamens and pistils—felt myself starching my countenance involuntarily into a most repellent expression, and was hastening to swallow a bit of toast that I might turn to Frederick while the Linnæan lecture continued, when Emily quickly, but joyously answered, "Oh, I am delighted to tell you, that we found every thing you want except the club-moss."

Much pleased, as well as surprised, I ventured now to hint about the botanical books which I had glanced at, adding, "I thought that you were all learned in botany as well as the whole circle of sciences." A hearty laugh went round the table, and Emily replied, "We know a few plants, and it is very amusing to go in search of them in our mountain walks."—"And pray," I asked, "have they not all long Latin teeth-breaking names? I dare say you know some scientific title for club-moss." "I do know another name," said Emily, "but the English is always the easiest and pleasantest, when one does not want to be precise." "Then, Emmy, we may set about our recipe to-day, I think," half whispered little Fan. Growing bold, now that I had broken the ice, I proceeded to say, "So then you are doctors, too. Upon my word, it is somewhat formidable to come into the midst of an academy in this unprepared manner. You should all put on wigs, and write treatises; and you should inform your friends what course is necessary to be read before they come to examination."

What answer I should have received to this sally, I cannot tell, for in the moment of uttering it, the door opened, and my aunt's dear friend, Mr. Otway, made his appearance. The vivid joy with which he was greeted was quite unlike any thing that I had ever seen, before my acquaintance here; but it was neither noisy nor overwhelming, and though certainly very unfashionable, I could not for the life of me help feeling how very delightful it must be to excite so much lively emotion of a pleasurable kind by one's presence. Mr. Otway's presence was welcomed with rapture by the whole group, though in the expression of each bien venu there was something individually characteristic. My aunt's reception of a person for whom she feels affection, is touchingly kind; and while the bright glow of hospitality lights up her whole manner and appearance, the gleam is accompanied by a sort of tender melancholy, which would evidently conceal itself were it possible, but which, when interpreted, seems to say, "there was a time when you would have been doubly welcome, for then I was not alone."

Her smile brings that beautiful image in Ossian to my mind, which you and I have admired, "It was like a sun-beam on the dark side of a wave." Fanny's exclamation, upon Mr. Otway's entrance, was, "Oh, dearest Phil. can this indeed be you?" To expound this extraordinary salutation would have been difficult when first I heard it; but I am now enabled to say, that this gay assembly christened him "The Philosopher," because of his extensive knowledge, to which all the family are in the habit of appealing as to a great bank of deposit; and it appears, that no letter of credit drawn upon it has ever been dishonored. Phil. then, is short-hand for philosopher, and my ear is now familiar with this playful abbreviation.

The first effervescence over, I was presented to, and met with a cordial shake of the hand by Mr. Otway, to whom I must now introduce you. He is about five-and-fifty, tall, and striking in his appearance, with a fine forehead, remarkably intelligent eyes, and splendid teeth. His manners are easy and polished: and though the first coup d'[oe]il was a little in the Robinson Crusoe style, yet, when he put off a large and shaggy looking cloak, laid by a prodigious staff, like that of a watchman, which he held in his hand, and got rid of a cap, the laps of which were folded over his cheeks when he first came in, I perceived that he was a remarkably well-looking man; perhaps I should say distingué most decidedly, and thereby hangs a tale, for my evil genius was at hand, and I got into a scrape on account of him ere an hour elapsed after his introduction; but not to anticipate, it seems that a long illness had confined him for some time, and this was the first visit that he had made on foot, which was the reason of his being unusually muffled, and also of the more than common happiness expressed at sight of him. He sat only a few minutes, but promised to dine on the following day; and immediately after his departure my aunt, addressing herself to me, said, "Arthur, my love, we are a home-spun set of people here, very unlike the world to which you are accustomed, and instead of passing our mornings in amusement, we go to our several occupations till two o'clock, at which hour you will always find luncheon in the breakfast-parlour, and your cousins ready to ride or walk; but as you must not be expected to drop all at once into our old-fashioned ways, Frederick and Emily shall be your companions to-day, Charlotte and Fanny to-morrow. In this manner, you will be acquainted with our walks, and introduced to our sunny bowers. When Fred.'s next examinations are over, he will be a free man; and in the mean time you will, I know, bear with our stupidity."—So saying, she pressed my hand, and left the room, followed by the younger girls.

"Shall we walk or ride to-day?" said Emily. "We are your attendant knights," answered Frederick, "and wait your decision." "Oh, oh!" quoth I, "Sir Charles Grandison upon our hands:" I did not, however, say so aloud; I thought it better to feel my way a little, and only replied, "Certainly."—Emily, with perfect ease, rejoined, that she thought we might perhaps do both, and, turning to her brother, added, "Suppose that we take him first through the Glen, then round the coppice to Lisfarne Wood; and after luncheon, if Arthur is not tired, we may ride up the mountain, and shew him the bay." Matters were arranged in a moment, and forth we sallied, Frederick presenting one arm to his sister and the other to me. "Pooh! what a piece of ceremony you are," said I. "How so?" eagerly asked Emily; "Fred. is so affectionate, that he cannot be formal: his heart always serves with him in the place of etiquette, by suggesting all that the most genuine politeness could dictate: his attentions are not confined to strangers; but, unlike those of cold mannerists, are bestowed upon the people whom he loves best."

This savoured of a sting, and I felt my colour rising; but in a second I found that none could have been designed; indeed, how should it, for they knew nothing of my conduct with my sisters, and therefore could never have intended a stab in the dark. "Plague on these retirements," thought I to myself, "where there is no standard for good manners but people's own crude notions of what is right and wrong! This ponderous machinery of morals, brought to bear upon every trifle, is as difficult to be at ease with, as the heavy cross-stitch, long-backed chairs of antiquity which are just suited to such buckram, and it is a pity that the furniture at Glenalta is not in keeping with these straight-laced puritans who are its inhabitants."—Thoughts are rapid, and these flew over my mind so fleetly as not to be fashioned into any sort of utterable form, when the gay cheerfulness of my companions dispelled the passing cloud, and we took a delightful walk, which was enlivened by a great deal of pleasant conversation. We talked of Killarney, which they tell me I must visit when I cease to bark. We planned some boating parties, which, by the bye, will be just the thing, and kill two birds with one stone; for the physicians, my mother tells me in her last letter, desire me to go upon the water, and as I like it excessively I shall have the credit of being a very docile patient. They tell me that there are some curious remnants of antiquity, which I am to see; and, in short, we cut out work enough to occupy some time, which, if I can spin out in this back settlement of mankind, tant mieux.

Well, but now for my scrape, and a devil of a one I can tell you it was. While we were jogging on as merrily as possible, Fred. made a hop, step, and jump into the bottom of a ditch, "Emily, what is this?" as he snapped at something growing near the bottom. I do believe, answered she, that it is a leaf of the parnassia; but to make sure, we will keep it for dear Phil. This unlucky Phil. was my stumbling block. "By the bye," I said, "he is a very fine looking man of his age," and totally forgetting where I was, Old Nick put it into my head to add, "pray, is he one of aunt's aspirants?" If I had fired a pistol at Emily, she could not have been more amazed. For a second she stood motionless, and then burst into tears. I begged a thousand pardons, and asked how I had offended, while Frederick, exactly as if he had been her lover, pressed her hand with the most affectionate solicitude, and leading his sister towards the bank, we were all seated by a sort of tacit consent in a moment. A silence while you could reckon ten, ensued, and I felt foolish enough, as well as vexed, at such a contre tems in the midst of our good humour. Again I mentally cursed botanists, philosophers, and precieuses, though I must own they were not to blame upon the present occasion, when it was my own confounded folly in forgetting what a Ninette à la Cour I had to deal with that produced this vexatious kick up. But while I was biting my lip, and thinking what I should say next, Emily brushed off her tears, and seizing my hand in the kindest manner, gently implored my forgiveness, as if she had been the offender, and with as much naïveté and tenderness, as if she had never read a word of Greek or Latin in her life, said with energy, "Arthur, will you pardon me. I know that you could never have meant the least degree of unkindness; I was very foolish not to recollect in the instant when you spoke, that you were only jesting; but I am so jealous for my beloved mother, and feel such love and respect for her valued friend, that unaccustomed to any other sentiments than those of reverence and affection, I was quite unprepared for your joke, which I know you will not repeat: say that you forgive me." I felt really grateful for this good-natured address, because I had certainly distressed her, and I therefore said very sincerely that I was sorry for having inadvertently touched a chord that vibrated so sensitively, adding, "but you do me only justice in believing that nothing was further from my intentions than to wound your feelings. I live in a world where such things are said every day with impunity, and in fact (if you will not be angry with me for explaining) I meant simply to say, that Mr. Otway and my aunt seem well suited to each other. She is still a very attractive woman, and he seems to feel that she is so. Now dear Emily is not this 'the very head and front of mine offending?'" "I will try and not again expose myself," said Emily, "by giving way to impulses which should be under better control; it is very wrong, as well as silly I know, to judge all things and people by the same standard; and therefore I ought to have remembered, that the gay circle of fashion in which you live, must of necessity be governed both in habits and opinions by a rule as different as possible from any that guides our simple hearts in the Kerry mountains. Now then, here is my bargain,—I will not be angry any more, and you will not draw conclusions, till you are better acquainted at Glenalta. When you are, you will not be inclined to repeat the treason; you will then see clearly how much you mistake the characters of the persons who surround you: when the subject may be more interesting than it can be while you are a mere stranger here, I will give you a sketch of Mr. Otway's history; till then, you are to be a calm observer."

All this was said with an air that partook of playful and serious; and while it conveyed the most cheerful pardon to me, intimated as clearly, that the error I had committed was not a slight one. Frederick gave an encouraging look at his sister, and merrily turning to me, finished, by saying, "We shall all be intimate by and by, and see each other as we really are; till then, we must obey our little mistress." Frederick and Emily appear quite devoted to one another. We recovered our fracas very speedily; and after a walk through some of the most beautiful scenery I ever saw, returned home. Just as we were leaving a coppice that joins with the shrubbery grounds, a poor woman without shoes or stockings, and one of the most grotesque figures I ever beheld, popped upon her knees while we were crossing a stream; recollecting suddenly that I was now in the island of saints, I expected to hear an ave at least from this poor disciple of St. Patrick; but with uplifted hands, streaming eyes, and county of Kerry whine, she invoked the "'blessed Virgin' to shower down her best gifts on Emily's head" "Oh Miss, mavourneen, Jem is well again, and going to work; and I made bould to come over the mountain with a bit o' fish and a little hen for ye." "Eileen, I thank you heartily," said Emily, "and am very glad to hear that your husband is better; but where are your shoes and stockings?" "Honey, I left 'em at home, a fear I'd be wearing 'em out too soon; but the flax you gave me is a'most spun, and when I gets the price of it, I'll have another pair of stockings, and then, plase God, I'll not come to your honor any more bare-footed."

How strange is this sort of thing! and yet this creature, scarcely human, had a kind of natural grace about her which I believe to be the offspring of enthusiasm: she was not at all abashed by my presence, but tripped lightly along with us, as if assured that she was welcome to Emily, who seemed her principal object, though turning to Fred. presently, she exclaimed "Och, then Maisther Frederick, how low my poor Jem was the last day that your honor comed to see him! sure he called to little Tade, and tould him to bring down the priest, and not tell me, a fear I'd be fretted; and sure enough, Father Clancy come to us afore night fall, and said a dail over him in gibberish like, that Jem did'nt know a word of; why then, ever since, he's growing better every day; God bless Father Clancy, and the physicks that I gets from Miss Emly."

I was much amused: this was worthy a place in Miss Edgeworth's Absentee; but we were now opening a little wicket into the shrubbery, and Eileen stopping, told Emily that she would go round, it not being fit for "the likes of her to come in front of the house." Emily's answer was, "you should come this way my good Eileen, if it was the shortest, but you shall go round by those trees, because you will get rid of your load directly by doing so, and I will go with you to keep Carlo from barking at you." How new to me is all this attention to the feelings of mere peasants; and yet my mother's family are all zealous reformists, and of course talk much of the people. The reason no doubt of all this is to be found in the total ignorance of the world which prevails here. We had now come within a few paces of the verandah, when Fanny, with a delighted face, flew up to her brother and me, "Pray do look! the warm sunshine of this day is bringing out my grubs, and I shall have butterflies before the usual time." "Aye, Fan, said Frederick, but you will not prevail on this day's warmth to last, and your early butterflies may be killed by frost, if you force them out before their time." This was a new idea, and abated Fanny's joy, who now ran off to consult her mother and Emily upon this matter of importance. I find my obedience to your commands, will involve me in quires of paper, so if you do not desire a stationer's bill of large amount to be brought in to you, upon your return, you must let me skip now and then, after giving you these peeps into character.

Imagine now a nice luncheon furnished with fine apples that have outlived the winter, milk, honey, and sandwiches. Suppose us all met, and an arrangement entered upon, for the mountain ride. Charlotte, Fanny, Fred. and I, mounted, and my aunt setting out in a little donkey cart with Emily, upon some of their inventions. We took a charming ride, and I certainly feel this air quite a balsam in itself. These dear little girls; think of their having prepared Iceland moss, and made up the finest stuff you ever tasted for a cold, which they have left in my room. At every turn I find some mark of kind attention, and all this without fuss, or the slightest demand upon my gratitude.

Brother and sisters were gay and agreeable during our excursion.

Frederick is a very fine fellow, with excellent abilities and noble spirits; and in short, what with sunshine, soft air, fine views, and good society, I came back to Glenalta in monstrous good humour, notwithstanding that I was put in mind of my morning's annoyance by the sight of Phil. driving up to the door in a gig just as we reached home. The bell rang, (for I do assure you that we do things here secundum artem, and dress for dinner), and we separated after greeting Mr. Otway en passant. A very good repast, at which Eileen's fish made a figure, as also some extraordinary sea-kale which is a matter of rivalry between the houses of Glenalta and Lisfarne, Emily trying one mode of culture and Mr. Otway another, came to an end in due season without the least stagnation, such as one so often witnesses in the country.

Mr. Otway is decidedly a very superior man, his conversation displays extensive information, and, what is singular enough, though I am given to understand that Killarney is now the limit of his excursions from home, there is nothing awkward about him. He is accounted by all, except this family, a great oddity, for he does not mix in society with the neighbourhood, and is given to solitary walks and musing, which people, less cultivated than he is, do not understand. He is not an idler however, as they tell me that his life is a continued series of active beneficence.

When the dessert was put upon the table, and the servants gone, we drew our chairs very snugly round a blazing billet, which the evenings are just chilly enough still to render as comfortable as it is a social sight; and just as we had formed a crescent about the fire, that sly-boots, little Fan, looking over at me, with the most innocent archness imaginable, made an appeal, for which I was not quite prepared, and addressing herself to Mr. Otway, suddenly asked him, "What is the meaning, dear Phil. of calling people Blue-stockings, whose stockings are really white?"

Mr. Otway smiled, and answered, "Blue-stockings, my Fan, is a vulgar slang for learned ladies."

"Why not for learned gentlemen too?" replied Fanny.

"That is more than I can tell you, unless for the reason, that those who have given this nickname to your sex, are of the other themselves, and there are not many men who like ridicule, when it is brought home."

"Then I am to understand that the appellation Blue Stocking implies a taunt."

"Certainly, a learned lady is the terror of all ignorant men, and to cover their own idleness, or incapacity, they never fail to under-value what they do not possess, particularly if they find knowledge and ability in those, whom, as females, they consider their inferiors; but you ought to apply to your cousin, who can give you the latest edition. I am an old square-toes you know, and words change their meaning every day. Howard, unde derivatur, modern Blue-stockings if you please?"

I felt a little awkwardly, but answered, "Mr. Stillingfleet, I believe, is the origin. At least his Blue-stockings at Mrs. Montagu's soirées are the only parentage that I have heard of for the term, and you have defined it."

"Well," said Fanny, "this is odd enough, for it appears that a gentleman wore the blue-stockings, which are transferred to the ladies; but now Phil. I want to know why learned ladies are disliked. I always thought that people were esteemed in proportion to their knowledge, if they made a right use of it."

"There," answered Mr. Otway, "you have yourself told the whole secret; if they make a right use of it. Now it has happened that some ladies have made a wrong use of their talents and attainments, and thus have drawn reproach upon the whole sex to which they appertain."

"What is this wrong use which which has been so heavily punished, may I enquire," interposed Charlotte, while my aunt, Emily, and Frederick, seemed quite delighted with this curious catechism.

"The word display, includes the whole charge," said Mr. Otway. "Some women have foolishly destroyed the ease of society by an unseasonable introduction of their acquirements, and a pedantic exhibition of the variety and extent of them in pompous expression, unsuited to mixed companies, and uncalled for by the occasion."

"But why visit the faults of a few on the whole sisterhood," interrupted Fanny, with eagerness, "Mr. Otway?"

"Because men are very uncandid in their judgments, and find it easier to get rid of a vexation by annihilating the cause, than by regulating the effects."

Emily here begged to know "whether men were never vain-glorious, and if they were, why they too were not nicknamed."

"In fact," said Mr. Otway, "dunces and fools hate in men, as well as women, whatever they cannot understand or appreciate; and the terms Bookworm, Philosopher, Quid-nunc, &c. are frequently employed to designate persons of superior erudition; but men are simply avoided as bores; women are contemned as rivals."

At this moment I chanced to look at Fanny, and saw a tear gliding down her cheek. In the instant of being observed, she started up, and throwing her affectionate arms around Mr. Otway's neck exclaimed, "Oh never, never, will I call you Phil. again, which is the short name with us for philosopher. Why did you not tell me before that it was a term of derision? I love you as our dear friend, and I thought it the most delightful thing possible, to know so much as you do, and to be so like the Encyclopedia as you are."

It was not in nature to resist this sally. We all laughed heartily, though I saw a responding tear glitter in my aunt's eye, and Mr. Otway impressing a parental kiss on Fanny's cheek, explained in a few words, assuring her that however he might feel undeserving of the title which she had bestowed upon him, yet, as being her gift, it was so valuable that he would not exchange the appellation of Phil. for the most beautiful name in the English language.

Fanny's gaiety was immediately restored, and as the conversation hit my fancy very much, I was glad that Mr. Otway resumed it by saying, "the reason why display of a little learning is not so common amongst men as women, is not that they are less subject to vanity than the latter, but because their vanity is differently directed. Learning being the business of all educated men, there is nothing on which to plume themselves in knowing a little Greek, Latin, and mathematics. Every school-boy does the same, and it is only pre-eminence in these studies which renders a man remarkable. Now real knowledge, extensive learning, and powerful intellect, of the highest class, preclude boasting for two reasons, first because I believe that it may be asserted of such minds, that they are most sensible to the great truths of religion, which, above all monitors with whose influence we are acquainted, inspires genuine humility; and secondly, because it is the nature of knowledge to render those who have made the greatest progress in its attainment most keenly alive to the deficiencies of all human intellect. 'A little learning is a dangerous thing,' and flippancy is ever the offspring of superficial information."

"Now unfortunately some of the female sex having just tasted of the Pierian springs, have become stimulated to intoxication, without proceeding to the sobering draught recommended by the poet. Then, as a woman's education does not usually comprehend either classical or scientific literature, a very slight proficiency in either will make a great shew, just as a solitary candle will do in a dark place; but there are silly people to be found in every country as of every age, and both sexes." "Pray then," said Emily, "would not the abuse of learning be remedied in a manner kind as well as efficient, by making knowledge fashionable, rather than by condemning half the creation to ignorance? If girls were generally allowed to acquire more information than it is customary to teach them, there would be an end of what you call blue-stockings, and women would not boast of a little reading any more than they do of drawing or music."

"You are perfectly right, Emily," answered Mr. Otway, "the best gifts may be abused, and the improper use of any good that we possess can never be considered as a sound argument for relinquishing it. Neither do men argue in this way when the question relates to money, power, rank, or any of those advantages which they desire to achieve. Now, my own opinion is, that much of the unhappiness of married life, as well as the insipidity of mixed society, results from the present style of female education. Accomplishments are ornamental, yet they are only the acanthus that decorates the pillar, not the pillar itself. The most empty mind, the worst regulated temper, may be the portion of a young lady who plays and sings like a professor, who draws and models, who can take casts, and sculpture marble. All these things, however pretty, occupy neither the highest nor the best powers of the human mind; and, generally speaking, they are pursuits which suppose exhibition. There are few who cultivate them on their own account; and thousands arrive at excellence in several branches of polite education without natural taste, merely to attain certain ends, and when they are compassed, the scaffolding is thrown aside altogether; the fingers are given a holyday, and the unfurnished understanding stands confessed in all its vacuity. If the vessel be not valuable from what it contains, it naturally follows that the external fashion will determine its estimation; and thus a short-lived grace comes to be the pearl of price; and when the bloom of youth is past, there is no fund to support the long evening of life. A sleepy animalized existence at home, or a perpetual search after excitement abroad, succeeds. Both sexes degenerate, society grows more vapid, and more vulgar, every day, till reduced to its coarse elements of mere sensual attraction, folly ends in vice, and things are worse and worse, till some new impetus arises to change the entire system. If companionship be the charm of social intercourse, why should not both sexes cultivate those qualities and attainments which, besides being most intrinsically excellent, promise durability?"

"Arthur," said my Aunt, "you must represent the world, and reply to Mr. Otway." "Well then, with deference to his opinion," said I, "let it be remembered that there is no necessary connection between the amiable qualities of heart which we admire in woman, and book knowledge. On the contrary, I should say that reading is a selfish pleasure; shut up in a library, surrounded by grammars and lexicons, people are not likely to improve their tempers half so much as in the endeavour to please by proficiency in music, dancing, drawing, sculpture, and all the list of elegant accomplishments which every mother in the fashionable world procures with the utmost anxiety for her daughters. In fact, the establishment of a girl who has no fortune, absolutely depends upon her power of attraction; and when you reflect that men seek society to unbend their thoughts, and to get rid of the studies, as well as the cares which oppress them in the several walks of busy occupation, whether in the field, or the closet, the senate, or the court, I cannot help feeling that matters are very happily adjusted in the division of labour, which the general sense of mankind has adopted, and that women have no business whatsoever with any thing but the agrémens of life, and should leave to us the whole toil of reading and thinking."

"Well I am sure," said Fanny, "the motive is so kind that the arrangement ought to be a good one. What do you think, Mamma?" "My love," answered her Mother, "I shall lie by and be a listener. The argument is in very good hands, and I shall keep my opinion in reserve, for a single combat with Arthur, when he is inclined 'to fight the battle o'er again.'"

"We will take Emily's judgment upon this question," said Mr. Otway: "Emily, what think you of the gallantry which Fanny conceives to be deserving of such praise?" "Indeed," ingenuously answered Emily, "a kind motive, I should say with Fan, is so sweet, that it inclines one to find fault with great moderation; but, however amiable the desire to save our sex all trouble, I must own that I do not at all admire the expedient, nor think that it seems to be a judicious one. Reading is a great pleasure to me, and if books were denied me, I should feel a void in my life which I do not believe it would be easy to fill; besides, the day is so long, if one rises early that I do not see why there should not be time for many things as well as music and drawing."

"Come, come," said Mr. Otway, "it is not generous to profit by the simplicity of our panegyrists. If the motive for denying, or, at least, grudging to women the advantages of a sound and a literary education, be analyzed, I fear that it will turn out but little creditable to our sex, and the proof that it is so, may rest on the circumstance that the cleverest and really best informed men are those who encourage female ambition to soar above the common standard. These men delight in superior talents, and cultivation wherever they find them. They are not afraid of rivalry, and their minds are too large to take pleasure in any supremacy which is produced by exclusion. The lazy, and the tyrannical, would fence in their privileges, and not permit to women a participation in what they choose to call their inherent rights; the former to save themselves the trouble of acquiring knowledge, and the latter because they would depress and enslave the sex to which they would allot no higher calling than that of administering to their amusement? Is not this a true bill?" I could not deny that there was some force in the statement, but urged the general voice as being considered the best criterion of what is good in itself, and then advanced the necessity of making some difference between two sets of beings destined to such dissimilar offices. "Men are born to action. They live in public, they preside in the councils of nations; they provide for the families that look up to them for protection; they labour in the field with their hands, and in the closet with their brains. When the toil of life is suspended, they desire relaxation, and to be gratified by the charms of beauty, grace, sweet music, and good manners."

"And these are all compatible with much higher and more dignified powers, and purposes," rejoined my antagonist. "Some writer, whose name I forget, has said, 'tell me your amusements, and I'll tell you what you are.' There is a great deal of wisdom in the idea, and it holds good in forming an estimate both of nations and individuals. The love of gain, the dread of poverty, desire of fame; in short, a thousand motives may, and do, constrain men to engage in pursuits which make the business of life. A set of shoemakers, or a privy council, merely as such, are brought to a level with each other, the one party as tradesmen, the other as ministers, and the only difference that we perceive in contemplating the body, in either case, resides in the superior or inferior skill of the workman or the statesman, compared with his fellows; but when the low occupation of the one, or the high employment of the other, is brought to its close, and the man retires from his labours to unbend in the enjoyment of the social hour, it is then that we find of what materials he is made."

"We will suppose first of the humble artizan, that one takes the fruit of his toil to the public-house, where it is spent in company with the idle and the vicious; that from thence he proceeds to the pugilistic ring, and gambles away the remainder of his earnings, while his mind is brutalized by the nature of the sport, and his wife and children are left to starve. Here you have no hesitation in condemning such an appropriation of time and money; nor do I believe that you would find any greater difficulty in bestowing your praise upon the industrious father who, gathering his children round the evening fire, can participate with the goodly partner of his cares in the task of rearing a young family to virtuous principles and prudent habits as his best happiness. Trust me, my young friend, that in the higher classes of society we may trace as much variety of character as in the humbler walks; and vice is both as vulgar, and unholy, when varnished over by fashion, as it is in those situations that present its deformity to view unveiled by the gloss of rank and fortune. Why should recreation be found only in the inanity of sloth, or the stimulus of dissipation? Is such recreation worthy of a rational creature? I do not mean to say that music and merriment are not very agreeable, but are these less pleasing because they are not the sole resources? Here are my dear little nurses, whose kindness during a long and painful illness I shall never forget. Do you think that I dreaded poison in my cup, because Emily can translate Lucian, and Charlotte is not perplexed by a quotation from Virgil?"

"Pray, pray, dear Phil." exclaimed Fanny, "say nothing about Greek and Latin, lest Arthur, adopting the language of fashion, should call the peaceable inhabitants of Glenalta, Blue-stockings." "Indeed but I will," quoth Phil. "and, as I design to enlist Howard as the champion of his cousins, I think it fair to tell him all that he will have to defend."

Here was a pretty loop-hole for a civil speech, such as I did not neglect, but declared my readiness to enter the lists, provided that I was not to be considered a Don Quixote, prepared cap-à-pé, to fight the battles of every distressed Blue, who might chance to be attacked by an uncourteous enemy. "But, my good Sir," said I, "since we have gone so far in this discussion, let me soberly and seriously ask what is the use of learning in a woman? Is she handsomer, more lively, more attractive, for having her head crammed with strange languages? If I am to be a champion, I must begin my service by what may appear perhaps rather ungallant, though I hope that the present company will acquit me of any design to do otherwise than afford my best service, provided that you succeed in converting me from opinions which I have been brought up in a belief are founded in nature and good sense."

"My dear fellow," replied Mr. Otway, "do not profane the names of nature and good sense by identifying the one or the other with fashion. I would appeal to your understanding, and if that is not convinced of error, I would leave you to the prejudices which you have imbibed. Let us then now fairly meet each other. You ask, will women be made more beautiful, more lively, more attractive, by being more instructed? Perhaps I may encounter a laugh, if I answer yes; first, I always consider intelligence as the greatest beautifier of a face, which, if handsome, is lit up by an additional ray in every new exercise of the mental powers; and if ugly is at least prevented from being stupid by cultivation. But this will not satisfy you, because I assume the very thing that you deny; so I will ask you, have men a right to consider women as objects merely of gratification to their eyes and ears? Are not women endowed with sense and feeling; with high powers of intellectual energy, and immortal spirits like men? Were these gifts, think you, conferred for nothing but to be employed in the arts of catching butterflies? No, no—

is improved by all that gives variety and interest to the social union of two souls destined to find the principal portion of their happiness at home. The merely fashionable accomplishments can last only for a season, and that very season which least requires their aid, for youth and sprightliness are so full of elasticity and joy, that were music, painting, &c. banished from the world, there is a halcyon hour in the life of all, in which their aids would not be missed, because they are not wanted; but the summer-fly, which gaily flits in the warmth of a meridian beam, ought not to be our model. Life, like every four and twenty hours, has its morning and evening, then its night. Do not start, I am not going to give you a homily; I would only call an intelligent mind to a quiet investigation of truth, and farther ask, when time steals the bloom from beauty's cheek, and the song, which once charmed the ear has died away—when the fairy fingers have lost the ease,

When the nymph is changed into the matron, and the sylphid form of eighteen is transformed into the "mother of many children," pray what becomes of companionship which had rested its sole support on the evanescent perfections of youth, the very nature of which is to pass away like a morning dream? Would it not be wiser first to consider the human species as formed for a world beyond this, in which it is appointed 'to fret our little hour,' and to make a vital sense of our ultimate destination, the primum mobile in every scheme of existence? This is the grand, the principal, the master-link of all earthly union, because it does not end here, but binds the faster as terrestrial things wax nearer to a close. Upon this broad base would not rational creatures, who are expressly fashioned for each others' society in this world, naturally be led to cultivate in common the greatest degree of intellectual perfection? Do you believe that the ditinguishing, the ennobling boon of reason is granted to both sexes, to be only exercised by a very limited number of one sex, and lavished in thoughtless waste by all the rest? Never entertain such an idea of the Creator, who has made nothing without its end, purpose, and design. I do not expect you to become a convert in the twinkling of an eye, but I feel as if we should one day have you added to our ranks, a staunch partisan of better views than those which you have learned to advocate."

"Before you conclude," said I, "your introductory lecture upon Bluism, you must hear my creed, such as I brought it to Glenalta. Do not suppose that I think it possible for a society to be held together without the bond of religion. Whatever errors I might have been inclined to fall into, had I been left to myself, I have a friend, and that a youthful one too, who has kept such a watch upon my sayings, doings, and thinkings, as to preserve me at least from the grosser mistakes to which young men are liable who have no Mentor to guide their course. I am thoroughly convinced that religion is necessary in every community that aims at being well ordered, and that women ought to be considered as peculiarly its guardians; they are the nurses of young ideas, the first shoots of which are directed by female solicitude, and it would never do to have our ladies turn infidels."

"Very well," said Mr. Otway, "here are some strong admissions. You believe in the absolute necessity of religion in a well constituted state, and you are right; for if all the restraints which religion superadds to those arising out of mere moral fitness and utility, be quite inadequate to render men virtuous, a fortiori, they would not be better for increased latitude to do evil."

"You next admit that the most valuable of all things here, because that which best secures peace on earth and happiness in heaven, it is peculiarly the province of the female part of creation to protect with care, and distribute with zeal. Here is a high trust—here is a mighty office, and it would naturally follow from your acquiescence in reposing such confidence in a certain set of people, that you must admit the propriety of rendering them fit depositories for the sacred trust by some suitable preparation. Be assured, my young friend, that a fashionable education will not achieve this end. But you must not mistake me. I do not mean to assert that there is any necromancy in learning this language or the other. I would only be understood to say that during the early years of childhood there is time enough for much more than is usually taught to girls from five to fifteen; and while the memory is retentive, the curiosity fresh, and all the faculties ready for action, it is a pity that food for the mind should not be provided of a more substantial kind than is generally supplied. In learning the dead, we attain the principles of living languages; we become able to trace our own mother tongue to its source; we enlarge the field of knowledge and of comparison; we search the Scriptures with effect, because we are enabled to search them minutely; and why should these advantages be denied to one half of the creation? Woman's empire is peculiarly to be found in her Home. Whatever adds dignity to her dominion, and variety to her pleasures in the scene of them, I must ever maintain to be the best safeguard of national virtue. Barbarism and excessive refinement are extremes of a widely-extended series, and like all other extremes come to meet at last. The selfishness of the former, exercises the pre-eminence of animal strength in compelling the weaker sex to endure the fatigue of cultivating the ground, and performing every servile occupation, in order that the stronger may enjoy, without interruption, the coarse and sensual gratifications which constitute their happiness; while the equally selfish, but more elegant sons of modern luxury, exert a tyranny not less despotic, in reducing the female mind to that dull level best suited to their own inglorious apathy and sloth. The matter can never rest here. Providence has formed the sexes for each other; and the mutual attraction is too powerful to be resisted. To regulate the nature of this attraction is all that moral improvement can effect; and I see with grief a mighty change in progress. Our young men are (I speak not of all) cold, careless, rude, and covetous; our youthful females are bred up as if for the stage, and as, with all 'the means and appliances to boot,' the opera and the theatre will always supply more finished specimens of singing, dancing, and acting, than can be found elsewhere. We accordingly see that many of our present generation of men are not ashamed of seeking the companion of their lives, the wife of their bosoms, and the mother of their future offspring, on the boards of Drury Lane or Covent Garden: thus destroying whatever gives sweetness to domestic retirement. An actress may possess more worth than many of the audience who gaze upon her through their glasses from the surrounding boxes, but the charm of modesty can hardly belong to her who lives in perpetual exhibition; nor can the woman, whose sole profession is the study of fictitious and, generally speaking, unamiable characters, be expected to have much time for cultivating her own character to the profit of an immortal soul."

"But, Sir, you speak of the theatre. Our young women of fashion are not players; and supposing that they were, and that we must all select our partners in the school of Thespis, would the study of Homer and Simonides, of Virgil and Horace, be a remedy for the evils of which you complain?"

"No, my dear Howard. I attach no magic to these authors. On the contrary, there may be an overweening attachment to the ancients, and there are still a few scholars of the old school who value every thing that comes to them in Greek or Latin cloathing, and encumber their pages with quotations which have nothing to recommend them beyond the mere learning which they exhibit. But, returning to our argument, I deny your premises. You assert that our young women of fashion are not actresses: I maintain that they are."

"Aye, 'all the world's a stage,' now-a-days. Nature—beautiful, refreshing Nature—is dismissed from what is technically called 'good society.' Too many of our youth of one sex are become horse-jockies, and pugilists—idle at school, dissipated at the University, and ignorant of most things, except what contributes to animal ease and luxury, they issue from the academic groves in full-fledged folly, knowing little indeed of learning, either ancient or modern, but well skilled in sauces and French wines. They are well read in the last edition of Dr. Kitchener, they are connoisseurs in eating and drinking, they can break their heads in the fancy ring, and their hearts in a rowing match. But, alas! how comparatively small the number of those who commence the business of life well furnished with useful knowledge, learning, taste, discretion! with all those qualities in short which ought to distinguish man from the inferior creation! How often are we disappointed when we cast our eyes around, in this polished age of the world, in quest of the materials which are to supply our future strength in every department of the State! A youth governed by religious principle, his head stored with science and literature, while his heart expands to all the social ties of generous affection, is the only character to whom the interests of his fellow-men may be fearlessly consigned; because he alone feels what they truly are: and he only who has learned himself to bow with respect to the wisdom of experience, and conform to the discipline of moral rule may be trusted to watch over the happiness of others. Yet such a being as this is a rara avis in terris, while the degenerate race, which I before described, crowd our streets and highways; and hope one day, through the influence of rank, to take their seats upon our parliamentary benches, where they will vote away our liberties, or relax them to license, just as interest guides, or party governs. Believe me, my young friend, 'there is something rotten in the state of Denmark;' and in turning our eyes towards the other sex, the eye finds nothing on which to rest with more complacency, except amongst the few who have sense enough to perceive and courage sufficient to resist the tide of fashionable folly. In what is called the world, it would seem that there is a guillotine established, to which every intellectual energy is fitted by lopping off every germ that buds beyond the narrow limits assigned as the modern standard. The heart is forced to undergo a like operation; and all the young affections, timid respect, and blushing reserve, which would seem to be the indigenous growth of the female mind, are destroyed with as much zeal as the gardener employs in restraining the luxuriance of his espaliers. Dressed to a common model, both in mind and body, you pass from one automaton to another, in a London drawing-room, without being conscious that you change your place unless by the variety of glare in the colours that surround you. These effigies neither see, feel, hear, nor understand, except as machines may appear to do. Likings, dislikings, looks, words, and actions, all are artificial; and natural disposition is only displayed when it is too late to regulate its movements. Marriage, like the fifth act of a play, brings matters to a conclusion, and our young ladies drive off from the theatre to exhibit at home the materials which really compose their characters. It may be that vanity, only changing its diet, is still fed to repletion; but should circumstances deny what habit and education have taught to be the only good, disappointment will have its revenge, a hecatomb of domestic victims must expiate the crime of all who withhold the accustomed tribute that had been paid to the attractions of youth."

I could not restrain a sigh. The portrait was sketched with animation, and the features of it were familiar to me. Our Phil. proceeded:

"I do not insist upon any of the acquirements which excite such general terror. I see no specific for the evils which I have prescribed in Latin, Greek, Hebrew, Chemistry, Botany, or Mathematics. My only object is to deprecate ridicule, and to ask for a little portion of that liberality which even descends to cant at the present day, in favour of all women of whatever country, who are seeking mental improvement. Let us only have an end of nick-names, which terrify the timorous; and, with the enlightened policy which is beginning to operate in our financial and commercial relations, let us renounce our narrow ideas of monopoly, and open the way to a free trade of mind, unincumbered by the taxes which retard its progress. Let us look a little higher than Mrs. Montagu's formal soirées, and the quaint cerulean hosen of Mr. Stillingfleet.

"Apollo and the Aonian choir do not seem to have made any exclusions here. The blue and gold which are thus eulogized in Ariosto, may be permitted to decorate the softer sex; and we have no right to laugh them out of a costume which the gods themselves proclaimed as the livery in common of all their votaries. But you have been a patient listener to my inaugural lecture, and it is time to give you a writ of ease. You must breakfast with me to-morrow, and we shall find plenty of matter for more chat upon the world and its ways."

"Oh dear Phil.," exclaimed Fanny, "how delightful it will be, if Arthur, under your tuition, ceases to be woman-hater."

A burst of merriment at my expense, was the consequence. When I protested that nothing could possibly be farther from my character, and that I had rather the credit of being a lady's man; her reply was, "well it may be so, but if you wish to continue so vile a system as Phil. has been describing, you would sacrifice one half of the species to indulge the whims of the other."

Our little party now broke up; and after a very short interval we found ourselves re-assembled in the drawing-room. It was agreed upon that Mr. Otway's late illness rendered it imprudent for him to risk the effects of evening air; and the whole family who seemed actuated by one principle in renouncing self, immediately declared their intention to amuse their guest and relinquish the afternoon's ramble. We passed the evening, I cannot tell you how pleasantly. My aunt is a charming person, and I cry peccavi. Though her appearance is singularly striking, and the expression of her face quite heavenly, dignity is the natural character of both. Gentle as a lamb, there is no weakness about her. The mother shines pre-eminently in all her conduct, and after one hour's observation of her manners towards Mr. Otway, I felt as ready to contradict my own suspicion which had wounded Emily's feelings as she could possibly be herself.

You and I have often argued the point of second marriages, of which I was always the advocate; more, I confess because we see them every day in the first circles, than from thinking much upon the subject one way or the other; but though I hardly as yet know why, it would grieve me, were my aunt to marry again.

We had music, chess, and conversation, which never flagged, but I cannot detail any more of this day's history. Phil. staid to prayers, in which he joined with the appearance of genuine piety; and I retired to my room, shall I own it, in a state of mind very new, and by no means disagreeable. I felt excited without delirium, such as succeeds the whirl of dissipation in town. My mind seemed full, my heart glowed, and a sort of reality appeared connected with every thing around me at Glenalta, quite unlike what I have ever experienced before. Do you know that I was inclined two or three times this evening to turn hermit, and live in Kerry. However, the fit will not last. The arrival of a stranger is always met with something like a flourish of trumpets, which quickly subsides, to say nothing of old Oliphant's return, which will tie a log about our necks in a day or two.

As you will have exact accounts of all that we say, as well as do, I find that I must resume my narrative in another letter. This has swelled to an unconscionable bulk. Good night. In my next you may expect a description of Coelebs and his breakfast at Lisfarne, whither I must go alone as the cousinhood seemed determined on giving a welcome to old Squaretoes, the tutor, en masse. How primitive! Vale.

Ever your affectionate friend, Arthur Howard.

LETTER VI. THE SAME TO THE SAME.

My dear Falkland,

If this be true, as the old spelling books have it, and as I saw confirmed to day, by the authority of a village schoolmaster, who had a large class operating upon the above sapient apophthegm, which served as a copy in the school, and which I have adopted for the heading of my letter instead of an extract from some "old play," I may come out at last a goodly example of rosy cheeks, full pockets, and well-stored pericranium, for here I am living a life worthy of Hygeia herself. I was up at six o'clock this morning, and according to an arrangement with Emily, had an hour's walk with her before I set out for Lisfarne. When we were retiring last night, I heard her whisper to Frederick that she meant to visit "Susan" in the morning, and on inquiry, I found that the said Susan is a poor woman residing in the mountain, for whom some present had been prepared. Now, it occurred to me that before I saw Mr. Otway at his own house, and particularly as I was to encounter him alone, I should like to hear the sketch of his history, which Emily had promised me at a future day, so following her to the foot of the stairs, I told her how entirely I repented my error, and requested her perfect forgiveness, proposing that she should seal my pardon by allowing me to be her mountain beau; and moreover, that she should come to our morning's walk prepared to gratify my curiosity. My petition was granted; a brilliant sun-rise invited us to perform our mutual engagement, and we had not made much way in the rugged ascent towards Susan Lambert's wild abode, followed by Paddy, the running footman upon such occasions, who trotted after us with a large basket, well stuffed with I knew not what, when I reminded Emily of her task, and she gave me the narrative, which I shall try to convey as briefly as I can of Phil's Life and Character.

"Mr. Otway," said Emily, "was the dear friend of my father, and so devotedly were they attached to each other, that even at school they were always called Pylades and Orestes. At the University they lived together; and the same day saw them both embark in the same profession. For the character of that loved parent who was taken from us, before his children were of an age to appreciate his various excellences, his splendid talents, exquisite taste, and uncommon attainments, I must refer you to his friend, who, it is probable will one day describe your uncle, and tell you that he was indeed 'a man whose like we ne'er shall look upon again.' I could not hope to do justice to the portrait, and will therefore not attempt to draw his resemblance. My father and mother, who seemed to have been peculiarly formed for each other, met in early life, and became mutually attached, as one might naturally suppose that two such gifted beings would be. Pecuniary circumstances alone prevented their union; but while their happiness was retarded, their affection was tried in the furnace, and came out purified. Mr. Otway was the sole guardian of their secret, and the only support of their long deferred hopes. After years of devoted constancy, they were rewarded at last by such domestic felicity as I have heard from Mr. Otway falls to the lot of very few on earth, and was too perfect for continuance in a world designed by its Great Creator to serve only as a vestibule to more abiding mansions. The friends were separated by the tide of events, but never ceased to correspond. Once, and I believe but once, imagining that he had found a resemblance of my mother, Mr. Otway's affections were engaged, and he resigned himself to the fascination of such an attachment as only minds of lofty pitch are capable of feeling at once noble, disinterested, and devoted. The lady whom he loved was rich, while, he at that time, was a younger brother, and but slenderly provided for. The dread of being suspected of mercenary motives, sealed his lips; and a man of fortune making his appearance, the object of his thoughts proved how little worthy she was of such a being, by marrying this more opulent suitor after a very short acquaintance. So dreadful was the shock which our dear friend's sensitive nature sustained upon this unexpected event, that his life nearly fell a sacrifice to the conflicts which he endured. My father and mother were now his staff and solace in the hour of trial; and their tender solicitude, aided by time, restored to comparative peace that generous spirit which had nearly sunk under the pressure of disappointment. He travelled, and ere the expiration of many years, was recalled to England, by the death of his elder brother, which event was followed at no great distance of time by that of Mr. Stanhope, the husband of her who had so cruelly trifled with his happiness. Mrs. Stanhope was the mother of an only child, and the noble character of our friend overcoming every selfish retrospect, cast off the memory of past wrongs, and he stepped forward to offer the aid of his best services to the widow and the orphan, without, however, I believe, even for a moment, entertaining the remotest idea of renewing his suit. His lot had been cast; he had retired from what is called the world, and though so far from becoming a misanthrope that all his fine qualities appeared to expand when he obtained the means of making others happy; yet he never seemed to calculate upon any change in his own situation. Though delicacy and feeling prevented him from ever uttering a harsh sentiment, his friends were of opinion that he had arrived at a full conviction of having misplaced his affections in early life; and that conviction once attained, he never sought to hazard a new experiment.

But the care of young Stanhope became a favourite object, and no assistance which the most efficient friendship could bestow was withheld from the boy's mother. Lisfarne was part of the property which devolved to this invaluable neighbour of ours by his brother's bequest; and the retired beauty of the scenery determined him to make this his asylum. His next object was to induce the beloved companions of youth, who had shared the gladness of his brightest, and dispelled the clouds of his darkest days, to come and live in his immediate vicinity. He purchased Glenalta for my father, and by his good taste and activity, transformed its rude wilds into the little paradise which you see. Here resided the happiest family which, I believe, ever existed; but I cannot talk of home, I must proceed with the story which I promised you:—Mr. Otway received a letter from a Solicitor in London, to say that the interests of his young ward (not that he was legally so) required his immediate attendance in town. It was to him a most disagreeable undertaking. A recluse through long habit, and devoted to the society of Glenalta; active in the discharge of such multiplied duties at Lisfarne, as could ill spare his vigilant eye and beneficent heart, it was great pain to set out upon a journey without understanding its object, and plunge anew into scenes which he had abjured in idea for ever. But dear Phil. only hesitates till he has satisfied himself concerning what is right to be done, and there is no farther pause—he proceeds to execution. To London he went, and never shall I forget how much we longed for his return; and what blazing fires of heath telegraphed his approach upon our neighbouring hills. On reaching town, he only waited to refresh himself before he set forward to the Solicitor's, from whom his summons had issued, and the mystery was soon unravelled. Mrs. Stanhope had married a young fortune-hunter, and was endeavouring to prevail upon her son, then a child of fourteen, to make a settlement on his pennyless stepfather. Relying on the influence of her former attractions, she had prepared a scene, and desiring her Attorney carefully to abstain from giving Mr. Otway the least intimation of her new tie, she burst upon him in the moment of his entrance at Mr. Scriven's house, dressed in fashionable attire, which had succeeded in all the gay colouring of a London milliner's shop, to the garb of sorrow in which he had seen her arrayed in one personal interview after her husband's death. The only time of their meeting had been upon that occasion, when he begged permission to consider himself as guardian to her child, thus proving that, though he had ceased to love, he still felt the kindest and most sacred interest in her fate. Disgusted now beyond the power of controlling his feelings, he put a speedy termination to a conference, the manner, as well as the matter of which had excited his utmost indignation; and assuring her that if any undue advantage was taken by her influence over the minor, a suit should be immediately commenced against her and her husband, he took a hasty leave. Frightened by these menaces, the lady retired, and soon announced her departure to the Continent, where, about two years ago, she died of a broken heart. Mr. Otway's business completed, he quickly returned to his favourite retreat, and loved to wander alone along the beach which surrounds a part of his demesne. My dear father once caught him upon a rocky promontory with pencil and paper in his hand. The question of 'what is that? Has Otway secrets with me?' was answered by 'it is a worthless scrap; take it, but Henry touch not that chord again—it jars upon my ear, and spoils all harmony.' I will now read you the lines which my father obtained by this surprise. It is the only poetry which even mamma has ever seen of her friend's writing.—Here Emily read to me the following stanzas:—

On first seeing Stella in a coloured dress after her second marriage.

"These lines," continued Emily, "first taught my parents the nature and extent of those feelings which had outlived the blights of early hope. They appear to prove that, however shipwrecked had been his own happiness, Mr. Otway had respected a perfect freedom of choice, and, though Mr. Stanhope differed widely from him, he had tutored his unselfish soul to consider this rival as the successful candidate in an election, the honourable fairness of which he had no right to question. It would seem that, in the depth of his heart, Mrs. Stanhope's pardon had been sealed, and when the death of her husband released her from her first vows, a romantic mixture of affection, which borrowed a reflected glow from the memory of brighter days, and that high and delicate respect of which the most refined and exalted minds alone are capable, spread round the consecrated image a mantle of fond protective kindness, akin perhaps to love, as pity is said to be, but so beautifully tempered, that it would never have passed the sacred boundary of friendship pure as angels might have breathed. The unseen bonds which had silently preserved connection between our friend and a woman whom I can never believe to have been at any time deserving such attachment as he bestowed, was rudely severed by Mrs. Stanhope's late conduct; and, for some time, the impression which such levity as was discovered in her second ill-assorted marriage made upon a mind almost morbidly sensitive, threatened to impair the benevolence of a character formed to shed on all around an atmosphere of happiness; but a strong sense of religion, which is the pole-star of his every action, gained its second victory; and time gave him back, once more unshorn of his beams, to be the life and animation of that little society who enjoy the blessing of his presence. I must hurry you through the remaining part of my memoir, not only because we are arriving at Susan's cabin, but also because it is so interwoven with the sorrows of Glenalta, that I fear to trust myself with a theme too fresh in recollection to bear the light; suffice it to say, that Heaven has given us such a friend in Mr. Otway, as no measure of gratitude can ever repay."

Emily paused, and I expressed my warm interest in her narrative, and thankfulness for the eloquent sketch which she had thrown off; but as my evil genius never even dozes in the county of Kerry, what should I unfortunately add, but "Phil. indeed is a treasure, and I rejoice for you all in such a tower of strength as his friendship affords to my aunt and her family. Frederick too is, I dare say, his object, and will inherit his possessions."

Emily blushed scarlet; her eyes were instantly suffused with tears, and she seemed ready to choke; but, recovering herself in an instant, with a little effort she said, "Arthur, I will not attribute any thing of this sort to motives unworthy of you; I am determined to set down to the mode of your own education whatever may appear like want of feeling. You are mistaken in your surmises; but, while it pleases God to continue to us the happiness which we now enjoy, let us not embitter life by dreadful anticipations."

We reached the hut to which we were bound, and I had no time for reply: I could only remark, in my own mind, on the difficulty of accommodating the ways of the world to the peculiarities of these simple folks; yet, at the same time, no doubt it is a pleasanter sensation to be "Alcibiade ou le Moi," rather than cherished for the sake of one's money.—On entering the cabin, alias cottage, we found a boy of about twelve years old nursing a weeping infant, and vainly endeavouring with one hand to scrape together a few expiring embers, while a poor woman, apparently in the extremity of weakness, lay in a corner, upon a miserable bed. "Susan, how do you do?" was answered faintly by, "very ill, dear miss." "Where is Nancy?" "Gone to the fair to buy a bit of flannel for the child, and her father is gone with her to sell our slip of a pig."

"Arthur," said Emily, throwing off shawl and bonnet in an instant, "here is work to be done, and we must not be idle. You have taken Frederick's place this morning, and will kindly, I am sure, perform his duty: fly and bring me a good bundle of dry heath, or any thing else that you can find of which we can make a fire. Paddy, bring me a pitcher of water directly; and you, Tommy, give me your little sister, and settle the turf in a moment." So saying, she took the child, and soon set the poor thing at rest with some milk, which the basket contained, while I, glad to make the amende honorable by my alacrity, went off as if quicksilver were in my heels, to rummage up whatever combustible the mountain afforded. I was successful, and got credit for my speed. You never saw any thing like the magic of Emily's operations: as if she had been a peasant born, she broke up the sticks which I had gathered, and, blowing with her breath, for the cabin was unfurnished with bellows, she had a blazing fire in five minutes. Then, with a neatness and dexterity which would have done honor to a Welch inn, she washed an old sauce-pan, and put some meal into it to make gruel; hushed the baby to sleep, and, after laying it by the poor mother, and giving the latter a little weak wine and water, she desired Paddy to remain and stir the gruel till her return; then, taking my arm, hurried down the hill, and crossing a field which we had not come through before, tripped lightly up to a half-ruined gate, which was fastened by a twig to an old post, and disengaging this rustic band, lifted the frame, and we were in the adjoining space before I perceived that my fair cousin, to avoid interrupting our conversation, had performed the office of pioneer, which, according to all the laws of chivalry, should have fallen to my portion. I was going to apologize, when Emily pointed to a path, and turning into another herself, bid me fly, or I should be late at Lisfarne. We shook hands, and separated; and as I walked on alone, I could not help moralizing on the novelties which daily present themselves to my view. Lighting a fire, boiling gruel, sweeping up a cabin-hearth, and singing lullaby to a squalid infant in a dirty dress; and all this done and executed as if custom had rendered the whole business perfectly familiar, by a young lady of family and education; a scholar too, well read in Greek, Latin, Italian, French,—skilled in botany, chemistry, and I know not how much more; in short, a Blue to all intents and purposes. It is certainly neither more nor less than an anomaly which as yet I am unable to account for.

The Douglas girls are totally divested of affectation. Whatever they say or do, is said and done without the slightest reference to effect farther than this, that the best tact seems to regulate every word and action. The desire to impart pleasure makes them sure to please, and the dread of giving pain must, I think, render it impossible that they should wound one's feelings. Beyond this limit my cousins know no art. I fancy that I see a half-suppressed smile curling on your lip, as you exclaim, mentally at least, "What a revolution! Why here is Howard talking sense like a doctor of the Sorbonne!"

I confess to some very sober thoughts as I jogged on to Lisfarne; but as I was alone, I had nothing else to do except to muse and moralize; however, no triumph. I enter a caveat against any manner of rejoicing. I have not read my recantation, having a just dread of hasty judgments, and also of old Oliphant: he is the Mordecai sitting in my gate, and another week at Glenalta may bring out a very different story.

In four-and-twenty hours Kill-joy will have arrived, and then comes Sunday, as if at one blow to crush one's spirits to annihilation.

These were my lucubrations en chemin faisant, and just as I reached the hall-door at Lisfarne, the nine-o'clock bell ushered me in with eclat, though as little hinging upon my entrée, as the thunder and lightning which happened to synchronise with the poor Jew's carousal over a pork steak at Genoa. I was met at the threshold by Mr. Otway, who smiled a delightful welcome, and, taking me by both hands, accosted me with, "My dear Howard, I am heartily glad to see you at Lisfarne, and not the less so, because you are punctual. You should have had your breakfast at any hour; but I love to see young people recollective." I did not think it exactly honest to appropriate this compliment of the old school to myself, as I certainly never deserved it in all my life, and therefore expressed my happiness at not having kept him waiting; but handed over to Emily the whole merit of Cindarillaship in this my first visit at Lisfarne.

"Emily is a charming creature," answered mine host, "but that is nothing wonderful at Glenalta, where such a mother presides. Howard, you have the good fortune to reckon amongst your nearest relations, a little group whose virtues would save the universe from destruction, were the divine vengeance to over-take a guilty world, as in days of yore.—How do you like your aunt and cousin?" "Extremely, were I to judge by what I have seen; but we are new to each other, and they are very kind in excusing all the blunders which a man wholly unused to retirement is liable to make in a circle where a much higher standard of moral feeling prevails than that which governs what we call 'the world.'"

Mr. Otway looked benignly at me, saying, "Come, we must not get into a discussion now; you deserve your breakfast, and shall not be interrupted." And a capital breakfast we had.

A beautiful Newfoundland dog lay at his master's feet; a fine tortoise-shell cat purred upon the back of his arm-chair; and the windows were presently assailed by an army of supplicants in the shape of the finest pea-fowls that I ever saw.

"See what it is, Arthur, to be an old batchelor! I am obliged to keep my affections from becoming stagnant, you find, by practising them upon all these birds and beasts which you perceive are my companions as well as pensioners." After feeding the numerous host, we sallied from the breakfast-parlour, and Phil. escorted me to his study, a most comfortable apartment, and well lined with books. He has a beautiful collection of the classics, all the best modern works of science, and a rich assortment of history and Belles Lettres. While I was glancing over this, he pointed to a compartment in the far end of the room, desiring me to examine its contents. "There I keep my novels, reviews, and magazines; for you know, that 'all work and no play would make Jack a dull boy;' and as I suppose that you do not intend to read yourself into a consumption while you stay at Glenalta, I give you a letter of credit on whatever amusement these shelves can supply." In this Poets' Corner I found Scott's works, both in prose and verse; several other modern novels of good name; and all the early poems of Lord Byron. "I perceive," said I, "Mr. Otway, that you have not yet completed your set of Byron's works; you have not got Don Juan, nor—" "Nor never shall, my young friend," answered the sage of Lisfarne. "I cannot prevent people who have money to buy and inclination to peruse, from reading these works; but they shall not find them in my library." "Then, sir, you are, I presume, of opinion that one cannot separate the poison from the poetry, and avoid imbibing the one, while we enjoy the exquisite beauty of the other."

"No, my dear boy; these are idle notions. Wherever vice is an ingredient in any compound so mingled as to seize upon the passions, or delight the imagination, the draught will always be injurious more or less. Even those minds of finer mould than we commonly meet with, will not escape, though they hate the contact, they cannot shun its defilement; and that which is impure, must sully whatever it touches." "Well, I should have supposed that good taste would protect a man of refined education. In fact, such a man rejects whatever is coarse, and simply vicious: he reads Lord Byron, not because of his occasional deviations from religion and morality; but in spite of them he admires the splendid genius who of all modern writers best understands, if I may so express myself, the metaphysics of the human heart, while every man of feeling must lament the shipwreck of such talents. The broad-cast pollution which is necessary to season a mess for vulgar palates, must be pernicious in the highest degree; but I confess I have never felt in the same way of those polished compositions which are only read by people of superior attainment, and who are fortified against evil by knowledge of the world."