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 o 
 
 PENELOPE: 
 
 OR, 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR LOST
 
 PENELOPE 
 
 OR, 
 
 LOVERS LABOUR LOST. 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 I 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR HUNT AND CLARKE, 
 
 YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN. 
 
 1828.
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED BY C. H. REYNELL. BROAD STREET, GOLDEN SQUARE.
 
 8^ 
 
 o/iA^n -fcsjz^ 
 
 PENELOPE: 
 
 LOVE'S LABOUR LOST, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Six days out of seven, and nine hours out of 
 twenty- four, the reverend and learned Dr Gre- 
 gory Greendale sat surrounded with open volumes, 
 and immersed in profound thoughts, which ever 
 and anon he committed to writing. For twenty 
 years had this been his regular practice, and to 
 ; this dull monotony of being nothing could have 
 ^ reconciled him but a strong sense of duty, sea- 
 J soned with a little spice of theological ambition. 
 
 5 VOL. I. B
 
 PENELOPE, 
 
 But his ambition was not for worldly honour or 
 for filthy lucre. His aspirings were not after 
 mitres, stalls, and deaneries, nor was his antici- 
 pated recompense compounded, in his mind, of 
 pounds, shillings, and pence. Far purer and 
 sublimer motives prompted his diligence and 
 filled his hopes. It was his ambition to occupy 
 a distinguished station among the defenders of 
 the faith, and to be hereafter celebrated in the 
 records of ecclesiastical history as the most irre- 
 fragable polemic that ever wrote or reasoned. It 
 was his opinion, that the church estabhshed by ^ 
 law was the best and purest in Christendom ; 
 and that if its tenets were fully and clearly 
 stated, accompanied with such refutation of sec- 
 tarian errors as he in his wisdom and logic 
 could furnish, all sects would be converted, and 
 all heresies expire for ever. 
 
 In this most laudable pursuit the doctor was 
 not altogether free from obstacles, disappoint- 
 ments, and interruptions. Frequently when he
 
 PENELOPE. 3 
 
 thought that he had only to sail quietly and 
 smoothly into harbour, a fresh breeze of contro- 
 versy sprung up, driving him out again into the 
 unfathomable ocean. Oftentimes when, after a 
 long, tedious, and multifarious series of refer- 
 ences and quotations, he fancied that his argu- 
 ment had been completed, and the key-stone of 
 his logic immoveably fixed, he found that some 
 very unaccountable oversight, some trifling neg- 
 lect, let the whole fabric sink down in confusion. 
 And very, very many times, was the thread of 
 his argument snapped asunder by the intrusion 
 of the bustling, active, clever, managing, con- 
 triving, economical Mrs Greendale. With one 
 of these interruptions our history commences. 
 
 As the study door opened, the doctor laid 
 down his pen, pushed up his spectacles and 
 lifted up his eyes, and Mrs Greendale entered 
 courteously, and gracefully smiling and saying — 
 
 " My dear, I don't wish to interrupt you, 
 but—"
 
 4 PENELOPE. 
 
 To which unfinished apologetic introduction 
 the worthy doctor in a more rapid manner, and 
 with greater asperity of tone than became a 
 learned divine and an affectionate husband, re- 
 phed — 
 
 " You ham interrupted me, Mrs Greendale." 
 
 " There now, my dear, you are always so im- 
 patient, you will never let me speak." 
 
 Mrs Greendale was wrong ; the doctor was not 
 always so impatient. But Mrs Greendale was 
 one of that countless myriad of persons who, in 
 their intense feeling of the present, too hastily 
 draw general inferences from particular facts. 
 
 " Well, well," said the doctor, " what is it, 
 my dear, that you wish to say to me ?" 
 
 This was spoken in a more conciliating tone ; 
 for the worthy polemic knew that the more gently 
 and quietly such interruptions were received, the 
 more likely they were soon to terminate. And 
 Mrs Greendale having now permission to speak, 
 was accordingly well pleased.
 
 PENELOPE. 5 
 
 '* Why, my dear, I was wishing to consult 
 you and to ask your advice on a subject of which 
 you must be a far better judge than I am." 
 
 This was certainly a concession on the part of 
 Mrs Greendale; but unfortunately the conces- 
 sion was not so highly estimated by the receiver 
 as the giver ; and that is often the case with 
 concessions of this kind. The doctor was silent, 
 waiting for Mrs Greendale's own enunciation of 
 her own story ; for he well knew that impatient 
 questionings rather retard than accelerate the 
 progress of a narrative. Mrs Greendale then 
 proceeded. 
 
 '* I have been thinking a great deal about 
 Penelope. Now, you know, we have of late 
 heard very little of her father, and there really 
 does not seem to be any prospect that he will 
 ever fulfil the fine promises he has made. And 
 we are not doing justice to the poor girl by 
 bringing her up with expectations that are not 
 likely to be realised ; we are giving her an edu- 
 cation which is only justifiable under the idea
 
 6 PENELOPE. 
 
 that she should apply that education to the pur- 
 pose of supporting herself." 
 
 " Certainly, Mrs Greendale, it is with that 
 view, you know, that we have given her the kind 
 of instruction of which you speak." 
 
 " Yes, I know it is, but — but — " 
 
 " But what, my dear?" 
 
 *' Why I was going to say, that though it may 
 be very proper that Penelope should have these 
 accomplishments, yet it may not be altogether 
 right that she should be introduced into the 
 society of persons of rank, on terms of equality 
 and intimacy." 
 
 " Persons of rank, my dear — what do you 
 mean ? What persons of rank are we likely to 
 introduce her to ? Surely we are not in the way 
 of doing her any injury in this respect." 
 
 " I don't know that, my dear ; for you know 
 that we are to have a party to-morrow evening, 
 and Miss Spoonbill and Colonel Crop have con- 
 sented to come." 
 
 The doctor did not laugh aloud ; nor did he
 
 PENELOPE. 7 
 
 visibly smile at this last speech of his active, 
 bustling, managing partner. And it would have 
 been indeed excusable had the reverend divine 
 at least relaxed his features into a smile, at the 
 dexterity with which Mrs Greendale converted 
 the above-named lady and gentleman into persons 
 of rank. As these names have been mentioned, 
 it is proper that our readers should know some- 
 thing of the parties. 
 
 Honoria Letitia Spoonbill was a maiden lady 
 of some forty, fifty, sixty, or seventy years old ; 
 but in whose cranium the organ of number was 
 so slightly developed, that she could not say 
 which of the above numbers came nearest to the 
 truth. In person not fascinating, in manners 
 not commanding, in wealth not abounding, in 
 temper not prepossessing, in understanding not 
 profound ; but in pride and vanity almost more 
 than superabounding. Her rank not the deepest 
 herald could ascertain, but it was very true that 
 for many years she had been accustomed to claim 
 kindred with the lord of Smatterton Castle,
 
 8 PENELOPE. 
 
 always speaking of and addressing the Earl of 
 Smatterton as her cousin. 
 
 Colonel Crop was only Colonel Crop ; he enj oyed 
 the rank of colonel, and that was all the rank that 
 he could boast ; he was tolerated at the castle ; 
 he dined occasionally with his lordship ; and 
 occasionally partook of the pleasure of shooting 
 the birds which were cultivated on his lordship's 
 estate. In town, he patronised the Countess's 
 routs, and in the country he was a companion 
 for the Earl, when not otherwise engaged. He 
 was proud of the Earl's acquaintance, though he 
 was not weak enough to suppose that he was 
 more than tolerated. The haughtiest of the 
 great do sometimes pick up such acquaintances 
 as Colonel Crop, and they cannot easily get rid 
 of them. At the village of Smatterton, of which 
 Dr Greendale was rector. Colonel Crop was 
 only known as the intimate friend of my lord; 
 but the doctor knowing the humble rank which 
 the colonel held in his lordship's estimation, 
 was amused at the gravity with which Mrs Green-
 
 PENELOPE. , 9 
 
 dale spoke of this gentleman and Miss Spoon- 
 bill, as persons of rank, and as too magnificent 
 for the society of Penelope Primrose. With a 
 slightly ironical expression he therefore said — 
 
 " I quite agree with you, Mrs Greendale, that 
 it would not be very desirable to have our niece 
 intimate with such persons of rank as Miss 
 Spoonbill and Colonel Crop." 
 
 '^ Well, I am glad you think as I do, my dear ; 
 but how shall we manage about the party to- 
 morrow? How can we best get rid of Penelope ? 
 For really I cannot help observing that, notwith- 
 standing her dependent situation, she begins to 
 assume the airs of a lady." 
 
 Mrs Greendale was going on with all the 
 fluency of which she was capable, and that was 
 no trifle, to recommend the exclusion of the 
 young lady from the impending party which 
 threatened on the morrow to grace the rectory- 
 house of the village of Smatterton ; but suddenly 
 the loudness of her tones abated, and the words 
 came slower, and her countenance looked blank
 
 10 PENELOPE. 
 
 with an expression of interrogation ; for, as she 
 was speaking, the worthy rector drew himself up 
 to full sitting length, opened his eyes unusually 
 wide, compressed his lips unusually close, and 
 placing his hands in the arms of his chair, before 
 his spouse had ceased speaking, he exclaimed — 
 
 ** My good woman, what are you talking 
 about?" 
 
 ^' Mrs Greendale certainly thought herself a 
 very good woman, but she did not like to be so 
 called. She was therefore somewhat confounded, 
 and she replied with an expression of confusion — 
 
 ^' But, my dear, did not you say yourself that 
 you did not wish your niece to be introduced to 
 persons of such high rank as Miss Spoonbill and 
 Colonel Crop ?" 
 
 Speaking more slowly, and in a tone of expos- 
 tulation, the good man replied — 
 
 '' I did say, Mrs Greendale, that I had no 
 wish to introduce my niece to an intimacy with 
 such persons of rank as Miss Spoonbill and 
 Colonel Crop. It is not to their rank I object.
 
 PENELOPE. 11 
 
 but I am of" opinion that from such an intimacy 
 Penelope would not derive any benefit, nor add 
 to her respectability ; I look upon her as above 
 them, and not upon them as above her." 
 
 Mrs Greendale was angry ; and surely it was 
 enough to provoke a saint to hear such dis- 
 respectful language applied to those persons of 
 whose acquaintance the worthy lady was espe- 
 cially and peculiarly proud. Bridling up there- 
 fore, and assuming in her turn a high tone, she 
 replied — 
 
 " Well, my dear, if you think it beneath your 
 niece's dignity to meet such persons, you had 
 perhaps better send word to say that you do not 
 wish to have their company : I dare say they will 
 not require much persuasion to stay away.'' 
 
 *' I wish, my dear, you would not talk such 
 nonsense. Penelope will not become very inti- 
 mate with these people of rank by meeting them 
 in a party. Have your party quietly, and let the 
 poor girl enjoy it, if she can ; it will be time 
 enough for her to feel the bitterness of servitude
 
 12 PENELOPE. 
 
 when she is actually in that condition ; while she 
 is under my roof she shall be treated as if she 
 were my own." 
 
 There was in this last speech a tone of authority 
 and decision to which Mrs Greendale was in the 
 habit of submitting without an audible murmur 
 or expostulation. She therefore left the doctor's 
 apartment, merely muttering to herself, '' I don't 
 think you would indulge a child of your own as 
 you indulge this pert conceited creature. I am 
 very glad she is no niece of mine." 
 
 The doctor returned to his studies, and Mrs 
 Greendale to her domestic occupations. The 
 doctor soon forgot what was past, losing himself 
 amidst the perplexities and intricacies of theolo- 
 gical discussions and doctrinal controversies. 
 But Mrs Greendale brooded over the obstinacy 
 of her spouse, and the pride of her niece, and the 
 mortifications of her own pride. She could not 
 imagine what her husband could mean by speak- 
 ing so disrespectfully of persons of such high 
 consideration as Miss Spoonbill and Colonel
 
 PENELOPE. 13 
 
 Crop. Ever since the high-born spinster had 
 taken up her residence at Smatterton, for the 
 sake of living near to her cousin the Earl, Mrs 
 Greendale had been paying homage to her for 
 the purpose of obtaining her illustrious notice 
 and patronage. It was a concern of the utmost 
 moment to have the honour of Miss Spoonbill's 
 company at the rectory ; for the wife of the rector 
 of Smatterton was very jealous of the superior 
 glory of the wife of the rector of Neverden, whose 
 parties were graced by the presence of the great 
 man of the parish. Sir George Aimwell, Bart. Mrs 
 Darnley, the lady alluded to, was not indeed quite 
 so much gratified by the distinction as Mrs Green- 
 dale was mortified by it. Now it was some plea- 
 sure to the latter that the great man in her 
 husband's parish was an Earl, whereas the great 
 man in Mr Darnley*s parish was only a com- 
 moner ; for Mrs Greendale always caused it to be 
 understood, that baronet was not a title of nobi- 
 lity. Still, however, it was a mortification that 
 the Earl would not condescend to visit at the
 
 14 PENELOPE. 
 
 rectory. But when Miss Spoonbill and Colonel 
 Crop had accepted an invitation to Mrs Green- 
 dale's party, it was a matter of high exultation 
 to her ; it was therefore not very agreeable to 
 her to hear these distinguished personages spoken 
 of so slightingly by her reverend spouse. But 
 Dr Greendale was an odd sort of man, that 
 everybody allowed ; and he used to say the 
 strangest things imaginable. Being so studious 
 a man, was quite enough to account for his 
 oddities. 
 
 It may be proper now to give some account of 
 Miss Penelope Primrose, and to state how she 
 was brought into a state of dependence upon her 
 uncle, Dr Greendale. This yoimg lady was an 
 only child of Mr Primrose, who had married 
 a sister of the rector of Smatterton. When he 
 married he was possessed of a very decent inde- 
 pendent fortune, which though not ample enough 
 to introduce him to the highest walk of fashion, 
 was quite sufficient to introduce him to the 
 notice of some part of the fashionable world, and
 
 PENELOPE. 15 
 
 to bring him acquainted with several gentlemen 
 of the strictest honor ; or to say the least, gen- 
 tlemen who made great talk about their honor. 
 With the acquaintance with these gentlemen he 
 was exceedingly^flattered, and wdth their truly- 
 elegant manners he was highly pleased. As 
 some of them bore titles, their condescension was 
 so much the greater, in not only tolerating, but 
 even in almost seeking his acquaintance ; and 
 he found that there did not exist in the higher 
 ranks so much of that pride of birth and family 
 as some of his earlier friends had often talked 
 about. For as Mr Primrose was the son of a 
 merchant, some of his city intimates, and tis 
 father's old companions, had represented to him 
 that if he should assume the character of a man 
 of fashion, he would only be ridiculed and de- 
 spised by the higher ranks. He found, however, 
 that these censorious citizens were quite in an 
 error ; instead of experiencing contempt and neg- 
 lect, he found that his society was actually 
 courted ; lie was a frequent guest at splendid
 
 16 PENELOPE. 
 
 entertainments, and his own invitations were not 
 refused. He observed, that although Mrs Prim- 
 rose was a beautiful and accomphshed woman, it 
 was not so much on her account as his own that 
 he was so much noticed. The parties to which 
 he was most frequently invited, were gentlemen's 
 dinner parties ; and it was very likely that his 
 company was agreeable, for he had great powers 
 of conversation, and was a man of ready wit. It 
 was very pleasant to have his good sayings ap- 
 plauded by men of fashion and of honor, and 
 he thought that the exquisitely courteous and 
 graceful demeanour of the higher ranks was the 
 very perfection of human excellence. In the 
 course of five years, or rather less, he found that 
 his style of living was rather too expensive for 
 his means, and upon looking into his affairs he 
 also discovered that he was in possession of 
 nothing that he could call his own, but that 
 when his debts should be paid, his coffers must 
 be emptied and his house unfurnished. He was 
 quite astonished at the discovery, and for awliile
 
 PENELOPE. 17 
 
 dreaded to communicate the painful intelligence 
 to his wife ; but she had foreseen it, and the 
 anticipation had affected her deeply and irre- 
 trievably ; she sunk under the pressure, and left 
 Mr Primrose a widower with an only child. By 
 this calamity he was roused to recollection, and 
 he called to mind that he had occasionally played 
 at cards with some of his honorable friends, 
 and that he must certainly have been a greater 
 loser than he had imagined at the time. He 
 had at one sitting won upwards of three thousand 
 pounds, and he never afterwards sat down to the 
 table without being reminded of his good luck ; 
 but it so happened, that when he went into an 
 examination of his affairs, he found that his 
 many smaller losses had more, much more, than 
 counterbalanced his once great winnings. Now 
 was the time for reflection, and so his friends 
 thought, and they left him to reflection. The 
 result was, that he committed the motherless and 
 portionless Penelope to the care of his brother- 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 J 8 PENELOPE. 
 
 in-law, Dr Greendale, and betook himself to 
 commercial diligence in a foreign country, with 
 the hope of at least providing for himself, if not 
 of retrieving his losses. 
 
 Fourteen years had Penelope spent under the 
 roof of the worthy and benevolent rector of 
 Smatterton. To her uncle she had ever looked 
 up as to a father. Of her own father she knew 
 but little ; and in all the thoughts she enter- 
 tained concerning him, there was mingled a 
 feeling of pity. It was highly creditable to 
 Dr Greendale, that his manner of speaking 
 of Mr Primrose should have produced this im- 
 pression on his daughter's mind. There certainly 
 was in the conduct of Penelope's father enough 
 of the blameable to justify the doctor in declaim- 
 ing against him as a profligate and thoughtless 
 man, who had brought ruin upon himself and 
 family. But censoriousness was not by any 
 means the doctor's forte. He was rather a moral 
 physician than a moral quack, and he had found
 
 PENELOPE. 19 
 
 in his own parish that the gentleness of fatherly 
 admonition was more effectual than the indip*- 
 nant eloquence of angry rebuke. 
 
 Penelope naturally possessed high and buoyant 
 spirits; and had her situation been any other 
 than that of dependence, it is probable that this 
 vivacity might have degenerated into pertness. 
 It was however softened, though not subdued 
 by the thought of her father in voluntary exile, 
 and the language in which Dr Greendale was 
 accustomed to speak of his " poor brother Prim- 
 rose." Her spirit also was humbled, though 
 not broken, by the stepmother-like behaviour of 
 Mrs Greendale. Penelope could never do or 
 say anything to please her aunt. When she was 
 cheerful, she was reproved for her pertness ; 
 when serious, she was rebuked for being sulky. 
 At her books, she was proud of her learning; 
 at her pianoforte, she was puffed up with useless 
 accomplishments. Out of the kitchen she was 
 too proud for domestic occupation, in it her 
 assistance was not wanted. In her dishabille she
 
 20 PENELOPE. 
 
 was slovenly, when dressed she was a fine lady. 
 By long experience she grew accustomed to 
 this studied annoyance, and it ceased to have 
 a very powerful effect upon her mind ; and it 
 might perhaps be the means of doing her 
 good, though its intention was anything but 
 kindness. 
 
 As the mind and feelings of Penelope Prim- 
 rose were impelled in different directions by her 
 natural constitution, and by her accidental situa- 
 tion, a greater degree of interest was thus attached 
 to her character. There is in our nature a feeling, 
 from whatever source arising, which loves not 
 monotony, but delights in contrast. The tear 
 which is always flowing moves not our sympathy 
 so strongly as that which struggles through a 
 smile ; and the sun never shines so sweetly as 
 when it gleams through the drops of an April 
 shower. 
 
 To introduce a female character without some 
 description of person, is almost unprecedented, 
 though it might not be injudicious ; seeing that
 
 PENELOPE. 21 
 
 then the imagination of the reader might fill the 
 vacant niche with whatever outward, visible form 
 might be best calculated to rouse his attention, 
 to fix his sympathies, and to please his recollec- 
 tions. But we are not of sufficient authority to 
 make precedents. Let it be explicitly said, that 
 Penelope Primrose exceeded the middle stature, 
 that her dark blue eyes were shaded by a deep 
 and graceful fringe, that her complexion was 
 somewhat too pale for beauty, but that its pale- 
 ness was not perceptible as a defect whenever a 
 smile illumined her countenance, and developed 
 the dimples that lurked in her cheek and under- 
 lip. Her features were regular, her gait exceed- 
 ingly graceful, and her voice musical in the 
 highest degree. Seldom, indeed, would she in- 
 dulge in the pleasure of vocal music, but when 
 she did, as was sometimes the case to please the 
 Countess of Smatterton, her ladyship, who was 
 a most excellent judge, used invariably to pro- 
 nounce Miss Primrose as the finest and purest
 
 22 PENELOPE. 
 
 singer that she had ever heard. More than 
 once indeed the Countess had recommended 
 Penelope to adopt the musical profession as a 
 sure and ready means of acquiring independence ; 
 but the young lady had scruples, and so had 
 her uncle.
 
 PENELOPE. 23 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 It has been said in the preceding chapter, that 
 Dr Greendale resumed his studies as soon as Mrs 
 Greendale left his apartment, and that he soon 
 forgot the interruption and the discussion which 
 it had occasioned. After a Httle while however 
 he found that the train of his thoughts had been 
 seriously broken, and that he could not very 
 easily or conveniently resume and connect it. He 
 therefore determined that he would for a few 
 hours lay aside his pen, and indulge himself with 
 a little relaxation from study. These occasional 
 relaxations are very essential to authors, espe- 
 cially to those whose writings are the result of 
 deep and continuous argumentative thought.
 
 24 PENELOPE. 
 
 The doctor indeed had found this to be the case 
 to a much greater extent than he had anticipated : 
 for, when he first busied himself upon his great 
 work, he thought that three years would be the 
 very utmost of the time which he should occupy 
 in the labours of the pen. But it so happened 
 that he spent so very large a portion of those 
 three years in the pleasing employment of looking 
 to the honor and glory which lay beyond them, 
 that they were absolutely gone before he was 
 well aware of it, and his important and momen- 
 tous labours were only begun ; he had scarcely 
 laid the foundation of that magnificent super- 
 structure, which was destined to be an immortal 
 and unfading monument of his theological and 
 polemic glory. And even long after the expira- 
 tion of the first three years, he found it necessary 
 to rouse himself to extraordinary, and almost 
 convulsive diligence by preaching some very elo- 
 quent discourses on procrastination. In these 
 discourses he quoted Young's Night Thoughts; 
 and most of his parishioners thought the quota-
 
 PENELOPE. 25 
 
 tions exceedingly fine ; but Mr Kipperson, of 
 whom more hereafter, quite sneered at them, and 
 afterwards told the Earl of Smatterton's game- 
 keeper, that Young was nothing of a poet com- 
 pared to Lord Byron. But, notwithstanding all 
 that the worthy rector of Smatterton had said, 
 thought, or preached, concerning procrastination, 
 he could not help now and then indulging him- 
 self and laying aside his pen, just for an hour or 
 two ; it could not make much difference ; and be- 
 sides it would not do to be always writing ; there 
 must be some interval allowed for thought. In 
 one of these intervals, now accounted for by the 
 interruption of Mrs Greendale, he sent for his 
 niece Penelope ; for he thought that in Mrs 
 Greendale's present humour the young lady would 
 feel herself more at ease in any other company 
 than that of her diligent and managing aunt. 
 
 Well it was indeed, for the dependent one, that 
 this humour of relaxation seized the doctor at 
 this moment : for Penelope had met Mrs Green- 
 dale on her return from the doctor's study, and
 
 26 PENELOPE. 
 
 had, in as considerately gentle, and humble 
 terms as possible, proffered her assistance in 
 making preparation for the morrow's party ; and 
 Mrs Greendale, instead of receiving the offered 
 aid courteously, as it was proposed, only replied : 
 
 '' I beg, Miss Primrose, that I may not take you 
 away from your studies. Besides, it is not quite 
 correct that guests should provide for their own 
 entertainment." 
 
 Much more to this purpose said the angry wife 
 of the rector of Smatterton, and Penelope bore it 
 as patiently as she could. From this discussion 
 however she was soon and most agreeably re- 
 lieved by a message from the doctor, commanding, 
 or more properly speaking, requesting her at- 
 tendance in the study. 
 
 Hastily but not rudely she quitted the paragon 
 of domestic managers to attend to the best of 
 uncles, and the keenest of polemics. When she 
 entered the doctor's room, she found the books 
 closed, and the pen laid down, and the chair 
 moved, and the fire stirred, and a chair cleared of
 
 PENELOPE. 27 
 
 its literary lumber and put on the opposite side 
 of the fire-place for her to sit down upon,. These 
 were pleasant symptoms, and pleasanter than all 
 were the kind and amiable looks of her uncle. 
 
 " Penelope, my dear, if you are not very much 
 engaged I should like to have a little conversation 
 with you. But, perhaps, you are helping your 
 aunt to prepare for tomorrow ?" 
 
 " No, sir, I am not, for my aunt does not want 
 any help. I was offering my assistance when 
 you sent for me, but my aunt declines it." 
 
 " Indeed I — Well then sit down, my dear, sit 
 down. Have you been practising this morning? 
 1 have not heard you. You must learn that new 
 song before you go to the castle, for it is a great 
 favourite with Lady Smatterton." 
 
 '* I have practised this morning, and I sang it 
 over two or three times after breakfast. I think 
 I know it now quite perfectly." 
 
 '^ That's a good girl. But I cannot say I 
 wish you to make a business of singing. It is
 
 28 PENELOPE. 
 
 always very well for an amusement but no far- 
 ther. The Countess is very kind to you, and you 
 ought to oblige her as much as possible ; yet I 
 would not wish that you should give your exclu- 
 sive attention to that science." 
 
 '' I have no such wish myself, sir ; I feel very 
 much embarrassed and confused even when I sing 
 at the castle, when no one is present but Lord 
 and Lady Smatterton. I am sure I could never 
 bring myself to perform in public." 
 
 *' Very good; you have a very proper feeling 
 on the subject. I know the Countess would be 
 very happy to bring you out under her patronage, 
 and very respectable patronage it would be ; but 
 I have very great objections to such publicity for 
 a young person like you." 
 
 " But, my dear uncle, I have been thinking — I 
 have been thinking — " 
 
 Penelope, in thus speaking, hesitated and 
 blushed, and trembled, and a tear would have 
 been seen starting into her eye, but the doctor
 
 PENELOPE. 29 
 
 observing that she was confused, did not look at 
 her to increase her confusion. Suspecting what 
 was the cause of this embarrassment, he said : 
 
 '* Yes, yes, my dear, 1 know what you have been 
 thinking about, and I have been thinking of the 
 same subject. You think it very strange that 
 you have not heard from Robert Darnley." 
 
 The doctor was right, and the doctor was 
 wrong. Penelope had indeed been so thinking, 
 but it was not of these thoughts that she was 
 then about to speak. The suspicion however 
 increased her confusion and she wept. Sobbing, 
 she exclaimed with great earnestness : 
 
 '' Oh no, my dear uncle ! I had no such mean- 
 ing, but I was going — " 
 
 The doctor heeded not these words, but pro- 
 ceeded to say, with much tenderness of manner : 
 
 *' But, my dear Penelope, you should not 
 make yourself uneasy. Foreign letters are fre- 
 quently delayed and detained from a variety of 
 causes. I dare say you will soon have a sufficient 
 explanation of this silence. I have often had
 
 30 PENELOPE. 
 
 your father's letters two or even three together, 
 after waiting a long while, and fearing that the 
 correspondence had ceased." 
 
 Penelope recovered her voice and more com- 
 posedly replied \ " Indeed, sir, it was not of 
 Robert Darnley that I was going to speak ; I was 
 about to say that it was now time for me to go 
 out into the world and no longer to be burden- 
 some to you." 
 
 *' Burdensome to me, my dear child, how can 
 you think of such a thing?" 
 
 '' But, sir, it is painful to be in a state of depen- 
 dence when one has the means of doing some- 
 thing for a maintenance. I am sure, my dear 
 uncle, you would not mention the subject to me, 
 and so I am compelled to speak first." 
 
 *^ A state of dependence is a state in which we 
 all are. We must be dependent on one another, it is 
 the ordering of a wise Providence ; it is the means 
 by which we have the development and exercise 
 of some of our best and purest feelings. Beside, 
 you are yet too young to teach others, you have
 
 PENELOPE. 31 
 
 not finished your own education, you want expe- 
 rience. Pray do not talk of leaving me. If you 
 say any more on this subject I shall be afraid 
 your home is irksome." 
 
 This was the most effectual appeal that could 
 be made to Penelope ; it silenced, but convinced 
 her not. It is true that her home was irksome. It 
 was annoying to her in spite of all her constitu- 
 tional vivacity and acquired philosophy to be 
 continually exposed to the open or covert re- 
 proaches of Mrs Greendale. For this very clever 
 lady had exercised management in everything 
 but in the government of her own temper. And 
 true it is, though strange it may appear, that her 
 own opinion of her own temper and habit of mind 
 was exactly the converse of reality ; so when we 
 see our image reflected by a looking-glass, that 
 which is our right hand appears as our left, and 
 that which is our left appears as our right. Mrs 
 Greendale thought herself a model of candour 
 and good humour ; and whenever she uttered re- 
 proaches against Penelope, which was not very
 
 32 PENELOPE. 
 
 seldom, she actually thought and believed that 
 all the fault was in the young woman's perverse- 
 ness, vanity, or affectation, whereas the only 
 fault was in her own distempered vision, which 
 could see nothing good in her, against whom, for 
 some unaccountable cause, she possessed a de- 
 cided prejudice. For a mind thus constituted, 
 there was obviously no remedy ; Mrs Greendale 
 could not profit by indirect hints, nor could she 
 see in others of the same temperament a portrai- 
 ture of herself. It was also in vain that Penelope 
 attempted to please her j that was an absolute im- 
 possibility, and the dependent one had found it 
 so by long and bitter experience. The poor girl 
 therefore was not of opinion that she was burden- 
 some to Dr Greendale, but she felt that Mrs 
 Greendale was burdensome to her ; she found 
 that her elasticity of spirit was diminishing ; she 
 began to assume the air and aspect of one tried 
 with far deeper troubles than the continual wea- 
 risomeness of undeserved reproaches. Though oc- 
 casionally Dr Greendale had perceived something
 
 PENELOPE. 33 
 
 of this, and though he had given some gentle 
 hints to that purpose to his better half, yet he 
 had no idea of the extent to which the annoyance 
 reached, and of the bitter pains of heart and 
 spirit which it occasioned to his niece. The art 
 of ingeniously tormenting was once made the sub- 
 ject of a lively little book, but the art is not to 
 be learned ; it comes as the spontaneous growth of 
 the mind, and Mrs Greendale knew the art much 
 better than the witty author of that treatise. 
 
 We have explained the situation in which 
 Penelope was placed. But as every condition 
 of humanity is more or less of a mixed nature, so 
 in her state there were some alleviations. Her 
 kind-hearted and benevolent uncle, so conside- 
 rate and so gentle in his manner towards her, 
 partly counterbalanced the pain which she expe- 
 rienced from the behaviour of her aunt. He was 
 constantly endeavouring to encourage her with 
 hopes that her situation was not destined to be 
 for ever a state of dependence. He was perpe- 
 tually dwelling upon the brightest view of her 
 
 - VOL. T. D
 
 34 PENELOPE. 
 
 father's prospects ; and though Mr Primrose had 
 now been fourteen years in India, and during that 
 time had sent to England very httle more than 
 promises and flattering hopes, yet the worthy 
 doctor was pertinacious in cleaving to the convic- 
 tion, that his brother-in-law would eventually, 
 and perhaps very soon, fulfil his promises, and 
 realize the hopes which he had excited. As for 
 himself, the uncle of Penelope would willingly 
 have adopted her as his own, but this adoption 
 would have been serviceable only during his 
 natural life ; for he had scarcely anything to 
 call his own beyond the income of his living. 
 
 In the situation of Penelope there was also 
 another circumstance, which might be said to be 
 an alleviation ; but which, in some of its bearings, 
 was a source of deep anxiety. Robert Darnley, 
 the son of the rector of Neverden, had very early 
 in life, by means of strong interest, been appointed 
 to a situation of great promise in India ; and two 
 years before the time of which we are writing 
 had made a visit to England ; during this visit
 
 PENELOPE. 35 
 
 an acquaintance had been formed between him 
 and Miss Primrose, and this acquaintance was 
 not met by any opposition on the part of the 
 young gentleman's parents. Mrs Greendale could 
 not imagine what Mr and Mrs Darnley could see 
 in Penelope to make them so partial to her, and 
 she thought that a young man of such talents 
 and prospects might make a far better match than 
 with a young woman whose only portion was her 
 pride, and a few useless accomplishments ; for in 
 this point of view did she regard her niece, or, to 
 speak according to her own most frequent man- 
 ner of expression, Dr Greendale's niece. Mrs 
 Greendale, to be sure, did not oppose the match, 
 but she could not help giving a few hints as to 
 the unreasonableness of the expectation that 
 Penelope should consider the rectory as her home 
 till she should be married. For, as the good 
 lady well observed, there is no accounting for 
 these young sparks, they may change their minds 
 a thousand times ; and then in such case what 
 would the young woman be fit for, after living in
 
 36 PENELOPE. 
 
 expectation of becoming a fine lady, and at last 
 being compelled to earn her own living? It may- 
 be imagined, and it might be described, how un- 
 ceasingly eloquent was Mrs Greendale on these 
 topics ; and it may also be imagined that no 
 great delicacy would be used as to the manner 
 in which such precautionary reflections and ad- 
 monitions were administered by the prudent and 
 knowing wife of the book-loving rector of Smat- 
 terton. And as the worthy doctor gave himself 
 up so closely to his studies, his dear wife took it 
 for granted that he must be a mere ignoramus as 
 to all worldly matters, and therefore she endea- 
 voured to supply the deficiencies of his know- 
 ledge by the redundancy of her own. 
 
 Pleasing then as it might be to Penelope Prim- 
 rose to look forward to competence and indepen- 
 dence with one for whom she entertained a 
 reverence as well as an affection, yet, in spite of 
 her confidence in the mental stability and good 
 sense of her destined husband, it was impossible 
 not to be in some degree affected by the perpetual
 
 PENELOPE. 
 
 3? 
 
 and unceasing repetition of hints and insinua- 
 tions concernino- human fickleness and juvenile 
 inconstancy; more especially when these hints 
 and insinuations were somewhat corroborated by 
 the fact, that latterly the epistolary communica- 
 tions had diminished in frequency. 
 
 From these circumstances it may be then easily 
 inferred, that Penelope was not in an enviable 
 situation, and that nothing could have supported 
 her spirits but that exceedingly strong propensity 
 to bright hopes which is the characteristic of the 
 youthful mind, and about which moralists, and 
 essay-writers, and other wiseacres, make such a 
 prodigious and prosy preachment. Mr Malthus 
 himself could not desire a more effectual mean 
 of thinning the denseness' of population, than 
 causing every mind, if it were possible, to form 
 such a view of future days as should be actually 
 realized by the event. But it never will be so, 
 and it never can be so ; Providence is wiser and 
 kinder than moralists and essay-writers ; and 
 Providence has given to the young that bright- 
 ness of hope, the pleasures of which are far
 
 38 PENELOPE. 
 
 greater than the pains of disappointment. The 
 very disappointments of maturer life bring with 
 them some pleasurable alleviation, in the elo- 
 quence and pathos with which we sigh and 
 lament over the deceitfulness of the world's pro- 
 mises ; and thus there is a double good derived 
 from a single evil. For youth is pleased as it 
 looks forward to manhood, and manhood is 
 soothed and instructed as it looks backward to 
 youth. 
 
 We do not like to finish a chapter with a senti- 
 mentality clap-trap, therefore we turn from our 
 digression to inform the reader, that the inter- 
 view between Dr Greendale and his niece termi- 
 nated in reconciling the latter to a longer resi- 
 dence under her uncle's roof, and in convincing 
 her that the non-arrival of letters from India 
 would be very satisfactorily accounted for ; so 
 that Penelope looked forward to the party en- 
 gaged for the next day with a degree of pleasure, 
 and a portion of hope that Mr or Mrs Darnley 
 would explain the long silence of their son.
 
 PENELOPE. 39 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " A PARTY in a parlour/' to quote an expression 
 from the author of Peter Bell, is to a clever, 
 active, and managing woman, a very serious and 
 important matter. If then on the morning of 
 that day which was destined for the reception 
 and entertainment of Colonel Crop and Miss 
 Spoonbill, Mrs Greendale should be extraordina- 
 rily full of business, and in proportionable ili- 
 humour, it were not to be wondered at. This 
 was very naturally anticipated by Penelope, wno 
 endeavoured as well as possible to provide against 
 it. As soon therefore as breakfast was over she 
 put on as cheerful a look as she could well 
 assume, and asked Mrs Greendale to give her
 
 40 PENELOPE. 
 
 leave tx) assist in preparing for the evening enter- 
 tainment ; and to her very great astonishment, 
 instead of meeting with a rebuff, she was answered 
 with great civility, and her offer was accepted ; 
 and even her opinion was asked concerning 
 divers ornamental arrangements of the supper 
 table. The cause of this phenomenon it is our 
 duty to explain. 
 
 Our readers then are to be informed, that on 
 the preceding day, almost immediately after the 
 interview and dialogue between Mrs Greendale 
 and the doctor concerning Penelope, the angry 
 lady of the rectory went to call on Miss Spoon- 
 bill, in order to make assurance doubly sure, as 
 concerned the longed-for visit. At this lady's 
 house, Mrs Greendale had the pleasure of seeing 
 Lord Spoonbill ; and as his lordship was a very 
 affable young man, he condescended to take great 
 notice of Mrs Greendale, and to ask particularly 
 after the doctor and his niece. In the course of 
 conversation Mrs Greendale cleverly contrived to 
 Jet the young lord know that there was to be a
 
 PENELOPE. 41 
 
 party at the rectory the following day, and that 
 Miss Spoonbill and Colonel Crop had kindly con- 
 descended to honor the humble roof of Dr Green- 
 dale by their presence; at the same time she 
 also ventured to express how much they would 
 be honored and how highly gratified if his lordship 
 should not happen to be better engaged, and would 
 favor them with the pleasure of his company. 
 To her inexpressibly agreeable surprise, his 
 lordship unhesitatingly accepted the invitation. 
 " Now a fig for Mrs Darnley/' thought Mrs 
 Greendale ; " I shall have a lord for my guest." 
 This it was that put Mrs Greendale in such good 
 humour. Penelope soon received from her aunt 
 the information which we have communicated to 
 our readers, and with that communication she 
 also had a request from the good-humoured and 
 managing mistress of the rectory, that she would 
 see that the pianoforte was in tune, and that her 
 music-books were in order, because his lordship 
 was excessively partial to music. It was abso- 
 lutely impossible for Penelope not to comply
 
 42 PENELOPE. 
 
 with this courteous request, and she promised 
 that the music should be all in proper order, 
 though she knew that she should be under the 
 disagreeable necessity of performing some stupid 
 duets, in order to give his lordship an opportu- 
 nity of displaying his own little knowledge of 
 music. 
 
 Lord Spoonbill was the only son and heir of the 
 Earl of Smatterton. At the time of which we are 
 writing, this promising youth had just finished 
 his education at the university of Cambridge, or 
 more properly speaking at the joint universities 
 of Cambridge and Newmarket ; for the latter is a 
 kind of essential appendix, or chapel of ease, to 
 the former. It is indeed a great piece of neglect, 
 and grievously impeaching the wisdom of our 
 ancestors, that Cambridge only of the two univer- 
 sities is blessed by the vicinity of a race-course ; 
 seeing that our hereditary legislators are in many 
 cases more fond of applying the knowledge 
 which they acquire at Newmarket, than that 
 which they gain, if it be any at all, at the univer-
 
 PENELOPE. 43 
 
 sity of Cambridge : and if there be any truth in 
 the observation, that the best kind of education 
 is that which is applicable to the purposes and 
 pursuits of after-life, then indeed Newmarket may 
 be called the better half of Cambridge. Lord 
 Spoonbill was not one of those careless young- 
 men who lose at the university what they have 
 gained at school; one reason was, that he had 
 little or nothing to lose ; nor was his lordship 
 one of those foolish people who go to a univer- 
 sity and study hard to acquire languages which 
 they never use, and sciences which they never 
 apply in after-life. His lordship had sense 
 enough to conclude that, as the nobility do not 
 talk Greek, he had no occasion to learn it; and 
 as hereditary legislators have nothing to do with 
 the exact sciences, it would be a piece of idle im- 
 pertinence in him to study mathematics. But 
 his lordship had heard that hereditary legislators 
 did occasionally indulge in other pursuits, and 
 for those pursuits he took especial care to qualify 
 himself. In his lordship's cranium, the organ of
 
 44 PENELOPE. 
 
 exclusiveness was strono;ly developed. We do 
 not mean that his head was so constructed inter- 
 nally, as to exclude all useful furniture, but that 
 he had a strong sense of the grandeur of nobility 
 and the inseparable dignity which attaches itself 
 to the privileged orders. The only instances in 
 which he condescended to persons in inferior 
 rank, were when he was engaged at the race- 
 course at Newmarket, or when he found that con- 
 descension might enable him to fleece some play- 
 loving plebeian, or when affairs of gallantry were 
 concerned. In these matters no one could be 
 more condescending than Lord Spoonbill. We 
 should leave but an imperfect impression on the 
 minds of our readers if we should omit to speak 
 of his lordship's outward and visible form. This 
 was an essential part of himself w^hich he never 
 neglected or foroot; and it should not be neo;- 
 lected or forgotten by his historian. He was tall 
 and slender, his face was long, pale and thin, his 
 forehead was narrow, his eyes large and dull, his 
 nose aquiline, his mouth wide, his teeth beau-
 
 PENELOPF.. 45 
 
 tifiilly white and well formed, and displayed far 
 more liberally than many exhibitions in the me- 
 tropolis which are only ' open from ten till dusk.' 
 His lips were thin, but his whiskers were tre- 
 mendously thick. Of his person he was natu- 
 rally and justly proud. Who ever possessed such 
 a person and was not proud of it ? 
 
 Now when this superb and elegant specimen of 
 nobility condescended to patronize Mrs Green- 
 dale's party, was it not enougn to account for the 
 exquisitely high spirits in which the good lady 
 appeared, and for the unparalleled courtesy with 
 which she accepted the offer of her niece to assist 
 in preparation for the evening's entertainment? 
 Penelope herself was very much pleased ; for 
 though she had often endeavoured to persuade 
 herself that she did not heed Mrs Greendale's ill- 
 humours, yet she could not help feeling the differ- 
 ence between good-humour and moroseness. It 
 is not pleasant to be always within hearing even 
 of the snarling of a dog, or the creaking of a rusty 
 hinge, and far less pleasant is the language and
 
 46 PENELOPE. 
 
 tone of human censoriousness. The young lady 
 was not only pleased with her aunt, but she also 
 regarded Lord Spoonbill with some degree of ap- 
 probation. Of his lordship indeed, she knew but 
 little, save that when she passed him he used to 
 stare at her with great rudeness and earnestness. 
 That was not agreeable ; but, for aught her sim- 
 plicity knew to the contrary, such behaviour 
 might be the mark of that superiority of mind 
 which so exclusively belongs to persons of rank. 
 
 Penelope was also in good spirits at the thought 
 of meeting Mr and Mrs Darnley, from whom it was 
 possible that she might hear something of Robert 
 Darnley ; for though she had frequently said to 
 herself, ^' I am sure he has forgotten me," yet she 
 did not believe herself when she said so. Most 
 highly proper and suitable was that feeling ; for it 
 was possible that the neglect was only apparent and 
 not real ; in such case, therefore, common candour 
 required the most favorable view of the matter. 
 It should be stated, that Smatterton and Never- 
 den were adjoining villages, both of them at
 
 PENELOPE. 47 
 
 some distance from the high road, and Neverden 
 was in the line between Smatterton and the 
 nearest post town. The letters were carried by a 
 great lubberly boy, called Nick Muggins, who 
 rode upon a little half-starved weazel-faced ani- 
 mal, that might pass for a horse, ass, or mule ; 
 but the poor animal was so grievously insigni- 
 ficant, that the inhabitants of Neverden and Smat- 
 terton did not even take the trouble to decide to 
 what species it belonged. But let that pass. 
 Now Nick Muggins was not one of the best readers 
 in the world ; he had unfortunately left school 
 before he came to that part of his education. 
 There is many a man of letters who does not know 
 how to read. In consequence of this defect, Nick 
 was forced to call in the aid of the more learned, 
 and it was not unfrequently the case that when 
 he asked Mr Darnley, saying ; '' Please sir, what's 
 the 'rection of this here?'' that if the letter was 
 for Penelope, Mr Darnley would take it of the 
 boy and carry it to Smatterton in the course of 
 the day, and especially when no letter came for
 
 48 PEXELOPE. 
 
 himself from the same quarter, as he was anxious 
 to hear from his son by every opportunity. In 
 hopes therefore that Mr Darnley would make 
 himself doubly w^elcome at Smatterton, Penelope 
 kept up her spirits. So the day passed over very 
 brightly and calmly ; and before the shadow^s of 
 evening had descended, Mrs Greendale's party 
 began to assemble. 
 
 No newspaper announced to the world Mrs 
 Greendale's rout, nor did the hospitality of the 
 rectory disturb the neighbourhood by the rattle of 
 carriages, the glaring of torches, the thundering 
 of knockers, or the impatient vociferations of 
 coachmen and footmen. Of the party, we have 
 already mentioned Miss Spoonbill, Colonel Crop, 
 and Lord Spoonbill. Mention has also been made 
 of Mr and Mrs Darnley ; but nothing further has 
 been mentioned than their names. As it is de- 
 sirable to know one's company, it may not be un- 
 suitable in this place to introduce to our readers 
 more particularly and descriptively Mr and Mrs 
 Darnley and family. 
 
 1
 
 PENELOPE. 49 
 
 The Rev. Robert Darnley was rector of Never- 
 den, having enjoyed the Hving about five and 
 twenty years at the time of which we are writing. 
 He was a most zealous churchman, and was 
 thought by some persons of more lax and com- 
 plying principles to be rather a bigot. In his 
 manners there was no lack of courtesy, though to 
 a casual observer he might seem rather proud and 
 haughty. He certainly did entertain a very high 
 sense of the dignity and importance of the cleri- 
 cal office ; and even those who censured his stately 
 manners bore willing testimony to the activity 
 and zeal with which he discharged his clerical 
 duties ; and the more creditable to him was this 
 testimony, inasmuch as he never appeared in the 
 character of a preferment-hunter. He almost 
 entirely confined his labours to his own parish, 
 and though the living was small and his own pro- 
 perty was ample, he was as attentive as if his 
 subsistence depended on his parish. Some of 
 his friends used to say that his professional in- 
 come was altogether expended in charity. He 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 50 PENELOPE. 
 
 was a man therefore of much influence in his 
 neighbourhood, and indeed it was often remarked 
 that he seemed to be a greater man than Sir 
 George Aimwell himself; and in truth, if moral 
 dignity has anything to do with greatness, he 
 certainly was. 
 
 Mrs Darnley was the best-tempered woman in 
 the world ; not very remarkable for anything else 
 than for her good-humour, which was imperturb- 
 able and imperishable, and for the remains of great 
 personal beauty, or rather prettiness. Their fa- 
 mily consisted of one son, of whom we have 
 already spoken, and of three daughters, who were 
 educated by Mr Darnley himself, and therefore 
 were more distinguished by the depth of their 
 learning than the extent of their accomplish- 
 ments. Happy was it for them, and happy for 
 their father, that they possessed minds capable 
 of doing justice to a literary education. They 
 were not pedants nor prigs. To Penelope Prim- 
 rose they were invaluable friends, and one or 
 other of them was an almost unceasing cam-
 
 PENELOPE. 51 
 
 panion to her. The name of the eldest was 
 Anne; of the second, Mary; and of the third, 
 Martha. Mary was most distinguished for talent, 
 Martha for imagination, and Anne for good hu- 
 mour and practical good sense. If there were 
 any difference in the degree in which the young- 
 ladies were devoted to literary pursuits, perhaps 
 the eldest was the least zealous. It does indeed 
 not unfrequently happen, that increasing years 
 abate the fervour of literary pursuits, from shew- 
 ing us the vanity of mental labour, and teaching 
 us how little we can learn, and how limited must 
 be our knowledge even in its utmost possible 
 range. We do not, however, design to insinuate 
 that Miss Darnley was far advanced in years, or 
 that her knowledge had reached, or even closely 
 approached, the practical limits of mortal acquire- 
 ment. We are merely making the best apology 
 we can for the young lady's but moderate thirst 
 for literary distinction. 
 
 There was one however of Mrs Greendale's 
 party against whom no charge of indifference
 
 52 PENELOPE. 
 
 to literature or science could be justly brought. 
 It was Peter Kipperson, Esq. This gentleman, 
 though in middle life, had not abated aught of 
 his zeal for learning. He was a man of very- 
 great intellectual ambition. His views were not 
 confined to any one branch of literature, or 
 directed exclusively to any one science. As an 
 agriculturist he certainly took the lead in his 
 county ; and being, as it was currently reported, 
 " a capital scholar/' he was the composer or com- 
 piler of all resolutions and petitions touching the 
 interest of corn-growers. His opinion was asked, 
 and his expressions quoted as authority on all 
 matters connected with land, or stock, or grain. 
 If any ingenious mechanic had constructed or in- 
 vented any new machine, the invention was worth 
 nothing till it had the sanction and patronage of 
 Mr Kipperson. But he was not a mere farmer : 
 he was also a man of letters. He had one of the 
 largest libraries in the neighbourhood; besides 
 which he was a subscriber to a public library in 
 the metropolis, from whence he had all the new
 
 rENELOPE. 53 
 
 publications as soon as they came out. He had 
 read far more than Mr Darnley or Dr Greendale : 
 the former of whom he called a high priest, and 
 the latter a mere pedant. On the great men of 
 the two villages. Lord Smatterton of Smatterton, 
 and Sir George Aimwell of Neverden, he looked 
 down with great contempt as very ignorant men ; 
 and though Lord Spoonbill had been at Cam- 
 bridge, Mr Kipperson was quite sure, from the 
 obsolete constitution of the universities, that no- 
 thing could be taught there that was worth 
 knowing. He therefore thought Lord Spoonbill 
 a very superficial and ignorant man. To the pur- 
 suits of literature Peter Kipperson added a pro- 
 found love of science. The plain farmers, when 
 they called upon this genius, were astonished 
 at the very knowing aspect which his library 
 wore ; seeing, that besides the numerous volumes 
 of elegantly bound books, which were ranged on 
 shelves surmounted with busts of Milton, Shak- 
 speare, Cicero, &c. &c., there were globes, maps, 
 electrical machines, telescopes, air-pumps, casts of
 
 54 PENELOPE. 
 
 skulls, chemical apparatus, and countless models 
 of machines of every description, from steam- 
 engines down to mole-traps. The glories of Peter 
 are yet untold. Wearied as our readers may be 
 with the monotony of panegyric, they must, if they 
 continue to be our readers, undergo yet more, and 
 be told, that Mr Kipperson was a great judge of 
 music. He could play on the flute and on the 
 pianoforte ; but he thought nothing of his perform- 
 ance compared with his judgment. He had once 
 at the opera witnessed the performance of Don 
 Giovanni, and from that moment became a critic. 
 Furthermore, Peter was a perfect gentleman, and, 
 to crown all, a man of patriotic principles ; — though 
 it has been whispered that his politics were con- 
 veniently adapted to those of the Earl of Smatter- 
 ton and Sir George Aimwell. It does sometimes 
 happen, as some of our readers may know, that 
 in some parts of Great Britain the little gentry 
 copy the politics of the great gentry or nobility 
 of their neighbourhood. Mr Kipperson, with all 
 those amiable and estimable qualities, was a
 
 PENELOPE. 55 
 
 single man. He consoled himself, however, with 
 the reflection that Lord Bacon and Sir Isaac 
 Newton were unmarried. 
 
 The above-named, with divers others, formed 
 Mrs Greendale's party ; and when they were as- 
 sembled, the worthy lady found herself perplexed 
 and puzzled by the grandeur of her guests. 
 There were three persons present to w^iom she 
 would fain have given, if it were possible, her un- 
 divided attention. Lord Spoonbill was one of the 
 three. His lordship, however, did not seem dis- 
 posed to draw very liberally on the attention of 
 the lady of the house ; for, as soon as he entered 
 the rectory drawing-room, he lounged up to Mrs 
 Greendale, whom he honored with a nod, turned 
 round to the Doctor, whom he recoo-nised with a 
 smile, said to the Colonel, *' How do ye do. 
 Crop?" and then thew himself almost at full 
 length upon a sofa, as if those to whom he had 
 addressed himself were vanished, and as if there 
 were no one else in the room. By degrees, how- 
 ever, he condescended to recognise one, or two,
 
 56 PENELOPE. 
 
 or more of the party. Of Mr Kipperson he asked 
 the price of wheat, and Mr Kipperson asked what 
 his lordship thought of Mozart's opera of Don 
 Giovanni. His lordship admired it prodigiously, 
 but he condescended to say very little on the 
 subject ; whether it was that he had but little to 
 say, or whether he thought that such an universal 
 genius as Mr Kipperson could not receive any 
 new light from a Cambridge man. The great 
 agriculturist, finding that his lordship was not elo- 
 quent on the subject of music, assailed him again 
 on the subject of Don Juan, as versified by Lord 
 Byron, and his lordship being rather weary of 
 the company and questions of Mr Kipperson, 
 stared him full in the face, and with an affected 
 smile, said : 
 
 " Ton honour, Mr — Mr — I — I am not a read- 
 ing man." 
 
 Mr Kipperson thought his lordship somewhat 
 rude, and perhaps might have been disposed to 
 challenge him, only he feared that he might be 
 disappointed, and hear his lordship exclaim.
 
 PENELOPE. 57 
 
 '* 'Pon honour, Mr — Mr — I — I am not a fighting 
 man." 
 
 Lest by any perverseness of apprehension the 
 interrogator of his lordship might be induced to 
 proceed in his unwelcome familiarities of ap- 
 proach, the heir of Smatterton rose from the sofa 
 and took his station at the pianoforte, where Miss 
 Primrose had been with much persuasion vainly 
 endeavouring to place Miss Martha Darnley. 
 Now Lord Spoonbill did not like to hear Miss 
 Martha Darnley so well as he liked to hear Miss 
 Primrose ; and the three reasons which determined 
 him are such as for their soundness must approve 
 themselves to all our readers. In the first place, 
 the politics of Mr Darnley were opposed to the 
 politics of Smatterton castle ; in the second place. 
 Miss Martha Darnley was not so pretty as Miss 
 Primrose ; and in the third place, Miss Primrose 
 was by far the best performer of the two. 
 
 It was a great rehef therefore to his lordship 
 that Miss Primrose was absolutely compelled to 
 take her place at the instrument, and it was a
 
 58 PENELOPE. 
 
 great pleasure to him to see that when the leaves 
 of Mozart's Don Giovanni were turned over there 
 was a pause when the young lady came to the 
 duet of " La ci darem." 
 
 " That is a beautiful duet, Miss Primrose/' 
 said his lordship. 
 
 *' Will your Lordship take a part in it ?" replied 
 Miss Primrose. 
 
 '' With the greatest pleasure," responded his 
 lordship : and as his lordship was speaking, Mr 
 Kipperson approached the musical group, and 
 was about to repeat his well-known commentary 
 on Mozart's music, when, at the instigation of 
 Lord Spoonbill, the music began. He only made 
 two or three blunders through the piece, and 
 Miss Primrose very mercifully concealed them 
 when she could, and accounted for them when 
 she could not conceal them. 
 
 In like manner his lordship went through seve- 
 ral other duets, as historians speak of battles 
 being fought, '^ with various success." In like
 
 PENELOPE. 59 
 
 manner his lordship kept Miss Primrose engaged 
 at the instrument nearly the whole of the evening : 
 so that no one else could enjoy the use of the 
 pianoforte, or be favoured with the company of 
 Miss Primrose, or the charms of his lordship's 
 conversation. But Mrs Darnley, after long and 
 anxiously watching an opportunity to speak to 
 Penelope, came near to the instrument, and 
 whispered loud enough to be overheard by Lord 
 Spoonbill, " We understand that the Warley is 
 arrived off Portsmouth, and we shall no doubt 
 have letters tomorrow or next day." 
 
 It was rude in Mrs Darnley to interrupt the 
 musical people, and it was condescending in Pe- 
 nelope not to be rudely inattentive, especially as 
 she was listening also to compliments from a lord. 
 But Penelope Primrose was one of those high- 
 spirited young ladies who think nothing of titles. 
 She was thankful for the information which Mrs 
 Darnley communicated to her ; but while she felt 
 thankful for the matter she was somewhat trou- 
 bled by the manner of the information. There
 
 60 PENELOPE. 
 
 was an expression in Lord Spoonbill's countenance 
 which signified that he not only heard but under- 
 stood the nature of the communication which 
 was thus made. Very true, it was nothing to his 
 lordship, but still it was not pleasant to Penelope 
 to have this information conveyed to her in the 
 hearing of a third person. She therefore blushed 
 most burniiigly. 
 
 Now Lord Spoonbill was quite as capable of 
 behaving politely as of behaving rudely ; and he 
 never did either the one or the other without 
 abundant reason and motive. It was not at this 
 moment part of his system to behave rudely. 
 Very kindly therefore he took no notice of the 
 blushes of the young lady, and very naturally 
 he spoke about Mrs Darnley and the rector of 
 Neverden. He spoke of them in such terms of 
 recommendation as were not best calculated to 
 recommend them. This is an ingenious artifice 
 too well known to require explanation, and too 
 villanous to justify us in saying a single word 
 that should contribute to render the practice more
 
 PENELOPE. 61 
 
 facile. The language had an effect on Penelope, 
 of which she was scarcely aware. She had a feel- 
 ino- of undefined and unaccountable uneasiness, 
 and the very intelligence which Mrs Darnley had 
 communicated did not give her that unmingled 
 pleasure which she had anticipated. The even- 
 ing passed off not so pleasantly as the day had 
 done. 
 
 While Miss Primrose was engaged at the 
 pianoforte, Mrs Greendale was endeavouring with 
 all her powers to entertain Miss Spoonbill. In 
 these endeavours the poor lady laboured with 
 more zeal than judgment. It is a common, but 
 very foolish, practice for little folks to" assume 
 greatness, in order to recommend themselves to 
 the great. It never answers, nor is it likely that 
 it should. For what is the use and benefit of 
 rank if it be not to separate and distinguish the 
 superfine part of the species from the general 
 mass of mankind ? And whence arises the plea- 
 sure of this distinction but from its rarity. Who 
 would care to be a duke amidst a whole nation
 
 62 PENELOPE. 
 
 of dukes, or who feels himself honoured by the 
 title of esquire I Instead therefore of listening 
 with complacency to the harangues of Mrs Green- 
 dale, and the talk of her own or her husband's 
 alliance to nobility, Miss Spoonbill most per- 
 versely directed her conversation to the prospects 
 of Penelope Primrose. 
 
 '' Your niece has a most delightful voice, Mrs 
 Greendale-; I think it a great pity that she does 
 not take the advice of my cousin, the Countess, 
 and make use of her musical talents. She would 
 come out under very great patronage." 
 
 " Perhaps so, madam," replied Mrs Greendale 
 rather hastily : " but as Miss Primrose is the 
 doctor's relative, and not mine, I do not presume 
 to interfere with my advice as to the disposal of 
 the young lady. Indeed I do not know that there 
 will be any absolute necessity for her having re- 
 course to any occupation." 
 
 *' I understand you, Mrs Greendale; but let 
 me advise you as a friend not to suffer any foolish 
 expectations of that nature to prevent the young
 
 PENELOPE. 63 
 
 woman from making use of her talents for her 
 own maintenance. Young women are dependent 
 enough at best. It would be better for them 
 rather to increase than to diminish the means of 
 making themselves independent. It is not wise 
 in young women to depend on the speculation 
 of marrying, for thus many poor things are forced 
 into marriages which are productive of anything 
 but happiness. My cousin, the late Earl of 
 Smatterton, and his most excellent Countess, used 
 always to give it as their advice to young peo- 
 ple, not to speculate on the chance of marriage ; 
 and the present Countess is of the same opinion." 
 Miss Spoonbill thereupon launched out more 
 fully and freely into divers discusssions concern- 
 ing portionless females, and administered much 
 advice, more valuable than welcome, to Mrs 
 Greendale. We will put it to any of our readers 
 whether they would be greatly pleased, if, after 
 taking pains to procure the visiting countenance 
 of a person of high rank, the said personage, in- 
 stead of visiting on terms of equality, should
 
 64 PENELOPE. 
 
 presume to play the part of a dictator? Mrs 
 Greendale was therefore disappointed, and that 
 most grievously. 
 
 Much more conversation than we have re- 
 corded passed at the rector of Smatterton's even- 
 ing party, but we do not think it necessary to 
 give more to the world. For if by any accident 
 such conversation should find its way into a library 
 for the people, it is possible that the people would 
 not thereby be very greatly edified, nor add much 
 to the reverence which they feel for the clerical 
 order and profession.
 
 PENELOPE. Go 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 The party at the rectory was not kept up to such 
 a late hour as to prevent Lord Spoonbill and 
 Colonel Crop from riding over to Neverden the 
 next morning to take a day's shooting with Sir 
 George Aim well, whom we shall have great plea- 
 sure in introducing to our readers. 
 
 Sir George Aimwell, of Neverden Hall, Bart, was 
 descended from a long line of illustrious ances- 
 try, and was a wholesale poulterer, and one of 
 the great unpaid. Not that we mean by this ex- 
 pression to insinuate that the retail poulterers did 
 not pay him for what they had : we merely mean 
 to say, that the preserve-worshipping, spring- 
 gun-setting, poacher-committing baronet admi- 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 G6 PENELOPE. 
 
 nistered justice for nothing ; and, with reverence 
 be it spoken, that was quite as much as it was 
 worth. Perhaps we may do our country a piece 
 of service that shall immortalize us, if we sug- 
 gest by the way a great improvement on the pre- 
 sent system of justice-mongering. Let not Mr 
 Hume imagine that we are going to recommend 
 that the country justices of the peace should be 
 paid for their valuable time and invaluable la- 
 bours. A far better plan would be, that they 
 should pay for their places, and that the magis- 
 tracy should be given to the highest bidder. For 
 surely it is worth something to have authority, 
 to be able to accommodate or annoy a neighbour, 
 to commit a poacher, and to keep a whole vil- 
 lage in awe. It is worth something also to be 
 called " your worship." This however is a digres- 
 sion. Not that we apologize for it, but rather 
 take to ourselves praise for communicating so 
 much valuable information in so pleasant a style. 
 To proceed then with our description of Sir 
 George Aimwell. The worthy baronet was a
 
 PENELOPE. 67 
 
 most active magistrate, peculiarly acute in matters 
 of summary conviction ; and thinking it a great 
 pity that any rogue should escape, or that any 
 accused, but honest man, should lose an opportu- 
 nity of clearing his character by means of a jury 
 of his fellow countrymen, he never failed to com- 
 mit all that were brought before him. There was 
 also modesty in this ; for he thereby insinuated 
 that he would not take upon himself to make 
 a decision in these cases, but would leave the 
 determination to the judges of assize and the 
 wisdom of a jury. Sir George professed Whig po- 
 litics ; these were hereditary in his family, but by 
 no means constitutional in him as an individual. 
 Therefore he passed for a very moderate Whig ; 
 for one who would not clog the wheels of govern- 
 ment. In short, he was no more a Whig than a 
 game preserver ought to be ; and that, as our 
 readers know, is not much. He took especial 
 pains to keep the parish clear of vagrants and 
 paupers ; and by his great activity he kept down 
 the poor-rates to a very moderate sum. The ex-
 
 68 PENELOPE. 
 
 cessive zeal and satisfaction with which he exer- 
 cised the magisterial functions led us to the 
 recommendation which we have given above. 
 Sir George, though a professed Whig, was not 
 very partial to the education of the lower orders, 
 and he always expressed himself well pleased 
 when he met with a country booby who could 
 neither read nor write. For this reason Nick 
 Muggins, the post-boy, was a great favourite 
 with him. Our worthy baronet could not see the 
 use of reading, and he thought it a great piece of 
 affectation for country gentlemen to have libra- 
 ries. His own books, for he had a few, were 
 huddled together in a light closet, where he kept 
 his guns and sporting tackle. There was a Lady 
 Aimwell, wife to Sir George ; but this lady was a 
 piece of still life, of whom the neighbours knew 
 nothing, and for whom her husband cared no- 
 thing. 
 
 Colonel Crop was quite at home with Sir 
 George Aimwell, and so he could be with any one 
 who kept a good table. Shooting was not any
 
 PENELOPE. 69 
 
 great pleasure to the colonel, but as he could not 
 sleep all day long, and as the dinner hour did not 
 hurry itself to accommodate him, he was content 
 to walk about the fields with a gun, and say 
 alternately yes or no to the various wise remarks 
 made by Lord Spoonbill or Sir George Aim well. 
 Let no one despise Colonel Crop for this most 
 useful of all social qualities, a decided and settled 
 aquiescence in all that his feeders may please to 
 assert. The colonel belonged to a profession 
 the glory of which is to obey orders. If therefore 
 he carried this spirit into all his intercourse with 
 those whom he considered his superiors, it is 
 neither to be wondered at nor to be blamed. 
 We do not wish to speak disrespectfully of the 
 army ; it is verj'^ useful in war and very ornamen- 
 tal in peace. 
 
 The morning's sport was not good, and there- 
 fore the worthy baronet was sulky and ill-hu- 
 moured, and kicked his dogs ; and he made use 
 of such language as is very unfashionable to
 
 70 PENELOPE. 
 
 print. Colonel Crop re-echoed the unprintable 
 exclamations of the great unpaid, but Lord Spoon- 
 bill did not seem to heed the sport, or more pro- 
 perly speaking the want of sport. It is very- 
 provoking to be in a passion with anything that 
 thwarts our humour, and it is still more provoking 
 to find another, who ought to be in a passion 
 with the same object, regard the matter with 
 total indifference and unconcern. Thus provoked 
 was the worthy and exemplary magistrate Sir 
 George Aimwell. His red face grew redder, and 
 his magisterial looks became more majestic ; at 
 length, with a due degree of deference to one of 
 noble rank, he began to utter something like 
 reproach or expostulation to Lord Spoonbill. 
 
 '* Upon my word. Spoonbill, this may be very 
 good sport for you, but it is not so for me. I 
 never saw the birds so shy or the dogs so stupid. 
 But you seem to be very easy about the matter.'' 
 Then turning to the colonel, he continued : " I 
 suppose his lordship is thinking of old Green-
 
 PENELOPE. 71 
 
 dale's pretty niece." — At this speech the baronet 
 laughed, and so did the colonel. Who could 
 help laughing at it? 
 
 Lord Spoonbill smiled, and only replied in an 
 affected drawl, " By all that is good. Sir George, 
 you must think me a great simpleton to be 
 caught by a pretty face. The fact is, 1 am not 
 much of a sportsman, you know. I could enjoy 
 a battue very well, but this hunting about for a 
 few stray birds is poor work." 
 
 " A battue, forsooth !" exclaimed the amiable 
 baronet : — " I believe those villains the poachers 
 have scarcely left a single bird in the Cop-wood." 
 
 The worthy magistrate was going on, but his 
 indignation at the shocking violation of those 
 most excellent laws which the wisdom of our an- 
 cestors has formed, and the folly of their descen- 
 dants has tolerated, so entirely overcame his feel- 
 ings, that in the violence of his anger he incurred 
 the penalty of five shillings ; but his companions 
 did not inform against him. In a word, he swore 
 most bitterly and tremendously. Our readers
 
 72 PENELOPE. 
 
 must not blame him too hastily for this trans- 
 gression. Let them consider that he was a 
 magistrate, and of course very zealous for the 
 due observance of the laws. Swearing is cer- 
 tainly wrong ; but that is a mere trifle compared 
 to poaching : the uttering of a single profane 
 oath being, in the eye of our most excellent laws, 
 precisely one-twentieth part of the crime of an 
 unqualified person having in his possession a 
 dead partridge. 
 
 When the baronet had relieved his bursting 
 heart, and vented his sweUing indignation in the 
 mode above named, and when Colonel Crop had 
 sympathetically joined him in the execration of 
 the transgressors of our most excellent and equal 
 laws which regard the arrangement of game, then 
 did Sir George proceed : 
 
 ** Could you believe it, Spoonbill ? — You know 
 the pains I have taken with that wood — I say, 
 could you believe it, after all the expense I have 
 bee»i at about it— after having six men sitting up 
 night after night to watch it, that in one after-
 
 PENELOPE. 73 
 
 noon, and that in broad daylight, it should be 
 almost cleared by those infernal villains ?" 
 
 Here the baronet became angry again, and no 
 wonder ; it was beyond all endurance. Not 
 only did he as a magistrate feel grieved at the 
 violation of the laws, but as a gentleman and a 
 man he was pained at the loss of those birds 
 which he seemed born to shoot. The birds were 
 gone and the poachers were gone ; the first he 
 could not shoot, and the last he could not commit. 
 And what is the use of living in the country, if 
 there are no birds to be shot and no poachers to 
 be sent to gaol ? 
 
 Pitying the sorrows of the magistrate. Colonel 
 Crop replied, '' Too bad, pon my honor.'* 
 
 But Lord Spoonbill having recently quitted 
 the university, in which he had been taught to 
 investigate and seek out the connection of cause 
 and effect, enquired : — 
 
 ** But how could the rascals do all this without 
 being detected, if you had men to keep the wood 
 by night and day ?"
 
 74 PENELOPE. 
 
 *' I will tell you," said the baronet, whose vio- 
 lence seemed a little abated by the kind sym- 
 pathy of his friends : '* it was entirely owing to a 
 rascally gamekeeper of mine, who, no longer ago 
 than last Sunday week, instead of attending to 
 his duty, must needs go sneaking to church. I 
 saw the fellow there myself. He absolutely had 
 the impudence to come into church when he 
 knew I was there. I dismissed him however at 
 a short notice. I was determined to have no 
 church-going gamekeepers.'* 
 
 " That going to church was abominable," said 
 the colonel. 
 
 " But I thought you had always guns in your 
 plantations. Sir George V said Lord Spoonbill. 
 
 '* So I have," replied the magistrate ; "but 
 unfortunately the guns had been discharged in 
 the morning on some boys and girls who had 
 gone to look for nuts ; and as one of the boys was 
 nearly killed, the under keeper took it into his 
 fool's head that he would not cliarge the guns 
 again ; so I gave him his discharge."
 
 PENELOPE. 75 
 
 ** You have been very unfortunate in your ser- 
 vants. Sir George." So spake the colonel, who was 
 more than usually eloquent atid voluble ; and Sir 
 George was especially delighted with him, for he 
 seemed to enter so fully into all the magistrate's 
 feelings upon the subject of game and poaching. 
 
 It is astonishing that, notwithstanding all the 
 pains which the legislature has taken upon the 
 subject of the game laws, which are so essential 
 to national prosperity and the Protestant succes- 
 sion, still there is a possibility that gentlemen 
 may be deprived of their sport by the interven- 
 tion of a poacher. The laws are too lenient by 
 half; and till it is made felony without benefit 
 of clergy to be suspected of poaching, we shall 
 never be free from this dreadful calamity. Our 
 legislators have done a great deal, certainly ; but 
 they ought to take up the subject with as much 
 zeal as if tl^e cause were their own. 
 
 Now while Colonel Crop was sympathising 
 with Sir George Aimwell on his great and serious 
 calamity, Lord Spoonbill was gradually with-
 
 76 PENELOPE. 
 
 drawing himself from his companions, and moving 
 towards the side of the field which lay nearest to 
 the road, and looking with great earnestness in 
 the direction of the village of Neverden. It was 
 not long before his eye caught the object for 
 which he had been looking. There came clumsily 
 cantering towards him a quadruped, the appear- 
 ance of which would have puzzled Buffon, and 
 on its back there sat a biped as unclassable as 
 the beast on which he rode. The two were 
 usually called Nick Muggins and his pony. Lord 
 Spoonbill took great pains to see Nick by 
 accident. 
 
 " Have you any letters for the castle. Mug- 
 gins V said the heir of Smatterton. 
 
 " Isser," replied Muggins, and forthwith he 
 produced two letters, one of which was addressed 
 to the Right Honorable the Earl of Smatterton, 
 and the other to the Right Honorable Lord 
 Spoonbill. 
 
 *' I will take charge of them," said his lord- 
 ship.
 
 PENELOPE. 77 
 
 To which proposal Nick Muggins made no 
 objection. His lordship then, just by way of 
 condescendingly noticing the humble post-boy, 
 said — 
 
 '^ There now, I have saved you the trouble of 
 riding any farther, unless you have any letters 
 for the parsonage ?" 
 
 *' Here is one, sir, for the young lady as lives 
 at Parson Grindle's." 
 
 Muggins looked rather significantly at Lord 
 Spoonbill when he thus spoke, and his lordship 
 rephed — 
 
 " You may give that to me, and I will take care 
 of it." 
 
 What arguments were used to induce this 
 breach of trust in the guardian of the Smatterton 
 post-bag, is not stated, nor known, but conjec- 
 tured. Muggins, when he had given the letter 
 to his lordship, looked rather hesitatingly, and as 
 if he wished to speak ; his lordship interpreted 
 his looks, and said, " Well, what are you waiting 
 for?"
 
 78 PENELOPE. 
 
 To this interrogation Muggins replied with a 
 cunning simper, '* Why, please, sir, my lord, on 
 case of any questions being axed, perhaps your 
 lordship, sir, will just-like get a poor boy off, 
 you know, my lord." 
 
 " Bah V replied his lordship, '* leave that to 
 me." And thereupon those arguments were used 
 which had been of such great and decided efficacy 
 in previous cases of the same nature. The unde- 
 scribable rider of the undescribable beast then 
 turned about and went homewards, and the heir 
 of Smatterton soon rejoined his sporting com- 
 panions. 
 
 Lord Spoonbill was now in possession of two 
 letters more than did of right belong to him ; 
 and though he had taken great pains to become 
 possessed of at least one of them, and though he 
 was glad that he could prevent the information 
 which they contained from reaching the destined 
 point, still he was not altogether comfortable. 
 Once or twice he determined that the letter de- 
 signed for the parsonage of Smatterton should
 
 PENELOPE. 79 
 
 reach its destination, and then he as often 
 changed his mind again. It may seem strange, 
 and perhaps be thought not true, that an heredi- 
 tary legislator should descend to such meanness 
 as to intercept a letter. It is indeed strange, 
 and but for its strangeness it would not be here 
 recorded. But Lord Spoonbill was one of those 
 decided characters that do not let trifles deter 
 them from pursuing their schemes. He was 
 rather proud of the dexterity and address with 
 which he pursued any object on which he had 
 fixed his mind, and he mistook, as many other 
 prigs do, obstinacy for firmness. He had fully 
 made up his mind to a certain end, and he was 
 not choice as to the means. Yet he was a man of 
 honor, a man of the nicest honor, a man of the 
 most sensitive and susceptible honor. If any 
 one had been capable of calling him mean, if any 
 one so bold as to have expressed the slightest 
 idea that his lordship was a contemptible fellow, 
 with what indignation would he have heard and 
 repelled the suspicion. His notions of honor
 
 80 PENELOPF. 
 
 must have been very curious and quite unique. 
 We wish it were in our power to present to our 
 readers an analysis of those views which Lord 
 Spoonbill took of the principles of honor. We 
 are not equal to a task so truly philosophical : we 
 can only say that his lordship did descend to 
 the meanness of intercepting a letter, and did call 
 and think himself a man of honor. If any of 
 our readers think that this is very paradoxical 
 and altogether improbable, we congratulate them 
 on their ignorance. 
 
 We cannot help at this part of our narrative 
 shifting the scene for a little moment, just enough 
 to shew our readers the effect produced in an- 
 other quarter by the conduct of the above-named 
 man of honor. From the sportsmen at Neverden 
 we turn to the rectory of Smatterton and its in- 
 habitants. Dr Greendale was in his study as 
 usual, not kept away by any weariness of the 
 preceding evening. Mrs Greendale felt more 
 acutely the trouble of company departed than of 
 company coming, and Mrs Greendale was not
 
 PENELOPE. 81 
 
 selfish in her sorrows, but communicated them to 
 all about her. Penelope Primrose felt the full 
 weight of her aunt's troubles ; and as the good 
 lady of the rectory had been rather disappointed 
 the preceding evening she was not in one of her 
 best humours. Patiently as possible did Pene- 
 lope bear with those ill humours, for her mind 
 was buoyed up with hopes of pleasing intelli- 
 gence from abroad. The hour arrived which 
 usually brought the postman, but no postman 
 arrived. It was possible the clocks at Smatter- 
 ton were too fast. The hour was gone by, a full 
 hour was past. It was not probable that the 
 Smatterton clocks were an hour too fast. There 
 was a little hope that Mr Darnley might be at 
 Smatterton in the course of the morning ; but the 
 morning passed away and Mr Darnley did not 
 come. But a messenger came from the rectory 
 of Neverden with enquiries after Dr and Mrs 
 Greendale. Penelope asked very particularly 
 after the rector of Neverden and Mrs Darnley, 
 and hoped that they arrived safely home, and 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 PENELOPE. 
 
 that they had taken no cold, and — and — ^just as 
 a matter of curiosity, had they heard from their 
 son lately? The answer was, that a letter from 
 Mr Robert Darnley had arrived the very hour 
 before the messenger set out. Penelope turned 
 pale, and then blushed most intemperately, be- 
 cause she felt how pale she looked ; and then 
 she thought — '' Now I know he has forgotten me." 
 Immediately after however she thought again, and 
 then it occurred to her that, as Robert Darnley 
 was remarkable for his great filial affection, it was 
 possible that he might have had no time to write 
 by that conveyance more than one letter. But 
 she still could not help thinking that he might 
 have sent her one small letter : if it had been but 
 short, it might have been a memorial of his 
 thoughts still dwelling upon her. She felt hurt, 
 but would not be angry; and hoped, very 
 earnestly hoped, that she was not cherishing a 
 foolish and fond passion for one who had relin- 
 quished all fondness for her. It was very strange 
 and altogether unaccountable. It was so very
 
 PENELOPE. 83 
 
 much unlike the usual frankness and openness of 
 mind for which Robert Darnley was so remark- 
 able. These were painful thoughts, and the more 
 painful because so very perplexing. It is some- 
 what wearying to exert the mind very diligently 
 and perseveringly, even in solving problems and 
 guessing riddles which are mere abstractions ; 
 but when, in addition to the perplexity, there is 
 personal and deep interest and moral feeling, then 
 the agitation and weariness of the mind is at the 
 highest. 
 
 Penelope found her accustomed resource in 
 trouble, and her consolation under life's perplexi- 
 ties, in the kind and paternal attention of her 
 uncle. She spent the greatest part of the after- 
 noon of that day in Dr Greendale's study, and 
 listened with great pleasure to the fatherly ex- 
 hortations of that most excellent man ; and, as 
 she was afterwards heard to observe, she thought 
 that he spoke more like an angel than a man. 
 She treasured up in her heart the hope that the 
 morrow would bring tidings from the beloved one.
 
 84 PENELOPE. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Sir George Aimwell and his companions found 
 but little sport in the field, and it was not unplea- 
 sant to Colonel Crop to hear that it was now high 
 time to leave the birds and to adjourn to dinner. 
 This was a relief also to the baronet himself; for 
 though he was a keen sportsman he never suf- 
 fered the amusements of the field to interfere 
 with the duties of the dinner table. Colonel Crop 
 was aware of this laudable peculiarity in the 
 manners of Sir George of Neverden, and therefore 
 enjoyed a day's sport with him far more than he 
 would have done with another. 
 
 Those of our readers who know the worthy 
 baronet need not be informed of the superior
 
 PENELOPE. 85 
 
 style of his culinary arrangements. It was very 
 well for him that his table had this attraction, for 
 it is very certain it had no other. His own con- 
 versation was by no means the most brilliant. 
 Lady Aimwell might indeed be capable of con- 
 versing, but the guests of Sir George never heard 
 her voice, excepting so far as it was absolutely 
 necessary that some words must be uttered by 
 the lady who presides at the head of a table. 
 
 Speaking of the intellectual accomplishments 
 of the magistrate of Neverden, we may not be 
 considered as making a needless digression if we 
 narrate an anecdote, or rather expression, a criti- 
 cal expression, of the worthy baronet. Mr Peter 
 Kipperson, the wise and knowing agriculturist of 
 Smatterton, one day dined at the table of Sir 
 George of Neverden hall. Now Peter was a 
 very literary man, who thought there was nothing 
 worth living for but science and literature ; and 
 having somewhere read that it was impossible to 
 take shelter in a shower of rain with such a man 
 as Burke, without discovering him to be a man of
 
 86 PENELOPE. 
 
 genius, Peter was desirous of continually showing 
 off, and was instant in season and out of season. 
 Therefore when sitting at the table of the worthy- 
 baronet, he assailed the magistrate with various 
 scientific subjects, but all to no purpose ; there 
 was no response from his worthy host. Endea- 
 vouring to adapt himself to the moderate talents 
 and circumscribed reading of the baronet, he next 
 started the subject of novels and novel reading, 
 taking care to insinuate that, though Sir George 
 might not read the trash of circulating libra- 
 ries, he might be acquainted with some of our 
 best novels. To this at last the baronet replied — 
 
 " Oh, yes ; I remember many years ago reading 
 a novel called Tom Jones, written by a Bow-street 
 officer. I recollect something about it — it was 
 very low stuff — I forget the particulars, but it 
 was written in the manner of servants.'*' 
 
 Hereupon Mr Peter Kipperson set it down as 
 an indisputable fact that baronets and magistrates 
 were the most ignorant creatures on the face 
 of the earth, and he congratulated himself
 
 PENELOPE. 87 
 
 that neither he nor Sir Isaac Newton were 
 baronets. 
 
 Our readers may therefore very well imagine 
 that if we pass over in silence the dinner at 
 Neverden hall, where sat Sir George and Lady 
 Aimwell, and Colonel Crop, and my Lord Spoon- 
 bill, we are not transgressing the truth of history. 
 Soon after the cloth was removed. Lady Aimwell 
 made herself invisible, and Sir George made him- 
 self what be called comfortable. 
 
 " Now, my good friends," said he, "you know 
 my way. Pray take care of yourselves. Pass 
 the bottle. There — now — well — you know — I — 
 sometimes — it is very rude — you — I know you 
 will — excuse" — 
 
 Saying, or muttering as above, the guardian of 
 laws and game sank to sleep in his easy chair, 
 and left Lord Spoonbill and Colonel Crop to 
 amuse each other. They were however very bad 
 company, for one had no good in his head, and 
 the other had nothing at all there. 
 
 Lord Spoonbill smiled at the baronet in his
 
 88 PENELOPE 
 
 easy chair, and Colonel Crop smiled also. Colonel 
 Crop looked at his lordship most imploringly, as 
 if to beg that he would say something to which 
 yes or no might be replied ; but the heir of Smat- 
 terton was more deeply engaged in his own 
 thoughts. Colonel Crop filled his glass and 
 emptied it, and cracked nuts, and picked his 
 teeth, and took snuff, and yawned, and looked at 
 the pictures, and looked at his own fingers, and 
 put them into the finger glass, and took them out 
 and wiped them. Lord Spoonbill filled his glass, 
 and did not empty it, and did not look at the 
 pictures, and he took out his watch and put it 
 into his pocket without looking at it. Of many- 
 events it is said, that they are no sooner said 
 than done. But all these movements took up a 
 much longer time in doing than they have in the 
 reporting. It was a great relief to the colonel 
 that Lord Spoonbill looked at his watch, for 
 that enabled the man-of-war to say, '^ What time 
 is it?" 
 
 Lord Spoonbill answered by guess, and the
 
 PENELOPE. 89 
 
 colonel was not very particular. When about 
 half an hour more had elapsed, the heir of Smat- 
 terton rang to order his horse, and he said to the 
 colonel, " Crop, I shall leave you to play at 
 backgammon with Sir George. Make my apo- 
 logies. I have some matters to attend to at the 
 castle." 
 
 Lord Spoonbill then took his departure from 
 Neverden hall. It was a fine moonlight night, 
 and the road from Neverden to Smatterton was 
 peculiarly well calculated for the enjoyment of a 
 moonlight ride. The domain of Neverden was 
 for the most part on low and level ground ; and 
 the road from the hall towards Smatterton lay 
 partly by the side of the park, over the low fence 
 of which a person on horseback might have a most 
 beautiful view of plantation scenery, and a dis- 
 tant glimpse of lofty and swelling hills, dark 
 with abundant foliage, but softened by indistinct- 
 ness and remoteness. The ground then gradually 
 rose, and on the left hand might be seen at no 
 great distance a broad and gracefully undulating
 
 90 PENELOPE. 
 
 river, far indeed from the sea, but bearing on its 
 bosom the sails of commerce and the barks of 
 pleasure. And there ran rippling by the side 
 of the road a little prattling infant streamlet, 
 bounding along its bright pebbly channel as in 
 haste to reach the calmer and more majestic ex- 
 panse of waters. On the right hand a dense and 
 dark plantation of firs skirted an abruptly rising 
 ground, at the end of which the road brought 
 the traveller by a sudden turn to an immediate 
 and full view of the massive and whitened towers 
 of Smatterton castle. The castle rose, as some 
 writers would say, but stood, we think, is the 
 most proper, majestically towering above all 
 surrounding objects, and enjoying from its lofty 
 turrets a view of four counties; what these 
 counties were we will not say, — we dislike perso- 
 nalities. 
 
 Now as Lord Spoonbill rode along under the 
 bright light of the moon, undisturbed by any 
 earthly sound but the tinkling of the sheep-bell, 
 or the barking of some cottage curs, he did seem
 
 PENELOPE. 91 
 
 to himself to enjoy the beauty of the scenery and 
 the pleasant balm of the autumnal air. And as a 
 feeling of scenic beauty penetrated his soul, there 
 entered also with that a thought of moral beauty, 
 and he felt that his mind did not harmonize with 
 the repose and beauty which surrounded him. 
 The feeling was not strong enough to be called 
 remorse, it was not serious enough to border upon 
 repentance. He felt conscious that he had acted 
 with meanness, that he had been guilty of a piece 
 of cruelty. He had used a most contemptible 
 and debasing artifice to produce alienation be- 
 tween too worthy and excellent young persons, 
 loving and beloved, confiding and hoping amidst 
 their doubts and difficulties. These feehngs 
 were unpleasant, and he endeavoured to soothe 
 himself by sophistry. After all, what injury had 
 he done to Robert Darnley? It would be a pity 
 that so fine a woman as Penelope Primrose should 
 be sacrificed to such a dull, plodding, common- 
 place man as the younger Darnley. Common- 
 place men are not worthy of the notice of men of
 
 92 PENELOPE. 
 
 fashion, nor deserving of the ordinary privileges 
 of humanity. His lordship had some recollection 
 of Mr Darnley as being a very poor creature, and 
 he thought that it was not probable that he 
 should have gained any great degree of improve- 
 ment by commercial pursuits and habits of busi- 
 ness; for, as everybody knows, these things 
 tend very much to degrade and to cramp the 
 mind ; while on the other hand those pursuits 
 in which his lordship had been engaged had quite 
 the contrary effect. It must be very ennobling 
 to the mind to be engaged in gambling, horse- 
 racing, lounging, bird-shooting, fox-hunting, and 
 seduction ; and any woman of sense and spirit 
 must infinitely prefer a protector of this descrip- 
 tion, to a common-place man who knows nothing 
 of the world. As to Penelope then, his lordship 
 very naturally concluded that he was designing 
 her an essential service. Poor, simple, artless 
 creature, she knew nothing of society, all her 
 days had been passed in a sequestered village ; and 
 as Robert Darnley was almost the only person
 
 PENELOPE. 93 
 
 she was acquainted with, at all likely to make 
 her an offer, she fancied that she must of neces- 
 sity be in love with him. Lord Spoonbill had 
 not according to his own account been much of a 
 reader, but he had read the Sorrows of Werter, 
 and he had read many other compositions of 
 that nature; and he invariably found that the 
 lovers of the betrothed and the married were 
 men of genius, fine feeling, elegant manners, and 
 every species of sentimentality ; and he observed 
 that they were induced to the very laudable prac- 
 tice of seducing the affections of young women 
 from their husbands or lovers, by a. mere prin- 
 ciple of compassion. It was a pity that so much 
 sense and sensibility should be so ill met, and 
 then how kind and considerate for some hio;h- 
 minded young gentleman, like my Lord Spoon- 
 bill, to save them from the stupidity of a com- 
 mon-place husband, and consign them to infam^; 
 and a broken heart. Nothing of course can b / 
 
 greater manifestation and proof of sensibility ^i 
 
 r 
 fine feeling, than seducing engaged affec- / ^V
 
 94 PENELOPE. 
 
 and, if Lord Spoonbill had written his own his- 
 tory, we should have heard of as much sympathy- 
 being expressed for him as there has been for 
 Werter and such like coxcombs ; but as we do 
 not suffer his lordship to speak for himself, our 
 readers must be content to contemplate his cha- 
 racter in all the baldness of truth. 
 
 While thoughts as above described were occu- 
 pying the mind of his lordship, he drew nearer to 
 the domain of Smatterton, and as the view of the 
 castle and village opened upon him, he saw more 
 lights in the cottages than usual at that time in 
 the evening, and he heard at a little distance 
 sounds of more than ordinary movements. And 
 presently there came galloping towards him a ser- 
 vant from the castle. Thinking that it was a 
 messenger sent for himself, he stopped the man 
 ^o ask what was the matter. The man drew up 
 •^^ horse just for a moment, and in hurried ac- 
 ^^^ \. replied that Dr Greendale had been taken 
 cents ^^ y iu^ and that the Earl had given orders 
 serious] over to M to fetch his lordship's own
 
 PENELOPE. 95 
 
 physician. Waiting for no further interrogations 
 the messenger rode off as fast as before. 
 
 Will it be believed that at this moment one of 
 the first and promptest thoughts that occurred to 
 Lord Spoonbill was the idea, that should this ill- 
 ness terminate fatally, the event might facilitate 
 his designs upon Penelope? Yet so it was. This 
 was his first and strongest feeling. He had for- 
 gotten all the fatherly kindness of that good 
 man. He was insensible to any impression from 
 the numberless acts and words of friendship re- 
 ceived from the pious and holy rector. Dr Green- 
 dale had been for many years an intimate friend 
 of the family at the castle. The Earl, though a 
 haughty man and of very strong aristocratic 
 feelings, had never regarded the worthy rector with 
 any other feeling than friendship and respect ; 
 and the Countess, though not insensible to the 
 
 charms and fascinations of fashionable J'x *. 
 
 afe, yet 
 delisrhted in the moral repose and i , 
 
 ^ ^ he ^^^^^ 
 
 beauties of the pastor's character. T , i 
 
 .• ^ he Earl and 
 
 Countess did not condescend to .^.^ 
 
 visit oi tiie
 
 96 PENELOPE. 
 
 rectory, but the doors of the castle were most 
 cheerfully open for the doctor, and there was 
 sincerity in their language, when the noble 
 inhabitants of the mansion declared that a more 
 welcome guest never crossed their threshold. 
 There must have been something good and pre- 
 eminently good in the character of a man who 
 could thus as it were command the moral homage 
 of minds in the highest walks of society. The 
 doctor was not a man of fortune or of family. 
 His respectability was altogether personal and 
 individual. This good man had taken very espe- 
 cial notice of the heir of Smatterton, and had 
 endeavoured, according to the best of his ability, 
 to impress upon the mind of the young lord 
 those principles which, in after-life, might be- 
 come a blessing to him ; and when he could not 
 but observe with all his natural disposition to 
 , ^ and charity, that there were bad prin- 
 
 • , \'ork within, he endeavoured to hope 
 
 ^^pJes at iV 
 
 1 and in his pastoral admonitions to 
 ' ''"c oest ' 
 
 ^^e yoMth he i 
 
 Uid not assume the sternness of the
 
 PENELOPE. 97 
 
 censor, but adopted the gentle insinuating lan- 
 guage of a friend to a friend. He was grieved, 
 indeed, when he saw that Lord Spoonbill was 
 likely to become a frivolous character, but he 
 was spared the bitter mortification of knowing 
 that he was decidedly profligate. 
 
 Miserably degraded must have been the mind 
 of Lord Spoonbill when intelHgence of the good 
 man's illness reached him, that he could think 
 only, or chiefly, of the vicious benefit likely to 
 accrue from the fatal termination of that illness. 
 There was indeed another thought in his . lord- 
 ship's mind. He could not but notice the 
 hurry in which the messenger seemed to be, and 
 he was also struck with the obvious sensation 
 which the illness of the rector had created in the 
 village. And this thought was more powerfully 
 impressed as he rode past a few cottages near 
 the park-gate. He there heard the^gomments 
 and commendations of the humtj ^j- ^^^^ 
 humble, and the poorest of the poo Tig ^^eard 
 the aged tremulously uttering their 1. ,^ ntatious ; 
 
 VOL. 1.
 
 98 PENELOPE. 
 
 these lamentations were perhaps rather selfish, 
 but still they were such as did honour to him 
 for whom they were expressed, if not to those 
 by whom they were used. Then his lordship 
 thought within himself of the power and efficacy 
 of moral worth ; and he himself began to be 
 almost sorry ; but his more degrading and vicious 
 thoughts had the ascendancy ; and he was fully 
 resolved not to be moved or melted by the 
 sorrows of ignorant rustics. 
 
 He rode up to the castle, and having dis- 
 mounted he proceeded immediately to the mag- 
 nificent saloon, in which the Earl was so fond of 
 sitting even when alone. As Lord Spoonbill 
 entered the apartment, the Earl raised his eyes 
 from a book which he was reading, and said, 
 *' You are soon returned. Spoonbill ; did you 
 find Sir George's company not very inviting ? Or, 
 have you^left Crop to enjoy the sole benefit of 
 tne wort! ronet's wit and humour?" 
 
 " I left th ^^^^^^^ taking his nap after dinner, 
 an^ desired c'^^P ^° ^^^^ ^"^ amuse him with 
 
 OSL'
 
 PENELOPE. 99 
 
 his backgammon when he should wake. My 
 visits at Neverden, you know, are never long.*' 
 
 The Earl was about to resume his book, when 
 Lord Spoonbill added, " But pray, sir, what is 
 this account I hear from one of your people about 
 Dr Greendale ? I hope the old gentleman is not 
 seriously ill." 
 
 By this interrogation the Earl seemed to be 
 roused to a recollection of what might otherwise 
 have passed away from his mind. Laying down 
 his book, he said : 
 
 ^' Oh I — ay — right : I am very sorry to tell 
 you that the poor man is very ill. That is, so I 
 understand — I sent immediately for my physician, 
 and I also said that, if it were necessary, I myself 
 would go down to the rectory and see the good 
 man. He will be a very great loss to the village. 
 The poor people are very much attached to him, 
 and 1 believe he is very conscientiously atten- 
 tive to his duties. We must do all we can for 
 him.'* 
 
 " Certainly, we must. I am sure I should be
 
 100 TENELOPE. 
 
 extremely sorry to lose him. What is the nature 
 of his complaint? I was at the rectory last night, 
 and he seemed perfectly well." 
 
 " They tell me/' replied the Earl, '' that it is 
 a fit of apoplexy,, and that the poor man is in a 
 state of total insensibility. I would certainly go 
 down and see him, late as it is, if I thought it 
 would do him any good. I shall hear what my 
 physician says*'* 
 
 '' If you will give me leave, sir, I will walk 
 down to the rectory, and bring you word how the 
 doctor is. That will save you the necessity of 
 going out so late." 
 
 "Very good, very good, do so. I am anxious 
 to hear some more particular account." 
 
 Lord Spoonbill then departed for the rectory. 
 And, when having heard what was the nature of 
 the rector's illness, he had reason to apprehend 
 that the hand of death was upon him,^ the young 
 lord was more deeply moved. He really did 
 make anxious haste to the parsonage. It is a 
 great pity that he did not pay more attention to
 
 PENELOPE. 101 
 
 these frequent admonitions which he received 
 as it were from his better genius, and by which 
 he was reminded that good principles were not 
 altogether foreign to his nature; but he resisted 
 them — he felt *' a dread of shame among the 
 spirits beneath."
 
 102 PENELOPE. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 When his lordship arrived at the rectory, he 
 found the door standing open, and the lower 
 apartments of the house deserted. While he 
 was hesitating whether he should seek his way 
 to the doctor's apartment, one of the domestics 
 made her appearance, and his lordship very 
 earnestly inquired after the afflicted pastor. 
 With deep and unaffected feeling she replied, 
 that her dear master was very, very ill, and with 
 increased emotion continued — 
 
 " Oh, my lord, if you will see him, perhaps 
 he may know you — he may try to speak.'' 
 
 " Certainly I will see him. How long is it 
 since he was taken?"
 
 PENELOPE. 103 
 
 *' Only two hours, my lord. He was quite 
 well this afternoon at five o'clock, and then he 
 went into his study, where he always goes about 
 that time, and we heard nothing of him till about 
 two hours since ; his bell rang, and I went, your 
 lordship, to see what my master wanted, and 
 there I saw him sitting in his great chair quite 
 speechless.'' 
 
 The poor woman was overcome with her own 
 emotion, and Lord Spoonbill hastened to the 
 room into which the patient had been removed. 
 When he entered the apartment, he saw by the 
 light of one dim candle, and a recently kindled 
 fire, the figure of Dr Greendale sitting in an 
 easy chair, in a state of apparent insensibility, 
 and on one side of him sat Mrs Greendale, 
 grasping his hand with convulsive eagerness, and 
 looking anxiously on his still and frozen features : 
 how like and how unlike what he was ! On the 
 other side Penelope was kneeling, holding him 
 also by the hand, and hiding her face, that its 
 expression of deep feeling might not needlessly
 
 104 PENELOPE. 
 
 distress her aunt. Gentle sobbings were heard, 
 and the hard breathings of the death-stricken 
 man. His lordship stood for a few seconds as if 
 ri vetted to the spot where his eye first caught the 
 sight of the melancholy group. Mrs Greendale 
 first noticed the presence of a stranger, and 
 recognised his lordship, who then advanced with 
 slow and gentle step towards the sick man, and 
 silently took the hand of Mrs Greendale, whose 
 tears then flowed afresh, as with louder sobbings 
 she exclaimed — 
 
 '' Oh, my lord, what a sight is here ! Those 
 dear eyes have been fixed as they are now for 
 hours. He was a good man, my lord ; such a 
 heart ! such tenderness ! Oh, he cannot, he can- 
 not continue long ! Oh, that I should live to 
 see this !" 
 
 As Mrs Greendale spoke, Penelope rose from 
 her kneeling posture, and turning round, then 
 first saw that Lord Spoonbill was in the room. 
 His lordship intreated Mrs Greendale to com- 
 pose herself, and then turning again towards the
 
 PENELOPE. 105 
 
 sick man's chair, he held out his hand to Pene- 
 lope, who resigned to his lordship the hand 
 the dying man, which she had been holding. 
 Lord Spoonbill took the offered hand, and kneel- 
 ing on one knee pressed the hand to his lips, 
 and looked with searching earnestness to the face 
 of the patient, as if endeavouring to rouse him 
 into consciousness and recollection. The eyes 
 were fixed and motionless, and their brightness 
 was passing away. After a few moments there 
 appeared a convulsive movement of the lips, and 
 there seemed to be a gleam of consciousness in 
 the eye, and the hand which Lord Spoonbill had 
 been holding was lifted up and placed on his 
 lordship's head, from whence it fell in a moment, 
 and the breathing, after one long sigh, died 
 away and was heard no more. At the instant 
 of the change, Mrs Greendale uttered a piercing 
 shriek, and fell senseless to the floor. Penelope, 
 as if unconscious of the distress of her aunt and 
 the presence of Lord Spoonbill, knelt gently 
 down, and lifting up her hands and her eyes,
 
 106 PENELOPE. 
 
 murmured a prayer, which relieved for a moment 
 her bursting heart ; for tears came copiously to 
 her aid, and her presence of mind was soon 
 restored, and she assisted the domestics in re- 
 moving Mrs Greendale into another apartment. 
 
 Lord Spoonbill then took his leave, and as he 
 quitted the house of mourning he felt as he had 
 never felt before. He had seen life in many of 
 its varieties, but death had been to his eye and 
 thoughts a stranger. He had now witnessed 
 such a scene as he never had before. His mind 
 was deeply and powerfully moved. But yester- 
 day, and he had seen Dr Greendale in the 
 fullness of strength and the vigour of health, and 
 life was bright about him, and he was in its 
 enjoyments and sympathies. One day, one little 
 day, produced an awful change. The music of 
 the tongue was mute, the benevolence of the look 
 .had fled, the animation of the intellect had 
 vanished, and the beatings of the kind heart had 
 ceased. Then did the young lord call to mind 
 many kind expressions which the good man had
 
 PENELOPE. 107 
 
 used towards him. He thought of the day when 
 he went at the desire of the Earl his father, 
 rather than by any prompting of his own inclina- 
 tion, to call at the rectory and take leave of the 
 doctor, previously to setting out on his journey 
 to Cambridge, when he first entered the Univer- 
 sity. He recollected that on that occasion he 
 had been received in the doctor's study, and the 
 good man carefully laid aside his books, and 
 drew his chair round and conversed with him 
 most cheerfully and most vvisely ; and he remem- 
 bered how very tenderly he hinted at the possi- 
 bility of juvenile follies, and how like a friend 
 and companion he endeavoured to guard his 
 mind against the fascinations of vice. He re- 
 membered also the fervent prayer which tlie 
 good man uttered at parting, and the words 
 seemed to live again, and he heard afresh the 
 pious rector pray, '^ May God bless you, my dear 
 young friend, and keep you from the evil that is 
 in the world, and make you an ornament to that 
 station which you are destined to fill." Then
 
 108 PENELOPE. 
 
 came to his mind the sad neglect of all the kind 
 precepts which the holy man had given him, and 
 he felt that as yet the pastor's prayer had not 
 been answered by the event. Now, had these 
 feelings been followed by that sobriety and 
 steadiness of thouo-ht which should be the natural 
 fruit of such emotions, it had been well for him ; 
 but unfortunately he had so much satisfaction in 
 these emotions, and looked upon them as being 
 virtue, and not merely the means of virtue, so 
 that they failed to produce any lasting effect 
 upon his mind, or to cause any change in his 
 conduct. He was proud of his remorse and 
 pleased with his regrets, and so the virtue which 
 had its birth in a tear, evaporated when that tear 
 was dry. 
 
 Before Lord Spoonbill had left the rectory 
 many minutes, he met the medical gentleman on 
 his way to the house. He stopped the physician 
 and told him that all was over. 
 
 With due solemnity, and professional solemnity 
 is very solemn indeed, the medical attendant of
 
 penelopp:. 109 
 
 the Earl of Smatterton shook his head and 
 replied — 
 
 " Indeed ! Aye, I thought I should find it so, 
 from the account which the messenger gave me. 
 However, my lord, as I am thus far, I may as 
 well just look in. There is a possibility, per- 
 haps, that even yet the use of the lancet may not 
 be too late." 
 
 Lord Spoonbill did not oppose the physician's 
 wish, though he had no expectation of any benefit 
 to be derived from it. He therefore returned 
 and waited the report. The man of medicine 
 soon rejoined his lordship, and pronounced the 
 patient beyond the reach of professional skill. 
 
 " The spirit, my lord, has left the body," 
 continued he, " according to the vulgar ex- 
 pression." 
 
 No man could more heartily enjoy the repro- 
 bation of vulgar phraseology than could Lord 
 Spoonbill, generally speaking ; but at this mo- 
 ment he was not disposed to be critical, and he 
 answered the medical man rather pettishly. He
 
 110 PENELOPE. 
 
 was not for his own part able so quickly to make 
 the transition from the grave to the gay as per- 
 sons more accustomed to such scenes. It is also 
 not very uncommon for the imperfectly virtuous 
 to be exceedingly morose when under the im- 
 pression of serious or religious feelings. The 
 physician was very much surprised at the manner 
 in which his lordship received the above-quoted 
 speech ; for it is a great absurdity in these 
 enlightened days to imagine that there is any 
 such thing as a soul. If there had been any 
 such thing, the medical gentlemen, who have 
 very minutely dissected the human body, cer- 
 tainly must have found it. But as they have 
 not seen it, clearly it has no existence, and that 
 which we take for the soul is only a sort of a 
 kind of a something that is not a soul, but 
 is only a word of four letters. Many of the 
 Newmarket students indeed had discovered this 
 fact before the dissectors had revealed it. 
 
 When the medical philosopher observed that 
 Lord Spoonbill did not express any approbation
 
 PENELOPE. 1 1 1 
 
 of the phraseology whereby a doubt of the exist- 
 ence of a soul was intimated, he did not consider 
 that the disapprobation might be more from feel- 
 ing than from opinion, and therefore he proceeded 
 to the discussion of the subject in a regular and 
 systematic method. His lordship was, however, 
 not at all disposed to listen to his arguments, 
 and the two walked side by side in silence to the 
 castle. 
 
 When the Earl saw his medical oracle, he 
 directed his inquiries first to him — 
 
 " Doctor, you will be seated," having been 
 uttered with its usual majesty of condescension, 
 the Earl then proceeded to ask — 
 
 *' And now, doctor, what report do you bring 
 of our worthy rector ?" 
 
 " Dr Greendale, my lord, is no more. Life 
 was extinct before I could reach him ; and I am 
 of opinion that nothing could have saved him." 
 
 '' Indeed ! you don't say so ! It is a sad loss. 
 The doctor was a most excellent man. I had a 
 very high opinion of him. I gave him the living
 
 112 PENELOPE. 
 
 purely for his moral worth. He had nothing else 
 to recommend him. I always make it an invari- 
 able rule to distribute the church preferment 
 which is in my power, purely on the ground of 
 merit. I am never influenced by any political 
 feeling." 
 
 " Your lordship," replied the physician, who 
 understood his lordship's mind as well as his 
 body, and perhaps better ; " your lordship is 
 remarkable for the good judgment which you 
 always exercise in these matters, and indeed in 
 everything else where the public good is con- 
 cerned. It would be w^ell for the country if the 
 distribution of public and responsible offices were 
 in such good hands. We should not hear so 
 much the language of dissatisfaction." 
 
 '' Doctor, you are disposed to compliment. 
 But it is not very easy to prevent the language 
 of dissatisfaction. It is too common and too 
 indiscriminate. It is not proper that the common 
 people should acquire a habit of carping at all 
 the acts of the government. The multitude
 
 PENELOPE. 113 
 
 cannot understand these things. Now I have 
 studied the science of government with great and 
 close attention, and I think I do know something: 
 which even the ministers themselves do not 
 rightly understand. They are engaged in the 
 dry details of office, and they have been brought 
 up in the trammels of prejudice. For my part I 
 have no prejudice. I do not take a detailed but 
 comprehensive and philosophical view of things." 
 Much more to the same purpose did his lord- 
 ship condescend to utter in the hearing and for 
 the instruction of the medical philosopher. The 
 sum and substance of the harangue was to incul- 
 cate that truly philosophical view of government 
 which recommends that the multitude should 
 leave the work of opposition to the old aristo- 
 cracy of the country, and only now and then, as 
 that aristocracy may dictate, present petitions to 
 parliament to countenance and support the mea- 
 sures proposed by his majesty's opposition. The 
 man of medicine was convinced of the truth and 
 justice of every sentiment which the Earl of 
 
 VOL. I. 1
 
 114 PENELOPE. 
 
 Smatterton was pleased in the profundity of his 
 wisdom to advance : for though his lordship was 
 in opposition he did not like to be opposed : and 
 who does ? His lordship then offered some re- 
 freshment to his medical friend, and the subject 
 of the decease of the rector was renewed. 
 
 " I am very much afraid," said his lordship, 
 '' that the poor widow is not left in very com- 
 fortable circumstances. But I will see that some- 
 thing shall be done for her." 
 
 After his lordship had received from the phy- 
 sician his meed of praise for his liberality of in- 
 tention towards the destitute widow, he proceeded 
 to speak of his own good intentions : 
 
 " I am very sorry that I did not see poor Green- 
 dale before his death. I had no idea he was in 
 such immediate danger. I certainly should have 
 gone down to the rectory in person, late as it 
 was, had I been aware that the good man was so 
 near his end. However, I did all I could ; I sent 
 for the best advice that was to be had." 
 
 This was a very considerate and proper speech. 
 
 I
 
 PENELOPE. 1 15 
 
 Thus did the Earl of Smattertoii liberally repay 
 the compliments which he had received from his 
 medical friend and adviser. It should also be 
 remarked, that the expression which his lord- 
 ship has used more than once is rather a singu- 
 larity. He dwelt very much upon the lateness of 
 the hour. Now it was notorious, that in London 
 there was scarcely a single house where night 
 was turned into day and day into night so 
 entirely as in Lord Smatterton's : but in the 
 country his lordship set a most excellent ex- 
 ample of early hours. For, as he very wisely 
 observed, agricultural pursuits require day-light ; 
 the poor people in the country cannot bear the 
 expense of candles, and therefore it is highly 
 proper to set them the example of early hours. 
 This was certainly very considerate of his lord- 
 ship ; and for this considerateness he was duly 
 praised by his physician. It is truly astonishing 
 that anybody should ever be censorious, for there 
 is much more to be got by praising than by 
 blaming one's fellow-creatures.
 
 116 PENELOPE. 
 
 The physician took a handsome fee and a polite 
 leave ; and Colonel Crop just at that moment 
 entered the saloon, having finished his evening's 
 entertainment at Neverden Hall. To him also 
 was communicated the intelligence of the sudden 
 decease of the v^^orthy rector of Smatterton. And 
 as soon as he heard the information, he said : 
 
 '' Poor man, I am sorry for him : has he left a 
 family?" 
 
 He had not left a family, or, if he had. Colonel 
 Crop w^ould have been very sorry for them too. 
 The hour of rest was arrived, and more than 
 arrived. But Lord Spoonbill enjoyed not the 
 sweets of repose. His mind was torn by con- 
 flicting thoughts, and harassed by bitter reflec- 
 tions and self-reproaches. He thought of the 
 mean transaction of the morning and the solemn 
 scene of the evening;. For awhile he had a 
 fancy that the principle of virtue was the ascen- 
 dant feeling of his soul, and he thought that he 
 would not pursue the scheme which he had com- 
 menced. He looked at the letter which he had 
 
 J
 
 PENELOPE. 117 
 
 intercepted, and had some faint notions that he 
 should cause it to reach its destination. At all 
 events, he would not be so mean as to open the 
 letter ; that was an offence of which he had never 
 been guilty. He consigned the letter to the 
 flames. He thought of Dr Greendale, and he 
 was all virtue and penitence. He thought of 
 Penelope, and considered that it would be a pity 
 for so amiable, and intelligent, and affectionate 
 a creature to be sacrificed to such a dull, plod- 
 ding, commercial man as Robert Darnley. At 
 length, wearied by a multitude of thoughts, he 
 fell asleep. But ever and anon his rest was 
 broken by painful and frightful dreams. He was 
 grasping the hand of a lovely and interesting one, 
 and was using the language of passion and per- 
 suasion, and he looked up to catch the smile of 
 beauty and the languishing look of love — and 
 there were before him the glassy eye, and the 
 quivering lip, and the ghastly looks of death. He 
 felt upon his head the hand of blessing, and then 
 there rung in his ears the horrid language of
 
 118 PENELOPE. 
 
 execration. He saw the mild and venerable form 
 of the pious friend of his early youth, and he 
 heard from his lips the sentiments of devotion 
 and the promises of hope ; and then the face was 
 distorted by pain, and the voice was all the 
 harshness of reproach and the keenness of con- 
 demnation. Gradually this agitation of the spi- 
 rits subsided, and the wearied frame sunk into 
 calmer rest ; and when the day-light shone into 
 his apartment, and the morning sun awakened 
 the song of the birds, the darkness and gloom of 
 the night were forgotten, and the mind of the 
 young patrician recovered its wonted insensibility 
 and apathy to all that is good and generous. The 
 emotions of the past night were ridiculed, and 
 thus the character received an additional impetus 
 to that which is bad.
 
 PENELOPE. liy 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 On the following morning the news of Dr 
 Greendale's sudden death reached the neighbour- 
 ing village of Neverden. Mr Darnley was deeply 
 concerned at the intelligence, and prepared to 
 pay an immediate visit to the afflicted widow to 
 offer such consolation and assistance as circum- 
 stances might require. On his way from home 
 he went through Neverden park, and called at 
 the hall to acquaint his patron baronet of the 
 dismal intelligence just received. Sir George 
 met Mr Darnley at the door of the house, and 
 thus the rector was saved the trouble of ahghting. 
 Another trouble was also saved him, namely, that 
 of communicating the news to the baronet : for
 
 120 PENELOPE. 
 
 as soon as the worshipful magistrate saw Mr 
 Darnley, he bawled out at the top of his voice : 
 
 ** Good morning, Darnley, good morning. Bad 
 news from Smatterton; poor Greendale*s dead. 
 What will become of the poor widow and his 
 pretty niece? Very sudden indeed. I always 
 thought he would go off so. Will you alight? 
 I suppose you are going over to Smatterton. Do 
 you know who is to have the living? It is a 
 pretty good thing, I believe." 
 
 This was a mode of address not at all in unison 
 with the feelings of Mr Darnley, though quite in 
 keeping with the character and habits of Sir 
 George Aimwell. Not that Sir George was by 
 any means destitute of feeling. It is very likely 
 he might have been as much concerned at the 
 loss, as others who might express themselves more 
 pathetically ; but, as the proverbial expression has 
 it, it was his way. This expression is an apology m 
 for anything, and for everything, and more espe- 
 cially for all breaches of decorum and violations 
 of propriety. It is quite enough to say, *' he 
 
 t
 
 PENELOPE. 121 
 
 means no harm, it is his way." It was a way 
 however which Mr Darnley did not approve and 
 dared not rebuke ; for he had so high a respect 
 for rank, as one of the glorious blessings of our 
 constitution, that he could never violate its sa- 
 credness by making it the subject of reproof, 
 otherwise than by indirect and general hints. 
 Mr Darnley was a strict, but not a sturdy mo- 
 ralist. To the questions of Sir George he re- 
 turned such answers as he was able to give, and, 
 bowing politely, was about to continue his ride, 
 when the baronet called out to him again : 
 
 ** Well, but I am sorry for the doctor, poor 
 fellow. I was going to send him some game this 
 morning, though we had but a bad day's sport 
 yesterday. I shall send you a brace or two of 
 birds, Darnley." 
 
 Mr Darnley made his acknowledgments for 
 the baronet's liberality, and pursued his journey, 
 meditating on the various subjects and thoughts 
 which such events as these usually excite in 
 such minds as his. When ho arrived at Smat-
 
 122 PENELOPE. 
 
 terton, at the very entrance of the village he saw 
 symptoms of a general calamity. The old men 
 were standing in little groups, and looking seri- 
 ous, and talking with great earnestness on the 
 subject of their loss : and when they saw Mr 
 Darnley ride past they drew aside and made more 
 serious reverence than usual ; and, while they 
 uncovered their silvery heads and bowed to the 
 clergyman, there was in their looks an expression 
 which seemed to ask for some more acknowledg- 
 ment of their homage than the return bend of the 
 head ; they seemed to implore him to address 
 them. And, as he was a man of discernment and 
 observation, he stopt his horse and spoke to an 
 old, a very old man, who was leaning on a stick 
 which trembled under his pressure, and said : 
 
 *' So, my good friend, I am concerned to hear 
 that you have lost your worthy rector." 
 
 *' Yes, sir, it is God's will. 1 am sure I did 
 not think that I should live to see that day. 
 Please your reverence, it was but yesterday 
 morning that I was speaking to my children
 
 PENELOPE. 123 
 
 about putting me into the ground ; and I told 
 them that I should die contented if I thought 
 that they would continue to attend to the good 
 doctor's instructions. And I thought that 1 
 should have that good man to read at my grave. 
 Ah I sir, these are mysteries in providence ; here 
 am I spared year after year merely to cumber the 
 ground, while our dear rector is cut off in the 
 midst of his days and usefulness." 
 
 *' You are rather advanced in years, I believe; 
 I have not seen you for some time. Have you 
 been unwell?" 
 
 ^' Yes, sir, I am nearly ninety, and at my 
 time of life I cannot expect anything else than 
 illness and infirmity. I have not been out of my 
 doors for many months, but I could not help 
 hobbling out a little way just to hear some parti- 
 culars about our worthy rector. Alack, sir, I 
 had need give him a good word. He was my 
 best friend, so kind " 
 
 The old man wept audibly ; and Mr Darnley, 
 who had been affected by the very aspect of the
 
 124 PENELOPE. 
 
 village as he entered it, felt himself unable to 
 make any reply, and rode on. When he reached 
 the rectory, and enquired for Mrs Greendale, the 
 domestic announced that her mistress was too ill 
 to be seen, but that Miss Primrose would make 
 her appearance immediately. Happy was it for 
 Penelope that there was on the present occasion 
 a division of interests and an opposing set of 
 feelings. Her troubles had come thickly upon 
 her; but the very meeting together of these 
 sorrows tended to soften them, or, what was 
 equivalent to that, to excite and compel her to 
 an unusual exertion of moral fortitude ; and the 
 very circumstance of Mrs Greendale's acute and 
 severe feeling was also the means of exciting and 
 rousing Penelope. 
 
 When therefore she met Mr Darnley, it was 
 with great composure and steadiness of counte- 
 nance, and she was able to narrate, with consis- 
 tency and intelligibility, the particulars of her 
 uncle's decease. She mentioned the visit of Lord 
 Spoonbill, and spoke very highly of the great 
 
 I
 
 PENELOPE. 125 
 
 propriety of his behaviour and the manifestation 
 which he gave of good feeling. Mr Darnley was 
 pleased to hear so good an account, and hoped 
 that so solemn and impressive a scene might be 
 instrumental in producing some good effect on 
 the young lord's conduct. As Penelope was 
 always regarded by the family at Neverden as 
 possessing a steadiness of judgment beyond her 
 years, Mr Darnley, after the ordinary talk on 
 such occasions, ventured to extend his inquiries 
 as to the probable disposition of the widow and 
 Penelope after they should leave the rectory, 
 which must of course be resigned to the doctor's 
 successor. 
 
 The young lady professed herself quite at a 
 loss to know what arrangements might be con- 
 templated by Mrs Greendale ; but as to herself 
 she expressed her determination to take, as soon 
 as possible, a situation as governess in a private 
 family, and said that she was sure that the Coun- 
 tess of Smatterton would give every assistance in 
 her power. 
 
 Mr Darnley expressed himself somewhat asto-
 
 126 PENELOPE. 
 
 nished at this decision, under what he called pre- 
 sent circumstances. Now here it may be proper 
 and necessary to explain. We have narrated, or 
 at least very strongly intimated, that there sub- 
 sisted between the niece of the late Dr Greendale 
 and the only son of Mr Darnley an engagement, 
 sanctioned by the parents of the latter. We 
 have also said, that Lord Spoonbill had cast the 
 eyes of affection on Penelope Primrose, and that 
 in order to wean her affections from him to whom 
 she was engaged, he had intercepted more than 
 once letters sent from Mr Robert Darnley to her. 
 We have stated also, that the apparent cessation 
 of the correspondence on the part of the young 
 gentleman had disturbed and distressed the mind 
 of Penelope. Her spirit, however, was above 
 naming or hinting the matter to the parents of 
 her absent friend. We have also informed our 
 readers that, only on the very day of Dr Green- 
 dale's decease, a letter had been intercepted and 
 destroyed by Lord Spoonbill, and that a letter 
 had reached the rectory of Neverden from the 
 young gentleman. In this letter Mr Robert Darn-
 
 PENELOPE. 127 
 
 ley had apprised his parents and sisters that they 
 might expect him in England in about six weeks 
 after the arrival of that communication : he had 
 also informed them that he had written to Pene- 
 lope by the same conveyance, informing her of 
 the same fact. He had also, in one part of that 
 letter which he had sent to Neverden, addressed 
 a line or two to his sister Ann, requesting her to 
 observe if there were in Penelope Primrose any 
 symptoms of alienated affection, or any manifest 
 partiality to any other person. This last enquiry 
 was thought merely the effect of that fanciful 
 jealousy which is, in some peculiarly-constructed 
 minds, the effect and concomitant of love : and 
 the general impression at the rectory of Neverden 
 was, that Robert Darnley would be in England in 
 six weeks, and that, as soon as conveniently it 
 could be arranged after his return, he would be 
 married to Penelope. It was therefore with no 
 small share of astonishment that Mr Darnley 
 heard the young lady make such a declaration as 
 that above recorded.
 
 128 PENELOPE. 
 
 '* But, my young friend, why have recourse to 
 such a step as that ? It would be much better 
 that you should take up your abode with us at 
 Neverden. Indeed, I must almost insist upon it, 
 if you will not otherwise be induced to comply. 
 Under any other circumstances I should not 
 perhaps recommend such a step, but now that 
 you are so situated that you must soon leave 
 Smatterton, I think you cannot with propriety 
 do otherwise.'' 
 
 To this language of Mr Darnley Penelope only 
 replied with great composure, indeed almost with 
 apathy: *' I must beg, sir, that you will not press 
 that subject. You will, no doubt, be ultimately 
 convinced that I am acting more properly in sub- 
 mitting myself to the direction and advice of 
 Lady Smatterton." 
 
 At this speech of the young lady there came 
 into the mind of Mr Darnley a suspicion that the 
 jealousy expressed in his son's letter was not 
 altogether unfounded. Not that he could have 
 supposed that Penelope Primrose should deli-
 
 PENELOPE. 129 
 
 berately prefer a lover like Lord Spoonbill to a 
 young man of sense and good conduct like Mr 
 Robert Darnley ; but he was well aware of the 
 fascinations of rank and the allurements of 
 fashionable splendour, and he also knew that it 
 was very possible for worthless and ignorant men, 
 by means of the mockery and mummery of con- 
 ventional politeness, to render themselves not 
 only not disagreeable, but absolutely engaging 
 and interesting to the young and unpractised. 
 He recollected the very handsome manner in 
 which Penelope had spoken of Lord Spoonbill, 
 and he also bethought himself of the unusual 
 event of the heir of Smatterton honoring the 
 party of Mrs Greendale with his company. Then 
 there came to his remembrance that, during the 
 whole, or nearly the whole evening, Penelope 
 was engaged at the pianoforte, and that she 
 joined Lord Spoonbill in several duets : and there 
 was also a recollection that his lordship, as soon 
 as he entered the room at the rectory, took a seat 
 on a sofa by the side of Miss Primrose, and di- 
 
 VOL. T. K 
 
 I
 
 130 PENELOPE. 
 
 rected his conversation for awhile almost exclu- 
 sively to her. Mr Darnley, having compared all 
 these circumstances, began to wonder at himself 
 that he should ever have been so dull as not to 
 observe that the affections of Penelope Prim- 
 rose belonged more to Lord Spoonbill than to 
 Robert Darnley. 
 
 Having made this discovery, and having silently 
 reproached himself for his stupidity that he had 
 not made it before, he did not hint the least word 
 of his suspicion to Miss Primrose ; but simply 
 abstained from farther urging the matter about 
 her residence at Neverden. Mr Darnley was too 
 proud a man to stoop to any expostulations or 
 reproofs, or to show anything like resentment 
 upon the occasion. For he did not consider that 
 Penelope had inflicted an injury on his family, 
 but had merely declined a proffered honor. 
 
 He continued therefore his conversation upon 
 other topics connected with the doctor's decease, 
 and, leaving a message of sympathy for Mrs 
 Greendale, politely, rather more politely than
 
 PENELOPE. 131 
 
 usual, took his leave of Penelope. She observed 
 indeed a change in his manner, but ascribed it to 
 the unusually serious impression produced on his 
 mind by the loss of a friend and acquaintance. 
 
 From the rectory Mr Darnley proceeded to 
 the castle, to make a call of homage on the Earl 
 of Smatterton. His lordship received the homage 
 graciously, and said, as was usual with him on 
 all such occasions, " Mr Darnley, I beg you 
 will be seated." 
 
 Mr Darnley accordingly took a seat, and Lord 
 Smatterton accordingly began to speak forth his 
 own praises of his own most mighty condescension 
 and benevolence. 
 
 " You have been at the rectory this morning, 
 Mr Darnley ? It was very proper and suitable 
 that your's should be the first visit to the house 
 of mourning. You found the poor woman well, 
 I hope ; that is, as well as may be under present 
 circumstances ?" 
 
 Mr Darnley informed his lordship of the parti- 
 culars of his visit to the rectory, not forgetting to
 
 132 PENELOPE. 
 
 mention his own offer to give an asylum to the 
 doctor's niece. 
 
 ** Mr Darnley," replied his lordship, '' I very 
 much approve of your liberality. I can assure 
 you that I shall take care that neither the widow 
 nor the niece shall be destitute. I have always 
 entertained a very high opinion of Dr Greendale. 
 He was truly an excellent man. As soon as I 
 heard of his illness I sent for my own physician 
 to attend him, and had it not been so very late in 
 the evening I should have gone down to see him 
 myself. And indeed, notwithstanding it was so 
 late, I certainly should have gone had I been 
 aware of the danger in which he was. However 
 I did everything in my power, and I shall also 
 have an eye to the well-being of those who are 
 by his death left destitute ; for I think I have 
 understood that the doctor had no property of 
 any consideration independently of his living. 
 But pray, Mr Darnley, what think you of the 
 propriety of giving to the world a volume or two 
 of the doctor's sermons ? They contain much
 
 PENELOPE. 133 
 
 good sense and sound doctrine. They are not 
 indeed so sublime as Irving's, or so beautiful as 
 Alison's, nor was it necessary that they should be ; 
 for the common people cannot understand the 
 sublime and beautiful. What think you, I say, 
 Mr Darnley, of the propriety and eligibility of 
 publishing some of Dr Greendale's sermons?" 
 
 '' With all due deference to your lordship's 
 superior judgment in such matters, I am humbly 
 of opinion," replied Mr Darnley, ** that good 
 sense and sound doctrine are no great recommen- 
 dation of sermons, at least they do not ensure 
 popularity so effectually as sublimity and beauty. 
 But I believe, my lord, that Dr Greendale was 
 engaged on a very important controversial work. 
 Now I have heard that controversial theology 
 has a much better sale than practical divinity, 
 and that sermons hardly ever go off^ unless there 
 be some peculiar interest attached to the person 
 who wrote them, or to the circumstances under 
 which they were preached. If, therefore, your 
 lordship is disposed to assist in the publication
 
 134 PENELOPE. 
 
 of any of the late doctor's writings, I should 
 humbly apprehend that his great controversial 
 treatise would be most profitable to his widow, 
 and bring more fame to his memory." 
 
 " That may be very true, Mr Darnley, but I do 
 not like controversy ; it unsettles people's minds. 
 I never knew any good come of it. But while 
 there are sectarians there must, to be sure, be 
 refutations of their errors, and the best way to 
 oppose sectarianism is by means of argument ; 
 for I am a decided advocate for religious liberty, 
 only I do not like to have the minds of the com- 
 mon people disturbed and unsettled. These 
 matters, Mr Darnley, I shall leave to you as a 
 friend of the late doctor ; and if you are disposed 
 to publish any of his writings, they cannot come 
 out under better auspices. At all events I shall 
 subscribe for a certain number of copies." 
 
 ''Your lordship is very generous; and I hope 
 you will not find in the writings of the worthy 
 rector anything that shall tend to unsettle the 
 minds of the people, but rather the reverse. For
 
 PENELOPE. 135 
 
 I understand that the object of the treatise 
 which I have mentioned to your lordship, is to 
 put an end to controversy. I recollect hearing 
 my worthy friend say, that he had answered and 
 refuted every objection that had ever been urged 
 against the established church, and that there 
 was not a single sect which he had not opposed 
 and confuted." 
 
 " Well, well, if the work is of such a compre- 
 hensive nature, I think it important that it should 
 be published. It is a great pity, however, that it 
 did not make its appearance during the doctor's 
 life-time, it might have procured him a bishopric ; 
 but really, Mr Darnley, I don't know how it is, but 
 I have observed that ministers are not sufficiently 
 attentive to men of merit. They give away their 
 preferment merely for the purpose of parliamentary 
 influence. Now, for my part, I never do anything 
 of the kind — I always patronize merit. I gave the 
 living of Smatterton to Dr Greendale, purely on 
 account of his merit. I wish that this consi- 
 deration weighed more than it does with those
 
 136 PENELOPE. 
 
 whose patronage is more extensive and important 
 than mine/' 
 
 Mr Darnley had a better opinion of his ma- 
 jesty's ministers than the Earl of Smatterton had 
 expressed, and therefore he did not very readily 
 echo the last speech which his lordship made. 
 He took however especial care not to say any- 
 thing that might impeach his lordship's judg- 
 ment and sagacity. The peer and the clergyman 
 parted on very good terms. The first was 
 delighted that he had enjoyed an opportunity of 
 speaking in laudatory terms of his own bene- 
 volence and wisdom ; and the last was very well 
 satisfied that while he had paid due reverence to 
 rank, he had not compromised his loyalty to his 
 majesty's ministers, by complimenting at their 
 expense a member of his majesty's opposition.
 
 PENELOPE. 137 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 The day for Dr Greendale's funeral arrived. It 
 was Sunday. This arrangement was made in 
 order to give opportunity for the poor and the 
 labouring classes to attend, and pay their last 
 tribute of respect to their benefactor and friend. 
 It was a very fine day, such as often happens in 
 the middle of September; and the day seemed 
 Hke a holiday. For, such is the nature of the 
 human mind that the attending on any ceremony 
 seems more a matter of amusement than of 
 sorrow. Joy, it appears, cannot be solitary, and 
 sorrow can hardly be social. When a multitude 
 assembles, be the purpose what it may for which 
 the assembling takes place, it wears generally
 
 J 38 PENELOPE. 
 
 the aspect of amusement or pleasure. This is 
 particularly the case at funerals, and much more 
 so in other countries than our own. 
 
 The village of Smatterton was unusually full. 
 Many came from a distance, some to visit their 
 friends, some for a little extraordinary amuse- 
 ment for the Sunday, and some probably with 
 a desire to pay a tribute of respect to the late 
 rector ; for the name of Dr Greendale was cele- 
 brated beyond the narrow limits of his own 
 parish. There were visitors at almost every 
 house in the village, and the little public-houses, 
 which on Sunday were ordinarily closed, now 
 were indulged with the privilege of being open, 
 Indeed the indulgence was absolutely necessary. 
 The funeral procession was very long, and many 
 of the mourners were mourners indeed. They 
 had a great regard for the late doctor, not for any 
 very profuse generosity which he had exhibited, 
 for that was not in his power ; not for any un- 
 bounded hospitality, for in that respect he was 
 limited in his circumstances, and confined as to
 
 PENELOPE. 139 
 
 his time ; not because he was a very eloquent and 
 entertaining preacher, for his sermons were plain- 
 ness itself; not because he was a sturdy politi- 
 cian, either demagogue or sycophant, for it was 
 absolutely impossible for any one to conjecture 
 with plausibility to which party he belonged j 
 not because he indulged and flattered the vices 
 of either the great or the little, for he was not 
 unsparing in his rebukes of wickedness whenever 
 he met with it ; but they loved and respected 
 him for the steadiness and respectability of his 
 character, for the integrity, purity, simplicity, 
 and sincerity of his life. Therefore they mourned 
 at his grave, and wept tears of real sorrow at the 
 loss of him. 
 
 The very persons who paid tithes were sorry 
 that he was departed from them, for they did not 
 think it likely that any other could be put in his 
 place to whom they would more cheerfully make 
 such payments. The funeral service was impres- 
 sively read by Mr Darnley, and in the afternoon 
 the same gentleman took the duty at the church.
 
 140 PENELOPE. 
 
 in order to deliver a funeral sermon for his late 
 friend and neighbour. 
 
 While the rites of sepulture were being per- 
 formed at the church, the daughters of Mr 
 Darnley were, by their presence and kind sym- 
 pathy, endeavouring to console the sorrowing 
 widow, and the doubly orphaned niece, at the 
 rectory house. Miss Darnley had heard at the 
 beginning of the week from her father the suspi- 
 cion which he entertained of the unsteadiness of 
 Penelope's affections ; and though the present 
 was not a proper time to make any direct 
 enquiries, or to use any obvious diligence to 
 discover the secret, yet she could not help 
 showing^ her attention a little alive to auoht 
 which might seem to promise any clue for the 
 discovery of the young lady's state of mind to 
 her brother. And as Mr Darnley had given a 
 hint that Penelope Primrose seemed to regard 
 Lord Spoonbill with very great approbation, and 
 to throw herself entirely on the patronage of the 
 Countess, Miss Darnley endeavoured to let a
 
 PENELOPE. 141 
 
 word or two fall which might either corroborate 
 or remove the suspicions which had been enter- 
 tained on that head. 
 
 It was very easy to direct the conversation to 
 their noble friends at the castle. Mrs Greendale 
 and Penelope both expressed great gratitude for 
 the kind sympathy which they had experienced 
 from the earl and comitess. Penelope also 
 praised the very humane and feeling conduct 
 of Lord Spoonbill ; but the language which she 
 used, and the manner in which she spoke of his 
 lordship, gave no light upon the subject of 
 suspicion. Jt was not indeed probable that the 
 son of so proud a nobleman as the Earl of Smat- 
 terton should think of allying himself by mar- 
 riage with the niece of a clergyman, portionless 
 and unconnected. Nor indeed was it likely that 
 a young woman of such excellent understanding 
 as Miss Primrose should be weak enough to 
 imagine an attachment where none existed. 
 Suffice it to say, that notwithstanding all the 
 pains which Miss Darnley used for the purpose.
 
 142 PENELOPE. 
 
 she could not ascertain whether er not there 
 existed such an attachment. Her conclusion 
 rather inclined to the opinion that her brother's 
 suspicions were but a little emanation of consti- 
 tutional jealousy. 
 
 We have said that Mr Darnley was engaged to 
 perform the service of the church in the after- 
 noon. On this occasion the multitude assem- 
 bled was very great. The church was crowded 
 to suffocation, and besides the great mass of 
 people within, there were also many without; 
 many young persons who loved rather to idle 
 about the churchyard than to take pains to press 
 their way in. They loitered about in groups, 
 and they amused themselves with reading the 
 monumental inscriptions, and some perhaps were 
 then and there reminded of pious and amiable 
 parents, of intimate friends and companions. 
 They did not loiter altogether unprofitably, if 
 feelings of a kind and tender nature were 
 excited in their breasts by recollections of the 
 departed.
 
 PENELOPE. 143 
 
 But there was one who seemed to have no 
 companion there, or friend among the living or 
 the dead. There was a young female in deep 
 mourning, walking sorrowfully up and down the 
 broad gravel-walk which led from the road to the 
 church-door. She looked not at those that 
 passed her, and she did not seem to regard the 
 monumental inscriptions with any interest. Her 
 form was graceful, but her figure was small. 
 There was a paleness on her cheeks which looked 
 like the paleness of sorrow and privation; but 
 amidst that paleness might be discerned much 
 beauty. There had been brightness in those 
 eyes, and dimples on those cheeks, and wreathed 
 smiles upon those lips ; but these were now 
 departed, and instead thereof was the 
 
 " Leaden look that loves the ground." 
 
 She seemed to be heedless of all that was 
 around her. The young beaux and coquettes of 
 the village attracted not her attention, and all 
 the change of look that was seen was an occa-
 
 144 PENELOPE. 
 
 sional and earnest direction of her eyes towards 
 the door of the church when any footsteps were 
 heard near it. There were no tears in the eyes, 
 but there was an expression of countenance, 
 which told that tears had been, and there was 
 a stillness of sorrow which intimated that tears 
 had done their utmost, and could no longer 
 relieve. 
 
 The young are ever prone to pity, and they 
 most deeply and feelingly commiserate such 
 as seem to be least importunate for sympathy ; 
 for despair is the sublimity of grief, and its 
 very unobtrusiveness rivets the attention. An 
 image of sorrow like this is not easily shaken 
 from the mind. We may pass by it, and seem 
 not to heed it ; but it comes upon us again in 
 our recollections ; and our thoughts revert to 
 it without effort, or even against effort. Thus 
 did this vision fascinate and enchain the minds 
 of those who in the indolence of their sabbath 
 holiday were strolling about the churchyard. 
 By degrees their idle talk was suspended or 
 
 I
 
 PENELOPE. 145 
 
 subdued. Their own little interests were for- 
 gotten, and they one and all wondered who it 
 could be. And they were saying one to another, 
 " How beautiful she looks !" — '' How very pale 
 she is!" — ''She looks as if she were very ill." 
 Many such remarks were made, but they were 
 uttered in a low tone, and with an endeavour not 
 to appear to take particular notice of the melan- 
 choly stranger. 
 
 At length the service in the church was. over, 
 and the multitude was pouring out. Then the 
 beautiful mourner took her station at the porch, 
 and watched with earnestness every face that 
 passed by ; and over her pale countenance there 
 came a hectic flush, as the numbers increased 
 and as the expected one seemed to be nearer. 
 The numbers diminished and the paleness re- 
 turned. 
 
 A sound of carriage-wheels was heard at a 
 httle distance, and the stranger, moving from the 
 porch at which she had stationed herself, saw in 
 
 VOL. 1. L
 
 146 PENELOPE. 
 
 another direction a narrow path, leading from a 
 different door, and on that path were walking 
 three persons, who, before she could reach them, 
 were seated in the carriage and had vanished 
 from her sight. 
 
 To explain these appearances as far as it is 
 at present necessary, we must turn our attention 
 awhile from the newly-introduced fair one, and 
 accompany the Earl and Countess, with their 
 hopeful son, back again to the castle. 
 
 Scarcely had the Earl alighted from the 
 carriage when he was informed that, during his 
 absence, a young person in deep mourning had 
 been at the castle nearly an hour ago, and had 
 been very importunate for an audience with his 
 lordship. To the very natural enquiries of name, 
 description, and business, the only answer which 
 could be given was, that the stranger refused to 
 state her name or business, and that her appear- 
 ance was that of a very respectable and rather 
 pretty young woman ; and that though she had
 
 PENELOPE. 147 
 
 expressed great anxiety to see his lordship, yet 
 there was nothing in her manner obtrusive or 
 troublesome. 
 
 While this information was being conveyed to 
 the Earl, the Countess had passed on to her own 
 apartment ; but Lord Spoonbill attended to w^hat 
 was said, and that with no small share of inte- 
 rest. His recollection and conscience inter- 
 preted the mystery, and his ingenuity was now 
 taxed to evade an exposure, which he dreaded. 
 Assuming an air of indifference, he said : 
 
 '' Perhaps, sir, it may be a daughter of one of 
 your Yorkshire tenants. She is described as 
 being in mourning, and if I recollect rightly, we 
 heard of the death of one of them very lately. It 
 is however very unsuitable to come here on a 
 Sunday on matters of business. I am about to 
 walk down into the village, and if I can meet 
 with the young person I will save you the trouble 
 of attending to her." 
 
 *' Do so, Spoonbill, do so : I do not approve of 
 being interrupted on a Sunday ; it is a bad ex-
 
 148 PENELOPE. 
 
 ample to the people in the country : it does not 
 so much signify in London." 
 
 It was fortunate, or, more properly speaking 
 unfortunate, for the young lord that the Earl his 
 father was very easy to be imposed upon ; and 
 perhaps the more so from the very high opinion 
 which he entertained of his own wisdom and 
 sagacity. But such was his confidence in the 
 good conduct and good disposition of his son, 
 that he would not easily have been brought to 
 give credence to any story of a disgraceful nature 
 told against him. The young man took advan- 
 tage of this, and so he always passed for a very 
 prudent and steady person: and it was not unfre- 
 quent that the Earl himself would commend the 
 steadiness and sobriety of his son, and propose 
 him as an example to those w^ho were companions 
 of his irregularities. 
 
 After the conversation above recorded, the 
 young lord made the best of his way through the 
 park towards that gate which led into the village; 
 carefully at the same time observing that his
 
 PENELOPE. 149 
 
 victim did not escape him and return by another 
 path to the castle. 
 
 He met her not in the park ; and when he 
 arrived at the gate he was at a loss which way to 
 turn. It would have been a miserable exposure 
 of his conduct had the stranger found her way 
 back to the castle and obtained an interview with 
 the Earl. Still worse in the mind of Lord Spoon- 
 bill would it have been that the Countess should 
 become acquainted with that part of his character 
 and conduct which might be communicated to 
 her by the mysterious stranger ; for, with all his 
 irregularity of demeanour, and amidst conduct 
 which manifested a most serious want of good 
 feeling and good principle, he felt a regard for 
 his mother, and an anxiety for her comfort and 
 composure of mind : he disguised himself to his 
 father from fear, and to his mother from love. 
 
 Agitated by distracting thoughts, he stood at 
 the park gate, gazing alternately in different 
 directions ; and by the intensity of his feelings 
 vv'as at last rivetted in an almost unconscious 
 
 I
 
 150 PENELOPE. - 
 
 state of mind to the spot on which he was stand- 
 ing. Suddenly his pulse beat quicker, and his 
 heart seemed to swell within him, when at a little 
 distance he saw the dreaded one approaching 
 him. Had he seen her anywhere else his first 
 impulse would have been to avoid her ; but here 
 his truest and best policy was to submit to an 
 interview, however painful. Shall he meet her 
 with kindness? — shall he meet her with re- 
 proaches ? — shall he meet her with coldness ? 
 These were enquiries rapidly passing through his 
 mind as she drew nearer and nearer. It was 
 difficult for him to decide between cruelty and 
 hypocrisy : but the last was most natural to him, 
 so far as custom is a second nature. 
 
 The afflicted one moved slowly with her eyes 
 fixed on the ground, and she saw" not her enemy 
 till so near to him, that on lifting up her face and 
 recognizing his well-known features, the sudden 
 shock produced a slight hysteric shriek. >m 
 
 Lord Spoonbill was not so lost to all feeling of 
 humanity as to be insensible to the anguish of
 
 PENELOPE. 151 
 
 mind which she now suffered, who had once 
 regarded him as a friend, and had loved him, 
 '* not wisely, but too well." He held out his 
 hand to her with an unpremeditated look of kind- 
 ness and affection j and which, being unpremedi- 
 tated, bore the aspect of sincerity. The stranger 
 at first hesitated, and seemed not disposed to 
 accept the offered hand ; but she looked up in 
 his face, and the blood mounted to her cheeks 
 and the tears stood in her eyes, and she gave 
 him her hand, and covered her face and wept 
 bitterly. 
 
 There are moments in which shameless profli- 
 gates look foolish and feel that they are con- 
 temptible. This was such a moment to Lord 
 Spoonbill. He was moved, and he was mortified 
 that he was moved ; and there was a general 
 feeling of confusion and perplexity in his mind. 
 What could he say ? or how could he act ? He 
 began to stammer out something like gentleness, 
 and something like reproof. But she who stood 
 before him was as an accusing spirit, to whom
 
 152 PENELOPE. 
 
 apology was mockery, and repentance too late. 
 At length, when the first emotion began to abate, 
 he said : 
 
 '' Ellen, what brings you here? Surely this is 
 not a proper day for a visit like this. What 
 could induce you too to endeavour to see the 
 Earl ? If you once mention the affair to him you 
 are irretrievably ruined ; 1 can do nothing for 
 you." 
 
 A reproachful look, a deep sigh, and the with- 
 drawing her hand from his, were the only answer 
 which the above speech received. She attempted 
 to speak, but words were wanting ; and after a 
 little more appearance of confusion on the part of 
 his lordship, he seemed for the first time to notice 
 her mourning dress, and with real tenderness of 
 manner asked her what peculiar loss or misfor- 
 tune had brought her to Smatterton. Assuming- 
 then a steadiness of tone and greater composure 
 of manner, she at last spoke out : 
 
 " My lord, it is indeed a deep affliction which 
 has brought mc to appeal to your pity. You
 
 PENELOPE. 153 
 
 took me from a widowed mother ; you deserted me 
 with promises unfulfilled. I returned to that dwell- 
 ing which was destined to be my home no more. 
 I have closed my mother's eyes, which did indeed 
 look a forgiveness which she could not speak. I 
 am now an outcast, unless I can find the means 
 of reaching a distant relative, who will give me a 
 home. I have made frequent application by 
 letter to your lordship and to the Earl, and I was 
 fearful that my letters had not reached you ; and 
 I had no resource but to come here to speak for 
 myself." 
 
 Lord Spoonbill had received these letters ; not 
 only those addressed to himself, but those designed 
 for his father. He had paid but little attention 
 to them ; for the name of Ellen Fitzpatrick had 
 ceased to be interesting to him. He had in 
 former days made small pecuniary remittances; 
 but had latterly declined them. But now seeing 
 before him one whom he had deeply injured, and 
 beholding her as a suppliant in the most humble 
 attitude, and hearing that it was possible that an
 
 154 PENELOPE. 
 
 arrangement might be made, whereby he should 
 no longer be troubled with her visits or letters, 
 he felt his mind greatly relieved, and he was dis- 
 posed to be generous. He therefore promptly 
 supplied her with the means of reaching her 
 friend, and enjoined, with no little earnestness, 
 that she should leave Smatterton immediately, 
 and that without even returning again to the 
 village. 
 
 What account the hopeful hereditary legislator 
 gave to the Earl we shall not state ; suffice it to 
 say, that he told his own story, that the Earl 
 believed it, that it answered the purpose for 
 which it was invented. And it came to pass 
 that, on the day following, when there was men- 
 tion made of the young person in deep mourning 
 who v^as seen in the churchyard on Sunday, it 
 was confidently stated, and easily believed, that 
 it was a young lady out of her mind who had 
 escaped from her keepers.
 
 PENELOPE. 155 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 We have spoken favorably of the Countess. 
 She was for the most part a considerate as well 
 as a benevolent woman : we say for the most 
 part, because we must make some slight excep- 
 tion. And if our readers be angry with us for 
 not indulging them with perfect characters, we 
 can only say we are sorry for it, and will 
 promise that as soon as we meet with a faultless 
 character we will give the history thereof to the 
 world. In the meantime we must take what we 
 find, and make the best of it. The Countess of 
 Smatterton then was, as we have said, possessed 
 of many good qualities, but was not perfect. 
 There was occasionally a want of considerateness
 
 156 PENELOPE. 
 
 in her very benevolence ; and most people indeed, 
 w^ho do any good at all to their fellow-creatures, 
 prefer doing it in their own way. There is per- 
 haps some benefit in this ; for otherwise the 
 opulent and powerful would be too much impor- 
 tuned, and the number of the dependent be most 
 awfully increased. To proceed then : we have 
 observed that the Countess was not uniformly 
 considerate. She could, and for the most part 
 did, bestow her favors with great grace and 
 urbanity of manner; but occasionally she was 
 rather forgetful of the proprieties ; she did not 
 always consider that what might be suitable in 
 one person or station might not be suitable in 
 another. This feeling was manifested in the 
 interview with which her grace was pleased to 
 honor Miss Primrose, soon after the decease of 
 her valuable friend and relative, Dr Greendale. 
 
 The Countess very kindly invited the ladies to 
 the castle. Her ladyship received the widow and 
 her niece in her own apartment. No one knew 
 so well as the Countess how to manage the Ian-
 
 PENELOPE. 157 
 
 guage and address of consolation. Mrs Green- 
 dale was charmed with the delicate and feelino; 
 manner in which she was received ; and her 
 ladyship was happy that any attention of hers 
 could gratify and soothe the afflicted. 
 
 With an exquisite dexterity of address the 
 Countess contrived to introduce an allusion to 
 the situation of Penelope Primrose ; and as 
 neither the young lady nor her aunt was in full 
 possession of the circumstances in which Mr 
 Primrose was at that time, they both had the 
 impression on their minds that there was no 
 other immediate prospect for his daughter than 
 the exertion of her own talents and acquirements 
 to provide her with the means of support. The 
 worthy rector had not as yet been long enough 
 in the grave to give Penelope an opportunity of 
 feeling the difference of Mrs Greendale's manner 
 towards her ; but she had penetration enough to 
 foresee what must be her situation so long as she 
 remained under the same roof as her aunt. With 
 the utmost readiness did she therefore listen to
 
 158 PENELOPE. 
 
 the Countess, when speaking of the various em- 
 ployments to which a young person situated as 
 she was might turn her attention. 
 
 " Lord Smatterton," said the Countess, " has 
 frequently mentioned the subject to me, and he 
 recommends a situation in a private family. There 
 are certainly some advantages and some disad- 
 vantages in such a situation : very much depends 
 upon the temper and disposition of almost every 
 individual in the family. It is possible that you 
 may meet with a family consisting of reasonable 
 beings, but it is more than probable that you 
 may have to encounter arrogance or ignorance ; 
 these are not excluded from any rank." 
 
 This language seemed to Penelope as an inti- 
 mation that a school would be a more desirable 
 sphere in which to make profitable use of her 
 acquisitions. It was not for her to oppose any 
 objections to the implied recommendations of so 
 good and so great a friend as her ladyship ; but 
 she felt considerable reluctance to that kind of 
 employment, which she fancied had been sug-
 
 PENELOPE. 159 
 
 gested. Her reply was embarrassed but respect- 
 ful, intimating that she was ready to adopt any 
 mode of employment which the Countess might 
 be pleased to suggest. Her ladyship gave a 
 smile of approbation to the acquiescent disposi- 
 tion which the young lady manifested, and added : 
 
 '' If Miss Primrose could conquer a little feel- 
 ing of timidity, which might naturally enough be 
 experienced by one so retired in her habits, it 
 would be possible for her, with her great vocal 
 powers and musical talent, not only to find means 
 of maintenance, but to arrive at a competent in- 
 dependence, by adopting the musical profession. 
 Then she would also enjoy the pleasure of good 
 society. If such arrangement be agreeable, I will 
 most willingly charge myself with providing the 
 preparatory instruction under a distinguished 
 professor. What does my young friend think of 
 such occupation ?" 
 
 Had sincerity been the readiest road to the 
 patronage and friendship of the great, this ques- 
 tion might have been very readily and easily
 
 160 PENELOPE. 
 
 answered. But Penelope knew better than to 
 suppose that any advantage could arise from a 
 direct opposition to the wishes of a patron. 
 Repugnant as she was to the proposal, she dared 
 not to whisper the least syllable of contradiction, 
 on the ground of dislike, to the profession ; but 
 after a blush of mortification, which the Countess 
 mistook for a symptom of diffidence, she replied : 
 
 " I fear that your ladyship is disposed to esti- 
 mate rather too highly the humble talents I may 
 possess, and that I shall not answer the expecta- 
 tions which so distinguished patronage might 
 raise." 
 
 The Countess was not altogether pleased w^ith 
 this shadow of an objection ; for it seemed to call 
 in question her own discernment. She therefore 
 replied with some quickness : 
 
 " I beg your pardon. Miss Primrose : I have 
 usually been considered as something of a judge 
 in these matters ; and, if I do not greatly mis- 
 take, you are peculiarly qualified for the profes- 
 sion ; and, if you would condescend to adopt my 
 
 I
 
 PENELOPE. 161 
 
 recommendation, I will be answerable for its 
 success/' 
 
 The Countess, with all her kindness and consi- 
 derateness, had not the slightest idea that there 
 could be in a young person, situated as Penelope, 
 any feeling of pride or thought of degradation. 
 But pride was in being before titles were invented ; 
 and even republics, which, in the arrogance of 
 equality, may repel from their political voca- 
 bulary all distinctions of fellow citizens, cannot 
 eradicate pride from the human heart. In a 
 civilized country there is not perhaps an indi- 
 vidual to be found who is incapable of the sensa- 
 tion of degradation. Miss Primrose thought it 
 degrading to become a public singer; she felt 
 that it would be publishing to the world that 
 she was not independent. The world cares little 
 about such matters. Right or wrong, however, 
 this feeling took possession of the young lady's 
 mind ; and as pride does not enter the mind by 
 means of reasoning, it will not be expelled by 
 any process of ratiocination. For all this, how- 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 PENELOPE. 
 
 ever, the worthy Countess could make no allow- 
 ance ; and it appeared to her that if a young per- 
 son were under the necessity of serving her 
 superiors in rank for the sake of maintenance, 
 it signified very little what mode of servitude 
 were applied to. 
 
 There was also another consideration which 
 weighed not a little with the Countess, in almost 
 insisting upon Miss Primrose's adopting the 
 musical profession. Her ladyship was a distin- 
 guished patroness, and a most excellent judge 
 of musical talent ; and there was a rival pa- 
 troness who had never yet been able to produce, 
 under her auspices, anything at all equal to 
 Penelope Primrose. The mortification or defeat 
 of a rival is a matter of great moment to minds of 
 every description. Whenever there is the weak- 
 ness of rivalry there must be of necessity also the 
 vanity of triumph, and to that occasionally much 
 will be sacrificed. 
 
 Mrs Greendale, who was present at this dis- 
 cussion, sided most cordially with the Countess ; 
 
 I
 
 PENELOPE. 163 
 
 but had the proposal come from any other 
 quarter, in all human probability it would have 
 been resented as an indignity Penelope was 
 also well aware that it was absolutely neces- 
 sary that she should leave the asylum in which 
 so many of her few days had been spent, and 
 she therefore, with as good a grace as her 
 feelings permitted, gave assent to the proposal 
 which the Countess had made. And thereby her 
 generous patroness was softened. 
 
 The discussion of this question occupied no 
 inconsiderable portion of time, though we have 
 not thought it necessary to repeat at length the 
 very common-place dialogue which passed on the 
 subject. Our readers must have very languid 
 imaginations if they cannot supply the omission 
 for themselves. Suffice it to say, that the argu- 
 ments used by the Countess of Smatterton were 
 much stronger than the objections which arose 
 in the mind of Penelope Primrose ; and the con- 
 sideration of these arguments, backed by the 
 reflection that she had no other inmiediately
 
 164 PENELOPE. 
 
 available resource, determined the dependent one 
 to acquiesce in that which her soul abhorred. 
 It was all very true, as the amiable Countess 
 observed, that an occupation which introduced 
 the person so employed to the notice and into 
 the saloons of the nobility, could not be essen- 
 tially degrading ; it was also very true that there 
 could be no moral objection to a profession 
 which had been ornamented by some of the 
 purest and most virtuous characters. All this 
 was very true ; but notwithstanding this and 
 much more than this which was urged by the 
 Countess, still Penelope did not like it. There 
 is no accounting for tastes. 
 
 Some young ladies there are who think that, if 
 they should be situated as Penelope was, they 
 would not suffer any inducement to lead them to 
 a compliance with such a proposal. They ima- 
 gine that no earthly consideration whatever 
 should compel them to that which they abhorred 
 or disapproved. They cannot think that Penelope 
 deserved the title of heroine, if she could thus
 
 PENELOPE. 165 
 
 easily surrender her judgment and bend her will 
 to the dictation of a patroness. But let these 
 young ladies be informed, that in this com- 
 pliance lay no small portion of the heroism of 
 Penelope's character. She gained a victory 
 over herself; she did not gratify a pert self-will 
 at the expense of propriety and decorum, and 
 she had no inclination to play the part of a 
 Quixote. 
 
 It is an easy thing for a young man to set 
 himself up as independent. The world with all 
 its various occupations is before him. He may 
 engage in as many freaks as suit his fancy ; he 
 may dwell and live where and how he pleases ; 
 but the case is widely different with a young 
 woman delicately brought up, respectably con- 
 nected, and desirous of retaining a respectable 
 condition and the countenance of her friends. 
 She is truly dependent, and must oftentimes 
 sacrifice her judgment and feelings to avoid more 
 serious and important sacrifices. 
 
 Penelope used to talk about dependence
 
 166 PENELOPE. 
 
 while under the roof of her benevolent and kind- 
 hearted relative, now no more. But she felt 
 it not then, as she felt it when her uncle had 
 departed from life. Then it was merely a name, 
 now it became a reality. 
 
 When the Countess had prevailed upon 
 Penelope to give her assent to the proposal of 
 publicly displaying her musical talents, her lady- 
 ship was in exceeding good humour; and when 
 a lady of high rank is in good humour, her con- 
 descension, her affability, her wit, her wisdom, 
 and whatever she pleases to assume or affect 
 of the agreeable and praiseworthy, are infinitely 
 above all language of commendation to such a 
 person as Mrs Greendale. The widow therefore 
 was quite charmed with the exquisitely lady- 
 like manners of the Countess, astonished at her 
 great good sense ; and, had the Countess re- 
 quested it, Mrs Greendale herself would have 
 become a public singer. 
 
 While this negociation was going on at the 
 castle at Smatterton, another discussion con-
 
 PENELOPE. 167 
 
 cerning Penelope was passing at the rectory at 
 Neverden. 
 
 '' Well, papa/' said Miss Darnley, " I took 
 particular notice of Penelope Primrose yesterday, 
 and purposely mentioned the name of Lord 
 Spoonbill, to see whether it would produce any 
 emotion, and I did not observe anything that 
 led me to suppose what you suspect." 
 
 '' Very likely, my child, you could not discern 
 it. That was not a time for the expression of 
 any such feelings. Her thoughts were then 
 otherwise engaged. But I can say that, from 
 what I have observed, I have no reason whatever 
 to doubt that her affections are not as they were 
 with respect to your brother. You know that 
 Robert wrote to her by the same conveyance 
 which brought us a letter, and although I gave 
 every opportunity and hint I could to that pur- 
 pose. Miss Primrose did not mention having 
 heard." 
 
 " But, my dear papa," repUed Miss Darnley, 
 still unwilling to think unfavourably of so valued
 
 1G8 PENELOPE. 
 
 a friend as Penelope, " might not her thoughts 
 be otherwise engaged at the time, when you 
 visited her ; for you recollect that your call was 
 much sooner after Dr Greendale's death than 
 our's was." 
 
 Mr Darnley smiled with a look of incredulity, 
 and said, " You are very charitable in your judg- 
 ment, my dear, but I think in this instance you 
 extend your candour rather too far. I did not 
 only observe symptoms of alienation, but had, I 
 tell you, almost a proof of the fact. I w^ent so 
 far as to allude to her engagement and to offer 
 our house as an asylum ; and her reply was, that 
 she would be at the direction of Lady Smat- 
 terton. Whether she be vain and conceited 
 enough to aspire to Lord Spoonbill's hand, I 
 will not pretend to say, but I am abundantly 
 convinced that she does not regard your brother 
 with the same affection that she did some time 
 ago; and there certainly have been symptoms to 
 that effect in the course of her correspondence, 
 or Robert would never have used such language.
 
 PENELOPE. 169 
 
 or made such enquiries as he has in his last letter. 
 And I think it would be but an act of kindness, 
 or even of justice, to let your brother know what 
 are our suspicions." 
 
 Now Mary Darnley, who was rather inclined 
 to be blue-stockingish, and had of course, a 
 mighty admiration for wisdom, and learning, 
 and science, thought it not unlikely that if 
 Penelope had changed her mind, and transferred 
 her affections to another, that other was more 
 likely to be Mr Kipperson than Lord Spoonbill. 
 For, she reasoned, it was not probable that a 
 young woman so brought up as Penelope had 
 been, should be at all pleased with a character 
 so profligate as Lord Spoonbill was generally 
 supposed to be. Then Mr Kipperson, though 
 he was double Penelope's age, yet was a very 
 agreeable man, and far superior to the common 
 run of farmers ; and he was a man of very 
 extensive information and of great reading. The 
 reasoning then went on very consequentially to 
 prove, that as Penelope loved reading, and as
 
 170 PENELOPE. 
 
 Mr Kipperson loved reading, therefore Penelope 
 must love Mr Kipperson. This perhaps was not 
 the best kind of reasoning in the world, yet it 
 might do in default of a better to support a 
 theory. 
 
 The truth of the matter is, that Miss Mary 
 Darnley herself was a little disposed to admire 
 Mr Kipperson, in virtue of his literary and 
 scientific character ; and the truth also is, that 
 Mr Kipperson had really manifested symptoms 
 of admiration towards Penelope Primrose; and 
 last, but not least, is the truth, that Miss Mary 
 Darnley was somewhat inclined to be jealous of 
 the attention which the literary and scientific 
 Mr Kipperson had recently paid to Miss Prim- 
 rose. 
 
 This theory of Miss Mary Darnley seemed the 
 most plausible, and it was therefore adopted by 
 her mother and sisters, and by them it was una- 
 nimously concluded that Penelope was not 
 unfavourable to the suit of Mr Kipperson ; and 
 then they thought that the young lady had
 
 I'ENELOPK. 171 
 
 behaved, or was behaving very ill to their brother ; 
 and then they thought that their brother might 
 do much better for himself; and then they 
 thought that Mr Kipperson was at least fifty, 
 though till then it had been the common opinion 
 that he was but forty ; and then they thought 
 that no dependence could be placed on any one ; 
 and then they made many wise remarks on the 
 unexpectedness of human events, not considering 
 that the experience of millions, and the events 
 of centuries, have conspired to shew that events 
 take any other direction than that which is 
 expected. Ann Darnley was sorry for it, Martha 
 laughed at it, and Mary was angry with it. 
 
 As for Mr Darnley himself, he was not much 
 moved ; but he could not admit of the idea that 
 he was wrong in his conjecture that Miss Prim- 
 rose was partial to Lord Spoonbill, therefore he 
 could not see the force of the reasoning which 
 went to prove, that the transfer of Penelope's 
 affections was not from Robert Darnley to Lord 
 Spoonbill, but to Mr Kipperson.
 
 172 PENELOPE. 
 
 " Beside," said Mr Darnley, *' is it likely that 
 a young woman of such high notions as Miss 
 Primrose should think of accepting an offer 
 from Mr Kipperson, who, though he is a man of 
 property and of literary taste, is still but a farmer, 
 or agriculturist. It is far more likely that the 
 vanity of the young lady should fix her hopes 
 on Lord Spoonbill, especially if his lordship has 
 paid her, as is not unlikely, very marked atten- 
 tions. 
 
 Although in the family at the rectory of 
 Neverden there was diversity of opinion as to 
 the person on whom Miss Primrose had placed 
 her affections, there was at least unanimity in 
 the feeling and expression of disapprobation. 
 And, in pursuance of this feeling, there was a 
 diminution, and indeed nearly a cessation of 
 intercourse between the parties. Many days 
 passed away, and no message and no visitor from 
 Neverden arrived at Smatterton. 
 
 This was deeply and painfully felt by Penelope, 
 and the more so as it was absolutely impossible
 
 PENELOPE. 173 
 
 for her to ask an explanation. Indeed, she con- 
 cluded that no explanation was wanting ; the 
 fact that no letter had been received for so long 
 time, and the circumstance of the coldness and 
 change in the manners of the young ladies at 
 Neverden, were sufficient manifestations to 
 Penelope that, for some cause or other, there was 
 a change in the mind of Robert Darnley towards 
 her. Then in addition to these things was the 
 reflection, that she had allowed herself to be per- 
 suaded contrary to her own judgment to adopt 
 the profession of music as a public singer, or at 
 least as a hired performer. Thus, in a very short 
 tiaie, she was plunged from the height of hope to 
 the depth of despair. A little while ago she 
 had been taught to entertain expectations of her 
 father's return to England in a state of indepen- 
 dence ; she had also reason to hope that, the lapse 
 of a few months, there might come from a distant 
 land one for whom she did entertain a high 
 esteem, and who should become her guardian.
 
 174 PENELOPE. 
 
 and guide, and companion through life. A Httle 
 while ago also, she had in the society and 
 sympathy of her worthy and benevolent uncle, 
 Dr Greendale, a refuge from the storms of life, 
 and some consolation to enable her to bear up 
 aright under the pressure of life's evils, its 
 doubts and its fears. All these hopes were now 
 vanished and dispersed, and she left to the mercy 
 of a rude world. Her best benefactor was in his 
 grave, and those very agreeable and pleasant 
 companions in whom he confided as in relatives, 
 and more than sisters, they also had deserted 
 her. It required a great effort of mind to bear 
 up under these calamities. Her mind however 
 had been habituated to exertion, and it had 
 gained strength from the efforts which it had 
 formerly made ; but still her constitution was 
 not stoical; she had strong and deep feelings. 
 It was with some considerable effort that she 
 did not yield so far to the pressure of present 
 circumstances as to lose all elasticity of mind
 
 PENELOPE. 175 
 
 and to relinquish all love of life. And pity itself 
 need not seek and cannot find an object more 
 worthy of its tears than one living, who has lost 
 all relish for life, and ceased to enjoy its bright- 
 ness or to dread its darkness.
 
 176 PENELOPE. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Some few weeks after Penelope had given lier 
 consent to the arrangement suggested by the 
 Countess of Smatterton, the family at the castle 
 took their departure for London. Her ladyship 
 did not forget her promise of providing Miss 
 Primrose with the means of cultivating and im- 
 proving her natural talents ; but, in a very few 
 days after arriving in town, negociations were 
 entered into and concluded with an eminent pro- 
 fessor to take under his tuition a young lady 
 patronized by the Countess of Smatterton. 
 
 Great compliments of course were paid to the 
 judgment of the Countess, and high expectations 
 were raised of the skill and power of this new
 
 PENELOPE. 177 
 
 vocal prodigy ; for countesses never patronize 
 anything but prodigies, and if the objects of their 
 patronage be not prodigies by nature, they are 
 very soon made so by art and fashion. 
 
 Now the Countess of Smatterton was really a 
 good judge of musical excellence; her taste was 
 natural, not acquired or affected as a medium of 
 notoriety, or a stimulus for languid interest in 
 life's movements. And when her ladyship had 
 a musical party, which was indeed not unfre- 
 quently, there was not one individual of the 
 whole assemblage more really and truly delighted 
 with the performances than herself, and few 
 perhaps were better able to appreciate their 
 excellence. 
 
 At this time but- few families were in town, 
 and the winter assortment of lions, and prodigies, 
 and rages, was not formed or arranged. Lady 
 Smatterton would have been best pleased to 
 have burst upon the assembled and astonished 
 world at once with her new human toy. But 
 the good lady was impatient. She wished to 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 PENELOPE. 
 
 enjoy as soon as possible the pleasure of exhi- 
 biting to her friends and neighbours and rivals 
 the wonderful talents of Penelope Primrose. As 
 soon therefore as arrangements could be made 
 with the professor who was destined to be the 
 instructor of Miss Primrose, a letter was de- 
 spatched to Smatterton, desiring the young lady 
 to make as much haste as possible to town. 
 
 This was indeed a sad and painful trial to 
 Penelope. Little did she think that the plan 
 was so soon to be put in force to which she had 
 given her reluctant assent. It seemed inconsi- 
 derate in her ladyship to remove Penelope from 
 Mrs Greendale so very soon ; not that the young 
 lady had any very great reluctance to part from 
 Mrs Greendale ; but as she had some reluctance 
 to make the journey to London for the object 
 which was in view, she felt rather more than 
 otherwise she would have done the inconve- 
 nience to which it necessarily put her aunt. 
 Having therefore shewn Lady Smatterton's letter 
 to the widow, she expressed her concern that the
 
 PENELOPE. 179 
 
 Countess should be so very hasty in removing 
 her, and said, that if her aunt wished it she 
 would take the liberty of writing to her ladyship, 
 requesting a little longer indulgence, that she 
 might render any assistance which might be 
 needed under present circumstances. 
 
 Some persons there are who never will and 
 who never can be pleased : Mrs Greendale was 
 one of them. Instead of thanking Penelope for 
 her considerate and kind proposal, her answer 
 was : 
 
 " Indeed, Miss Primrose, I think you would 
 be acting very improperly to question Lady 
 Smatterton^s commands. I know not who is to 
 provide for you, if you thus turn your back upon 
 your best friends. I can assure you I have no 
 great need of any of your assistance, which I dare 
 say you would not be so ready to offer if it did 
 not suit your own convenience.** 
 
 To repeat much such language as this would 
 be wearisome. Suffice it to say, that there was 
 no form of expression which Penelope could use,
 
 180 PENELOPE. 
 
 nor any line of conduct which she could propose, 
 which Mrs Greendale was not ingenious enough 
 to carp at and object to. It may then be easily 
 imagined that the situation of our heroine was 
 not much to be envied ; nor will it be supposed 
 that she felt any great reluctance to leave such a 
 companion and friend as this. With the best 
 grace imaginable, therefore, did Penelope prepare 
 for yielding obedience to Lady Smatterton's com- 
 mands ; but it was still with a heavy heart that 
 she made preparation for her journey. 
 
 Before her departure it was absolutely and 
 indispensably necessary that she should go 
 through the ceremony of taking leave of her 
 friends. Of several persons, whose names are 
 not here recorded, Penelope Primrose took leave, 
 with expressions of mutual regret. There was 
 however no embarrassment and no difficulty in 
 these cases. When, however, she prepared to 
 take leave of her friends at Neverden, the case 
 was widely different. Then arose much per- 
 plexity, and then her heart felt such a bitter 
 
 I
 
 PENELOPE. 181 
 
 pang. It was probable that this would be a final 
 leave. The Darnleys never visited London, or 
 at least not above once in twenty years. They 
 had recently looked coldly upon her, and had 
 partially neglected her. It was contrary to their 
 general practice to act capriciously ; there cer- 
 tainly must be a motive for their behaviour, and 
 what could that motive be but a change in the 
 intentions of Robert Darnley with respect to her- 
 self. The ground of that change she was at a 
 loss to determine. At all events she must call 
 and take leave of them. 
 
 In pursuance of this determination, Penelope 
 Primrose took, not the earliest, but the latest 
 opportunity of calling upon Mr Darnley and the 
 family at Neverden rectory ; for it would not be 
 very pleasant to remain any time in the neigh- 
 bourhood after a cool and unfriendly separation 
 from those with whom so many of her pleasantest 
 hours had been spent, and with whose idea so 
 many of her hopes had been blended. When she 
 called, the whole family was at home. Her
 
 182 PENELOPE. 
 
 reception was by no means decidedly unkind, or 
 artificially polite. There was always indeed a 
 degree of stateliness in the manner of Mr 
 Darnley, and that stateliness did not appear any 
 less than usual, nor did it appear quite so 
 tolerable as on former days and on former 
 occasions. 
 
 In the young ladies, notwithstanding their 
 general good sense and most excellent education, 
 there was towards Penelope that kind of look, 
 tone, and address, which is so frequently adopted 
 towards those who once were equals, and whom 
 misfortune has made inferiors. Those of our 
 readers who cannot understand us here we sin- 
 cerely congratulate. 
 
 It had been made known to Mr Darnley for 
 what purpose Miss Primrose was making prepa- 
 rations for a journey to London. But, though 
 the fact had been communicated, the reason for 
 that step had not been mentioned ; not a word 
 had been said concerning the pressing impor- 
 tunity of the Countess ; nor was there any notice
 
 PENELOPE. 183 
 
 taken to him of the reluctance with which 
 Penelope had consented to this arrangement. It 
 appeared therefore to Mr Darnley that the 
 measure was quite in unison with the young 
 lady's own wishes; nor did he see how incongru- 
 ous such a movement as this must be with his 
 suspicions of the aspiring views of his late 
 friend's niece. At all events, this proceeding on 
 the part of Miss Primrose appeared to him, and 
 very naturally so, as a tacit relinquishment of 
 the engagement with his son : as it was im- 
 possible for her not to know how repugnant it 
 must be to the feelings and taste of Mr Robert 
 Darnley. But as the elder Mr Darnley held the 
 clerical office, of the sanctity and dignity of 
 which he had very high ideas, he thought it but 
 part of his duty to administer a word or two of 
 exhortation to the young lady about to embark 
 in a concern of such a peculiar nature. 
 
 Now to render exhortation palatable, or even 
 tolerable, requires a very considerable share of 
 address and dexterity, more indeed than usually
 
 184 PENELOPE. 
 
 falls to the lot of clerical or of laical gentry. It is 
 easy enough to utter most majestically and 
 authoritatively a mass of common places con- 
 cerning the dangers to which young people are 
 exposed in the world. It is easy to say, *' Now 
 let me advise you always to be upon your guard 
 against the allurements of the world, and to con- 
 duct yourself circumspectly, and be very, very 
 attentive to all the proper decorums and duties of 
 your station." Such talk as this anybody may 
 utter; and when young people commence life, 
 they expect to hear such talk ; and for the most 
 part, to say the best of it, it produces no effect, 
 good, bad, or indifferent. It is also easy to 
 render exhortation painful and distressing, by 
 making it assume the form of something humili- 
 ating and reproachful ; and when it has also a 
 reference to some departed friend, or to circum- 
 stances once bright, but now gloomy, and when 
 these references are founded on injustice, and 
 when this injustice cannot be refuted or rectified 
 without some explanation or explanations more
 
 PENELOPE. 185 
 
 painful still, then it is that exhortation is doubly 
 painful and distressing. So fell upon the ear 
 and heart of poor Penelope the exhorting lan- 
 guage of Mr Darnlev. 
 
 When Penelope had first entered the apart- 
 ment she had announced the purpose of her call, 
 and had, by the assistance of the Darnleys, 
 stated the views with which she was going to 
 London : for so reluctant was she to mention the 
 fact, that its annunciation was almost extorted 
 from her by those who knew beforehand what 
 were her intentions. After a very little and very 
 cold common-place talk, uttered merely from a 
 feeling of the necessity of saying something, the 
 conversation dropped, and tlie parties looked 
 awkwardly at one another. Then did Mr 
 Darnley, assuming a right reverend look, address 
 himself to Miss Primrose. 
 
 *' Now, Miss Primrose, before we part, let me 
 as your friend, and as a friend of yonr late 
 uncle, give you a little parting advice. I am 
 sorry that you have determined on taking this
 
 186 PENELOPE. 
 
 step, and had you condescended to consult me 
 on the subject, I certainly should have dissuaded 
 you from the undertaking. But, however, that is 
 past. Though I rather am surprised, I must 
 acknowledge that, recollecting as you must, how 
 strongly your late worthy uncle used to speak 
 against this pursuit, you should so soon after his 
 decease resolve to engage in it. But, however, 
 you are perfectly independent, and have a right to 
 do as you please. I do not say that in this pur- 
 suit there is anything inconsistent with religion 
 and morality. I would by no means be so un- 
 charitable. But I should have thought. Miss 
 Primrose, that, considering your high spirit, you 
 would hardly have condescended to such an 
 employment; for I may call it condescension, 
 when I consider the prospects to which you were 
 born : but those, I am sorry to say, are gone. As 
 you have then fully resolved upon thus making a 
 public display of your musical talents, which, for 
 anything I know to the contrary, may be of the 
 highest order — for 1 do not understand music
 
 PEXEJLOPE. . 187 
 
 myself — you will perhaps excuse me if, as a 
 friend of your late uncle, and really a well-wisher 
 to yourself, I just take the liberty to caution you 
 against the snares by which you are surrounded. 
 Beware of the intoxications of flattery, and do 
 not be unduly distressed if you should occasion- 
 ally in the public journals be made the subject of 
 ill-natured criticism. For I understand there 
 are many young and inexperienced writers who 
 almost regularly assail by severe criticism public 
 performers of every kind ; and they make use of 
 very authoritative language. Now this kind of 
 criticism would be very offensive to a person who 
 was not aware that it is the production of ignorant, 
 conceited boys. I was once acquainted with a 
 young man who made acknowledgments to me 
 that have given me a very different view of the 
 critical art from that which I formerly enter- 
 tained. But, my good young lady, there are 
 severer trials which await you than these : you 
 will be very much exposed to the society of 
 the vicious and dissipated. You will have 
 need of all your caution and circumspection
 
 188 PENELOVK. 
 
 to take care that your religious and moral 
 principles be not weakened or impaired. I do 
 not say, indeed, that your profession is to be 
 esteemed irreligious or immoral ; but it certainly 
 is exposed to many snares, and does require an 
 unusual share of attention. I hope you will not 
 neglect to attend church regularly and punctually. 
 It will assuredly be noticed if you neglect this 
 duty. IMany will keep you in countenance should 
 you be disposed to slight the public ordinances 
 of religion ; but there are also not a lew who 
 patronize public musical performances, and who 
 also attend on rehgious worship : it is desirable 
 therefore to let these persons see that you are also 
 attentive to the duties of religion. I must add. 
 Miss Primrose, that I am concerned to find you 
 so bent upon this scheme. It would have given 
 me great pleasure, had all things proceeded 
 rightly, to afford you an asylum in this house till 
 the return of your father, or till any other change 
 had rendered such accommodation no longer 
 necessary. But, as circumstances now are, this 
 cannot be."
 
 PENELOPE. 189 
 
 It is easy to conceive what effect such lan- 
 guage as this must have had on the sensitive 
 mind and almost broken heart of Penelope Prim- 
 rose. It is very true that, in this address to her, 
 Mr Darnley had no malicious or cruel intention, 
 though every sentence which he uttered <j;rieved 
 her to the very soul. Well was it for Penelope 
 that she was partly prepared for something of this 
 kind, and that her sorrows had crept upon her 
 gradually. Therefore she bore all this with a 
 most enduring patience, and never attempted to 
 make any explanation or apology otherwise than 
 by meekly and calmly replying to the elaborate 
 harangue of Mr Darnley : 
 
 " I thank you, sir, for your advice ; T hope and 
 trust I shall attend to it ; but I wish you to 
 understand that I am not acting purely according 
 to my own inclinations in adopting this employ- 
 ment. I am sorry that I am under the ne- 
 cessity — '* 
 
 The sentence was unfinished, and the tone in 
 which it was uttered excited Mr Darnley 's com-
 
 190 PENELOPE. 
 
 passion : but he thought it very strange that 
 Miss Primrose should express any reluctance to 
 engage in a pursuit which, according to all ap- 
 pearance, she had voluntarily and unnecessarily 
 adopted. The young ladies also were very sorry 
 for her, but still they could not help blaming her 
 mentally for her fickleness towards their brother; 
 for they were sure that he was attached to her, 
 and they plainly saw, or at least thought they 
 saw, that she had withdrawn her affections from 
 him. Penelope also was very well convinced, by 
 this interview with the family, that all her 
 hopes of Robert Darnley were gone. 
 
 To avoid any farther unpleasantness, she then 
 took leave of her late friends, and, with a very 
 heavy heart, returned to Smatterton to make im- 
 mediate preparation for her journey to London. 
 Alas ! poor girl, she was not in a frame of mind 
 favourable to the purposes of festivity or the notes 
 of gladness. She, in whose heart was no gladness, 
 was expected to be the means of dehghting others. 
 Thus does it happen, that the tears of one are the
 
 PENELOPE. 191 
 
 smiles of another, and the pleasures of mankind 
 are founded in each others pains. Never do the 
 burning words and breathing thoughts of poetry- 
 spring with such powerful energy and sympathy- 
 commanding force, as when they come from a 
 heart that has felt the bitterness of grief, and 
 that has been agitated even unto bursting. 
 
 Our heroine would then have appeared to the 
 greatest advantage, and would then have com- 
 manded the deepest sympathy in those moments 
 of solitude, which intervened between the last 
 leave-taking and her departure for a metropolis 
 of which she had seen nothing, heard much, and 
 thought little. But now her mind was on the 
 rack of thought, and so deeply and painfully was 
 it impressed, that her feeling was of the absolute 
 impossibility of effectually answering the designs 
 and intentions of her friend the Countess. She 
 could not bear to look back to the days that were 
 yjast — she felt an indescribable reluctance to look 
 forward, but her mind was of necessity forced in 
 that direction. All that spirit of independence
 
 ]1)2 PENELOPE. 
 
 and feeling of almost pride, which formed no 
 small part of her character, seemed now to have 
 taken flight, and to have left her a humble, des- 
 titute, helpless creature. It was a pretty con- 
 ceit that came into her head, and though it was 
 sorrowful she smiled at it ; for she thought that 
 her end would be swanlike, and that her first 
 song would be her last, with which she should 
 expire while its notes were trembling on her lips. 
 
 I
 
 PENELOPE. 193 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 It was not very considerate of the Countess of 
 Sraatterton to let a young lady like Penelope 
 Primrose take a long and solitary journey of 
 two hundred miles in a stage-coach without any 
 guide, companion, or protector. The Earl had 
 a very ample supply of travelHng apparatus, and 
 it would have been quite as easy to have found 
 room for Penelope in one of the carriages when 
 the family travelled up to town. But they who 
 do not suffer inconveniences themselves, can 
 hardly be brought to think that others may. 
 Penelope felt rather mortified at this neglect, and 
 it was well for her that she did, as it was the 
 means of taking away her attention from more 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 194 PENELOPE. 
 
 serious but remoter evil. It was also productive 
 of another advantage ; for it gave Mr Kipperson 
 an opportunity of exhibiting his gallantry and 
 politeness. For, the very morning before Pene- 
 lope was to leave Smatterton, Mr Kipperson 
 called in person on the young lady, and stated 
 that imperious business would compel him to 
 visit the metropolis, and he should have infinite 
 pleasure in accompanying Miss Primrose on her 
 journey, and perhaps that might be more agree- 
 able to her than travelling alone or with total 
 strangers. Penelope could not but acknowledge 
 herself highly obliged by Mr Kipperson's polite- 
 ness, nor did she, with any affectation or foolery, 
 decline what she might perhaps be compelled 
 to accept. On the following morning, therefore. 
 Miss Primrose, escorted by Mr Kipperson, left 
 the sweet village of Smatterton. That place had 
 been a home to Penelope from almost her earliest 
 recollections, and all her associations and thoughts 
 were connected with that place, and with its little 
 neighbour Neverden. Two hundred miles tra-
 
 PENELOPE. 195 
 
 veiling in a stage-coach is a serious business to 
 one who has hardly ever travelled but about as 
 many yards. It is also a very tedious affair even 
 to those who are accustomed to long journies by 
 such conveyance. In the present instance, how- 
 ever, the journey did not appear too long to either 
 of our travellers. For Penelope had looked for- 
 ward to the commencement of her journey with 
 too much repugnance to have any very great 
 desire for its completion, and Mr Kipperson was 
 too happy in the company of Miss Primrose to 
 wish the wheels of time, or of the coach, to put 
 themselves to the inconvenience of rolling more 
 rapidly than usual on his account. It was also 
 an additional happiness to Mr Kipperson that 
 there were in the coach with him two fellow 
 travellers who had long heard of his fame, but 
 had never before seen his person ; and when they 
 discovered that they were in company with the 
 great agriculturist, and the great universal know- 
 ledge promoter, Mr Kipperson, they manifested
 
 196 PENELOPE. 
 
 no small symptoms of satisfaction and admira- 
 tion. 
 
 Now the mind of the scientific agriculturist 
 was so constructed as to experience peculiar 
 pleasure and delight at aught which came to his 
 ear in the form of compliment and admiration. 
 And, when Mr Kipperson was pleased, he was in 
 general very eloquent and communicative ; and 
 he informed his fellow travellers that he was now 
 hastening up to London on business of the ut- 
 most importance. He had received despatches 
 from town, calling him up to attend the House of 
 Commons, and to consult with, or rather to advise, 
 certain committees connected with the agricul- 
 tural interest. And he, the said Mr Kipperson, 
 certainly could not decline any call which the 
 deeply vital interests of agriculture might make 
 upon him. Thereupon he proceeded to shew 
 that there was no one individual in the kingdom 
 uniting in himself those rare combinations of 
 talent, which were the blessing and distinction
 
 PENELOPE. 197 
 
 of the celebrated Mr Kipperson of Smatterton ; 
 and that if he should not pay attention to the 
 bill then before the House, or at least likely to 
 be before the House, by the time he should 
 arrive in London, the agricultural interest must 
 be completely ruined ; there could be no remu- 
 nerating price, and then the farmers would throw 
 up their farms and leave the country, taking with 
 them all their implements, skill, forethought, and 
 penetration ; and then all the land would be out 
 of cultivation, and the kingdom would be but 
 one vast common, only maintaining, and that 
 very scantily, donkeys and geese. 
 
 When the safety of a nation depends upon 
 one individual, that individual feels himself very 
 naturally of great importance. But perhaps this 
 is a circumstance not happening quite so often 
 as is imagined. Strange indeed must it be that, 
 if out of a population of ten or twelve millions, 
 only one or two can be found on whose wisdom 
 the state can rely, or from whose councils it can 
 receive benefit. But as the pleasure of imagining
 
 198 PENELOPE. 
 
 one's self to be of importance is very great, that 
 pleasure is very liberally indulged in. And thus 
 the number of those rarities, called " the only 
 men in the world/' is considerably increased. 
 Now Mr Kipperson was the only man in the 
 world who had sagacity and penetration enough 
 to know wherein consisted the true interest of 
 agriculture ; and he was most happy in giving 
 his time and talents to the sacred cause of high 
 prices. Enough of this : we do not like to be 
 panegyrical, and it is very probable that our 
 readers will not be much disappointed if we 
 protest that it is not our intention to enter very 
 deeply into the subject of political economy. 
 Indeed were we to enter very deeply into the 
 subject with which Mr Kipperson was intimate, 
 we should be under the necessity of making an 
 encyclopedia, or of plundering those already 
 made, beyond the forbearance of their proprie- 
 tors. 
 
 That must be an exceedmgly pleasant mode of 
 travelling which does not once, during a very 
 
 I
 
 PENELOPE. 199 
 
 long journey, provoke the traveller to wish him- 
 self at his journey's end. Pleased as wq.s Mr 
 Kipperson at the opportunity afforded him of 
 behaving politely to Miss Primrose, and grati- 
 fied as he was by the respectful veneration with 
 which his two other fellow travellers received 
 the enunciations of his oracular wisdom ; fearful 
 as was Penelope that her new life would be the 
 death of her, and mourning as she was under 
 the actual loss of one most excellent friend, 
 and contemplating the possible loss of others, 
 still both were pleased to be at their journey's 
 end. 
 
 It would have given Mr Kipperson great plea- 
 sure to accompany Miss Primrose to the Earl of 
 Smatterton's town residence j but it gave him 
 much greater pleasure to be able to apologize for 
 this apparent neglect, by saying that business of 
 a most important nature demanded his imme- 
 diate attendance in the city, and from thence to 
 the House of Common s ; but that he should have 
 great pleasure in calling on the following morning
 
 200 PENELOPE. 
 
 to make enquiries after his fellow traveller, and 
 to pay his respects to his worthy and right 
 honorable neighbour. Lord Smatterton. For 
 although my Lord Smatterton was what the world 
 calls a proud man, yet he did admit of freedom 
 and a species of familiarity from some sort of 
 people ; and a little freedom with a great man 
 goes a great way with a little man. Now Mr 
 Kipperson was one of those persons to whom the 
 Earl of Smatterton was most graciously conde- 
 scending, and with good reason was he conde- 
 scending ; for this said Mr Kipperson, wishing 
 to keep up the respectability of the farming pro- 
 fession, and though being much of a tenant, 
 and a little of a landlord, but hoping in due time 
 to be more of a landlord through an anticipated 
 inheritance, he gave all his mind to impress upon 
 his agricultural neighbours the importance of 
 keeping up prices, and he paid no small sum for 
 the farm which he tenanted under the Earl of 
 Smatterton. It may be indeed said with some 
 degree of truth, that he paid Lord Smatterton
 
 PENELOPE. 201 
 
 exceedingly well for his condescension ; and as 
 his lordship was not much exposed to Mr Kip- 
 person's invasions in London, he bore them with 
 great resignation and address when they did 
 happen. The Countess also was condescending 
 to Mr Kipperson, being very sensible of his value 
 to the Smatterton estate ; so that the great and 
 scientific agriculturist appeared to visit this noble 
 family on terms of equality ; and it is a fact that 
 he thought himself quite equal, if not rather 
 superior, to the Smatterton nobleman. It was a 
 pleasure to Mr Kipperson to enjoy this conceit ; 
 and it did no one any injury, and it is a pity that 
 he should be disturbed in the possession of the 
 fancy. 
 
 The nobility do not act judiciously when they 
 admit of any other token of distinction than 
 actual rank. When once they adopt any fanciful 
 distinction from fashion, or ton, or impudence, 
 for they are nearly the same, the benefit of the 
 civil distinction is at once renounced, and there
 
 202 PENELOPE. 
 
 is no established immoveable barrier against 
 innovation. A merchant, or the son of a mer- 
 chant, may by means of an imperturbable self- 
 conceit, or by force of commanding impudence, 
 push himself up into the highest walks of life, 
 and look down upon nobility. Though the bio- 
 grapher of a deceased statesman may express his 
 lament that nobility does not admit talent ad 
 eundem, yet there is danger lest nobility should 
 hold its hereditary honors with too light a hand. 
 Lord Smatterton indeed was not guilty of neg- 
 lecting to preserve upon his own mind, or endea- 
 vouring to impress on the minds of others, a due 
 and full sense of his own importance. Even to 
 Mr Kipperson his famiUarity was obviously con- 
 descension, though not so felt or regarded by 
 Mr Kipperson himself. We will leave this 
 gentleman for awhile to go and transact impor- 
 tant business in the city, and we will attend 
 upon Miss Primrose. 
 
 As soon as the poor girl had found her way to
 
 PENELOPE. 203 
 
 the residence of the Countess of Smatterton, she 
 was received by her ladyship with the greatest 
 kindness. 
 
 " Now, my dear Miss Primrose, this is very 
 good of you to come up to town so soon. But 
 how did you come — you did not come all the way 
 by yourself. Surely you did not travel by the 
 stage coach ?'' 
 
 Penelope informed her ladyship concerning her 
 fellow traveller, and expressed herself perfectly 
 well satisfied with the mode of travelling which 
 she had adopted. 
 
 "Well, that was fortunate; but really, if I 
 had thought of it in time, you might have come 
 with our family when we travelled up. But I 
 am very glad you are come. You will be quite 
 indispensable to us to-morrow evening. I am 
 happy to see you looking so well, and how did 
 you leave Mrs Greendale ? Poor woman ! Her 
 loss is very great !" 
 
 Fortunately for Penelope, the Countess was not 
 one of those unreasonable persons who ask ques-
 
 204 PENELOPE. 
 
 tions for the sake of answers, but one of those, 
 who are not a small number, who ask questions 
 purely for the sake of asking them, and by way 
 of shewing their own very great condescension in 
 deigning to ask so particularly concerning what 
 interests their inferiors. It is however not good 
 policy that the models of politeness should, in 
 their manifest heedlessness of answers to their 
 questions, so decidedly testify to their own insin- 
 cerity and heartlessness. 
 
 Penelope was glad to be liberated from the 
 interview with her ladyship, and to enjoy for a 
 while the solitude which her apartment afforded. 
 An apartment had been provided for her reception 
 in the town residence of the Earl of Smatterton ; 
 and though the ascent to it was rather laborious, 
 yet it had the blessed comfort of affording to the 
 troubled one an opportunity of sitting alone, and 
 shedding a few tears, and communing with her 
 own heart. There are some states of mind in 
 which the sufferer feels most and g-i'eatest conso- 
 lation in being left to the thoughts of -Bolitude.
 
 PENELOPE. 205 
 
 There was however even in solitude nothiiiP' 
 
 o 
 
 pleasing for Penelope to meditate upon : but 
 hope is an artist that draws its finest scenes upon 
 the darkest ground. Amidst all the losses which 
 she had experienced, and the pains which she had 
 suffered, and the dreaded anticipations of evils 
 yet to come, still Penelope could think that her 
 father was yet living, and might perhaps soon 
 make his appearance in England, and fulfil those 
 promises of which she had often indirectly heard. 
 It was painful to her that she could not form any 
 idea of her father. She had always regarded him 
 as an object of compassion ; for her uncle in the 
 candour of his heart never uttered words of re- 
 proach against Mr Primrose ; but, when he spoke 
 of him, called him his poor brother, his unfortu- 
 nate kinsman, and he always seemed to regard 
 him as a victim to others vices and not to his 
 own. Penelope could not form an idea of a being 
 more fatherly than Dr Greendale had always been 
 to her ; and whenever her young ears caught 
 the sound of sympathy or sorrow for her lot as
 
 206 PENELOPE. 
 
 a poor fatherless child, she denied in her own 
 heart the applicability of such language to her- 
 self. She knew that she had a father living 
 abroad, but she felt that a father had died at 
 home. When, however, upon this absent living 
 father Penelope knew that her only hope and 
 dependence could rest, then did she with more 
 fixedness of mind direct her thoughts and prayers 
 thitherward. It was some consolation to her that 
 some little time must elapse before she could by 
 any possibility make her appearance in public ; 
 this would be some alleviation, and might perhaps 
 produce some change. The language however 
 which the Countess had used respecting to- 
 morrow, seemed to indicate that some commence- 
 ment of publicity was destined for her even at 
 that early date. And this thought was a dark 
 spot in the picture of hope. So all the bright 
 expectations which mortals cherish, have in their 
 foreground something harshly real and coarsely 
 literal. Many hours however the poor deserted 
 one did not meditate upon melancholy, or on
 
 PENELOPE. 207 
 
 brighter scenes. The weariness which had 
 resulted from her long journey, and the agitation 
 of spirits which she had suffered, were too much 
 for her strength, and she soon sank to the silence 
 of repose. Happy was it for her that the out- 
 lines of her destiny were but faintly traced; she 
 scarcely knew for what mode of public display 
 her patroness had designed her; but she could 
 and did hope for the best. In all her thoughts 
 the image of Robert Darnley was not in her 
 mind's eye for any length of time ; it frequently 
 made its appearance, and as frequently it was 
 dismissed ; not in anger — not, or scarcely, in 
 sorrow, but in resignation and philosophy. She 
 had endeavoured to wean her mind from the 
 thought of a fickle lover, without having recourse 
 to hatred, reproach or resentment. She exercised 
 great diligence to cultivate a degree of indif- 
 ference, and she so far deceived herself as to 
 fancy that she had succeeded. Youth never so 
 thoroughly deceives itself as when it says, " I 
 don't care."
 
 208 PENELOPE. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Another day dawned upon the multitudinous 
 interests and emotions of humanity. To the 
 mind which can spare time from the intensity 
 of its own feehngs, and the selfishness of its 
 own concerns, to think of others — to think, not 
 merely to talk morality and sentiment about 
 them, but to realise the emotions and agitations 
 of thoughts which harass the human breast, 
 there is in the thought of a day dawning in a 
 great city a deep and serious fulness of interest. 
 The sun's first blush upon the mountains and 
 woods and streams and spangled meadows, is 
 poetical and pretty enough, but the same light 
 beaming on the condensed and crowded habita-
 
 PENELOPE. 209 
 
 tions of men, brings to the mind far other 
 thoughts, and excites widely different emotions. 
 It awakens misery from its dreams of bhss, 
 and guilt from its dreams of innocence, poverty 
 from its dreams of wealth, and despair from its 
 dreams of hope. Anxiety begins anew its busy 
 work in the breast of the needy parent, and 
 gnawing hunger oft reminds the sufferer of 
 the opening of another day. Bitter are the 
 feelings which morning ofttimes brings to the 
 sons and daughters of poverty; but not to 
 them alone are confined the ao-onizino- throbs 
 of the heart. There is anions; the inmates 
 of those proud mansions which seemed built 
 for festivity alone, and tenanted by luxury 
 and repose, many, many a bitter pang. There 
 is the thought of keener anguish than any 
 mere physical privation or suffering can inflict, 
 there are pangs of heart for which language 
 has no words, and fancy no figures, there are 
 fears and dreads of which the humbler suf- 
 ferers of life's ills have no conception. Not 
 VOL. I. p 
 
 /
 
 210 PENELOPE. 
 
 enviable were the feelings of our heroine on 
 the first morning in which she woke in the 
 great city. 
 
 Then did she feel her truly desolate and 
 destitute condition. She had been as a beau- 
 teous flower hanging on a slender film over 
 the current of a river, that film had broken, 
 and the flower had dropped upon the stream 
 at the mercy of its waves. With the open- 
 ing day there had been accustomed to enter 
 into her mind thoughts of devotion and gra- 
 titude. These thoughts came, but not as 
 usual. It seemed to her as thouoh she had 
 not been sufficiently thankful to her Creator 
 for his blessings, and that they had been 
 withheld. She would have prayed but she 
 dared not, she would have wept but she could 
 not. Her bodily fatigue was gone, but the 
 weariness of mind was felt more stronglv. 
 She endeavoured to compose her scattered 
 thoughts, but that was a task of no small 
 difficulty. One of the greatest concerns of all.
 
 PENELOPE. 211 
 
 however, was, that by this new arrangement 
 she was placed out of all communication with 
 her father; for the late Dr Greendale was the 
 only person in England with whom Mr Prim- 
 rose had any correspondence. It was even 
 doubtful whether Mrs Greendale herself knew 
 his address. These circumstances, therefore, 
 though they might not break off his commu- 
 nication with England, would naturally produce 
 a long and serious interruption to it. For 
 her own part, it was out of her power to 
 convey to her father any knowledge of her 
 situation, so as to be able by his interven- 
 tion to avoid that publicity which she so 
 much dreaded. 
 
 Not long had her mind been thus painfully 
 occupied, before she received a visit in her 
 apartment from her friend Lady Smatterton : 
 and as she was now totally dependent on her 
 ladyship, she was desirous of conciliating her 
 regards as much as possible ; nor indeed was 
 that a very difiicult task. A little sense of
 
 212 PENELOPE. 
 
 humility and feeling of obligation and sub- 
 mission to her ladyship's superior wisdom^ 
 would always ensure the Countess of Smatter- 
 ton*s good will. When, therefore, Penelope with 
 great humility, and a look of gratification, 
 expressed her thanks to her ladyship for 
 her very kind attentions, the Countess being 
 pleased to see that her condescension had 
 made its impression, was in very high spirits, 
 and became more gracious and condescend- 
 ing still. 
 
 " My dear Miss Primrose, you look quite 
 charmingly this morning. I am delighted to 
 find that you have not experienced any in- 
 convenience from the fatigue of your journey, 
 I think you will be in most excellent voice 
 this evening. Now, I expect a few select 
 friends to-night ; and some of them are ama- 
 teurs, and I assure you I have promised them 
 a treat, in which I know they will not be 
 isappointed. I have all your favourite songs 
 and duets, so you may make your selection in
 
 PENELOPE. 213 
 
 the course of the morning; and I have a new 
 harp which I wish you to try, I think you 
 will like it." 
 
 With a very great effort to suppress a very 
 deep sigh, Penelope replied : *' I shall be 
 most happy to use my best exertions to 
 gratify your ladyship, but I fear that before 
 so many persons who are total strangers to 
 me, and without any previous scientific in- 
 struction, I may disappoint the expectations 
 which your ladyship's kindness has excited.*' 
 
 " Oh dear no, my dear, I beg you will 
 not entertain any such notion ; we shall have 
 a very small party indeed, and of the ama- 
 teurs, I can assure you that there is not one 
 that is half so well acquainted with the 
 science of music as you are. It will be time 
 enough for you to take lessons previously to 
 your performance in public, and that not 
 because you need musical instruction, but 
 there are certain peculiarities which it is 
 necessary that public performers should know."
 
 214 PENELOPE. 
 
 Miss Primrose, knowing how much the 
 Countess disliked objections to any of her 
 own arrangements, submitted as resignedly as 
 she could ; but with a feeling that neither 
 her bodily nor mental strength were equal to 
 the task which awaited her. The visit of the 
 Countess concluded with requesting Penelope 
 to take her breakfast with the family, unless 
 she preferred being quite alone. But Pene- 
 lope found little pleasme in solitude, and 
 therefore very readily accepted the invitation 
 to take breakfast at the family table, where 
 she very soon after made her appearance. 
 
 At this table there sat down the Earl and 
 Countess of Smatterton and Lord Spoonbill. 
 This was the usual party, and Penelope was 
 received by them all three with so much 
 kindness, and such genuine politeness of man- 
 ner, that she felt herself no stranger. And 
 they all asked very kindly after Mrs Green- 
 dale, and they all hoped that Miss Primrose 
 had not suffered from the fatigue of the 
 
 I
 
 PENELOPE. 215 
 
 journey ; and when Lord Spoonbill asked how 
 Miss Primrose had travelled, and when he 
 heard that she had travelled by the stage- 
 coach in company with Mr Kipperson, he 
 was astonished and grieved ; and he thought 
 it a great pity that arrangements had not 
 been previously made for accommodating the 
 young lady in one of their carriages. The 
 Earl also expressed himself much concerned at 
 the same neglect. Alas, thought Penelope, 
 what a multitude of words on trifles. How 
 she had travelled was now nothing to her, 
 but it was something to her when she thought 
 for what purpose that journey had been made. 
 Lord Spoonbill, after a proper interval, and 
 with a very becoming seriousness of manner, 
 gently adverted to the death of Dr Greendale, 
 and perceiving that it was a subject on which 
 Penelope loved to dwell, notwithstanding the 
 melancholy and painful associations connected 
 with it, he proceeded to extol the virtues of 
 her deceased relative, and to express his own
 
 216 PENELOPE. 
 
 great obligations to the good man for the 
 many valuable pieces of advice he had re- 
 ceived from the late rector of Smatterton ; he 
 thought that it was a great pity that some 
 of the doctor's sermons should not be given 
 to the public, for they would undoubtedly be 
 productive of good. Penelope was very well 
 pleased, and indeed quite interested by the 
 manner in which Lord Spoonbill condescended 
 to speak of her departed relative ; and she 
 began to think that his lordship was not 
 quite so great a coxcomb as she had once 
 taken him to be. Gradually her mind reco- 
 vered a little of its natural vivacity, and her 
 looks resumed part of their wonted cheerful- 
 ness. She was comparatively easy and com- 
 posed. Then did the young nobleman ingeni- 
 ously, and without forced transition, turn the 
 conversation to other topics, and he spoke 
 much of the metropolis and its many mag- 
 nificences ; but with peculiar delicacy avoided 
 saying anything of public concerts. Penelope
 
 PENELOPE. 217 
 
 felt grateful for such kind and considerate atten- 
 tions, and began to think that in the manners of 
 the higher ranks there was something peculiarly 
 fascinating which could render such a man as 
 Lord Spoonbill not only tolerable but really agree- 
 able. The Earl of Smatterton was also very 
 courteous and kind to his guest, though he could 
 not well avoid majestic manifestations of his 
 kindness. He condescended to hope that Miss 
 Primrose would find herself happy in the me- 
 tropolis, and dwelt with much complacency on 
 the opportunity she would enjoy of introduction 
 to society ; and he spake largely of the patro- 
 nizing propensities of the Countess ; he also 
 mentioned other titled ladies, to whose saloons 
 the young dependent might be admitted ; and 
 concluded a long harangue by saying, that on 
 proper occasions she would be a welcome guest 
 at his own house. 
 
 Now it happened that on the breakfast table 
 there was lying a newspaper, which was occa- 
 sionally taken up and laid down by one or other
 
 218 PENELOPE. 
 
 of the noble family of Smatterton. Penelope 
 was not a politician, but seeing the words " Ship 
 News" printed in distinct and distantly visible 
 characters, she felt some curiosity to read that 
 same news, for she thought it possible that there 
 might be in that article something deeply inter- 
 esting to herself. It appeared however to her 
 that it would be making herself rather too much 
 at home to take up the paper ; she endeavoured 
 therefore as it lay to catch a glimpse of the in- 
 . telligence. Lord Spoonbill observed the direc- 
 tion of her eyes, and very politely offered her the 
 paper, which she thankfully accepted. Just as 
 she was in the act of directing her eyes towards 
 that part of the paper which contained the intelli- 
 gence most important to her, something addressed 
 to her by Lord Smatterton called her away from 
 the page almost in the very moment that the 
 name of Primrose caught her eye. And as Pe- 
 nelope laid down the paper on being spoken to 
 by his lordship, Lord Spoonbill took it up again, 
 and by some means or other it was no longer
 
 PENELOPE. 219 
 
 visible. What she had seen was enough to excite 
 strong feelings and to raise her hopes. She had a 
 recollection of the word '* arrived," and the name 
 of ** Primrose " among the list of passengers ; at 
 least so it seemed to her from the hasty glance 
 which she had taken of the paper. This of course 
 was quite sufficient to fill her mind with the most 
 pleasing visions for the rest of the day: and 
 hearing that Mr Kipperson might very probably 
 be one of the party in the evening, and knowing 
 that this gentleman was deeply versed in matters 
 of business, it occurred to her that he might 
 bring her some pleasing intelligence from the 
 city touching the arrival of vessels from the East 
 Indies, and the names of passengers. It is true, 
 there might be one of the name of Prioirose and 
 still no relation of hers. But she might at least 
 enjoy the hope as long as possible ; and it would 
 cheer her spirit amidst the darkness of reality. 
 
 The evening came, and with it the few select 
 friends of the Countess of Smatterton, who were 
 to compose her party. There were not many per-
 
 220 PENELOPE. 
 
 sons in town at this time ; but Penelope bad 
 never before seen anything bearing the slightest 
 resemblance to a fashionable party, for she had 
 never been at the Easter ball at the Mansion 
 house, or at Bartholomew fair ; to her therefore 
 this very small select party looked like a very 
 tumultuous and promiscuous multitude. Every 
 face was strange to her, and as the apartments 
 were splendidly lighted up, the drawing and 
 music rooms opening into each other, and dis- 
 playing by means of mirrors a deceiving appear- 
 ance as to their real dimensions. Thus magnified 
 and multiplied, they looked to her unpractised 
 eye as awfully public as a great theatre. Part of 
 the company was assembled before Penelope 
 made her appearance. When therefore she en- 
 tered the middle drawing-room, which was the 
 apartment most usually occupied by the family, 
 she was surprised at the sight of lighted apart- 
 ments on both sides of this, and these apartments 
 to her eye filled with elegant company. She was 
 still more surprised at entering the room to find
 
 PENELOPE. 221 
 
 that no one took the slightest notice of her in the 
 way of courtesy, but that three or four young 
 gentlemen who were standing together near a fire- 
 place absolutely and immovably stared at her : 
 and then, as soon as she caught sight of the 
 Countess of Smatterton, she observed that her 
 ladyship was engaged in conversation with a great, 
 broad, coarse, overdressed female, who was talking 
 very loud and looking very majestically. This 
 stranger appeared like a very vulgar woman to 
 our unfashionable heroine, but was in reality no 
 less a personage than the Duchess of Steeple 
 Bumstead. Her Grace put her glass to her eye, 
 and contemplated by its means the face and 
 figure of Penelope. The poor girl felt very un- 
 comfortable and ill at ease being thus gazed at so 
 unmercifully. As soon as her Grace had satisfied 
 her curiosity she dropt her glass, and wheeled 
 round and sailed away in another direction. The 
 Countess of Smatterton then approached the 
 confused and embarrassed dependent, and after 
 giving her a good-humoured rebuke for making
 
 222 peni:lope. 
 
 her appearance in such very sable attire, told her 
 that the Duchess of Steeple Bumstead was very 
 desirous of hearing her sing. 
 
 Penelope saw by the nearest mirror that the 
 aspect of her attire was dark indeed, but dark as 
 it was it could not express the mourning which 
 she felt for her great loss. She was by no means 
 in a proper frame of mind for the enjoyment of 
 society, or at all fit for anything that wore the 
 aspect of festivity. She suffered herself to be 
 led into the music-room by the Countess, and she 
 made a most respectful curtesy to the Duchess 
 of Steeple Bumstead, when she had the honor of 
 being introduced to a personage of such elevated 
 rank. But still Penelope could not help thinking 
 that fashionable manners were not agreeable : for 
 she recollected that her late uncle used to define 
 politeness as being that kind of behaviour which 
 was least calculated to give pain to others ; and 
 yet Penelope felt more pain from the behaviour 
 of the Duchess of Steeple Bumstead, and that of 
 some of the whiskered boys in Lndy Smatterton's
 
 PENELOPE. 223 
 
 drawing room, than she would have felt from 
 persons not so high in rank and so fashionable 
 in manners. All that arose from her ignorance 
 of ways of the world. Why did she take the 
 opinion of her uncle as oracular in those matters 
 of which he could not possibly know anything 
 at all ? A country clergyman, who studies 
 books all his life-time, can know nothing of the 
 world. 
 
 The Duchess was pleased to question Penelope 
 on the subject of music, and was pleased to ex- 
 press her approbation of the good taste which the 
 young lady displayed. By degrees the manners 
 of her Grace appeared less repulsive, and Pene- 
 lope felt herself more at her ease. There was 
 standing by the pianoforte a young lady of mild, 
 pleasing, and prepossessing countenance, to 
 whom the Duchess addressed herself: 
 
 " My dear Jemima, you will perhaps have the 
 goodness to accompany Miss Primrose on the 
 pianoforte to some song, if there be one there 
 that our friend would like to sing."
 
 224 PENELOPE. 
 
 The young lady expressed great readiness to 
 oblige the Duchess — and the leaves of many 
 books were turned over. It was not difficult to 
 find a song that Penelope was familiar with, but 
 it was difficult to find one which did not bring by 
 its language or its expression some association 
 painful and distressing to her mind. The Duchess 
 was very patient during the search, and at length 
 a piece was selected. Miss Primrose had a style 
 of singing peculiarly her own. It was not marked 
 by any very strong singularity, but its decided 
 character was expression : and she shone most in 
 those songs which admit of what may be called 
 the rhetoric of music. There was also a very 
 considerable degree of emotion in her musical 
 expression, and it required a skilful hand to ac- 
 company her. That requisite she now had. As 
 her voice was full and deep, it was also searching, 
 and those who were within its reach felt them- 
 selves as it were addressed by the singer. This 
 style was truly commanding and attractive. The 
 company gradually surrounded the performer.
 
 PENELOPE. 225 
 
 and well for her she knew not till the song was 
 finished, that any one was attending to her 
 besides the Duchess of Steeple Bumstead and the 
 Countess of Smatterton. 
 
 Very abundant and very sincere applause fol- 
 lowed the music's close. But the music or the 
 applause was too much for our heroine, and she 
 nearly fainted; kind and prompt assistance soon 
 recovered her, and thus she was saved from an 
 immediate repetition of that which her hearers 
 would gladly have heard again. There was 
 much talk in the room as to, who is she? But 
 few could answer the question. One impertinent 
 coxcomb said '' She looks too modest to be a 
 woman of great fashion." 
 
 Just at this moment who should enter the 
 room but Peter Kipperson, Esq. ! Peter was in 
 all his glory. He had been occupied during the 
 whole of the day in business of the utmost im- 
 portance. He had been consulted and had given 
 his advice, and his advice had been taken. He 
 now presented himself to Lady Smatterton's 
 
 VOL. T. Q 
 
 I
 
 226 PEXELOPE. 
 
 party, in which were several members of parlia- 
 ment, and as these were mostly men of business, 
 Peter was personally known to most of them, 
 and he received and returned their salutations 
 with great self-satisfaction. Peter was an active 
 little man, and he was nimbly moving about the 
 apartments in search of Miss Primrose ; but 
 before he could meet with her he encountered 
 the Earl of Smatterton. 
 
 *' Mr Kipperson," said his lordship, " I am 
 most happy to see you. Have you met your 
 committee to-day in the city ? Have you taken 
 any farther steps in that business, of which you 
 were speaking to me the other day at Smatterton? 
 Really, Mr Kipperson, something must be done, 
 it is becoming a very serious affair. Those mer- 
 chants are very crafty, selfish people. We must 
 put a stop to their encroachments before it is too 
 late." 
 
 '' My lord," replied Mr Kipperson, " I am 
 very happy to have it in my power to assure you 
 that the resolution which I suggested is adopted. 
 
 I
 
 PENELOPE. 227 
 
 I was forced to use all my powers of persuasion. 
 I said to them in so many words, ' Gentlemen/ 
 says I, * Gentlemen, if you do not adopt this 
 resolution, the nation is ruined, we shall have the 
 country deluged with corn, and we shall of 
 course be all starved/" 
 
 " That was excellent, Mr Kipperson ; you have 
 saved the nation. I see you have right views of 
 the matter." 
 
 Several members also of the lower house, who 
 were present, expressed themselves to the same 
 effect ; and it was very satisfactory to Mr Kip- 
 person to think that he had so timely and wisely 
 interfered with his prodigious wisdom to save the 
 nation from being starved. 
 
 After many interruptions, the wise and learned 
 agriculturist found his way to Penelope Primrose; 
 and in answer to her interrogations concerning 
 what she thought she had seen in the papers of 
 the morning, informed her that two or three of the 
 Company's ships had arrived, that in one of them 
 there certainly was a passenger named Primrose.
 
 228 PENELOPE. 
 
 By Mr Kipperson's answer to a few more inter- 
 rogations, Penelope was nearly certain that this 
 could be no other than her long lost father. The 
 very possibility of such an event was agitating 
 to her mind, and the increasing probability of it 
 was too great for her weak spirits to bear. A 
 thousand thoughts at once confusedly rushed 
 into her mind. She knew not how to inform her 
 father of her present situation. She was doubtful 
 whether he was returning home dependent or 
 independent. She supposed that he would in 
 the first instance find his way to Smatterton, and 
 then it must be some days before she could see 
 him. These and many more like considerations 
 entered into her mind, and their united influence 
 was such as to harass and perplex her beyond 
 measure. She was most happy when the evening 
 party of the Countess had dispersed, and when 
 she was left alone to meditation and to hope. 
 Then she endeavoured to conjecture on the pro- 
 bability of being rescued from the publicity 
 which so awfully and imminently threatened her,
 
 PENELOPE. 229 
 
 and with these thoughts others also entered 
 the mind, and none of them were of a nature to 
 soothe or compose. 
 
 Suffice it to say, that these various agitating 
 feehngs, and this new life into which Penelope 
 was so unexpectedly and so painfully thrown, 
 conspired together to produce a serious illness ^
 
 230 PENELOPE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 There are few, perhaps, of our female readers 
 who could have passed through what Penelope 
 was compelled to suffer, without sinking under 
 the weight of such an accumulation of distressing 
 circumstances. The wonder is, that she bore up 
 so long, rather than that she sunk at last. 
 
 It is with reluctance that we withdraw the 
 attention of our readers from the bedside of the 
 dependent sufferer. We can only state that the 
 Countess was very assiduous in her attentions to 
 her patient, that the best medical assistance was 
 immediately procured, that Lord Spoonbill was 
 very regular in his enquiries, and that the Earl 
 of Smatterton desired that the young woman
 
 PENELOPE. 231 
 
 might not want for anything that was useful or 
 that might contribute to her comfort and re- 
 covery. He said so every morning. 
 
 It is now absolutely necessary that we violate 
 two of the unities, viz. of time and place. We 
 must violate the unity of time, by doing what 
 time itself with all its power cannot do; we must 
 go backwards ; and we must also violate the 
 unity of place, by trans.porting our readers to 
 the island of St Helena. Their expatriation will 
 be but short. 
 
 About the beginning of November, in the year 
 18 — , two of the Company's ships touched at this 
 island in their passage homeward. The crews 
 and the passengers were not sorry to have such 
 symptoms of home as this accidental meeting 
 produced. Those of the passengers who were 
 going to England for the last time, found in the 
 word ''last" a different charm from any which 
 Dr Johnson attributes to it, in the last paper of 
 the Rambler. It was a cheerful and animating 
 feeling which pervaded their bosoms, a sentiment
 
 232 PENELOPE. 
 
 joyous even to tears. The first enquiries of all 
 were for news from England, and the post-office 
 was an object of general attraction. There were 
 to be seen there cheerful and disappointed coun- 
 tenances, but every one was too much occupied 
 with his own thoughts to take any notice of 
 others. 
 
 There came out of the office a middle-aged 
 stout gentleman, reading with great seriousness 
 and emotion a letter which he held open in his 
 hands, and there passed him and entered into 
 the office a younger man, a fine tall handsome 
 man, who would naturally have excited any one's 
 attention by the mere force of his appearance; 
 but the middle-aged gentleman was too deeply 
 engaged to notice him at the moment. In a few 
 seconds the younger of the two came out of the 
 office, not reading a letter, but holding one in 
 his hand unopened ; and looking upon that one 
 more sadly than he would have done had it been 
 accompanied with another. Presently he also 
 opened his letter and read it, not cheerfully, not
 
 PENELOPE. 233 
 
 sorrowfully, but anxiously and enquiringly. The 
 letter was finished and returned to his pocket; 
 and he endeavoured to look more cheerfully, but 
 his efforts failed. He quickened his pace, and 
 presently he overtook the middle-aged gentle- 
 man; and, as they were passengers in different 
 ships, they looked at each other rather earnestly, 
 and the elder greeted the younger. The young 
 man returned the greeting readily, and, as well as 
 he could, cheerfully. The elder stranger said, 
 that he was going to see the place where Bona- 
 parte was buried ; the younger was going to the 
 same place, but he called it the tomb of Napo- 
 leon. The elder did not quarrel about the ex- 
 pression, but took the young man's offered arm, 
 and they walked very sociably together. 
 
 Very few words passed between them on their 
 way to the place of their destination ; and when 
 they arrived there they both seemed to feel a 
 little disappointment that there was not some- 
 thing more to gratify their curiosity, or to excite 
 emotion. Place, considered in itself, has no
 
 234 PENELOPE. 
 
 charm. The imagination must make the mystery 
 all for itself, and that it may do absent as well as 
 present. Nebuchadnezzar was not unreasonable 
 when he desired that his wise men should tell him 
 his dream, as well as the interpretation thereof; 
 for if they really had wisdom from heaven for one 
 purpose, they would as likely have wisdom for 
 the other. So it is with place connected with 
 the memory of the distinguished sons of mor- 
 tality. The imagination can as well form the 
 place to the mind's eye as it can fill the place 
 when seen with these emotions and feelings, 
 which we expect to be excited by such views. 
 
 The elder stranger turning to the younger, said, 
 " What is your real opinion of Napoleon Bona- 
 parte ?" 
 
 '* He was certainly a great man," was the safe 
 and quiet answer. The elder did not make any 
 immediate reply to this enunciation of opinion on 
 the part of his young companion. The other 
 therefore supposed, and very naturally, that the 
 answer which lie had given was not altogether
 
 PENELOPE. 235 
 
 satisfactory. He proceeded, therefore, but still 
 cautiously : — *' He was a man of great ambition ; 
 and he was also a disappointed man." All this 
 seemed but the echo of everybody's opinion, let 
 their view of the man's character otherwise be 
 what it may. The elder stranger then spoke 
 again : 
 
 " I do not think he was a great man. The 
 word great is an epithet too comprehensive to be 
 applicable to a disappointed man. To be a great 
 man, it is necessary that there should be in the 
 mind those powers and that forethought which 
 will guard against frustration and disappoint- 
 ment. Greatness is not in place and in name, it 
 is purely in the mind. I will grant you that 
 Napoleon Bonaparte had great military powers — 
 great legislative powers — great discernment of 
 human character ; but he was not great over 
 himself: he wanted power to guide his power. 
 And let a man have all other powers and all other 
 talent, if he have not the power of power and the 
 talent of talent, he may be a distinguished, he
 
 236 PENELOPE. 
 
 may be a notorious man, he may produce grand 
 effects ; but he will not be a great man. True 
 greatness is calm ; for it feels and guides its own 
 power." 
 
 The young man listened to this, and to more 
 than this ; for the elder one was more voluble 
 than we have represented him. He perhaps 
 loved paradox ; many persons do j and some love 
 to listen to paradox, if it be agreeably uttered, 
 and be not too obviously a determined contra- 
 diction of the common feelings and opinions of 
 mankind. The young man then replied : 
 
 " But Napoleon produced great changes in 
 men's minds, and great effects on the frame of 
 civil society, and he has left many monuments of 
 his wisdom." 
 
 " True/' replied the elder one: '* Napoleon, as 
 you call him, has done much in the world, and 
 perhaps more than any other individual in whose 
 ambitious steps he seems to have trodden. But 
 he was raised up by a wise Providence to teach 
 humanity that it may grasp at what is beyond
 
 PENELOPE. 237 
 
 its power. Alexander was a lesson merely to 
 warriors ; Caesar to men of intrigue and aspiring 
 talent ; Bonaparte to men of consmnmate talent 
 of almost every description ; and if the world be 
 not pestered with a hero till there shall rise a 
 man of greater talents than Napoleon Bonaparte, 
 it may rest in peace for many centuries." 
 
 " I never took that view of the subject," re- 
 plied the young man. ^* There is however some- 
 thing in what you say. Still I cannot but think 
 that Napoleon was a great man." 
 
 " According to your opinions of greatness, no 
 doubt he was. But I have told you my ideas of 
 greatness, and according to those he was not. 
 Greatness requires consistency and uniformity ; 
 and it is not in a man of disappointed ambition 
 that we look for those characters. It seems to 
 be the ordinance of heaven, that all its blessings 
 should not centre in one individual amonp' created 
 beings. Where it bestows wit, it does not always 
 grant wisdom to direct it ; where it gives power, 
 it does not always bestow discretion to use that
 
 238 PENELOPE. 
 
 power, of whatever quality it may be, according 
 to the best possible principles. True greatness 
 implies wisdom, and wisdom in man makes the 
 most of and does the best with its means. Now 
 I have at this moment a letter in my pocket from 
 England, bringing me an account of a good, and, 
 I think, great man. But he was nothing more 
 than the humble rector of a small parish in the 
 country. He was by no means a man of great 
 genius ; nor was he a man of great eloquence ; 
 but he was a man of great moral power. I will 
 venture to affirm that, whatever were the moral 
 capabilities of the parish over which he presided 
 as pastor, he would call them forth to the utmost. 
 It is owing to that man that I am now living, 
 and comparatively happy. It is owing to me, 
 
 perhaps," 
 
 Here the voice of the speaker was interrupted 
 by the swelling of his bosom, and he passed his 
 hand convulsively on his forehead and gave way 
 to an agony of tears and sobs, which it would 
 have been painful to witness in a younger person.
 
 PEN' ELOPE. 239 
 
 but which was quite distressing to see in one of 
 such appearance and at such an age ; for he 
 seemed full fifty years of age, and had the 
 appearance of a man of good understanding and 
 gentlemanly manners. The young man took him 
 by the hand and faintly uttered a few words of 
 consolation, that he might a little abate a sorrow 
 which he could not wholly stay. 
 
 "When the violence of the emotion had a little 
 subsided, and the sufferer had regained the power 
 of speech,he first asked pardon for his weakness, 
 and apologised for having given way to his feel- 
 ings. *' For," continued he, " I have lost a 
 benefactor just at a moment when I was flattering 
 myself that I should be able to thank him for his 
 kindness, and to gratify him by letting him know 
 that his kindness had not been in vain, and that 
 his friendly admonitions had not all been lost. 
 I will not so far encroach upon your patience as 
 to tell you my history ; but I cannot forbear 
 from indulging in the pleasure which I mention — 
 the conduct of this most excellent man towards 
 me and my family."
 
 240 PENELOPE. 
 
 " I shall have great pleasure, sir/' replied the 
 young man, " in listening to any particulars with 
 which you may be pleased to favour me. The 
 history of the human mind is always interesting 
 and always instructive." 
 
 With this encouragement the elder stranger 
 proceeded : " This most excellent man, of whose 
 death I have been speaking, was a clergyman, 
 whose unfortunate sister I married more than 
 twenty years ago. I respected and honored him 
 when I first knew him for the purity and simpli- 
 city of his manners. He was of a respectable 
 family, but not wealthy : his living was nearly 
 his whole maintenance. I could never induce 
 him to spend a week with us in town. He 
 always pleaded his parochial duties as demanding 
 his whole attention. It was in vain for me, or 
 for any one else, to suggest any hint respecting 
 preferment or bettering his circumstances by the 
 ordinary means of professional advancement. 
 During the whole of the time I resided in Eng- 
 land after my marriage, I saw nothing of my 
 respected brother-in-law. We had, it is true,
 
 PENELOPE. 241 
 
 several letters from him, and letters of a most 
 interesting description. Well would it have 
 been for me, and well for my dear child, and 
 well for my beloved companion, had I regarded 
 these letters as something more than models 
 of epistolary correspondence ; had I attended 
 to those kind paternal hints which they con- 
 tained. They gave me admonition without as- 
 suming airs of superiority or the affectations of a 
 would-be hermit. He wrote to me in the world, 
 and as from the world, making allowances for all 
 the temptations with which I was surrounded, 
 and speaking of them as if he had not learned 
 their existence or ascertained their nature merely 
 by the means of books or talk. I was content 
 with admiring the good man's virtues. I did not 
 seek to imitate them. I suffered one scoundrel 
 after another to creep into an intimacy with me, 
 and in a very few years my patrimony was 
 wasted, and all my inheritance was melted away 
 at the gaming-table." 
 
 VOL. I. R.
 
 242 PENELOPE. 
 
 There was again, at these words, a pause of 
 passionate and deep feeling, but it passed away, 
 and the emotion subsided, and the narrator went 
 on to say : 
 
 " Then, sir, I became a widower. My beloved 
 partner left me an only child, a daughter, for 
 whom I resolved to live, or, more properly speak- 
 ing, for whose sake I endeavoured to preserve 
 and support life, which without this stimulus 
 would have been a burden too heavy to be borne. 
 I took my poor little innocent child to this vene- 
 rable and amiable clergyman. I found even then 
 nothing like reproach. The good man pitied 
 me, and he pitied my child. His pity touched 
 me more sorely and more deeply than any re- 
 proaches which human language could have 
 uttered. I felt my heart melt within me. I 
 dared not say a word of exculpation. I stood 
 self-condemned. I proposed to leave my native 
 land, and to seek elsewhere the means of main- 
 tenance for myself and my child. He offered to
 
 PENELOPE. 243 
 
 take my little girl and be a father to her : and he 
 has been so. 
 
 She, poor innocent, hardly knows that she has 
 any other father. I am to her but as a name ; 
 but I do long most ardently once more to see her. 
 I think years have not so altered her that I shall 
 not recognize her. I have pleased myself during 
 my long exile of sixteen years with forming to 
 myself an image of my dear child growing up to 
 woman's estate ; and the miniature likeness of 
 her dear mother assists my imagination now in 
 forming an idea of my daughter. She is now- 
 expecting my return ; and the last letter which I 
 received of my most excellent brother-in-law, in- 
 formed me that the poor girl had bestowed her 
 affections, and would with my approbation bestow 
 her hand, on a worthy and respectable man. I 
 left all these matters to my relative in England. 
 I was sure that he would act towards my child 
 as a parent, and as a wiser and more truly kind 
 parent than I have been. I was happy till this 
 hour in the thought that I was hastening home
 
 244 PENELOPE. 
 
 to England to return my thanks to my benefactor, 
 to see my dear child, and receive her at his hands — 
 and now alas this happy, this blessed, prospect 
 is blighted by the melancholy intelligence of this 
 good man's death, and would to heaven that this 
 were the worst — but the most painful intelligence 
 is yet to be added. I am informed from the best 
 authority that my poor dear child has been simple 
 enough to be captivated by a young man of high 
 rank, who is too vain to love any one but him- 
 self, and too proud to marry beneath his own 
 rank. I am, therefore, likely to be greeted with 
 sorrows and perplexities on my very return to 
 England." 
 
 The elder stranger sighed calmly ; and as it 
 were resignedly, when he had finished speaking. 
 The younger one looked thoughtful and sighed 
 also. A pause of some minutes' silence followed, 
 and the young man said : 
 
 " You must hope better things, sir ; a long 
 absence from home should indeed always prepare 
 us for something of change and calamity ; we 
 
 t
 
 PENELOPE. 245 
 
 must look for those fluctuations of humanity : 
 but still we may be permitted to hope, and to 
 enjoy pleasing thoughts as long as possible." 
 
 " Yes, sir, your remarks are very true, but they 
 are not so easily applied. Hope does not come 
 and go at the command of reason, and the 
 spirits do not rise and fall according to the dic- 
 tates of the understanding, or by any force of 
 ratiocination. I ought to apologise for troubling 
 you, a stranger, with my sorrows ; they cannot 
 be interesting to you ; but it is not easy when 
 the heart is full to prevent it from overflowing." 
 
 '' No apology, sir, is necessary : or, if it were, 
 I might adopt the language of your apology, and 
 use it as a preface to my tale of sorrow and dis- 
 appointment awaiting me also at my return to 
 my native land. I have also cause for grief." 
 
 ^* Indeed, one so young as you appear to be ! 
 But yours, young man, are the sorrows, perhaps, 
 of a youthful lover. Yours are not so deeply 
 rooted as mine." 
 
 These words led to an explanation which told
 
 246 PENELOPE, 
 
 the two strangers that their concerns were more 
 nearly aUied than they had been aware. Our 
 readers of course need not be informed that the 
 elder of the two was Mr Primrose, and the 
 younger Mr Robert Darnley. They were happy, 
 however, in the midst of their sorrows, to have 
 become thus acquainted at a distance from home. 
 They only regretted that the distance between 
 their respective situations in India had formed an 
 insuperable barrier against an acquaintance and 
 intimacy there. The fact is that, so long as Dr 
 Greendale considered the return of Mr Primrose 
 as a matter of uncertainty, he had been very 
 cautious of exciting his daughter's expecta- 
 tions. He had ventured to consider his own 
 approbation quite sufficient to allow of the cor- 
 respondence between his niece and Mr Robert 
 Darnley, and had in his letters to Mr Primrose 
 simply mentioned the fact without stating parti- 
 culars, thinking that it would be time enough 
 hereafter, should the mutual affection of the 
 young persons for each other continue and
 
 PENELOPE. 247 
 
 strengthen. Mr Primrose had, in reply to that 
 information, left Dr Greendale quite at liberty to 
 make such disposal of Penelope as he might 
 think proper ; for the father was well aware that 
 the uncle was, both by discretion and affection, 
 well qualified for the guardianship of his child. 
 
 The vessels in which the two gentlemen sailed 
 soon weighed anchor and put to sea again. So 
 the friends were parted for a time ; nor did they 
 hold any farther communication on the course of 
 their voyage, for they had not left St Helena 
 many days before the ship parted company in a 
 gale of wind. That vessel in which Mr Primrose 
 sailed first arrived in England, as we have al- 
 ready intimated.
 
 248 PENELOPE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 England appeared to Mr Primrose quite a new 
 world. He had sixteen years ago sailed down 
 the river Thames, which presented on its banks 
 at that time quite as much picturesque beauty as 
 now. But he did not then observe these beau- 
 ties. His heart was full of other thoughts, and 
 his mind was moved by widely different feelings. 
 There had not been in his soul the sentiment of 
 moral beauty, nor was there in his heart that 
 repose of pleasure which could admit of enjoying 
 the external world in its manifestations of beauty 
 or sublimity. But on his return homewards his 
 thoughts were far different. He had left England 
 in forlorn hope, but he was returning under
 
 PENELOPE. 
 
 249 
 
 brighter auspices. He had sailed from his native 
 land, bearing a deeply felt burden of self-reproach ; 
 and though he could not forget or forgive his 
 former self, and though still there were painful 
 scenes to be witnessed, and melancholy informa- 
 tion to be received, yet the aspect of things was 
 widely different from what it had been at his 
 departure. And he expressed himself delighted 
 with all that he saw. The little boats and the 
 lighter craft upon the river spoke of bustle and 
 activity, and of human interest ; and in them he 
 saw the flutterings of business and prosperity. 
 Thoup;h it was winter, and the trees on the risino; 
 grounds were leafless, and the fields had lost their 
 greenness, yet the very pattern and outline of 
 what the scene had been in summer, and of what 
 it would be again in spring, were all very charm- 
 ing to his eye, then active with imagination. His 
 own bright thoughts gave verdure to the trees 
 and greenness to the fields ; and he thought that 
 England indeed was a blessed land. And as the 
 vessel made her way uj) the livei', and as at a
 
 2^0 PENELOPE. 
 
 distance a dense black cloud was seen, he knew 
 that that was a manifestation of their vicinity 
 to the great city, and that dark mass of floating 
 smoke, which rustic eloquence so glibly repro- 
 bates, was to his soul a great refreshment and a 
 most pleasing sight. 
 
 As soon as he disembarked, he first directed 
 his steps to the office of his agent in the city, 
 to make enquiry respecting the speediest mode of 
 arriving at Smatterton ; for he knew not that his 
 daughter's residence was now in London. There 
 is a great contrast between the appearance of the 
 banks of the Thames^ and the inside of a city 
 counting-house ; but they are both very pleasant 
 sights to those who are glad to see them. Mr 
 Primrose was indeed very glad to see his native 
 land, and to walk the streets of its busy metro- 
 polis ; and with very great cordiality did he shake 
 hands with the principal in the office, and very 
 politely did the principal congratulate him on his 
 return to England. Mr Primrose did not notice 
 the great contrast between his own joy-expanded
 
 PENELOPE. 251 
 
 face and the business -looking aspect of the 
 agent ; but he thought that all London looked ?.3 
 glad to see him as he was to see London. After 
 transacting at the office of his agent such 
 business as was inmiediately important, and 
 without waitino; to observe what chang-es and 
 improvements had taken place in the great city 
 since he had left it sixteen years ago, he made 
 enquiry after the readiest and quickest mode of 
 reaching Smatterton, and finding that the stage- 
 coach was the most rapid conveyance, he imme- 
 diately directed his steps thitherward. 
 
 There are in the course of human life many 
 strange and singular coincidences. Now it hap- 
 pened that the very day on which Mr Primrose 
 was preparing to start for Smatterton, Mr Kipper- 
 son also was going to travel the same road, and 
 by the same conveyance. Little did the former 
 imagine that he was going away from his daughter ; 
 little did he think that, in his way to the White 
 Horse cellar in Piccadilly, he had actually passed 
 the house in which his beloved child and only
 
 252 PENELOPE. 
 
 hope lay sick and ill. The days in December are 
 very short ; and it was nearly dark when, at four 
 o'clock in the afternoon, Mr Primrose and Mr 
 Kipperson, unknown to each other, took their 
 seats in the coach. They had the inside of the 
 coach to themselves. 
 
 Mr Primrose, as we have said, was in good 
 spirits. He certainly had some cause for grief, 
 and some source of concern ; but the feeling of 
 satisfaction was most prominent. He had shed 
 tears to the memory of Dr Greendale, and he 
 hoped that the worthy man had so instructed the 
 dependent one committed to his care, that no 
 permanent cause of uneasiness would be found in 
 her. The intelligence which he had received 
 respecting her alleged and supposed fickleness 
 came from Mr Darnley, and the father, therefore, 
 knowing Mr Darnley to be a very severe and rigid 
 kind of man, and withal mighty positive, hoped 
 that a premature judgment had been formed, and 
 trusted that, when all was explained, all would 
 be right. We must indeed do the father of
 
 PENELOPE. 253 
 
 Penelope the justice to say that, with all his 
 failings, he was sincere, candid, and downright. 
 He never suffered any misunderstanding to exist 
 where it could possibly be cleared up. He was 
 plain and direct in all his conduct. 
 
 We need not say that Mr Kipperson was in 
 good spirits. He always was so. He was so 
 very happy that by this last journey to London 
 he had saved the nation from being starved to 
 death by a superabundance of corn. What a 
 fine thino' it is to be the cleverest man in the 
 kingdom ! What would become of us all were it 
 not for such men as Mr Kipperson starting up 
 about once in a century, or twice a-week, to 
 rectify all the errors of all the rest of the world ? 
 And what is the use of all the world beside, but 
 to admire the wisdom of such men as Mr Kip- 
 person? Our only fear is that we may have 
 too many such profoundly wise men ; and the 
 consequence of an over supply of wisdom would 
 be to ruin the nation by folly. 
 
 Whether Mr Kipperson addressed Mr Prim-
 
 254 PENELOPE. 
 
 rose, or Mr Primrose addressed MrKipperson, we 
 know not; but in a very short time they became 
 mighty ^ood friends. To some observation of 
 Mr Primrose, his fellow traveller replied : 
 " You have been abroad I suppose, sir?" 
 *' I have, sir," said Mr Primrose ; " and that 
 for a long while : it is now upwards of sixteen 
 years since I left England, and I am most happy 
 to return to it. Many changes have taken place 
 since I went abroad, and some, I hope, for the 
 better." 
 
 *' Many improvements have indeed been made 
 in the course of that time. We have improved, 
 for instance, in the rapidity with which we travel ; 
 our roads are as smooth as a bowlino;-orreen. 
 But our greatest improvements of all are our 
 intellectual improvements. We have made w^on- 
 derful strides in the march of intellect. England 
 is now the first country in the world for all that 
 relates to science and art. The cultivation of 
 the understanding has advanced most astonish- 
 ingly-
 
 PENELOPE. 255 
 
 " I remember noticing when I was in India," 
 said Mr Primrose, " that the number of pubhca- 
 tions seemed much increased. But many of 
 them appeared to be merely hght reading.'* 
 
 ** Very likely, sir ; but we have not merely 
 light reading ; we have a most abundant supply 
 of scientific publications : and these are read 
 with the utmost avidity by all classes of people, 
 especially by the lower classes. You have no 
 doubt heard of the formation of the mechanics' 
 institutes?" 
 
 ^' I have, sir," replied Mr Primrose ; '' but I 
 am not quite aware of the precise nature of their 
 constitution, or the object at which they aim. 
 Perhaps you can inform me ?" 
 
 " That I can, sir," said Mr Kipperson ; *' and 
 I shall have great pleasure in so doing; for to 
 tell you the truth I am a very zealous promoter 
 of these institutions. The object of these institu- 
 tions is to give an opportunity to artisans, who 
 are employed all day in manual labour, to acquire 
 a scientific knowledge, not only of the art by
 
 25G PENELOPK. 
 
 which he lives and at which he works, but of 
 everything else which can possibly be known or 
 become a subject of human inquiry or interest." 
 
 *' But surely/' interrupted Mr Primrose, "" it is 
 not designed to convert mechanical into scientific 
 men. That seems to my view rather a contradic- 
 tion to the general order of things." 
 
 ^' I beg your pardon," replied the other ; *' you 
 are repeating, I perceive, exploded objections. 
 Is it possible, do you think, that a man should 
 do his work worse for understanding something 
 of the philosophy of it? Is it not far better, 
 where it is practicable, that a man should act as 
 a rational reflecting creature, than as a piece of 
 mere machinery?" 
 
 '' Very true, certainly, sir; you are right. Ay, 
 ay, now I see : you instruct all artisans in the 
 philosophy of their several employments. Most 
 excellent. Then, I suppose, you teach architec- 
 ture and read lectures on Vitruvius to journey- 
 men bricklayers ?"
 
 PENELOPE. 257 
 
 " Nay, nay, sir," replied Mr Kipperson, '^ we 
 do not carry it quite so far as that." 
 
 " Oh, I beg your pardon," rephed Mr Prim- 
 rose, " I had not the slightest idea that this was 
 carrying your system too far. It might, perhaps, 
 be a little refinement on the scheme to suppose 
 that you would teach tailors anatomy ; but after 
 all I do not see why you should start at carrying 
 a matter of this kind too far. The poet says, 
 ' a little knowledge is a dangerous thing ;' and, 
 for my own part, I can see no great liberality in 
 this parsimonious and stinted mode of dealing 
 out knowledge ; for unless you teach the lower 
 classes all that is to be taught, you make, or 
 more properly speaking keep up, the distinction/' 
 
 Mr Kipperson was not best pleased with these 
 remarks ; he saw that his fellow-traveller was one 
 of those narrow-minded aristocratic people, who 
 are desirous of keeping the mass of the people 
 in gross ignorance, in order that they may be 
 the more easily governed and imposed upon. 
 Though in good truth it has been said, that the 
 
 VOL. T. s
 
 258 PENELOPE. 
 
 ignorant are not so easily governed as the en- 
 lightened. The ingenious and learned Mr Kip- 
 person then replied : 
 
 " You may say what you please, sir, in dis- 
 paragement of the system of enlightening the 
 public mind ; but surely you must allow that it 
 is far better for a poor industrious mechanic to 
 attend some lecture on a subject of science or 
 philosophy, than to spend his evenings in drunk- 
 enness and intemperance." 
 
 '' Indeed, sir, I have no wish to disparage the 
 system of enlightening the public mind ; and I 
 am quite of your opinion, that it is much more 
 desirable that a labouring man" 
 
 '^ Operative, if you please," said Mr Kipper- 
 son ; '* we have no labouring men." 
 
 '' Well," pursued Mr Primrose, " operative ; 
 the term used to be labouring or working when I 
 was last in England : I will agree with you, sir, 
 that it is really better that an operative should 
 study philosophy, than that he should drink an 
 inordinate quantity of beer. But do you find. 
 
 I
 
 PENELOPE. 259 
 
 sir, that your system does absolutely and actually 
 produce such effects ?" 
 
 '* Do we V exclaimed Mr Kipperson triumph- 
 antly : *' That we certainly and clearly do : it is 
 clear to demonstration ; for, since the establish- 
 ment of mechanics' institutes, the excise has 
 fallen off very considerably. And what can that 
 deficiency be owing to, if it be not to the fact 
 which I have stated, that the operatives find 
 philosophy a far more agreeable recreation after 
 labour than drinking strong beer?" 
 
 " You may be right, sir, and I have no doubt 
 you are ; but, as I have been so long out of 
 England, it is not to be wondered at that my 
 ideas have not been able to keep pace with the 
 rapid strides which education has made in Eng- 
 land during that time. I am very far from wish- 
 ing to throw any objection or obstacle in the way 
 of human improvement. You call these estab- 
 lishments ' mechanics' institutions :' but pray, 
 sir, do you not allow any but mechanics to enjoy
 
 260 PENELOPE. 
 
 the benefit of them ? Now there is a very nume- 
 rous class of men, and women too — for I should 
 think that so enlightened an age would not 
 exclude women from the acquisition of know- 
 ledge ; — there is, I say, a very numerous class of 
 men and women who have much leisure and little 
 learning — I mean the servants of the nobility 
 and gentry at the west end of the town. It 
 would be charitable to instruct them also in the 
 sciences. How pleasant it must be now for the 
 coachman and footman, who are waiting at the 
 door of a house for their master and mistress, at 
 or after midnight, instead of sleeping on the 
 carriage, or swearing and blaspheming as tV^y 
 too frequently do, to have a knowledge of astro- 
 nomy, and study the movements of the planets. 
 Is there no provision made for these poor 
 people ?" 
 
 '' Certainly there is," said Mr Kipperson. 
 *' There are cheap publications which treat of all 
 the arts and sciences, so that for the small
 
 PENELOPE. 261 
 
 charge of sixpence, a gentleman's coachman may, 
 in the course of a fortnight, become acquainted 
 with all the Newtonian theory." 
 
 Mr Primrose was delighted and astonished at 
 what Mr Kipperson told him ; he could hardly 
 believe his senses ; he began to imagine that he 
 must himself be the most ignorant and unin- 
 formed person in his majesty's dominions. 
 
 ** But tell me, sir," continued he, *' if those per- 
 sons, whose time and attention is of necessity so 
 much occupied, are become so well informed ; do 
 others, who have greater leisure, keep pace with 
 them; or, I should say, do they keep as much 
 in the advance as their leisure and opportunity 
 allow them ? For, according to your account, the 
 very poorest of the community are better in- 
 structed now than were the gentry when I lived 
 in England." 
 
 *' Education, sir," answered Mr Kipperson, 
 with the tone of an oracle, '' is altogether upon 
 the advance. The science of instruction has 
 reached a point of perfection, which was never
 
 262 PENELOPE. 
 
 anticipated ; nay, I may say, we are astonished 
 at ourselves. The time is now arrived when the 
 only ignorant and uninformed persons are those 
 who have had the misfortune to be educated at 
 our public schools and universities: for in them 
 there is no improvement. I have myself been 
 witness of the most shocking and egregious igno- 
 rance in those men who call themselves masters 
 of arts. They know nothing in the world about 
 agriculture, architecture, botany, ship building, 
 navigation, ornithology, political economy, ic- 
 thyology, zoology, or any of the ten thousand 
 sciences with which all the rest of the world 
 is intimate. I have actually heard an Oxford 
 student, as he called himself, when looking over 
 a manufactory at Birmingham, ask such questions 
 as shewed that he was totally ignorant even of 
 the very first rudiments of button-making." 
 
 '^ Astonishing ignorance,'' exclaimed Mr Prim- 
 rose, who was rather sleepy; '* I dare say they 
 make it a rule to teach nothing but ignorance at 
 the two universities."
 
 PENELOPE. 263 
 
 *' I believe you are right, sir/' said Mr Kipper- 
 son, rubbing his hands with cold and extacy ; 
 '' those universities have been a dead vv^eight on 
 the country for centuries, but their inanity and 
 weakness will be exposed, and the whole system 
 exploded. There is not a common boys' school 
 in the kingdom which does not teach ten times 
 more useful knowledge than both the universities 
 put together, and all the public schools into the 
 bargain. Why, sir, if you send a boy to school 
 now, he does not spend, as he did formerly, ten 
 or twelve years in learning the Latin grammar, 
 but now he learns Latin and Greek, and French, 
 German, Spanish, Italian, dancing, drawing, 
 music, mapping, the use of the globes, chemistry, 
 history, botany, mechanics, hydrostatics, hydrau- 
 lics, hydrodynamics, astronomy, geology, gym- 
 nastics, architecture, engineering, ballooning, and 
 many more useful and indispensable arts and 
 sciences, so that he is fitted for any station in 
 life, from a prime minister down to a shoe-black." 
 Before this speech was finished, Mr Primrose
 
 264 PENELOPE. 
 
 was fast asleep ; but short is the sleep in a coach 
 that travels by night. The coach stopped and 
 woke our foreigner from a frightful dream. We 
 do not wish to terrify our readers, but we must 
 relate the dream in consequence of its singularity. 
 He dreamed then, that he was in the island of 
 Laputa, and that having provoked the indignation 
 of some of the learned professors by expressing 
 a doubt as to the practicability of some of their 
 schemes, he was sentenced to be buried alive 
 under a pyramid of encyclopedias. Just as the 
 cruel people were putting the sentence into 
 execution, he woke and found his coat-collar 
 almost in his mouth, and heard the word ' ology ' 
 from the lips of his fellow traveller. He was 
 very glad to find that matters were no worse.
 
 PENELOPE. 265 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Few indeed are the adventures now to be met 
 with in travelUng by a stage coach, and few also, 
 comparatively speaking, the accidents. But our 
 travellers were destined to meet both with acci- 
 dent and adventure. The coach, as our obser- 
 vant readers have noticed, must necessarily have 
 travelled all night. The nights in December are 
 long and dark ; and not unfrequently, during the 
 long cold silence of a December night, there 
 gently falls upon the dank surface of the earth a 
 protecting and embellishing fleece of flaky snow. 
 And the morning snow as yet untrodden has a 
 brilliant and even cheerful look beneath a blue
 
 266 PENELOPE. 
 
 and brightly frosty sky ; and when a wide ex- 
 panse of country variegated with venerably-aged 
 trees, and new enclosures and old open meadow 
 lands, and adorned with here and there a mansion 
 surrounded with its appurtenances of larch, pine, 
 and poplar, and divided into unequal but grace- 
 fully undulating sections by means of a quiet 
 stream — when a scene like this bursts upon the 
 morning eye of a winter traveller, and shows 
 itself set off and adorned with a mantle of virgin 
 snow, it is indeed a sight well worth looking at. 
 Mr Primrose had not seen snow for sixteen years, 
 and the very sight of it warmed his heart ; for it 
 was so much like home. It was one of those 
 natural peculiarities which distinguished the land 
 of his birth from the land of his exile. He ex- 
 pressed to his fellow traveller the delight which 
 he felt at the sight. Mr Kipperson coincided 
 with him that the view was fine, and proposed 
 that, as they were both well clad, and as the 
 scenery was very magnificent, they should by
 
 PENELOPE. 267 
 
 way of a little variety seat themselves on the 
 outside of the coach. The proposal was readily 
 embraced, and they mounted the roof. 
 
 The carriage was proceeding at a tolerably 
 rapid pace on high but level ground ; and the 
 travellers enjoyed the brightness of the morning, 
 and the beauty of the valley which lay on their 
 left hand. Shortly they arrived at a steep de- 
 scent which led into the valley beneath, and there 
 was no slacking of pace or locking of wheels, 
 which had been customary in going down hill 
 when Mr Primrose was last in England. He ex- 
 pressed, therefore, his surprise at the boldness 
 or carelessness of the coachman, and hinted that 
 he was fearful lest some accident might happen. 
 But Mr Kipperson immediately dissipated his 
 fears, by telling him that this was the usual prac- 
 tice now, and that the construction of stage- 
 coaches, and the art of driving, were so much 
 improved, that it was now considered a far safer 
 and better plan to proceed in the usual pace 
 down hill as well as upon level ground. Mr Kip-
 
 268 PENELOPE. 
 
 person, in short, had just proved to a demonstra- 
 tion that it was impossible that any accident 
 could happen, when down fell one of the horses, 
 and presently after down fell coach and all its 
 company together. 
 
 Happily no lives were lost by the accident. 
 But if Mr Kipperson's neck was not broken by 
 the fall, his heart was almost broken by the flat 
 contradiction which the prostrate carriage gave 
 to his theory, and he lay as one bereft of life. 
 Equally still and silent lay Mr Primrose ; for he 
 was under the awkward difficulty of either de- 
 nying his fellow traveller's correctness or doubting 
 the testimony of his own senses. The catas- 
 trophe took place near to a turnpike house ; so 
 that those of the passengers, who had experi- 
 enced any injury from the overturning of the 
 coach, could be speedily accommodated with all 
 needful assistance. All the passengers, however, 
 except Mr Primrose, were perfectly able, when 
 the coach was put to rights again, to resume 
 their journey. Mr Primrose, as soon as he re-
 
 PENELOPE. 269 
 
 covered from the first shock of his fall, was 
 very glad to take refuge in the turnpike house, 
 and he soon became sensible that it would not 
 be prudent for him then to pursue his journey. 
 He had indeed received a severe shock from the 
 accident, and though he had no bones broken he 
 had suffered a violent concussion which might be 
 doctored into an illness. 
 
 As soon as possible medical assistance was 
 procured. The surgeon examined and interro- 
 gated the overturned gentleman with great dili- 
 gence and sagacity. From the examination, it 
 appeared not unlikely that the patient might 
 promise himself the pleasure of a speedy removal. 
 The truth of the matter was, that the poor gen- 
 tleman was more frightened than hurt. Some 
 cases there are, and this was one of them, in 
 which no time should be lost in sending for the 
 doctor, seeing that, if the doctor be not sent 
 for immediately, he may not be wanted at all. 
 This is one of the reasons why physicians 
 keep carriages, and have their horses always in
 
 270 PENELOPE. 
 
 readiness ; for by using great expedition they 
 frequently manage to arrive before the patient 
 recovers. 
 
 The surgeon who attended Mr Primrose thought 
 proper to take some blood from his patient, and 
 to supply the place of the same by as many 
 draughts as could be conveniently taken, or be 
 reasonably given in the time. It was also re- 
 commended that the gentleman should be put to 
 bed. 
 
 The dwellings attached to turnpike gates are 
 seldom so roomy and so abundantly provided 
 with accommodation as to admit of an accidental 
 visitor : but in the present case it so happened 
 that there was an apartment unoccupied and not 
 unfurnished. The gatekeeper*s wife, who was a 
 notable and motherly kind of woman, said, that 
 if the gentleman could put up with a very small 
 apartment, and a coarse but clean bed, he might 
 be accommodated, and he need not fear that the 
 bed was damp, for it had been occupied for the 
 last month, and had only been vacated the day
 
 PENELOPE. 271 
 
 before. Mr Primrose readily accepted the offer, 
 not being very particular as to appearance. 
 
 " I suppose," said he, " you keep a spare bed 
 for the accommodation of those who may be' 
 overturned in coming down this hill ? Your sur- 
 geon, I find, does not live far off. That is a good 
 contrivance. Pray can you tell me, within a 
 dozen or two, how many broken bones the stage 
 coach supplies him with in the course of the 
 year?" 
 
 At this speech the good woman laughed, for it 
 was uttered in such a tone as intimated that the 
 gentleman wished it to be laughed at; and as 
 he was a respectable looking man, and carried 
 in his aspect a promise to pay, the worthy wife 
 of the gate-keeper laughed with right good will. 
 
 ** Oh dear no, sir," said she, '' there is not an 
 accident happens here hardly ever. The coach- 
 man what overturned you this morning, is one of 
 the most carefullest men in the world, only he 
 had a new horse as didn't know the road." 
 
 " Avery great comfort is that,*' said Mr Prim-
 
 272 PENELOPE. 
 
 rose, and he smiled, and the gate-keeper's wife 
 smiled, and she thought Mr Primrose a very 
 funny man, that he should be able to joke when 
 under the doctor's hands. There are some people 
 who are very facetious when they are sick, 
 provided the sickness be not very acute; for it 
 looks like heroism to laugh amidst pain and 
 trouble. 
 
 Mr Primrose then proceeded ; *^ So you will 
 assure me that the person who occupied your 
 spare bed last, was not an overturned coach 
 passenger?" 
 
 The poor woman did not smile at this obser- 
 vation, but on the contrary looked very grave, 
 and her eyes seemed to be filling with tears, 
 when she compressed her lips and shook her 
 head mournfully. With some effort, after a 
 momentary silence, she said : 
 
 "No, sir, it was not any one that was over- 
 turned; but it was a coach passenger. It was a 
 young lady, poor dear soul ! that seemed almost 
 dying of a broken heart. But had not you better
 
 \ 
 
 penelopp:. 273 
 
 go to bed, sir? The doctor said you wanted 
 rest." 
 
 Mr Primrose was a nervous man, and tales of 
 sorrow inartificially told frequently depressed 
 him, and excited his sympathy with greater 
 force than was consistent with poetical enjoy- 
 ment. He therefore took the considerate advice 
 which the good woman gave him, and retired to 
 rest. To a person of such temperament as Mr 
 Primrose, the very mention of a young lady 
 almost dying of a broken heart was quite suffi- 
 cient to set his imagination most painfully at 
 work. Rapidly did his thoughts run over the 
 various causes of broken hearts. Very angry did 
 he become with those hardened ones, by whose 
 follies and vices so many of the gentler sex suffer 
 the acutest pangs of the spirit. He thought of 
 his own dear and only child, and he almost 
 wrought himself up to a fever by the imagination 
 that some villanous coxcomb might have trifled 
 with her affections, and have left her to the 
 mockery of the world. He then thought of the 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 PENELOPE. 
 
 mother of his Penelope, and thai she had died of 
 a broken heart, and that his foUies had brought 
 her to an untimely grave. Then came there into 
 his mind thoughts of retributive justice, and 
 there was an indescribable apprehension in his 
 soul that the sorrows which he had occasioned to 
 another might fall also to his own lot. He won- 
 dered that there should be in the world so much 
 cruelty, and such a wanton sporting with each 
 others' sufferings. The powerful emotions which 
 had been raised in his mind from the first hour 
 that he embarked for England, were of a nature 
 so mingled, and in their movements so rapid, 
 that he hardly knew whether they were pleasur- 
 able or painful. There was so much pleasure 
 in the pain, and so much pain in the pleasure, 
 that his mind was rendered quite unsteady by a 
 constant whirl and vortex of emotions. He felt 
 a kind of childish vivacity and womanly sensi- 
 bility. His tears and his smiles were equally 
 involuntary ; he had no power over them, and 
 he had scarcely notice of their approach. Some-
 
 PENELOPE. 275 
 
 thing of this was natural to him; but present 
 circumstances more strongly and powerfully 
 developed this characteristic. The accident, 
 from which he had received so sudden a shock, 
 tended still farther to increase the excitability of 
 his mind. When therefore he retired for the 
 purpose of gaining a little rest, his solitude 
 opened a wider door to imagination and recol- 
 lection ; and thereupon a confused multitude of 
 images of the past, and of fancies for the future, 
 came rushing in upon him, and his mind was 
 like a feather in a storm. 
 
 The surgeon was very attentive to his patient, 
 for he made a second visit not above four hours 
 after the first. The people at the turnpike-house 
 told him that the gentleman had, in pursuance 
 of the advice given him, retired to take a little 
 rest. The medical man commended that move- 
 ment ; but being desirous to see how his patient 
 rested, he opened the door of the apartment very 
 gently, and Mr Primrose, who was wide awake,
 
 276 PENELOPE. 
 
 and happy to see any one to whom he could talk, 
 called aloud to the surgeon to walk in. 
 
 " I am not asleep, sir ; you may come in ; I am 
 very glad to see you; I have felt very much 
 relieved by the bleeding. I think I shall be quite 
 well enough to proceed to-morrow. Pray, sir, 
 can you inform me how far it is to Smatterton 
 from this place?" 
 
 '' About sixty miles," replied the surgeon. 
 
 ''Sixty miles!" echoed Mr Primrose; "at 
 what a prodigious rate then w^e must have 
 travelled." Thereupon the patient raised himself 
 up in the bed, and began, or attempted to begin, 
 a long conversation with his doctor. " Why, 
 sir, when I was in England last, the coach 
 used to be nearly twice as long on the road. Is 
 this the usual rate of travelling?" 
 
 The medical man smiled, and said, '^ The coach 
 by which you travelled, is by no means a quick 
 one, some coaches on this road travel much 
 faster."
 
 PENELOPE. 277 
 
 " And pray, sir, do these coaches ever arrive 
 safely at their journey's end ?" 
 
 The surgeon smiled again and said, ^^ Oh yes, 
 sir, accidents are very rare." 
 
 " Then I wish," replied Mr Primrose, " that 
 they had not indulged me with so great a rarity 
 just on my arrival in England. I have been in 
 the East Indies for the last sixteen or seventeen 
 years, and during that time — " 
 
 Few medical men whose business is worth 
 following, have time to listen to the history of a 
 man's life and adventures for sixteen or seventeen 
 years. Hindoostan is certainly a very interesting 
 country, but there is no country on the face of 
 the earth so interesting as a man's own cupboard. 
 The doctor therefore cut off his patient's speech, 
 not in the midst, but at the very beginning ; 
 saying unto him, with a smile, for there is much 
 meaning in a smile ; '^ Yes sir, certainly sir, there 
 is no doubt of it— very true ; but, sir, I think 
 it will be better for you at present to be kept 
 quiet ; and if you can get ft little sleep it will be
 
 278 PENELOPE. 
 
 better for you. I think, sir, to-morrow, or the 
 next day, you may venture to proceed on your 
 journey. I will send you a composing draught 
 as soon as I return home, and will see you again 
 to-morrow, early in the morning. But T would 
 not recommend you to travel by the stage 
 coach." 
 
 '' Ay, ay, thank you for that recommendation, 
 and you may take my word I will follow it." 
 
 The doctor very quickly took his leave, and 
 Mr Primrose thought him a very unmannerly 
 cub, because he would not stop to talk. '^ A com- 
 posing draught!" thus soliloquized the patient; 
 *'■ a composing draught ! a composing fiddlestick! 
 What does the fellow mean by keeping me thus 
 in bed and sending me in his villanous com- 
 pounds. Why, I think I am almost able to walk 
 to Smatterton. I won't take his composing 
 draught ; I'll leave it here for the next coach 
 passenger that may be overturned at the foot of 
 this hill. I dare to say it will not spoil with 
 keeping." ♦
 
 PENELOPE. 279 
 
 The word " coach-passenger" brought to Mr 
 Primrose's recollection the melancholy look and 
 sorrowful tone of the poor woman who mentioned 
 the young lady who seemed almost dying of a 
 broken heart. His curiosity was roused, his 
 nerves were agitated. He kept thinking of his 
 poor Penelope. He recollected with an almost 
 painful vividness the features and voice of the 
 pretty little innocent he had left behind him 
 when he quitted England. He recollected and 
 painted with imagination's strongest lines and 
 most glowing colours that distracting and heart- 
 rending scene, when after listening with tearful 
 silence to the kind admonitions of his brother-in- 
 law, he snatched up in his arms his dear little 
 laughing Penelope, and he saw again as pun- 
 gently as in reality, the little arms that clasped 
 him with an eagerness of joy, and he recollected 
 how his poor dear child in the simplicity of her 
 heart mistook the agitations and trembhngs of 
 grief for the frolicsome wantonness of joy, and 
 he saw again that indescribably exquisite expres-
 
 280 PENELOPE. 
 
 sion Vt^ith which she first caught sight of his 
 tears ; and then there came over his mind the 
 impression produced by the artless manner in 
 which the poor thing said, " Good night, papa, 
 perhaps you won't cry to-morrow." 
 
 Now he thought of that Penelope as grown up 
 to woman's estate, and he felt that he should 
 be proud of his daughter : but oh what fears 
 and misgivings came upon him, and he kept mut- 
 tering to himself the words of the woman who 
 had talked of the young lady almost dying of a 
 broken heart. It was well for the patient that 
 the doctor soon fulfilled his word and sent a 
 composing draught. But the very moQient that 
 his attentive nurse gently tapped at the door of 
 his room, he called out : 
 
 '^ Come in, come in, I am not asleep. Oh, 
 what you have brought me a composing draught ! 
 Nonsense, nonsense, keep it for the next coach- 
 passenger tlipt is overturned, and give it to him 
 with my compliments. Well, but I say, good 
 woman, you were telling me something about a
 
 PENELOPE. 281 
 
 poor young lady who was almost dying with a 
 broken heart. Who is she? Where is she ? What 
 is her name? Where is she gone to? Where did 
 she come from? Who broke her heart? Was she 
 married, or was she single? Now tell me all 
 about her." 
 
 ^' Oh dear, sir, I am sure you had better take 
 this physic what the doctor has sent you, that 
 will do you more good than a mallancolly story. 
 Indeed youM better, sir ; shall I pour it out into 
 a cup ?" 
 
 " Ay, ay, pour it out. But I say, good 
 woman, tell me where did this poor young lady 
 come from ?" 
 
 " Lord, sir, I never saw such a curious gentle- 
 man in my life. Why, then if you must know, 
 she came from a long way off, from a village of 
 the name of Smatterton, a little village where 
 my Lord Smatterton has a fine castle." 
 
 While the good woman was speaking she 
 kept her eyes fixed upon the cup into- which she
 
 282 PENELOPE. 
 
 was slowly pouring the medicine, and therefore 
 she did not perceive the effect produced upon 
 the patient by the mention of Smatterton ; for, as 
 soon as he heard the name he started, turned 
 pale, and was breathless and speechless for a 
 moment; and then recovering the use of his 
 speech, he exclaimed, "Smatterton! Smatterton I 
 Good woman, are you in your senses ? What do 
 you mean ?" 
 
 Now it was very well for Mr Primrose and his 
 composing draught that the wife of the gate- 
 keeper was not nervous ; for had she been nervous, 
 that sudden and almost ridiculous exclamation, 
 uttered as it was, in a very high key, and with 
 a very loud voice, would certainly have upset the 
 cup together with its contents. If ever a com- 
 posing draught was necessary, it clearly was so 
 on this occasion. The good woman however did 
 not let the cup fall, but with the utmost com- 
 posure looked at the patient and said : 
 
 *' Lawk-.a-mercy, sir, don't be in such a taking.
 
 PENELOPE. 283 
 
 I durst to say the poor cretter wasn't nobody as 
 you know. She was a kmd of a poor young 
 lady like. There now, sir, pray do take your 
 physic, 'cause you'll never get well if you don't." 
 
 Mr Primrose was still in great agitation, and 
 that more from imagination than apprehension. 
 His nervous sensibility had been excited, and 
 everything that at all touched his feelings did 
 most deeply move him. He therefore answered 
 the poor woman in a hurried manner : 
 
 " Come, come, good woman, I will swallow 
 the medicine, if you will have the goodness to 
 tell me all you know about this poor young 
 lady." 
 
 Now, as it was very little that the good 
 woman did know, she thought it might be for 
 the patient's advantage if he would take the 
 medicine even upon those terms. For she had 
 so much respect for the skill of the doctor, that 
 it was her firm opinion that the draught would 
 have more power in composing, than her slender 
 narrative in disturbing, the gentleman's mind.
 
 284 PENELOPE. 
 
 She very calmly then handed the cup and said : 
 " Well, sir, then if you will but take the physic, 
 I will tell you all I know about the matter." 
 
 Mr Primrose complied with the condition, and 
 took the medicine with so much eagerness, that 
 he seemed as if he were about to swallow cup 
 and all. 
 
 " There, sir," said the good woman, mightily 
 pleased at her own management; *^now I hope 
 you will soon get better." 
 
 '* Well, now I have taken my medicine ; so 
 tell me all you know about this young lady.'^ 
 
 '^ Why, sir, 'tisn't much as I know : only, 
 about two months ago, that coach what you 
 came by was going up to town, and it stopped, 
 as it always does, at our gate, and the coachman 
 says to my husband, says he, ' Here's a poor 
 young lady in the coach so ill that she cannot 
 travel any farther ; can you take her in for a 
 day or two?' And so I went and handed the 
 poor thing out of the coach, and I put her to 
 bed ; and sure enough, poor thing, she was very
 
 PENELOPE. 285 
 
 ill. Then, sir, I sent for the doctor ; but, dear 
 me, he could do her no good : and so then I 
 used to go and talk to the poor cretter, and all 
 she would say to me was, * Pray, let me die.' 
 But in a few days she grew a little better, and 
 began to talk about continuing her journey, and 
 I found out, sir, that the poor dear lady was 
 broken-hearted." 
 
 Here the narrator paused. But hitherto no 
 definite information had been conveyed to Mr 
 Primrose, and he almost repented that he had 
 taken the trouble to swallow the medicine for 
 such a meagre narrative. 
 
 "And is that all you know, good woman? 
 Did not you learn her name." 
 
 *' Yes," replied the informant: " her name was 
 Fitzpatrick : and after she was gone, I asked the 
 coachman who brought her, and he told me that 
 that wicked young nobleman. Lord Spoonbill, 
 had taken the poor thing away from her friends, 
 and had promised to make a fine lady of her, 
 but afterwards deserted her and sent her about
 
 286 . PENELOPE. 
 
 her business. And all because my lord was 
 mighty sweet upon another young lady what 
 lives at Smatterton." 
 
 Now came the truth into Mr Primrose's mind, 
 and he readily knew that this other young lady 
 was his Penelope. This corroborated the letter 
 which Mr Darnley had written to him on the 
 decease of Dr Greendale. Happy was it for the 
 father of Penelope that he had no suspicion of 
 unworthy intentions towards his daughter on the 
 part of Lord Spoonbill; and well was it for the 
 traveller that he had swallowed the composing 
 draught. He received the information with 
 tolerable calmness, and thanking the poor 
 woman for indulging his curiosity, he very 
 quietly dismissed her. And as soon as she was 
 gone he muttered to himself: 
 
 " My child shall never marry a villain, though 
 he may be a nobleman.'
 
 PENELOPE. 287 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Whether it was that the medicine which 
 Mr Primrose had taken possessed extraordinary 
 composing powers, or whether his mind had 
 been quieted by its own outrageous agitations, 
 we cannot say ; but to whatever cause it might be 
 owing, it is a fact that, on the following morning 
 he was much more composed, and the medical 
 attendant pronounced that he might without any 
 danger proceed on his journey. 
 
 He was not slow in availing himself of this 
 permission, and he also followed the suggestion 
 of his medical attendant in not travelling by the 
 stage-coach. After astonishing the gate-keeper 
 and his wife, and also the doctor, by his liberality
 
 288 pexelopp:. 
 
 for their attention to him, he started in a post- 
 chaise for Smatterton. No accident or inter- 
 ruption impeded his progress, and at a late hour 
 he arrived at Neverden, intending to pay his first 
 visit to Mr Darniey, and designing through him 
 to communicate to Penelope the knowledge of 
 his arrival, and prepare her for the meeting. 
 
 It v/as necessary for Mr Primrose to introduce 
 himself to Mr Darnley. The stately rector of 
 Neverden was in his study. He was not much 
 of a reading man, he never had been ; but still 
 it was necessary that he should keep up appear- 
 ances, and therefore he occasionally shut him- 
 self up in that room which he called his study ; 
 and there he would read for an hour or two some 
 papers of the Spectator, or some old numbers 
 of the Gentleman's Magazine, or Blackstone's 
 Commentaries, or any other book of equal repu- 
 tation for sound principles. There is a great 
 advantage in reading those books that everybody 
 talks about and nobody reads. It was also very 
 proper that, if any of the parisliioners called on
 
 PENELOPE. 289 
 
 the rector, it might be necessary to send for him 
 " out of the study/' Sometimes also Mr Darnley 
 gave audiences in his study, and tlien the un- 
 learned agriculturists thought him a most won- 
 derful man to have so many books, and so many 
 large books too ; some of them looking as bio- 
 as the great bible in the church. Mr Darnley 
 Was not at all displeased to see the eyes of 
 his humble parishioners, when they made their 
 appearance in that apartment, wandering curi- 
 ously and modestly round the room, and leering 
 at the great glass bookcases and the eighteen- 
 inch globes with as much wonderment as the 
 gulls of two centuries back used to look at the 
 dried alligators in a conjuror's garret. How deli- 
 cious is the sensation of superiority. 
 
 When the name of Primrose was mentioned, 
 Mr Darnley thought for a moment only of Pene- 
 lope, and he screwed up his lips and looked 
 wondrously wise. Mr Primrose entered the 
 room with a light and lively step, and with a 
 bright and cheerful countenance, taking it for 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 290 PENELOPE. 
 
 granted that everybody in England must be 
 as glad to see him as he was to see his 
 native land again. Mr Darnley rose with great 
 stateliness, and advanced a step or two towards 
 the door. 
 
 '* Ah ! Mr Darnley, your most humble ser- 
 vant ; my name is Primrose, I received a letter 
 from you about six weeks ago, which you did 
 me the honor to write to me concerning the 
 death of my poor brother Greendale." 
 
 At the end of the sentence Mr Primrose 
 spoke in a more subdued tone, as became him 
 when speaking of the death of a dear friend. 
 But as he spoke he offered his hand to the 
 rector of Neverden, who in return offered his, 
 but it was by no means an equivalent; for 
 the reverend divine gave his hand so formally 
 and indifferently, that it was to Mr Primrose 
 as cold and flabby as a duck's foot. And he 
 said, " Mr Primrose, I am happy to see you. 
 You are welcome to England." But though 
 he said he was happy, he did not look so.
 
 PENELOPE. 291 
 
 unless it be true, as some philosophers have 
 averred, that happiness is the most serious 
 thing in the world. The rector of Neverden 
 also said, *' I beg you will be seated, sir." 
 He had learned that from the Right Honor- 
 able the Earl of Smatterton ; for no man is so 
 great a simpleton that nothing can be learned 
 from him. 
 
 There was nothing uncivil or rude in this 
 reception ; what could be more proper or polite 
 than to welcome Mr Primrose to England, and 
 ask him to be seated? But Mr Primrose felt 
 a chill at this reception. ♦ However, he sat 
 down ; and then the polite rector, when his 
 visitor was seated, sat down also. Then he 
 snuffed the candles, and carefully closed the 
 book that he had been reading, and pushed 
 it some distance from him, even so far as his 
 arm could reach, and then he turned himself 
 in his chair from the table, and towards Mr 
 Primrose, and looked at him as much as to 
 say, '' What do you want with me ?"
 
 292 penelopp:. 
 
 Mr Primrose interpreted the look, and said 
 *' I have never had the pleasure of seeing you 
 before Mr Darnley, except for a very few 
 minutes, and at some distance of time ; but 
 as you wrote to me an account of my dear 
 brother's death, and as I have now returned 
 to England, and am expecting presently the 
 happiness of a meeting with my dear child, 
 I thought it might be advisable to call first 
 on you, that some message may be sent to 
 Penelope, that the surprise may not be too 
 much for her." 
 
 " Miss Primrose," said the imperturbable 
 rector of Neverden, *' is not at present in this 
 part of the country.** 
 
 The effect of the composing draught was 
 completely gone off, and Mr Primrose started 
 up from the chair to which he had been so 
 politely invited, and exclaimed with great im- 
 petuosity, ** Good God ! Mr Darnley, you don't 
 say so." 
 
 Mr Darnley was not so much agitated as
 
 PENELOPE. 293 
 
 Mr Primrose, and therefore he compressed his 
 lips and knitted his brows, and then opened 
 his mouth and said very composedly: '' Mr 
 Primrose, I beg that you would recollect that 
 I am a clergyman, and therefore that it is not 
 becoming and correct, that in my presence, you 
 should take the name of the Lord in vain." 
 
 " I beg your pardon," said Mr Primrose, 
 with tears in his eyes, " but consider, sir, I 
 am a father, and — " 
 
 *' I also am a father," interrupted the rector, 
 *' and have more children than you have." 
 
 " Oh, but tell me, tell me, sir, is my child 
 living?" 
 
 *' To the best of my knowledge Miss Prim- 
 rose is living." 
 
 '* But where is she ? Why has she left Smat- 
 terton ?" 
 
 " I believe, sir, that Miss Primrose is in 
 London, that is all that I know of her, ex- 
 cept — " Here the rector hesitated, as if 
 reluctant and fearful to say all that he knew.
 
 294 PENELOPE. 
 
 If composure of manner be at all contagious, 
 Mr Primrose was the last person in the world 
 to catch the contagion ; for at this dry hesi- 
 tation he became more violent, and exclaimed 
 with great earnestness : 
 
 '' Mr Darnley, you are a man, and must 
 have the feelings of humanity. I implore and 
 conjure you by all that is sacred to put me 
 out of this dreadful state of suspense, and tell 
 me at once all you know of my poor child ; 
 something you must know and you ought to 
 know/' 
 
 There was an energy of utterance and a 
 heart-reaching tone in this last sentence, which 
 staggered Mr Darnley's cold formality and dis- 
 composed his stateliness. The almost awful 
 emphasis which Mr Primrose gave to the ex- 
 pression, '^ you ought to know,'' reminded Mr 
 Darnley that he had but imperfectly performed 
 his duty to the niece of his old friend Dr 
 Greendale ; and the strong feeling thus ex- 
 pressed compelled the pompous man to some™
 
 PENELOPE. 295 
 
 thing of more kindly thought and language. 
 He rose from his seat, and took Mr Primrose 
 by the hand, and said to him: 
 
 « My good sir, pray compose yourself, be 
 seated, and I will give you all the informa- 
 tion in my power. Your daughter is living, 
 and is, I believe, in health. You know, I pre- 
 sume, that there formerly was something of an 
 acquaintance between Miss Primrose and my 
 son, and you also know, as I learn by a letter 
 from my son, who had the honor of meeting 
 you at St Helena, that this acquaintance has 
 ceased." 
 
 " I know it, Mr Darnley, and I am sorry 
 for it, very sorry for it indeed, especially from 
 what I have since heard of that young gen- 
 tleman who is said to be paying attention 
 to her." 
 
 Mr Darnley here shook his head, and then 
 proceeded. 
 
 " After the decease of my good friend and
 
 296 PENELOPi:. 
 
 neighbour Dr Greendale, before I knew that 
 the correspondence had ceased between the 
 young folks, I offered Miss Primrose an asylum 
 in my house." 
 
 Here Mr Darnley paused for a compliment; 
 he had learned that of the Right Honorable 
 the Earl of Smatterton. Mr Primrose paid him 
 the proper compliment on his liberality, and 
 the worthy rector continued his narrative. 
 
 ** Miss Primrose was pleased to dechne the 
 offer on the ground that the Countess of Smat- 
 terton had taken upon herself to provide for 
 her. And it is not many days since Miss Prim- 
 rose left Smatterton for London, where she now 
 is, in the house of Lord Smatterton, and she 
 honored us with a call before her departure, 
 and I took the liberty of giving her the best 
 advice in my power, to guard her against the 
 snares and dangers to which she might be ex- 
 posed in that profession which she is about 
 to adopt."
 
 PENELOPE. 297 
 
 '* Profession she is about to adopt ! Mr Darn- 
 ley. And may I ask what that profession is?" 
 " The musical profession, Mr Primrose." 
 The father of Penelope was indignant, and 
 he replied contemptuously: "Impossible! Can 
 the patronage of the Countess do nothing bet- 
 ter for my child than make her a teacher of 
 music. But there will be no necessity now — " 
 Before Mr Primrose could finish the sentence, 
 Mr Darnley corrected the misapprehension and 
 said : '* Not a teacher of music, sir, but a 
 public singer " 
 
 This made the matter worse, and the poor 
 man was just ready to burst out into violent ex- 
 clamations again, but recollecting that it^was in 
 his power now to place his child in a situation 
 of independence, and considering that the time 
 of her departure from Smatterton had been too 
 recent to render it likely that she had yet 
 appeared in public, he contented himself with 
 saying, ** 1 am astonished that the Countess 
 should think of such a profession for a young
 
 298 PENELOPE. 
 
 woman brought up as my child has been. If 
 my poor brother-in-law had lived he would 
 never have suffered it." 
 
 " I was also astonished," said Mr Darnley, 
 " that Miss Primrose should give her consent 
 to such a proposal ; for my friend Dr Green- 
 dale used to express himself very strongly on 
 that subject, and endeavour to dissuade Miss 
 Primrose from adopting such a profession. It 
 has long been the wish of the Countess of 
 Smatterton, but her ladyship did not succeed 
 in the proposal during the lifetime of Dr 
 Greendale." 
 
 Much more to the same purpose did Mr 
 Darnley say on the subject, not much to the 
 satisfaction of Mr Primrose. It is not pleasant 
 for a father to hear anything to the discredit 
 of a child, but fortunately parents do not always 
 believe such stories, or they find excuses which 
 nobody else can. So Mr Primrose did not, 
 could not, and would not believe the insinua- 
 tion that Mr Darnley threw out against Pene-
 
 PENELOPE. 299 
 
 lope, as if she had waited only for Dr Green- 
 dale's decease to adopt a profession against 
 which he had serious objections ; and Mr Prim- 
 rose thought it most probable that the Coun- 
 tess of Smatterton had used great importunity, 
 or that Penelope had complied, to relieve Mrs 
 Greendale of a burden. There was indeed some 
 difficulty in his mind to reconcile this story of 
 Mr Darnley with the insinuation thrown out 
 in his letter, and corroborated by the poor 
 woman at the turnpike-gate, concerning the son 
 of the Earl of Smatterton having withdrawn 
 the affections of Penelope from Robert Darn- 
 ley to himself. But Mr Primrose had been 
 out of England many years ; and fashions had 
 changed since he left his native land. It was 
 perhaps now quite elegant and fashionable to 
 appear on the stage. He recollected that when 
 he was at school, he had read of Nero, the 
 Roman emperor, appearing on the stage as a 
 public performer, and for aught that could be 
 known to Mr Primrose, the progress of retine-
 
 300 PENELOPE. 
 
 ment in England might liave pointed out dra- 
 matic or musical exhibition as a fit introduction 
 to the honor of an alliance with nobility. 
 
 At all events, whatever were his notions or 
 apprehensions he was by this time considerably 
 more calm and composed. He had the satisfac- 
 tion of knowing that his daughter was alive and 
 well, and he had the pleasing prospect of speedily 
 seeing her again. Of her moral and mental 
 qualities, and of her intellectual improvement, 
 he had been in the constant habit of receiving 
 flattering and agreeable accounts, and he was 
 not unwilling to believe them. There was some 
 little mortification, that he had travelled so far 
 and all to no purpose. But he had no other 
 means of ascertaining where his daughter was. 
 
 It was a conceit of his own, (though partly 
 aided by his late brother-in-law,) not to keep any 
 direct correspondence with his daughter. His 
 motive was, that as there was a possibility that 
 he might never return to EnglTind, and that he 
 might not ever have it in his power to provide for
 
 PENELOPE. 301 
 
 ber according to his former means, therefore he 
 thought it best not to excite any expectations 
 which might be frustrated, or to excite in her 
 mind any interest concerning himself, which 
 might ultimately be productive of only pain and 
 uneasiness. He wished his poor child to consi- 
 der herself an orphan, thinking it better to sur- 
 prise her with a living parent than to inflict grief 
 on her mind at the thoughts of one deceased. 
 
 This scheme did not entirely succeed. The 
 worthy and benevolent rector of Smatterton could 
 not help now and then saying a favourable word 
 or two concerning his poor brother Primrose ; 
 and as Dr Greendale's was the charity that 
 hopeth all things and believeth all things, he 
 was not distrustful of his brother's promises, but 
 was nearly, if not altogether, as sanguine as Mr 
 Primrose himself. By degrees Penelope came 
 to have an interest in her absent parent ; and well 
 it "was for her that Dr Greendale had thus accus- 
 tomed her to think of her father : for when the 
 good rector departed this life he did not leave his
 
 302 PENELOPE. 
 
 niece quite so orphaned as if she had had no 
 knowledge or thought of her absent father. But 
 to proceed with our story. 
 
 We have said that it was late in the evening 
 when Mr Primrose arrived at Neverden. It was 
 no great distance indeed to Sniatterton ; but 
 why should he go there in any hurry, seeing that 
 his daughter was not there ? This consideration 
 induced Mr Darnley to offer to the traveller the 
 accommodation of a bed : for Mr Darnley was 
 not a churlish man ; he was only very cold, and 
 very formal, and very pompous. The offer was 
 readily accepted, and the rector of Neverdenthen 
 conducted Mr Primrose from the studj^ to the 
 apartment in which the family was sitting. Great 
 curiosity was excited as soon as Mr Darnley 
 announced the name of his late arrived guest. 
 The young ladies felt particularly interested in 
 looking at the father of Penelope ; but they did 
 not make themselves, as they thought, quite so 
 agreeable as they should have done had matters 
 been proceeding in proper order with respect to
 
 PENELOPE. 303 
 
 their brother and Penelope. The absence of that 
 species of agreeableness to which we allude, was 
 no great inconvenience to Mr Primrose ; for he 
 was weary with travelling, and exhausted by ma- 
 nifold agitations, and it would not have been very 
 agreeable to him with all this exhaustion to 
 undergo a cheerful volley of everlasting interro- 
 gations ; and Miss Mary Darnley would to a 
 certainty have extorted from him a civil, ecclesi- 
 astical, statistical, botanical, and zoological, his- 
 tory of British India, to say nothing of Persia, 
 China, Japan, and the million isles of the Eastern 
 ocean. 
 
 But though the young ladies were not dis- 
 posed to apply the question to Mr Primrose, 
 their mother, who was as ready to forgive as she 
 was apt to forget, talked to him as cordially and 
 cheerfully as if the day had been fixed for the 
 marriage of Robert Darnley and Penelope Prim- 
 rose. Her talk, however, was not wearying, 
 because there was no affectation in it, and be- 
 cause there was much good feeling in it. Her
 
 304 PENELOPE. 
 
 talk was concerning her dear boy ; and Mr Prim- 
 rose, who had a parents heart, enjoyed such 
 talk. 
 
 *' And so, Mr Primrose, you have seen my 
 dear Robert? And how did he look? He is 
 dying to return to Neverden. We expect him 
 next week, for the ship is now in the Downs. 
 Did you think, sir, he seemed in good health?" 
 
 *' In perfect health, madam : in fact I never 
 saw a young man who had been so long in India 
 look so well as your son." 
 
 '^ There was no yellowness in his look?" asked 
 Mrs Darn ley. 
 
 " Not the slightest, I can assure Mrs Darnley." 
 *' And was he not much sun-burnt?" 
 Mr Primrose smiled, and said, ^' Not any more, 
 madam, than a young man ought to be ; and 
 though I never had the pleasure of seeing the 
 young gentleman before, I do really believe that 
 whatever darkness may have been added to his 
 complexion is rather an improvement to his ap- 
 pearance than otherwise."
 
 PENELOPE. 305 
 
 " I am ashamed, Mr Primrose, to be so trou- 
 blesome ; but did you go aboard his ship when 
 you were at St Helena? Do you know what 
 sort of accommodations he had?" 
 
 " I certainly did not, madam, but I have every 
 reason to suppose that he had every comfort that 
 could be expected." 
 
 '* Why, yes, no doubt. But still it must be a 
 great confinement. It is a very long voyage. 
 Had you any storms, sir, as you came home ?" 
 
 " Upon my word, Mrs Darnley, I really forget 
 what kind of weather we had ; but we had no- 
 thing very serious, or I should have remembered 
 it." 
 
 With many such-like questions and answers 
 was the evening beguiled, and it was late before 
 Mr Primrose retired to rest. 
 
 The young ladies took some part in the con- 
 versation, though but little ; and Mr Darnley 
 himself also now and then joined in the discourse, 
 especially when Mrs Darnley, in the simplicity 
 of her heart, asked questions which indicated a 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 PENELOPE. 
 
 sinful ignorance of geography or history. In 
 such cases Mr Darnley took especial care to 
 manifest how much wiser he was than his wife. 
 Positively it is a great shame, and altogether un- 
 reasonable to expect that people who have been 
 from school thirty years or more should be as 
 wise and learned as those who have just finished 
 their education, or as those who have a study 
 where they can sit and read and grow learned 
 every hour in the day. 
 
 When the young ladies were alone they made 
 amends for their previous silence. They all 
 talked together to one another concerning Mr 
 Primrose, and all three gave their opinions of 
 him. By the way, it is great nonsense to talk 
 about giving an opinion. It is almost as bad as 
 giving advice ; for neither one nor the other is 
 ever taken, and how can any one give that which 
 nobody takes ? There was, however, this una- 
 nimity among the Miss Darnleys ; they all con- 
 curred in saying and thinking that he was a very 
 agreeable and interesting man, and a very lively
 
 PENELOPE. 307 
 
 man. They would indeed have thought him 
 hvely had they witnessed the energy of his 
 manner in the study with Mr Darniey. But 
 before the discussion closed, Miss Mary Darniey 
 could not help saying : " What strange questions 
 mamma did ask ! I wonder what Mr Primrose 
 thought of her?"
 
 308 PENELOPE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 WiTHOtTT the assistance of a composing draught 
 Mr Primrose slept soundly and woke calmly. 
 But, being naturally impetuous and hasty, he 
 could not help uttering a few monosyllables of 
 impatience at the thought that he had travelled 
 two hundred miles from his daughter, anjd had 
 incurred the risk of breaking his neck in making 
 a journey to the place where his daughter was 
 not. 
 
 As, however, he was so near Smatterton, he 
 would not of course return to London without 
 seeing Mrs Greendale, and thanking her for the 
 kind attention which she had paid to Penelope. 
 He was not aware that the good lady had plagued 
 and worried the poor girl almost out of her life.
 
 PENELOPE. 309 
 
 Dr Greendale had never, in his communications to 
 Mr Primrose, said anything about the annoying 
 fidgettiness of Mrs Greendale; and he himself, 
 by virtue of his close and constant application 
 to study, had not felt much inconvenience from 
 her temper, excepting so far as an occasional in- 
 terruption, which was soon forgotten. But poor 
 Penelope did not study controversial theology, 
 and therefore she had felt all the inconvenience 
 of Mrs Greendale's humours and caprices. Of 
 all this Mr Primrose knew nothing ; he therefore 
 resolved to call and pay his respects to the 
 widow. 
 
 Having learned a lesson of forethought from 
 his long fruitless journey, he did not proceed to 
 Smatterton before he had enquired of Mr Darnley 
 if Mrs Greendale yet resided there. By this en- 
 quiry he learned that the living had been disposed 
 of, and that as the new rector was a young and 
 single man, and though he had taken possession 
 of the rectory-house, he had been kind enough 
 to accommodate Mrs Greendale with a residence
 
 310 PENELOPE. 
 
 there till it might suit her to change the place 
 of her abode. " That is very kind of the young 
 man," said Mr Primrose ; " I like him for it : and 
 pray what is his name and where does he come 
 from?" 
 
 Mr Darnley at these questions put on one of 
 his stately professional looks, and said : *' His 
 name, sir, is Pringle, he comes from the uni- 
 versity of Oxford, he is a son of Lord Smatter- 
 ton's steward. At present I have but little ac- 
 quaintance with him." 
 
 There seemed, from Mr Darnley 's manner of 
 speaking, to be on his part no great desire to 
 increase the acquaintance. Of this, however, 
 Mr Primrose took no notice ; in fact, he hardly 
 understood it, for his own manner was straitfor- 
 ward and downright, he did not accustom him- 
 self to innuendos and insinuations. Thanking 
 the rector of Neverden for his attention and 
 hospitality, Mr Primrose proceeded immedi- 
 ately after breakfast to the village of Smatter- 
 ton. Mrs Greendale was within, and she re-
 
 PENELOPE. 311 
 
 ceived Mr Primrose with the utmost cordiality 
 and cheerfulness : but when she began to allude 
 to her poor dear husband then the tears came 
 into her eyes. Mr Primrose sympathized with 
 her, and they both talked of old times ; and as 
 the subject was changed the tears were dried up. 
 It was very right that Mrs Greendale should most 
 cordially receive Mr Primrose, for all persons 
 who come home from the East Indies in good 
 spirits are supposed to come home rich, and 
 there is to some minds something very agreeable 
 in the sight of a rich man. Let sentimentality- 
 people prose as much as they please about the 
 homage that is paid to wealth ; it would be much 
 worse if that homage were paid to poverty. The 
 conversation then turned to Penelope, and many 
 and sincere were the thanks that Mr Primrose re- 
 turned to Mrs Greendale for her very kind atten- 
 tions to the poor girl ; and then Mrs Greendale, 
 in spite of all the severe and sneering rebukes, 
 which in former days she had lavished upon her
 
 312 PENELOPE. 
 
 niece, began to launch out into commendations 
 of the young lady's beauty, wit, and accom- 
 plishments. 
 
 *' But what a pity it is, Mr Primrose, that you 
 did not know that Penelope was in London. 
 Well, you will have such a treat in seeing her 
 again, she is so grown and so improved. She is 
 a favorite with everybody. A day or two before 
 my poor dear husband died, we had a party, and 
 Lord Spoonbill, and Colonel Crop, and Miss 
 Spoonbill were all here ; and Lord Spoonbill was 
 so attentive, you can't think. Then my Lady 
 Smatterton has taken such a fancy to her, that 
 she insists upon having her in London.*' 
 
 " Ay, but Mrs Greendale, I don't understand 
 the condition on which my child is thus taken 
 up to London ; and to tell you the truth, I do 
 not altogether approve the plan which Mr 
 Darnley informed me was in contemplation. It 
 is not very agreeable to my feelings that my 
 daughter should be made a public performer."
 
 PENELOPE. 313 
 
 *' Oh dear no, certainly; but I dare say the 
 Countess of Smatterton would not recommend 
 anything improper." 
 
 " I don't know what may be Lady Smatterton 's 
 notions of propriety, but I shall take care that 
 my daughter does not adopt that or any other 
 profession." 
 
 While they were talking, the arrival of Nick 
 Muggins with the letter-bag reminded Mr Prim- 
 rose that it might be desirable to apprize Pene- 
 lope of his being in England and of his intention 
 of immediately seeing her. He therefore dis- 
 patched a note to his daughter, under cover to 
 the Right Honorable the Earl of Smatterton, 
 and thus he made wise provision against further 
 accidents preventing their meeting. 
 
 As Mr Primrose had experienced the incon- 
 venience of one overturn by the stage-coach, he 
 determined not to trust himself again so soon to 
 the same mode of conveyance ; and as he in- 
 tended to travel post, and as he was not about 
 to set out immediately, he amused himself witJi
 
 314 PENELOPE. 
 
 strolling about the village to admire its beauties ; 
 for everybody said that Smatterton was a very 
 pretty village. In the month of December Eng- 
 lish scenery seldom appears to great advantage ; 
 and while Mr Primrose was looking for, rather 
 than at, the beauties of Smatterton, who should 
 he meet but the very identical Mr Kipperson with 
 whom he had travelled in the stage-coach ? The 
 parties recognized each other immediately, and 
 they presently entered into chat. Mr Kipperson 
 expressed great concern for the accident, but 
 was exceedingly rejoiced to find that his fellow- 
 traveller was not seriously hurt. *^ For indeed, 
 sir," said he, '* I almost thought that you were 
 killed." 
 
 *^ So did I," replied Mr Primrose : " but what 
 can be the use of travelling at that unreasonably 
 rapid rate? When I was in England, sixteen 
 years ago, the stage-coaches used to go at a very 
 reasonable and moderate pace." 
 
 " Yes, yes, I remember it," said Mr Kipper- 
 son ; " but we should never be able to get on
 
 PENELOPE. ' 315 
 
 with business were it not for this quick travel- 
 ling. I will tell you, sir, an instance of its 
 utility : the other day I received a letter from 
 my friend the Earl of Smatterton, informing me 
 of an important debate which was just coming 
 on, and it was a matter of infinite moment that 
 I should be in town in order to attend some 
 meetings that were to be held, and to give 
 my opinion concerning some clauses which were 
 likely to be introduced greatly affecting the agri- 
 cultural interest. I received the letter just in 
 time to take advantage of the coach, and, by 
 means of quick travelling, I arrived in town time 
 enough to give my views of the subject, and to 
 prevent the passing of some most destructive 
 measures." 
 
 " You are a member of parliament, I presume?" 
 said Mr Primrose. 
 
 *' No, sir,'' said Mr Kipperson, with that sort 
 of air that seemed to indicate that he did not at 
 all desire that honor, and that he was a person of
 
 316 PENELOPE. 
 
 greater importance ; "but now and then parlia- 
 ment is pleased to do me the honor of consult- 
 ing me on some topics connected with the inte- 
 rests of agriculture." 
 
 Though Mr Primrose was what in ordinary- 
 language is called an independent man, yet he 
 could not but feel reverence for greatness ; and 
 finding that the gentleman with whom he was 
 conversing was a person of some consequence, 
 he was desirous of knowing who it was. This 
 desire-was but slightly hinted, and immediately 
 the great agricultural luminary gratified Mr 
 Primrose^s laudable thirst after knowledge by 
 saying : '' My name, sir, is Kipperson. Kipper- 
 son, sir, of Smatterton." 
 
 It was very excusable that Mr Primrose, who 
 had been so many years out of England, should 
 not be familiar with the name, and should not 
 be aware that he was addressing the celebrated 
 agriculturist, Kipperson of Smatterton. Mr 
 Kipperson himself was so modest a man that
 
 PENELOPE. 317 
 
 he did not choose to say that he was the cele- 
 brated one of that name, but he took especial 
 care to let it be understood indirectly and cir- 
 cuitously that he was a person of some import- 
 ance in the world. 
 
 And now it was very natural that the great 
 agriculturist should be desirous of knowing the 
 name and designation of his fellow traveller, and 
 to ascertain that was also no great difficulty. 
 As soon as he found that he was conversino* with 
 the father of Penelope Primrose, he broke out 
 into the most eloquent panegyrics on the charac- 
 ter, moral, intellectual, and professional, of the 
 late rector of the parish, and congratulated Mr 
 Primrose in having had the good fortune to con- 
 fide his daughter to the care of so superlatively 
 excellent a man. " But, sir," as suddenly re- 
 collecting himself, " perhaps you will do me the 
 honor to walk in and sit down under my humble 
 roof; for I can give you the latest information 
 concerning Miss Primrose. It is very singular 
 that T. should have travelled up to London with
 
 318 PENELOPE. 
 
 the daughter and down from London with the 
 father." 
 
 At that singularity, or at his own penetration 
 in discovering the curious coincidence, Mr Kip- 
 J)erson smiled. Mr Primrose accepted the in- 
 vitation and walked into Mr Kipperson's house, 
 which was near the place where they had met. 
 It was a piece of affectation in Mr Kipperson to 
 call his place of abode a humble roof. True, it 
 was not so magnificent as Smatterton castle, but 
 its owner had been at great pains and expense 
 to make it look quite the reverse of humble. 
 That which had been a productive little garden 
 was converted into a lawn, Those barns, pig- 
 geries, and outhouses, in which was deposited 
 no small part of the owner's wealth, had been 
 gracefully, but ungratefully, planted out. French 
 windows supplied the place of old-fashioned case- 
 ments, and green verandahs gave Peter Kipper- 
 son's farm-house as much as possible the air of 
 an Oriental palace. 
 
 Mr Primrose was surprised, as Peter hoped
 
 PENELOPE. 319 
 
 and designed, at the very learned air of the 
 library, to say nothing of the numerous busts 
 and casts which in the narrow entrance occupied 
 that room which would have been much more 
 usefully devoted to cloak-pegs. When they were 
 seated in the library Mr Kipperson commenced 
 his narrative, telling Mr Primrose what the 
 reader is already acquainted with. But still 
 the father of Penelope was not reconciled even 
 to the attempt or proposal to make his daugh- 
 ter a public singer. Mr Kipperson however 
 assured him, that nothing could be more re- 
 spectable than the manner in which the Coun- 
 tess of Smatterton designed to bring out Miss 
 Primrose. 
 
 '^ I was present at an evening party," said 
 the agriculturist, " given by my friend the 
 Countess of Smatterton, for the express pur- 
 pose of introducing Miss Primrose to some of 
 the best society in town. There were several 
 persons of rank there, and among the rest the 
 celebrated Duchess of Steeple Bumstead ; and
 
 320 PENELOPE. 
 
 her Grace was quite enraptured with Miss 
 Primrose." 
 
 " Well," said the father of Penelope with 
 some shortness and dryness of manner, " I 
 don't understand these matters. 1 have been 
 so long out of England that I almost forget 
 the customs of my native land; but I do not 
 approve of this kind of association with per- 
 sons of so much higher rank and fortune. 
 The Countess of Smatterton cannot consider 
 my daughter as an equal, and therefore she 
 is tolerated for the amusement she can afford. 
 I don't like it, sir, I don't Uke it. But, Mr 
 Kipperson, can you tell me what kind of a 
 man is Lord Spoonbill ?" 
 
 Mr Kipperson promptly replied : " A man of 
 no intellect whatever." 
 
 " A fig for intellect," replied Mr Primrose j 
 '' but is he a man of good character?" 
 
 " Indeed sir," responded the great agricul- 
 turist of Smatterton, *' I am sorry to say he 
 is not. The Earl himself is a very respect-
 
 PENELOPE. 321 
 
 able man, so far as moral conduct is con- 
 cerned, though he is a man of no mind ; and 
 he is a proud man, very distant and pompous, 
 and quite an exclusive.*' 
 
 '* An exclusive !" echoed Mr Primrose ; " what 
 is meant by an exclusive ?" 
 
 "By exclusive, sir, I mean that the Earl is 
 not easily led to associate with those whom he 
 considers of an inferior rank to himself; he is one 
 of a set, as it were." 
 
 " Oh, is that all I" exclaimed Mr Primrose ; 
 " why at that rate all the world is exclusive. 
 This is no new character though it may be a 
 new name." 
 
 '* Very true, indeed, very true, there has 
 always been too much pride among persons of 
 high rank." 
 
 '* And not too little among persons of low 
 rank, I presume," replied Mr Primrose ; ** and I 
 suppose as you have a set of people in England, 
 called exclusives, you have most likely another 
 set called intrusives. For my part I like a little 
 
 VOL. I. Y
 
 322 PENELOPE. 
 
 pride, or at least what the world calls pride ; I 
 have so much myself, that 1 dislike the situation 
 in which I find my daughter is placed, and I 
 shall make all haste to remove her from it. I 
 am most happy that I have arrived in England 
 time enough to prevent her from making a public 
 display of her musical talents." 
 
 The wise and scientific Mr Kipperson was not 
 sorry to hear that the father of Penelope 
 Primrose could talk thus boldly and definitely 
 concerning his daughter's independence. It was 
 also not unpleasant to him to hear that it was 
 the intention of the young lady's father to 
 remove her from the house and patronage of the 
 Earl of Smatterton. It has been already hinted 
 that Mr Kipperson was an admirer of the young 
 lady, and it was not likely that his admiration 
 should be less when he found that her father 
 had returned to England in possession, most pro- 
 bably, of ample means of securing his daughter's 
 independence. This consideration inspired the 
 agriculturist with an earnest desire of making
 
 PENELOPE. 323 
 
 himself more agreeable than usual ; and as there 
 was a great deal of freedom of manner and can- 
 dour of feeling about Mr Primrose, he very 
 readily and sociably conversed with Mr Kip- 
 person on any and every topic that could be 
 started. In the fullness of his heart the admirer 
 of Penelope urged the young lady's father to 
 partake of. a humble dinner, quite in a social 
 friendly way. This invitation however was of 
 necessity declined, it being the intention of Mr 
 Primrose to pass the remainder of the day at the 
 rectory. 
 
 The mention of the rectory led Mr Kipperson 
 to speak of the new rector, the Rev. Charles 
 Pringle. ''You will of course meet this gentle- 
 man at dinner. He is a very different man from 
 our late rector ; as yet we know little of him. I 
 have conversed with him occasionally ; he seems 
 to have very just notions on the subject of the 
 interests of agriculture ; but his mind does not 
 appear to be comprehensive and philosophical ; 
 he does not read much, I think ; indeed, he has
 
 324 PENELOPE. 
 
 scarcely any books of his own, and though I 
 have offered him the use of my library he does 
 not avail himself of it. But you will see him at 
 the rectory at dinner, and then you may form 
 your own opinion of him.'' 
 
 It was very kind and liberal of Mr Kipperson 
 to give Mr Primrose leave to form his own 
 opinion of the new rector. What opinion Mr 
 Primrose did form of the new rector we cannot 
 say, for he was not very free in expressing his 
 opinion of those with whom he had no common 
 interest or sympathies, nor was he particularly 
 and curiously observant to ascertain whether 
 those with whom he conversed occasionally 
 were persons of comprehensive and philosophical 
 minds or not. He was not quite sure that he 
 knew what was meant by the term comprehensive, 
 as applied to the mind ; and as to philosophical, 
 if that meant loving wisdom, he himself was 
 philosophical enough in all conscience, for he 
 liked wise men much better than fools. In a 
 word, the father of Penelope had quite as good an
 
 PENELOPE. 325 
 
 understanding as multitudes who make a great 
 deal of prating about intellect, but he was not a 
 man of much reading, and did not value pedantry 
 of any kind, whether literary, scientific, fash- 
 ionable or philosophical. 
 
 if
 
 32G PENELOPE, 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 EvE^ as Mr Kipperson predicted so it came to 
 pass ; Mr Primrose met at dinner the new rector 
 of Smatterton. 
 
 The great difference which there is between an 
 old man and a young one, is one cause of the 
 general common-place notion of the deterioration 
 of the human species. It seemed a very great 
 transition from Dr Greendale to Mr Pringle. 
 The doctor used to be grave, sedate, yet cheerful, 
 very placid and gentle in his manner, and to- 
 wards his parishioners he wore the aspect of a 
 father. His dress too was so venerable. He used 
 to wear a long single-breasted coat, and he had 
 such fine broad old-fashioned silver buckles at
 
 PENELOPE. 327 
 
 his knees and on his shoes; his hat too was just 
 such a hat as a clergyman ought to wear. And 
 when he walked out into the village he always 
 carried under his arm an old gold-headed walking 
 cane ; for he seldom leant upon it. He walked 
 slowly and demurely, and when the little boys 
 and girls who met him planted themselves, ac- 
 cording to their clumsy but sincere politeness, 
 directly before him to make their bow or curtesy, 
 he patted them on the head, and they felt them- 
 selves as much honoured and pleased as the 
 alderman of some provincial borough when the 
 king places the sword on his shoulder. And when 
 the old people met him he talked to them, and, 
 even more than that, he listened to their talk ; he 
 could not always understand it, but he paid at- 
 tention to it and it pleased them. Sometimes 
 he would be in a gayer and livelier mood than 
 usual, especially if in his morning studies he 
 had been successful in detecting, or eloquent in 
 pointing, some irrefragable argument against the 
 sectarians. And then, if he met any young
 
 328 PENELOPE. 
 
 woman of pretty and smiling looks, for there 
 were many such in Smatterton, he would ask 
 her when she was going to be married, and then 
 she would laugh and try to blush, and she would 
 go home and tell her mother what a funny man 
 Dr Greendale was. 
 
 Now whatever might be the virtues, moral or 
 professional, of the Rev. Charles Pringle, it is 
 very clear that he could not find the way to the 
 hearts of his parishioners by the same means as 
 his predecessor. A slightly built youth of five- 
 and-twenty would look anything but venerable, 
 if dressed in attire of the same form, cut and 
 complexion as that which Dr Greendale wore. 
 The gold-headed cane, the looped hat, the slow 
 and stately walk, would not at all answer with a 
 young man ; and had he asked any young- 
 woman when she was going to be married, it 
 would have been thought quite indecorous. The 
 old women too would not think of telling a 
 young man round-about stories concerning their 
 sufferings with the rheumatiz, or other ills that
 
 PENELOPE. 329 
 
 " flesh/' or more properly skin and bone, may 
 be 'Mieir to." 
 
 It was therefore essential and unavoidable that 
 there should be a difference between the old and 
 the new rector. It will however be supposed 
 by our readers, who remember that we have 
 described the Earl of Smatterton as boasting 
 that he always bestowed his livings according to 
 merit, — it will be supposed, that the Rev. Charles 
 Pringle had merit, though not precisely of the 
 same nature as the merit of Dr Greendale. The 
 merit for which his lordship bestowed the living 
 of Smatterton on Mr Pringle, was not his own 
 merit but that of his father. For the young 
 rector was, as already noticed, the son of Lord 
 Smatterton's house-steward. This steward had 
 been faithful in his office, and was a great 
 favorite with his lordship ; but though he was 
 faithful he had saved a little money, and was 
 desirous of setting his son forward in life. The 
 father was of opinion that the legal profession 
 would suit the young man very well, seeing he
 
 330 PENELOPE. 
 
 was so very clever. The son also v^^as perfectly 
 well aware of his own cleverness ; but as the 
 confinement of an attorney's office did not suit 
 his inclinations, he excused himself from that 
 pursuit. On the same or similar ground he 
 declined the medical profession, inasmuch as it 
 was contrary to his notions of comfort to be 
 called from his bed at midnight, or to be inter- 
 rupted at his meals. The church seemed to be 
 the only comfortable profession, and on that the 
 young gentleman fixed his choice. Moreover it 
 gratified his vanity to go to college. He might 
 have had ambition, but he did not like trouble; 
 and being, as we have said, a clever young man, 
 he shewed his cleverness by studying only just 
 so much as might save him from being plucked. 
 He obtained his degree and that was all. With 
 equal dexterity and cleverness did he manage 
 that reading which was necessary preparatory to 
 taking orders. The examining chaplain who 
 passed him, observed that he was a clever man, 
 for he had most ingeniously hit upon the exact
 
 PENELOPE. 33-1 
 
 minimum of information which would enable 
 him to pass. There is a proverb, which says 
 that lazy folks take the most pains ; and in many 
 cases Mr Pringle illustrated this proverb, for 
 nobody could take more pains than he did to 
 avoid labour. 
 
 We cannot see how the Earl of Smatterton 
 was to blame for appointing this young gentle- 
 man to the living of Smatterton. It is not to be 
 supposed that his lordship should take the 
 trouble to examine the youth ; and as the father 
 was a faithful servant the Earl was rewarding 
 merit by providing for the son. 
 
 More remains to be said concerning the new 
 rector. He w^as a man of good temper and very 
 harmless disposition. He was not at all given to 
 quarrelling, for he did not like the trouble ; and he 
 was very easy to deal with in fixing the composi- 
 tion for his tithes. The farmers thought him rather 
 proud ; for he took very little notice of any of 
 them except Mr Kipperson, who kept an excellent 
 table. He paid great attention to Miss Spoon-
 
 332 PENELOPE. 
 
 bill, though his only recompense for that atten- 
 tion was an occasional cup of tea, and that by 
 no means strono : but it was handed to him on 
 a large silver waiter, and presented by a servant 
 who wore a very splendid livery. There was 
 much courtesy of manner in Mr Pringle ; he 
 was, according to the best of his ability, a perfect 
 gentleman, and whenever he observed any article 
 of dress, or mode of expression or pronunciation, 
 or any species of action peculiar to persons in 
 high life, he copied it ;nost faithfully as far as his 
 profession would allow. His courtesy was very 
 great, for he had the sagacity to know that, if 
 he was too lazy to provide for himself, he must 
 persuade some one else to provide for him. 
 
 One word more, and that concerning the 
 young man's politics. The world does not 
 much care about Mr Pringle's politics, but still 
 the politics of a clergyman looking for prefer- 
 ment are to himself matters of great moment. 
 Before Mr Charles Pringle went to Oxford, he 
 was what is called liberal in his politics; at
 
 PENELOPE. 333 
 
 Oxford he found it more genteel to be a Tory ; 
 bnt under the patronage of a great Whig lord, it 
 was a matter of course that he should regard 
 
 o 
 
 the Whig aristocracy with reverence and appro- 
 bation. 
 
 We should not have said so much of Mr 
 Pringle, had it not been that he had once seen 
 Penelope Primrose and greatly admired her, and 
 had it not also been that the return of Mr Prim- 
 rose to England rendered it a very promising 
 speculation for the young gentleman to think 
 seriously of paying his addresses to her. 
 
 When Mr Primrose first called at the rectory 
 the reverend divine was not visible, for he had 
 not finished the duties of the toilet. But hear- 
 ing that Mr Primrose was in England and at 
 Smatterton, he felt most happy in an opportu- 
 nity of paying his respects. And such was the 
 candour of Mr Primrose, that he thouoht the 
 new rector a very agreeable sensible man. The 
 two gentlemen at dinner-time talked with great 
 fluency on a variety of topics whicli neither of
 
 334 PENELOPE. 
 
 them understood or cared about. Now Mr Prim- 
 rose was at this time in that state of mind which 
 prepared and disposed him to be easily pleased, 
 and therefore the efforts of Mr Pringle to make 
 himself agreeable succeeded to admiration. 
 Quite delighted was the rector of Smatterton to 
 hear the father of Penelope express himself so 
 well pleased with that village as to be desirous 
 of taking up his residence there. Very politely 
 did the reverend gentleman remark that there 
 was no house in the village fit for Mr Primrose's 
 reception. Mr Primrose however observed that 
 he was by no means particular, and that a mere 
 cottage would answer his purpose. Mr Pringle 
 thought that he should have no objection to 
 giving up the parsonage and finding a residence 
 for himself, and there was some little talk to 
 that purpose, but nothing was definitely agreed 
 upon. 
 
 As the two gentlemen were engaged in chat 
 about everything and nothing, a very unexpected 
 interruption was given to their conversation by
 
 PE^^ELOPE. 335 
 
 the entrance of Robert Darnley. He had arrived 
 at Neverden much sooner than he had been 
 expected, and hearing that Mr Primrose had 
 been there on the preceding day, and was now 
 in all probability at Smatterton, he determined, 
 notwithstanding all persuasions to the contrary, 
 to ride over and see the father of Penelope. 
 The young gentleman's sisters were unanimous in 
 expressing their disapprobation of such a step; 
 and Mr Darnley the elder would have interfered 
 with the pompousness of authority to prevent it, 
 had he not been sagacious enough to know that 
 such interference would be ineffectual, and wise 
 enough to consider that it is very impolitic to 
 endanger one's dignity by uttering commands 
 which will with impunity be disobeyed. He 
 could not however help giving his opinion. He 
 was surprised, he said, that a young man of such 
 good sense and independent spirit as Robert 
 Darnley should let himself down so far as to 
 turn suppliant. The young lady, he observed, 
 had already given abundant manifestation of the 
 change of her mind and the indifferency of her
 
 336 PENELOPE. 
 
 feelings on the subject, it would therefore be 
 worse than useless to attempt to renew the 
 acquaintance, it would be absolutely humili- 
 ating, and there never could subsist a right 
 feeling of cordiality between them. 
 
 All this talk, however, had no influence on 
 Robert Darnley : he was not sure that there had 
 been so pointed a manifestation of change of 
 mind ; he had too good an opinion of Penelope's 
 understanding to believe that she should have 
 capriciously changed her mind ; he thought it 
 very probable that there might have been some 
 miscarriage of letters ; and he resolved that he 
 would not suffer the matter to rest in the pre- 
 sent dubious and mysterious twilight of infor- 
 mation. For he very thoughtfully remarked, that 
 it was possible there might be, through the irre- 
 gular transmission of letters, some errors which 
 might lead Miss Primrose to consider him as 
 the person dropping the acquaintance. At all 
 events, as he had never had any difference with 
 Mr Primrose, but, on the contrary, had been 
 very civilly and politely treated when they met
 
 PENELOPE. 337 
 
 at St Helena on their voyage home, it would 
 be but an act of common civility to pay his 
 respects to the father of Penelope now that he 
 was in the immediate neighbourhood. 
 
 There is something pleasant and refreshing in 
 the contemplation of that wholesome state of 
 mind in which Robert Darnley shewed himself to 
 be on the present occasion. People sometimes 
 make a great blustering and a noisy parade about 
 demanding an explanation ; but they generally 
 set about this demanding an explanation in such 
 a hot-headed, bullying style, as to render expla- 
 nation almost impossible, and make that which 
 is perplexed still more perplexed. It was not so 
 with the younger Darnley. He was no miracle 
 either of wisdom or virtue ; but he had good 
 sense and good feeling ; and he also had a toler- 
 able good opinion of his own discernment, and 
 he could not easily bring himself to believe, not- 
 withstanding all that had been said by his father 
 and his sisters, that he had misapprehended or 
 overrated the character of Penelope Primrose. 
 VOL. I. z
 
 338 PENELOPE. 
 
 These feelings, which were habitual and con- 
 stitutional to Robert Darnley, gave him a natural 
 and easy cheerfulness of look and manner. When 
 therefore he was announced at the rectory of 
 Smatterton as enquiring for Mr Primrose, the 
 announcement was received with great satisfac- 
 tion. 
 
 '* My good friend," exclaimed Mr Primrose, 
 with much cordiality, '' I am most happy to see 
 you. So you are just arrived in England. But 
 you must have made very great haste to arrive 
 here from the Downs in little more than four and 
 twenty hours." 
 
 '' I have not travelled quite so rapidly as that, 
 sir," replied Mr Robert Darnley, '* but you may 
 suppose I lost no time : and I am happy that I 
 am here soon enough to pay my respects to you 
 before your return. It would also have given me 
 pleasure could I have met Miss Primrose.'* 
 
 " Would it indeed ? What ! after she has jilted 
 you? You are a young man of very forgiving 
 disposition.*'
 
 PENELOPE. 339 
 
 " I must first of all know for a certainty that 
 the lady has, as you say, jilted me, before I feel 
 resentment. The correspondence was interrupted, 
 but that might be accidental. I must have an 
 explanation, then it will be time enough to be 
 angry." 
 
 " Well said, young man ; I like your notions. 
 But from what I hear, both at Neverden and 
 Smatterton, I fear that my young lady has been 
 fascinated by a sounding title. I hear a great 
 deal that 1 cannot well understand. If travellers 
 see strange things abroad, they also hear strange 
 things when they come home again.'' 
 
 Mr Primrose ceased speaking. Robert Darnley 
 looked thoughtful; and the parties looked at 
 each other with some feeling of perplexity. The 
 father of Penelope, as being the most impetuous, 
 though by far the oldest of the two, after a short 
 interval continued : " But what do you propose 
 to do ? Or what must I say or do for you ? Will 
 you set off with me to London tomorrow morn- 
 ing?"
 
 340 PENELOPE. 
 
 Robert Darnley looked serious at that proposal, 
 and replied : " So early as tomorrow morning, 
 under present circumstances, I think hardly prac- 
 ticable. I do not know what would be the con- 
 sequence to my poor mother, if, after so long 
 an absence from home, I should omit, just at 
 my return, to eat my Christmas dinner with her." 
 
 *' Well, I shall go to town,'' said Mr Primrose, 
 " and I will endeavour to ascertain the truth of 
 the matter ; and if there has been any accidental 
 loss of letters, it will be a great pity to make 
 that the cause of breaking off an old acquaint- 
 ance." 
 
 " I simply wish it, sir, to be understood by 
 Miss Primrose, that the cessation of the corres- 
 pondence has not been my act and deed. But 
 that I wrote three letters to her from Calcutta, 
 to none of which I have ever received any answer. 
 If the acquaintance is to be discontinued, it shall 
 not rest on me, as arising from any fickleness on 
 my part." 
 
 *' Good, sir, very good. You are a comparative
 
 PENELOPE. 341 
 
 stranger to me, it is true ; but I commend your 
 spirit, that you are not hasty in resentment 
 before you know for what. And this I can tell 
 you," continued he, in a more slow and serious 
 tone, " such was my thorough confidence in the 
 good sense and discernment of my poor brother 
 Greendale, that I cannot but feel respect for 
 any one whom he respected ; and I know that he 
 respected you most sincerely." 
 
 Thereupon the two gentlemen, with cordial 
 grasp and tearful eyes, shook each other by the 
 hand most heartily, and parted very well pleased 
 with each other.
 
 342 PENELOPE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Mr Primrose on the following morning set off 
 for London in a post-chaise, being unwilling to 
 risk his neck a second time in a stage-coach ; for 
 he had taken it into his head that a stage-coach 
 must be overturned at the bottom of a steep hill. 
 He travelled alone ; and we will for the present 
 leave him alone ; though it might be very enter- 
 taining to observe how pettishly he brooked the 
 tediousness of that mode of travelling, and how 
 teasing he was to the post-boys, sometimes urg- 
 ing them to drive fast, and then rebuking them 
 for using their horses so cruelly. What the poor 
 man could find to amuse himself with for the 
 long journey, which occupied him nearly three
 
 PENELOPE. 343 
 
 days, we cannot tell. In the meantime, we find it 
 necessary to return to that part of our narrative 
 in which we related that the partial exhibition to 
 which Penelope had been exposed at the Coun- 
 tess of Smatterton's select little party, had pro- 
 duced an almost serious illness. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the kind attentions of 
 the Countess. Every hour was she making en- 
 quiries, and all that could possibly be said or 
 done by way of alleviation or consolation did 
 her ladyship say and do for her heart-broken 
 patient. It never for one single moment entered 
 the mind of Lady Smatterton that Miss Prim- 
 rose could feel the slightest repugnance in the 
 world to the profession which had been chosen 
 for her ; nor could her ladyship think that any 
 sorrow or deep feeling was on the mind of Pe- 
 nelope for the death of her uncle, or that there 
 was any harassing anxiety on her spirits at the 
 thought of her father's probable arrival in England. 
 The Countess of Smatterton mio;ht have been a 
 woman of very great feeling ; but, from difference
 
 344 PENELOPE. 
 
 of situation, she could not by any means sympa- 
 thize with Penelope. There is an infinite differ- 
 ence between five hundred acquaintances and an 
 only dear friend. The pleasures of Penelope were 
 not of the same nature as those of the Countess 
 of Smatterton, nor was there much similarity in 
 their pains. 
 
 There were also other considerations by which 
 it may be accounted for, that the sympathy of 
 her ladyship was not exactly adapted to the 
 feelings of Penelope. The Countess was a pa- 
 tron, Penelope a dependent. The Countess had 
 but the mere vanity of rank, Penelope a natural 
 and essential pride of spirit ; and it not un- 
 frequently happens, that persons in the higher 
 walks of society regard the rest of the world as 
 made to be subservient to their caprices and the 
 instruments of their will. This last consideration, 
 however, is not altogether the fault of the higher 
 classes ; much of it, perhaps most of it, is owing 
 to the hungry venal sycophancy of their inferiors, 
 — but there never will be an act of piirliamciit
 
 PENELOPE. 345 
 
 passed against servility, and therefore we need 
 not waste our time in declaiming against it, for 
 nothing but an act of parliament can thoroughly 
 cure it. 
 
 Penelope was not sufficiently ill to keep her 
 apartment for any great length of time. The 
 medical attendant thought it desirable that the 
 patient should be amused as much as possible ; 
 the air also was recommended, and, if possible, 
 a little change of scene. To all these sugges- 
 tions prompt and immediate attention was paid. 
 It was fortunate that the Earl of Smatterton 
 had a residence in the immediate vicinity of 
 London, and it was the intention of the family 
 to spend the Christmas hohdays there. It 
 would therefore be very opportune to afford 
 the young lady a change of air and scene: for 
 from her childhood Penelope had never wan- 
 dered beyond the two villages of Smatterton 
 and Neverden. The proposal was made to her 
 to accompany the family, and the proposal was
 
 346 PENELOPE. 
 
 made so kindly, she could not possibly refuse 
 it, even had it not been agreeable. 
 
 There was something perplexing to the inarti- 
 ficial and unsophisticated mind of Penelope 
 Primrose, in the wonderful difference between 
 fashionable manners under different circumstan- 
 ces. She had not the slightest doubt that Lord 
 Smatterton and her ladyship were people of high 
 fashion, nor could she have the least hesitation 
 in concluding that the Duchess of Steeple Bum- 
 stead was also a woman of high fashion ; but 
 she recollected how rudely the Duchess had 
 stared at her, and she had also a general feeling 
 that many more persons of fashion at the select 
 party had appeared, both in their manner to- 
 wards her, and their deportment towards each 
 other, absolutely disagreeable, unfeeling, and 
 insolent. There also occurred to her recollec- 
 tion, amidst other thoughts of a similar nature, 
 the impertinent and conceited airs which Lord 
 Spoonbill had exhibited when she had formerly
 
 PENELOPE. 347 
 
 met him by accident; and she compared, with 
 some degree of astonishment, his present very 
 agreeable with his past very disagreeable man- 
 ners. 
 
 The day on which Lord Smatterton and his 
 family removed to their suburban villa was the 
 very day that saw Mr Primrose depart from 
 Smatterton on his way to London. And if on 
 this occasion we should, by way of being very 
 sentimental and pathetic, say, " Little did they 
 think, the one that the father was coming to 
 town, and the other that the daughter was leaving 
 it,'' — we should be only saying what our readers 
 might very readily conjecture to be the case 
 without any assistance from us : but we should 
 not be perhaps exceeding the limits of truth. 
 For, in truth, it was a thought which actually 
 did enter the mind of Mr Primrose just as he 
 set out on his journey : feeling somewhat angry 
 at the disappointment which he had experienced, 
 he actually said to himself at the very moment 
 that he entered the chaise : *' Now 1 suppose.
 
 348 PENELOPE. 
 
 when I get to town. Lord Smatterton and his 
 family will be gone out of town again." 
 
 It was all very well for the medical atten- 
 dant to talk about chano;e of air and chano^e 
 of scene : men of science know very well that 
 persons in a certain rank will do what they will, 
 and so it is not amiss that they should be told 
 how very suitable and right it is. Change of 
 scene is pretty enough and wholesome enough 
 for baby minds that want new playthings ; but 
 no local changes can reach the affliction and 
 sorrow of heart which sits brooding within. 
 Penelope found that his lordship's suburban 
 villa, though built in the present taste^ furnished 
 with the greatest magnificence, and situated in 
 one of the most delightful of those ten thousand 
 beauteous pieces of scenery which surround the 
 metropolis, was still unable to disperse the 
 gloom that hung upon her mind, and to recon- 
 cile her to that profession which the imperious 
 kindness of the Countess of Smatterton had des- 
 tined for her.
 
 PENELOPE. 349 
 
 Lord Spoonbill took infinite pains to render 
 the change of scene agreeable to the young lady. 
 The weather was, for the time of year, cheerful 
 and bright, and though cold, not intensely so : 
 and in spite of the numerous hints which the 
 Earl gave him of the impropriety of such ex- 
 cessive condescension, the heir of Smatterton 
 would accompany the plebeian dependent in the 
 chariot, and point out to her the various beauties 
 of the surrounding scenery. A person who can 
 see has a great advantage over one that is blind. 
 Such advantage had Lord Spoonbill over Pene- 
 lope Primrose. In her mind there did not exist 
 the slightest or most distant apprehension what- 
 ever of the design which his lordship had in 
 these attentions. Had there been such appre- 
 hension, or such suspicion, vain would have 
 been all his lordship's endeavours to render 
 himself agreeable to the young lady. As it 
 was, however, Penelope certainly began to en- 
 tertain a much higher opinion of his lordship's 
 good qualities than she had before. He did
 
 350 PENELOPE. 
 
 not indeed talk like a philosopher, or utter 
 oracles, but he manifested kind feelinors and 
 generous sentiments. On many subjects he 
 talked fluently, though his talk was common- 
 place ; and he perhaps might adapt himself to 
 the supposed limited information of his com- 
 panion. The young lady was also pleased with 
 the apparent indifference which in his conversa- 
 tion he manifested to the distinctions of rank. 
 And as Penelope was pleased with the young- 
 nobleman's attentions, and grateful for the con- 
 siderate and almost unexpected kindness which 
 she experienced from the Smatterton family, 
 her manner became less constrained, and, even 
 though unwell, shewas cheerful, and the grace- 
 fulness of gratitude gave to her natural beauty 
 a charm which heightened and embellished it. 
 Thus-, the beauty by which Lord Spoonbill's 
 attention had been first attracted, appeared to 
 him infinitely more fascinating when connected 
 with such mental and moral charms : so that, 
 to use an expression which has no meaningr,
 
 PENELOPE. 351 
 
 but which is generally understood, his lordship 
 had fairly lost his heart. 
 
 The day after the family had departed from 
 town, the letter which Mr Primrose had sent to 
 his daughter was, with several others, put into 
 the magnificent hands of the Right Honorable 
 the Earl of Smatterton. His lordship did every- 
 thing with a grace peculiar to himself; even 
 the opening of letters was to him a matter of 
 importance; and his friends have often smiled 
 at the serious and self-satisfied air with which 
 he was accustomed to take up the letters one 
 by one, reading aloud the address before he 
 broke the seal. There seemed to be something 
 pleasant to his ear in the sound of the words, 
 '* The Right Honorable the Earl of Smatterton.'' 
 His lordship used generally to open his letters 
 in the presence of his family; and as it fre- 
 quently happened that, under cover to his lord- 
 ship, there came letters addressed to members 
 of his establishment, he used to make a great 
 cerenxony in reading aloud their address -also.
 
 352 PENELOPK. 
 
 It was curious, we have been told, to hear 
 the different intonation with which his lordship 
 uttered the names of his domestics from that 
 which he used when speaking of his own great 
 self. 
 
 On the present occasion there was only Lord 
 Spoonbill present when the letters were opened. 
 And when his lordship had first pompously 
 read aloud '' The Right Honorable the Earl 
 of Smatterton," he afterwards, in a lower and 
 quicker tone, read — '^ Miss Primrose." His 
 lordship then handed the letter to his son, 
 saying, ^' Charles, this letter, I perceive, is ad- 
 dressed to Miss Primrose j cause it immedi- 
 ately to be delivered to the young woman. At 
 the same time let me give you a caution. Con- 
 descension to our inferiors is' very becoming, 
 and is one of the brightest jewels in a noble- 
 man's coronet : but, Charles, while w^e conde- 
 scend to our inferiors, we should always recol- 
 lect, and let them also know, that they are our 
 inferiors. We should always treat our inferiors
 
 PENELOPE. 353 
 
 with kindness, and we may behave to them, 
 when we admit them to our table, with courte- 
 ous politeness. But we must not, and ought 
 not, by way of shewing our condescension, to 
 let down and forget our dignity." 
 
 Lord Spoonbill thought more of Miss Prim- 
 rose's pretty face than he did of his own dignity, 
 and was therefore beginning to grow weary of 
 this right honorable prosing, and to shew sym- 
 toms of fidgettiness. But when the Earl of 
 Smatterton had once taken it into his head to 
 administer the word of exhortation to any of his 
 family, he was not easily diverted from his pur- 
 pose by any expressions or indications of un- 
 easiness on the part of the patient : therefore 
 he proceeded. 
 
 *' Now, Spoonbill, let me as a friend advise 
 you. I waive my authority and speak to you 
 purely and simply as a friend. Our title is a 
 mere empty sound, unless the dignity of it is 
 properly kept up. You are disposed to be 
 very condescending, and at home it is all well 
 
 VOL. I. A A
 
 354 PENELOPE. 
 
 enough ; but what I disapprove of is your con- 
 descension in public. Yesterday you accom- 
 panied this young woman in the chariot, and 
 it is impossible to say who may have seen you 
 thus familiarly associating with a person of in- 
 ferior rank. There are too many encroachments 
 already upon the higher classes, and we ought 
 not to invite and encourage more. I have 
 done." 
 
 Lord Spoonbill was glad to hear that. But 
 the disobedient one, as if his only object in 
 listening to a sermon had been that he might 
 act directly contrary to its advice, forthwith, 
 instead of causing the letter to be delivered, 
 did himself, with his own right honxjrable 
 hands, in person present the letter to Penelope. 
 
 " Who should write to me?" thought the de- 
 pendent, as she received the letter with a smile of 
 gratitude and gracefulness from the condescend- 
 ing son of the dignified Earl of Smatterton. 
 Lord Spoonbill thought that Penelope had never 
 before looked so graceful and so beautiful as at
 
 PENELOPE. 355 
 
 that moment. There are some countenances 
 in which peculiar and transient emotions light 
 up a most fascinating expression of loveliness. 
 This peculiarity belonged to Penelope ; and that 
 look of loveliness rewarded Lord Spoonbill for 
 his condescension, and made a much deeper im- 
 pression on his heart than the discourse of the 
 Earl had made on his understanding. So im- 
 pressive was it that it almost enchained him to 
 the spot, so as to prevent Penelope from imme- 
 diately gratifying her curiosity by perusing the 
 letter. His lordship, as if to find reason, or to 
 make cause for prolonging his stay, said : 
 
 '* If this letter requires an answer by return 
 of post, my father will be happy to give you a 
 frank ; but the post closes at three, and it is 
 now past twelve." 
 
 " I thank you, my lord," replied the young- 
 lady, looking at the letter and half opening it ; 
 *^ I do not know from whence it comes." 
 
 In a few seconds the letter was opened, and 
 the quick glancing eye of Penelope saw the
 
 356 PENELOPE. 
 
 name of Primrose, and the whole truth rushed 
 into her mind with overpowering violence; and 
 the intense feeling of deUght at the thought 
 of being saved from dependence and rescued 
 from a dreaded profession, was too much for 
 her weakened spirits to bear composedly, and 
 exclaiming, with hysteric shriek, *' My father, 
 my father !" she would have sunk on the floor 
 had not Lord Spoonbill caught her in his arms 
 and placed her on a sofa. His lordship rang 
 violently for assistance, which was promptly 
 and successfully rendered ; and as his presence 
 was no farther necessary, he thought it best to 
 inform the Countess of the situation of Miss 
 Primrose, and of the event which had produced 
 this sudden burst of feeling. 
 
 Now, generally speaking, the Countess of 
 Smatterton was a lady of great humanity and 
 considerateness ; but when anything occurred to 
 interfere with or interrupt a favourite scheme, 
 her natural tenderness was much abated. It 
 presently came into her mind that the arrival of
 
 PENELOPE. 357 
 
 Mr Primrose in England would prevent the pur- 
 posed exhibition of Penelope's musical talents, 
 and this thought afflicted her and made her 
 almost angry. Nevertheless, her ladyship im- 
 mediately went to Miss Primrose and offered 
 her congratulations on the happy event. These 
 congratulations the young lady, in the sim- 
 plicity of her heart, believed to be sincere, and 
 she made her acknowledgments accordingly; 
 but she was very much surprised at the manner 
 in which the Countess received these acknow- 
 ledgments. 
 
 Penelope, when left alone, read over her 
 father's letter with more composed and settled 
 delight, and it was an unspeakable relief to 
 her mind that now, from the language of this 
 communication, she had reason to be satisfied 
 that there was no danger that she should be 
 urged into that dreaded publicity from which 
 she had so timidly but so vainly shrunk. 
 This letter produced a much more powerful 
 and healing effect than any change of air or
 
 358 PENELOPE. 
 
 variation of scenery could accomplish. Now 
 was she full of joy and full of hope, and 
 almost forgot the tears she had shed for her 
 uncle, and the sighs she had heaved for her 
 lover. 
 
 END OF THE FJRST VOLUME. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 pniNTF.n r,v v. ii. ueynell, broad street, golden squark.