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SAYINGS AND DOINGS. 
 
 SERIES 
 
 SKETCHES FROM LIFE. 
 
 Full of loise saws and viodern instances. ' 
 
 Smakspeake. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON 
 
 PRINTED FOR HENRY COLBURN, 
 
 NEW BURLINGTON-STREET. 
 
 1824. 
 

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 PRINTED BY S. AND B. BENTLEV, DORSET- STREET. 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 The French have, time out of mind, written 
 short dramatic pieces, in which they have il- 
 lustrated or exemphfied the truth of old say- 
 ings ; and, as every body knows, the dramatic 
 pieces so written have themselves been called 
 " Proverbs.'' 
 
 Whenever these " Proverbs'' have been trans- 
 lated or adapted to our stage, so much does 
 it take to satisfy an English audience, that 
 three or four of them have been generally 
 combined to make up one farce; and conse- 
 quently, the action alone has been preserved 
 without regard to the original point which their 
 authors had in view, when they framed them. 
 a2 
 
IV ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 I mention this, because I am not aware that 
 any dramatic illustration of a single proverb 
 has with that view been given to the English 
 public. It was, however, from these dramas that 
 I first caught the idea of noting down what I 
 saw passing in society, in order to judge, by 
 the events of real life, the truth or fallacy of 
 those axioms which have been handed down to 
 us with a character for " usefulness and dig- 
 "nity; as conducive to the understanding of 
 " philosophy, of which they are the very remains^ 
 " and which they are adapted to persuade.*" 
 
 To regulate a life by the observation of 
 proverbs would be to do an extremely silly 
 thing, I take exactly the converse of such a 
 proposition : I have watched the world, and 
 have set down all that I have seen ; and out of 
 this collection of materials have thrown to- 
 gether a few historical illustrations of quaint 
 sayings, the force of which, the characters 
 
ADVERTISEMEKT. ' V 
 
 introduced by me have unconsciously exem- 
 plified in their lives and conduct. 
 
 In short, I have thought it a curious matter 
 of speculation to compare the *' doings" of the 
 moderns with the "sayings" of the ancients; 
 and therefore submit to the pubhc with all 
 humility my first portion of " wke saw^^'' illus- 
 trated by " modern instances.''^ Should they be 
 favourably received I may be induced to con- 
 tinue them. 
 
 London, Jan. 26, 1824. 
 
ERRATA. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 Page 19, line 16, for Emma read Fanny. 
 
 — 19, — 17, — Fanny — Emma. 
 
 — 77, — 18, — " sixth" — " seventh." 
 
 .• VOL. II. 
 
 — 144, — 6, — Edward — Henry. 
 
 C "How time ambles'^ 
 
 — 206, — 10, —J withal, how time K.— " Who time," &c. 
 
 ) gallops withal" I 
 
 VOL. III. 
 
 — 24, — 9, q/ifer the word " evening" —" was inconceivable." 
 
 — 25, — 3, /or "This jargon" — "The jargon." 
 
 — 120, — 12, — - " proportionally" — " proportionably." 
 
DANVERS. 
 
D A N V E R S, 
 
 It appears to me, that there would be little 
 interest or amusement furnishable to a reader in 
 the history of the *' early days" of Mr. Thomas 
 Burton, for such is the unromantic name of 
 my hero.— It is true, books have been pub- 
 lished descriptive of the infantine peculiarities 
 and the puerile sagacity of daughters and sons, 
 by fond, blind, and silly parents ; but as the 
 miraculous proofs of genius afforded to society 
 by a lad under fifteen can be of very small 
 importance to any body not personall}^ connect- 
 ed with him, I shall skip over the beginning 
 of Burton's mortal career, and introduce him to 
 my readers at the age of twenty-six, just called 
 to the bar, having. in his day literally swept 
 Oxford of prizes, and taken a first class degree 
 with the most unqualified eclat, 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
Z DAN VERS. 
 
 His progress in the law was much like that 
 of other men of* his standing — Good-na- 
 tured attornies sent him half-guinea motions, 
 and such persons as had little to risque and 
 nothing to lose, intrusted him occasionally 
 with briefs, which afforded him, out of term, 
 a mutton chop and a pint of black and intoxi- 
 cating stuff, dignified by the neighbouring 
 tavern-keepers into Port wine, and which, 
 joined to the pleasing opportunities of now and 
 then reading a declaration, comprised the prin- 
 cipal advantages which Burton derived from 
 his professional proficiency. 
 
 Burton was a young man of extremely good 
 manners, vivacious and ready ; with a turn 
 for the fine arts, he possessed various minor 
 accomplishments, and stood his ground re- 
 markably well in society, where a general 
 smattering of popular sciences, and a quick 
 recollection of fashionable technicalities, gave 
 him the power of descanting upon subjects, 
 with which in point of fact he was only curso- 
 rily acquainted. 
 
 The Greek and Latin which had gained him 
 honours at the University, were of as much 
 service to him after he quitted it, as are 
 
DAN VERS. O 
 
 the high-flown accomplishments of the modern 
 Miss, when she degenerates into the domestic 
 wife ; and the constant study of Burton was to 
 rub off the rust as assiduously as possible. He 
 possessed an indescribable sweetness of man- 
 ner, and (which never failed to win) an ap- 
 pearance of universal sympathy. His eye would 
 sparkle at the worst joke of a would-be wit, 
 and fill with tears at the imaginary distresses 
 of a twaddling sentimentalist — he seemed to 
 enter into every feeling, to associate himself as 
 it were, with the very thoughts and wishes of 
 his companions, and contrived, in a way of his 
 own, to make each individual in the room 
 with him fancy himself or herself the most 
 interesting object of his consideration. — Full 
 of anecdote, with an elegant mind, good taste, 
 and great readiness, he was naturally sought, 
 courted, and admired : the consequence of 
 which was, that his retirement in Garden- 
 Court was seldom visited out of term; and 
 by degrees the disinclination he felt to the 
 prosecution of his profession grew into abso- 
 lute disgust. 
 
 His talent, however, was not to be subdued 
 or overcome : it was of that commanding nature 
 B 2 
 
4 DANVERS. 
 
 which ensures success; and never did man in 
 the outset of life meet with a greater share of 
 good fortune than our hero. He had secured 
 amongst his friends men of power and in- 
 fluence, and at eight and twenty found himself 
 possessed of an office worth a couple of 
 thousand pounds per annum, which, from its 
 peculiar nature, required his residence in one 
 of the Western counties of England ; or, if it 
 did not require his residence there, seemed as 
 if its duties would be better fulfilled by what, 
 to any other young man, would have been a 
 sacrifice of London pleasures and courtly 
 amusements. 
 
 Armed with this adequate income, in addi- 
 tion to all his real talents and social qualities. 
 Burton became an object of admiration to the 
 young ladies of the circle in which he moved, 
 and of ambition to their various aunts and 
 mothers, who, like most aunts and mothers 
 spread over the surface of the globe, were ex- 
 tremely anxious that their nieces and daughters 
 should be well married and comfortably settled. 
 
 It was admirable foolery to see how they 
 fidgeted and manoeuvred at county balls 
 and winter assemblies, to get him into their 
 
DANVERS. O 
 
 little coteries ; and to watch the bright eyes 
 of the rural damsels achino; with orazino; on 
 attractions which never might be theirs. Bur- 
 ton, it is true, wished to marry ; but being 
 much too sensible to be sentimental, resolved 
 to consider before he decided, and to calculate 
 deliberately upon what would really contribute 
 to his happiness in a wife. 
 
 First of all, he determined that although 
 beauty is fading, and a lovely face loses its 
 novelty, and consequently much of its charm 
 by constant association with it, it was still 
 essentially necessary that his wife should not 
 be ugly : — ** plain, but uncommonly amiable, 
 and with such a heart," — as one woman says, 
 when describing another of whose attrac- 
 tions she stands in no awe,— did by no means 
 come up to his notion of what was actu- 
 ally requisite in a partner for life. A bright 
 sparkling eye — a look of sense — animation — 
 a varying expression, and features which 
 should take a different cast, when their mis- 
 tress heard of the death of a child, from that 
 which they would wear when she lost a pool at 
 loo — an air, a manner, gentleness and grace — 
 a lady-like figure — a feminine diffidence — an 
 
6 DANVERS. 
 
 amiable softness — a total absence of affectation 
 and an inexhaustible fund of good humour, were 
 essentials with him ; and if the union of these 
 qualities in one woman were not discoverable, 
 then Burton devoted himself, in his own mind, 
 to a life of perpetual single blessedness. 
 
 Moreover, besides these actual qualifica- 
 tions which his imaginary bride was to have, 
 there were sundry others which she was 
 not upon any consideration to possess. She 
 was on no account to be learned : she might 
 speak French; but if she did, she must do 
 it well and fluently — Latin and Greek were 
 interdicted ; the mathematics utterly banished. 
 She might, perhaps, play and sing, but not by 
 any means well enough to be expected or 
 called upon to exhibit like a buffoon in com- 
 pany. The less she liked dancing the better ; 
 waltzing was out of the question altogether. If 
 she drew, it was not to be after the antique, 
 The less she dabbled in the arts, however, the 
 more desirable ; she was to be religious, and 
 devoid of cant ; charitable, without parade; and 
 rational, without pretension ; she was to look 
 at the world as one of its inhabitants ; not to 
 expect divine attributes in any of her fellow- 
 
DAN VERS. 7 
 
 creatures, nor to affect the possession of them 
 herself; she was to be extremely neat in her 
 person ; never to touch upon politics, and 
 always to call things by their right names. 
 
 These were what Burton had established to 
 himself as essential to his happiness ; and with 
 the admitted predisposition to marry, started 
 like Coelebs in search of a wife. 
 
 Considerably smitten with pretty Miss Mar- 
 tin, his flame was extinguished by hearing 
 her descant upon the etymology of a Greek 
 word with Doctor Gabble. Subsequently, after 
 a month's close devotion to Miss Dawson, his 
 heart regained its liberty, by finding her praise 
 a cousin of hers as having an " exquisite mind 
 and assert that in fact she was all soul /" Miss 
 Tripto held sovereign sway till she left a 
 rational tete-d-tete in a corner with him, to 
 waltz with a tipped and tufted hussar, who, 
 under the sanction of her respectable mother, 
 proceeded forthwith to pull and haul her 
 about the room to a die-away German air. 
 Many failed in their sieges upon his affections, 
 by minor variations from his established de- 
 mands ; and it seemed as if this most favoured 
 and desired personage was doomed to eternal 
 
8 DANVERS. 
 
 celibacy, when chance threw the amiable Mary 
 Gatcombe in his way. 
 
 This paragon of perfection knew no lan- 
 guage except her own. She neither played 
 nor sang ; her dancing was confined to the 
 common English jog-trot performance of a 
 line of men placed immediately opposite to a 
 line of women, — the one party being employed 
 in flirting fans, and the other in fanning flirts. 
 She had a strong mind and particularly good 
 sense. To her the imagery of poetry, or the 
 language of enthusiasm, were as unintelligible 
 as Greek or Hebrew ; she had sufficient intel- 
 lect to conduct herself with the strictest pro- 
 priety, to judge prudentially of events in which 
 she herself was concerned, and to decide dis- 
 creetly upon every point submitted to her rea- 
 son ; always observing, by the way, that she 
 seldom applied her faculties to subjects not 
 strictly useful, and conducive either to her 
 comfort or advancement, her health or her 
 pleasure. 
 
 She had dark eyes, full of sweetness and 
 gentleness, easily lighted by mirth, into a spark- 
 ling vivacity. Fortunately for our well- 
 starred hero, they were favourably turned upon 
 
DAN VERS, 9 
 
 him : the conviction of this fact flashed across 
 his mind one evening after a supper, which 
 succeeded to a ball given by the Duke of 
 Alverstoke, (the great man of the neighbour- 
 hood,) to the whole county. Burton had ad- 
 mired her for some time ; had implied what he 
 felt by his marked and assiduous attentions ; 
 he had watched and calculated upon her qua- 
 lities, her manner, temper, disposition, and 
 accomplishments, with reference to his own 
 standard of perfection ; and if there were any 
 objections existent in his mind, the glance 
 which conveyed the state of her feelings to 
 him on the evening in question, dispelled them 
 as the sun-beam of England dissipates the 
 dew, or rather as the coup de soleil of the 
 Indies annihilates every thing which it hap- 
 pens to fall upon. 
 
 The train fired by the bright eyes of Miss 
 Gatcombe soon exploded, and after an increas- 
 ing intimacy of three weeks, the eclaircissement 
 anticipated by the saints and sages of the 
 neighbourhood, took place : there were, alas ! 
 no fallings upon knees, no violent trepidations, 
 no moonlight rambles, no whispering breezes, 
 no responsive echoes, no tremblings, no throw- 
 B 5 
 
10 DANVERS. 
 
 ing of eyes under tables or into corners of 
 rooms ; the affair was terminated in a short 
 ttte-a-tete in Mrs. Gatcombe's boudoir, in which, 
 in the most rational yet delicate manner, the 
 unpretending Mary owned a reciprocal feeling 
 to our hero, and surrendered herself and thirty 
 thousand pounds into his possession. 
 
 There are men in the world, who, before 
 they proceed on the march to matrimony, ob- 
 tain a carte du pays from the Prerogative Office, 
 and satisfy their anxiety as to what a girl 
 HAS, before they take the trouble to ascertain 
 what she is. This was not Burton's case ; he 
 had revenue sufficient to enable him to live 
 comfortably and respectably, even had his wife 
 been destitute ; and although the intelligence 
 that Mary had the absolute controul of thirty 
 thousand pounds, chargeable only with a life 
 annuity to her mother, was not disagreeable to 
 his ear, I verily believe that it did not add 
 one jot to the sum of happiness which he 
 felt he had acquired, when the blushing girl 
 confessed her attachment, and gave him upon 
 his lips a receipt in full for all the anxiety 
 he had undergone during the previous cam- 
 paign. 
 
DANVERS. 11 
 
 It is extremely disagreeable, for the sake of 
 romantic readers, to be obliged to admit 
 that no diflSculties intervened between this ac- 
 ceptance and the marriage of the happy par- 
 ties ; a few weeks devoted to preparation 
 slipped almost imperceptibly away, and before 
 the end of the month, Mr. Thomas Burton led 
 to the Hymeneal altar Miss Gatcombe, daugh- 
 ter and heiress of Sir William Gatcombe, of 
 Durnford House, in the county of Somerset, 
 Knight. And, here I most certainly should have 
 taken the liberty of introducing to my reader 
 Lady Gatcombe, the mother of our heroine, but 
 alas ! relentless death took her from the world 
 so shortly after her daughter's marriage, that it 
 does not seem at all necessary, or likely to be 
 conducive to the illustration which I have in 
 viewj to bring my friends acquainted with her ; 
 1 therefore, for their sakes, avoid the two 
 evils of wasting time, and exciting an inte- 
 rest, which a person so exemplary necessarily 
 must have created, merely to give the pain 
 which truth would have compelled me to in- 
 flict so soon after her appearance in the action 
 of my story. 
 
 The grief concomitant with such an event. 
 
12 DANVEES. 
 
 and whicli as much as possible afflicted my 
 heroine, was dissipated by the anxiety which 
 arose from her own situation; and before the 
 close of the year, although the Edax rerum 
 had robbed her of a parent, she had become a 
 parent herself; and a daughter crowned the 
 happiness of her union with Burton. 
 
 Never, in the whole course of my observa* 
 tion of the world and its ways, did I feel 
 more perfectly at ease, as to speaking truth, 
 than in calling this young couple happy — they 
 were perfectly so. Mary thought Burton per- 
 fection ; and when she read of Crichton, she 
 would shut the book and turn with entire 
 satisfaction to her husband, not as a living 
 illustration of that extraordinary man's extra- 
 ordinary qualities, but as a being so much his 
 superior, as to render all the feats of the lost 
 wonder mere child's play. On the other hand. 
 Burton saw in his Mary every thing he re- 
 quired in a wife — first of all, that devotion 
 which I have just described, was in itself 
 by no means unsatisfactory ; then her placid 
 temper, her excessive tenderness, and apparent 
 ready acquiescence in all his views and wishes 
 — I say apparent, because she was one of those 
 
DANVERS. 13 
 
 quiet, sweetly-dispositioned persons, who inva- 
 riably carry their points by seeming to yield ; 
 and who, as she went on living with Burton, 
 confirmed, as if intuitively, (for the chances 
 are she had never read them,) the merit of those 
 lines of the immortal Pope, which bid the 
 wife be one — 
 
 ** Who never answers till her husband cools ; 
 And, if she rules him, never shews she rules ; 
 Charms by accepting, by submitting sways. 
 And has her humour most when she obeys." 
 
 It seemed, as if she had made these lines 
 a theme for illustration — a rule of action ; 
 and since disguise is quite useless between 
 persons thrown together as the reader and 
 myself happen to be, it may be as well at 
 once to say, that she succeeded in govern- 
 ing her husband and all that was his, with the 
 most absolute domination ; without his ever 
 being in the smallest degree aware of his own 
 entire subjection to her will and wishes, — so 
 closely hidden were the chains of thraldom 
 by the flowers of love. 
 
 If one things could be selected from all 
 things in the known world, which might be 
 
14 DAxNVERS. 
 
 considered a drawback to the general com- 
 fort which the happy couple enjoyed, it was 
 a little rankling with respect to the family of 
 the Duke of Alverstoke, whose park joined the 
 grounds surrounding Burton's cottage. There 
 was a stiff shyness about his Grace and his 
 family, and a cold distant civility when any 
 of them encountered the Burtons, which our 
 hero could not brook. Report says, that, in 
 one of Burton's romantic moments, he had as- 
 pired to the hand of his Grace's second daughter, 
 and that the bare insinuation of so much pre- 
 sumption had been most unceremoniously 
 treated by his Grace and his eldest sou : this 
 fact, however, wants confirmation ; and those 
 who thought best of Burton attributed the 
 evident coldness of the ennobled family 
 to their avowed distaste for the society of 
 their country neighbours, — except at public 
 parties — a sweeping exclusion, from which 
 Burton imagined his own qualities and those 
 of his adored Mary, might have secured them 
 at least a splendid exception. — They certainly 
 did not ; and after several vain attempts to gain 
 a footing at Milford Park, Burton's excessive 
 admiration for the illustrious family turned 
 
DANVERS. 15 
 
 into something very like hatred, envy, and 
 uncharitableness towards them. If he bought 
 a new picture or a new horse, if he built a 
 new room, or a new carriage, there existed in 
 all such actions a desire to astonish, confound, 
 or pique the Duke, stronger than any hope 
 of pleasing himself or his wife : they were 
 always best satisfied by maintaining something 
 of an equality with their neighbours. 
 
 Burton's house, as far as it went, was perfec- 
 tion ; his library complete ; his grounds beauti- 
 fully laid out ; his horses the fleetest and finest ; 
 his cellar amply stored with the choicest wines ; 
 his pictures perfect bijoux. Every thing he 
 possessed was of the very best quality, and 
 nothing except the little awkwardness of feel- 
 ing towards the Duke interfered with his 
 happiness and repose. 
 
 Previous to their departure for London, the 
 Duchess invited the Burtons to dinner; the in- 
 vitation was accepted and the party made. Not 
 a soul except the apothecary of the neigh- 
 bouring town was there ; the dinner was served 
 up magnificently at seven o'clock; it lasted till 
 twenty minutes after eight; the champagne 
 needed nothing colder to chill it than the 
 
16 DAN VERS* 
 
 company ; the daughters spoke only to their 
 'brothers, the brothers only to their parents ; 
 Burton was placed on the right of the Duchess, 
 Kilman the apothecary on her left: the whole 
 of her Grace's conversation was directed to the 
 latter, and turned upon the nature of infection, 
 in a dissertation on the relative dangers of 
 typhus and scarlet fever, which was concluded 
 by an assurance on the part of her Grace, that 
 she would endeavour to prevail upon Doctor 
 Somebody from London to come down and 
 settle in the neighbourhood — a piece of infor- 
 mation which was received by her medical 
 hearer with as much composure as a man 
 could muster while listening to intelligence 
 likely to overturn his practice and ruin his 
 family. 
 
 The Duke drank wine with Mrs. Burton, 
 and condescended to enquire after her little 
 one ; his Grace then entered into a lengthened 
 dissertation with his second son upon the mode 
 of proceeding he intended to adopt in visiting 
 Oxford the next morning; and concluded the 
 dialogue by an elaborate panegyric upon his 
 own character, that of his children, his horses, 
 his wines, and his servants. 
 
DANVERS. 17 
 
 After a brief sitting, the ladies retired, and 
 coffee being shortly brought to the dinner- 
 table, the gentlemen proceeded to the draw- 
 ing-room, which they found occupied only by 
 her Grace and Mrs. Burton : the Lady Eliza- 
 beth having: retired with a head-ach, and the 
 Lady Jane having accompanied her as nurse. 
 
 About this period a small French clock on 
 the chimney-piece struck ten : never were 
 sounds so silvery sweet on mortal ear as those 
 to Mrs. Burton. Her misery had been com- 
 plete; for, in addition to the simple horror of a 
 tete-d-tete with the Duchess — a thing in itself 
 sufficient to have frozen a salamander, her 
 Grace had selected as a subject for conversa- 
 tion the science of craniology, the name of 
 which, thanks to her unsophistication, had 
 never reached Mary's ears ; and the puzzle she 
 was in to make out what it was, to what 
 body it referred, to what part of a body, or 
 what the organs were, to which her Grace 
 kept perpetually alluding, may better be con- 
 ceived than imagined. The Duchess voted 
 Mary a simpleton ; Mary set her Grace down 
 for a bore ; and Mary, with all her simplicity, 
 was the nearer the mark of the two. 
 
18 DANVERS. 
 
 Wlio, after retiring from a party blazing in 
 all the splendour of feathers, finery, dress, dia- 
 monds, gewgaws, and gaiety, has not felt the 
 exquisite charm of the quiet repose of home ? 
 Who has not experienced the joy of casting off 
 restraint, and throwing one's self into one's 
 own comfortable chair by one's own fire-side, 
 and thanking one's stars that the trouble of 
 pleasure is over ? If we all have felt that ; we 
 may easily imagine the sensations of our do- 
 mesticated couple, when they found themselves 
 relieved from the horrid restraint of Milford 
 Park ; — the bolt uprightness with which Mary 
 sat upon the hard shining sky-blue silk sofa 
 with the Duchess, was abandoned for the 
 disembarrassed lounge on her own ottoman ; 
 and the cold, formal, half-whispered conversa- 
 tion, of which little was to be heard sounding 
 through the spacious saloon, save the sibi- 
 lations of the s*s's which occurred in the 
 course of it, metamorphosed into comfortable 
 cliat, replete with piquant remarks upon their 
 dear friends, and interlarded here and there 
 with sundry little coaxings and kissings to 
 which, although married nearly a year and half, 
 Mr. Burton considered himself still entitled. 
 
DANVERS. 19 
 
 This domestic tete-d-tite concluded with the 
 comfortable resolution, that they were much 
 happier than the Duke and Duchess — that 
 nothing could induce them, with all contin- 
 gencies to boot, to change lots ; and they re- 
 tired to rest, congratulating themselves that 
 the day was over, and the events of it not likely 
 soon to recur. 
 
 Months rolled on ; spring strewed the lawn 
 with daisies ; summer decked the beds with 
 flowers ; and autumn yielded her golden store, 
 but no variation was perceptible in the felicity 
 of our hero and heroine. Towards the close 
 of the year, another daughter blessed their 
 union ; and very early in her life, the lovely 
 Emma was pronounced likely to eclipse the 
 charming Fanny, who was about eleven months 
 her senior. 
 
 The Burtons did not much associate with 
 their neighbours ; but as winter closed in, and 
 they abandoned a once entertained intention of 
 visiting London, they joined more sociably in 
 the society of the contiguous town, and en- 
 tered into its little coteries with the most 
 amiable good-nature. The rector, a man of 
 
20 DAN VERS. 
 
 superior mind and character, the Milfords, the 
 Howards, the Whites, the Wilsons, and families 
 of that class were perpetually with them; and 
 as restraint and formality were forbidden at 
 Sandown Cottage, an invitation thither was 
 considered quite an event to the younger 
 branches of the surrounding houses. 
 
 Early in the spring succeeding the birth of 
 her second child, Mrs. Burton received a letter 
 announcing the arrival in England of Mr. 
 Frumpton Danvers, her mother's uncle, whose 
 days had been spent in various parts of the 
 world, collecting and accumulating wealth ; and 
 who had returned to his native land, so late 
 in life as to have outlived all his friends and 
 connexions, except this daughter of his niece. 
 His property was immense— aluiost incalculably 
 so — in the West Indies, in the East Indies, 
 in England, in Ireland, and in Scotland, he 
 had estates and riches, and few people ven- 
 tured to guess, to use the delicate and com- 
 monly-accepted term, what he would cut up 
 for. One thing was quite certain ; besides all the 
 doubtful property he possessed, three hundred 
 thousand pounds stood in his name in the Three 
 per cents. ; and the difficulties he had for ^ears 
 
DANVERS. 21 
 
 encountered in amassingr this fortune were now 
 surpassed by the still greater one of making 
 up his mind to whom he should bequeath it. 
 
 The old gentleman was a mannerist and 
 an egotist — self-opiniated, obstinate, positive, 
 and eternally differing with every body round 
 him — his temper vv^as soured by ill health; while, 
 unfortunately for his associates, his immense 
 fortune gave him, at least he thought it did, 
 the power and authority to display all its little 
 varieties in their full natural vigour. 
 
 He was the meanest and most liberal man 
 alive, the gentlest and the most passionate, 
 alternately wise and weak, harsh and kind, 
 bountiful and avaricious, just as his constitu- 
 tion felt the effects of the weather or of society 
 — he was, in short, an oddity, and had proved 
 himself through life constant but to one 
 object alone — his own aggrandizement : in 
 this he had succeeded to his heart's content ; 
 and had at seventy-four amassed sufficient 
 wealth to make him always extremely uneasy, 
 and at times perfectly wretched. 
 
 When it is recollected that Mrs. Burton was 
 his only existing relative, that he was far ad^ 
 vanced in years, infirm, and almost alone in 
 
22 DANVERS. 
 
 the world, and that he had sought her out 
 and addressed a kind and affectionate letter to 
 her, it may be easily supposed that she was not 
 a little flattered and pleased by the event. 
 She communicated to the dear partner of all 
 her joys the unexpected incident. He entered 
 immediately into her feelings, saw with her 
 the prospects which the affections of this old 
 gentleman opened to their view, and, without 
 a moment's delay, resolved, as she had indeed 
 suggested, that an invitation should be des- 
 patched to Mr. Danvers to visit Sandovvn 
 Cottage. 
 
 The days which passed after this request 
 was, with all due formality, sealed with the Bur- 
 ton arms, addressed and conveyed to the post, 
 were consumed in a sort of feverish anxiety. 
 Mary had never known her uncle, never of 
 course seen him, and the only thing intended 
 to bear a resemblance to his person with which 
 her eyes had been gratified, was a full-sized 
 miniature, painted when he was twenty-one 
 years of age, by a second-rate artist, repre- 
 senting him with his hair extremely well pow- 
 dered, rolled in large curls over his ears, and 
 tied behind with pink ribands, his cheeks 
 
DANVERS. 23 
 
 blooming like the rose, his solitaire grace- 
 fully twining round his neck and falling over his 
 shoulders, well contrasted with a French grey 
 coat, edged with silver, and adorned with sal- 
 mon-coloured frogs; a sprig of jessamine sprang 
 from his button-hole, and a diagonal patch of 
 court-plaster rested upon his ofF-cheek ; by 
 this record of his appearance, Mrs. Burton had 
 regulated her notions of his attractions ; and 
 whenever she heard her rich uncle Danvers 
 spoken of, and his wealth descanted upon, she 
 sighed with the Countess's page, " he is so 
 handsome, Susan!" 
 
 In four days, however, the anxious couple 
 received the following letter in reply to their 
 invitation, which, as it is perhaps character- 
 istic, I have transcribed verbatim et literatim 
 from the original. 
 
 " Ibbotson's Hotel, Vere Street, 
 Cavendish Square, April — , . 
 
 " My Dear Niece, 
 
 " I duly received your's, dated the 5th inst. 
 and have to acknowledge same. You might 
 Jiave spared your compliments, because as 
 the proverb says, * Old birds are not caught 
 
24 DANVERS. 
 
 with chafF/ — It will please me very much to 
 go and see you and your husband : hope you 
 have made a suitable match ; at the same time 
 cannot help observing that I never heard 
 the name of Burton, except as relating to 
 strong ale, which I do not drink because 
 it makes me bilious. I cannot get to you 
 yet, because I have promised my old friend 
 General M*Cartridge to accompany him to 
 Cheltenham, to drink the waters, which are 
 recommended to me. I will perhaps go to you 
 from Cheltenham the end of May, but I never 
 promise, because I hate breaking a promise 
 once made, and if I should find Cheltenham 
 very pleasant, perhaps I shall not go to see 
 you at all. 
 
 " I thank you for your attention certainly, 
 but I hate to be under obligation ; I have 
 therefore directed my agent to send you down 
 with great care my two adjutants, which I have 
 brought home with vast trouble, together with 
 the largest rattle-snake ever imported alive 
 into England. I meant them as presents to 
 the Royal Society, but they have no place to 
 keep them in, and therefore I want you to take 
 care of them, as you tell me you have space 
 about your house. 
 
I) A N V E R S . 25 
 
 " My kitmagar and a couple of coolies, or 
 rather beasties, who have attended me to Eng- 
 land, will look after them and keep them clean. 
 The fact, that one of the adjutants is a cock, 
 is satisfactory, and I am not without hopes of 
 securing a breed of them to this country. I 
 consider them a treasure, and I know by con- 
 fiding them to you, I shall secure good treat- 
 ment for them. You will allow the men to 
 remain with them till further advice from your 
 affectionate Uncle, 
 
 Frumpton Danvers. 
 
 P. S. I am in hopes of being able to add 
 two or three bucks from Cash mire to the col- 
 lection." 
 
 ** Bucks and adjutants, my dear?*" exclaim- 
 ed Mrs. Burton, looking at her husband, and 
 laying down the letter. 
 
 " Goats and rattlesnakes, my love," replied 
 Burton, taking it up, and beginning mechani- 
 cally to re-read it. — " Why, my angel, has your 
 uncle got a menagerie ?" 
 
 " I am sure I do not know, Mr. Burton," 
 said his wife, quite alarmed at the approaching 
 invasion of their quiet retreat by a selection 
 from the plagues of the universe. — " What an 
 extraordinary fancy !'' 
 
 VOL. I. c 
 
26 DANVERS. 
 
 *' Yes, Mary," said Burton, *' it is cer- 
 tainly eccentric; but he isi/our uncle, my angel, 
 and if he proposed to turn my paddock into 
 play-grounds for a brace of elephants, I should 
 consider it quite my duty to endeavour to ac- 
 commodate myself to his wishes ; the adjutants 
 shall have the coach-house to themselves, and 
 we will send the carriages down to the inn ; — as 
 for the rattle-snake — " 
 
 " Hideous monster!" exclaimed Mary. " Cu- 
 rious pet," said Burton, " we must take care of 
 him at all events, or he will fascinate little 
 Emma's canary birds, and eat up Fanny's lap- 
 dog." 
 
 *' Do you know I dread that animal more 
 than all?" said Mrs. Burton. 
 
 " And in your situation, Mary," said Bur- 
 ton, — by which we are to infer, that the said 
 Mary was shortly expected to afford him a 
 third pledge of affection^ — " What is to be 
 done, dearest?" 
 
 " But, now, really Tom, what are adjutants ; 
 and why put them into the coach-house?" ask^d 
 Mary. 
 
 " They are birds," said Burton. 
 
 " Birds ! " exclaimed the astonished Lady, 
 who had made up her mind to a couple of well- 
 
DANVERS. 27 
 
 dressed officers with an epaulette and strap 
 a-piece ; " if they are only birds, why not have 
 their cage put either into our bed-chamber, or 
 into the dressing-room?" 
 
 " Dressing-room ! cage !" exclaimed Burton ; 
 " why, my dear girl, they are fourteen feet 
 high, if they are an inch, as ravenous as tigers, 
 and kick like donkies.'* 
 
 '* Dear, dear !" murmured the affectionate 
 Mary, " and the poor children, what will be- 
 come of them ?" 
 
 *' Never mind, my little woman," said the 
 kind husband ; " we shall soon get used to 
 them, and at all events, if we are doing our 
 duty to an old and respected relation of your's, 
 I shall be satisfied." 
 
 All, however, that had been anticipated, did 
 by no means equal the reality of the arrival of 
 these hideous animals : in less than five days 
 appeared in a caravan, the enormous brace of 
 birds, the coiling snake, seven Cashmire goats, 
 a Cape jackass, imagined by Mr. Danvers to 
 be a zebra, because so called by Mr. Vilette, 
 four monkies " of sorts," and a couple of grey 
 parrots, with shrill voices and excellent lungs. 
 
 Such a scene was never represented at San- 
 down cottage as was enacted on this extraordi- 
 c2 
 
28 DANVEES. 
 
 nary day ; for strange as were the adjutants, 
 horrible as was the snake, odious as were 
 the monkies, uncouth as were the goats, and 
 noisy as were the parrots, — the kitmagars, and 
 coolies, superintended by Mr. Rice, the na- 
 bob's own man, were, to the quiet European 
 establishment assembled, more horrible, more 
 strange, more odious, more uncouth, and more 
 noisy. 
 
 First the birds were to be fed — a rabbit or 
 two were to be caught for the rattle-snake — 
 failing of which, a fine fowl ready prepared 
 for an excellent entree at dinner was hastily ap- 
 plied to the purpose. A charming portion of 
 bread and milk just ready for Miss Fanny's 
 supper was whipped up for the parrots ; the 
 zebra took fright at the goats, and broke loose 
 jnto the kitchen-garden, while one of the 
 monkies in search of provender, skipped over 
 the head of a maid-servant, who was standing 
 at the hall-door with the yuunger daughter of 
 the family in her arms, and having nearly 
 knocked down both nurse and child, whisked 
 up stairs, and hid itself under one of the beds 
 in the imrsery. 
 
 Such screamings, such pokings and scratch- 
 ings with brooms and brushes, such squall- 
 
D A N \- E R S . 29 
 
 ings of children, such roarings of gardeners 
 and keepers, such agonies of the terrified 
 mother, such horrors of the agitated husband, 
 such squallings of babes, such chattering of 
 servants, in Malabar, Hindostanee, Cingalese, 
 and every other jumbled language of the 
 East, never were seen or heard; and it was 
 near nine o'clock before Jackoo was secured, 
 on the pinnacle of the best bed-room chimney- 
 pot, and carried down to his proper lodging, 
 amongst the other beauties of Nature, or that 
 peace was restored in the house, or dinner 
 ready for the family. 
 
 ** Well, my angel," said Burton, as he sipped 
 a glass of wine ; ** it is all over now — how 
 calm and comfortable every thing seems — one 
 really should occasionally suffer a few little in- 
 conveniences, to render the even tenour of our 
 life the more agreeable." 
 
 " I care nothing for the noise, it is rather 
 good fun," said Mary ; " only I am worried to 
 death about the children. I really do not 
 see what 's to be done." 
 
 ** My sweet girl," replied the affectionate 
 Burton, •* every care will be taken of these 
 animals, the men are here expressly for the 
 purpose: and no danger can possibly accrue." 
 
30 DANVERS. 
 
 At this moment a most terrific noise was 
 heard in the ante-room, and a maid-servant, 
 pale with terror, rushed into the dinner- 
 parlour without the smallest ceremony or pre- 
 paration, and exclaimed in a shrill tone— 
 " Ma'am, Ma*am, his leg is broken!" 
 
 " Whose leg?" said Mrs. Burton, somewhat 
 philosophically, recollecting that the only he 
 she cared about in the world had not been in 
 harm's way, but was sitting opposite to her 
 with both his legs safe under the dinner-table. 
 
 " The gardener. Ma'am, Thomas, the " 
 
 " How, when, where?" exclaimed Burton. 
 
 " You shall hear immediately, Sir," said Mr. 
 Rice, charge d'affaires of Mr. Dan vers, who en- 
 tered the apartment, attended by the kitmagar, 
 not to explain the accident so much as to 
 complain of the conduct of the gardener, who, 
 anxious to ascertain how birds four yards and 
 a half high contrive to roost at night, had 
 ventured into their dormitory, and conse- 
 quently received a kick from one of their 
 tremendous legs, which had the effect of break- 
 ing his, and bringing him upon his back ; after 
 which, by his own account, the lively creature 
 performed a sort of dance upon his chest. 
 
DANVERS. 31 
 
 which, tliough extremely graceful to look at, 
 it was by no means salutary to endure. 
 
 " I will tell you, Sir," repeated Mr. Rice, 
 '* or perhaps Vinkitachalum will." 
 
 " Yes, Saab," said the kitmagar, who was 
 actually in charge of the birds, and who was 
 dressed in full costume, with the yellow streak 
 of high caste upon his forehead. " Misser 
 Garner come pip in de horse-house, see birds 
 winky, winky ; bird hear noise, him kick Misser 
 Garner — because why — why because — bird did 
 not know — pretty bird — bote pretty — Saab." 
 
 " And the man's leg is broken?" said Burton. 
 
 " Acha, Saab — him crack in de middle — 
 because why — why because — bird's leg him 
 two times strong as Misser Garner's leg — him 
 kill a little child two times before now, Saab." 
 
 " Good Heavens!" exclaimed Mrs. Burton, 
 whose proper feelings were roused by this hor- 
 rible precedent for the quiet commission of 
 infanticide. 
 
 *' But we must see about the gardener,'^ said 
 Burton ; " desire them to send the carriage 
 immediately for Mr. Kilman, and 
 
 '* The carriages have been removed, Sir," said 
 the butler, *' to make room for the birds." 
 
32 DANVERS. 
 
 " Well, then, let horses be sent, and beg 
 Mr. Kilman immediately to come and attend 
 the poor fellow, who is doubtless suffering 
 torment from the accident." 
 
 ** I don't think it is extremely painful. Sir," 
 said Mr. Rice, with infinite composure ; " for 
 on the voyage I met with a similar accident 
 from one of my master's Cashmire goats, and 
 it really is more in idea than in reality." 
 
 " Oh ! those goats," groaned Mrs. Burton, 
 at the top of the table, in an under-tone, 
 inaudible below the salt. 
 
 " Well, well, at all events, send off," said 
 Burton ; '^ and take care that nobody disturbs 
 the birds again, or goes near them ; without 
 some very strict caution we shall have more 
 accidents, depend upon it." 
 
 The domestics retired, all discontented in 
 the highest degree ; Rice thought that sufficient 
 respect was not paid him — he could only get 
 tallow-candles and port wine in the butler's- 
 room, which had such an effect upon his 
 feelings, that he resolved to proceed to his 
 master at Cheltenham the next day. Vin- 
 kitachalum thought it cruel to complain of 
 his birds merely for breaking a man's leg; en- 
 deavouring at the same time, with all the elo- 
 
DAN VERS. 33 
 
 quence of Orientalism, to prove that so far 
 from complaining at the fracture of his limb, 
 he ought, if he had a spark of o;ratitude in his 
 composition, to have returned thanks to 
 Heaven that his life had been spared under 
 the circumstances. 
 
 On the other hand — so differently do different 
 people estimate the same thing — the agitated 
 spider-brusher, who had first rushed into the 
 room, thought that the bird ought instantly to 
 be killed for hurting her sweetheart, and felt 
 that sending for only one doctor to set his leg 
 was a mark of excessive cruelty ; and the but- 
 ler, who cared more for the regularity of the 
 service than any thing else, joined with the 
 cook in execrating both men and things which 
 could have conduced to leave a second course 
 chilling upon the table, and have obviated the 
 necessity of uncorking a second bottle of 
 claret. 
 
 Peace, however, was again restored 5 Mr. 
 Kilman in due time arrived, the fracture was 
 reduced, and so far all went well ; except, in- 
 deed, that the gardener had been hired by 
 Burton at enormous wages, from his know- 
 ledge of pineries, for the express purpose 
 of producing, if possible, finer, larger, and 
 c 5 
 
34 DAN' VERS. 
 
 heavier fruit than his Grace the neighbouring 
 Duke ; and that the two months' confine- 
 ment, consequent upon the kick, put an end 
 to all hopes of aid from him in the pursuit; 
 while prudence, on the other hand, dic- 
 tated that a second scientific gardener exclu- 
 sively to superintend pine-apples would be too 
 expensive. After a short deliberation, the 
 pines were for the present season abandoned, 
 and Mr. and Mrs. Burton obhged to satisfy 
 themselves with the prospect of what might be 
 done in another. 
 
 When the morning arrived. Burton and his 
 wife, as was their constant custom, and is in- 
 deed a constant custom with the generality of 
 families, proceeded to the breakfast-parlour, a 
 room opening into one of the gayest and pret- 
 tiest flower-gardens in the county ; all the varied 
 specimens of the hardy tribes vied with each 
 other, and dazzled the eye while they charmed 
 the other senses. It was a little Paradise, and 
 never did it look brighter and prettier than 
 on this morning : the tea was excellent, the 
 coffee perfect, the rolls admirable ; the birds 
 were singing; the sun shining — all Nature 
 seemed gay ; when suddenly the astonished 
 couple perceived the three Indian servants 
 
DANVERS. 35 
 
 of their beloved uncle, armed with sticks, 
 rushing through one of the thickest par- 
 terres, trampUng down all the sweet and gaudy 
 flowers, slapping and banging at every thing 
 they came near ; and making a noise with their 
 voices, as nearly resembling that made by 
 Guinea hens in a state of alarm as possible. 
 
 ** What the devil has happened now?" cried 
 Burton. 
 
 ** Mercy on us! look at the roses; see the 
 beautiful magnolias !" and at that moment down 
 went a stage of poor innocent green-house 
 plants, which had been drawn out like a 
 volunteer corps in all their splendour to be 
 reviewed in the fine weather. 
 
 ** What are you doing?" bawled Burton to 
 the men. " Che, che, che, che, che, che," went 
 the Indians, totally regardless of all he said 
 to them. 
 
 ** What do ye want, what are ye hunting for? "^ 
 exclaimed the astonished Lady. ** Che, che, 
 che, che, che, che," replied the zealous invaders. 
 
 At length Burton, out of patience at be- 
 holding the wreck of all his rural beauties, 
 rang the bell, and caused enquiries to be 
 made in every quarter, as to the cause of 
 such apparently unprovoked outrage ; when 
 
36 DAN VERS. 
 
 after great delay, and mystery, and confu- 
 sion, and backwardness, on the part of all 
 the subordinates, the truth was confessed. 
 During the night, the superb rattle-snake had 
 escaped from his cage, and could no where 
 be found. 
 
 •'And the children are out !" loudly screamed 
 Mrs. Burton. 
 
 *' What 's to be done?" inquired Burton 
 eagerly of Mr. Rice. 
 
 *' We must find the snake. Sir." 
 
 " Find him ! let us endeavour to destroy 
 him." 
 
 '* Destroy ! Sir," said the man,—'* 1 would not 
 do it for the universe. It is more than my place 
 is worth barely to encourage such an idea. — 
 Why, Sir, there was a young gentleman a 
 cousin, I believe, of my master's, to whom it 
 w^as supposed at one time he would leave all his 
 property ; and merely because he happened to 
 
 say, (saving your presence. Ma'am,) ^ d the 
 
 snake ! ' my master desired him to quit his house, 
 and has never seen or spoken to him since." 
 
 *' Oh," said Mrs. Burton, considerably stag- 
 gered by this avowed affection on the part of 
 her uncle for the reptile, and even more by 
 the decided manner in which he resented any 
 
DANVERS. 37 
 
 affront offered to it — " I see no harm in a 
 snake ; a snake in its proper place is a very 
 curious and beautiful creature, but not loose 
 in a garden with children." 
 
 " I don't think. Ma'am, there is much dan- 
 ger," said Rice, calculatingly and philosophi- 
 cally ; *' perhaps, if he is not voracious this 
 morning, he won't touch 'em — his appetite is 
 very uncertain." 
 
 Perhaps ! — the thought, the doubt, the pos- 
 sibility, was madness ! — The agitated mother 
 rushed out in hopes to save her offspring, 
 regardless of all danger — of all difficulty. 
 
 Burton with equal anxiety followed, and by 
 instinct, as it were, armed himself with a 
 double-barrelled gun and joined in the pursuit: 
 his feelings were in a perfect whirl, and he 
 determined within himself, if he found the 
 creature, not merely to scotch, but kill him, at 
 all hazards. 
 
 Scouts were despatched in every direction ; 
 and ithaving been given out as a point of natural 
 history, by Vinkitachalum, that the reptile was 
 extremely fond of flowers ; every bed, every 
 clump and cluster where flowers could grow 
 were trampled over, and beaten down, and de- 
 stroyed in the search, but all in vain. 
 
38 DANVERS. 
 
 At a turn in the shrubbery. Burton at length 
 beheld one of the nursery-maids and his chil- 
 dren : the woman was seated on a bench with 
 the younger one in her arms — the elder, then 
 just two years old, was within a few yards of her. 
 Delighted at the sight, he called to his little 
 darling, but she answered not ; she appeared 
 not to hear him — her innocent countenance 
 seemed fixed upon some object apparently 
 close to her — her whole attention was evi- 
 dently absorbed ; instead of turning to run, as 
 she was wont to do, towards her anxious 
 father, she heeded him not, but stepped 
 slowly, with a subdued manner and marked 
 caution, unnatural at her age, towards a cluster 
 of shrubs which were near her. Burton cast a 
 glance towards the spot, and beheld coiled into 
 a circle with its head considerably elevated, 
 the dreaded rattle-snake itself ! 
 
 Its flaming eyes, sparkling like diamonds, 
 were fixed upon his beloved child, who, un- 
 der the power of their horrid fascination, was 
 every moment involuntarily drawing nearer 
 and nearer to its venomous mouth. — The nurse 
 at the same moment saw the same object ; 
 and, although ignorant of the dreaded power 
 of the creature, was paralyzed. 
 
DANVERS. 39 
 
 Burton approached with breathless fear; 
 again he called his infant — it was, alas, too 
 late! The rattle of the snake caught his 
 ear — the child was closer — to fire at the rep- 
 tile was, in all probability, to destroy his 
 offspring. He feared not for himself, but ig- 
 norant of the character of his foe, he dreaded 
 lest, by advancing, he might end the scene, 
 and hasten the destruction of his child : — the 
 leaves moved — the snake uncoil't^ itself — ele- 
 vated its head — the rattling increased — the in- 
 nocent babe sank on the grass, within a foot 
 of it — the creature made another movement 
 preparatory to the blow, when Mary, in an in- 
 stant, dashed before her husband, and snatch- 
 ed her babe from the jaws of death. Her 
 rapid approach startled the monster, whose 
 eye was suddenly diverted from its victim ; 
 and setting up a tremendous rattle with its 
 tail, it bounded through the thicket, and was 
 out of sight in a moment. 
 
 Those only who have children, can sym- 
 pathize with my hero and heroine at this 
 moment; Mary hardly knew the danger to 
 which she had exposed herself, and her infant, 
 by this bold attack of the enemy ; but the 
 
40 DANVERS. 
 
 torrent of her feelings at the child's escape was 
 too much for her to bear ; offering a prayer of 
 gratitude to Heaven, she gave her precious 
 charge into its father's arms, and fainted at his 
 feet. Assistance was immediately sought and 
 procured; but the delicacy of her situation ren- 
 dered the event more perilous than at first was 
 apprehended, and she had nearly fallen a victim 
 to her intrepidity and maternal love, in giving 
 birth the sctnre evening to a fine boy. This 
 was the object of all Burton's ambition, the 
 theme of his prayers, the desire of his heart; 
 but such was the force of the mornino-'s 
 agitation, that the infant, alas ! was still-born. 
 The search for the hated snake was kept up 
 with laudable assiduity by the attendants 
 during the day, and at last he was found in a 
 state of torpor, having contrived, by dint of his 
 insinuating looks, to gorge himself with the 
 valuable contents of Mrs. Burton's aviary. 
 
 Burton resolved, cost what it might, to be 
 rid of this horrid creature, and gave his opi- 
 nion pretty freely on the subject to Mr. Rice ; 
 who, finding the ground untenable, caused 
 the reptile to be removed to the neighbouring 
 town, where, having a cooley specially ap- 
 
DANVERS. 41 
 
 pointed to attend him, he might lead a quiet life 
 till the actual arrival of Mr. Frumpton Danvers 
 at Sandown, which event happened in the first 
 week of June ; it having been arranged that 
 Mrs. Burton's recovery should be the signal for 
 the old gentleman's approach. 
 
 The intervening month had passed much as 
 such months pass in families; and the quietude 
 of the house was seldom disturbed, except by 
 the occasional invasion of one or two of the 
 Cashmires into the drawing-room, to the im- 
 minent danger of jars, busts, and looking- 
 glasses, or a temporary elopement of one of 
 the adjutants to a distant part of the county. 
 These evils, however, were removed, and the 
 nuisance abated, by a discovery made on the 
 part of Mr. Danvers, that his snake had been 
 exiled : partly in revenge for this slight, and 
 partly with a view to carry a somewhat im- 
 portant point of his own, he determined upon 
 the strange, and with him somewhat unusual, 
 measure o^ giving his rare specimens of natural 
 history to a lady of high rank, who had hap- 
 pened to express in his hearing an affection 
 for such curiosities. 
 
 Mr. Danvers had a vulgar mind, and, ignorant 
 
42 DANVERS. 
 
 of the ways of more refined society, fondly 
 imagined that paying a deference to the wife 
 of a great man was a certain mode of obtain- 
 ing the consideration of her husband : whether 
 his gross view of the thing were correct or not 
 I do not pretend to know ; but most true it is, 
 that, vastly to the relief of the Burtons, the 
 menagerie was by special order removed 
 from Sandown, much in the order it ar- 
 rived, after having, by its temporary stay 
 there, blighted our hero's fondest hopes — 
 endangered his darling child and its exemplary 
 mother — lamed his gardener for life — extermi- 
 nated his aviary — and completely destroyed his 
 flower-garden. 
 
 Still resolved to keep on "never minding" 
 it ; conscious of possessing every earthly com- 
 fort within themselves, they looked forward to 
 the day when they might, by the most assi- 
 duous attention to Mr. Danvers himself, ob- 
 literate from his mind any unpleasant recollec- 
 tions of neglect towards his animals ; and Mrs. 
 Burton, with the before-mentioned miniature in 
 her hand, almost longed for the time when she 
 might welcome her handsome uncle with the 
 salmon-coloured frogs and the pink-tied tail. 
 
DANVERS. 43 
 
 In due time the day of his arrival came, 
 and the hours after breakfast seemed to creep 
 instead of flying, till five o'clock ; shortly 
 after which a carriage drove to the door, 
 followed by a hack-chaise and pair. 
 
 In the first vehicle sat Mr. Frumpton Dan- 
 vers himself, attended by his own man. Rice ; 
 on the dicky were two Indian servants en 
 costume. The top of the carriage was crowned 
 with an imperial, the back of it encumbered 
 by two large trunks. The chaise contained an 
 incalculable quantity of luggage, and an 
 English livery-servant, who was completely 
 wedged in by the requisite etceteras for a 
 person of Mr. Danvers's habits and standing. 
 
 Mary's heart beat, and she was puzzling her- 
 self as to how far she might go with propriety 
 towards warmly receiving so handsome a rela- 
 tive, when the drawing-room door opened, and 
 leaning upon Burton's arm (who had gone out 
 to receive him,) appeared the object of all her 
 speculations. 
 
 She beheld an old man, considerably bent by 
 years, with yellow cheeks, white lips, and black 
 teeth ; — a few grey hairs strayed around his 
 head, having escaped the confinement of a 
 
44 DANVERS. 
 
 minute pigtail, which stuck over his shoulder 
 just under his left ear. He was dressed in a 
 blue coat, with a bilious-looking double- 
 breasted calico waistcoat, pale nankeen 
 breeches, saffron-coloured silk stockings, pro- 
 fessing to be white, and a pair of little nan- 
 keen gaiters over shoes, with buckles in them : 
 he was, in short, a very fair specimen of that 
 class of returned qui-hi's ; individuals of which 
 may be seen any fine spring day, trying to 
 weather the windy corner of Cavendish Square ; 
 but as completely different from what Mary 
 had fancied, as his manner was from what she 
 had hoped. 
 
 ** Well, Ma'am," said the old gentleman, 
 gently pushing her away from him, she having, 
 in the ardour of her feelings, rushed into his 
 arms ; " well. Ma'am, and how d' ye do, eh 
 — pretty well ? — Deucedly altered since I saw 
 you last — not so tall as I expected — your 
 mother sent me your picture — cursed humbugs 
 those painting fellows are — eh ?" 
 
 Mary recollected the picture of the beau 
 with the bouquet, and felt half inclined to join 
 in the censure which the old gentleman le- 
 velled at the artists. 
 
 " So, Ma'am," said he, " you did not like 
 
DANVERS. 45 
 
 my snake, I hear, eh ! nor those beautiful birds 
 I sent you." 
 
 Unprepared for an attack at the moment of 
 his arrival, Mary hesitated for an answer. 
 
 ** I don't care. Ma'am ; you need not try to 
 make a speech ; I did not want you to have 
 'em ; I hope my people paid for their keep ; 
 it shews what fools there are in the world ; 
 I meant them to have been your's : now I *ve 
 given 'em away to somebody else; it don't 
 matter, I dare say, to you ; some people don't 
 like snakes; there's no accounting for taste, eh?'* 
 
 " My mother, Sir," said Mary — 
 
 " Ah, your mother was a fool, and I dare say 
 3^ou 're not much better ! I always told her so ; 
 — she had a very great respect for my opinions." 
 
 '* Why, Sir !" said Burton, 
 
 " Oh don't make a fuss. Sir ; when you 
 know me longer, you '11 know me better, per- 
 haps : J don't care a cowrie for the snakes — 
 never did — did not know what to do with 'em, 
 or I shouldn't have thought of giving them to 
 you — there 's an end of that. Well, — isn't 
 your name Mary, eh f" 
 
 "It is, Sir." 
 
 '* So you have had a dead child, Mary ; 
 eh ? — great nonsense that. Ma'am — Rice told 
 
46 DAN VERS. 
 
 me a rigmarole about my snake ; what had 
 my snake to do with your child, eh ?" 
 
 Mary was overcome with the extraordinary 
 abruptness of Mr. Danvers : and Burton see- 
 ing that she was so, caught up the c^iversation, 
 by remarking that one of his children had 
 nearly been destroyed by it. 
 
 " Stuff !— I don't believe a syllable of it ; all 
 trash — gammon — like the story of the squirrel 
 in the Gentleman's Magazine, or the lie of Nic. 
 Scull, the surveyor " 
 
 *' Dr. Mead believed in the power. Sir, and 
 I " 
 
 " And who the devil. Sir, was Dr. Mead ? 
 and why the devil. Sir, should Dr. Mead know 
 more about the matter than you or I ? What 
 does it signify? Don't let us talk about it — 
 eh ? — Snug house you have got ; — cursed bad 
 all these jigamaree ornaments, eh? — hired it so, 
 I suppose, eh ?" 
 
 " No, Sir, my own taste ; 1 " 
 
 " Oh, my ! you 've got a taste— eh ! and a 
 genius, I suppose, eh. Miss Minikin?" — patting 
 Mrs. Burton under the chin. 
 
 *' We are satisfied. Sir," said Mary, " and 
 contentment is itself a treasure." 
 
DAN VERS. 47 
 
 '* So it is, my little preacher," said Danvers ; 
 " but how do you pass your time, eh? I don't 
 see any card- tables ; have you got a billiard- 
 room, eh ?" 
 
 " No," said Burton, " Sir, we play no cards." 
 
 "No cards! then I'm off— I'm off; I 
 meant to have staid six weeks with you, but I 
 could as soon live without smoking as without 
 cards." 
 
 " Smoking !" mentally ejaculated Mrs. Bur- 
 ton. 
 
 I use this expression because I have found it 
 in every novel which has been published for the 
 last ten years — barring those splendid excep- 
 tions to all modern novels. Sir Walter Scott's ; 
 — I do not profess to understand it, but I ima- 
 gine it to mean an ejaculation which is not in- 
 tended to be ejaculated, and which therefore 
 is no ejaculation at all. 
 
 '* Oh !" replied the master of the house, " we can 
 easily make up a party for you at whist, Sir." 
 
 "That will do," said Danvers, " that will 
 do ; then I am your man for a month at least ; 
 however, I '11 just change my dress — what time 
 did you dine to-day, eh ?" 
 
 " We have not dined yet. Sir," said Mary. 
 
48 DAN VERS. 
 
 " Yet ! why U 's near six o'clock, woman ; 
 what d' ye mean, Ma'am, eh ?" 
 
 ^ What hour, then, do you prefer. Sir?" said 
 Mary. 
 
 "I always dine at three. Ma'am, or not at 
 all. I never eat tiffin, and nothing will induce 
 me to alter my dinner-hour : I don't care a fig 
 for fashion — they spoiled Calcutta by dining 
 at night ; night. Ma'am, is meant for playing 
 cards — not for eating." 
 
 " Oh, we shall regulate our hours by your 
 wishes. Sir," said Burton ; " and I have no 
 doubt when we know your habits, you will 
 find everything smooth and comfortable." 
 
 •* You are very kind. Sir," said Danvers.— 
 " Pray, Mr. Burton, who was your father, eh ?" 
 
 ** He held an office under government in 
 Scotland, Sir." 
 
 " What one of their infernal jobs, eh? he 
 was a respectable man, wasn't he, eh?" 
 
 ** He was an excellent man — a man of " 
 
 ** Hold your tongue. Sir ; don't bore me with 
 his goodness; all sons' fathers are excellent: 
 gammon — trash — can't humbug me — I don't 
 care what he was, — I suppose he 's dead, isn't 
 he, eh?" 
 
 " He is. Sir." 
 
DANVERS. 49 
 
 " Any more of ye f" 
 
 " I had a sister. Sir, who married an officer 
 in the army : he was killed at Waterloo." 
 
 ** Serve him right," said the old gentleman ; 
 " stupid ass he must have been to have gone 
 there : — what became of his widow, eh?" 
 
 *' She died, Sir, — about four years since," 
 said Burton, with tears in his eyes. 
 
 *' I'm glad of it, poor body! — out of her 
 misery, eh ? Did she get her husband's medal, 
 eh?" 
 
 *' I really don't know. Sir." 
 
 *' She ought to have got it, you know, 
 according to regulation ; isn't your name 
 Tom, eh?" 
 
 « It is. Sir." 
 
 *' I 'm glad of it, eh ? Now come, show me 
 my room. I'll just change ray clothes, and 
 be down again : and go you. Miss Polly," 
 added the old gentleman, addressing his niece, 
 '* and get cards ready, eh? You'll find me out 
 by and by, eh, Polly ?" 
 
 Saying which he left the library, preceded 
 by Burton, who attended him to his chamber- 
 door. As they went up stairs, the nabob 
 stopped on the first landing-place, and, holding 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
50 DANVERS. 
 
 by the baaisters, turned round to Burton and 
 said, '* I say, Master Tom, your wife is no 
 beauty, I can tell you that — eh?" 
 
 Burton, who from the force of habit had 
 brought himself to fancy his wife perfection, 
 received this intelligence with as much good- 
 nature as could be expected, and left his guest 
 in his room, pitying his eyes, or his taste, or 
 whatever it was, that had deceived him so 
 egregiously with respect to his niece. 
 
 Burton, when he returned to Mary, was 
 a good deal puzzled how to act : he had 
 pledged himself to cards, and certain it was 
 that Kilman was expected at dinner; but 
 the hour for that meal not having arrived, 
 and Mr. Kilman being in his own person in- 
 competent to take two hands at whist, and 
 Mary having as much idea of the game as 
 she had of Hebrew, he could not imagine 
 what was to be done. He calculated that he 
 and his wife might play together, and that 
 her blunders would escape scolding ; but then 
 he recollected that her uncle played high, so 
 that the treat would be extremely expensive; 
 and quite in a puzzle what to do, he deter- 
 mined tp get dinner over as quickly as pos- 
 
DAN VERS. 51 
 
 sible, and trust to chance, always reserving to 
 himself the opinion which Mr. Danvers had 
 been pleased to express upon the subject of 
 his niece's personal attractions. 
 
 Mr. Kilman arrived ; Mr. Danvers came 
 down ; Mrs. Burton appeared dressed for din- 
 ner, and so did Burton. 
 
 ** What an infernal smell of cooking!" said 
 Mr. Danvers, " your dinner, I suppose : — well, 
 it is a strange fancy to dine at such an hour as 
 this; however, I hate to be unsociable, so I'll 
 e'en sit and look at you, while you eat, eh?" 
 Saying which, without the smallest ceremony 
 he rang the bell. 
 
 '* Tell Rice," said the old gentleman to 
 the servant who arrived to answer it, " to send 
 Swangee here, with my canisters and boxes. If 
 you'll give me leave. Miss Polly, while you are 
 feasting yourselves, I'll just whiff away some 
 of the weed — nobody need mind me : I hate 
 being a restraint upon any body." 
 
 Saying which, and dinner being announced, 
 he led his niece to her seat at table, and 
 placing himself next her, but a little retired 
 from the board, was served with a pipe well 
 charged with tobacco : which being lighted, he 
 
 3)2 
 
52 DANVERS. 
 
 proceeded to smoke, as his companions went 
 on eating, performing that enlightened recrea- 
 tion in the most free and easy manner, and all 
 its concomitant evolutions with the most per- 
 fect nonchalance. 
 
 In a short time every thing in the room 
 smelt or tasted of tobacco ; for Danvers, al- 
 though long a resident in India, disdained the 
 hookah, or the chirout : the apartment was in 
 a mist — Mrs. Burton coughed, so did Mr, 
 Kilman, so did Tom, so did the butler, so 
 did the footman — all to no purpose, Mr. Dan- 
 vers only moved his pipe from his mouth, to 
 ask for some gin and loater. 
 
 Lamentable distress ! such a liquor was not 
 to be had ; in vain were tendered the Grave, the 
 Hock, the Chateau Margaut, the Pacchareti, 
 the Maraschino, the Cura^oa, and every thing 
 else in wine or liqueur " worthy the attention 
 of the curious." Brandy and water, however, 
 was the only succedaneum ; which was re- 
 ceived by the venerable smoker with no very 
 good grace. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Burton, anxious as she was to do 
 her duty, and evince her attachment, could 
 not long endure the fumigation so liberally 
 
DANVERS. 53 
 
 afforded by her eccentric relation, and retired 
 to the drawing-room, where subsequently the 
 important rubber was arranged, and the whole 
 affair went off admirably, till Mr. Kilman, who 
 was the old gentleman's partner, happening in 
 a fit of absence, or from ignorance, to trump 
 his ** thirteenth," the ire of the nabob rose 
 to an ungovernable pitch, and, while the cards 
 were scattered in every direction by his fury, 
 the words quack — pill-gilder — fool — ass — and 
 even beast — flowed from his lips in a torrent of 
 invective. 
 
 The apothecary, unaccustomed to such rough 
 usage, was about to remonstrate in a less gen- 
 tle manner than ordinary ; but assuaged by the 
 emollient language of his host, who pleaded the 
 age and peculiarities of his wife's uncle, and 
 compensated to the injured man by descanting 
 on tlie excellence of the old gentleman's heart, 
 he submitted to the vituperation, and, after the 
 storm blew over, accepted an invitation for the 
 next day. 
 
 The following morning old Mr. Danvers dis- 
 covered that he could not bear mounting and 
 remounting stairs, and therefore suggested 
 that a bed should be put up for him in one of 
 
54 DANVERS. 
 
 the rooms on the ground-floor, which was no 
 sooner hinted at, than his desire was gratified ; 
 upholsterers arrived from the neighbouring 
 town, and in the course of the morning what 
 had heretofore been the pretty favourite break- 
 fast-parlour, was converted into a bed-chamber 
 for the eccentric visitor. 
 
 These little inconveniences were all borne 
 with pleasure by Mrs. Burton ; and the quar- 
 rels between the servants of her guest and those 
 of the establishment, v, hich occurred daily and 
 hourly, were arranged and re-arranged, with 
 as much justice as appeared to her consistent 
 with the deference she thought due to the 
 enormously rich man, who had graciously con- 
 descended to make her and her whole family 
 uncomfortable. 
 
 All the people in the neighbourhood, of 
 whom the Burtons had hitherto fought shy, 
 were necessarily invited by turns, in order to 
 make up Mr. Danvers' whist ; for after invi- 
 tations had once or twice been sent to the 
 men only of the vicinity to effect this great 
 purpose, it became essential, for civility's 
 sake, to include the ladies of their families, 
 by which unavoidable measure, Mrs. Burton, 
 
DANVERS. 55 
 
 who did not care for any society besides that 
 of her husband and children, was night after 
 night bored with all the odd wives and daugh- 
 ters of all the odd persons who formed the card- 
 table ; and what made the thing more difficult 
 to arrange was, the fact that very few of the 
 people who had unfortunately played ivith 
 Mr. Danvers once, would submit to the opera- 
 tion a second time ; so that a circle of twice 
 the extent would not have been adequate to 
 supply the demand for whisters, fresh and 
 fresh as they were wanted. 
 
 In short, the whole house and establish- 
 ment were disarranged. The poor dear chil- 
 dren, who ordinarily formed a part of the do- 
 mestic circle, were as strictly confined to the 
 nursery during the stay of their great great 
 uncle, as if his superb snake had been a 
 sojourner among them. All the little agremem 
 of Burton's retirement were suspended, and 
 the whole neighbourhood was influenced by 
 the change ; for, as all the persons invited were 
 forced to sit down to dinner at three o'clock, 
 a consequent revolution took place in every 
 establishment connected nearly or remotely 
 with the affairs of Sandown Cottage. 
 
56 DANVERS. 
 
 Mutable, however, are the affairs of this 
 world ; and nobody, I suspect, could have 
 anticipated the result of our uncle's visit to 
 Somersetshire : it is mine, however, to tell 
 it. — Among the component parts of the female 
 society assembled for his recreation, the two 
 Misses Podgers shone conspicuous in finery, 
 noise, and vulgarity ; they were attendant 
 nymphs on their father, a retired Plymouth 
 slop-seller ; and the truth was — and between 
 the reader and me, truth must be told — that 
 Miss Sally Podgers, the younger of the two^ 
 had determined very shortly after her intro- 
 duction to old Mr. Danvers, to use her best 
 endeavours to become the prop of his de- 
 clining years — ^the mistress of his house, his 
 heart, and his fortunes. 
 
 There was an obstacle, it is true, which lay in 
 her path of preferment — she had more than half 
 accepted as a husband an officer who had been 
 some time quartered in the neighbourhood ; but 
 inconstancy was a trifle compared with the bril- 
 liant prospects which opened to her view, and, 
 as if a decided measure were too much for her, 
 she temporized with the affair, and it is said, 
 (how truly I know not, for I was not her con- 
 
DANVERS. 57 
 
 fessor,) that she did not meet with any violent 
 repulse on the part of her lover, when she pro- 
 posed to unite herself to his aged rival in the 
 first instance, in order that hereafter they might 
 jointly reap the advantages of the marriage. 
 
 " There is no fool like the old one/' is a pro- 
 verb, which another of my stories will go to il- 
 lustrate, and certain it is, that Mr. Danvers was 
 pleased, soothed, and flattered by the marked 
 attentions of Miss Sally. His whist was not 
 a sine qua non with him, as it had been hereto- 
 fore — he, who had always hated music, would 
 complacently listen to Miss Sally's singing, and 
 even volunteered to dine with her father at his 
 house — a condescension almost unparalleled in 
 the annals of his history. 
 
 Burton and his wife were stricken by the for- 
 ward airs of particular attention towards their 
 uncle which were assumed by Miss Sally ; but 
 the idea of a serious attachment, or rather of 
 serious consequences arising from such an at- 
 tachment, never entered their heads; and when 
 Danvers told them that he really meant to 
 dine with his excellent friend Podgers the 
 following day, they saw nothing in the mea- 
 sure but extraordinary good-nature, which they 
 D 5 
 
58 DANVERS. 
 
 attributed to a desire on the part of the old gen- 
 tleman to make the amende honorable for having 
 called the same respectable person a stupid 
 jackass, at the card-table the night before. 
 Little did they imagine that on this very day, 
 warmed with the old slop-seller's hot gin-punch 
 — a liquor to v^^hich the nabob was overmuch 
 addicted, the blow was to be struck that was 
 to decide their hopes and crush their expecta- 
 tions. Little did they imagine that their heir 
 had been lost, their child endangered, their 
 gardener lamed, their aviary despoiled, and 
 their garden, as well as all their comforts for 
 six weeks, destroyed — for nothing! — but so it 
 was, and the next morning the old gentleman 
 reported progress in the following terms : — 
 i'i^Well, Master Burton," ^aid he, "I sup- 
 pose you and Miss Polly here are pretty well 
 tired of me by this time, eh?" 
 
 " Oh ! my dear uncle,^' said Mrs. Burton, 
 *' we " 
 
 " No gammon: I know human nature : it is 
 not for what he is, but what he has, that an 
 old fellow like me is petted and feted by his 
 own relations, eh? D'ye understand? umph !" 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Burton certainly did under- 
 stand, but it was a difficult question to answer. 
 
DAN VERS. Oy 
 
 '' I hope. Sir," said Burton, recovering from 
 his surprise at the address, and reddening a 
 little as he spoke, " I hope, Sir, there are such 
 things as disinterested attachment." 
 
 " I believe there are. Master Tom," replied 
 Danvers, ** but not in family connexions : a 
 young woman who falls in love for the first 
 time is disinterested, perhaps ; and as I was 
 saying to my friend Podgers, last night — but 
 no matter — no matter; — you'll know what I 
 mean in time : I 'm off to London to-day, Tom ; 
 that 's the upshot of the business, eh ?" 
 
 *' To-day !" said Mary hesitatingly. 
 
 " To-day, Ma'am ! the devil himself shall 
 not stop me, nor you neither. Ma'am, and 
 that's more." 
 
 " It is somewhat sudden, Sir," said Burton ; 
 " I trust we have not done any thing disagree- 
 able to you." 
 
 " No," said Danvers, in a manner different 
 from his usual style of reply; "you have done 
 every thing to please me — every thing to 
 gratify me." 
 
 "What has occurred, uncle?" inquired 
 Mary. 
 
 *• Oh, curse it. Ma'am, you '11 know in time ; 
 
60 DANVERS. 
 
 don*t be in such a hurry ; you '11 be surprised 
 when you do, however. — You '11 find out, my 
 lady, that an old man is not quite such a bore 
 as some people think, eh ? " 
 
 And at the conclusion of this speech, the 
 strange being cast his eyes to the looking- 
 glass, and with more than ordinary care 
 pushed back his favourite little grey pigtail 
 from his shoulder to its proper place at his 
 back. 
 
 ** I am afraid the children have disturbed 
 you. Sir," said Mrs. Burton. 
 
 '' Not they, dear little things ! I love chil- 
 dren — delight in 'em. Perhaps — I may have 
 some of my own soon — eh?" 
 
 A dead pause ensued : the happy couple 
 looked at each other. 
 
 " Ring the bell, my love," said Mary to her 
 husband. 
 
 " Ring the bell," repeated Danvers, ** Ha ! 
 ha! ha! — that's me — Ha! ha! I am going to 
 ring the helle — thank you, Polly; deuced 
 good, eh ?" 
 
 This most extraordinary explosion of a 
 wretched pun lost its point, from its appli- 
 cation not having been perfectly understood 
 
DANVERS. 61 
 
 by the auditory. It evidently tickled the 
 antiquated swain, who continued alternately 
 chuckling in an under-tone, and looking side- 
 ways at himself in the looking-glass. 
 
 Most true it is, that in women there is an 
 intuitive perception in matters of love, which 
 does not exist in men, and Mary, though 
 simple enough to be quite charming, saw with 
 a glance, as transient as those which her 
 uncle cast at himself, that something had 
 occurred, in which the blind and fanciful god 
 had busied himself. The idea seemed absurd ; 
 and if she had mentioned it to her husband, 
 he would have called her a simpleton, and 
 there the matter would have ended ; but Rice, 
 entering at the moment, and delivering a note 
 folded up "corner-wise" to the old gentleman, 
 to which he considered it, as it appeared, im- 
 peratively necessary to return an immediate 
 answer. Burton's attention was excited ; and 
 when, leaning on his man's arm, Mr. Danvers 
 retired into the adjoining room (his present 
 bedchamber) to write a reply, our hero looked 
 at his wife, as if expecting some remark upon 
 the subject. 
 
 A servant was clearing away the breakfast- 
 
62 DANVERS. 
 
 table, which, although it hindered his mistress 
 from making any such remark, gave her a fa- 
 vourable opportunity of inquiring who brought 
 the note for her uncle. 
 
 *' A servant from Mr. Podgers's, Ma'am," 
 was the answer. 
 
 Oh, what a light burst upon Mary's mind 
 at that moment! — the thousand ** trifles light 
 as air," which were brought together as " con- 
 firmations" of her suspicions; every look, every 
 word, every song, every smile that Miss Sally 
 Podgers had, with such apparent good hu- 
 mour and agreeableness bestowed upon the 
 old gentleman, passed before her like Banquo's 
 kings ; and the last, connected as it was with 
 handing down a line of heirs to *' push her 
 from her stool," was indeed a horrible vision. 
 
 The instant the servant left the room, she 
 communicated her suspicions to Burton, who 
 laughed at the notion : she argued upon all 
 the minutiae which had caught her observa- 
 tion, and now recurred to her mind; and, after 
 descanting and detailing for a quarter of an 
 hour. Burton felt just so much of the justice 
 of her remarks, as led him to regret, more 
 than ordinarily he was accustomed to do, the 
 
DANVERS. 
 
 state of his garden and gardener, the empti- 
 ness of his aviary, and the loss of his son — a 
 loss which, by, the way, it appeared that his 
 excellent wife had just ascertained the proba- 
 bility of repairing. 
 
 Their meditations and scheraings were, how- 
 ever, terminated by the return of the object of 
 their anxiety to the room, who, on his appear- 
 ance, announced to his host and hostess that 
 he had ordered his carriage at one. 
 
 '* What, positively. Sir?" said Mary. 
 
 *' Fixed as fate, Ma'am, I assure you. I 
 shall first go to London, and then — it won't 
 so much depend upon me afterwards." 
 
 Mrs. Burton had too much of the woman 
 about her to let the matter rest here. 
 
 "Upon whom then?" asked she archly. 
 
 " Upon one. Ma'am, whose opinions I shall 
 then be bound to consider." 
 
 "Indeed!" 
 
 " Yes, indeed, faith ! I don't know what 's 
 the use of mincing matters ; — I 'm going to be 
 married. — There now, — what do you think o' 
 that ? Perhaps, if you had had a boy, I 
 might have adopted him, but you hav'n't, you 
 know, eh?" 
 
64 DAN VERS, 
 
 Mrs. Burton thought of the probability that 
 she might have one soon, and Burton recurred 
 to the rattle-snake. 
 
 "Married, Sir?" said he. 
 
 '* Married — ah married ! didn't you marry. 
 Sir?— Why shouldn't I marry. Sir, eh?" 
 
 " Oh, certainly; only only " 
 
 " Only you think my children will put your 
 noses out of joint. You think 1 'm not up to 
 you, my fine fellow : — mark me. Sir, 1 '11 never 
 leave my property to a hare-brained scattering 
 spendthrift like you, Sir. Why, since IVe 
 been here, half the county have been to visit 
 you ; nothing but gambling, and the devil 
 knows what, in the house ; you M run through 
 the national debt if you had it." 
 
 This was the " unkindliest stab of all." To 
 be reproached with the very excesses they had 
 committed merely to amuse him, was more 
 than they expected. 
 
 " Then your children, instead of attending 
 to them, there they are, poked up in the 
 nursery like rabbits in a hutch, while their 
 Mamma is flirting and faddling about like a 
 boarding-school Miss." 
 
 " My dear Sir, the children were merely 
 
DANVERS. 65 
 
 kept out of the way for fear of disturbing 
 you." 
 
 ** Stuff! — I don't believe a word of it, 
 Ma'am ; humbug ! — nobody so fond of chil- 
 dren as me : no, they make mothers look old, 
 and it's vulgar to seem affectionate, eh?" 
 
 "As for our parties. Sir," said Burton, *' we 
 seldom saw any company till you arrived ; 
 and then merely to make up your whist- 
 table." 
 
 " Indeed, then why did not you get people to 
 play, who knew the game — eh ? Beasts, asses, 
 every one of them, except my friend Podgers 
 — a capital fellow that." 
 
 " And pray, uncle," said Mrs. Burton, with 
 a smile as unperturbed as under the circum- 
 stances a smile of hers could be, ** who is the 
 happy object of your choice? — nobody in our 
 neighbourhood, I suppose?" 
 
 " You suppose ! — well then. Ma'am, you 
 suppose very wrong, for it is somebody in your 
 neighbourhood — a most exemplary girl; with 
 excellent abilities, and no nonsense." 
 
 " I can't imagine," said Burton 
 
 " That won't do, Tom ; you know as well 
 as I do, so does Polly there; but you won't 
 
66 DANVERS, 
 
 drive me from my purpose : the deed is done, 
 and I shall be made happy by the disinterested 
 affection of a young woman, who really loves 
 me for myself alone." rftd?^ 
 
 " Upon my word," said Mary, *' you must 
 allow me " 
 
 " Oh ! you fancy that impossible, do you? — 
 Pretty well, I thank you : now you have done 
 it — you have let the cat out of the bag — shewn 
 yourself. — Nice world indeed ! dutiful niece ! — 
 excellent family — to yourselves ! Thank God 
 here is the carriage ! I wash my hands of the 
 whole affair. Ma'am :^I have not forgot the 
 abuse you set up against Miss Sally Podgers, 
 the night before last ; — a girl worth ten of my 
 own stupid relations. I forgive you, but I 
 can't forget what has happened : I have" no 
 objection to shake hands with you at parting, 
 nor with you, Tom ; but you have thrown 
 off the mask just in time. — Nobody can love 
 me, I suppose, eh? Your stupid mother had 
 always a notion about old men; — stuff— non- 
 sense ! I say, — I won't have dead children at 
 any rate; umph ! you understand me — eh? 
 I'm off; open the door; good-bye, he, he! 
 old fool am I, eh?" 
 
DANVERS. 67 
 
 .«iAnd continuino^ this sort of runnino; fire of 
 words, the old gentleman stepped into his 
 carriage, attended, as usual, by Rice; and 
 shaking Burton's hand as if nothing had hap- 
 pened, drove off to London, and as he fancied 
 to happiness. 
 
 When Burton returned to the drawing- 
 room, he found Mary in tears, with her head 
 reclined on the table, suffering under the ef- 
 fects of grief, disappointment, anger, disgust, 
 and several other little feelings, or passions, 
 which should have been utter strangers to a 
 heart so gentle and so kind as hers : but it 
 was certainly provoking to have made every 
 effort, strained every nerve, and endured every 
 inconvenience for the mere disinterested plea- 
 sure of shewing attachment to an old rela- 
 tive, and then to find the very measures 
 adopted to evince that feeling in the strong- 
 est possible manner made matters of accu- 
 sation against her and her husband, and ap- 
 parently the ground-work of a separation 
 from that very relative, which had taken place 
 under circumstances the most annoying and 
 irritating. 
 
 Of all the neighbours within miles of San- 
 
68 DANVERS. 
 
 down, none were so particularly disagreeable 
 to Mrs. Burton, as the family with whom 
 her intimate connexion appeared inevitable. — 
 Old Podgers was a man who sprang literally 
 from '.the lowest class of life ; but, uneducated 
 and uncivilized as he was, he had realized a 
 fortune and retired to the county of Somerset. 
 His daughters were both perfect gorgons of 
 ugliness ; they had for years been flirting- 
 butts for the subalterns of marching regi- 
 ments occasionally quartered at the barracks, 
 and made up, in the way of attraction, for 
 a want of beauty, by a half-improper levity 
 of conduct, which, at least, excited remark, 
 and made them more conspicuous, and conse- 
 quently more sought, than they otherwise 
 would have been by the lieutenants and en- 
 signs, who felt themselves, after the duties of 
 the mess-table, more at their ease in such 
 coqipany, than they could have been in that 
 of any other young women still suffered to mix 
 in decent society. 
 
 It is most true that such girls, if they 
 have a tolerable share of intellect, make their 
 way extremely well, and by dint of snappish 
 remarks, expressive eyes, an apt comprehen- 
 
DANVERs. ey 
 
 sion of what they should by no means under- 
 stand, and an ofF-hand freedom of manner, 
 contrive to attract, and even for a time at- 
 tach, the regards of certain dangling idlers 
 who scorn the amiable labour of thawing icy 
 hearts, or the more arduous task of keeping 
 up the ball with an intellectual female ; but 
 it is equally true, that, in precisely the same 
 proportion as such women stand favourably 
 with the other sex, they descend in the estima- 
 tion of their own : and the long dissertation 
 with which Mrs. Burton indulged herself and 
 her husband upon the character and quali- 
 ties of Miss Sally, was concluded by her set- 
 ting the young lady down as an extremely 
 forward, pert, ill-mannered, ill-favoured, under- 
 bred person. 
 
 " Well, my love," said Burton, " we should 
 content ourselves with that, which, as I con- 
 ceive, cannot fail to content every human 
 being: we have done our duty, and as the 
 disposal of events is not in our power, so it 
 becomes us not to repine. As far as worldly 
 matters go, we are quite well without any 
 accession of fortune ; and if it appear likely 
 
70 DANVERS. 
 
 that your uncle will be more happy with a wif^ 
 than without one, " 
 
 '^ A wife ! '^ interrupted the usually placid 
 Mary, " a wife ! if he wants one, let him 
 have one, but surely not Miss Sally Podgers ; 
 a person really only tolerated in society. Is 
 not there Emma Smith, or Maria Harding, 
 or the Havards, or the Ellises, — any of them 
 would have been better suited to him, than 
 an upstart, pert " 
 
 *' Stay, stay, my angel," said Burton, ** we 
 cannot presume to judge for others ; and cer- 
 tainly, say what you may, your uncle is old 
 enough at all events to judge for himself." 
 
 " Old enough to know better," retorted the 
 lady. 
 
 And in such unusual bickerings did much 
 of that and the succeeding days pass : — still, 
 however, the gloom of Mrs. Burton's disap- 
 pointment was cheered by her husband's com- 
 placency, who felt that he had secured so 
 great a treasure when he received her, that 
 any addition would be superfluous. 
 
 Mrs. Burton's miseries, however, had not 
 reached their climax ; in about a week after 
 her uncle's departure, the elder Miss Podgers 
 
DAN' VERS. 71 
 
 and Miss Midge, a dear little intimate friend 
 other's, called at Sandown, and partly through 
 the negative clumsiness of the servant, who did 
 not know whom to exclude, and partly through 
 the active curiosity of his mistress, who, wish- 
 ing to '* learn the worst ^' at once and from the 
 best authority, did not interpose her mandate 
 to hinder the entrance of her odious visitors 
 to her boudoir, they were ushered into her 
 presence. 
 
 There was a pert familiarity, tainted with an 
 air of patronage, about Miss Podgers, which 
 was intolerable to Mrs. Burton ; and the face 
 of her aide-du-camp, Miss Midge, was during 
 the whole interview strained into a sort of 
 sneering smirk, which formed a pleasing ac- 
 companiment to the vulgar nonchalance of her 
 principal. 
 
 To repeat a conversation such as is likely to 
 have been carried on by these contending ladies, 
 would be to waste pens, paper, and patience. 
 Suffice it to say, that from the elder visitor 
 Mrs. Burton discovered that the marriage of 
 her devoted uncle was actually to take place in 
 the course of the ensuing week, and that her 
 two informing friends were to be bride's-maids; 
 
73 DANVERS. 
 
 the principal object of their mission being 
 to excuse the presence of Mrs. Burton or 
 her husband, on the ground that it would 
 be unpleasant to their feelings to attend the 
 ceremony. 
 
 This completed all; and though Mary cer- 
 tainly contrived to wish her guests good- 
 morning with something like civility, it re- 
 quired greater hypocrisy than she, poor soul ! 
 was mistress of, to disguise the mingled pas- 
 sions which were contending in her heart ; and 
 the visitors departed quite satisfied with the 
 triumph they had gained, if not over the good- 
 breeding, at least over the tranquillity, of their 
 once envied victim. 
 
 A few days passed, and the ceremony which 
 made Miss Podgers a wife, and Mr. Danvers 
 a fool, was announced in all the papers. The 
 vulgar Sally was metamorphosed into a bloom- 
 ing bride ; the hideous Jane turned, by the 
 poetical licence of the newsmonger, into a 
 charming bride's-maid ; and her little friend 
 was celebrated to the world as the lovely Miss 
 Midge, with an elegant figure, and a splendid 
 Brussels lace veil ; — such is the power of 
 money — such the force of impudence ! 
 
DANVERS. 73 
 
 With this joyous ceremony terminated all the 
 fluttering hopes and nervous anxieties of the 
 Burtons, whose indio-nation was not much as- 
 suaged by receiving shortly after the wedding a 
 cadeau de noces from the happy bridegroom, in 
 the shape of a silver tea-urn, bearing the arms 
 of Frumpton Danvers, impaled with those of 
 Podgers ; Argent, on a chevron Gules, between 
 three Herring-tubs proper, three Sugar-loaves 
 papered, Azurp. 
 
 This really appeared to Burton adding 
 insult to injury, and nothing but the implicit 
 deference he always paid to the feelings of his 
 wife, would have induced him to retain the 
 present — it was her uncle who sent it, and 
 anxious lest she should fancy that he was 
 either disappointed or mortified by his extra- 
 ordinary conduct, he went so far as to look at 
 the urn with complacency, and even to praise 
 the beauty of its construction. 
 
 After this event the life of Burton and his 
 wife resumed its pristine quietude and regu« 
 larity. The routine of visits consequent upon 
 the invasion of Mr. Danvers once over, no 
 renewals of civilities were induced, and the 
 
 VOL. I. E 
 
74 d'anvers. 
 
 happy couple enjoyed themselves, their own 
 domestic pursuits, and the society of their 
 children, without a care or hope beyond their 
 ow^n circle. 
 
 There was a perfect comfort in their union, 
 rarely to be met with — they literally seemed 
 to live for each other. His ardent disposi- 
 tion and highly-cultivated mind, his wit and 
 vivacity, which, had he remained single, 
 would in all probability have involved him in 
 ten thousand scrapes and difficulties, were tem- 
 pered and softened by the amenity and devo- 
 tion of bis dear Mary, while her quietude and 
 ease of temper gained an agreeable addition of 
 spirity from her constant communion with a man 
 of superior intellect and accomplishment ; and, 
 blended together, their characters and disposi- 
 tions produced as much " happiness for two," 
 as can be enjoyed in this transitory life. 
 
 Their children grew up eminently pretty, 
 in different styles of beauty. Emma, the 
 eldest, was dark, with deep-brown curling hair, 
 with eyes as bright as stars, and coral lips and 
 snowy teeth,— she was all sparkle, playfulness, 
 and animation, all gaiety and elasticity, — the 
 daisy itself seemed scarcely to bend its head 
 
DANVERS. 75 
 
 beneath her footstep, and her young heart was 
 as light and as bright as her step or her eye ; 
 Fanny grew in softness and in grace, — she 
 was fair and timid, her light hair shaded a 
 forehead whiter than snow, her slender form 
 seemed too delicate for the rude wind to blow 
 upon, — she was the very contrast of her sister 
 — all softness, gentleness, and sweetness, her 
 manners were mild and retiring, her disposi- 
 tion, kind and amiable, and, though younger 
 than the laughing Emma, her steadiness gave 
 her an ascendancy over her sister, which, in 
 contradiction to the avowed apophthegm that 
 fear and love are incompatible with each other, 
 however much it softened her character, by 
 no means deteriorated from her affection. 
 
 Three more years of happiness had elapsed, 
 and at their termination Burton found himself 
 the father of five daughters, each transcending 
 the other in due order of succession, it beins; 
 the fashion, more especially with mothers, to 
 discover the greatest charms in the youngest 
 child, so that the last and the least, is still 
 neither the least nor the last in her '' dear 
 love." 
 
 e2 
 
76 DANVERS. 
 
 It was on a fine spring afternoon, after an 
 early dinner, the carriage at the door for a 
 drive, Mrs. Burton and three of her daughters 
 seated, and Mr. Burton with one foot on the 
 step of the open barouche, just pulling on his 
 left-hand glove, when an event occurred which 
 was doomed to work a wonderful change in the 
 blissful scene before us. The reader does not 
 perhaps anticipate any event which could, in 
 five minutes, cause Mrs. Burton to scream and 
 leave the carriage, to send the children out 
 of the barouche into the nursery, bring Mr. 
 Burton's gloves from his hands into his coat- 
 pocket, send the carriage into the coach- 
 house, and the horses into the stable, and 
 place the happy husband at a table with a 
 smart, smug man in black, with a neatly curled 
 brown wig upon his head, and a pair of green 
 spectacles on his nose. 
 
 Death, relentless death ! before whose unerr- 
 ing dart the great, the good, the virtuous and 
 the wise, alike must fall ! Death had been busy ! 
 Mr. Frumpton Danvers was no more! In his 
 dying moments he had desired that Mr. Bur- 
 ton should be sent for immediately after he had 
 breathed his last, to be present at the opening 
 
DAN VERS. 77 
 
 of his will ; and this was the first communica- 
 tion he had made, either to his niece or her 
 husband, since his ill-fated marriage. The 
 Podgers' family, after that event, entirely 
 quitted Burton's neighbourhood, having let 
 their house and quartered themselves alto- 
 gether upon the old gentleman. 
 
 The summons was like one from the grave, 
 and was of course to be obeyed. Mrs. Burton's 
 grief for the loss of her inconsiderate relative 
 was hardly greater than that which she felt at 
 a separation from her husband, for the first 
 time since their marriage ; and it was merely 
 the feeling that it w^ould be disrespectful to 
 disobey the wishes of her uncle, which induced 
 her, even in the state in which she then was, 
 (for she daily expected to be confined for the 
 sixth time,) to grant her consent to his tra- 
 velling without her. 
 
 All circumstances considered, however. Bur- 
 ton decided upon starting instantly ; and hav- 
 ing ordered refreshments for his newly-arrived 
 guest, who, as perhaps the reader may ima- 
 gine, was an attorney-at-law, our hero took an 
 affectionate leave of his tender Mary, whose 
 heart was half-broken at his departure, and 
 
78 DANVERS. 
 
 kissing his dear little children, set off for Bath, 
 to which place the old gentleman had gone for 
 the benefit of his health, and died. 
 
 Heavily wore the long night in Burton's 
 absence. Every gust of wind that rattled a 
 shutter appeared to Mary as if it were likely 
 to blow over the carriage in which her husband 
 travelled ; a slight shower which fell about 
 three o'clock in the morning was magnified by 
 her, into torrents of rain which might flood the 
 high-road, inundate the country, and drown 
 the post-boys; ten times during the night 
 did she leave her bed and pat her pretty feet 
 over the carpet, to peep through the window- 
 curtains, that she might ascertain if it were 
 star-light, or if there were too many clouds 
 about, to be agreeable : the step of a dog in 
 the hall below was converted into the approach 
 of a gang of robbers ; and the odour produced 
 by the extinction of her own candle seized 
 upon her affrighted sense of smelling as the 
 effects of an incipient conflagration of San- 
 down Cottage and its appurtenances. 
 
 And in the midst of all this she did not 
 regret the loss of her uncle's fortune, she did 
 not envy the vast possessions of his widow — 
 
D A N V E R S . 79 
 
 of that widow, to whose being a wife she 
 herself had been the principal party. She 
 even wept that she had not seen the old man 
 before his death, that he might have known the 
 real state of her feelings towards him — but no 
 more. — When she looked at her rosy-cheeked 
 sleeping children, and thought of her absent 
 husband, she felt that when he returned, she 
 should be as happy as she wished to be on 
 earth; — true it is^ they were all the world to 
 her. 
 
 The eight-and-forty hours which passed sub- 
 sequently to this first night of solitude seemed 
 an age ; but little was our poor tender-hearted 
 Mary prepared for the intelligence she was 
 doomed to receive. There was a difficulty in 
 conveying it to her ; her state of health, and 
 the delicacy of her constitution at the time, 
 rendered any sudden shock dangerous in the 
 extreme. Her husband could not return so 
 soon as he proposed ; he was delayed. His 
 letter appeared to her dry and short ; he was 
 still delayed. On the third day a carriage 
 drove up to the door. Mary's heart was on 
 the wing, she ran to the hall, and received — 
 instead of Burton, the same little smug smart 
 
80 DANVERS. 
 
 man, with the brown wig and green spectacles, 
 who had brought the news of her uncle's death 
 to feandov/n. . 
 
 His appearance greatly disconcerted Mary, 
 who imagined immediately that Burton had 
 either cut his little finger with the carriage- 
 glass, and died of a lock-jaw, or that he had 
 sat in a draught of air, caught cold, and had 
 perished by the tooth-ache, or that some such 
 horrible catastrophe had happened, and her 
 fears were by no means diminished when her 
 communicant warned her to prepare herself for 
 a most extraordinary event. 
 
 How the attorney-at-lav/ managed the de- 
 fiouement I cannot say, not having been pre- 
 sent ; it will suffice to mention that in about 
 an hour's interview with him the gentle and 
 affectionate Mary had heard, with safety and 
 in good health, that her uncle (after bequeath- 
 ing 500/. per annum for life to his widow) had 
 left the whole of his fortune to her. 
 
 Imprimis — 350,000/. in the Funds. 
 
 Item — His West India property. 
 
 liem — Sixteen dwelling-houses, situate Nos. 
 18 to 35 in one street. 
 
 Iif em— Nineteen ditto, in another street. 
 
DANVERS. 81 
 
 Item — A parish or two in this county. 
 
 Item — Half a dozen manors in that county. 
 
 Item — Diamonds, and plate. 
 
 Item — Mortgages and leases. 
 
 /ife/7j— Bonds, bills, securities, 8cc.; and so 
 many more Items, that the little gentleman in 
 the brown bob and spectacles was forced to 
 refresh himself twice with wine and water in 
 the reading an abstract of the will, which, 
 without any regard to legal profit, had been 
 squeezed into thirty-two pag^s of copy paper, 
 as full as they could hold. 
 
 ** What does my husband feel about it ? 
 does it make him happy?" were the first 
 questions this mistress of millions asked. 
 
 '* He bears the reverse. Madam," said Mr. 
 Sixaneight, " like a man of sense. His ex- 
 clamation, upon being satisfied of the fact, 
 was — * I am delighted to think Mary will 
 now find by the event, that her uncle was not 
 really displeased with our conduct towards 
 him, while he was staying with us ; and I 
 thank God that her mind will be relieved from 
 that doubt !^" 
 
 And such were the dispositions of this ex- 
 e5 
 
82 DANVERS. 
 
 traordinary couple, that although Burton had 
 on a sudden become the richest commoner in 
 the country, and Mary was declared the first 
 heiress in the land, the greatest pleasure which 
 either of them felt at their accession to such 
 wealth and influence, was the anticipation of 
 the pleasure it would give to the other. 
 
 Burton remained at Bath till the last duties 
 which could be paid to the late Mr. Danvers 
 were fulfilled. AVould w^e were able, for the 
 honour of human nature, to add that his widow 
 shared in them! But no? immediately after 
 hearing the will, she left Bath with her father 
 and sister, having communicated, through 
 Mr. Sixaneight and Burton, the name of the 
 banker to whom her annuity was to be paid ; 
 but not, if report speaks truth, till she had 
 packed up every thing which could be con- 
 sidered hers, and secured the possession of 
 every valuable, to say the least of it, with 
 which the poor old gentleman had presented 
 her. Those who know that branch of the fa- 
 mily better than I do, go so far as to add that 
 she might, in the hurry of her arrangements, 
 have accidentally carried away rather more 
 
DANVERS. 83 
 
 than was strictly her own ; be that as it may. 
 Burton only waited till he returned home and 
 consulted his Mary, to write to the lady and 
 apprise her of his intention to increase her 
 annuity to two thousand pounds per annum, 
 as a mark of esteem on his part and that of 
 his wife for their deceased relation. 
 
 To this liberal offer he received the most 
 insulting answer, in a letter full of vulgar 
 and illiberal reproaches, the coarsest in- 
 vective, and, what made it more insolent, a 
 most willing acceptance of the income, the 
 principal allusion to which, however, was a re- 
 mark upon the extreme stinginess and want of 
 feeling of those, who had, as they thought, 
 most amply and religiously fulfilled a sacred 
 duty. 
 
 Immediately upon Burton's return home, 
 preparations were made for his visiting Lon- 
 don, where the necessary forms were to be 
 gone through in order that he might assume 
 the name of Danvers in addition to his own, 
 according to his uncle's will. Mrs. Burton 
 hourly expecting to be confined, wished him 
 to postpone his journey till the event took 
 
84 DANVERS. 
 
 place, which it is hardly necessary to add, 
 he did. 
 
 Four days had scarcely elapsed after his re- 
 turn, before he received innumerable letters 
 from persons with whom for years he had had 
 no intercourse, congratulating him upon his 
 wonderful good fortune; and in less than a 
 week he accumulated two maternal uncles, 
 one aunt, a half-mother-in-law, and upwards 
 of fourteen cousins in Scotland alone ; he was 
 elected a member of three learned socie- 
 ties, and received a communication from an 
 university which shall be nameless, to know 
 whether the honorary degree of D.C. L. would 
 be agreeable to him. 
 
 Various post-chaises, replete with fashion- 
 able upholsterers, milliners, dress-makers, 
 booksellers, and wine merchants, thronged the 
 sweep before Sandown cottage ; nine capital 
 estates were offered to him for sale, and 
 thirty-one persons, whose names he had never 
 heard, appealed to his well-known charitable 
 disposition to relieve their wants in various 
 degrees, from the loan of twenty pounds up 
 to the general discharge of the embarrassments 
 of a reverend gentleman with thirteen children. 
 
DANVERS. 85 
 
 His little, heretofore quiet, library was 
 crowded with country gentlemen and direc- 
 tors of charitable institutions ; those who had 
 sons in the army solicited him to get compa- 
 nies for their boys, others who had chosen 
 the navy, entreated him to get ships for their 
 lads ; nay, one man, and he no fool, high at 
 the Bar, going the summer circuit, requested 
 Burton's influence to lift him to the Bench. 
 
 All this, although worrying in the extreme 
 as to the physical part of the thing, had, it 
 must be confessed, a very strong effect upon 
 Burton's mind, and from rejecting the incense 
 and avoiding the solicitations of his would- 
 be creatures, which he at first cordially and 
 naturally did, he began to get in some degree 
 accustomed to the thing, and to feel that if 
 these aristocratic persons were so ready to 
 cede to him the possession of influence in the 
 world, which he knew at the moment he had 
 not, it was quite clear if he chose really to 
 attain to it, that it was on the cards for him 
 to do so. 
 
 It was during his Mary's illness that the 
 first seed of this new passion was sown; and 
 the news that she had again given him a 
 
86 DANVERS. 
 
 daughter was received with something more 
 like disappointment that it was not a boy, than 
 he was in the habit of feeling when he heard 
 coupled with similar pieces of intelligence, 
 that " She was as well as could be expected." 
 During the first week of her confinement, when 
 that soothing quiet, that witching calm, in 
 which they had before lived, was broken in 
 upon by the intrusion of half the county, 
 as we have already attempted to describe, 
 he formed the project of surprising his lady 
 by purchasing, without her knowledge, the 
 magnificent property of the Duke of Alver- 
 stoke, situate and lying contiguous to his own; 
 and whicli in the days of their tranquil happi- 
 ness she had often referred to, as a splendid 
 specimen of blended comfort and magnificence 
 in the first class of country residences, and 
 wanting, as she had often jestingly said, only 
 a little management and re-arrangement after 
 their own tastes to make it perfection. 
 
 The Duke, whose income did not exceed at 
 the utmost, ninety-seven thousand a-year, was so 
 much distressed as to be compelled to part with 
 the property ; and so extraordinarily changed 
 was his neighbour Mr. Burton, by his recent 
 
DANVERS. 87 
 
 acquisition of fortune, that his Grace took the 
 trouble to go down from London to Sandown 
 to offer him the preference as a purchaser, on 
 account of the very high personal esteem 
 which he had always entertained for him. 
 
 The moment of trial was at hand. Burton had 
 tlirough life felt the passion he had it now in 
 his power to gratify,— he could afford to buy 
 what the Duke of Alverstoke could not afford 
 to keep. Do my hero justice and believe, that 
 if he had not thought the purchase would have 
 made his Mary happy, he would not have 
 effected it; as it was, the preliminaries were 
 shortly settled, and before the restoration of 
 his lady to health and society, the sum of two 
 hundred and sixty thousand pounds had been 
 paid for Milford Park, and that magnificent 
 property legally transferred to Thomas Burton 
 Danvers, Esq. and his heirs, for ever. 
 
 Having concluded this purchase, and attained 
 to the possession of his long envied domain. 
 Burton's next proceeding, in order to make the 
 surprise, and consequently the pleasure as he 
 hoped, the greater to his dear Mary, was to get 
 her to London as speedily as possible, in order 
 that time might be given to effect those changes 
 
88 DANVEJIS. 
 
 in the arrangement of the mansion, which she, 
 in the unconscious expression of her wishes, 
 had at various times pointed out in her idea as 
 essential to its improvement. For this purpose, 
 no sooner had she recovered from the effects of 
 her confinement, than a magnificently furnished 
 house in Park-Lane was secured for her recep- 
 tion, and forthwith filled with a host of those 
 useless necessaries of life, valets, butlers, maitres 
 d'hotel, footmen, house-maids, lady's-maids, 
 laundry-maids, and kitchen-maids, housekeep- 
 ers, cooks, and coachmen ; and while every ar- 
 rangement was making within the establishment 
 for its mistress's comfort and accommodation, 
 Messrs. Tattersal contributed their quota of 
 horses, and Messrs. Leader and Hatchet busied 
 themselves in constructing new and elegant 
 carriages of every description for her amuse- 
 ment and gratification. 
 
 Burton's anxiety to get her to London was 
 extreme, and the moment he effected his pur- 
 pose, and the dear lady and her dear children 
 were fairly packed up, and on the road to the 
 metropolis, upwards of an hundred workmen 
 were turned loose into the mansion at Milford 
 Park, all of the very first class in their respec- 
 
DAN VERS. 89 
 
 tive departments, to whom, as was natural, the 
 order was given by their masters, who had pre- 
 viously received theirs from their employer, to 
 spare neither cost nor care in rendering the 
 change in the interior such as to make the 
 house the most perfect in all points, of any 
 house in the county. 
 
 The billiard-room and large ante-room on the 
 left of the hall were thrown into one and con- 
 verted into a music-room, a new billiard-room 
 was made out of the small blue drawing-room, 
 and the three large drawing-rooms were con- 
 nected by folding doors with one another, 
 and with the library, which opened into the 
 new and splendid conservatory. The stiff 
 and faded furniture which had scantily decked 
 all the apartments, gave way to ottomans, 
 couches, sofas, chaises-longues, cabrioles, and 
 every species of easy and comfortable seats. 
 The library, which was taken at a valuation, 
 was doubled in extent by the new purchaser, 
 and the arrangement under the immediate 
 superintendence of one of the leading book- 
 sellers in London, was perfectly novel. Magni- 
 ficent lustres and chandeliers adorned the new 
 gallery, which was added to the suite of apart- 
 
90 DAN VERS. 
 
 ments by throwing down the partitions of seven 
 smaller rooms; and the collection of pictures, 
 which his Grace also disposed of, was increas- 
 ed greatly by the acquisition of some three or 
 four dozen original Vandykes, Titians, E,u- 
 benses, Claudes, Domenichinos, Carlo Marat- 
 tis, Holbeins, Guercinos, Vandervelds, and 
 Dows, which a most excellent and active 
 gentleman, who had introduced himself to 
 Mr. Danvers during his short stay in town, 
 had been kind enough to select for him at 
 the sale of a celebrated collection, for less 
 than twenty-eight thousand pounds — a sum so 
 incalculably small, as Danvers was told by ano- 
 t?ier friend, that he made his obliging acquaint- 
 ance a present of a thousand guineas, as a 
 recompense for his zeal and activity, and 
 the great trouble he had expended in the 
 pursuit. 
 
 This gentleman's favours were not strictly 
 confined to his personal exertions, for he had 
 already done Danvers the favour of introduc- 
 ing to him his friend just named, and who, 
 for less than ten thousand pounds more, 
 stored the apartments at Milford Park with 
 the most beautiful morceaux of bijouterie, or- 
 molu candelabras, made expressly for Buona- 
 
DANVERS. 91 
 
 parte, ebony cabinets, splendidly inlaid with 
 gold and silver, with innumerable pieces of in- 
 valuable porcelain and China to cover the 
 tortoise-shell commodes ; silver chandeliers 
 from the Palazzo di Torcano ; antique statues 
 fresh from Florence; invaluable casts and 
 models from Rome, and a cargo of vases from 
 Herculaneum, which were of themselves worth 
 double the whole sum of money. 
 
 The services of plate lodged at the bankers, 
 were roused from the chests where for years 
 they had lain dormant, and while innumerable 
 workmen were busied in cleaning, beautifying, 
 and repairing them, the Heralds* College were 
 with corresponding activity employed in mak- 
 ing out a shield worthy of such splendid ware, 
 and a very great man in that department hav- 
 ing traced Tom Burton's ancestors back to 
 Tomburtonos, king of the Huns, satisfied 
 himself and his brethren in arms, of the pro- 
 priety of allowing him certain quarterings and 
 supporters ; but as things easily attained are 
 not always duly valued, it was necessary to 
 make a difficulty and delay about the latter or- 
 naments, which led upon a future occasion 
 to a pleasing equivoque between Mrs. Burton 
 Danvers and a pursuivant, who was dispatched 
 
92 DANVERS. 
 
 to consult her husband upon the point, and 
 who, seeing her, without any preparation to 
 make her understand the precise nature of his 
 business, set the poor unsophisticated lady 
 into all the horrors of a second Sandown me- 
 nagerie, by endeavouring to ascertain whether 
 her passion lay among rampant lions or griffins 
 guardant. 
 
 It being the latter end of June when the 
 family arrived in London, in order to assimi- 
 late themselves in due form with those who 
 had in the best possible manner conspired to 
 kill the ennui of a fashionable winter, a first- 
 tier opera-box was taken, and Mrs. Burton 
 Danvers's name painted, in white letters at least 
 six inches long, on its brown door. Mr. Burton, 
 at the suggestion of his picture-dealing friend, 
 put down his name as a subscriber of one 
 hundred guineas to the British Gallery; one 
 thousand guineas were paid as a contribution 
 to a projected canal in his own county ; he 
 was received as a Fellow of the Royal Society ; 
 and through a half- introduction of his old 
 patron, who rejoiced, and I believe sincerely, at 
 his extraordinary elevation, obtained the entree 
 to a most distinguished political circle, which 
 
DANVERS. _ 93 
 
 might, in fact, be considered as his primary 
 step into high life. 
 
 The first use Burton made of his increased 
 power was to solicit for his deputy the office 
 he himself had for several years enjoyed ; and 
 having carried his point with his patron, re- 
 sig;:ned the situation in favour of that orentle- 
 man ; if truth were to be told, I do verily be- 
 lieve, he felt more real pleasure in thus securing 
 the happiness of an estimable family, than he 
 did in receiving the same mark of favour when 
 it was equally necessary to his own comfort. 
 
 The Duchess of Alverstoke and Lady Eliza- 
 beth and Lady Jane were early in their call upon 
 the Danverses, and the morning visit was 
 followed up by an invitation to dinner, and 
 cards for evening parties, conversaziones, &.c. 
 Mrs. Burton received a note from her Grace, 
 requesting to know if it would be agreeable to 
 her to belong to Almack's, and the season 
 opened to the newly-arrived lady in all its 
 splendour and eclat. 
 
 The Duke's dinner was splendid in the 
 extreme; but the company, instead of beinf 
 confined to a family party, aided by a country 
 apothecary, as it was on the last visit of our 
 
94 DANVERS. 
 
 hero and heroine, consisted of two cabinet 
 ministers and their ladies, a leash of earls, a 
 countess and two daughters, one English 
 baron, two Irish ditto, a judge and daughter, 
 a full general; together with a small selec- 
 tion of younger scions of noble stock, in 
 and out of Parliament, and a couple of esta- 
 blished wits to entertain the company. 
 
 The poor, dear, mild, innocent Mary, felt 
 oppressed, as if she were all flattened down 
 upon her chair, and had no right to be in the 
 room, and when the Earl of Harrogate, who 
 sat next her at dinner, asked her by way of 
 starting a conversation, whether she preferred 
 Ronzi di Begnis to Camporese, her apprehen- 
 sion grew into perfect alarm, for never having 
 heard of either of the personages or things, 
 whichever they might be, which his Lordship 
 named, it appeared to her somewhat difficult 
 to decide. This, if she had been used to 
 good society, would have been nothing. As 
 it was, her answer was less happy than 
 might be imagined ; for the question having 
 been put to her in the midst of a prevailing 
 discussion between the Duke and a flighty 
 Countess, upon the comparative merits of 
 
DANVERS. 95 
 
 Silleri and St. Peray, the unsophisticated 
 woman concluded that her neighbour wished 
 to ascertain her opinion of some other wines, 
 with the names of which she happened to be 
 unacquainted, and in order to do what she 
 thought right, she replied to his inquiry on 
 the comparative excellence of the two opera- 
 singers, by saying, " Whichever you choose, 
 my Lord ! " 
 
 His Lordship set Mrs. Danvers down either 
 for a wag, or one of the most complying per- 
 sons upon earth. However, he determined to 
 renew the attack, and ascertain more of the 
 character of his fair friend, and therefore, 
 turning again to her, inquired if she *' liked 
 the Opera?" 
 
 This question, which passed with her for 
 changing the subject, was a great relief. 
 She answered in the affirmative ; and it was 
 truth that she did like it, for its novelty, hav- 
 ing visited the King's Theatre but twice in 
 her hfe. 
 
 " So do I," said the Earl ; «* but I am 
 seldom able to make it out.'' 
 
 " Nor 1," said poor Mrs. Danvers ; " and it is 
 certainly a great drawback to one's pleasure." 
 
96 DAN VERS. 
 
 '' What, Ma*am, not going?" ^aitj the Earl, 
 still fancying his fair friend a wag. 
 
 " No, my Lord ; not understanding what 
 they say ; not being able to make it out J'' 
 
 *' Oh," said his Lordship with an affected 
 gravity, which shewed that he had made her out, 
 and which would have been instant death to 
 a person more skilled in the ways of the 
 world. 
 
 From this embarrassment she was agreeably 
 relieved by her left-hand neighbour, who be- 
 gan a dissertation upon the relative wit pf the 
 French and English, and contended with much 
 force and gaiety for the superiority of the 
 former. 
 
 " For instance," said his Lordship, ** I re- 
 member a French loyalist shewing me the 
 statue of Buonaparte resting on a triumphal 
 car, in the Place de Carousel : but hating the 
 man, he pointed to the figure, and said with 
 incomparable archness, * Voila Bonaparte ; le 
 Char-V attend !^ The same man, on my re- 
 marking the letter N used as a decoration for 
 the public buildings in Paris, said, 'Oui, Mon- 
 sieur; nous avons a present les N-mis partout !' 
 These," added the gay narrator, " I establish 
 
DANVERS. 97 
 
 in opposition to any English puns I ever heard; 
 and I appeal to my neighbour Mrs. Danvers 
 to decide between the jokes of my admirable 
 friends (the wits) at the bottom of the table, 
 and those which my French acquaintance sport- 
 ed to me spontaneously, and without effort or 
 consideration." 
 
 This was the climax of poor Mary's misery ; 
 for, in addition to the diflSdence she natu- 
 rally felt at her first entrance into real society, 
 she laboured under the disadvantage of not 
 knowing the French language, or, if knowing 
 any thing of it, assuredly not enough to de- 
 cide upon, or even entirely to comprehend, the 
 double meaning of the jests. 
 
 She coloured, and fidgeted, and thought 
 herself^ fainting. Burton, who sat opposite to 
 her, heard what was going on, and saw her 
 agitation, — he was quite as miserable as her- 
 self. Any attempt to extricate her would have 
 risked an exposure ; but, as good fortune would 
 have it, just as Mr. Trash was puzzling his 
 brains either to make an extempore joke or 
 exert his available memory by quoting one 
 from the well-known authority of Mr. Joseph 
 Miller, the Duchess, who had no taste for 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
98 DANVERS. 
 
 the buffoonery of her husband's retainers, 
 gave the welcome signal of retreat to the 
 drawing-room. 
 
 Mary's delight at this event was a little 
 qualified by a reflection silently made to her- 
 self, upon what she considered the excessive 
 rudeness and want of feeling of her Grace, in 
 starting up and leaving the room just as one 
 of her visitors was about to make himself par- 
 ticularly pleasant : not being aware that good 
 breeding very often means downright incivi- 
 lity, and that persons of a certain class are not 
 to be controlled by rules made for their infe- 
 riors. I have no doubt but that her Grace 
 had some good and cogent reason for her con- 
 duct on this occasion; first, because she was 
 a woman of talent, and secondly, because all 
 women are too sensible to do any act, however 
 trifling, without a motive. 
 
 In the drawing-room Mrs. Burton scarcely 
 fared better than at dinner : of course being a 
 man — one of the " profane," it is impossible to 
 venture a guess at the subject of the female 
 freemasonry carried on by this fashionable 
 group and their apprentice till coflfee was an- 
 nounced, but even in the discussion of the only 
 
DANVERS. 99 
 
 topics admitted, I believe, into such sanctua- 
 ries, namely, love, literature, and dress, the 
 poor novice felt herself dreadfully embarrass- 
 ed. Still, however, time wore on, and the 
 hope of being shortly joined by her husband 
 and shortly after getting away, buoyed her up, 
 till the Duchess having suddenly announced her 
 intention to introduce her at the Marchioness 
 of Hatfield's conversazione, by her ladyship's 
 express desire, mentioned that the carriage was 
 at the door, and that it was time to go. 
 
 Mary expressed a reluctance, arising in fact, 
 from not having consulted her husband, and 
 from an apprehension of his alarm, and per- 
 haps displeasure, at her quitting the house with- 
 out informing him ; and yet, during the even- 
 ing, she had heard the married ladies of the 
 party speak of their lords in such very indepen- 
 dent terms, and load with ridicule two persons, 
 the one a man who suffered himself to be 
 jerried by his wife, and the other a wife who 
 allowed herself to be controlled by her hus- 
 band, that feeling nervously anxious to see 
 Burton, and watching the door expecting and 
 hoping that he would enter, she had not 
 courage to avow the real cause of her unwill- 
 f2 
 
100 DANVERS. 
 
 ingness, and merely hesitated without giving a 
 particular reason. 
 
 " If it is your dress/' said the Duchess, 
 " my dear Mrs. Danvers, you need not fidget 
 yourself about it; Lady Hatfield won't care the 
 least in the world ; she is a most amiable per- 
 son, with the best possible heart, and you look so 
 nice and so neat, that if nobody shows you up, 
 you may pass for having just left your toilet."" 
 
 '* Yes, but then. Madam," said Mary, catch- 
 ing at any thing like an excuse to get off, " if 
 there is any chance of not being shown up, I 
 would rather not go till I have called in the 
 morning."" 
 
 *' Oh ! you quite misunderstand, — I forgot," 
 said the Duchess, "your unsophistication — no — 
 I meant that if you fancied your dress too plain, 
 it don't the least signify, because it is quite one 
 of her ofF-nights." 
 
 Mary'e vanity here received a blow which 
 startled her ; she had dressed, as she thought, 
 and her maid thought too, in the most splen- 
 did attire, in puffings and flouncings, and 
 trimmings and puckerings, meaning to be the 
 very perfection of fashion; her surprise was lit- 
 tle less than mortification when she found her 
 
DANVERS. 101 
 
 patroness apologizing for her dowdiness, and 
 treating her as a sort of speck upon a fine pic- 
 ture, or a patch which merely shows itself on 
 a lovely face to give a more brilliant effect to 
 surrounding beauties. Worried to death, and 
 smiling through her half-suppressed tears, the 
 poor victim suffered herself to be led by the 
 Duchess with the greatest kindness to her 
 Grace's carriage, which was in waiting. 
 
 As she passed through the hall, Mary could 
 not abstain from casting a wistful look towards 
 the door of the dinner-room in hopes of seeing 
 Danvers ; but all was vain, and in spite of her 
 inclination she found herself in a few minutes 
 on the stairs of Lady Hatfield's splendid man- 
 sion. Further than the staircase it did not ap- 
 pear likely they would get, and Mary accounted 
 to herself, in the crowd, for the before unintel- 
 ligible doubts of their being shown up. Her 
 astonishment, however, at the extraordinary 
 squeezings and the unceremonious pushings 
 in which she found herself involved was great; 
 but she was perfectly astounded when she be- 
 held the delicate creatures who were engaged 
 in the crowded warfare, and felt the intensity 
 of the heat, and heard the subdued murmur of 
 
102 DANVERS. 
 
 nothingnesses which filled the apartments, and 
 saw the listless look of the half-fainting women, 
 the distaste of the whole affair expressed by the 
 men, and the hideous glare of dowagers totter- 
 ing amid the throng, driven from their beds by 
 the daemon Dissipation, and led by her sister- 
 fury Vanity, to smear their wrinkled cheeks 
 with paint, bedeck their aged heads with jewels, 
 and rally all the fading energies of life to gasp 
 for a little hour the heated atmosphere of 
 fashion, habitually gaze on scenes in which 
 they are no longer sought or courted, and fan- 
 cying that enjoyment, hobble with regret from 
 the lighted gallery or the sparkling ball-room 
 back to their beds, to expiate in aches and 
 pains till the succeeding evening, the folly of 
 the second childishness which drives them, like 
 spectres, to haunt the spots which, when really 
 in the world, they had so happily frequented. 
 
 There is no object in all the study of huma- 
 nity more striking, more awfully instructive 
 than a faded Dowager of fashion ! Far be it 
 from me to class under this sweeping denomina- 
 tion the many excellent mothers, the admirable 
 women who so brightly adorn their sex and the 
 peerage of our country. The thing I mean is 
 
DANVERS. 103 
 
 one, who, weak in intellect but strong in vanity, 
 has had the misfortune to be born so beautiful 
 as to believe her mind a secondary object 
 hardly worth the cultivating, — whose peach- 
 bloom cheeks, whose coral lips, and flowing 
 hair, whose graceful form and sylph-like figure, 
 have caught the heart — if heart he have — of 
 some man, her equal in rank, in fortune, and 
 in intellect, — who, as the careless wife, sparkled 
 and dazzled, and who after a married life of 
 thirty years finds herself the widowed mother 
 of a race of girls, her very counterparts in mind 
 and person, in trickings and manoeuvrings 
 for whom, she has had just sufficient cunning 
 to succeed. 
 
 They in their turn marry, and she is left at 
 sixty to her own resources. Where are they ? 
 Her ideas of comfort centre not in home ; and 
 if they did, what home has she ? Her daugh- 
 ters are mixing in the world, which she should 
 make a resolution to leave. Society means 
 with her an assembly of hundreds ; her ac- 
 quaintances are numerous, her friends scant, 
 her view of religion is having a well-cur- 
 tained, well-cushioned, well-carpeted pew in a 
 fashionable chapel ; her notions of charity are 
 
104 DANVERS. 
 
 comprised in an annual donation or two to a 
 lying-in hospital, or a female penitentiary : 
 but without a crowd she dies; and thus, 
 to exist, she risks her life night after night 
 by the disreputable exposure of her aged per- 
 son, bedizened with the ornaments which 
 graced her figure in its youth, and after fe- 
 verishly enduring the loudly-whispered satire, 
 and the ill-concealed laughter of the next ge- 
 neration, who stand round about her, she sinks 
 into her crimson velvet coffin, without creating 
 a sensation, except perhaps in the breast of 
 her next heir, who, by her departure from this 
 world for one of which she has never thought, 
 is relieved from the painful necessity of paying 
 her Ladyship a jointure. 
 
 Of this wretched class Mary had a fa- 
 vourable opportunity of seeing a pretty sprin- 
 kling of specimens ; and her astonishment at 
 the sight was mingled with a suspicion 
 of the correctness of her own conduct. She, 
 for the first time, saw age without respect- 
 ing it, and felt a disposition to smile at 
 infirmities which reason and religion had, 
 till that moment, taught her to soothe and 
 commiserate. 
 
DANVERS. 105 
 
 The Duchess undertook to point out to her 
 new friend any remarkable persons, and as 
 the lady from the country became a little more 
 reconciled to the heat and crowd, and saw 
 near her the hero whose name and fame 
 have reached the farthest limits of the ne- 
 ther world, — ministers whose public conduct 
 she had heard so unceremoniously canvassed, 
 and whose political lives were open to the 
 remarks, the censure, or the praise of mil- 
 lions, at her elbow, good-natured, pleasant, 
 laughing men of the world, anxious even for 
 an introduction to herself, — when she beheld 
 persons branded by their political opponents 
 with every opprobrious epithet, and held up 
 as examples of vice, profligacy, and folly, 
 mingling in the common affairs of life, the 
 most affectionate and tender of husbands, the 
 kindest and most liberal of fathers, — when 
 she saw beauty she had read of, and felt herself 
 courted and caressed by persons whose powers 
 of attraction had formed the theme of her 
 mother's conversation, — herself domesticated 
 with those, who, by their rank and station, 
 were the most celebrated in the nation — a doubt 
 floated in her mind as to the reality of the 
 F 5 
 
106 BANVERS. 
 
 scene she enjoyed. She never thought of home; 
 her anxiety about Danvers was fled, her whole 
 mind was occupied with seeing and hearing, 
 and gazing and wondering. 
 
 As the company began to depart, an oppor- 
 tunity offered for an introduction to the Mar- 
 chioness, who avowed herself perfectly de- 
 lighted to make Mrs. Danvers's acquaintance ; 
 and at about half-past one the poor little wo- 
 man found herself re-seated in the Duchess's 
 carriage on her way home. The assembly in all 
 its splendour danced before her eyes, and the 
 conversation was made up of that kind of little 
 remarks which persons invariably make upon 
 such things as parties ; except that the Duchess, 
 who had represented the Marchioness to Mary 
 two hours before as a most excellent creature 
 with " such a heart," now launched out against 
 her in a strain of ridicule which quite startled 
 her companion, while Lady Jane took the 
 extraordinary liberty, as Mary thought it, of 
 commenting with equal freedom upon her 
 Ladyship's daughters, and descanted upon the 
 flirtation of one of them with a ci-devant 
 beau of her own, in a strain so matured and 
 worldly, that our poor country body rejoiced 
 
DANVERS. 107 
 
 in the darkness of the carriage, which prevented 
 the expression of her feelings from being seen 
 in her countenance. 
 
 Arrived at home, Mary ran up-stairs to the 
 drawing-room. "Where is Mr. Danvers?" was 
 the first question. " He is not returned. Ma- 
 dam," was the answer. Mary was alarmed, 
 and distressed ; the carriage had returned 
 about twelve, it was then two. The poor 
 little woman was hardly fashionable enough 
 to conceal her feelings, but all active mea- 
 sures were vain in the wide world of London ; 
 she would uselessly try to guess where her 
 loved husband was, and she endeavoured 
 to dissipate her apprehensions by visiting her 
 children. 
 
 They slept, and looked so happy in their 
 sleep, that Mary was startled lest the thunder- 
 ing peal at the hall-door, which announced 
 Danvers's return, should " fright them from 
 their slumbers." When he met her, his coun- 
 tenance bore no mark of sorrow or of anger; 
 on the contrary, he appeared elated and pleased, 
 and showed himself still more pleased and 
 elated when his darling Mary gave him a de- 
 tailed account of the party and her reception. 
 
108 DANVERS. 
 
 " To-morrow, my love," said Danvers, "your 
 jewels will be home, and the service of gold 
 plate. Next week you shall be presented, it 
 is the last drawing-room for the season; and 
 immediately after, we will have the Alver- 
 stokes here at dinner — he hasn't such a service 
 of plate in his possession !" 
 
 '* Oh ! and I must tell you," said Mary ; 
 
 ** Lord , one of the ministers, the most 
 
 agreeable creature in the world, was so ex- 
 tremely civil, and Lord introduced me 
 
 to his Countess, and Mr. , so mild, so 
 
 kind, and so gentle, and so unlike what the 
 newspapers say he is." 
 
 " Hang the newspapers ! " said Danvers. 
 " I am quite delighted to find that the great 
 world pleases you as it pleases me. Do as 
 r.do; take your own impressions, see with 
 your own eyes, and hear with your own ears." 
 
 " One must be guided a little by the public 
 press," said Mrs. Danvers. 
 
 *' Not a jot, not a moment, my girl," said 
 her husband : " the public press is an admi- 
 rable help to those who will not take the trou- 
 ble to think for themselves. Your poor uncle, 
 :f,he were alive, would, in his Indian phraseo- 
 
DANVEUS. 109 
 
 logy, call a London newspaper a Thinkabadar ; 
 it saves one all the pain of making up opinions, 
 or deciding personally, and so far, it is ex- 
 cessively convenient in a large city, where 
 one has ten thousand other things to do ; but 
 if loe did think at all, and I hope, my dearest 
 love, that you and I do — what right, what 
 daim has a worthy gentleman, shut up in 
 his garret, to prescribe, by the melancholy 
 gleamings of his rushlight, rules for our ob- 
 servance, directions for the guidance of our 
 taste, and hints towards forming our judgment 
 upon facts and objects as visible and open to 
 us as to him. His obscurity alone gives him 
 importance, as vessels at sea seem larger in a 
 fog; and the combination of that mysterious 
 monosyllable we, by which he dispenses his 
 ordinances in the plural number, with the noto- 
 rious apathy of the world at large, confers 
 upon the hidden individual in his editorial 
 capacity a consequence and an influence, 
 which, if he were known, neither he nor his 
 fellows could possibly obtain, and affords him 
 the power and opportunity of dictating to his 
 superiors in intellect, and of regulating society, 
 into which he would not personally be suiFered 
 
110 DANVERS. 
 
 to intrude. But you, my Mary, have sufficient 
 good sense and right feehng to guide your ac- 
 tions without reference to prevailing fashions 
 or popular cries. Decide for yourself, and I 
 will back you for correctness of judgment 
 against the wisest and wittiest of them all." 
 
 Danvers was in an exceedingly good humour, 
 and having himself been mightily pleased with 
 the compliments which had been paid to his 
 talents after dinner at his Grace's, felt a sort 
 of complacent disposition to dispense compli- 
 ments in his turn, for, if his wife had been 
 flattered at the Marchioness's by the civilities 
 and attentions of one half of the cabinet, the 
 other half had been sedulously employed in 
 winning the affections of her happy husband 
 at the Duke's. 
 
 It was amusing to me, speculating as I do 
 upon the manners and ways of this world, to 
 mark the various little by-paths which these 
 noble and learned men took to assail the 
 vanity, and secure the esteem, of this once 
 neglected genius. 
 
 Danvers, when simply Thomas Burton, Esq. 
 Member of the Honourable Society of the 
 Inner Temple, had written, of course " merely 
 
DANVERS. Ill 
 
 for his amusement, and published at the earnest 
 desire of his partial friends, extremely against 
 his own inclination," a collection of ** Poetical 
 Trifles,'^—'' A Sonnet to Half a Rose-leaf," 
 " Lines to Maria's Canary-bird," " Albert and 
 Adeline," " Elegy on the Loss of a dear Cou- 
 sin," *' Ode on Shooter's Hill," " The Parson 
 and the Lawyer," a comic tale, sundry Epi- 
 grams ; a Song adapted to a Babylonish me- 
 lody, and introduced by Miss Stephens into 
 Guy Mannering, " The Death-bed of Peter 
 the Great," " Lines to Liberty," and an ** Ode 
 to the Spring;" which were printed, at his own 
 proper charge, on wove paper, displaying in 
 the title-page a wood-cut vignette of a shep- 
 herd-boy playing a pipe under a tree, with the 
 hinder parts of two fat sheep in a corner, by 
 way of back-ground ; over whose heads, or at 
 least over the place where, by its relative po- 
 sition to their tails, their heads ought to have 
 been, stood a little pert parish-church spire 
 like an extinguisher in the distance, and for 
 motto, 
 
 Tenet insanabile multos 
 
 Scribendi cacoethes. Juv. 
 
112 BANVfillS. 
 
 Of these ** poetical trifles," as may easily 
 be imagined, nobody heard at the time, ex- 
 cept indeed an obscure reviewer, who, anxious 
 at once to make a fame for himself, and break 
 a butterfly on the wheel, ripped them up in 
 his unread *' periodical," and the whole sale of 
 the work amounted to perhaps fifty. 
 
 Danvers was particularly sore about the neg- 
 lect of his poetical genius — the nipping in the 
 bud which he had experienced — and always felt 
 that he was capable of great things in the lite- 
 rary world; this, (whether he had betrayed him- 
 self, or whether some of his friends had betrayed 
 him, I know not) one of the " very great*' 
 men certainly knew, and the masterly manner 
 in which his Lordship, after an elaborate dis- 
 cussion upon the beauties of Scott, Byron, 
 and Campbell, dropped down gently and 
 unsuspectedly upon the " Poetical Trifles" of 
 Mr. Thomas Burton, far excelled any thing I 
 ever beheld in the art of making the amia- 
 ble. Nothing, in short, could exceed the 
 skill of the angler, except the avidity of the 
 victim, — his Lordship had committed to me- 
 mory two or three lines of one of the effusions, 
 and when he repeated them with a sort of 
 
DANVERS. 113 
 
 sing-song twang, expressive of a rapturous 
 approbation, the victory was complete, and, 
 long before the party broke up, Danvers had 
 consented to oppose the Whig candidate in his 
 own county, at the then rapidly approaching 
 election. 
 
 This secret, hke all his others, he confided 
 to Mary ; not so communicative had been the 
 Duchess, about the purchase of Milford Park, 
 of which event Mrs. Danvers was still pro- 
 foundly ignorant. How the Duchess could 
 have maintained this extraordinary silence 
 upon a subject so important both to her Grace 
 and her constant companion, may indeed 
 puzzle such of my readers as are married, but 
 their astonishment will perhaps cease, when 
 they know that the Duke of Alverstoke, find- 
 ing secrecy so great an object with Danvers 
 as to form almost one of the conditions of pur- 
 chase, resolved most effectually to prevent his 
 Duchess from revealing the fact, by not con- 
 fiding it to her Grace's custody. 
 
 Milford Park never was a favourite resi- 
 dence with her Grace, whose taste and pro- 
 pensities led her to prefer another place of her 
 Duke's nearer London during some part of 
 
114 * DANVERS. 
 
 the year, and the lead at a fashionable and re- 
 cherche watering-place at another, so that he 
 was quite certain the loss of Milford Park 
 would not be to her an object of such import- 
 ance, as the observance of the secret was to 
 Danvers, whose whole heart was fixed upon 
 surprising his Mary with his magnificent pur- 
 chase, on their return to the country. 
 
 Immense as Danvers's wealth was, and enor- 
 mous as his income appeared to be, he felt 
 greatly annoyed during the week subsequent 
 to that in which he pledged himself to stand 
 for the county, to find that, with regard to 
 ready-money, he was a good deal straitened. 
 His wife's uncle had left nearly three hundred 
 and fifty thousand pounds 3 per cents, it was 
 true, but two hundred and sixty thousand had 
 been sunk in the purchase of Milford Park ; 
 upwards of twenty-five thousand had already 
 been expended in pictures and furniture ; and 
 more than twelve thousand pounds was the 
 estimated expense of the alterations ; while 
 the London house, which he had purchased, 
 and upon which innumerable workmen were 
 employed, was still unpaid for. 
 
 In the middle of this week arrived, under the 
 special charge of a partner, Mrs. Danvers's 
 
DANVERS. 115 
 
 jewels. That they should be more splendid than 
 the Duchess of Alverstoke's had been Danvers's 
 direction to the jeweller — more expensive they 
 would be, of course. The gold plate, too, ar- 
 rived ; never was any thing more superb. The 
 crests executed in the most admirable manner, 
 the shields embossed, the quarterings so beau- 
 tifully distinct, the plateau so massive, the tu- 
 reens inimitable. The magnificent centre-orna- 
 ment excited shrieks of approbation, especially 
 from the children of the family. The graces 
 grouped bore on their heads a dozen branches 
 of candlesticks, most beautifully, classically, 
 and judiciously arranged. There were the ca- 
 duceus of Mercury on one side, and the arms 
 of Danvers on the other, while nearer the base 
 were emblematical figures of Europe, Asia, 
 Africa, and America, pouring libations out of 
 cornucupias, adorned with the family arms, into 
 a receptacle maintained by rampant lions and 
 griflSns guardant, the family supporters, inter- 
 spersed with palm-trees, cannons and balls, 
 anchors and shields, flags and banners, eagles 
 and trumpets, and all sorts of things which 
 could be collected into a given space by the 
 ingenuity of the artist, or the gold of the 
 purchaser. 
 
116 DANVE£S. 
 
 To show the plate, parties must forthwith be 
 made ; to show the jewels, Mary must go to 
 court. The Duchess, who, when she saw the 
 diamonds, wished her at old Nick, presented 
 her; and Mary returned from the fluttering 
 ceremony enraptured with the reception she 
 had met, and delighted with that noble grace 
 and winning warmth of manner for which the 
 illustrious object of her dutiful admiration has 
 ever been celebrated all over the world. 
 
 The knockings, the rattlings, the ringings, 
 the drivings, the thunderings which occupied 
 the five or six consecutive mornings after Mrs. 
 Danvers had " played out her diamonds" at 
 Pimlico, were unparalleled in Park Lane ; packs 
 of cards, bearing names, any one of which 
 would have set Sandown Cottage in an uproar, 
 were piled upon the tables in the hall ; other 
 packs were issued to an incalculable extent. 
 Danvers's dinners made Ude himself jealous, 
 and Mrs. Danvers's parties filled the fashion- 
 able world with consternation. The dinners 
 Mrs. Danvers voted a bore; for when the po- 
 litical tufts — political connexion was Danvers's 
 aim -T- came to dine, and occasionally per- 
 sons of higher rank than they, the poor little 
 
DANVERS. 117 
 
 unsophisticated woman felt it necessary to 
 2)ut on certain airs, which she saw her present 
 equals, as she thought them, plaj/ off; and 
 having a turn for imitation, she caught their 
 manner (and assumed it as her own) of coldly 
 bowing and receiving visitors distantly like a 
 little queen, seeming as if she thought her- 
 self the honouring party, while her high-born 
 guests looked at her, and her surrounding gold 
 and silver, and her sparkling jewels, and her 
 bedizened lacqueys, merely as so many proofs 
 of successful trade, not always unattended by 
 a sigh of regret that such excellent things 
 should be so grievously thrown away upon 
 persons who did not know how to use them. 
 
 This sounds strange, but it is true, and I 
 and every other man who mixes in society per- 
 ceive it, that wealth, inordinate and immense 
 as it may be, cannot give the tact, the manner 
 of doing things. In the midst of the golden 
 dishes and golden vases, there is always some 
 mistake at such dinners, some little blunder 
 which neither the master nor mistress of the 
 house can hope to rectify on any future occa- 
 sion, not being conscious of any thing wrong : 
 for instance, the butlers stand looking at each 
 
118 DANVERS. 
 
 Other, in attitudes with dishes in their hands, 
 waiting for signals, and hesitating where to put 
 them down; then there is always a dreadful 
 uncertainty about the wine ; Lunel is detected 
 in a long-necked bottle up to his chin in an 
 ice-pail, presuming to do duty for St. Peray, ab- 
 sent without leave; the Claret is frozen hard, the 
 Hock left luke-w^arm, and common red port put 
 down upon the table as if people were to drink 
 it ; the fish is generally doubtful ; the entrees 
 cold, and the soufflets flat and heavy ; while the 
 want of regularity in the dinner pervades even 
 the guests, and one has perhaps to sit oppo- 
 site to two or three odd-looking persons, (con- 
 nexions of the family who must be asked,) with 
 coarse neckcloths, and great red hands, with 
 gold rings upon the fingers, people who go 
 the horrid lengths of eating with their knives 
 and calling for porter. In short, there is always 
 some drawback, some terrible qualifier in the 
 afiair, which it would be difficult distinctly to 
 define, but which invariably give the air hour- 
 geoise to all the attempts of upstart wealth to 
 imitate the tone and manner of the aristocracy 
 of our country. 
 
 The evenings at Danvers's were better done; 
 less nicety was required, and so that the 
 
DANVERS. 119 
 
 crowd was kept up, and the staircases nearly 
 broken down, people cared little about it. 
 The desire of showing off the gold and silver 
 induced banquets, and, to say truth, the mul- 
 titude were dazzled and delighted, and Mrs. 
 Danvers had the satisfaction to see the lists 
 of her visitors proclaimed in the Morning Post, 
 furnished to that journal by her own house- 
 steward, and paid for with her own money ; and, 
 moreover, the gratification of going to bed 
 about four o'clock in the morning six nights 
 in every week, and of labouring with the head- 
 ache seven days during the same period. 
 
 The time approached when Danvers was 
 to appear in the character of candidate for the 
 county, and, as the hour drew near, his heart 
 beat high for the contest. It was at this 
 eventful juncture that his Mary was to be in- 
 stalled in the sovereignty of Milford Park and 
 its domains. It was to this (once) seat of all 
 the Alverstokes that Burton Danvers was to be 
 drawn in triumph from the hustings. Certain 
 victory was his own ; for, though a contest 
 might by a remote probability take place, 
 defeat with his influence, they told him, was 
 impossible. 
 
 As a staggerer to the opposition party. 
 
120 DANVERS. 
 
 Danvers was advised to pay a large sum into 
 one of the country-banks established in the 
 town where the election was to take place ; 
 because, although in all probability no money 
 would actually be wanted, still, if there did 
 exist a disposition to oppose him, the know- 
 ledge of the amount of the fund applicable to 
 the struggle might deter a less wealthy faction 
 from maintaining the campaign. 
 
 Danvers saw the justice and policy of this 
 measure, but, at the same time, had not the 
 materiel at hand. The only resource he knew 
 of was to borrow from his dear Mary the thirty 
 thousand pounds which she had brought him, 
 but which he, in all the ardour of affection, had 
 settled upon her. Her consent to the loan, one 
 can easily imagine, was not long *' a- gaining ;" 
 but Danvers had considerable difficulty with 
 two testy trustees, who vegetated in courts in 
 the City, in the midst of papers and parch- 
 ments, and who would calculate you to a frac- 
 tion, the interest, at three and one-seventeenth 
 per cent., of one farthing sterling for half a 
 minute and five seconds. 
 
 These worthy persons appeared to Danvers to 
 be either particularly deaf or uncommonly dull 
 
DAN VERS. 121 
 
 of apprehension, when he applied to tliem in his 
 emergency. They, on the other hand, thought 
 him mad; and though the trust-deed gave 
 them full power (indeed it was almost specified 
 that it should be so) to release Danvers, upon 
 any suitable occasion, from the restraint he 
 had so honourably imposed upon himself with 
 regard to Mary's money, they were not so 
 actively alive to the merits of representing 
 a county or contesting an election, as our en- 
 thusiastic hero ; and his spirits and health were 
 absolutely jaded and injured by his frequent 
 visits to Throormorton andThreadneedle streets, 
 and by the implacable obstinacy of the two cur- 
 mudgeons, whom he had raised into the power 
 which they now exerted against himself. 
 
 After innumerable discussions, it was, how- 
 ever, agreed that he should assign over to them 
 the whole of his London property, consisting 
 of sundry streets, lanes, rows, and alleys, situate 
 and lying in certain parts and parishes of the 
 metropolis, in consideration of which they 
 would take upon themselves to advance out 
 of the trust-money, with the consent of the 
 party, twenty-five thousand pounds. 
 
 Having made this arrangement, his heart 
 
 VOL. I. G 
 
122 DAN VERS. 
 
 was at ease, and as the season drew to a close, 
 and the Houses were up, all his objects seem- 
 ed fast concentring. As was expected, just 
 previous to the Prorogation, the old Member 
 
 for took the Chiltern Hundreds, and 
 
 retired from public life. The new writ was 
 moved for, and the signal for preparation 
 thrown out. Mrs. Danvers gave her last f^te, 
 and the next week saw them on their road to 
 the West. 
 
 They travelled en prince — three carriages 
 en suite. The happy couple in their barouche, 
 with the two eldest girls, so pale and so al- 
 tered from the effects of smoke and the pure air 
 of Park-lane, that they looked like the ghosts 
 of their former selves. In the second carriage, 
 more children and two governesses ; in the 
 third, servants of sorts. Three caravans had 
 started the day before, with other servants 
 and actual necessaries of life, and it did not 
 puzzle Mary a little, when she began for the 
 first time during the last three months, to cal- 
 culate how and where the retinue which ac- 
 companied them were to be accommodated at 
 Sandown. Danvers assured her that every 
 thing was arranged, and she, justly confiding 
 
DANVERS. 123 
 
 in him, who never had deceived her, was per- 
 fectly satisfied that all would be well. Besides, 
 her present situation — for she was again in the 
 family way — precluded more exertion than the 
 mere carrying on of a fashionable life actually 
 required. 
 
 The second day of their journey was fine, 
 and the country looked beautifully as the 
 carriage reached the hill which commanded 
 the magnificent park and house of Milford. 
 Danvers's heart beat and throbbed ; Mary 
 stretched her eye to look for quiet, humble, 
 little Sandown. It was concealed by the trees 
 on the road-side, but Milford stood pre-emi- 
 nent. There appeared groups of people in the 
 front of the house, flags were flying on San- 
 down tower and on Milford steeple, the sound 
 of bells was wafted on the breeze, and, as the 
 carriage descended the hill, a gay and motley 
 group, carrying flags and ribands, headed by 
 the village band, were seen approaching. A vast 
 number of the farmers, the clergymen of the three 
 contiguous parishes, all the workmen who had 
 been employed, and several of the neighbouring 
 country gentlemen, had joined, some on foot 
 and some on horseback, in the merry crowd. 
 g2 
 
124 DANVERS. 
 
 As the carriage drew near, shouts rent the 
 air and when the parties met, several men 
 advanced and unharnessed the horses from 
 the barouche, and with that truly independent 
 spirit so peculiar to the British character, 
 harnessed themselves to the vehicle with ropes, 
 and proceeded to draw it and its contents to- 
 wards the park gates. ,,^ff^ 
 
 The country gentlemen drew near the 
 vehicle, and thrusting their hands into the 
 windows, were received with hearty recogni- 
 tions by the aspirant candidate for their suf- 
 fraoes. Danvers felt completely happy, Mary 
 seemed bewildered, and as they passed the 
 lane leading to Sandown Cottage, she pulled 
 her dear husband by the coat, and apprised 
 him that the people were going the wrong 
 
 road. 
 
 ^' Never mind, my life," said Danvers, - all 
 
 will be right at last." 
 
 The arched entrance to the park was hung 
 with garlands of flowers, and as they entered 
 the domain, Danvers ordered the head of the 
 barouche to be thrown open, and presenting 
 himself and his wife to his new tenants, and 
 
DANVERS. 125 
 
 perhaps constituents, he was received with 
 cheers re-echoed to the sky. 
 
 As the procession moved towards the great 
 entrance of Milford Hall, Mary again ventured 
 to remonstrate against going any where but 
 home, pleading fatigue, dishabille, and ten 
 thousand other things, to which, as she 
 thought unkindly, her husband appeared to 
 pay no attention ; but as the carriage drew up 
 to the steps under the portico, and she beheld 
 over the magnificent entrance the arms of 
 Burton Danvers usurping the place of those 
 of all the Alverstokes, her head grew giddy — 
 and turning to her husband she pointed to the 
 shield, and looked in his face for an expla- 
 nation of the mystery. 
 
 The tear started in his eye — he pressed 
 her hand, and stammered out, " It's all yours, 
 my life — it's all your own ;" — his feelings were 
 too much for him. — Her's ! the humble unas- 
 suming Mary Gatcombe mistress of Milford 
 Park ! and these her retainers, her tenants, 
 her almost vassals — she, as all women are, was 
 more collected under such striking circum- 
 stances than her husband, and when the steps 
 were lowered and the arms of the leading; men 
 
126 DANVERS. 
 
 were proffered for her support, she stepped from 
 her carriage after the manner of a duchess, and 
 continued bowing gracefully to the people. 
 
 In the hall and on the steps were assembled 
 all the nobility and gentry in that part of the 
 county who were interested in Danvers's elec- 
 tion. A magnificent dinner was prepared, 
 and the evening closed with a splendid ball 
 for the ladies and the tenantry. The gallery, 
 illuminated in the most elegant manner, was 
 appropriated to dancing, and the whole build- 
 ing wore the aspect of some fairy palace. At 
 one, the banqueting-rooms were thrown open, 
 and there, as if transported thither by magic, 
 the splendid service of plate appeared bending 
 the lengthened tables ; beyond, in a temporary 
 building made to communicate by large fold- 
 ing doors with these apartments, upwards of 
 three hundred of the tenantry and neighbour- 
 ing villagers, not voters, were seen regaling 
 themselves with more homely but more sub- 
 stantial fare. ** Health and prosperity to the 
 house of Danvers," was proposed by the senior 
 nobleman present, shouts again rent the build- 
 ing, and a band struck up the pleasing and 
 appropriate air of " Monet/ in both Pockets.** 
 
DANVERS. 127 
 
 Mary supported her new character with ad- 
 mirable dignity, and Danvers's eyes were con- 
 stantly wandering towards her's to catch their 
 expression as every new contrivance of luxury 
 or amusement developed itself ; and it was not 
 till ** Sol/' to use the figurative yet beautiful 
 imagery of the Morning Post, had given a 
 great many warnings to the visitors to depart, 
 that the numerous company, great and small, 
 high and low, betook themselves to their re- 
 spective homes. 
 
 The early part of the succeeding day was 
 spent by Mary in examining all the improve- 
 ments of Milford Hall, in contemplating the 
 pictures, the pieces of virtti, the splendid or- 
 naments and tasteful decorations of her mag- 
 nificent residence, and at noon the deputation 
 arrived which was to accompany the Tory can- 
 didate to the neighbouring Town Hall — the 
 barouche decorated with sky-blue ribands, 
 and drawn by six beautiful bright-bay horses, 
 who appeared conscious of the man-millinery 
 with which they as well as the carriage were 
 adorned, stood at the door, and the master of 
 the mansion, accompanied by his proposer and 
 seconder, left the park attended by the village 
 
128 DANVERS. 
 
 band, and a considerable posse of peasantry 
 carrying sky-blue banners, some inscribed with 
 the name of Danvers, and others bearing little 
 apothegms and political cant-sayings appli- 
 cable to the occasion, such as, " Church and 
 State l"~" King and Constitution !"—*' Dan- 
 vers for Ever !" — " No Popery !" — " Live and 
 let Live!" &c. &c. 
 
 The procession was followed at a short 
 distance by Mrs. Danvers, and five of her 
 little daughters, in her open carriage. Mrs. 
 Danvers, dressed in a sky-blue pelisse, with 
 a sky-blue bonnet and sky-blue feathers, and 
 sky-blue gloves, bowed ever and anon to the 
 People ; and the five little children, all dressed 
 in little sky-blue spencers, with sky-blue bon- 
 nets and sky-blue gloves, followed the example 
 of their mamma, and kept bowing like so 
 many Chinese Mandarins on a chimney-piece, 
 unconscious of the object for which they were 
 thus exhibiting themselves. I remember, as 
 the carriage passed the part of the proces- 
 sion in which I happened to be, — and I saw 
 their inclinations (I mean of their poor lit- 
 tle heads), and heard the village band play 
 " They are a' noddin, nid nid nodding," — I 
 
DANVERS. 129 
 
 couldn't help smiling, to say the least of it, at 
 such super-eminent mummery. 
 
 Excepting one venerable member of a certain 
 national assembly, who is always had by the 
 last speaker, I suppose no man goes to that 
 which was once a chapel, with a mind unmade 
 up. If he do, and be op^ to the effect of 
 oratory, he will soon be held of no more value 
 than the very respectable gentleman to whom 
 I have just ventured to allude; and therefore 
 it has always struck me, that, except for the 
 amusement or edification of strangers, all the 
 long and elaborate speeches from either side 
 are so many wasteful expenditures of time and 
 lungs. 1 am quite sure that one alteration in 
 the proceedings of that assembly would be 
 hailed by many men as " exceeding salutary:" 
 I mean a standing order that the House should 
 divide first, and debate afterwards. This would 
 settle the matter more expeditiously, leave 
 those only who prefer speaking and hearing 
 to eating or sleeping, and undoubtedly the 
 national affairs would be as well conducted, 
 and thrive as well, as at present ; and for this 
 plain reason — that if Opposition oratory 
 G 5 
 
130 DANVERS. 
 
 really had an effect, public business could not 
 go on at all ! 
 
 As human nature has implanted similar pas- 
 sions and feelings in all men, whether electors 
 or representatives, it appeared to me that 
 the expensive pageantry of the Danvers pro- 
 cession was money wasted. The mob — the 
 ploughmen and tl>e waggoners — might be 
 pleased with the silken flags and the golden 
 maxims, and the rosy-cheeked damsels and the 
 withered grandams would bless the pretty eyes 
 and the dear hearts of the sweet children who 
 were paraded in the barouche ; but, alas ! those 
 dear and endearing creatures, the ladies, with 
 the best inclinations towards the support of 
 honour and virtue, have unfortunately no votes ; 
 neither have the ploughmen nor the carters; 
 and therefore, as I concluded that very few 
 of the electors, in point of fact, were likely to 
 mount the hustings till a certain time after they 
 had determined which candidate was to have 
 their votes, it struck me that the gewgaws and 
 ribands flying in the air were relatively to the 
 electors what the tropes, figures, and metaphors 
 of their representatives were, when tried upon 
 
DAiWERS. 131 
 
 a different assemblage of persons, in a differ- 
 ent place. 
 
 Danvers was proposed, and as was ex- 
 pected, an Opposition Candidate started in the 
 person of Sir Oliver Freeman, whose barouche 
 was left far behind himself, and who was lite- 
 rally carried into the Town-Hall upon the 
 shoulders of the#^'EO^rt«|^- ,V *8tf' ^^'^ 
 
 Si^@flV|ffwas a patriot; and after Mr. Dan- 
 vers had been nominatS^and seconded..at>i Hg t 
 the most violent hootings and hissings, the 
 worthy Baronet's name was received with 
 cheers, only equalled by those which had fol- 
 lowed Danvers's health the night before, under 
 his own roof. 
 
 Sir Oliver Freeman was, as I have just said, 
 a patriot — an emancipator of Roman Catholics, 
 and a Slave-Trade Abolitionist. He had disin- 
 herited his eldest son for marrying a Papist, 
 and separated from his wife on account of the 
 overbearing violence of his temper. 
 
 He deprecated the return to Cash-payments, 
 and, while gold was scarce, refused to receive 
 any thing but guineas in payment of his rents. 
 He advocated the cause of the Christian 
 
132 DANVERS. 
 
 Greeks, and subscribed to Hone ; he wept 
 at agricultural distress, and never lowered his 
 rents. He cried for the repeal of the Six Acts, 
 and prosecuted poachers with the utmost ri- 
 gour of the law ; he was a saint, and had car- 
 ried an address to Brandenburgh. He heard 
 family pray ors twi^e every day, and Wd a 
 ,,^Mi|f||l|jM^pi|dia^^ his 
 
 neighbour; which ^d^|^ii£(0i^i^f^|d9P'^^^ 
 r^||i»*^anJ«rtjliS*w^^ ^^^^^^^y no 
 means doubtful of her origin. - 
 
 He moreover spent much of his time in 
 endeavouring to improve the condition of poor 
 prisoners, and introduced the Tread-mill into 
 the County Gaol ; he subscribed for the Irish 
 rebels, and convicted poor women at Quarter- 
 Sessions of the horrible crime of mendicity ; 
 was President of a Branch Bible Society, and 
 seduced his wife's housemaids ; was a staunch 
 advocate for Parliamentary Reform, and sat 
 ten years for a rotten borough ; made speeches 
 against tithes, being one of the greatest 
 lay-impropriators in the kingdom ; talked of 
 the glorious sovereignty of the people, and 
 never missed a levee or a drawing-room in 
 his life. 
 
DANVERS. 133 
 
 Thus qualified, Sir Oliver Freeman stood 
 forward a Son of Freedom, who on this 
 special occasion had declared he would spend 
 fifty thousand pounds to maintain the indepen- 
 dence of his native county. ^ 
 
 To what specific purpose so large a sum 
 was to be applied, it does not become me, 
 having a due fear of Speaker's warrants 
 before my eyes, to suggest. Danvers at all 
 events had five-and-twenty thousand already 
 in the field, and the war commenced with the 
 greatest activity. 
 
 At the close of the first day's poll, the num- 
 bers stood 
 
 Burton Danvers, Esq. . . 238 
 Sir Oliver Freeman . . 196 
 
 Mr. Danvers attempted to return his thanks 
 to the people, but the partisans of Sir Oliver 
 would hear nothing he had to say; hootings 
 and hissinos assailed him when he shewed him- 
 self, and having worked himself semaphorically 
 for half an hour, our hero gave up all hope 
 of making himself understood, and gave place 
 to Sir Oliver, who repeated those often-uttered 
 phrases and points, which every real man of 
 
134 DANVERS. 
 
 the people has by rote, and was received with 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 And thus, with little variation, did the con- 
 test continue through the whole period allowed 
 by statute. At the end of the twelfth day all 
 Danvers's ready money was gone ; how, his 
 agents, I suppose, cared little ; still there were 
 upwards of a thousand freeholders unpolled. 
 Six hundred were resident in London and dis- 
 tant parts. Chaises, carriages, horses, wag- 
 gons, every thing moveable, was put in requi- 
 sition — the struggle was made — posters killed 
 with fatigue, their drivers damaged, and their 
 vehicles broken, and at the close of the poll 
 on the fifteenth day, the numbers stood 
 
 Sir Oliver Freeman . . 2346 
 Burton Danvers, Esq. . 2109 
 
 Majority for Freeman . 237 
 
 This rare occurrence of a man of the people 
 succeeding in an attempt upon a county, was 
 the day after Danvers's defeat satisfactorily 
 accounted for by one of his agents, who then 
 informed our hero that it never was imagined 
 by those who had solicited him to stand, that 
 
DANVERS. 135 
 
 he could possibly succeed ; and that the oppo- 
 sition to Sir Oliver had only been carried on 
 to try his purse and his temper. 
 
 Danvers was rather vexed at the want of 
 candour which he thought he perceived about 
 his aristocratic friends in London, and was 
 more mortified at the failure of his attempt, 
 than at the loss of upwards of thirty-three 
 thousand pounds which had been expended in 
 it. With respect to his wish to sit in Par- 
 liament, it was very soon gratified by the offer 
 of an introduction to a select party of nine 
 gentlemen, who were in the habit of returning 
 two members, one of whom was just dead, and 
 of which nine, six were extremely well incHned 
 towards Burton. He accepted the proposal, 
 and was accordingly announced in the course 
 of the ensuing week from the Crown Office, as 
 returned to serve in the United Parliament 
 for the Borough of Penfold. 
 
 Once in parliament, Danvers began to dream 
 of honours and distinctions ; he was consci- 
 ous of his powers, he began to feel his im- 
 portance, and if he could but have a son, his 
 aim would be the peerage — to ennoble the 
 blood of the Burtons in his person, to grace 
 
136 DANVERS. 
 
 liis Mary's brows with the golden circlet and 
 Baronial pearls — it was quite charming. For^ 
 more than three weeks he was puzzling him- 
 self what title he should choose if the Minister 
 felt inclined to offer him a choice. 
 
 Mrs. Danvers was on the eve of making 
 another addition to his family, when his 
 trustees called upon him to replace the 
 money which he had borrowed, and redeem 
 his assigned property. On the receipt of that 
 letter he first fancied it possible to be poor in 
 the midst of wealth. He had not a thousand 
 pounds at his banker's — the funded property 
 was reduced by the purchase and improvement 
 of Milford Park, and of the town house in 
 Grosvenor-square, to little more than forty 
 thousand pounds — his English rents were not 
 due till the following March-— his West India 
 agents had delayed their consignments unac- 
 countably — the last sales did not nett the 
 prime cost — and the depreciation of agricul- 
 tural property at home did not promise him 
 more than fifty-seven per cent, of his nominal 
 income. 
 
 On the other hand, there were the jewels 
 and the gold plate unpaid for ; his wife's own 
 
DAN VERS. 137 
 
 fortune sunk in the fruitless election ; his esta- 
 blishment immense (for having ascertained the 
 number of servants, horses, keepers, grooms, 
 and helpers, retained by the Duke at Milford, 
 Danvers resolved to have one or two more of each 
 description of animals and domestics) ; heavy 
 bills for repairs of London property, actually 
 necessary to prevent the houses from falling ; in 
 short, the solicitude about the title and the son 
 gave place to a more important anxiety about 
 himself. Desirous beyond measure that Mary 
 should not perceive his agitation, he resolved to 
 run up to London, and make some arrangement 
 with the trustees, so that she might not be vexed 
 or disturbed upon the business. 
 
 In this hasty visit he directed as much of his 
 landed property as would restore the amount 
 to the hands of the trustees, to be sold, gene- 
 rously adding to the original sum twenty-five 
 thousand pounds, as a surprise upon his Mary, 
 which sum of fifty thousand pounds was shortly 
 after realized by the forced sale of property, 
 worth, with proper management, more than 
 double that amount; indeed, upwards of four 
 thousand five hundred pounds per annum of 
 rental was sacrificed to make the arrangement. 
 
138 DANVERS. 
 
 Danvers, however, was happier when he had 
 put this money out of his own reach and se- 
 cured it for his wife at ^11 events, than when 
 he first started from Milford Park. 
 
 Shortly after his return he was presented 
 with a seventh daughter, and received the con- 
 gratulations of all his neighbours. The ap- 
 proach of Christmas brought with it festivities 
 and charitable distributions to the poor in the 
 vicinity, soup and meats were daily dispensed 
 from the kitchen of Milford, beer flowed in 
 torrents from the cellar, and Danvers could by 
 no means discern what was meant by sundry 
 inscriptions in chalk, which adorned his walls 
 and gates and lodges during the inclement 
 season, while he was scattering good with 
 so liberal a hand — such as, ** No slave 
 driver ;" " No dead dogs ; " " Ditchwater is 
 good enough for the poor;" "No tyrants;" 
 which glared upon his eyes wherever they 
 turned, and afforded a strong presumption that 
 the literary friends of Dr. Eady and Mr. War- 
 ren the blacking-manufacturer were making a 
 tour of the county. 
 
 Extremely anxious to know what the import 
 of such quaintnesses really might be, and yet 
 
DANVERS. 139 
 
 not wishing to appear moved by them, poor 
 Danvers was completely worried, till, through 
 some sinuous intercourse between one of the 
 governesses and Mrs. Danvers's own maid, it 
 reached the mistress of the house, and very 
 shortly after the master, that the poor of 
 the neighbourhood were actually in arms 
 against him because the beer which he gave to 
 them in charity was not of the first quality of ale, 
 and that a report had been spread, no doubt 
 by the friends of Freeman, that the soup was 
 made of dead dogs, because it happened not 
 to be turtle. 
 
 Danvers was mortified to death at this — 
 his aim was to be popular — ^and in order to 
 carry his point he declined prosecuting a 
 gang of poachers who were detected in his 
 plantations destroying his pheasants. The 
 result of such leniency may be gathered 
 from this, that at the end of the fol- 
 lowing week the word '* Spooney" was de- 
 picted in large characters all over the neigh- 
 bourhood, and after a fortnight had elapsed,* 
 one of his gamekeepers was found murdered 
 in the wood, whose widow and seven helpless 
 children were instructed, by the Opposition part 
 
140 DANVERS. 
 
 of the neighbouring town, to throw the whole 
 blame of their loss upon the chicken-hearted- 
 ness of the man, who, if he had prosecuted 
 the marauders to conviction, would have been 
 marked out by them as a tyrant. 
 
 At this period of my history, Danvers heard 
 that the term for which Mr. Podgers had let 
 his villa in that neighbourhood had just ex- 
 pired, and that he and his family were on the 
 point of returning to their former residence ; 
 and this intelligence was accompanied by a 
 rumour that a will of later date than that un- 
 der which Danvers possessed the old gentle- 
 man's property had been since discovered, and 
 that Captain Stubbs, the former and still con- 
 tinued lover of the widow, was to accompany 
 the family party back to Somersetshire to ew- 
 force the attention of Danvers to the claims 
 of the ill-used reiict of his wife's departed 
 uncle. 
 
 In addition to all the other miseries which 
 this would entail upon them, the pew belong- 
 ing to the Podgers's joined that belonging to 
 Milford Park, so that even those hours and 
 that place which should be sacred but to one 
 only feeling, were necessarily to be disturbed,- 
 
DAN VERS. 141 
 
 at least by the presence, and perhaps by the 
 impertinences, of this abominable family. 
 
 The commencement of the session of Parlia- 
 ment, however, formed an admirable excuse for 
 Danvers to get away from a place, the object 
 of his former ambition and the scene of all 
 his proposed pleasures, and such is the ex- 
 traordinary construction of the human mind 
 and such the effect of events upon it, that 
 our hero felt a weight removed from his spirits 
 when he found himself and his fond family 
 quietly seated in the new house in Grosvenor- 
 square . 
 
 The rumour about the will had, however, 
 reached London, and the jewellers and silver- 
 smiths ventured to mention their account, 
 which in the former capacity amounted to 
 fifty-two thousand pounds, and in the latter 
 to upwards of thirty thousand. This very mo- 
 derate appeal to his recollection caused another 
 enquiry into his affairs, when he discovered 
 that his balance at his banker's was little more 
 than nothing, and that the thirty thousand 
 pounds which he expected probably to receive 
 at Lady-day, would not more than pay the half 
 of one bill. He wrote to those heavy creditors. 
 
142 DANVERS. 
 
 and desired their patience, which was silently 
 and somewhat sullenly accorded. 
 
 The session opened, and Danvers was a re- 
 gular attendant at the House, night after night, 
 constantly sitting up till dawn of day to vote ; 
 while poor Mary, worried and vexed at the 
 complete destruction of all her little comforts, 
 began to feel symptoms of indisposition, to 
 which she had hitherto been a stranger. She 
 grew thin and low-spirited — so did Danvers, he 
 was worrying himself all day about her, and all 
 night about politics ; she was worrying herself 
 all night about him, and all day about her 
 children. Emma's right foot turned in when it 
 should have turned out, and Fanny's teeth did 
 not turn out well — Rosa looked pale — Ellen had 
 a little twist in her figure — Angelica was down- 
 right ugly, and Katharine had an impediment 
 in her speech ; and all this was the fault of 
 Mademoiselle de Seiseau and Miss Widdring- 
 ton — they took no pains to regulate the chil- 
 dren, and it was quite impossible, love them 
 as truly and as tenderly as she might, that a 
 woman in Mrs. Danvers's line of life should be 
 able to give her personal attention to her nur- 
 sery — Danvers would not allow it. 
 
DANVERS. 143 
 
 Danvers, having screwed his courage to the 
 sticking place, at length made a speech in Par- 
 liament ; it was short but pithy, and great credit 
 was due to him for the matter and the man- 
 ner of its delivery. He anticipated seeing the 
 next morning in the reports of debates 
 his name and harangue, interspersed with 
 " Hear, Hear," and " Cheers from the Trea- 
 sury Benches," ** laughter, &c." and came 
 down more eager for fame than breakfast. 
 Three morning papers were on the table ; he 
 first took up the Times, and having just cast 
 his eye over three columns of a speech by 
 Brougham, and an equally long reply by a 
 much wiser man, his attention was arrested by 
 these words, — 
 
 " An honourable member, whose name we 
 could not catch, made a few observations, 
 which were totally inaudible in the gallery." 
 
 In a transport of rage he threw down the 
 Times, exclaiming against its political spite 
 in thus slurring over an able speech, because it 
 came from the right side of the House, and 
 snatching up the Chronicle, gratified himself 
 by perusing these lines : — 
 
144 DANVERS. 
 
 ** Mr. Tanvers coincided in opinion with the 
 last speaker." 
 
 " Worse, and worse," exclaimed our unfor- 
 tunate member : " they shall be had up— I 'il 
 move them to Newgate! Monsters! my name 
 not even properly spelt — it is unbearable ! " 
 With the view of soothing his feelings with 
 some of the honey of Toryism, he unfolded 
 the Morning Post in perfect security of getting 
 all the xvh^ he deserved from a judicious re- 
 porter of proper principles ; that journal con- 
 tained the following passage : — 
 
 " Mr. Danvers Burton said a few words, the 
 import of which we were quite unable to un- 
 derstand, on account of the noise and confu- 
 sion in the House at the time." 
 
 He was mortified beyond expression. So it 
 is, that a man who has sufficient firmness to en- 
 dure misfortune, and philosophy to bear with 
 real calamities, suffers himself to be agitated 
 by the slightest attack on his amour propre, 
 he was worried and disappointed. Intelligence 
 reached him early in the morning that the 
 widow of his uncle had put her case into the 
 hands of a young enterprising barrister, that he 
 was sanguine of success, and convinced of the 
 
DANVERS. 145 
 
 genuineness of the later document. Captain 
 Stubbs was one of the witnesses, and two ser- 
 vants the other witnesses to the signature ; 
 they were all producible, and the Podgers' fac- 
 tion became proportionably elated. The poli- 
 tics of old Podgers assimilated with the ple- 
 beians near Milford Park, and as the probabi- 
 lity of the advancement of his family strength- 
 ened, the unpopularity of Danvers increased; 
 and " upstart,'^ *' mushroom," and several other 
 less courteous epithets, were applied to his 
 once loved name, and that of his intrinsically 
 excellent wife. 
 
 In the following week poor Danvers received 
 his long-expected news from the West Indies. 
 Not only did the market-price afford him no 
 hope of income, but, in addition to all other 
 mishaps, a hurricane had afflicted the island 
 in which his estates were situated, and the 
 whole of his crops, many stores, mills, and 
 much live-stock, human and bestial, had fallen 
 victims to the fury of the elements. So entire 
 had been the destruction, that his agent there 
 had been obliged to draw largely upon him, to 
 repair the mischief which had been done, and 
 
 VOL. 1. H 
 
146 DANVERS. 
 
 Danvers found himself, on the 25th of March, 
 without one shilling of ready-money. 
 
 He was at this juncture strongly advised to 
 sell his West Indian property altogether ; but 
 as in all such contracts there must be a vendee 
 as well as a vendor, and there appearing no 
 probability of finding a purchaser, unless in- 
 deed his own agent there would consent to 
 take the property off his hands, a difficulty was 
 started even to that arrangement. Messrs. 
 Rundell and Bridge did him the favour just 
 at this period to refresh his memory ; nor 
 were Messrs. France and Banting, nor Messrs. 
 Leader and Maberly, nor Messrs. Paxton and 
 Marjoribanks, nor Messrs. Hancock and Shep- 
 herd, at all backward in giving him gentle 
 hints, that, as if by a fatality quite unaccount- 
 able, they all, each and every one of them, 
 had ** a large sum of money to make up early 
 in May, and should feel particularly obUged 
 by his enabling them to do so with greater 
 convenience." 
 
 Plagued, tormented, and worried, his health 
 and spirits gave way together. The late hours 
 of Parliament — the air and habits of London 
 — the perpetual worry of his affairs — his clear 
 
DANVERS. 147 
 
 perception of the impositions practised upon 
 him every hour, without the power of checking 
 them, unless he chose to subject himself to 
 the mortifying exhibition of the words '' Spy" 
 and " Spooney" upon his own walls — his tender 
 distress about his wife, whose appearance too 
 plainly denoted the alteration in her constitu- 
 tion — the dread that she should commit herself, 
 by any unfashionable expression or behaviour, 
 in the society to which she was now daily and 
 nightly abandoned without his guardianship — 
 the perpetual fidget to make great connexions 
 — the alarm lest his children should not be 
 beautiful — the interest he felt about Fanny's 
 teeth and Emma's foot — the pumpings and 
 thumpings, and skippings and dippings, that 
 were inflicted upon poor Rosa to procure her 
 a complexion — the tutors and teachers, actors, 
 preachers, lecturers, and surgeons, who were 
 employed upon dear little Kitty's impedi- 
 ment — filled not only his head, but his house ; 
 while the noises made by the different pro- 
 fessors, first of music, then of dancing, and 
 then of drilling, (performed by a serjeant-major 
 of the Grenadier Guards,) kept the whole of 
 the superb mansion in Grosvenor-square in a 
 h2 
 
148 DANVERS. 
 
 perpetual whirl ; not to speak of the eternal 
 quarrellings and disputings of the servants, 
 the immoveable obstinacy of the cook and his 
 assistants, and the lavish extravagance of the 
 house-steward and his staff! 
 
 Every body connected with the establish^ 
 ment appeared to have entered into a league 
 to ascertain the most rapid mode of dissipa^ 
 ting a large fortune for a careless master. His 
 stables were an epitome of the system : every 
 horse he had, ate at least six pecks of corn 
 per diem, and, on an average, two horses died 
 per month. He had no control over the de- 
 partment, and felt it would be far beneath his 
 station, to inquire into the economy of a corn- 
 bin ; the consequence was, that, according to 
 the old proverb, '* every thing went to rack 
 and manger ;" and, alas ! this proverb applied 
 not to the stables alone. 
 
 A succession of grand dinners were given, 
 and grand parties and grand banquets ; but 
 there were drawbacks to the joys he had an- 
 ticipated, and had even felt at one time, which 
 those who thought his contracted brow and 
 snow-pale cheek had been always natural to 
 him, did not perceive. Never did the goid 
 
DANVERS. 149 
 
 vases glitter in his view, but the recollection 
 that they were still unpaid for flashed across 
 his mind. Still, however, the gaiety was con- 
 tinued — new pictures were purchased for the 
 London house, new horses and new carriages 
 for London streets. 
 
 In June the cause of " Danvers v, Danvers" 
 came on to be tried, and, after a patient in- 
 vestigation, a verdict was given in favour of 
 our hero, who, by advice of counsel, indicted 
 the Podgers's witnesses. Captain Stubbs and 
 the servants, for conspiracy and perjury. 
 
 His kind heart failed him in the carrying on 
 this business, and having taken advice from 
 his domestic counsellor, his dear Mary, it was 
 agreed to drop the prosecution ; the conse- 
 quence of which determination was an out- 
 rageously violent letter from Captain Stubbs ; 
 upon the receipt of w.hich Danvers felt it his 
 duty to consult a friend, who recommended 
 that it should be treated with silent con- 
 tempt : the line of conduct adopted upon this 
 advice, entailed upon him in his own neigh- 
 bourhood an imputation wholly groundless, 
 but which nevertheless was insisted upon by 
 the Podgerses, who, melancholy to say for 
 
150 DANVERS. 
 
 the honour of human nature, found a host of 
 supporters in the county, in those who could 
 not brook the exaltation and prosperity of the 
 Danverses. 
 
 The fashionable winter again terminated, 
 and perhaps our readers anticipate the return 
 of the family to Milford Park. But no ; it 
 had lost its attraction : it was associated in 
 Danvers's mind with his public defeat — with 
 his bitterest enemies ; and he felt quite happy 
 when a first-rate physician recommended sea- 
 bathing to the children — there was a reason- 
 able excuse for avoiding the place which for 
 years had been the object of his ambition, and 
 on which he had lavished so much care and 
 money. 
 
 The sea-air and the sea-bathing were to re- 
 generate the family : Emma's foot was to be 
 strengthened, Rosa's complexion mended, An- 
 gelica's appearance improved, by the excursion; 
 nay, I do not know whether he did not antici- 
 pate the correction of Ellen's sinuosity, the 
 perfect regulation of Fanny's teeth, and even 
 the entire cure of poor Kitty's stuttering, by 
 the force of their power and virtue. Brighton 
 was the order of the day, and thither the 
 
DANVERS. 151 
 
 family, in 1 do not know how many carriages, 
 were forthwith conveyed. 
 
 It is quite unnecessary to recapitulate the 
 shoppings and drivings, and grillings and dip- 
 pings which the little community underwent ; 
 the innocent naivetes of the children, or the 
 side-long looks which their governesses and 
 nursery-maids cast at the brilliant officers by 
 whom they were encountered, nor would it 
 become me to mention the gracious reception 
 our hero met with from the most gracious as 
 well as most illustrious resident. Suffice it to 
 say, that four or five months flew with rapid 
 wings, and Danvers would hardly have known 
 that Christmas was ** come again," if Messrs. 
 Rundell and Bridge, Messrs. France and Bant- 
 ing, Messrs. Paxton and Marjoribanks, Messrs. 
 Leader and Maberly, Messrs. Hancock and 
 Shepherd, and sundry other equally punctual 
 persons, had not been kind enough to jog his 
 memory by mentioning the large sums of mo- 
 ney which they had to make up at that season. 
 
 To say truth, the bills were becoming se- 
 rious, — another year's expenditure — no returns 
 from the West Indies to meet the increased 
 establishment : — it became actually necessary 
 
152 DANVERS. 
 
 to take some decided step ; and therefore, when 
 the move was made from the coast to Milford 
 Park, which they proposed as a matter of form 
 to visit, Danvers, while in London, " over- 
 haled'' his affairs, and found that his debts 
 amounted to little less than two hundred thou- 
 sand pounds ! 
 
 The first annunciation of this fact staggered 
 him. He that had lived elegantly, and more 
 than elegantly, happily, on three thousand a 
 year, to have expended upwards of half a mil- 
 lion of money in eighteen months, without any 
 real addition to his pleasures or his comforts ! 
 — it was amazing ! — What adequate increase of 
 enjoyment had he to offer to himself, as a 
 set-oflf to this immense disbursement ? 
 
 It is true, instead of four horses he had five- 
 and-twenty; but unless, as Sir Boyle Roche 
 said, a man were a bird, he cannot be in two 
 places at once; and no man, except, indeed, 
 the late Mr. Astley, who rode three at once, 
 can use more than one horse at a time. Gold 
 was a more valuable article than iron-stone, 
 but did the viand taste better, was the meat 
 more nourishing from the one than the other ? 
 — He had magnificent pictures, at which he 
 
DANVERS. 153 
 
 never looked — his wife had the finest jewels 
 in London, which it would be absurd, except 
 on special occasions, to wear. What, then, 
 had he done with his enormous wealth? He 
 had rivalled the Duke of Alverstoke, and, like 
 the little animal who is said to expose him- 
 self the more, the higher he jumps, he had 
 expended upwards of five hundred thousand 
 pounds ! 
 
 All this, when reflected upon, soured Dan- 
 vers's temper. He felt that aching sensation, 
 that sickening pang, which those who have 
 wasted what can never be retrieved, are sure, 
 sooner or later, to experience ; and yet, after 
 a whole day's conversation with his lawyer 
 and his banker, and after having made sundry 
 sage and salutary resolutions, the thought that 
 the Duke of Alverstoke would rejoice in his 
 distress, and the Podgers's exult at his fall, 
 flashed across his mind, and he resolved to 
 fight on, and hope for better times. 
 
 His wife, whose tenderness was the most 
 sensitive, felt that there was an alteration in 
 his manner towards her, an abstractedness of 
 mind, a diversion from the pleasures of home, 
 and a perpetual anxiety for motion, which she 
 h5 
 
154 DANVERS. 
 
 never had observed before in him. He w^ould 
 travel — he was seized with a desire to go to 
 Rome ; — then the inconvenience of moving so 
 large and young a family — then Mrs. Danvers's 
 expected confinement, would interfere; — then 
 the boy who was to be born was to excite new 
 interest and new exertion — then he would sell 
 his town house and all its appurtenances, and 
 retire entirely to Milford Park — yet still that 
 plan would expose him to remark ; — in short, 
 he was in one perpetual worry from morning 
 till night, and not a minute passed but some- 
 thing connected either with his fortune, or 
 what he considered the "duties of his station," 
 occurred to mar the enjoyment of the present, 
 embitter the recollection of the past, and cloud 
 his prospects of the future. 
 
 He had, it is true, a consolation in his ex- 
 cellent and amiable wife; her character had 
 undergone less alteration by her change of 
 situation than Danvers's : — still amiable, still 
 unaffected, still inartificial, she never recurred 
 even in feeling, to the fact that her husband's 
 fortune was acquired by his connexion with her; 
 by no act, by no expression, by no thought 
 did she remind him that she was the source 
 of his wealth and importance ; she felt that 
 
DANVERS. 155 
 
 her own respectability was to be maintained 
 in the world by the respectability of her hus- 
 band. She married him because she loved 
 him; and the addition to her wealth was, as we 
 saw, only acceptable as it afforded him addi- 
 tional happiness. She never interfered in finan- 
 cial matters, and her delicacy was such, that 
 she never enquired, even when anxious for her 
 Danvers's sake, into any thing connected with 
 the subject. An allusion, or a question, ap- 
 peared to her like calling Danvers to account, 
 as if he were merely the steward of her 
 property instead of the possessor of a pro- 
 perty of his own; — to shackle him even with 
 a suggestion she felt would deteriorate from 
 his respectability ; while he, conscious that 
 the wealth was greatly diminished by mis- 
 management, dreaded to open the state of 
 affairs to her, lest she, with a decision and 
 fortitude to which he felt he ought to yield 
 (but which he also felt he had not courage to 
 exercise), should draw the line at once, and 
 proportion their expenditure to their dimi- 
 nished income. 
 
 Thus, out of their excessive happiness arose 
 the first distrust — the first concealment which 
 ever existed between this truly exemplary pair. 
 
156 DANVEES. 
 
 The sale of the West India property was 
 again agitated; but, pressing as were his ne- 
 cessities, he endeavoured to avert it till the 
 termination of another year, hoping that some- 
 thing might occur, of which there was not the 
 smallest chance, to prevent a measure which 
 he felt he could not adopt without communi- 
 cating it to his hitherto unsuspecting wife. 
 
 Taking, therefore, Danvers's real feelings, 
 his real necessities, the artificial smiles he was 
 constrained to wear, the still continued parties 
 which he felt bound to give, the still sweHing 
 bills which he knew he must pay, his unde- 
 served unpopularity, his thirst for fame, his 
 failure in Parliament, arising from the per- 
 plexity of his private affairs, his ardent desire 
 for a son and heir, and the intelligence for 
 the eighth time given him that Mrs. Danvers 
 had presented him with another little girl, — 
 taking all these together, I think I may fairly 
 say, there never was a much more unhappy 
 man in existence. 
 
 And yet, with all the experience he had so 
 dearly purchased, with the heaps of rarities 
 and bijoux he possessed, with the sicklied in- 
 difference he felt towards them when once in 
 his cabinet, so strong upon him was the ardour 
 
DANVERS. 157 
 
 of patronizing, so powerful the desire of being 
 looked up to as a connoisseur and the ready- 
 purchaser of any thing unique, that not a pic- 
 ture-dealer, not a curiosity-hunter in London, 
 if seeking to be known himself, was unknown 
 to Danvers : the first copy of their catalogues 
 was always sent to him, even before publica- 
 tion ; not a noseless statue from Italy, nor a 
 high-dried mummy from Egypt arrived in the 
 metropolis, but was first offered to him ; and — 
 with all his experience of the pleasure deriva- 
 ble from the possession of such relics, — if the 
 smallest idea of competition could be started, 
 (which, as the dealers soon found out their 
 man, there never failed to be,) he never failed 
 to buy : — his collections were immense, and the 
 delight of lending one or two of his pictures 
 annually to the British Gallery, and having his 
 name published forth in the list of aristocratic 
 contributors to that meritorious establishment, 
 amply compensated to him for the disburse- 
 ment of thousands. 
 
 Towards the end of the season, poor man ! 
 he became so entirely destitute of means, that 
 he resolved upon a step which he felt he could 
 take without consulting his Mary ; he deter- 
 mined to raise one hundred thousand pounds 
 
158 DANVERS. 
 
 by way of annuities secured upon the Milford 
 Park property, and accordingly entered into 
 negotiations — not with Howard and Gibbs, as 
 most of his friends did, — but with his own 
 lawyers, who, for the trifling consideration of 
 fifteen thousand pounds per annum, procured 
 the necessary sum, which was distributed 
 amongst his craving tradesmen, and with which 
 he paid for the gold plate — he now viewed 
 the glittering gewgaws with more complacency 
 than before ; although it must be confessed 
 the mere safe custody of such valuable gear 
 became a source of perpetual solicitude. 
 
 The hundred thousand pounds however, 
 calmed all his immediate uneasinesses, and it 
 never struck him that in twelve months a sum 
 of fifteen thousand pounds certain was to be 
 paid to the benevolent lenders, and, moreover, 
 that in each succeeding year the same amount 
 would be due. If it had, considering that he 
 calculated his annual income at little more than 
 twenty-five thousand pounds nett, it would, 
 perhaps, have puzzled him to understand how 
 he was to live on at his present rate, which 
 was somewhat about five thousand a year more 
 than his present receipt. 
 
DANVERS- 159 
 
 His dear Mary recovered from her confine- 
 ment the same happy contented being as ever ; 
 but even she at length was doomed to share in 
 the worries of her husband. News arrived from 
 the West Indies of the total failure of his 
 crops ; the accumulated expenses of the pro- 
 perty were consequently such, that, by the ad- 
 vice of all his counsellors, including Mary, the 
 estates were sold. The sale of them took 
 place about six months after the first propo- 
 sition, and they were purchased for seventy- 
 two thousand pounds by Danvers's agent on 
 the spot; since which period, report says, there 
 have been no hurricanes, that the crops have 
 never failed — but, on the contrary, it has been 
 the most productive property in any of our 
 occidental colonies. 
 
 This supply of seventy-two thousand pounds 
 came seasonably : but alas ! an answer had 
 been received from the jewellers to a note sent 
 to their shop by Mrs. Danvers, which clearly 
 indicated to her that her diamonds were yet 
 unpaid for. The distress of her mind at this — 
 the earnestness with which she communicated 
 her feelings to Danvers, were daggers to him ; 
 he was conscious that his embarrassments were 
 
160 DANVERS. 
 
 coming thick and threefold upon him — that he 
 actually wanted all the produce of the West 
 India property ; but his Mary's feelings had 
 been hurt, her pride — her pride, dear soul ! — had 
 been offended — there was not a moment's hesi- 
 tation: a flourishing cheque for the vast amount 
 of the bill was drawn upon the banker into 
 whose hands the money had been paid only 
 the day before, and the jewellers realized the 
 sum total with which Danvers was chargeable. 
 
 In this feverish state things rolled on for 
 nearly another year: Milford Park remained 
 unoccupied ; the annuities chargeable upon it 
 became payable— but, alas, no assets were forth- 
 coming; the sufficient sum was advanced by the 
 solicitors : Mrs. Danvers's (or rather now Mrs. 
 Stubbs's) annuity was paid — the household cur- 
 rent expenses, and Mary's pin-money — but, alas, 
 no balance in hand for the expenditure of the 
 year : — a curious document, assuming to be a 
 wine-merchant's bill, was laid before Danvers 
 for his inspection, the items in which were writ- 
 ten in a beautiful running hand, perfectly ille- 
 gible, but which bore at its foot, as a sum total, 
 four figures very like these — £5281 : : 0. 
 
 It seemed large — larger than he expected, 
 
DANVERS. 161 
 
 but in order to correct the unintelligible docu- 
 ment, he took the trouble to compare it him- 
 self with his cellar-books, instead of submit- 
 ting it to the steward, and by a strict com- 
 parison of one thing which he could not read 
 with another which he did not understand, he 
 satisfied himself of the correctness of the 
 charge — the only step he was at present able 
 to take in regard to its adjustment. 
 
 This, it was clear, could not last long: a dis- 
 solution of Parliament demanded his attention 
 to the " Tuneful Nine,'* whose voices he had 
 gained, and who were his present constituents, 
 but he found that even there he was likely to 
 be worried : yet perhaps my reader is not quite 
 prepared for the measure which he founded 
 upon the intelligence that it might cost him 
 seven or eight thousand pounds to secure his 
 interest in Penfold — it was neither more nor 
 less than again statiding for the County, 
 
 To this, be it observed, he was in some sort 
 urged by Mary, who, still ignorant of the 
 real state of his affairs, took it into her head 
 that he abstained from contesting the repre- 
 sentation from a delicacy towards her money ; 
 so that the concealment begot deception, and 
 
162 DANVERS. 
 
 the deception led to an act of folly so gross 
 and so glaring, that an application to my Lord 
 Chancellor seemed the only fit remedy for our 
 hero's disease. 
 
 Danvers balanced the probable expense of 
 the contest for the county with the sum re- 
 quired to ensure his interest in Penfold, and 
 concluded his deliberations by deciding that 
 the difference in the honour was more than the 
 difference in the cost; that perhaps Sir Oliver's 
 fortune could not sustain another shock like 
 the last; and that, in fact, he would make the 
 struggle, and gratify Mary by presenting him^ 
 self to the notice of the electors. 
 
 Now he began to repent of his long absence 
 from Milford Park, the neglect of county con-* 
 nexions, and his distaste for that beautiful re- 
 sidence. Orders were sent to prepare for the 
 family's reception — placards were posted all 
 over the neighbourhood, announcing his in- 
 tention of offering himself — the front dining- 
 parlour in Grosvenor-square was turned into a 
 committee-room, the back-parlour converted 
 into a sort of tavern ; and while his sanguine 
 friends were arranging things in town, he pro- 
 ceeded to canvass the county in person. 
 
DANVERS. 163 
 
 It is quite impossible to describe the per- 
 sonal abuse and invective with which he was 
 loaded in hand-bills and posting-bills, circular 
 letters and advertisements. Allusions to his 
 alleged backwardness in regard to Captain 
 Stubbs, the mystery of the dog-soup, the 
 nicknames of Jerry and Spooney (alluding to 
 the control which his wife was supposed to 
 have over him), a detail of the menagerie, 
 slaps at his mode of acquiring a fortune, bar- 
 barity to his uncle's widow, with an agreeable 
 episode about a ' Forged Will :' — all were 
 printed and published, and moreover sent en- 
 closed (clearly by the Podgers's) to Mrs. Dan- 
 vers, whose eyes betrayed to her husband, 
 when he returned from his fruitless toil of 
 canvassing, that her heart had been half bro- 
 ken. She showed him the papers : he treated 
 them with the most philosophical contempt, 
 laughed at them, but was unhappy for the rest 
 of the evening ; first, that his Mary should have 
 been distressed, and secondly, and chiefly, that 
 she should have been informed of his great 
 unpopularity. 
 
 One day, when reposing himself after along 
 search for votes, he, the once volatile, lively 
 
164 DANVERS. 
 
 Danveis, seemed completely overcome ; and 
 the weight upon his mind was so apparent, 
 that Mary could not avoid pressing him to tell 
 her the cause. 
 
 " Why, my dear girl," said he, *' it is strange 
 that 7, who can bear great evils with calmness, 
 should be so completely upset by a compara- 
 tive trifle ; yet I have seen a scene of wretch- 
 edness to-day, which has impressed itself so 
 deeply on my mind, that it quite absorbs my 
 attention — I had no idea of the existence of 
 such misery." 
 
 Mary begged him to make her a partner of 
 his feelings. 
 
 " Well, then," said Danvers, " in canvassing 
 the southern part of the county to-day alone, 
 I was directed to a cottage which belonged to 
 a freeholder — Davis is his name. Upon knock- 
 ing, I was admitted into a room, where sat, 
 with his face hidden in his hands, his arms 
 resting upon his knees, an old grey-headed 
 man, the father of the family : a death-like 
 stillness pervaded the wretched place. Oppo- 
 site to the old man sat his son, his eyes cast 
 down and full of tears : he did not raise them 
 at my entrance; a little girl had opened the 
 
DANVERS. 165 
 
 door — she bade me ' hush' as I went in. I 
 mentioned my name — my business there. The 
 old man started up, looked wildly at me as if 
 alarmed, and then respectfully shaking his 
 aged head, said, ' Don't ask me, Sir.' " 
 
 *' Attracted by the singularity of such a re- 
 ply, I enquired farther." 
 
 " It turned out, that his daughter, who, as he 
 said, was dying in the room above, had been 
 engaged to be married to a young and indus- 
 trious man of our neighbourhood : that this 
 man had embarked in trade, and had con- 
 tracted a debt with our mortal foe, your uncle's 
 father-in-law, who liberally advanced him mo- 
 ney at what appears to me exorbitant interest. 
 
 " For this the young man had given a bond 
 with what is called a Judgment; so that, in 
 failure of payment, both his person and pro- 
 perty were subject to his creditor. 
 
 " Upon a misunderstanding between the 
 amiable widow of your poor uncle and this 
 unfortunate young person (the bond being over 
 due), attributable, I suspect, to some little- 
 minded jealousy on her part of the poor girl, 
 Podgers acted upon the Judgment, and having 
 stripped the young man of his property, threw 
 
166 DANVERS. 
 
 him into the county gaol; the daughter of 
 poor Davis, whose health was delicate, received 
 so violent a shock, that she is hardly expected 
 to recover, and was actually dying for want of 
 medical advice, which her father had not the 
 means of procuring. My heart ached to think 
 that so much wickedness should have caused 
 so much wretchedness." 
 
 " I know what you did, dearest Danvers," 
 said Mary. 
 
 " I think you may guess, my life," replied 
 her husband ; " I gave the son a checque on 
 the bank here, for the sum for which his in- 
 tended brother-in-law was immured in prison, 
 and desired him to carry Kilman over to his 
 sister, and I gave all I had about me to poor 
 old Davis, whose heart is, I trust, lighter to- 
 night than it was when I lifted his latch." 
 
 " After all," exclaimed Mary, " the real 
 pleasure of having money is the power it gives 
 of doing good." 
 
 '* Yes," answered the benevolent Dan vers, 
 " I felt more delight at the moment I saw the 
 tears of joy, and heard the prayers of grati- 
 tude, which I had excited in these poor people, 
 than I have known for years," 
 
DANVERS. 167 
 
 " And Heaven will bless you for it !" added 
 Mary, and she looked at her husband with an 
 expression of something very like adoration. 
 
 The hatred which the Podgerses had inspired 
 in Danvers's heart, this little history had in- 
 creased to perfect detestation; and the inci- 
 dent took such hold upon him, that he could 
 not shake it off for a length of time. 
 
 The day of election came : the old farce was 
 re-acted. Sir Oliver Freeman again was cheered, 
 Danvers again was hooted ; but after a cam- 
 paign of fifteen days, the result, mirahile dictu, 
 was different from the last, and our hero 
 found, at four o'clock on the last day, the 
 state of the poll to be. 
 
 Freeman 2208 
 
 Danvers 2136 
 
 Mumford 1841 
 
 Whereupon a car was produced, swords were 
 girded on, and the new knights of the shire 
 were paraded through the streets : Danvers, 
 fortunately escaping the pelting which he had 
 anticipated, by being placed in the same vehicle 
 with the popular candidate, was only saluted 
 in his progress with the old cries of " Spooney" 
 
168 ' DANVERS. 
 
 and "Jerry," and the admirable joke about the 
 " dead dogs." 
 
 Nothing particular occurred at the election, 
 if \v6 except the polling of Mr. Podge'rs, who 
 ostentatiously gave his vote to Dan vers, offer- 
 ing loudly his reason for so doing. " I give 
 Mr. Danvers my vote, because, though I diate 
 the man and his politics, he is a sort of con- 
 nexion of my own, and I think the only way 
 of keeping him out of prison is to put him 
 into Parliament." 
 
 This little pithy speech was received with 
 greats delight by the mob, who hailed Mr. 
 Podgers on his descent from the hustings 
 with the approving cry of "Well done, old 
 j'olly-chaps." 
 
 If this mortified Danvers, for he heard it all, 
 he was amply repaid ,by seeing his poor humble 
 friend Davis a new man : he came to give him 
 bis vote, his countenance beaming with smiles-:- 
 an altered creature : his daughter*s disease had 
 been chiefly mental; care and medical attend- 
 ance, and, more than all, the liberation of her 
 intended husband, were rapidly restoring her ; 
 ^nd the old man promised that she should go 
 
DANVERS. 169 
 
 to Milford Park the moment she was well 
 enough, and return her personal thanks to her 
 kind restorer and benefactor. 
 
 So far all terminated satisfactorily, and al- 
 though upwards of thirty thousand pounds 
 had been again spent upon the vanity, still 
 the end was attained — the point was carried — 
 the bills— one alone for ribands, amounted to 
 upwards of two thousand pounds, besides four 
 hundred and fifty more, for pins to make up 
 the favours — were heavy, and there was no 
 great store of money to pay them with. 
 
 Indeed, the representations on this head 
 were so strong and pressing, that our hero was 
 compelled to raise forty thousand pounds more 
 upon the Somersetshire property, and was 
 given to understand, when granting annuities 
 to the amount of five thousand pounds, that 
 it was the last sum raiseable upon that estate, 
 which, except as a matter of fancy, was not 
 worth more than the hundred and forty thou- 
 sand already raised upon it. 
 
 It would be useless to detail the various im- 
 pertinences of the Podgers faction during the 
 stay of the Dahverses in Somersetshire, or the 
 
 VOL. I. I 
 
170 DANVERS. 
 
 vulgar assumption of Captain Stubbs, or the 
 jokes which were made upon the style of 
 the " rich relations ;" it is only necessary that 
 my readers should understand how perfectly 
 the reverse of agreeable their residence was 
 made, and that it was with unfeigned pleasure 
 Mary found herself and her children again in 
 London, where the house had undergone a 
 thorough repair of the damages done by the 
 committee and their retainers, and which had, 
 amongst other good qualities, the advantage of 
 being more than an hundred and twenty miles 
 from the hated Podgerses. 
 
 Parliament resumed its sittings ; Danvers 
 took the oaths and his seat, and enjoyed the 
 satisfaction of representing one of the most 
 opulent counties in England. But, alas, short 
 was the rapture, and brief the delight : Mr. 
 Mumford presented a petition against his return 
 on the score of bribery, and a committee was 
 forthwith appointed to try its merits. Danvers 
 literally was astounded — first, at the petition — 
 secondly, at the allegations contained in it. 
 Time, however, wore on, and the committee 
 assembled; Danvers anxiously attended, and 
 the members having been sworn and seated. 
 
DAN VERS. 171 
 
 Mr. Glibley, who was of counsel for the 
 petitioner, after a speech, brief, but somewhat 
 redundant, as Danvers thought, in coarse allu- 
 sions, informed the committee that he con- 
 cluded it would answer all the purposes he had 
 in view, and save much of their valuable time, 
 if he substantiated the fact of bribery in one 
 case, not but that he had abundance of 
 evidence to the fact in many instances. 
 
 An according nod from the chairman gave 
 the assent to the proposal, and after a little 
 whispering and moving about, the committee- 
 room door opened, and who should appear, in 
 the witness-box at the end of the table, but 
 our poor friend George Davis. 
 
 George Davis sworn. — Examined by Mr. 
 Glibley. 
 
 '* What is your name ? " 
 
 " George Davis, Sir." 
 
 " What are you, Mr. Davis?" 
 
 " I 'm a bit of a farmer. Sir." 
 
 " Living near Mapleford?" 
 
 ** Yes, Sir, close agin Mapleford." 
 
 " And you are a bit of a freeholder arn't you, 
 Mr. Davis, as well as a bit of a farmer?" 
 
 " Yes, Sir, I am." 
 
 i2 
 
172 DANVERS. 
 
 *' Pray, now, did you vote at the last elec- 
 tion for your county ? " 
 
 " I did, Sir." 
 
 " For whom did you vote. Sir?" 
 
 " Squire Danvers.**' 
 
 " Do you know Squire Danvers personally ?" 
 
 *' I do; he is sitting opposite to me at the 
 table with his hat on." 
 
 " Did Mr. Danvers ever call upon you pre- 
 viously to the election ?" 
 
 *' Yes, Sir, about seven or eight days before ; 
 it was on a Wednesday about two o'clock, 
 leastwise about half-past two — I know it was 
 Wednesday, because my boy had been to mar- 
 ket, and " 
 
 " Well, well, never mind your boy ; we want 
 to know something more about yourself. What 
 did Mr. Danvers say to you when he visited 
 you in this extraordinary kind, good-natured, 
 way, eh?" 
 
 " He told me who he was, and what he 
 wanted." 
 
 " What he wanted ? — Oh ! he told you what 
 he wanted, did he ? — umph — And pray, now, 
 what was it he wanted ? " 
 
 " He wanted me to vote for him." 
 
DANVERS. 173 
 
 *' Oh ! he did ; he wanted you to vote tor 
 him ? And pray, Mr. Dawson " 
 
 '' Davis, Sir." 
 
 '* Davis, I mean ; what might you say when 
 the Squire asked you for your vote ? " 
 
 ** I told him I could not give it him ; my 
 poor da'ter was then ill in bed, and my mis- 
 tress " 
 
 '* We don't want to know any thing about 
 your dater, or your mistress, as you call her, 
 you told Mr. Danvers you could not vote 
 for him?" 
 
 " Yes, I did ; because '* 
 
 " There — there — we do not want to know 
 your reasons — you refused, did you?" 
 
 " Yes ; but then my da'ter " 
 
 " My good man, we know your dater 
 could not vote ; we want to know what t/ou 
 did in this business. You say you refused 
 your vote to Mr. Danvers r now, whom did you 
 say you voted for at the election ?" 
 
 *' For Mr. Danvers, Sir. I gi'ed him a 
 plumper." 
 
 ** Pray now, Mr. Daniels " 
 
 " Davis, Sir." 
 
 "Davis — I mean Davis — pray now, Mr. 
 
174 DANVERS. 
 
 Davis, I hope you will not be extremely angry 
 with the question I am going to put. — Did 
 Squire Danvers give you any thing while he 
 was at your house ? " 
 
 " Yes, Sir, he did/' 
 
 " What did he give you — fifty pounds, eh ?" 
 
 " Yes, Sir, more than that, God bless him!" 
 
 A murmur here arose amongst the Com- 
 mittee, whose heads began to move towards 
 each other as if they were trying to knock 
 their neighbours' hats off; the two or three 
 outsides began writing notes, and handing 
 them inwards — 
 
 *' More than fifty pounds, you say? How 
 much more V 
 
 *' His honour gave me eighteen pounds for 
 myself, and a draft on the Milford bank for a 
 hundred and twenty, which my son took, and 
 got the money for the same day, and then he 
 went and " 
 
 *' Stop, stop ; we don't care where he went, 
 or what he did. Is your son a freeholder?" 
 
 '' No, Sir." 
 
 " Well, then, we won't trouble you for any 
 information about him. — And so you took this 
 money ?" 
 
 " Yes, Sir." 
 
DANVERS. 1 75 
 
 *• And voted for Mr. Danvers, Sir V 
 
 " Don't answer that question unless you like 
 it," said a grave looking barrister, who was 
 retained by Danvers. 
 
 " We can prove the fact by the poll-book," 
 said Glibley, leaning over the table ; ''ray 
 learned friend here is more careful of the 
 witness than he appears to be of himself." 
 
 And here a discussion ensued, which lasted 
 about an hour and a quarter, as to whether the 
 witness should answer this question, it having 
 been previously decided to the satisfaction of 
 all parties, that it did not make the slightest 
 difference one way or the other, whether he 
 did or did not, most particularly and especially 
 because he had actually done so twice, at least, 
 a quarter of an hour before. 
 
 This last fact happening to be remarked 
 upon, by a little boy who had been brought 
 into the room by his father to see a council 
 of British senators assembled in deliberation, 
 the child was overheard by the learned gen- 
 tleman who supported the question, and that 
 learned gentleman hinted the fact to his 
 learned opponent, who mentioned it to the 
 committee, who put an end to the discussion 
 by desiring the examination might go on. 
 
176 DANVERS. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Davis," said Glibley, " I sup- 
 pose you know the laws of your country ?" 
 
 " T hope. Sir, I do." 
 
 *' You hope you do? — Why then. Sir, if you 
 do, as the law and I suppose you do, and as 
 you hope you do, there is the less excuse for 
 the conduct you have been guilty of, and I can 
 promise you, on the part of my client, that you 
 shall be proceeded against at common law." 
 
 " For what ? proceeded against for being 
 grateful !" 
 
 " Ah, that is a mighty simple unsophisti- 
 cated mode of putting it, but " 
 
 '^ Putting what. Sir?" said the agitated old 
 man. " Mr. Danvers saved my child, — saved 
 her — and lifted us all from misery to happi- 
 ness. His charity " 
 
 " My good man," said the chairman of the 
 Committee, " we have nothing to do with cha- 
 rity here — you may go down.** 
 
 *' Perhaps," said Glibley, " my learned 
 friend would like to ask him a few questions." 
 
 " If you please," said his learned friend. 
 
 " Pray, Davis, did Mr. Danvers solicit your 
 vote before he gave you the money ?" 
 
 ** The first thing as ever he did. Sir, was to 
 
DAN VERS. 177 
 
 ask for my vote ; to which I said I could not, 
 because '* 
 
 ** I object to his telling us his motives. 
 Did Mr. Danvers make his giving you money 
 conditional upon your voting?" 
 
 " When he went away, says he, * Well, then, 
 7ioWf Davis, I suppose you will give me your 
 vote,' meaning " 
 
 *' Ah, we don't want you to find meaning 
 my good friend," said Glibley. 
 
 " Yes, but we do want the meaning," said 
 the elderly gentleman. 
 
 And here ensued another discussion of some 
 forty minutes, which concluded by its being 
 ruled to be quite impossible that Davis should 
 be allowed to put his construction upon Mr. 
 Danvers's conduct, which seemed to the chair- 
 man of the committee and his honourable col- 
 leagues, perfectly to explain itself. Davis was 
 ordered down — the poll-books were produced, 
 certified — Davis's vote pointed out; a clerk 
 from the Milford bank proved the payment of 
 the draft mentioned by Davis to his son, and 
 proved that such payment was made after the 
 dissolution of parliament, and before the I'e- 
 turn of the writ. 
 
 i5 
 
178 DANVERS. 
 
 All this appeared conclusive enough ; stran- 
 gers were directed to withdraw, and at five 
 o'clock the Committee reported that T. B. 
 Danvers, Esq. had been guilty of bribery, and 
 that E. Mumford, Esq. the petitioner, was duly 
 elected. 
 
 At no period of Danvers's life had he ex- 
 perienced so serious a mortification as this ; it 
 seemed as if a fate hung over him, and that 
 he was doomed to be eternally misrepresented. 
 As, in his conduct to old Danvers, his very 
 anxiety to please, gave the offence which had 
 entailed upon him the wretched connexion 
 with the Podgerses, so here an act of pure 
 and disinterested charity, which his wife con- 
 sidered the ultimatum of excellence and libe- 
 rality, was the cause of his discomfiture in a 
 favourite object, and, moreover, was published 
 to the world by the Commons House in Parlia- 
 ment assembled, as a proof of dishonourable 
 and illegal conduct. 
 
 Whatever his feelings at the first blush of 
 the business might have been, they certainly 
 were not weakened when he was informed, 
 that, besides being incapacitated from sitting 
 in that parliament, criminal proceedings were 
 
DANVERS. 179 
 
 to be instituted against him and his partner 
 in crime ! 
 
 Mr. Podgers's observation on the hustings, 
 however coarse, had much of truth in it ; and 
 Danvers's creditors, now he was out of the 
 House, and consequently tangible, became less 
 patient and less delicate in their expressions of 
 anxiety for payment. Still he could not en- 
 dure retrenchment to follow so closely upon 
 public defeat, as it would evidently corro- 
 borate the county rumours about his distress 
 for money, which had begun to circulate in 
 something above a whisper. Thus the very 
 fear of appearing ruined when he was not, in- 
 duced him to risk the reality of being ruined 
 in earnest. 
 
 To part with Milford — for that had occurred, 
 was, indeed, a measure in which every feeling 
 was so vitally interested, that he dreaded even 
 the consideration of it. He felt at all events 
 that he had better conquer his scruples with 
 respect to his wife, and open his heart to her 
 on the present precarious state of his affairs. 
 
 This resolved tpon, he felt himself greatly 
 relieved by the candid disclosure which was 
 as entirely a surprise to Mary as the purchase 
 
180 ' DANVEllS. 
 
 of Milford had been, though of a somewhat 
 different nature. As he foresaw she recom- 
 mended immediate retrenchment, but checked 
 herself in the advocacy of such a measure, lest 
 she should give Danvers the idea that she was 
 anxious about money; so that even the benefits 
 likely to arise from the unreservedness of one 
 party, were in a measure weakened by the 
 delicacy of the other. 
 
 At length, after several weeks of harass- 
 ing events, it was resolved that as the 
 denouement must come, it was useless pro- 
 tracting the period of its arrival ; and the fa- 
 shionable world were early in May petrified by 
 the announcement of the approaching sale of 
 Milford Park and the contiguous estates, toge- 
 ther with all the superb furniture, collection of 
 pictures, library of choice and valuable books, 
 cellar of wines, live and dead stock, &c. &c. 
 
 It would be impossible to describe ade- 
 quately Danvers's feelings as he read the re- 
 capitulation of all his "pretty things,'' col- 
 lected with such care and cost, in the Morning 
 Post, and saw them doomed to be scattered 
 over the wide world, profaned by the gaze 
 and touch of the vulgar,— his books distin- 
 
DANVERS. 181 
 
 guished by the many-quartered shield,— his pic- 
 tures too — he looked paler and more wretched 
 than ever; but when the sale actually came, 
 and Milford Park, and all the furniture, and 
 all the books, and all the pictures, and every 
 thing together, produced less than one hundred 
 thousand pounds, and that the guaranty given 
 by the bankers and solicitors to the annuitants, 
 was called for by those agreeable persons in 
 consequence; — he was paralyzed! — Ruin ap- 
 peared before him at once in all its horrors ! 
 
 The depreciation of the value of the Somer- 
 setshire property arose in the first place from 
 the unserviceable nature of the estate. The 
 pictures which he purchased as Rubenses, Cor- 
 regios, and Vandykes, were copies painted at 
 Brompton and Lambeth. The gentleman who 
 parted with them, had retired to Switzerland ; 
 and his friend, who furnished the apartments 
 with antiques by De Villa in the Strand, 
 Cameos by Tassie, and Herculaneum relics by 
 Wedgewood, was the partner of his retreat. 
 At all events, every thing was gone — property, 
 place, and all ; and still nearly fifty thousand 
 pounds remained to be paid on account of it! 
 
 Somethino; decisive was now to be done. The 
 
182 DANVERS. 
 
 annuitants had fallen foul of the bankers, who 
 applied summarily to Danvers. What means 
 had he? — half mad, and dreading the conse- 
 quences, he repaired to his solicitors. His 
 agitation was not concealed from Mary; she 
 remained but a short time after him, and while 
 he was gone to endeavour to obtain time, she 
 drove to the banking-house, and in a private 
 interview with the head of the firm, gave him 
 her jewels, with an entreaty that he would 
 dispose of them instantly, without consult- 
 ing her husband, and carry the proceeds to 
 his credit. She was not aware of the sum still 
 secured to her in the funds, and saw no other 
 means of averting the impending destruction 
 of her beloved Danvers. 
 
 The banker, it may be imagined, refused to 
 deprive a lady of such favourite ornaments, 
 and undertook to arrange the business in some 
 more satisfactory way. Not he : bankers, like 
 surgeons, must, in their vocation, put feeling 
 out of the question. Instead of attempting to 
 dissuade her from the measure as rash or pre- 
 cipitate, he complimented her upon her dis- 
 cretion and good sense, and taking the cases 
 which she proffered, very carefully deposited 
 
DANVERS. 183 
 
 them in a large iron chest, and, banging down 
 its heavy lid, to the utter confusion of nerves 
 and the membrana tympaniy excluded for ever 
 from the sight of our poor heroine the glit- 
 tering baubles which had once formed so 
 essential a part of her husband's happiness. 
 
 When she told Danvers what she had done, 
 his delight at having such a wife, almost 
 immediately gave way to the mortification of 
 losing such diamonds, and he determined, if 
 possible, still to save them. He wrote and 
 dispatched a letter to the banker at his private 
 house, begging him not to part with the dar- 
 ling jewels; — but the banker was too quick 
 for him, they had been sold during the morning 
 to an eminent diamond-merchant, and twenty- 
 nine thousand pounds had been carried to 
 the credit side of his account in consequence. 
 
 Twenty-nine thousand for what had cost 
 forty-eight! — and twenty-nine too, to satisfy up- 
 wards of fifty! More reductions were necessary, 
 and it was now evident a general break-up must 
 take place. The family retired to Brighton, 
 still unshorn of its apparent splendour, bating 
 the jewels, which few people saw; and the 
 house in Grosvenor-square forthwith followed 
 
184 DANVERb. 
 
 the property in the west — gold plate and silver 
 plate ; brown horses and black horses, white 
 horses and grey, more wines, more glasses, 
 more pictures, more phaetons, went to the 
 hammer, and after the dispersion of all his 
 effects, and the payment of all his creditors, 
 Danvers found himself in the possession of 
 twenty-two thousand pounds in cash, and es- 
 tates in London, Hertfordshire, and Sussex, 
 producing about two thousand four hundred 
 pounds per annum, the greater part of which 
 he had bound himself to pay to Mrs. Stubbs 
 for the term of her natural life by half yearly 
 payments ; of whom, moreover, he had the 
 satisfaction of hearing twice in every twelve 
 months, that she was in the best possible 
 health. 
 
 The worry of all these proceedings was 
 hardly equal in its effect upon Danvers to 
 the treatment which he met with from his 
 quondam friends ; ridicule of his pretensions, 
 of his affected taste and judgment, of his style 
 of living, of his airs and those of his ** poor 
 little stupid wife," was lavished on him in 
 newspapers, and magazines ; epigrams and puns 
 were made upon his fall — and so powerful was 
 
DANVERS. 185 
 
 the operation of these events upon his consti- 
 tution, that when he was sentenced to a twelve- 
 month's imprisonment and to pay a fine of two 
 thousand pounds for having relieved a poor 
 man's distress at a most unfortunately critical 
 juncture, his ill health was admitted as a suf- 
 ficient plea for remitting the imprisonment and 
 increasing the fine, which punishment was as 
 little suited to his shattered fortune as the 
 other was to his broken constitution. 
 
 It was at this stage of their lives that Mrs. 
 Burton Danvers gave to the fond eyes of her 
 devoted husband a fine hoy, whose arrival at 
 a period when there was nothing for him to 
 inherit, gave his unhappy father nearly as 
 much of uneasiness as he would have felt of 
 pleasure, had his appearance been announced 
 a few years earlier. 
 
 It became at all events necessary for Dan- 
 vers to fix upon some permanent residence. 
 Milford was gone, Grosvenor-square was no 
 longer his — and since all disguise of circum- 
 stances, after the eclat of his magnificent sales, 
 was vain, he set about making enquiries for 
 some retreat to which he miii;ht retire to reflect 
 
186 DANVERS. 
 
 upon past scenes, not quite despondingly with 
 regard to the future. 
 
 He heard of a cottage in Devonshire, one of 
 those cottages, wherein " pride dwells which 
 apes humility," and with which, according to 
 Mr. Southey, the Devil is mightily pleased ; it 
 had been the property of a merchant in Lon- 
 don, who, having embarked in some ill- 
 judged speculations, had become bankrupt, 
 and the place was to be sold for the benefit of 
 the creditors. It had its lawns and shrubberies, 
 its conservatory and its stables, its farm at- 
 tached, its hot-house and its ice-house, and 
 all its little agremens ; but Mary's gentle 
 heart was pained to think that she should 
 enjoy the results of care and attention be- 
 stowed upon it by its unfortunate owner ; 
 and the picture of the wretched man and his 
 family, driven into beggary and distress from 
 their favourite home, was so deeply imprinted 
 on her mind that she could not conquer an 
 apprehension she entertained of never being 
 happy in the possession of it. 
 
 When, however, the auctioneer, who had the 
 disposal of it, informed her that the late owner 
 had, since the utter ruin which compelled 
 
DANVERS. 187 
 
 him to part with Rosehill, removed from one of 
 the rural streets near Russell-square, in which 
 he formerly lived, to a mansion in Grosvenor- 
 place; that he had moreover since stood a 
 contested election, and was on the eve of being 
 created a baronet, she conquered her scruples, 
 and in six months after the birth of her first 
 son, found herself estabhshed comfortably and 
 happily in her new residence ; a perfect bower 
 of content, somewhat on the plan of dear 
 Sandown, larger of course, proportionate to the 
 increase of her family, but the same taste pre- 
 dominating, the same quietude prevailing. 
 
 The butlers and stewards were dismissed ; 
 the maitres d^hotel and grooms of the chambers 
 discarded; the cooks cashiered, and the lac- 
 queys unliveried : two men-servants, besides 
 the coachman and gardeners, formed the small 
 domestic force — the female servants and go- 
 vernesses were in number adequate to the 
 wants and wishes of a well-conducted family, 
 and Danvers and his Mary felt the real happi- 
 ness of life with a competency. 
 
 Their income, reduced as it was, afforded 
 every rational luxury, even that of doing good ; 
 and brought back by circumstances to that 
 
188 1>ANVERS. 
 
 station in society which they had so well 
 filled, and to those pursuits to which their cha- 
 racters and dispositions were so well suited, 
 her growing family again became the object of 
 Mary's personal superintendence, and she, the 
 mild, the gentle, amiable and domestic wife. 
 Danvers's mind, reposed in the sweetness of 
 his retirement, seemed to regain its energies ; 
 his temper its evenness and placidity. 
 
 Their new residence seemed like a haven, 
 where, though not actually driven to it by 
 stress of weather, they had anchored after a 
 long and diversified voyage ; the children, re- 
 moved into pure air and under the eye of their 
 mother, improved in health and appearance ; 
 Emma outgrew her lameness, Rosa gained a 
 complexion, Helen's figure strengthened into 
 gracefulness, and Angelica herself looked 
 almost pretty. 
 
 As these darlings of his heart were one 
 summer's evening grouped around him, and his 
 Mary held her infant boy upon her knee, his 
 feelings overcame him ; he pressed his children 
 closer towards him, and exclaimed : — 
 
 " How fervently do I thank my God that 
 
DANVERS. 189 
 
 by his providence I have been taught what to 
 value in this transitory world, and what re- 
 ject — that I have seen and known the worth- 
 lessness of wealth, and find the real value of 
 virtue and religion. In my career through life, 
 full of the weakness of my nature, I have com- 
 mitted innumerable indiscretions — I was proud, 
 I was ambitious, and my pride was not un- 
 tainted by envy ; but the chastening hand of 
 Heaven has been on me, and I have been 
 taught by the events to which our exaltation 
 gave rise, that worldly goods cannot ensure 
 happiness, and that, if there is little on earth 
 to create pride, there is still less to excite 
 envy. 
 
 '' It is here, my children," said Danvers, 
 pointing to his wife, " it is here that I possess 
 my treasure ; to your mother I owe, not only 
 the means by which I have purchased the 
 blessed experience now so beneficial to myself 
 and these my dearest and best beloved, but 
 to her am I indebted for the correction of 
 all my indiscretions, for the excitement and 
 encouragement of every right feeling which 
 I possess. 
 
190 DANVERS. 
 
 " It is," continued he, " in the possession of 
 a fond, faithful, and amiable wife, and such 
 dear pledges as these which now surround me, 
 with the power of doing good, and the bless- 
 ings of that peace of mind which the Disposer 
 of all events vouchsafes to those who de- 
 voutly seek it, that man possesses real hap- 
 piness upon earth. So far from contentment 
 resulting from extensive property — the pro- 
 perty itself is a constant source of discontent, 
 while its fruits, in a short time, become taste- 
 less and sickening. Enough and a little to 
 spare, is all that is to be desired, and " 
 
 How much farther Danvers might have gone 
 on with this apostrophization of wealth, I can- 
 not say ; but Mrs. Miles, who had nursed 
 all the children in Mrs. Danvers's family for 
 the last half century, entering the room to 
 carry off the young heir apparent to bed, at 
 the moment wherein her master paused, pri- 
 vileged by her long standing, took up the 
 speech precisely at the point where he had 
 dropped it, and lifting the dear boy into her 
 arms, and doubling a shawl over " his noble 
 face " to prevent his catching cold, said — 
 
DANVERS. 191 
 
 " You are right. Sir, — Enough is as 
 good as a feast and as I used to say to my 
 poor dear Husband, when he was alive, too 
 
 MUCH OF A GOOD THING IS GOOD FOR 
 NOTHING." 
 
THE 
 
 FRIEND OF THE FAMILY 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
THE 
 
 FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 As I sketch from the life, and yet have no 
 wish to be personal, I shall not mention the 
 name of the country-town in which, and in 
 the neighbourhood of which, the scene of the 
 following occurrences is laid. 
 
 I presume a description of it will be suffi- 
 cient; and if I have any skill in depicting, 
 and my readers will take the trouble to com- 
 pare this sketch with such country-towns as 
 they happen to know, they will doubtlessly 
 decide precisely upon that particular one 
 which I mean them to select for the theatre of 
 our action. 
 
 My country-town is situated in a valley ; it 
 is watered by a river, the river is crossed by a 
 k2 
 
196 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 bridge, over which passes the high London 
 road. In the centre of the main street stands 
 an old " Town Hall," supported by rustic co- 
 lumns without capitals, which columns are 
 ordinarily covered with notices of sales, ad- 
 vertisements of linen-drapery, promises of 
 wealth and glory to aspiring young heroes 
 willing to enlist for the East Indies, and 
 notices of Quarter Sessions, and of Acts of 
 Parliament intended to be applied for. 
 
 This Town Hall is ornamented with a clock, 
 which does not go, surmounted by a rusty 
 weathercock ; opposite to the clock, and more- 
 over on the shady side of the building, is 
 placed a sun-dial, whose gnomon is distorted, 
 and whose face is adorned with a quaint 
 apothegm. 
 
 On one side of the street, somewhat retired 
 from it, stands the church : a neatly trimmed 
 w^alk leads from the street diagonally to its 
 door, across a cemetery undulating with rustic 
 graves, where sleep the '* pride of former 
 days," remembered only by the brief and 
 pithy poems which adorn their grave-stones, 
 or in the hearts of those who loved, and who 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 197 
 
 are destined, after a little more of trouble, 
 to follow them. 
 
 Beyond the church-yard, and accessible by 
 another road, you just see the parsonage, a 
 white and ancient house, havino; three pointed 
 gables, with towers of chimneys in the inter- 
 vening valleys of roof. The gardens are pret- 
 tily laid out, and the river, which you cross on 
 entering the town, (not navigable) runs through 
 them, and looks black in its clearness as it 
 ripples under the thick and tangled foliage of 
 the intermingling trees. 
 
 Nearly opposite to the church, somewhat 
 conspicuously placed, stands bolt upright, 
 in all its London pertness, a house, which at 
 the time 1 commence ihy narrative, belonged 
 to Mr. Amos Ford, attorney-at-law, and (con- 
 sequently) gentleman. The door, illustrated by 
 a brass knocker of considerable size, confined 
 towards its knob by a staple, was so contrived 
 as effectually to secure it from the depredations 
 of itinerant wags, who occasionally carry their 
 suburban jests far out of the bills of mortality. 
 
 At the corner of the market-place is the 
 shop, where every body buys every thing, — full 
 
198 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 of flannels, and lace, and tapes, and bonnets, 
 and toys, and trinkets, looking dark, and 
 smelling fustily. On the first floor over it, at 
 the time of which I speak, lodged Captain 
 Hogmore, an officer on the recruiting service, 
 who might be seen every day, Sundays ex- 
 cepted, from ten till two, seated at a table 
 covered with dusty green baize, whereon stood 
 a furred decanter and a squat tumbler, wherein 
 to pour and whereout of to drink, some milky- 
 looking water contained in the bottle, by way 
 of refreshment from his else intermitting la- 
 bours upon the German flute. 
 
 Towards the extremity of the town there 
 stood an " Academy for Young Gentlemen, 
 by the Rev. R. Birch and Assistants;" next 
 door to which was " Mrs. Tickle's Establish- 
 ment fo. Young Ladies." This, however, does 
 not say much for the locality ; for it rarely 
 occurs {why, I leave to the saints and sages of 
 this era of enlightenment to decide) that one 
 sees a school for boys without a contiguous 
 seminary for girls. 
 
 After you pass the turnpike, you see on your 
 left, Burrowdale Park, the seat of the Right 
 Hon. Lord Belmont, a spacious mansion in the 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 199 
 
 full uniform of bad taste, red brick with white 
 facings — a pimple on the beautiful face of Na- 
 ture : in the days of which I treat, not a daisy 
 presumed to lift its head above the smooth 
 surface of the well-mown lawn before it : every 
 thing was niceness, order, and precision ; gera- 
 niums, tortured over fans in pots of the 
 brightest scarlet, lined the steps which led 
 up to the hall-door, like gentlemen pensioners 
 in the presence-chamber — every thing shone 
 in spotless neatness : the steps themselves were 
 white as snow, and the well-oiled weathercock 
 on the stables, as it silently veered with the 
 wind, glittered in the sun with a bird-dazzling 
 brightness. 
 
 The noble owner of Burrowdale was, at the 
 time we begin our history, absent; he had been 
 our minister at a foreign court for seven years ; 
 and had been honoured, in approbation of his 
 conduct, with the Civil Grand Cross of the 
 Bath. During his Lordship's absence. Burrow- 
 dale Hall was let furnished to Mr. and Lady 
 Honoria Humbug, who with the three lovely 
 Misses Humbug, usually passed their summer 
 months of September, October, and November, 
 in that discnified retirement. 
 
200 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 x\s, however, our immediate business is with 
 the owner of Burrowdale rather than the te- 
 nants, I will endeavour, having described part 
 of the scenery, to elucidate the character of 
 one of my principal actors; and where better 
 can such notice be taken of a noble lord, than 
 in his own domain ? 
 
 Lord Belmont, then, was a man about 
 fifty-six years of age ; his person and figure 
 marked as aristocratic by the hand of Nature, 
 and, if not vying with the Pagets or the 
 Villierses, still handsome and graceful enough 
 to catch the eye and arrest the attention of 
 those with whom he came in contact. 
 
 His Lordship's leading foible was pride — ex- 
 cessive family pride ; and this, added to a 
 violent temper and strong passions (which he 
 was from morning till night labouring to con- 
 trol) made his Lordship somewhat less agree- 
 able in private life than he would have been, 
 had he been blessed with humility and a sweet 
 disposition. He had been apprenticed to a 
 statesman of some eminence in early life, and 
 had risen through the various grades of sub- 
 ordinate diplomacy, until he consummated his 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 201 
 
 earthly happiness by procuring for himself the 
 exalted situation which he filled so entirely 
 to his own satisfaction. 
 
 His Lordship had married early, and after 
 eight years of unruffled contentment, lost 
 his lady — an event which he bore with the 
 most laudable philosophy and dignified calm- 
 ness : his only daughter, he forced into a mar- 
 riage with a Scots baron, a widower, with nine 
 red-headed children, at a moment when he 
 knew her to be devotedly attached to a young 
 officer who, subsequently to her marriage, was 
 killed on the Continent. The poor young lady, 
 after a few months of misery, died of what is 
 vulgarly called a broken heart, that is to say, 
 grief had preyed upon her constitution, and 
 she fell a victim to the disorders which it 
 produced, — a circumstance her noble father 
 greatly deplored, but which was observed to 
 have less effect upon his sensibility after he 
 had caused her to be interred in the family 
 vault at Burrowdale, and had placed her co- 
 ronetted escutcheon over his velvet-trimmed 
 pew in the church. 
 
 His Lordship, as it may perhaps be sur- 
 k5 
 
202 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 mised, was one of those curiously constructed 
 persons in whom the passions and the feelings 
 bear no relative proportion to each other : he 
 was hot, impetuous, violent, and even danger- 
 ous, as relates to the one-—- cold, senseless, and 
 immoveable as refers to the other ; in his man- 
 ner to strangers he was stiff, distant, and dig- 
 nified — to his familiars and inferiors, hasty, 
 haughty, and impetuous ; his mind was highly 
 cultivated, nor was he without talent, but cus- 
 tom and formality had greatly contributed to 
 correct any little propensity towards gaiety; 
 and the art which he had so long and so assi- 
 duously studied, taught him, that sincerity, if a 
 virtue, like other good things, was not always 
 to be made use of — that he was to treat every 
 friend as if he might become an enemy, and 
 that, as he presumed the object of every man 
 who approached, was to deceive him, so the 
 only way to frustrate his designs was to be 
 beforehand with him in deluding. Thus, what 
 v;ith his scheming and the diplomatic jargon 
 in which he invariably delivered himself, it 
 usually turned out that a conversation with 
 his Lordship never led to any decided result, 
 but at the end of half an hour's dialogue with 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 203 
 
 him a man was pretty nearly in the place 
 whence he had started at the beginning of it. 
 
 Amongst the few objects, besides those of 
 his mission, which engaged his Lordship's at- 
 tention, was one in which, for the honour 
 of his family, he was deeply interested. He 
 had a son — the Honourable Edward Bramley, 
 who, at the period to which I now refer, was 
 finishing his education at Oxford. 
 
 At the time of his father's departure, and, 
 indeed, for several years, he had passed 
 his vacations at Emmerton Parsonage, (for 
 since my town must have a name, Emmerton is 
 as good a nom de guerre as any other.) The 
 Rector of Emmerton was an intimate friend 
 and fellow-collegian of his Lordship, a 
 man, moreover, of family and consequence, 
 brother to an English earl, and cousin to an 
 Irish marquess ; and yet, with all these envi- 
 able claims to public distinction and the private 
 friendship of my Lord Belmont, he died one 
 day, when, to say truth, he appeared little 
 to expect it, and the vacant living was pre- 
 sented by the Bishop in whose gift it was, to 
 the present incumbent. Dr. Bailing, who, under 
 all the circumstances, felt no disinclination to 
 
204 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 permit the young heir of Lord Behiiont to 
 continue his domestication at the Rectory 
 during his noble father's absence, having been 
 greatly moved thereunto by Mr. Amos Ford, 
 attorney at law, gent, and manager of all 
 my Lord's affairs, whose name I have al- 
 ready mentioned, and of whom much more 
 hereafter. 
 
 The late Rector was to be sure, he is dead, 
 
 and de mortuis, &c. but I name no names, and if 
 a cap fit, it may as easily be squeezed upon a 
 dead man's head as upon the head of a man 
 
 alive ; the late Rector was one of those 
 
 few exceptions to the piety and excellence of 
 the church of England, upon whom the 
 innovators and disturbers place their hopes 
 of subversion and spoliation ; and if he were 
 unfit to be rector of Emmerton, he was still 
 less fit to be the guardian of his friend's 
 heir : the vices of the table were not the only 
 vices laid to his charge, and in the sports of 
 the field, the diversions of the race-course 
 and the cricket-ground, the pastor. Honourable 
 by courtesy, and Reverend by profession, dis- 
 sipated those hours which should have been 
 devoted to the sacred duties of his holy call- 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 205 
 
 ing, — a calling no man should hastily adopt, 
 but to which, when once adopted, all ordinary 
 gratifications and all worldly feelings must be 
 subservient. 
 
 In the midst of a round of noisy revelry and 
 heartless gaiety, with a wife as noble as him- 
 self and little better, this thoughtless man was 
 called away to another world, just in time to 
 save the community, whose spiritual possess- 
 ings he shamefully mis-governed, from dissen- 
 sions, disunion, depravity, and demoralization. 
 If vice or indecorum were censured in £m- 
 merton, the rector was quoted as an autho- 
 rity: if sabbath-breaking were adduced as the 
 precursor of destruction, the parsonage itself 
 afforded a horrible palliation ; and ridiculous, 
 as it may well be imagined, became the ad- 
 monitions from the pulpit, or the corrections 
 from the bench, in a place where the clergy- 
 man was a libertine, and the magistrate a 
 law-breaker. 
 
 Not more refreshing is the balmy rain from 
 heaven after a lengthened drought — not more 
 soothing the gentle breeze after the impetuouy 
 hurricane — not more cheering the budding 
 spring after a long and dreary winter, than 
 
206 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 the arrival of the late rector's successor was 
 to the people of the parish of Emmerton. 
 
 Dalling, that was the name of the new in- 
 cumbent, was as opposite to him whom he 
 followed, as he to ail he should have been : — 
 an able scholar a pious minister, the sick 
 man's hope, the poor man's friend ; his house, 
 and his heart, were alike open to the needy and 
 distressed — his life was a round of kind and 
 charitable actions; he practised as he preached, 
 and not content with shewing others the path 
 to heaven, he led the way himself. 
 
 If excellence be not always hereditary, it 
 seems Balling's case afforded a proof that it 
 misfht be sometimes so. He had a dauohter 
 — and such a daughter! 
 
 Rose Dalling was not a beauty — she had not 
 what a painter would call a fine feature in her 
 face ; but she was all loveliness and loveable- 
 ness — her eyes could talk all languages, her 
 mouth was all smiles — her cheeks full of dim- 
 ples, and a colour on her cheek 
 
 '^ At which the envious rose grew pale." 
 To say that she drew, and sang, and played. 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 207 
 
 and did all the thousand winning, witching 
 things that well-bred girls do, would, in these 
 days of refinement, be to say nothing; but 
 there was the beautiful veil of modesty flung 
 over all her perfections. Were they called 
 forth naturally, her talents developed them- 
 selves martificially ; as were her talents, 
 so were her virtues. She was religious with- 
 out ostentation, well-read without pretension, 
 and accomplished without being a show! 
 
 She visited her father's sick and aged parish- 
 ioners — she established a school, and made fa- 
 vourites of the pretty children whom she clothed 
 and educated. It was a sweet sight to see 
 Rose Dallino; trainino- the minds of her infant 
 charges, and teaching them the word by which 
 alone their future happiness could be insured. 
 She looked like some ministerino- anoel new- 
 lighted on the earth, and her bright eyes 
 beamed with a more than worldly radiance, 
 while animated in the cause of the poor or- 
 phans whom she sheltered, and in the service 
 of the God whom she adored. 
 
 When it is known that such a jewel lay 
 embowered amongst the tall and venerable 
 
208 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 trees of Emmerton parsonage, it will not ap- 
 pear, perhaps, surprising that Edward Bramley 
 pressed to be allowed to share the quietude of 
 the family circle ; and that, however dazzled 
 and diverted he might have been by the noise 
 and ill-placed revelry of his late Honourable and 
 Reverend Mentor, the change which brought, 
 instead of wine, and wanton wit, and 
 
 ** Quips and cranks, and jollity,"— 
 
 religion, reason, calmness, beauty, intellectual 
 intercourse, talent and accomplishment — ho- 
 nest cheerfulness, innocent gaiety, and domes- 
 tic affection, was, to a mind like his, at once 
 striking, winning, and redeeming ! 
 
 There are thousands of persons in the world 
 whose astonishment will be moved to hear of 
 cheerfulness and gaiety in a house whose in- 
 mates were, as I have already said, truly de- 
 vout. But why should it? The protestant 
 religion does not possess such an attribute as 
 gloom in its whole composition. What a satire 
 is it upon humanity to say, that rational be- 
 ings — all faculty, all intelligence — should never 
 be cheerful or happy without being necessarily 
 impious ! 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 209 
 
 Is the social union of society irreligious ? 
 Is the ardent cultivation of brotherly affection 
 irreligious ? Is the exercise of any, of all the 
 Fine Arts, irreUgious ? Is mirth, excited by 
 no improper means, irreligious? Music, dan- 
 cing, conversation, or even cards, if not in- 
 dulged in vi^ith improper views — are these, or 
 any one of these things, irreligious? We 
 should say not : and it is only by the vul- 
 gar association of groans and tears, and 
 sighs and melancholy, with virtue and mora- 
 lity, piety and devotion, that persons of weak 
 minds and superficial enquiry either remain 
 during their lives more than half atheists, or 
 towards the termination of their career, turn 
 quite methodists. 
 
 In such society as that of Bailing and his 
 daughter, Bramley found attractions, new as 
 they were fascinating. His terms at Oxford 
 lingered on his hands ; and all those academi- 
 cal pursuits, by which time is dissipated, and 
 dissipation of every other sort is promoted in 
 our seats of learning:, failed in their wonted ef- 
 feet of shortening the periods of absence from 
 Emmerton, to whose peaceful shades he flew 
 
210 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 as the giddy bird, after fluttering wildly in 
 the air, shuts close his pinions and sinks into 
 the nest. 
 
 It seems but natural to infer that whatever 
 excellence, whatever virtue, whatever talent, 
 Edward had discovered in Dr. Dalling, the 
 fact of his having such a daughter did by no 
 means weaken the high opinion he had formed 
 of his character and intellect, upon his first ac- 
 quaintance with him, and it appears to me, 
 who have watched such things, that the ar- 
 rangement concluded by Mr. Amos Ford for 
 the residence of the young heir at the Par- 
 sonage, was not the less agreeable to Rose, 
 when she found in the inmate of her father's 
 house a being all talent, all genius, and all ac- 
 complishment. 
 
 However this might be, we will not waste 
 time in speculating upon feelings, which may be 
 more advantageously devoted to the narration 
 of facts. For seven months in the year Rose 
 Dalling and Edward Bramley were day after 
 day in the unvarying habit of reading together, 
 drawing together, and walking together ; if he 
 returned from shooting, Rose was sure to meet 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 211 
 
 him at the side-gate of the Rectory-grounds 
 which opens into Burro vvdale Park; if he "plied 
 the fisher's art," who but Rose was ready to un- 
 lock the wicket by the boat-house ? — on his re- 
 turn, tired with the sports of the field, she, 
 perhaps, would try to get his opinion of a 
 book, a song, a drawing — this would lead them 
 to her boudoir, a small square print-room over 
 the porch, the casement of which was covered 
 with jasmines and honeysuckles : here, too, 
 stood her harp — that naturally would lead to 
 her singing. And what all this in the course 
 of time was likely to lead to, I believe I need 
 tell nobody who is old enough to read my 
 story. 
 
 And yet. Dr. Bailing, a man of clear per- 
 ception, of extraordinary quickness, know- 
 ledge of the world, and insight into worldly 
 motives, went on visiting his parishioners, 
 writing his sermons, attending his vestries, 
 regulating his business, and saw no more of 
 what was doing or what would be the proba- 
 ble result of it, than if he had been as blind as 
 Cupid himself; to say truth, the whole trio 
 were in the dark as to the real position of 
 
212 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 affairs : if Rose had been asked what she 
 thought of Edward Bramley, she would with- 
 out trepidation, blushing, faltering, or stam- 
 mering, have praised him to the very echo, 
 have told you of his talent, of his generosity, 
 his charity, his wit, his worth ; — this does not 
 look like love, which seeks to conceal the 
 real object, and even prompts the girl to cen- 
 sure what she most approves. If I, who know 
 her well enough to have put such a question, 
 had asked her seriously if she loved Edward 
 Bramley, as lovers love, she would have 
 laughed at me for supposing such a thing pos- 
 sible ; and with all the ardour of youth and 
 all the enthusiasm of which he was possessed, 
 I doubt whether Edward Bramley himself had 
 a better notion of the actual state of his heart 
 than Rose had of that of her's. 
 
 When one leaves a small town for a large 
 one as a residence, although, perhaps, one is 
 stricken with the magnificence of the new 
 view, one does not feel the increased extent of 
 prospect, the width of the streets, or the height 
 of the houses, in their full force, till one goes 
 back again to the objects which we first left. 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 213 
 
 and to \vhich the eye had before become fami- 
 liarised — it is on the return to the smaller and 
 more confined domain that one feels the supe- 
 riority of that which, when we first saw it, did 
 not strike us as so much finer. With our 
 young' people at Emmerton the case was much 
 the same — they were happy, contented, easy, 
 and gay, without the possibility of any oc- 
 currence likely to excite any violent feeling ; 
 and it was only when they were separated 
 that they really appreciated the value of each 
 other's society : that which had before seemed 
 gay, on the return to it from her, appeared flat, 
 stale, and unprofitable—and Edward, after his 
 mind had been soothed and elevated, softened 
 and enlightened by that most charming of all 
 charming women — only wondered how he could 
 have enjoyed the diversions of Alma Mater, 
 into which he had formerly entered with so 
 much spirit. 
 
 But these days were not to last. Yet who 
 in such a Paradise could dread a serpent? but 
 I must not anticipate. 
 
 1 have before mentioned that the arrano;e- 
 ment for Edward's residence with the Bailing 
 
214 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 family was pressed, and even carried into ef- 
 fect by the strenuous exertions of Mr. Amos 
 Ford. When my reader knows Mr. Amos Ford 
 better, he will know that he never did a thing 
 without a motive, and when I have said that 
 Mr. Amos Ford was a methodist and an at- 
 torney, I truso I shall not have prejudiced my 
 reader against him ; he was universally re- 
 spected and looked up to. He attended 
 chapel regularly, and some say that in a con- 
 venticle built by himself he even went the 
 whole length of preaching. 
 
 He had a daughter, Rachel Ford, who^was 
 a pattern to her sex : she was as demure as the 
 hand-maidens of the most unsophisticated 
 days ; she was full of religion — her mind con- 
 stantly fixed on things above; her countenance 
 (though plain) was serious and contemplative 
 — her manner cold — her conversation chaste, 
 almost to prudishness ; she dealt out maxims 
 even upon the pinning of a cap, and would quote 
 scriptural authority for tying up a geranium. 
 
 She w^as pale and thin, and sighs would steal 
 from her lips as if unconsciously ; rigidly re- 
 gular in her devotions, and zealously furious 
 against amusements, she rejected cards and 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 215 
 
 the jingling of music as abominations, and 
 during the stay of the strolling actors in Em- 
 merton, her state was most pitiable. 
 
 Her father, by dint of what we will call in- 
 dustry in his profession, had accumulated much 
 property : he had become, unexpectedly, yet 
 fortunately, residuary legatee to several clients, 
 whose wills he himself had prepared, and 
 having had the affairs of His Excellency Ed- 
 ward Baron Belmont, G. C. B. for several 
 years, during his Excellency's absence, in his 
 hands, had acquired, pending his vicegerency 
 over them, considerable influence with the te- 
 nantry and neighbours. This influence was 
 much increased by his religious zeal during 
 the residence of that rector whose qualities I 
 have already attempted to describe, which 
 shewed itself in alms, in charity, and in prayer, 
 and which had collected to his Free Chapel 
 nearly as many friends as visitors. And such 
 was the impression in favour of him, that if 
 his praises were obtained through the power 
 delegated to him by his noble client, they 
 were re-echoed back to his Lordship with such 
 frequency and strength, that all parties became 
 perfectly satisfied, the tenants with the agent. 
 
216 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 and the agent with the principal ; and at the 
 period I first am compelled to introduce him, 
 his carriage might be seen every day, Sundays 
 excepted, at the doors of all the best houses in 
 the vicinity of Emmerton ; nay, the humble 
 landholders had dignified him with the appel- 
 lation of Squire Ford, to which they (and 
 perhaps correctly) imagined he had as much 
 claim as to that of Gentleman, which in this 
 country, custom and courtesy have afiixed to 
 the names of individuals of his calling. 
 
 But I perceive, that while I merely proposed 
 to describe a place, 1 have fallen into the de- 
 scription of persons — so be it ; my readers are 
 now pretty well acquainted with some of my 
 leading characters, and with a general view of 
 the locale. 
 
 To complete the sketch, and bring it more 
 home to them, I shall merely add, that be- 
 sides the families with whom I and the reader 
 are doomed to live, there were old maids who 
 played quadrille, and young maids who danced 
 quadrilles — small coteries of twaddlers who 
 met at seven o'clock to drink hot water, mis- 
 called tea, and play long whist for sixpences 
 till ten, when the sedan-chair came for some, 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 217 
 
 maids with cloaks and lanterns for others, and 
 who parted for the night, those only satisfied 
 who succeeded in carrying off the value of 
 two or three points, in addition to a glass 
 of their hostess's well-kept currant wine. 
 
 The misses were divided into factions, and 
 abused each other outrageously ; while those 
 who were dear friends would sit hand-in-hand 
 on the sofa, talking sentiment during the time 
 their mothers were playing cards. Beaux were 
 particularly scarce: Captain Hogmore had 
 grown stale, besides, what was he among so 
 many? Mr. Blithe, jun. son of the apothecary, 
 was one of the rising hopes of the circle : he 
 was just nineteen, with a milk-white face, a 
 bad neckcloth with a big bow in the front, and 
 legs like sticks of black sealing-wax. Mr. At- 
 kins, the usher at Mr. Birch's academy, was 
 occasionally to be got; and two very ** nice, 
 genteel young men,'' who were articled to Mr. 
 Watkins (Ford's rival), were always •' asked 
 out" with the family; but then there were 
 two INIisses Watkins, in copper-coloured pe- 
 lisses and coquelicot bonnets, who seemed to 
 consider the clerks their private property ; a 
 thing which when mentioned to Mrs. W. the 
 
 VOL. I. L 
 
218 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 Mamma, excited her anger, and a declaration 
 that " it was all nonsense." 
 
 In the better circles, the only novelty I have 
 at the moment to offer, is the family at the 
 time resident at Burrowdale Park. 
 
 Mr. Humbug, or, as he was commonly called, 
 Jack, was a person who sprang from the soil, 
 and was, what, nobody can exactly say. He 
 had been in his youth a bit of a lawyer, a bit 
 of a sailor, a bit of a soldier ; he was a dab- 
 bler in all arts and sciences, a proficient in 
 none. He could draw, he could sing, he could 
 dance, play, etch, engrave, model, write 
 sonnets, take likenesses, fish, shoot, hunt, 
 turn little ivory boxes, make alum baskets, 
 carve and gild, and play every game on 
 the cards : he had an eye for a horse, 
 drove four-in-hand, jumped higher than any 
 man in the United Kingdom, tired Barclay in 
 a walk, and beat Bedford at biUiards — at least, 
 he said he did. 
 
 I remember one day seeing at Fontainebleau 
 a clock with seven or eight dials, one profess- 
 ing to tell the hour, another the day, a third 
 the month, a fourth the moon's age, a fifth the 
 year, and so on ; and they were all ver;^ nearly 
 right, but not one of them quite so. I could 
 
THE IRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 219 
 
 not, at the moment, help thinking of my 
 friend Humbugj if half the pains which had 
 been taken with this toy, had been bestowed 
 upon so much of the machinery as was merely 
 necessary to the ivell-goiiig of any one of those 
 dials, an object would have been attained, the 
 thing would have been perfect, and we should 
 have had the advantage of deriving correct in- 
 formation from it as far as it went; but the 
 application being diversified, and so many 
 qualities sought for, the consequence was, both 
 to the man and the machine, that they pro- 
 fessed to do every thing, and succeeded in 
 doing nothing perfectly. 
 
 It was truly the case with Jack Humbug : 
 his knacks and tricks, and turnings, and ma- 
 noeuvrings, and talents if you will, were so in- 
 congruous, so sketchy, so oddly assorted, and 
 so ill-arranged, that they were to his mind much 
 the same as the motley coat is to Harlequin's 
 body — a collection of patches of excellent ma- 
 terials, whimsically stitched together, to make 
 their wearer as ridiculous as possible. 
 
 Jack had the advantage of a remarkably good 
 person, and that, with the aid of his nick- 
 nackeries, perfect good humour, and a smatter- 
 l2 
 
220 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 iiig of boudoir wit, procured him the aflPections 
 of Lady Honoria Dawdle, the only daughter 
 and heiress of a noble earl now no more : she 
 was beautiful and a fool, — she thought him 
 beautiful and a conjuror, and eloped with her 
 young swain before she was of age. 
 
 Her friends, perceiving that the step was 
 taken, instead of crying out and exclaiming 
 against the affair, very prudently consoled 
 themselves with the reflection that she " might 
 have done worse,'' and determined rather than 
 affect to dislike a marriage which they could 
 not dissolve, to do every thing in their power 
 which might add to the consequence and re- 
 spectability of the person to whom she was 
 united, and give him, if possible, an importance 
 worthy of one of themselves, which he then 
 was, and which he had not. Thus, in his matri- 
 monial project, he may be thought to have 
 succeeded entirely, but not- so, for although, 
 when his dear Honoria came of age, he found 
 himself possessed of a life-interest in about 
 twenty thousand pounds per annum, still there 
 was an earldom in remainder, which was en- 
 cumbered with two conditions. 
 
 First, that the nephew of Lady Honoria 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 221 
 
 should die without issue — and secondly, that 
 he, Humbug, should have a son upon whom 
 the honour might devolve. Here he failed : he 
 had been blessed with three daughters, but no 
 male heir had gratified his expectations or his 
 vanity. 
 
 Lady Honoria was an excessively weak 
 woman, and, as is usually the case, an exces- 
 sively vain one ; she was without exception the 
 most sentimental creature that ever existed, 
 and, like Fielding's Huncamunca, shuddered at 
 a gross idea. She had been a beauty, and the 
 worst of the matter was, that she could never 
 forget it — and neither published caricatures, 
 nor consequent rheumatism, could induce her 
 at fifty-five to heighten her tucker, curtail 
 her ringlets, or lengthen her petticoats ; and 
 the garb in which her mind was arrayed was 
 coeval with that, in which she clothed her 
 person. 
 
 Love, romantic love, that particular sort of 
 love which lives in a cottage, and breakfasts 
 upon a May-morning breeze, was the usual 
 theme of her conversation — she was full of ro- 
 mantic enthusiasm about moonlight, and perfect 
 abhorrenceof worldly views. Her favourites were 
 
222 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 " all heart," and *' all mind/' and (like some 
 others of my friends noticed elsewhere) " ail 
 soul." She wrote verses, and would read poetry 
 with a twanging aifectation to her friends^ and 
 emphasize the beauties ; she would melt into 
 tears at a piece of music she remembered to 
 have heard played by a friend who had been 
 dead thirty-four years ; she treasured a rose- 
 bud in a box which somebody had told her 
 grew in the garden of the house where Pe- 
 trarch was said once to have lived— and she 
 had an album, and scrap-books, and, moreover, 
 and above all, was extremely fond of flirting — 
 being, by the way, considered, by those who 
 knev/ her best, somewhat jealous of her own 
 daughters in that line. 
 
 The girls were all exceedingly foolish, but 
 none of them in their mother's way: they had 
 not a grain of sentiment in their composition — 
 they had, according to the character which their 
 Mamma gave them, no hearts ; they had fifty 
 thousand pounds a piece, and they knew it — 
 and with all their flightiness and absurdity 
 they had sense enough (that is, the sense of 
 self-preservation) not to propose to themselves 
 to bestow their fortunes upon gentlemen who 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 223 
 
 are accustomed to sit with crooks in their 
 bauds or flageolets in their mouths 
 
 " Sub tegmine fagi," 
 till the sun, sinking in the west, gilds the hori- 
 zon with its mellowed tints, and bids them fold 
 their fleecy flocks. They had no notion of 
 Arcadian pleasures ; an excellent well-built 
 well-furnished house, a well-appointed esta- 
 blishment, smart carriages, and good horses, 
 appeared to them more likely to produce com- 
 fort and satisfaction than the romantic joys of 
 fields and folds, and flowers and bowers, of 
 which their mother talked, as if every month 
 were May. The girls knew and saw, that tune- 
 ful groves and verdant meads are extremely 
 disagreeable in the winter, and that an old 
 shepherdess is by no means an engaging 
 personage. Lady Honoria was shocked at all 
 this, and used to write about, to the friends of 
 her youth, to complain of the insensibility of 
 her children, who would not elevate their 
 minds above the grovelling things of every- 
 day existence. 
 
 Jack Humbug, himself, was a kind indul- 
 gent father, and a fond-enough husband, con- 
 sidering: it was a love-marriage — for, dreadful 
 
224 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 as the truth is, and scolded as I shall be by 
 the Humbugs for saying so, I have never seen 
 a run-away match turn out well ; and I have 
 noted down a good many in my common- 
 place book. 
 
 Humbug's disposition greatly resembled his 
 wife's in one respect : he affected never to 
 feel the approach of age, he kept on jumping 
 as he had -done while he was a stripling, after 
 he had attained the age of fifty-six, and when 
 a leap over a dwarf ottoman with a run of 
 the rug's length was a feat in which he was 
 baffled nine times out of ten ; he never could 
 be persuaded to save his money, or his consti- 
 tution, but betted with the most hardened 
 bravery that he would take fences and clear 
 gates, over which, no possible effort of his 
 could carry or even scramble him, and always 
 gave some excellent reason for his failure 
 ^^ that time," though most assuredly not the 
 right one. 
 
 He wore his clothes in the extreme of the 
 reigning fashion, whatever it might be, or 
 however ill-suited to his figrure : a wio; a-la- 
 naturelk, nearly the colour of his whiskers, but 
 not quite— a waist intended for a slim figure. 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 225 
 
 and a hat meant for a boy ; his manners, too, 
 were extremely juvenile, he was always alive, 
 always got the first of every thing ; the first 
 fizgig from Germany was in his possession — 
 nobody ever did Cardinal Puff before him ; in 
 short, by his own account, he was perfectly 
 wise, perfectly learned, perfectly clever, per- 
 fectly fashionable, perfectly happy, and per- 
 fectly young at fifty-six ; but every body who 
 knew Jack, and heard his stories, knew per- 
 fectly well what Humbug really was. 
 
 The girls were quite charming in their way : 
 Miss Humbug, the eldest, was full of excessive 
 pride : she knew her station — her pretensions 
 were considerable ; but her blood and her for- 
 tune authorized the tone she assumed. She 
 had fallen in love with her dancing-master's 
 apprentice when she was seventeen, and, 
 much too prudent to risk her property by 
 marrying him when she came of age, or her 
 propriety by any other less worldly step, con- 
 quered her passion, and declared that the idea 
 of an attachment to an inferior was not only 
 incompatible with the regulations of female 
 society, but beneath the dignity of human 
 nature. 
 
 l5 
 
226 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 Fanny, a beautiful creature, though not 
 sentimental, (for, as I have before said, 
 they none of them were) was outrageous as 
 to the force of moral obligations. She turned 
 away two maids in one month — the first for 
 having told her a falsehood, and the second 
 for having appropriated to her own use half a 
 yard of lace, w^hich was not actually given to 
 her by her young lady. Fanny, about the 
 same period, v/as requested by one of Gray's 
 shopmen to look into her muff, and see whe- 
 ther she had not, by mistake, taken up a tur- 
 quoise necklace and ear-rings which were lying 
 on the counter. She did so ; and infinitely to 
 her surprise (though not to that of the man), 
 the necklace and ear-rings were found where 
 he had been so extremely rude as to imagine 
 they might possibly be. 
 
 Charlotte, the youngest, was quite of a dif- 
 ferent turn. She was blue, deep blue, and you 
 could taste the Prussic acid even in her con- 
 versation ; it was full of killing pedantry and 
 pitiable affectation ; she was as silly as her 
 sisters, but, having bored herself to death to 
 learn Latin and Greek, felt herself autho- 
 rized to surfeit her friends with the half-ripe 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 227 
 
 fruits of her labours. She had many flutter- 
 ing beaux hovering about her fifty thousand 
 pounds, but the arts of the scavante drove them 
 all away, one after another ; so that whatever 
 desire the young linguist might have had to 
 conjugate, the world seems to think she never 
 had an opportunity of declining. 
 
 In short, from the oldest to the youngest, 
 from the father down to Charlotte, they were 
 aH decided Humbugs; and having said thus 
 much by way of preparation, I shall leave 
 them to fight their own way with my reader. 
 
 The Humbugs were "quite delighted'' with 
 the Callings ; and poor Rose, who was no 
 match for them in the world, felt convinced 
 that they were the most sincere and excellent 
 people upon earth. They always went to 
 church, and so did all their servants, carrying 
 great Prayer-books and huge Bibles; and they 
 regularly told Rose once in every week during 
 their residence at Burrowdale, that her father 
 was a finer preacher than Andrews or Gardiner ; 
 that as to Sydney Smith, he was a mere dunce 
 to him, and that his sermons equalled only in 
 the excellence of their matter, the superiority 
 of the manner in which they were delivered, 
 
228 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 and poor Rose believed it, little thinking that 
 all the praises, which were meant to prepossess 
 her in their favour, and all the invitations to 
 Burrowdale Park, while Edward Bramley was 
 away, were intended as so many steps to- 
 wards getting this said Mr. Edward Bramley 
 there perpetually, when he should return to 
 Emmerton. 
 
 Bailing himself saw through the halo of 
 affectation in which the whole family was en- 
 veloped, and laughed at their praises, which 
 he in an instant perceived must have an ob- 
 ject. Yet, as he was not himself conscious of 
 the power which his child, evidently to all 
 other eyes, had over the heir of Belmont, it 
 never occurred to him, that, that was the point 
 to which their efforts were directed. 
 
 To Bailing it was a matter of perfect indif- 
 ference ; he by no means disliked Jack Hum- 
 bug — he was a man who had no earthly fail- 
 ing, except that, which seemed to property 
 his whole character, and his conversation was 
 superabundantly replete with fun and whim. — 
 He told the most extravagant falsehoods with 
 the most perfect gravity; and having adopted 
 the mode, very much in fashion, of personi- 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 229 
 
 fying jokes (that is to say, making himself 
 the hero of stories which Joe Miller recorded 
 at least a century ago), he repeated stale jests 
 and ancient anecdotes in his own version so 
 perpetually, that at last he really believed him- 
 self to have been the identical man who, having 
 been reproached with a short coat, said it 
 would be long enough before he got another ; 
 and had no doubt whatever in his own mind 
 but that he himself had heard the girl at the 
 lodging-house say she was to be let alone. 
 
 This, though a weakness, was certainly no 
 vice, and Dalling rather enjoyed the society 
 of Burrowdale as a recreation, for Lady Hono- 
 ria, with all her folly, had instinct enough not 
 to let out any of her fly-away sentiment be- 
 fore the Doctor, and the girls and their fa- 
 ther, to do them justice, were all extremely 
 good-natured. 
 
 Edward had just returned from Oxford, and 
 had fallen into the old routine of the enjoy- 
 ments of Emmerton, when the Humbugs be- 
 gan their projected attack upon him, and an 
 invitation to Burrowdale for the Ballings ac- 
 companied one to him, and, as in the limited 
 circle of their little town it would have been 
 
230 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 difficult to have found an available reason for 
 declining it, the bidding was necessarily ac- 
 cepted, and Rose Bailing unconsciously felt 
 vexed and annoyed that it was. She certainly 
 did not know why, though I and my readers 
 might perhaps have guessed had we been there. 
 
 When the day arrived, the scanty forces of 
 the neighbourhood were mustered, and the 
 Fords were, in compliment to Edward, invited 
 to meet him ; while Captain Hogmore was 
 requested to take his annual dinner (for of 
 such value was the Captain reckoned in the 
 recruiting service, that he had been left sta- 
 tionary at Emmerton for two years) at the Hall. 
 
 The Humbugs insisted upon sending their 
 carriage for the Ballings, and the offer was much 
 too convenient to be rejected; the Fords had 
 tendered their's, but the Humbugs made a 
 point and succeeded in carrying it, and at half 
 past six our little party ascended the snowy 
 steps of Burrowdale Hall, and were ushered 
 into the blue drawing-room, where hung the 
 portrait of Edward's mother, his two uncles, and 
 the lamented sister, whose ill-fated marriage we 
 have before noticed. 
 
 Edward felt a repugnance, which he labour- 
 
THE FRIExND OF THE FAMILY. 231 
 
 ed to conceal, at the natural "at homeishness" 
 of another family in his father's house ; and 
 when he saw the easy carelessness with which 
 they treated pieces of furniture which he, as a 
 child, had been taught to think magnificent 
 and even sacred, he devoutly wished the day 
 were over. 
 
 Every body knows what an uncomfortable 
 half-hour that is^ in England, which precedes 
 dinner, the ladies ranged in a semi-circle, all 
 looking so fresh and so nice and so cold, talk- 
 ing sotto voce either of the weather, or the last 
 "very dreadful accident" which has been put 
 forth in the newspapers — the men grouped in 
 various parts of the room, eyeing each other 
 as if to ascertain the calibre of each other's in- 
 tellect by the quality of a coat or the tying-on 
 of a neckcloth, or rather as if wishing to prove 
 how extremely insolent they could he to each 
 other, should the exigency of the case re- 
 quire it. 
 
 If this be tormenting in winter, when the 
 fire-side breaks a little of the formality, and 
 the moderated light mellows the tints, 
 softens the expression of countenances, and 
 renders personal imperfections or mauvaise 
 
232 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 hojite less conspicuous, what is it when 
 a great blazing July sun glares in at the 
 windows, broiling one with heat, exposing 
 every defect, and making one's very shoes 
 look brown, and when one is removed (without 
 being relieved) from the drawing-room to the 
 dinner-parlour, and placed at table with the 
 same great staring sun directly opposite to 
 one's face, between a v/oman whom one does 
 not know, and a man whom one does not 
 wish to know ? 
 
 All this happened to Edward : he led Miss 
 Humbug to table, and in consequence of some 
 manoeuvring and mis-arrangement divided her 
 from Captain Hogmore, his distaste for whom 
 had always tacitly avowed itself by marked 
 shyness, and whose natural dislike for Edward 
 had been considerably increased from the cir- 
 cumstance of his having been twice prosecuted 
 as a trespasser and poacher upon Burrowdaie 
 preserves, which, although Edward was not 
 even aware of the circumstance, the gallant 
 officer attributed entirely to him. 
 
 Rose Dalling was most inconveniently 
 placed at table as regards our hero, for, not 
 unintentionally, she was seated on the right 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 233 
 
 of Humbug, who had Miss Ford on his left. 
 Edward should have sat next Lady Honovia, 
 but, in a struggle to get near Rose, he 
 lost the place intended for him, which Dr. 
 Dalling took, and got, as I before observed, 
 next to the Captain; this disconcerted him, nor 
 did thehoydenish airs of the Misses Humbug, 
 the exuberant nonsense of their mother, nor 
 the prudishness of Rachel Ford, even by their 
 variety, recompense him for the loss of the 
 pure, natural being with whom he was accus- 
 tomed to associate. 
 
 Dinners, balls, concerts, parties of every 
 sort, are so much alike, that it would be 
 but waste of time to describe the splendid 
 plateau, the massive dishes, or the choice 
 viands which reposed upon them — the chilling 
 hock, the sparkling champagne, which set the 
 eyes beaming and the cheeks glowing — or the 
 conversation which intervened between the 
 moments of eating and. drinking. Lady Ho- 
 noria, awed by the presence of Dalling, was 
 less flighty than usual ; Ford, by dint of an 
 excess of two glasses of wine, warmed into 
 something like mirth ; but Rachel remained 
 unmoved and immoveable by passing circum- 
 
234 THE FUIEXD OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 stances : the three Misses sported all their 
 attractions to ensnare our hero, who perhaps 
 never appeared to less advantage in his life. 
 
 Music was the order of the evening — much, 
 as it should seem, to the horror of Miss Ford, 
 who was sensitively alive to the indecorum, 
 first, of the melting tones of amatory songs, 
 and, secondly, of the improper exhibition of 
 person, in which she considered Lady Honoria 
 to indulge when she opened the little concert 
 by playing on the harp — her performance was 
 meant to be of the first order, she was quite a 
 pedestal woman in music, but she could only 
 play upon her own harp, which had a double 
 action, (I believe they call it) whereas it was 
 notorious to every body who knew her Lady- 
 ship's age, that when she learned to play, there 
 was no such thing as this double-actioned 
 harp in existence. 
 
 The girls performed duetts ; subsequently 
 the family sang glees — Humbug took a part — 
 even the gentle Rose joined, and time, which 
 had lagged so heavily during dinner, wore 
 away faster than Edward had even hoped. 
 
 What his feelings were at quitting Burrow- 
 dale I am unable to say, but certain it is, that 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 235 
 
 if the girls of the family had displayed their 
 various attractions before him in hopes of 
 catching a heart, they were woefully mistaken. 
 The golden pippin of our modern Paris was 
 not destined for any one of the goddesses of 
 Burrowdale. 
 
 It was not to be supposed, however, that in 
 such a pursuit, such a family would be easily 
 tired ; they were indefatigable in their assi- 
 duities : wherever Edward moved, there were 
 the three Miss Humbugs — it seemed a matter 
 of indifference upon whose brows the baronial 
 coronet (which, like Macbeth's dagger, they 
 perpetually " saw before their eyes") settled, 
 and, to say truth, there seemed no small dif- 
 ficulty in escaping the treble-barrelled artillery 
 which was thus played off upon him. 
 
 Every body who knows the world must 
 have observed that, failing in attempts of 
 their own, a certain class of girls adopt the 
 amiable system of foiling others in similar pur- 
 suits, as Gay says, 
 
 " Pleased to ruin 
 Others wooing, 
 Never happy in their own.*' 
 
 And certain it was, that by looks and laughter. 
 
236 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 and even by the sidelong raillery of the Bur- 
 rowdale girls. Rose Bailing began to under- 
 stand the real state of her heart with respect 
 to Bramley, and to apprehend, moreover, that 
 she had betrayed it. 
 
 It is impossible to desciibe what she felt 
 when she began to question herself upon the 
 subject. She trembled — her cheeks flushed, 
 though she was alone; she considered — re- 
 considered ; all was in vain — her peace of mind 
 was gone : it was too clear that what she had 
 fancied friendship, was, in truth, love : to have 
 admitted such a sentiment into her breast, 
 while he, upon whom her virgin affections were 
 thus unconsciously fixed, had never spoken in 
 the language of passion — the thought that she 
 loved, with a love, perhaps, unrequited, a man 
 in a sphere of life above herself, whose father 
 was distinguished by his haughtiness and am- 
 bition, whose career had been marked out by 
 that father to lie amidst the highest and 
 busiest scenes of life — what had she done? 
 She felt herself guilty, and a flood of tears 
 alone relieved her for the moment. 
 
 Her situation was pitiable : to whom was she 
 to turn for succour or advice? She had no 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 237 
 
 mother. She saw the impropriety of remaining 
 an hour longer on the same terms, or even un- 
 der the same roof with Edward. Could she 
 consult her father? No; she felt the disclosure 
 of her attachment would kill her. Could she 
 propose to leave him, and visit her aunt in 
 Leicestershire? How could she deprive a 
 doting parent of his greatest solace? Could 
 she suggest the removal of Bramley ? No ; 
 why should she ? His residence at the parson- 
 age made her father happy — they were pleased 
 with each other's society. — What was to be 
 done ? The sneers of the ladies at the Park, 
 and, more than those, the stings of her own 
 conscience were too formidable to be encoun- 
 tered. She thought of speaking on the subject 
 to the pious, exemplary Ford ; but still her 
 heart recoiled from the idea of a confidant, 
 and, in the midst of her contending thoughts, 
 a summons to dinner ended the first, and, as 
 it turned out, the last deliberation with herself 
 upon the subject. 
 
 Never did girl suffer more than my poor 
 Rose during the once cheerful meal. She 
 shrank from the proffered hand of Bramley, 
 as if she felt it would have been guilty to take 
 
238 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 it ; and while her head was averted from him, 
 her eyes, scarcely uplifted, encountered her 
 father's, who saw the change in the expression 
 of her countenance, but attributed it to cold 
 or heat, or fatigue or reading, or. Heaven 
 knows what else. 
 
 Edward's glance, however, was keener: he 
 saw what neither fatigue nor cold, nor any 
 bodily ill could have brought about; he saw 
 the abstracted look, the anxious movement of 
 her eye, which seemed to fear to rest upon any 
 particular object. Her hurried manner, her 
 close attention to her father, her studied cold- 
 ness towards himself — these were symptoms of 
 something more than mere " corporeal suffer- 
 ance," but still not less enigmatical to Edward 
 upon that account. 
 
 During dinner he puzzled himself by endea- 
 vouring to recollect what he could possibly 
 have done to deserve the alteration which he 
 perceived in her manner towards him, but in 
 vain — there was neither a word nor an action with 
 which he could reproach himself; but he found 
 himself more disturbed and agitated by the 
 changed appearance of things, than he was, 
 perhaps, prepared to expect that he should have 
 
THE IRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 239 
 
 been. The cheerful conversation of the once 
 happy little party was exchanged for a restless 
 silence, a nervous feeling, which seeks change 
 by way of relief, and which partakes of sorrow 
 and apprehension, but in which no pleasure 
 mingles. 
 
 When Rose left the table, Edward almost 
 expected a remark upon what had occurred 
 from Bailing; but not the slightest observation 
 did he make upon the events of the day. He 
 confined himself to a somewhat diffuse consi- 
 deration of the leading article of the prece- 
 ding night's Courier, which had just before 
 dinner reached him, upon which he might 
 have spared himself the exertion of speaking, 
 inasmuch as his auditor v^^as completely ab- 
 sorbed in meditations of his own, and was 
 conscious of no part of the Doctor's harangue, 
 except its termination : he was then greatly re- 
 lieved by the cessation of a monotonous noise 
 which had for some quarter of an hour wounded 
 his ears, but penetrated no farther, and felt 
 gratified at the silence of the man before whose 
 opinions at other times he bowed with respect, 
 and to whose words at a different period he 
 would have listened with admiration. 
 
240 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 When Edward found himself in his own 
 chamber, all that had passed at dinner rushed 
 into his mind : he threw himself upon his bed 
 — hid his face in his pillow — recalled Rose as 
 she had been but yesterday — compared the 
 blooming, laughing, artless girl, as she then 
 was, with the cold, chilling, reserved creature 
 of the present hour: again, he revolved in his 
 mind all he had said or done which could 
 possibly have offended her — he discovered it 
 not; but he discovered, during this examina- 
 tion of himself, the vital importance of her 
 good opinion to him; he discovered that he 
 was the mere creature of her will — that his 
 happiness depended upon her smile — that he 
 could endure no change in her manner — that 
 she was the breath of his life — the very soul of 
 his existence. 
 
 Think what their meeting must have been, 
 when coffee was announced in the drawing- 
 room : the vast — the important — the deciding 
 discovery which Nature herself had made to 
 both these young, affectionate creatures in one 
 short day — her dread of evincing her feelings ; 
 his fear of not meeting with a requital of 
 his love — her apprehension of committing her- 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 241 
 
 self; his horror of being rejected ! It must be 
 clear to my readers that matters could not rest 
 long at this point; but what will they say, 
 when, to complete the embarrassment, the ser- 
 vant mentioned that the Doctor had walked 
 down to Emmerton to visit a sick parishioner, 
 and would not return for an hour ! 
 
 Oh, that hour! What sixty minutes of these 
 young ones' lives had ever been so fraught 
 with interest as these ? Who could attempt to 
 describe the scene which passed? Not I, It 
 had better, therefore, be imagined ; besides, it 
 was a tete-d-tete, and if one knew any thing 
 about it, it would be a breach of confidence to 
 repeat it. In less than half the period assigned 
 to Daliing's absence, the world and worldly 
 views had faded from the tear-fraught eyes of 
 the devoted pair, and she that had trembled at 
 the thought of love a little hour before, met 
 the disclosure which Edward made of the 
 state of his heart, with the candour and sin- 
 cerity she felt due to such a declaration. Their 
 fate was decided — for the first time, her cheek, 
 glowing with blushes, sank upon his shoulder, 
 and the irrevocable treaty was sealed with the 
 first kiss of love upon her ruby lips. 
 Vol. I. M 
 
242 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 Those who have tasted such feehngs will ap- 
 preciate the heavenly calm of pleasure which 
 followed this reciprocal, this honest, virtuous 
 burst of passion — all care, all sorrow, all 
 anxiety, seemed at an end ; and — oh ! to love 
 and be beloved as these loved, — it is a joy to 
 be felt but once in our existence ! 
 
 One trifling circumstance had escaped the 
 memory of the fond pair — which was this : — 
 that either of them had a father — and that the 
 pride of his Sire, which might be startled at 
 such an union, was less formidable, in fact, than 
 that of Bailing, who would rather have died than 
 seemed to connive at the event, with a dispo- 
 sition to do which, when he became acquainted 
 with the circumstances, he would be fully 
 aware he should be charged, by the connexions 
 of his enthusiastic inmate. 
 
 It was all too late to reason now ; the ques- 
 tion was how to act. Rose was for immediate 
 disclosure of circumstances to her father ; but 
 Edward felt that he had difficulties beyond 
 her knowledge to encounter : he suggested a 
 short delay, and urged his wish as strongly as 
 he could without evincing perhaps too point- 
 edly an apprehension of his father's disappro- 
 
THE FUIEND OF THE FAMILY. 243 
 
 balion. It is most probable that, under the 
 circumstances, and with the confidence she 
 had in the superiority of his intellect, he would 
 have carried his point, but, as events seldom 
 come singly, the discussion was checked by 
 the arrival of a letter from Mr. Ford, directed 
 to Edward, and inclosing the following epis- 
 tle from his noble Sire, which I give verbatim 
 as a specimen of that style to which I have be- 
 fore alluded, and in which his Lordship invari- 
 ably indulged. 
 
 Edward, with a foreboding feeling, broke 
 open the seal, and read — 
 " Most cojifid^ritiaL 
 
 *' My dear Son, July— 18~. 
 
 " Your note of the 28th ult. was handed to 
 me through Ford the day before yesterday, and, 
 anxious as I am to answer such points of it 
 as bear upon your present situation and pro- 
 spects, I lose no time in despatching this. 
 
 " With respect to the duration of my stay 
 here, or the probable date of my return, desi- 
 rous as I may, and naturally must be, to afford you 
 every information on the subject, I do not feel 
 myself authorized to give a specific reply ; in- 
 deed, I consider it incompatible with the in- 
 M 2 
 
244 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 terests of those with whom I have the honour to 
 act, to commit them, as to any pledge which may 
 have been given in this matter. I feel confi- 
 dent that there exists a favourable disposition 
 towards me in certain quarters, and although I 
 could not take the responsibility of hazarding 
 an opinion upon the result of any application 
 which I might possibly be induced to make, 
 still I am free to admit the impression upon my 
 mind to be, that unless some peculiar objection 
 might subsequently arise, there would be no 
 difficulty opposed to any ulterior proposition 
 of mine. 
 
 "You will thus perceive, that although I 
 have as explicitly as possible laid before you 
 my present views, I cannot concede the point 
 which you have somewhat strongly, though 
 unintentionally so, pressed upon me ; — however, 
 with respect to your own pursuits I can be 
 more unreserved, and shall trust to your own 
 sense and right feeling to receive my advice, as 
 I proffer it, in good part. 
 
 *' Of the two measures proposed, that of your 
 remaining at Oxford, which you seem strongly 
 to advocate, or of coming to me here, which 
 Ford supports, open as I am to the various ad- 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 245 
 
 vantages and disadvantages of the case, and 
 anxious to give them every consideration, I am 
 free to admit that I am prepared to suggest the 
 necessity of farther deliberation — and I can 
 have no difficulty in explaining myself upon 
 this head. Certain motives exist which might 
 induce a desire for alteration in either plan 
 were it now definitively fixed upon ; but, urgent 
 as those motives would inevitably be, I feel a 
 delicacy in developing the precise nature of 
 them in their present stage. 
 
 " It has always been my wish, and I trust 
 you will believe that I have no desire to appro- 
 priate an undue measure of praise to myself, to 
 meet your views whenever a negotiation found- 
 ed upon a rational basis has been opened; and 
 I feel that I am not pressing myself too much 
 upon your attention when I throw out an im- 
 plied expectation, that in matters deeply im- 
 portant to the general character and condition 
 of the family, you will meet any overtures of 
 mine with a favourable disposition. I wish by 
 no means to extort any thing like a pledge, nor 
 indeed have the measures, to which I have 
 just casually alluded, assumed a shape suf- 
 ficiently matured to require your early atten- 
 
246 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 tion ; I mean merely to express, a wish gene- 
 rally, that no decision on your part should be 
 made which might militate against the ar- 
 rangements I have thrown together in my 
 mind, and which may probably be submitted 
 to you in another form hereafter. 
 
 " Ford has my directions to honour your 
 drafts to the amount agreed upon in my letter 
 under date, Januaiy 15, 18 — ; and it is my par- 
 ticular wish, however much averse I may feel 
 from any unnecessary financial expenditure, 
 that you should maintain with the most scru- 
 pulous attention the appearance suited to your 
 rank and station. I would also throw out for 
 your consideration, whether a short residence 
 in London in each year amongst your own con- 
 nexions would not conduce to the ulterior ob- 
 jects I have in view for you, and which, al- 
 though (as I have just remarked) I am not at the 
 present moment prepared to submit them in 
 any tangible shape, I may perhaps go so far as 
 to say are such as in my judgment cannot rea- 
 sonably but meet with a concurrence on your 
 part. 
 
 ** I refer you to Ford for any farther news of 
 me, and I beg my compliments to Dr. Bailing, 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 247 
 
 although I have not the advantage of a per- 
 sonal acquaintance with him. Upon this lat- 
 ter part of my letter you may, however, use 
 your discretion ; but at all events, believe me, 
 my dear Son, 
 
 " Your aflfectionate Father, 
 
 *' Belmont.'' 
 
 From this very explicit and satisfactory com- 
 munication Edward, in his present mood and 
 under existing circumstances, drew the most 
 unpleasant inferences — it was, as he, and 
 everybody else who knew Lord Belmont, knew, 
 perfectly impossible to come at any thing like 
 a fact either in conversation or correspondence 
 with him ; but the gentle hints *' thrown out'* 
 about '* ulterior objects" and measures which 
 were to be met with favourable consideration, 
 could tend but to one point, and that point 
 neither more nor less than marriage. 
 
 Thus, at least, our sensitive hero reasoned. 
 *' The thief sees an officer in every bush," and 
 the ardent, confessed, committed, pledged, 
 lover saw in his father's letter ominous 
 portendings of a matrimonial alliance in 
 some other quarter. He could ill conceal his 
 apprehensions from Kose, and still worse, his 
 
248 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 anxiety that she should not immediately dis- 
 close the events of that memorable evening to 
 her father. ' ■ '^^^^ 
 
 Rose, who was all nature, and had no notion 
 of conceahnent or manoeuvring, did not re- 
 ceive his entreaties for the present ob- 
 servance of silence upon the subject, quite so 
 cordially or readily as he wished ; not that she 
 doubted — not that she had a suspicion of 
 Edward — poor soul ! she knew too little of the 
 world. He had confessed an affection for her 
 of the tenderest nature, in the tenderest manner; 
 she had received his professions with primeval 
 simplicity, and the idea that he could alter his 
 opinion or change his mind, was one which 
 never entered into her imagination. 
 
 The letter from his Lordship, however, stag- 
 gered his son. An hour before he had seen 
 nothing but loves and doves, and bowers and 
 flowers, and all those sweet scenes and images 
 which have their existence in youthful fancy; 
 he now beheld his angry father shutting his 
 heart and his house against him and his hap- 
 less helpless wife. He felt that he had been 
 rash — that he had almost sinned against a 
 parent by the precipitancy of his measures ; a 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 249 
 
 momentary dread seized him, but he looked at 
 Rose, and all his terror vanished. Love, un- 
 daunted, omnipotent love, resumed his throne, 
 and his father's candid expose was committed 
 to his coat-pocket. 
 
 Still, however, he made it a point that Rose 
 should not immediately reveal to the good 
 Doctor what had happened; — need I add, that 
 he persuaded her to acquiesce? I think not; 
 and yet I have no doubt that many younoj 
 ladies who have been differently educated, will 
 think my poor Rose's conduct extremely wrong 
 and highly indelicate in this affair ; but I can 
 tell them that it was no such thing : she had a 
 perfect confidence in the man she had chosen, 
 and he wished to delay the denouement of their 
 attachment, for reasons, of which, confiding in 
 him as she did, she did not allow herself to doubt 
 the justice. I am not, however, arguing the case 
 upon a point of propriety, I am relating facts. 
 She submitted to his wish upon the occasion, 
 and when Dr. Dalling took his accustomed 
 glass of soda water, before he lighted his candle 
 in order to depart for bed, he had as much 
 notion of what had occurred in his absence, 
 as had His Excellency the Right Hon. Baron 
 M 5 
 
250 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 Belmont, G. C. B. S^A. and S\P. Ambassador 
 and Plenipotentiary Extraordinary at the Court 
 
 of -. 
 
 There are men in the world, who consider 
 women as sportsmen consider hares, and think 
 that all the pleasure lies in the chase. What now, 
 if, after all the pretensions of Edward Bram- 
 ley, he should be one of those — if, conscious 
 of his triumph and secure in his conquest, he 
 now felt that he had, in the ardour of the pur- 
 suit, gone quite far enough to gratify an un- 
 justifiable vanity, and yet not too far to re- 
 tract ? What would the ladies who have 
 begun, perhaps, to be pleased with him, say 
 then? I know not; nor can I venture here to 
 develope the plans which he had formed, nor 
 lay before my readers the reasons he had for 
 wishing to delay his declaration to Calling. 
 I must assume the cant of his Right Honour- 
 able and exemplary father upon the occasion, 
 and, however ready I may be to admit the 
 propriety, generally speaking, of such an ex- 
 planation, distinctly state, that matters have 
 not arrived at sufficient maturity to justify me 
 in submitting the precise nature of Bramley's 
 intentions, or the probable results of his con- 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 251 
 
 duct, to the country at large at the present 
 moment. 
 
 Early on the morning subsequent to the clay 
 in which the mutual disclosure of feeling was 
 made, Edward was closetted with Ford — the 
 amiable, pious Ford ; and received from that 
 exemplary man the most striking proofs of his 
 real and devoted attachment to him, to his 
 interests, and to his family. 
 
 His manner to Edward was, as usual, all 
 mildness and suavity ; and so effectually did 
 these qualities work upon our hero, that, un- 
 consciously almost, he confided the whole se- 
 cret of his heart to his father's homme d'affaires. 
 
 Much to Edward's surprise, Ford exhibited 
 neither astonishment nor expressed a disap- 
 proval; on the contrary, he eulogized Rose 
 Bailing, declared she had always been a fa- 
 vourite of his daughter's, and that although the 
 extremely high tone, and, as he considered, 
 lax morality of the Doctor's principles, had 
 prevented, in a great measure, a more active 
 cultivation of an acquaintance between the 
 families, still, admitting himself to be parti- 
 cular in his feelings on such subjects, he had 
 no doubt that Rose would make him an excel- 
 
252 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 lent help-meet, and ensure. him all .tbe. comforts, 
 of domestic life, -■■-^n^m rftiw ^iuQ edi bnJB 
 
 *' All my apprehensions rest upon my fa- 
 ther," said Edward. *' I know his character, 
 his ambition, his desire for my advancement; 
 and I feared, from the tenor of his letter, that 
 even now he had entered into some matrimo- 
 nial convention in my name." 
 
 '* I think not," said Ford ; " by the favouring 
 blessing of Providence, we may hope to hear 
 from him again next week ; or might it not be 
 advisable, ad' interim, to communicate with 
 him? The view I take of his last letters to 
 me certainly induces me to believe that he is 
 extremely anxious about you at this particular 
 crisis ; but if I know his heart, T may venture 
 to say, that if your happiness w^ere in one 
 scale, and his political views in the other, he 
 would freely give up all the latter to ensure 
 the former." 
 
 " I had heard," said Edward, ** that there 
 was a Lady Louisa Vivian, a daughter of the 
 Duke of Basingstoke, who " 
 
 *' Oh !" interrupted Ford ; " you have heard 
 of that affair — that, I think, need not much 
 annoy you ; there was something like a com- 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 253 
 
 pact, I really believe, between Lord Belmont 
 and the Duke, with respect to an intermar- 
 riage in the families ; yet it related not to Lady 
 Louisa but to Lady Maria, whom it has pleased 
 the Disposer of all good to call from this trou- 
 blesome world to a better." 
 
 *' You are sure of that, my dear Ford?" 
 eagerly enquired Edward. 
 
 *' Quite sure; I believe I could shew you the 
 correspondence between your father and myself 
 at the time, so on that score you may make 
 yourself easy ; and I pray to the Lord so to 
 bless you in this serious undertaking, that you 
 may live honourably and happily in the holy 
 state of matrimony, and raise up to your 
 worldly goods a long and noble posterity." 
 
 " But," said our hero, ** I have not yet ob- 
 tained the consent of one very important per- 
 sonage." 
 
 *' Excuse me," replied Ford, ^' the important 
 personage has, by your own shewing, given 
 her consent ; and although blessed myself with 
 a child, who has no will but her father's, and 
 whose eyes are set upon things not of this 
 world, yet, in nine cases out of ten, when 
 once the lady has yielded her heart, the more 
 
254 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 obstacles thrown in the way, the more strongly 
 she adheres to her purpose — the more the dis- 
 position is thwarted, the more the vapour is 
 condensed — and the infalUble mode to produce 
 an elopement is to put a young woman mider 
 restraint. Believe me, with all Miss Balling's 
 excellencies, with all her charity and benevo- 
 lence (for however blindly they may be mis- 
 directed, they still are excellencies), with all 
 these, she has sufficient worldliness in her 
 character not to be diverted from her present 
 purpose by any new difficulties." 
 
 " I think," said Edward, " that you have 
 formed an erroneous estimate of Miss Dalling's 
 qualities, and I am quite assured that if, as I 
 think it extremely probable he will, her father 
 should refuse his consent " 
 
 "Why should he, my dear Mr. Bramley? 
 What hopes could he have ever entertained 
 of making so advantageous a match for his 
 child?" 
 
 *' Making a match !" cried Edward, " Ford, 
 he has no such idea — no such wish ; and I 
 very much doubt whether he will consent to 
 part with the prop of his declining years.'' 
 
 ** Oh ! come," interrupted the attorney, " let 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 2-35 
 
 US not be so uncharitable as to attribute 
 selfishness to the Rev. Doctor ; worldliness is a 
 part of what is called the established religion 
 of the country. The career of a high-church 
 parson is a race after preferment, accompanied 
 by a thirst for gain, with which the purer and 
 more liberal sects are wholly unacquainted. 
 Had my daughter Rachel been honoured by 
 your affections, much as I feel her value, for 
 she is exemplary in every point, I should as- 
 suredly have waved all personal considerations, 
 and sacrificed my own comforts and domestic 
 advantages to her happiness, and that of her 
 intended husband ; why then should I be so 
 unbelieving in the readiness of another, to 
 make a similar effort?" 
 
 " Nay, but my dear Ford, w^here we differ 
 is, upon that part of your supposition which 
 would impute a design or connivance in the 
 Doctor." 
 
 " Stay, my dear young friend, I never did 
 intend to impute any such thing to your 
 Rose's father. I felt, and spoke my feelings, 
 that if / were the fortunate man whose dauoh- 
 ter had been honoured by your affection, I 
 should — I could have desired nothing more for 
 
256 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 • liL'UOn; 
 
 her in this world ; and it does not appear to 
 me, provided she had approved of you, that 
 there could have been a possibility of my non- 
 acquiescence." 
 
 " Still harping upon my daughter " 
 
 What can he mean by this reiteration of his 
 views, and his wishes, and his Rachel ? thought 
 Edward. It struck him, as indeed was the 
 truth, that all Ford's hopes had once centered in 
 that sole object ; and little fearing, because he 
 did not know of her existence, a rival so for- 
 midable to his child as Rose Dalling, it was 
 he who had earnestly pressed the stay of 
 Edward at the Parsonage, whence he antici- 
 pated that frequent visits would be made to his 
 house, and where his residence might continue 
 without exciting any apprehension in Lord 
 Belmont's mind of a too great intimacy be- 
 tween his son and his man of business. 
 
 Ford had been foiled in this expectation ; 
 and if the intelligence given him by Edward^ 
 mortified his pride, it exasperated Rachel's 
 vanity ; for with all her devout pretensions to 
 sanctity, with all that unearthly serenity which 
 beamed in her well-stored mind, she had 
 
THE l-RIEND OF THE FAMILY. 237 
 
 enough oF liumanity in her composition to feel 
 a thousand sensations, which I cannot pre- 
 tend to define, when she understood that 
 Rose Dalling was the bride elect of the heir of 
 Belmont. 
 
 Nothing is more humiliating, more vexatious 
 than the consciousness of deception exposed, 
 or, rather, the failure of schemes which have 
 cost infinite pains and labour to carry on, and 
 which, if one had known the truth at first, one 
 must have known never could be effectual. 
 Now it was that Rachel lamented the hours 
 she had spent in sick women's cottages, leaving 
 her servant-boy at their doors with a basket to 
 catch Edward's eye as he passed through the 
 outskirts of the town ; now did she bitterly 
 repent the often-taken long walk to Burgess's 
 farm on the top of the hill to visit an old 
 woman with the rheumatism, merely to be seen 
 pacing the steep ascent through its long si- 
 nuosity from the windows of the Parsonage ; 
 oreat were her lamentations, indeed, for all 
 
 o 
 
 the trouble she had incurred to make herself 
 estimable in eyes which, as it now appeared, had 
 never looked on her; and that beautiful temper 
 of which her father was so justly proud, and 
 
258 THE FlllEND OF THE FAMIT-Y. 
 
 which, according to his account, had been 
 soothed into perfect placidity by the calming 
 aid of pure religion, burst forth in execrations 
 — ^piously clothed, it is true — against the idle 
 vanities of the world, the flesh, and — we believe 
 she said — the Devil, — against that weakness 
 which could prefer a tolerably pretty face to a 
 devout heart, and choose a worldly girl in pre- 
 ference to one whose contempt for worldly ob- 
 jects had ever been made manifest. 
 
 Ford's situation was also uncomfortable, 
 for such did he believe, and truly, to be his 
 power over Lord Belmont, that he had made 
 no doubt of carrying his point in one way or 
 another, and in order to keep his favourite pro- 
 spect open, had only the day before, written to 
 dissuade his Lordship from making any defini- 
 tive arrangement with his friend the Duke of 
 Basingstoke, touching the marriage of his 
 daughter Lady Louisa with his son ; for per- 
 haps my reader is not aware that although Ford 
 told the truth, as to the death of Lady Maria, 
 who had been originally intended for Edward, 
 he had not told the whole truth, which was, that 
 Lady Louisa, the second daughter, upon the 
 decease of her elder sister, was generally con- 
 
THE FRIEiND OF THE FAMILY. 259 
 
 sidered by the parents to stand in a similar 
 situation. The alliance was altogether pro- 
 posed on the score of interest and influence, 
 and it mattered no more to the elders of the 
 party, by whom the arrangement was brought 
 about, than it would in a bargain on the Stock 
 Exchange, who had been their brokers. 
 
 Ford began to think he had over-reached 
 himself when he sat down to reflect upon the 
 events of the morning ; he had written a pious 
 exhortation to his noble client against worldly 
 advantages, spoke of pure affection, virtue, and 
 religion ; and, in short, had assumed the tone of 
 expostulation against forcing on, what he went 
 so far as to call, an loisanctijied union between 
 Edward and Lady Louisa — meaning, as per- 
 haps my reader may perceive, eventually to 
 claim Edward's gratitude for the evitation of 
 a match with an ugly, haughty, overbearing 
 and bad-tempered woman, thus entangling 
 him in a net from which he did not mean that 
 he should extricate himself singly. 
 
 All this Ford had planned in the reliance he 
 had upon his influence over the noble Lord — an 
 influence obtained by means to which 1 shall 
 not at present allude, but which he certainly 
 
260 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 possessed in an eminent degree. The struggle 
 was a fearful one, in which any thing was to 
 be set up in opposition to the pride of his 
 Lordship ; but Ford used to say to Rachel, 
 that he knew his man, and thanked the Lord 
 that he had made him an humble instrument 
 to save a falling sinner, 
 
 Rachel never had been so vexed in her life 
 as at the decided loss of this title : the rank 
 would have enabled her to do so much good ; 
 the conservatory at Burrowdale would have 
 made such an excellent chapel, and the forcing- 
 house might have been converted so easily 
 into a school for the neighbouring poor ; and 
 as correction is salutary, she felt that if she 
 could but have obtained possession of sufficient 
 authority to introduce the tread-mill into the 
 county gaol, which was very much indebted 
 to her exertions, even as it was, for the distri- 
 bution of tracts and hymns, her task of ame- 
 lioration, or, as it is called, " bettering the 
 condition of the poor," would, she thought, 
 have been nearly complete. Under the present 
 circumstances she was disheartened and bro- 
 ken in spirit, but, with a confidence peculiar to 
 the Fords, she attended chapel three times the 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 261 
 
 following day, and sat down to dinner with 
 her father, as mild, as cold, as pale, and as 
 placid as ever. 
 
 More active were the measures taken at the 
 Parsonage. Rose felt bewildered as the hours 
 wore on, and the scene of the preceding even- 
 ing yet remained undisclosed to Bailing; she 
 felt that she could not allow it to remain a 
 secret from him any longer, and yet her 
 dread of disclosing it, kept her from hour to 
 hour silent, and in a state of the most fearful 
 agitation. She was pale — nervous — tears stood 
 in her eye — she trembled as she thought of what 
 had passed, and, ** pure as the icicle which 
 hangs on Dianas temple,^' fancied herself a 
 creature all guilt and deception, because she 
 had so long delayed to make her father's con- 
 fidence. 
 
 Edward returned from Ford's, better pleased 
 than he expected : Dr. Dalling was, in every 
 sense of the word, a gentleman — Rose, in every 
 point, a suitable match for him, except, indeed, 
 in the adventitious one of rank, which, when 
 he recollected that a minister can at pleasure 
 bestow it upon the basest and meanest of 
 God's creatures, did not stand very high in 
 
262 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 our hero's estimation, particularly at the pre- 
 sent moment. Ford had induced him to be- 
 lieve that Lord Belmont would not vehemently 
 oppose the marriage ; why, then, not at once, 
 as he felt he ought to do, open his heart to 
 the father of his beloved? — Why not? — there 
 was a doubt; — 
 
 " To sleep — perchance to dream." 
 
 He might refuse, ■oxidi if he did, immediate se- 
 paration from Rose would necessarily ensue; 
 and to part from her was worse even than the 
 sleep of death, dreams included. 
 
 What vv^as to be done ? — Rose and he were 
 again together and alone ; they met with trem- 
 bling hesitation — her look was full of mingled 
 modesty and love — so sincere and so devoted — 
 so mild, so gentle, and so pure. He saw, at a 
 glance, that he must not long delay the deve- 
 lopement to Bailing of his attachment, if he 
 valued her good opinion ; for in the melting 
 softness of her look, there mingled something 
 like an expression of reproach for his having 
 failed to keep tlie promise he had made to 
 her, to see her father on the subject earlier 
 in the dav. 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 263 
 
 Bramley was overcome by his feelings, and, 
 eagerly catching her hand, was about to ex- 
 plain all that had happened. Tears started 
 into his eyes — he drew her towards him, and 
 she unresistingly yielded to the attraction ; — 
 he gazed on her for a moment, and overcome 
 by her feelings, her hea'd sank upon his shoul- 
 der — when the drawing-room door was thrown 
 open, and the servant announced 
 "The Miss Humbugs!" 
 who, without farther delay, or before the man 
 could conclude the announcement, burst into 
 the apartment, attended by two white poodles, 
 who barking and scratching the carpet, and 
 jumping over the chairs, formed, together with 
 their grace-like mistresses, an agreeable yet 
 somewhat unexpected addition to a most cri- 
 tical tete-a-ttte. 
 
 " Oh la! I'm sure I beg ten thousand par- 
 dons !" cried Miss Humbug. " Come away, 
 Charlotte — come away, dear." 
 
 '* Oh, Mr. Bramley ! Oh dear ! we are so 
 sorry." 
 
 '• Good gracious !" exclaimed Fanny; " only 
 think how unlucky ! Come, Charlotte, let us 
 
264 THE rJRlEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 go out and take a little walk, and we '11 come 
 back again by and by, when you are better." 
 
 Bramley, who was not the least conscious 
 that Rose had, in the outset of the affair, 
 rushed from, the room, endeavoured to tally, 
 and with a sort of smile which made his agi- 
 tated countenance look quite ghastly, ex- 
 claimed, ** Better! — come, that's exceedingly 
 pleasant — ha ! ha I better ! Why — -^M ** 
 
 Here a wandering look, sent round the apart- 
 ment in search of Rose, who was absent with- 
 out leave, produced a shout of laughter from 
 the young ladies, as loud and vehement as good 
 breeding permits in civilized society; while the 
 poodles, unrestrained by any such rules, barked 
 louder and frisked about more joyously than 
 ever, wagging their tails, shaking their pad- 
 locked collars, and scratching the carpet, as if 
 they were as much delighted at the mischief 
 going on, as the young ladies themselves.* iM 
 
 " Where is Miss Dalling V enquired Miss 
 Charlotte ; '* she has run away!" 
 
 " Upon my word," said Bramley, " I^-don't 
 koow; but if you 11 allow me, I'll just go 
 and see," i^^S ,;»,vv;b fnacr:, ; 
 
 " Oh, good gracious ! by no means I- 'Said 
 
THE Fini:.ND OP THE FAMILY. 2t)5 
 
 Fanny; " we cou'dn't think of giving you the 
 trouble of going away — we met the Doctor as 
 we came through the Park." 
 
 ** Is he out?" said Braraley. 
 
 " Oh yes," replied Miss Humbug, ** he 's 
 out — didn't you know that? ha! ha!" 
 
 Bramley stammered out a negative — a si- 
 lence ensued. 
 
 " Hem !" said Charlotte, somewhat loudly. 
 
 A burst of laughter followed. The doos 
 jumped about again. 
 
 " Charlotte, my love," said Fanny, ** had 
 not you better ring, and ask if Miss Bailing 
 is coming back?" 
 
 " Shall we, Mr. Bramley?" enquired the 
 eldest sister. " I '11 go and enquire." 
 
 " Oh dear, no !" snapped off Fanny, making 
 a face at her sisters. ** Ring, Charlotte, ring 
 the bell." 
 
 Miss Balling's maid made her appearance, 
 having, as it seemed, been stationed within 
 reach, with a message. 
 
 " My young lady is so extremely unwell," 
 said the soubrette, *' that she will not be able 
 to come down. Miss." 
 
 VOL. 1. N 
 
266 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 " Oh dear !" said Fanny, (who was the orator 
 generally,) ** let us go up and see her, Char- 
 lotte. Poor dear ! what is the matter with her ? 
 — is it her head?"^ 
 
 " I don't know. Miss," said Laurence, *' but 
 my young lady has lain down." 
 
 ** Oh, well, then we won't disturb her," ,5^ 
 the eldest of Bramley's tormentors. istH 
 
 " Don't let us detain yo?i," said Fanny to 
 our hero ; " if you " 
 
 What Fanny might have been going to say, 
 or what Bramley to answer, I know not, for 
 just at the moment when the party were ac- 
 tually breaking up. Dr. Dallirg himself en- 
 tered the room. 
 
 Such was the perfection of the Doctor's^ ,un- 
 sophistication, that he perceived nothing extra- 
 ordinary in the salutations of his fair guests, 
 and was more occupied in guarding the fleshy 
 parts of his legs from the attacks of the poo- 
 dles, than in examining the various expressions 
 of countenance, which were quite xeady for. his 
 inspection. idi Ik imoimBbktu i'aob i 
 
 ** Good morning, ladies," said the Doctor. 
 '' Good — down, Flo! — be quiet, Pop!" 
 
 '' Good gracious !" said Fanny, '' what dread- 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 267 
 
 ful creatures these horrid poodles are ! — do 
 make them lie down, Miss Humbug." 
 
 " Why now, Fanny/' said her eldest sister, 
 '* you know you are fonder of the poodles 
 than I am.'* 
 
 And here an amicable squabble about the 
 poodles ensued, during the rage of which 
 Bramley made a rapid and sudden movement^ 
 and succeeded in escaping from the room. 
 
 ** Where is Rose?" said the Doctor. — ** She 
 isn't very well. Sir," said Miss Humbug ; and 
 the sisters giggled. 
 
 " Not well ! — how?" said her father; *' no- 
 thing has happened ?" 
 
 " Oh dear no," said Fanny ; " I believe we 
 frightened her." 
 
 " What, with the dogs ?" said the anxious 
 parent. 
 
 ** Oh no, not with the dogs," said Fanny, 
 slowly. 
 
 ** With ourselves, I believe. Sir," snapped 
 out Charlotte. 
 
 " I don't understand all this," said Dalling ; 
 *' is my child ill?" aoin laooi) !' 
 
 "Oh dear no, not ill, only a little indis- 
 N 2 
 
20S THE TRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 posed : she is gone to lie down, and we will 
 go away. Oh dear, where is Mr. Bramley?" 
 
 " Good gracious !" said Fanny, ^' perhaps he 
 is gone to recover her." 
 
 Another " laugh general" roused Balling's 
 suspicions that something strange had occurred, 
 and with a somewhat determined air he left 
 the room, to enquire farther into the business; 
 seizing which opportunity, the young ladies, 
 after having read half of a letter which lay 
 open and unfinished upon Rose's desk, put 
 sand into the ink-bottle, stumped the points 
 of a bundle of new pens against the table, 
 thrown the Indian rubber into the fire, and 
 torn four leaves out of a journal which their 
 friend kept, beat a seasonable retreat, and 
 marched out, laughing immoderately, with 
 eves sparkling, dogs barking, and all the ho- 
 nours of mischief. 
 
 Dalling, in the mean time, had sought and 
 found his child ; she had not lain down, as she 
 had sent word to her guests she had : when he 
 opened the door of her little boudoir, he found 
 her kneeling beside a sofa, her face hid in 
 her hands, sobbing deeply and convulsively. 
 
THE FRlEiND OF THE FAMILY. 269 
 
 He rushed forward, caught her in his arms, 
 and pressed her fevered forehead to his heart. 
 
 ** Rose, my child, my darling, speak to your 
 father; you have been insulted — outraged by 
 these girls — I am sure, quite sure of it. Com- 
 pose yourself, love ; be tranquil." li «noiOff|8UR 
 Her sobs increased, and with them Balling's 
 alarm. He rang the bell, which was near his 
 hand, and, assisted by Laurence, led, or in- 
 deed carried, his almost lifeless child to her 
 chamber. He laid his precious charge upon 
 her bed ; but she was unconscious of the ten- 
 der care with which she was treated. She had 
 fainted, and lay before her distracted parent 
 pale, senseless, lifeless. 
 
 ** What has happened to her?" said Bailing 
 in a whisper to Laurence. 
 
 " I don't know exactly, Sir," said the maid ; 
 
 ■** that is, I •' 
 
 bxff-Did you hear her say ?" 
 r*^ Not— say, Sir." 
 nf* What does it mean ?" 
 nrff Mean, Sir?" 
 ar"iAy, mean." 
 
 /J^The young ladies came in, and " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
270 THE FRIEND OF THE l-AMILY. 
 
 *' That's all. Sir/* -w moo W p Vf^ri 
 
 " No, no, that is not all. Why does the 
 colour mount in your cheeks? Why are you 
 thus confused? What has happened?" 
 
 ** Indeed I don't know all. Sir/' 
 
 "All! all what ?^' 
 
 " About my dear young mistress's misfor- 
 tune/' 
 
 *' Misfortune ! you '11 drive me mad. What 
 am I to think ?" 
 
 '* I mean. Sir, Thomas saw it too. Sir." 
 
 " Saw — what ? Speak out — speak plain " 
 
 Here a deep-drawn sigh from Rose suddenly 
 called her father's attention to his suffering 
 child : she opened her eyes, they moved va- 
 cantly round the room — till, lighting on her 
 parent, she again burst into a flood of tears, 
 and hid her face in the pillow. 
 
 ** What does it mean, woman?" asked Bal- 
 ling; whose anxiety for information propor- 
 tionately increased with the decrease of his so- 
 licitude for Rose's personal safety. 
 
 '* What did Thomas see ?" 
 
 " No harm. Sir, I 'm sure. Sir, only " 
 
 "Goon." 
 '•■'«* Mr. Bramley and my young mistress 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 271 
 
 were alone in ihe room when the young ladies 
 called, and " 
 
 "Well! What of that?" 
 
 " They found 'em out. Sir." 
 
 ** Gracious God, protect my senses! Found 
 out who ? What wretched falsehoods are you 
 speaking? My child — my Rose ! Bramley, 
 where is he ?'' 
 
 " He went out. Sir, the moment you re- 
 turned." 
 
 " Am I alive, and have I lived to this ? 
 What's to be done ? — Here — stay by this suf- 
 fering angel ; send for advice — send " 
 
 ** My father ! " exclaimed Rose, " 1 hear 
 my father's voice — Mercy, mercy on a wretch- 
 ed girl !" And a second relapse was the con- 
 sequence of the exertion. 
 
 Bailing was bewildered, — he had heard, 
 
 ** Why so much, and why not more ?" 
 
 the agony of his mind was beyond expres- 
 sion; something had happened — something ap- 
 parently full of horror ; such was the intensity 
 of his agitation that he dared not enquire 
 farther at the moment. Leaving; his dauo-hter 
 to the care of the maid, he hurried oflf a ser- 
 
272 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 vant for medical advice, and himself sought, 
 and sought in vain, for Bramley. 
 
 Ardent, impassioned, full of fire, vivacity, 
 and animation — the blow Edward had re- 
 ceived was too much for his mind at the moment, 
 and quite unconscious of his actions he had 
 left the Parsonage, and walking fast and faster, 
 and faster still, as if that would dissipate his 
 agonizing reflections, had, long before Bailing 
 went in quest of him, reached the copse 
 which you see from the drawing-room win- 
 dows of Burrowdale, and where, in their days 
 of peaceful unsuspecting happiness, Rose had 
 so often met him on his return from shooting, 
 and whence they had together so often bent 
 their steps towards the Rectory. ^^"*^l ^*I 
 
 There is no mistake greater than that iiit6' 
 which people fall, who fancy a lively disposi- 
 tion an insensible one ; — those whose feeHngs 
 are always alive, whose passions are capable of 
 strong excitement, and whose animal spirits 
 are the highest and most volatile, are those 
 upon whom sad, sudden changes from happi- 
 ness to misery, have the most poignant efFects.- 
 — The fall— the wreck — the annihilation of all' 
 
 Edward's views — the exposure of the creature' 
 
 ' iotjdgiii 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 273 
 
 he loved best upon earth to the sneers and 
 taunts of those he liked the least — the abrupt 
 arrival of the crisis which he had so anxiously 
 desired to avoid — the certainty that he should 
 be misrepresented, that Rose v^^ould be wretch- 
 ed — that her father's opinion of him, judging 
 by his conduct, would induce him to refuse his 
 consent — the having subjected the pure angel 
 to a suspicion of duplicity towards a parent 
 from whom before she never had concealed a 
 thought — all these considerations burst upon 
 him at once, and the sight of that scene, of 
 those well-remembered trees which had shaded 
 them together while he and the being he loved, 
 as pure and guileless as our first parents, wan- 
 dered through their own dear paradise of Em- 
 merton, threw him into an agony of grief. 
 
 Never surely was there an instance of more 
 sudden and decided alteration in a love affair 
 than that which it has been ray duty to de- 
 scribe at this period of my little narrative. In 
 one short hour, two hearts, united by nature 
 and the purest affection, were separated ; sun- 
 dered perhaps for ever ; separated too, under 
 circumstances so peculiar, so harassing, so 
 frightful 1 
 
 N 5 
 
274 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 Bailing having in vain searched for Bramley, 
 returned again to his sorrowing daughter ; he 
 found her calmer and more composed, but 
 a death-like paleness had usurped the place of 
 those burning blushes which had coloured her 
 feverish cheek during her first interview with 
 him ; she seemed transfixed to her seat, and 
 her down-cast eyes were not even raised at the 
 approach of her beloved, her dreaded parent. 
 
 To the world, the gay world of this world, it 
 may appear that the effects produced upon 
 Rose Bailing by the discovery of Bramley and 
 herself under the circumstances I have de- 
 scribed were supernaturally strong ; but no, 
 to a being like Rose, whose mind was unsullied 
 and unsophisticated, the thought that she had 
 so far compromised the dignity of her character 
 as to have suffered unrepulsed, nay more, to 
 have yielded to the advances of an unsanc- 
 tioned lover, and that she had done so clan- 
 destinely, without the privity, without the per- 
 mission of her father, struck deep, deep into 
 her heart. 
 
 To a young woman more accustomed to 
 society and its ways, perhaps the fact of being 
 •* found out," would have been that which 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 2/0 
 
 would most have militated against her peace 
 of mind ; although whilst our belles are not 
 only suffered, but taught to exhibit their wan- 
 ton graces publicly in the arms of any indif- 
 ferent persons with whom they may be thrown 
 in society, and perform the foreign waltz, and 
 all its clingings and twistings, with more than 
 Grecian or Indian readiness, the simple cir- 
 cumstance of being discovered clasped round 
 the waist by a sincere and ardent suitor when 
 there was ** nobody by," would not, I dare 
 say, be by them considered so very terrible; 
 yet, it was not the discovery of her relative 
 situation with Edward which affected Rose, — 
 it was the discovery to herself of the real state 
 of her own heart which could have betrayed her 
 into such a situation! — it was the conscious- 
 ness of dissimulation with her father; — it was, 
 in short, a combination of feelings inexplica- 
 ble upon paper. Those whose minds are con- 
 structed as Rose Dalling's was, will appreciate 
 her sentiments ; those whose characters are dif- 
 ferently constituted, and whose principles are 
 differently formed, would never under^(and 
 them if I wrote a folio. ,, wV/- v 
 
276 THE FRIEND OF THE F>AMIL;Yu 
 
 That the event had had the effect I vainly 
 endeavour to describe, is true : her father^ who= 
 full of confidence in his child, still treixibled; 
 at what the insinuations and whisperings which 
 he had collected from the servants seemed to 
 imply, was wretched too ; at once his own in- 
 caution in the conduct of the acquaintance of 
 Bramley with his daughter flashed into his 
 mind, and so strongly did conviction come 
 upon him, that when he recurred to their in- 
 separable intimacy, the reproaches he was at 
 first prepared to cast upon her, faltered upon 
 his tongue, and recoiled upon himself in th^ 
 effort to utter them. iijjl 
 
 Rose made no attempt to speak. Bailing 
 took her hand — she pressed his, as if uncon- 
 sciously ; she still kept her eyes fixed upon 
 the table before her, but not a tear started 
 from them. Her father convulsively grasped 
 the hand he held — their eyes at the moment 
 met; — and what a language is that of eyes^i 
 Bailing read, in the single heart-rending look 
 she gave, at once her wretchedness an4'A^i?. 
 innocence! 
 
 Persons who have expected ill news, have 
 experienced an indescribable dread of breaking 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 277 
 
 the black seal of the letter which they believed 
 to contain it. — So felt Bailing when relieved, as 
 he felt himself, from apprehensions which no- 
 thing but the extraordinary stories of the do- 
 mestics could have led him for a moment to 
 entertain — something had happened, and his 
 beloved child was suffering; under the effect of 
 insult. Had Bramley dared? — he looked at 
 Rose, and decided that to be impossible. 
 
 After a lengthened period of rest, the poor 
 heart-broken girl recovered sufficiently to 
 speak to her father, and even to converse with 
 him, but she could not force herself to tell 
 him the real cause of her present misery : she 
 spoke of shame, mortification, and sorrow, but 
 she could not be her own historian where she 
 knew that the whole truth was essential to be 
 told, and yet was so inculpatory of her own 
 conduct as she felt it to be. 
 
 Her persevering silence upon the topic had, 
 as my reader may easily anticipate, one effect : 
 that of obliging Dalling to apply himself to 
 another equally authentic source for informa- 
 tion: what effect that application was to have, 
 we shall presently see. 
 
 I have often remarked, in domestic afflic- 
 
278 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 tion, in the hour of peril, or the day of trial, 
 the curious contrast afforded to the distracting 
 agitation of a family, in the regular preparation 
 and exhibition of meals at their stated hours, 
 the matter-of-fact march of servants, who, en- 
 tering as little into the spirit of passing oc- 
 currences as a signal-man, who at a repeating- 
 post mechanically hoists on his halliards the 
 most important and interesting intelligence 
 without a consciousness of its weight or value, 
 procure, provide, and prepare, the soup, the 
 fish, the meat, the entrees, the vol-au-vents, 
 the fricandeaux, the risolles, the charlottes, and 
 the fondus, as regularly and systematically as 
 if there were no grief, no sorrow in the world ; 
 nay, even when Death himself has been busy, 
 and the lifeless corpse of our best-beloved lies 
 stretched in the last long sleep, we are sum- 
 moned to our meals as regularly as if nothing 
 extraordinary had occurred in the family. 
 
 Upon this principle, dinner was, as usual, 
 announced at six. The meeting between Bram- 
 ley and Dalling was embarrassing and painful 
 in the highest degree ; and though the repast 
 was there in due form, the vanity of the cook 
 could by no means have been flattered if she 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. '279 
 
 judged of her proficiency in gastronomy by the 
 quantity of dainties demolished. Silence, sel- 
 dom broken, reigned throughout the ceremony ; 
 and the troubled looks of both the performers 
 were not lost upon the servants who waited, 
 one of whom was the same who opened the 
 drawing-room door and announced the Misses 
 Humbug in the morning. 
 
 Little was therefore likely to be elicited from 
 the tete-d'tete, while subject to the surveillance 
 of the attendants, and perhaps it will be as 
 well that I should not attempt to describe 
 what passed, after they had retired, between 
 Bramley and the Doctor. The joy the latter 
 felt in finding his young friend the ingenuous, 
 high-minded, honourable person he had always 
 thought him to be, qualified the anxiety he 
 felt about Rose ; and although he at once de- 
 cided that until the full and free acquiescence 
 of Lord Belmont could be obtained to such 
 a measure, a marriage with his child was 
 wholly out of the question, he could not re- 
 frain from recurring to his own thoughtless- 
 ness in having suffered the intimacy between 
 the young people to continue so long and so 
 uninterruptedly. ^rn on yd blue 
 
280 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 Bramley urged with all the ardour of youth 
 and affection the non-necessity of a measure 
 which Bailing declared to be inevitable and 
 indispensable — I mean his immediate removal; 
 from Emmerton Rectory : it seemed as if his 
 existence depended upon the old gentleman's 
 recantation of his Jiat touching this ^lapye-, 
 ment ; nor did the cause lose any thing from a 
 want of eloquence in the young pleader. He 
 represented, not only the misery and wretched- 
 ness which his banishment would infallibly pro- 
 duce to him, (not to speak of Rose's feelings,) 
 but he endeavoured to throw his arguments 
 into a train which he fancied still more 
 likely to touch the Doctor's heart and move 
 his pity. 
 
 He showed with great ingenuity the disad- 
 vantageous impression which would be made 
 upon the world — (of Emmerton, I presume he 
 meant) — by the malicious representations of 
 the young female visitors by whom they had 
 been surprised ; and maintained with some 
 show of reason that his departure immediately 
 after the awkward denouement, would give a 
 colouring of probability to the falsehoods 
 which doubtless such scandal-mongers as the 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 281 
 
 Humbugs would most assiduously disseminate 
 throughout the circle of their acquaintance. 
 
 To say truth, his assumption of tliis line of 
 reasoning was by no means injudicious ; even 
 Dalling himself admitted the justice of his 
 observations upon the point, but not quite so 
 readily, or so cordially, as the youthful advocate 
 wished or anticipated. 
 
 Dalling knew the integral value of his daugh- 
 ter, he knew the character of those from 
 whom attacks were to be expected, and more 
 than that, the world knew their character as 
 well as he did ; and although the event itself 
 was a very unpleasant one, still he thought that 
 no consideration should induce him to alter 
 the resolution he had made of separating Bram- 
 ley and his child forthwith. 
 
 There is a proverb about " shutting the stable 
 door after the steed is stolen/' which might 
 certainly have been applied with great effect to 
 this judgematic precaution of the Reverend 
 Doctor. The die was cast, and, let what might 
 be the event, the affection which existed be- 
 tween the parties most deeply concerned, was 
 of a nature the least likely to be affected by 
 
 separation, a test very wisely used if applied 
 3'.!) rt, .1 vonorii-lubiiijatf: fioJue eeslidiiofa iWuH 
 
2S2 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMtLY. 
 
 to a doubtful case, but which only decides the 
 character of a real attachment. i^^sciot 
 
 To be sure, the scene of Lord Belmont's di- 
 plomatic greatness was at no very considerable 
 distance from England, and a fortnight would 
 afford ample time for an application and an 
 answer : yet to a lover, a fortnight's separation, 
 with the probability, as Bramley himself felt, 
 unless he entailed the implacable displeasure 
 of his father by acting for himself, of its being 
 eternal, was not to be regarded placidly or 
 patiently. But the Doctor, alas! was firmly re- 
 solved that his abdication of Emmerton must 
 be enforced on the instant. 
 
 It was thought by Bailing, however, that im- 
 mediate as the separation ought to be, he was 
 bound by every consideration to carry his 
 point without any unnecessary harshness ; and 
 he felt that if Bramley left the Rectory that 
 evening, as he intended he should do, it would 
 be but right, considerate, and even prudent, as 
 regarded the interest of her, for whom he was 
 naturally most anxious, that the lovers, for such 
 they now avowedly were, should, if her spirits 
 were strong enough to bear it, meet and separate 
 in such a manner as might convince the servants 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 283 
 
 (whose opinion, it is true, could be but of little 
 consequence, but whose report upon the sub- 
 ject might be important) that no ground exist- 
 ed for anger or resentment, either on the part 
 of Rose or her father, against Bramley. 
 Xi-^Never did negotiator more readily admit 
 the propriety of a suggestion than our hero, 
 who saw, in its fulfilment, his only chance of 
 once more beholding his Rose before they 
 parted — perhaps eternally ! 
 
 Bailing, I must confess, even at the moment 
 he was takincr these " better-late-than-never" 
 precautions, felt that in point of fact they were 
 rigid perhaps overmuch, because he did not 
 »ee why Lord Belmont should refuse his con- 
 sent. Edward, strengthened by what Ford had 
 told him in the morning, assured the Doctor 
 that his father had not pledged him to any 
 other alliance, and the exemplary clergyman 
 saw no just reason to doubt the acquiescence of 
 the new-made nobleman in the union betw^een 
 their families. — Good easy man ! how little did 
 he know of His Excellency Baron Belmont, 
 G.C.B. S^.A. 8c S^P., of his Lordship's views, 
 his Lordship^s feelings, or his Lordship's 
 character ! 
 
284 THE FKIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 The promised interview between Edwatd 
 and Rose took place early in the evening, and 
 I think I need hardly say that it was one con- 
 tinued strain of embarrassment and nervousness 
 from its beginning unto its end. It was satts^ 
 factory but to one person of the trio : Bailing 
 beheld, in the manner and conduct of his young 
 associates, the strongest and most deciding 
 marks of virtue and innocence on the one side, 
 of devoted affection and unqualified respect on 
 the other. The servants, for whom the exhibi- 
 tion was chiefly gotten up, took a new tone 
 from what they saw ; and Laurence, who in the 
 early part of the day appeared somewhat hor- 
 rified at her young lady's indiscretion, sum- 
 med up a most eloquent harangue in her de- 
 fence by laying it down as her opinion (found-i 
 ed, perhaps, upon practice) that " after all, it 
 was only a kiss, and she was sure there was no 
 great harm in thafe.^^/ dord// ^^neq dJod flisdt 
 
 The moment of separation arrived ; Branii- 
 ley's servant had directions to prepare for im- 
 mediate departure, and at nine o'clock in the 
 evening of iAa^ day which had opened with the 
 brightest views to the fond lovers, my hero- 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 285 
 
 left the scene of all his happiest hours, and 
 stepped into the carriage which was destined 
 to convey him to London, whither he had 
 determined to proceed, in order, as far as 
 possible, to comply with his noble father's 
 expressed, or more properly, implied desire, 
 in hopes thereby to evince a readiness 
 and obedience upon one point, which might 
 soften the lord upon another, which, at the 
 moment y he believed himself incapable of 
 abandonino^. 
 
 To describe the separation of Rose and Ed- 
 ward would be vain ; indeed, their last inter- 
 view was abruptly terminated by her rushing 
 from the room. To see him go, was more 
 than she was prepared for; and the store of 
 spirits which she had accumulated, lasted her 
 just long enough to hear his carriage an- 
 nounced, and no longer. Determined to save 
 them both pangs which were unavailing, she 
 quitted the drawing-room, and sought, in the 
 solitude of her own chamber, and in the never- 
 failing consolations of religion, alleviation from 
 the earliest worldly sorrow her innocent heart 
 had ever known. i^iuil^tit. 
 
286 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 It was in vain Braraley solicited a parting — 
 look, perhaps — some token of her affection ; 
 her father interposed no authority to prevent 
 it—but she could not endure the last pang — 
 the last blow of fate which was to cut the 
 knot — perhaps, for ever! . - onn. 
 
 Bailing attended his young friend to th^ 
 door — they neither spoke — Bramley descended 
 the steps — juii 9ii» 
 
 " His eye being big with tears, 
 
 '"^'^Turning his face, he put his hand behind him, 
 'fti^ And with affection wondrous sensible, *^"* 
 
 ** He wrung Bassanio's hand — and so they parted.** 
 
 # # # # * 
 
 # w ^ ^ ^ 
 
 It was long before poor Rose recovered the 
 sudden shock of separation from her heart's 
 " avowed lord;'* nor was her restoration at all 
 accelerated by two or three "to<i" messages 
 o{ enquiry from her fair friends at Burrowdale^ 
 Balling, indeed, felt it necessary to come to 
 an explanation with the head of that family, 
 who declared upon his word he had never, 
 directly or indirectly, heard a syllable about 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 287 
 
 the affair, having devoted the whole of the 
 two preceding days to making extempore epi- 
 grams upon the embarras of the young lovers ! 
 
 '^filFord was the person most surprised at Dai- 
 ling's firmness of conduct in the business — he 
 had evidently miscalculated his man ; he felt 
 it, however, his duty immediatehj to apprise 
 the noble ambassador, of the decided turn his 
 private affairs appeared to be taking, and 
 despatched a letter, which he was particularly 
 anxious should reach his Excellency, if possi- 
 ble, before that, which he knew Edward would 
 surely address to him. 
 
 Rachel Ford called upon Rose, and in the 
 most artless manner congratulated her upon 
 the approaching event, offered up some fer- 
 vent prayers for her happiness, and proceeded 
 with perfect calmness to go througli a kind of 
 lecture upon the ''Whole Duty of Woman;" 
 to which Rose, who felt herself drawn out and 
 held up to public observation most unex- 
 pectedly and uncovetedly, listened with a thou- 
 8«uid agitating emotions, wholly unknown to 
 Miss Ford, or ladies of her character and con- 
 stitution. 
 
288 THE FRIEKD OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 Incidentally, Rachel made an attack upon 
 Dr. Bailing, touching the annual arrival of a 
 theatrical corps at Emmerton, which was then 
 shortly expected : she declaimed against the 
 vanity and mummery of the stage with an 
 eloquence almost super-human, and implored 
 him, as a magistrate and a clergyman, to inter- 
 pose his authority to prevent the exhibition of 
 their diabolical mancBuvrings in her peaceful 
 native town. 
 
 The Honourable and Reverend predecessor 
 of the present rector had greatly scandalized 
 poor Miss Ford, not only by suffering the per- 
 formances of the^e vagabortds, but in patro- 
 nizing, and actually countenancing their exhi- 
 bitions by his personal attendance, which, to 
 use the artless Rachel's own words, *' literally 
 made her blood run cold, and her hair stand 
 on endP 
 
 The reception her animated appeal met with 
 from Bailing, was not exactly what she wished 
 or expected ; he did not quite so readily, as 
 she thought he should have done, admit the 
 hopelessness, temporally or spiritually, of the 
 poor players' case ; he did not catch, as she 
 expected, the awful symptoms of " uncom- 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 289 
 
 bining locks," and freezing blood, with which 
 she wished him to be forthwith infected ; nay, 
 he went so far as to defend the '* stage players," 
 as she called them, warmly and strongly from 
 the sweeping and unqualified censure with 
 which she was pleased, in the zealotry of her 
 goodness, to load them. 
 
 Rachel was astonished that a minister of 
 God should palliate the heinous offences of 
 face-painting and assumption of character. 
 That he should rank the efforts of the actor 
 with those of the artist or the sculptor, to 
 whom he observed, with equal justice, might 
 be attributed the fancied sin of mockery, since 
 the very essence of their skill was the power of 
 imitating nature in all her beauties and per- 
 fection as closely as possible, seemed to her 
 awfully terrible. But when he proceeded to 
 avow his opinion, that the stage was, in some 
 degree, and might certainly be rendered still 
 more so, a school of morals, the young saint 
 was nearly overcome by her feelings, and eja- 
 culated (not mentally, but loudly and groan- 
 ingiy.) ** Dear, dear. Doctor Dalling, what 
 would Mr. Hogsflesh say if he heard you?" 
 Mr. Hogsflesh was, entre nous, a portly, rosy- 
 
 VOL. I. o 
 
290 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 cheeked, wire-haired " minister," who might 
 be heard every Sunday in Mr. Ford's chapel, 
 or, indeed, in any contiguous part of the 
 neighbourhood, pouring forth torrents of ex- 
 tempore eloquence, which passed for wisdom 
 with the million, because " they understood 
 it not." Tircv 
 
 Bailing, unawed by the promised, or rather 
 threatened fulmi nations from Mr. Hogsflesh*s 
 tub, maintained his ground of defence stoutly, 
 and quitting for a moment the argument he 
 had originally taken up, which was merely in 
 vindication of the public character of dramatic 
 performances, he called Miss Ford's attention 
 to the closing hours of the greatest actor we 
 remember, " from the account of which," said 
 the Doctor, " may be gathered the fact that 
 theatrical pursuits are not incompatible with 
 morality and virtue; — many of those," added 
 he, " Miss Ford, who affect to scorn the art 
 of a man who imitates others, would be, too, 
 happy in the last scenes of life to be able to 
 imitate him,^^o baii 
 
 " But surely, Sir," said Miss Ford, with an 
 animation somewhat unusual, her brows ele- 
 vated, and her eyes naturally sparkling with 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FA.MILY. 291 
 
 zeal, " surely you do not defend plays and 
 playhouses upon principle?" 
 
 '* Indeed, but I do. Miss Ford," said the 
 rector. '* It is a mistaken enthusiasm which 
 strews fire and flame in the paths of our inno- 
 cent amusement : depend upon it, my dear 
 young lady, that the doctrines by which we 
 may all hope to be saved are friendly to harm- 
 less recreation, and hostile to that squalid 
 superstition which would strip society of its 
 pleasantry, and mirth of its smile. What end, 
 may I ask, can be obtained, by casting an arti- 
 ficial gloom over our transitory lives? There 
 is quite enough of inherent solicitude in them, 
 without seeking for sorrows to depress us un- 
 necessarily. I do not deny that there is much 
 to condemn, to blush at, and to tremble for, 
 in the conduct of some portion of the people 
 who frequent theatres; but such conduct and 
 such actions are not essential to that parti- 
 cular amusement ; and I firmly believe, that if 
 there were no playhouses in the metropolis, 
 vice and immorality would find other and more 
 secure and secluded scenes of action." 
 
 *' Well, but then, Sir," said the zealous 
 puritaa, " Emmerton is not London ; and here 
 o 2 
 
292 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 we know of no vices, we have no depravity 
 going on, why introduce it by suffering these 
 abominable actors to perf6rm in this place?" 
 
 " The strongest possible proof of the truth 
 and soundness of my argument," replied Bal- 
 ling, " will be found in this very permission.— ' 
 As you say, here we have no vice, I mean 
 comparatively with the metropolis : we have 
 no shameless licentiousness parading triumph- 
 antly through our streets, neither shall we see 
 it in our little theatre." 
 
 *' Oh, Sir, the very fact — the very influence 
 of the play itself would create vice and " 
 
 " There I entirely differ with you, Miss 
 Ford ; you may depend upon the truth of the 
 poet, who tells us that 
 
 * Vice is a monster of such hideous mien. 
 As to be hated, needs but to be seen ;' 
 
 and the prevalent sympathy of an audience 
 is uniformly favourable to virtue. In any play, 
 where innocence rises triumphant over its op- 
 pressors — where charity is found dispensing 
 its divine gifts— where the best feelings and 
 principles of humanity gain the victory, the^ 
 public uniformly pay their tribute of applause 
 and satisfaction j and even if there be a play 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 293 
 
 in the language, which I scarcely think there 
 is, acted at least at present, where doctrines 
 are inculcated, or principles supported, con- 
 trary to those by which religion, honour, and 
 propriety are maintained, I am quite sure the 
 effect of the representation would be that of dis- 
 gusting the incipient votary of crime, while the 
 piece would meet the decided reprobation of 
 all the respectable portion of the audience." 
 
 These opinions were held to be inadmissible 
 by Miss Ford, who left the rectory convinced 
 that ruin must inevitably ensue, now that the 
 " good" parson of the parish advocated plays 
 and players ; and she communed long and se- 
 riously the same evening with her counsellor 
 and confessor, Mr. Aaron Hogsflesh, on this 
 most vital and appalling subject. 
 
 Ford's mind seemed greatly and deeply in- 
 terested in the affair of Edward and Rose ; its 
 extraordinary explosion and premature deve- 
 lopement considerably discomposed him ; but, 
 as the proverb says, ** that which cannot be 
 cured, must be endured," and since the affair 
 had been bruited about, it became on his part 
 a bounden duty to his client to shape the 
 report in such a manner as to make the results 
 
294 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 favourable in every point of view to the noble 
 ambassador and his only son. What Ford 
 chiefly feared at the moment was, that the 
 attachment itself was not sufficiently ripe for 
 his purpose : whatever that might be, that he 
 had in view objects, and objects to him of the 
 greatest and most vital importance, I cannot 
 deny ; but, how the present circumstances af- 
 fected those views at the precise period of which 
 I am now treating, I cannot say. The effect 
 produced upon his conduct towards Edward 
 was striking : he forced upon the young heir 
 on his departure for London, a thousand 
 pounds, bemg, as Edward repeatedly told him, 
 a much larger sum than he could possibly 
 have any occasion for during his stay in town ; 
 but Ford blessed him fervently, and, in the 
 midst of prayers for his happiness, appeared 
 to hint at a probability that his absence from 
 Emmerton might be somewhat protracted ; and 
 so cordially and affectionately did the attached 
 man express himself towards his young and 
 honoured friend, that Edward accepted the 
 advance, or loan, whichever it might be con- 
 sidered, literally in fear of offending him, by 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 295 
 
 an unnecessary appearance of reluctance to 
 be under an obligation to him. 
 
 The mysterious allusions to lengthened ab- 
 sence from Rose, were not at all calculated to 
 soothe his sorrows at the moment of separa- 
 tion; but, puzzle himself as he would, he could 
 not at all perceive how, unless he made him- 
 self a party to them, any measures could be 
 taken which would keep him from her for a 
 longer space of time than was actually neces- 
 sary for the exchange of despatches between 
 his father and himself. 
 
 Edward's intention during his short stay in 
 London was, to make those visits of ceremony 
 which his forced absence from Emmerton gave 
 him so good an opportunity of making, and 
 which, as I before said, he thought would 
 conciliate his haughty sire ; but it was, as we 
 shall see, a great misfortune, that in his con- 
 duct towards his son. Lord Belmont had 
 adopted not only the mysterious language, 
 but the uncandid conduct of skilful negotia- 
 tion: he seemed always making efforts to "ma- 
 nage" the young man, to manoeuvre him, as it 
 were, to his purpose; when, if he had adopted 
 
296 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 the simple expedient of ** speaking out," and 
 going straight forward, what did happen, in all 
 probability, would not have happened, and 
 much distress and irritation have been spared. 
 
 After Edward's departure. Miss Ford's zeal 
 touching the players was greatly worked upon 
 by the sympathetic ardour of Mr. Hogsflesh, 
 who, indeed, was a powerful man, and a much- 
 esteemed pastor. She w^as, it must be con- 
 fessed, so completely led away by her devo- 
 tion to the interests of religion, that after the 
 close of the evening, she had, vs^ith the con- 
 sent and support of her spiritual Mentor, re- 
 solved upon a measure, of which, as I promise 
 my reader she vi'ill eventually carry it into 
 effect, I think I had better not spoil the in- 
 terest, by any unseasonable anticipation. 
 
 Very much to the relief of Rose, the Bur- 
 rowdale family called, en masse, to take leave. 
 She did not see them; the grinding of their car- 
 riage-wheels over the gravelled sweep sounded 
 a retreat for her ; but she felt her heart consi- 
 derably lightened when she saw by their 
 tickets that it was a P.P.Cing visit. The ma- 
 lice of the girls on the occasion had been 
 greatly constrained by the excessive good- 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 297 
 
 nature of their father, who, in spite of the epi- 
 grams, saw the affair in its proper light, and, as 
 he told Bailing, felt convinced that he should 
 have the satisfaction, eventually, of surrender- 
 ing Burrowdale Park into the possession of the 
 blooming Rose and her happy husband. 
 
 Things, however, were not to fall out quite 
 so conveniently; the intelligence which the 
 noble ambassador received from Ford reached 
 him by express previously to the arrival of 
 Edward's letter, and decided him to take a 
 step little expected by any of the parties con- 
 cerned, and by no means desired by some of 
 them. This was no other than immediately 
 to avail himself of the permission he had long 
 before received, to return home for a short 
 period. How Ford had represented the affair 
 to his Lordship, we shall hereafter see. Suf- 
 fice it at the present moment to say, that his 
 anger knew no bounds on the perusal of his 
 despatch: his feelings were not less irritated 
 by his son's state of the case, for, as Ford had 
 contrived it, the impression was made, the influ- 
 ence over him had been attained, before he 
 received Edward's letter. 
 
 The reply which he immediately despatched 
 
29S THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 to his son was couched in terms of the highest 
 disrespect towards the Ballings, of whom he 
 spoke in language so unusually explicit as to 
 induce Edward to think that he must have 
 made an erroneous estimate of their characters^ 
 and yet it seemed to him almost impossible 
 that he should know enough of them to form 
 any opinion upon the subject at all. 
 
 The letter, however, was such as to render it 
 impossible for him to impart its contents to 
 the Dallings ; the tone in which it was written, 
 the objections which were specified, and, in- 
 deed, the whole tenour of the communication 
 was such as to preclude the possibility of even 
 alluding to it in a correspondence or interview 
 with the Doctor or his daughter. 
 
 Half distracted, half wild with contending 
 feelings, Edward resolved, and was supported 
 in his resolution by Ford, to start for the Con- 
 tinent ; this at all events would delay the crisis 
 —it would evince to Rose the warmth of his 
 attachment, and to his father the strength of 
 his resolution: the thought once entertained, 
 the feeling once excited, a few hours only 
 were required to put it into execution. Politi- 
 cal reasons induce me to conceal the place of 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 299 
 
 his destination : suffice it to say, that passing 
 through Emraerton to embark for it, would not 
 be attended with any very considerable incon- 
 venience, and Edward thought that a few 
 minutes conversation and consultation with 
 Ford before his departure, would be extremely 
 satisfactory, of which, by managing his mat- 
 ters well, he felt he could contrive to avail 
 himself without discovering to the Callings 
 tliat he was actually in their neighbourhood. 
 
 Some youthful readers who, perhaps, are 
 labouring under Edward's malady at this very 
 moment, may imagine the fact that Ford 
 resided in the same town with Rose, to have 
 had some weight in this decision ; be that as it 
 may, it was one to which Ford himself would 
 never have allowed him to come, could he have 
 avoided it : the journey to the Continent was a 
 measure which would have met his hearty con- 
 currence, but a return to Emmerton was what 
 he most dreaded, and at the same time least 
 anticipated. 
 
 In this country of bowling-green roads and 
 Kati-attritionated wheels, a trajet such as that 
 from town to Emmerton is not worth noticing : 
 in a light travelling carriage with his own man 
 
300 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 alone in the rumble-tumble, our hero flew 
 along the level plains, mounted the rising hills, 
 and swept the sloping valleys of the great 
 western road without let or hindrance, and in 
 the dusk of the evening of the second jour- 
 neying day left his chaise at the turning into 
 his native town, and walked along the road, 
 his heart palpitating with ten thousand con- 
 flicting sentiments till he reached the well- 
 known house of Mr. Amos Ford. i*i 
 
 Lifting the huge and shining lion's-head, of 
 which we have already spoken, he knocked at 
 the door, which was almost instantly opened 
 by a servant he did not know, wearing his 
 own family livery : there was little room for 
 doubt or mystery — it was his father's servant. 
 
 "Was Mr. Ford at home?" —" Yes." 
 " Alone ?"—" No, Sir, Lord Belmont is with 
 him," was the answer. 
 
 The softest breeze that ever tossed about the 
 gossamer would have sufficed to sweep his 
 Lordship's son and heir from the place where 
 he stood ; his father — his dreaded angry 
 father was at hand, and all his ire ready to 
 burst upon his devoted anxious child : the man 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 301 
 
 proceeded — Ford's servants being, as most ser- 
 vants are, any where but where they should 
 have been — to throw open the library-door, 
 and announce Mr. Bramley, who had given his 
 name without knowing what he was doing, 
 and who followed the man mechanically to- 
 wards his father's presence; towards it — but 
 alas, not into it. 
 
 The instant his name was mentioned the 
 Peer started from his seat, and exclaimed : 
 
 " Ford, I insist upon being protected from 
 insult! What is the meaning of this trick? 
 Leave the room. Sir/' said his Lordship to the 
 servant ; ** shut the door — I am busy — I am not 
 at home. Sirrah ; — d' ye hear ?" 
 
 Ford leaped from his chair, and after casting 
 a pacifying look at his Lordship, proceeded to 
 r^pel Edward's attempt to enter the apart- 
 ment : the servant, somewhat amazed, resigned 
 the handle of the door into the hand of Ford, 
 who endeavoured to telegraph his unwelcome 
 visitor away, indicating by signs that the mo- 
 ment he had chosen for his appearance there 
 was not the best suited to the purpose he 
 doubtlessly had in view. 
 
 Ford's respect, however, for the son of his 
 
302 THE FRIEND OF TilE FAMILY. 
 
 noble client would not permit him to perform 
 this service harshly or even determinately, 
 and when Edward, catching a glimpse of his 
 father's countenance, pale with rage, his eyes 
 casting their fires around, pressed towards him, 
 the attorney was staggered in his purpose, and 
 in all probability would have yielded to the 
 impulse of mingled awe and fear, had not his 
 Lordship, after vociferating to him to close the 
 door, rushed forward, and pushing him forcibly 
 away shut it upon his child, whose piercing cry 
 of " Father! Father!" was drowned in the 
 violence of the noble lord's execrations upon 
 his head and the rattling of the lock with 
 which his Lordship secured himself from far- 
 ther interruption. 
 
 Edward had been prepared for strong op- 
 position to his union with Rose, but certainly 
 never anticipated conduct bordering so closely 
 upon insanity as that which my Lord Belmont 
 was pleased to display upon this occasion, nor 
 could he account for it. It was true that Bal- 
 ling was a commoner, but he was a gentleman, 
 whose grandfather had, in the pride of family 
 feeling, refused a similar honour to that, which 
 his father had anxiously sought and gladly ac- 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 303 
 
 cepted. In the one scale was a patent hardly 
 dry, a riband and a star — in the other was 
 beauty, sense, virtue, excellence ! — To the pre- 
 judiced mind of the ardent lover it appeared 
 by no means doubtful which should kick the 
 beam, and with his knowledge of his father's 
 character, he felt convinced that he must be 
 labouring under some delusion with respect to 
 the family at the Rectory, and that some mis- 
 chievous person must have been at work, un- 
 dermining their reputation and impugning 
 theii; respectability. 
 
 In a few moments after his forcible expul- 
 sion, if expulsion it may be called, considering 
 that he had not actually entered the apartment, 
 Edward, who remained paralyzed in the hall, 
 was awakened from his trance of horror by the 
 friendly voice of Ford, who came evidently to 
 soothe away some of the grief which the ex- 
 traordinary reception he had met with from his 
 father had caused ; but he came not commis- 
 sioned by that father so to do. The bitterness 
 of paternal anger was increased by the pre- 
 sence of his son, and Ford''s orders were to 
 force him not only to leave the house, then, but 
 to avoid it during his Lordship's stay at Em- 
 
304 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 merton, which, it appeared, was intended to be 
 very short, however important the measures 
 which he might see fit to adopt pending its 
 continuance. 
 
 Ford, after temporizing with Edward for 
 some time, assured him that no power on 
 earth would induce his father to admit him to 
 his presence until he had formally renounced 
 all connexion with the Dallings ; *' and," said 
 Ford, " that condition, my dear young friend, 
 I know it is impossible to ask — to expect, you 
 to comply with : even /, who am most anxious 
 for your reconciliation with your father, could 
 not advocate such an abandonment of prin- 
 ciple as the price of even so great an advan- 
 tage. You must marry her, Mr. Bramley, you 
 must; that is my opinion, and I have given it 
 strongly to his Lordship." 
 
 *' But tell me. Ford," said Edward, *' where 
 has my father collected materials for form- 
 ing his opinion of the Dallings? He knows 
 nothing of them — can know nothing of them, 
 but by report : who, then, has calumniated 
 them so grossly, as to induce him to spurn 
 contemptuously an alliance, of which a mon- 
 arch might be proud ?" 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 305 
 
 " The Lord in his wisdom only knows the 
 hearts of men, Mr. Bramley," said Ford ; " I 
 have prayed incessantly during the last three 
 nights, that I might be put upon some way of 
 conciliating matters, but it seems not fit that 
 I should : and as for the traducers of the fa- 
 mily, it is a sad world, and its wickednesses 
 are manifold." 
 
 ** Those ideotic girls could not have stimu- 
 lated my father's dislike towards Miss Dalling 
 by any abominable misrepresentations of that 
 morning's visit?" 
 
 " It is not probable that they have had any 
 communication with your noble father since, 
 as I should conceive." 
 
 ** What does it mean, then ? Will he see 
 Rose? Will he be introduced to Dalling?" 
 
 ** He would die first, and see us perish too." 
 
 ** What does he propose? Will he not see 
 me, then?" 
 
 " Not till you have relinquished the con- 
 nexion ; which I declare, under Divine Pro- 
 vidence, I see no possibility of your doing. 
 At present, however, I would recommend your 
 leaving the house — you may remain at either 
 of the inns ; and I would have you do so at 
 
306 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 all events till to-morrow : perhaps something 
 may happen to brighten our prospects, and if 
 it should please the kindness of Heaven to 
 grant us a relief, you will be at hand to reap 
 the advantages." 
 
 " How long does my father stay r" 
 
 " Only till to-morrow evening." 
 
 " Am I then to understand. Ford, that an 
 eternal separation from my father is the con- 
 sequence of my marriage with Rose ?" 
 
 '* The Disposer of all human events may 
 soften the hearts of the most obdurate^ — 
 but " 
 
 Here a tremendous peal from the library- 
 bell announced that His Excellency Baron 
 Belmont, G. C. B. S*. A. and S*. P. was in 
 a violent passion, and impatient for Ford's 
 return. Such a summons was not to be un- 
 heeded ; and Ford, with less ceremony than he 
 would at any other time have shewn to his 
 noble client's eldest son, assisted him to the 
 street-door, where, squeezing his hand, he 
 parted with him for the evening with this 
 brief, yet cordial advice : 
 
 ** Marry the girl, you will be justified to 
 yourself; and a clear conscience, and your 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 307 
 
 own honest heart, will put you above the little 
 ills of this transitory world. God bless you. 
 Sir !" 
 
 He pressed his hand again, and the tear 
 «tood in the meek man's eye. Edward could 
 have worshipped him, and felt, as he turned 
 from the steps of his house, the blessing he 
 enjoyed in such a friend. 
 
 Little prepared was Edward, heart-full as he 
 was, for a sight which flashed upon him like 
 a fearful vision at this eventful moment. He 
 had scarcely quitted the steps of Ford's house, 
 when he encountered a servant, bearing, after 
 the fashion of Emmerton, a bright-beaming 
 lantern, wherewith to guide the steps of his 
 beloved Rose and her father, who, in the pri- 
 mitive simphcity of that unsophisticated neigh- 
 bourhood, were, at an hour so early, returning 
 homeward from one of those sociable parties 
 which I have, in the beginning of my narra- 
 tive, feebly attempted to describe. The light 
 was strong — the persons well known to each 
 other. Rose saw Bramley ; her sudden tre- 
 mor awakened Balling's observation — he saw 
 him too. Edward stood motionless; they 
 passed him ; Rose looked upon her father as 
 
308 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 if she had seen a spectre ; Edward turned to 
 gaze upon them as if some dreadful vision had 
 llitted by ; his brain was fired — the delibera- 
 tion was momentary ; he followed, overtook, 
 and spoke to them. 
 
 " I thought," said Bailing, with his natural 
 coolness, " I could not be mistaken ; when 
 did you return, Mr. Bramley ?" 
 
 The quiet, composed manner of Dalling, 
 who during the absence of Bramley had been 
 pursuing his ordinary avocations perfectly free 
 from all the bustle and agitation which had cha- 
 racterized his young friend's proceedings during 
 the same period, completely upset our hero, 
 who had conjured up in his mind a different 
 reception from the Doctor. He literally was 
 incapable of speaking — hardly of moving : he 
 stammered out something to Rose, who in turn 
 replied not much more intelligibly; and having 
 mechanically joined them, he walked with 
 them towards the Rectory, without calculating 
 the difficulty and embarrassment into which 
 they were leading each other. The Rectory 
 was his home, had been his home for years ; — 
 to enter it now, would be to imply that he had 
 obtained that sanction which alone was want- 
 
THE FRIEND OF THF- FAMILY. 309 
 
 ing to his happiness; to decline, would be at 
 once to declare the hopelessness of the case. 
 
 The immediate presence of the servant hin- 
 dered the Doctor from touching upon the sub- 
 ject, even remotely, till they had reached the 
 entrance of the grounds, when in an under 
 tone he said to Edward, '' Did you come 
 down with Lord Belmont? I hear from Miss 
 Ford that he is here/' 
 
 " No, not with him," said Edward. 
 
 *' You have seen him, of course?" 
 
 " Yes," said Edward, descending to an equi- 
 vocation to avoid the consequences which he 
 too well foresaw would result from an admis- 
 sion of his father's feelings upon the great 
 question at issue, ** I have seen him." 
 
 The bell of the rectory-gate sounded through 
 the stillness of the night; the crisis had ar- 
 rived, and never did a trifling event awaken 
 stronger sensations : all his doubts and fears, 
 hopes and anxieties, were revivified by this 
 ominous sound. 
 
 To enter the house was to temporize and trifle 
 with Rose's feelings ; to quit it, was to quit it eter- 
 nally : the struggle was one of principle against 
 passion. The gate was opened ; he pressed the 
 
310 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 hand of his beloved Rose, and turned away 
 without saying one word — his heart was too 
 full — how could he speak? 
 
 All doubt, as far as Dallino was concerned, 
 was at an end, and the mysterious insinuations 
 of Miss Ford, who had paid a visit that morn- 
 ing to the Rectory, were now cleared up. 
 Rose, however, wondered, if Edward was sure, 
 of his father's disapprobation, why he had not 
 been more decided in the avowal of it. The 
 feverish state of all parties at this crisis may 
 be better imagined than described; but scarcely 
 had Edward reached the inn, where, if he were 
 not to sleep, at least his sleeping-room was en- 
 gaged, before he reproached himself with a 
 want of candour in not having at once stated 
 the case as it stood, in not having explained 
 the violence of his father's hostility, and in not 
 having avowed the determination, which in 
 fact he had made, of uniting himself to Rose 
 in the teeth of the paternal malediction with 
 which he was threatened. 
 
 Ford, however, whose activity in behalf of 
 the young couple was extremely amiable, and 
 moreover very remarkable, was at Edward's 
 bed-side before the first crowing of the cock. 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. lU 1 
 
 He enquired whether he had seen the Dal- 
 lings — what the Doctor had said — what ex- 
 planation he had given of affairs, and what de- 
 termination he himself had come to ? throw- 
 ing out during the whole of his conversation 
 hints and innuendoes of probable forgiveness, 
 temporary anger, and hasty passions soon cool- 
 ed; all of which, if Edward could have hoped 
 that he was authorized to adopt them, he 
 would have been too happy to receive and ad- 
 mit; but he was not so sanguine as his ex- 
 cellent friend Ford, and told that gentleman 
 how little was to be hoped from any relaxation 
 of Lord Belmont's present hostility. 
 
 " Then marry her without your father's con- 
 sent," said Ford, bursting from his usual de- 
 mure and placid manner into a tone of en- 
 thusiastic energy : " she is perfection, and her 
 love and her society will recompense you for 
 the loss of every other object upon earth." 
 
 Never was mortal more astonished than Ed- 
 ward at this eruption of lax morality from his 
 sanctified Mentor. To say that he was dis- 
 pleased would be saying that which is not 
 strictly true — he had debated the same ques- 
 tion, and weighed the curse of a parent, and 
 
312 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 eternal exclusion from his house and heart, 
 against the happiness derivable from an union 
 with so much excellence as he was sure to/ 
 possess in Rose Dalling ; — to find himself thus 
 supported in a scheme of filial disobedience 
 by a man so strictly good and just as Ford, 
 gave a new turn to his thoughts, and he saw 
 in that, which an hour before he considered an 
 act of ingratitude, nothing beyond the com- 
 mon resistance of oppression which nature 
 and reason admit to be just and dignified. 
 
 '* 1 «;i// marry her. Ford," said Edward, '"and 
 tell my father so." 
 
 '* Well said, my excellent, honourable young 
 friend," said Ford ; " write, write this determi- 
 nation, and send your note to your father im- 
 mediately." 
 
 " What will be the result. Ford .^" 
 
 " Great and violent anger on the part of his 
 Lordship for a day or two; — but I know his 
 heart — I know how he loves you, and depend 
 upon it our prayers to Heaven for your restora- 
 tion to his favour, will not be unheard." 
 
 *' Stay," said Edward, ** I will write now — 
 half-a-dozen lines will convey the straight-for- 
 ward meaning I have to express. I want none 
 of the diplomatic circumlocution which my 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 313 
 
 father adopts ; plain facts require plain words. 
 I love Rose Bailing, Ford, — she loves me." 
 
 '* And you will marry her? I always said 
 so; I told my excellent Rachel I knew 
 your honour and principle too well to doubt 
 you." 
 
 Edward during this last part of Ford's ob- 
 servations was employed in writing the note 
 to his father, which was to produce effects 
 the least expected by him, and the farthest 
 different from those openly anticipated by Ford 
 in his encouraging arguments for the marriage. 
 The deed was done, the note sealed, directed, 
 and delivered to the Friend of the Family, who, 
 believing in the ready acquiescence of the 
 Dallings, fancied he had gained the great 
 point of his scheme, the main object he had 
 in view. 
 
 A house divided against itself cannot stand 
 long, says the proverb, and a very striking 
 verification of the adage will be found in the 
 conduct of Miss Ford upon the present occa- 
 sion. Absorbed in her religious duties, and in 
 her moral and charitable visitings of the poor 
 and sick, she attended too little to things of 
 worldly interest to understand the cause of 
 
 VOL. I. p 
 
314 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 her father's anxiety about the marriage of Ed- 
 ward with Rose ; but when she did condescend 
 to canvass mundane matters, she never could 
 comprehend why, when she knew his original 
 object was to secure Edward as a husband for 
 her, he should now appear to use all his zeal, 
 religion, activity, and ability, in bringing about 
 an event which must finally and totally destroy 
 the possibility of ever consummating the still 
 wished-for union between herself and the heir 
 of the noble house of Belmont. 
 
 Little did Ford think while he was preparing 
 Edward for the step which he most desired him 
 to take, that his excellent and exemplary daugh- 
 ter was, in a stroll before breakfast, under the 
 Rectory trees, pouring into the ear of the 
 sensitive Rose the whole of Lord Belmont's 
 anger at the projected marriage, his fixed de- 
 termination, should it take place, to quit Eng- 
 land never to return, shutting his heart against 
 his son during his life, and bequeathing him at 
 his death nothing but his title and his curse. 
 Little did Ford imagine that in the pure, 
 cold, and gentle heart of his beloved Rachel, 
 there could exist a rankling feehng of jealousy, 
 which had for its object the separation of 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 6ib 
 
 those fond lovers whose union he so ardently 
 and earnestly desired : the recollection that 
 she had been slighted, neglected, nay more, 
 ridiculed by Edward, and that the blooming 
 creature now her victim was the favoured, the 
 adored, the worshipped, of that same man, 
 preyed upon her ; and when she had ascer- 
 tained the view Miss Bailing took of the sub- 
 ject, the dread she felt of entailing a father's 
 curse upon him whom she so dearly loved, her 
 utter abhorrence of connecting herself with a 
 family against the will of its representative, 
 her fear of the privations, the sufferings to 
 which she saw that Edward would be exposed 
 after he had taken this hostile step, Rachel 
 knew the chord to strike ; she enlarged upon 
 every observation made by her *' dear friend," 
 and having worked upon her with a vivid descrip- 
 tion of the tremendous effects of Lord Bel- 
 mont's rage, left her to act upon the intelligence 
 she had given her, having first recommend- 
 ed her to apply for counsel to her father, whose 
 pride, Rachel was well assured, would give the 
 fullest effect to the suggestions of his daugh- 
 ter's anxiety for Bramley. 
 
 It worked as it was wished ; Bailing took 
 p 2 
 
316 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 fire at the haughty, and, as he considered it, in- 
 solent rejection of the alliance with his daugh- 
 ter; he felt displeased at the half-measured 
 conduct of Edward himself, and, warm with the 
 offence he considered levelled at him, deter- 
 mined upon the course to be pursued, and 
 forthwith acted upon his determination. 
 
 It is curious to observe the many cases in 
 which similar effects are produced by different 
 causes, or rather, the various feelings and ac- 
 tions which, though not even remotely assimi- 
 lating, equally conduce to the same end. The 
 resolution decidedly to reject all temporizing, 
 and to terminate all communication with the 
 Belmont family, was equally strong on the 
 part of Dalling and his daughter ; but while his 
 firmness on the subject arose from an irritated 
 feeling of affront, her's originated in that true 
 affection for a beloved object, which can sacri- 
 fice the best and dearest hopes of existence, 
 rather than injure him by whom it has been 
 excited. It was this tender solicitude, this 
 anxious desire of devoting herself to save her 
 Edward from unhappiness, which (surprisingly, 
 it must be confessed, to Bailing,) induced this 
 exemplary girl to enter into her father's view§ 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 317 
 
 of the immediate necessity of cutting short all 
 connexion between herself and her lover. 
 
 To Edward, who was not aware of his 
 fathers determination to quit the country for 
 ever, in case of his marrying, and who, per- 
 haps, had he known of such a determination, 
 would not have written the note Ford had so 
 kindly and readily undertaken to deHver, how 
 great must have been the surprise when he re- 
 ceived the following letter from Bailing, enclo- 
 sing one from Rose ? It was overwhelming ! 
 
 "Dear Sir, Emmerton Rectory. 
 
 ** In expressing my surprise that the deter- 
 mination of my Lord Belmont upon the sub- 
 ject, which you thought proper to refer to his 
 consideration, should not have been communi- 
 cated direct from you to me, I consider it my 
 duty to inform you, that having accidentally 
 heard the result of his Lordship's deliberations, 
 I must deny myself the pleasure of any further 
 communication with you. 
 
 ** I thus hastily address you, fearing lest 
 my conduct last night, at a period when I was 
 wholly uninformed of Lord Belmont's decision, 
 might lead you to suppose that I should be 
 
318 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 inclined to admit your visits here as usual ; 
 your own good sense, and those high and 
 honourable feelings which you have ever ex- 
 hibited during our past acquaintance, will con- 
 vince you at once of the impossibility of con- 
 tinuing that intercourse, from which, I am 
 proud to confess, I have received much plea- 
 sure and gratification. 
 
 *' I shall not, most assuredly, under my cir- 
 cumstances, dwell upon the extraordinary de- 
 gree of displeasure which I am told you know 
 my Lord Belmont to have expressed at the 
 suggestion of an alliance with my family. You 
 must be well aware that I was wholly ignorant 
 of the existence of the attachment, which, had 
 I earlier discovered it, I should sooner have 
 brought to a decisive conclusion. It may 
 seem that my daughter merits some reproach 
 for having delayed for a moment coming to 
 an explanation with me, after she was con- 
 scious of its existence ; but she has convinced 
 me of the correctness of her feelings, and 
 explained some circumstances, which at the 
 time, I admit, greatly annoyed me. 
 
 " Lest you should imagine that I am en- 
 forcing my decrees against the will of my 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 319 
 
 daughter, and in order at once to shew you 
 the real state of her feelings, and to mark the 
 perfect uselessness of any thing like an at- 
 tempt to shake our decision, I forward by her 
 desire a letter, which she requests you will 
 read with calmness; and, wounded as we 
 both feel, not by you, but by the intempe- 
 rate language of your father, we unite in en- 
 treating you to use no efforts to alter the 
 determination which we have both expressed, 
 and from which no consideration upon earth 
 can induce us to deviate. 
 
 " I cannot conclude this letter without as- 
 suring you of my warm and affectionate esteem, 
 and, most fervently and sincerely wishing you 
 every happiness which this world can afford 
 during your passage through it, remain 
 " Your's most truly, 
 
 *' G. W. Balling." 
 
 Whatever attention Bramley might be dis- 
 posed at all times to pay to any thing coming 
 from the Up or pen of the amiable and exem- 
 plary Bailing, the feeling of interest excited 
 by the arrival of the pacquet, was not only di- 
 vided between the envelope and the enclosure. 
 
320 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 but, to speak truth, the greater share was given 
 to that part of the despatch which was in the 
 hand-writing of Rose. Edward broke the well- 
 known seal, and read the following lines : 
 
 " Situated as I am, and in the present stage 
 of our acquaintance, nothing, as I am sure you 
 will believe, except the sanction, indeed the 
 desire of a parent, would induce me to address 
 you in a letter ; but, as I know how highly 
 you prize candour, and as I have nothing to 
 reproach myself with in the conduct I have 
 hitherto adopted towards you, I have acceded 
 to the wish of my kind and excellent father, 
 and write to you for the first and last time to 
 assure you of the firmness of my resolution, 
 and the necessity of your conforming to the 
 rule I have spontaneously and voluntarily laid 
 down for my future conduct. 
 
 " I should be ashamed of my past behaviour, 
 I should be unworthy of your esteem, which 
 I hope never to forfeit, did I prudishly affect - 
 to equivocate or temporize with the subject so 
 near my heart. I have confessed an attach- 
 ment which I feel no shame in avowing, for it 
 was founded upon esteem for those high qua- 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 321 
 
 lities and honourable feelings with which 
 your character abounds ; had fate and fortune 
 conspired to make me yours, my happiness 
 would have been complete, and the only care 
 of my life would have been an assiduity in pro- 
 moting yours; but if candour bids me say all 
 this, it bids me add, that the line is now 
 drawn, our parents disapprove the union, and 
 I have too much affection for my father, and 
 too much regard for you, to suffer him to be 
 degraded, or you embarrassed, by an inauspi- 
 cious introduction into your family. You un- 
 derstand me; I anticipated the proposal I should 
 have received from you, had I not taken the 
 resolution of forewarning you against making 
 it. I will open no letter, I will admit no visit 
 from you; no, Edward, it must not be. 
 
 " You must not accuse me of a wish to re- 
 tain an interest in your heart, which can avail 
 either of us nothing, in what I am going to 
 say. To you, this struggle of separation will 
 be momentary, when compared with the con- 
 tinuous regret which I am doomed to feel 
 through a long and dreary life ; you, courted, 
 sought, and honoured in the world, will mingle 
 with society in its gayest forms, and become 
 p5 
 
322 THE miEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 an actor in scenes of which we as yet have only 
 read or heard, and whose fascinations are still 
 as strange to you as to me. I remain in my 
 solitude with the same duties to fulfil, the 
 same offices to perform. In the mind of a girl 
 so domesticated, so home-bred as myself, whose 
 range of thought, whose circle of amusement 
 are so restricted, the one — one feeling will rest 
 and remain for ever ; you and happiness are 
 associated there : when you are gone, the hope 
 of happiness is eternally blighted. I say this, 
 not to recall the hours that are past,— never 
 to return ; I allude to my own feelings, not with 
 a wish of exciting yours, but to endeavour to 
 shew you how much greater the sacrifice is, to 
 which / voluntarily submit, than that which 
 duty and reason compel i/ou to make. It is by 
 the aid of religion, by that consolation which 
 the wicked know not of, that this aching heart 
 will be soothed and supported. Let me entreat 
 you, then, follow the example I set: — -go, 
 seek your father — be restored to his love, to 
 his house, to his heart; forget that / ever 
 lived, and if you seek a proof of that affection 
 which I scorn to conceal from you, find it in 
 the determination I have made, never to see 
 you more. 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 323 
 
 " T have established to myself a rule of con- 
 duct ; — if we meet, that rule is broken, and I 
 must seclude myself to avoid you. You know 
 the power you have over me, and I know your 
 generosity ; you will not use it, to make her, 
 who once thought herself yours, unhappy, and 
 least of all will you use it, to make her con- 
 temptible in the eyes of the world, or, what 
 would be yet more terrible, contemptible to 
 herself. 
 
 "It is from Rachel Ford that I have heard 
 of what has passed in your family on the sub- 
 ject. Your father seems labouring under some 
 strange delusion about us; but he can never 
 now be undeceived — it is all too late for ex- 
 planations. The books you lent me, I have 
 sent with this, together with the drawings 
 which were yours before, and which I made last 
 year for you. T pray God to bless you, and 
 make you happy, and to support me in this 
 hour of trial ; but, in concluding, I repeat that 
 no power on earth will induce me to see you 
 again. I cannot — cannot end this ! — One 
 word more ! — Heaven in its mercy bless you, 
 and save me from myself ! 
 
 " Farewell for ever ! " 
 
324 THE FHIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 *' She discards me— she rejects me," cried 
 Edward : " I have lost her— for ever lost her. 
 Stern, cruel-hearted father [^nqmiho^m^ii^' 
 
 *' Why this agony of grief?'' said Ford', who 
 had entered the room at the moment unper- 
 ceived by Edward; *' what has happened?" 
 
 " Ford," said Edward, " the Dallings re- 
 ject me — spurn me — drive me from their 
 society !" 
 
 Ford stood aghast, — he was not at all pre- 
 pared for this, for having himself most sedu- 
 lously kept secret all that had occurred in his 
 house during the last eight and forty hours, he 
 had hoped the fact that Lord Belmont was 
 there, had not reached the Rectory ; little did 
 he imagine whence the Dallings had obtained 
 their information. 
 
 " You must marry her. Sir," said Ford, con- 
 tracting his brow, and biting his lips. 
 
 " Never, unless my father consents — never. 
 Ford, never ! I know the high spirit of the 
 family ; they scorn our new-fangled aristo- 
 cracy. Will my father see me?" 
 
 " I think not," said Ford. 
 
 ** But now. Ford, that I tell you my union 
 with Rose is impossible — is prohibited, irrevo- 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 325 
 
 cably prohibited ; surely the sacrifice being 
 made and his point gained, my father will ad- 
 mit me to his presence." 
 
 *' Perhaps," said Ford, " it may not be the 
 best plan to try the experiment at the present 
 moment : if you concede this, he will force 
 another match upon you, and " 
 
 " I thought," exclaimed Edward, '* you told 
 me no such proposition was probable." 
 
 " I was mistaken. Sir," said Ford, ** for most 
 assuredly there is such a scheme in agitation." 
 
 '* Let me hear my father's proposals from 
 himself, Mr. Ford : am I not his equal ? Where 
 is the distinction between the son and sire that 
 he should thus negotiate with me through a 
 third person ? " 
 
 '* His anger " 
 
 " His anger," said Edward, ** must abate 
 when he finds that I have not even the choice 
 left of sinnino; ao;ainst his will." 
 
 " That he must never knowy* muttered Ford. 
 
 " How so ?" 
 
 ** If he thought it possible that such a per- 
 son as the Ballings could reject an alliance 
 with his family upon any terms, what would his 
 feelings be ? " 
 
326 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 '* 1 really cannot imagine," exclaimed Ed- 
 ward ; " what they ought to be I can most 
 distinctly define. My father seems entirely 
 in error about the Dallings : what does he 
 consider them to be — ^vagabonds, plebeians, 
 outcasts?" 
 
 " Not so, my dear. Sir," said Ford, " he has 
 made up his mind ; and yet, yet I cannot but 
 think if you persisted in your determination, 
 with respect to Miss Dalling, he would con- 
 sent to the marriage." 
 
 " How inconsistent is this conduct then!" 
 replied Edward : " what does it mean ? There 
 appears an infatuation about it which is to 
 me perfectly inexplicable. Will he see Cal- 
 ling?" 
 
 " Certainly not." 
 
 " Will he see me?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 '' What then are his intentions?" 
 
 " I will go to him now : — promise to take no 
 step till I return." 
 
 " I will make no such promise, — either let 
 me see my father, or be yourself the bearer of 
 a note to him." 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 327 
 
 *' That which I did convey this morning had 
 only the effect of increasing his irritation." 
 
 " But this, which I shall write now, must 
 necessarily allay it — it is the annunciation of 
 my relinquishment of the marriage. Whether 
 that relinquishment be voluntary on my part, 
 or forced upon me by circumstances over 
 which I have no control, can matter little to 
 him as far as regards his delicate feelings for 
 the honour of our family, — the objection of such 
 a marriage is overcome. I am content to be 
 dutiful and wretched ; what more will he ask 
 of me?" 
 
 " Much more than you will be disposed 
 to grant ; take my advice, for the Lord knows 
 that I speak for the best: wait till I return. 
 I will certainly take and deliver your note, 
 if you feel it important ; but I would advise 
 again that you should not give up your in- 
 tentions, but stipulate for his consent to the 
 match with Miss Balling. What can he do ? 
 What can he wish ? — he has but only you, he 
 has no other child ; upon you must devolve 
 his honours and title. Why, after the first 
 ebullition of his rage is over, why, I ask. 
 
328 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 should he deny his acquiescence?, And if he do 
 deny it, why not carry off the girl, and so 
 force him into compliance?" 
 
 " I see," said Edward, *' you are as ignomnt 
 of the character of the Ballings as my father ; 
 and however much I may be surprised at your 
 suggesting a step so extraordinary, I can as- 
 sure you that no power, no entreaty, no des- 
 peration of mine could induce Rose to take 
 such a step." 
 
 " The Lord knows our hearts !" sighed Ford, 
 turning his eyes upwards ; " but I doubt 
 whether any philosophy will stand against the 
 persuasions of love." 
 
 " Philosophy may not, Sir,'^ said Edward, 
 *' but principle will ; and, therefore, put out of 
 your calculation all underhand manoeuvring 
 with the Ballings. They have told us their 
 feelings plainly and candidly, and I know 
 enough of them to know that they will act up 
 to them." 
 
 *' But if his Lordship did sacrifice his scru- 
 ples, and consent to the marriage?" 
 
 " Then," said Edward, " why should the 
 Ballings object ? or, if my father is disposed 
 to such a concession now, why should he have 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 329 
 
 SO sternly and stubbornly rejected my propo- 
 sition at first?'' 
 
 *' Things may change; and let rae entreat 
 you, as 1 before did, to remain quietly here till 
 I return from your father. This conduct of the 
 Dallings may perhaps alter his mind, and, at 
 all events, there is nothing better to be done 
 at the moment that 1 can see." 
 
 This last recommendation of the proposed 
 measure was certainly the strongest, and ac- 
 cordingly Ford was permitted to take his own 
 way : Edward, confident in his zeal from the 
 peculiar interest he expressed upon the sub- 
 ject, and full of hope from the influence he 
 knew he possessed over his father, and from the 
 decided manner in which he put extreme cases, 
 and recommended extraordinary measures. 
 
 While he was absent, Edward again read 
 the letter of Rose Bailing, and felt that it 
 almost required an answer; yet, to send one 
 after her command that he should not write, 
 and her declaration that she would not receive 
 any letter from him, would be to seem regard- 
 less of her injunctions, and incredulous of her 
 earnestness ; he therefore determined to wait 
 as patiently as he could until the return of his 
 
330 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 emissary, when, perhaps, he might in triumph 
 claim the lovely girl as his own. 
 
 The hours crept until five o'clock in the 
 afternoon, when Ford entered the apartment, 
 his eye beaming with victory : — his agitation 
 was great, the expression of his countenance 
 novel and extraordinary. 
 
 " There! there!" said he, in an exulting tone, 
 throwing a letter on the table ; " there, — it is 
 done ! — it is settled ! we have carried our point, 
 and Rose Dalling is yours !" 
 
 " Best of friends !" exclaimed Edward ; " are 
 you serious ? speak." 
 
 '' It is as true as Holy Writ," said Ford ; 
 " trust not to me, but read — read yourself." 
 
 Edward burst open the letter ; it was from 
 his father, and thus it ran : 
 
 *' There are circumstances under which a 
 deviation from fixed principles may be admit- 
 ted, and, however averse I might originally 
 have been from the measure submitted to me 
 by you, with respect to your marriage with 
 Miss Dalling, the negotiation on your part 
 has assumed an entirely new character, and has 
 put the matter in a light which renders any 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 331 
 
 farther objection on my part wholly impossi- 
 ble. I therefore not only consent to the mea- 
 sure, but I desire that no delay may be made 
 in the fulfilment of the solemn engagement. 
 However unwilling I may be to commit myself 
 farther, it may be necessary to say, that my pub- 
 lic duties will prevent my remaining to witness 
 the ceremony ; nor, under the circumstances, am 
 I led to suppose, that my absence will be much 
 regretted by any of the parties concerned. 
 
 " Mr. Ford will explain all the particulars of 
 settlement, allowance, &c. &c. during my life- 
 time, and, as I am anxious to say as little upon 
 the painful subject as possible, I must refer 
 you and Dr. Dalling to him upon all matters 
 of business. 
 
 " Any communications to be made to me 
 may also be made through the same channel. 
 
 ** Yours, 
 
 " Belmont." 
 
 " What does this mean ?" said Edward; "why 
 this fresh insult?" 
 
 " Insult V repeated Ford ; ** why, he con- 
 sents !" 
 
 " Consents ! but do you really know so little 
 
332 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 of the family most implicated in this affair, as 
 to suppose that they will consider the thing 
 mended by this precious document:" ' -'"^ 
 
 " I know what / consider it," said Pora : 
 " such a document, that, had it pleased the 
 Lord to have put it in your father's mind to 
 have directed your choice to my daughter, I 
 should have returned thanks for the graicious 
 interference in my behalf which procured it. 
 
 ** Mr. Ford," said Edward, " are you trifling 
 with me, or not ? and does my father suppose 
 that this will satisfy a man of Dr. Balling's 
 character ?" 
 
 " This ! why there is no necessity," said 
 Ford, *' to shew this. I am a living witness to 
 your father's consent ; he means you to marry 
 Miss Bailing : you know his manner— but that 
 is all, and " 
 
 " I '11 go to him this instant," said the agi- 
 tated son, " and see whether plain sense and 
 plain truth will not have the due weight with 
 him." 
 
 " Go to him! — to whom? — to my Lord?" 
 
 " To be sure ! — why not ?" 
 
 *' Because, Mr.Bramley, he is already gone." 
 
 " Gone!— Whither?" 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 333 
 
 " To his court upon the Continent, Sir. Do 
 you know so little of his Lordship's value and 
 importance to the State, as to suppose he could 
 be spared for any length of time from his 
 mission? Does he not explain that?" 
 
 *' Gone ?" cried Edward ; " my father gone 
 without seeing me? — without speaking to a 
 child who never wronged, who never dis- 
 obeyed him in a single instance V* 
 
 " Then, Sir," said Ford, in a somewhat au- 
 thoritative tone, *' obey him now, and marry 
 the girl." 
 
 " The girl!" muttered Edward, and looking 
 at Ford as if he could have cut him into pieces 
 for the expression : " the girl, Mr. Ford, will 
 not marry me upon such credentials as these ; 
 nor should she, if she would. Either Miss Dal- 
 ling comes into our family the acknowledged 
 wife of its heir, or not at all — at present.'* 
 
 Ford was not in the least prepared for the 
 high tone in which his young friend spoke. 
 He changed colour — felt himself counteracted 
 in a plan which he knew nobody had suspected, 
 and stammered out something which sounded 
 like compulsion. 
 
 " It is surprising above all things to me," 
 
334 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 said Edward, " that my father, after having in 
 the strongest, I will add, rudest manner, re- 
 jected any thing hke a connexion with this 
 family, should, in a manner equally abrupt, and 
 certainly more unaccountable, command me 
 imperatively to do that, which a few hours be- 
 fore he so positively prohibited," 
 
 " His wishes, his desires I know. Sir ; he 
 thinks, he feels that you ought to marry Miss 
 Bailing, and he sacrifices every thing to what 
 he considers due to your character." 
 
 "My character! — whose character is at 
 stake here ?" 
 
 " My dear Sir," said Ford, " all I can say 
 is, that your father insists upon your marrying 
 the young woman; and you can have no 
 reason for refusing to do that which is so 
 extremely pleasant to yourself. This note is 
 to you, not to her, or her father; and simply 
 stating that you have his Lordship's consent, 
 will satisfy them, and " 
 
 '* You mistake, you mistake, my dear Mr. 
 Ford," said Edward ; " all negotiation upon 
 the affair * must be open and above board.' 
 Mr. Bailing will not permit, nor will I request. 
 
THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 335 
 
 his daughter to be my wife upon sufferance. If 
 my father had visited them — seen them " 
 
 " Seen them !" echoed Ford, in a very par- 
 ticular tone. 
 
 ** Ay, Sir, seen them ! — and why not?" 
 
 " I cannot answer questions for Lord Bel- 
 mont/' said Ford. " If you choose me to 
 negotiate the afF.iir, it shall be conducted sa- 
 tisfactorily to all parties, and I pledge myself 
 to obtain Miss Balling's acquiescence, and her 
 father's consent, to your union." 
 
 '* And I will pledge myself to the contrary," 
 said Edward. 
 
 '* Will you allow me to make the experi- 
 ment?" 
 
 ** On your own responsibility. Sir; but make 
 me no party to it ; tell them plainly my opi- 
 nion." 
 
 " Enough ! I ask no more!" said Ford ; ** you 
 shall have the girl, and be happy ; in less than 
 an hour, by the blessing of Providence, it 
 shall be settled. Wait till I return, and carry 
 you triumphantly to receive the treasure you 
 most prize on earth : I know the arrangement 
 
336 THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY. 
 
 Edward, half stupified with grief at his fa- 
 ther's extraordinary conduct towards him, and 
 willing to catch at any thing likely to bring 
 about what he felt to be so highly improbable, 
 suffered Ford to proceed on his delicate mission, 
 and threw himself upon a sofa to reconsider 
 the curious aspect of affairs at the moment. 
 
 END OF VOL I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 PRINTED BY S. & R. BENTLEY, DORSET-SI RKRT. 
 
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
 3 0112 084213070