i 
 
 
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 LI B RARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 U N IVLRSITY 
 
 Of ILLI NOIS 
 
 2>23 
 W84-3 


 
 ,
 
 W M A N 
 
 A SKETCH, 
 
 Printed by J. Darling, Leadenhall Street, London. 
 
 — ■
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/womanorminormaxi01thom
 
 WOMAN; 
 
 OR, 
 
 3 gUctci). 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 Tho?e thousand decencies that daily flow 
 From all her words and actions. MILTGX. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 Uonfeom 
 
 Printed at the Minerva Frrsij'ir 
 
 A. E. NEWMAN AND CO. LEADEN H A LL-STKL ET, 
 1818,
 
 The following; Work was written for 
 the amusement of a home-circle; but 
 the Author could not give it a perma- 
 nent form, without, at the same time, 
 presenting it to the Public. 
 
 Fortunate in her associates, she feels 
 that her amiable characters are drawn 
 from Life — her less amiable ones the 
 creatures of Fancy.
 
 WOMA N. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Good-breeditig. 
 
 W E are about to introduce our readers 
 into very " good company" — good com- 
 pany, in every meaning of that phrase — the 
 titled and the wealthy, the wise and the 
 virtuous. It will be as well, therefore, to 
 risk a few preliminary remarks on the 
 nature of that bond of society, good-breed- 
 ing, to ensure our dramatis personal a po- 
 lite, if not a cordial reception. 
 
 Good-breeding is defined by Mr. Locke, 
 as consisting in the possession of a due de- 
 gree of respect for ourselves, combined 
 with a due degree of respect for others. 
 . vou L u Now
 
 2 WOMAN. 
 
 Now this definition supposes the absence 
 of both pride and false shame, and admits 
 not the presence either of the assumption 
 of unjust consequence for ourselves, or of 
 humiliating views of our neighbours. It 
 implies self-possession in the intercourse of 
 society, unimpaired by servility to the 
 great, or exultation over the lowly ; it de- 
 notes an innate dignity, that remains the 
 same in all the vicissitudes of life — in po- 
 verty and in opulence, in obscurity and in 
 celebrity — giving honour to whom honour 
 is due, yet preserving a just sense of our 
 own rank, and of our own rights. Hence 
 it appears that good-breeding is compat- 
 ible with every station, and may be exer- 
 cised uiider every circumstance of social 
 communion : the rustic labourer, who 
 stands aside to prevent his implements of 
 toil from incommoding the passer by — the 
 cottager's wife, who adds a faggot to her 
 dying fire, and dusts a chair, to accommo- 
 date the cold and wearied traveller — are 
 each as truly well-bred as the gentlewo- 
 man,
 
 WOMAX. 3 
 
 man, who gives precedence to fyer guest, or 
 forbears to contradict her opponent. 
 
 Good-breeding, then, in its genuine form, 
 is only the most refined expression of be- 
 nevolence, mingled with a certain propor- 
 tion of self-dignity. This last sentence 
 seems to mark its distinction from " high- 
 breeding ;" for if " high-breeding" be the 
 name for the manners of courts and cour- 
 tiers, it is plain it wants the essentials of 
 the quality we are discussing, inasmuch as 
 good-breeding is incompatible with ser- 
 vility or arrogance. 
 
 Now let it be understood, that when we 
 talk of the manners of courts and courtiers, 
 we mean the studied civilities and heart- 
 less professions generally ascribed to that 
 region of greatness — manners w r hich are, 
 however, to be found in every gradation 
 downwards, as good-breeding may be seen 
 in its purest form amid crowns and coro- 
 nets. 
 
 Good-breeding may be deemed the hap- 
 py medium between high-breeding and 
 B S vulgarity
 
 i WOMAN. 
 
 vulgarity — partaking of the polish of the 
 one, with the sincerity of the other ; for 
 as the great world gives a name to a cer- 
 tain style of behaviour, so does the lowly 
 world confer a title on certain modes of 
 demeanour. To be vulgar, however (that 
 is, to be coarse, selfish, uncomplying), is 
 no more a privilege confined to poverty 
 and rusticity, than to be well-bred (that is, 
 to be courteous, disinterested, obliging) is 
 a prerogative peculiar to wealth and titles : 
 a duchess may be as grossly vulgar as her 
 dairy-maid, and a village-girl as well-bred 
 as a countess — at least in Mr. Locke's de- 
 finition of that term. 
 
 As good-breeding seems to be the great 
 cement of society, binding man to man, in 
 all the charities of life, we are very solici- 
 tous to mark its peculiar attributes, and by 
 representing its diffusive powers of bene- 
 fiting, to enforce its cultivation. 
 
 Let not the quality we recommend be 
 confounded with " modish manners," those 
 ephemera with which the heart has no- 
 thing
 
 WOMAN. O 
 
 thing to do — which are assumed and re- 
 signed with the fashionable costume of the 
 day, and generally as frivolous and as fan- 
 tastic as they. It would be in vain to de- 
 scribe the Proteus-forms in which Fashion 
 displays her changeful garb and guise; 
 now urging her votaries, with riding-habits, 
 riding-hats, and riding-whips, to affect 
 masculine tones, language, and action — 
 now with flowing veils and graceful dra- 
 pery, downcast eyes and mincing steps, 
 pretending to more than womanly softness. 
 
 This may be all very " tonnish," but 
 this we contend is not good-breeding ; for 
 whilst tonnish manners change with every 
 hour, and suit only certain stations and 
 certain circumstances, good-breeding is al- 
 ways one and the same thing, adapted to 
 all persons, and appropriate to all places, 
 never exposing its professors to the risk of 
 contempt from its obsoleteness, nor hold- 
 ing them up to ridicule from its novelty. 
 
 We are viewing the subject in its most 
 
 extended sense, for we are particularly 
 
 B 3 anxious
 
 6 WO MA'S. 
 
 anxious to be understood to deal in gene- 
 rals, and not in personals, not only in this, 
 but in every part of our present work : 
 we do not propose to talk of persons, but 
 of things — not of men, but of manners — 
 not of individuals, but of society in general 
 — not as satirists, lashing fools and folly, 
 to shew our wit and our acumen, at the 
 expence of our benevolence, but as moral- 
 ists, seeking to develop and to recommend 
 those qualities most friendly to social en- 
 joyment. 
 
 Under the auspices of genuine good- 
 breeding, w r e beg to introduce " Woman" 
 to society ; and as this quality inculcates 
 peculiar courtesy to a stranger — most es- 
 pecially when that stranger is a woman — 
 above all, when she appears trembling at 
 the awfulness of the introduction, and 
 blushing with a consciousness of self-de- 
 merit, we trust she will receive a pitying 
 welcome. 
 
 CHAP-
 
 WOMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 The Dramatis Persona. 
 
 The family of the Wrongheads were an 
 epitome of the world — their vices were 
 fewer than their frailties, and their frailties 
 more numerous than their virtues. 
 
 Lady Wronghead, the head — yes, we are 
 right, the head* of this illustrious house, 
 was a very clever woman — in her own opi- 
 nion at least, notable, shrewd, spirited. 
 Sir Gabriel Wronghead, the master — no, 
 that will not do, he was not the master — 
 the head has been already appropriated ; 
 had not our grammar informed us that 
 master j is a term of the masculine gender, 
 b 4 it 
 
 * Does not the head mean the chief, or governing power ? 
 
 f We beg our readers will not augur unfavourably of our 
 talents by this avowal. We may not be the only persons 
 that require a grammar to ascertain the true gender of the 
 word master.
 
 » WOMAN. 
 
 it had better served our turn before. But 
 to return — for we hate digressions, unless 
 we cannot avoid them, which we fear will 
 be pretty often — sir Gabriel Wronghead 
 was the manly representative of the noble 
 family of Wrong-heads, a family who, the 
 learned believe, will never become extinct, 
 and have existed from the creation of the 
 world. Sir Gabriel, indeed, dated the ori- 
 gin of his branch of it in a clear and un- 
 broken line from one of the sons of Adam, 
 and indeed would have been happy in fix- 
 ing on a more ancient pedigree, could it 
 have been conveniently done. 
 
 To preserve a race of such high antiqui- 
 ty, he, early in life, married the daughter 
 of a wealthy citizen, a man of yesterday, 
 whose riches in some degree compensated 
 for an ignoble* lineage — sir Gabriel wisely 
 remembering, that let him marry whom 
 he would, his children must all, bona fide, 
 
 be 
 
 * From this remark, it should seem that the lady wis 
 not, like sir Gabriel, a direct or indirect descendant oi' 
 Adam.
 
 WOMAN. 9 
 
 be Wrongheads. His prudential scheme 
 was crowned with success — a numerous 
 progeny encircled his board. His house 
 was large, his appointments were liberal, 
 and sorrow, or rather causes for sorrow, 
 seldom invaded Random Hall. 
 
 Timotheus Adam Wronghead, Esquire 
 (probably taking his second name from his 
 great progenitor), was the hopeful heir. 
 He was — or shall we say, he ought to have 
 been, a most elegant young gentleman, 
 for he had been to at least half-a-dozen of 
 the most fashionable public and private 
 seminaries — had spent a few months at 
 Eton, and rather more at college — talked 
 of Latin (the sign of the genitive case is 
 not here obtruded by mistake), and thought 
 himself at all points a finished beau. 
 
 A tour on the continent had benefited 
 him in more ways than one ; for besides 
 causing him to speak a dialect, which his 
 mother often exultingly remarked was 
 made up of French, Italian, Spanish, and 
 German, he was thereby entitled to the 
 B 5 enviable
 
 10 WOMAN. 
 
 enviable privilege of enriching his conver- 
 sation with the erudite remark, " when I 
 was abroad," a delicious insignia of travel- 
 led knowledge, most especially for one who 
 had no other. 
 
 The paucity of his foreign acquirements 
 might possibly be owing to the rapidity of 
 his movements, having completed the 
 grand tour, in an English phaeton, with a 
 % pair of spanking greys, in something less 
 than three months — or it might probably 
 arise from his almost total ignorance of the 
 language of the countries he visited, his 
 pertinacious adherence to English associates 
 and English habits during the whole jour- 
 ney, and his profound contempt for who- 
 ever and whatever was not English. 
 
 A curious metamorphosis, however, took 
 place on his return to his native land — the 
 countries, the climes, the people, the cus- 
 toms, he had despised when amidst them, 
 he, rapturously applauded when distant 
 from them. However, he had " been 
 abroad," and that was enough for himself, 
 
 for
 
 WOMAN. 11 
 
 for his lady mother — in short, for all persons 
 of taste and fashion. 
 
 And here we cannot help applauding 
 that liberal spirit, which leads our country- 
 men generously to prefer an acquaintance 
 with the soil, productions, government, 
 and customs of foreign countries, rather 
 than of their own. It is highly edifying 
 to hear youths, who have not seen an acre 
 of British ground beyond their father's 
 park, and who would deem it vulgar to 
 know any thing of Wales, Scotland, Ire- 
 land, and England, very proudly and learn- 
 edly descant on the ragouts of France, the 
 olios of Spain, and .the caviare of Italy. 
 
 Jack, the second son, was a sad, good- 
 for-noihing fellow : he had been neither at 
 JSton nor college, had visited neither Paris 
 nor Rome, consequently could talk neither 
 of Latin nor of Greek, neither of ragouts 
 nor of olios, and was so often caught 
 laughing at the erudition of his brother, 
 and the accomplishments of his sister, that 
 lie was pronounced by both an ili-manner- 
 b 6 ed
 
 12 WOMAN. 
 
 ed boor. Jack had one good friend always 
 on his side — an uncle, Mr. Knowlesdon, 
 his father's brother by a second marriage. 
 Jack had no other learning than what he 
 had received at a school in the neighbour- 
 ing town, and at fifteen he had entered the 
 navy, with a clear head, a warm heart, and 
 an empty purse. 
 
 Clemen tina Henrietta Maria Wrong- 
 head — for who would not have plenty of 
 names, when twenty may be had for the 
 same expence as one, and the Muddleton 
 system always recommended getting a 
 pennyworth for a penny ? — Clementina 
 Henrietta Maria Wronghead was a sweet 
 young woman, so accomplished, so attrac- 
 tive, so elegant — she had been so very well 
 educated, i e. no money had been spared, 
 but the most expensive French academies, 
 " Italian establishments," " musical semina- 
 ries," " painting schools," had in turns re- 
 ceived her as a pupil: thus she had learnt, 
 or, more correctly speaking, she had been 
 taught every iking, and returned home a 
 
 proficient
 
 WOMAX. 13 
 
 proficient in all. Such charming painted 
 screens, with groupes of blue, red, green, 
 and yellow shells in the middle, judicious- 
 ly bordered with corresponding coloured 
 fruits and flowers, a happy specimen of 
 chaste design, uniting, in one view, things 
 that never met before — such richly- work- 
 ed gowns*, that after long regaling the 
 imagination with the anticipation of the 
 conquests they would ensure, were finish- 
 ed when their pattern was obsolete — such 
 songs, such sonatas, needing only the tri- 
 vial advantages of good voice, good time, 
 and good taste, to be exquisite specimens 
 of musical talents — such paintings of 
 towers and castles, that gracefully depart- 
 ing from the perpendicular, gave an ad- 
 mirable idea of the pending church-steeple 
 at Pisa — such voluble French, such ele- 
 gant Italian, such learned English ! had 
 
 but 
 
 * Our pen stood arrested for some moments, ere we 
 could remember what articles of drc^s the ladies had left 
 themselves to work, tuckers and haudkei chiefs having been 
 ioi:g out of use.
 
 14 WOMAN. 
 
 but her superior genius stooped to wear 
 the t -ammels of grammar, correct pronun- 
 ciation, and just idiom, no young lady in 
 the world could have more eloquently 
 spoken those languages — her dancing was 
 divine, needing only the trifling appen- 
 dages of grace, ease, and lightness, to be 
 perfect. 
 
 Then there were the street little Julia 
 Josephtna, and the playful Sophia Sopho- 
 nisba, and the pensive Matikia Mariamna, 
 three charming your g girls, intended to be 
 educated by their accompli bed sister — an 
 admirable arrangement, since not any 
 thing can be more likely than that young 
 ladies, after a long tedious course t*f lean- 
 ing, shall willingly undertake a long tedious 
 course of teaching, and. aft^r having been 
 expressly educated for exhibition, shall con- 
 tentedly relinquish kvls, routs, and the- 
 atres, and devote themselves to the seclusion 
 and sobriety of tuition. 
 
 A fine little boy, the darling of mam- 
 ma, and the pride of papa, v as the 
 
 youngest
 
 WOMAN. 15 
 
 youngest of the family — a dear, spirited fel- 
 low, that would always have his own way, 
 so that there was little doubt, as his mam- 
 ma sagaciously observed, he would make 
 his way in the world. 
 
 Miss. Patty Muddleton, a blushing vir- 
 gin of we really cannot say what age, 
 
 herself modestly declining all inquiries on 
 that point, and having lost all recollection 
 of the progress of time, since she entered 
 her teens some thirty years past — Miss 
 Patty Muddleton was the elder sister of 
 lady Wronghead, and had condescended 
 to introduce herself and her charms into 
 Random Hall, on the death of her parents. 
 
 Nature had done little for this lady, edu- 
 cation still less — but we will allow her ac- 
 complishments to develop themselves — a 
 disclosure easily effected, since, having 
 been born at an era when French, music, 
 dancing, drawing, &c. &c. were not, as 
 now, necessary parts of education to all 
 ranks and all degrees, she really could do 
 little more than talk about them. 
 
 As
 
 16 WOMAN. 
 
 As all single ladies are of course young, 
 and as a good fortune gave her every right 
 to be married, Miss Patty naturally con- 
 eluded she was still youthful, and still an 
 object worthy the softer passion ; besides, 
 never once having had a wooer at her feet, 
 and hearing from all quarters that every 
 £ur one had, at some period of life, a lover, 
 she lived in a sweet delirium of tender 
 hopes and soft desires. 
 
 Mr. Knowlesdon's family also boasted 
 of its unmarried inmate — Mrs. Mary 
 Knowlesdon, a personage of very inferior 
 consequence to Miss Patty Muddleton, for 
 besides a ridiculous weakness of confessing 
 her age to all inquirers, though that age 
 counted more years than forty, she had 
 most imprudently assumed the title of Mrs. 
 which, being considerably Miss Patty's 
 junior, that young lady wisely conceived 
 was highly injudicious. Indeed this ar- 
 rogation of the matronly designation very 
 naturally led the maiden of Random Hall 
 to "believe there must be some mistake in 
 
 , dates,
 
 WOMAN. 17 
 
 dates, and that she must be younger than 
 the spinster of Woodleigh Manor. 
 
 But Miss Patty had no reason to fear 
 that any casual observer would draw dis- 
 agreeable parallels between her and Mrs. 
 Mary Knowlesdon — the thing w f as as im- 
 possible as placing the rugged unlovely 
 rocks of Nova Zembla on the same degree 
 of latitude w r ith the calm landscapes of 
 England. 
 
 Mrs. Mary was more rich in virtue than 
 in wealth, another striking opposition of 
 her fate and character to that of Miss Pat- 
 ty. But though her fortune was contract- 
 ed, the sphere of her usefulness was ex- 
 tensive. Many years had she proved the 
 tender companion, the assiduous nurse, of 
 parents now shrouded in the grave. At 
 their death, she had transferred her atten- 
 tion to their child. Mrs. Rachael Wrong- 
 head had been an invalid from the cradle, 
 and now, in advanced life, added the petu- 
 lance of age to the imbecility of infancy — 
 irritable, discontented, exacting, her de- 
 formed
 
 18 WOMAN. 
 
 formed and sickly body seemed to demand 
 that kindness her peevish temper and ill- 
 regulated mind repelled. 
 
 Lady Wronghead, in all the ardour of 
 new-born pity, requested that her hus- 
 band's sister might remain at Random 
 Hall after the death of her parents, and 
 she would pledge herself to watch her 
 with warm and undccaying tenderness. 
 In something less than a week, lady 
 Wronghead began to talk of the unlucky 
 multiplicity of her maternal duties, that 
 compelled her to be less attentive than she 
 wished to her dear invalid ; in another 
 w r eek, poor Ilachael was found to be sadly 
 in the way ; the third week caught the 
 lady expatiating on the mercy of early 
 death, to '*' persons of bad health and 
 bad tempers ;" the end of the month saw 
 Mrs. Ilachael comfortably established in 
 the best chamber at Woodleigh Manor, 
 just in time to save lady Wronghead from 
 the charge of " hard unkind ness' altered 
 eye/' 
 
 When
 
 WOMAN. 19 
 
 When Mr. Knowlesdon urged the re- 
 moval of the sufferer, lady Wronghead 
 professed herself the more willing to ac- 
 quiesce, " because certainly single women 
 had nothing to do, whilst married women, 
 poor souls ! had so much to do." 
 
 " Ay, but do they always do all they 
 have to do ?" thought the solicitor, and his 
 mind ran over the business of lady Wrong- 
 head, and the idleness of Mrs. Mary 
 Knowlesdon. 
 
 Lady Wronghead did not keep her 
 house — she did not educate her children — 
 she did not read — slve did not work — she 
 did not visit the poor — she did not conduce 
 to the comfort of any human being, not 
 even of her husband. 
 
 Mrs. Mary Knowlesdon did keep one 
 brothers house — she did educate another 
 brother's child — she did work — she did 
 read — she did visit the poor — she did con- 
 duce to the comfort of many human be- 
 ings, though not of a husband. 
 
 In the last point only did the ladies ac- 
 cord
 
 SO WOMAN. 
 
 cord, though small is the verbal difference 
 of the above sketches, one pitiful monosyl- 
 lable making all the distinction. But 
 what said sir Gabriel to the real effect of 
 that interposing little word ? 
 
 Justly might lady Wronghead descant 
 on the vast, vast dissimilarity between 
 married ladies and single women. How 
 far, in this instance, the advantage was on 
 the side of the wife — how far marriage 
 necessarily produces a more useful, a more 
 respectable, a more agreeable member of 
 society, the reader shall decide — Some ma- 
 terials for assisting his judgment are be- 
 fore him. 
 
 CHAI 1
 
 WOMAN. 21 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Love and Poesy. 
 
 Susan Knowlesdon was the only child of 
 doting parents. Mrs. Knowlesdon, mis- 
 taking indolence for inability, had pro- 
 nounced herself incapable of educating 
 her little girl. Her husband remonstrated 
 — " You can teach her to be good and 
 happy, the only right aim of education." 
 Mrs. Knowlesdon could not or would not 
 understand this plain reasoning. Susan 
 was sent to a boarding-school — let us make 
 no mistakes — not to be educated, only to 
 be rendered accomplished. This limited 
 plan was fulfilled — Susan danced, painted, 
 touched the harp, spoke French, and war- 
 bled Italian to perfection. But her heart 
 — her mind? — Madame Santange had no- 
 thing to do with these — the senses and the 
 
 limbs
 
 tt WOMAN. 
 
 limbs were all that she undertook to tutor, 
 and she had faithfully discharged her trust. 
 
 It was unlucky, that among so many 
 respectable seminaries, superintended by 
 women of talent and virtue, it was un- 
 lucky that Mrs. Knowlesdondid not choose, 
 but that, caught by a name, she sent her 
 daughter to a fashionable academy, direct- 
 ed by a foreigner. 
 
 Unhappily the affections and intellects 
 will not remain quiescent because uncul- 
 tivated. Susan's passions throve as luxu- 
 riantly as her faculties wantoned aimlessly; 
 her gentleness degenerated into weakness, 
 her diffidence into cowardice, her tender- 
 ness into false sensibility ; the sportiveness 
 of fancy, that, guided aright, might have 
 enlivened her character, exhausted itself 
 in the dreams of fiction, and the anticipa- 
 tion of impossibilities. The love of read- 
 ing, so valuable as a medium of knowledge, 
 was palled by the sickening trash of circu- 
 lating libraries: to weep at the woes of 
 a Monimia, and shriek at the gallantry of 
 
 a Lothario,
 
 WOMAN. 23 
 
 a Lothario, were all the uses of Susan's 
 susceptibility, and to display was all the 
 aim of her accomplishments. 
 
 Her friendship and her love, guided by 
 the example of the most approved he- 
 roines of romance, very early expanded. 
 It was impossible to be at sciiool without a 
 friend — it was impossible to have a friend 
 without a secret — it was impossible to have 
 a secret without a lover. Susan Knowles- 
 don was well provided with all three. At 
 the playhouse she saw the divinely hand- 
 some cornet Augustus Frederick Mont- 
 gomery ; she had long known that love 
 at first sight was a proof of exquisite sen- 
 sibility — accordingly she fell in love : to 
 weep and sigh in secret were also indis- 
 pensable characteristics of the tender pas- 
 sion — therefore she wept and sighed. But 
 as this secrecy requires only so much con- 
 cealment as the more surely to inspire sus- 
 picion and rouse curiosity, Susan con- 
 trived to have her tears and sighs dis- 
 covered and remarked. 
 
 The
 
 24 WOMAN. 
 
 The sensitive Louisa Sophia Denton 
 saw and understood the mysterious me- 
 lancholy — with blushes, hesitation, avert- 
 ed eyes, Susan poured her sorrows into 
 the faithful bosom of her friend. The 
 fair Louisa was also most fortunately mi- 
 serably in love — her swain a brother-offi- 
 cer of the killing cornet's, lieutenant Hora- 
 tio Julius Villars — Nothing could be more 
 apropos. The friendship was sealed for life, 
 whilst nods, looks, and whispers, gave the 
 usual external evidences of its hidden faith- 
 fulness. 
 
 The two favoured heroes were uncon- 
 scious of the conquest their charms had 
 made — they had never even spoken to 
 their lovely victims ; but as love is an im- 
 material essence, like perfume, penetrating 
 by an invisible agency, so, as the young 
 ladies received the precious poison through 
 the eyes, there was no doubt but that the 
 young gentlemen were infected through 
 the same avenue. 
 
 It was a pleasure, though a plague, to 
 
 sit
 
 WOMAN. 25 
 
 sit in the cold chamber, and peep down 
 on the passing cornet or mounted lieute- 
 nant, to gaze on the waving plume, and 
 charm away the sense of misery, in think- 
 ing of the polished spur and glistening 
 boot! Then too the sweet trepidation of 
 hope — the delicious misery of despair ! 
 
 Miss Knowlesdon was called to a visi- 
 tor—" Who, Betty, who?" 
 
 " A gentleman, ma'am." 
 
 There could be but one gentleman in 
 the world — Susan, justly agitated, leant on 
 the bannisters for support ; at length, mak- 
 ing an effort, she tremulously asked — 
 *' How is he dressed ?" 
 
 " I really forget." 
 
 "In red?" 
 
 " No, ma'am, some dark colour." 
 
 " A disguise, no doubt," thought Susan. 
 
 A second summons — she roused her for- 
 titude for the awful occasion, and rushed 
 desperately forwards — the door flew open 
 to her touch, and she found herself in the 
 arms of her father ! 
 
 vol. I. c The
 
 26 WOMAN. 
 
 The swollen tide of expectation, with 
 which she rushed* into the room, sub- 
 sided in a moment, and left her stranded 
 on the shallows of disappointment ! Love, 
 every body knows, is a deity that admits 
 no division of worship. Susan was his ge- 
 nuine votary, and at that moment thought 
 filial duty a cold ungraceful sentiment, 
 unworthy her ardent and exquisite sensi- 
 bility. Anybody can love fathers and 
 mothers — heroines ought not to indulge 
 such ignoble commonplace attachments ! — 
 " Papa ! is it you ?" exclaimed the morti- 
 fied girl, weeping in very vexation of 
 spirit. Her father fondly embraced her, 
 and kissing off the tears that he believed 
 marked the tenderness of his daughter's 
 filial attachment, tenderly inquired after 
 her health. Susan experienced something 
 very like remorse, as she felt his kind 
 pressure, saw his glistening eye, and heard 
 
 his 
 
 * How delightfully floated would have served our turn! 
 but we feared our readers would ask on what the lady 
 floated i
 
 WOMAX. 27 
 
 his generous anticipation of her wishes, 
 his ready compliance with her requests. 
 
 Miss Denton was a rich heiress; and 
 having told her secret to another dear faith- 
 ful friend, that other dear faithful friend 
 told it as an excellent joke to all her ac- 
 quaintance. In due time the secret was 
 well known at the military mess, and the 
 sighing fair was rather ungenteelly ri- 
 diculed. However, the lieutenant wisely 
 profited by the information he had re- 
 ceived, and very soon had the felicity to 
 receive his charmer through the pantry 
 window, and make her and her fortune his 
 own, under the auspices of the celebrated 
 blacksmith of Gretna Green. 
 
 Of course the lady's love ceased after 
 she was married: this was as it should be. 
 The causes of the first declension of her 
 
 love were to be sure a little provoking 
 
 the name of her beloved was not Horatio 
 Julius Villars, a lieutenant of guards, but 
 Higgins Jonathan Willars, a surgeon to a 
 regiment. How often did Mrs. Higgins 
 c 2 Willars
 
 28 WOMAN. 
 
 Willars lament that she had so carelessly 
 explained the initials H. J. attached to a 
 name she supposed Yillars, on a scrap of 
 paper that fell from the hand of the sur- 
 geon on the parade, and which a kind 
 friend had picked up and conveyed to her 
 delighted sight! 
 
 Poor Susan perhaps escaped an equally 
 blissful fate, by being removed from school. 
 But her secret was soon disclosed. Shortly 
 after her return home, her father discover- 
 ed more unequivocal proofs of her lovesick 
 heart, than even pale cheeks and mourn fid 
 glances : on one of the pages of the new 
 drawing-book that he had lately given 
 her, amidst multitudinous sketches of 
 military caps, feathers, sabres, handsome- 
 nosed profiles, and couplets beginning 
 with Oh ! All ! and Alas ! he deciphered 
 the following sonnet, which, as a happy 
 sample of the poetic effusions of exquisite 
 sensibility, we copy for the edification of 
 our youthful readers : —
 
 WOMAN. 29 
 
 " SONXET TO SPRING. 
 
 *• All Nature owns thy power, enchanting Spring! 
 
 And smiles beneath the m.tjjic of thy touch; 
 The softened gales a milder H.lluence Hing, 
 
 Shedding fresh odours at thy loved approach. 
 Each fragrant shrub expands ^ tth brightened lute; 
 
 The early lilac, with its clustered flower, 
 Ilyacintbus opes its eye of mildest Uue, 
 
 And i-ay megerean glittering in the shower : 
 All greet thy coming! E'en the tender grass, 
 
 Bespangled o'er with dv w-diops, sheds its brown, 
 And wears thy gayer livery. But, alas ! 
 For me thou hast no charm ; for can thy power 
 
 Retint the joys that are for ever flown, 
 Or to my heart its withered peace restore ?'' 
 
 Mr. Knowlesdon was yet spelling out 
 this elegant morceau, and trying to sound 
 in euphony the awkward " brown and 
 flown," " power and restore," when Mrs. 
 Knowlesdon flew down stairs with an old 
 French grammar, the inside cover of 
 which displayed what the good lady pro- 
 nounced a most wonderful proof of the 
 transcendarit genius of her darling Susan ; 
 c 3 and
 
 30 WOMAN. 
 
 and though Mr. Knowlesdon shook his 
 head as he perused it, and pointed out 
 more than one defect, we are tempted to 
 introduce it here, as a further evidence, if 
 any further evidence be wanted, that love 
 is the inspirer of poesy, and that young 
 ladies can talk very charmingly of " eter- 
 nal sighs," and as pathetically descant on 
 anticipated miseries as their elders. 
 
 " SONNET TO A SNOW-DROP. 
 M ON THE ABSENCE OF ********. 
 
 *' Say, lovely flower ! why droops thy beauteous head? 
 
 Why on thy snowy breast distils the tear? 
 
 Why "neath the covert of the wood you rear 
 Your tender frame, and all your graces spread ? 
 Is it the absence of the sun you mourn, 
 
 Whose cheering presence every tear could dry? 
 
 You mourn his absence, yet to shades you fly, 
 And screen your beauties from his wished return. 
 
 Alas ! fcdr flower, jny fate in thine I see; 
 Tor far away my guiding planet fled ; 
 
 Like thee I weep, and various too like thee, 
 
 From that dear influence, which I prize so high, 
 When near it shone, with timid step I sped, 
 
 Though now its absence prompts the eternal high." 
 
 On
 
 WOMAN. 31 
 
 On farther investigation of the feelings 
 that inspired these delectahle effusions, 
 Mr. Knowlesdon found that his daughter 
 advocated rather than excused her folly, 
 and was more proud of her poetry than 
 ashamed of her passion. Her mother 
 gloried in the brilliancy of her accomplish- 
 ments — her father sighed over the wreck 
 of her virtues. Her uncle no sooner heard 
 the little history of her weakness, than he 
 hastened to snatch her from further dere- 
 liction, by removing her from her tender 
 mother, and placing her under the care of 
 her maiden aunt. 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 The Progress of Rumour. 
 
 The dinner had waited a very fashionable 
 
 time for the elegant Miss Wronghead, and 
 
 the equally elegant Adam Wronghead, 
 
 c 4 Esq.
 
 32 WOMAN. 
 
 Esq. and sir Gabriel had just sworn it 
 should be ordered in — an order, however, 
 which the butler, with a just respect to 
 subordination, utterly disregarded, when 
 the appearance of the belle and the beau 
 settled the matter. Lady Wrongheacl 
 gave the word, and the dinner appeared. 
 
 As the members of the family had been 
 dispersed in different directions all the 
 morning, each had something to impart. 
 
 Lady Wronghead, after, as usual, kind- 
 ly discovering and announcing every de- 
 fect in every dish on the table, and as 
 usual finishing the detail by lamenting the 
 delicacy of her senses, and the misfortunes 
 of her lot, asked sir Gabriel if he had heard 
 that Thurleston Abbey was let ? 
 
 " Yes, my dear, I heard the report, and 
 I fancy the family are coming immediate- 
 ly, for I saw all the windows of the abbey 
 open." 
 
 '• It is let to a gentleman of large for- 
 tune and good family, I can assure yoiu* 
 said the lady. 
 
 - Ay,
 
 WOMAN. 33 
 
 " Ay, for a long lease," observed the 
 heir. 
 
 "There are innumerable children," mur- 
 mured Miss Clementina;. " I am charmed 
 to think we shall at last have some so- 
 ciety — the natives* of this place are all 
 such boors." 
 
 " I do purtest," said Miss Muddleton, 
 " I have an idcar " 
 
 Jack looked up as if the lady had an- 
 nounced a novelty. 
 
 " I have an idea?* it must be some no- 
 bleman ; for I heard of Mr. Knowlesdon's 
 lately receiving a letter sealed with a flam- 
 ing coat of arms. — And now I think of it, 
 this very day 3Ir. Knowlesdon whispered 
 something to his sister, and though I lis- 
 tened with all my attention " 
 
 * That was civil," said Jack. 
 
 The lady continued — " I only heard 
 car don, or some such word." 
 
 c 5 "I wonder 
 
 * Natives — the uninformed aborigines of a country new- 
 ly visited by the adepts of taste unci tort.: — Vide Fashionable 
 Vocabulary..
 
 34 WOMAN. 
 
 " I wonder whether it is your old ac- 
 quaintance, lord Cardigan, Martha?" said 
 lady Wronghead. 
 
 " Cardigan ? the very name !" exclaimed 
 the enraptured spinster; "depend upon 
 it, we are going to have the earl of Cardi- 
 gan and his sweet family at Thurleston." 
 
 Whether the pudding was feelingly 
 warm, or Jack had a sudden stitch in his 
 jaws, we know not — certain it is, he gazed 
 on his aunt with open mouth and wonder- 
 stricken aspect. But the lady was un- 
 conscious of his glance, and seemed absorb- 
 ed in some delightful anticipations, for in 
 spite of Miss Clementina's intelligence of 
 innumerable children, Miss Patty well 
 knew that her lord Cardigan lacked a wife ; 
 
 and who knows there is no accounting 
 
 for the power of youth, beauty, and vir- 
 gin modesty, on the yielding heart of man. 
 
 Jack at last sufficiently recovered the 
 use of his mouth, as very articulately to 
 pronounce — " Lord Cardigan died in Lon- 
 don last winter without issue." 
 
 Miss
 
 WOMAN. 35 
 
 Miss Muddleton, nothing daunted, dis- 
 dainfully denied the truth of this state- 
 ment — She was intimate in the family, 
 and it might be so, but she knew to the 
 contrary*. 
 
 She however delicately forbore naming 
 the medium of her intimacy, an old aunt, 
 who, some ten years before, had been ac- 
 quainted with the then housekeeper of 
 lord Cardigan. Jack was also incommu- 
 nicative on his source of information^ 
 though he could have told the company 
 that his chosen friend and shipmate was 
 the nephew of the earl. 
 
 The spirit of the conversation was by 
 no means injured by this slight disagree- 
 ment in the principal speakers. Miss 
 Patty talked with such an air of decision, 
 that her correctness could not be doubted; 
 and by the time the cloth was removed, 
 c 6 every 
 
 * This may sound a little paradoxical, but it is an ap- 
 proved mode ot* modest assertion, uniting polite contradic- 
 tion to positive athrniiition.
 
 36 WOMAN. 
 
 every preliminary of visiting was accurate- 
 ly arranged. 
 
 At this critical moment, Mr. Solicitor 
 Knowlesdon, the friend and agent of the 
 family of Thurlcston, entered the room. 
 Lady VVronghead was preparing a sum- 
 mary account of the news, when her bris- 
 ker sister prevented the display of her 
 oratory by entering upon the subject her- 
 self, and with a look of much meaning at 
 her discomfited nephew, thus commenced 
 her eloquent harangue — " Now, my dear 
 Mr. Knowlesdon, have not you let Thur- 
 leston Abbey — to my lord Cardigan — for 
 ninety and nine years? and is he not com- 
 ing down immediately — with an immense 
 fortune and a purdigious retinue ?" 
 
 There was a dead pause. At every di- 
 vision of the sentence Mr. Knowlesdon 
 had looked more and more surprised — at 
 its close he was speechless. The awful 
 silence was at length broken by the trouble- 
 some young sail or bursting into loud laugh- 
 ter. His aunt ^ave him a frown, which, 
 
 had
 
 WOMAN. 37 
 
 had he not been brave by more than pro- 
 fession, would have annihilated him ; as it 
 was, he bore the brunt well, and was only 
 so far touched by his mother's bridled 
 " John !" as to lean back, where the sha- 
 dows of the company shaded his face. 
 
 Mr. " Knowlesdon, naturally taciturn, 
 was recovered to speech neither by the 
 laugh nor by the look. Miss Muddleton, 
 with a smile and a tone that she intended 
 to be inexpressibly winning, again spoke — 
 " My dear sir, am I not perfectly right ?" 
 
 " You are perfectly and entirely wrong," 
 said the discourteous solicitor. 
 
 The silence was dispelled as if by ma- 
 gic — every body was eager to speak — no- 
 body was willing to hear. The tower of 
 Babel would be an apt simile, did we want 
 one; some such rushed into the mind of 
 the wild young sailor, for he darted out 
 of the room, vainly attempting to repress 
 his risibility. 
 
 Little was Mr. Knowlesdon aware, that 
 
 he
 
 38 WOMAN. 
 
 he himself had laid the foundation of this 
 marvellous tale — he had observed to lady 
 Wronghead that Thurleston was let, and 
 by the appearance of other guests he had 
 been prevented from communicating fur- 
 ther particulars. But what need was there 
 of facts, when fancy could so much better 
 garnish the story? — fancy, that creative 
 power, which kindly gave»to Miss Mud- 
 dleton the faculty of coining a name — to 
 Miss Wronghead the magical ability of 
 ushering, in a moment, into the world a 
 numerous progeny — to Adam Wronghead, 
 Esq. the capacity (a thing he much want- 
 ed) of computing a long lease — while lady 
 Wronghead, like the fairy in Cinderella, 
 conjured up a splendid equipage at the 
 very moment it was wanted ; and sir Ga- 
 briel valiantly popt in the immediate pos- 
 session, as a possible, and therefore proba- 
 ble, and therefore positive, clause to round 
 off the period. This good man seeing 
 one window open, supposed all were so, or 
 
 migh
 
 WOMAN. 39 
 
 might be so, and could divine no other 
 earthly cause for this phenomenon but the 
 preparation for the expected tenants. 
 
 " And did not you say the house was 
 airing, sir Gabriel ?" said his fair spouse, in 
 no very soothing accent. 
 
 " And did not that blockhead, your 
 son, announce a long lease?" replied the 
 angry baronet, adroitly pointing his anger 
 to the least powerful rather than the most 
 offending, a conduct for which he could 
 adduce the example of all wary politicians, 
 public or private. 
 
 " And you fixed upon the name, Patty." 
 
 " I had it from Mr. Knovvlesdon," an- 
 swered the spinster with great calmness. 
 
 " From me, madam !" iterated the as- 
 tonished solicitor ; " from me ! I never 
 heard the name before." 
 
 " Oh fie ! my dear sir, pray recollect 
 yourself; did you not speak of Cardigan — 
 lord Cardigan, to Mrs. Mary ?" 
 
 In spite of the sweet smile that accom- 
 panied this tender appeal, the invulner- 
 able
 
 40 WOMAN. 
 
 able Mr. Knowlesdon insisted on his igno- 
 rance. 
 
 The lady entered into particulars — " In 
 your little back parlour this morning, just 
 as Mrs. Mary and I were going into the 
 village? you must recollect — I heard the C 
 and the <yii so very clearly." 
 
 " I remember bidding my sister pur- 
 chase some remedy for a pain in her chest, 
 and as good expellants of wind, recom- 
 mended cardomumsr 
 
 A general laugh charmingly vibrated 
 Miss Fatty's nerves. The solicitor alone 
 was stupidly composed, and shortly add- 
 ed — " I have let the abbey for a couple of 
 years to a Mr. Egerton." 
 
 " Is he married?" exclaimed Miss 
 Wronghead and her maiden aunt at the 
 same instant; and lady Wronghead, brid- 
 ling in her chair, bade her daughter hold 
 up her head. 
 
 What all these ladies were thinking 
 about we cannot possibly divine, nor pro- 
 bably can any of our readers. Hope, how- 
 ever,
 
 ever, in some form, appeared to be alert 
 in their bosoms, and fancy busy with magic 
 pencil — a moment gave years of exist- 
 ence. We have read* of a king, who, 
 during the instantaneous act of plunging 
 his head into a tub of water, passed a long 
 life of imagination. Some such magical 
 influence had given our fair ones, in the 
 space of a few seconds, the events of 
 months — balls, routs, handing into a room, 
 handing out of a room, and all the deli- 
 cious trepidation of dancing with the 
 handsome young stranger : handsome he 
 must be — could a vulgar figure appertain 
 to the mellifluous name of Egerton ? Well 
 might the poet exclaim — " How swift is 
 the glance of the mind !" 
 
 The necromancer who, with a few w r ords, 
 had raised these delicious illusions, with 
 just as many syllables dispersed them. — 
 " He brings his lady with him, and comes 
 into the country for retirement." 
 
 Instantaneous was the revolution in 
 
 every 
 
 * Spectator, No. 91.
 
 42 ' WOMAN. 
 
 every female bosom. At the words " his 
 lady," Miss Wronghead had very nearly 
 expressed her disappointment, by audibly 
 exclaiming " Pshaw !" 
 
 Mortification had a less potent effect on 
 Miss Patty, the solicitor himself being a 
 sort of forlorn hope, to which she turned, 
 after many diverging anticipations; for- 
 getting, therefore, as quickly as possible, 
 the appropriated Mr. Egerton, she turned 
 with one of her sweetest smiles towards 
 the yet disengaged bachelor. 
 
 " But, brother, you spoke of his good 
 family and large fortune, I am sure ?" ob- 
 served lady Wronghead, as if eager to de- 
 monstrate her accuracy of representation, 
 
 " I spoke of his large family and good 
 fortune," answered the solicitor, with an 
 accent that turned the laugh from Miss 
 Patty to her sister. 
 
 The latter, however, meekly sustained 
 this vexation, exulting perhaps in the as- 
 surance of uninjured precedence. Lady 
 Cardigan must have walked before her — 
 
 Mrs.
 
 woman. 43 
 
 Mrs. Egerton must walk behind her — an 
 arrangement of momentous interest to the 
 dignity and felicity of the baronet's wife. 
 
 Mr. Knowlesdon had scarcely retired ere 
 fresh discussion took place. Miss Patty, 
 as she sipped her tea, that soothing beve- 
 rage, which aids the conversational talents 
 of woman in the same degree that the 
 inspiriting grape juice does those of man, 
 thus opened the debate — " So ! we are 
 to have a Mr. Egerton at Thurleston," 
 (proper accent on Mr.) " and he wishes to 
 live retired, for some good reason undoubt- 
 edly." The tone in which good was deli- 
 vered said as plain as it could say, for good 
 read bad. " Nobody hears of a Mrs. Eger- 
 ton ; but a lady indeed, and a parcel of 
 children. Nothing can be plainer — how 
 can Mr. Knowlesdon be so deluded ?" 
 
 So far good — Miss Patty her sister gave 
 the corollary — "lam sure I shall not visit 
 them." 
 
 The chain of reasoning was so admir- 
 able
 
 <H WOMAN\ 
 
 able and so conclusive, that it was unani- 
 mously, hospitably, and charitably resolv- 
 ed, that unknown strangers must not be 
 visited. We beg pardon of our readers 
 for the curious tautology of these expres- 
 sions; but as we pride ourselves on our 
 fidelity of description, we are compelled to 
 say what the ladies said before us — Un- 
 known strangers they w r ere pronounced, 
 and unknown strangers they were likely 
 to remain, under this benevolent verdict. 
 
 Spirit of Candour! where hadst thou 
 fled during this demand for thy presence ? 
 Why art thou so often absent when most 
 urgently required ? Hadst thou but nes- 
 tled in the corner of one heart — hadst thou 
 thence pleaded, that where all is uncertain, 
 to judge favourably is at least as easy, 
 though perhaps not so piquante, as to cen- 
 sure — hadst thou suggested that all cha- 
 rity is not comprized in giving alms, all 
 wisdom in detecting error, some kinder 
 inference had been drawn, some milder 
 
 judgment
 
 WOMAN. 45 
 
 judgment had been decreed — one sentence 
 dropt from gracious lips had changed every 
 link in the logical chain. 
 
 Blundering Mr. Knov lesdon was again 
 at the bottom of the mischief. " Mr. 
 Egerton and — his lady — coming for re- 
 tirement." Had he said wife, the very 
 corner-stone for scandal to build upon had 
 been wanting; for wives are unequivocal 
 animals, but ladies- — there are so many 
 sorts of ladies, with rank, and — without 
 rank. Then why seeking retirement ? To 
 hide misdemeanour assuredly — there could 
 be no other reason ; for, let ill-bred philo- 
 sophers say what they please, " of solitude 
 being the nurse of wisdom and of virtue — 
 that the wise are never so little lonely as 
 when alone," to live retired from choice 
 was the last idea that could find its way 
 into any of the numerous unfurnished 
 apartments of the wise heads now assem- 
 bled. 
 
 CHAP.
 
 46 WOMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Candid Criticism. 
 
 A balmy evening in May ushered the 
 new inhabitants of Thurleston to their 
 dwelling : a light post-chariot and a hack- 
 ney-chaise conveyed the party. The ab- 
 bey stood in a richly-wooded park, that 
 was the favourite promenade of the villa- 
 gers. This evening it so happened that 
 Miss Wronghead and Miss Muddleton 
 were rambling close to the abbey, about 
 the hour Mr. Knowlesdon had named for 
 the arrival of the strangers ; but it would 
 be wronging Miss Patty's quick sense of 
 delicacy and propriety to insinuate she 
 came there to have the first peep of Mr. 
 Egerton and his lady. 
 
 The moment the chariot stopped, a 
 young man, whom Miss Wronghead in- 
 stantly
 
 WOMAN*. 47 
 
 stantly pronounced divinely handsome, 
 sprang out, and having playfully jumped 
 out a laughing boy and a rosy girl, with 
 some care assisted a lady to alight. She 
 had thrown off her hat, and beneath a pro- 
 fusion of auburn hair was seen a very 
 youthful, a very lovely, and a very ani- 
 mated countenance. The chariot passed 
 on, and the chaise drew up ; the lady was 
 now the assistant— first fondly kissing a 
 young boy, as she placed him on the lawn, 
 and next taking from a female servant a 
 smiling infant. An ashy paleness over- 
 spread her face as she turned towards the 
 large dark pile of building the abbey ex- 
 hibited — no friend was there to welcome 
 her; she pressed her baby more closely 
 to her bosom, as if its touch had power to 
 repel melancholy, and turning her eye 
 from the cheerless view of her future abode, 
 to the healthy, merry countenance of her 
 crowing child, she entered the house. The 
 gentleman had also disappeared, and as 
 nothing more was to be seen, than the 
 
 servants
 
 48 WOMAN'. 
 
 servants removing the luggage, the walk- 
 ing party retired. 
 
 Little could be divined from this scene : 
 the lady's being young and handsome was 
 certainly against her, and it was not much 
 in the gentleman's favour that he had 
 taken some care of her.— Husbands, Miss 
 Muddleton observed, with the sagacity of 
 an experienced matron, were not re- 
 markable for acts of care and kindness ; 
 but lovers, true lovers, were very different 
 creatures. Yet four children — there was 
 the rub — what right had lovers to children? 
 it was a strange affair — time would shew. 
 
 The non-appearance of the strangers at 
 the village church the next Sunday was 
 also against them, though that day follow- 
 ing the evening of their arrival might 
 have urged some apology for their negli- 
 gence. When they did appear, it was cu- 
 rious that the pious Wrongheads, forget- 
 ting the holy duty that assembled together 
 the family of one common parent, amused 
 themselves with the unprecedented action 
 
 of
 
 WOMAN. 49 
 
 of investigating the dress, manners, form, 
 face, and looks of the soi-disant Mr. and 
 Mrs. Egerton. 
 
 Had we not already established a cha- 
 racter for accuracy and fidelity, we might 
 incur the risk of being disbelieved, when 
 we assert the unexampled fact, that Miss 
 Wronghead, instead of remembering the 
 text, or the sermon, only remembered that 
 Mr. Egerton had very fine eyes, and Mrs. 
 Egerton a something in the corner of her 
 mouth — a sort of inexplicable smile, that 
 was very suspicious ; that lady Wrong- 
 head put off her usual nap, to see if she 
 could catch the strangers napping; and 
 that Miss Patty, with unwonted condes- 
 cension, for the first time in her life, knelt 
 during the prayers, stood during the 
 psalms, and joined in the chanted hymn 
 of gratitude. Jack, indeed, ill-naturedly, 
 and what was worse, audibly, whispered 
 that she did so to touch the heart of the 
 incognito through his ear; but we entreat 
 our readers not to give faith to his wild 
 
 vol. i. D conjectures.
 
 50 WOMAN. 
 
 conjectures. The new comers behaved 
 with much propriety ; the lady, especially, 
 looked as if she came to church — to say her 
 prayers. 
 
 A slight summer shower flitted over the 
 heads of the emerging Christians, as they 
 left the church. The handsome stranger 
 was heard to exclaim, in pretty loud tones 
 — " It is raining — where is your carriage," 
 but suddenly his cheek glowed, his eye 
 fell, as, in a lower voice, he added, " Mrs. 
 Egerton ?" 
 
 The most cautious judge in Christen- 
 dom could not have desired stronger evi- 
 dence that the name did not belong to the 
 lady — some other title was undoubtedly 
 rising to the lips of the speaker ; the blush, 
 the hesitation, proved this beyond dis- 
 pute : had further testimony been wanting, 
 Adam Wronghead, Esq. was ready with it 
 some ten days after, when near the abbey 
 he witnessed his uncle's introduction to 
 the lady. " Helena, my kind friend Mr. 
 Knowlesdon — Mr. Knowlesdon," a flushed 
 
 brow,
 
 WOMAN*. 51 
 
 brow, quivering lips, stammering accents, 
 " Mrs. Egerton." 
 
 The birth-night bail was not attended 
 by the Thurlestonians, and their absence 
 caused many candid surmises. But, in 
 despite of all that scandal could suggest, or 
 thoughtlessness admit, a sense of propriety 
 triumphed, and it was almost established 
 into a maxim, that retiring delicacy augurs 
 a true feeling, a mental dignity incom- 
 patible with obtruding audacity, and that 
 the characters that would be wooed, and 
 not, unsought, force themselves upon pub- 
 lic notice, are, nine times out of ten, the 
 only characters worthy respect. 
 
 Mrs. Mary Knowlesdon's close atten- 
 tion to her invalid during a fresh attack 
 of indisposition, and the abstraction of the 
 solicitor, had caused this prolonged mis- 
 conception of the claims of his abbey friends. 
 
 The moment Mrs. Mary could quit the 
 sick chamber, she called upon Mrs, Eger- 
 ton, and invited the Wrongheads to meet 
 the strangers at a handsome dinner. 
 
 D 2 This 
 
 £■»•-»
 
 52 WOMAN. 
 
 This arrangement set every thing to 
 rights. How much may be effected by the 
 active benevolence and steady good sense 
 of an individual! 
 
 The party passed off well ; Montague 
 Egerton displayed good sense, finished 
 manners, and good temper — and the sim- 
 ple graces, the retiring modesty of his He- 
 lena, made their just impression. The 
 keen eyes of Miss Muddleton alone detect- 
 ed an inexplicable something. 
 
 A slight blush, and a conscious glance 
 at his wife, passed over the countenance of 
 Montague, as lady Wronghead took pre- 
 cedence into the dining-room ; but Mrs. 
 Egerton answered the glance with a smile 
 so full of sweetness and content, that the 
 look rose not to gloom. 
 
 Mr. Knowlesdon whispered a few words 
 — Egerton laughed gaily, and took the 
 hand of his amiable hostess. — What could 
 all this mean ? 
 
 CHAP-
 
 WOMAN. 53 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Calls, Candour, and Conversation. 
 
 The Wrongheads called at the abbey the 
 Very next morning, at so early an hour, 
 that lady Wronghead judged it proper to 
 apologize for the unseasonableness of her 
 visit. 
 
 Mrs. Egerton was at a loss to divine why 
 any apology was necessary ; but she had 
 good reason to guess the cause, when, on 
 returning the visit, she found herself com- 
 pelled to wait some minutes, ere admission 
 could be procured ; and on her entrance 
 into the half-arranged parlour, was inform- 
 ed " lady Wronghead would wait upon her 
 directly." 
 
 Sir Gabriel was there already — but Mrs. 
 
 Egerton had not wit enough to make a 
 
 mental comment, why the lady should sit 
 
 D 3 with
 
 5* WOMAN. 
 
 with her husband in a dress unfit to be 
 seen by strangers — why the dearest friend 
 should be treated with less respect than the 
 newest acquaintance. But we shall shortly 
 perceive that, in all things, Mrs. Egerton 
 was utterly destitute of that lively humour 
 that can extract the wrong or the ridicu- 
 lous from all actions but their own, or how 
 inquisitively and eloquently could her eye 
 have wandered over the scene before her ! 
 Beneath a pianoforte, " kept more for or- 
 nament than use," a variety of mirth-dif- 
 fusing articles appeared — distended work- 
 bags, overflowing work-baskets, broken 
 toys, and rumpled papers. The open table 
 had been newly, but imperfectly dusted, 
 and work-boxes and work-baskets of a very 
 different description ornamented its sur- 
 face. If sir Gabriel had been half as clever 
 as his wife, he would have placed his visi- 
 tor with her back to the aforesaid piano- 
 forte: as it was, the contrast of elegance and 
 disorder rose before her in all its glory. 
 Some richly-bound books also embellished 
 
 the
 
 WOMAN. 05 
 
 the well-arranged con fusion, happily op- 
 posed to the dirty paper-covered novels 
 that peeped, with pertinacious obstinacy, 
 from beneath sofa cushions; and the deli- 
 cate cambric-work, in the gilt, and foiled, 
 and painted corbeilks*, was set off by the 
 discoloured coarse linen, obstinately stand- 
 ing from the hastily-closed family work- 
 basket. 
 
 But lady Wronghead seemed in all 
 things to have reached a high degree of 
 perfection in the art of contrasting. The 
 shrill tones of her voice were clearly heard 
 in angry dispute with her servant, though 
 sir Gabriel, to drown the sound, talked as 
 loudly and as quickly as he could : but he 
 gave himself much unnecessary fatigue, for 
 the lady soon dispersed the recollection of 
 her late angry remonstrance, by the soft- 
 ness of voice and swimming gentleness of 
 manner with which she received her guest. 
 A clean white gown, distinctly marked 
 D 4 with 
 
 * Reader, we know that corbeilles are large baskets, and 
 ill express work-baskets — but the term is French.
 
 56 WOMAN, 
 
 with every newly unfolded plait, ill con- 
 cealed a petticoat that had seen cleaner 
 days, and both but half overshaded white 
 hose, less cleanly still. 
 
 Mrs. Egerton no doubt felt much grati- 
 fied by these tokens of marked respect, nor 
 did she once ill-naturedly glance, by word 
 or thought, at what must have been the 
 neatness of a costume in unison with those 
 stockings and that petticoat — But she was 
 a woman of no spirit. 
 
 Miss Muddleton and Miss Wronghead 
 dropped in, one after the other, as they 
 could make themselves fit to be seen ; and 
 the three ladies, knowing Mrs. Egerton 
 was a stranger to the neighbourhood, as if 
 by 'unanimous, or as Miss Patty would 
 have said, by " anonymous" consent, pro- 
 ceeded to give her the character of those 
 residing in it. 
 
 There was great delicacy and propriety 
 in thus, as it were*, initiating the unknown 
 
 into 
 
 * We are quite happy in having an opportunity of using 
 this most elegant phrase.
 
 WOMAN*. 5? 
 
 into all the mysteries of the known ; and 
 most especially it was kind, by pointing 
 out the defects of every one, to guide Mrs. 
 Egerton whom to seek, and whom to shun 
 — whom to imitate, and whom to decry. 
 
 Sir Gabriel, in his attempts to join the 
 conversation, was always in the minority, 
 for he took a very wrong view of the sub- 
 ject, and would detect virtues as well as 
 frailties. — " You will like Mrs. Mary 
 Knowlesdon, I am sure, Mrs. Egerton — 
 she is a very good woman." 
 
 We need not give any further instance 
 of the baronet's total deficiency of wit and 
 conversational talent, and neighbourly 
 kindness, and discriminating acumen. 
 Who but himself ever thought of liking 
 a woman because she was good ? 
 
 We are, however, saved further remon- 
 strance on this subject, by the very candid 
 and learned reply of Miss Patty. — " Why 
 yes, to be sure, Mrs. Mary Knowlesdon 
 may be vastly good," (drawlingly pronoun- 
 j) 5 ced)
 
 58 WOMAN. 
 
 ced) " but* she really is sadly deficient in 
 learning and spirit." 
 
 The undaunted baronet next observed — 
 " There is Susan, a mighty pretty maid !" 
 
 " Oh, inconceivably pretty If said Miss 
 Clementina, colouring, as if her papa had 
 used the comparative, and not the positive 
 degree of the adjective ; " she is pretty 
 enough, if,* if she was not so monstrously 
 conceited." 
 
 " She is worth a score of your fantastic 
 lady Kuthvens," continued the incorri- 
 gible sir Gabriel — a bathos comparison, if 
 the expression may be allowed, found a 
 more gracious reception, lady Wronghead 
 only observing — 
 
 w Lady lluthven had some remains of 
 beauty — but* she dressed so ill, and to be 
 sure had been a lecile erring." 
 
 The reader will better understand the 
 full charity of this speech, when he lias 
 heard the history of the countess. 
 
 Mrs. 
 
 * What could be done by the ladies without these pretty 
 little particles, to check the tide of praise ?
 
 WOMAN. 59 
 
 Mrs. Egerton was more disposed to chat 
 about things than persons, and took ad- 
 vantage of a short pause in the conversa- 
 tion, to express her admiration of the beau- 
 tiful scenery around Woodleigh — the open 
 heath, skirted by cottages — the magnificent 
 ocean, the bold rock, the smooth beach — 
 the village church, rising from amidst the 
 
 clump of oaks and beeches 
 
 Miss Wronghead interrupted her. — 
 " What do you think of our young curate?" 
 Mrs. Egerton by no means approved of 
 being thus called back from inanimate to 
 animate creation, and simply answered — 
 " Ke teems a very pleasing young man." 
 " Such a coxcomb !" continued the 
 young lady ; " always fluttering like a but- 
 terfly about* Susan Knowlesdon." 
 
 " Butterflies always love the vicinity of 
 i)6 the 
 
 * The young lady, by these words, implying not only 
 her disapprobation, but the cause of \wv disapprobation, 
 reminds us of the elegant lines of Mrs. Grant, who descril es 
 a bird as disclosing her nest (that cause of her anxiety) bjr 
 her plaints.
 
 60 WOMAN. 
 
 the fairest flowers," said Mrs. Egerton, with 
 a good-humoured smile, as if willing to re- 
 turn to irrational objects. 
 
 But this speech w T as worse received than 
 even sir Gabriel's, and Miss Wronghead 
 withdrew into herself, to contemplate the 
 pleasing image of Susan Knowlesdon, " that 
 fairest flower." 
 
 -j But pray, ma'am," interposed Miss 
 Patty? thinking the present an opportunity 
 for displaying her erudition not to be lost, 
 " do not you think the proemial part of 
 };is sermon much too long, and the exor- 
 dium much too short?" 
 
 Sir Gabriel had not so entirely forgotten 
 bis school knowledge, as to let this learned 
 sentence pass without a hearty laugh, a li- 
 berty he often took with the sage remarks 
 of his fair sister. 
 
 The lady, fenced in ignorance, calmly 
 bore his incivility as a proof of his defi- 
 ciency; and the line of the poet, " If igno- 
 rance is bliss, 'twere folly to be wise," was 
 perhaps never more forcibly illustrated. 
 
 How
 
 WOMAN. 61 
 
 How small, how very small a portion of 
 knowledge would have struck to the very- 
 root of Miss Patty's complacency, and ex- 
 terminated it, stem and branch ! 
 
 Mrs. Egerton retired from this friendly 
 visitation tolerably well-informed of all the 
 faults of all her neighbours ; their merits 
 she was left to find out for herself — and in 
 this arrangement the ladies of the Hall 
 proved their just appreciation of the cha- 
 racter of their guest. Never, perhaps, did 
 any human being possess more prompti- 
 tude and acuteness in discovering and un- 
 folding, and publishing the amiable qua- 
 lities of her associates, than did Helena 
 Egerton. 
 
 Mr. Knowlesdon dined that day at the 
 abbey : he inherited much of the same 
 spirit of satire that shone so conspicuously 
 in the family at Random Hall ; and in him 
 being combined with strong sense, the 
 dart of criticism keenly reached its mark. 
 
 The good Wrongheads, gifted with a 
 very small portion of judgment, and dissi- 
 pating
 
 62 WOMAN. 
 
 pating what little they had on frivolous 
 themes, flung their arrows of censure about 
 them, more abundantly indeed, but less 
 powerfully. It might be said that the 
 feather predominated in the one, and the 
 steel in the other. 
 
 Mrs. Egerton's quick apprehension of 
 the ridiculous, her lively perception of de- 
 corum and propriety, rendered her perfect- 
 ly sensible to all the folly displayed at the 
 Ha 1 !; but quickly as her taste distinguish- 
 ed the appropriate from the preposterous, 
 and playfully as her fancy could have 
 sketched oif every instance of affectation 
 and frivolity, she yielded not to the mis- 
 chievous propensity ; actuated by that 
 most unfashionable of all unfashionable 
 commodities, candour, she was always more 
 ready to extenuate than to exaggerate er- 
 ror, more prompt to discover merit than 
 to detect frailty, and was so lost to all pre- 
 tensions of wit, as to arrest many a spark- 
 ling repartee ere it arose to her lips, sim- 
 ply for fear of being ill-natured, or of 
 
 giving
 
 WOMAN. 63 
 
 giving pain. Happily for society, Mrs. 
 Egertorfs conduct has few imitators, and 
 scandal and satire continue to bestow all 
 the delightful vicissitudes of concord and 
 discord to social communion. 
 
 It was in vain that the stupid Helena 
 essayed to render the witty solicitor as 
 stupid as herself — to draw him from satire 
 to sense, from* persons to things ; the 
 incorrigible bachelor yielded not to her 
 gentle guidance. 
 
 " So you have been at Random Hall, 
 and seen the elegant family in all its ele- 
 gance?" began Mr. Knowlesdon. on the re- 
 tiring of the servants, for, hardy as he was, 
 he had not arrived at that noble boldness 
 which makes some persons expose the 
 faults of their acquaintance, not only to 
 their friends, but before their domestics. 
 
 " Yes, the house is delightfully situated, 
 and the room into which I was ushered 
 
 opens 
 
 * We earnestly beg forbearance for our frequent repeti- 
 tion of this sentiment — Can it be too often or too urgently 
 inculcated ?
 
 64 WOMAN. 
 
 opens upon the most delightful flower- 
 garden I ever beheld." 
 
 A short dissertation on gardens, flowers, 
 botany — but the unmerciful solicitor re- 
 turned to the charge. 
 
 " But what thought you of the elegant- 
 ly covered work-table ? I can easily ima- 
 gine its regular confusion — silver-handled 
 scissars here, gold thimbles there, a painted 
 work-box in the middle, garnished with 
 pincushions of velvet, and needle-cases of 
 satin. I have seen it done fifty times, and 
 when time was pressing, have helped to 
 do it myself." 
 
 " I saw some books " 
 
 r Ay, true ! books— I ought not to have 
 forgotten books, for I was usually ordered 
 to place them in a tumultuous heap, at 
 Miss Patty's elbow, and, if I was not too 
 much hurried, was generally desired to 
 open Cowper's Poems, at ' How sweety 
 how passing sweet is solitude !' Once, in- 
 deed, I made a tremendous mistake, and 
 in my haste, seizing Goldsmith instead of 
 
 Cowper,
 
 WOMAN. 65 
 
 Cowper, placed under Miss Patty's un- 
 dove-like eyes, ' Oh, blest retirement, 
 friend to life's decline * She did not smile 
 upon me for a month." 
 
 Montague laughed heartily, nor could 
 Helena suppress a smile ; but as the calm 
 surface of the water, ruffled by a playful 
 breeze, soon regains its level, so the gently 
 discomposed serenity of Mrs. Egerton 
 quickly recovered it; equability. 
 
 After entreating the thanks of our read- 
 ers for this brilliant, and, if they have not 
 read " Rogers," this novel simile, we will 
 proceed in our narrative. 
 
 " There was a new edition of Childe 
 Harold on the table, my love; so your pre- 
 diction of the popularity of that poem is 
 verified." 
 
 Mr. Egerton followed the lead, and some 
 very animated remarks on modern poetry 
 beguiled the succeeding half-hour — " har- 
 monious versification," " rich imagery," 
 "just measure," " truth," " fiction — " an 
 
 unlucky
 
 <>6 WOMAN. 
 
 unlucky climax — the bachelor was agaift 
 on the alert. 
 
 " Fiction, false representation, ergo 
 falsehood : apropos ! what fiction did the 
 butler adopt to deny your entrance at your 
 first call at Random Hall ?" 
 * Not at home." 
 " Yet they were all at home." 
 " Oh, I knew that very well." 
 " Then it seems, in the first place, that 
 such fictions are always detected ; and in 
 that case, secondly, it must inspire most 
 gratifying notions of the hospitality of the 
 visited." 
 
 " Not at home,' is a mere form of words, 
 intending no deception, and authorized by 
 long custom," replied Helena,; but the so- 
 licitor continued his strictures. 
 
 " To go on with my logic, secundum 
 ctrtem, I deny that custom can ever give 
 authority to error ; and, secondly, I con- 
 tend that deception is intended, for if 
 people would be content to be seen and 
 
 known
 
 WOMAN. 67 
 
 known for what they are, they might be 
 seen at all times, and under all circum- 
 stances. It is the desire of appearing what 
 ice are not-— of seeming more wise, more 
 wealthy, more refined than we have any 
 just pretensions to be, that leads to all such 
 subterfuges." 
 
 " I shall certainly deny myself the very 
 next time you call at the abbey," said Mrs. 
 Egerton, laughing. 
 
 " True woman — obstinate even in con- 
 victed error !" exclaimed Mr. Egerton, in 
 a most husband-like manner. " Let me 
 run away before you begin your criticisms 
 on Mrs. Egerton." 
 
 " Mrs. Egerton cannot disclose an action 
 but she displays a virtue," said the gallant 
 solicitor. 
 
 CHAP-
 
 63 
 
 WOMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Great Dinners, and Odd* Dinners, 
 
 A cabinet council, or, more properly 
 speaking, a diet was convened at Handom 
 Hall, to take into consideration the im- 
 portant business of inviting the strangers. 
 This was carried without an assenting' 
 voice, as Miss Patty elegantly expressed 
 it, for every body had reasons to wish for 
 the party : lady Wronghead had her new 
 tea equipage to exhibit — Miss Wronghead 
 her accomplishments — Miss Muddleton 
 her learning — Adam Wronghead, Esq. 
 panted to .shew himself alia bcllissima in- 
 cognita, not without some honourable 
 hopes of making a diversion in his favour 
 
 in 
 
 * Odd — extraordinary, uncommon, strange, &c. Vide 
 Sheridan. We cannot give equal authority for the Italian 
 of the heir.
 
 WOMAN. 69 
 
 in her plighted heart — sir Gabriel, simple 
 man ! desired to shew nothing but his hos- 
 pitality. 
 
 The next question was, on what day to 
 give the gala ? Every day seemed to have 
 an oceup'ation, but that blank day, Sun- 
 day. — " Then let them come on Sunday," 
 said the baronet. 
 
 " La ! papa, how vulgar [" exclaimed 
 Miss Clementina. 
 
 " Vulgar, child ! is not Sunday a day 
 for friendly and benevolent communion 
 with our fellow-creatures ?* 
 
 Friendly and benevolent ! what strange 
 mistakes some people make ! The party 
 had nothing to do with friendship and be- 
 nevolence, as the ladies very well knew. 
 
 Miss Clementina took the pen — " I will 
 say Saturday." 
 
 " No, Clemy, my dear, don't say Satur- 
 day !" exclaimed her alarmed mother; " we 
 are always in such a bustle on Saturdays." 
 
 u We are always in a bustle on all days, 
 I think," murmured sir Gabriel. 
 
 There
 
 7*> WOMAN. 
 
 There were some speeches which this 
 good man gave in under tones, and this 
 was one of them — why and wherefore, let 
 clever notable wives explain. 
 
 " Then Monday," said the conceding 
 Clementina. 
 
 " No, Clemy, my dear, don't say Mon- 
 day — it is so very inconvenient, coming 
 just after Sunday." 
 
 Miss Clementina rose from the writing- 
 desk, and dutifully announced her inten- 
 tion of not writing at alL 
 
 Miss Muddleton now interfered, pur* 
 testing she never saw such disrespectful 
 behaviour, and w r ould write herself. As 
 great calamities are said to unite the op- 
 posing parties of states, so now did this 
 menace of Miss Patty's instantly reduce 
 the refractory members of the diet ; for 
 every one felt the risk of disgrace incurred, 
 by allowing the elegant penmanship, and 
 yet more elegant spelling, of Miss Mud- 
 dleton to appear. 
 
 Miss Wronghead therefore reseated her- 
 self.
 
 WOMAN. 71 
 
 self, and after much further discussion, it 
 was resolved that the following note, writ- 
 ten on hot-pressed paper, with gilt edges 
 and embossed border, should be sent : — 
 
 fr Random-Hall 
 
 <f Sir Gabriel and lady Wronghead 
 — at home — dinner — six o'clock — August 
 twenty-third — 
 
 " Mr. and Mrs. Egerton" 
 
 (Sealed with the family seal — Crest, a 
 head reversed; motto, Tonjours tort) 
 
 Sir Gabriel read and re-read the note, 
 then said—" These Egertons will be de- 
 vilish clever if they can find out what you 
 mean, Clemy ; for hang me if I can." 
 
 " Very likely, sir," replied the young 
 lady, with a most respectful sneer. 
 
 M But why leave out half the words, 
 Clemy, my dear ?" said her mother. 
 
 "Oh,
 
 72 WOMAN. 
 
 " Oh, that is quite comme il faut" said 
 young Hopeful ; " it argues fashionable 
 hurry." 
 
 " And this day six weeks ! We may be 
 dead by that time," growled the baronet. 
 
 " And why ' at home,' child ? are we not 
 sure to be at home when we invite our 
 friends ?" observed lady Wronghead. 
 
 *■ Nay, my dear, but such facts ought to 
 be noted in the fashionable world, because 
 of their novelty," observed her husband, 
 rather sarcastically. 
 
 * And six o'clock, Clemy ! just our tea- 
 time," continued the lady. 
 
 " I remember, when I was abroad," said 
 Adam Wronghead, Esq. yawning, and 
 stretching himself, " I generally contrived 
 to dine at sunset." 
 
 " And you may continue to do so at 
 home, any Christmas-day you please," re- 
 plied his father. 
 
 The third doughty question was, who 
 were to meet the Egertons ? 
 
 This seemed a point not easily decided. 
 
 Every
 
 WOMAN. 73 
 
 Every one desired some particular favou- 
 rite ; and the moment the choice became a 
 matter of dispute, of course no one chose 
 to give up his or her opinion : Miss- Patty 
 talked, lady Wronghead disputed, Miss 
 Wronghead exclaimed, Timotheus argued, 
 sir Gabriel reasoned ; but as parallel lines 
 may flow on for ever without meeting, so 
 as each of the diet pertinaciously persisted 
 in the sentiment originally adopted, there 
 was no probability of the matter being 
 amicably adjusted. Lady Wronghead, 
 however, cut the discussion short, by next 
 day sending out her cards to whom she 
 pleased. 
 
 Miss Patty formed a plan for bringing 
 about an accidental explication of her being 
 the author of " The Innocent Criminal," 
 and Miss Wronghead provided a new 
 gown, new shoes, and new stockings (the 
 only articles of apparel needed in the cos- 
 tume of modern belles), for the eventful 
 day. 
 
 It arrived. TheEgertons proved them- 
 vol. T. E selves
 
 74 WOMAN. 
 
 selves people of no consequence, by being 
 punctual to the hour, and people of no 
 spirit, in not keeping the circle waiting for 
 them, and in not spoiling the dinner that 
 had been hospitably prepared for them. 
 The table was profusely and elegantly laid 
 out ; and as it could accommodate twenty 
 as well as ten, twenty were invited. 
 
 Only one incident of very great import- 
 ance occurred — thewhite fricassee stood op- 
 posed to the brown fricandeau ! Nothing 
 could be worse — lady Wronghead blessed 
 herself as the most unfortunate of women : 
 and who, that saw her surrounded by 
 friends and family, revelling in all that 
 health, wealth, and rank could bestow, 
 who would not have admitted the justice 
 of her complaints ? Tremendous, however, 
 as was this disaster, no eye but that of the 
 ill-fated hostess seemed to mark its fatal 
 occurrence — the guests were neither so 
 witty as to laugh, nor so feeling as to 
 mourn ; sir Gabriel alone understood the 
 half-suppressed agony of his susceptible 
 
 helpmate
 
 WOMAtf. 73 
 
 helpmate, so that his dinner was the only- 
 one she had the satisfaction of spoiling by 
 her exquisite delicacy. 
 
 As about a dozen of the softer sex re- 
 tired into the drawing room, our manly 
 readers will, no doubt, suggest the possibi- 
 lity of much discourse taking place. But 
 as it is utterly impossible to repeat all the 
 good and wise, and genteel and polite 
 speeches that were made, we will content 
 ourselves with giving the heads of the 
 discourse, as the loud tones predominated 
 from the several knots into which the 
 party had divided. 
 
 Beaux, balls, barouches, bands a la 
 Grecque, and belts a la Turque, issued 
 from the corner embellished by the young 
 ladies — cradles, cots, compassion, and cau- 
 dle, murmured from the station occupied 
 by the matrons — whilst those, neither 
 the one nor the other, neither young nor 
 married, uttered various tones on various 
 themes ; Miss Patty had brought about 
 the projected eclaircissement, and was giv- 
 E 2 ing
 
 *6 W03JAN. 
 
 O 
 
 ing a minute account of her publication 
 to the stranger guest, whilst Mrs. Mary 
 Knowlesdon, gifted with no literary talents, 
 had nothing better to converse about than 
 the distresses of a poor cottager, in whose 
 behalf she sought to engage the charity of 
 a wealthy spinster. 
 
 Lady Wronghead was closing her dis- 
 course as she had begun it, with her mis- 
 fortunes and her feelings, the fricassee and 
 the fricandcau, when the words caught 
 Miss Patty's ear. Though the gentlemen 
 were now dropping in, and the servants 
 were arranging the candles and card-tables, 
 this fair damsel could not resist displaying 
 her sense, in opposition, or as she scientifi- 
 cally phrased it, in opposition* to her sis- 
 ter's sensibility — " lleally, lady Wrong- 
 head, I am surprised at your attention to 
 such trifles — to such little minutiae ; it is 
 quite unworthy a person of any understand- 
 ing — John, those candles stand awry — 
 
 Now, 
 
 * The reader may perhaps deem this term the apter of 
 the two.
 
 WOMAN. 77 
 
 Now, what does it signify where the fri- 
 ga.sy stood ? — not straight yet, John — or 
 whether thefrigandy was here or there ? — 
 a few inches farther, John — it was eat- 
 able, wherever it was — stupid fellow 1 I'll 
 place them myself." 
 
 Mr. Knowlesdon laughed aloud ; Mr. 
 Egerton passed his hand over his face, to 
 hide the rising smile ; the mote and the 
 beam popped into the head of the young 
 curate, and he made a menu in some part 
 of it, to choose that verse for his next Sun- 
 day's text ; Mrs. Egerton assisted Miss 
 Patty. 
 
 The dinner was of course to be return- 
 ed, or in technical terms, the Egertons now 
 owed* a dinner to the Wrongheads, and 
 being honest people, thought the sooner 
 they were out of debt the better. It was 
 settled in about two minutes, and cards 
 issued accordingly. 
 
 About a dozen guests assembled at four 
 E 3 o'clock 
 
 * No term can be more appropriate, such debrs being 
 sometimes paid with as much reluctance as a tavlor's bill.
 
 78 WOMAN. 
 
 o'clock in the abbey dining-room. The 
 dinner had nothing to distinguish it, either 
 from its scantiness or its profusion, its clum- 
 siness or its elegance. But, oh awful 
 chasm ! there was no fish ! there was no 
 game ! Lady Wronghead gave a polite 
 side glance at her spouse, and actually start- 
 ed when nothing better than a turkey 
 headed the second course. Two sleepless 
 nights had she passed in the fear of losing 
 the indispensable partridges ; three quar- 
 rels — we beg pardon — three differing argu- 
 ments had she sustained with her lord and 
 master on the momentous theme, and not 
 till after many a contrivance, and many an 
 intrigue, had she triumphed over the pro- 
 bity of a small farmer to break the laws of 
 his country, and procure for her the neces- 
 sary removes — three partridges at the top, 
 and a hare at the bottom — What apology 
 could Mrs. Egerton offer? 
 
 The stupid Helena never dreamed of 
 offering any; she was thinking of her 
 guests, not of her dinner — she was plan- 
 
 ning
 
 WOMAN. 79 
 
 ning for their comfort, not for her own dis- 
 play ; and was so absorbed in these whim- 
 sical feelings, that she did not once scold, 
 though the bread-sauce appeared two se- 
 conds too late, nor blush though the tur- 
 key was ungarnished with lemon. Per- 
 haps she might think, scolding her foot- 
 man would not increase the appetite of her 
 company — perhaps she might think her 
 frowns would not conduce to their com- 
 forts — perhaps she might think the crime 
 was not very heinous — But there is no fa- 
 thoming the thoughts of so odd a person- 
 age! 
 
 Mr. Egerton, from unknown motives, 
 indisposed for society, and meeting it with 
 irritated petulance, was insensibly beguiled 
 of his spleen, and soon reflected the good- 
 humour that beamed from the head of his 
 table. The guests imperceptibly caught 
 the gaiety of their hostess, for cheerfulness 
 and sadness are infectious; all seemed 
 pleased, they scarcely knew how — all were 
 good-humoured, they scarcely knew where- 
 E 4 fore.
 
 80 WOMAN. 
 
 fore. As the sun draws forth the peculiar 
 tints and peculiar fragrance of every flower, 
 so did Mrs. Egerton draw forth the pecu- 
 liar talents, the peculiar good qualities of 
 every visitant. — We are not often fortu- 
 nate in the novelty of our similes, but we 
 rsally think this one is as new as it is beau- 
 tiful. 
 
 Lady Wronghead had long nourished(the 
 word is in place, however strangely it may 
 sound) an implacable enmity to one of the 
 present party, a Mrs. Mansel, the giddy 
 young wife of an officer of dragoons. The 
 whole animosity arose from that wonted 
 source of social division, misconception 
 and misrepresentation. Mrs. Mansel had 
 said something, or done something, or look- 
 ed something, that was pronounced inimi- 
 cal to lady Wronghead; and a mutual 
 friend represented the affair to her lady- 
 ship, with just so many alterations and 
 additions as to make it worth representa- 
 tion, and exalt the zeal of the representer. 
 Lady Wronghead of course resented the 
 
 affront,
 
 WOMAN. SI 
 
 affront, by treating Mrs. Mansel with dig- 
 nified coldness. 
 
 It was now Mrs. ManseVs turn to be of- 
 fended ; unconscious of her crime, she did 
 not choose to submit to its punishment 
 Had either lady asked the other— Pray, 
 ma'am, why this change? the mystery 
 would have been cleared, and union re- 
 stored. But as such questions are deemed 
 derogatory to the consequence of the ques- 
 tioner, and as the romance of life, as well 
 as of novels, is preserved by their not being 
 asked, the truth remained for some time 
 concealed. By degrees both ladies began 
 to suspect a mistake, for as passion faded, 
 reason revived ; but unhappily there was 
 not to be found the same promptitude to 
 produce reconciliation as there had been to 
 effect dissension. 
 
 Now Mrs. Egerton had a natural anti- 
 pathy to every form of enmity ; she talked 
 of its being unfeeling, unchristian, and very 
 puritanically began to soften this, from the 
 moment she heard of its existence. 
 
 E 5 " What
 
 82 WOMAN. 
 
 4< What business was it of hers?" as 
 Miss Patty very properly asked — a ques- 
 tion Mrs. Egerton might pretend to an- 
 swer, by saying, that as a human being, 
 she had a right to sympathize with human 
 beings — to soften their sorrows, and in- 
 crease their joys. But whatever were her 
 rights, she certainly did presume to inter- 
 fere in the present instance, and, though 
 by an almost invisible agency, did actually 
 succeed in restoring Mrs. Mansel to the 
 good opinion of lady Wronghead. 
 
 And what had she done to bring about 
 this desired reconciliation? What plots 
 had she laid — what schemes pursued — 
 what coadjutors engaged? Of all this she 
 had done nothing ; a few soothing expres- 
 sions — a few explanatory words — much 
 active kindness — much generous candour, 
 was the sum of her interference. How 
 often is disunion prolonged from the want 
 of such mediation ! How often do two 
 hearts vainly pant for reconciliation, mere- 
 ly because no common friend is at hand to 
 
 interpret
 
 WOMAN. 83 
 
 interpret and convey the feelings of each to 
 the other ! 
 
 The company retired at a late hour, well 
 pleased with their visit. There had been 
 no attempt at competition — no endeavour 
 to surpass others. Miss Wronghead was 
 not outvied in dress, nor her mother in the 
 delicates of her table, nor Miss Muddleton 
 in hard words and erudition. Each indi- 
 vidual had been placed in the most amiable 
 point of view ; each had been drawn into 
 the situation and conversation in which 
 each could excel. Helena thought of every 
 body — exalted every body but herself. 
 
 When the Thurlestonians found them- 
 selves alone, they did not, as they ought to 
 have done, and as every one but them- 
 selves would have done, draw their chairs 
 together, and liberally scan every word, 
 look, and gesture, of those so recently the 
 objects of their polite hospitality. 
 
 " You gave us a better dinner than I 
 expected, Helena," was the only retrospec- 
 tive speech hazarded by the gentleman. 
 
 E 6 u Iam
 
 84 WOMAN. 
 
 f? I am glad you thought so, my love," 
 the only gratulatory remark expressed by 
 the lady. 
 
 That the pair we are now describing are 
 the most outrageously unfashionable — that 
 they are utterly unworthy of imitation, and 
 that we merely describe them as a lusus 
 naturce, a sport of nature, as a beacon 
 that must be shunned, we are very ready 
 to acknowledge ; and the only further re- 
 mark we have to hazard is, that such of our 
 fair readers only who prefer the insipidity 
 of domestic tranquillity must study to copy 
 the lady : to all lovers of dash, spirit, and 
 notoriety, she is a mere black letter, per- 
 fectly unintelligible, and as perfectly ini- 
 mitable. 
 
 CHAP-
 
 WOMAN. 
 
 
 A New Character. 
 
 The estate adjoining to Thurleston was 
 Castle Ruthven. Lord Ruthven had very 
 lately introduced his lady to the respect- 
 able demesne of his ancestors, and by some 
 unaccountable paradox, produced as his 
 bride the mother of a numerous family. 
 
 Lady Ruthven had every claim to pub- 
 lic attention, for she was reputed rich, titled, 
 arrogant — only one slight blemish tarnish- 
 ed her pretensions to respect (if that can 
 be called a blemish, which the world of 
 fashion and of taste so charitably overlook.) 
 Let not our readers fancy that this pre- 
 amble is to prepare them for any really 
 heinous crime, such as low birth, original 
 poverty, pristine rusticity — no,we have no- 
 thing worse to say of the lady, than that 
 
 she
 
 &6 WOMAN. 
 
 she one day, a little unkindly, left a fond 
 confiding husband, and three helpless chil- 
 dren, just beginning to demand the in- 
 structions of a mother. There was little 
 remarkable in this; the only extraordinary 
 part of the story was, the strange effect 
 this trifling incident produced. 
 
 Mrs. Mordaunt, the wife of a country 
 clergyman, protecting and protected, found 
 a scanty income sufficient to procure hap- 
 piness, and a humble rank adequate to en- 
 sure respect ; she felt she had a place in 
 society, and sustained it. Lady Ruthven, 
 the consort of a powerful and honourable 
 nobleman, shunning and shunned, dis- 
 covered that a princely revenue was in- 
 efficient to purchase tranquillity, and an 
 illustrious title incompetent to procure con- 
 sideration ; she saw she had no place in 
 society, and vainly sought to possess one; 
 the impertinence she would once have 
 dared to resent she now was humbled to 
 endure — the vulgar, whom once she spurn- 
 ed, she now conciliated — the menials,whom 
 
 she
 
 WOMAN". 8T 
 
 she once would have commanded, she now 
 condescended to flatter ; in every eye she 
 dreaded to read contempt — in every move- 
 ment feared to encounter scorn ; and the 
 woman who was dignified amidst poverty 
 and obscurity, felt herself despicable amidst 
 rank and splendour. 
 
 Whence could this metamorphosis arise? 
 Must we be compelled to admit the just- 
 ness of the sentiments of uncourteous mo- 
 ralists — that the loss of innocence produced 
 the loss of dignity, and that Mrs. Mor- 
 daunt retrograded from happiness when 
 she retrograded from virtue, and flying 
 from duty, fled also from tranquillity ? 
 
 The splendid mansion, now for the first 
 time accessible to every class of visitants, 
 the affability with which, for good reasons, 
 all were received, greatly attracted notice. 
 Lady Wronghead, by no very uncommon 
 mistake of reasoning, conceiving herself 
 vulnerable to pity, when she was only in- 
 stigated by prudence, led the way, and of 
 course the whole neighbourhood followed 
 
 her
 
 88 WOMAN. 
 
 her lead, her title rendering her decisions 
 infallible — Momentous responsibility of 
 greatness! 
 
 We are wrong in saying the whole neigh- 
 bourhood — there was one sturdy opposi- 
 tionist : no argument could convince the 
 obdurate Airs. Egerton that lady Ruthven 
 was an object either of pity or of consider- 
 ation. Miss Patty had employed her best 
 logic on the subject : first, the lady's being 
 a countess, rich, fashionable; next, she 
 ought to call, because every body called ; 
 thirdly and lastly, she would lose all the 
 gay fetes at the castle. 
 
 Mrs. Mansel, as the first fruits of her 
 restored union with lady Wronghead, gave 
 a sociable little party to the Random Hall 
 circle, and invited the Knowlcsdons and 
 Egertons to join the festive band. 
 
 A little chat took place before the ar- 
 rangement of the card-tables. Sancho 
 Panza blessed the memory of the man who 
 invented sleep — but what renown is due 
 to the contriver of cards, those moral 
 
 . toys,
 
 woman; 89 
 
 toys, that not only disperse the great foes' 
 to human happiness, ennui and indolence, 
 but also arrest human error, by checking 
 the exuberance of satire, and silencing the 
 babblings of scandal? Well do they de- 
 serve influence and merit homage ! an in- 
 fluence, an homage so profound, as to lead 
 the uninitiated Asiatic to suppose that they 
 were the gods of the Christians. 
 
 The ladies and gentlemen, as usual, oc- 
 cupied opposite sides of the room. This 
 custom is, we believe, of such high anti- 
 quity, that it would be in vain now to trace 
 its origin ; but that it is not wholly ow- 
 ing to the distinct range of ability in either 
 sex may be inferred from the circumstance 
 of both sexes drawing their materials of 
 conversation often from the same source — 
 beaux talking of their dress, viz. boots, but- 
 tons, brooches, and Brutus* heads, with as 
 
 much 
 
 * To prevent posterity, to whom doubtless this admir- 
 able work will descend, making any mistake in the etymo- 
 logy of this tertr, we beg to say, th.it our observation and 
 
 experience
 
 §0 WOMAN. 
 
 much vivacity as belles of their attire, via. 
 rouge,* ribbon s, rings, and ridicules. 
 
 The weather had been ably discussed 
 before the division of the house, as it has 
 been found, from time immemorial, that 
 ladies can complain of the imperfections of 
 nature, and adjust her operations with full 
 as much propriety as the gentlemen, and 
 can at least with equal energy condemn 
 the ordinations of Him who sitteth in the 
 highest heaven. 
 
 A pause of discourse on the female side 
 
 (an 
 
 experience confirm the explanation given by our Latin dic- 
 tionary. — " Brutus — void of reason." The propriety of this 
 designation may be perceived and proved by putting a Bru- 
 tus wig on the head of a beau. A. D. 1800. 
 
 * The list of modern female attire is certainly rather 
 trief. That rouge is an article of wearing apparel cannot 
 be doubted, when we remember that it is put on and put off 
 at pleasure. Ridicule, in modish phraseology, means a Hog, 
 something like the things called work-bags by our grand- 
 mothers ; its use, if it has any, is however essentially dif- 
 ferent ; its name, a delicate satire on Gothic times, and on 
 the mean occupations of our zjtfaccomplished progenitors.
 
 woman. 91 
 
 an event of certainly somewhat rare oc- 
 currence) was briefly interrupted by the 
 hostess, who luckily remembered that her 
 company had not yet talked over the new 
 comer, an oversight she hastened to re- 
 medy. — " What do you think of lady 
 Ruthven, Mrs. Egerton ?" 
 
 " I have not seen her." 
 
 " Bless me ! have you not called ?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 "But you will call?" 
 
 " Indeed I shall not." 
 
 There was something so very different 
 in Mrs. Egerton's delivery of these words, 
 from her usual gentle tones, that Mrs. Man- 
 sel was astonished ; yet the little speech 
 was neither loudly nor shrilly sounded, 
 though the calm and tempered energy 
 with which it was pronounced spoke a de- 
 cision not to be shaken. The Wrong- 
 heads looked somewhat confounded, for the 
 motives which they knew led to this de- 
 termination, the violated vows of the di- 
 vorcee,
 
 91} womaK 
 
 vorcee, rose like an accusation on their 
 more ductile morality. 
 
 It was really provoking that the Wrong- 
 heads allowed themselves to be thus abash- 
 ed, by an untitled, uhequipaged, unsupport- 
 ed individual — it is quite vexatious that 
 no initiation in fashion, no assumption of 
 audacity, can rescue its votaries from being 
 awed by virtue, and subdued by good sense. 
 
 Mrs. Egerton had a glorious opportuni- 
 ty of improving her triumph, and yet fur- 
 ther confounding the abashed circle ; but 
 there was something in her nature that re- 
 volted from depressing the depressed, or 
 aggrandizing herself by the humiliation 
 of others ; shunning, therefore, rather than 
 courting, the exposition of her superiority > 
 she dropped the subject, and turned to 
 -topics more congenial to friendly and be- 
 nevolent communion. 
 
 Mrs. Mansel, restrained by no such deli- 
 cacy, and proud that she was the only other 
 individual that had not noticed the coun- 
 tess,
 
 WOMAN. 93 
 
 tess, though her om'ssion was accidental, 
 exclaimed— "Nor lave I called, nor shall I." 
 
 " And pray, ma'am, why should you 
 not call?" asked the easily irritated lady 
 Wronghead. 
 
 Mrs. Egerton declined giving her rea- 
 sons from delicacy — Mrs* Mansel from ne- 
 cessity ; she had no reason to give, and hav- 
 ing spoken without consideration, account- 
 ed for it without judgment — " Because 
 she looks so proud and ill-natured." 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Mansel, we must not 
 judge of people by their looks : lady Ruth- 
 ven is generally thought obliging and good- 
 humoured," said Mrs. Egerton. 
 
 " Are you her advocate ?" inquired the 
 startled Mrs. Manstl. 
 
 " Why not ? though faulty, she may 
 have some good qualities." 
 
 " Then why don't you visit her?" 
 
 Mrs. Egerton coloured, and glanced her 
 eye on the circle. 
 
 " You see you must explain yourself," 
 said Mrs. Knowlesdon. 
 
 " I dare
 
 94f WOMAN. 
 
 " I dare say we all think alike of lady 
 lluthven's conduct as a wife and a mother," 
 replied Mrs. Egerton, timidly. 
 
 " Certainly ! Certainly !" exclaimed many 
 voices, as if all were eager, by this censure, 
 to acquit themselves of their share of re- 
 probating her ladyship. 
 
 " But when she repents," added lady 
 Wronghead. 
 
 " Then, and then only, should every hand 
 be held out to her," said Mrs. Egerton. 
 
 " She has not many signs of repentance 
 at present," observed Mrs. Mary with a 
 pitying sigh. 
 
 Miss Patty Muddleton fidgetted in her 
 chair, as if some brilliant thought had just 
 illuminated her. — " Pray, Mrs. Egerton, I 
 beg your pardon, but was not your dairy- 
 maid an unfortunate 1 beg your par- 
 don, I do not mean to offend ; but it seems 
 so odd you cannot visit lady Ruthven, 
 yet shelter that girl." 
 
 " You do not offend me at all," replied 
 Mrs. Egerton, with perhaps a little more 
 
 truth
 
 WOMAN. 95 
 
 truth than Miss Patty had averred she did 
 not mean to do so : " your question is a 
 very natural one, as probably you do not 
 know the circumstances under which I re- 
 ceived Fanny Dale." 
 
 Miss Patty knew them well, but glad of 
 the offered excuse, purtested she knew 
 nothing of the affair. 
 
 The high respect we profess* for Miss 
 Patty urges us to suppose, that she was 
 not aware that she was speaking a false- 
 hood — saying what was not true. But as 
 we aim at uniting instruction and amuse- 
 ment (a union, by the way, never attempt- 
 ed before), we are compelled to avow that 
 Miss Patty intended a deception, ergo a lief: 
 
 and 
 
 • We like the term profess in this place much better 
 than feel ; though, to be sure, to profess and to feel arc 
 deemed synonimous,and probably do amount to the same. 
 
 f We grant this is a very rude and a very ungenteehvord; 
 but we really think, if things were always called by their 
 right names, the catalogue of error would be curtailed ; 
 people would avoid bad acts to avoid bad terms; for this is 
 an age that stumbles over hillocks, but jumps over moun- 
 tains.
 
 96 WOMAN. 
 
 and though the words were spoken in a 
 low tone, and with a pretty soft air, yet to 
 all intents and purposes they implied as 
 complete a falsehood as ever any school- 
 boy or school-girl was chastised for. 
 
 Mrs. Egerton in a low voice began her 
 story. — " Fanny Dale is the daughter of 
 one of Mr. Egerton's labourers. Her be- 
 trayer, after solemnly promising mar- 
 riage, deserted her on the birth of her child. 
 I found her in her father's cottage, sinking 
 beneath shame and remorse." 
 
 " And you rescued her from further 
 guilt r 
 
 " It seemed to me a duty to give a fel- 
 low-creature the chance of returning to the 
 path of rectitude ; without it she might 
 have plunged into deeper criminality." 
 
 " Oh ! were penitence half as much coun- 
 tenanced as guilt, how many erring souls 
 might be reclaimed to virtue !" Mrs. Mary 
 spoke with earnestness. 
 
 Mrs. Egerton continued — "The unhap- 
 py girl unfeignedly mourns her error ; but 
 
 lets
 
 WOMAN. 97 
 
 lets its commission find some extenuation 
 in the deception used to destroy her : she 
 broke no vows, she wrung no heart so deep- 
 ly as her own, and by its trusting love she 
 fell." 
 
 " How different this picture from the 
 image of the wife, the mother, tearing 
 asunder the most precious ties of life, vio- 
 lating the most sacred engagements ! — in 
 a moment of unfeeling levity, lacerating 
 the heart of a trusting husband — blasting 
 the fame of an innocent progeny — quitting 
 the duties of maternal affection, at the very 
 period they were most vital to the interests 
 of opening childhood — flying from the 
 claims of connubial love, when increase of 
 years and infirmity rendered those claims 
 essential to the very existence of her hus- 
 band! My dear Mrs. Egerton, I feebly 
 express what you would have eloquently 
 detailed." 
 
 The energy of Mrs. Knowlesdon's voice 
 and manner gave force to her address — the 
 circle listened with uncontrollable emotion ; 
 
 vol. i. f for
 
 98 WOMAN. 
 
 for when shall the voice of truth lose its 
 power over the human soul ? 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A New Method of treating an Enemy, 
 
 The effect of the conversation recorded in 
 our last chapter did not pass away with the 
 breath that gave it utterance. A veil 
 seemed withdrawn from the eyes of every 
 hearer, and a stronger light fell on the hi- 
 therto shadowed frailties of the countess — 
 a juster sense of her conduct supervened ; 
 contempt took place of respect, and a di- 
 minution of deference gradually pervaded 
 the manners of the society. 
 
 Lady Ruthven, keenly alive to every 
 sign of disrespect and every defalcation of 
 consequence, marked the change. Though 
 at first irritated and indignant, her con- 
 science compelled her to admit its justice, 
 
 and
 
 WOMAN. 99 
 
 and to more closely scrutinize the conduct 
 that had incurred it. This review could 
 not be unbeneficial ; it humbled her to her- 
 self. Humiliation is a serviceable precur- 
 sor of self-reproach — reproach the first stage 
 to repentance — repentance the prelude to 
 amendment. All this train of reforming 
 emotion was put into action by the good 
 sense and right feeling of an individual— 
 that individual a decried stranger, without 
 the influence of fortune, fashion, or rank, 
 without even the influence of family con- 
 nexions. So faie sometimes is the agency 
 that guides the opinions of the mass of 
 mankind ! so great sometimes are the 
 effects produced by humble causes ! What 
 then might not be expected from the ascen- 
 dancy of higher powers, on the morals, and 
 the manners, and the happiness of society ? 
 Lady Ruthven, respecting the virtue she 
 would* not imitate, had sought by many 
 f 2 an 
 
 * Yes, we must say would r and not; caul /. How much 
 more frequently are we defective in will than in power !
 
 100 WOMAN. 
 
 an artifice to become acquainted with Mrs. 
 Egerton. Among other ingenious contri- 
 vances, she addressed a note to her, on the 
 pretext of inquiring the character of a ser- 
 vant lately dismissed from the abbey, and 
 took advantage of a courteous answer to 
 bow to Mrs. Egerton, and thank her for 
 her politeness, the first time they met. 
 Mrs. Egerton met the movement as a gen- 
 tlewoman (we had almost said as a Chris- 
 tian), but withdrew into her former re- 
 serve, 
 
 Now there is nothing more fierce than 
 a discomfited woman, especially when foil- 
 ed in cunning; a bearess robbed of its 
 young is tame in the comparison. Lady 
 Ruthven was enraged beyond all dominion 
 of reason ; and as such rage confounds right 
 and wrong, and in the prosecution of re- 
 venge is willing to incur selfish evil, so 
 lady Ruthven, in the paroxysm of anger, 
 hired the worthless domestic, and risked 
 her own comfort, to demonstrate her con- 
 tempt of her neighbour. 
 
 This
 
 WOMAN. 101 
 
 This little incident was soon promul- 
 gated, with every addition and alteration 
 necessary to render it amu; ; ve and extra- 
 ordinary. The tide, as we have seen, being 
 now as much against the countess as it had 
 before been in her favour, these additions 
 and alterations were of course governed by 
 the change, and nowise advantageous to 
 her character. 
 
 Miss Patty Muddleton had just given 
 the story in its latest edition, with every 
 improvement and insertion it had received 
 in every former publication, and it was 
 just ascertained as an almost positive fact, 
 that lady Ituthven had laid down a regu- 
 lar plan to bribe all the servants from all 
 their places, when Mrs. Egerton joined 
 Mrs. Mary Knowlesdon's sociable tea-party. 
 Mrs. Mary did not fail, with becoming 
 gravity of countenance, to commiserate 
 Mrs. Egerton for the vexations she had 
 endured. 
 
 Mrs. Egerton, much surprised, declared 
 she had no vexations to endure. 
 
 f 3 * Xot
 
 102 WOMANT. 
 
 " Not with a moderate income?" thought 
 Miss Patty. 
 
 " Not with four children ?" thought lady 
 Wronghead. 
 
 " Not with a husband ?" thought Mrs. 
 Mansel. 
 
 It may hence be supposed that these la- 
 dies had either husband, children, or for- 
 tune, to embitter their lives. We see 
 what mistakes may be made by superfi- 
 cial observers, since these are possessions 
 generally deemed productive of felicity, 
 Around Mrs. Knowlesdon's cheerful tea- 
 table were assembled a well-dressed mirth- 
 ful groupe. Each member had issued from 
 a comfortable home, where affluence and 
 affection contributed to supply every want, 
 and gratify every w r ish. Who would sup- 
 pose they were not happy ? If we could 
 but for a few moments possess the storied 
 mirror, that w r ould reveal the secret 
 thoughts of the soul, how soon w r e could 
 convince our readers that every bosom had 
 its hidden care ; that beneath the stiff ker- 
 chief
 
 WOMAN. I0,i 
 
 chief of lady Wronghead the thought of 
 home pressed heavily ; that under the rich 
 lace sham* of Miss Patty, which doubled 
 every charm it ought to hide, preyed gnaw- 
 ing hopes, and half-confirmed despair; that 
 below— no, it was all above that conceal- 
 ed — no, it was all exposed — nor tucker, 
 lace, nor crape, veiled the soft throbbings 
 of Miss Wronghead's breast, yet envy rear- 
 ed its sceptre there, and there vanity found 
 a home. 
 
 Mrs. Mary partially illuminated Mrs. 
 Egerton's dark mind, and shewed her why 
 she ought to be unhappy, though she 
 could not persuade her to be so. 
 
 " Yet after all it is a matter of very lit- 
 tle consequence," said lady Wronghead. 
 
 " Pardon me," said Mrs. Egerton; " no- 
 thing can be inconsequential that maligns 
 the character of a fellow-creature." 
 
 " Then lady Ruthven has not been so 
 F 4 verv 
 
 St 
 
 * Even so, reader, the dictfon&'j tells you very tn:e-^ 
 the sham is a counterfeit, for it affects to cove* xhkt it 
 does not veil — causing exposition rather than concealment.
 
 104 WOMAN. 
 
 very wicked ?" Said Mrs. Mary, with an 
 
 arch smile. 
 
 Mrs. Egerton explained, and with some 
 warmth exculpated lady Ruth veil from the 
 charge of having bribed her servant— 
 " The girl had very licentious habits," she 
 continued; " I told her ladyship so; for I 
 consider it as imperative a duty to punish 
 vice as to foster merit." 
 
 P Or to cherish penitence," observed Mrs, 
 Knowlesdon. 
 
 Mrs. Egerton smiled and proceeded— 
 u Lady Ruthven engaged the girl at her 
 own peril, and cannot be considered to have 
 injured me; towards myself her conduct 
 has been perfectly correct." 
 
 In all Miss Muddleton's readings and 
 writings wide and multifarious as they 
 were, she had never encountered a more 
 novel idea — it was really a valuable dis- 
 covery in the arcana of the human mind. 
 * Advocation of an enemy — How strange !" 
 thought the erudite spinster, and so doubt- 
 less will think our readers, learned and un- 
 learned.
 
 WOMAN. 105 
 
 learned. — We have taken pains to give 
 tins incident with more than our accus- 
 tomed accuracy, because we were aware 
 that we were making excessive demands 
 on the faith of the public. 
 
 Mrs/Mansel listened with profound at- 
 tention, as collecting materials for future 
 conduct. Little was Mrs. Egerton con- 
 scious of the impression her words were 
 fated to give — they fixed on the mind of 
 an artless young woman principles of can- 
 dour and rectitude, that were developed 
 in the actions of her future life. Hence it 
 may be inferred, that had illiberal and 
 censorious sentiments been expressed, the 
 effect on the yielding mind of the youth- 
 ful listener would have been as mischiev- 
 ous as it was now beneficial. Much as we 
 dislike to moralize, we cannot resist illus- 
 trating this position with a metaphor — 
 likening good maxims to stars that sparkle 
 in the firmament, not only beauteous them- 
 selves, but beaming many a pure my into 
 surrounding darkness ; bad sentiments to 
 W 5 <.; .Is
 
 106 
 
 WOMAN. 
 
 clouds that gloom the heavens, not only 
 unlovely in themselves, but diffusing shade 
 and darkness over surrounding objects. 
 
 The party dispersed to cards. Mrs. 
 Egerton gaily took her place at one of the 
 tables, and acquitted herself much to the 
 satisfaction of her partner ; not that she 
 played the game with scientific skill, for 
 Miss Patty detected innumerable mistakes, 
 which, for the good of the company, she 
 exposed at the beginning, the middle, and 
 the end of every deal. But Mrs. Egerton 
 so patiently admitted her blunders, enter- 
 ed with such vivacity into the interest of 
 the game, apologized so politely for her 
 deficiencies, and so invariably omitted to 
 detect and expose the faults of her coadju- 
 tor, that her heinous crimes were forgiven 
 her, and she was allowed to lead up to the 
 strong hand, and trump her partner's best 
 club, with only a reproving smile from that 
 partner, Mrs. Mary Knowlesdon, and an 
 ominous casting up of the eyes of Miss 
 
 Miss 
 
 Patty.
 
 WOMAN. 107 
 
 Miss Wronghead marked with some sur- 
 prise, that Mrs. Egerton neither yawned, 
 to shew the irksomeness of such an avoca- 
 tion to one of her superior mind, nor threw 
 down her cards, Avith that charming air of 
 indifference, so often prettily covering in- 
 tense interest in the game ; that she did 
 not once start, as from a learned reverie, 
 with the polite exclamation, " I beg your 
 pardon, but- 1 was thinking of something 
 else !" Xo intelligent glance of her eye 
 entreated the pity of some distant inti- 
 mate — no magnanimous declarations of in- 
 difference whether she won or lost, to prove 
 her generous disdain of money — no trick 
 to procure respect, no artifice to feign re- 
 finement. 
 
 As, however, she frankly avowed he -.-?- 
 fercnce of any other mode of employment, 
 she seized the first opportunity of resign- 
 ing her place; and when she could choose 
 her occupation w it /tout infringing on the 
 pleasures of others, she did not hesitate to 
 retire from the card-table^ Sir Gabriel 
 v Q h&d
 
 W$ WOMAN. 
 
 had just arrived, nothing loth to take her 
 seat. 
 
 Miss Wronghead, having politely an- 
 nounced her hatred of cards and card-par- 
 ties, had a little before sallied forth to en- 
 joy a rural walk in the principal street of 
 the village — not to see, but to be seen ; for 
 there captain Hansel's troop, officers and 
 all, paraded. 
 
 Mrs. Egerton now consented to a pro- 
 posal of Susan's, and followed her into an 
 adjoining apartment to inspect a collection 
 of dried flowers ; they found Mr. Knowles- 
 don writing, but he instantly quitted 
 his desk, perchance thinking the conver- 
 sation of a fellow-creature worthy all his 
 own profound cogitations ; and indeed we 
 have been desired to say, cold must be 
 the heart, and dull the head, that would 
 not promptly, cheerfully, and thankfully, 
 exchange the selfish book, or lonely pen, 
 for the social communication of ideas and 
 feelings, and think reading and writing 
 well resigned for conversation. 
 
 The
 
 WOMAN. 109 
 
 The trio admired the contents of the 
 herbarium. — " How much better is this 
 than cards !" said Susan, with a self-ap- 
 proving air. 
 
 " Why better ? these flowers innocently 
 beguile our time, as cards do that of our 
 friends," replied Mrs. Egerton. 
 
 " Oh, but there is always so much scan- 
 dal at the card- table." 
 
 " That is not the fault of the table, or 
 of the cards ; we could be as censorious as 
 possible over our herbarium." 
 
 Susan laughed. 
 
 " It is not the occupation, but our man- 
 ner of abusing or using the opportunities 
 it offers, that is reprehensible." 
 
 " Correct, perfectly correct," said Mr. 
 Knowlesdon. 
 
 " But some persons are so ill-natured at 
 cards," said Susan. 
 
 " Such persons would probably be ill- 
 natured anywhere and everywhere." 
 
 " But cards try the patience." 
 
 "Ha!
 
 110 WOMAN. 
 
 " Hi ! then they give occasion for dis- 
 playing patience," observed the solicitor. 
 
 "It matters little, Miss Knowlesdon," 
 said Mrs. Egerton, " what occupies the 
 hands (provided it is innocent), if the tem- 
 per is rightly disposed — cutting paper,writ- 
 ing charades, playing cards, or examining 
 dried flowers." 
 
 Mr. Knowlesdon's lips moved as if he 
 was about /to suggest some ''distinctions ; 
 but a smile from Mrs. Egerton explained 
 her motives, and, like lady Townly in the 
 play, he gulped down the rising speech, 
 and substituted another in its place — 
 " Yes, Susan, suppose we had followed up 
 your satiric remark respecting card-play- 
 ing, and harshly criticised the circle in the 
 next room, would the mere act of handling 
 these flowers have exonerated us from the 
 charge of being scandalmongers ?" 
 
 " Or had you scowled at my remon- 
 strance, instead of displaying such perfect 
 good-humour," said Mrs. Egerlon, "I fancy 
 
 you
 
 WOMAN. Ill 
 
 you could have exhibited as many pretty 
 sullen airs as any disappointed gamester 
 in the world." 
 
 Susan was unspeakably gratified.* 
 " Ay, ay, child," said the solicitor ; "let 
 us each be as happy as we can, in our own 
 way, and neither censure others for a dissi- 
 milarity of tastes and pursuits, nor incom- 
 mode them with our own. There are a- 
 thousand different modes of being happy 
 in this world." 
 
 CHArTER X. 
 
 Short and Siceet. 
 
 " After all, this Mrs. Egerton is a mighty 
 poor creature," said Miss Patty Muddle- 
 ton ; 
 
 * Sweet is the breath of praise, when given by those 
 Who&e own high merit claims the j rai e they gr e. 
 
 JWilb, II. MuOKF..
 
 112 WOMAN. 
 
 ton ; " one never hears of her, and scarcely 
 ever sees her." 
 
 " That may be owing to the claims of 
 her young family, her domestic duties, the 
 taste of her husband," said Mr. Solicitor 
 Knowlesdon. adding sarcastically — " these 
 are homely rersons, I grant, for a woman 
 not appearing in public, but I fear Mrs. 
 E£*erton has no better to offer." 
 
 " Oh ! but her pursuits are so low and 
 vulgar^" said Miss Clementina; " only 
 think of the curate catching her at the bed- 
 side of a beggarly cottager." 
 
 " Yes, actually holding broth to the dirty 
 wretch," added Miss Patty. 
 
 " Shocking!" said Mr. Knowlesdon. 
 
 " Why cannot she be contented with 
 making a handsome subscription ?" said 
 Miss Wron^head. 
 
 f Perhaps for the whimsical motive of 
 doing more good by personal attendance," 
 replied the solicitor. 
 
 " Women of spirit always come forward 
 
 on
 
 WOMAN. 
 
 m 
 
 on all public occasions," said Miss Patty, 
 lodging to add — as I do. 
 
 (i And women of virtue always shun 
 every chance of notoriety," replied the so- 
 licitor with emphasis, which made Miss 
 Patty rejoice that the aforesaid as I rfohad 
 been unpronounced. 
 
 " Woman's safest station is retreat," re- 
 peated Mrs. Mary. 
 
 " But there is such a thin it ss a genteel 
 retreat," observed Miss Clementina ; " Mrs. 
 Egerton has such mean notions, humour- 
 ing that impetuous handsome husband of 
 hers, teaching her children their letters, 
 and I dare say, seeing the dear little souls 
 to bed every night, and to breakfast every 
 morning." She laughed as she concluded 
 this very witty speech. 
 
 Her uncle's intelligent eyes turned upon 
 her in all their sarcastic expression. — " It 
 is to such women that the state is indebt- 
 ed for its virtue, and perhaps its tranquil- 
 lity," said he, forcibly ; " for such women 
 not only rear virtuous members of society, 
 
 but
 
 114 vroMAK. 
 
 but by their example, their precept, their 
 active benevolence, ameliorate the charac- 
 ters and the fate of the lower classes, les- 
 sen the evils of poverty, and enlighten the 
 darkness of ignorance." 
 
 Few of the family were hardy enough 
 to oppose the solicitor in argument, and 
 just now he looked so terribly stern, that 
 even Miss Patty dropped her eye and her 
 argument together. 
 
 But the solicitor's ire was to be yet fur- 
 ther roused. Susan Knowlesdon had for 
 many days kept much in her chamber, was 
 distrait when she appeared at meals, and 
 omitted to do every thing she ought to 
 have done : she ceased to walk abroad, 
 and her health was injured; she forgot to 
 feed her lark, and it died ; the poor vil- 
 lagers placed under her superintendence 
 were neglected ; her harp had not been 
 touched for a month, and her paint-box 
 not opened for two — in short, Susan was 
 a changed being, pale, spiritless, useless, 
 joyless. Mr. Knowlesdon angrily entered 
 4 her
 
 WOMAN. 115 
 
 her chamber, resolved to remonstrate on 
 her altered manners, and, if possible, dis- 
 cover the cause of this havoc in her health 
 and peace. 
 
 Poor Susan little expected such a visit, 
 and was caught in the very fact — writing 
 a novel ! 
 
 Mr. Knowlesdon snatched the unfinish- 
 ed manuscript from her trembling hands, 
 and then favoured her with a pretty little 
 lecture on the folly of wasting the precious 
 hours of youth on such avocations — avo- 
 cations not only useless, but detrimental, 
 enfeebling and poisoning the mind — 
 '• Why, child, you had better be cutting 
 straws or pricking paper." 
 
 So ended the worthy lawyer's philippic ; 
 but as Susan had a great regard for her li- 
 terary bantling, and as our readers may per- 
 haps like to peruse a novel from the hands 
 of a young damsel of eighteen, we will 
 give it to them in its pristine form, with all 
 its imperfections on its head. 
 
 A DEED
 
 H6 WOMAN, 
 
 A DEED WITHOUT A NAME! 
 
 THE FATAL EFFECTS OF UNGOYERNED PASSIONS, 
 
 % ^Fragment. 
 
 As the coach drove rapidly through Paris, 
 a variety of different emotions agitated its 
 guests. The baron, wrapt in his own som- 
 bre meditations, gloomily threw himself 
 into one corner of his vehicle, and only 
 made his presence felt by the angry glances 
 he occasionally darted oil his companions. 
 Madame sighed as she gazed on the coun- 
 tenances before her — the stern severity of 
 her husband's expressive features, con- 
 trasted with the open manliness of her 
 youthful son. Ferdinand sought to dissi- 
 pate his mother's sighs by a cheering smile, 
 which however rapidly vanished before the 
 frown of his father. 
 
 The young Louisa, artless and innocent, 
 
 was
 
 WOMAN. 117 
 
 was the only one that risked the expression 
 of her feelings — " Adieu, Paris P she ex- 
 claimed, as its last glimpse disappeared on 
 the horizon ; " adieu, dear Paris ! adieu to 
 all thy varied delights — thy folly, and thy 
 dissipation !" 
 
 " If you lament Paris, Louisa," said 
 Ferdinand, whilst overwhelming recollec- 
 tions flashed across his mind, " what must 
 I do?" 
 
 ff Do !" cried the baron, starting from 
 his reverie; " why, as your sister — lament 
 its folly and its dissipation." 
 
 The ironical tone in which this speech 
 was delivered brought the blood into Fer- 
 dinand's cheek ; but he knew all remon- 
 strance was vain, and conscious of meriting 
 reproof, bore it with patience; folding his 
 arms, therefore, and shrinking back into his 
 comer, lie remained silent and abstracted. 
 
 The gentle Louisa, anxious to sooth the 
 wound she had inadvertently opened, 
 changed the subject from retrospect to an- 
 ticipation : she spoke with enthusiasm of 
 
 the
 
 118 WOMAN. 
 
 the lovely country they were traversing, 
 and gradually drew her mother into con- 
 versation. The feelings of Ferdinand were 
 imperceptibly calmed, and even the brow 
 of his father lost its sternness. Such, oh 
 temper ! is thy benign influence — not only 
 blessing the bosom thou irihabitest, but 
 spreading on all around a soothing charm ! 
 The season was far advanced, and laugh- 
 ing summer had yielded to the sober tints 
 of autumn. The mellowed hues which 
 coloured the landscape had their beauty to 
 the eye of Louisa, whose gay heart found 
 happiness in every scene — loveliness in 
 every object. To her mother the view 
 spoke a very different language : like the 
 year, her peace had waned — the youth of 
 hope and life had fled together ; the grave 
 colouring of autumn indeed harmonized 
 with her feelings, but it painfully harmo- 
 nized. The summer was past, even as 
 her noon of existence — the few vernal 
 flowers that decked the landscape were 
 like the few joys yet spared to her, re- 
 minding
 
 WOMAN. 119 
 
 mincliiig Tier with more bitterness of that 
 blissful season, when they flourished in 
 brighter hues and more profuse luxuriance. 
 She was mournfully indulging in this chro- 
 nicle of the past, when the voice of her 
 husband' roused her to the present. 
 
 " Here, Ferdinand, here commences the 
 demesne of your ancestors ; their virtues 
 gave honour to their inheritance — are you 
 worthy to be their successor ?" 
 
 Ferdinand blushed. — " Let the future 
 speak for me," said he, after a moment's 
 pause, and then more firmly added — " yet 
 may the inheritance never be mine, whilst 
 my father fears I shall disgrace it !'' 
 
 " The future !" said the baron ; " you 
 are right — the past is already gloomed, and 
 as the present seems to form no part of 
 your calendar, on the future, that future 
 that may never arrive, are built your airy 
 virtues. Oh, Ferdinand ! do you bid me 
 expect hereafter that exertion you choose 
 not now to display ?" 
 
 The appeal, and the manner in which it 
 
 was
 
 120 WOMAN. 
 
 was made, struck deep to the conscious 
 bosom of Ferdinand ; lie ventured no re- 
 pry, yet some laudable resolutions of 
 amendment occupied his busy heart. 
 
 The close of the third day brought the 
 travellers to the castle, where a long train 
 of ancient domestics waited to receive their 
 lord. The baron De Courcy was dear to 
 his tenantry : though his manners border- 
 ed on the stern, yet he well understood 
 the softer affections — he felt their value, 
 though he did not return their tenderness. 
 His very virtues rioted to excess, and it 
 was his overweening love for his son that 
 rendered him thus sensible to his smallest 
 frailties. 
 
 Ferdinand's education had been prose- 
 cuted with the greatest care : he had been 
 early taught, and had with facility acquir- 
 ed, every manly and graceful accomplish- 
 ment; the learning of the scholar, the 
 knowledge of the abstruser sciences, he 
 also possessed in a very great degree. But 
 while such pains had been taken to form 
 
 his
 
 WOMAN. 121 
 
 bis manners, and to store his mind, the re- 
 gulation of his passions had been over- 
 looked, or perhaps had been deemed be- 
 yond the province of a classical education. 
 Madame de Courcy, had she been per- 
 mitted, ' would have supplied this defi- 
 ciency, and would have inculcated in her 
 son the necessity of self-government ; but 
 placed under tutors, and often fixed at a 
 distance from her, she had few opportuni- 
 ties of awakening his heart to the most 
 momentous of its duties — the regulation 
 of its affections and passions. 
 
 The young man, early ushered into 
 life, began his career with a spotless repu- 
 tation, and a taste for pure and refined plea- 
 sures. But the societ}^ of less amiable and 
 less artless characters drew him by degrees 
 from his high eminence of propriety. His 
 father accidentally met him at a gaming- 
 table — boisterous, intoxicated, inebriated. 
 The shock almost annihilated his reason ; 
 scarcely could his limbs bear him from the 
 scene of his dishonour, and he spent the 
 
 vol. i. g night
 
 122 WOMAN. 
 
 night in a frenzy of shame and displea- 
 sure. 
 
 It was in vain for madame to reason, 
 or for his daughter to supplicate ; the 
 horrible image of his infatuated and de- 
 graded son haunted his imagination, and 
 urged him instantly to quit Paris. The 
 next resolve was to banish for ever from 
 his presence the youthful offender ; but his 
 manly contrition softened the severity of 
 his sentence, and on a promise of future 
 unlimited obedience, he was permitted to 
 accompany the family to the castle of De 
 Courcy. 
 
 Madame de Courcy was oppressed with 
 a sensation of undefinable dread, on en- 
 tering, for the first time, this stately but 
 gloomy edifice. De Courcy was not the 
 husband of her choice, and the errors of 
 Ferdinand had given a severity to his 
 manners, which rendered him still less the 
 husband of her heart. The baron had dis- 
 covered that it was duty, not love, that 
 made Matilda his wife : exemplary as was
 
 WOMAN'. 123 
 
 her conduct, he felt her. esteem a cold 
 return for his impassioned love. At first 
 he had strove to woo her affections ; hut 
 it was now many years since he had given 
 up the attempt, and, though he still loved 
 his wife, had ceased to consult her happi- 
 ness. 
 
 " Welcome ! welcome ! my lord and 
 ladv !" exclaimed a hundred voices, as the 
 travellers entered their mansion. 
 
 The baron's breast swelled with a sense 
 of power and patronage — his wife was only 
 susceptible of a gentle gratitude. An old 
 steward proudly shewed his lord into a 
 spacious apartment, fitted up with Gothic 
 splendour; the baron motioned for him 
 to withdraw, and thus stopped short the 
 garrulous officiousness of the grey-headed 
 vassal. The touching acclamations of his 
 tenantry and domestics had opened the 
 heart of De Conrcy, and the glow of plea- 
 sure, which still lingered with a rosy tinge 
 on the delicate cheeks of madame, restored 
 to her some of the loveliness of her youth. 
 G 2 The
 
 124 WOMAN. 
 
 The baron, tenderly folding her in his arms, 
 prest her to his bosom, as he said — *' Wel- 
 come, Matilda, to your domains ! What 
 an exile would De Courcy feel without 
 you !" 
 
 Louisa sprung towards her father, and 
 throwing herself beside him on the sofa,kiss- 
 ed his forehead, as he threw an arm around 
 her. At this moment Ferdinand entered 
 the room ; a pang darted to his heart as he 
 felt himself self- banished from such en- 
 dearments, and he retreated to a distant 
 window. 
 
 Every token of virtue in his son was 
 precious to De Courcy, and he beckoned 
 to the baroness to address him. Madame 
 could not speak, but she held out her hand 
 with a look which could not be misunder- 
 stood. Ferdinand flew to imprint on that 
 gracious hand the homage of his corrected 
 heart — madame's tears uropt warm upon 
 his cheek, and recalled his slumbering vir- 
 tue. He looked timidly at the baron, in 
 whose eye he read all the softened feelings 
 
 of
 
 WOMAN. 125 
 
 of his breast: he never loved his mother, 
 he never reverenced his father, he never 
 reprobated himself, so intensely as at that 
 moment; intuitively he caught his pa- 
 rents' joined hands, and prest them to his 
 lips. Madame cast a look of transport on 
 the baron, who, charmed by the action, 
 ceased to frown upon his son. 
 
 The supper passed in cheerfulness, and 
 the light hours, winded by affection, flew 
 gaily over their heads. Louisa forgot her 
 distance from Paris, and ceased to lament 
 its delights. Her father observed with joy 
 the innocent contentment of her mind, 
 that sought and accepted pleasure from 
 every source. The baroness too, in the 
 exultation of the moment, forgot the harsh- 
 ness of De Courcy, and her tenderness gave 
 graces to a scene otherwise gloomy to his 
 eyes. 
 
 Ferdinand had been absent a few mo- 
 ments, and now returned with a heighten- 
 ed colour in his cheek. — " I cannot find 
 La Motte," said he, approaching his mo- 
 G 3 ther:
 
 126 WOMAN. 
 
 ther: « the people tell me Villars dis- 
 charged him at Paris. How he dared to 
 do so without my concurrence, I am at a 
 loss to guess." 
 
 " Cease your wonder and your mena- 
 cing air," said the baron ; " it was not Vil- 
 lars, but your father, Ferdinand, that dared 
 to discharge La Motte." Ferdinand's lip 
 quivered with indignation. The baron 
 continued his speech — "La Motte was your 
 confidant, not your servant — the first cha- 
 racter look for in a higher class, and should 
 the valet I have assigned you not meet 
 your approbation, choose another from 
 among my domestics." Saying this, lie 
 left the apartment. 
 
 Ferdinand passionately paced the room, 
 — " I am a prisoner then," he cried, " a pri- 
 soner attended by spies !— -Fool ! fool ! to 
 resign myself into such hands." 
 ' " Be patient, Ferdinand," said madame ; 
 " outrage not thus your mother's feelings. 
 Your father has just cause to doubt your 
 firmness. Left to yourself, how did you 
 
 act?
 
 WOMAN. 127 
 
 act? I will not answer my question — 
 your own heart will do it for me." 
 
 The mildness of her look pleaded even 
 more strongly than her words — Ferdinand 
 flung himself on a chair, half ashamed, yet 
 half proud of his vehemence. — " Oh, I will 
 try to be patient !" he exclaimed; " I see, 
 I see I shall have good cause." 
 
 The return of the baron compelled 
 him to assume a calmer demeanour ; and 
 the party soon afterwards separated for 
 the night. 
 
 Ferdinand eyed his new valet with no 
 benign scrutiny, and rather sternly bidding 
 him place the lamp on his toilet, command- 
 ed him to withdraw. 
 
 Colinette in the meantime, with volu- 
 ble eagerness, was informing her young 
 mistress of all the different ghosts, goblins, 
 and hobgoblins, that had from time imme- 
 morial lived in the castle. Louisa smiled 
 at her narrative, but felt that, were even 
 spectres allowed to walk the world, they 
 would not approach her guileless spirit. 
 
 g 4 " You
 
 MOMAN. 
 
 " You will not sleep alone sure, my 
 lady ?" 
 
 « Why not, Colinette ? What have I 
 to fear?" 
 
 " To fear ! why, my lady, I— I— I don't 
 know, but I should think ghosts were 
 ugly frights to behold." 
 
 " How can you tell ? Have you ever 
 seen one ?' 
 
 Colinette shrieked at the bare idea — 
 * Seen one ! mercy, no, my lady." 
 
 " Then don't believe there are any till 
 you do ; and now go to bed, my good girl." 
 
 Colinette tremblingly obeyed,and deem- 
 ed her hay a miracle of courage, not to 
 fear ghosts ; she did not reckon upon her 
 Secret talisman against base fears — an in- 
 nocent heart and a sustaining piety. 
 
 Louisa, sinking on her knees, perform- 
 ed her evening service of prayer, or rather 
 of thanksgiving ; for her heart was so full 
 of gratitude, that she worshipped only to 
 praise. Her light extinguished, she re- 
 tired to her bed, and soon lost all remem- 
 brance
 
 WOMAN. 129 
 
 brance of castled .spectres in a tranquil 
 slumber. The moonbeam slept on her 
 closed eyes, fit light for the placid brow 
 it illumed ; her glowing cheek, as it prest 
 her pillow, now and then dimpled into 
 smiles, and augured heavenly visions. 
 
 Very different were Ferdinand's sensa- 
 tions — irritated, offended, angry, his pas- 
 sions were working into a frightful fer- 
 ment. Half conscious of his demerit, he 
 yet, like a coward, threw the blame due to 
 himself on others; father, associates — all 
 Were censured — all but himself. Neither 
 De Courcy nor his son possessed the vir- 
 tues of forbearance and patience,, and their 
 mutual impetuosity hurried each into ex> 
 tremes. 
 
 Ferdinand seldom looked bevond the 
 present moment, and the one now arrived 
 seemed to his half-frenzied imagination to 
 concentrate ail that was debasing- and 
 Wretched. He strode along his chamber 
 with unequal steps — he fancied bars in 
 every window, and bolts in every doov f h c 
 g 5 nig
 
 130 WOMAN. 
 
 night-breeze moaned over the bending 
 forest, and the same silver beam that re- 
 posed so sweet on the tranquil brow of his 
 sister fell on his pale and haggard counte- 
 nance with terrific hues. He retired from 
 the open casement, and as he approached 
 lis toilet, the rays of his lamp depicted 
 in the mirror the wild expression of his 
 features. He started, and, as if willing to 
 escape the train of accusing thoughts that 
 sight caused, he seized the lamp and be- 
 gan to explore his chamber. It was spa- 
 cious, and exhibited a mixture of ancient 
 and modern magnificence — the pictures 
 of his ancestors frowned around him, and 
 the rich tapestry depicted bloody wars. 
 Ferdinand had a large portion of romance, 
 mingled with the curiosity natural to His 
 age ; and just at that moment of his life 
 could have dared deeds that would have 
 shunned the light. He rejoiced, therefore, 
 to discover a small door, whose tattering 
 appearance promised to reward the inqui- 
 sitive intruder, and he burst its rusted 
 
 bolt:
 
 WOMAN. 131 
 
 bolt: the door sprung back, and Ferdi- 
 nand found himself at the head of a nar- 
 row staircase. The decayed steps trembled 
 beneath his tread, as he rapidly descended, 
 and after some minutes winding round the 
 centre pillar (hung with damps, and crum- 
 bling to his touch), he found himself in a 
 low-roofed passage, which led to a door 
 thickly studded with nails, and trans versed 
 with iron bands. "A prison!" murmured 
 Ferdinand, starting back, while a cold dew 
 gathered on his forehead ; but making an 
 effort, he rushed to the door, and found it 
 yield to his touch. His lamp now feebly 
 illuminated a vaulted apartment ; the win- 
 dows were small and strongly barred, and 
 a few articles of furniture shewed it capa- 
 ble of tenanting a human being. Urged on 
 by an inexplicable but breathless curiosity, 
 Ferdinand moved forwards : his steps 
 sounded mournfully, and seemed to speak 
 his solitude. He looked up; the windows 
 were below the level of the adjacent soil — 
 Jie was in a subterraneous dungeon, many 
 g (6 yards
 
 132 WOMAN. 
 
 yards beneath the surface of the cheerful 
 earth. He shuddered, and approached 
 another door at the farther end ; but in a 
 moment he stopped, and a new object con- 
 vulsed his whole frame — against the Avail 
 hung a chain, which, from its strength and 
 situation, was evidently fixed to secure 
 some prisoner. It had been so used — or 
 was it yet to be so used ? The last con- 
 jecture fixed with fearful power on the 
 diseased mind of Ferdinand : he stood 
 rooted to the spot — reason, affection, ex- 
 perience, gave way before the overwhelm- 
 ing tide of passion. He was in that state 
 of impetuous indignation that he was al- 
 most glad to believe his worst fears were 
 realized ; he desired cause for anger and 
 misery — here he fancied he had found it, 
 and could almost have smiled in bitterness 
 at his success. He felt himself faulty : he 
 had made his father his judge, had yielded 
 himself into his power, and sworn implicit 
 obedience to his will ; that father's dispo- 
 sition he perfectly knew — accustomed to 
 
 command,
 
 WOMAtf. 123 
 
 command, both as a general and a feudal 
 baron, his spirit was haughty and domi- 
 neering — accustomed to submission, ac- 
 customed to dictate laws and punishments, 
 he deemed little of fettering the criminal, 
 or immuring the guilty. These ideas ra- 
 pidly succeeding each other, formed a chain 
 of evidence that convinced Ferdinand he 
 was standing in his own prison, viewing 
 his own destined chains ; his thoughts be- 
 came wild, his vision indistinct, and every 
 object arose enlarged or distorted to his 
 eye. The lamp, left in a distant corner, 
 glimmered faintly — an expiring flame, 
 whose fitful illumination gave a momen- 
 tary brilliance to each horrible object, and 
 then sinking to transient darkness, left a 
 pause for the disordered imagination to 
 create its own fearful offspring. The wind 
 moaned along the narrow galleries, and a 
 ruder blast now and then swept against the 
 shattered casements, and as it whistled 
 along the vault, threatened to extinguish 
 the feeble light—all was horror to the dis- 
 eased
 
 134 WOMAN. 
 
 eased mind of Ferdinand — How many 
 such nights might he spend there? — The 
 thought was madness — he seized his lamp, 
 and rushed through the farther door; it 
 led to an open colonnade, where the breeze 
 of night in a moment extinguished the 
 flickering flame. 
 
 Ferdinand stopped for a moment, and 
 as he stood panting for breath, he caught 
 the sound of distant steps: he listened — ail 
 was again silent, save the blast rushing 
 over his head ; again he heard tbe tread of 
 feet, but the sound was lost in the toll of 
 the chapel bell striking the midnight hour. 
 The moon cast a pale light, that barely- 
 served to mark the outline of the most 
 prominen; objects, the massy pillar, the 
 broken arch ; the vaulted roof was lost 
 in shadow. The steps now approached; 
 Ferdinand drew his sword, but his quick- 
 drawn breath attracted the unknown. In 
 a moment Ferdinand felt himself grasped 
 by a powerful arm, and his sword wrench- 
 ed from his hold. Self-preservation now 
 
 seemed
 
 WOMAN. 185 
 
 seemed to urge forth all the strength of 
 the agitated young man. He wrestled 
 with his opponent, recovered his sword, 
 and plunged it into the stranger's body. 
 The wounded man instantly fell, grasping 
 his antagonist ; the moon at that moment 
 emerged from a fleecy cloud, and fell with 
 full radiance on his countenance. Ferdi- 
 nand sprung up with a convulsive start — 
 cold dews stood on his forehead — every 
 limb quivered with agony — it was his fa- 
 ther! 
 
 Ferdinand knew not what followed, for 
 horror had palsied his mind md body; but 
 the wretched baron had cravvled some paces 
 from him, where he fainted with loss of 
 blood. There his steward found him, as he 
 followed with a torch ; he bore his master 
 to the inhabited part of the castle, and 
 when the first bustle of the scene was over, 
 the domestics had orders to explore the 
 vault — Xo one could be found either there 
 or in the dungeon. 
 
 Ferdinand, still grasping his sword, had 
 
 crept
 
 136 Woman. 
 
 crept to his chamber, in a state of stupe- 
 faction, scarcely sensible what he was 
 about, till a loud cry at his door awoke 
 him to the terrible truth. Hastily placing 
 his sabre in its sheath, he admitted the 
 messenger, who, in tremulous accents, re- 
 counted the mournful accident. 
 
 " He then yet lives !" exclaimed Ferdi- 
 nand, in a voice of profound agony. 
 
 M Yes, my lord, but we fear " 
 
 A stroke on the brain would have been 
 ease to the pang these words inflicted on 
 the despairing Ferdinand. He, however, 
 summoned up his force, and tottered to the 
 chamber of the baron: he found him sup- 
 ported on the bosom of the baroness, whose 
 fixed look of despair was contrasted to the 
 loud plaints of the weeping Louisa. De 
 Ceurcy smiled languidly upon his son, 
 who, sinking on his knee, clasped his cold 
 hand in his own : the wildness of his look, 
 the marble sharpness of his features, the 
 convulsive movements of his limbs, spoke 
 emotion beyond common agitation. 
 
 The
 
 
 WOMAN. 131 
 
 The baron was touched by this proof of 
 filial attachment, and speaking with diffi- 
 culty, said — " Be composed — I may yet 
 recover." 
 
 " If you do not/ 5 exclaimed Ferdinand, 
 in a voice of supernatural hollo wness . 
 
 " Patience, my son," answered De 
 Courcy, in a tone of most unwonted kind- 
 ness ; " but whatever my fate, may Hea- 
 ven bless you, my child !" 
 
 Ferdinand sprung from the ground, and 
 clasping his hands together, looked up with 
 a piteous expression; but his exhausted 
 frame was incapable of further effort, and 
 he fainted into the arms of the surround- 
 ing attendants. 
 
 In a few days, the baron was pronounced 
 on the recovery, but the fever of Ferdi- 
 nand had reached his brain, and he was in 
 the wildest paroxysm of frenzy. His 
 life-blood seemed dried up by the raging 
 malady, and his vigour shrunk beneath its 
 dominion. Pie raved on his murdered fa- 
 ther till the powers of utterance failed : 
 
 an
 
 138 WOMAN. 
 
 an interval of stupefaction intervened. 
 Then in piteous accents he prayed for 
 mercy and forgiveness. At length his ra- 
 pidly exhausting body approached its dis- 
 solution, and the fever having no longer 
 food to prey on, gradually gave way, and 
 the mind of the wretched invalid revived 
 to sanity. When he recovered his recol- 
 lection, he found himself supported in the 
 arms of his father, but nature was too 
 much enfeebled to be injured by the sur- 
 prise ; his mother and his sister were 
 there also ; the attendants had withdrawn. 
 Ferdinand gazed in silence on each en- 
 deared face once more with the glance of 
 recognition. He arose from the sustain- 
 ing embrace of his father, and seemed 
 about to speak. Louisa sunk upon her 
 knees, and pressing her face on his cold 
 hand, bathed it with her warm tears. The 
 mother could not weep ; her spirit seemed 
 centered in her straining eye, to watch her 
 child's last glance, and then soar with him 
 to more congenial realms. The big drops 
 
 coursed
 
 WOMAN. 139 
 
 coursed each other down the cheeks of De 
 Courcy, and he appeared to have summon- 
 ed all his courage for this hour of trial. 
 
 Ferdinand's lips had moved more than 
 once in inaudible efforts; but turning to 
 the baron, while his eye for a moment 
 beamed with lustre, and a slight suffusion 
 tinged his cheek, he addressed him in low 
 but clear tones — " There is a room, my 
 lord, a vault beneath my chamber, fitted 
 to receive a criminal — a prisoner." 
 
 " True, it has been so used." 
 
 " Has been, my lord ?" 
 
 " Yes, but its tenant was enfranchised 
 some few weeks before our arrival hither." 
 
 Ferdinand groaned aloud, and covered 
 his face with his hands. 
 
 " Whence this agitation, my dear son?* 
 
 Ferdinand looked up with a quick move- 
 ment, and gazed intently upon his father ; 
 then, as if recollecting himself, clasped his 
 hands in the attitude of supplication, and 
 murmured— *•' Forgive me !" 
 
 " Alas !
 
 140 woman. 
 
 "Alas! what have I to forgive? Be 
 calm, my son." 
 
 " Every way guilty — in thought as in 
 set,*' said Ferdinand, passionately. 
 
 " Ill-fated victim to filial love!" cried the 
 baron, fondly folding him in his arms. 
 
 With a strong effort he wrenched him- 
 self from his father's embrace, and looking 
 wildly around — " Where am I ?" he cried; 
 " do I yet breathe?" 
 
 The groupe closed around him; the 
 baron holding him in a powerful grasp, 
 whilst madame sought to sustain his head, 
 and Louisa firmly grasped his hand. In 
 a moment the transient energy of frenzy 
 passed, and the exhausted Ferdinand sunk 
 into a chill stupor. 
 
 The wretched mother believed him dead, 
 and fell senseless on his outstretched form. 
 In this state the attendants bore her from 
 the chamber, and her daughter rallying 
 her scattered spirits, followed to watch and 
 aid her recovery. 
 
 The
 
 WOMAN. 141 
 
 The baron commanding the domestics 
 to withdraw, hung in mournful silence 
 over the yet breathing body of his son. 
 Ferdinand slowly revived, and a strong 
 cordial administered by his attentive father 
 yet more invigorated his sinking powers, 
 " Something is wrong here," said he, press- 
 ing his throbbing temples. The baron im- 
 plored him to spare his remaining strength, 
 but Ferdinand shook his head, and threw 
 his eye around the room. 
 
 " We are alone," said the baron, under- 
 standing the meaning of that searching 
 glance. 
 
 " 'Tis well," replied his son ; " and now 
 tell me, my father, why went you at such 
 ah hour to that lone vault?" 
 
 De Con rcy would willingly have evaded 
 an answer, but Ferdinand besought a reply. 
 
 " My people feared the presence of spec- 
 tres there — I rather anticipated concealed 
 banditti; but, resolved on instant discovery, 
 rashly ventured alone. Ere Villars joined 
 me, I encountered a .ruflian,whom I essayed 
 
 to
 
 142 WOMAN. 
 
 to detain ; but, urged by fear, he plunged 
 his rescued dagger in my body." 
 
 Various was the expression that flitted 
 over the countenance of Ferdinand, as he 
 listened to this brief explanation. Both 
 were silent a few moments ; Ferdinand then 
 spoke — " Give me my sabre, my father." 
 
 The sabre was presented to him ; he 
 drew it slowly from its scabbard — its edge 
 was deeply stained with blood. He look- 
 ed towards his father, as if to ask him whe- 
 ther that sight told its own story. De 
 Courcy in breathful earnestness watched 
 the scene; a confused expectation of the 
 event went sickening to his heart — he felt 
 as if the crisis of his fate approached. In 
 an instant, Ferdinand plunged the weapon 
 into his own bosom. 
 
 " Rash young man !" cried the baron, 
 " why this desperate deed ?" 
 
 " Blood must expiate blood," murmured 
 Ferdinand. 
 
 " Ha ! the stranger " 
 
 " The ruffian was your son," said Fer- 
 dinand,
 
 WOMAN. 143 
 
 dinand, articulating the words with diffi- 
 culty. 
 
 In vain the baron sought to staunch the 
 wound — the life-blood issued fast. Fer- 
 dinand with desperate force drew out the 
 weapon ; the point was now gouted with 
 fresher drops — his eye gazed upon it till 
 its glance slowly lost its object, and closed 
 upon all earthly vision — he sighed heavily, 
 and fell back a corpse. The baron was 
 discovered watching the senseless clay, al- 
 most as still, as cold, as pale, as the form 
 he watched. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Honour and Honesty. 
 
 Mrs. Egerton, with her little girl in her 
 hand, had walked into the village — reader, 
 forgive her homeliness — to pay her quar- 
 terly bills. She was disbursing the last of 
 
 these,
 
 144 WOMAN. 
 
 these, at a small shop, dealing in multifa- 
 rious articles, when the mournful voice 
 and swollen eyes of the shopwoman at- 
 tracted her notice. There was something 
 so potent in the appearance of suppressed 
 affliction, that Mrs. Egerton, with all her 
 fortitude (and few could boast more), inef- 
 fectually strove against its dominion. Her 
 own eyes filled with tears, as she asked 
 and heard the tale of humble woe — a dis- 
 tress (how bitterly appropriate is the term !) 
 was in the house. 
 
 Mrs. Egerton was not apt to bound her 
 compassion to sympathizing tears — less was 
 she disposed to stop short in the work of 
 benevolence. She entreated to see the 
 wretched family, and was admitted. 
 
 In the small apartment, that in better 
 days was the happy scene of industry, con- 
 cord, and content, what a groupe now ap- 
 peared ! 
 
 Two stern-looking men were taking an 
 inventory of the humble furniture, and 
 one had just laid his hand on a wicker 
 
 cradle,
 
 WOMAN. 145 
 
 cradle, in which an infant yet slept, un- 
 conscious of the work of ruin. An old, 
 a very old man, with clasped hands sat 
 near a decaying me, no longer blazing 
 for the cheerful meal ; his son, struggling 
 with his own grief, sought to whisper con- 
 solation to his wife, whose uncontrollable 
 affliction vented itself in loud sobs and 
 cries. A young boy, half frightened, clung 
 to his mother for protection, whilst his sis- 
 ter, clasping her father's arm, wept, un- 
 knowing why; 
 
 The men completed their duty, and re- 
 tired. Mrs. Egerton, hushing the plaints 
 of her own frightened child, sought to 
 sooth the sorrow she beheld, and to dis- 
 cover its source. The tale was soon told — 
 they could not pay , because themselves were 
 not paid. 
 
 The young man produced his books ; 
 Mrs. Egerton found it difficult to believe 
 her sight : the names of the most opulent 
 persons in the village and its vicinity in 
 deep arrears — lady lluthven, lady Wrong- 
 
 TOL. I. « head,
 
 head, Miss Muddleton, Mrs. Mansel.— «• 
 <\ Why do not you send in these bills ?" 
 
 ft Bless you, madam, we have sent, and 
 sent, and sent, but no money can we get ; 
 some tell us to call again — some promise 
 payment, and do not keep their word — 
 some bid us not be impertinent" 
 
 "And would the payment of these bills 
 relieve you?" 
 
 " Dear, madam ! pay all our debts, and 
 leave pounds to spare." 
 
 Mrs. Egerton promised to see what could 
 be done, and slipping a two-pound note 
 into the old man's hand, retired before he 
 had recovered from his surprise. 
 
 And well might he be surprised, for we 
 clo confess this is an almost incredible fact 
 yet we Lave reajens for believing it pos- 
 sible. To be sure, two pounds — that is, 
 forty shillings* eighty sixpences, the gene- 
 ral mode of dividing and calculating mo- 
 ney disbursed in benefactions, to clearly 
 ascertain us fall value— forty shillings is a 
 eonsideiable sum. Having defined its ex- 
 tent,
 
 WOMAX. 147 
 
 tent, it naturally follows that what it could 
 purchase should be discovered — " a hand- 
 some fan," says the matron ; " a charming 
 feather," says the maiden ; " the last new 
 novel," says the female pedant. 
 
 Now for all these purposes the aforesaid 
 two pounds — we only speak of its fraction- 
 al parts when we bestow — the aforesaid 
 two pounds would have been smilingly 
 
 paid we do not mean to infer that it is 
 
 by any means necessary to pay for what 
 is purchased — far from us be all such home- 
 ly maxims! — we only mention the possibi- 
 lity of such an event, to prove that ladies 
 do sometimes produce the large sum here 
 named ; that they do so for articles which 
 are of no earthly use to themselves, or any 
 body else, and that hence it is within the 
 verge of possibility that Mrs. Egerton did 
 part with the enormous sum of forty shil- 
 lings, for no better purpose than the ser- 
 vice of a wretched family. 
 
 Mrs. Egerton proceeded with lightened 
 
 purse, and, if report speaks true, with 
 
 h S lightened
 
 148 WOMAK. 
 
 lightened heart, to Mrs. Knowlesdon. 
 This lady was at home, and she briefly im- 
 parted to her the events of the morning, 
 with only two omissions — she did not men- 
 tion her own donation, probably ashamed 
 of her weakness, or of her extravagance ; 
 nor did she give the name of lady Ruth- 
 ven in the list of debtors : the reason for 
 this last omission Ave cannot so readily di- 
 vine, such acts being out of our way — it 
 looked very like generosity, but " le vrau 
 scmblable n'est pas toujours le vrai? hap- 
 pily recurs to us, and saves us from the ha- 
 zard of attributing false motives to actions. 
 
 Lady Ruthven's carriage at this mo- 
 ment rolled past, and as her ladyship 
 looked out of the window, she displayed a 
 bonnet profusely decorated with ribbon. 
 
 " Those very ribbons were purchased at 
 the wretched abode I have just left," 
 thought Mrs. Egerton ; " lady Ruthven 
 condescends to dress at the expence of a 
 poor little village shopkeeper." 
 
 Mrs. Egerton ought to have spoken her 
 
 thoughts,
 
 WOMAN. 1.49 
 
 thoughts, for they were deliriously sarcas- 
 tic, and consequently delightfully enter- 
 taining; but though she could not restrain 
 her excursive ideas, she could command 
 her speech, and never willingly uttered a 
 syllable that could either give pain or dis- 
 pense obloquy : nay, so far did she carry 
 this ridiculous taciturnity, that she would 
 not repeat the sentiments of another, if 
 those sentiments were at all likely to cause 
 discord, or were intended to be concealed; 
 for so many people talk without thought, 
 that numerous disclosures are unintention- 
 ally made. Now, whether such an expo- 
 sition was, or was not followed with — 
 " Pray, my dear Mrs. Egertoa, do not re- 
 peat what I have said," Mrs. Egerton pre- 
 served a sacred silence — But there is no end 
 to the list of this woman's oddities. 
 
 The entrance of Mrs. Mansel disturbed 
 
 the friendly tete-a-tete. Mrs. Knowlesdon 
 
 profited by the opportunity to describe the 
 
 mournful fate of the distressed tradesman. 
 
 h 3 " Dear
 
 ISO WOMAN. 
 
 " Dear me, how shocking !" cried Mr$. 
 Mansel, with tearful eyes ; " I will call and 
 give them all the silver I have in my 
 pocket." 
 
 " That will be very kind, but I fear such 
 Help will be insufficient," said Mrs. Mary. 
 
 " Then what must be done?" asked Mrs. 
 Mansel. 
 
 " All their debtors must pay their bills, 
 and then they will be enabled to pay their 
 creditors. My dear Mrs. Mansel, do you 
 owe them any thing?" 
 
 " Oh dear! to be sure 1 do; and I have 
 intended, day after day, to call, but some- 
 thing has always prevented me." 
 
 " Will you do it to-day ?" 
 
 Mrs. Mansel's compassion had nearly 
 evaporated in the burst of tears and the 
 proffered silver: the payment of a bill was 
 such an insipid commonplace affair — so in- 
 ferior to the novel cut of calling on a mi- 
 serable family, and emptying a purse into 
 the withered hand of poverty ! 
 
 " You
 
 W031AN. 151 
 
 " You will be doing an essential service, 
 and ensuring to yourself the blessing of 
 those ready to perish,'' 
 
 The pathos of this speech of Mrs. Egcr- 
 ton's again wound up the chords of pity to 
 the right pitch, and Mrs. Hansel departed, 
 to enjoy the " luxury of woe," 
 
 " Plow some of us must be coaxed into 
 our duty !" said Mrs. Mary ; " but come, 
 jdv friend, let us hasten to the Hall * 
 
 In passing through the village, Mrs. 
 Mansel was seen at the rustic milliners, 
 cheapening artificial flowers. Mrs. Mary 
 trembled for the poor creditor. — '*T- 
 flowers will play sad tricks in Mrs. Man- 
 gel's memory — we must refresh it." She 
 therefore entered the shop, and waited \ 
 admirable patience till the important point 
 was decided, whether vine-leaves or hop- 
 leaves were the more new and elegant. 
 
 So many minutes were lost in this mo- 
 mentous selection, that when the ladies 
 reached the shop, the constables were ae- 
 h 4 tuatly
 
 152 WOMAN. 
 
 tually seizing the unfortunate tradesman,, 
 his moveables being inadequate to satisfy 
 his merciless creditor. 
 
 " And who is this harsh creditor?" in- 
 quired Mrs. Knowlesdon. 
 
 M My landlord, madam." 
 
 * How! the lord of the manor, the mem- 
 ber of parliament, the public-spirited lord 
 Rochfort!" 
 
 " Ah, mac! .in] ! he knows nothing of our 
 distress! he seldom visits his estates, and 
 leaves us tenants to the mercy of hh 
 steward." 
 
 The man wept bitterly- as he spoke • his 
 wife and children clung to him in all 
 wildness of ungoverned sorrow. "A pri- 
 son — a prison for my poor son!" lowly 
 murmured his aged father. 
 
 Mrs, Mansel turned pale at the scene 
 before her ; her heart was oppressed beyond 
 the furthest point of melancholy pleasure. 
 She paid her bill, and blushed to have that 
 received as a favour which she knew was 
 
 a right.
 
 WOMAN. 153 
 
 a right. — " Dear me ! I never could have 
 thought my omitting to pay a bill would 
 have assivSted to cause all this trouble." 
 
 At the request of Mrs. Mary Knowles- 
 don, who, though an old maid, and a poor 
 old maid, seemed to inspire the officers of 
 justice with a due sense of her respectabi- 
 lity, the poor man was granted his liberty 
 for another day. 
 
 Mrs. Mansel walked home, sadly musing 
 on the consequences of her procrastination, 
 In her parlour she found the lovely hop- 
 wreath, and whilst adjusting it amidst her 
 luxuriant tresses, being told the washer- 
 woman had called, for the third time, for 
 the amount of her bill — " Then pray bid 
 her come again, I am so particularly en- 
 gaged just now." 
 
 Mrs. Egerton moved homewards, for she 
 had much upon her hands; but the spin- 
 ster having nothing better to do, proceeded 
 to the Hall, to prosecute the work of cha- 
 rity. 
 
 Eando.n Hall, as well as its mis'ress, 
 H 5 seemed
 
 154 WOMAN. 
 
 ' seemed doomed to elicit the charm of con- 
 trast. How different the apartment and 
 the group now before her, to the apart- 
 ment and the group Mrs. Mary last be- 
 held ! — There virtuous industry, amidst 
 want and oppression, amiable and respect- 
 able — here indolence and discontent, amidst 
 splendour and power, repining and con- 
 temptible. 
 
 The party were taken by surprise ; in- 
 deed, Mrs. Mary being a relation, it was 
 of no consequence how they looked, or 
 what they were about. Miss Patty was 
 deep in a novel — Miss Wronghead singing 
 a bravura — sir Gabriel studying a news- 
 paper, and now and then looking up, to 
 entreat for an English song, and sending 
 all the " Italianos* 5 to the devil, in a va- 
 riety of ways. 
 
 Miss Wronghead, however, was not 
 
 educated to make her talents subservient 
 
 to such homely purposes as the amusement 
 
 of a father ; she wished to astonish, not 
 
 -lease—- to be admired, not approved. 
 
 Lady
 
 \FOMA3f. 155 
 
 Lady Wronghead was loudly calling to 
 order the three little girls, who were sup- 
 posed to be learning French, under the tui- 
 tion of their accomplished sister. 
 
 Master Sammy was learning his alpha- 
 bet, by the aid of a newly-invented game, 
 it being judged more easy to learn the 
 multifarious rules of this play, than the 
 letters without them. The plan so far 
 succeeded, that Sam knew all the forfeits 
 and rewards, and only forgot the know- 
 ledge they shackled. 
 
 The heir had not yet issued from hi* 
 toilet, where, a la mode c!e Pai*is> he was*. 
 " adonizing" himself. 
 
 Though it was difficult,, amid this corr~ 
 course of sweet sounds (for Miss Patty al- 
 ways read aloud to herself), to be very di^ 
 tinctly heard, yet Mrs.. Mary dkl contrive^ 
 to enter into discourse, and the bravura^ 
 being finished, a comparative calm ensued.^ 
 
 Miss Patty laid aside her booky foiy 
 from motives best known: to herself, she 
 was always " vastly purlite" to the sister 
 H G ofi*
 
 156 WOMAN. 
 
 of Mr. Solicitor Knowlesdon — we ought, 
 perhaps, to have said Mr. Bachelor Knowles- 
 don, that expletive giving a better clue to 
 the spinster's feelings ; for, as she "would 
 have reminded us with a sigh, to her he 
 was no " solicitor " — Heigh-ho ! 
 
 Mrs. Mary very early introduced the 
 tale of woe, that had caused her visit ; but 
 *he managed badly, for it appeared to the 
 circle as if she came to sue for pecuniary 
 aid. 
 
 A sort of awkward pause ensued, and 
 except a guinea promptly produced by the 
 baronet, cash seemed rather scarce at the 
 Hall. The fact, w T e understand, was, that 
 a smuggler was expected to call that very 
 morning, with feathers and French gloves, 
 and of course the ladies would want all 
 their spare funds. 
 
 Miss Patty indeed (as if upon second 
 thoughts) squeezed out a shilling and a 
 tear for the service " of the poor wretches f 
 and Jack, who had popped in at this point 
 of the debate> fairly emptied the contents 
 
 of
 
 WOMAN'. 157 
 
 of his waistcoat pocket, his only treasury, 
 into the hands of Mrs. Mary, one pound 
 fifteen shillings and five-pence halfpenny, 
 though by doing so he left himself without 
 a sous. He then ran away, to procure the 
 gift of his wealthier elder brother, and had 
 the unexpected affliction to hear that he 
 had not a shilling in the world ! Jack 
 stood transfixed with horror, and would 
 probably have sunk under this calamity, 
 had not his failing spirits been revived by 
 the appearance of Fripon, the valet of 
 Adam Wronghead, Esq. with a bottle of 
 " otto of roses," and three pounds ten shil- 
 lings, the residue change of a five-pound bill. 
 Jack instinctively held out his hand for 
 some share of the prize, but seeing the 
 whole snugly lodged in the pocket of the 
 beau, he very undutifully sent his brother 
 to the devil, for a hard-hearted sensualist, 
 and then bouncing out of the room, slam- 
 med the door as if willing to try the strength 
 of its hinges. 
 
 Mrs. Mary, in the meantime, had 
 
 brought
 
 158 .WOMAtf. 
 
 brought the whole parlour party to a per- 
 fect understanding of what she thought 
 they ought to do — to wit, pay their so long 
 owed debts. How she effected this illu- 
 mination, it would be difficult to explain, 
 for perhaps, of all the Herculean labours 
 imposed on good-nature, the most perplex- 
 ing is to inform people they have done 
 wrong, and counsel them how to do right. 
 How many friendships have been dissolved 
 by such intimations I how many dear ac- 
 quaintance changed to rancorous enemies ! 
 how many dislikes generated, that no after 
 kindness could annul ! 
 
 " I hope we do not owe any thing, nry 
 love ?" said sir Gabriel ; " you know you 
 can command my purse." 
 
 The lady was perfectly aware of the ex- 
 tent of her power. — " Owe any thing I 
 certainly not. I order Sanders to pay every 
 bill as it becomes due." 
 
 "■ But are you sure Sanders obeys your 
 orders ?"' 
 
 What lady chooses to have her good 
 
 management
 
 mmm. 3Ete 
 
 management doubted ? — Lightning in- 
 stantly darted from lady Wronghead's 
 eyes : to avoid the thunder that threaten- 
 ed to follow, Mrs. Mary kindly interposed. 
 — *• I know your orders are always consi- 
 derate, hidy Wronghead — my brother only 
 fears your housekeeper is not equally con- 
 scientious." 
 
 Oh, heavenly mildness ! sweet charm of 
 female influence ! beneath thy power, the 
 stormier passions hush, the wild emotions 
 die! Oh! ever thus attune the lip, illume 
 the eye of woman, and aid her in her truest 
 province — to sooth, correct, refine ! 
 
 Lady Wronghead's anger vanished ; she 
 listened to the voice of reason, and consent- 
 ed to prove the fidelity of Sanders. The 
 bell was rung, and the dismayed house- 
 keeper summoned. 
 
 It is not pleasant to delineate scenes of 
 altercation, and lady Wronghead general- 
 ly contrived to make her domestic cen- 
 sures take that form. She reproached ra- 
 ther than reproved — provoked rather than 
 
 convinced :
 
 160 WOMAN. 
 
 convinced : however, it was discovered 
 that Mrs. Sanders had not paid the bills, 
 having lent the money on good security 
 and reasonable interest. 
 
 She retired, under a positive command 
 of instantly paying every bill — sir Gabriel 
 simply remarking — " This comes of de- 
 pending too much on other people." 
 
 The fair Clementina had made several 
 attempts to slip out of the room without 
 observation. Miss Patty had happily suc- 
 ceeded, and withdrew, announcing her so- 
 lemn resolution that her account should be 
 settled ere she again prest her solitary pil- 
 low — a promise she kept just as faithfully 
 as she had done some half-dozen others she 
 had as sacredly given. 
 
 " Clemy, are you in the books of these 
 poor people ?" 
 
 Miss Clemy had just gained the door, 
 but stopped at her father's question, and 
 carelessly replied — " Some few shillings, 
 sir." 
 
 Jack's mischievous fingers at that mo- 
 ment
 
 WOM&N. 161 
 
 merit drew out of the elegant writing- 
 desk of his sister a paper, which that sis- 
 ter flew back to rescue from his gripe. — 
 But holding it far above her reach, he au- 
 dibly pronounced — " Pro bono publico ! 
 — Miss Wronghead debtor to Jame$ 
 Twist — ribbons, flowers, gauze, catguts, 
 fringe " 
 
 He was proceeding, when sir Gabriel 
 angrily vociferated — " Stop, stop, for Hea- 
 ven's sake !" 
 
 " Nay, my dear sir, allow me to go on } 
 I have not read half the list — and just be- 
 low I see some invisible petticoats." 
 
 " Invisible with a witness !" said the ba- 
 ronet, measuring with his eye the slim 
 form of his sullen daughter ; " what is the 
 amount, Jack ? that is all I want to know." 
 
 " Sixteen pounds seventeen shillings and 
 nine-pence three farthings!" holloed out 
 Jack, as if calling to a man at the mast- 
 head ; " more than one of my half-yearly 
 payments, by Jericho !" 
 
 The
 
 162 WOMAN. 
 
 The lady declared the thing impossible; 
 but seeing, we have been told, is believ- 
 ing, Jack held the fatal paper before her 
 eyes, and she was silenced. 
 
 " Produce your money," said sir Gabriel. 
 
 Miss Wronghead declared her poverty ; 
 " she had no money," which avowal Jack, 
 ing from his experience with his bro- 
 ther, pronounced a hoax ; but It was, in 
 the present instance, proved to be a stub- 
 born fact. 
 
 Sir Gabriel therefore advanced the sum, 
 swearing it should be deducted from her 
 next quarterly allowance. 
 
 " And now, Mr. Facetious, pray tell us 
 what Mr. Jack Wronghead is indebted to 
 this same James Twist?" said Miss Cle- 
 mentina Henrietta Maria Wronghead, not 
 exactly in the feminine tones so lately ap- 
 plauded and recommended. 
 
 " Nothing, most amiable Dulcinea, no- 
 thing," replied Jack, approaching his sis- 
 ter, and profoundly bowing before her : 
 
 "it
 
 WOMAN. 163 
 
 H it becomes not a British sailor to strut 
 in borrowed plumes — I wear nothing that 
 is not mv own." 
 
 " Bravo, my lad !" cried sir Gabriel ; " I 
 thank God I have one honest heart in my 
 family ; and as you just now very impru- 
 dently cleared yourself of all your cash, 
 here are ten pounds for you, to keep you 
 in gloves till pay-day come;, round." 
 
 Jack thanked his father with a warmth 
 which argued that something more than 
 mere self-interest was touched within him— 
 as if he loved the praise more than the re- 
 ward. Then bounding away, at the com- 
 mand of the baronet, to pay his sister s bill, 
 could not help, for the soul of him. sharing 
 his ten pounds with poor James Twist — 
 Oh, the extravagant prodigal ! 
 
 CHAP-
 
 I6i WOMAN. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Ihe^Senscs and Sensibilities. 
 
 A heavy storm of wind and rain seemed 
 to threaten Mrs. Mary's detention at the 
 Hall for the rest of the day, especially as 
 Jack announced, on his return from the vil- 
 lage, the deplorable state of the roads. 
 
 Sir Gabriel kindly urged his sister's re- 
 maining where she was, and offered to dis- 
 patch a servant to inform Mr. Knowles- 
 don of the arrangement. 
 
 Miss Patty suggested the propriety of 
 inviting that gentleman to join the social 
 circle. 
 
 The baronet did not by any means see the 
 necessity of informing a brother he should 
 be w el come at a brot tier's house, or why 
 the solicitor should be required to encoun- 
 ter the rough elements, from which it was 
 
 deemed
 
 WOMAN, loa 
 
 deemed kind to rescue Mrs: Mary ; but as 
 he invariably obliged every body, when- 
 ever he possibly could, he promised tor 
 make the desired addenda. 
 
 But Mrs.* Mary was not found very ac- 
 commodating — she must return home. 
 
 " Why, Mary, what have you to do at 
 home ? You single women are so indepen- 
 dent !" 
 
 Mrs. Mary smiled, as her eye fell on the 
 supine figure of the speaker, as she thought 
 upon her freedom from care, her unfetter- 
 ed free-will — as she thought upon her own 
 occupied life. But she only replied by 
 repeating the necessity for her returning 
 home. 
 
 Lady Wronghead pressed the inquiry 
 no further : in fact, she was not willing: to 
 urge a succinct enumeration of Mrs. 
 Knowlesdon's home claims — the image of 
 Mrs. Rachael Wronghead, the sick, feeble, 
 petulant invalid, never presented itself with- 
 out irritating recollections. 
 
 Perhaps our readers may wonder poor 
 
 Rachael
 
 1G6 WOMAN. 
 
 Raehael lias been so little mentioned in 
 these memoirs ; but, truly, the fault is not 
 ours — she was seldom mentioned by any 
 body ; though " at early morn and latest 
 eve" Mrs. Mary was at her side — though 
 night after night the midnight bell found 
 her watching her sick pillow — though day 
 after day she sacrificed every selfish amuse- 
 ment, to sooth the weariness of the splene- 
 tic sufferer — though every hour was mark- 
 ed by some order to procure her comfort, 
 some arrangement to humour her whims, 
 nothing of all this unceasing train of active 
 and passive kindness was discoverable in 
 her words. If she declined a pleasurable 
 enp'ao'ement, retired from an agreeable cir- 
 ele, or occupied herself in avocations in- 
 imical to her taste and wishes, she did 
 not proclaim why she made these sacrifices 
 > — she asked no pity for the hardness of 
 her lot — she vaunted not, directly or indi- 
 rectly, of the immensity of her exertions; 
 her stilly footstep was as noiseless in the 
 chamber of the invalid as her voice was si- 
 lent
 
 WOMAN. 167 
 
 lent on the routine of her ceaseless la- 
 bour. 
 
 How different the fair Patty ! — Once 
 every month, if possible, she visited, for 
 five minutes, Mrs. Raehael — with how 
 kind a motive I — to repeat to all her ac- 
 quaintance, for the next twenty-seven 
 days, how the dear invalid was looking, 
 when she, as usual, sat with her the other 
 day. 
 
 The moment a fine gleam intervened, 
 Mrs. Mary hastened home, escorted by the 
 butler, Jack having in vain implored for a 
 second drenching. 
 
 Lady Wrongbead declared nothing 
 could be more provoking than the coach- 
 horse to be ill during such weather. 
 
 Header, do not be in haste to applaud 
 lier sisterly feeling, but hear her to the end 
 of her lamentations. 
 
 " So teazing — / cannot go out to- 
 day." 
 
 If we have not already expressed as 
 much, we must be our own commentators, 
 
 and
 
 168 \TOMAN. 
 
 and explain that the temper of this lady- 
 was not of the gentlest nor sweetest com- 
 position — the tart predominated over the 
 mild ingredients. 
 
 It is certainly a little mortifying to our 
 descriptive powers, thus to explain cha- 
 racters that ought to have developed them- 
 selves, and to be obliged, like bad painters, 
 to put the name under the delineation of 
 the figure, as i( this is a cow," lest it should 
 be taken for an elephant ; or " this is a 
 rose," for fear it might be thought an oak — 
 but if we are such awkward draughtsmen, 
 we must patiently pay the penalty of our 
 unskilfulness. 
 
 The day continued cold and gloomy ; 
 lady Wronghead, shivering and uneasy, 
 pronounced herself" miserably cold;" fresh 
 faggots were piled on the hearth, and an- 
 other shawl thrown round her form. — 
 " Pray, Jack, shut the door — it is always 
 left open — James has no sense of feeling." 
 
 " He should have, madam," replied 
 Jack, * for he has been cooling himself 
 
 these
 
 WOMAtf. 169 
 
 these two hours, washing bottles in an out- 
 house ; he should have a fellow-feeling for 
 you." 
 
 Lady Wronghead was not talking about 
 Jellow-feeMng. She rose to cross the hall ; 
 her own maid was there, holding the house- 
 door partially open, and now asked if her 
 ladyship would please to relieve that poor 
 negro — " He is cold, wet, hungry — a 
 stranger, my lady." 
 
 " Bless me, Margaret ! where is your 
 feeling? Don't you see how the damp 
 air blows in upon me? — Shut the door, 
 pray — Never had woman such unfeeling 
 servants !" 
 
 Margaret shewed her feeling, and shut 
 the door upon the unrelieved, cold, wet, 
 and hungry stranger, who mournfully re- 
 tired, " to seek a shelter in a humbler 
 shed ;" not, however, before Jack had thrown 
 up the dining-room window, and flung a 
 crown into his hat. 
 
 Lady Wrong-head's absence saved Jack 
 from censure for this unfeeling aet, as his 
 
 vol. 1. 1 father
 
 170 WOMAN. 
 
 father did not deem the chilliness of a cold 
 blast too dear a price for the chance of be* 
 nefiting a friendless wanderer. 
 
 Miss Clemy, to be sure, shrugged up 
 her shoulders, and asked her brother what 
 he meant by such thoughtlessness? 
 
 Jack had no excuse to offer, but his in- 
 ability to keep a shilling in his purse, when 
 his fellow-creature wanted it ; and his sis- 
 ter's exclamation — " Ridiculous folly !" was 
 only answered by his rather loudly war- 
 bling—" They that wants pity, why I pities 
 they." 
 
 The dinner appeared. Lady Wrong- 
 head found some fault in every dish on the 
 table: the soup was too thick. 
 
 " You thought it too thin yesterday, my 
 love." 
 
 " I know that, sir Gabriel ; but thougu 
 I don't like it as thick as a pudding, that 
 is no reason I should have it as thin as wa- 
 ter — there is reason in all things." 
 
 Sir Gabriel knew that well, and he knew 
 also that every general rule had some ex- 
 ceptions —
 
 woman; 171 
 
 ceptions — lady Wronghead, for instance, 
 had she any reason?— But he went on eating 
 his soup. 
 
 " And this mutton — it is roasted to a 
 chip P 
 
 The baronet looked upon the exuding 
 gravy, as he poured half-a-dozen spoonfuls 
 on the slice destined for his better-half — 
 but he risked no reasoning. 
 
 Jack carelessly exclaimed — " You com- 
 plained sadly of the under-done haunch 
 last week, mother." 
 
 " Well, sir, and is that any reason why 
 this leg should be burnt to a cinder ?" 
 
 Reason again ! The word bothered sir 
 Gabriel, as " feeling" had in the morning 
 annoyed his son, and he drank wine with 
 Miss Patty, the better to gulp it down. 
 
 Bright was the fire round which the cir- 
 cle closed ; in vain the wind roared against 
 the well-glazed window — in vain the rain 
 pattered on the slated roof — not one blast, 
 not one drop, found its way into the noble 
 saloon ; nevertheless, poor lady Wronghead 
 I 2 pronounced
 
 172 WOMAN. 
 
 pronounced it impossible to be comfortable 
 in such weather, and shivered and si rug- 
 ged her shoulders, as if exposed to every 
 bitter gale. — ■" Such a miserable season- 
 chilly raw air — gusts enough to blow one 
 down— melancholy sound— mournful howl 
 ings!" 
 
 " Ay, madam, for the sailor on the gid- 
 dy mast," said Jack. 
 
 " For the houseless wanderer on the lone- 
 ly heath," said sir Gabriel. 
 
 " Oh, they are all used to it." 
 
 " I see people do not value comfort be- 
 cause they are accustomed to it," replied 
 sir Gabriel ; " how far use reconciles to suf- 
 fering, is another question." 
 
 Adam Wronghead, Esq. after an en- 
 livening yawn, increased the gaiety of the 
 hour, by vowing it was always such miser- 
 able dirty weather in this vile country — 
 but when he was abroad 
 
 " You had only siroccos to scorch you, 
 or earthquakes to engulph you, or ava- 
 lanches to bury you," said the baronet 
 
 Young
 
 WOMAN. 173 
 
 Young Hopeful shut his mouth, after an 
 immeasurable long yawn, and wisely kept 
 it shut. 
 
 . Miss Patty lamented the " sceptibility" 
 of her nerves, which made her so exquisitejy' 
 alive to suffering, and saved the company 
 the trouble of guessing whose suffering, 
 by desiring the stable-boy might be sent to 
 the village, for the last volume of "Exqui- 
 site Distress." — " My feelings won't let me 
 sleep to night, if I am kept in suspense." 
 
 " And my feelings won't let me sleep 
 to-night," said Jack, " for thinking of the 
 luckless urchin that is to face this storm." 
 
 ."Miss Patty looked as if she could not 
 understand what he meant. Certainly he 
 was not thinking about the inconvenience 
 the stable bov might endure in leaving his 
 snug chimney-corner, to paddle three miles 
 through rain, wind, and darkness, half 
 asleep, and weary, after a " clay's long la- 
 bour." What was the boy kept for? 
 what was his health, his comfort, in com- 
 parison to Miss Patty Muddleton's slightest 
 I 3 whim ?
 
 174 WOMAK. 
 
 whim ? — Ridiculous ! the poor, indeed, to 
 complain of winds and weather ! the poor 
 to be selfish ! 
 
 Though trulv that is no easy matter — 
 the rich pretty well monopolize all selfish* 
 ness to themselves. 
 
 The boy went for the book, but on his 
 return, Miss Patty was so delightfully en- 
 grossed with a pool at quadrille, that the 
 volume was ordered to be put aside. 
 
 In the fury of his anger, the unhallow- 
 ed hands of Jack had nearly consigned it 
 to the flames, for Miss Patty did not look 
 at it for a week. 
 
 But however intense Miss Patty's 
 " sceptibility," her sister's delicacy was 
 yet more acute. Lady Wrongh cad's senses 
 were indeed so exquisite, that they were 
 always tormenting her — whether this is the 
 service for which senses are bestowed, is a 
 question Ave leave to the discussion of our 
 cious readers — our present business is 
 with lady Wronghead. — " I have such an 
 unfortunate nose, \ smell every thing in a 
 
 moment,
 
 WOMAN. 175 
 
 moment, and there is always some disa- 
 greeable scent to offend me ; take away 
 those flowers — they are too sweet for me. 
 To be sure, mine is such an unlucky taste 
 — I can discover the slightest unpleasant / j 
 flavour. How you are eating those peaches, 
 sir Gabriel ! — they have a something, I 
 know not what, that makes them very un- 
 palatable, at least to my taste. You all of 
 you enjoyed the music last night — Well, 
 that was so odd to me, for my ear was of- 
 fended a hundred times. Jack, your black- 
 bird must be removed; I hear it some- 
 times, and its notes do so jar upon my ear. 
 Oh, my dear, I am sure that is your uncle 
 in the park. My sight is so remarkably 
 clear — it is quite a misfortune to be so 
 quick -lighted. — Indeed, Mr. Twist, chilly 
 as I am, I cannot buy a stuff-gown, my 
 touch is so wretchedly susceptible : I can- 
 not describe how, but I should have such 
 a feel every time my hand fell on my dress." 
 One, two, three, four, five — so many 
 -were the plagues of lady Wronghead ; but 
 1 4 we
 
 17& WOMAN. 
 
 we shall make the philosopher shudder (if 
 indeed any philosopher ever deigns to pe- 
 ruse our unscientific page) when we add, 
 that lady Wronghead also deplored the 
 existence of her nerves. 
 
 " If it were not for my nerves ! if I had 
 not the.^e vile nerves !" were the phrases 
 with which her ladyship generally pre- 
 luded her lamentations. 
 
 >7ow, without presuming to hint the 
 few services performed by these exquisite- 
 ly minute cords, we will proceed to sym- 
 pathize with her ladyship on the enor- 
 mous mass of suffering they must have 
 caused her to endure — for what part of the 
 frame is free from their influence ? Poor 
 dear lady Wronghead ! well might she 
 complain that she could feel to her very 
 fingers' ends. 
 
 Mrs. Mary Knowlesdon either had not 
 any nerves, or those she had were notjeel- 
 i?ig* nerves — certainly she did not make 
 
 half 
 
 * This is not tautology ; the expletive was necessary — 
 
 v\ h y
 
 WOMAN. 177 
 
 half the use of her nerves or her feelings 
 that her lady-sister did; for she had an odd 
 notion, that feelings were. to be felt, rather 
 than expressed, whilst lady Wronghead 
 more wisely studied her own comfort, and . | 
 satisfied herself with expressing rather than ? l 
 feeling her feelings — for had she felt all she 
 expressed, Heavens ! what storied martyr 
 could have matched her sufferings ! and 
 this too as only relating to herself. Let us 
 charitably hope her pangs of sympathy 
 were as much milder as they were fewer. 
 
 Miss Patty shewed her " sceptibilitv," 
 as she persisted in calling it (and really the 
 term was as appropriate as any— suscepti- 
 bility would have been sadly out of place), 
 principally in Weeping over tales of ele- 
 gant distress; for, be it noted, by-t he-bye, 
 that heroes and heroines are at all times 
 elegant. Crying, in common life, generally 
 distorts the features in sometimes a rather 
 I 5 ludicrous 
 
 why should there not be nerves without feeling, since it is 
 so perpetually remarked, how many hearts are devoid of it ?
 
 178 WOMAN. 
 
 ludicrous manner; heroines, therefore, here 
 shew their superiority over mere flesh and 
 blood, inasmuch as weeping makes their 
 beauty more beautiful. How they con- 
 trive it, we do not know, but we think the 
 physical operation ought to be explained, 
 for the benefit of living damsels, who 
 might, in that case, be tempted to weep 
 with those that weep. To blush also is 
 always pretty ; heroines blush whenever 
 they please — mortal maidens cannot when 
 they ought ; if they could be taught to 
 blush now and then, just for a novelty ! 
 Heroes have also such advantages ! dead, 
 dying, hanging, drowning, they are always 
 elegant. 
 
 Miss Patty expatiated on the divine 
 Mortimer Montgomery Manrington, after 
 being shot in a duel, lying gracefully on a 
 sofa, calmly kissing the hand of the weep- 
 ing Monimia. 
 
 " And where were the bandages, and 
 the blood, and the surgeon, and the splin- 
 ters, and the ointments, and the instru- 
 ments,
 
 WOMAN. 179 
 
 ments, and the roaring, and the wry faces ?" 
 asked the astonished Jack, for he had wit- 
 nessed the consequences of a real duel. 
 
 " Vulgar stuff !" answered Miss Patty. 
 
 " Vulgar or not, I only know Joe Tom- * 
 
 kins " tffjU 
 
 He Avas interrupted. — Joe Tomkirvs ! 
 tlic name was an antidote to all elegance ! 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Talking and Conversation. 
 
 a 
 
 When Mrs. Mary-s invalid and Mrs, 
 Egertorfs children would allow these two 
 ladies to meet, which indeed was generally 
 in the sick chamber of the one, or the nur- 
 sery of the other, it was surprising in what 
 a stupid manner they passed their time. 
 Instead of the piquante relish of satirical 
 wit, or pungent criticism, to season their 
 conversation, they dealt only in mild fla- 
 I 6 vourin. s —
 
 130 WOMAN. 
 
 vourlnsjs — the milk of human kindness 
 predominated in their discourse, rather 
 than the acid of wit. 
 
 Xow, when Miss Wronghead and her 
 aunt sat down to talk, they so charmingly 
 'recapitulated all the faults of all their neigh- 
 l)Wrs, and being perfect themselves, could 
 With safe consciences condemn their guil- 
 ty friends, it was highly edifying todiear 
 their strictures, highly animating to mark 
 their sneer at small errors — their loud laugh 
 at greater sins. 
 
 Lady lluthven suffered sadly o?i such 
 
 dons, for though both the ladies kind- 
 
 . tended her routs, danced at her bails, 
 
 ate her dinners, they nevertheless, with 
 
 quick delicacy, felt all her frailties, and 
 
 with lively generosity published them. 
 
 Mrs. Mary, if she named the countess, 
 did so with a sigh ; but it was an ignoble 
 sigh of pity ; and when she exclaimed — 
 " Poor, lost creature !" it seemed as if the 
 as of reprobation had tied, and com- 
 passion alone remained. She sought to 
 
 lessen.
 
 WOMAN. 181 
 
 lessen, not heighten, the charm of crimina- 
 lity, and more than once ran the risk of 
 having the purity of her own character 
 called in question, by offering palliatives 
 for the degraded lady Kuthven. . , 
 
 Not so Miss Patty : her praiseworthy 
 zeal in the cause of virtue urged her to 
 disown all pity for offences — pure and 
 spotless herself, it would have tarnished* 
 her fair fame to have extenuated guilt ; 
 to forgive was incompatible with her rigid 
 morality — to forget was all she could oc- 
 casionally accomplish ; and she made a 
 point of only remembering the lady's er- 
 rors, when, for the instruction of her fel- 
 low-creatures, she could delineate and re- 
 probate those errors in the social circle. 
 Miss Patty, besides the faults; of her friends, 
 had another delightful source of talking — 
 
 the 
 
 * We hope that none of oar readers will recollect that 
 the most precious metals are least liahle to tarnish, and 
 thence draw awkward comparisons between the untarnish- 
 able gold of Alts Mary's reputation, and the tarnishabie 
 copper of Miss Patty's.
 
 182 WOMAN. 
 
 the repetition of all that had been said, and 
 done, and looked, in one party, to the next 
 coterie she honoured with her presence. 
 This breach of confidence (as it may be call- 
 ed, for want of another* name) sometimes 
 joroduced odd effects, causing dissensions, 
 andaltercations, and discussions — messages, 
 calls, remonstrances, and explanations — 
 menaces and apologies. ISovs all this im- 
 pulse to feeling, and acting, and speaking, 
 being given by Miss Patty, the commu- 
 nity were much indebted to her for pre- 
 serving them from the dull monotony of 
 tranquillity and concord. Sometimes, to be 
 sure, kind friends were hereby transform- 
 ed into rancorous enemies — intimate as- 
 sociates converted into sarcastic censors — 
 the sweet union of circles was snapt asun- 
 der, and the flame of discord took place of 
 the glow of kindness. But these were tri- 
 vial consequences, that did not check Miss 
 Patty's energy in the labour of retailing; 
 and besides, she could shew her " scepti- 
 
 bility," 
 
 * Pleader, it can have no other.
 
 WOMAN. 1 S3 
 
 bility," by lamenting the very evils she 
 herself had caused. 
 
 Mr. Knowlesdon once made a very cruel 
 remark in the hearing of the spinster. — 
 " That it should be a law in society, that 
 whoever infringed its peace, by mischie 
 vous repetition, should be declared an out- 
 law from the circle thus injured, and be 
 shunned accordingly by all its members." 
 
 Mr. Knowlesdon also always called Miss 
 Patty the thermometer of society, for lie 
 vowed lie could always tell the degree of 
 warmth, alias the degree of wealth, of the 
 person she addressed. And here the lady 
 doubtless displayed exquisite susceptibili- 
 ty, for she knew accurately how to lower 
 her curtsey, as the individual increased in 
 opulence, as also how to rise her head, as 
 the individual sank into poverty — rich and 
 poor were the internal causes that pro- 
 duced the hot and cold of her thermometer, 
 subject also to the same rapid variations 
 from the extreme jf one to the extreme of 
 the other ; for as report gave a legacy or 
 
 a lottery
 
 184 WOMAN". 
 
 a lottery ticket, the lady warmed to more 
 than blood-heat; and bad debts, and a lost 
 suit, sunk her to the freezing point. Her 
 susceptible nicety had another peculiarity 
 f — she could distinguish the rank as well as 
 *he fortune of her acquaintance. The 
 poor Miss Jackson could scarcely get a 
 nod, but when the lady was found to be 
 niece to the sixteenth cousin of a duke's 
 uncle, Miss Patty had smiles, nods, and 
 curtsies in abundance for the dame. Sal- 
 ly Smith, the farmer's daughter, had many 
 faults ; but when Sally became the wife of 
 the city knight, Miss Patty was continu- 
 ally applauding the numerous virtues and 
 accomplishments of " that dear creature, 
 lady Sarah Gubbins." 
 
 Of all these elegances, Mrs* Egerton was 
 totally destitute. She and Mrs. Mary 
 would sit for hours together, without once 
 calling in the aid of criticism to enliven 
 their chat — nay, we have heard it said, but 
 we do not believe it, that the only frailties 
 they condemned were their own — the only 
 
 omissions
 
 "WOMAN. 185 
 
 omissions they regretted were those of 
 which themselves had been guilty. 
 
 AVewill give our readers a specimen. — 
 " I have been sadly negligent," began Mrs. 
 Knowlesdon ; " I promised my brother to 
 call upon lady Ruthven, and have forgotten 
 to do so — I am quite vexed with myself."" 
 
 " She did a very charitable action the 
 other day," said Mrs. Egerton. 
 
 Now here was a fine opportunity for 
 Mrs. Mary to have sarcastically replied — 
 " Ay, charity hideth a multitude of sins;" 
 but, stupid woman ! she only replied — " I 
 was glad to hear of it : charity may be 
 deemed the precursor of almost every 
 other virtue, of humility most especially; 
 and when the spirit is humbled, what good 
 may not ensue !" 
 
 " Miss Wronghead also." observed Mrs. 
 Egerton, * has employed herself in making 
 tasteful articles, to be sold for the benefit 
 of the poor. Young people cannot more 
 amiably exert their talents, or more bene- 
 ficially occupy their leisure." 
 
 It
 
 
 1 86 WOMAN. 
 
 It was unlucky that Susan was not with 
 her aunt, or what piquante speeches she 
 would have uttered on the occasion ! — " La ! 
 ma'am, any thing but tasteful, I think ;" 
 and a Charity, indeed ! I am sure she only 
 thought of shewing off her painting." 
 
 Witless Mrs. Mary simply assented to 
 the remark, and the subject was dropped ; 
 how much to the loss of our readers, they 
 can but feebly imagine — for Mrs. Egerton 
 could have subjoined some delicious par- 
 ticulars, such as the contempt with which 
 MissClementinamentionedSusanKnowles- 
 don — the sarcasm of Miss Patty on the de- 
 licate complexion of Mrs. Mary, which she 
 was pleased to denominate sickly and 
 " granivorous" — the haughty censure of 
 lady Wronghcad, on the affected kindness 
 of Mrs. Knowlesdon to Raehael, and fifty 
 other such soothing remarks, that met Mrs. 
 Egerton's ear, during her last morning call 
 at Random Hall ; she also could have de- 
 tailed a pretty smart altercation betwixt 
 the gentle Clemy and her mamma, on the 
 
 propriety
 
 WOMAN. 187 
 
 propriety of walking, arm in arm, with ba- 
 chelor strangers, lady Wronghead igno- 
 rantly supposing the act was uncommon, 
 or prudishly fancying it was indecorous. 
 
 If Mrs. Egerton, therefore, had not been 
 the dullest mortal in the world, she would 
 have green a most delectable account of 
 the whole scene; and, even without the al- 
 lowable exaggerations suggested by genius, 
 could have amused Mrs. Mary for many 
 hours — she could have warmed her to an- 
 ger, and then cooled her down to contempt, 
 and left her to meet her relatives under the 
 influence of those newly-roused passions. 
 Then, for an ad libitum, flourish, she could 
 have described how red Miss Clemy turned, 
 and how blue her mamma looked — how 
 the first bit her lips till they bled, and how 
 the last cried her eyes out of her head. — 
 Now, though Mrs. Mary, as well as our 
 readers, would have opined that not a 
 quarter of the account was true, yet how 
 much it would have amused her ! and how 
 high would Mrs. Egerton's powers of in- 
 vention
 
 
 188 WOMAN. 
 
 venlion and entertainment have risen in 
 her estimation I The more she embellished, 
 the more she proved her ingenuity ; and as 
 wit is justly prized above virtue, how great 
 would have been her share of applause! 
 \. The sacrifice of truth is an insignificant 
 flaw in such details, and had poor Mrs. 
 Egerton been so spirited as to make the 
 sacrifice, if only in this instance, we should 
 have been furnished with at least twenty 
 full pages of unadulterated, genuine good 
 talking ; as it was, we could not get out 
 of the tame jog-trot of sober conversation, 
 Mrs. Egerton pertinaciously adhering to 
 the bare fact, and, worse than all, to the 
 least desirable part of the fact, to wit, the 
 amiable occupation of Miss Wronghead. 
 
 We have no other apology to offer for 
 this digression than the laudable wish of 
 informing our readers what might have 
 been said, and what ought to have been 
 said, and what, perhaps, in ninety- nine cases 
 out of a hundred, would have been said — 
 at the same time, to demonstrate how well 
 
 versed
 
 WOMAN. 189 
 
 versed we are in the subject. — " It had 
 been so with us, had we been there." 
 
 We feel somewhat ashamed to repeat 
 the low-lived dialogue that ensued, but we 
 have promised to give a fair specimen of 
 the tete-a-tete of these ladies. — " A widow, 
 sick, in the midst of half-a-dpzen ragged 
 brats," with a corner tied in Mrs. Mary's 
 handkerchief, as a memorandum to send 
 elothes and money to the same, as if such 
 things could not be remembered without 
 such a memento. It might be argued, 
 that when of rare occurrence, such inten- 
 tions are recollected from their singularity ; 
 and as ladies of fashion are obliged to re- 
 cord their multitudinous engagements to 
 routs and plays, so ladies of no fashion are 
 .compelled to register their less elegant 
 avocations, lest their multiplicity should 
 induce omission. 
 
 To be sure, genteel people, when they 
 perform acts of bounty, set about them in 
 a very above-board manner ; not silently 
 passing down narrow lanes and dirty allies, 
 
 shedding
 
 ISO WOMAN. 
 
 shedding their benefactions as they go, 
 like the noiseless dews of heaven, nourish- 
 ing the parched soil, and " deny to misery 
 nothing — but their name," but frankly 
 and openly announce to all the world their 
 y. generosity, their pity, and their activity — 
 ^N T ay, some are so very nice in this particu- 
 lar, that they will not give at all, unless it 
 is to be so announced ; and others, again, 
 prefer giving their name to giving their 
 benefaction ! 
 
 But to proceed — " How angry I am 
 with myself!" exclaimed Mrs. Egerton, as 
 the knot in Mrs. Mary's handkerchief 
 awoke a train of associations in her mind : 
 " This very day I was to have ordered the 
 dirty garret, No. 3, Back-lane, to have 
 been white- washed, now the wretched fa- 
 mily inhabiting it are recovered from their 
 dreadful fever." 
 
 This business required no memento, for 
 though it might with great propriety have 
 been postponed, as its execution involved 
 a matter of no consequence— namely, the 
 
 comfort
 
 WOMAN. 191 
 
 comfort of a miserable group, yet Mrfc 
 Egerton, at the heavy price of rising from 
 her chair, actually did ring the bell. 
 
 The maid appeared. 
 
 " Pray Hannah, run to the white-wash- 
 er, Mr. Hill, and ask him to come here as 
 soon as he can." 
 
 Away went Hannah, not, however, be- 
 fore her mistress had desired her to take 
 the umbrella, as a heavy shower portend- 
 ed. How ridiculous ! as if a servant could 
 suffer from cold and dampness ! 
 
 After arriving at this scene of coarse 
 ideas and paltry subjects, it might be sup- 
 posed these two ladies had incapacitated 
 themselves for refined discourse ; but, by 
 some strange substitution of causes for ef- 
 fects, what would have vulgarized any 
 other person seemed to act upon dia- 
 metrically opposite principles with our two 
 talkers. Affected writers might here 
 risk their crude suggestions, on the pro- 
 bability that the consciousness of benevo- 
 lent intentions and benevolent actions has 
 
 a refining
 
 w 
 
 192 WOMAN. 
 
 a refining power, and whilst ameliorating, 
 or rather exhilarating the heart, like an 
 effervescent liquor, mounts into the head, 
 and plays tricks there. 
 
 However this may be, certain it is that 
 Hannah had scarcely shut the door, than, 
 ^s if because things were done, there was 
 no further need to talk about them, no 
 further occasion for whys and wherefores, 
 doubts and surmises, Mrs. Egerton, re- 
 seating herself, asked Mrs. Mary if she 
 had yet read Guiccardini, and what she 
 thought of his history ? 
 
 Mrs. Mary, undismayed by this unex- 
 pected address, this change of subject from 
 heart to mind, calmly gave her opinion, 
 and in her turn asked Mrs. Egerton's judg- 
 ment of the Classical Tour of Mrs. Eustace. 
 
 The sentiments of both parties were 
 favourable to both authors — Some people 
 are so easily pleased ! 
 
 The conversation now became perfectly 
 unfashionable, and as perfectly unintelli- 
 gible. Besides a few remarks, on the 
 
 changes
 
 WOMAN. 193 
 
 changes of empires and states, very unfe- 
 minine, and quite out of character, there 
 were many rapturous exclamations on a 
 piece of Spanish, or Dutch, or Italian po- 
 etry, entitled — " 27 Pastor Fido" by one 
 Guorini, and we heard Mrs. Egerton spout 
 something about 
 
 " O ! prima vera ! gioventu del' anno ! 
 Bella madre de fior," • 
 
 a couplet Mrs. Mary smilingly declared 
 much in character with the speaker, Mrs* 
 Egerton being just that moment fondling 
 two of the four rosy children that had 
 been playing in the room during the whole 
 conversation. 
 
 Dinner-time put an end to this curious 
 tite-a-tete ; and as eating together was not 
 necessary to the cementing of the friend- 
 ship of these ladies, Mrs. Mary returned to 
 her invalid; and Mrs. Egerton, sending her 
 children to their nursery, dressed to receive 
 her husband. 
 
 * Oh Spring ! youth of the year ! 
 , Beautiful mother of flower*! 
 
 VOL. h K CHAP.
 
 194 wojia: 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ?■+* + ■*+*■*+■! 
 
 A very learned Chapter, 
 
 The very next time that Mrs. Egerton 
 rambled with her children to Woodleigh 
 Manor, she found the solicitor in wrathful 
 mood, and Susan prettily pouting. 
 
 The lady's crime was soon explained : 
 she had been these three days crying her- 
 self sick over the sorrows of some fictitious 
 elegante, and allowed a poor woman in the 
 village to starve from neglect. 
 
 " She did not know of her distress." 
 
 <v Pardon me, she knew it well, and also 
 knew that as her aunt was peculiarly en- 
 gaged with Rachael, she must herself direct 
 the necessary relief."' 
 
 " I am sure, my friend Susan is not de- 
 ficient in feeling," said Mrs. Egerton, con- 
 tinuing her advocation. 
 
 « She
 
 WOMAN'. 195 
 
 " She has a superabundance of sensibi- 
 lity," replied the solicitor, with an ironical 
 expression ; " witness these swollen eyes, 
 these pallid cheeks : but sensibility in the 
 modern vocabulary, I fancy, is a term very 
 distinct in its meaning from feeling ; sen- 
 sibility is an exquisite emotion, expressing 
 itself in tears and sighs, and every exter- 
 nal sign of grief — feeling, a secret but ac- 
 tive principle, without many sighs or tears, 
 moving directly to its mark, the ameliora- 
 tion of sorrow. Shall I call one the pas- 
 sive and the other the active form of emo- 
 tion r 
 
 " I was very sorry for the woman," said 
 Susan; "and fully intended to relieve her." 
 
 " And why did you not, child — why did 
 you not ?" 
 
 " I entirely forgot it, sir." 
 
 " And how came you to forget it ?" 
 
 Susan blushed. 
 
 " The truth is," said Mrs. Mary, u that 
 her thoughts have been absorbed in this 
 foolish novel." 
 
 K 2 « Were
 
 196 WOMAN. 
 
 " Were there no other reason, this one 
 is sufficient to mark the pernicious effects 
 of such works engrossing the mind, and 
 leading it to neglect its positive duties." 
 
 The solicitor drew tears into the eyes of 
 his niece. 
 
 " Oh, Susan !" exclaimed Mrs. Mary ; 
 M you weep over these tales of fancy. Be 
 assured, my dear child, this precious sense 
 of sympathy was given you for nobler pur- 
 poses than thus to be expended on ficti- 
 tious woes : it was given to draw you to 
 your fellow-creatures, to sooth the griefs of 
 the afflicted, and participate the joys of the 
 fortunate; it was given to hold man to 
 man in the sweet bands of fellow-feeling." 
 
 " You shall never read another novel 
 whilst under my roof," said the angry soli- 
 citor. 
 
 Susan looked as much dismayed as if 
 her uncle had sworn to deny her food and 
 clothing — " Never read, uncle !" 
 
 M Oh yes, child, read as much as you like 
 -*— -read Rollins Ancient History, Hume's 
 
 England,
 
 WOMAN. 197 
 
 England, Blair's Lectures, Robertson's 
 Charles V " 
 
 Mr. Knowlesdon was proceeding, but 
 Mrs. Mary began her list — " Or Gisborne's 
 Duties of Women, Mrs.Chapone's Letters, 
 Seneca's Morals, Paley's Theology, Beat tie's 
 Evidences, Porteus's Lectures." 
 
 Poor alarmed Susan ! she fairly gasped 
 for breath. 
 
 Mrs. Egerton with difficulty restrained 
 a smile at the appalling catalogue. — " We 
 must not attempt too violent a transition, 
 my good friends," said she, in an implor- 
 ing tone ; " the mental as well as the phy- 
 sical taste must be sometimes humoured." 
 
 " Ay, when diseased," said the solicitor. 
 
 " Well, I will allow that is the case with 
 Susan just now ; her literary palate is at 
 present enervated by luxurious diet, and 
 consequently incapable of enjoying the 
 simple and substantial fare you recommend. 
 Those who have been eating sweetmeats 
 cannot at once relish plain bread." 
 
 " You are right," answered Mr. Knowlcs- 
 K 3 don,
 
 198 WOMAN. 
 
 don, " and are proving the benefits oft- 
 times conferred by female gentleness, in 
 softening the harsh decrees of manly wis- 
 dom. My severity would have defeated 
 the rational scheme your milder sentiments 
 haverendered efficacious." 
 
 Mrs. Egerton continued her remarks, as 
 if this praise was bestowed on her sex ge- 
 nerally, not on herself particularly — " We 
 must gradually raise the taste, or if you 
 please, Susan, lower the taste, to the stand- 
 ard of reason, before we recommend ra- 
 tional reading." 
 
 " Woman ! thou wert born to temper 
 man— we had been brutes without you," 
 exclaimed the solicitor. 
 
 " Will you allow me to recommend a 
 book to you, Susan?" 
 
 Susan joyfully complied. 
 
 " Have you ever read the Vicar of 
 Wakefield?" 
 
 " No, ma'am, but I have read the six 
 volumes of Gartemisia, or the Innocent 
 Crime; the four volumes of Iloderigo, or 
 
 the
 
 WOMAN. 199 
 
 the Amiable Suicide; the five volumes of 
 Marlow, or the Graceful Duellist; the 
 seven " 
 
 " Oh stop ! for-pity*s sake stop!" said Mrs. 
 Knowlesdon ; " why, child, you must be 
 prepared to advocate every amiable sin, and 
 every innocent sinner, that adorn the world." 
 
 Mr. Knowlesdon now began a very ac- 
 tive search for all the novels the house shel- 
 tered. He peeped behind every sofa-pil- 
 low, and upturned every chair-cushion; 
 table-drawers were compelled to yield up 
 their long-collected treasures, and work- 
 boxes were ransacked. The well-thumbed 
 heap thus amassed, he had inevitably ex- 
 terminated by fire and faggot, had not Mrs. 
 Mary prevented the threatened conflagra- 
 tion, by suggesting that the articles were 
 not his own. Mr. Knowlesdon was ready 
 to exclaim, that possession is nine-tenths 
 of the law, and that he could be justified 
 in destroying so much mental poison. But 
 as he had not arrived at that disdain of old- 
 fashioned maxims, as to use his neighbours 
 property as if it was his own, be marched 
 K 4 to
 
 200 WOMXK. 
 
 to the librarian's, attended by a servant 
 carrying the well-filled basket. There, 
 after a thundering philippic against the 
 trash he delivered, he paid the astonish- 
 ed shopkeeper, and more calmly strode 
 home again. 
 
 But in returning the volumes, an unfore- 
 seen event again menaced Susan's tran- 
 quillity: one of the books, in being passed 
 from the basket to the counter, let fall a 
 paper, inscribed with Susan's handwriting. 
 The eagle eyes of the solicitor instantly 
 recognized it, and in muttering tones he 
 read aloud the following — 
 
 u SONNET TO MEMORY. 
 
 " Hail, Memory ! bail ! thy tablet of the past, 
 Marked with my former joys, my former fears, 
 Hope's faithless smiles, misfortune's tears, 
 
 Love's chequered throbs, and disappointment's blast! 
 The various recollected scenes of youth 
 
 Rise on thy page : alas ! how dim a shade 
 
 Curtains the whole ! Before thy pencil fade 
 My preseut joys ! Stern record of the truth, 
 
 Thou
 
 WOMAN. 201 
 
 Thou hidd'st each past regretted scene return — 
 Return upon my heart with added power, 
 
 Chace all my smiles, and teach me but to mourn; 
 
 For in the retrospect of life's fair day, 
 X iist smiles a cloudless dawn — soon tempests lower; 
 
 Till now amid the wreck of life I stray." 
 
 Mr. Knowlesdon put the precious paper 
 into his pocket, and on his way home be- 
 gan considering what could have given rise 
 to this pathetic composition — whether the 
 M misfortune's tears, and disappointment's 
 blast" had strained poor Susan's mental 
 tablet, because she had the misfortune to 
 lose her fan, or the disappointment of a 
 new bonnet not made to her order ; as for 
 " hope's faithless smiles," he adjudged 
 them to a promised ball not yet enjoyed, 
 and " love's chequered throbs " he wise- 
 ly appropriated to the service of the several 
 heroes and heroines, for whom Susan had 
 lately been suffering so much. 
 
 Luckily for the young lady, she had 
 
 proceeded to the sick woman's, and was 
 
 not at home when her uncle returned, or 
 
 K 5 she
 
 202 WOMAN. 
 
 she might have heard the sonnet, with no 
 very flattering comments subjoined. But 
 her ready obedience softened the critic's 
 ire, and for her exerted virtue she was par- 
 doned her deficiency of genius. 
 
 Susan read the Vicar of Wakefield with 
 that delight it must ever confer, and was 
 so charmed with the natural and pithy style 
 of the author, that she entreated Mrs. 
 Egerton to lend her some other book by 
 the same hand. The Traveller, and the 
 Deserted Village, were given to her. 
 Susan's appetite increased by what it fed 
 on — again she applied to Mrs. Egerton. 
 
 " I have no other entertaining works of 
 Goldsmith's to introduce to your acquaint- 
 ance — He has written a History of Eng- 
 land/but that, 1 fear, will not amuse you." 
 
 Susan desired to make the experiment, 
 and soon found herself interested beyond 
 her expectation. The virtues of real heroes 
 warmed her heart with a less fugitive glow, 
 and some of the heroines beguiled her of 
 her tears. When charmed with the va- 
 lour
 
 WOMAN. 263 
 
 lour and the modesty of an Edward, she 
 felt how high the human character could 
 be elevated ; and when she wept over the 
 sorrows of the virtuous Anne Bullen, and 
 the venerable and dignified Stafford, she 
 could have almost believed, as well as wish- 
 ed, that she was perusing the pathetic nar- 
 rative of romance. 
 
 Her taste insensibly and gradually re- 
 fined: after regaling on the page of a 
 Robertson, or a Johnson, she ceased to re- 
 lish the common trash of circulating libra- 
 ries. A good novel was always acceptable, 
 and gave a pleasant change to her studies; 
 but she could not, as before, devour all the 
 garbage of folly and immorality. She 
 thought more, and fancied less ; true his- 
 tory exercises the reason— romance yields 
 sustenance to the imagination alone ; we 
 can only reason upon facts. 
 
 k 6 CHAP-
 
 £04* -woman. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Generosity defined. 
 f 
 Mr. Knowlesdon loved his profession most 
 when its institutes could serve the cause of 
 virtue and social harmony. By some ju- 
 dicious hints to lord Iluth ven's agent $n& 
 lord Kochford's steward, he persuaded 
 those gentlemen for once to arrange the 
 debts of their several employers ; and 
 James Twist, invested with his rightful 
 dues, again cheerfully pursued his humble 
 but useful course. 
 
 The solicitor, eager to inform his sister 
 of his successful performance of her com- 
 mission, and seeing her with Mrs. Egerton 
 purchasing muslin at a little soi-disanie 
 milliner's in the village, followed them into 
 the shop to communicate the welcome and 
 unexpected news. He found a numerous 
 
 group
 
 WOMAN. 205 
 
 group of ladies assembled in the gaily- 
 adorned apartment, surveying a box of 
 laces and ribbons, shortly to be raffled for. 
 
 " This lace scarf will so exactly suit your 
 helegant figure, me'em," said the milliner 
 to Miss Muddleton. 
 
 The lady smiled a gracious assent, and 
 put down her two guineas. 
 
 ki Such a lace will just become a person 
 of your rank, my lady." 
 
 Lady Wronghead produced the golden 
 coin. 
 
 " Please, Miss Wronghead, to look at 
 this veil — I am much mistaken, me'em, if 
 it would not vastly become your beautiful 
 complexion, me'em." 
 
 Miss Wronghead was very willing to 
 make the experiment, and sweetly replied 
 — -" Put down my name." 
 
 " Mrs. Egerton, me'em, may I have the 
 honour? the lace is not English, upon my 
 honour, me'em." 
 
 " Oh, every body of course will sub- 
 scribe," said Miss Clementina, 
 
 * Not
 
 206 WOMAN. 
 
 " Not me, certainly," replied Mrs. Eger- 
 ton, smiling ; " I cannot afford it." 
 
 The reason was more ridiculous than the 
 resolution; in short, the party did not con- 
 sider it as a reason, but they stared at the 
 excuse — -it was certainly novel, and not the 
 less so for being probably true. 
 
 " Not afford two guineas, yet wear this 
 superb Brussels veil!" at length murmured 
 Miss Patty Muddleton. 
 
 The solicitors eyes did not elicit flames 
 — of love, at what he chose to denominate 
 a malicious sneer. 
 
 M r s. Egerton gaily replied — " This veil 
 is indeed almost too splendid for me, but 
 I wear it because it was the gift of my fa- 
 ther." 
 
 She spoke, unconscious of the specula- 
 tion, s her words produced ; for, who could 
 be her father, to bestow such a present ? 
 popped into every head but her own. If 
 she had announced that she never had a fa- 
 ther, she could not more powerfully have 
 affected the circle. 
 
 The
 
 wo max. 207 
 
 The milliner, as if acquainted with the 
 sturdy firmness of the spiritless Helena, 
 urged her no farther ; and Mrs. Knowles- 
 don having expressed her denial by an 
 eloquent shake of her head, she also being 
 deemed invulnerable, was excused all en- 
 treaty. But Mrs. Mansel, the giddy ex- 
 travagant wife of a portionless younger bro- 
 ther, was yet to be assailed. 
 
 " I can assure you, me'em, no person of 
 quality is without such a suit of lace." 
 
 The solicitor whispered Mrs. Egerton, 
 that he was convinced the most skilful of 
 his brother-pleaders could not more adroit- 
 ly have managed the foibles and the pas- 
 sions of his hearers. 
 
 Mrs. Mansel rose to pay a sum she could 
 ill spare to risk on trifles, but the negation 
 of Mrs. Egerton yet sounded in her ears — 
 " I cannot afford it." She felt it was pre- 
 cisely her own case — she sat down again, 
 and declined contributing to the subscrip- 
 tion. Though Mrs. Mansel pronounced 
 this determination with the confusion of a 
 
 criminal,
 
 208 WOMAN. 
 
 criminal, a sense of right gradually stole 
 into her heart, and stilled her fluttering 
 nerves; she ventured to look up, and was 
 cheered by the approving glance of the so- 
 licitor, and the encouraging smiles of his 
 two female friends. 
 
 But she had to withstand the scorn of 
 Miss Clementina, the surprise of lady 
 Wronghead, and the sarcastic sneer of the 
 tender maiden, Miss Patty Muddleton, who, 
 secretly arranging the postponement of 
 Twist's payment, moved her two guineas 
 across the counter, audibly whispering — 
 w But I can afford it." 
 
 May we for once be dully grave, and 
 suggest, that if people cannot or will not 
 give good advice, and good examples, they 
 surely can refrain from destroying the good 
 effect of the example and precept of others. 
 But courage, Mrs. Mansel ! you have won 
 a glorious victory, greater than ever was 
 achieved in the embattled field — a conquest 
 over yourself, and you shall not miss your 
 well-earned fame. 
 
 The
 
 WOMAN. £€•*) 
 
 The attention of the company was at 
 this moment attracted by a loud cry, which, 
 upon inquiry, proved to be master Sammy 
 Wronghead in a passion, because Frank 
 Egerton would not resign to him a whip 
 he desired. 
 
 The mothers interfered. — " Give it up, 
 Sam, my dear, like a little gentleman — it is 
 so vulgar to be rude ; and when children 
 behave prettily, every body admires them. 
 A gentleman is never in a passion." Such 
 was the coaxing interposition of lady 
 Wronghead. 
 
 " My dear Frank, oblige your little play- 
 fellow ; we ought always to be as kind as 
 we can — \ Do as you would be done by,' 
 Frank," said Mrs. Egerton. 
 
 Frank's hand yielded the firmly grasped 
 stick, for lie understood and felt his mother's 
 reasoning. 
 
 Master Sammy was too angry at that 
 moment to find the stimulus of praise a 
 compensation for self-denial ; he also knew 
 that gentlemen were often in a passion — 
 
 to
 
 ^10 WOMAN. 
 
 to wit, his father, brother, and uncle. If 
 his mother spoke false on this point, she 
 might have spoken false in all — people did 
 not admire pretty-behaved children; he 
 was determined not to be pretty-behaved, 
 but to be a gentleman, so ran off with the 
 extricated stick. 
 
 Those unaccustomed to watch the move- 
 ments of children are not aware how often 
 such trains of reasoning determine their 
 actions — how often the false premises of 
 the instructor lead to the false conclusions 
 of the pupil. 
 
 " So different are the precepts of fashion 
 and of morality — so much at variance are 
 the motives of the Christian and the man 
 of the world. But, * as the twig is bent the 
 tree's inclined' — we inculcate gentility, 
 and must not expect to produce morality ," 
 murmured Mr. Knowlesdon. 
 
 Miss Patty caught his words, and imme- 
 diately commenced a very scientific dis- 
 course upon education. She managed the 
 subject in the favourite and attractive mode 
 
 of
 
 WOMAX. 211 
 
 of proving what is right, by pointing out 
 what is wrong. — " Lady Wronghead did 
 so spoil the children, dear little things ! 
 though I am sure I shall never love my 
 own better." Here was a sigh and a tell- 
 tale glance, which, however, were both lost 
 upon the obdurate solicitor. The lady re- 
 sumed — " Xo, I shall not love my own 
 better ; but I must say, they are sadly mis- 
 managed — running and jumping about, 
 without any regard to order, dirtying their 
 clothes, and eating like ploughboys. I 
 cannot bear such tilings — I do love order- 
 ly children, that behave with propriety, 
 and are well educated, hold up their heads, 
 keep their clothes neat and clean, and eat 
 their victuals in a genteel manner." 
 
 Miss Patty delivered this pretty piece of 
 oratory with the air of a philosopher, and 
 though Mr. Knowlesdon took no manner 
 of notice of it, we record it in our page, as 
 a compendium of good education, for the 
 edification of all those whom it may con- 
 cern. 
 
 Mrs.
 
 212 WOMAN. 
 
 Mrs. Egerton now retired with her smil- 
 ing boy. 
 
 " What an odd woman !" — " How mons- 
 trous stingy !" — " How vastly mean !" were 
 the several epithets conferred upon her. 
 
 " Do not say so — do not think so!" ex- 
 claimed Susan, in a burst of enthusiasm; 
 " Mrs. Egerton is the most liberal, the 
 most disinterested of women." 
 
 " Assertion is no proof," replied the wary 
 solicitor ; " give us evidence, give us facts, 
 Susan." 
 
 " The poor shopkeeper, uncle." 
 
 " Well, child, what has that to do with 
 Mrs. Egerton? What is there in common 
 between the distress of the one and the 
 virtue of the other ?" 
 
 " Remember what she gave them." 
 
 " A couple of shillings, perhaps?" said 
 Miss Muddleton. 
 
 " A couple of guineas, madam," answer- 
 ed Susan, proudly ; " and would have 
 
 done more, but " 
 
 " But
 
 WOMAN. 213 
 
 " But she could not afford it," interposed 
 Miss Muddleton. 
 
 " True, madam," retorted Susan ; " and 
 for this reason she prefers honesty to gene- 
 rosity." 
 
 * Or rather say, the one cannot exist 
 without the other," said Mr. Knowlesdon. 
 
 Miss Patty purtested she did not under- 
 stand these speeches, with that pretty air 
 of juvenile ignorance, sometimes assumed 
 by maidens of fifty, when aping the artless 
 airs of maidens of fifteen. 
 
 " I fancy, madam," continued Mr. 
 Knowlesdon, " my niece means, that the 
 lady she has the honour to advocate attends 
 to the claims of justice before those of li- 
 berality, that she honestly pays her debts 
 before she generously gives even a shilling, 
 and that when she makes a promise she 
 performs it." 
 
 Miss Patty Muddleton followed her in- 
 quiries no farther, but even looked with 
 ineffable sweetness upon the unmerciful 
 
 lawyer,
 
 214 WOMAN. 
 
 lawyer, as he added — " There is no such 
 thing as generosity without justice." 
 
 We do think that, without any excep- 
 tion, Mr. Solicitor Knowlesdon was the 
 most ill-bred, rude, cross-grained bachelor 
 in the British empire. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Bachelor's Wives. 
 
 Miss Patty Muddleton walked home, deep- 
 ly meditating on the words of the solicitor. 
 She had long desired to accurately in- 
 form herself what was the kind of woman 
 this gentleman could be prevailed upon to 
 make Mrs"! Knowlesdon — not perhaps 
 without more than faint hopes that the 
 materials might be found in Miss Patty 
 Muddleton; and then, how easy to bring 
 them into action and observation ! 
 
 Whether
 
 WOMAN". 215 
 
 Whether it was with continually read- 
 ing Milton's description of Eve (that wife 
 of obsolete fashion), or the frequent peru- 
 sal of the last chapter of Proverbs, which 
 delineates that odd antediluvian personage, 
 " a virtuous woman;" we know not, but 
 assuredly Mr. Knowlesdon had very Go- 
 thic ideas of the lovely sex, and such as he 
 could never expect to see realized. 
 
 Miss Patty was aware of all this, and 
 was willing not only to convince the silly 
 man of the impossibility of his beau ideal 
 being realized, but also that, all things con- 
 sidered, she was herself as near the mark as 
 could be found in these degenerate davs. 
 
 Opportunities are never sedulously 
 sought without being found. We may 
 have made this remark before, and we 
 may make it again, for it is one we very 
 earnestly desire to enforce, and must there- 
 fore be forgiven if we introduce it on every 
 appropriate occasion. 
 
 Mr. Knowlesdon attended lady Wrong- 
 head to the Hall that very day, and dined 
 
 there
 
 21$ "WOMAN. 
 
 there at her request. During dinner sir 
 Gabriel thanked his lady for making some 
 alterations in her household, according to 
 his suggestion. We do not say that it 
 was owing to the singularity of the ac- 
 quiescence that the gentleman felt so par- 
 ticularly grateful, for our business just 
 now is to record the speech thereby in- 
 duced from the lawyer, who, with the 
 energy of a poet, exclaimed — 
 
 " Nothing lovelier can be found 
 In woman, than to stud.y household good.'' 
 
 This was exactly the opening Miss Patty 
 panted for, and she therefore eagerly fixed 
 him to the subject, by saying, with a gra- 
 cious smile — " You are so fond of that 
 Griselda, in Spencer's Fairy Queen !" 
 
 " Ma'am !" said the solicitor, looking at 
 her with astonishment. 
 
 Miss I atty saw that astonishment was 
 the expression of his features, and know- 
 ing it could only be astonishment at her 
 learning, with a simper continued her dis- 
 play.
 
 WOMAN. £17 
 
 play.. — f Griselda was certainly a charming 
 creature." 
 
 " I was quoting from Milton, ma'am — 
 I was speaking of Eve, ma'am," said the 
 solicitor, recovering the use of his speech. 
 
 " And Griselda is described by Chau- 
 cer, in one of his Canterbury Tales," said 
 sir Gabriel, slyly. 
 
 *f Well, Griselda, or Eve, or Helen — all 
 the good women of the poets are alike," 
 said the undismayed spinster. 
 
 " Andromache, she would have said," 
 whispered sir Gabriel in audible tones. 
 
 But Miss Patty was on other thoughts 
 intent, and encouraged, rather than con- 
 founded, by the arch smile playing round 
 the solicitor's mouth, calmly proceeded in 
 her investigation of his heart — " And what 
 part of Griselda's conduct do you most ap- 
 prove ?" 
 
 " I disapprove the whole of it," replied 
 Mr. Knowlesdon. 
 
 Miss Patty was confounded into a mo- 
 mentary pause, which being an event of 
 
 voh. L i, rare
 
 218 WOMAN. 
 
 rare occurrence, Miss Wronghead gladly 
 seized to address her uncle — "Then, I sup- 
 pose, Eve is your favourite; but I hope 
 3^011 don't mean to say Eve is a proper 
 model for modern ladies?" 
 f And why not, niece ?" 
 " Oh ! she knew nothing — absolutely 
 nothing." 
 
 " She knew her duty, obeyed her hus- 
 band, loved her children — what further 
 knowledge need she to have possessed?" 
 
 Miss Patty was inexpressibly charmed; 
 her trembling heart assured her she tob 
 could, do all this. 
 
 " But, uncle, she had no accomplish- 
 ments," exclaimed Clementina. 
 
 " A hV for accomplishments !" cried the 
 solicitor ; " they are of no use, but to make 
 girls fantastic, and wives frivolous — Not 
 that women often condescend to exert their 
 accomplishments after they are married ; 
 that is, after accomplishments, like the 
 cheese and bacon in a trap, have caught 
 the prey for which they were exhibited." 
 
 Miss 

 
 WOMAN. 219 
 
 Miss Patty's eyes twinkled with joy, but 
 she suppressed her transports, and sweetly 
 murmured — " Oh fie, Mr. Knowlesdon !" 
 
 " Accomplishments are very well in 
 their way," said Mrs. Mary ; " a feather in 
 the cap of youth — often becoming, but 
 never necessary." 
 
 u Oh ! I have no objection to accom- 
 plishments in themselves," said the solici- 
 tor ; " but I am angry when they take 
 precedence of more useful knowledge. It 
 is like wearing ruflles without a shirt." 
 
 Mite Patty was forced to hold a fan before 
 her blushing cheeks, and sighed, but could 
 not speak. 
 
 (i You bachelors have such odd notions !" 
 said lady Wronghead. 
 
 " That I allow, sister ; for in our world 
 of matrimony, our wives are humble, and 
 our children duteous." 
 
 Lady Wronghead flung her chair back 
 from the table, and Miss Wronghead put 
 up her nether lip. 
 
 Miss Patty, swimming in bliss, meekly 
 L 2 inquired,
 
 22© WOMAN. 
 
 inquired, what was Mr. Knowlesdon's idea 
 of a good wife ? 
 
 The solicitor rubbed his forehead, which 
 made the baronet facetiously observe, he 
 was sure his brother was thinking of ma- 
 trimony ; but Miss Patty leaned forwards 
 with such an air of attention, that Mr. 
 Knowlesdon saw he must make some re- 
 ply. 
 
 " What think you of Prior's Emma, 
 brother?" said Mrs. Mary. 
 
 " That had I been Henry, I should have 
 heartily despised her," replied the solicitor. 
 
 " And Griselda, uncle ?" 
 
 * Worse and worse, Susan. The nut- 
 brown maid only concedes her own dig- 
 nity — her own happiness; but Griselda 
 calmly sacrifices the fame, the lives of her 
 children, and does the very opposite to 
 Milton's Eve — 'good works in her husband 
 to promote." 
 
 " Ah ! I see Eve is your favourite — the 
 unaccomplished Eve," said Miss Patty. 
 
 *' Not unaccomplished, madam," an- 
 swered
 
 WOMAN. 221 
 
 swcred the solicitor, to the dismay of the 
 spinster ; " Adam calls her f daughter of 
 God and man, accomplished Eve." 
 
 Miss Patty was completely confounded, 
 but the baronet, to her unspeakable re- 
 lief, added — " But in those days, brother 
 Knowlesdon, the accomplishments of wo- 
 men were not exactly similar to those of 
 ladies now-a-days." 
 
 We give sir Gabriel great credit for his 
 accurate appropriation of terms, in distin- 
 guishing women of old from ladies of mo- 
 dern times. 
 
 " Well, I never heard of a single ac- 
 complishment displayed by Eve," said Miss 
 Clementina. 
 
 " Ladies may have accomplishments 
 without displaying, them," replied the so- 
 licitor, dryly. 
 
 Miss Patty began to revive. 
 
 The gentleman continued his remarks — 
 
 u Yet I imagine the consort of Adam was 
 
 not without some knowledge of the ele- 
 
 l o gances
 
 222 WOMAX. 
 
 gances that embellish life, and the arts that 
 solace it, for she not only 
 
 ■ due at her hour prepared 
 
 For dinner savoury fruits, of taste to please 
 True appetite, and not disrelish thirst,' 
 
 * But 
 
 ' She turns, on hospitable thoughts intent, 
 What choice to choose for delicacy best— 
 What order, so contriv'u as not to mix 
 Tastes, not well joined, inelegant, but bring 
 Taste after taste, upheld with kindliest change/ 
 
 ' Then strews the ground 
 With rose and odours from the shrub unfumed." 
 
 As -the solicitor stopped to take breath, 
 the baronet remarked the housewifely skill 
 and industry of Eve ; but Mr. Knowles- 
 don shortly proceeded—" Then for her 
 taste in attire — 
 
 < Eve 
 
 Undecked save with herself, more lovely fair 
 Than wood-nymph— 
 
 * I hat what seeoi'd fair in all the world, seem'd now 
 Mean, or in her sunjm'd up ; in her coiitain'd.' 
 
 ' Grac«
 
 WOMAN. 223 
 
 * Grace was in all her steps — Heav'n iu her eye, 
 In every gesture dignity and love." 
 
 " Do you call this her dress?" asked 
 Clementina. 
 
 " She needed no other," replied the so- 
 licitor, and eagerly continued his quota- 
 tions — 
 
 * Her innocence and virgin modesty, 
 
 Her virtue, and the conscience of her worth, 
 
 That would be woo'd, and not unsought be won— 
 
 Not obvious, not obtrusive, but retired, 
 
 There more desirable ; or to say all, 
 
 Nature herself, though pure of sinful thought/ 
 
 ' With looks more cheerful and serene 
 
 Than when fair morning first smiles on the world.' 
 
 " There's a catalogue of womanly adorn- 
 ment !" cried the solicitor. 
 
 **' Of all the charming vesture," said sir 
 Gabriel, " her virgin modesty, though 
 most attractive, is most obsolete." 
 
 The solicitor glanced his eye on the 
 reddening cheek of the fair Clementina, 
 and then recurred to Eve. 
 
 u How she proves her active industry., 
 L \ when
 
 224 woman. 
 
 when she rose, and went forth among her 
 fruits and flowers, to visit how they pros- 
 pered, bud, and bloom — 
 
 • IJer earliest visitation and her last* 
 
 " Or with her husband — 
 
 ' On to their morning's rural work they haste, 
 Among sweet dews and flowers." 
 
 t( Dews !" exclaimed the baronet ; " I 
 wonder whether modern ladies know the 
 meaning of the word . ' 
 
 " Modern ladies see the dew before they 
 sleep, and Eve when she awoke — that is 
 all the difference* said the solicitor. 
 
 " But you say nothing of her wifely 
 qualities, my dear sir," observed Miss Patty, 
 with a simper. 
 
 " They were all summed up in one, 
 ma'am — obedience." 
 
 " Oh, the rude bachelor !" thought lady 
 Wronghead, with a frown. 
 
 " Only bachelor notions!" thought Miss 
 Patty, with a smile. 
 
 " Ignorant uninitiated bachelor!" thought 
 
 sir Gabriel, with a sigh. 
 
 The
 
 WOMAN. 225 
 
 The unconscious bachelor continued his 
 elucidatory extracts — " Mark how prettily 
 she tells her husband— 
 
 'W hat thou biddest 
 Unargued I obey : so God ordains; 
 God is thy law, thou mine ; to know no more 
 Is woman's happiest knowledge, and her praise." 
 
 Here the solicitor made a long, and, the 
 party thought, an awkward pause, and then 
 pursued his repetition — 
 
 " Oh sole in whom my thoughts find all repose, 
 My glory, my perfect ion, glad I see 
 Thy face and morn returned/ 
 
 ' Thou, therefore, wow advise — 
 With thy permission then — 
 
 I go." 
 
 Again the solicitor was silent, and sir 
 Gabriel, as if quite forgetful what lie was, 
 or where he was, most unseasonably and 
 energetically subjoined — 
 
 " Oh ! when meet now 
 .Such pairs, in love and mutual honour joined ?" 
 
 L5 It
 
 226 WOMAN. 
 
 It was nonsense taking lady Wrong- 
 head's hands, and trying to look as if he 
 was sorry for what he had said, or willing 
 to believe himself a favoured exception ; 
 for contrition, in some cases and to some 
 people, only adds to the weight of crime, 
 and gives a better occasion of expressing it. 
 Lady Wronghead drew away her hand 
 with a repulsive " Pshaw !" just as the ill- 
 judging solicitor, first admiring the gentle- 
 ness of the humble-minded Eve, enthusias- 
 tically repeated — 
 
 " So cheered he his fair spouse, and — she was cheered ; 
 
 But silently a gentle tear let fall 
 
 Prom either eye, and wiped them with her hair — 
 
 The gracious drops of sweet remorse 
 
 Ana pious awe, that feared to have offended.' 
 
 " Charming ! charming !" exclaimed the 
 "solicitor. 
 
 Miss Patty was listening with smiling 
 attention, happy to remember at that mo- 
 ment that a lady can cry whenever she 
 pleases. 
 
 " Yet
 
 WOMAN. 
 
 " Yet she knows how to assert her dig- 
 nity when unjustly accused/' said 
 Knowlesdon — 
 
 * To whom the virgin majesty of Eve-, 
 As one who loves, and some unkindness meet-. 
 Wir.h sweet austere composure thus replied — 
 Offspring of heaven and earth, and all earth's L 'ru — 
 
 Ills frauvl is then thy fear, which plain infers 
 
 Thy equal fear, that my firm faith and love 
 
 Can by his fraud 02 shaken, or seduced ; 
 
 Thoughts, which how found they harbour in- thy breast, 
 
 Adam, misthought of her, to thee so dear?" 
 
 " A woman of no mind — no spirit," said 
 lady Wronghead, contemptuously. 
 
 The advocate of Eve was instantly on 
 the alert — " Nay, lady WroiSghead^ when 
 she left the angel sagely conversing with 
 her husband, 
 
 ' She went not, as not with such discourse 
 
 Delighted, or not capable her ear 
 
 Of what was liigli ; such pleasure she reserve ! — 
 
 Adam relating, she sole audi.ress, 
 
 Her husband the relator she preferred,' 
 
 L 6 " Weld
 
 228 woman. 
 
 * Well might Adam exclaim- 
 
 — l When I approach 
 
 Her loveliness, so absolute she ?c:r 
 And in herself complete, so well to know 
 Her own, that what she wills to do, or say, 
 Seems wisest, virtuousest, di-icrecrest, best : 
 All higher knowledge in her presence fails 
 Degraded ; wisdom in discourse with her 
 Loses discountenanced, and like foliy shews: 
 Authority and reason on her WMtj 
 As one intended first, not after made 
 Occasionally; and to consummate all, 
 Greatness of mind, and nobleness, their seat 
 Build in her loveliest, and create an awe 
 About her, as a guard angelic placed." 
 
 " You will never be married," said sir 
 Gabriel — a remark that darkened lady 
 Wronghead's frown, and banished Miss 
 Fatty's smile. 
 
 CHAP-
 
 WOMAN. 229 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Ancient Maxims, and Modish Commenis. 
 
 An increased attack of her disorder had 
 rendered Mrs. Rachael Wronghead more 
 than usually exacting of Mrs. Mary's time 
 and patience. Many were the days and 
 nights that lady had spent without remis- 
 sion in the sick chamber — yet more nume- 
 rous the petulant and irritating remons- 
 trances she had endured, not only with un- 
 replying gentleness, but returned with un- 
 deviating kindness — But the world knew 
 nothing of all this ! the busy world, that 
 was perhaps at those very moments sati- 
 rizing the seclusion-loving old maid — ri- 
 diculing as stinginess the selfish economy 
 that enabled her to humour the expensive 
 whims of capricious appetite — scorning as 
 dull the meekness that resigned all selfish 
 
 pleasure?
 
 230 "WOMAN. 
 
 pleasure, to administer comfort to repining 
 waywardness. But Mrs. Mary was con- 
 tented to endure such opprobrium in silent 
 forbearance — she awaited her fiat from a 
 higher tribunal. 
 
 Mrs. Egerton devoted all her leisure to 
 sharing and ameliorating the confinement 
 and the cares cf he* friend. With one of 
 her children she daily visited the sick- 
 room, and only left it when the wishes of 
 her husband, or the claims of her nursery, 
 required her presence at the abbey. 
 
 It was unfortunate, that at such a time 
 the family at the Hail could not spare anio- 
 ment for the invalid. Lady Wronghead, 
 indeed, when she chanced to ride that way, 
 generally stopped her carriage to make her 
 hurried inquiries, and sometimes more 
 hurried visit ; and we believe did once con- 
 descend to convey some fine grapes to poor 
 sister Haehael, at the request of sir Gabriel ; 
 but she found the sight and the smell of 
 the luxuriant basket so much too power- 
 ful for her delicate senses, that she vowed 
 
 she
 
 womaV. 231 
 
 she would never admit such another pack- 
 age into her chariot. 
 
 The fevered lips of the sufferer must 
 therefore have remained unmoistened by 
 the grateful fruit, had not sir Gabriel's 
 kindness discovered other means of for- 
 warding to her the best produce of his 
 hothouse. But he said nothing of this ar- 
 rangement to his tender spouse, nor did he 
 make a remark when he saw her, within a 
 week after her late vow, stow a melon and 
 two pine-apples into the front pocket of 
 her carriage, as a present to the longing: 
 lady Ruihven. 
 
 Jack would certainly have drawn some 
 awkward comparisons, as he handed his 
 mother and her load into the vehicle, but 
 sir Gabriel caught the laughing quizzing 
 glance of his eye, and, with an authority he 
 seldom exerted, commanded his silence — 
 for sir Gabriel never willingly caused pain 
 to any human being. 
 
 Jack bowed acquiescence, but the mo- 
 ment he was alone with his father, ex- 
 claimed
 
 232 WOMAN. 
 
 claimed — " My dear sir, it is all very right; 
 you do good for the sake of benefiting 
 others — my mother for the purpose of ag- 
 grandizing herself. Every body will see 
 and hear of lady Ruthven's pines and me- 
 lon — nobody will either see or hear of aunt 
 Rachael's grapes but her insignificant self." 
 
 Miss Patty also had found it inconve- 
 nient to call of late at Woodleigh Manor. 
 This was the more remarkable, as she was 
 pretty regular in her visits upon Mrs. Mary, 
 when she and her brother sat together in 
 their front parlour, and would even express 
 abundance of sceptlbiUty for dear Rachael's 
 dreadful state, and even once, in a way, run 
 up stairs with the lightness of a sylph to 
 
 Rachael r s chamber, to look at herself in 
 
 the glass, arrange her curls, her cap, and 
 her pelisse — remind Mrs. Raehael how 
 many kind friends she possessed, how much 
 she had to be thanlfid for, and then run 
 down stairs again. 
 
 Reader, the solicitor had been from home. 
 We do not often expose the secrets of our 
 
 friends,
 
 -woman. 233 
 
 friends, but we thought it right to do so 
 here, to save our favourite, the amiable 
 Miss Patty, from the charge of caprice. — 
 Can all who peruse these pages lay their 
 hands on their hearts, and declare, they 
 have only betrayed confidence from as up- 
 right motives ? 
 
 Mrs. Rachael was usually more harassed 
 than consoled by the pop visits of Miss 
 Mucldleton — she seemed to think it rather 
 cruel to be told " how much she had to 
 be thankful for," whilst stretched on her 
 bed, racked by convulsion, every sense 
 dimmed, and every limb contracted ; but 
 as some people may agree with her in opi- 
 nion, we will not risk censure, by contra- 
 dicting the propriety of her sentiments. 
 
 Adam Wronghead, Esq. had heard of 
 Mrs. Egerton's daily visits to his sick aunt, 
 and always contrived to encounter her in 
 some attractive costume : at one time he 
 might have been mistaken for his groom, 
 in his long frock, coloured neckcloth, and 
 loose pantaloons, and in truth his manners 
 
 thai
 
 234 WOMAN* 
 
 then best accorded with his garb; at an- 
 other time, he might have been deemed the 
 dancing-master of the village, in his spruce 
 coat, delicate silk stockings, and law-cut 
 shoes; here indeed his mien suited not so- 
 exactly with his dress, but in either case it 
 might be pretty safely announced that he 
 looked like any thing but a — gentleman. 
 
 If the darling scheme of this accomplish- 
 ed youth in gaming the heart of Helena 
 is remembered, it will be quickly divined 
 that these meetings were not accidental. 
 In sooth, the beau sought by every contri- 
 vance art could devise, by every blandish- 
 ment flattery could suggest, to win that easy 
 prey — a woman's heart. He sighed or 
 smiled, as she looked grave or gay — mould- 
 ed his movements to every graceful atti- 
 tude, modulated his voice to every varied 
 feeling — talked of domestic happiness with 
 rapture, deprecated the forms of society with, 
 asperity, and sometimes ventured to hint 
 the delights of love returned. How he 
 managed it we know not, but he evident-
 
 WOMAN. 235 
 
 ]y rather lost than gained ground by his 
 assiduities, and had the misery to find most 
 of his best speeches misconstrued. There 
 was a calm sobriety in the manner, a steady 
 good sense in the language, an intelligent 
 expression in the eye of Mrs. Egerton, that 
 baffled all his effrontery — and really, to do 
 him justice, Adam Wronghead, Esq. had 
 no small share of this quality. In short, 
 at the end of a few weeks, the gentleman 
 was compelled to beat a retreat, to rescue 
 himself from the disgrace of capitulation ; 
 instead of being the conqueror, he found 
 himself the conquered— instead of having 
 to boast his power, he had to feel her mercy 
 — instead of gaining her heart, he found he 
 had lost his own. It was ever afterwards 
 amusing to see the discomfited beau, in 
 the presence of the woman whose light 
 love he had so confidently anticipated to 
 gain — his eye sinking beneath her calm 
 glance, his cheek reddening at her slight- 
 est comment. Nor could he boast the cold 
 comfort of having for a moment disturbed 
 
 the
 
 236 WOMAN. 
 
 the lady's domestic tranquillity, or shaken 
 the confidence of her husband : Montague 
 Egerton would have as easily been je \lous 
 of the butterflies that fluttered around his 
 Helena. 
 
 Mrs. Egerton is no favourite of ours, as 
 may be readily supposed, her tame virtues 
 being more calculated to embellish the 
 spiritless scenes of domestic life than to 
 gild the pages of a novel. She did nothing 
 worthy publicity — nothing that could be 
 talked of; her favourite motto was, " That 
 privacy is the sphere of woman." 
 
 Her conduct, therefore, towards Adam 
 Wronghead, Esq. we can neither applaud 
 nor justify; for what harm can possibly 
 arise from a wife giving gracious encourage- 
 ment to the innocent familiarities of her 
 bachelor acquaintance — lolling on the arm 
 of one, and striking another with her fan- 
 looking grave when no harm is intended, to 
 shew she was thinking of what might have 
 been intended, and laughing at palpable 
 rudeness, to prove her forgiving good- 
 nature,
 
 WOMAN. 237 
 
 nature, with a laudable disdain of the 
 maxim ascribed to Caesar — " It is not 
 enougli for a woman to be virtuous — she 
 must also appear so?" 
 
 We can only recollect two rather dis- 
 agreeable consequences likely to ensue 
 from such pretty trifling : first, the chance 
 of giving pain to a husband — and what 
 woman of spirit cares for that? Nay, if 
 the silly man chooses to be jealous, this is 
 the best mode of curing him; for since 
 jealousy cannot exist without love, the 
 deuce is in it, if by destroying his love he 
 will not also be cured of his jealousy. 
 Secondly, the general opinion that the most 
 abandoned profligate will not presume to 
 violate a female's delicacy, by a look, a word, 
 an act, of undue freedom, if that female 
 does not, by the beforementioned levity, 
 give licence and encouragement to his folly. 
 Hence such pretty trifling is deemed too 
 often the precursor of deeper error; the 
 woman who begins with excusing levity 
 too often finishes by participating guilt. — ■
 
 238 WOMAN. 
 
 Perhaps it is as well for her to avoid both 
 these chances — the risk of her husband's 
 peace and attachment — of her own virtue 
 and happiness I 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 Pride and Dignity. 
 
 In one of Mrs. Egerton's visits to Mrs. 
 Mary Knowlesdon, she became acquainted 
 with a new character. Mrs. Barbara Maude 
 was an elderly maiden of humble rank, 
 and still humbler fortune ; the small-pox 
 had not only deeply scarred her face, but 
 destroyed the sight of one of her eyes; 
 the rheumatism (caught by plunging into 
 a stream to save a cottager's drowning child) 
 had fixed fci her left knee, and rendered 
 her movements slow and awkward. Her 
 small fortune was made yet smaller by the 
 perfidy >of the supposed friend to whom it 
 
 was
 
 WOMAN. 239 
 
 was confided. Her health had been severe- 
 ly injured by a long attendance on a sick 
 brother, who at length had died in her 
 arms, and left two pennyless orphans, sole- 
 ly dependent on her benevolence. Thus 
 nature and fortune had conspired to afThct 
 and oppress her; yet, with unaccount- 
 able perversity, this old woman would be 
 happy and cheerful amidst adversity, would 
 be respectable amidst poverty and insigni- 
 ficance. 
 
 The increased illness of Mrs. Rachael, 
 and the consequent more rigid confine- 
 ment of Mrs. "Mary, were sufficient reasons 
 to bring this compassionate mortal to the 
 sick chamber ; enlivening them, not with 
 delicious tales of double-distilled and dou- 
 ble-retailed scandal, and anecdotes of ego- 
 tism — " how ill she behaved — how rudely 
 he spoke — how kindly / acted — how calm- 
 ly I interfered ;" but with cheering details 
 of poverty relieved, of prosperity enjoyed — 
 who was kind — who was generous — who 
 xvas humble. 
 
 Mrs.
 
 340 WOMAN. 
 
 Mrs. Egerton of course* expected little 
 merit beneath so much deformity and vul- 
 garity, and was disposed to turn with dis- 
 gust from the decrepid mortal, perched on 
 a chair much too high for her dangling feet 
 — she anticipated little candour from the 
 sharp features, rapid enunciation, and low- 
 bred air of the stranger, but had soon cause 
 to blush for her premature judgment, and 
 listened with admiration and respect to 
 sentiments equally the expression of sense 
 and feeling. 
 
 Reader, " it is not all gold that glitters/' 
 — the most precious diamonds are found 
 encrusted with a coarse and unlovely co- 
 vering. 
 
 As soon as Mrs. Barbara saw that her 
 friends were enlivened witli more agree- 
 able society, she arose to depart — " I will 
 go home — I can be of no further use." 
 
 " Then now stay for our pleasure," said 
 Mrs. Mary, with kind earnestness. 
 
 ** Pleasure ! I only pretend to give help, 
 
 and 
 
 * And why of course?
 
 WOMAN. 241 
 
 and leave pleasure to be conferred by the 
 young, the gay, the lovely." She smiled 
 in perfect good- humour as her eye glanced 
 towards Mrs. Egerton. 
 
 " You have forgotten," replied Helena, 
 " to add to youth, beauty, and gaiety, the 
 only quality that can give those charms, 
 imposing as they are, the power to please." 
 
 " What have I forgotten ?" asked Mrs. 
 Barbara. 
 
 * Good temper," said Mrs. Egerton, em- 
 phatically; " without which, youth, beauty 
 and gaiety, are but worthless, though shin- 
 ing attributes." 
 
 Mrs. Barbara understood the practice 
 better than the precept — how to act, better 
 than how to comment, and left to Mrs. 
 Egerton the rare union of conduct and of 
 maxim. 
 
 When the poor cripple rose to depart, 
 her limping gait attracted Mrs. Egertoifs 
 attention. — " You must not go alone." 
 
 " I am sorry Susan is not here, to give 
 you her arm," said Mrs. Mary. 
 
 vol. i. m Susau
 
 242 WOMAX. 
 
 Susan had in fact disappeared at the first 
 glimpse of the " tiresome old maid,"though, 
 be it known, the tiresome old maid had 
 come that morning, purposely " to relieve 
 pretty Miss Susan," and to give that young 
 lady an opportunity of walking abroad. 
 
 What was to be done? — " You shall 
 accept my arm," said Mrs. Egerton. 
 
 " You, madam ! you creeping through 
 the village to succour me /" 
 
 Mrs. Egerton sighed to think how little 
 kindness this benevolent being must have 
 experienced, to justify this exclamation of 
 surprise ; and Mrs. Mary smiled at the ac- 
 cent placed on the two pronouns, me and 
 you — the difference between meum and 
 tuum had never before met her ear so dis- 
 tinguished. 
 
 Mrs. Barbara, to her increased dismay, 
 discovered tnat she had not to combat with 
 a benevolence that exhausted itself in 
 words, or satisfied itself with professions* 
 and soon found herself " creeping through 
 the village," leaning on the arm of the 
 
 young,
 
 WOMAN. 24$ 
 
 young, the lovely, the elegant Mrs. Eger- 
 ton. 
 
 Many were the walkers on that event- 
 ful day. Susan Knowlesdon, with some of 
 her giddy associates, intended, and indeed 
 attempted, to titter contempt as they pass- 
 ed; but a something within — a something 
 over which they had no control, silenced 
 their giggling, and they passed the pair, 
 constrained and reproved. 
 
 Lady Wronghead. judging by her own 
 feelings, with much delicate consideration, 
 designed to spare Mrs. Egerton's. by pre- 
 tending not to see her, nor the disgraceful 
 duty in which she was engaged. 
 
 But the stupid Helena, unmindful of the 
 kind intention, stopped her polite ladyship, 
 and exchanged with her the salutation of 
 the morning, a courtesy lady Wronghead 
 would willingly have declined. 
 
 Miss Clementina Wronghead, on whose 
 
 arm leant the superbly dressed lady Ruth- 
 
 ven, adroitly looked another way, and was 
 
 so engrossed in admiring the soap and can- 
 
 m 2 dies
 
 244 WOMAN. 
 
 dies in a chandler's shop, that she could 
 neither see Mrs. Egerton, nor hear her au- 
 dible " good-morrow." 
 
 Miss Patty Muddleton, following in the 
 rear, leading one of the " sweet little Ruth- 
 vens," and chatting with the noble earl, 
 marked the skilful manoeuvre of her niece, 
 and had already fixed upon the pots and 
 pans of a brazier's shop, on which to place 
 her regards, at the dreaded encounter. 
 
 Unhappily, poor Miss Patty, more 
 prompt in imitation than invention, was 
 iVot so circumstanced as to profit by this 
 felicitous arrangement. The parties met 
 indeed before the attractive brazier's shop; 
 bu: — who can guard against all contingen- 
 cies?— an ill-natured wheelbarrow obstruct- 
 ed the footpath. 
 
 Mrs. Ivgerton was aware that her crip- 
 pled companion could not safely forego 
 the smooth pavement; she therefore paused 
 1 11 the obstacle could be removed. 
 
 Miss Patty did not anticipate the plea- 
 sure of this tete-a-tete meeting ; and, in 
 
 spite
 
 WOMAN". 245 
 
 spite of the innumerable joints in the neck, 
 and the admirable power of movement, so 
 vaunted by anatomists, could not discover 
 a mode of averting the head so as to avoid 
 the open glance of Helena — nor did any 
 other contrivance occur to her, though we 
 could have helped her to a dozen. 
 
 How easily she might have stooped, as 
 if her shoe-string wanted tying, bent down 
 to whisper to the " sweet little Ruthven," 
 laughed or coughed violently — even a fit of 
 sneezing had served her turn ; but none 
 of these bright subterfuges popped into the 
 head of the Lidy ; and, to add to her disas- 
 ters (" let it not be named in C4ath !") un- 
 der the rose, Mrs. Barbara Maude was first 
 cousin, without any remove, to 
 Muddleton, and, worse tfy 
 unlucky habit of calling things 
 names. 
 
 " La, cousin, how do you do ?" 
 Let the woman of feeling, unjustly ac- 
 cused of cruelty — the man o£ honour, ma- 
 pfe m 3 lieiously
 
 246 WOMAN. 
 
 lieiously pronounced dishonourable— No, 
 we are wrong — indignation were here le- 
 gitimate. Rather let the worthless wife, 
 long glorying in impunity, when first con- 
 victed of her guilt — let the systematic slan- 
 derer, boastful of his affected truth, just 
 detected in falsehood — let these, and such 
 as these, recal the anguish of their shame, 
 and they may faintly image the consterna- 
 tion of Miss Patty Muddle ton. 
 
 She spoke not — she moved not ; some 
 very inquisitive glances from her noble at- 
 tendant appeared to increase her agitation. 
 It has been whispered to us, but we do not 
 announce it as a fact, the noble lord had 
 just before inquired who was that miser- 
 able object? a; id that Miss Patty had suc- 
 cinctly replied that, upon her honour ! she 
 did not know. 
 
 Mrs. Egerton was awakened from her 
 benevolent belief that Mrs. Barbara had 
 made a mistake, by the second exclamation 
 of that good woman. 
 
 " There
 
 WOMAN, 247 
 
 " Tli ere row — I see I have vexed her ! 
 Well, I am very sorry — she often tells me 
 I must not speak so loud in company." 
 
 Poor Miss Patty ! she sickened beneath 
 the calm contempt of Mrs, Egertoifs speak- 
 ing glance, and splashing through the ken- 
 nel, rushed forward;. 
 
 Womanly curiosity, that bane of woman- 
 ly repose, gave new pangs to her humilia- 
 tion, when, looking back upon the party, 
 she beheld his right honourable lordship, 
 with his two right honourable hands, actu- 
 ally removing the obtruding wheelbarrow. 
 Nor were tire loud and reiterated thanks 
 of the grateful cripple, nor the graceful 
 move with which Mrs. Egerton acknow- 
 ledged the courtesy, lost upon her — all, 
 all were thorns and thistles to her fretted 
 bosom. Little even did she approve the 
 sort of exulting smile, with which his lord- 
 ship, when he again joined her, announced 
 his happiness in having been instrumental 
 to the service of" her worthy cousin." 
 
 U 4 At
 
 248 WOMAN. 
 
 At the bottom of the village stood the 
 newly-arrived Mr. Knowlesdon, a mirth- 
 ful spectator of the scene. — " Your expe- 
 riment was too severe," said he, drawing 
 the pressing arm of Mrs. Barbara from Mrs. 
 Kgerton's into his own ; " good Miss Pat- 
 ty was in her boiling point, when in con- 
 with the earl, and you too abruptly 
 sunk her to the freezing point by the ap- 
 proximation of Mrs. Barbara. There is no 
 thermometer in the world that can bear 
 such rapid changes without powerful agi- 
 tation." 
 
 He then proceeded, as he slowly moved 
 towards Mrs. Barbara's humble dwelling, 
 to give many instances of Miss Muddle- 
 ton's exquisite sensibility: how he once 
 had discovered the bankruptcy of a trades- 
 man, by the chill glance that took place of 
 Miss Fatty's usual warm salutation (N. B. 
 the man was a bachelor), and how he had 
 also ascertained the truth of a floating ru- 
 mour, that a certain youth was left sole 
 
 heir
 
 WOMAX. 249 
 
 heir to his uncle, by her cool curtsey being 
 transformed into a glowing shake of the 
 hand. 
 
 Laughing, they reached Mrs. Maude's 
 abode. The little apart ment, generally neat 
 and well-arranged, was in a state of disor- 
 der, the glass had been removed from its 
 nail, and the table was scattered with curl- 
 papers, combs, and pins. 
 
 " Bless us! here's a confusion!" said Mrs. 
 Barbara, instantly occupying herself in re- 
 placing the glass, and removing the hete- 
 rogeneous articles from the table. 
 
 " Your children have been playing sad 
 tricks here," said the solicitor. 
 
 " Children !" exclaimed Mrs. Egerton. 
 
 * Did you not know Miss Barbara had 
 a family ?" answered the solicitor. 
 
 "La! bless you, my dear sir, they ai e 
 none of mine ! only two orphans, be- 
 queathed to me by a dead penny less bro- 
 ther. Oh, how much have I to be thank- 
 ful lor, in being able to maintain them, 
 poorly indeed, but decently !" 
 
 M 5 It
 
 £50 woman. 
 
 It was a picture worthy the pen of a phi- 
 losopher — it was a picture worthy the pen- 
 cil of an artist — an infirm, aged, suffering 
 female, bereft of affluence, and bowed down 
 by disease, thanking her Maker — for what? 
 the privilege of sharing her pittance with 
 the fatherless, and those who had no other 
 helper. 
 
 Tears of veneration rolled in large drops 
 down the cheeks of Helena — even the har- 
 dy solicitor, " albeit unused to the melt- 
 ingmood," twinkled away a tear, that "would 
 rise as he said — " And so these children of 
 yours derange your household?" 
 
 P Heaven bless them ! not they, for they 
 are at school hard by — Xo, this is cousin 
 Patty's doing ; she often steps in here to 
 right herself, after her dirty walk from the 
 Hall." 
 
 " Ungrateful woman !" burst from the 
 lips of Mr. Knowlesdon ; and, did we love 
 the language of metaphor, we might say 
 how the rosy glow of indignation dried the 
 tear of pity on the cheek of Helena. 
 
 Bat
 
 wosrAisr. 231 
 
 But perhaps our readers may think we 
 are altogether dealing in metaphor, and 
 while some ma; deem the contented and 
 generous cripple as a character out of na- 
 ture, others may as stoutly deny the ex- 
 istence of such a mean, cold-blooded, selfish 
 mortal, as Miss Patty Muddletom 
 
 Header, have you never seen the poor' 
 helping the poorer ? the weak assisting the 
 weaker ? Reader, have you never beheld 
 merit shunned because obscure ? virtue 
 disdained because coupled with poverty ? 
 Have you never marked the prosperous 
 avoid the unfortunate? the friend, the re- 
 lative scorned when associated with the 
 v ulgar or the poor? Have you never known 
 the kindness that was courted in privacy 
 derided in public scenes? 
 
 For our own parts, we never coidd dis- 
 cover why people should be ashamed of 
 poverty, or proud of opulence : in nine 
 cases out of ten, chance, not virtue, deter- 
 mines the assignment. Were povertv the 
 necessary attendant of vice, our wonder at 
 M G. its
 
 252 WOMAN. 
 
 its avoidance would cease ; but since it is 
 a dispensation over which we have little 
 power, to be proud of wealth or rank is a 
 tacit confession that these adventitious ad- 
 vantages are all we possess to distinguish 
 us from our fellow-creatures. 
 
 We have seen titled mortals, whom we 
 have heartily despised — we have shunned 
 the disgraceful notice of wealth, and court- 
 ed the ennobling esteem of the poor ; and 
 we gladly announce, that we have also be- 
 held nobles whose least honour was their 
 coronets, and rich men whose smallest 
 distinction was their wealth. 
 
 Dare we for once, and only once, tack a 
 moral to our tale — ki Dignity is not lost by 
 humble, but by vicious connexions." 
 
 CHAP-
 
 WOM-AX. §53f 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Criticism on Critic 
 
 isms. 
 
 There is hardly any thing more enter- 
 taining* than the misrepresentations inten- 
 tionally or unintentionally circulated hi 
 chit-chat — it produces such a charming va- 
 riety in conversation, in the different alter- 
 ations given to the same detail : like play- 
 ing a favourite air with variations, or sing- 
 ing a ballad with ad libitum cadatzoes, 
 the change of a look, of a word — the mis- 
 placing of a pause, of an accent, produces 
 an incalculable alteration in the original 
 speech, and diffuses the charm of novelty 
 in the intercourse of social life. 
 
 Thus, when Mrs. A. tells Mrs. B. that 
 she heard Mrs. C. the other day declare, 
 
 that 
 
 * We had nearlv made a grand mistake and written 
 '■ mischievous."
 
 $54 WOMAN. 
 
 that " the Misses B. were most uncommon 
 girls !" by the addition of a certain tone, a 
 certain accent on the adjective, she makes 
 it appear that the young ladies were deem- 
 ed uncommon in the sense of oddness, for 
 the plainness of their features or the awk- 
 wardness of their address, when poor Mrs. 
 C. meant to approve them as singularly 
 pretty or agreeable. 
 
 Or when Mrs. D. informs Mrs. E. that 
 Mrs. F. marvelled much that Mr.. E. only 
 gave five pounds, by the gratuitous in- 
 sertion of the little dissyllable " only," she 
 causes the partial wife to conclude that her 
 tse has been censured for parsimony 5 
 when in fact he was praised for liberality. 
 
 It is said, that whenever a speech admits 
 of two significations, the French invari- 
 ably accept the more courteous, as the one 
 intended. In the rage for imitating that 
 polite nation, it would be happy if, with 
 their costume, we caught the suavity of 
 their manners, and in this particular im- 
 bibed the spirit of their conversation. Row 
 
 far
 
 WOMAN. 255 
 
 far such a disposition to understand every 
 phrase in its kindest meaning conduces to 
 their refinement and hilarity, is a question 
 worthy discussion, it being a stubborn 
 fact, that the opposite propensity, the ten- 
 dency to imagine censure, and fancy rude- 
 ness, so prevalent in messieurs and mes- 
 dames Anghises, is the common source of 
 all the disagreements and heart-burnings 
 that destroy social unanimity. 
 
 It seems a harsh, but it would really be 
 a most infallible remedy, to that class of 
 dissensions caused and propagated by re- 
 petition, to introduce a system of never 
 repeating a single sentence that is spoken, 
 We can easily imagine the consternation, 
 and displeasure with which such a propo- 
 sal would be received. — " What ! are we 
 never to speak a word !" Stay, ladies (for 
 of course it is only the softer sex that will 
 suffer by any curtailment in the privileges 
 of talking), stay ! we would not, for the 
 world, silence the pretty sounds of your 
 sweet voices ; but suppose we ask you to 
 
 talk
 
 256 WOMAN. 
 
 talk about things, rather than persons — 
 suppose you make general, rather than per- 
 sonal observations ? 
 
 Shudder not at this limitation, for many 
 valuable subjects for discourse may still be 
 enjoyed : you may talk eternally of fea- 
 thers, flowers, and trinkets, if you meddle 
 not with those who wear them — you may 
 descant for ever on modes and fashions, if 
 you pass unnoticed those who adopt them. 
 We will heartily agree with you, that 
 gowns without tuckers, and petticoats 
 some inches above the ancle, are highly 
 indecorous ; but we will not cro on with 
 you, to pronounce Miss G. the most shame- 
 less damsel in the world, for sporting the 
 first, or Mrs. H. the most graceless of 
 matrons, for adopting the last. We will 
 cheerfully agree with you, that pearls and 
 diamonds form very handsome orna- 
 ments, and that feathers and flowers 
 look very gay ; but w T e will not have any 
 thing to say to you, if you proceed to com- 
 ment on the impropriety of Mrs. L. the 
 
 tradesman's
 
 WOMAN. 
 
 tradesman's wife, decking herself with the, 
 one, or Mrs. K. the ancient widow, flaunt- 
 mg in the otner. 
 
 " Then are we never to talk of fmr 
 neighbours ?" Oh, by all means ! talk of 
 them incessantly — let their actions, their 
 sentiments, be for ever on your lips, with 
 this restriction only, that you bound your 
 recollections to their good actions, their; 
 kind sentiments — bow very charitable lady 
 M. is to her neighbours — how very kind 
 Miss N. is to her sisters, &c. &c. &c. 
 
 But, to illustrate our position by our 
 story : — at the very first visit Mrs. Mansel 
 paid at the abbey, after the late curious 
 scene in the village, she made a point of 
 censuring the conduct of the Wronghead 
 family, especially Miss Patty's, which she 
 had attentively observed from her draw- 
 ing-room window. 
 
 How she might have acted herself, un- 
 der similar circumstances, she paused not 
 to consider, and in the warmth of her vir- 
 tuous indignation, '; remembered to for"- ; 
 
 how
 
 £58 WOMAN. 
 
 how confounded she herself looked when 
 lord Ruthven once espied her helping the 
 poor cripple over a kennel. Query— would 
 the woman who blushed to be seen per- 
 forming an act of charity, have hardily; 
 dared an act of courtesy ? 
 
 Mrs. Egerton, from charitable, not cau- 
 tious motives, would willingly have avoid- 
 ed the subject — she could not say any 
 thing commendable, and she would not say 
 an} r thing severe. 
 
 Mrs. Mansel, however, seemed resolved 
 to enforce her opinion, and at last drew 
 from her a slight, a very slight censure, a 
 gentle reprimand, calculated to rouse slum- 
 bering virtue, but not irritate hardened 
 guilt.* 
 
 Had it been heard exactly as it was ori- 
 ginally spoken, the mind of Miss Muddle- 
 ton might have imbibed a truth, as well as 
 a maxim — might have seen her error, its 
 easy detection, and its easy cure. Unhap- 
 pily 
 
 * What if only such censures were 'expressed, as, if 
 hear tl # might inform, sooth, and amend the offending party ?
 
 WOMAN. 259 
 
 pily the experiment was never made; most 
 of the words indeed met the offender's ear, 
 but the sweet smile, the pitying accents 
 with which they were accompanied, were 
 lost in the transmission. 
 
 Mrs. Mansel, after quitting the Abbey, 
 called at the Hall. She did not do so from 
 any regular plan of espionage, for she was 
 a chance-medley scandal-monger, and it 
 was with even less forethought that she 
 tattled over at one mansion the ideas she 
 had collected in the other. Now Mrs, 
 Mansel never had to boast a superabund- 
 ance of head-furniture, and therefore it was 
 natural she should retail the few notions 
 she did accumulate as quickly as possible. 
 
 The Wronghead family had the full ad- 
 vantage of all Mrs. Mansel had heard at 
 Thurleston ; and as the account seemed to 
 awaken considerable interest, she very 
 obligingly garnished her twice-told tale 
 with every embellishment that could ren- 
 der it amusing to her auditors. 
 
 Among the multiplicity of " says IV" 
 
 and
 
 260 "WOMAN. 
 
 and " says she's," it was impossible to draw 
 up a statement sufficiently accurate to be 
 inserted in our true history : thus, as quacks, 
 without making public the several ingre- 
 dients of their infallible essences, are con- 
 tent to assert only their important effects, 
 so we, without laying open the exact words 
 of the conversation, shall simply state its 
 results — Miss Patty was irretrievably ot- 
 fended. 
 
 A few mornings intervened. Mrs. Eger- 
 ton was rambling in the park with her 
 children, sharing in their gambols, and en- 
 couraging their activity — she had just 
 knelt down, to tie her little Frank's shoe- 
 string, when Miss Muddleton brushed past, 
 close behind her. 
 
 Xow, though Moliere has hinted that 
 the heart sometimes is not on the left side, 
 and experience suggests that, with some 
 people, the heart is neither there nor any- 
 where else, yet it has never yet been as- 
 serted, that the eyes were any where but 
 under the brow — not the most daring 
 
 theorist
 
 WOMAN. £61 
 
 theorist has presumed to argue, that, judg- 
 ing from analogy, because flies can see all 
 round, that therefore human beings can, or 
 ought to do so too ; yet certain it is, 
 Miss Muddleton very positively affirmed, 
 that " Mrs. Egerton would not speak 
 to her, though she must have seen her, 
 for she passed so close, their gowns brushed 
 eacii other." 
 
 Of Miss Patty's exemplary correctness, 
 we have already given abundant proof — 
 and that, in this instance, she spoke truth, 
 as far as she went, every one must allow. 
 Some may impertinently observe, that here 
 she preserved the letter, rather than the 
 spirit of the law; for though she might 
 have sworn to the veracity of the state- 
 ment without risk of perjury, who could 
 have supposed she meant the hack of the 
 gown ? 
 
 Was it a consciousness of deserving to 
 be shunned, that caused this hasty beiie'of 
 it ? We leave this question for the mature 
 
 teliteration
 
 £62 WOMAN. 
 
 deliberation of our readers — they shall de- 
 cide for us, whether the innocent or the 
 guilty are the first to shew marks of shame- 
 facedness — the first to fancy contempt and 
 censure. 
 
 The parties met in the saloon of Ran- 
 dom Hall. — Miss Patty was all well-bred 
 ease and Christian formality — nothing 
 could exceed the politeness of her manners, 
 except the acrimony of her feelings. 
 
 Mrs. Egerton was pretty much as usual 
 — -perhaps not quite so cordial to Miss 
 Muddleton, as she was wont to be to all 
 her fellow-creatures. Mrs. Barbara Maude 
 was yet fresh in her memory, but she 
 checked every propensity to open or dis- 
 guised enmity— no keen irony dropped 
 from her lips, no concealed sarcasm was ex- 
 pressed in her discourse. 
 
 Mr. Knowlesdon was angry at this un- 
 merited gentleness, and called it a defici- 
 ency of energy in the cause of virtue; and 
 so, no doubt, will many of our readers, who, 
 
 kind
 
 WOMAN. 26$ 
 
 kind souls! love to be honest, dare* to say 
 what they dare to think — do not shrink 
 from avowing their sentiments, though at 
 the risk of wounding a friend — though, 
 peradventure, their spirited remarks give 
 many a pang, and raise many an enemy. 
 
 The solicitor called the next dav at the 
 abbey. — " My dear Mrs. Egerton, why did 
 you not make that woman feel her error?" 
 
 " She looked as if she did, without any 
 comment from me." 
 
 " But a good biting speech would have 
 probed her conscience." 
 
 " And rankled there for ever," said Mrs. 
 Egerton. 
 
 " She would never have forgotten it." 
 
 " And never have forgiven it." 
 
 ? She would have remembered it to the 
 last day of her life." 
 
 " And hated me for it to the last day 
 of her life." 
 
 - Well, 
 
 * But v.hy boast of presuming to think anJ act imcha- 
 ritably ?
 
 264 WOMAN. 
 
 " Well, and what would that signify ?" 
 
 " Nothing — but the unehristianness of 
 the sentiment thereby incurred;'? said Mrs. 
 Egerton ; " I v/ould not willingly hate or 
 be hated by any living creature." 
 
 " But an air of contempt towards her 
 would have justly humbled her." 
 
 " Nothing is so unforgivable as con- 
 tempt ; it is a weapon, therefore, I never 
 use." 
 
 u Well then, an angry remonstrance." 
 
 " Pardon me — the wise need no remon- 
 strance ; on the foolish it would be thrown 
 away." 
 
 " Then what would you do ?" 
 
 Mrs. Mary answered her brother — * As 
 much as possible, live peaceably with all 
 men." 
 
 M But at this rate, Mrs. Egerton, you 
 make no difference between right and 
 wrong — between thobe you respect and 
 those you despise." 
 
 " I had hoped that yesterday I gave os- 
 tensible proofs of the distinction of my 
 
 feelings
 
 WOMAN. 265 
 
 feelings towards your sister, Mrs. Mary 
 Knowlesdon, and Miss Patty Muddleton." 
 
 " True, true — forgive me ! Nothing 
 could be more marked than your frank cor- 
 diality to the one, and your cool civility 
 to the other ; yet I do wish that you had 
 given madam Martha a few severe repri- 
 mands, just to do her good." 
 
 " My dear Mr. Knowlesdon, do you in 
 seriousness believe that error was ever cor- 
 rected by sarcastic repartee, or amendment 
 induced by pointed irony ?" 
 
 Mr. Knowlesdon meditated upon the 
 question, whilst Mrs. Egerton pursued her 
 remarks. 
 
 " It strikes me, satire is indulged rather 
 to gratify the satirist than with any inten- 
 tion of benefiting the satirized — to shew 
 sense at the price of benevolence." 
 
 " I believe you are right; yet witty cen- 
 sure may be likened to flinging vinegar 
 on a green wound — a smart application, in- 
 deed, but it may retard the growth of pec- 
 cant humours," exclaimed Mr. Knowles- 
 don. 
 
 vol. i. K "But
 
 266 woman. 
 
 " But where emollients can serve the 
 turn, he would be a harsh physician who 
 would prescribe the sharper remedy," re- 
 plied Mrs. Egerton. 
 
 " Excellent P said the solicitor ; " where 
 did you learn this creed? where did you 
 gain this reasoning?" 
 
 " Not from a Cicero or a Demosthenes, 
 but from yet higher authority," said Mrs. 
 Mary. 
 
 The solicitor looked incredulous, but his 
 sister closed her period. 
 
 " From the simple, the beautiful code 
 of Christian morality— that pure, that only 
 fountain of all that is wise, virtuous, and 
 holy !" 
 
 Mr. Knowlesdon was touched by her 
 enthusiasm, and affectionately pressing her 
 hand, exclaimed — " Who, my dear Mary, 
 who shall doubt the purity, the efficiency 
 of a creed, by which such a life as yours 
 has been regulated — by which such senti- 
 ments as your friend's have been incul- 
 cated ?" 
 
 Mr. Knowlesdon was a man of strong 
 
 understanding
 
 WOMAK. 267 
 
 understanding and extensive information, 
 sufficiently wise to be diffident of his opi- 
 nions — sufficiently learned to be aware of 
 his ignorance ; he had read much, and he 
 had thought more — he was religious from 
 feeling as well as conviction ; he had heard 
 many eloquent preachers, he had read many 
 eloquent sermons, yet he has been frequent- 
 ly known to declare, that his heart was 
 never so profoundly, so beneficially touch- 
 ed, as by this simple comment of his sis- 
 ter's. It was the beautiful union of pre- 
 cept and example — it was practice enfor- 
 cing theory. From that moment he felt 
 more eager than before to draw his max- 
 ims from the same source, to fashion his 
 opinions and conduct by the same rules, 
 to anchor his hopes on the same immove- 
 able rock ; and often, amidst the tempta- 
 tions, the struggles, the vicissitudes of his 
 after life, lie looked back upon this mo- 
 ment to sooth his irritation, sustain his 
 fortitude, *' to give him the power of en- 
 
 durance 
 
 iy 
 
 N 2 How
 
 268 WOMAN. 
 
 How many of his sex might be so 
 awakened, so instructed, were woman what 
 she ought to be — the practical commenta- 
 tor, the practical promulgator of the Chris- 
 tian doctrine — mild, humble, cheerful, 
 pious ! 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 A Beau celebrated and a Belle scolded. 
 
 Susan Knowlesdon, about this time, read 
 Ossian's Poems, and without troubling 
 herself respecting their author, dashed off 
 the following lines : — 
 
 " SONNET ON READING OS SI AN. 
 
 ** Enchanting bard ! thy boldly- soaring note, 
 Caught from the beauties of thy native dime, 
 Where, on some mountain's brow, thou sittst sublime, 
 
 And markst the transient glories as they float — 
 
 Thy
 
 WOMAN. 269 
 
 Thy pencil, dipt in Nature's varied dyes, 
 Paints varied Nature in her changing forms : 
 Now high thou wrapst the soul in gathering storms, 
 
 Now bidstit smile beneath unclouded skies; 
 
 At thy command the blushing flow'rets bloom, 
 And weave their lovely garlands, sweetly mild; 
 
 At thy command the deepening horrors gloom, 
 And shrieking Loda answers to the wind ! 
 Enchanting bard ! rude Scotia's peerless* child ! 
 Bright emanation of th' Eternal mind !" 
 
 The way in which this irregular sonnet 
 was written may offer some excuse for its 
 many defects. Susan had retired to bed, 
 after a day's close reading of the Bard of 
 Scotia ; and on her aunt's unexpectedly 
 entering her chamber, started from her pil- 
 low, and requested to have some paper and 
 a pencil given to her. 
 
 Mrs. Mary, believing her niece dream- 
 ing, would have retired without obliging 
 N S her, 
 
 * This expression denotes Susan unacquainted with 
 Burns, whilst the next line speaks her acquainted with 
 Tlato.
 
 270 WOMAN. 
 
 her, but Susan repeated her request in such 
 earnest tones, that Mrs. Mary at length 
 complied, and handed to her a sheet of pa- 
 per that lay on her dressing-table. 
 
 Susan rapidly scribbled the lines which, 
 " with all their imperfections on their 
 head,'' we have given to our readers, 
 and then very calmly lay down and fell 
 asleep. 
 
 Mrs. Mary produced the poem the next 
 morning at the breakfast-table, and as Mr. 
 Knowlesdon said nothing worse of it, than 
 " that it was not poetry," Susan would 
 have escaped further remark, had not the 
 paper unluckily contained other less ob- 
 jectionable lines. 
 
 Now these other " rhyming lines," for 
 we will not profane the word poetry by so 
 appropriating it, caused Susan to receive 
 so severe a lecture from the solicitor, that, 
 poor girl ! she mentally vowed her pen 
 should never more adventure the danger- 
 ous field of satire. 
 
 . After giving such a mysterious account 
 
 . of
 
 WOMAN. 271 
 
 of this reprehensible composition, we must 
 have roused a double portion of curiosity, 
 inasmuch as we affect secrecy, and as, 
 moreover, we confess that the concealed 
 verses were satirical, and unfit for publica- 
 tion. Could curiosity be more delicio -Ay 
 or more acutely aroused? Had we studi- 
 ed for a twelvemonth, could we have hit 
 upon a more ingenious and efficacious 
 mode of giving consequence and celebrity 
 to the composition? Did we intend to 
 publish again, the very hint that our new 
 work contained " the lines," would, un- 
 doubtedly, ensure its rapid sale ; but, in 
 spite of the probable objections we foresee 
 from our publishers, we will, with unpa- 
 ralleled generosity, give them here. 
 
 Susan had seen a favourite friend neg- 
 lected, at a gay ball, by a soi-disant tip-top 
 beau, and in wrathful mood wrote, and 
 widely circulated, the following jeud' es- 
 prit on the occasion : — 
 
 N4 " TO
 
 272 WOMAN. 
 
 TO A T W , ESQ. 
 
 " Dressed all in black, with bright new yellow gloves, 
 
 His hair, Adonis-like, curled by the loves, 
 
 With roseate blushes, reddening to his ears, 
 
 Young Macaroni the divine appears. 
 
 The ladies all declare he'* quite the thing, 
 
 And whispering praises circle round the ring. 
 
 But see, he dances ! what a spring was there ! 
 
 Light as a cork, and trackless as the air ! 
 
 ? Tis past all praise— all words are cold and dead, 
 
 His heels, oh wond'rous ! lighter than his head !" 
 
 As a great secret, we will just tell our 
 most particular friends (but they must not 
 mention it to any body but their own par- 
 ticular friends), that the above hero, if they 
 have not already discovered it, was Timo- 
 theus Adam Wronghead, Esq. 
 
 The wound inflicted, however, was by 
 no means so severe as the solicitor had sup- 
 posed; for Adam Wronghead, Esq. thought 
 the " Adonis-like," " the divine," " the 
 whispering praises," were more than an 
 equivalent for the slight blemish hinted in 
 the last line. 
 
 Susan's
 
 WOMAN. 273 
 
 Susan's chastisement came from a very 
 different quarter ; for besides robbing her 
 of the attentions of a certain dashing en- 
 sign, who, in spite of the public voice giv- 
 ing the verses to the heir of Random Hall, 
 -could not help wincing under the lash of 
 the impromptu, forgetful that by his do- 
 ing so, he marked the justness of the 
 appropriation — besides this misfortune 
 (for Susan then thought it a misfortune), 
 another assailed her : her heretofore de- 
 voted and impassioned lover, the spor- 
 tive Jack, though he laughed heartily at 
 the wit, felt angry with the severity 
 of Susan's Pegasus ; and if, in after 
 days, he had not discovered that the 
 fair poetess was really good-tempered, and 
 had written these verses in a moment of 
 very uncommon spleen, it is ten to one but 
 these half-score lines had wrenched her 
 from his heart for ever — an event which, 
 however indifferent to her at that moment, 
 we shall see was of vital importance to her 
 
 future
 
 274 WOMAN. 
 
 future fate — So much harm may be done 
 by the flourish of a pen ! 
 
 " Ah ! then, ye sc; ibhling fair, 
 Of satire's wit beware V 
 
 The reader may make this a quotation, 
 by putting to it the name of any favourite 
 author ; by affixing that of Dr. Samuel 
 Johnson, he can at once exalt the couplet 
 into a maxim. 
 
 But why was the solicitor so severe upon 
 poor Susan's muse ? and why was Susan 
 so severe upon 'squire Adam? The an- 
 swers to these two questions depend upon 
 each other. 
 
 Mr. Knowlesdon was angry, not only with 
 the indulgence of satire, but with the selec- 
 tion of the object at whom it was pointed. 
 
 Adam \\ ronglicad, Esq. had never been 
 guilty of making love to Susan, but he 
 had made her an offer. He thought no 
 woman in her senses could refuse such a 
 handsome fellow ; probably he thought no 
 
 woman
 
 woman. 275 
 
 woman could refuse a chance of dear ma- 
 trimony — a chance which all the sex have 
 the credit of seeking, from the cradle to the 
 
 *te> 
 
 grave. 
 
 Susan convinced him that he built upon 
 false premises — thai M women are not to 
 be caught by mere outside — that all wo- 
 men " do not live, move, and have their 
 being," with the sole aim of entrapping 
 their male acquaintance into the holy bands 
 of marriage. 
 
 Susan unequivocally rejected him. So 
 far we cannot seriously blame her, for per- 
 haps she was right, in deeming an empty- 
 headed and cold-hearted coxcomb unwor- 
 thy her vows of love, honour, and obedi- 
 ence — perhaps she was right in thinking 
 his expected title and noble fortune no 
 equivalent for the absence of sense and 
 feeling. 
 
 But what caused Mr. Knowlesdon's an- 
 ger was her publishing his proposals and 
 her refusal — her selection of him as the butt 
 for the arrows of her wit — as the object to 
 
 encounter
 
 276 WOMAN. 
 
 encounter her contempt and derision.— 
 " Susan, a man that makes proposals of 
 marriage to a woman pays her the highest 
 compliment in his power, and ought there- 
 fore to receive gratitude, not contempt — 
 contempt can only attach to him for 
 choosing ill : thus the disdain recoils on 
 her who expresses it. But I am ashamed 
 of you — Why did you draw your cousin 
 into proposals you had resolved to reject? 
 Be assured, every woman who does so 
 feeds her vanity at the expence of her de- 
 licacy and good sense ; she may thereby 
 count many lovers, but she will boast few 
 friends, and fewer admirers." 
 
 So ended the remonstrance caused by 
 the appearance of the lines — not but that 
 Susan had heard something very like it 
 many times before, from the same quarter; 
 but the solicitor seemed to think he could 
 not too frequently repeat his censures and 
 monitions on this subject, and as we are 
 quite of his opinion, we have recorded his 
 latest strictures. 
 
 Jack
 
 woman. 277 
 
 Jack also admired his pretty cousin ; 
 but though he was always making love, 
 he had never yet made an offer — thus 
 proving, that as in proportion to the civi- 
 lization of a country women are respected, 
 in proportion to the refinement of heart 
 and mind in man, women are best loved 
 and honoured. Coxcombs alone despise 
 them — wise men feel and acknowledge 
 their merits and their claims. 
 
 END 01' VOL. I. 
 
 Printed by J. Darling, Leadenhall-Street, Lon.ion.
 
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