Love and Freindship And Other Early Works

Published：2026-08-02 06:00:01 Source: animal puppets for 9 months under 30 dollars Author: Resources

LOVE & FREINDSHIP
AND
OTHER EARLY WORKS

A Collection of Juvenile Writings

By Jane Austen

CONTENTS

LOVE AND FREINDSHIP

TO MADAME LA COMTESSE DE FEUILLIDE THIS NOVEL IS INSCRIBED BY HER OBLIGEDHUMBLE SERVANT THE AUTHOR.

“Deceived in Freindship and Betrayed in Love.”

LETTER the FIRST
From ISABEL to LAURA

How often, in answer to my repeated intreaties that you would give my Daughtera regular detail of the Misfortunes and Adventures of your Life, have you said“No, my freind never will I comply with your request till I may be nolonger in Danger of again experiencing such dreadful ones.”

Surely that time is now at hand. You are this day 55. If a woman may ever besaid to be in safety from the determined Perseverance of disagreeable Loversand the cruel Persecutions of obstinate Fathers, surely it must be at such atime of Life.

Isabel

LETTER 2nd
LAURA to ISABEL

Altho’ I cannot agree with you in supposing that I shall never again beexposed to Misfortunes as unmerited as those I have already experienced, yet toavoid the imputation of Obstinacy or ill-nature, I will gratify the curiosityof your daughter; and may the fortitude with which I have suffered the manyafflictions of my past Life, prove to her a useful lesson for the support ofthose which may befall her in her own.

Laura

LETTER 3rd
LAURA to MARIANNE

As the Daughter of my most intimate freind I think you entitled to thatknowledge of my unhappy story, which your Mother has so often solicited me togive you.

My Father was a native of Ireland and an inhabitant of Wales; my Mother was thenatural Daughter of a Scotch Peer by an italian Opera-girl—I was born inSpain and received my Education at a Convent in France.

When I had reached my eighteenth Year I was recalled by my Parents to mypaternal roof in Wales. Our mansion was situated in one of the most romanticparts of the Vale of Uske. Tho’ my Charms are now considerably softenedand somewhat impaired by the Misfortunes I have undergone, I was oncebeautiful. But lovely as I was the Graces of my Person were the least of myPerfections. Of every accomplishment accustomary to my sex, I was Mistress.When in the Convent, my progress had always exceeded my instructions, myAcquirements had been wonderfull for my age, and I had shortly surpassed myMasters.

In my Mind, every Virtue that could adorn it was centered; it was theRendez-vous of every good Quality and of every noble sentiment.

A sensibility too tremblingly alive to every affliction of my Freinds, myAcquaintance and particularly to every affliction of my own, was my only fault,if a fault it could be called. Alas! how altered now! Tho’ indeed my ownMisfortunes do not make less impression on me than they ever did, yet now Inever feel for those of an other. My accomplishments too, begin to fade—Ican neither sing so well nor Dance so gracefully as I once did—and I haveentirely forgot the Minuet Dela Cour.

Adeiu.
Laura.

LETTER 4th
LAURA to MARIANNE

Our neighbourhood was small, for it consisted only of your Mother. She mayprobably have already told you that being left by her Parents in indigentCircumstances she had retired into Wales on eoconomical motives. There it wasour freindship first commenced. Isobel was then one and twenty. Tho’pleasing both in her Person and Manners (between ourselves) she never possessedthe hundredth part of my Beauty or Accomplishments. Isabel had seen the World.She had passed 2 Years at one of the first Boarding-schools in London; hadspent a fortnight in Bath and had supped one night in Southampton.

“Beware my Laura (she would often say) Beware of the insipid Vanities andidle Dissipations of the Metropolis of England; Beware of the unmeaningLuxuries of Bath and of the stinking fish of Southampton.”

“Alas! (exclaimed I) how am I to avoid those evils I shall never beexposed to? What probability is there of my ever tasting the Dissipations ofLondon, the Luxuries of Bath, or the stinking Fish of Southampton? I who amdoomed to waste my Days of Youth and Beauty in an humble Cottage in the Vale ofUske.”

Ah! little did I then think I was ordained so soon to quit that humble Cottagefor the Deceitfull Pleasures of the World.

Adeiu.
Laura.

LETTER 5th
LAURA to MARIANNE

One Evening in December as my Father, my Mother and myself, were arranged insocial converse round our Fireside, we were on a sudden greatly astonished, byhearing a violent knocking on the outward door of our rustic Cot.

My Father started—“What noise is that,” (said he.) “Itsounds like a loud rapping at the door”—(replied my Mother.)“it does indeed.” (cried I.) “I am of your opinion; (said myFather) it certainly does appear to proceed from some uncommon violence exertedagainst our unoffending door.” “Yes (exclaimed I) I cannot helpthinking it must be somebody who knocks for admittance.”

“That is another point (replied he;) We must not pretend to determine onwhat motive the person may knock—tho’ that someone doesrapat the door, I am partly convinced.”

Here, a 2d tremendous rap interrupted my Father in his speech, and somewhatalarmed my Mother and me.

“Had we better not go and see who it is? (said she) the servants areout.” “I think we had.” (replied I.) “Certainly, (addedmy Father) by all means.” “Shall we go now?” (said myMother,) “The sooner the better.” (answered he.) “Oh! let notime be lost” (cried I.)

A third more violent Rap than ever again assaulted our ears. “I amcertain there is somebody knocking at the Door.” (said my Mother.)“I think there must,” (replied my Father) “I fancy theservants are returned; (said I) I think I hear Mary going to the Door.”“I’m glad of it (cried my Father) for I long to know who itis.”

I was right in my conjecture; for Mary instantly entering the Room, informed usthat a young Gentleman and his Servant were at the door, who had lossed theirway, were very cold and begged leave to warm themselves by our fire.

“Won’t you admit them?” (said I.) “You have noobjection, my Dear?” (said my Father.) “None in the World.”(replied my Mother.)

Mary, without waiting for any further commands immediately left the room andquickly returned introducing the most beauteous and amiable Youth, I had everbeheld. The servant she kept to herself.

My natural sensibility had already been greatly affected by the sufferings ofthe unfortunate stranger and no sooner did I first behold him, than I felt thaton him the happiness or Misery of my future Life must depend.

Adeiu.
Laura.

LETTER 6th
LAURA to MARIANNE

The noble Youth informed us that his name was Lindsay—for particularreasons however I shall conceal it under that of Talbot. He told us that he wasthe son of an English Baronet, that his Mother had been for many years no moreand that he had a Sister of the middle size. “My Father (he continued) isa mean and mercenary wretch—it is only to such particular freinds as thisDear Party that I would thus betray his failings. Your Virtues my amiablePolydore (addressing himself to my father) yours Dear Claudia and yours myCharming Laura call on me to repose in you, my confidence.” We bowed.“My Father seduced by the false glare of Fortune and the Deluding Pomp ofTitle, insisted on my giving my hand to Lady Dorothea. No never exclaimed I.Lady Dorothea is lovely and Engaging; I prefer no woman to her; but know Sir,that I scorn to marry her in compliance with your Wishes. No! Never shall it besaid that I obliged my Father.”

We all admired the noble Manliness of his reply. He continued.

“Sir Edward was surprised; he had perhaps little expected to meet with sospirited an opposition to his will. “Where, Edward in the name of wonder(said he) did you pick up this unmeaning gibberish? You have been studyingNovels I suspect.” I scorned to answer: it would have been beneath mydignity. I mounted my Horse and followed by my faithful William set forth formy Aunts.”

“My Father’s house is situated in Bedfordshire, my Aunt’s inMiddlesex, and tho’ I flatter myself with being a tolerable proficient inGeography, I know not how it happened, but I found myself entering thisbeautifull Vale which I find is in South Wales, when I had expected to havereached my Aunts.”

“After having wandered some time on the Banks of the Uske without knowingwhich way to go, I began to lament my cruel Destiny in the bitterest and mostpathetic Manner. It was now perfectly dark, not a single star was there todirect my steps, and I know not what might have befallen me had I not at lengthdiscerned thro’ the solemn Gloom that surrounded me a distant light,which as I approached it, I discovered to be the chearfull Blaze of your fire.Impelled by the combination of Misfortunes under which I laboured, namely Fear,Cold and Hunger I hesitated not to ask admittance which at length I havegained; and now my Adorable Laura (continued he taking my Hand) when may I hopeto receive that reward of all the painfull sufferings I have undergone duringthe course of my attachment to you, to which I have ever aspired. Oh! when willyou reward me with Yourself?”

“This instant, Dear and Amiable Edward.” (replied I.). We wereimmediately united by my Father, who tho’ he had never taken orders hadbeen bred to the Church.

Adeiu.
Laura.

LETTER 7th
LAURA to MARIANNE

We remained but a few days after our Marriage, in the Vale of Uske. Aftertaking an affecting Farewell of my Father, my Mother and my Isabel, Iaccompanied Edward to his Aunt’s in Middlesex. Philippa received us bothwith every expression of affectionate Love. My arrival was indeed a mostagreable surprise to her as she had not only been totally ignorant of myMarriage with her Nephew, but had never even had the slightest idea of therebeing such a person in the World.

Augusta, the sister of Edward was on a visit to her when we arrived. I foundher exactly what her Brother had described her to be—of the middle size.She received me with equal surprise though not with equal Cordiality, asPhilippa. There was a disagreable coldness and Forbidding Reserve in herreception of me which was equally distressing and Unexpected. None of thatinteresting Sensibility or amiable simpathy in her manners and Address to mewhen we first met which should have distinguished our introduction to eachother. Her Language was neither warm, nor affectionate, her expressions ofregard were neither animated nor cordial; her arms were not opened to receiveme to her Heart, tho’ my own were extended to press her to mine.

A short Conversation between Augusta and her Brother, which I accidentallyoverheard encreased my dislike to her, and convinced me that her Heart was nomore formed for the soft ties of Love than for the endearing intercourse ofFreindship.

“But do you think that my Father will ever be reconciled to thisimprudent connection?” (said Augusta.)

“Augusta (replied the noble Youth) I thought you had a better opinion ofme, than to imagine I would so abjectly degrade myself as to consider myFather’s Concurrence in any of my affairs, either of Consequence orconcern to me. Tell me Augusta with sincerity; did you ever know me consult hisinclinations or follow his Advice in the least trifling Particular since theage of fifteen?”

“Edward (replied she) you are surely too diffident in your own praise.Since you were fifteen only! My Dear Brother since you were five years old, Ientirely acquit you of ever having willingly contributed to the satisfaction ofyour Father. But still I am not without apprehensions of your being shortlyobliged to degrade yourself in your own eyes by seeking a support for your wifein the Generosity of Sir Edward.”

“Never, never Augusta will I so demean myself. (said Edward). Support!What support will Laura want which she can receive from him?”

“Only those very insignificant ones of Victuals and Drink.”(answered she.)

“Victuals and Drink! (replied my Husband in a most nobly contemptuousManner) and dost thou then imagine that there is no other support for anexalted mind (such as is my Laura’s) than the mean and indelicateemployment of Eating and Drinking?”

“None that I know of, so efficacious.” (returned Augusta).

“And did you then never feel the pleasing Pangs of Love, Augusta?(replied my Edward). Does it appear impossible to your vile and corruptedPalate, to exist on Love? Can you not conceive the Luxury of living in everydistress that Poverty can inflict, with the object of your tenderestaffection?”

“You are too ridiculous (said Augusta) to argue with; perhaps however youmay in time be convinced that...”

Here I was prevented from hearing the remainder of her speech, by theappearance of a very Handsome young Woman, who was ushured into the Room at theDoor of which I had been listening. On hearing her announced by the Name of“Lady Dorothea,” I instantly quitted my Post and followed her intothe Parlour, for I well remembered that she was the Lady, proposed as a Wifefor my Edward by the Cruel and Unrelenting Baronet.

Altho’ Lady Dorothea’s visit was nominally to Philippa and Augusta,yet I have some reason to imagine that (acquainted with the Marriage andarrival of Edward) to see me was a principal motive to it.

I soon perceived that tho’ Lovely and Elegant in her Person andtho’ Easy and Polite in her Address, she was of that inferior order ofBeings with regard to Delicate Feeling, tender Sentiments, and refinedSensibility, of which Augusta was one.

She staid but half an hour and neither in the Course of her Visit, confided tome any of her secret thoughts, nor requested me to confide in her, any of Mine.You will easily imagine therefore my Dear Marianne that I could not feel anyardent affection or very sincere Attachment for Lady Dorothea.

Adeiu.
Laura.

LETTER 8th
LAURA to MARIANNE, in continuation

Lady Dorothea had not left us long before another visitor as unexpected a oneas her Ladyship, was announced. It was Sir Edward, who informed by Augusta ofher Brother’s marriage, came doubtless to reproach him for having daredto unite himself to me without his Knowledge. But Edward foreseeing his design,approached him with heroic fortitude as soon as he entered the Room, andaddressed him in the following Manner.

“Sir Edward, I know the motive of your Journey here—You come withthe base Design of reproaching me for having entered into an indissolubleengagement with my Laura without your Consent. But Sir, I glory in theAct—. It is my greatest boast that I have incurred the displeasure of myFather!”

So saying, he took my hand and whilst Sir Edward, Philippa, and Augusta weredoubtless reflecting with admiration on his undaunted Bravery, led me from theParlour to his Father’s Carriage which yet remained at the Door and inwhich we were instantly conveyed from the pursuit of Sir Edward.

The Postilions had at first received orders only to take the London road; assoon as we had sufficiently reflected However, we ordered them to Drive toM——. the seat of Edward’s most particular freind, which wasbut a few miles distant.

At M——. we arrived in a few hours; and on sending in our names wereimmediately admitted to Sophia, the Wife of Edward’s freind. After havingbeen deprived during the course of 3 weeks of a real freind (for such I termyour Mother) imagine my transports at beholding one, most truly worthy of theName. Sophia was rather above the middle size; most elegantly formed. A softlanguor spread over her lovely features, but increased their Beauty—. Itwas the Charectarestic of her Mind—. She was all sensibility and Feeling.We flew into each others arms and after having exchanged vows of mutualFreindship for the rest of our Lives, instantly unfolded to each other the mostinward secrets of our Hearts—. We were interrupted in the delightfullEmployment by the entrance of Augustus, (Edward’s freind) who was justreturned from a solitary ramble.

Never did I see such an affecting Scene as was the meeting of Edward andAugustus.

“My Life! my Soul!” (exclaimed the former) “My adorableangel!” (replied the latter) as they flew into each other’s arms.It was too pathetic for the feelings of Sophia and myself—We faintedalternately on a sofa.

Adeiu
Laura.

LETTER the 9th
From the same to the same

Towards the close of the day we received the following Letter from Philippa.

“Sir Edward is greatly incensed by your abrupt departure; he has takenback Augusta to Bedfordshire. Much as I wish to enjoy again your charmingsociety, I cannot determine to snatch you from that, of such dear and deservingFreinds—When your Visit to them is terminated, I trust you will return tothe arms of your”

“Philippa.”

We returned a suitable answer to this affectionate Note and after thanking herfor her kind invitation assured her that we would certainly avail ourselves ofit, whenever we might have no other place to go to. Tho’ certainlynothing could to any reasonable Being, have appeared more satisfactory, than sogratefull a reply to her invitation, yet I know not how it was, but she wascertainly capricious enough to be displeased with our behaviour and in a fewweeks after, either to revenge our Conduct, or releive her own solitude,married a young and illiterate Fortune-hunter. This imprudent step (tho’we were sensible that it would probably deprive us of that fortune whichPhilippa had ever taught us to expect) could not on our own accounts, excitefrom our exalted minds a single sigh; yet fearfull lest it might prove a sourceof endless misery to the deluded Bride, our trembling Sensibility was greatlyaffected when we were first informed of the Event. The affectionate Entreatiesof Augustus and Sophia that we would for ever consider their House as our Home,easily prevailed on us to determine never more to leave them. In the society ofmy Edward and this Amiable Pair, I passed the happiest moments of my Life; Ourtime was most delightfully spent, in mutual Protestations of Freindship, and invows of unalterable Love, in which we were secure from being interrupted, byintruding and disagreable Visitors, as Augustus and Sophia had on their firstEntrance in the Neighbourhood, taken due care to inform the surroundingFamilies, that as their happiness centered wholly in themselves, they wishedfor no other society. But alas! my Dear Marianne such Happiness as I thenenjoyed was too perfect to be lasting. A most severe and unexpected Blow atonce destroyed every sensation of Pleasure. Convinced as you must be from whatI have already told you concerning Augustus and Sophia, that there never were ahappier Couple, I need not I imagine, inform you that their union had beencontrary to the inclinations of their Cruel and Mercenery Parents; who hadvainly endeavoured with obstinate Perseverance to force them into a Marriagewith those whom they had ever abhorred; but with a Heroic Fortitude worthy tobe related and admired, they had both, constantly refused to submit to suchdespotic Power.

After having so nobly disentangled themselves from the shackles of ParentalAuthority, by a Clandestine Marriage, they were determined never to forfeit thegood opinion they had gained in the World, in so doing, by accepting anyproposals of reconciliation that might be offered them by theirFathers—to this farther tryal of their noble independance however theynever were exposed.

They had been married but a few months when our visit to them commenced duringwhich time they had been amply supported by a considerable sum of money whichAugustus had gracefully purloined from his unworthy father’s Escritoire,a few days before his union with Sophia.

By our arrival their Expenses were considerably encreased tho’ theirmeans for supplying them were then nearly exhausted. But they, ExaltedCreatures! scorned to reflect a moment on their pecuniary Distresses and wouldhave blushed at the idea of paying their Debts.—Alas! what was theirReward for such disinterested Behaviour! The beautifull Augustus was arrestedand we were all undone. Such perfidious Treachery in the merciless perpetratorsof the Deed will shock your gentle nature Dearest Marianne as much as it thenaffected the Delicate sensibility of Edward, Sophia, your Laura, and ofAugustus himself. To compleat such unparalelled Barbarity we were informed thatan Execution in the House would shortly take place. Ah! what could we do butwhat we did! We sighed and fainted on the sofa.

Adeiu
Laura.

LETTER 10th
LAURA in continuation

When we were somewhat recovered from the overpowering Effusions of our grief,Edward desired that we would consider what was the most prudent step to betaken in our unhappy situation while he repaired to his imprisoned freind tolament over his misfortunes. We promised that we would, and he set forwards onhis journey to Town. During his absence we faithfully complied with his Desireand after the most mature Deliberation, at length agreed that the best thing wecould do was to leave the House; of which we every moment expected the officersof Justice to take possession. We waited therefore with the greatestimpatience, for the return of Edward in order to impart to him the result ofour Deliberations. But no Edward appeared. In vain did we count the tediousmoments of his absence—in vain did we weep—in vain even did wesigh—no Edward returned—. This was too cruel, too unexpected a Blowto our Gentle Sensibility—we could not support it—we could onlyfaint. At length collecting all the Resolution I was Mistress of, I arose andafter packing up some necessary apparel for Sophia and myself, I dragged her toa Carriage I had ordered and we instantly set out for London. As the Habitationof Augustus was within twelve miles of Town, it was not long e’er wearrived there, and no sooner had we entered Holboun than letting down one ofthe Front Glasses I enquired of every decent-looking Person that we passed“If they had seen my Edward?”

But as we drove too rapidly to allow them to answer my repeated Enquiries, Igained little, or indeed, no information concerning him. “Where am I todrive?” said the Postilion. “To Newgate Gentle Youth (replied I),to see Augustus.” “Oh! no, no, (exclaimed Sophia) I cannot go toNewgate; I shall not be able to support the sight of my Augustus in so cruel aconfinement—my feelings are sufficiently shocked by the recital,of his Distress, but to behold it will overpower my Sensibility.” As Iperfectly agreed with her in the Justice of her Sentiments the Postilion wasinstantly directed to return into the Country. You may perhaps have beensomewhat surprised my Dearest Marianne, that in the Distress I then endured,destitute of any support, and unprovided with any Habitation, I should neveronce have remembered my Father and Mother or my paternal Cottage in the Vale ofUske. To account for this seeming forgetfullness I must inform you of atrifling circumstance concerning them which I have as yet never mentioned. Thedeath of my Parents a few weeks after my Departure, is the circumstance Iallude to. By their decease I became the lawfull Inheritress of their House andFortune. But alas! the House had never been their own and their Fortune hadonly been an Annuity on their own Lives. Such is the Depravity of the World! Toyour Mother I should have returned with Pleasure, should have been happy tohave introduced to her, my charming Sophia and should with Chearfullness havepassed the remainder of my Life in their dear Society in the Vale of Uske, hadnot one obstacle to the execution of so agreable a scheme, intervened; whichwas the Marriage and Removal of your Mother to a distant part of Ireland.

Adeiu.
Laura.

LETTER 11th
LAURA in continuation

“I have a Relation in Scotland (said Sophia to me as we left London) whoI am certain would not hesitate in receiving me.” “Shall I orderthe Boy to drive there?” said I—but instantly recollecting myself,exclaimed, “Alas I fear it will be too long a Journey for theHorses.” Unwilling however to act only from my own inadequate Knowledgeof the Strength and Abilities of Horses, I consulted the Postilion, who wasentirely of my Opinion concerning the Affair. We therefore determined to changeHorses at the next Town and to travel Post the remainder of the Journey—.When we arrived at the last Inn we were to stop at, which was but a few milesfrom the House of Sophia’s Relation, unwilling to intrude our Society onhim unexpected and unthought of, we wrote a very elegant and well penned Noteto him containing an account of our Destitute and melancholy Situation, and ofour intention to spend some months with him in Scotland. As soon as we haddispatched this Letter, we immediately prepared to follow it in person and werestepping into the Carriage for that Purpose when our attention was attracted bythe Entrance of a coroneted Coach and 4 into the Inn-yard. A Gentlemanconsiderably advanced in years descended from it. At his first Appearance mySensibility was wonderfully affected and e’er I had gazed at him a 2dtime, an instinctive sympathy whispered to my Heart, that he was myGrandfather. Convinced that I could not be mistaken in my conjecture Iinstantly sprang from the Carriage I had just entered, and following theVenerable Stranger into the Room he had been shewn to, I threw myself on myknees before him and besought him to acknowledge me as his Grand Child. Hestarted, and having attentively examined my features, raised me from the Groundand throwing his Grandfatherly arms around my Neck, exclaimed,“Acknowledge thee! Yes dear resemblance of my Laurina and Laurina’sDaughter, sweet image of my Claudia and my Claudia’s Mother, I doacknowledge thee as the Daughter of the one and the Grandaughter of theother.” While he was thus tenderly embracing me, Sophia astonished at myprecipitate Departure, entered the Room in search of me. No sooner had shecaught the eye of the venerable Peer, than he exclaimed with every mark ofAstonishment—“Another Grandaughter! Yes, yes, I see you are theDaughter of my Laurina’s eldest Girl; your resemblance to the beauteousMatilda sufficiently proclaims it. “Oh! replied Sophia,when I first beheld you the instinct of Nature whispered me that we werein some degree related—But whether Grandfathers, or Grandmothers, I couldnot pretend to determine.” He folded her in his arms, and whilst theywere tenderly embracing, the Door of the Apartment opened and a most beautifullyoung Man appeared. On perceiving him Lord St. Clair started and retreatingback a few paces, with uplifted Hands, said, “Another Grand-child! Whatan unexpected Happiness is this! to discover in the space of 3 minutes, as manyof my Descendants! This I am certain is Philander the son of my Laurina’s3d girl the amiable Bertha; there wants now but the presence of Gustavus tocompleat the Union of my Laurina’s Grand-Children.”

“And here he is; (said a Gracefull Youth who that instant entered theroom) here is the Gustavus you desire to see. I am the son of Agatha yourLaurina’s 4th and youngest Daughter,” “I see you are indeed;replied Lord St. Clair—But tell me (continued he looking fearfullytowards the Door) tell me, have I any other Grand-children in the House.”“None my Lord.” “Then I will provide for you all withoutfarther delay—Here are 4 Banknotes of 50£ each—Take them andremember I have done the Duty of a Grandfather.” He instantly left theRoom and immediately afterwards the House.

Adeiu.
Laura.

LETTER the 12th
LAURA in continuation

You may imagine how greatly we were surprised by the sudden departure of LordSt Clair. “Ignoble Grand-sire!” exclaimed Sophia. “UnworthyGrandfather!” said I, and instantly fainted in each other’s arms.How long we remained in this situation I know not; but when we recovered wefound ourselves alone, without either Gustavus, Philander, or the Banknotes. Aswe were deploring our unhappy fate, the Door of the Apartment opened and“Macdonald” was announced. He was Sophia’s cousin. The hastewith which he came to our releif so soon after the receipt of our Note, spokeso greatly in his favour that I hesitated not to pronounce him at first sight,a tender and simpathetic Freind. Alas! he little deserved the name—forthough he told us that he was much concerned at our Misfortunes, yet by his ownaccount it appeared that the perusal of them, had neither drawn from him asingle sigh, nor induced him to bestow one curse on our vindictivestars—. He told Sophia that his Daughter depended on her returning withhim to Macdonald-Hall, and that as his Cousin’s freind he should be happyto see me there also. To Macdonald-Hall, therefore we went, and were receivedwith great kindness by Janetta the Daughter of Macdonald, and the Mistress ofthe Mansion. Janetta was then only fifteen; naturally well disposed, endowedwith a susceptible Heart, and a simpathetic Disposition, she might, had theseamiable qualities been properly encouraged, have been an ornament to humanNature; but unfortunately her Father possessed not a soul sufficiently exaltedto admire so promising a Disposition, and had endeavoured by every means on hispower to prevent it encreasing with her Years. He had actually so farextinguished the natural noble Sensibility of her Heart, as to prevail on herto accept an offer from a young Man of his Recommendation. They were to bemarried in a few months, and Graham, was in the House when we arrived.Wesoon saw through his character. He was just such a Man as one mighthave expected to be the choice of Macdonald. They said he was Sensible,well-informed, and Agreable; we did not pretend to Judge of such trifles, butas we were convinced he had no soul, that he had never read the sorrows ofWerter, and that his Hair bore not the least resemblance to auburn, we werecertain that Janetta could feel no affection for him, or at least that sheought to feel none. The very circumstance of his being her father’schoice too, was so much in his disfavour, that had he been deserving her, inevery other respect yet thatof itself ought to have been a sufficientreason in the Eyes of Janetta for rejecting him. These considerations we weredetermined to represent to her in their proper light and doubted not of meetingwith the desired success from one naturally so well disposed; whose errors inthe affair had only arisen from a want of proper confidence in her own opinion,and a suitable contempt of her father’s. We found her indeed all that ourwarmest wishes could have hoped for; we had no difficulty to convince her thatit was impossible she could love Graham, or that it was her Duty to disobey herFather; the only thing at which she rather seemed to hesitate was our assertionthat she must be attached to some other Person. For some time, she perseveredin declaring that she knew no other young man for whom she had the the smallestAffection; but upon explaining the impossibility of such a thing she said thatshe beleived she did likeCaptain M’Kenrie better than any one sheknew besides. This confession satisfied us and after having enumerated the goodQualities of M’Kenrie and assured her that she was violently in love withhim, we desired to know whether he had ever in any wise declared his affectionto her.

“So far from having ever declared it, I have no reason to imagine that hehas ever felt any for me.” said Janetta. “That he certainly adoresyou (replied Sophia) there can be no doubt—. The Attachment must bereciprocal. Did he never gaze on you with admiration—tenderly press yourhand—drop an involantary tear—and leave the room abruptly?”“Never (replied she) that I remember—he has always left the roomindeed when his visit has been ended, but has never gone away particularlyabruptly or without making a bow.” Indeed my Love (said I) you must bemistaken—for it is absolutely impossible that he should ever have leftyou but with Confusion, Despair, and Precipitation. Consider but for a momentJanetta, and you must be convinced how absurd it is to suppose that he couldever make a Bow, or behave like any other Person.” Having settled thisPoint to our satisfaction, the next we took into consideration was, todetermine in what manner we should inform M’Kenrie of the favourableOpinion Janetta entertained of him.... We at length agreed to acquaint him withit by an anonymous Letter which Sophia drew up in the following manner.

“Oh! happy Lover of the beautifull Janetta, oh! amiable Possessor ofherHeart whose hand is destined to another, why do you thus delay aconfession of your attachment to the amiable Object of it? Oh! consider that afew weeks will at once put an end to every flattering Hope that you may nowentertain, by uniting the unfortunate Victim of her father’s Cruelty tothe execrable and detested Graham.”

“Alas! why do you thus so cruelly connive at the projected Misery of herand of yourself by delaying to communicate that scheme which had doubtless longpossessed your imagination? A secret Union will at once secure the felicity ofboth.”

The amiable M’Kenrie, whose modesty as he afterwards assured us had beenthe only reason of his having so long concealed the violence of his affectionfor Janetta, on receiving this Billet flew on the wings of Love toMacdonald-Hall, and so powerfully pleaded his Attachment to her who inspiredit, that after a few more private interveiws, Sophia and I experienced thesatisfaction of seeing them depart for Gretna-Green, which they chose for thecelebration of their Nuptials, in preference to any other place although it wasat a considerable distance from Macdonald-Hall.

Adeiu
Laura.

LETTER the 13th
LAURA in continuation

They had been gone nearly a couple of Hours, before either Macdonald or Grahamhad entertained any suspicion of the affair. And they might not even then havesuspected it, but for the following little Accident. Sophia happening one dayto open a private Drawer in Macdonald’s Library with one of her own keys,discovered that it was the Place where he kept his Papers of consequence andamongst them some bank notes of considerable amount. This discovery sheimparted to me; and having agreed together that it would be a proper treatmentof so vile a Wretch as Macdonald to deprive him of money, perhaps dishonestlygained, it was determined that the next time we should either of us happen togo that way, we would take one or more of the Bank notes from the drawer. Thiswell meant Plan we had often successfully put in Execution; but alas! on thevery day of Janetta’s Escape, as Sophia was majestically removing the 5thBank-note from the Drawer to her own purse, she was suddenly most impertinentlyinterrupted in her employment by the entrance of Macdonald himself, in a mostabrupt and precipitate Manner. Sophia (who though naturally all winningsweetness could when occasions demanded it call forth the Dignity of her sex)instantly put on a most forbidding look, and darting an angry frown on theundaunted culprit, demanded in a haughty tone of voice “Wherefore herretirement was thus insolently broken in on?” The unblushing Macdonald,without even endeavouring to exculpate himself from the crime he was chargedwith, meanly endeavoured to reproach Sophia with ignobly defrauding him of hismoney... The dignity of Sophia was wounded; “Wretch (exclaimed she,hastily replacing the Bank-note in the Drawer) how darest thou to accuse me ofan Act, of which the bare idea makes me blush?” The base wretch was stillunconvinced and continued to upbraid the justly-offended Sophia in suchopprobious Language, that at length he so greatly provoked the gentle sweetnessof her Nature, as to induce her to revenge herself on him by informing him ofJanetta’s Elopement, and of the active Part we had both taken in theaffair. At this period of their Quarrel I entered the Library and was as youmay imagine equally offended as Sophia at the ill-grounded accusations of themalevolent and contemptible Macdonald. “Base Miscreant! (cried I) howcanst thou thus undauntedly endeavour to sully the spotless reputation of suchbright Excellence? Why dost thou not suspect myinnocence assoon?” “Be satisfied Madam (replied he) I dosuspect it, andtherefore must desire that you will both leave this House in less than half anhour.”

“We shall go willingly; (answered Sophia) our hearts have long detestedthee, and nothing but our freindship for thy Daughter could have induced us toremain so long beneath thy roof.”

“Your Freindship for my Daughter has indeed been most powerfully exertedby throwing her into the arms of an unprincipled Fortune-hunter.”(replied he)

“Yes, (exclaimed I) amidst every misfortune, it will afford us someconsolation to reflect that by this one act of Freindship to Janetta, we haveamply discharged every obligation that we have received from her father.”

“It must indeed be a most gratefull reflection, to your exaltedminds.” (said he.)

As soon as we had packed up our wardrobe and valuables, we left Macdonald Hall,and after having walked about a mile and a half we sate down by the side of aclear limpid stream to refresh our exhausted limbs. The place was suited tomeditation. A grove of full-grown Elms sheltered us from the East—. A Bedof full-grown Nettles from the West—. Before us ran the murmuring brookand behind us ran the turn-pike road. We were in a mood for contemplation andin a Disposition to enjoy so beautifull a spot. A mutual silence which had forsome time reigned between us, was at length broke by myexclaiming—“What a lovely scene! Alas why are not Edward andAugustus here to enjoy its Beauties with us?”

“Ah! my beloved Laura (cried Sophia) for pity’s sake forbearrecalling to my remembrance the unhappy situation of my imprisoned Husband.Alas, what would I not give to learn the fate of my Augustus! to know if he isstill in Newgate, or if he is yet hung. But never shall I be able so far toconquer my tender sensibility as to enquire after him. Oh! do not I beseech youever let me again hear you repeat his beloved name—. It affects me toodeeply—. I cannot bear to hear him mentioned it wounds myfeelings.”

“Excuse me my Sophia for having thus unwillingly offendedyou—” replied I—and then changing the conversation, desiredher to admire the noble Grandeur of the Elms which sheltered us from theEastern Zephyr. “Alas! my Laura (returned she) avoid so melancholy asubject, I intreat you. Do not again wound my Sensibility by observations onthose elms. They remind me of Augustus. He was like them, tall,magestic—he possessed that noble grandeur which you admire inthem.”

I was silent, fearfull lest I might any more unwillingly distress her by fixingon any other subject of conversation which might again remind her of Augustus.

“Why do you not speak my Laura? (said she after a short pause) “Icannot support this silence you must not leave me to my own reflections; theyever recur to Augustus.”

“What a beautifull sky! (said I) How charmingly is the azure varied bythose delicate streaks of white!”

“Oh! my Laura (replied she hastily withdrawing her Eyes from a momentaryglance at the sky) do not thus distress me by calling my Attention to an objectwhich so cruelly reminds me of my Augustus’s blue sattin waistcoatstriped in white! In pity to your unhappy freind avoid a subject sodistressing.” What could I do? The feelings of Sophia were at that timeso exquisite, and the tenderness she felt for Augustus so poignant that I hadnot power to start any other topic, justly fearing that it might in someunforseen manner again awaken all her sensibility by directing her thoughts toher Husband. Yet to be silent would be cruel; she had intreated me to talk.

From this Dilemma I was most fortunately releived by an accident truly apropos;it was the lucky overturning of a Gentleman’s Phaeton, on the road whichran murmuring behind us. It was a most fortunate accident as it diverted theattention of Sophia from the melancholy reflections which she had been beforeindulging. We instantly quitted our seats and ran to the rescue of those whobut a few moments before had been in so elevated a situation as a fashionablyhigh Phaeton, but who were now laid low and sprawling in the Dust. “Whatan ample subject for reflection on the uncertain Enjoyments of this World,would not that Phaeton and the Life of Cardinal Wolsey afford a thinkingMind!” said I to Sophia as we were hastening to the field of Action.

She had not time to answer me, for every thought was now engaged by the horridspectacle before us. Two Gentlemen most elegantly attired but weltering intheir blood was what first struck our Eyes—we approached—they wereEdward and Augustus—. Yes dearest Marianne they were our Husbands. Sophiashreiked and fainted on the ground—I screamed and instantly ranmad—. We remained thus mutually deprived of our senses, some minutes, andon regaining them were deprived of them again. For an Hour and a Quarter did wecontinue in this unfortunate situation—Sophia fainting every moment and Irunning mad as often. At length a groan from the hapless Edward (who aloneretained any share of life) restored us to ourselves. Had we indeed beforeimagined that either of them lived, we should have been more sparing of ourGreif—but as we had supposed when we first beheld them that they were nomore, we knew that nothing could remain to be done but what we were about. Nosooner did we therefore hear my Edward’s groan than postponing ourlamentations for the present, we hastily ran to the Dear Youth and kneeling oneach side of him implored him not to die—. “Laura (said He fixinghis now languid Eyes on me) I fear I have been overturned.”

I was overjoyed to find him yet sensible.

“Oh! tell me Edward (said I) tell me I beseech you before you die, whathas befallen you since that unhappy Day in which Augustus was arrested and wewere separated—”

“I will” (said he) and instantly fetching a deep sigh,Expired—. Sophia immediately sank again into a swoon—. Mygreif was more audible. My Voice faltered, My Eyes assumed a vacant stare, myface became as pale as Death, and my senses were considerably impaired—.

“Talk not to me of Phaetons (said I, raving in a frantic, incoherentmanner)—Give me a violin—. I’ll play to him and sooth him inhis melancholy Hours—Beware ye gentle Nymphs of Cupid’sThunderbolts, avoid the piercing shafts of Jupiter—Look at that grove ofFirs—I see a Leg of Mutton—They told me Edward was not Dead; butthey deceived me—they took him for a cucumber—” Thus Icontinued wildly exclaiming on my Edward’s Death—. For two Hoursdid I rave thus madly and should not then have left off, as I was not in theleast fatigued, had not Sophia who was just recovered from her swoon, intreatedme to consider that Night was now approaching and that the Damps began to fall.“And whither shall we go (said I) to shelter us from either?”“To that white Cottage.” (replied she pointing to a neat Buildingwhich rose up amidst the grove of Elms and which I had not beforeobserved—) I agreed and we instantly walked to it—we knocked at thedoor—it was opened by an old woman; on being requested to afford us aNight’s Lodging, she informed us that her House was but small, that shehad only two Bedrooms, but that However we should be wellcome to one of them.We were satisfied and followed the good woman into the House where we weregreatly cheered by the sight of a comfortable fire—. She was a widow andhad only one Daughter, who was then just seventeen—One of the best ofages; but alas! she was very plain and her name was Bridget..... Nothingtherfore could be expected from her—she could not be supposed to possesseither exalted Ideas, Delicate Feelings or refined Sensibilities—. Shewas nothing more than a mere good-tempered, civil and obliging young woman; assuch we could scarcely dislike here—she was only an Object ofContempt—.

Adeiu
Laura.

LETTER the 14th
LAURA in continuation

Arm yourself my amiable young Freind with all the philosophy you are Mistressof; summon up all the fortitude you possess, for alas! in the perusal of thefollowing Pages your sensibility will be most severely tried. Ah! what were themisfortunes I had before experienced and which I have already related to you,to the one I am now going to inform you of. The Death of my Father and myMother and my Husband though almost more than my gentle Nature could support,were trifles in comparison to the misfortune I am now proceeding to relate. Themorning after our arrival at the Cottage, Sophia complained of a violent painin her delicate limbs, accompanied with a disagreable Head-ake. She attributedit to a cold caught by her continued faintings in the open air as the Dew wasfalling the Evening before. This I feared was but too probably the case; sincehow could it be otherwise accounted for that I should have escaped the sameindisposition, but by supposing that the bodily Exertions I had undergone in myrepeated fits of frenzy had so effectually circulated and warmed my Blood as tomake me proof against the chilling Damps of Night, whereas, Sophia lyingtotally inactive on the ground must have been exposed to all their severity. Iwas most seriously alarmed by her illness which trifling as it may appear toyou, a certain instinctive sensibility whispered me, would in the End be fatalto her.

Alas! my fears were but too fully justified; she grew gradually worse—andI daily became more alarmed for her. At length she was obliged to confineherself solely to the Bed allotted us by our worthy Landlady—. Herdisorder turned to a galloping Consumption and in a few days carried her off.Amidst all my Lamentations for her (and violent you may suppose they were) Iyet received some consolation in the reflection of my having paid everyattention to her, that could be offered, in her illness. I had wept over herevery Day—had bathed her sweet face with my tears and had pressed herfair Hands continually in mine—. “My beloved Laura (said she to mea few Hours before she died) take warning from my unhappy End and avoid theimprudent conduct which had occasioned it... Beware of fainting-fits... Thoughat the time they may be refreshing and agreable yet beleive me they will in theend, if too often repeated and at improper seasons, prove destructive to yourConstitution... My fate will teach you this.. I die a Martyr to my greif forthe loss of Augustus.. One fatal swoon has cost me my Life.. Beware of swoonsDear Laura.... A frenzy fit is not one quarter so pernicious; it is an exerciseto the Body and if not too violent, is I dare say conducive to Health in itsconsequences—Run mad as often as you chuse; but do notfaint—”

These were the last words she ever addressed to me.. It was her dieing Adviceto her afflicted Laura, who has ever most faithfully adhered to it.

After having attended my lamented freind to her Early Grave, I immediately(tho’ late at night) left the detested Village in which she died, andnear which had expired my Husband and Augustus. I had not walked many yardsfrom it before I was overtaken by a stage-coach, in which I instantly took aplace, determined to proceed in it to Edinburgh, where I hoped to find somekind some pitying Freind who would receive and comfort me in my afflictions.

It was so dark when I entered the Coach that I could not distinguish the Numberof my Fellow-travellers; I could only perceive that they were many. Regardlesshowever of anything concerning them, I gave myself up to my own sadReflections. A general silence prevailed—A silence, which was by nothinginterrupted but by the loud and repeated snores of one of the Party.

“What an illiterate villain must that man be! (thought I to myself) Whata total want of delicate refinement must he have, who can thus shock our sensesby such a brutal noise! He must I am certain be capable of every bad action!There is no crime too black for such a Character!” Thus reasoned I withinmyself, and doubtless such were the reflections of my fellow travellers.

At length, returning Day enabled me to behold the unprincipled Scoundrel whohad so violently disturbed my feelings. It was Sir Edward the father of myDeceased Husband. By his side sate Augusta, and on the same seat with me wereyour Mother and Lady Dorothea. Imagine my surprise at finding myself thusseated amongst my old Acquaintance. Great as was my astonishment, it was yetincreased, when on looking out of Windows, I beheld the Husband of Philippa,with Philippa by his side, on the Coachbox and when on looking behind I beheld,Philander and Gustavus in the Basket. “Oh! Heavens, (exclaimed I) is itpossible that I should so unexpectedly be surrounded by my nearest Relationsand Connections?” These words roused the rest of the Party, and every eyewas directed to the corner in which I sat. “Oh! my Isabel (continued Ithrowing myself across Lady Dorothea into her arms) receive once more to yourBosom the unfortunate Laura. Alas! when we last parted in the Vale of Usk, Iwas happy in being united to the best of Edwards; I had then a Father and aMother, and had never known misfortunes—But now deprived of every freindbut you—”

“What! (interrupted Augusta) is my Brother dead then? Tell us I intreatyou what is become of him?” “Yes, cold and insensible Nymph,(replied I) that luckless swain your Brother, is no more, and you may now gloryin being the Heiress of Sir Edward’s fortune.”

Although I had always despised her from the Day I had overheard herconversation with my Edward, yet in civility I complied with hers and SirEdward’s intreaties that I would inform them of the whole melancholyaffair. They were greatly shocked—even the obdurate Heart of Sir Edwardand the insensible one of Augusta, were touched with sorrow, by the unhappytale. At the request of your Mother I related to them every other misfortunewhich had befallen me since we parted. Of the imprisonment of Augustus and theabsence of Edward—of our arrival in Scotland—of our unexpectedMeeting with our Grand-father and our cousins—of our visit toMacdonald-Hall—of the singular service we there performed towardsJanetta—of her Fathers ingratitude for it.. of his inhuman Behaviour,unaccountable suspicions, and barbarous treatment of us, in obliging us toleave the House.. of our lamentations on the loss of Edward and Augustus andfinally of the melancholy Death of my beloved Companion.

Pity and surprise were strongly depictured in your Mother’s countenance,during the whole of my narration, but I am sorry to say, that to the eternalreproach of her sensibility, the latter infinitely predominated. Nay, faultlessas my conduct had certainly been during the whole course of my late misfortunesand adventures, she pretended to find fault with my behaviour in many of thesituations in which I had been placed. As I was sensible myself, that I hadalways behaved in a manner which reflected Honour on my Feelings andRefinement, I paid little attention to what she said, and desired her tosatisfy my Curiosity by informing me how she came there, instead of wounding myspotless reputation with unjustifiable Reproaches. As soon as she had complyedwith my wishes in this particular and had given me an accurate detail of everything that had befallen her since our separation (the particulars of which ifyou are not already acquainted with, your Mother will give you) I applied toAugusta for the same information respecting herself, Sir Edward and LadyDorothea.

She told me that having a considerable taste for the Beauties of Nature, hercuriosity to behold the delightful scenes it exhibited in that part of theWorld had been so much raised by Gilpin’s Tour to the Highlands, that shehad prevailed on her Father to undertake a Tour to Scotland and had persuadedLady Dorothea to accompany them. That they had arrived at Edinburgh a few Daysbefore and from thence had made daily Excursions into the Country around in theStage Coach they were then in, from one of which Excursions they were at thattime returning. My next enquiries were concerning Philippa and her Husband, thelatter of whom I learned having spent all her fortune, had recourse forsubsistence to the talent in which, he had always most excelled, namely,Driving, and that having sold every thing which belonged to them except theirCoach, had converted it into a Stage and in order to be removed from any of hisformer Acquaintance, had driven it to Edinburgh from whence he went to Sterlingevery other Day. That Philippa still retaining her affection for herungratefull Husband, had followed him to Scotland and generally accompanied himin his little Excursions to Sterling. “It has only been to throw a littlemoney into their Pockets (continued Augusta) that my Father has alwaystravelled in their Coach to veiw the beauties of the Country since our arrivalin Scotland—for it would certainly have been much more agreable to us, tovisit the Highlands in a Postchaise than merely to travel from Edinburgh toSterling and from Sterling to Edinburgh every other Day in a crowded anduncomfortable Stage.” I perfectly agreed with her in her sentiments onthe affair, and secretly blamed Sir Edward for thus sacrificing hisDaughter’s Pleasure for the sake of a ridiculous old woman whose folly inmarrying so young a man ought to be punished. His Behaviour however wasentirely of a peice with his general Character; for what could be expected froma man who possessed not the smallest atom of Sensibility, who scarcely knew themeaning of simpathy, and who actually snored—.

Adeiu
Laura.

LETTER the 15th
LAURA in continuation.

When we arrived at the town where we were to Breakfast, I was determined tospeak with Philander and Gustavus, and to that purpose as soon as I left theCarriage, I went to the Basket and tenderly enquired after their Health,expressing my fears of the uneasiness of their situation. At first they seemedrather confused at my appearance dreading no doubt that I might call them toaccount for the money which our Grandfather had left me and which they hadunjustly deprived me of, but finding that I mentioned nothing of the Matter,they desired me to step into the Basket as we might there converse with greaterease. Accordingly I entered and whilst the rest of the party were devouringgreen tea and buttered toast, we feasted ourselves in a more refined andsentimental Manner by a confidential Conversation. I informed them of everything which had befallen me during the course of my life, and at my requestthey related to me every incident of theirs.

“We are the sons as you already know, of the two youngest Daughters whichLord St Clair had by Laurina an italian opera girl. Our mothers could neitherof them exactly ascertain who were our Father, though it is generally beleivedthat Philander, is the son of one Philip Jones a Bricklayer and that my Fatherwas one Gregory Staves a Staymaker of Edinburgh. This is however of littleconsequence for as our Mothers were certainly never married to either of themit reflects no Dishonour on our Blood, which is of a most ancient andunpolluted kind. Bertha (the Mother of Philander) and Agatha (my own Mother)always lived together. They were neither of them very rich; their unitedfortunes had originally amounted to nine thousand Pounds, but as they hadalways lived on the principal of it, when we were fifteen it was diminished tonine Hundred. This nine Hundred they always kept in a Drawer in one of theTables which stood in our common sitting Parlour, for the convenience of havingit always at Hand. Whether it was from this circumstance, of its being easilytaken, or from a wish of being independant, or from an excess of sensibility(for which we were always remarkable) I cannot now determine, but certain it isthat when we had reached our 15th year, we took the nine Hundred Pounds and ranaway. Having obtained this prize we were determined to manage it with economyand not to spend it either with folly or Extravagance. To this purpose wetherefore divided it into nine parcels, one of which we devoted to Victuals,the 2d to Drink, the 3d to Housekeeping, the 4th to Carriages, the 5th toHorses, the 6th to Servants, the 7th to Amusements, the 8th to Cloathes and the9th to Silver Buckles. Having thus arranged our Expences for two months (for weexpected to make the nine Hundred Pounds last as long) we hastened to Londonand had the good luck to spend it in 7 weeks and a Day which was 6 Days soonerthan we had intended. As soon as we had thus happily disencumbered ourselvesfrom the weight of so much money, we began to think of returning to ourMothers, but accidentally hearing that they were both starved to Death, we gaveover the design and determined to engage ourselves to some strolling Company ofPlayers, as we had always a turn for the Stage. Accordingly we offered ourservices to one and were accepted; our Company was indeed rather small, as itconsisted only of the Manager his wife and ourselves, but there were fewer topay and the only inconvenience attending it was the Scarcity of Plays which forwant of People to fill the Characters, we could perform. We did not mindtrifles however—. One of our most admired Performances wasMacbeth, in which we were truly great. The Manager always playedBanquohimself, his Wife my Lady Macbeth. I did the ThreeWitchesand Philander acted all the rest. To say the truth thistragedy was not only the Best, but the only Play that we ever performed; andafter having acted it all over England, and Wales, we came to Scotland toexhibit it over the remainder of Great Britain. We happened to be quartered inthat very Town, where you came and met your Grandfather—. We were in theInn-yard when his Carriage entered and perceiving by the arms to whom itbelonged, and knowing that Lord St Clair was our Grandfather, we agreed toendeavour to get something from him by discovering the Relationship—. Youknow how well it succeeded—. Having obtained the two Hundred Pounds, weinstantly left the Town, leaving our Manager and his Wife to act Macbethby themselves, and took the road to Sterling, where we spent our little fortunewith great eclat. We are now returning to Edinburgh in order to get somepreferment in the Acting way; and such my Dear Cousin is our History.”

I thanked the amiable Youth for his entertaining narration, and afterexpressing my wishes for their Welfare and Happiness, left them in their littleHabitation and returned to my other Freinds who impatiently expected me.

My adventures are now drawing to a close my dearest Marianne; at least for thepresent.

When we arrived at Edinburgh Sir Edward told me that as the Widow of his son,he desired I would accept from his Hands of four Hundred a year. I graciouslypromised that I would, but could not help observing that the unsimpatheticBaronet offered it more on account of my being the Widow of Edward than inbeing the refined and amiable Laura.

I took up my Residence in a Romantic Village in the Highlands of Scotland whereI have ever since continued, and where I can uninterrupted by unmeaning Visits,indulge in a melancholy solitude, my unceasing Lamentations for the Death of myFather, my Mother, my Husband and my Freind.

Augusta has been for several years united to Graham the Man of all others mostsuited to her; she became acquainted with him during her stay in Scotland.

Sir Edward in hopes of gaining an Heir to his Title and Estate, at the sametime married Lady Dorothea—. His wishes have been answered.

Philander and Gustavus, after having raised their reputation by theirPerformances in the Theatrical Line at Edinburgh, removed to Covent Garden,where they still exhibit under the assumed names of LuvisandQuick.

Philippa has long paid the Debt of Nature, Her Husband however still continuesto drive the Stage-Coach from Edinburgh to Sterling:—

Adeiu my Dearest Marianne.
Laura.

Finis

June 13th 1790.

LESLEY CASTLE
AN UNFINISHED NOVEL IN LETTERS

To HENRY THOMAS AUSTEN Esqre.

Sir

I am now availing myself of the Liberty you have frequently honoured me with ofdedicating one of my Novels to you. That it is unfinished, I greive; yet fearthat from me, it will always remain so; that as far as it is carried, it shouldbe so trifling and so unworthy of you, is another concern to your obligedhumble

Servant
The Author

Messrs Demand and Co—please to pay Jane Austen Spinster the sum of onehundred guineas on account of your Humble Servant.

H. T. Austen

£105. 0. 0.

LESLEY CASTLE

LETTER the FIRST is from
Miss MARGARET LESLEY to Miss CHARLOTTE LUTTERELL

Lesley Castle Janry 3rd—1792.

My Brother has just left us. “Matilda (said he at parting) you andMargaret will I am certain take all the care of my dear little one, that shemight have received from an indulgent, and affectionate and amiableMother.” Tears rolled down his cheeks as he spoke these words—theremembrance of her, who had so wantonly disgraced the Maternal character and soopenly violated the conjugal Duties, prevented his adding anything farther; heembraced his sweet Child and after saluting Matilda and Me hastily broke fromus and seating himself in his Chaise, pursued the road to Aberdeen. Never wasthere a better young Man! Ah! how little did he deserve the misfortunes he hasexperienced in the Marriage state. So good a Husband to so bad a Wife! for youknow my dear Charlotte that the Worthless Louisa left him, her Child andreputation a few weeks ago in company with Danvers and dishonour. Never wasthere a sweeter face, a finer form, or a less amiable Heart than Louisa owned!Her child already possesses the personal Charms of her unhappy Mother! May sheinherit from her Father all his mental ones! Lesley is at present but five andtwenty, and has already given himself up to melancholy and Despair; what adifference between him and his Father! Sir George is 57 and still remains theBeau, the flighty stripling, the gay Lad, and sprightly Youngster, that his Sonwas really about five years back, and that hehas affected to appearever since my remembrance. While our father is fluttering about the streets ofLondon, gay, dissipated, and Thoughtless at the age of 57, Matilda and Icontinue secluded from Mankind in our old and Mouldering Castle, which issituated two miles from Perth on a bold projecting Rock, and commands anextensive veiw of the Town and its delightful Environs. But tho’ retiredfrom almost all the World, (for we visit no one but the M’Leods, TheM’Kenzies, the M’Phersons, the M’Cartneys, theM’Donalds, The M’kinnons, the M’lellans, the M’kays,the Macbeths and the Macduffs) we are neither dull nor unhappy; on the contrarythere never were two more lively, more agreable or more witty girls, than weare; not an hour in the Day hangs heavy on our Hands. We read, we work, wewalk, and when fatigued with these Employments releive our spirits, either by alively song, a graceful Dance, or by some smart bon-mot, and witty repartee. Weare handsome my dear Charlotte, very handsome and the greatest of ourPerfections is, that we are entirely insensible of them ourselves. But why do Ithus dwell on myself! Let me rather repeat the praise of our dear little Neicethe innocent Louisa, who is at present sweetly smiling in a gentle Nap, as shereposes on the sofa. The dear Creature is just turned of two years old; ashandsome as tho’ 2 and 20, as sensible as tho’ 2 and 30, and asprudent as tho’ 2 and 40. To convince you of this, I must inform you thatshe has a very fine complexion and very pretty features, that she already knowsthe two first letters in the Alphabet, and that she never tears herfrocks—. If I have not now convinced you of her Beauty, Sense andPrudence, I have nothing more to urge in support of my assertion, and you willtherefore have no way of deciding the Affair but by coming to Lesley-Castle,and by a personal acquaintance with Louisa, determine for yourself. Ah! my dearFreind, how happy should I be to see you within these venerable Walls! It isnow four years since my removal from School has separated me from you; that twosuch tender Hearts, so closely linked together by the ties of simpathy andFreindship, should be so widely removed from each other, is vastly moving. Ilive in Perthshire, You in Sussex. We might meet in London, were my Fatherdisposed to carry me there, and were your Mother to be there at the same time.We might meet at Bath, at Tunbridge, or anywhere else indeed, could we but beat the same place together. We have only to hope that such a period may arrive.My Father does not return to us till Autumn; my Brother will leave Scotland ina few Days; he is impatient to travel. Mistaken Youth! He vainly flattershimself that change of Air will heal the Wounds of a broken Heart! You willjoin with me I am certain my dear Charlotte, in prayers for the recovery of theunhappy Lesley’s peace of Mind, which must ever be essential to that ofyour sincere freind

M. Lesley.

LETTER the SECOND
From Miss C. LUTTERELL to Miss M. LESLEY in answer.

Glenford Febry 12

I have a thousand excuses to beg for having so long delayed thanking you mydear Peggy for your agreable Letter, which beleive me I should not havedeferred doing, had not every moment of my time during the last five weeks beenso fully employed in the necessary arrangements for my sisters wedding, as toallow me no time to devote either to you or myself. And now what provokes memore than anything else is that the Match is broke off, and all my Labourthrown away. Imagine how great the Dissapointment must be to me, when youconsider that after having laboured both by Night and by Day, in order to getthe Wedding dinner ready by the time appointed, after having roasted Beef,Broiled Mutton, and Stewed Soup enough to last the new-married Couple throughthe Honey-moon, I had the mortification of finding that I had been Roasting,Broiling and Stewing both the Meat and Myself to no purpose. Indeed my dearFreind, I never remember suffering any vexation equal to what I experienced onlast Monday when my sister came running to me in the store-room with her faceas White as a Whipt syllabub, and told me that Hervey had been thrown from hisHorse, had fractured his Scull and was pronounced by his surgeon to be in themost emminent Danger. “Good God! (said I) you dont say so? Why what inthe name of Heaven will become of all the Victuals! We shall never be able toeat it while it is good. However, we’ll call in the Surgeon to help us. Ishall be able to manage the Sir-loin myself, my Mother will eat the soup, andYou and the Doctor must finish the rest.” Here I was interrupted, byseeing my poor Sister fall down to appearance Lifeless upon one of the Chests,where we keep our Table linen. I immediately called my Mother and the Maids,and at last we brought her to herself again; as soon as ever she was sensible,she expressed a determination of going instantly to Henry, and was so wildlybent on this Scheme, that we had the greatest Difficulty in the World toprevent her putting it in execution; at last however more by Force thanEntreaty we prevailed on her to go into her room; we laid her upon the Bed, andshe continued for some Hours in the most dreadful Convulsions. My Mother and Icontinued in the room with her, and when any intervals of tolerable Composurein Eloisa would allow us, we joined in heartfelt lamentations on the dreadfulWaste in our provisions which this Event must occasion, and in concerting someplan for getting rid of them. We agreed that the best thing we could do was tobegin eating them immediately, and accordingly we ordered up the cold Ham andFowls, and instantly began our Devouring Plan on them with great Alacrity. Wewould have persuaded Eloisa to have taken a Wing of a Chicken, but she wouldnot be persuaded. She was however much quieter than she had been; theconvulsions she had before suffered having given way to an almost perfectInsensibility. We endeavoured to rouse her by every means in our power, but tono purpose. I talked to her of Henry. “Dear Eloisa (said I) there’sno occasion for your crying so much about such a trifle. (for I was willing tomake light of it in order to comfort her) I beg you would not mind it—Yousee it does not vex me in the least; though perhaps I may suffer most from itafter all; for I shall not only be obliged to eat up all the Victuals I havedressed already, but must if Henry should recover (which however is not verylikely) dress as much for you again; or should he die (as I suppose he will) Ishall still have to prepare a Dinner for you whenever you marry any one else.So you see that tho’ perhaps for the present it may afflict you to thinkof Henry’s sufferings, Yet I dare say he’ll die soon, and then hispain will be over and you will be easy, whereas my Trouble will last muchlonger for work as hard as I may, I am certain that the pantry cannot becleared in less than a fortnight.” Thus I did all in my power to consoleher, but without any effect, and at last as I saw that she did not seem tolisten to me, I said no more, but leaving her with my Mother I took down theremains of The Ham and Chicken, and sent William to ask how Henry did. He wasnot expected to live many Hours; he died the same day. We took all possiblecare to break the melancholy Event to Eloisa in the tenderest manner; yet inspite of every precaution, her sufferings on hearing it were too violent forher reason, and she continued for many hours in a high Delirium. She is stillextremely ill, and her Physicians are greatly afraid of her going into aDecline. We are therefore preparing for Bristol, where we mean to be in thecourse of the next week. And now my dear Margaret let me talk a little of youraffairs; and in the first place I must inform you that it is confidentlyreported, your Father is going to be married; I am very unwilling to beleive sounpleasing a report, and at the same time cannot wholly discredit it. I havewritten to my freind Susan Fitzgerald, for information concerning it, which asshe is at present in Town, she will be very able to give me. I know not who isthe Lady. I think your Brother is extremely right in the resolution he hastaken of travelling, as it will perhaps contribute to obliterate from hisremembrance, those disagreable Events, which have lately so much afflictedhim—I am happy to find that tho’ secluded from all the World,neither you nor Matilda are dull or unhappy—that you may never know whatit is to, be either is the wish of your sincerely affectionate

C.L.

P. S. I have this instant received an answer from my freind Susan, which Ienclose to you, and on which you will make your own reflections.

The enclosed LETTER

My dear CHARLOTTE

You could not have applied for information concerning the report of Sir GeorgeLesleys Marriage, to any one better able to give it you than I am. Sir Georgeis certainly married; I was myself present at the Ceremony, which you will notbe surprised at when I subscribe myself your

Affectionate
Susan Lesley

LETTER the THIRD
From Miss MARGARET LESLEY to Miss C. LUTTERELL

Lesley Castle February the 16th

I havemade my own reflections on the letter you enclosed to me, my DearCharlotte and I will now tell you what those reflections were. I reflected thatif by this second Marriage Sir George should have a second family, our fortunesmust be considerably diminushed—that if his Wife should be of anextravagant turn, she would encourage him to persevere in that gay andDissipated way of Life to which little encouragement would be necessary, andwhich has I fear already proved but too detrimental to his health andfortune—that she would now become Mistress of those Jewels which onceadorned our Mother, and which Sir George had always promised us—that ifthey did not come into Perthshire I should not be able to gratify my curiosityof beholding my Mother-in-law and that if they did, Matilda would no longer sitat the head of her Father’s table—. These my dear Charlotte werethe melancholy reflections which crowded into my imagination after perusingSusan’s letter to you, and which instantly occurred to Matilda when shehad perused it likewise. The same ideas, the same fears, immediately occupiedher Mind, and I know not which reflection distressed her most, whether theprobable Diminution of our Fortunes, or her own Consequence. We both wish verymuch to know whether Lady Lesley is handsome and what is your opinion of her;as you honour her with the appellation of your freind, we flatter ourselvesthat she must be amiable. My Brother is already in Paris. He intends to quit itin a few Days, and to begin his route to Italy. He writes in a most chearfullmanner, says that the air of France has greatly recovered both his Health andSpirits; that he has now entirely ceased to think of Louisa with any degreeeither of Pity or Affection, that he even feels himself obliged to her for herElopement, as he thinks it very good fun to be single again. By this, you mayperceive that he has entirely regained that chearful Gaiety, and sprightly Wit,for which he was once so remarkable. When he first became acquainted withLouisa which was little more than three years ago, he was one of the mostlively, the most agreable young Men of the age—. I beleive you never yetheard the particulars of his first acquaintance with her. It commenced at ourcousin Colonel Drummond’s; at whose house in Cumberland he spent theChristmas, in which he attained the age of two and twenty. Louisa Burton wasthe Daughter of a distant Relation of Mrs. Drummond, who dieing a few Monthsbefore in extreme poverty, left his only Child then about eighteen to theprotection of any of his Relations who would protect her. Mrs. Drummond was theonly one who found herself so disposed—Louisa was therefore removed froma miserable Cottage in Yorkshire to an elegant Mansion in Cumberland, and fromevery pecuniary Distress that Poverty could inflict, to every elegant Enjoymentthat Money could purchase—. Louisa was naturally ill-tempered andCunning; but she had been taught to disguise her real Disposition, under theappearance of insinuating Sweetness, by a father who but too well knew, that tobe married, would be the only chance she would have of not being starved, andwho flattered himself that with such an extroidinary share of personal beauty,joined to a gentleness of Manners, and an engaging address, she might stand agood chance of pleasing some young Man who might afford to marry a girl withouta Shilling. Louisa perfectly entered into her father’s schemes and wasdetermined to forward them with all her care and attention. By dint ofPerseverance and Application, she had at length so thoroughly disguised hernatural disposition under the mask of Innocence, and Softness, as to imposeupon every one who had not by a long and constant intimacy with her discoveredher real Character. Such was Louisa when the hapless Lesley first beheld her atDrummond-house. His heart which (to use your favourite comparison) was asdelicate as sweet and as tender as a Whipt-syllabub, could not resist herattractions. In a very few Days, he was falling in love, shortly after actuallyfell, and before he had known her a Month, he had married her. My Father was atfirst highly displeased at so hasty and imprudent a connection; but when hefound that they did not mind it, he soon became perfectly reconciled to thematch. The Estate near Aberdeen which my brother possesses by the bounty of hisgreat Uncle independant of Sir George, was entirely sufficient to support himand my Sister in Elegance and Ease. For the first twelvemonth, no one could behappier than Lesley, and no one more amiable to appearance than Louisa, and soplausibly did she act and so cautiously behave that tho’ Matilda and Ioften spent several weeks together with them, yet we neither of us had anysuspicion of her real Disposition. After the birth of Louisa however, which onewould have thought would have strengthened her regard for Lesley, the mask shehad so long supported was by degrees thrown aside, and as probably she thenthought herself secure in the affection of her Husband (which did indeed appearif possible augmented by the birth of his Child) she seemed to take no pains toprevent that affection from ever diminushing. Our visits therefore to Dunbeath,were now less frequent and by far less agreable than they used to be. Ourabsence was however never either mentioned or lamented by Louisa who in thesociety of young Danvers with whom she became acquainted at Aberdeen (he was atone of the Universities there,) felt infinitely happier than in that of Matildaand your freind, tho’ there certainly never were pleasanter girls than weare. You know the sad end of all Lesleys connubial happiness; I will not repeatit—. Adeiu my dear Charlotte; although I have not yet mentioned anythingof the matter, I hope you will do me the justice to beleive that I thinkand feel, a great deal for your Sisters affliction. I do not doubt butthat the healthy air of the Bristol downs will intirely remove it, by erasingfrom her Mind the remembrance of Henry. I am my dear Charlotte yrs ever

M. L.

LETTER the FOURTH
From Miss C. LUTTERELL to Miss M. LESLEY

Bristol February 27th

My Dear Peggy

I have but just received your letter, which being directed to Sussex while Iwas at Bristol was obliged to be forwarded to me here, and from someunaccountable Delay, has but this instant reached me—. I return you manythanks for the account it contains of Lesley’s acquaintance, Love andMarriage with Louisa, which has not the less entertained me for having oftenbeen repeated to me before.

I have the satisfaction of informing you that we have every reason to imagineour pantry is by this time nearly cleared, as we left Particular orders withthe servants to eat as hard as they possibly could, and to call in a couple ofChairwomen to assist them. We brought a cold Pigeon pye, a cold turkey, a coldtongue, and half a dozen Jellies with us, which we were lucky enough with thehelp of our Landlady, her husband, and their three children, to get rid of, inless than two days after our arrival. Poor Eloisa is still so very indifferentboth in Health and Spirits, that I very much fear, the air of the Bristoldowns, healthy as it is, has not been able to drive poor Henry from herremembrance.

You ask me whether your new Mother in law is handsome and amiable—I willnow give you an exact description of her bodily and mental charms. She isshort, and extremely well made; is naturally pale, but rouges a good deal; hasfine eyes, and fine teeth, as she will take care to let you know as soon as shesees you, and is altogether very pretty. She is remarkably good-tempered whenshe has her own way, and very lively when she is not out of humour. She isnaturally extravagant and not very affected; she never reads anything but theletters she receives from me, and never writes anything but her answers tothem. She plays, sings and Dances, but has no taste for either, and excells innone, tho’ she says she is passionately fond of all. Perhaps you mayflatter me so far as to be surprised that one of whom I speak with so littleaffection should be my particular freind; but to tell you the truth, ourfreindship arose rather from Caprice on her side than Esteem on mine. We spenttwo or three days together with a Lady in Berkshire with whom we both happenedto be connected—. During our visit, the Weather being remarkably bad, andour party particularly stupid, she was so good as to conceive a violentpartiality for me, which very soon settled in a downright Freindship and endedin an established correspondence. She is probably by this time as tired of me,as I am of her; but as she is too Polite and I am too civil to say so, ourletters are still as frequent and affectionate as ever, and our Attachment asfirm and sincere as when it first commenced. As she had a great taste for thepleasures of London, and of Brighthelmstone, she will I dare say find somedifficulty in prevailing on herself even to satisfy the curiosity I dare sayshe feels of beholding you, at the expence of quitting those favourite hauntsof Dissipation, for the melancholy tho’ venerable gloom of the castle youinhabit. Perhaps however if she finds her health impaired by too muchamusement, she may acquire fortitude sufficient to undertake a Journey toScotland in the hope of its Proving at least beneficial to her health, if notconducive to her happiness. Your fears I am sorry to say, concerning yourfather’s extravagance, your own fortunes, your Mothers Jewels and yourSister’s consequence, I should suppose are but too well founded. Myfreind herself has four thousand pounds, and will probably spend nearly as muchevery year in Dress and Public places, if she can get it—she willcertainly not endeavour to reclaim Sir George from the manner of living towhich he has been so long accustomed, and there is therefore some reason tofear that you will be very well off, if you get any fortune at all. The JewelsI should imagine too will undoubtedly be hers, and there is too much reason tothink that she will preside at her Husbands table in preference to hisDaughter. But as so melancholy a subject must necessarily extremely distressyou, I will no longer dwell on it—.

Eloisa’s indisposition has brought us to Bristol at so unfashionable aseason of the year, that we have actually seen but one genteel family since wecame. Mr and Mrs Marlowe are very agreable people; the ill health of theirlittle boy occasioned their arrival here; you may imagine that being the onlyfamily with whom we can converse, we are of course on a footing of intimacywith them; we see them indeed almost every day, and dined with them yesterday.We spent a very pleasant Day, and had a very good Dinner, tho’ to be surethe Veal was terribly underdone, and the Curry had no seasoning. I could nothelp wishing all dinner-time that I had been at the dressing it—. Abrother of Mrs Marlowe, Mr Cleveland is with them at present; he is agood-looking young Man, and seems to have a good deal to say for himself. Itell Eloisa that she should set her cap at him, but she does not at all seem torelish the proposal. I should like to see the girl married and Cleveland has avery good estate. Perhaps you may wonder that I do not consider myselfas well as my Sister in my matrimonial Projects; but to tell you the truth Inever wish to act a more principal part at a Wedding than the superintendingand directing the Dinner, and therefore while I can get any of my acquaintanceto marry for me, I shall never think of doing it myself, as I very much suspectthat I should not have so much time for dressing my own Wedding-dinner, as fordressing that of my freinds.

Yours sincerely
C. L.

LETTER the FIFTH
Miss MARGARET LESLEY to Miss CHARLOTTE LUTTERELL

Lesley-Castle March 18th

On the same day that I received your last kind letter, Matilda received onefrom Sir George which was dated from Edinburgh, and informed us that he shoulddo himself the pleasure of introducing Lady Lesley to us on the followingevening. This as you may suppose considerably surprised us, particularly asyour account of her Ladyship had given us reason to imagine there was littlechance of her visiting Scotland at a time that London must be so gay. As it wasour business however to be delighted at such a mark of condescension as a visitfrom Sir George and Lady Lesley, we prepared to return them an answerexpressive of the happiness we enjoyed in expectation of such a Blessing, whenluckily recollecting that as they were to reach the Castle the next Evening, itwould be impossible for my father to receive it before he left Edinburgh, wecontented ourselves with leaving them to suppose that we were as happy as weought to be. At nine in the Evening on the following day, they came,accompanied by one of Lady Lesleys brothers. Her Ladyship perfectly answers thedescription you sent me of her, except that I do not think her so pretty as youseem to consider her. She has not a bad face, but there is something soextremely unmajestic in her little diminutive figure, as to render her incomparison with the elegant height of Matilda and Myself, an insignificantDwarf. Her curiosity to see us (which must have been great to bring her morethan four hundred miles) being now perfectly gratified, she already begins tomention their return to town, and has desired us to accompany her. We cannotrefuse her request since it is seconded by the commands of our Father, andthirded by the entreaties of Mr. Fitzgerald who is certainly one of the mostpleasing young Men, I ever beheld. It is not yet determined when we are to go,but when ever we do we shall certainly take our little Louisa with us. Adeiu mydear Charlotte; Matilda unites in best wishes to you, and Eloisa, with yoursever

M. L.

LETTER the SIXTH
LADY LESLEY to Miss CHARLOTTE LUTTERELL

Lesley-Castle March 20th

We arrived here my sweet Freind about a fortnight ago, and I already heartilyrepent that I ever left our charming House in Portman-square for such a dismalold weather-beaten Castle as this. You can form no idea sufficiently hideous,of its dungeon-like form. It is actually perched upon a Rock to appearance sototally inaccessible, that I expected to have been pulled up by a rope; andsincerely repented having gratified my curiosity to behold my Daughters at theexpence of being obliged to enter their prison in so dangerous and ridiculous amanner. But as soon as I once found myself safely arrived in the inside of thistremendous building, I comforted myself with the hope of having my spiritsrevived, by the sight of two beautifull girls, such as the Miss Lesleys hadbeen represented to me, at Edinburgh. But here again, I met with nothing butDisappointment and Surprise. Matilda and Margaret Lesley are two great, tall,out of the way, over-grown, girls, just of a proper size to inhabit a Castlealmost as large in comparison as themselves. I wish my dear Charlotte that youcould but behold these Scotch giants; I am sure they would frighten you out ofyour wits. They will do very well as foils to myself, so I have invited them toaccompany me to London where I hope to be in the course of a fortnight. Besidesthese two fair Damsels, I found a little humoured Brat here who I beleive issome relation to them, they told me who she was, and gave me a long rigmerolestory of her father and a Miss Somebodywhich I have entirely forgot. Ihate scandal and detest Children. I have been plagued ever since I came herewith tiresome visits from a parcel of Scotch wretches, with terriblehard-names; they were so civil, gave me so many invitations, and talked ofcoming again so soon, that I could not help affronting them. I suppose I shallnot see them any more, and yet as a family party we are so stupid, that I donot know what to do with myself. These girls have no Music, but Scotch airs, noDrawings but Scotch Mountains, and no Books but Scotch Poems—and I hateeverything Scotch. In general I can spend half the Day at my toilett with agreat deal of pleasure, but why should I dress here, since there is not acreature in the House whom I have any wish to please. I have just had aconversation with my Brother in which he has greatly offended me, and which asI have nothing more entertaining to send you I will gave you the particularsof. You must know that I have for these 4 or 5 Days past strongly suspectedWilliam of entertaining a partiality to my eldest Daughter. I own indeed thathad Ibeen inclined to fall in love with any woman, I should not havemade choice of Matilda Lesley for the object of my passion; for there isnothing I hate so much as a tall Woman: but however there is no accounting forsome men’s taste and as William is himself nearly six feet high, it isnot wonderful that he should be partial to that height. Now as I have a verygreat affection for my Brother and should be extremely sorry to see himunhappy, which I suppose he means to be if he cannot marry Matilda, as moreoverI know that his circumstances will not allow him to marry any one without afortune, and that Matilda’s is entirely dependant on her Father, who willneither have his own inclination nor my permission to give her anything atpresent, I thought it would be doing a good-natured action by my Brother to lethim know as much, in order that he might choose for himself, whether to conquerhis passion, or Love and Despair. Accordingly finding myself this Morning alonewith him in one of the horrid old rooms of this Castle, I opened the cause tohim in the following Manner.

“Well my dear William what do you think of these girls? for my part, I donot find them so plain as I expected: but perhaps you may think me partial tothe Daughters of my Husband and perhaps you are right—They are indeed sovery like Sir George that it is natural to think”—

“My Dear Susan (cried he in a tone of the greatest amazement) You do notreally think they bear the least resemblance to their Father! He is so veryplain!—but I beg your pardon—I had entirely forgotten to whom I wasspeaking—”

“Oh! pray dont mind me; (replied I) every one knows Sir George ishorribly ugly, and I assure you I always thought him a fright.”

“You surprise me extremely (answered William) by what you say both withrespect to Sir George and his Daughters. You cannot think your Husband sodeficient in personal Charms as you speak of, nor can you surely see anyresemblance between him and the Miss Lesleys who are in my opinion perfectlyunlike him and perfectly Handsome.”

“If that is your opinion with regard to the girls it certainly is noproof of their Fathers beauty, for if they are perfectly unlike him and veryhandsome at the same time, it is natural to suppose that he is veryplain.”

“By no means, (said he) for what may be pretty in a Woman, may be veryunpleasing in a Man.”

“But you yourself (replied I) but a few minutes ago allowed him to bevery plain.”

“Men are no Judges of Beauty in their own Sex.” (said he).

“Neither Men nor Women can think Sir George tolerable.”

“Well, well, (said he) we will not dispute about hisBeauty, butyour opinion of his Daughtersis surely very singular, for if Iunderstood you right, you said you did not find them so plain as you expectedto do!”

“Why, do youfind them plainer then?” (said I).

“I can scarcely beleive you to be serious (returned he) when you speak oftheir persons in so extroidinary a Manner. Do not you think the Miss Lesleysare two very handsome young Women?”

“Lord! No! (cried I) I think them terribly plain!”

“Plain! (replied He) My dear Susan, you cannot really think so! Why whatsingle Feature in the face of either of them, can you possibly find faultwith?”

“Oh! trust me for that; (replied I). Come I will begin with theeldest—with Matilda. Shall I, William?” (I looked as cunning as Icould when I said it, in order to shame him).

“They are so much alike (said he) that I should suppose the faults ofone, would be the faults of both.”

“Well, then, in the first place; they are both so horribly tall!”

“They are tallerthan you are indeed.” (said he with a saucysmile.)

“Nay, (said I), I know nothing of that.”

“Well, but (he continued) tho’ they may be above the common size,their figures are perfectly elegant; and as to their faces, their Eyes arebeautifull.”

“I never can think such tremendous, knock-me-down figures in the leastdegree elegant, and as for their eyes, they are so tall that I never couldstrain my neck enough to look at them.”

“Nay, (replied he) I know not whether you may not be in the right in notattempting it, for perhaps they might dazzle you with their Lustre.”

“Oh! Certainly. (said I, with the greatest complacency, for I assure youmy dearest Charlotte I was not in the least offended tho’ by whatfollowed, one would suppose that William was conscious of having given me justcause to be so, for coming up to me and taking my hand, he said) “Youmust not look so grave Susan; you will make me fear I have offended you!”

“Offended me! Dear Brother, how came such a thought in your head!(returned I) No really! I assure you that I am not in the least surprised atyour being so warm an advocate for the Beauty of these girls.”—

“Well, but (interrupted William) remember that we have not yet concludedour dispute concerning them. What fault do you find with theircomplexion?”

“They are so horridly pale.”

“They have always a little colour, and after any exercise it isconsiderably heightened.”

“Yes, but if there should ever happen to be any rain in this part of theworld, they will never be able raise more than their common stock—exceptindeed they amuse themselves with running up and Down these horrid oldgalleries and Antichambers.”

“Well, (replied my Brother in a tone of vexation, and glancing animpertinent look at me) if they havebut little colour, at least, it isall their own.”

This was too much my dear Charlotte, for I am certain that he had the impudenceby that look, of pretending to suspect the reality of mine. But you I am surewill vindicate my character whenever you may hear it so cruelly aspersed, foryou can witness how often I have protested against wearing Rouge, and how muchI always told you I disliked it. And I assure you that my opinions are stillthe same.—. Well, not bearing to be so suspected by my Brother, I leftthe room immediately, and have been ever since in my own Dressing-room writingto you. What a long letter have I made of it! But you must not expect toreceive such from me when I get to Town; for it is only at Lesley castle, thatone has time to write even to a Charlotte Lutterell.—. I was so muchvexed by William’s glance, that I could not summon Patience enough, tostay and give him that advice respecting his attachment to Matilda which hadfirst induced me from pure Love to him to begin the conversation; and I am nowso thoroughly convinced by it, of his violent passion for her, that I amcertain he would never hear reason on the subject, and I shall there fore givemyself no more trouble either about him or his favourite. Adeiu my deargirl—

Yrs affectionately Susan L.

LETTER the SEVENTH
From Miss C. LUTTERELL to Miss M. LESLEY

Bristol the 27th of March

I have received Letters from you and your Mother-in-law within this week whichhave greatly entertained me, as I find by them that you are both downrightjealous of each others Beauty. It is very odd that two pretty Women tho’actually Mother and Daughter cannot be in the same House without falling outabout their faces. Do be convinced that you are both perfectly handsome and sayno more of the Matter. I suppose this letter must be directed to Portman Squarewhere probably (great as is your affection for Lesley Castle) you will not besorry to find yourself. In spite of all that people may say about Green fieldsand the Country I was always of opinion that London and its amusements must bevery agreable for a while, and should be very happy could my Mother’sincome allow her to jockey us into its Public-places, during Winter. I alwayslonged particularly to go to Vaux-hall, to see whether the cold Beef there iscut so thin as it is reported, for I have a sly suspicion that few peopleunderstand the art of cutting a slice of cold Beef so well as I do: nay itwould be hard if I did not know something of the Matter, for it was a part ofmy Education that I took by far the most pains with. Mama always found meherbest scholar, tho’ when Papa was alive Eloisa was his.Never to be sure were there two more different Dispositions in the World. Weboth loved Reading. Shepreferred Histories, and I Receipts. She loveddrawing, Pictures, and I drawing Pullets. No one could sing a better song thanshe, and no one make a better Pye than I.—And so it has always continuedsince we have been no longer children. The only difference is that all disputeson the superior excellence of our Employments thenso frequent are nowno more. We have for many years entered into an agreement always to admire eachother’s works; I never fail listening to herMusic, and she is asconstant in eating my pies. Such at least was the case till Henry Hervey madehis appearance in Sussex. Before the arrival of his Aunt in our neighbourhoodwhere she established herself you know about a twelvemonth ago, his visits toher had been at stated times, and of equal and settled Duration; but on herremoval to the Hall which is within a walk from our House, they became bothmore frequent and longer. This as you may suppose could not be pleasing to MrsDiana who is a professed enemy to everything which is not directed by Decorumand Formality, or which bears the least resemblance to Ease and Good-breeding.Nay so great was her aversion to her Nephews behaviour that I have often heardher give such hints of it before his face that had not Henry at such times beenengaged in conversation with Eloisa, they must have caught his Attention andhave very much distressed him. The alteration in my Sisters behaviour which Ihave before hinted at, now took place. The Agreement we had entered into ofadmiring each others productions she no longer seemed to regard, and tho’I constantly applauded even every Country-dance, she played, yet not even apidgeon-pye of my making could obtain from her a single word of approbation.This was certainly enough to put any one in a Passion; however, I was as coolas a cream-cheese and having formed my plan and concerted a scheme of Revenge,I was determined to let her have her own way and not even to make her a singlereproach. My scheme was to treat her as she treated me, and tho’ shemight even draw my own Picture or play Malbrook (which is the only tune I everreally liked) not to say so much as “Thank you Eloisa;” tho’I had for many years constantly hollowed whenever she played, Bravo,Bravissimo, her, Da capo, allegretto conexpressione, and Poco prestowith many other such outlandish words,all of them as Eloisa told me expressive of my Admiration; and so indeed Isuppose they are, as I see some of them in every Page of every Music book,being the sentiments I imagine of the composer.

I executed my Plan with great Punctuality. I can not say success, for alas! mysilence while she played seemed not in the least to displease her; on thecontrary she actually said to me one day “Well Charlotte, I am very gladto find that you have at last left off that ridiculous custom of applauding myExecution on the Harpsichord till you made myhead ake, and yourselfhoarse. I feel very much obliged to you for keeping your admiration toyourself.” I never shall forget the very witty answer I made to thisspeech. “Eloisa (said I) I beg you would be quite at your Ease withrespect to all such fears in future, for be assured that I shall always keep myadmiration to myself and my own pursuits and never extend it to yours.”This was the only very severe thing I ever said in my Life; not but that I haveoften felt myself extremely satirical but it was the only time I ever made myfeelings public.

I suppose there never were two Young people who had a greater affection foreach other than Henry and Eloisa; no, the Love of your Brother for Miss Burtoncould not be so strong tho’ it might be more violent. You may imaginetherefore how provoked my Sister must have been to have him play her such atrick. Poor girl! she still laments his Death with undiminished constancy,notwithstanding he has been dead more than six weeks; but some People mind suchthings more than others. The ill state of Health into which his loss has thrownher makes her so weak, and so unable to support the least exertion, that shehas been in tears all this Morning merely from having taken leave of Mrs.Marlowe who with her Husband, Brother and Child are to leave Bristol thismorning. I am sorry to have them go because they are the only family with whomwe have here any acquaintance, but I never thought of crying; to be sure Eloisaand Mrs Marlowe have always been more together than with me, and have thereforecontracted a kind of affection for each other, which does not make Tears soinexcusable in them as they would be in me. The Marlowes are going to Town;Cliveland accompanies them; as neither Eloisa nor I could catch him I hope youor Matilda may have better Luck. I know not when we shall leave Bristol,Eloisa’s spirits are so low that she is very averse to moving, and yet iscertainly by no means mended by her residence here. A week or two will I hopedetermine our Measures—in the mean time believe me

and etc—and etc—Charlotte Lutterell.

LETTER the EIGHTH
Miss LUTTERELL to Mrs MARLOWE

Bristol April 4th

I feel myself greatly obliged to you my dear Emma for such a mark of youraffection as I flatter myself was conveyed in the proposal you made me of ourCorresponding; I assure you that it will be a great releif to me to write toyou and as long as my Health and Spirits will allow me, you will find me a veryconstant correspondent; I will not say an entertaining one, for you know mysituation suffciently not to be ignorant that in me Mirth would be improper andI know my own Heart too well not to be sensible that it would be unnatural. Youmust not expect news for we see no one with whom we are in the leastacquainted, or in whose proceedings we have any Interest. You must not expectscandal for by the same rule we are equally debarred either from hearing orinventing it.—You must expect from me nothing but the melancholyeffusions of a broken Heart which is ever reverting to the Happiness it onceenjoyed and which ill supports its present wretchedness. The Possibility ofbeing able to write, to speak, to you of my lost Henry will be a luxury to me,and your goodness will not I know refuse to read what it will so much releivemy Heart to write. I once thought that to have what is in general called aFreind (I mean one of my own sex to whom I might speak with less reserve thanto any other person) independant of my sister would never be an object of mywishes, but how much was I mistaken! Charlotte is too much engrossed by twoconfidential correspondents of that sort, to supply the place of one to me, andI hope you will not think me girlishly romantic, when I say that to have somekind and compassionate Freind who might listen to my sorrows withoutendeavouring to console me was what I had for some time wished for, when ouracquaintance with you, the intimacy which followed it and the particularaffectionate attention you paid me almost from the first, caused me toentertain the flattering Idea of those attentions being improved on a closeracquaintance into a Freindship which, if you were what my wishes formed youwould be the greatest Happiness I could be capable of enjoying. To find thatsuch Hopes are realised is a satisfaction indeed, a satisfaction which is nowalmost the only one I can ever experience.—I feel myself so languid thatI am sure were you with me you would oblige me to leave off writing, and Icannot give you a greater proof of my affection for you than by acting, as Iknow you would wish me to do, whether Absent or Present. I am my dear Emmassincere freind

E. L.

LETTER the NINTH
Mrs MARLOWE to Miss LUTTERELL

Grosvenor Street, April 10th

Need I say my dear Eloisa how wellcome your letter was to me I cannot give agreater proof of the pleasure I received from it, or of the Desire I feel thatour Correspondence may be regular and frequent than by setting you so good anexample as I now do in answering it before the end of the week—. But donot imagine that I claim any merit in being so punctual; on the contrary Iassure you, that it is a far greater Gratification to me to write to you, thanto spend the Evening either at a Concert or a Ball. Mr Marlowe is so desirousof my appearing at some of the Public places every evening that I do not liketo refuse him, but at the same time so much wish to remain at Home, thatindependant of the Pleasure I experience in devoting any portion of my Time tomy Dear Eloisa, yet the Liberty I claim from having a letter to write ofspending an Evening at home with my little Boy, you know me well enough to besensible, will of itself be a sufficient Inducement (if one is necessary) to mymaintaining with Pleasure a Correspondence with you. As to the subject of yourletters to me, whether grave or merry, if they concern you they must be equallyinteresting to me; not but that I think the melancholy Indulgence of your ownsorrows by repeating them and dwelling on them to me, will only encourage andincrease them, and that it will be more prudent in you to avoid so sad asubject; but yet knowing as I do what a soothing and melancholy Pleasure itmust afford you, I cannot prevail on myself to deny you so great an Indulgence,and will only insist on your not expecting me to encourage you in it, by my ownletters; on the contrary I intend to fill them with such lively Wit andenlivening Humour as shall even provoke a smile in the sweet but sorrowfullcountenance of my Eloisa.

In the first place you are to learn that I have met your sisters three freindsLady Lesley and her Daughters, twice in Public since I have been here. I knowyou will be impatient to hear my opinion of the Beauty of three Ladies of whomyou have heard so much. Now, as you are too ill and too unhappy to be vain, Ithink I may venture to inform you that I like none of their faces so well as Ido your own. Yet they are all handsome—Lady Lesley indeed I have seenbefore; her Daughters I beleive would in general be said to have a finer facethan her Ladyship, and yet what with the charms of a Blooming complexion, alittle Affectation and a great deal of small-talk, (in each of which she issuperior to the young Ladies) she will I dare say gain herself as many admirersas the more regular features of Matilda, and Margaret. I am sure you will agreewith me in saying that they can none of them be of a proper size for realBeauty, when you know that two of them are taller and the other shorter thanourselves. In spite of this Defect (or rather by reason of it) there issomething very noble and majestic in the figures of the Miss Lesleys, andsomething agreably lively in the appearance of their pretty littleMother-in-law. But tho’ one may be majestic and the other lively, yet thefaces of neither possess that Bewitching sweetness of my Eloisas, which herpresent languor is so far from diminushing. What would my Husband and Brothersay of us, if they knew all the fine things I have been saying to you in thisletter. It is very hard that a pretty woman is never to be told she is so byany one of her own sex without that person’s being suspected to be eitherher determined Enemy, or her professed Toad-eater. How much more amiable arewomen in that particular! One man may say forty civil things to another withoutour supposing that he is ever paid for it, and provided he does his Duty by oursex, we care not how Polite he is to his own.

Mrs Lutterell will be so good as to accept my compliments, Charlotte, my Love,and Eloisa the best wishes for the recovery of her Health and Spirits that canbe offered by her affectionate Freind

E. Marlowe.

I am afraid this letter will be but a poor specimen of my Powers in the wittyway; and your opinion of them will not be greatly increased when I assure youthat I have been as entertaining as I possibly could.

LETTER the TENTH
From Miss MARGARET LESLEY to Miss CHARLOTTE LUTTERELL

Portman Square April 13th

MY DEARCHARLOTTE

We left Lesley-Castle on the 28th of last Month, and arrived safely in Londonafter a Journey of seven Days; I had the pleasure of finding your Letter herewaiting my Arrival, for which you have my grateful Thanks. Ah! my dear Freind Ievery day more regret the serene and tranquil Pleasures of the Castle we haveleft, in exchange for the uncertain and unequal Amusements of this vauntedCity. Not that I will pretend to assert that these uncertain and unequalAmusements are in the least Degree unpleasing to me; on the contrary I enjoythem extremely and should enjoy them even more, were I not certain that everyappearance I make in Public but rivetts the Chains of those unhappy Beingswhose Passion it is impossible not to pity, tho’ it is out of my power toreturn. In short my Dear Charlotte it is my sensibility for the sufferings ofso many amiable young Men, my Dislike of the extreme admiration I meet with,and my aversion to being so celebrated both in Public, in Private, in Papers,and in Printshops, that are the reasons why I cannot more fully enjoy, theAmusements so various and pleasing of London. How often have I wished that Ipossessed as little Personal Beauty as you do; that my figure were asinelegant; my face as unlovely; and my appearance as unpleasing as yours! Butah! what little chance is there of so desirable an Event; I have had thesmall-pox, and must therefore submit to my unhappy fate.

I am now going to intrust you my dear Charlotte with a secret which has longdisturbed the tranquility of my days, and which is of a kind to require themost inviolable Secrecy from you. Last Monday se’night Matilda and Iaccompanied Lady Lesley to a Rout at the Honourable Mrs Kickabout’s; wewere escorted by Mr Fitzgerald who is a very amiable young Man in the main,tho’ perhaps a little singular in his Taste—He is in love withMatilda—. We had scarcely paid our Compliments to the Lady of the Houseand curtseyed to half a score different people when my Attention was attractedby the appearance of a Young Man the most lovely of his Sex, who at that momententered the Room with another Gentleman and Lady. From the first moment Ibeheld him, I was certain that on him depended the future Happiness of my Life.Imagine my surprise when he was introduced to me by the name ofCleveland—I instantly recognised him as the Brother of Mrs Marlowe, andthe acquaintance of my Charlotte at Bristol. Mr and Mrs M. were the gentlemanand Lady who accompanied him. (You do not think Mrs Marlowe handsome?) Theelegant address of Mr Cleveland, his polished Manners and Delightful Bow, atonce confirmed my attachment. He did not speak; but I can imagine everything hewould have said, had he opened his Mouth. I can picture to myself thecultivated Understanding, the Noble sentiments, and elegant Language whichwould have shone so conspicuous in the conversation of Mr Cleveland. Theapproach of Sir James Gower (one of my too numerous admirers) prevented theDiscovery of any such Powers, by putting an end to a Conversation we had nevercommenced, and by attracting my attention to himself. But oh! how inferior arethe accomplishments of Sir James to those of his so greatly envied Rival! SirJames is one of the most frequent of our Visitors, and is almost always of ourParties. We have since often met Mr and Mrs Marlowe but no Cleveland—heis always engaged some where else. Mrs Marlowe fatigues me to Death every timeI see her by her tiresome Conversations about you and Eloisa. She is so stupid!I live in the hope of seeing her irrisistable Brother to night, as we are goingto Lady Flambeaus, who is I know intimate with the Marlowes. Our party will beLady Lesley, Matilda, Fitzgerald, Sir James Gower, and myself. We see little ofSir George, who is almost always at the gaming-table. Ah! my poor Fortune whereart thou by this time? We see more of Lady L. who always makes her appearance(highly rouged) at Dinner-time. Alas! what Delightful Jewels will she be deckedin this evening at Lady Flambeau’s! Yet I wonder how she can herselfdelight in wearing them; surely she must be sensible of the ridiculousimpropriety of loading her little diminutive figure with such superfluousornaments; is it possible that she can not know how greatly superior an elegantsimplicity is to the most studied apparel? Would she but Present them toMatilda and me, how greatly should we be obliged to her, How becoming wouldDiamonds be on our fine majestic figures! And how surprising it is that such anIdea should never have occurred to her. I am sure if I have reflected inthis manner once, I have fifty times. Whenever I see Lady Lesley dressed inthem such reflections immediately come across me. My own Mother’s Jewelstoo! But I will say no more on so melancholy a subject—let me entertainyou with something more pleasing—Matilda had a letter this morning fromLesley, by which we have the pleasure of finding that he is at Naples hasturned Roman-Catholic, obtained one of the Pope’s Bulls for annulling his1st Marriage and has since actually married a Neapolitan Lady of great Rank andFortune. He tells us moreover that much the same sort of affair has befallenhis first wife the worthless Louisa who is likewise at Naples had turnedRoman-catholic, and is soon to be married to a Neapolitan Nobleman of great andDistinguished merit. He says, that they are at present very good Freinds, havequite forgiven all past errors and intend in future to be very good Neighbours.He invites Matilda and me to pay him a visit to Italy and to bring him hislittle Louisa whom both her Mother, Step-mother, and himself are equallydesirous of beholding. As to our accepting his invitation, it is at Presentvery uncertain; Lady Lesley advises us to go without loss of time; Fitzgeraldoffers to escort us there, but Matilda has some doubts of the Propriety of sucha scheme—she owns it would be very agreable. I am certain she likes theFellow. My Father desires us not to be in a hurry, as perhaps if we wait a fewmonths both he and Lady Lesley will do themselves the pleasure of attending us.Lady Lesley says no, that nothing will ever tempt her to forego the Amusementsof Brighthelmstone for a Journey to Italy merely to see our Brother. “No(says the disagreable Woman) I have once in my life been fool enough to travelI dont know how many hundred Miles to see two of the Family, and I found it didnot answer, so Deuce take me, if ever I am so foolish again.” So says herLadyship, but Sir George still Perseveres in saying that perhaps in a month ortwo, they may accompany us.

Adeiu my Dear Charlotte
Yrs faithful Margaret Lesley.

THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND

FROM
THE REIGN OF HENRY THE 4TH
TO
THE DEATH OF CHARLES THE 1ST

BY A PARTIAL, PREJUDICED, AND IGNORANT HISTORIAN.

To Miss Austen, eldest daughter of the Rev. George Austen, this work isinscribed with all due respect by

THE AUTHOR.

N.B. There will be very few Dates in this History.

THE HISTORY OF ENGLAND

HENRY the 4th

Henry the 4th ascended the throne of England much to his own satisfaction inthe year 1399, after having prevailed on his cousin and predecessor Richard the2nd, to resign it to him, and to retire for the rest of his life to PomfretCastle, where he happened to be murdered. It is to be supposed that Henry wasmarried, since he had certainly four sons, but it is not in my power to informthe Reader who was his wife. Be this as it may, he did not live for ever, butfalling ill, his son the Prince of Wales came and took away the crown;whereupon the King made a long speech, for which I must refer the Reader toShakespear’s Plays, and the Prince made a still longer. Things being thussettled between them the King died, and was succeeded by his son Henry who hadpreviously beat Sir William Gascoigne.

HENRY the 5th

This Prince after he succeeded to the throne grew quite reformed and amiable,forsaking all his dissipated companions, and never thrashing Sir William again.During his reign, Lord Cobham was burnt alive, but I forget what for. HisMajesty then turned his thoughts to France, where he went and fought the famousBattle of Agincourt. He afterwards married the King’s daughter Catherine,a very agreable woman by Shakespear’s account. In spite of all thishowever he died, and was succeeded by his son Henry.

HENRY the 6th

I cannot say much for this Monarch’s sense. Nor would I if I could, forhe was a Lancastrian. I suppose you know all about the Wars between him and theDuke of York who was of the right side; if you do not, you had better read someother History, for I shall not be very diffuse in this, meaning by it only tovent my spleen against, and shew my Hatred toall those peoplewhose parties or principles do not suit with mine, and not to give information.This King married Margaret of Anjou, a Woman whose distresses and misfortuneswere so great as almost to make me who hate her, pity her. It was in this reignthat Joan of Arc lived and made such a rowamong the English. Theyshould not have burnt her—but they did. There were several Battlesbetween the Yorkists and Lancastrians, in which the former (as they ought)usually conquered. At length they were entirely overcome; The King wasmurdered—The Queen was sent home—and Edward the 4th ascended theThrone.

EDWARD the 4th

This Monarch was famous only for his Beauty and his Courage, of which thePicture we have here given of him, and his undaunted Behaviour in marrying oneWoman while he was engaged to another, are sufficient proofs. His Wife wasElizabeth Woodville, a Widow who, poor Woman! was afterwards confined in aConvent by that Monster of Iniquity and Avarice Henry the 7th. One ofEdward’s Mistresses was Jane Shore, who has had a play written about her,but it is a tragedy and therefore not worth reading. Having performed all thesenoble actions, his Majesty died, and was succeeded by his son.

EDWARD the 5th

This unfortunate Prince lived so little a while that nobody had him to draw hispicture. He was murdered by his Uncle’s Contrivance, whose name wasRichard the 3rd.

RICHARD the 3rd

The Character of this Prince has been in general very severely treated byHistorians, but as he was a York, I am rather inclined to suppose him avery respectable Man. It has indeed been confidently asserted that he killedhis two Nephews and his Wife, but it has also been declared that he didnotkill his two Nephews, which I am inclined to beleive true; and ifthis is the case, it may also be affirmed that he did not kill his Wife, for ifPerkin Warbeck was really the Duke of York, why might not Lambert Simnel be theWidow of Richard. Whether innocent or guilty, he did not reign long in peace,for Henry Tudor E. of Richmond as great a villain as ever lived, made a greatfuss about getting the Crown and having killed the King at the battle ofBosworth, he succeeded to it.

HENRY the 7th

This Monarch soon after his accession married the Princess Elizabeth of York,by which alliance he plainly proved that he thought his own right inferior tohers, tho’ he pretended to the contrary. By this Marriage he had two sonsand two daughters, the elder of which Daughters was married to the King ofScotland and had the happiness of being grandmother to one of the firstCharacters in the World. But of her, I shall have occasion to speak moreat large in future. The youngest, Mary, married first the King of France andsecondly the D. of Suffolk, by whom she had one daughter, afterwards the Motherof Lady Jane Grey, who tho’ inferior to her lovely Cousin the Queen ofScots, was yet an amiable young woman and famous for reading Greek while otherpeople were hunting. It was in the reign of Henry the 7th that Perkin Warbeckand Lambert Simnel before mentioned made their appearance, the former of whomwas set in the stocks, took shelter in Beaulieu Abbey, and was beheaded withthe Earl of Warwick, and the latter was taken into the Kings kitchen. HisMajesty died and was succeeded by his son Henry whose only merit was his notbeing quiteso bad as his daughter Elizabeth.

HENRY the 8th

It would be an affront to my Readers were I to suppose that they were not aswell acquainted with the particulars of this King’s reign as I am myself.It will therefore be saving themthe task of reading again what theyhave read before, and myselfthe trouble of writing what I do notperfectly recollect, by giving only a slight sketch of the principal Eventswhich marked his reign. Among these may be ranked Cardinal Wolsey’stelling the father Abbott of Leicester Abbey that “he was come to lay hisbones among them,” the reformation in Religion and the King’sriding through the streets of London with Anna Bullen. It is however butJustice, and my Duty to declare that this amiable Woman was entirely innocentof the Crimes with which she was accused, and of which her Beauty, herElegance, and her Sprightliness were sufficient proofs, not to mention hersolemn Protestations of Innocence, the weakness of the Charges against her, andthe King’s Character; all of which add some confirmation, tho’perhaps but slight ones when in comparison with those before alledged in herfavour. Tho’ I do not profess giving many dates, yet as I think it properto give some and shall of course make choice of those which it is mostnecessary for the Reader to know, I think it right to inform him that herletter to the King was dated on the 6th of May. The Crimes and Cruelties ofthis Prince, were too numerous to be mentioned, (as this history I trust hasfully shown;) and nothing can be said in his vindication, but that hisabolishing Religious Houses and leaving them to the ruinous depredations oftime has been of infinite use to the landscape of England in general, whichprobably was a principal motive for his doing it, since otherwise why should aMan who was of no Religion himself be at so much trouble to abolish one whichhad for ages been established in the Kingdom. His Majesty’s 5th Wife wasthe Duke of Norfolk’s Neice who, tho’ universally acquitted of thecrimes for which she was beheaded, has been by many people supposed to have ledan abandoned life before her Marriage—of this however I have many doubts,since she was a relation of that noble Duke of Norfolk who was so warm in theQueen of Scotland’s cause, and who at last fell a victim to it. The Kingslast wife contrived to survive him, but with difficulty effected it. He wassucceeded by his only son Edward.

EDWARD the 6th

As this prince was only nine years old at the time of his Father’s death,he was considered by many people as too young to govern, and the late Kinghappening to be of the same opinion, his mother’s Brother the Duke ofSomerset was chosen Protector of the realm during his minority. This Man was onthe whole of a very amiable Character, and is somewhat of a favourite with me,tho’ I would by no means pretend to affirm that he was equal to thosefirst of Men Robert Earl of Essex, Delamere, or Gilpin. He was beheaded, ofwhich he might with reason have been proud, had he known that such was thedeath of Mary Queen of Scotland; but as it was impossible that he should beconscious of what had never happened, it does not appear that he feltparticularly delighted with the manner of it. After his decease the Duke ofNorthumberland had the care of the King and the Kingdom, and performed histrust of both so well that the King died and the Kingdom was left to hisdaughter in law the Lady Jane Grey, who has been already mentioned as readingGreek. Whether she really understood that language or whether such a studyproceeded only from an excess of vanity for which I beleive she was alwaysrather remarkable, is uncertain. Whatever might be the cause, she preserved thesame appearance of knowledge, and contempt of what was generally esteemedpleasure, during the whole of her life, for she declared herself displeasedwith being appointed Queen, and while conducting to the scaffold, she wrote asentence in Latin and another in Greek on seeing the dead Body of her Husbandaccidentally passing that way.

MARY

This woman had the good luck of being advanced to the throne of England, inspite of the superior pretensions, Merit, and Beauty of her Cousins Mary Queenof Scotland and Jane Grey. Nor can I pity the Kingdom for the misfortunes theyexperienced during her Reign, since they fully deserved them, for havingallowed her to succeed her Brother—which was a double peice of folly,since they might have foreseen that as she died without children, she would besucceeded by that disgrace to humanity, that pest of society, Elizabeth. Manywere the people who fell martyrs to the protestant Religion during her reign; Isuppose not fewer than a dozen. She married Philip King of Spain who in hersister’s reign was famous for building Armadas. She died without issue,and then the dreadful moment came in which the destroyer of all comfort, thedeceitful Betrayer of trust reposed in her, and the Murderess of her Cousinsucceeded to the Throne.——

ELIZABETH

It was the peculiar misfortune of this Woman to have bad Ministers—Sincewicked as she herself was, she could not have committed such extensivemischeif, had not these vile and abandoned Men connived at, and encouraged herin her Crimes. I know that it has by many people been asserted and beleivedthat Lord Burleigh, Sir Francis Walsingham, and the rest of those who filledthe cheif offices of State were deserving, experienced, and able Ministers. Butoh! how blinded such writers and such Readers must be to true Merit, to Meritdespised, neglected and defamed, if they can persist in such opinions when theyreflect that these men, these boasted men were such scandals to their Countryand their sex as to allow and assist their Queen in confining for the space ofnineteen years, a Womanwho if the claims of Relationship and Merit wereof no avail, yet as a Queen and as one who condescended to place confidence inher, had every reason to expect assistance and protection; and at length inallowing Elizabeth to bring this amiable Woman to an untimely, unmerited, andscandalous Death. Can any one if he reflects but for a moment on this blot,this everlasting blot upon their understanding and their Character, allow anypraise to Lord Burleigh or Sir Francis Walsingham? Oh! what must thisbewitching Princess whose only freind was then the Duke of Norfolk, and whoseonly ones now Mr Whitaker, Mrs Lefroy, Mrs Knight and myself, who was abandonedby her son, confined by her Cousin, abused, reproached and vilified by all,what must not her most noble mind have suffered when informed that Elizabethhad given orders for her Death! Yet she bore it with a most unshaken fortitude,firm in her mind; constant in her Religion; and prepared herself to meet thecruel fate to which she was doomed, with a magnanimity that would alone proceedfrom conscious Innocence. And yet could you Reader have beleived it possiblethat some hardened and zealous Protestants have even abused her for thatsteadfastness in the Catholic Religion which reflected on her so much credit?But this is a striking proof of theirnarrow souls and prejudicedJudgements who accuse her. She was executed in the Great Hall at FortheringayCastle (sacred Place!) on Wednesday the 8th of February 1586—to theeverlasting Reproach of Elizabeth, her Ministers, and of England in general. Itmay not be unnecessary before I entirely conclude my account of this ill-fatedQueen, to observe that she had been accused of several crimes during the timeof her reigning in Scotland, of which I now most seriously do assure my Readerthat she was entirely innocent; having never been guilty of anything more thanImprudencies into which she was betrayed by the openness of her Heart, herYouth, and her Education. Having I trust by this assurance entirely done awayevery Suspicion and every doubt which might have arisen in the Reader’smind, from what other Historians have written of her, I shall proceed tomention the remaining Events that marked Elizabeth’s reign. It was aboutthis time that Sir Francis Drake the first English Navigator who sailed roundthe World, lived, to be the ornament of his Country and his profession. Yetgreat as he was, and justly celebrated as a sailor, I cannot help foreseeingthat he will be equalled in this or the next Century by one who tho’ nowbut young, already promises to answer all the ardent and sanguine expectationsof his Relations and Freinds, amongst whom I may class the amiable Lady to whomthis work is dedicated, and my no less amiable self.

Though of a different profession, and shining in a different sphere of Life,yet equally conspicuous in the Character of an Earl, as Drake was inthat of a Sailor, was Robert Devereux Lord Essex. This unfortunate youngMan was not unlike in character to that equally unfortunate one FredericDelamere. The simile may be carried still farther, and Elizabeth thetorment of Essex may be compared to the Emmeline of Delamere. It would beendless to recount the misfortunes of this noble and gallant Earl. It issufficient to say that he was beheaded on the 25th of Feb, after having beenLord Lieutenant of Ireland, after having clapped his hand on his sword, andafter performing many other services to his Country. Elizabeth did not longsurvive his loss, and died so miserable that were it not an injury to thememory of Mary I should pity her.

JAMES the 1st

Though this King had some faults, among which and as the most principal, washis allowing his Mother’s death, yet considered on the whole I cannothelp liking him. He married Anne of Denmark, and had several Children;fortunately for him his eldest son Prince Henry died before his father or hemight have experienced the evils which befell his unfortunate Brother.

As I am myself partial to the roman catholic religion, it is with infiniteregret that I am obliged to blame the Behaviour of any Member of it: yet Truthbeing I think very excusable in an Historian, I am necessitated to say that inthis reign the roman Catholics of England did not behave like Gentlemen to theprotestants. Their Behaviour indeed to the Royal Family and both Houses ofParliament might justly be considered by them as very uncivil, and even SirHenry Percy tho’ certainly the best bred man of the party, had none ofthat general politeness which is so universally pleasing, as his attentionswere entirely confined to Lord Mounteagle.

Sir Walter Raleigh flourished in this and the preceeding reign, and is by manypeople held in great veneration and respect—But as he was an enemy of thenoble Essex, I have nothing to say in praise of him, and must refer all thosewho may wish to be acquainted with the particulars of his life, to MrSheridan’s play of the Critic, where they will find many interestinganecdotes as well of him as of his friend Sir Christopher Hatton.—HisMajesty was of that amiable disposition which inclines to Freindship, and insuch points was possessed of a keener penetration in discovering Merit thanmany other people. I once heard an excellent Sharade on a Carpet, of which thesubject I am now on reminds me, and as I think it may afford my Readers someamusement to find it out, I shall here take the liberty of presenting itto them.

SHARADE

My first is what my second was to King James the 1st, and you tread on mywhole.

The principal favourites of his Majesty were Car, who was afterwards createdEarl of Somerset and whose name perhaps may have some share in the abovementioned Sharade, and George Villiers afterwards Duke of Buckingham. On hisMajesty’s death he was succeeded by his son Charles.

CHARLES the 1st

This amiable Monarch seems born to have suffered misfortunes equal to those ofhis lovely Grandmother; misfortunes which he could not deserve since he was herdescendant. Never certainly were there before so many detestable Characters atone time in England as in this Period of its History; never were amiable men soscarce. The number of them throughout the whole Kingdom amounting only tofive, besides the inhabitants of Oxford who were always loyal to theirKing and faithful to his interests. The names of this noble five who neverforgot the duty of the subject, or swerved from their attachment to hisMajesty, were as follows—The King himself, ever stedfast in his ownsupport—Archbishop Laud, Earl of Strafford, Viscount Faulkland and Dukeof Ormond, who were scarcely less strenuous or zealous in the cause. While thevillainsof the time would make too long a list to be written or read; Ishall therefore content myself with mentioning the leaders of the Gang.Cromwell, Fairfax, Hampden, and Pym may be considered as the original Causersof all the disturbances, Distresses, and Civil Wars in which England for manyyears was embroiled. In this reign as well as in that of Elizabeth, I amobliged in spite of my attachment to the Scotch, to consider them as equallyguilty with the generality of the English, since they dared to thinkdifferently from their Sovereign, to forget the Adoration which asStuartsit was their Duty to pay them, to rebel against, dethrone andimprison the unfortunate Mary; to oppose, to deceive, and to sell the no lessunfortunate Charles. The Events of this Monarch’s reign are too numerousfor my pen, and indeed the recital of any Events (except what I make myself) isuninteresting to me; my principal reason for undertaking the History of Englandbeing to Prove the innocence of the Queen of Scotland, which I flatter myselfwith having effectually done, and to abuse Elizabeth, tho’ I am ratherfearful of having fallen short in the latter part of my scheme.—Astherefore it is not my intention to give any particular account of thedistresses into which this King was involved through the misconduct and Crueltyof his Parliament, I shall satisfy myself with vindicating him from theReproach of Arbitrary and tyrannical Government with which he has often beencharged. This, I feel, is not difficult to be done, for with one argument I amcertain of satisfying every sensible and well disposed person whose opinionshave been properly guided by a good Education—and this Argument is thathe was a STUART.

FINIS

Saturday Nov: 26th 1791.

A COLLECTION OF LETTERS

To Miss COOPER

COUSIN

Conscious of the Charming Character which in every Country, and every Clime inChristendom is Cried, Concerning you, with Caution and Care I Commend to yourCharitable Criticism this Clever Collection of Curious Comments, which havebeen Carefully Culled, Collected and Classed by your Comical Cousin

The Author

A COLLECTION OF LETTERS

LETTER the FIRST
From a MOTHER to her FREIND.

My Children begin now to claim all my attention in different Manner from thatin which they have been used to receive it, as they are now arrived at that agewhen it is necessary for them in some measure to become conversant with theWorld, My Augusta is 17 and her sister scarcely a twelvemonth younger. Iflatter myself that their education has been such as will not disgrace theirappearance in the World, and that theywill not disgrace their EducationI have every reason to beleive. Indeed they are sweet Girls—. Sensibleyet unaffected—Accomplished yet Easy—. Lively yet Gentle—. Astheir progress in every thing they have learnt has been always the same, I amwilling to forget the difference of age, and to introduce them together intoPublic. This very Evening is fixed on as their first entréeinto Life,as we are to drink tea with Mrs Cope and her Daughter. I am glad that we are tomeet no one, for my Girls sake, as it would be awkward for them to enter toowide a Circle on the very first day. But we shall proceed bydegrees.—Tomorrow Mr Stanly’s family will drink tea with us, andperhaps the Miss Phillips’s will meet them. On Tuesday we shall payMorning Visits—On Wednesday we are to dine at Westbrook. On Thursday wehave Company at home. On Friday we are to be at a Private Concert at Sir JohnWynna’s—and on Saturday we expect Miss Dawson to call in theMorning—which will complete my Daughters Introduction into Life. How theywill bear so much dissipation I cannot imagine; of their spirits I have nofear, I only dread their health.

This mighty affair is now happily over, and my Girls are out. As themoment approached for our departure, you can have no idea how the sweetCreatures trembled with fear and expectation. Before the Carriage drove to thedoor, I called them into my dressing-room, and as soon as they were seated thusaddressed them. “My dear Girls the moment is now arrived when I am toreap the rewards of all my Anxieties and Labours towards you during yourEducation. You are this Evening to enter a World in which you will meet withmany wonderfull Things; Yet let me warn you against suffering yourselves to bemeanly swayed by the Follies and Vices of others, for beleive me my belovedChildren that if you do—I shall be very sorry for it.” They bothassured me that they would ever remember my advice with Gratitude, and followit with attention; That they were prepared to find a World full of things toamaze and to shock them: but that they trusted their behaviour would never giveme reason to repent the Watchful Care with which I had presided over theirinfancy and formed their Minds—” “With such expectations andsuch intentions (cried I) I can have nothing to fear from you—and canchearfully conduct you to Mrs Cope’s without a fear of your being seducedby her Example, or contaminated by her Follies. Come, then my Children (addedI) the Carriage is driving to the door, and I will not a moment delay thehappiness you are so impatient to enjoy.” When we arrived at Warleigh,poor Augusta could scarcely breathe, while Margaret was all Life and Rapture.“The long-expected Moment is now arrived (said she) and we shall soon bein the World.”—In a few Moments we were in Mrs Cope’sparlour, where with her daughter she sate ready to receive us. I observed withdelight the impression my Children made on them—. They were indeed twosweet, elegant-looking Girls, and tho’ somewhat abashed from thepeculiarity of their situation, yet there was an ease in their Manners andaddress which could not fail of pleasing—. Imagine my dear Madam howdelighted I must have been in beholding as I did, how attentively they observedevery object they saw, how disgusted with some Things, how enchanted withothers, how astonished at all! On the whole however they returned in raptureswith the World, its Inhabitants, and Manners.

Yrs Ever—A. F.

LETTER the SECOND
From a YOUNG LADY crossed in Love to her freind

Why should this last disappointment hang so heavily on my spirits? Why should Ifeel it more, why should it wound me deeper than those I have experiencedbefore? Can it be that I have a greater affection for Willoughby than I had forhis amiable predecessors? Or is it that our feelings become more acute frombeing often wounded? I must suppose my dear Belle that this is the Case, sinceI am not conscious of being more sincerely attached to Willoughby than I was toNeville, Fitzowen, or either of the Crawfords, for all of whom I once felt themost lasting affection that ever warmed a Woman’s heart. Tell me thendear Belle why I still sigh when I think of the faithless Edward, or why I weepwhen I behold his Bride, for too surely this is the case—. My Freinds areall alarmed for me; They fear my declining health; they lament my want ofspirits; they dread the effects of both. In hopes of releiving my melancholy,by directing my thoughts to other objects, they have invited several of theirfreinds to spend the Christmas with us. Lady Bridget Darkwood and hersister-in-law, Miss Jane are expected on Friday; and Colonel Seaton’sfamily will be with us next week. This is all most kindly meant by my Uncle andCousins; but what can the presence of a dozen indefferent people do to me, butweary and distress me—. I will not finish my Letter till some of ourVisitors are arrived.

Friday Evening Lady Bridget came this morning, and with her, her sweet sisterMiss Jane—. Although I have been acquainted with this charming Womanabove fifteen Years, yet I never before observed how lovely she is. She is nowabout 35, and in spite of sickness, sorrow and Time is more blooming than Iever saw a Girl of 17. I was delighted with her, the moment she entered thehouse, and she appeared equally pleased with me, attaching herself to me duringthe remainder of the day. There is something so sweet, so mild in herCountenance, that she seems more than Mortal. Her Conversation is as bewitchingas her appearance; I could not help telling her how much she engaged myadmiration—. “Oh! Miss Jane (said I)—and stopped from aninability at the moment of expressing myself as I could wish—Oh! MissJane—(I repeated)—I could not think of words to suit myfeelings—She seemed waiting for my speech—. I wasconfused—distressed—my thoughts were bewildered—and I couldonly add—“How do you do?” She saw and felt for myEmbarrassment and with admirable presence of mind releived me from it bysaying—“My dear Sophia be not uneasy at having exposedyourself—I will turn the Conversation without appearing to notice it.“Oh! how I loved her for her kindness!” Do you ride as much as youused to do?” said she—. “I am advised to ride by myPhysician. We have delightful Rides round us, I have a Charming horse, amuncommonly fond of the Amusement, replied I quite recovered from my Confusion,and in short I ride a great deal.” “You are in the right myLove,” said she. Then repeating the following line which was an extemporeand equally adapted to recommend both Riding and Candour—

“Ride where you may, Be Candid where you can,” she added,”Irode once, but it is many years ago—She spoke this in so low andtremulous a Voice, that I was silent—. Struck with her Manner of speakingI could make no reply. “I have not ridden, continued she fixing her Eyeson my face, since I was married.” I was never sosurprised—“Married, Ma’am!” I repeated. “You maywell wear that look of astonishment, said she, since what I have said mustappear improbable to you—Yet nothing is more true than that I once wasmarried.”

“Then why are you called Miss Jane?”

“I married, my Sophia without the consent or knowledge of my father thelate Admiral Annesley. It was therefore necessary to keep the secret from himand from every one, till some fortunate opportunity might offer of revealingit—. Such an opportunity alas! was but too soon given in the death of mydear Capt. Dashwood—Pardon these tears, continued Miss Jane wiping herEyes, I owe them to my Husband’s memory. He fell my Sophia, whilefighting for his Country in America after a most happy Union of sevenyears—. My Children, two sweet Boys and a Girl, who had constantlyresided with my Father and me, passing with him and with every one as theChildren of a Brother (tho’ I had ever been an only Child) had as yetbeen the comforts of my Life. But no sooner had I lossed my Henry, than thesesweet Creatures fell sick and died—. Conceive dear Sophia what myfeelings must have been when as an Aunt I attended my Children to their earlyGrave—. My Father did not survive them many weeks—He died, poorGood old man, happily ignorant to his last hour of my Marriage.”

“But did not you own it, and assume his name at your husband’sdeath?”

“No; I could not bring myself to do it; more especially when in myChildren I lost all inducement for doing it. Lady Bridget, and yourself are theonly persons who are in the knowledge of my having ever been either Wife orMother. As I could not Prevail on myself to take the name of Dashwood (a namewhich after my Henry’s death I could never hear without emotion) and as Iwas conscious of having no right to that of Annesley, I dropt all thoughts ofeither, and have made it a point of bearing only my Christian one since myFather’s death.” She paused—“Oh! my dear Miss Jane(said I) how infinitely am I obliged to you for so entertaining a story! Youcannot think how it has diverted me! But have you quite done?”

“I have only to add my dear Sophia, that my Henry’s elder Brotherdieing about the same time, Lady Bridget became a Widow like myself, and as wehad always loved each other in idea from the high Character in which we hadever been spoken of, though we had never met, we determined to live together.We wrote to one another on the same subject by the same post, so exactly didour feeling and our actions coincide! We both eagerly embraced the proposals wegave and received of becoming one family, and have from that time livedtogether in the greatest affection.”

“And is this all? said I, I hope you have not done.”

“Indeed I have; and did you ever hear a story more pathetic?”

“I never did—and it is for that reason it pleases me so much, forwhen one is unhappy nothing is so delightful to one’s sensations as tohear of equal misery.”

“Ah! but my Sophia why are youunhappy?”

“Have you not heard Madam of Willoughby’s Marriage?”

“But my love why lament hisperfidy, when you bore so well that ofmany young Men before?”

“Ah! Madam, I was used to it then, but when Willoughby broke hisEngagements I had not been dissapointed for half a year.”

“Poor Girl!” said Miss Jane.

LETTER the THIRD
From a YOUNG LADY in distressed Circumstances to her freind

A few days ago I was at a private Ball given by Mr Ashburnham. As my Mothernever goes out she entrusted me to the care of Lady Greville who did me thehonour of calling for me in her way and of allowing me to sit forwards, whichis a favour about which I am very indifferent especially as I know it isconsidered as confering a great obligation on me “So Miss Maria (said herLadyship as she saw me advancing to the door of the Carriage) you seem verysmart to night—Mypoor Girls will appear quite to disadvantage byyou—I only hope your Mother may not have distressed herself toset youoff. Have you got a new Gown on?”

“Yes Ma’am.” replied I with as much indifference as I couldassume.

“Aye, and a fine one too I think—(feeling it, as by her permissionI seated myself by her) I dare say it is all very smart—But I must own,for you know I always speak my mind, that I think it was quite a needless pieceof expence—Why could not you have worn your old striped one? It is not myway to find fault with People because they are poor, for I always think thatthey are more to be despised and pitied than blamed for it, especially if theycannot help it, but at the same time I must say that in my opinion your oldstriped Gown would have been quite fine enough for its Wearer—for to tellyou the truth (I always speak my mind) I am very much afraid that one half ofthe people in the room will not know whether you have a Gown on ornot—But I suppose you intend to make your fortune to night—. Well,the sooner the better; and I wish you success.”

“Indeed Ma’am I have no such intention—”

“Who ever heard a young Lady own that she was a Fortune-hunter?”Miss Greville laughed but I am sure Ellen felt for me.

“Was your Mother gone to bed before you left her?” said herLadyship.

“Dear Ma’am, said Ellen it is but nine o’clock.”

“True Ellen, but Candles cost money, and Mrs Williams is too wise to beextravagant.”

“She was just sitting down to supper Ma’am.”

“And what had she got for supper?” “I did not observe.”“Bread and Cheese I suppose.” “I should never wish for abetter supper.” said Ellen. “You have never any reason replied herMother, as a better is always provided for you.” Miss Greville laughedexcessively, as she constantly does at her Mother’s wit.

Such is the humiliating Situation in which I am forced to appear while ridingin her Ladyship’s Coach—I dare not be impertinent, as my Mother isalways admonishing me to be humble and patient if I wish to make my way in theworld. She insists on my accepting every invitation of Lady Greville, or youmay be certain that I would never enter either her House, or her Coach with thedisagreable certainty I always have of being abused for my Poverty while I amin them.—When we arrived at Ashburnham, it was nearly ten o’clock,which was an hour and a half later than we were desired to be there; but LadyGreville is too fashionable (or fancies herself to be so) to be punctual. TheDancing however was not begun as they waited for Miss Greville. I had not beenlong in the room before I was engaged to dance by Mr Bernard, but just as wewere going to stand up, he recollected that his Servant had got his whiteGloves, and immediately ran out to fetch them. In the mean time the Dancingbegan and Lady Greville in passing to another room went exactly beforeme—She saw me and instantly stopping, said to me though there wereseveral people close to us,

“Hey day, Miss Maria! What cannot you get a partner? Poor Young Lady! Iam afraid your new Gown was put on for nothing. But do not despair; perhaps youmay get a hop before the Evening is over.” So saying, she passed onwithout hearing my repeated assurance of being engaged, and leaving me verymuch provoked at being so exposed before every one—Mr Bernard howeversoon returned and by coming to me the moment he entered the room, and leadingme to the Dancers my Character I hope was cleared from the imputation LadyGreville had thrown on it, in the eyes of all the old Ladies who had heard herspeech. I soon forgot all my vexations in the pleasure of dancing and of havingthe most agreable partner in the room. As he is moreover heir to a very largeEstate I could see that Lady Greville did not look very well pleased when shefound who had been his Choice—She was determined to mortify me, andaccordingly when we were sitting down between the dances, she came to me withmorethan her usual insulting importance attended by Miss Mason and saidloud enough to be heard by half the people in the room, “Pray Miss Mariain what way of business was your Grandfather? for Miss Mason and I cannot agreewhether he was a Grocer or a Bookbinder.” I saw that she wanted tomortify me, and was resolved if I possibly could to Prevent her seeing that herscheme succeeded. “Neither Madam; he was a Wine Merchant.”“Aye, I knew he was in some such low way—He broke did nothe?” “I beleive not Ma’am.” “Did not heabscond?” “I never heard that he did.” “At least hedied insolvent?” “I was never told so before.” “Why,was not your Fatheras poor as a Rat” “I fancy not.”“Was not he in the Kings Bench once?” “I never saw himthere.” She gave me sucha look, and turned away in a greatpassion; while I was half delighted with myself for my impertinence, and halfafraid of being thought too saucy. As Lady Greville was extremely angry withme, she took no further notice of me all the Evening, and indeed had I been infavour I should have been equally neglected, as she was got into a Party ofgreat folks and she never speaks to me when she can to anyone else. MissGreville was with her Mother’s party at supper, but Ellen preferredstaying with the Bernards and me. We had a very pleasant Dance and as LadyG—slept all the way home, I had a very comfortable ride.

The next day while we were at dinner Lady Greville’s Coach stopped at thedoor, for that is the time of day she generally contrives it should. She sentin a message by the servant to say that “she should not get out but thatMiss Maria must come to the Coach-door, as she wanted to speak to her, and thatshe must make haste and come immediately—” “What animpertinent Message Mama!” said I—“Go Maria—”replied she—Accordingly I went and was obliged to stand there at herLadyships pleasure though the Wind was extremely high and very cold.

“Why I think Miss Maria you are not quite so smart as you were lastnight—But I did not come to examine your dress, but to tell you that youmay dine with us the day after tomorrow—Not tomorrow, remember, do notcome tomorrow, for we expect Lord and Lady Clermont and Sir ThomasStanley’s family—There will be no occasion for your being very finefor I shant send the Carriage—If it rains you may take anumbrella—” I could hardly help laughing at hearing her give meleave to keep myself dry—“And pray remember to be in time, for Ishant wait—I hate my Victuals over-done—But you need not comebefore the time—How does your Mother do? She is at dinner is notshe?” “Yes Ma’am we were in the middle of dinner when yourLadyship came.” “I am afraid you find it very cold Maria.”said Ellen. “Yes, it is an horrible East wind—said herMother—I assure you I can hardly bear the window down—But you areused to be blown about by the wind Miss Maria and that is what has made yourComplexion so rudely and coarse. You young Ladies who cannot often ride in aCarriage never mind what weather you trudge in, or how the wind shews yourlegs. I would not have my Girls stand out of doors as you do in such a day asthis. But some sort of people have no feelings either of cold orDelicacy—Well, remember that we shall expect you on Thursday at 5o’clock—You must tell your Maid to come for you atnight—There will be no Moon—and you will have an horrid walkhome—My compts to Your Mother—I am afraid your dinner will becold—Drive on—” And away she went, leaving me in a greatpassion with her as she always does.

Maria Williams.

LETTER the FOURTH
From a YOUNG LADY rather impertinent to her freind

We dined yesterday with Mr Evelyn where we were introduced to a very agreablelooking Girl his Cousin. I was extremely pleased with her appearance, for addedto the charms of an engaging face, her manner and voice had somethingpeculiarly interesting in them. So much so, that they inspired me with a greatcuriosity to know the history of her Life, who were her Parents, where she camefrom, and what had befallen her, for it was then only known that she was arelation of Mr Evelyn, and that her name was Grenville. In the evening afavourable opportunity offered to me of attempting at least to know what Iwished to know, for every one played at Cards but Mrs Evelyn, My Mother, DrDrayton, Miss Grenville and myself, and as the two former were engaged in awhispering Conversation, and the Doctor fell asleep, we were of necessityobliged to entertain each other. This was what I wished and being determinednot to remain in ignorance for want of asking, I began the Conversation in thefollowing Manner.

“Have you been long in Essex Ma’am?”

“I arrived on Tuesday.”

“You came from Derbyshire?”

“No, Ma’am! appearing surprised at my question, fromSuffolk.” You will think this a good dash of mine my dear Mary, but youknow that I am not wanting for Impudence when I have any end in veiw.“Are you pleased with the Country Miss Grenville? Do you find it equal tothe one you have left?”

“Much superior Ma’am in point of Beauty.” She sighed. Ilonged to know for why.

“But the face of any Country however beautiful said I, can be but a poorconsolation for the loss of one’s dearest Freinds.” She shook herhead, as if she felt the truth of what I said. My Curiosity was so much raised,that I was resolved at any rate to satisfy it.

“You regret having left Suffolk then Miss Grenville?” “IndeedI do.” “You were born there I suppose?” “YesMa’am I was and passed many happy years there—”

“That is a great comfort—said I—I hope Ma’am that younever spent any unhappy one’s there.”

“Perfect Felicity is not the property of Mortals, and no one has a rightto expect uninterrupted Happiness.—SomeMisfortunes I havecertainly met with.”

“WhatMisfortunes dear Ma’am? replied I, burning withimpatience to know every thing. “NoneMa’am I hope that havebeen the effect of any wilfull fault in me.” “I dare say notMa’am, and have no doubt but that any sufferings you may have experiencedcould arise only from the cruelties of Relations or the Errors ofFreinds.” She sighed—“You seem unhappy my dear MissGrenville—Is it in my power to soften your Misfortunes?”“Yourpower Ma’am replied she extremely surprised; it is inno onespower to make me happy.” She pronounced these words in somournfull and solemn an accent, that for some time I had not courage to reply.I was actually silenced. I recovered myself however in a few moments andlooking at her with all the affection I could, “My dear Miss Grenvillesaid I, you appear extremely young—and may probably stand in need of someone’s advice whose regard for you, joined to superior Age, perhapssuperior Judgement might authorise her to give it. I am that person, and I nowchallenge you to accept the offer I make you of my Confidence and Freindship,in return to which I shall only ask for yours—”

“You are extremely obliging Ma’am—said she—and I amhighly flattered by your attention to me—But I am in no difficulty, nodoubt, no uncertainty of situation in which any advice can be wanted. WheneverI am however continued she brightening into a complaisant smile, I shall knowwhere to apply.”

I bowed, but felt a good deal mortified by such a repulse; still however I hadnot given up my point. I found that by the appearance of sentiment andFreindship nothing was to be gained and determined therefore to renew myattacks by Questions and suppositions. “Do you intend staying long inthis part of England Miss Grenville?”

“Yes Ma’am, some time I beleive.”

“But how will Mr and Mrs Grenville bear your absence?”

“They are neither of them alive Ma’am.” This was an answer Idid not expect—I was quite silenced, and never felt so awkward in myLife—.

LETTER the FIFTH
From a YOUNG LADY very much in love to her Freind

My Uncle gets more stingy, my Aunt more particular, and I more in love everyday. What shall we all be at this rate by the end of the year! I had thismorning the happiness of receiving the following Letter from my dear Musgrove.

Sackville St: Janry 7th

It is a month to day since I first beheld my lovelyHenrietta, and the sacred anniversary must and shall be kept in a mannerbecoming the day—by writing to her. Never shall I forget the moment whenher Beauties first broke on my sight—No time as you well know can eraseit from my Memory. It was at Lady Scudamores. Happy Lady Scudamore to livewithin a mile of the divine Henrietta! When the lovely Creature first enteredthe room, oh! what were my sensations? The sight of you was like the sight ofawonderful fine Thing. I started—I gazed at her with admiration—Sheappeared every moment more Charming, and the unfortunate Musgrove became acaptive to your Charms before I had time to look about me. Yes Madam, I had thehappiness of adoring you, an happiness for which I cannot be too grateful.“What said he to himself is Musgrove allowed to die for Henrietta?Enviable Mortal! and may he pine for her who is the object of universaladmiration, who is adored by a Colonel, and toasted by a Baronet! AdorableHenrietta how beautiful you are! I declare you are quite divine! You are morethan Mortal. You are an Angel. You are Venus herself. In short Madam you arethe prettiest Girl I ever saw in my Life—and her Beauty is encreased inher Musgroves Eyes, by permitting him to love her and allowing me to hope. Andah! Angelic Miss Henrietta Heaven is my witness how ardently I do hope for thedeath of your villanous Uncle and his abandoned Wife, since my fair one willnot consent to be mine till their decease has placed her in affluence abovewhat my fortune can procure—. Though it is an improvable Estate—.Cruel Henrietta to persist in such a resolution! I am at Present with my sisterwhere I mean to continue till my own house which tho’ an excellent one isat Present somewhat out of repair, is ready to receive me. Amiable princess ofmy Heart farewell—Of that Heart which trembles while it signs itself Yourmost ardent Admirer and devoted humble servt.

T. Musgrove.

There is a pattern for a Love-letter Matilda! Did you ever read such amaster-piece of Writing? Such sense, such sentiment, such purity of Thought,such flow of Language and such unfeigned Love in one sheet? No, never I cananswer for it, since a Musgrove is not to be met with by every Girl. Oh! how Ilong to be with him! I intend to send him the following in answer to his Lettertomorrow.

My dearest Musgrove—. Words cannot express how happy your Letter made me;I thought I should have cried for joy, for I love you better than any body inthe World. I think you the most amiable, and the handsomest Man in England, andso to be sure you are. I never read so sweet a Letter in my Life. Do write meanother just like it, and tell me you are in love with me in every other line.I quite die to see you. How shall we manage to see one another? for we are somuch in love that we cannot live asunder. Oh! my dear Musgrove you cannot thinkhow impatiently I wait for the death of my Uncle and Aunt—If they willnot Die soon, I beleive I shall run mad, for I get more in love with you everyday of my Life.

How happy your Sister is to enjoy the pleasure of your Company in her house,and how happy every body in London must be because you are there. I hope youwill be so kind as to write to me again soon, for I never read such sweetLetters as yours. I am my dearest Musgrove most truly and faithfully yours forever and ever

Henrietta Halton.

I hope he will like my answer; it is as good a one as I can write thoughnothing to his; Indeed I had always heard what a dab he was at a Love-letter. Isaw him you know for the first time at Lady Scudamores—And when I saw herLadyship afterwards she asked me how I liked her Cousin Musgrove?

“Why upon my word said I, I think he is a very handsome young Man.”

“I am glad you think so replied she, for he is distractedly in love withyou.”

“Law! Lady Scudamore said I, how can you talk so ridiculously?”

“Nay, t’is very true answered she, I assure you, for he was in lovewith you from the first moment he beheld you.”

“I wish it may be true said I, for that is the only kind of love I wouldgive a farthing for—There is some sense in being in love at firstsight.”

“Well, I give you Joy of your conquest, replied Lady Scudamore, and Ibeleive it to have been a very complete one; I am sure it is not a contemptibleone, for my Cousin is a charming young fellow, has seen a great deal of theWorld, and writes the best Love-letters I ever read.”

This made me very happy, and I was excessively pleased with my conquest.However, I thought it was proper to give myself a few Airs—so I said toher—

“This is all very pretty Lady Scudamore, but you know that we youngLadies who are Heiresses must not throw ourselves away upon Men who have nofortune at all.”

“My dear Miss Halton said she, I am as much convinced of that as you canbe, and I do assure you that I should be the last person to encourage yourmarrying anyone who had not some pretensions to expect a fortune with you. MrMusgrove is so far from being poor that he has an estate of several hundreds anyear which is capable of great Improvement, and an excellent House, though atPresent it is not quite in repair.”

“If that is the case replied I, I have nothing more to say against him,and if as you say he is an informed young Man and can write a good Love-letter,I am sure I have no reason to find fault with him for admiring me, tho’perhaps I may not marry him for all that Lady Scudamore.”

“You are certainly under no obligation to marry him answered herLadyship, except that which love himself will dictate to you, for if I am notgreatly mistaken you are at this very moment unknown to yourself, cherishing amost tender affection for him.”

“Law, Lady Scudamore replied I blushing how can you think of such athing?”

“Because every look, every word betrays it, answered she; Come my dearHenrietta, consider me as a freind, and be sincere with me—Do not youprefer Mr Musgrove to any man of your acquaintance?”

“Pray do not ask me such questions Lady Scudamore, said I turning away myhead, for it is not fit for me to answer them.”

“Nay my Love replied she, now you confirm my suspicions. But whyHenrietta should you be ashamed to own a well-placed Love, or why refuse toconfide in me?”

“I am not ashamed to own it; said I taking Courage. I do not refuse toconfide in you or blush to say that I do love your cousin Mr Musgrove, that Iam sincerely attached to him, for it is no disgrace to love a handsome Man. Ifhe were plain indeed I might have had reason to be ashamed of a passion whichmust have been mean since the object would have been unworthy. But with such afigure and face, and such beautiful hair as your Cousin has, why should I blushto own that such superior merit has made an impression on me.”

“My sweet Girl (said Lady Scudamore embracing me with great affection)what a delicate way of thinking you have in these matters, and what a quickdiscernment for one of your years! Oh! how I honour you for such NobleSentiments!”

“Do you Ma’am said I; You are vastly obliging. But pray LadyScudamore did your Cousin himself tell you of his affection for me I shall likehim the better if he did, for what is a Lover without a Confidante?”

“Oh! my Love replied she, you were born for each other. Every word yousay more deeply convinces me that your Minds are actuated by the invisiblepower of simpathy, for your opinions and sentiments so exactly coincide. Nay,the colour of your Hair is not very different. Yes my dear Girl, the poordespairing Musgrove did reveal to me the story of his Love—. Nor was Isurprised at it—I know not how it was, but I had a kind of presentimentthat he wouldbe in love with you.”

“Well, but how did he break it to you?”

“It was not till after supper. We were sitting round the fire togethertalking on indifferent subjects, though to say the truth the Conversation wascheifly on my side for he was thoughtful and silent, when on a sudden heinterrupted me in the midst of something I was saying, by exclaiming in a mostTheatrical tone—

Yes I’m in love I feel it now And Henrietta Halton has undone me

“Oh! What a sweet way replied I, of declaring his Passion! To make such acouple of charming lines about me! What a pity it is that they are not inrhime!”

“I am very glad you like it answered she; To be sure there was a greatdeal of Taste in it. And are you in love with her, Cousin? said I. I am verysorry for it, for unexceptionable as you are in every respect, with a prettyEstate capable of Great improvements, and an excellent House tho’somewhat out of repair, yet who can hope to aspire with success to the adorableHenrietta who has had an offer from a Colonel and been toasted by aBaronet”—“ThatI have—” cried I. LadyScudamore continued. “Ah dear Cousin replied he, I am so well convincedof the little Chance I can have of winning her who is adored by thousands, thatI need no assurances of yours to make me more thoroughly so. Yet surely neitheryou or the fair Henrietta herself will deny me the exquisite Gratification ofdieing for her, of falling a victim to her Charms. And when I amdead”—continued her—

“Oh Lady Scudamore, said I wiping my eyes, that such a sweet Creatureshould talk of dieing!”

“It is an affecting Circumstance indeed, replied Lady Scudamore.”“When I am dead said he, let me be carried and lain at her feet, andperhaps she may not disdain to drop a pitying tear on my poor remains.”

“Dear Lady Scudamore interrupted I, say no more on this affectingsubject. I cannot bear it.”

“Oh! how I admire the sweet sensibility of your Soul, and as I would notfor Worlds wound it too deeply, I will be silent.”

“Pray go on.” said I. She did so.

“And then added he, Ah! Cousin imagine what my transports will be when Ifeel the dear precious drops trickle on my face! Who would not die to hastesuch extacy! And when I am interred, may the divine Henrietta bless somehappier Youth with her affection, May he be as tenderly attached to her as thehapless Musgrove and while hecrumbles to dust, May they live an exampleof Felicity in the Conjugal state!”

Did you ever hear any thing so pathetic? What a charming wish, to be lain at myfeet when he was dead! Oh! what an exalted mind he must have to be capable ofsuch a wish! Lady Scudamore went on.

“Ah! my dear Cousin replied I to him, such noble behaviour as this, mustmelt the heart of any woman however obdurate it may naturally be; and could thedivine Henrietta but hear your generous wishes for her happiness, all gentle asis her mind, I have not a doubt but that she would pity your affection andendeavour to return it.” “Oh! Cousin answered he, do not endeavourto raise my hopes by such flattering assurances. No, I cannot hope to pleasethis angel of a Woman, and the only thing which remains for me to do, is todie.” “True Love is ever desponding replied I, but Imy dearTom will give you even greater hopes of conquering this fair one’s heart,than I have yet given you, by assuring you that I watched her with thestrictest attention during the whole day, and could plainly discover that shecherishes in her bosom though unknown to herself, a most tender affection foryou.”

“Dear Lady Scudamore cried I, This is more than I ever knew!”

“Did not I say that it was unknown to yourself? I did not, continued I tohim, encourage you by saying this at first, that surprise might render thepleasure still Greater.” “No Cousin replied he in a languid voice,nothing will convince me that Ican have touched the heart of HenriettaHalton, and if you are deceived yourself, do not attempt deceiving me.”“In short my Love it was the work of some hours for me to Persuade thepoor despairing Youth that you had really a preference for him; but when atlast he could no longer deny the force of my arguments, or discredit what Itold him, his transports, his Raptures, his Extacies are beyond my power todescribe.”

“Oh! the dear Creature, cried I, how passionately he loves me! But dearLady Scudamore did you tell him that I was totally dependant on my Uncle andAunt?”

“Yes, I told him every thing.”

“And what did he say.”

“He exclaimed with virulence against Uncles and Aunts; Accused the lawsof England for allowing them to Possess their Estates when wanted by theirNephews or Neices, and wished hewere in the House of Commons, that hemight reform the Legislature, and rectify all its abuses.”

“Oh! the sweet Man! What a spirit he has!” said I.

“He could not flatter himself he added, that the adorable Henrietta wouldcondescend for his sake to resign those Luxuries and that splendor to which shehad been used, and accept only in exchange the Comforts and Elegancies whichhis limited Income could afford her, even supposing that his house were inReadiness to receive her. I told him that it could not be expected that shewould; it would be doing her an injustice to suppose her capable of giving upthe power she now possesses and so nobly uses of doing such extensive Good tothe poorer part of her fellow Creatures, merely for the gratification of youand herself.”

“To be sure said I, I amvery Charitable every now and then. Andwhat did Mr Musgrove say to this?”

“He replied that he was under a melancholy necessity of owning the truthof what I said, and that therefore if he should be the happy Creature destinedto be the Husband of the Beautiful Henrietta he must bring himself to wait,however impatiently, for the fortunate day, when she might be freed from thepower of worthless Relations and able to bestow herself on him.”

What a noble Creature he is! Oh! Matilda what a fortunate one I am, who am tobe his Wife! My Aunt is calling me to come and make the pies, so adeiu my dearfreind, and beleive me yours etc—

H. Halton.

Finis.

SCRAPS

To Miss FANNY CATHERINE AUSTEN

MY DEARNEICE

As I am prevented by the great distance between Rowling and Steventon fromsuperintending your Education myself, the care of which will probably on thataccount devolve on your Father and Mother, I think it is my particular Duty toPrevent your feeling as much as possible the want of my personal instructions,by addressing to you on paper my Opinions and Admonitions on the conduct ofYoung Women, which you will find expressed in the following pages.—

I am my dear Neice
Your affectionate Aunt
The Author.

THE FEMALE PHILOSOPHER

A LETTER

MY DEARLOUISA

Your friend Mr Millar called upon us yesterday in his way to Bath, whither heis going for his health; two of his daughters were with him, but the eldest andthe three Boys are with their Mother in Sussex. Though you have often told methat Miss Millar was remarkably handsome, you never mentioned anything of herSisters’ beauty; yet they are certainly extremely pretty. I’ll giveyou their description.—Julia is eighteen; with a countenance in whichModesty, Sense and Dignity are happily blended, she has a form which at oncepresents you with Grace, Elegance and Symmetry. Charlotte who is just sixteenis shorter than her Sister, and though her figure cannot boast the easy dignityof Julia’s, yet it has a pleasing plumpness which is in a different wayas estimable. She is fair and her face is expressive sometimes of softness themost bewitching, and at others of Vivacity the most striking. She appears tohave infinite Wit and a good humour unalterable; her conversation during thehalf hour they set with us, was replete with humourous sallies, Bonmots andrepartees; while the sensible, the amiable Julia uttered sentiments of Moralityworthy of a heart like her own. Mr Millar appeared to answer the character Ihad always received of him. My Father met him with that look of Love, thatsocial Shake, and cordial kiss which marked his gladness at beholding an oldand valued freind from whom thro’ various circumstances he had beenseparated nearly twenty years. Mr Millar observed (and very justly too) thatmany events had befallen each during that interval of time, which gave occasionto the lovely Julia for making most sensible reflections on the many changes intheir situation which so long a period had occasioned, on the advantages ofsome, and the disadvantages of others. From this subject she made a shortdigression to the instability of human pleasures and the uncertainty of theirduration, which led her to observe that all earthly Joys must be imperfect. Shewas proceeding to illustrate this doctrine by examples from the Lives of greatMen when the Carriage came to the Door and the amiable Moralist with her Fatherand Sister was obliged to depart; but not without a promise of spending five orsix months with us on their return. We of course mentioned you, and I assureyou that ample Justice was done to your Merits by all. “Louisa Clarke(said I) is in general a very pleasant Girl, yet sometimes her good humour isclouded by Peevishness, Envy and Spite. She neither wants Understanding or iswithout some pretensions to Beauty, but these are so very trifling, that thevalue she sets on her personal charms, and the adoration she expects them to beoffered are at once a striking example of her vanity, her pride, and herfolly.” So said I, and to my opinion everyone added weight by theconcurrence of their own.

Your affectionate
Arabella Smythe.

THE FIRST ACT OF A COMEDY

Characters

SCENE—ANINN

EnterHostess, Charles, Maria, and Cook.

Hostess to Maria
If the gentry in the Lion should want beds, shew them number 9.

Maria
Yes Mistress.—exitMaria

Hostess to Cook
If their Honours in the Moon ask for the bill of fare, give it them.

Cook
I will, I will. exitCook.

Hostess to Charles
If their Ladyships in the Sun ring their Bell—answer it.

Charles
Yes Madam. exeuntSeverally.

SCENE CHANGES TO THEMOON, and discovers Popgunand Pistoletta.

Pistoletta
Pray papa how far is it to London?

Popgun
My Girl, my Darling, my favourite of all my Children, who art the picture ofthy poor Mother who died two months ago, with whom I am going to Town to marryto Strephon, and to whom I mean to bequeath my whole Estate, it wants sevenMiles.

SCENE CHANGES TO THESUN—

EnterChloe and a chorus of ploughboys.

Chloe
Where am I? At Hounslow.—Where go I? To London—. What to do? To bemarried—. Unto whom? Unto Strephon. Who is he? A Youth. Then I will singa song.

SONG

I go to Town
And when I come down,
I shall be married to Streephon.*
And that to me will be fun.

[* Note the two e’s]

Chorus

Be fun, be fun, be fun,
And that to me will be fun.

EnterCook—

Cook
Here is the bill of fare.

Chloe reads
2 Ducks, a leg of beef, a stinking partridge, and a tart.—I will have theleg of beef and the partridge.

ExitCook.

And now I will sing another song.

SONG

I am going to have my dinner,
After which I shan’t be thinner,
I wish I had here Strephon
For he would carve the partridge if it should be a tough one.

Chorus

Tough one, tough one, tough one
For he would carve the partridge if it
Should be a tough one.

ExitChloe and Chorus.—

SCENE CHANGES TO THE INSIDE OF THELION.

EnterStrephon and Postilion.

Streph:)
You drove me from Staines to this place, from whence I mean to go to Town tomarry Chloe. How much is your due?

Post:
Eighteen pence.

Streph:
Alas, my freind, I have but a bad guinea with which I mean to support myself inTown. But I will pawn to you an undirected Letter that I received from Chloe.

Post:
Sir, I accept your offer.

END OF THE FIRSTACT.

A LETTER from a YOUNG LADY, whose feelings being too strong for her Judgementled her into the commission of Errors which her Heart disapproved.

Many have been the cares and vicissitudes of my past life, my beloved Ellinor,and the only consolation I feel for their bitterness is that on a closeexamination of my conduct, I am convinced that I have strictly deserved them. Imurdered my father at a very early period of my Life, I have since murdered myMother, and I am now going to murder my Sister. I have changed my religion sooften that at present I have not an idea of any left. I have been a perjuredwitness in every public tryal for these last twelve years; and I have forged myown Will. In short there is scarcely a crime that I have notcommitted—But I am now going to reform. Colonel Martin of the Horseguards has paid his Addresses to me, and we are to be married in a few days. Asthere is something singular in our Courtship, I will give you an account of it.Colonel Martin is the second son of the late Sir John Martin who died immenselyrich, but bequeathing only one hundred thousand pound apeice to his threeyounger Children, left the bulk of his fortune, about eight Million to thepresent Sir Thomas. Upon his small pittance the Colonel lived tolerablycontented for nearly four months when he took it into his head to determine ongetting the whole of his eldest Brother’s Estate. A new will was forgedand the Colonel produced it in Court—but nobody would swear to it’sbeing the right will except himself, and he had sworn so much that Nobodybeleived him. At that moment I happened to be passing by the door of the Court,and was beckoned in by the Judge who told the Colonel that I was a Lady readyto witness anything for the cause of Justice, and advised him to apply to me.In short the Affair was soon adjusted. The Colonel and I swore to its’being the right will, and Sir Thomas has been obliged to resign all hisillgotten wealth. The Colonel in gratitude waited on me the next day with anoffer of his hand—. I am now going to murder my Sister.

Yours Ever,
Anna Parker.

A TOUR THROUGH WALES—
in a LETTER from a YOUNG LADY—

MY DEARCLARA

I have been so long on the ramble that I have not till now had it in my powerto thank you for your Letter—. We left our dear home on last Mondaymonth; and proceeded on our tour through Wales, which is a principalitycontiguous to England and gives the title to the Prince of Wales. We travelledon horseback by preference. My Mother rode upon our little poney and Fanny andI walked by her side or rather ran, for my Mother is so fond of riding fastthat she galloped all the way. You may be sure that we were in a fineperspiration when we came to our place of resting. Fanny has taken a great manyDrawings of the Country, which are very beautiful, tho’ perhaps not suchexact resemblances as might be wished, from their being taken as she ran along.It would astonish you to see all the Shoes we wore out in our Tour. Wedetermined to take a good Stock with us and therefore each took a pair of ourown besides those we set off in. However we were obliged to have them bothcapped and heelpeiced at Carmarthen, and at last when they were quite gone,Mama was so kind as to lend us a pair of blue Sattin Slippers, of which we eachtook one and hopped home from Hereford delightfully—

I am your ever affectionate
Elizabeth Johnson.

A TALE.

A Gentleman whose family name I shall conceal, bought a small Cottage inPembrokeshire about two years ago. This daring Action was suggested to him byhis elder Brother who promised to furnish two rooms and a Closet for him,provided he would take a small house near the borders of an extensive Forest,and about three Miles from the Sea. Wilhelminus gladly accepted the offer andcontinued for some time searching after such a retreat when he was one morningagreably releived from his suspence by reading this advertisement in aNewspaper.

TO BELETT

A Neat Cottage on the borders of an extensive forest and about three Miles fromthe Sea. It is ready furnished except two rooms and a Closet.

The delighted Wilhelminus posted away immediately to his brother, and shewedhim the advertisement. Robertus congratulated him and sent him in his Carriageto take possession of the Cottage. After travelling for three days and sixnights without stopping, they arrived at the Forest and following a track whichled by it’s side down a steep Hill over which ten Rivulets meandered,they reached the Cottage in half an hour. Wilhelminus alighted, and afterknocking for some time without receiving any answer or hearing any one stirwithin, he opened the door which was fastened only by a wooden latch andentered a small room, which he immediately perceived to be one of the two thatwere unfurnished—From thence he proceeded into a Closet equally bare. Apair of stairs that went out of it led him into a room above, no lessdestitute, and these apartments he found composed the whole of the House. Hewas by no means displeased with this discovery, as he had the comfort ofreflecting that he should not be obliged to lay out anything on furniturehimself—. He returned immediately to his Brother, who took him the nextday to every Shop in Town, and bought what ever was requisite to furnish thetwo rooms and the Closet, In a few days everything was completed, andWilhelminus returned to take possession of his Cottage. Robertus accompaniedhim, with his Lady the amiable Cecilia and her two lovely Sisters Arabella andMarina to whom Wilhelminus was tenderly attached, and a large number ofAttendants.—An ordinary Genius might probably have been embarrassed, inendeavouring to accomodate so large a party, but Wilhelminus with admirablepresence of mind gave orders for the immediate erection of two noble Tents inan open spot in the Forest adjoining to the house. Their Construction was bothsimple and elegant—A couple of old blankets, each supported by foursticks, gave a striking proof of that taste for architecture and that happyease in overcoming difficulties which were some of Wilhelminus’s moststriking Virtues.

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