"You may replenish my cup, Mrs. Proby," said Mr. Bradford to his housekeeper, who was performing her wonted duties at the breakfasttable, "I could relish another slice of that broiled ham, too. You don't think it will do me any harm ?"

"Harm! I assure you I am quite glad to see you so hearty, sir."

"And I certainly do not see wherefore I should not have my indulgences. At any rate I can afford them; have neither 'kin nor kith,' as they say, that is, none whom I care for, or who, I suspect, care for me, whatever regard they may have for my money. But they may be disappointed after all. Eh, Mrs. Proby?"

An odd humour he is in this morning, thought the dame; and then, without seeming to notice the last remark-much as it excited her curiosity-anxious as she was to ascertain its import, she replied,

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Why, to be sure, sir, if you cannot have your indulgences, who should? For my part, I think you would be to blame not to enjoy as many as you can. And you can, as you well observe, not only afford them, but have no one's will except your own to consult."

"Very true; thanks to my oldbachelorship for my independence. Still, even that independence is not without its alloy-at least, I almost begin now to fancy so. Hang it! after all, one likes to have some one to care for. Were it not that my cousin Ellingham's family are such a strange, untoward set --don't you think they are, Mrs. Proby? Did you ever see such a conceited, extravagant puppy as that Tom Ellingham? However, that is no business of mine: if his father can afford to make a harum-scarum fine gentleman of him, and fine folks of all the rest, so much the better. They are all much wiser than me, I dare say, only they must not look to me to be their banker. To say the truth, they seem to think they are doing me a favour by allowing me the opportunity of bestowing upon them

with my own hands what they think would be theirs after my death.”

How far honest Mr. Bradford was justified in this sprightly tirade against the Ellinghams; whether he either overrated his own liberality, or their unworthiness of it, it is not necessary for us to inquire into very strictly. Certain it is, that although she thought proper to dissemble her satisfaction, his remarks were not particularly disagreeable to Mrs. Proby, who was aware that these cousins did not regard her with much goodwill. In fact, some of them had gone so far as to insinuate, that she was so attached not only to Mr. Bradford and to his interests, but to his name; that she desired nothing better than to exchange her own for it. Now, if she did entertain any idea that way tending, it probably originated in their incautious, not to say unceremonious betrayal of their own suspicions, and was afterwards cherished by her, out of the laudable desire of proving to the world their excessive foresight. The reader must not call upon us for an explanation of this doubtful point; because, instead of vindicating Mrs. Proby, we have to attend to the colloquy at the breakfast-table.

"Really, sir, it is astonishing how they have contrived to do so long as they do, even with your generous assistance. Why, there's Miss Ellingham's and her sisters' finery alone must cost a tolerable income, and all to no purpose, too, for not one of them seems likely to get a husband. And Mr. Thomas, again! racketing about every where-now up to town, now post haste down into the country; riding, coursing, hunting, horse-racing, curricle-driving! Upon my word, generosity towards such people is only a premium to extravagance. However, as you observe, sir, their goings-on need be no concern of yours."

"Most certainly, Mrs. Proby. I am not one of those who sympathise with genteel distresses,―with folks who must' live in a certain style, no matter who pays for it; and who will

run headlong into difficulties with their eyes open, considering that it is the duty of their friends to extricate them. If people will trust to a lucky chance, to mere windfalls, to the well-timed death of rich old relations, rather than to common prudence; why, they ought to be prepared for blanks as well as prizes in the lottery of life: accordingly, if they find all their fine castles in the air suddenly transformed into a real castle-that is, a gaol, they ought to enter it with the sang froid of a Turk."

"In my opinion, it is quite wicked for any one to speculate upon advantages that may befall them 'in case of another's death, especially when there can be no reasonable expectation of such an event. Why, the Ellinghams may be all dead and gone long before you, sir!"

"At any rate, were they to know what a hearty breakfast I have made this morning, it might damp their appetites. Pshaw ! People don't die exactly in the nick when the wreckers, as I call them, are looking about for a good 'godsend.' That is all very well in novels, where titles and money-bags fall down from the clouds, as it were; and where an author makes no scruple of bringing a rich old uncle, cousin, or cousin's cousin, from India, merely to despatch him into the other world, that he may leave his rupees and treasures to those who have run through their own fortunes, or else have been too idle to think of making one. Morality, poetical justice, indeed!

I

Poor

call it poetical manslaughter at the least. By-the-by, Mrs. Proby," continued he, "don't you remember the alarm the Ellinghams were all in at the time of that silly report about me and the Widow Dareall? woman, what insinuations did they throw out against her! I verily believe that that ugly anonymous letter might be traced to the E.'s. However, it did not disturb my ease much, for nothing was further from my thoughts than any matrimonial views in that quarter. Had it taken any effect at all, it might have proved a very different one from what was intended. It is, therefore, perhaps quite as well that I paid no attention to it. Mrs. Dareall was certainly a very fine woman-a very fine wo

man, indeed; a woman of spirit, one of your dashers; still I very much question whether she would, with all her good qualities, have been exactly the wife for me. I have, as you have doubtless long ago found out, my little oddities and humours, Mrs. Proby; and although-that is speaking hypothetically-I should have no objection to a wife who could awe people, I should wish to be excepted from the number. To be a good manager is, no doubt, an excellent recommendation in a wife, but her husband ought to find her manageable also."

"Which is not always the case, sir, with your very high-spirited ladies." "Right, right! Besides, thanks to you, my good Mrs. Proby, I have never experienced the want of a careful manager."

"You are pleased to compliment." "Nay, I assure you it is no more than the truth. I enjoy as many comforts and have as few troubles as the most of those who are best off in the world."

"Indeed, you do so, sir. For my part, I think you have all the comforts that can reasonably be desired."

"Including a good appetite. You did, however, in some degree, qualify your remark. Pray what am I to understand by that? That a wife is a comfort out of all reason, or that she is no comfort at all?"

"Why, sir!" exclaimed the good lady, with a look that seemed to say, "Go on."

"You evidently do not agree, I perceive, with our great English moralist when he observes, Matrimony has many pains, but celibacy has no comforts. I think, now, I myself am a tolerably convincing proof to the contrary of the last assertion; and still I do not say but that even now, had I no one else to please but myself"

"And pray whom else should you have to please, sir, I should like to know?" inquired the lady, who seemed mightily busy at that instant in rubbing out some spot she fancied she discerned on the well-polished silver coffee-pot.

"Who, Mrs. Proby! Why the world, to be sure- that is, the whole parish of Hampfield, and all the neighbourhood for ten miles round. Suppose now, by way of argument,

I was to take it into my head, one beau matin, as the French say, to bid good-by to old bachelorship—or suppose that people only supposed I had now an intention of marrying, should I not make myself the unlucky topic of every tea-table within earshot? Only think what comments, what remarks would pass from tongue to tongue! Consider the quizzing!— ay, and from those, too, who would have looked upon the old bachelor as a capital catch for themselves. They shall make neither catches nor glees of me, however."

"Dear me, sir, and is that all? Let them gossip, tittle-tattle, and make as many impertinent remarks as they please. Provided folks do not do so to one's face, all the rest is but mere imagination. It is not so much what we hear as what we fancy that disturbs us. You would not do for a prime minister if you cannot endure the idea of stupid busybodies sitting in judgment upon you incessantly. Why, sir, for aught you can tell, censorious folks may be blaming you every day-excuse my hinting at it-because you have never married!"

"Really, Mrs. Proby, there is a good deal of solid, though homely philosophy in what you observe. You have put the matter, if not in the most sentimental, at least in a most good-sensible light. De rebus non apparentibus et non existentibus,' as the lawyers have it, eadem ratio est. Of which your interpretation is, "The scandal that does not reach our ears is no scandal at all.' Most assuredly it is very absurd for a man who is sitting comfortably by his own fire-side to torment himself by conjuring up to his imagination the silly nonsense his neighbours may be uttering about him, or to heed their unsolicited and disinterested interference in his private concerns, when their prudence might be so much better employed at home. So then," added he, after a slight pause and the interjection of a pinch of snuff,

you have at least convinced me that, whether I continue an old bachelor, or turn an old Benedick, if I do but please myself in the matter, I am not exactly bound to please all the world. To say the truth," here another interjection from the snuffbox, "I begin to think-I don't know,

"I tempt you!" simpered the dame, at the same time casting a side-long and not disapproving glance at her own comely visage and smart cap, reflected in a highly polished silver waiter that formed part of the breakfast equipage.

may

"Yes, Mrs. Proby," continued the other interlocutor in this tête-à-tête (we know not whether first or second person in this breakfast-table eclogue), without noticing the meaning implied by her tone, and indeed hardly aware of her exclamation, "yes, Mrs. Proby, I begin to question whether I should incur very much more ridicule by marrying even now than be my lot if I remain even as I am. Besides, you know, one gets the name of 'old bachelor' before one is actually an old man; so that by taking a wife I should not only for a certainty get rid of my bachelorship, but might, perhaps, also get rid of the impertinent epithet attached to it. There are many, I believe, who have married much later in life than myself-ay, by some ten years."

Thus ingeniously did the worthy Mr. Bradford devise excuses, all the more ingenious and refined because he could not help secretly feeling that what they wanted in soundness must be made up for in plausibility. He had, however, an auditor who was by no means disposed to scrutinise them severely, or to display her own ingenuity by exposing their fallacy; -rather one who was willing to help him out of every dilemma and doubt. Assuredly," responded she. "No sooner does a single gentleman reach the prime of life than the world instantly dubs him an old bachelor!' Well, people are so malicious and ill-natured! After all, sir, you are much younger-ay, and a much younger-looking man, too, than Mr. Frankton, who married not so very long ago."'

66

"

"Yes, I remember that, and the plaguy noise it made at the time. I thought the Miss Goslings would never give over joking and prating about the affair."

"Dear me! who cares for the joking of such ill-bred young women as the Miss Goslings ?" observed the

lady, who almost repented at having quoted the Frankton case as a precedent in point. "Besides Mr. Frankton married such a mere chit."

"Humph! the girl was young, to be sure, and, in my opinion, no great beauty, without a sixpence, too."

"As you say, sir, without a sixpence; and what's more, poor Mr. Frankton had a grown-up family immediately provided for him, that is, who expected to be provided for by him. I mean all his wife's brothers and sisters. Her relations had more gentility than cash, Mr. Frankton more cash than gentility; they, therefore, looked upon the alliance as a relief of their mutual necessities."

"At any rate, then, he did not marry beneath himself. There is something in that. I can afford to disregard money quite as well, or a great deal better than Frankton. Whether I should not be thought to commit myself by marrying below my own rank is another question."

To this certainly not unimportant question Mrs. Proby soon came to his aid with a reply. "I do not pretend to judge; but, for my own part, I should say that those who can afford to take a wife without a fortune, can surely afford to take one without a pedigree. They who think otherwise stumble at mere straws. If you look at the peerage you will find a coronet on many a woman's head of whose father and mother the world knows no more than if they had been antedivillians, who have had no more to boast of in the way of family and connexions than I have-nay, not so much, for, thank Heaven, I never had any connexions that I need be ashamed of."

"That is very true," assented Mr. Bradford, although he was too gallant to hint that, let her family be ever so respectable, there was never any danger of her running her head into a coronet. "And, in fact, if a man makes up his mind to marry chiefly to please himself, and without greatly caring whether he please the world, the degree of offence, more or less he may give the latter, is hardly worth his consideration.

We may

as well be soused over head and ears in scandal at once, as have it come drop by drop."

The impersonal "we" here made use of by the speaker was understood

by his auditor as of course applying to the two parties engaged in this interesting tête-à-tête; and she, therefore, replied,

"Your meaning is plain enough, and your observation very correct, yet scandal is by far too harsh a term. There would only be a little gossiping, a little curiosity, and a good deal of envy. The election, which they say will be very hotly contested, is just coming on, so that people will not have much leisure to busy themselves about their neighbours' private affairs; and by the time that stir has subsided, the other matter would have lost its first novelty."

"So it would! that is very happily argued. To confess the truth, my dear Mrs. Proby, you have now removed all my scruples; or rather, you have confirmed a resolution that was before somewhat wavering. This conversation has relieved me of not a little uneasiness; because, to deal frankly with you, I rather expected that you would have endeavoured to dissuade me from any idea of marrying." Here the lady looked disconcerted; for this speech seemed to hint that she had neglected to make that show of obtuseness of comprehension which is, upon some occasions, more becoming than greater quickness of mind. Her very confusion, however, came to her relief, inasmuch as it seemed to make up for her previous want of reserve. felt embarrassed," continued Mr. Bradford, "apprehending that the change I contemplate would not be a particularly agreeable one to yourself. I thought

"I

"Why what did you think, my dear sir? To be sure the change will be a considerable one, but that it should be unwelcome

'Well, it gives me sincere pleasure to find that you so readily come into my plan; and be assured my marriage shall not make the slightest difference in your present situation."

"Why, what is it you mean, Mr. Bradford? You really can't mean to say that our marriage

Poor Bradford! his astonishment was far greater than that just expressed by the lady, and equalled only by his confusion.

"Was there ever such an unfortunate blunder!" exclaimed he, as

Mary Simpson!" ejaculated, or rather shrieked out Mrs. Proby.

66

Why, ay, Mary Simpson! who else should it be? Is there any thing so prodigiously wonderful in that? You surely could not for an instant conceive- pshaw! that would have been ridiculous, indeed!"

Thus saying, and eager to make his exit from a scene where he now sustained a very embarrassing part, he reached the door with more than the agility of a bridegroom, when, on his jerking it open, who should fall into his arms but the identical blooming Mary Simpson herself?

Struck by the very unusual length

of this morning's breakfast, and wondering wherefore the bell had summoned no one to clear the things away, she had come into the hall, and, hearing her own name pronounced in a very emphatic tone, was listening against the door, when Mr. Bradford suddenly opened it as described.

Here was a fine tableau vivant! all the finer and more natural for being quite an impromptu, since not all the previous study and rehearsing in the world could have got it up with such spirit and effect: the actors were all perfect in their parts. It is, however, far easier, as all novelwriters know, to get people into striking situations, than to get them out again naturally and cleverly. We shall not, on this occasion, attempt it, but leave the task of extricating Mary from her master's embrace, and all the parties from their awkward embarrassment, to the graphic imagination of our readers.

WHEN Waller was shewn some verses by the Duchess of Newcastle, On the Death of a Stag, he declared that he would give all his own compositions to have written them; and being charged with the exorbitance of his adulation, answered, "That nothing was too much to be given that a lady might be saved from the disgrace of such a vile performance." This was said by the courtly Waller of the thrice noble, illustrious, and excellent princess, as she calls herself, Margaret Lucas, the wife of the thrice noble, high, and puissant prince William Cavendish, duke, marquis, and earl of Newcastle. But the worth of all the poems by the Duchess of Newcastle is not to be tested by her poem on the death of the stag; nor should her abilities be looked meanly upon through the contemptuous smartness of a happy remark.*

Wit and satire have done much to keep her down. Pope has placed her

PEPYS.

works in the library of his Dunciad hero:

"Here swells the shelf with Ogilby the great;

There, stamp'd with arms, Newcastle shines complete."

And Horace Walpole, a far inferior poet to the duchess, endeavoured to turn to ridicule, not the duchess only, but the duke-to do for the names of Cavendish and Lucas what he had attempted to do for Sydney and for Falkland. But Walpole, who affected a singularity of opinion, raised a laugh, and a laugh only; there is too much good sense in the duchess's writings, and too much to love about her character, to deprive her altogether of admirers. Charles Lamb delighted in her works; Sir Egerton Brydges shewed his respect for her genius by reprinting, at his private press, her own little, delightful autobiography, to which he appended a selection of her poems. And