and yet so proud as to court a beggarly independence, (which, by the by, is nothing more than a cheat—a dirty drab under an honest woman's name,) rather than ask forgiveness of an injured, generous uncle, and be restored at once to the arms of prosperity! I see how it is, most critical Reader! You are fresh from the reading of novels, where the heroes are adorned with certain fine traits of character, like the beautiful veins in your chimney-piece of Egyptian marble, which you see cross and recross one another, and meander here and there, yet are never lost sight of or blurred, except the polisher have been greatly in fault; and you are offended because you find not the same in my history. Let me warn you -if you cannot relish human nature as it is, shut my book; for here you will find man but pudding-stone. As for the ordinary, every-day being, Jeremy Levis-what can you expect to meet in him but ordinary, every-day consistency? Nay-even in those of a superior sortsuch as yourself, for instance-look sharply, and what will you find? Not merely some pleasing traits of character, for ever kept in sight because they are pleasingnor some particular passion alone, which, because it governs the whole man, must for ever be seen seated at the helm-, but those pleasing traits appearing and disappearing by fits, like the blue ether when the racking clouds pass over it,-this particular passion one time ruling itself, then resigning the rudder to another, that it may again resume it, and again resign it. Who searches for gold, and hopes to meet it ever pure and in masses? It is found in union with other and baser metals—imbedded deep in fissures of the solid rock-or scattered in grains through the countless sands of rivers. CHAPTER XXVII. Hear how he clears the points o' faith On sic a day! I SOON became a constant visiter at Lady Arne's; for that amiable woman appeared to have conceived for me a fondness equal to her sister's, and, when my daily duties were over (for Sir James, agreeably to his word, had procured me such an employment as I desired), I loved to betake myself to a house where I was always sure of a welcome, and spend an hour or two in a society so agreeably different from any I had hitherto known-a society where the many little attentions I received could spring from no such motives as had given rise to the civilities that were so profusely lavished on me by every body, when I was accounted my uncle's heir. Owing to this beneficial intercourse, a gradual change took place in my manners. I began to repent me of my boyish follies, I assumed a manliness more suited to my years, and I resolved to lead a course of life that should do me honour. Often indeed, when listening to the motherly counsels of Lady Arne, I was prompted, in the fullness of my feelings, to confess the mean deceit of which I had been guilty, and tell her my whole history as it really was; but, then, the wakeful demon of my pride. would lay his heavy hand upon my heart, and repress its honest beating. The baronet I met but once or twice at her ladyship's. The infrequency of his visits I attributed to his wish to subdue an affection so unhappily misplaced upon the wife of the preacher, and I was fully convinced of the truth of my conjecture, when, on the visits which I occasionally paid him not more from gratitude than a love for his society, he invariably turned the discourse to Miss Paynthurnley, with an artfulness that amused me, even while I most regretted its cause. As for myself, I soon found at Lady Arne's an attraction which I had not forseen. This was her ladyship's daughter. Mary Arne was not beautiful—at least, not, in the sense in which that epithet is usually applied; for her person wanted the rounded symmetry that constitutes a fine figure, and her features were irregular: but then, in lieu of other attractions, her slender form possessed, to a remarkable degree, that peculiar air which I have said distinguished her aunt, and in her expressive face every emotion of her innocent heart, as soon as it rose, was painted with so much fidelity that you saw into her character almost at a glance. Add a high and finely-turned neck and falling shoulders (those essentials to gracefulness of carriage), and, moreover, a skin pure as an infant's, and a hand and foot the very copies of her aunt's, and you may form some idea of what I consider a lovely though not a beautiful woman. These personal charms, however, might have made no impression upon me, had they not been seconded by the amiability of her deportment; but when, from the frequent opportunities I had of observing her, I became acquainted with her many unobtrusive virtues, I yielded unconsciously, and, before I was aware of the extent to which I had submitted, found myself fast bound, a half-willing slave to the united force of her attractions. I have hinted that Mary Arne was gay in disposition:she was, indeed, blessed with an unceasing flow of spirits; but there are certain limits beyond which gayety becomes displeasing, except in childhood, and beyond these limits she never suffered herself to be carried. Though pos sessed of wit, she never indulged it at the expense of another's feelings; though modest, she knew well there was a degree of confidence that becomes a woman; and, though accomplished-far beyond the sense in which the word is usually employed by young ladies-she was the only woman I ever knew (with, perhaps, one-or two— exceptions) totally devoid of affectation. I recall these merits of my sainted Mary with the more pleasure, that, when I look around me, I see the rising generation of Misses either stupid as the dolls they have prematurely thrown aside, or sarcastically ill-natured,— either shamefaced as raw country girls, or fashionably impudent, and either dunces on every subject but that of dress, or so languid from affectation that they have just strength to lisp the French for sweetmeats, or to roll their eyes in ravishment at the fine movements of an Italian cantata. Pout not thy lip in anger, fair Reader ;though a sexagenarian, I am no "laudator temporis acti❞— the which, for thy better comprehension, I may rendera moralizing old fool that shakes his head sagaciously at every trifle that chimes not with his own stale notions of propriety, and mutters "Things were very different in my day." In my day-that is, when I never moved among the girls without making them smirk, or feel anxious for the success of their smiles and nicely-powdered curls-in my day, sweet one, know for thy consolation, young ladies were not a whit more sensible-than they are now. The great charm, however, that drew my affections to Miss Arne, was a certain artlessness of manners that marked her unsophisticated by too early or too familiar an acquaintance with the world. Most persons, I am well aware, admire women who have been a great deal in society (as it is termed); they like the smile and word that are for every body-the skill in conversation that so readily adapts itself to the taste of each individual, and, without appearing to be directed particularly to any one, flatters each alike in turn. Such women, it is true, are admirable in one respect;-they give most unexceptionable parties there all the company is happy-for every member, however unworthy, finds himself become a person of importance: but such women I never did like, and never shall like-for there is no trusting to their professions; they speak you fair-their words sparkle like true gems-but hold them up to the light, and they will be found to be a string of mere paste-all lies from one end to the other. Je vous parle un peu franc; mais c'est là mon humeur, The extent of my love for Mary Arne might have remained unknown to me for some time, but for a little circumstance. One Saturday evening I was at Lady Arne's, when, the discourse happening to fall upon a fashionable preacher, a young man, who had so turned the heads of the pliant sex that they flocked to hear him, as formerly the stocks and stones did to Orpheus, her ladyship mentioned that the clergyman in question was to officiate the next day and invited me to a seat in her pew. I availed myself of the invitation.-In my youth I was not over righteous, as the reader will readily believe; but I ever entertained a feeling of reverence for the offices of religion and for those that exercised them with unfeigned piety, and when a lovely woman was the worshipper Heavens! I could gaze on her for ever. Think not, most cynical reader, that when I turned with disgust from the bowed heads of the females around me, because I saw that the most of those females were engaged far otherwise than in prayer-peeping through the parted fingers of their clasped hands at the young men, or arranging a |