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feeble glimmering, been so oft betrayed. I can almost venture to affert, that the blooming Emma, at this moment manages the domestic economy of her father's house, with as much prudence and activity as could be expected from the most ignorant and accomplished female that ever issued from a genteel boardingSchool. That she is as dutiful, as affectionate, as' obedient to her parents, as if she had never looked into any book but a Novel ; and will regard their memory with as much filial veneration, as if they had never furnished her, miod with an idea, or taught her any other duty, fave how to dress and play at cards !!
The week that has elapsed since my arrival at Violet-Dale, has been spent in alternate visits to the fons, and sons-inlaw of Mr. Denbeigh. As the inoft beauriful symmetry of feature eludes the skill of the painter, fo do the quiet fatiffaclions of life, though fources of the truest pleasure, bid defiance to the powers of description; I shall therefore of this week only mention one little incident, which pleased, in spite of its fim-. pliciiy.
On the second day afier our arrival, while Mr. and Mrs. Denbeigh, and the lovely Emma, were listening, with looks of complacency and delight, 10 the red
cital made by my friend of some of his adventures in India, Mr. Denbeigh was informed, that a person wanted to speak with him.-1 was a country-man, who being by universal consent, admitted into the parlour, declared his business. It was, to pay to the old gentleman a small fum of money, which, it appeared, had been lent, with little prospect of relurn. He received for his punctuality, the encouragement of praise ; and Emma, unbidden, arose from her embroidery, to present him fome wioe for himself, and i weet-cake to take home to his children. The poor man was, by this kindness, emboldened to loquacity. “ Yes," said he to Mr. Denbeigh, “I defy the whole world to say, that Gilbert Giub ever remained one hour in any man's debt, after he was able to get out of it. And as your honour was so good to me in my necessity, and lent to me when no one elle would, it was good reason to pay your honour first. But, perhaps, you have not heard of the strange behaviour of Mr. Darnley ?”
“ Mr. Darnley !” repeated Emina fuf. pending her work to liften. . What of Mr. Darnley ?” faid Mr. Denbeigh.
" Why, Sir, you must know," said the peasani, " that Old Benjamin Grub, who lived in one of Mr. Daruler's tice ac:
tages, to whom, I am sure, both your honour and these two good ladies have given many and many a fhilling, died on Friday was eight days; and on opening his will, who do you think he should have left his fole heir, but Mr. Darnley ??
" What could the poor creature have to leave?" said Mrs. Denbeigh. “ He was the very picture of wretchedness.”
“ Aye, so he was,' returned the garrulous old man; “and that was the very way he took to scrape together such a mine of wealth. Would you believe it, Madam? In the very rags that covered him, fifty golden guineas were concealed, and a hundred more were found in his house; but no matter for that, if it had been ten times as much, it all went to Mr. Darnley.-And though to be sure, we could not blame him for taking it
get some of, us thought it main hard, that while so many of his own flesh and blood were in a ftarviog condition, all ibis store of wealth should go to one who had enough of his own." .“ But, whilst his own relations left him 10 starve, had he not been supported
by Mir. Darpley's bounty ?” said Mr. Den- beigh.
« Aye, that is true,” said the peasant : ?" but, as old Sam Grub of the Mill, says, if any one of us had a-known of his
wealth, we would all have been as kind to him as the 'Squire.”
“ Mr. Darnley ought certainly to have made some present to the old man's relations," said Mr. Denbeigh. “Aye, Sir, I thought he might ha' given fome small thing among us,” said the peasant ; “ but never could have imagined, that he would have bebaved in the way he did.”
" Go on," faid Mr. Denbeigh knitting his brows. : The cheek of Emma grew pale : fhe. took up her needle, but remained in the attitude of attention, while the peasant proceeded. ." You must know, Sir, that after hav, jug had a long confabulation with the Sexton, who is himself a Grub, the first, thing the ?Squire did, was to fend for all the Grubs ip the parish, man and woman, to come to the funeral. Some of us were so much stomached, that we did not much like to go. But, says I, though Benjamin has been unnatural to us, that is no reason that we should be. unnatural to him. So we all went yesterday morn. ing, at the hour appointed, and found all things prepared for the funeral--and a gallant funeral it was; it would have done good to the heart of any of his friends to have seen it. When we returned from the church-yard, Mr. Darnley, who was him:
felf chief mourner, desired us all to go back with him to Ben's Cottage, where wine was poured out for us by Mr. Darnley's butler, who is himself a very grand gentleman.-When we had drank a glass, Mr. Darnley got up, and said · My friends, fays he, I hope none of you will have any cause to repent the choice made by your kinsman of a trustee, for the distribution of his property, for I cannot look upon his Will in any other light.-Here are twenty of you prefent. Ten grand-children of his brothers, and as many descendants from his uncles. To the first I have allotted ten guineas each, to the latter five, which disposes of the whole hundred and fifty found in his poffeffion-and I hope it is a division with 'which you will all be satisfied. We all cried out with one voice, that his honour was too good! too generous ! that he should at least, keep one half to himself. “God forbid!' said he, that I should take a farthing, that my conscience told me, was the property of another!!--Aod he looked so pleased, and so good humoured! and we were all so astounded with delight! for your honour must know, that ten guineas to a poor man, is a mighty sum! Ah! your honour can have - po notion what it is, when a man has