mas of either; but should chiefly rest on the authority of that Shaster, which has so deeply incurred the displeasure of the philosophers. His mother was the daughter of a priest of the sect of Dissenters, who had bestowed such particular pains on the cultivation of her understanding, as actually qualified her for conducting the education of her own children.

It is, perhaps, to this uncommon and extraordinary circumstance, that the children of Mr. Denbeigh are indebted for many of those peculiarities which at present distinguish their characters. It is from this cause, that the daughters have become learned, without losing their humility: that they are gay, without being frivolous: that in conversation, their sprightliness is free from the lightness of vanity, and their seriousness from the arrogance of self-conceit. Denbeigh, not considering the preservation of ignorance absolutely necessary towards the perfection of the female character, never sent her daughters to the seminaries that

Mrs.

are established for that purpose, but suffered them from infancy to partake with their brothers in every advantage of solid instruction. Being early taught to make a just estimate of things, they learned how to value the performance of every duty; nor was their attention towards those annexed by custom to their situation, lessened from a consideration of their simplicity. In their minds the torch of knowledge was too fully lit, to lead to the dangerous path of singularity, into which unwary females have by its feeble glimmering been so oft betrayed. I can almost venture to assert, that the blooming Emma at this moment manages the domestick 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 boarding-school. 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 mind with an idea, or taught her any other duty, save 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 sons, and sons-in-law of Mr. Denbeigh. As the most beautiful symmetry of feature eludes the skill of the painter, so do the quiet satisfactions of life, though sources 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 simplicity.

On the second day after our arrival, while Mr. and Mrs. Denbeigh, and the lovely Emma, were listening, with looks of complacency and delight, to the recital made by my friend of some of his adventures in India, Mr. Denbeigh was informed,

that a person wanted to speak with him. It 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 sum of money, which, it appeared, had been lent, with little prospect of return. He received for his punctuality, the encouragement of praise; and Emma, unbidden, arose from her embroidery, to present him some wine for himself, and sweet-cake to take home to his children. The poor man was, by this kindness, embolden to loquacity. "Yes," said he to Mr. Denbeigh, "I defy the whole world to say, that Gilbert Grub 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 else 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 Emma, suspending her work to listen.

"What of Mr. Darnley ?" said Mr. Denbeigh.

"Why, Sir, you must know," said the peasant, "that Old Benjamin Grub, who lived in one of Mr. Darnley's free cottages, to whom, I am sure both your honour and these two good ladies have given many and many a shilling, died on Friday was eight days; and on opening his will, who do you think he should have left his sole 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

VOL. II.

22*