added greatly to his expences (for he never would abate, when they were together, of that magnificence in which he delighted to live in the country), fhe declined going up: And having by this time her three children, the found it was as agreeable to Sir Thomas as to herfelf, that the fhould turn her thoughts wholly to the domeftic duties. Lady Grandifon, when the found that he could not bring Sir Thomas to leffen his great expences, fuppofed it to be wisdom to endeavour, to the utmost of her power, to enable him to fupport them without dif credit to himself, or visible hurt to his family. The children were young, and were not likely to make demands upon him for many years to come.

Here was a mother, my dear! Who will fay, that mothers may not be the most useful perfons in the family, when they do their duty, and their husbands are defective in theirs? Sir Thomas Grandifon's delights centered in himself; Lady Grandifon's in her husband and children. What a fuperiority, what an inferiority!

Yet had this lady, with the beft economy, no narrowness in her heart. She was beloved for her generofity and benevolence. Her poor neighbours adored her. Her table was plenteous. She was hofpitable, as well from the largenefs of her own heart as to give credit to her husband; and fo far to accommodate herself to his tafte, as that too great a difference might not be feen between his abfence and prefence. As occafions offered, the would confer benefits in the name of a husband, whom perhaps the had not feen of months, and knew not whether the might not fee for months to come. She was fatisfied, though hers was the firft merit with the fecond merit reflected from that the gave him: "I am but Sir Thomas's almoner: I know

I fhall please Sir Thomas by doing this. Sir Tho"mas would have done thus. Perhaps he would "have been more bountiful had he been present."

He had been once abfent from this admirable wife fix whole months, when he left her but for one: He defigned only an excurfion to Paris, when he fet out; but when in company as gay as himself, while he was there, he executed his tour; and, what was ftill more inexcufable, he let his lady hear from him by fecond-hand only. He never wrote one line to her with his own; yet, on his return, affected to furprise her by a fudden appearance, when the knew not that he was in England.

Was not this intolerably vain in him? The moment he appeared, so secure was he of his lady's unmerited love, that he supposed the joy fhe would break out into would banifh from her thoughts all memory of his past unkindness.

He asked her, however, after the first emotions (for the received him with real joy), If the could eafily forgive him?-Forgive you, Sir?—Yes, if you can forgive yourself.

This he called fevere. Well he might; for it was juft. Lady Grandifon's goodness was founded in principle, not in tamenefs or fervility.

Be not ferious, Sir Thomas, faid my lady; and flung her arms about him. You know, by your question, you were unkind. Not one line from

your own hand neither-But the feeing you now fafe and well, compenfates me for all the anxieties you have given me in the paft fix tedious months→→→ Can I fay they were not anxious ones? But I pity you, Sir, for the pleasure you have loft by fo long an abfence. Let me lead you to the nursery; or, let the dear prattlers come down and receive their father's bletling. How delightful is their dawning reafon! Their improvements exceed my hopes: Of what pleasure do you deprive yourfelf by thefe long abfences!

My dear Mifs Grandifon, let me write on. I am upon a sweet fubject. Why, will you tear me from it? Who, Lucy, would not almost wish to be the

wife, the half-flighted wife of a gay Sir Thomas, to be a Lady Grandifon?

One reflection, my dear Mifs Grandifon, let me make, before I attend you, left I fhould lofe it: What man who now, at one view, takes in the whole gay, fluttering life of Sir Thomas Grandifon, though young, gay, and fluttering himfelf, can propofe to be more happy than Sir Thomas thought himfelf? What woman, who, in like manner, can take in the whole, useful, prudent, ferene, benevolent life of Lady Grandifon, whatever turn to pleafure, lefs folid, and more airy, he may have, fees not, from this imperfect sketch, all that they should with to be; and the tranfitory vanity of the one, and the folid happiness that must attend the other, as well here as hereafter!

Dear lady!—had you not hurried me fo, how much better should I have expressed myself!

M

LETTER XII.

Mifs BYRON. In Continuation..

ISS Grandifon has been making me read aloud fome part of the letter I had just writ to you, Lucy. We know, faid fhe, it is about us; but we shall think what you have written greatly to our difadvantage, if we cannot hear fome of it. Then fhe infifted (the is an arbitrary dear creature) on my giving the company [It was at tea, and Lord L.. prefent] fuch hiftories as fhe fhould call for of my own family. On this condition only, faid fhe, will: we consent to be made fully known, as I find we shall, if I do not fteal away your pen and ink, to our grandmother Shirley, our aunt Selby, and even to our Lucy.

Do not you think, Lucy, I ran on with pleasure in defcribing the perfons and tempers of my father and mother, and relating their fortunes, loves, difficulties; as my grandmamma and aunt had enabled me to do, from what they used to recount in many a long fummer-day, and in many a winterevening, as we girls fat at work-Happy memorials!-Ay, but do you believe the did not question me about later events? She did, indeed, call upon me for two other hiftories.

And of whom! methinks you ask.

I won't tell you, Lucy: But if my aunt fhould be folicitous to know, and fhould guess that my uncle's and hers (fo entertaining and inftructive) was one of them; and if you, Lucy, fhould guess that the hiftory of a young lady, whofe difcretion got the better of her love, and who cannot be dearer to herfelf than fhe is to me, is the other-why, perhaps, neither my aunt, nor you, my dear, may be much miftaken.

Methinks I would fain rife now-and-then to my former ferene-pertnefs [Allow you of the words fo connected?]: But my heart is heavy..

They were delighted with a certain gentleman's humorous character and courtship, with his lady's prudence and goodness, in the one ftory; and in the other, with the young lady's victorious difcretion. They wish to be perfonally acquainted with each, and with my grandmamma. All the worthies in the world, my dear, are not in the Grandifon family!

BEFORE I refiime the continuation of the ladies* family-history, let me afk-Don't you think, my dear, that God has bleffed these happy children for the fake of their excellent mother? And who knows, but for their duty to their lefs-deferving father? It is my notion, that one perfon's remiffnefs in duty, where there is a reciprocal one, does not abfolve the

other

other party from the performance of his. It is difficult, indeed, to love fo well a faulty or remifs parent, as a kind and good one. But our duty is indifpenfible; and where it is paid, a bleffing may the rather be expected, as the parent had not done his. If, when you do well and fuffer for it, fays the apostle, ye take it patiently, this is acceptable with God. Not to mention one confideration, which, however, ought not to be left out of the account; that a good child will be no lefs benefited by the warning, as Sir Charles no doubt is, from his father's unhappy turn, than by the example, as he is from that of his excellent mother.

Lady L. referred to the paper given in by the fhort-hand writer, for the occafion (as mentioned by Sir Charles) to which these three worthy chil dren owed the lofs of fuch a mother *. And this drew her into a melancholy relation of fome very affecting particulars. Among other things, the faid, her mother regreted, in her last hours, that the had no opportunity, that fhe could think juft and honourable, to lay by any thing confiderable for her daughters. Her jewels, and fome valuable trinkets, the hoped, would be theirs: But that would be at their father's pleasure. I wish, faid fhe, that my dear girls were to have between them the tenth part of what I have faved-But I have done but my duty.

I have told you, Charlotte, faid the Countefs, what my mother faid to me a few hours before The died; and I will repeat it to Mifs Byron. Aft ter having, upon general principles, recommended filial duty, and brotherly and fifterly love to us. all, and after my brother and fifter had withdrawn, My dear Caroline, faid fhe, let me add to the general arguments of the duty I have been enforcing upon you all, one refpecting your intereft, and let your fifter know it. I am afraid there will

*Letter IV. Page 58.

be