undoubtedly is-Leave her sea-room, leave her land-room, and let her have time to consider; and she will be a bride.

Did I ever mention to you a trick that an honest guardian put upon his ward? Many a one have you heard of from dishonest ones. This briefly was it :

The girl was of an heroic stamp ; as good a girl as an heroic girl could well be. A match was proposed for her, much more considerable than she could have expected, as to fortune; and as to the man's person and qualities of mind, absolutely unexceptionable-Young, handsome, gallant, and most ardently in love with her: But, impolitic! he had let her know as much, before he had made himself sure of the shadow of a return, or acceptance. Her guardian, from pure love of his ward, and a sense of the advantageousness of the offer, heartily espoused the interests of the young gentleman. This was another unhappiness to him. She gave him an absolute denial: Nor vouchsafed she to assign a reason for it; having, indeed, no other man, either in her head or heart.

Her guardian was a man who knew the world, and a little of the sex: he saw that miss was in the very meridian of her heroics; and that the grievance most probably was, that there was no Likelihood of difficulty or opposition. He took another course. He acquainted the young lady that he had altered his mind: that he had objections to the address of Sir Arthur Poinings, (the young gentleman's name,) and declared, that he never would give his consent. He desired that she would by no means see him, or receive letters from him; and he talked of carrying her down to his country-seat in a full town season; The girl had a taste for pleasureWhat girl has not? not doubting, he said, that the young baronet would persecute her with his addresses while she remained in London. He then actually forbade Sir Arthur his house; and, more than once, read miss a lecture on the Authority of a Guardian, and the Duty of a Ward. Words that naturally incite young girls to rebellion.

Sir Arthur found means to write to the minx, as if unknown to her guardian. Darts, flames, and distresses were suggested in his letter. The girl began to relent; the guardian to suspect: He renewed his prohibition; cunning creature! The affair now wore a face of difficulty. She answered the young gentleman's letters. It became a regular love-affair of the heroic kind. And, at last!-What at last?-Why, the young lady, attended only by her faithful DELIA, who had been assistant to the lovers in their correspondence, ran away from an inexorable guardian, to Sir Arthur; married him; and, in a few days, writing a humble letter for her clothes, acknowledged rashness, which she laid at the door of LOVE, and so forth. The guardian desired a meeting with the love-yers; now no more

love-yers, but man and wife. They met, with trembling on her side, with pretended apprehension on Sir Arthur's, for having disobliged so good a guardian. The guardian was in high good-humour. He forgave them both, at the first word, and surrendered up his trust with pleasure. The girl was surprised at his unexpected goodness; and had she not been actually nailed down by the solemnity, would very probably have again resumed her heroics.

Well; but I am charmed with Mrs Shirley's Eggleton, as well as with her account of herself in her heroic days. Little did I think that she ever was girl enough to be infected: but, as she says, romances were the fashionable reading of her youthful years.

Tell Aunt Selby that I am not an enemy to old maids; but only to those ill qualities which I should equally dislike in old or in young anybodies. I love Lady Gertrude, and even Aunt Eleanor, for those qualities that are love-able in them. But you see that your Nancy, the mild, good-natured Nancy, could not forbear laughing at the idea of the young-old Penelope Arby: Yet knows she not, says the malicious Lucy, what may be her own case. But I have appealed for you; and to whom? To Lady Gertrude. I was writing to her on a particular occasion, when your packet was brought me; and, in order to enliven my subject, transcribed three lines of Lucy's query upon defending the single state. She was but at Enfield, and returned me the following by the same messenger; the other part of my letter requiring an immediate answer.

"Your question, my dearest niece, is whimsically asked: You tell me that a whole room-full of young country ladies wait only the success of an appeal you have referred to me, to know whether they shall out of hand dispose of themselves to recruiting officers, mountebanks, and fox-hunters; or venture to live on with the melancholy title of old maids, in an unsupported, undefended state?

"One or two queries to be put," proceeds the sage, "are, Whether the worthy matches you have mentioned, or any unsuitable matches whatsoever, would be a support and defence? Whether the woman, who makes a rash and improper choice, does not throw herself out of that protection and defence which every one may depend upon in the state of life marked out to them by Providence? And whether the single state is not thus marked out to the woman who never has it fitly in her choice to change it?

"I, my dear, who am an old maid, must not write partially on that side of the question. In general, I will fairly own, that I think a woman is most likely to find her proper happiness in the married state. May you, my dear niece, experience it every day more and more!-But there are surely many exceptions: Women of large and independent fortunes, who have the hearts and understanding to use them as they ought,

are often more beneficial to the world, than they would have been, had they bestowed them on such men as look for fortune only. Women who have by their numerous relations many connections in the world, need not seek out of their own alliances for protection and defence. Ill health, peculiarity of temper or sentiments, unhappiness of situation, of person, afford often such reasons, as make it a virtue to refuse what it would otherwise be right to accept.

"But why do I write seriously to such a lively creature? Only, my dear

"

But, girls, I will give you no more of Lady Gertrude. I have not done with you myself yet.

Much to the same purpose, I remember, as Mrs Shirley's, were the expostulations of Lady D, in one of her letters to Harriet; who only answered her (I also remember) like a girl. What could she say?

66

You, my Harriet," (wrote that lady,)" are pious, dutiful, benevolent-Cannot you, if you are unable to entertain, for the man who now with so much ardour addresses you, were you married to him, the passion called love, regard him as gratitude would oblige you to prefer any other man who is assiduous to do you service or pleasure? Cannot you shew him as much goodwill, as you could any other man, whom it was in your power to make happy? Would you esteem him less than a person absolutely a stranger to you? The exertion of your native benevolence, of your natural obligingness, of your, common gratitude, of your pity, is all that is asked of you. You have no expectation of the only man, who is dearer to you than he. This exertion will make my lord happy; and if you retain that delight, which you have hitherto taken, in promoting the happiness of others who are not undeserving, yourself not unhappy."

on

You have now before you, girls, the opinion of Mrs Shirley, and the Countess of Dthe case you put. They both sit enthroned on the serene hill of wisdom, which hardly one in fifty of their sex attains. From thence they look down with pity, and with beckoning finger, to the crowds below them, who, with aching eyes, and despairing hearts, emulate their starry heights; but in too faintly attempting to gain the ascent, tumble down, some (shameful!) head over heels, immersed in the miry puddles of sense; and others, taking a supposed more easy, though visibly round-about way, are misled by mazy paths into dreary deserts, till they lose even the distant sight of the sacred hill.

There, chits, I end romantically, figuratively at least, in compliment to your fanciful tastes. And thus much as to you, girls, young lady-expectants, whimsicals, and so forth, from your CHARLOTTE G.

Friday, Saturday, April 13, 14.

My women are so impertinent, and my mar moset is so voracious, that I have been forced to take two days for what once I could have performed in little more than two hours.

LETTER CCCI.

LADY GRANDISON TO MRS SHIRLEY.

Grandison-Hall, Monday, April 16. AND must I, my dear grandmamma, be more particular in relation to ourselves, our guests, our amusements, diversions, conversationsWhy then does not Lucy write as usual, every tender, every engaging, every lively occurrence that happens at Selby-House, and Shirley-Manor? Is she so much taken up with her agreeable peer, that she must leave the obliging task wholly to Nancy and Emily? I don't care. They shall be my best girls; and I will put down my Lucy as a woman of mere quality before she has the title. Yet let me tell her, that could honest Mr Fowler have courted for himself, have suffered his heart to rise to his lips, I should have wished, by her means, to have been related to him and Sir Rowland. But that matter, it seems, is as good as over; and I will proceed to do my duty, whether she does hers or

not.

I have told you, madam, how much our guests are pleased with us and the place. How much we are charmed with them, I need not tell you. Every praise you have heard of them, is confirmed and heightened, on a more intimate knowledge of them.

Lord and Lady Lare with us. Lord and Lady Gwill come as soon as they can. Lady L- has her sweet infant with her. And I hope Lady G- will not come without my god-child.

Sir Edward Beauchamp is at present our guest. The good Doctor, you know, is at home here; and how beloved, how revered, by every one!

Sir Charles! the soul of us all! O madam! never, surely, was one spot blessed with so many persons of one mind, as are now rejoicing together at Grandison-Hall.

And pray, my dear grandmamma, let me ask: Would it not be affectation rather than modesty, were I to leave myself unnamed in this noble circle? I will not. Everybody, for Sir Charles's sake, looks on me with the kindest partiality; and my heart tells me, that being his as much as my own, it deserves that partiality.

Except at certain devotional hours of retirement, we know not but that we are all of one faith. Nothing of religious subjects is ever mentioned among us, but in those points in which all good Christians are agreed. You, madam, who have a true Catholic charity for the

worthy of all persuasions, would be delighted to see the affectionate behaviour of the two fathers (I will call them) to each other. When they are not in the general company, they are always together, walking, riding out; or in the apartment of each other, reading, conversing. The dear Clementina cannot but see, that charitable and great minds, however differing even in some essential articles of religion, might mingle hearts, and love each other; and, from Sir Charles's Catholicism, that she might have been happy with him, and kept her own faith.-But, no! it would in her notion, now I recollect, have been a dangerous trial. She could not trust her own heart-Great and noble lady! how much is she to be revered!

The gentlemen ride out almost every day.Our conversations! It would be endless to give you an account of the conversations that yet, I flatter myself, would delight you all. The least interesting ones of those we hold, would have made a great figure in my former letters. Such the company, you may suppose we know not what trifling subjects are.

Every one avoids mentioning the name of the poor Count of Belvedere in the presence of Lady Clementina; yet we all pity him. We have reason to do so, from the account Signor Jeronymo receives of his distress of mind, while he endeavours to overcome his hopeless passion.

Allow me, madam, to conclude this letter here. We are to have a little concert this evening, and our company is beginning to assemble in the music room.-I must go and attend the Marchioness and Lady Clementina; who herself will be a performer. She is an admirable one. I can only stay to add, that I am

Your ever-dutiful HARRIET GRANDISON.

LETTER CCCII.

LADY GRANDISON TO MRS SHIRLEY.

Grandison-Hall, Saturday, April 28. My dearest grandmamma will not complain that my three last letters were not filled with particulars of our engagements and conversations here. What a scene of happiness! What have I to pray for but the continuance of it? Except that, the admirable Lady Clementina were somehow settled to her own liking, and that her indulgent relations could be satisfied with it? Something seems to be wanting for her, and, therefore, for them. Yet can a lover of her, of her fame, of her family, say what that something should be? I, for my part, ought to be the last who should decide for her; I, who never,

I think, (say Lady G— what she pleases of my romancing,) could have been happy with any man in the world, but Sir Charles Grandison, after I had known him, and once was led to hope for so great a blessing; and who have not that notion that she has, or seems to have, of the dreariness and disadvantages of a single state; on the contrary, who think the married life attended with so many cares and troubles, that it is rather (as it is a duty to enter into it, when it can be done with prudence) a kind of faulty indulgence and selfishness, in order to avoid these cares and troubles, to live single. But to leave this subject to the decision of Lady G, and Lady Gertrude, the latter of whom has given some unanswerable hints on her side of the question, I will proceed with my narrative.

And here let me observe, that had not Lady Clementina made her rejection of the best of men her sole and deliberate act, it is my humble opinion that her loss of him would have been insupportable to her. That consideration, and her noble motive for it, enable her to behave gloriously under the self-deprivation, as I may call it. Yet, I can see, at times, by her studiously avoiding his company, and frequently excusing herself from making one in little parties of Sir Charles's proposing, and by her choosing, at all times my company, that the noble lady thinks self-denial necessary for her peace.

She was once for putting Jeronymo on proposing to leave England sooner than they had intended; and take my promise to follow them. I was present. She had tears in her eyes when she proposed it. We had been talking of Sir Charles in raptures, on some of his noble charities, which had but lately come to our knowledge; and it was pretty evident to me, that she, at the time, was of opinion, that distance from him would be a means to quiet her heart.-The dear Emily finds it so, thank God!

Lady Clementina has been, however, tolerably cheerful since, amusing herself with drawing up plans for her future life. Very pretty ones, some of them: but a little too ideal, if I may so express myself; and she changes them too often to shew that steadiness, which I want to see in her mind. Poor lady! How I-pity her, as I contemplate her, in her contrivances and proposals! I am often forced to turn away my face, that she may not see the starting tear.

`place, and to be present at some of the public entertainments. The gentlemen at the first motion made a party to attend him, and Sir Charles, you may suppose, would not, in complaisance, be excused. Dr Bartlett and Father Marescotti, who are inseparable, had formed a scheme of their own; and the ladies declared, that not one of them would leave me.

The gentlemen accordingly set out yesterday morning. In the afternoon arrived here, one of the most obliging of wives, tenderest of mothers, and amiable of nurses-Who do you think, madam?-No other than Lady G, and her lord. Ungovernable Charlotte! Her month but just up! We have all blamed her. We blamed her lord, too, for suffering her to come. But what could I do? said he, innocently-But they are both 80 much improved as husband and wife! Upon my word, I am charmed with her in every one of the above characters. My lord appears, even in her company, now that his wife has given him his due consequence, a manly, sensible man. If he ever had any levities of behaviour, they are all vanished and gone. She is all vivacity, as heretofore, but no flippancy. Her liveliness, in the main, is that of a sensible, not a very saucy wife, entirely satisfied with herself, her situation, and prospects. Upon my word, I am brought over to her opinion, that if the second man be worthy, a woman may be happy, who has not been indulged in her first fancy: and I am the rather induced to hope so, for my Emily's sake.

Tuesday Evening.

MRS BEAUMONT has received a letter from the ladies her friends at Florence, expressing their fear that the love of her country, now she is in it, has taken place in her heart, and weakened her affection for them. They beg of her to convince them of the contrary by hastening ⚫ to them.

This letter, it seems, mentions some severe reflections cast upon Lady Clementina by the unhappy Olivia. Camilla, who is very fond of me, has hinted this to me, and at the same time acquainted me with her young lady's earnestness to see it; Mrs Beaumont having expressed to her her indignation against Olivia on the occasion. Unworthy Olivia! What reflections can you cast on the admirable Clementina! Yet I wish Mrs Beaumont would let me see them. But, dear Mrs Beaumont, impart not to Clementina anything that may affect her delicate and too scrupulous mind!

This over-lively Lady G has been acquainting Lady Clementina with Emily's story, yet intending to set forth nothing by it, she says, but the fortitude of so young a creature.

She owns, that Lady Clementina often reddened as she proceeded in it; yet that she went on-How could she?-I chid her, for poor

Emily's sake, for her own sake, for Lady Clementina's, for Sir Edward Beauchamp's sakeHow could she be so indelicate? Is there a necessity, dear Lady G-, (thought I, as she repeated what passed on the occasion,) now you are so right in the great articles of your duty, that you must be wrong in something?

Lady Clementina highly applauded Emily, however. A charming young creature, she called her. Absence, added she, is certainly a right measure. Were the man a common man, it would not signify: Presence, in that case, might help her, as he probably would every day expose his faults to her observation. But absence from such a man as Sir Charles Grandison is certainly right. Lady G says, it was easy to see that Lady Clementina made some self-applications upon it.

Wednesday Morning, May 2. LADY G- has been communicating to me a conference which, she says, she could not but overhear, between Lady Clementina and Mrs Beaumont, held in the closet of the latter, which joins to a closet in Lady G's dressing-room, separated only by a thin partition. The rooms were once one-A little of your usual curiosity, I doubt, my dear Lady G——, thought I. You were not confined to that closet. You might have retired when their conversation began. But, no; curiosity is a nail, that will fasten to the ground the foot of an inquisitive person, however painful what she hears may sometimes make her situation.

Mrs Beaumont had acquainted Lady Clementina with the contents of the letter she had received from her friends at Florence. The poor lady was in tears upon it. She called Olivia cruel, unjust, wicked. The very surmise, said she, is of such a nature, that I cannot bear to look either Lady Grandison, or any of her friends, in the face: For Heaven's sake, let it not be hinted to any one in the family, nor even to my own relations, that Olivia herself could be capable of making such a reflection upon me.

My dearest Lady Clementina, said Mrs Beaumont, I wish

What wisheth my dear Mrs Beaumont ?—
That you would change your system.

ARTICLES, Mrs Beaumont! ARTICLES!-If they are broken with me, I resume my solicitude to be allowed to take the veil. That allowance, and that only, can set all right. My heart is distressed by what you have let me see Olivia has dared to throw out against me.

Allow me one observation only, my dear Clementina. What Olivia has hinted, the world will hint. It behoves you to consider, that the husband of Lady Grandison ought not to be so much the object of any woman's attention, as to be an obstacle to the address of another man really worthy.

Cruel, cruel Olivia! There is no bearing the thought of her vile suggestion. None but Olivia -Say not the world. Olivia only, Mrs Beaumont, was capable of such a suggestion

For my own part, interrupted Mrs Beaumont, I am confident that it is a base suggestion; and that if Sir Charles Grandison had not been married, you never would have been his. You could not have receded from your former objections. You see what a determined Protestant he is; a Protestant upon principle. You are equally steady in your faith: yet, as matters stand; so amiable as he is; and the more his private life and manners are seen, the more to be admired; must not your best friends lay it at the door of a first love, that you cannot give way to the address of a man, against whom no one other objection can lie?

ARTICLES, Mrs Beaumont! ARTICLES! One word more only, my dear Lady Clementina, as the subject was begun by yourself May it not be expected, now that no opposition is given you, you will begin to feel, that your happiness, and peace, and strength of mind, will flow from turning your thoughts on principles of duty (so the world will call them) to other objects; and that the dwelling on those it will suppose you to dwell upon, till your situation is visibly altered, will serve only to disturb your mind, and fill your friends, on every instance that may affect it, with apprehensions for you? You have said a great deal, Mrs Beaumont. But is not the veil the only possible expedient to make us all easy?

ARTICLES! ARTICLES! my dear Clementina. I have been drawn in by yourself insensibly to speak my mind on this subject. But I have no view, no design. Your parents, your brothers, you see, inviolably adhere to the articles. But, consider, my dear, were you even allowed to assume the veil, that all such recollections of your former inclination as would be faulty in a married state, would have been equally contrary to your religious vows. Would then the assuming of the veil make you happy?

Don't you hint, Olivia-like, Mrs Beaumont, at culpable inclinations? Do you impute to me culpable inclinations?

I do not, neither do I think you are absolutely as yet an angel. Would you, my dear, refuse your vows to the Count of Belvedere, or any other man, for a certain reason, yet think yourself free enough to give them to your God?

Will this argument hold, Mrs Beaumont, in the present case?

You will call upon ARTICLES, my dear, if I proceed. Your silence, however, is encouraging. What were just now your observations upon the story of Miss Emily Jervois? Is there not a resemblance between her case and yours? Surely, madam, I am not such a girl!-O Mrs Beaumont, how am I sunk in your opinion!

You are not, my dear Clementina; you cannot, in anybody's. Miss Jervois is under obligations to her guardian, that you are not.

Is that, Mrs Beaumont, all the difference?— That makes none. I am under greater. What are pecuniary obligations to the preservation of a brother's life? To a hundred other instances of goodness?-That girl my pattern! Poor, poor Clementina! How art thou fallen! Let me fly this country.-Now I see, in the strongest light, what a rashness I was guilty of, when I fled to it. How must the Chevalier Grandison himself despise me !—But I tell you, Mrs Beaumont, that I am incapable of a wish, of a thought, contrary to those that determined me when I declined the hand of the best of men. O that I were in my own Italy !-What must young creatures suffer from the love of an improper object, in the opinion of their friends, if, after the sacrifices I have made, I must lie under disgraceful imputations from my gratitude and esteem for the most worthy of human minds?-O how I disdain myself!

It is a generous disdain, my dear Lady Clementina. I end as I began.—I wish you would think of changing your system. But I leave the whole upon your own consideration. Your parents are passive. God direct you. I wish you happy. At present you will not yourself say you are so. Yet nobody controls you, nor wishes to control you. Everybody loves you. Your happiness is the subject of all our prayers. Lady G― believes the conversation ended here.

LADY L—————, in Mrs Beaumont's presence, has been just making me a compliment on my generous love, as she calls it, of Lady Clementina, and my security in Sir Charles's affection. Dear madam, said I, where is the merit? A man of such established principles, and a woman of such delicate honour! They both of them move my pity, and engage my love. With regard to Lady Clementina, this is my consolation, that I stood not in her way: that your brother never made his addresses to me, till she, on the noblest motives, left him free to choose the next eligible, as I have reason to think he allowed me to be. And let me tell you, my dear Mrs Beaumont, that in his address to me, he did her justice; and dealt so nobly with me, that had I not before preferred him to all other men, I should have done it then.