ladies were making a bustle to give him a place between them (tossing their hoops above their shoulders on one side) and my cousin James was hastening to bring him a chair; he threw himself at the feet of my aunt and me, making the floor his seat.

I don't know how it was; but I thought I never saw him look to more advantage. His attitude and behaviour had such a lover-like appearance-Don't you see him, my dear?-His amiable countenance, so artless, yet so obliging, cast up to my aunt and me: his fine eyes meeting ours; mine, particularly, in their own way; for I could not help looking down, with a kind of proud bashfulness, as Lucy told me afterwards. How affected must I have appeared, had I either turned my head aside, or looked up stiffly, to avoid his!

I believe, my dear, we women in courtship don't love that men, if ever so wise, should keep up to us the dignity of wisdom; much less that they should be solemn, formal, grave-Yet are we fond of respect and observance too.-How is it? Sir Charles Grandison can tell.-Did you think of your brother, Lady G―, when you once said, that the man who would commend himself to the general favour of us young women, should be a decent rake in his address, and a saint in his heart? Yet might you not have chosen a better word than rake? Are there not more clumsy and foolish rakes than polite ones, except we can be so much mistaken, as to give to impudence the name of agreeable freedom?

Sir Charles fell immediately into the easiest, (shall I say the gallantest?) the most agreeable conversation, as if he must be all of a piece with the freedom of his attitude; and mingled in his talk two or three very pretty humorous stories, so that nobody thought of helping him again to a chair, or wishing him in one.

How did this little incident familiarize the amiable man, as a still more amiable man than before, to my heart! In one of the little tales, which was of a gentleman in Spain serenading his mistress, we asked him, if he could not remember a sonnet he spoke of as a pretty one? He, without answering, sung it in a most agreeable manner; and, at Lucy's request, gave us the English of it.

It is a very pretty sonnet. I will ask him for a copy, and send it to you, who understand the language.

My grandmamma, on Sir Charles's singing, beckoned to my cousin James, who going to her, she whispered him. He stepped out, and presently returned with a violin, and struck up, as he entered, a minuet tune. Harriet, my love! called out my grandmamma. Without any other intimation, the most agreeable of men, in an instant, was on his feet, reached his hat, and

took me out.

How were we applauded! How was my

grandmamma delighted! The words, Charming couple! were whispered round, but loud enough to be heard. And when we had done, he led me to my seat with an air that had all the real fine gentleman in it. But then he sat not down as before.

I wonder if Lady Clementina ever danced with him.

My aunt, at Lucy's whispered request, proposed a dance between Sir Charles and her. You, Lady G, observed more than once, that Lucy dances finely. Insulter! whispered I to her, when she had done, you know your advantages over me!- Harriet, replied she, what do good girls deserve, when they speak against their consciences?

My grandmamma afterwards called upon me for one lesson on the harpsichord, and they made me sing.

An admirable conversation followed at tea, in which my grandmother, aunt, my Lucy, and Sir Charles, bore the chief parts, every other person delighting to be silent.

Had we not, Lady G, a charming day? In my next I shall have an opportunity, perhaps, to tell you what kind of a travelling companion Sir Charles is. For, be pleased to know, that for some time past a change of air, and a little excursion from place to place, have been prescribed for the establishment of my health, by one of the honestest physicians in England. The day before Sir Charles came into thesc parts, it was fixed, that to-morrow we should set out upon this tour. On his arrival, we had thoughts of postponing it; but, having understood our intention, he insisted upon its being prosecuted; and, offering his company, there was no declining the favour, you know, early days as they, however are; and although everybody abroad talks of the occasion of his visit to us, he has been so far from directing his servants to make a secret of it, that he has ordered his Saunders to answer to every curious questioner, that Sir Charles and I were of longer acquaintance than yesterday. But is not this, my dear, a cogent intimation, that Sir Charles thinks some parade, some delay, necessary? Yet don't he and we know how little a while ago it is, that he made his first declaration? What, my dear, (should he be solicitous for an early day,) is the inference? My uncle, too, so forward, that I am afraid of him?

We are to set out to-morrow morning. Peterborough is to be our farthest stage, one way. Mr Deane insists that we should pass two or three days with him. All of us, but my grandmamma, are to be of this party.

O My dear Lady G- -! what a letter is just brought me, by the hand that carried up mine on Saturday! Bless me! what an answer!— But I have not time to enter into so large a

Thrapston, Tuesday Evening, Oct. 17. WE passed several hours at Boughton,* and arrived here in the afternoon. Mr Deane insisted that we should stop at a nephew's of his in the neighbourhood of this town. The young gentleman met us at Oundle, and conducted us to his house. I have got such a habit of scribbling, that I cannot forbear applying to my pen at every opportunity. The less wonder, when I have your brother for my subject, and the two beloved sisters of that brother to write to.

It would be almost impertinent to praise a man for his horsemanship, who in his early youth was so noted for the performance of all his exercises, that his father, and General W— thought of the military life for him. Ease and unaffected dignity distinguish him in all his accomplishments. Bless me, madam, said Lucy to my aunt, on more occasions than one, this man is everything!

Shall I own, that I am retired to my pen, just now, from a very had motive? Anger. I am, in my heart, even peevish with all my friends, for clustering so about Sir Charles, that he can hardly obtain a moment (which he seems to seek for, too) to talk with me alone. My uncle [He does dote upon him] always inconsiderately stands in his way; and can I say to a man so very inclinable to raillery, that he should allow me more, and himself less, of Sir Charles's conversation? I wonder my aunt does not give my uncle a hint. But she loves Sir Charles's company as well as my uncle.

This, however, is nothing to the distress my uncle gave me at dinner this day. Sir Charles was observing upon the disposition of one part of the gardens at Boughton, that art was to be but the handmaid of nature-I have heard, Sir Charles, said my uncle, that you have made that a rule with you at Grandison-Hall. With what pleasure should I make a visit there to you and my niece—

He stopped. He needed not: he might have

The seat of the late Duke of Montague.

said anything after this. Sir Charles looked as if concerned for me; yet said, that would be a joyful visit to him. My aunt was vexed, for my sake. Lucy gave my uncle such a look

My uncle afterwards indeed apologized to me -Ads-heart, I was a little blunt, I believe. But what a deuce need there be these niceties obser

ved when you are sure?-I am sorry, however -But it would out-Yet you, Harriet, made it worse by looking so silly.

WHAT, Lady G, can I do with this dear man? My uncle, I mean. He has been just making a proposal to me, as he calls it, and with such honest looks of forecast and wisdomLookye, Harriet-I shall be always blundering about your scrupulosities. I am come to propose something to you that will put it out of my power to make mistakes-I beg of you and your aunt to allow me to enter with Sir Charles into a certain subject; and this not for your sakeI know you won't allow of that-But for the ease of Sir Charles's own heart. Gratitude is my motive, and ought to be yours. I am sure he loves the very ground you tread upon.

I besought him, for every sake dear to himself, not to interfere in the matter, but to leave these subjects to my aunt and me-Consider, sir, said I, consider, how very lately the first personal declaration was made.

I do, I will consider everything-But there is danger between the cup and the lip.

Dear sir! (my hands and eyes lifted up,) was all the answer I could make. He went from me hastily, muttering good-naturedly against femalities.

Deane's Grove, Wed. Oct. 18.

MR DEANE's pretty box you have seen. Sir Charles is pleased with it. We looked in at Fotheringay Castle,+ Milton, &c. Mr Charles Deane, a very obliging and sensible young gentleman, attended his uncle all the way.

What charming descriptions of fine houses and curiosities abroad did Sir Charles give us when we stopped to bait, or to view the pictures, furniture, gardens, of the houses we saw !

In every place, on every occasion, on the road, or when we alighted, or put up, he shewed himself so considerate, so gallant, so courteous, to all who approached him, and so charitable !— Yet not indiscriminately to everybody that asked him: but he was bountiful indeed, on representation of the misery of two honest families. Beggars born, or those who make begging a trade, if in health, or not lame or blind, have seldom, it seems, any share in his munifi

+ The prison of Mary, Queen of Scots.

cence: but persons fallen from competence, and such as struggle with some instant distress, or have large families, which they have not ability to maintain; these, and such as these, are the objects of his bounty. Richard Saunders, who is sometimes his almoner, told my Sally, that he never goes out but somebody is the better for him; and that his manner of bestowing his charity is such, as, together with the poor people's blessings and prayers for him, often draws tears from his eyes.

I HAVE Overheard a dialogue that has just now passed between my uncle and aunt. There is but a thin partition between the room they were in, and mine, and he spoke loud, my aunt not low, yet earnest only, not angry. He had been proposing to her, as he had done to me, to enter into a certain subject, in pity to Sir Charles; none had he for his poor niece. No doubt but he thought he was obliging me, and that my objection was only owing to femality, as he calls it, a word I don't like; I never heard it from Sir Charles.

My aunt was not at all pleased with his motion. She wished, as I had done, that he would not interfere in these nice matters. He took offence at the exclusion, because of the word nice. She said, he was too precipitating, a great deal; she did not doubt but Sir Charles would be full early in letting me know his expectations.

She spoke more decisively than she used to do. He cannot bear her chidings, though ever so gentle. I need not tell you, that he both loves and reveres her; but, as one of the lords of the creation, is apt to be jealous of his prerogatives. You used to be diverted with his honest particularities.

What an ignoramus you women and girls make of me, Dame Selby! said he. I know nothing of the world, nor of men and women, that's certain. I am always to be documented by you and your minxes! But the deuce take your niceties: you don't, you can't, poor souls as you are, distinguish men. You must all of you go on in one rigmyroll way, in one beaten track. Who the deuce would have thought it needful, when a girl and we all were wishing till our very hearts were bursting for this man, when he was not in his own power, that you must now come with your hums, and your haws, and the whole circumroundabouts of female nonsense, to stave-off the point your hearts and souls are set upon? I remember, Dame Selby, though so long ago, how you treated your future lord and master, when you pranked it as a lady and mistress. You vexed my very soul, I can tell you that! And often and often, when I left you, I swore bitterly, that I never would come again as a lover-though I was a poor forsworn wretch-God forgive me!

ber

My dear Mr Selby, you should not remempast things. You had very odd ways-I was afraid, for a good while, of venturing with you at all.

Now, Dame Selby, I have you at a why-not, or I never had; though, by the way, your unevenness increased my oddness.-But what oddness is in Sir Charles Grandison? If he is not even, neither you nor I were ever odd. What reason is there for him to run the female gauntlope? I pity the excellent man, remembering how I was formerly vexed myself-I hate this shilly-shally fooling; this know-your-mind and not-know-your-mind nonsense. As I hope to live and breathe, I'll, I'll, I'll blow you all up, without gunpowder or oatmeal, if an honest gentleman is thus to be fooled with ; and after such a letter, too, from his friend Jeronymo, in the names of the whole family. Lady G, for my money! Ah, thought I, Lady G- - gives better advice than she even wishes to know how to take! I like her notion of parallel lines.— Sir Charles Grandison is none of your gew-gaw whip-jacks, that you know not where to have. But I tell you, Dame Selby, that neither you nor your niece know how, with your fine souls, and fine sense, to go out of the common femality path, when you get a man into your gin, however superior he is to common infanglements, and low chicanery, and dull and cold forms, as Sir Charles properly called them, in his address to the little pug's face. [I do love her, with all her pretty ape's tricks: for what are you all, but, right or wrong, apes of one another? And do you think, with all your wisdom, he sees not through you? He does; and, as a wise man, must despise you all, with your femalities and forsooths

No femality, Mr Selby, is designed-NoI am impatient, Dame Selby, light of my eye, and dear to my heart and soul, as you are; I will take my own way in this. I have no mind that the two dearest creatures in the world, to me, should render themselves despisable in the eyes of a man they want to think highly of them. And here, if I put in, and say but a wry word, as you think it-I am to be called to

account.

My dear, did you not begin the subject? said my aunt.

I am to be closeted, and to be documentized, proceeded he-Not another word of your documentations, Dame Selby; I am not in a humour to bear them: I will take my own way— And that's enough.

And then, I suppose, he stuck his hands in his sides, as he does when he is good-humouredly angry; and my aunt, at such times, gives up, till a more convenient opportunity; and then she always carries her point; (And why? because she is always reasonable;) for which he calls her a Parthian woman.

I heard her say, as he stalked out royally, repeating, that he would take his own way, I say no more, Mr Selby-Only consider

Oy, and let Harriet consider, and do you consider, Dame Selby: Sir Charles Grandison is not a common màn.

I did not let my aunt know that I heard this speech of my uncle: she only said to me, when she saw me, I have had a little debate with your uncle: we must do as well as we can with him, my dear. He means well.

Thursday Morning, October 19. AFTER breakfast, first one, then another, dropped away, and left only Sir Charles and me together. Lucy was the last that went; and the moment she was withdrawn, while I was thinking to retire to dress, he placed himself by me: Think me not abrupt, my dearest Miss Byron, said he, that I take almost the only opportunity which has offered of entering upon a subject that is next my heart.

I found my face glow. I was silent.

You have given me hope, madam: all your friends encourage that hope. I love, I revere your friends. What I have now to petition for, is a confirmation of the hope I have presumed upon. CAN you, madam, (the female delicacy is more delicate than that of man can be,) unequally as you may think yourself circumstanced with a man who owns that once he could have devoted himself to another lady; CAN you say, that the man before you is the man whom you can, whom you do prefer to any other?

He stopped, expecting my answer.

After some hesitations, I have been accustomed, sir, said I, by those friends whom you so deservedly value, to speak nothing but the simplest truth. In an article of this moment, I should be inexcusable if

I stopped. His eyes were fixed upon my face. For my life I could not speak, yet wished to be able to speak.

If If what, madam? and he snatched my hand, bowed his face upon it, held it there, not looking up to mine. I could then speak-If thus urged, and by Sir CHARLES GRANDISON -I did not speak my heart-I answer—Sir—I CAN-I DO.

I wanted, I thought, just then, to shrink into myself.

He kissed my hand with fervour, dropped down on one knee; again kissed it-You have laid me, madam, under everlasting obligation: and will you permit me before I rise-loveliest of women, will you permit me to beg an early day?—I have many affairs on my hands; many more in design, now I am come, as I hope, to settle in my native country for the rest of my life. My chief glory will be, to behave commendably in the private life. I wish not to be a public man; and it must be a very particular

call, for the service of my king and country united, that shall draw me out into public notice. Make me, madam, soon the happy husband I hope to be. I prescribe not to you the time; but you are above empty forms. May I presume to hope it will be before the end of a month to come?

He had forgot himself. He said, he would not prescribe to me.

After some involuntary hesitations—I am afraid of nothing so much, just now, sir, said I, as appearing, to a man of your honour and penetration, affected. Rise, sir, I beseech you! I cannot bear

I will, madam, and rise as well as kneel, to thank you, when you have answered a question so very important to my happiness.

Before I could resume, Only believe me, madam, said he, that my urgency is not the insolent urgency of one who imagines a lady will receive as a compliment his impatience. And if you have no scruple that you think of high importance, add, I beseech you, to the obligation you have laid him under to your condescending goodness, (and add with that frankness of heart which has distinguished you in my eyes above all women,) the very high one, of an early day.

I looked down-I could not look up-I was afraid of being thought affected-Yet how could I so soon think of obliging him?

He proceeded-You are silent, madam!— Propitious be your silence! Allow me to inquire of your aunt for your kind, your condescending acquiescence. I will not now urge you farther: I will be all hope.

Let me say, sir, that I must not be precipitated. These are very early days.

Much more was in my mind to say; but I hesitated-I could not speak. Surely, my dear ladies, it was too early an urgency. And can a woman be wholly unobservant of custom, and the laws of her sex?-Something is due to the fashion in our dress, however absurd that dress might have appeared in the last age, (as theirs do to us,) or may in the next: and shall not those customs, which have their foundation in modesty, and are characteristic of the gentler sex, be entitled to excuse, and more than excuse?

He saw my confusion. Let me not, my dearest life! distress you, said he. Beautiful as your emotion is, I cannot enjoy it, if it gives you pain. Yet is the question so important to me; so much is my heart concerned in the favourable answer I hope for from your goodness; that I must not let this opportunity slip, except it be your pleasure that I attend your determination from Mrs Selby's mouth-Yet that I choose not, neither; because I presume for more favour from your own, than you will, on cold deliberation, allow your aunt to shew me. Love will plead for its faithful votary in a single breast, when consultation on the supposed fit and unfit,