Who giveth this woman, &c. I, I, I, said uncle Selby; and he owns that he had much ado to refrain saying-With all my heart and soul! Sir Charles seemed to have the office by heart; Harriet in her heart: For before the minister could take the right hand of the good girl to put it into that of my brother, his hand knew its office; nor did her trembling hand decline the favour. Then followed the words of acceptance; I, Charles, take thee, Harriet, &c., on his part: which he audibly, and with apparent joy and reverence in his countenance, repeated after the minister. But not quite so alert was Harriet, in her turn: Her hand was rather taken, than offered. Her lips, however, moved after the minister; nor seemed to hesitate at the little piddling word obey; which, I remember, gave a qualm to my poor heart, on the like occasion. The ring was presented. The Doctor gave it to Sir Charles; who, with his usual grace, put it on the finger of the most charming woman in England; repeating after the minister, audibly, With this ring I thee wed, &c. She brightened up; when the minister, joining their right hands, read, Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder. And the minister's address to the company, declaring the marriage, and pronouncing them man and wife, in the name of the Holy Trinity; and his bless ing them, swelled, she owns, her grateful heart, ready to bursting. In the Responses, I could not but observe, that the congregation generally joined, as if they were interested in the celebra

tion.

Sir Charles, with a joy that lighted up a more charming flush than usual on his face, his lively soul looking out at his fine eyes, yet with an air as modest as respectful, did credit to our sex before the applauding multitude, by bending his knee to his sweet bride, on taking her hand, and saluting her, on the conclusion of the ceremony-May God, my dearest life, said he, audibly, be gracious to your Grandison, as he will be good to his Harriet, now no more Byron! She curtseyed low, and with so modest a grace, that every soul blessed her; and pronounced her the loveliest of women, and him the most graceful and polite of men.

He invited Dr Curtis to the wedding-dinner, and led his bride into the vestry.

She was followed by her virgin train; they by their partners.

She threw herself, the moment she beheld her grandmother, at her feet. Bless, madam, your happy, happy child!

God for ever bless the darling of my heart! Sir Charles bent his knee to the venerable lady, with such a condescending dignity, if I may so express myself: Receive and bless, also, your son, my Harriet's reverend parent, and mine.

The dear lady was affected. She slid off her scat on her knees, and with uplifted hands and

eyes, tears trickling on her cheeks; Thou, Almighty, bless the dear son of my wishes!

He raised her with pious tenderness, and saluted her. Excellent lady!-He would have said more, but was affected-Everybody wasAnd having seated the old lady, he turned to Mrs Selby-Words are poor, said he; my actions, my behaviour, shall speak the grateful sense I have of your goodness, saluting her; of yours, madam, to Mrs Shirley; and of yours, my dearest life, addressing himself to his lovely bride, who seemed hardly able to sustain her joy, on so respectful a recognition of relation to persons so dear to her. Let me once more, added he, bless the hand that has blessed me!

She cheerfully offered it: I give you, sir, my hand, said she, curtseying, and with it a poor heart-A poor heart, indeed! But it is a grateful one! It is all your own!

He bowed upon her hand. He spoke not. He seemed as if he could not speak.

Joy, joy, joy, was wished the happy pair, from every mouth. See, my dear young ladies, said the happy and instructing Mrs Shirley, addressing herself to them, the reward of duty, virtue, and obedience! How unhappy must those parents and relations be, whose daughters, unlike our Harriet, have disgraced themselves, and their families, by a shameful choice-As my Harriet's is, such, looking around her, be your lot, my amiable daughters!

They every one besought her hand, and kissed it; and some by speech, all by looks and curtseys, promised to cherish the memory of this happy transaction, for their benefit.

Emily, when she approached the venerable lady, sobbing, said, Bless me, me also bless, my dear grandmamma Shirley!-Let me be your own grand-daughter.-She embraced and blessed the dear girl-Ah, my love, said she, but will you supply the place of my Harriet to me? Will you be my Harriet? Will you live with me, and Mrs Selby-as Harriet did?-Emily started: Ah, madam, you are all goodness! Let me try to make myself, in some little way, agreeable to my dear Miss Byron that was, and live a little while in the sunshine of my guardian's eye; and then how proud shall I be to be thought, in any the least degree, like your Harriet!

This I thought a good hint of Mrs Shirley. Our Harriet (my dear Caroline) shall not be made unhappy by the chit; nor shall the dear girl neither, if I can help it, be made so by her own foible. We will watch over both, for the good of both, and for the tranquillity of the best of men.

Beauchamp's joy shone through a cloud, because of his father's illness; but it did shine.

Mr Selby and my lord were vastly alive. Lord L was fervent in his joy, and congratulations; but he was wiser than both put together. Nothing was wanting to shew that he

was excessively pleased; but I was afraid the other two would not have considered the vestry as part of the church; and would have struck up a tune without music.

How sincerely joyful, also, were Lord and Lady W! My lord's eyes burst into tears more than once: Nephew, and dear nephew, at every word, whether speaking of, or to my brother; as if he thought the relation he stood in to him, a greater glory than his peerage, or aught else that he valued himself upon, his excellent lady excepted.

Upon my honour, Caroline, I think, as I have often said, that people may be very happy, if not most happy, who set out with a moderate stock of love, and supply what they want in that with prudence. I really think, that my brother and Harriet cannot be happier than are now this worthy couple; times of life considered on both sides, and my lord's inferior capacity allowed for. For certainly men of sense are most capable of joyful sensations, and have their balances; since it is as certain, that they are also most susceptible of painful ones. What, then, is the stuff, the nonsense, that romantic girls, their romancing part of life not wholly elapsed, prate about, and din one's ears with, of first love, first flame, but first folly? Do not most of such give indication of gunpowder constitutions, that want but the match to be applied, to set them into a blaze! Souls of tinder, discretions of flimsy gauze, that conceal not their folly-One day they will think as I do; and perhaps before they have daughters who will convince them of the truth of my assertion.

But here comes Lucy.-My dear girl, take the pen-I am too sentimental. The French only are proud of sentiments at this day; the English cannot bear them: Story, story, story, is what they hunt after, whether sense or nonsense, probable or improbable.

Lucy. Bless me, Lady G! you have written a great deal in a little time. What am I to do?

Lady G. You brought the happy pair into the church. I have told Lady Lwhat was done there: You are to carry them out.

Lucy. And so I will.-My dearest love, said her charming man to my cousin, who had a little panic on the thoughts of going back through so great a crowd, imagine, as you walk, that you see nobody but the happy man whom you have honoured with your hand: Everybody will praise and admire the loveliest of women. Nobody, I hope, will blame your choice. Remember at whose request it was, that you are put upon this difficulty: Your grandmamma's and uncle's. She, one of the best of women, was married to one of the best of men. was but acquiescent in it. Shew, my dearest life, all your numerous admirers and well-wishers, that you are not ashamed of your choice.

O sir! how charmingly do you strengthen my mind! I will shew the world, that my choice is my glory.

Everybody being ready, she gave her hand to the beloved of her heart.

The bells were set a-ringing the moment the solemnity was concluded; and Sir Charles Grandison, the son of our venerable Mrs Shirley, the nephew of my uncle and Aunt Selby, husband of my dear and ever dear Harriet, and the esteemed of every heart, led his graceful bride through a lane of applauding and decent-behaving spectators, down through the church, and still more thronging multitudes in the churchyard; the four little Floras again strewing flowers at their feet, as they passed. My sweet girls, said he, to two of them, I charge you, complete the honour you have done us, by your presence at SelbyHouse: You will bring your companions with you, my loves.

My uncle looked around him as he led Mrs Shirley: So proud! and so stately! By some undesigned change, Mr Beauchamp led Miss Jervois. She seemed pleased, and happy; for he whispered to her, all the way, praises of her guardian. My guardian, twice or thrice, occasionally, repeated she aloud, as if she boasted of standing in some relation to him.

The bride and bridegroom stopped for Mrs Shirley, a little while, at the coach side; a very grateful accident to the spectators: He led them both in, with a politeness that attends him in all he does. The coach wheeled off, to give way to the next; and we came back in the order we went.

Now, my dear Lady G―, you, who never were from the side of your dear new sister for the rest of the day, resume the pen.

Lady G. I will, my dear; but in a new letter. This fourth sheet is written down to the very edge. Caroline will be impatient: I will send away this.

Joy to my sister! Joy to my aunt! Joy to the Earl! To Lady Gertrude! To our dear Dr Bartlett! To every one, on an event so happy, and so long wished for by us all!

Sign, Lucy, sign.
After your ladyship.

There then, CHARLOTTE G.
And, there then, LUCY SELBY.

LETTER CCLV.

LADY G TO LADY L

[In continuation.]

THIS happy event has been so long wished for by us all; we are so much delighted with the bride, as well as the bridegroom; so many

uncertainties, so many suspenses, have fallen in; so little likelihood once that it ever would have been; and you are so miserably tied by the leg, poor Caroline! and so little to divert you, besides the once smiling to the ten times squalling of your little stranger; that compassion, love, both incite me to be minute; that so you may be as much with us in idea, as we all wished you could have been in person.

Crowds of people lined the way, in our return from church, as well as in our way to it; and blessings were pronounced upon the happy pair, by hundreds, at their alighting at Selby-House. When we were all assembled in the great hall, mutual congratulations flowed from every mouth: Then did every man salute the happy bride: Then did the equally happy bridegroom salute every lady-There was among us the height of joy joy becoming the awful solemnity; and every one was full of the decent behaviour, and the delight expressed by the crowds of spectators of all ranks, and both sexes; a delight and decency worthy of the characters of the admirable pair: And Miss Needham declared, and all the young ladies joined with her, that if she could be secure of the like good behaviour and encouragement, she would never think of a private wedding for herself. Mr Selby himself was overjoyed, too much even to utter a jest ; Now, now, he said, he had attained the height of his ambition.

The dear Harriet could look up: She could smile around her. I led her, with Lucy, into the cedar parlour-Now, my dear love, said I, the moment we entered it, throwing my arms about her, just as her lips were joyfully opening to speak to me, do I salute my real sister, my sister Grandison, in my dear Lady L- -'s name, as well as in my own: God Almighty confirm and establish your happiness!

My dearest, dearest Lady G, how grateful, how encouraging, to my heart, is your kind salutation! Your continued love, and that of my dear Lady L—, will be essential to my happiness.

May our hearts be ever united! replied I. But they must: For were not our minds kin

dred minds before?

But you must love my Lucy, said she, presenting her to me-You must love my grandMamma, said I, catching the word from her, your aunt, your uncle, your cousins, and your cousins' cousins, to the twentieth generationAnd so I will: Ours yours: Yours ours! We are all of one family, and will be for ever.

What a happy creature am I! replied sheHow many people can one good man make so! -But where is my Emily, sweet girl? Bring to me, Lucy, bring to me my Emily!

Lucy went out, and led in the dear girl. With hands and eyes uplifted, My dear Miss Byron that was, now Lady Grandison, said she, love me; love your Emily. I am now your Emi VOL. VIII.

ly, your ward; love me as well as you did when Miss Byron.

Harriet threw her arms about her neck; I do, I will, I must: You shall be my sister, my friend; my Emily now, indeed! Love me, as I will love you; and you shall find your happiness in mine.

Sir Charles entered; his Beauchamp in his hand. Quitting his and taking hers, he kissed it. Once more, said he, do I thank my dearest life for the honour she has done me: Then resuming, with his other hand, his Beauchamp's, he presented each to the other, as brother and sister.

Beauchamp, in a graceful manner, bowed on her hand: She curtseyed to him with an air of dignity and esteem.

He then turning to Emily; Acknowledge, my dear, said he, your eldest sister: My Harriet will love her Emily. Receive, my dearest life, your ward. Yet (to Emily) I acquit not my self of the power, any more than of the will, of obliging you at first hand.

O sir! said the sobbing girl, you are all goodness! But I will make no request to you, but through my dearest Lady Grandison's mediation. If she approve of it first, I shall not doubt of its fitness to be complied with.

Was not that pretty in Emily? O how Beauchamp's eyes loved her!

But why, ladies, said Sir Charles, do you sequester yourselves from the company? Are we not all of a family to-day? The four little Floras, with their baskets in their hands, were entering the gate as I came in: Receive them, my love, with your usual graciousness. We will join the company, and call them in. Mr Beauchamp, you are a bride-man; restore my bride to her friends and admirers within.

He took Emily's hand. She looked so proud; Harriet gave hers to Beauchamp. We followed them into the great hall: Mr Selby had archness in his look, and seemed ready to blame us for withdrawing.-Sir Charles was aware of him. My dear Mr Selby, said he, Will you not allow us to see the pretty Floras? By all means, said Mr Selby; and hurried out, and introdu

ced them.

Sweet, pretty girls! We had more leisure to consider the elegant rusticity of their dresses and appearance. They had their baskets in their hands, and a curtsey and a blush ready for every one in company. Sir Charles seemed to expect that his bride would take notice of them first; but observing that she wanted presence of mind, he stepped to them, took each by the hand, the youngest first; called them pretty loves: I wish, said he, I could present you with as pretty flowers as you threw away in honour to this company; putting into each basket, wrapped up in paper, five guineas: then presented them, two in each hand, to his bride, who, by that time, was better prepared to receive them with that 2 U

sweet ease and familiarity which give grace to all she says and does.

The children afterwards desiring to go to their parents, the polite Beauchamp himself, accompanied by Lucy, led them to them, and returned, with a request from all the tenants, that they might have the honour, some time in the day, to see the bride and bridegroom among them, were it but for two minutes. What says my love? said Sir Charles.-O sir! I cannot, cannot-Well, then, I will attend them, to make your excuse, as well as I can. She bowed her thanks.

The time before dinner was devoted to conversation. Sir Charles was nobody's; no, not very particularly his Bride's; he put every one upon speaking in turn. For about half an hour he sat between the joyful Mrs Shirley and Mrs Selby; but even then, in talking to them, talked to the whole company; yet, in his air and manner to both, shewed so much respect, as needed not the aid of a particular address to

them in words.

This was observed to me by good Lord L. For Harriet (uneasy, every eye continually upon her, thoughtful, bashful) withdrawing, a little before dinner, with a cast of her eye to me, I followed her to her dressing-room. There, with so much expressiveness of meaning, though not of language; so much tenderness of love; so much pious gratitude; so much true virgin sensibility; did she open her heart to me, that I shall ever revolve what passed in that conversation, as the true criterion of virgin delicacy unmingled with affectation. Nor was I displeased, that in the height of her grateful self-congratulation, she more than once acknowledged a sigh for the admirable Clementina. We just began to express our pleasure and our hopes in the good behaviour of our Emily, when we were called to dinner.

It was a sumptuous one.

Mr Selby was very orderly, upon the whole; but he remembered, he said, that when he was married, (and he called upon his dame to confirm it,) he was obliged to wait on his bride, and the company; and he insisted upon it that Sir Charles should.

No, no, no, every one said; and the bride looked a little serious upon it; but Sir Charles, with an air of gaiety that infinitely became him, took a napkin from the butler, and putting it under his arm, I have only one request to make you, my dear Mr Selby-When I am more awkward than I ought to be, do you correct me; and I shall have both pride and pleasure in the task.

Adad! said Mr Selby, looking at him with pleasure-You may be anything, do anything; you cannot conceal the gentleman. Ads-heart! you must always be the first man in company Pardon me, my lords.

ever waited at table, while his napkin was under his arm; but he laid it down while he addressed himself to the company, finding something to say to each, in his pithy, agreeable manner, as he went round the table. He made every one happy. With what delight did the elder ladies look upon him, when he addressed himself to each of them! Hestopped at the bride's chair, and made her a compliment with an air of tenderness. I heard not what it was, sitting at distance; but she looked grateful, pleased; smiled, and blushed. He passed from her to the bride-maids, and again complimented each of them. They also seemed delighted with what he said. Then going to Mr Selby; Why don't you bid me resume the napkin, sir?—No, no; we see what you can do: your conformity is enough for me. You may now sit down, when you please. You make the waiters lock awkward.

He took his seat, thanked Mr Selby for having reminded him of his duty, as he called it, and was all himself, the most graceful and obliging of men.

You know, my dear Lady L, how much I love to praise my brother. Neither I, nor the young ladies, not even those who had humble servants present, regarded anybody but him. My poor lord !-I am glad, however, that he has a tolerable good set of teeth-They were al ways visible. A good, honest sort of man, though, Lady L, whatever you may think of him.

After dinner, at Mr Selby's reminding motion, Sir Charles and the men went to the tenants. They all wished him joy; and, as they would not sit down while he stood, Sir Charles took a seat among them, and all the rest followed his example.

One of the honest men, it seems, remembered the nuptials of Mr and Mrs Byron, and praised them as the best and happiest of the human race others confirmed his character of both: another knew the late Mr Shirley, and extolled him as much: another remembered the birth, another the christening, of the bride; and others talked of what an excellent creature she was from infancy. Let me tell you, sir, said one grey-headed man, you will have much ado to deserve her; and yet you are said to be as good as you are handsome. The women took up the cause: They were sure, by what they had heard, if any man in the world could deserve the bride, it was Sir Charles Grandison; and they would swear for him by his looks. One of the honest men said, they should all have taken it as a hugeous favour, were they allowed to wish the bride joy, though at ever so great a distance.

Sir Charles said, He was sure the women would excuse her this day; and then the men would, in complaisance to them. We will hope, said he, looking all around him, before we leave Northamptonshire, for one happy dinner toge

They all got up to bow and curtsey, and looked upon each other; and the men, who are most of them freeholders, wished to the Lord for a new election, and that he would come among them. They had no great matter of fault to find, they said, with their present representatives; but anybody who would oppose Sir Charles Grandison, would stand no chance. The women joined in the declaration, as if they thought highly, as Sir Charles pleasantly observed, of their own influence over their husbands. They all wondered that he was not in Parliament, till they heard how little a while he had been in England.

He took leave of the good people (who, by their behaviour and appearance, did as much credit to their landlords as to themselves) with his usual affability and politeness; repeating his promise of a day of jubilee, as some of them

called it.

The ball, at the request of the whole company, was opened by the bride and bridegroom. She was very uneasy at the general call. Sir Charles saw she was, and would have taken out Miss Needham, but it was not permitted. The dear creature, I believe, did her best at the time; but I have seen her perform better: yet she did exceedingly well. But such a figure herself, and such a partner; how could she do amiss?

Emily was taken out by Beauchamp. He did his best, I am sure, and almost as much excelled his pretty partner, as his beloved friend did his.

Emily, sitting down by me, asked if she did not perform very ill. Not very ill, my dear, said I; but not so well as I have seen you dance.-I don't know, said she, what ails me: my heart is very heavy, madam. What can be the meaning of it? But don't tell Lady Grandison so.Heigh-ho!-Lady Grandison! What a sound is that! A charming sound! But how shall I bring my lips to be familiarized to it?

You are glad she is married, my love, I dare say?

Glad? To be sure I am! It is an event that I have long, long wished for: but new names, and new titles, one knows not how to frame one's mouth to presently. It was some time before I could call you Lady G. But don't you pity poor Lady Clementina a little, madam?

A great deal, I do. But as she refused my

brother

Ah! dear! that's the thing! I wonder she could-when he would have let her have the free exercise of her religion.

Had you rather your guardian had had Lady Clementina, Emily?

O no! How can you ask me such a question, madam? Of all the women in the world, I wished him to have Miss Byron. But she is too happy for pity, you know, madam !-Bless me!

What does she look so thoughtful for? Why does she sigh so? Surely she cannot be sorry!

Sorry! No, my love! But a change of condition for life! New attachments! A new course of life! Her name sunk, and lost! The property, person, and will, of another, excellent as the man is; obliged to go to a new house; to be ingrafted into a new family; to leave her own, who so dearly love her ; an irrevocable destiny! Do you think, Emily, new in her present circumstances, every eye upon her, it is not enough to make a considerate mind, as hers is, thoughtful?

All these are mighty hardships, madam ! putting up her lip-But, Lady G-, can you suppose she thinks them so? If she does-But she is a dear, good lady!—I shall ever love her. She is an ornament of our sex! See, how lovely she looks! Did your ladyship ever see so sweet a creature? I never did.

Not for beauty, dignity, ease, figure, modesty, good sense, did I ever!

She is my guardianess, may I say? Is there such a word?-I shall be as proud of her, as I am of my guardian. Yet there is no cause of sighing, I think.-See my guardian! her husband! Unfashionable as the word is, it is a pretty word. The house-band, that ties all together. Is not that the meaning? Look round! How does he surpass all men !-His ease, talk of ease! His dignity, talk of dignity! As handsome a man, as she is a woman! See how every young lady eyes him; every young gentleman endeavours to imitate him. I wish he would take me out; I would do better.

This was the substance of the whispering dialogue that passed between Emily and me Poor girl!

Mr Selby danced with Lucy, and got great applause. He was resolved, he said, to have one dance with the bride. She besought him not to think of it. Her grandmamma, her aunt, entreated for her. She desired Sir Charles to interpose-If, my dearest life, you could oblige your uncle-I cannot, cannot think of it, said she.

took

Lady G, said Sir Charles, be so good as to challenge Mr Selby. I stood forth, and offered my hand to him. He could not refuse it. He did not perform so well as he did with Lucy. Go, said I, when we had done, sit down by your dame, and be quiet: you have lost all your credit. You dance with a bride !-Some people know not how to bear applause, nor to leave off when they are well. Lord L out Mrs Selby. She dances very gracefully. Your lord, you know, is above praise. The young Lord Reresby and Miss Needham distinguished themselves. My odd creature was in his element. He and Miss Barclay, and another time he and Emily, did very handsomely, and the girl got up her reputation. Lord Wdid hobble, and not ungracefully, with old Mrs