LETTER CCLXVI.

LADY GRANDISON.

[In continuation.]

Saturday Morning, Dec. 16. I WILL not trouble you, my dear grandmamma, with an account of the preparations we are making to benefit and regale our poorer neighbours, and Sir Charles's tenants, at this hospitable season.

Not even Sir Charles Grandison

himself can exceed you, either in bounty or management, on this annual solemnity. Sir Charles has consulted with Dr Bartlett, and everything will be left to the direction of that good man. My uncle and aunt have dispatched their directions to Selby-House, that their neighbours and tenants may not suffer by their absence.

The gentlemen are all rid out together, the Doctor with them, to reconnoitre the country, as my uncle calls it. Emily and Lucy are gone with them, on horseback. My aunt and I declined accompanying them, and took this opportunity, attended by Mrs Curzon, to go through the offices.

In the housekeeper's room, I received the maid-servants, seven in number; and, after her, called each by her name, and spoke kindly to them all. I told them how handsomely Mrs Curzon spoke of them, and assured them of my favour. I praised the cheerfulness with which Dr Bartlett had told me they attended him every day in his antichamber. They should have the opportunity given them, I said, as often as possible. I hoped that my Sally behaved well among them.

They praised her.

Sally, said I, has a serious turn. Piety is the best security in man and woman for good behaviour. She will seldom fail of attending the Doctor with you. We shall all be happy, I hope. I am acquainting myself with the methods of the house. Nobody shall be put out of their good way by me. My aunt only said, My niece proposes to form herself on the example of the late excellent Lady Grandison.

They blessed me; tears in their eyes. I made each of them a present for a pair of gloves.

We went through all the offices, the lowest not excepted. The very servants live in paradise. There is room for everything to be in order: everything is in order. The offices so distinct, yet so conveniently communicating. Charmingly contrived!-The low servants, men and women, have laws, which, at their own rcquest, were drawn up by Mrs Curzon, for the observance of the minutest of their respective duties; with little mulcts, that at first only there was occasion to exact. It is a house of harmo

ny, to my hand. Dear madam! What do good people leave to good people to do? Nothing! Every one knowing and doing his and her duty; and having, by means of their own diligence, time for themselves.

I was pleased with one piece of furniture in the housekeeper's room, which neither you, madam, nor my aunt, have in yours. My aunt says, Selby-House shall not be long, after her return, without it. It is a servants' library, in three classes; one of books of divinity and morality; another for housewifery ; a third of history, true adventures, voyages, and innocent amusement. I. II. III. are marked on the cases, and the same on the back of each book, the more readily to place and replace them, as a book is taken out for use. They are bound in buff, for strength. A little fine is laid upon whoever puts not a book back in its place. As new books come out, the Doctor buys such as he thinks proper to range under these three classes.

I asked, If there were no books of gardening? I was answered, that the gardener had a little house in the garden, in which he had his own books. But her master, Mrs Curzon said, was himself a library of gardening, ordering the greater articles by his own taste.

Seeing a pretty glass-case in the housekeeper's apartment, filled with physical matters, I asked, if she dispensed any of those to the servants, or the poor? Here is, said she, a collection of all the useful drugs in medicine; but does not your ladyship know the noble method that my master has fallen into since his last arrival in England?—What is that? He gives a salary, madam, to a skilful apothecary, and pays him for his drugs besides; (and these are his, though I have a key to it ;) and this gentleman dispenses physic to all his tenants, who are not able to pay for advice; nor are the poor, who are not his tenants, refused, when recommended by Dr Bartlett.

Blessings on his benevolence! said I. O my aunt! What a happy creature am I! God Almighty, if I disgrace not my husband's beneficence, will love me for his sake!-Dear creature! said my aunt-And for your own too, I hope.

There lives in a house, madam, continued Mrs Curzon, within five miles of this, almost in the middle of the estate, and pays no rent, a very worthy young man, brought up under an eminent surgeon of one of the London hospitals, who has orders likewise for attending his tenants in the way of his business-as also every casualty that happens within distance, and where another surgeon is not to be met with. And he, I understand, is paid, on a cure actually performed, very handsomely. But if the patient dies, his trouble and attendance are only considered according to the time taken up, except a particular case requires consideration.

And this surgeon, Mrs Curzon, this apothe

cary

Are noted, madam, for being good, as well as skilful men. My master's test is, that they are men of seriousness, and good livers: their consciences, he says, are his security.

How must this excellent man be beloved! how respected, Mrs Curzon !

Respected and beloved, madam !-Indeed he is.-Mr Saunders has often observed to me, that if my master either rides or walks in company, though of great lords, people distinguish him by their respectful love: To the lord, they will but seem to lift up their hats, as I may say; or, if women, just drop the knee, and look grave, as if they paid respect to his quality only; but to my master, they pull off their hats to the ground, and bow their whole bodies; they look smiling, and with pleasure and blessings, as I may say, in their faces: the good women curtsey also to the ground, turn about when he has passed them, and look after himGod bless your sweet face! and God bless your dear heart! will they say-And the servants who hear them are so delighted!-Don't your ladyship see, how all his servants love him as they attend him at table? How they watch his eye in silent reverence-Indeed, madam, we all adore him; and have prayed morning, noon, and night, for his coming hither, and settling among us. And now is the happy time: Forgive me, madam; I am no flatterer; but we all say, he has brought another angel to bless us.

I was forced to lean upon my aunt-Tears of joy trickled down my cheeks. O madam, what a happy lot is mine!

My uncle wonders I am not proud-Proud, madam!-Proud of my inferiority!

We visited my Bartlett in his new office. He is a modest, ingenious young man. I asked him to give me, at his leisure, a catalogue of the servants' library, for my aunt.

O my dear, said my aunt, had your grandpapa, had your papa, your mamma, lived to this day!

I will imagine, said I, that I see them looking down from their heaven. They bid me take care to deserve the lot I have drawn; and tell me, that I can only be more happy, when I am what and where they are.

DR BARTLETT, attended by his servant, is returned without the gentlemen. I was afraid he was not very well. I followed him up, and told him my apprehensions.

He owned afterwards, that he was a little indisposed when he came in; but said, I had made him well.

I told him what had passed between Mrs Curzon and me. He confirmed all she said.

He told me, that Sir Charles was careful also

in improving his estates. The minutest things, he said, any more than the greatest, escaped not his attention. He has, said he, a bricklayer, a carpenter, by the year; a sawyer, three months constantly in every year. Repairs are set about the moment they become necessary. By this means he is not imposed upon by encroaching or craving tenants. He will do anything that tends to improve the estate; so that it is the best-conditioned estate in the country. His tenants grow into circumstance under him. Though absent, he gives such orders, as but few persons on the spot would think of. He has a discernment that goes to the bottom of everything. In a few years, improving only what he has in both kingdoms, he will be very rich, yet answer the generous demands of his own heart upon his benevolence: all the people he employs, he takes upon character of seriousness and sobriety, as Mrs Curzon told you; and then he makes them the more firmly his, by the confidence he reposes in them. He continually, in his written directions to his master-workmen, cautions them to do justice to the tenants, as well as to him, and even to throw the turn of the scale in their favour. You are, says he, my friends, my workmen: you must not make me both judge and party. Only remember, that I bear not imposition. The man who imposes on me once, I will forgive; but he never shall have an opportunity to deceive me a second time: for I cannot act the part of a suspicious man, a watchman over people of doubtful honesty.

The doctor says, he is a great planter, both here, and in Ireland: and now he is come to settle here, he will set on foot several projects, which hitherto he had only talked of, or written about.

Sir Charles, I am sure, said he, will be the friend of every worthy man and woman. He will find out the sighing heart before it is overwhelmed with calamity.

He proposes, as soon as he is settled, to take a personal survey of his whole estate. He will make himself acquainted with every tenant, and even cottager, and inquire into his circumstances, number of children, and prospects. When occasions call for it, he will forgive arrears of rent; and if the poor men have no prospects of suc cess, he will buy his own farms of them, as I may say, by giving them money to quit: he will transplant one to a less, another to a larger farm, if the tenants consent, according as they have stock, or probability of success in the one or the other; and will set the poor tenants in a way of cultivating what they hold, as well by advice as money: for while he was abroad, he studied husbandry and law, in order, as he used to say, to be his father's steward; the one to qualify him to preserve, the other to manage his estate. He was always prepared for, and aforehand with, probable events.

Dear Dr Bartlett, said I, we are on a charming subject; tell me more of my Sir Charles's management and intentions. Tell me all you know, that is proper for me to know.

Proper, madam! Everything he has done, does, and intends to do, is proper for you, and for all the world, to know. I wish all the world were to know him as I do ; not for his sake, but for their own.

That moment, (without anybody's letting me know the gentlemen were returned,) into the Doctor's apartment came Sir Charles. My back was to the door, and he was in the room before I saw him. I started! And looked, I believe, as if I thought excuses necessary.

He saw my silly confusion. That, and his sudden entrance, abashed the Doctor. Sir Charles reconciled us both to ourselves-He put one arm round my waist, with the other he lifted up my hand to his lips, and in the voice of love, I congratulate you both, said he: such company, my dearest life! such company, my dearest friend! you cannot have every hour! May I, as often as there is opportunity, see you together! I knew not that you were. The Doctor and I, madam, stand not upon ceremony. Pardon me, Doctor. I insist upon leaving you as I found

you

I caught his hand, as he was going-Dear, dear sir, I attend you. You shall take me with you: and, if you please, make my excuses to my aunt, for leaving her so long alone, before you came in.

Doctor, excuse us both; my Harriet has found, for the first time, a will. It is her own, we know, by its obligingness.

He received my offered hand, and led me into company: where my aunt called me to account, for leaving her, and begged Sir Charles would

chide me.

She was with Dr Bartlett, madam, said he: had she been with any other person, man or woman, and Mrs Selby alone, I think we could have tried to chide her.

What obliging, what sweet politeness, my dear grandmamma!

Such, madam, is the happiness of your Har

riet.

Lucy has an entertaining letter to send you! -From that letter, you will have a still higher notion of my happiness, of Sir Charles's unaffected tenderness to me, and of the approbation of a very genteel neighbourhood, than I myself could give you.

Lady Gand Lady L-have both made up for their supposed neglects. I have written to each to charge them with not having congratulated me on my arrival here. Two such affectionate letters!-I have already answered them. They love as well as ever (thank Heaven they do!) your

HARRIET GRANDISON.

LETTER CCLXVII.

LADY GRANDISON.

[In continuation.]

Monday, Dec. 18. THE dearest, best of men, has just now left me!-Did not everybody keep me in countenance, I should be very angry with myself for wishing that such a man should be always confined to my company! I must keep my fondness within equitable bounds. But, he kindly seemed, and, if he seemed, he was, as loath to part with me. He is gone to London, madam: poor Lady Beauchamp has besought his presence, not at Sir Harry's funeral, (he was to be interred, it seems, last night,) but at the opening of the will. And his Beauchamp joined in the request.

He hopes to be down with us on Thursday. Miss Mansfield took the opportunity to return to her mother, who sent word, that she knew not how to live without her.

Sir Charles was pleased to give me the keys of his study, and of Lady Olivia's cabinets. Lucy gave you, madam, an account of the invaluable contents. And now I will amuse myself there, and sit in every chair, where I have seen him sit, and tread over his imagined footsteps.

Tuesday. My books are come, and all my trinkets with them. We have all been busy in classing the books. My closet will be now furnished as I wish it: and I shall look at these, my dear companions of Selby-House, and recollect the many, many happy hours they gave me there.

Was I ever, ever unhappy, my dear grandmamma? If I was, I have forgot the time. I acquiesce cheerfully with your wishes not to disfurnish your gallery, by sending to me our family pictures. Let those of my benevolent father, and my excellent mother, of happy memory, still continue there, to smile upon you, as you are pleased to express yourself. Nobody but you and my Aunt Selby have a right to each of those of mine, which are honoured with a place in your respective drawing-rooms. My dear Sir Charles, thank Heaven! calls the original his. But why would you load me with the precious gold box, and its contents: less precious those, though of inestimable value, than my dear grandpapa's picture in the lid ?-But I can tell you, madam, that Sir Charles is an ungrateful man: he will not thank you for it. A remembrance, madam! (I know what he will say)-Does the best of women think my Harriet wants anything to remind her of the obliga

tions she is under to parents so dear?-He will be very jealous of the honour of his Harriet. Forgive, madam, the freedom of my expostulation, as if I were not your girl, as well as his.

What reasons have you found out (but this was always your happy, your instructive way) to be better pleased with your absence from us, than if you were present with us, as we all often wish you!

HERE, Lady L, Lady G—, sisters so dear to me, since these letters will pass under your eye, let me account to you, by the following extract from my grandmamma's last letters, for the meaning of what I have written to that indulgent parent, in the lines immediately preceding.

You often, my dearest Harriet, wish me to be with you. In the first place, I am here enjoying myself in my own way, my own servants about me; a trouble, a bar, a constraint, upon no one, but those to whom I make it worth while to bear with me. I should think I never could do enough to strangers; no, though I were sure they thought I did too much. In the next, were I to be with you at Grandison-Hall, I could not be everywhere: so that I should be deprived of half the delightful scenes and conversations, that you, your aunt, and Lucy, relate and describe to me by pen and ink: nor should I be able, perhaps, to bear those grateful ones, to which I should be present. My heart, my dear, you know is very susceptible of joy; it has long been preparing itself for the sublimest. Grief touches it not so much. The losses I sustained of your father, your mother, and my own dear Mr Shirley, made all other sorrows light. Nothing could have been heavy, but the calamity that once threatened my gentle Harriet, had she been afflicted with it. Now, I take up the kind, the rapturous letters, from my table, where I spread them. When the contents are too much for me, I lay them down; and resume them, as my subsided joy will allow : then lay them down again, as I am affected by some new instance of your happiness; bless God, bless you, your dearest of men; bless everybody.-In every letter I find a cordial that makes my heart light, and, for the time, insensible of infirmity: -Can you, my Harriet, be happier than I?

LETTER CCLXVIII.

LADY GRANDISON.

[In continuation.]

A TREASURE, an invaluable treasure, my dear grandmamma!-On the table in Sir Charles's own closet, I took up a common-prayer book, under which, on removing it, I saw a paper written in Sir Charles's largest hand, the three last lines of which appearing to be very serious, (the first side not containing them,) I had the curiosity to unfold it: it contains reflections, mingled and concluded with solemn addresses to the Almighty. I asked leave to transcribe them. On promise that a copy, as his, should not pass into anybody's hands but yours, I obtained it.

What a comfort is it, on reflection, that, at his own motion, I joined with him in the sacramental office, on occasion of our happy nuptials, the first opportunity that offered! A kind of renewal, in the most solemn manner, of our marriage vows; at least a confirmation of them. No wonder that the good man, who could draw up such reflections, should make such a motion.

What credit did he do (may not one say so?) to religion on that happy day! A man of sense, of dignity in his person, known to be no bigot, no superstitious man; yet not ashamed to join in the sacred office with the meanest. It was a glorious confession of his Christian principles. Whenever he attends on public worship, his seriousness, his modesty, his humility, all shew that he believes himself in the presence of that God whose blessing he silently joins to invoke: and when all is over, his cheerfulness and vivacity demonstrate, that his heart is at ease in the consciousness of a duty performed. How does my mind sometimes exult in the prospects of happiness with the man of my choice, extending, through divine goodness, beyond this transitory life!

I will conclude this letter with the copy of these reflections. What is fit to come after them, that can be written by your

HARRIET GRANDISON?

I AM called upon by my aunt and Lucy. I will here, my dear grandmamma, conclude myself

Your for ever obliged, and dutiful,
HARRIET GRANDISON.

THE REFLECTIONS.

WHAT, O my heart! overflowing with happiness! are the sentiments that ought to spring up in thee, when admitted, either in the solemnities of public worship, or the retiredness of private devotion, into the more immediate presence of thy MAKER!-Who does not govern but to bless! Whose divine commands are sent to succour human reason in search of happiness!

Let thy law, ALMIGHTY! be the rule, and thy glory the constant end, of all I do! Let me not build virtue on any notions of honour, but of honour to thy name. Let me not sink piety in the boast of benevolence; my love of God in the love of my fellow-creatures. Can good be of human growth? No! It is thy gift, Almighty, and All-good! Let not thy bounties remove the Donor from my thought; nor the love of pleasures make me forsake the Fountain from which they flow. When joys entice, let me ask their title to my heart. When evils threaten, let me see thy mercy shining through the cloud; and discern the great hazard of having all to my wish. In an age of such licence, let me not take comfort from an inauspicious omen, the number of those who do amiss: an omen rather of public ruin, than of private safety. Let the joys of the multitude less allure than alarm me; and their danger, not example, determine my choice. What weigh public example, passion, and the multitude, in one scale, against reason, and the Almighty in the other ?

In this day of domineering pleasure, so lower my taste, as to make me relish the comforts of life. And in this day of dissipation, O give me thought sufficient to preserve me from being so, desperate, as in this perpetual flux of things, and as perpetual swarm of accidents, to depend on to-morrow: a dependance that is the ruin of to-day; as that is of eternity. Let my whole existence be ever before me: nor let the terrors of the grave turn back my survey. When temptations arise, and virtue staggers, let imagination sound the final trumpet, and judgment lay hold on eternal life. In what is well begun, grant me to persevere; and to know, that none are wise, but they who determine to be wiser still.

And since, O Lord! the fear of thee is the beginning of wisdom; and, in its progress, its surest shield; turn the world entirely out of my heart, and place that guardian angel, thy blessed fear, in its stead. Turn out a foolish world, which gives its money for what is not bread; which hews out broken cisterns that hold no water; a world in which even they, whose hands are mighty, have found nothing. There is nothing, Lord God Almighty, in heaven, in earth, but thee. I will seek thy face, bless thy name, sing thy praises, love thy law, do thy will, enjoy thy peace, hope thy glory, till my final hour! Thus shall I grasp all that can be grasped by man. This will heighten good, and soften evil, in the present life! And when death summons, I shall sleep sweetly in the dust, till his mighty CONQUEROR bids the trumpet sound; and then shall I, through his merits, awake to eternal glory.

LETTER CCLXIX.

LADY GRANDISON.

[In continuation.]

Dec. 21.

SIR CHARLES arrived here in safety about two hours ago. He has settled everything between Lady Beauchamp and the now Sir Edward, to the satisfaction of both; for they entirely referred themselves to him. This was the method he took. As their interests were not naturally the same, he inquired into each separately, what were the wishes of each; and finding the lady's not unreasonable, he referred it to Sir Edward, of his own generosity, to compliment her with more than she asked.

Particularly she had wished to Sir Charles, that she might not be obliged to remove under a twelvemonth from the house in Berkeley Square; and when Sir Charles had brought them together, and pronounced between them, making that an article, Sir Edward thus bespoke her :

All that your ladyship demands I most cheerfully comply with. Instead of the year you wish to remain in Berkeley Square, let me beg of you, still to consider both houses as your own; and me your inmate only, as in the lifetime of my father. I never will engage in marriage, but with your approbation: Let us, madam, be as little as possible separated: Be pleased only to distinguish, that I wish not this, but from pure and disinterested motives. I will be your servant as well as son. I will take all trouble from you that you shall think trouble; but never will offer so much as my humble advice to you in the conduct of your own affairs, unless you ask for it.

She wept. We will henceforth, said she, have but one interest. You shall be dear to me, for your father's sake. Let me, for the same dear sake, be regarded by you: Receive me, excellent pair of friends, proceeded she, as a third in your friendship. Should any misunderstanding arise, which, after so happy a setting out, I hope, cannot be, let Sir Charles Grandison determine between us. Justice and he are one.

Sir Charles invited down to us the lady and his Beauchamp. He hopes they will come. The young Baronet, I dare say, will. Emily says, she wants to see how he will become his new dignity.—Very well, I dare say, said I.-Why, yes; such an example before him, I don't doubt but he will.

Lucy was present. Near four thousand pounds a-year, and a title, said she-I think you and I, my dear, were we nearer of an age, would contend for him.

Not I, Miss Selby: so that I have the love of my guardian and Lady Grandison, you may be