LETTER VII.

FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME.

My dear Falkland,

My last despatch, you will remember, was sealed just after it had been arranged that I should accompany my aunt in a walk. At the appointed hour I tapped at her door, to put her in mind of our assignation; and was not sorry to have a _tête à tête_ in prospect, thinking that I might take advantage of this opportunity to edge in a little word of counsel, that might be of use, at _least_ in Fanny's, though Emily and Charlotte might be beyond my reach in effecting a change in _their_ destiny.

My sweet aunt (for she is really quite delightful) was speedily equipped, and we set out upon our rambles. As soon as we had cleared the house, and were not in danger of being overheard, I expressed my gratitude for her kindness in asking me to Glenalta; spoke of the pleasure which I already felt in its society, and my admiration, as well as surprise, at finding my cousins every thing that could be wished. My aunt smiled. "Then," said she, "you had heard, I suppose, but an unflattering account of us, and expected to see a very _outrè_ sort of a family." "I expected," answered I, "to find, as I _have_ found, very superior attainments; but you know, dearest lady, the prejudice which universally subsists against _Blue-Stockings_; and though you have succeeded so admirably in the result of your system, and may therefore triumph, as 'those who win may laugh,' yet you must allow the experiment to have been a bold one." "And why so, my dear Arthur? I should not have felt at all inclined to make bold experiments, and am not conscious how I have done so. You must explain yourself." "Well then, I will; and hope that I may venture to do so without running any risk of offending you." "Certainly, I cannot be offended, having requested you to tell me what you mean; and I, on my part, shall not only thank you for your observations, but shall be ready, with the most perfect candour, to satisfy you as far as I can, respecting my conduct."

"Dear aunt, then," said I, "the great object to which a girl's prospects should tend from infancy to maturity is marriage; and every prudent mother, I need not say to you, is perpetually intent upon this termination of all her cares and anxiety. To marry a daughter _well_ is no easy matter now-a-days, and often requires a vast deal of address to bring about the event. Beauty, though very captivating, will not do without money, and young men have learned to be philosophers; they can see and admire, but, like the Baron of Moubray, they must know how 'to love and to ride away,' unless they would entail ruin on their posterity. Almost every man's circumstances are dipped more or less, either by his own folly or that of his predecessors; and most men look to a fortunate marriage some time or other in their lives, for the purpose of paying off charges on their property, and clearing a load of debt. Now, girls of large fortune, may certainly take some liberties; for even were they old, ugly, or _Blue_, thousands _will_ tell, and they may generally command a choice amongst the other sex; but young women, even of such personal attraction as my cousins ought 'to be with caution bold.' I do assure you, that were you at this moment suddenly removed to London, I would not, for any consideration that I can name, that Emily and Charlotte were discovered to know a syllable of Greek, Latin, botany, chemistry, or any of the arts and sciences: it is unheard of in town, except to be laughed at, or avoided; and as your girls have pretensions that might secure their being courted in the best society, it would mortify any one who loves them to witness a complete failure in their _debut_, through a want of that circumspection which mothers, _so_ inferior to you, know how to exercise. Dear little Fan is young and volatile; there is more danger of her betraying herself than of her sisters' being giddy. Much might be done still with your elder girls, who are so reasonable and so docile, that they would probably take a hint immediately; but it is quite a _sin_ not to snatch Fanny from perdition, by allowing what _azure_ she has already contracted, to fade away as quickly as possible. Elegant and accomplished, pretty and pleasing, my cousins are formed for the world, and would shine in it: but Greek, Latin, chemistry, _etcetera_, are like forgery, never to be forgiven."

Here I paused, and my aunt calmly replied, "I fear, my dear boy, that I shall make matters worse rather than better by my answer to your advice; but, notwithstanding, I must run the risk, and boldly hazard the loss of your esteem, by detailing some opinions of mine, which do not harmonize at all with your's. First, then, you will stare at me perhaps when I tell you, that I am very far from thinking marriage necessary to the happiness of my children, though should I live to see them find such partners as I think worthy of them, I should rejoice, inasmuch as, under _certain_ circumstances, I look upon marriage as the happiest lot of life in this chequered scene; but, Arthur, rank and fortune are only _accidents_, and make no part of the _essence_ in my creed of such requisites as constitute felicity in domestic union. My dear girls will not be rich, but they will have enough to make them independent. If they marry, I think I may venture to say, that it will not be through worldly motives of aggrandizement; and should they remain single, they will, I trust in the Almighty, be both useful and contented."

I certainly _did_ stare. What! a mother, and disregard the establishment of daughters! My aunt continued: "According to your ideas, a woman is merely an appendage, and, I dare say, frequently considered a very troublesome one to her fortune, the acquisition of which seems to be, even under favourable circumstances of youth and beauty thrown into the scale, the _principal_ object, and where these may be wanting, the _sole_ incentive which leads a man of fashion to permit a young lady the honour of bearing his name. Now in a country where the blessing of freedom has never been known, where parents possess absolute power over their children, and masters over their slaves, I can perceive a reason for such an order of things; but I confess myself so ignorant as not to comprehend why liberty and affluence _here_ should be sacrificed without any valuable consideration. It would be better to subscribe a part of one's property to the necessities of a needy gentleman than be obliged to give up the whole, and tie oneself to him for ever. May I ask you how women are compensated in your scheme for the relinquishment of independence?" "Bless me, dear aunt, the question is so extraordinary, that really I feel at a loss to believe that you can ask it: _compensated_?--Why, by being married; by being promoted to a state in society of more consideration than they previously occupied; by being provided for, established, and, finally, as the acme of all female hope and ambition, taken out of the never-ending defile of recruits through which a man has to make his way at every ball, concert, or theatre in town."

"Well," said Mrs. Douglas, "I am not a little amazed that these _recruits_, as you call them, should be ready to place themselves under the control of officers so little disposed to regard them with tenderness; but, as this is a serious subject in which the happiness of mankind at large is concerned, we will treat it gravely. Providence has so ordered the affairs of earth, that marriage will always be a primary object of concern with _both_ sexes; for remember, that the idea of _wife_, involves that of _husband_; and to supply each _aspirant_ of either sex, you must find a disengaged individual of the other. Now if it appear that the mass of human beings are intended by their Creator for the state of matrimony, and that their own wishes generally coincide with the original purpose of creation, would it not seem a reasonable consequence that a condition which almost all men and women anticipate, should be rendered as desirable, as suitable, as happy, and as wise as a reflecting choice can make it?" "Surely," said I, "and _there_ lies the difference between an improvident silly mother, or one who is governed by a prudent knowledge of the world, and clear views of her childrens' advantage. Women are, you will confess, great fools when they allow their girls to flirt with younger sons who have nothing; military men, whose fortunes are on their backs, and all the idle host who furnish a drawing-room and excel in a quadrille. Maternal solicitude ought unquestionably to be directed to a good settlement, liberal pin-money--if _possible_ a distinguished connection; and in short, all the circumstances which constitute what every one admits to be a _good match_. How painful must it be to read a paragraph in the public papers announcing that on such a day Mr. Such-an-one, whom nobody knows, was married by some clergyman whose name was never heard of, in a parish church not to be found in any map, to Miss Douglas of Glenalta! If I am doomed to suffer such disgrace, I shall set out directly for Greece, or some other distant quarter to which my countrymen do not flock in the crowds that one is certain to meet in France and Italy, _there_ to remain till the event is forgotten, and the unfortunate actors in it, are consigned to well-merited oblivion. Forgive me if I am warm; I do not mean to be disrespectful, but my energies rise in proportion to the hourly increase of love and admiration which I feel towards relations so near and so deserving."

"Arthur, I am not angry," rejoined my aunt, "but I must oppose, though I may fail to convince you; I can never desire to see my dear girls, who have been loved, valued, and considered as rational creatures in their own home, become a part of the _retinue_ of a man of fashion; and therefore I neither intend to introduce them upon a theatre where success is failure according to my notion of things, nor attempt to infuse a new class of doctrines upon the nature of happiness into their guiltless hearts. Let us go on in our accustomed routine, and if there ever was a case to which we may apply the maxim 'If ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise,' you will admit its force upon that in question, for _so_ happy are my dear children at Glenalta, that visionary dreams of joy seem not to pass beyond its well-known boundary. When the mind is full of resource, it is wonderfully independent, and suffers none of that _ennui_ which is the disease of vacancy. From the birth of my children to the present time, they have never heard that there was an _effect_ to be produced by any thing they learned except the natural consequences that grow out of virtue and occupation. Marriage may, or may not, be their portion; should it be so, the characters of their husbands may probably differ, as their own do, from each other; and thus far I meet your views, that I should be sorry to see any child of mine marry so imprudently as to plunge into the sordid cares of life without consideration. Should misfortune bring poverty, and the Almighty try his creatures by affliction, how beautiful is it _then_ to behold the exertions which the finest minds are capable of making when sustained by religious submission, and encouraged by fond affection; but to _place_ ourselves _willingly_ in situations which our strength may not prove sufficient to admit of our filling conscientiously, is to presume upon our own powers, and is therefore dangerous. You see then, my dear boy, that as far as my opinion may have weight, you are not to expect any accession to your worldly pride from the Douglas family, who are very unambitious people; and, though I trust that they will never 'disgrace you,' I fear that you must be contented to love them for their _own_ sakes, and not for any flattering unction to be derived through their future destiny. No, I hardly think it likely that Emily, Charlotte, or Fanny, will ever contribute their aid to a high-sounding paragraph in the newspapers; but I shall indeed be disappointed if they are satisfied with less than sense and affection, if they marry."

"My dear aunt, you mistake me: as much sense as you like; and you cannot imagine that I could be such a barbarian as to fancy that any man who married one of my cousins should be so deficient in good taste as not to love her as well as men generally love their wives. Remember, that the happiest home of infancy must, in the course of nature, dissolve; and then what becomes of a luckless sisterhood of old maids, who, having suffered the spring and summer to pass by unheeded, in vain deplore their idle improvidence, and fret away the gloomy remnant of their days on earth in sourness and solitude?" "A dismal picture, indeed," replied my aunt, "I must try if I cannot draw one less dispiriting. In the first place you acknowledge that, according to _your_ scheme, sense and affection, though not _principals_, are useful _accessories_, and are to be taken as make-weights into the scale of happiness. Now my idea is, that this is to expect too much, and more than experience will realize, unless in some instance perhaps of extraordinary exception upon which we have no right to calculate. If you marry for rank, you _obtain_ it, and should be satisfied with your bargain; if for fortune, you have gained your object, and must not complain: the contract is fair, though you receive only that for which you make your agreement; and it is quite unjust to suppose that perfections which you never sought, and qualities of which you never went in search, will be added to heap up your measure."

"The happiest home of early life must in nature's course dissolve, you say: agreed; but, the affrighting scene of unavailing misery which you have painted, is not the necessary consequence of such an event. _I_ can imagine three sisters who may not have been tempted to quit the paternal roof by meeting such congeniality of character as they deemed essential to happiness, living together as kindly in the decline, as in the meridian of life. I can imagine them to look abroad without envy, and at home without disgust. If excluded from some enjoyments which belong to another mode of existence, they are spared also many of the evils which attach to it, and with this advantage, that while the former are precarious, the latter are inevitable. The brightest anticipations founded on the most apparently stable foundation, may _possibly_ deceive, but the physical suffering, and the anxious care which are inseparable from the maternal relation, are penalties from which there is no exemption. No bill of indemnity can set aside a mother's pangs; and be assured, that were women endowed with the gift of oracular foresight, and like the ancient Sybils capable of peeping into the cup of futurity, very few would have courage to taste the bitter draught which marriage too frequently mingles to allure by promises, and poison by disappointment. The fondest affection, the kindest support, and all the inestimable charms of sympathetic companionship, may indeed render the conjugal union an antepast of heaven; but such contracts of folly and avarice, as are but too often sealed in what you call the world, represent as truly a state of severest punishment; and between these extremes, a single lot is far to be preferred to the compromise which matrimony in its average of calculation _usually_ exhibits. The great purposes of life are, however, fulfilled at the expense of individual ease, and many a spirit learns in the school of adversity, those blessed lessons of humility and dependence upon a Heavenly Father, that pay with such peace 'as the world can neither give nor take away' for the infliction of an earthly husband."

"Well, my ears," said I, "are unaccustomed to such language. I confess it is no less new than surprising; yet that I may know the full extent of your deviation from modern creeds, perhaps you will describe the sort of helpmate to whose guardianship _you_ would entrust a daughter?"

"Most willingly, Arthur. The peculiar temperament of each individual stamps an impress of its own upon the mind, and, according to the variety of taste, will be our selection of such qualities in a friend, as harmonize with its distinctive character. Marriage has been eloquently described as 'the queen of friendships,' and yet the monarch fares less well than any of her subjects; and while the choice of a companion who is only to travel in our society for a few short miles upon the continent, is governed by kindred feeling and pursuits, the journey which is to end but with life, is undertaken upon the most flimsy ground of temporary whim or expediency. Is this rational, is it consistent conduct?"

"Then may I ask, my dear aunt, do you conceive it really necessary that two people must have learned the same arts, have studied the same sciences, and read the same books; spoken in the same languages, thought the same thoughts, and been in fact, like Helen and Hermia, 'a double cherry seeming parted, but yet a union in partition;' to make a reasonably happy, suitable jog-trot couple in the holy bands of wedlock?"

"Not entirely, though perhaps the more of such similarity the better; but Arthur, you asked for a description, and you shall have one. After the great leading bond of sympathy upon religion and moral conduct, the _grain_ of character is most essential to happiness in married life. There is a fineness of texture in some minds which cannot endure contact with what is coarse, any more than cambrick will bear being united to sail-cloth. The unequal tissue will give way, and the more delicate fabric will be torn to atoms. The mere matters of acquirement may differ without injury to affection, an interchange may take place, which shall borrow sweetness from its source; and even that which possessed no charms to invite its acquisition, may become delightful, if taught by, or studied for the sake of a being whom we love. I knew a lady whose husband was a barrister; they adored each other, but they were poor, and professional industry could not be dispensed with. Their mornings were necessarily passed in the performance of separate duties; but when the business of the day was over, and the evening hearth burned brightly as they sat together, a doubt would arise whether the most enchanting of all gratifications, each others' society, was not a luxury too great for _them_. The doubt ended in certainty, that law reading ought to supersede the charms of conversation, and what was the result? that affection was too powerful to be selfish, or rather _self_ was extended to a second and a dearer object. The wife determined to convert a solitary and painful duty, into a social delight; she insisted on joining in her husband's study, and several of the driest and most difficult books were read aloud to each other in succession. The experiment answered to admiration. They were engaged _together_, and this was enough to make them happy. What was distasteful to one, and at first unintelligible to the other, became amusement; and in the morning's walk, were often discussed the cases which had occupied the previous afternoon. Memory was improved by this exercise: a little time enabled the lady still farther to share the fatigues of a beloved partner in noting his briefs, and assisting in other professional cares, rewarded by the delight of knowing that her presence was necessary to the happiness of him who formed her own. Arthur, such is what _I_ call affection, and such is my idea of companionship in wedded love."

My heart glowed, and I could not speak; I gazed on my aunt: her cheek was slightly flushed, and her eyes had acquired the deep and clear expression which brought to my mind that exquisite description in the Prisoner of Chillon.

"The eye of most transparent light That almost made the dungeon bright."

We both paused: when, recovering from a momentry lapse of thought, she continued: "I knew another wife whose husband was employed for several years in various diplomatic trusts of high importance. He was an invalid, and frequently incapaciated from taking part in public affairs; but the faithful friend of his bosom who was a most admirable linguist, wrote his letters in five different tongues, and was supposed to be a native in them all. Can you match these instances of connubial tenderness and confidence in the frigid annals of fashion? Turn, my Arthur, from the heartless trammels, and dare to be free."

"Such women," said I, "as you have represented, would soon revolutionize the world, and bring about a mighty change in the motives that influence marriage; but instances like these occur at intervals, just to shew us of what your sex is _capable_, and that is all."

"Alas, Arthur," replied my aunt, "women rarely discover objects amongst men worthy of exciting powerful affection, and none but slaves will bestow the semblance where the reality does not exist. Men and women act and re-act reciprocally on each other's characters, and though exceptions may appear, you will find it easy in general to decide upon one sex, by the merits or demerits of the other, allowing for those differences between them which distinguishes each from its opposite."

"How then," said I, "is a new order of things to be effected? _One_ swallow does not make a summer.

"The change would be achieved with-out any difficulty, my child, would each individual only throw off the artificial shackles which are imposed by opinion upon the heart and understanding. Nature is so lovely, truth so captivating, that one would _imagine_ it no hard matter to disengage the mind from the bondage of a factitious yoke, and I return to their gentle empire. Yet this is all that we are called upon to do, and that only with _ourselves_. If our early years were passed in laying up store for futurity in practising the affections within the circle of those whom God has given to be our nearest and dearest ties, in cultivating intellect, and acquiring useful knowledge, we should need no farther security against the mistakes of after life. Religion, virtue, wisdom, and good taste, would be our guides as well as our protectors."

"Aunt, 'almost thou persuadest me;' but you named religion, and before we conclude I must say a word upon that part of the subject."

At this instant who should appear at the entrance of a moss-house, in which my aunt and I had been seated for the last half hour, but Oliphant, Charlotte, and Fanny? They had taken a round of the wood, and were returning when this _contre tems_ took place. I blushed immoderately. It was such a topic to be caught in the act of discussing; but my confusion did not last long.

What a blessing is _tact_! That monosyllable contains a volume. My aunt saw, I suppose, exactly all that was passing across my mind--

"_Caciata del core fuge nel volto_,"--and, instantly seizing on Charlotte's hand, she said, "My love, I want you and Fanny to run home and send the little car to me. I am a wee bit tired; I will keep Mr. Oliphant and Arthur here, till Paddy and poney arrive."

Like lightning, the nymph disappeared, and, quietly turning to me as if our dialogue had suffered no interruption, "I am so glad that just as we wanted Mr. Oliphant, he has come to our aid," said my aunt. "He will be quite at home in answering your last question."

She then in a moment playfully informed Domine of our single combat, "which," added she "was fairly fought, and rather favourably to my side at the close, till Arthur rallying his forces, to make a powerful stand, entrenched himself under an authority to which, were it against me, I should implicitly submit; but I will now place _you_ in my stead; and, as I am sure that Arthur was _going_ to say (no _young_ ladies being present) that female inferiority is supported by that volume, from which there is no appeal at Glenalta, I am not without hope that you will drive my nephew from this last fastness."

"I accept the challenge," said Oliphant, "and thank you for the post which you allot to me, as the laurel of victory already circles round my brow; but I must hear my adversary state his case."

Thus forced into a tilting match with the tutor, I laughed, and assured him that I had never presumed upon encountering so formidable an enemy; but as it would be a tacit confession that my cause was weak, were I to remain silent, "I must own," said I, "that Mrs. Douglas precisely hit upon what I was going to urge, namely, that however modern manners, to which my aunt discovers so little gratitude, have _raised_ women to the pedestal on which they stand, the Bible tells a different tale; and were it even true that female pride had got a fall through fashion's fiat, would not such depreciation be exact conformity with holy writ?"

"Were it so," answered the _giant_ of learning, "Mrs. Douglas would neither lament nor contend against her fate, but the Bible is peculiarly her sanctuary of refuge, from which, when driven to its sacred shelter by the taunts of the world, she might proudly exclaim, 'it was not thus, when we came from the hands of God.'"

"No, my dear sir, man was created in God's own image; 'male and female created he them.' Eve (the meaning of which word is life) was formed after, and _out of_ man. She was not given to him as property, but given 'to be with him,' as a companion, because he would have been a cheerless, as also a useless animal without her. The original Hebrew implies no superiority, nor inferiority. Adam and Eve were the counterparts of each other. Eve was bone of bone, flesh of flesh, to her husband, _both_ endowed with immortality, _both_ invested with rule over all creatures of the earth. The word woman is from the Hebrew _Ish_, signifying man, which, when simply altered by two letters to _Ishau_, literally means she-man. _Andris_ is the female form of _Aner_, man, in the Greek; and in Arabic we have _Imrat_, she-man, from _Imree_, man. Every man should consider woman as a part of himself; and when, as a punishment for her disobedience, the heavy denunciation was issued that Eve should be subject to her _husband_, it was not required by their Maker that she should resign any part of that understanding, any prerogative of heart or intellect, which had originally been bestowed, when she was formed his equal in power. Both man and woman were deprived of immortality. Death came into the world with sin, and with _these_, woman's legal bondage to her _husband_; but beyond this limit you cannot proceed. On the contrary, though the brutal habits of eastern tyranny debased the sex, to which inferior bodily strength had been from the first communicated, yet was it exalted in the moment of depression by Him who called it into being, and inflicted the curse. The woman was to bruise the serpent's head. She was the first destroyer, and was permitted to be the first in the chain of restoration, by being the appointed medium, the _sole_ earthly parent of the Saviour. When Abraham was entitled Father of the faithful, Sarah received like honour, and was named their Mother; and when our blessed Lord came upon earth, from one end to the other of his ministry, there is not a syllable to be found derogatory of the female sex. He loved Mary as a sister; and upon various occasions distinguished certain women by particular expressions of affectionate approbation. There is no authority in the Bible from Genesis to Revelation for the opinion that you hold; and with respect to punishment inflicted by Deity for transgression, a generous feeling would naturally suggest the desire of lightening rather than aggravating its infliction, especially when we reflect that the only difference between the culprits lay in the measure of delinquency. Adam and his sons have no cause of triumph; and I never read the story of the fall without considering with humiliation the first proof afforded of a lowered nature in our common progenitor, when to save himself from the principal condemnation, he selfishly consigned his partner to the wrath of offended divinity. When our Saviour arose from the dead, it was to his faithful female followers that he first revealed himself; and, as a concluding remark, permit me to observe, that if, as we are assured unequivocally, women are equal inheritors of the skies, it ill befits us to refuse them their rights on earth. No, sir, depend upon it, when men cannot support themselves, except by asserting that power which the laws have conferred upon them, they are _hard run_, and the edifice is tottering when it requires a buttress. The nobler animals are all _quiescent_. The lion reposes in his strength, and knowing how much he can command, is slow at making exhibition of his force; but "man, proud man!"

"Dressed in a little brief authority, Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, As make the angels weep."

"I remember, sir," said I, "to have seen once, in the library of a gentleman, who, by the bye, was a most complete domestic despot, an odd sort of a book, entitled "Rights of Women."

"Are you acquainted with, and an approver of that work?"--"No, young gentleman, that is a book which has long ago found its resting-place amid dust and cobwebs. When new, it was a wretched thing, and is now forgotten; but you found it, as the mineralogists express themselves, _in situ_, when you discovered a stray copy on the shelves of a tyrant. The brawlers about liberty are generally fond of keeping it all to themselves. The French revolution, which was before your time, set many heads distracted, and loosened the whole frame-work of our morals; but we are sobered, and have consigned to oblivion the grosser absurbities of that disjointed period.

"Women have real and substantial rights, natural as well as civil, which no one attempts to dispute; and they are fools when they part with them, unless to secure a greater good than they relinquish; but marriage is the rock upon which multitudes make shipwreck, because from the present constitution of things, that solemn act of life is performed with less consideration than people commonly employ in the purchase of a field. Men, after a career of folly, begin to look about them, and think it wise to _settle_, before time has thinned their locks and scattered silver over the flowing honours of youth. Women sigh for what are called establishments; and happiness slides out of a scheme in which no provision has been made for its entertainment. Take an old man's advice, Mr. Howard, be as deliberate in your selection as you please, and I hope that you will not marry till you know your own mind; but when you _do_ become a Benedick, let your Beatrice be the friend of your bosom, the companion of your life, and a partner in all your pains, pleasures, and pursuits."

I was not prepared to contradict, for the truth is, that Domine told me more in half a dozen sentences than I ever heard before. However, not to appear as if I had suddenly lost _my speech_, I gently hinted, "that Solomon was usually thought a wise man, upon the authority of the Scriptures; and he declares that, in his search after wisdom, he had never found _one_ woman to reward his pains."

"Truly, that is not very wonderful," said Oliphant. "When the men, who possessed all the advantages that superior power bestowed, made so little use of it towards the cultivation of knowledge and virtue, that Solomon complains of not finding a man of worth in _a thousand_, no wonder that amongst the weaker sex, who were kept in the lowest state of slavery and degradation, he should not discover any who, deprived of the benefit of education, and shut out from the light of truth, had broken her bonds, and soared above the horrible debasement to which females were condemned by their rulers. The Christian Religion, of which that Bible that you lately quoted as authority for the servitude of women, is the sacred repository, is in fact the charter of female liberty; and in proportion as the Sun of Righteousness shines with more or less refulgence in any land, in such proportion is woman respected."

"Pray then, Mr. Oliphant, how comes it that the sense of mankind has always been taking a contrary course? A boy is hardly out of his nurse's arms, before he hears of his superiority over his sisters. When he goes to school, the first grammar that his lisping tongue is turned to repeat, tells him that his sex is most worthy. In the _world_, one hears women only estimated by their beauty, or their wealth; and in families we see them nothing better than the wrecks of a former day, little loved by their husbands, or respected by their children."

"_Hinc illæ lachrymæ_," answered my opponent, "in _one_ sense the male sex is decidedly superior--I mean in strength; and were this employed in supporting the weak, instead of oppressing them, the female world would not be disposed to grudge men a supremacy of which they would themselves enjoy the happy fruits. But as to your nursery nonsense, an elder son is always told that he is as much above his younger brothers, as his sisters; and so he is, by the laws of primogeniture, which give him the estate. Yet I suppose that there are few such blockheads as to believe, that because a man happens to come into the world before his brethren, he is therefore invested with a patent of superior intellectual endowment. On the contrary, it often happens, that elder sons, satisfied with the gifts of fortune, take little trouble with their minds, and are, in point of cultivation, at the _tail_ instead of the _head_ of their Houses. Grammar rules prove nothing. They were made by _men_, and according to vulgar estimates of physical force; and as _to the world_, the most convincing proof in my eyes of its degeneracy in our day, is to be found in the impertinent neglect of women, so frequently observable in the _soi-disant_ men of fashion. To sum up the argument: the sexes differ from each other, but _difference_ implies nothing of better or worse, taller or shorter, wiser or less wise. They are _different_, and each beautifully adapted by the eternal Creator to fulfil the purposes for which it was designed. The man stronger, more active--made to encounter danger, and endure fatigue. The woman more delicate, more refined, formed to sooth by her tenderness, to watch over the helpless, comfort the unfortunate, and be the balm of human kind. In mental capacity Nature has dealt with impartial bounty, and the most splendid talents are to be found in that sex, which I grieve to add, too rarely exercise their powers. Rely upon it, that men are not less manly for sharing their privileges, nor women less feminine for profiting by the boon. The age of Chivalry is gone, and it would be well to restore it.

"Look, my dear young gentleman, around you at Glenalta. Is Frederick less likely to attain the gold medal at his University, or is he less ardent in pursuit of game in the fields, because he loves his mother and sisters, and would be unwilling to enjoy any gratification in which they were not partakers? Turn your eyes upon the dear gentle trio of your fair cousins, and tell me are they less pleasing, less modest, less artless, and happy, because, with minds well stored, they can always find resources at home, for which others are vainly seeking abroad? Are they less elegant because they are independent, or less delicate because they neither shriek at a wasp, nor faint at the sight of a spider?"--

I was going to say something, I hardly know what, when a party appeared in sight, that at a little distance might have passed for a group of gipsies; Paddy and the poney car, led the van. Frederick, the three girls, Phil., and young Bentley brought up the rear. We were together in the next moment, and in the midst of salutations, I could not help remarking the anxiety of all the young people about my aunt, whose expression of fatigue had brought them back to offer aid, and satisfy themselves that she was not ill. Frederick settled the cushions, and dispatched Paddy, saying, that he must himself drive the little car, lest it should go too fast. Fanny had brought a small basket, in which was a phial of hartshorn, and a glass having been also produced, away ran Charlotte to the stream which tumbles through this rocky glen, to procure water,--all without _fuss_, or effort.

Yes, there is no question of it--what Oliphant says is true enough. These people are not at all the worse for any thing that they have said, done, learned, or acquired. My aunt was unusually gay, to convince her children that nothing ailed her; and we all returned home, laughing and talking as merrily as possible. Bentley was asked to stay and dine, which Phil. had promised also to do, and so sped Saturday away as smoothly as if it _rolled_ on _casters_.

In the evening we walked. I took my first lesson in botany from Emily. We planned a trip to Killarney, for July, if my aunt makes no objection, and finished the _revels_ with music.

What would you think, if I tell you, that Domine took the bass in several glees, and has a remarkably fine sonorous voice. Our guests departed. The bell rang. Servants were assembled, and the usual prayer was read, with no other circumstance of change, than the substitution of Mr. Oliphant, in quality of domestic chaplain, for my aunt.

Just as we were about to separate, Fanny called me, and whispered, "Don't go yet to your room. We are going to hold a conference for a few minutes in the study, and you must assist at our council." I accordingly lagged behind, and after Mr. Oliphant and my aunt had severally retired, _we_ five mustered in the Library. Emily opened the proceedings, by saying, "Arthur, my brother, sisters and I, have set our hearts upon accomplishing a project which Frederick and I devised in our walk this evening. It is to prevail with our beloved mother to accompany us to Killarney. It is _many_ years since she has been there, and I know that she will not revisit that heavenly spot without the deepest emotion. Yet we cannot help flattering ourselves with its being of such a nature as not to amount to pain; and it will be counteracted by the pleasure of beholding our rapture at seeing her make one in our excursion. Phil. is in our secret, and _now_ so are you. We are going to write a petition. She shall not have it to-night, because it might agitate her; and it shall only be signed by her children, because if such happiness as her compliance would impart, should be in store for us, it is of that sacred character which we could not bear to owe even to the dearest friends; and if, on the other hand, as I am afraid may prove the case, we are asking too much, we will not involve any one else in the pain of a refusal. Now good night--wish us success, and meet us in the moss-house at eight in the morning to learn our fate."

I went to my room quite unable to speak--I was suffocating, and, _shall_ I confess to Falkland (but proclaim it not in Gath) tears, such as I never shed before in all my life, coursed each other down my "innocent nose." It is too much. Unmanned at a short turn, and by what? a set of children laying schemes to have their mother's company in a party of pleasure! Well, I know not what is to come next, but this place will be the ruin of me, if this is the way in which I go on resigning my understanding. Positively I shall be absolutely unfit for society, and look when I go back to town precisely as if I had been spending a couple of months with Noah in the ark, and had just stepped out on Mount Ararat. I took myself to task; shook myself; scolded myself; chewed the cud of the last ball at Almack's; ditto at Lady Arabella Huntley's; placed myself in the midst of that group with whom I passed my last London evening at Lady Murray's after the Opera; but it would not do.

When the mind gets one of these _wrenches_, it is in vain to attempt setting matters to rights again in a hurry. I found, after toiling to give a new bent to my reflections, that they would still return with elastic force to the place whence they set out; and I therefore gave vent to them in the new course which they had channelled for themselves. While in this mood, I could not help thinking, that if we measure life by the exercise of our faculties, and the warmth of our feelings, instead of by such evidences of existence as might apply to stocks and stones as well as to sentient beings, I have only _lived_ in your society, and since I came to Glenalta. A mournful chill stole over my heart as I involuntarily asked myself, "Is my mother like _this_ mother, or are my sisters like my cousins?" These questions led me to one still more immediately painful--"Do I resemble Frederick?" The inquiry was accompanied by a feeling of such bitterness, that I fear it must have been answered in the negative, to each of my self-addressed queries. Alas! thought I, of what light materials are we formed! tossed about by every wind, and seizing on the contagion of every new situation! Well, one week has worked a strange _jumble_ of my tastes and opinions, but all will be _stratified_ in regular order, according to received notions, by a corresponding term, when I revisit Selby or Grosvenor Square. This consolation seemed a _quietus_, for I fell asleep, and undisturbed by farther moralizing, rose refreshed and full of spring, in due season to keep my engagement.

What a vein of lovely weather! and what an influence does it exert over our souls. The morning appeared as if determined to cheat me into good humour with all the wearisome business of Sunday in "a pious family" (oh that quaint expression) in the country. Nature looked as if she had just stepped, in the luxuriance of youth and beauty, that moment from her bath. A dew-drop glistened on every blade of grass, and fragrance breathed around from every flower. I set out with that invigorating sensation of hilarity which I have always found an early walk on a fine day to produce. I believe, that besides the animal gratification arising from sunshine, perfumes, and the bracing quality of fresh air, we are insensibly pleased with ourselves, when we have started from the enervating effects of drowsy slumbers, and snatched a portion of time from Lethe's wave.

I was in the humour to analyze, and I think that I was more complacent in my feelings towards _myself_ than usual. If so, it is not hard to account for the _balminess_ of charity towards all things else--the key-note is ever to be found within our own breasts, and it regulates the whole strain.

Half-musing, half-poetizing, I reached the moss-house, and was ruminating on the sparkling stream that dashes over the rock, amongst its tangled brush-wood, when with light feet, my nymphs and their brother hastened round the wood, and appeared at the seat of Congress.

After a joyous "good morrow," they told me that "mamma" had not been awake when they left the house to attend the Sunday School, and therefore they had no good news to impart to me; and only came to the place of appointment, lest I should wait and accuse them of a failure in punctuality.

The words "Sunday School," acted as a "killing frost" to all the tender leaves and buds with which Fanny had wreathed my morning walk, and looking I dare say like an icicle, I said, "And are you _really_ enlisted amongst those troops of godly women dressed in grey, and looking like flocks of Solon geese, who paddle from house to house on the Sabbath, and make that which was given us for an anniversary of repose, the most tiresome and laborious day of all the weekly seven?" My companions laughed, and Frederick bade me not be alarmed, assuring me that there were no Solon geese in the poultry-yard of Glenalta.

"We do not belong," said Emily, "to a _train-band_ of any description; and a very short portion of Sunday is sufficient for our little task. But few children assemble at our school, as Protestants are thinly scattered in Kerry; and, as it is a rule here, never to teach to read where the Bible is not received, the number of our scholars is very limited. This would be subject of grief to mamma, were it not her fixed opinion, supported by the experience and strong sense of our friend Mr. Otway, and the worthy tutor, that in _this_ country matters are not ripe for the quantity of education forced upon the people, and that a more gradual process is for the advantage of every part of the community; but were it otherwise, our individual labours would still be light. Charlotte, Fanny, and I, go before breakfast to hear the children read a chapter, repeat a collect, and answer a few questions, more as _pioneers_ to Mr. Oliphant, than as teachers. This occupies only one hour, and we do no more. Domine, as you call him, and the Curate of our parish, who is a very good clergy-man, examine after church, and this finishes the school-work of the day."

"Bless me!" said I, "I am very glad to hear these things, but must own that your account is most unexpected. The ladies whom I have heard called 'pious,' at our post town in Buckinghamshire, sit up, I imagine, all Saturday night, and starve all Sunday. They defile along in troops, looking sour enough to curdle milk into whey by their presence, and are always to be seen loaded with tracts, and carrying bags which are filled with other implements of the trade. These saintly damsels are, I firmly believe, a set of whale-boned exclusionists, who deny salvation to all who are not within their pale, and able to answer their _qui va là?_ by the signs and countersigns of their free masonry."

"Arthur," replied Emily, "though your anger diverts, I must scold you for being too severe. Why should you judge so hardly upon hearsay testimony of people whom it is your boast not to be acquainted with? Surely starving, without food or rest by day, and sleep at night, cannot be matter of _amusement_; and if your picture be not greatly exaggerated, we may at least hope that the motives are pure, which dictate so much self-denial."

"Not a bit of it, I assure you," answered I. "I promise you that these folks are self-sufficient, as they are generally weak; and have as much pride, vanity, and dogmatism, in their own _plain_ way, as their neighbours. They set up to be teachers, when they would be much better employed in learning; and both men and women of the new light get into the cant, and are sworn in to the confederacies to serve very secular purposes. See how they nestle into the houses of the great, marry the best fortunes, and while they preach a religious republic, always take care if they can, to secure the dictatorship."

"We know nothing here of these abuses," said Emily; "I have heard of noble characters who devote all their time, money, and influence, to the high purposes of reclaiming the vicious, and teaching the Word of God to the ignorant. But if we lived in a less refined spot than this, we should not even then be likely to join any of the societies to which you allude, composed of such as are technically, and most improperly called, when with design to convey a _taunt_, 'good people.' Mamma dislikes _liveries_, whether of dress or manners. She disapproves of bazaars, working parties, and all religious exhibitions and excitements: in short, of all demonstrations of what she calls a _gregarious_ spirit of piety; though she makes it a point never to express an opinion in the presence of any one who could wrest it to the unworthy purpose of throwing either ridicule or reproach on numbers of excellent persons of both sexes who differ from her in theory as well as practice."

"I perceive," said I, with delight, "that my aunt does not consider dancing a sin."--"No, so far from it," answered Frederick, "that when the Sandfords were with us, we were very gay, and I hope shall be so again when they return in the autumn. My mother loves that piety should rear her altar in the heart, and does not rest so much as some well meaning people are inclined to do, on petty observances of a merely external kind. She cannot endure _mannerism_, and her feelings are very strong upon the injury which true religion sustains through want of judgment in her votaries. The tithe of mint, anise, and cummin, occupies many, perhaps not to the entire _exclusion_ of weightier matters; but _little_ things can be understood, and grasped by minds totally incapable of enlarged views; and unfortunately these are often mistaken for vital principles, when they are no more than sign-posts. For this reason, the peculiar language which has become so common, is never used here; and though Sunday at Glenalta is a very sacred day, I hope that you will not find it more dull than other days."

As Fred. ceased to speak, who should enter our council chamber but my aunt. "What! all my dears assembled in committee?" "Yes, dearest mother," said Frederick, springing forward to meet her, "and with Arthur in the chair, we have passed a resolution, that you will make us the happiest group in Christendom, if you will grant the boon implored in this petition." So saying, he slipped a paper into her hand, and taking two of his sisters, leaving Fanny to grace my arm, he added, "we must not take our sovereign by surprise. She must have time to _dwell_ upon the prayer of her subjects. So we will make a tour of St. Colman's rock, and be back like true liegemen, to assist her in returning home." Off he hurried us, and this was done to spare his mother that emotion which is always felt when we know that what passes within the heart is seen and comprehended by others. It is astonishing! These young people study every look, and can follow the windings, however sinuous, of every thought, when affection is the lamp to guide their way.

We took the round of St. Colman, a great white rock, about which, there is a legend, that perhaps I may tell you at some other time, and found my aunt seated where we left her: probably pondering upon past happiness, and present gratitude, for blessings still continued. Her _own_ sweet smile rested on her countenance, but a tear had recently fallen on her cheek. She did not wait to be addressed, but extending a hand to Fred. and his eldest sister, told them by a beaming, but silent look, that she complied with their entreaty. Fred. seized her in his arms in extacy, and having given one emphatic kiss, which bore a world of thanks upon its impress, he dashed out of the moss-house, unable to control the feeling of his manly heart. He is a fine creature. Emily and Charlotte glided away without uttering a word, and Fanny sobbed aloud. Her mother kissed her, and taking my arm, with a tremulous voice that seemed to struggle against display of those inward conflicts which caused it to falter, said to me, "dear Arthur, you are unused to scenes like this in fashionable life, yet they are very sweet. Like Cornelia, I have my jewels, and they are precious gems; but we shall be late, and Mr. Oliphant will wonder what has become of his congregation." I felt again the plaguy _choke_, which is an endemic, I suppose of these bogs, for I have scarcely ever experienced a fit of the disease till I came here. I could not help giving a gentle _squeeze_ to the hand that leaned upon my arm. "You are the happiest set I ever saw," said I. A suppressed sigh met my ear, and Fanny, jumping into the middle of the walk, to arrest our progress, broke a chain which would have led to sorrow. "Oh! mamma, stop: Arthur, don't put down your right foot for your life. There, now he's safe poor thing," and in an instant, a frightful frog, which had been hurt by some unlucky foot that had come down too weightily on the reptile's leg, was gently deposited, first on her hand, and then laid quietly on the grass under the shade of a Lauristinus. "I will return after breakfast," muttered Fan. "and if I find that you are not likely to recover, poor little wretch, you shall be put out of your pain by old Lorry." How my sisters would stare in wild amaze, were I to tell them of such an act! "Pray," said I, "Fanny, do you cherish in this manner, all the vile vermin that chance brings into your path?" "To be sure; every creature can live its short hour in pleasure or in pain; and the less pretty and likely to excite sympathy, the more I feel to be its friend: it is so pleasant to be kind to any thing that is unfortunate. These little traits let you into whole regions of character, and therefore it is that I relate them. You are very near the end of my _sketches_, and must then be contented with letters that sum up events; but I will not relax the labours of my _pencil_, to commence upon those of my _pen_, till you have Sunday sent down the stream of time, with the years before the flood."

Oliphant, who had not any _starch_ whatever in his features, met us at the verandah, without his hat, and looking as benign as the sky that he seemed to have stood admiring, before we reached the door. He helped my aunt to take off her shawl, and then presenting his arm, led the way towards the little room which serves as a chapel, where the only addition to the usual orisons, was a short and emphatic prayer for a blessing upon the employments and instruction, whether public or private, of this day. Breakfast ended, we soon set out to church, which is full a mile distant; but the fineness of the weather tempted most of the party to walk. My aunt and Emily accompanied Mr. Otway in his carriage; and young Bentley, who is on a visit at Lisfarne, joined _us_.

Arrived at the parish church, upon the side of a bleak and barren hill, I looked with amazement at the poverty of all around, not that there was an absence of decency, or even comfort; but the bare white-washed walls, the simple uncarved pulpit, unfringed cushions, with the absence of monumental decoration, music, and all the paraphernalia of church worship on our civilized side of the channel, struck me most unfavourably as I entered the family pew; but these things were soon forgotten, and the service was admirably performed. It so happened, that a gentleman who was on his way to some other part of the country, and whose talents as as a preacher stand deservedly high, had halted the day before at our parson's house, and was prevailed upon to take the pulpit. Mr. Oliphant, whose voice is well modulated, and whose devotion communicates a kindred feeling to his auditors, read the lessons, and prepared the mind, by the simple energy of his manner, for the powerful impression which awaited it. The sermon was upon prayer, and described the efficacy of supplication for divine mercy and assistance. The preacher, who perhaps I may never see again, has left an indelible impression upon my mind. He was tall, thin, and pale, with a wonderful benevolence of aspect. A holy calm sat upon all his features, which the serene but clear light of his eye distinguished completely from the dulness of vanity. There was nothing monotonous in the repose of his appearance; and when he opened his lips, the effect was of music spoken. To the finest voice I ever heard, he added the perfection of its adaptation to every variety of meaning which his matter was designed to convey, and while every inflection seemed to be suited to the words which it uttered with such correspondence of expression, that had _they_ been removed echo would still have given back all they could have imparted; _study_ was the last idea that suggested itself in listening to this eloquent being. All his tones, each look, each emphasis, appeared to be the spontaneous drapery in which a bright understanding clothed the feelings of his heart. I never was so transfixed in my life, and the apostolic sacredness of his figure harmonized so entirely with the simplicity of that lowly building divested of even the common-place decoration usual in English country churches, that for some time I was untrue to our beloved _Gothic_, and actually began to fancy that I had never till yesterday been amongst the faithful worshippers of God in His own Temple.

When the sermon was finished, the preacher remained in his pulpit, apparently desirous of allowing the congregation to disperse before his departure; and we saw no more of him.

The family of Glenalta had heard frequently of his extraordinary powers, but till now had never had an opportunity of judging for themselves. As we walked home, our talk by the wayside naturally enough took its hue from the scene which we had just quitted, and I asked Mr. Oliphant whether Mr. Leighton, whose performance had excited such general admiration, held the opinions distinctively denominated Calvinistic? "No, I should imagine not; but cannot speak positively, as I am not personally acquainted with him." Young Bentley, who was a little behind us, stepped up, and said, "I believe that I may answer with _certainty_; for an uncle of mine, who lives in the north, is very intimate with Mr. Leighton, and once asked him the question, from having heard some reports which were circulated touching the doctrines that he inculcated; and he entered upon that occasion into a full statement of his sentiments, which, to sum up briefly, may I fancy be comprised in two words, Gospel truth. He professed the most perfect charity for those who sincerely differ from him; and likewise the deepest admiration for holiness both of life and character, in some of those writers who held the peculiar tenets that mark Calvin's creed: but he unequivocally declared that he did not adopt the Genevan opinions, while he as unhesitatingly asserted his belief in evangelical piety as the only vital religion." "Pray," said I, "tell me what you mean; for with _us_ evangelical preachers are synonymous with Calvinists." "Aye," said Mr. Oliphant, "and probably with Methodists too: there is nothing so easy as a _name_ by which people are in the habit of representing things not understood or inquired into? I once knew a young man who, being met in the street by another who had known him at the university, was suddenly asked, 'Why, Dick, when did you turn Calvinist?' My young friend stared, and the other flippantly added, 'I heard that you never dance now, and therefore suppose you to be one of the new light.' In this way, idleness and folly make sad confusion; but to answer _your_ question, as to differences between certain opinions, I will put a volume into your hands, whenever you please, which will give you in detail the points upon which Calvin dissented from the Lutheran doctrines, and formed a sect now known by his name. Very many individuals are called Calvinists in the unthinking manner which I have described, without being in reality such; and many who incontrovertibly held Calvin's opinions, and others who do hold them at the present day, have been, and are, men whose virtues ought to excite our deepest veneration, and inspire an earnest desire of imitation; however we may consider them mistaken in their explanation of those parts of the Bible which _appear_ to sanction their doctrines. A pure evangelical faith embraces all that seems necessary to salvation, namely, the most perfect self-abasement before God, together with a lively sense of human unworthiness, full implicit confidence in the free gift of atoning mercy as the only way to everlasting glory, and an earnest desire, by increasing holiness and obedience, to prove ourselves the children of God. These principles, with the addition of a clear sense that we must _adopt_ them, and become, through the divine spirit infused into our souls, awakened from the delusive securities of natural pride, and humbled by an abiding consciousness of our sins and infirmity, constitute a summary of the Christian system, and comprise all that is essentially evangelical."

"I observed nothing," said I, "of peculiar phraseology in Mr. Leighton's discourse, and certainly never heard any language more entirely free than is his from that _twang_ which I have hitherto considered as a characteristic of the ultras in religion." "Now, my young friend," replied Domine, "are you not falling yourself into the error which you reprobate? Why use those words, which designate a sect of fashionable fault-finders, who rail against a religion which they do not take the trouble to investigate, just as plainly as the terms that you are desirous to abolish, mark what you call the new light fraternity?"

I told him that I stood corrected, and he shook my hand, saying, "I thank you for so kindly excusing me in thus abruptly calling you to order;" and then continued--"Mr. Leighton is a person of such character, that my conclusion respecting his not being a Calvinist was drawn entirely from the absence of those expressions generally belonging to the school." "But, sir," said Mr. Bentley, "I have heard several sermons preached by men whose principles I discovered at a _short turn_ now and then to be really Calvinistic, though they were free from every peculiarity of phrase, and so guarded as to doctrine, that for a long time I have resisted the idea of their being any other than evangelical ministers of the gospel, such as you described it to be." "Aye," answered Oliphant, "that is the very point to which I would draw your attention. It is, in my opinion, not right to consider any tenet of a particular creed essential to salvation, and yet _suppress_ it. Either the _decretum horribile_ is, or is not, a vital article: If not, there is no Calvinism, and if it be, no man who believes in its importance as a pillar of faith is justified by motives of _expediency_ in leaving out subjects so essential in _their_ view of the Christian system. A practical evil which I have known to proceed from what is commonly called a _judicious_ style of preaching is, that many are taken in to become members of a congregation before they are aware of the tenets of their instructor. Much confusion of mind sometimes results. Weak understandings are perplexed, and the effect is, that people who are not capable of drawing nice distinctions, at last slide gradually, without any exercise of their own will or understanding, into the opinions very different from those of which they _imagine_ themselves to be the advocates. But, my dear Mr. Howard, we should each in his own sphere, be it narrow or extended, rejoice in all the good that exists, though it may vary in its livery; and, so far from cultivating a spirit of ridicule, endeavour to draw the bonds of charity together, so as to include all the _sincere_ and pains-taking of the Christian community, within its ample scope."

We were now arrived at the house, and separated into little parties. My aunt and her daughters disappeared, Mr. Oliphant and young Bentley went off to the school, and Fred. and I took a long and delightful walk _tête-à-tête_ by the sea side. We had a great deal of conversation that informed me of many particulars respecting my family, with which I had never till then been made acquainted. On returning home, as we passed a cabin door, I saw Fanny busily distributing bread and money, the former from a large basket held by the same boy who attends the donkies, and the latter from a small leather bag which she carried slung upon her arm. "What are you doing here?" was answered by "nothing but our Sunday-work;" which, being interpreted, meant a weekly donation presented by these amiable girls to a few old people who cannot work, and who esteem the gift tenfold for being communicated by the hands of their young mistresses. This is a _striking_ feature in the poor of this island. In England, a shilling is a shilling provided it come legitimately from the mint, no matter who is the donor; but here sentiment, which with us is confined to the higher classes, is to be found in the most miserable habitations.

Charlotte, who was within the hut, joined our party, and told us that a poor man had just been expressing to her feelings which certainly are not common in any rank of life. She had said, "_Tim._, why are you not walking to-day; it is too fine weather to stay in the house?" and his answer was, "The finer the day, my dear miss, the more I'd covet not to be looking at it; ever since I buried _her_, I'd rather be to myself, and Sunday brings all the people out." What an artless expression of faithful affection! This man's wife, who is the "_her_" to be comprehended, he supposes, by every one, because there is no other to confound with the image in his own breast, has been dead for six years; and yet Memory is true to her trust. There is something very endearing in this tenderness, and we feel in good humour with our species, when an instance like what I have mentioned occurs, to prove that some of our best movements can spring from an uncultivated soil.

At dinner, after dinner, and all the evening, I am compelled in honesty to say, that not a moment passed heavily. We laughed and talked as usual. The interval between dinner and tea was spent in walking; that between tea and nine o'clock in listening to some of Handel's finest songs, very sweetly performed; and e'er "the close of the silent eve," the family group were once more assembled; and after prayers, and a short but impressive sermon, sent to their rest with an emphatic blessing.

You have now the panorama of Glenalta, and you are placed upon a platform in the midst, from which, turning yourself round the scene, you can form a just idea of every object which it includes within the circuit.

Thus have I brought (I believe with fidelity) the first part of my epistolary labours to a conclusion. From this time forth you will know all the _ground-plan_, and be enabled to allot its own place to each occurrence as it may chance to arise. As to the general impression made upon my mind, I own to you that I never was so happy anywhere as since I came to this lone and lovely spot; and I am powerfully struck with the truth of a remark which you once made to me, and which at that time though I had a vague idea of your being right, I had no actual experience that permitted me to confirm; namely, that _society_ in its true sense consists not in the number of those _persons_ with whom one converses, but in the number of ideas excited in one's own mind. Glenalta completely illustrates this observation. A family of five individuals, with the addition of two intimate friends, have furnished such variety and excitement in the flow of my thoughts, that I appear to have lived in a crowd; and through a long duration of time I was thinking of this circumstance before I got up this morning as a contradiction to the common notion, that when we are most happy time seems the fleetest; but I see how it is--both remarks are strictly true.

Stimulus of an agreeable diversified nature certainly prevents our taking note of time while _present_, and therefore it may be said to glide away rapidly; but when _remembered_, every circumstance which produced a change of pleasure, serves to distinguish one portion from another, and thus to afford a sense of progress, which the dullness of monotony is incapable of producing, just as a single acre of ground, animated by trees, houses, and living creatures, fills a much greater extent in imagination, when we _recollect_ the landscape, than is occupied by a wide expanse of ocean, though the latter, when _looked_ upon, appeared a boundless prospect; _still_, however, in the midst of this sunshine of the heart, I always bear in mind that its _locality_ is the secret of its charm. _You_ would not agree with me, but I am assured that the sort of thing that delights where one feels no _responsibility_, would cease to fascinate in the moment that the surrounding world came to call one to account for one's country cousins: and these dear souls, perhaps, might make one blush at the _west end_. I ought not to say so from any thing that I have seen here; but the whole course of our thoughts and feelings is _so_ subject to join the tide of opinion, that I hardly dare to assert how far my present impressions, vivid as they are, would stand the test of a Bond-street jury.

As Mrs. Malaprop says, however, "let us not have any retrospections as to the future" _Viva, viva_. I am so much better, that I hardly remember how I came here in the high road to Charon's ferry.

I am longing to hear from you. Don't forget to let me know about Stanhope, as Mr. Otway will be anxious to learn whether you and he _cement_.

Adieu, dear Falkland. Am I not the very pine-apple, and quintessence of letter-writers? Huzza!

Yours, ever affectionately, ARTHUR HOWARD.