To account for this, let me indulge my readers and myself with a more detailed memorial of her.

Nobly allied, and the widow of a viscount, of great personal influence; with moreover a large jointure, which gave her great command of the matériel for display in the fashionable world: had she no further pretensions than these, she must have taken a high station in high society. But she had others of a still higher character.

Still what may be thought young; very handsome, though of maturer beauty; very elegant, very accomplished, and with no small portion of talent (particularly for observing all that was passing around her), she felt herself a great centre of attraction in various circles, whether of the idle or busy, the literary or political, the elegant or rational.

What was a great aid to this, she was of a frank and friendly nature, and would rather do good than ill; and though with wit, sufficient to make folly ridiculous where it intruded, yet never seeking, unless he deserved it, to make any person uncomfortable.

Hence, she was really courted for more than her mere fashion, and while all admired the peculiar ease and fascination of her manner, they gave her still more credit for her talents and sense. Young men were particularly fond of cultivating her acquaintance, and she in return was pleased (as

indeed no one had better means) to bring young men forward in good society.

Lord Castleton, I afterwards found, was very proud of her, often calling her "that superior woman, my niece."

Of such a person, who would suppose that the decayed gentleman, the Yorkshire farmer's son, could ever obtain the commonest notice, especially on a first introduction? But so it was, and by means which perhaps may seem still more surprising ;: to explain which, let us proceed by steps.

In times long gone by, now talked of as we talk of romance-York and Lancaster to wit-the Lord Hungerford, decapitated as a Lancasterian by Edward IV., left a daughter, Mary, who being restored in blood by Henry VII., carried her grandfather's title of Hungerford, together with his estates, into the family of Hastings, by her marriage with George, first Earl of Huntingdon.

The connection thus produced between the two families was never forgotten among its most remote branches to the latest time; so that the late viscount, and of course his accomplished wife, were perfectly well known to the family of Foljambe Park.

This was marked by an annual visit while the viscount was alive, and still more by having produced a warm and mutual affection between Bertha and Lady Hungerford, begun in the childhood of

the former, who still continued to call her by the endearing title of chere maman.

Lady Hungerford had only been a fortnight from the Park, where she had passed three days with its inmates, when it was thus my fortune to be introduced to her notice by Lord Castleton. Judge my feelings, when, with the grace and frankness that belonged to her, far away from that haughty air of protection which many in the same situation would have exhibited, she said,

"I know more of Mr. De Clifford than perhaps he thinks, for I have lately seen his friends, Mr. and Miss Hastings, who talked of him with much esteem."

I own this flushed my cheek, and I could only answer they were too good.

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'Nay," said Lady Hungerford, "that is but a cold reception of their recollection, especially as they accompanied it with many kind particulars; which, however, I shall not tell you, for fear the philosophy which they say belongs to you should be put to the test."

She said this archly, and with a smile, and Granville, who was watching us, and saw it, whispered me, after she was separated from us by other company-"The smile of that lady is worth a

million."

What this meant I did not know, but from the account I have given of Lady Hungerford, the

result of after-acquaintance, it will be easily understood.

In fact, is was my great good fortune to find favour with this elegant lady; for, some days afterwards, Lord Castleton told me he had been speaking to her about me, "when," said he," she observed that at our dinner party she liked your manner, which was quiet, yet collected; modest, yet with no mauvaise honte; that you seemed a youth of promise; and that as to your present unacquaintance with les usages, which I told her gave you serious alarm, that would soon mend with observation, and, as she was pleased to say, my tutorage; to which I could not help replying, that her own instruction would be far more efficacious."

At this, Lord Castleton said, she smiled, and observed that Granville, since our dinner party, had told her so much about me, that she was almost inclined to undertake it.

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"I tell you all this," said Lord Castleton, give you the encouragement you say you want, to put you more at your ease in the circles in which you are to move, and to which you have been hitherto a stranger—a fault which, as Lady Hungerford says, will very soon mend, particularly if she should really choose to patronize you, as she has done by more than one young man. For, give me leave to tell you," added he, " that no female in

England or France has it more in her power to bring forward youths unknown to fame,' to a respectable, and even a distinguished place in society, if they are fit for it."

Lord Castleton concluded with telling me that I had been also much obliged to the Hastings family for their mention of me to his niece, and advised me to present myself to her that very morning.

"She will, I dare say, see you," said he;" and if she does, though very penetrating in observation, do not be afraid of her, and above all, do not act, nor affect either to set off your acquirements, or veil what you may think your deficiencies. Be what you are, natural and unaffected; you will find your account in it."

I thanked Lord Castleton quite as much for this as for any of his other favours, for I was really much impressed with Lady Hungerford, and gladly obeyed his suggestion to call upon her that morning. I went, therefore, immediately to Berkeley Square, was let in, and found her in her boudoir, so occupied with a book, that at first she did not hear me announced. The book I saw, on her putting it down, was Shakspeare, and the play Cymbeline.

The boudoir breathed nothing but elegance, and from an abundant supply of beautiful flowers, all the freshness of spring. She seemed herself a magnificent rose. Marbles, alabasters, mirrors,