nor complaisance. I was blest with parents who never would have urged me on such a subject: but had it been otherwise, I am convinced I should have displayed a degree of resistance to their inclination which I never showed on any other occasion.

On this principle I acted, when, pretty early in life, I refused the hand of a young man, of immense wealth, abroad; and, lately, when, with less hesitation, I rejected the proposals of Lord Deanport. I never, for a moment, repented my determination, and, I am fully satisfied, never shall. Yet I imagine that I have a due re gard for wealth, and that I put a proper value on the comforts and conveniences it puts in our power. From such observations as I have been able to make, I am led to believe, that few things are so much over-valued, in this country particularly, as riches.

For my part, I am certain that I should feel more lasting mortification and pain from being put to the blush by one instance of ignorance, dulness, want of spirit, or of generosity, in my husband, than I could receive pleasure from his possessing the wealth of ten nabobs, and living in all the magnificence of the East.-Good heaven! how many personages do we see yawning through life in magnificence! I have a notion that I know a greater number of very opulent people, particularly of our sex, who pass their lives with less enjoyment, and more fretting, than any class, except, perhaps, those who are in want of the common conveniencies of life.

The fate of poor Fanny Faukener, with whom I was intimately acquainted at Lausanne, made a strong impression on my mind.

I have known few young women of more amiable dispositions, more accomplished, or more capable of rendering a man of sense and sentiment happy, and of being rendered happy by him.

Her greatest weakness lay in her having too little reliance in her own judgment, and being too pliant to the importunities of others. She was persuaded, by her relations, to marry Mr. Buckram, a young man who, by

the death of an elder brother, had acquired an immense fortune. Her relations assured her, that he was the best young man in the world;' and when she confessed to them, that, in spite of his good qualities, it was impossible for her to meet with a man for whom she could feel more indifference, she was told, that was an objection of no importance, because she might come to like him more, but would never like him less, which was an advantage many married women did not enjoy. She might, perhaps, have taken a small bias in his favour, from the reflection that he had given a preference to her over the prodigious number of young ladies in London, whom he might have had for the asking; but one of her good-natured friends informed her in confidence, a little after her marriage, that Mr. Buckram had never once thought of paying his addresses to her until he was desired to do so by his grandmother.

Yet, although Mr. Buckram had never paid Miss Faukener any particular attention before, he thought it his duty to fall in love with her as soon as his grandmother signified her inclination that he should do so; and, from the same sense of duty and decorum, he was very attentive to her after she became his wife.

Mr. Buckram was a great observer of decorum and uniformity, and particularly fond of whatever was new. As he had taken a wife, which was quite a new thing to him, to please his grandmother, he resolved to have other parts of his establishment as new as her, to please himself.

He therefore took a new house, ordered new furniture, new carriages, new liveries; caused his old pictures, particularly a holy family by Raphael, to be new varnished; and he exchanged an antique statue, which his father had brought from Rome, for one a great deal newer. He rejected the proposal of having some old family jewels to be new set for his wife, and ordered others for her, all spick and span new:-In short, every thing he presented her with was new, except his ideas of these he had but a

scanty portion; and, what few he had, were worn threadbare by use.

The frequent repetition of observations, not worth making, was rather tiresome to the most patient of his acquaintance, but to his wife became oppressive. As Mr. Buckram was a very good-natured man, he would probably have corrected this, in some degree, if he had had any suspicion of it; but, unfortunately, however tiresome his observations were to others, they seemed so amusing to himself, that he generally introduced them with a simper, and accompanied them with a laugh.

As young Mr. Buckram lived as well, according to the phrase, as most men, he had abundance of visitors. His house was peculiarly convenient to some of his wife's relations, who were fond of entertainments, and to whom it was more agreeable to enjoy them in their friend's houses than in their own. Poor Fanny was thought by some to have been made a sacrifice to this taste of her nearest relations; for, whatever happiness they might have in her house, she had none. She was miserable, however, in a different style from other unfortunate people; not from want, but from superabundance :-she had a profusion of every thing, and seemed to have a relish for nothing. There were few things of which she had a greater share, and for which she had a smaller relish, than her husband's company: indeed, few women would have been flattered with the reason he gave for bestowing on her so much of it. He said he considered it as a duty, incumbent on every husband, to be as much with his wife as his other avocations would permit. What he began from a sense of duty, he continued from habit. But habit had an opposite effect on her: she relished his company less and less; and, when she told him that she was so dejected she could not utter a word, (which was often the case), he declared that he would remain with her, on purpose to raise her spirits by his conversation.

When I first knew Fanny Faukener, she lived with her mother, in a frugal manner, and she was one of the most cheerful girls I was ever acquainted with,

When I visited her after her marriage, I found her in a house like a palace, surrounded with gaudy superfluity; but she, herself, with a face of langour and dejection. At sight of me her features were enlivened; I recognised the countenance of my old companion; but, her husband coming in, it resumed its former dejection. Nothing, to be sure, could be more teasingly ceremonious than the behaviour, or more oppressively insipid than the conversation, of this worthy man. His wife blushed as often as he spoke. She made one attempt to get rid of him, by putting him in mind of an engagement. There would be more impropriety,' said he, in leaving you and this lady, my dear, than in breaking the engagment." -I entreated he might use no ceremony. He said, he understood politeness better."

When I saw the case desperate, I rose to withdraw. He led me through several rooms to exhibit his new-coloured pictures, and the splendour of the furniture.—

You see, madam,' said he, addressing me, that your friend is in possession of every thing that can render a woman happy.'-The tears started into my poor friend's eyes; and I hurried away, that she might not see I had perceived it.

If I had not been so determined before, this example would have made me resolve never to be the wife of a man I did not both love and esteem in a supreme degree, whatever his wealth and his good-nature might be.

Unquestionably, instances may be produced of women who have been rendered unhappy by husbands whom they both loved and esteemed at the time of their marriage :— but even those women, though on the whole unfortunate, had enjoyment for a certain period at least; whereas poor Mrs. Buckram has never had a day free from tedium since that of her marriage. Her hours, which formerly danced away as lightly as those of Guido's Aurora, nów move at a snail's pace, along a heavy cheerless road. All she has to quicken them is, a constant routine of entertainments she dislikes, in the company of a man whom she was persuaded to marry on account of his riches; who, she knew,

had married her at the request of his grandmother; who kept her company at first from a sense of duty; and who now declares he can no more live without her than he can without snuff. She hears it daily repeated, however, by her own relations, that she has been wonderfully fortunate in her marriage, and that she is one of the happiest women in England; and if any of her husband's relations, particularly his grandmother, chance to be present, the poor girl suppresses a sigh, constrains her features into a smile, and answers Oh dear! yes, I am very-very happy indeed!'

I am certain, my friend, that a want of elevation of mind in my husband, an insensibility to that honourable distinction which arises from talent and character, would render my fate similar to that of poor Fanny Faukener. Good sense, generosity, and spirit, with humanity, are indispensable requisites in the husband who has any chance to render my condition happier than it is.

I began this immediately after receiving yours; and shall send it by this night's post, that you may contrive, if possible, to save the plump gentleman the fatigue of a journey to London, and a mortification when he arrives, that I am convinced will be as painful for me to give, as for him to receive.

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I have not yet seen my brother. I expect that pleasure every minute. Adieu! my dear Lady Diana.

H. CLIFFORD.

LETTER LXXXII.

LADY DIANA FRANKLIN to MISS HORATIA CLIFFORD.

MY DEAR HORATIA,

Plimpton.

I WRITE this to free you from all apprehension of being visited by the person whose addresses would, you say, distress you. Immediately on receiving yours, I wrote to Mrs. Berkley in terms that will, unquestionably, induce her to prevent her nephew from taking the journey he intended.