MRS INCHBALD.

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RS INCHBALD attained considerable distinction both as a dramatist and a novelist, though in neither capacity is she much known to the present generation of play-goers and novel-readers. Her best dramatic effort was the comedy of "Such Things Are," though the plays of "Lovers' Vows," "The Midnight Hour," and "Wives as they Were, and Maids as they Are," display much sprightly dialogue and some interesting situations. Her best novel is "A Simple Story" (first published in 1791), which is characterised by a striking though somewhat confused plot, and by scenes of really passionate interest. Her second and last romance, "Nature and Art" (1796), is written with much vigour and occasional picturesque effect, but the incidents are improbable, and the artistic work is of the coarsest kind.

Mrs Inchbald was born at Stundyfield, near Bury St Edmunds, in 1753. At the age of sixteen a romantic disposition induced her to migrate to London, unprotected and ill provided. Handsome and clever, she obtained an engagement at a provincial theatre, and being exposed to many indignities, married Mr Inchbald, a fellow-actor, who had frequently befriended her. She continued on the stage, however, and acted with much success in Edinburgh, Dublin, and London; nor did she retire until 1789, long after her husband's death.

A woman of parsimonious habits-though capable, let us add, of occasional acts of splendid generosity-she acquired a moderate fortune, which was much increased by the profits arising from her plays and novels. Her later years, therefore, were spent in complete independence, and at her decease she bequeathed to her relatives a sum of £6000. She died at Kensington on the 1st of August 1821.

Besides her original works, Mrs Inchbald edited a Collection of Plays and Farces, and "The Modern Theatre," supplying a series of wellwritten biographical and critical prefaces.

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OTWITHSTANDING the seeming readiness with which Miss

Milner had resigned all further acquaintance with Lord Frederick, during the short ride home she appeared to have lost great part of her wonted spirits she was thoughtful, and once sighed heavily. Dorriforth began to fear that she had not only made a sacrifice of her affections, but of her veracity; yet why she had done so he could not comprehend.

As the carriage moved slowly through a lane between Elmwood Castle and her own house, on casting her eyes out of the window, Miss Milner's countenance was brightened in an instant; and that instant Lord Frederick, on horseback, was at the coach door, and the coachman stopped.

"Oh, Miss Milner," cried he (with a voice and manner that could give little suspicion of the truth of what he said), "I am overjoyed at the happiness of seeing you, even though it is but an accidental meeting."

She was evidently glad to see him; but the earnestness with which he spoke seemed to put her upon her guard not to express the like satisfacfaction; and she said, in a cool, restrained manner, she "was glad to see his lordship."

The reserve with which she spoke gave Lord Frederick immediate suspicion who was in the coach with her, and turning his head quickly, he met the stern eye of Dorriforth; upon which, without the smallest salutation, he turned from him again abruptly and rudely. Miss Milner was again confused, and Miss Woodley in torture, at this palpable affront, to which Dorriforth alone appeared indifferent.

"Go on," said Miss Milner to the footman, desire the coachman to drive on."

"No," cried Lord Frederick, “not till you have told me when I shall see you again."

"I will write you word, my lord," replied she, something alarmed. "You shall have a letter immediately after I get home."

As if he guessed what its contents were to be, he cried out with warmth, "Take care, then, madam, how you treat me in that letter. And you, Mr Dorriforth," turning to him, "do you take care what it contains; for if it be dictated by you, to you I shall send the answer."

*From "A Simple Story. By Mrs Inchbald." (London, 1820.)

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Dorriforth, without making any reply, or casting a look at him, put his head out of the window on the opposite side, and called, in a very angry tone, to the coachman, "How dare you not drive on, when your lady orders you?"

The sound of Dorriforth's voice in anger was to the servants so unusual,

that it acted like electricity upon the man; and he drove away at the instant with such rapidity that Lord Frederick was in a moment many yards behind. As soon, however, as he recovered from the surprise into which this sudden command had thrown him, he rode with speed after the carriage, and followed it till it arrived at the door of Miss Milner's house; there, giving himself up to the rage of love, or to rage against Dorriforth for the contempt he had shown to him, he leaped from his horse when Miss Milner stepped from her carriage, and seizing her hand, entreated her "not to desert him, in compliance with the injunctions of monkish hypocrisy."

Dorriforth heard this, standing silently by, with a manly scorn upon his

countenance.

Miss Milner struggled to loose her hand, saying, "Excuse me from replying to you now, my lord." In return, he lifted her hand eagerly to his lips, and began to devour it with kisses; when Dorriforth, with an instantaneous impulse, rushed forward, and struck him a violent blow on the face. Under the force of this assault, and the astonishment it excited, Lord Frederick staggered, and, letting fall the hand of Miss Milner, her guardian immediately laid hold of it and led her into the house. She was terrified beyond description, and with extreme difficulty Mr Dorriforth conveyed her to her own chamber, without taking her in his When, by the assistance of her maid, he had placed her upon a sofa, overwhelmed with shame and confusion for what he had done, he fell upon his knees before her, and "implored her forgiveness for the indelicacy he had been guilty of in her presence." And that he had alarmed her, and had forgotten the respect which he thought sacredly her due, seemed the only circumstance which then dwelt upon his thoughts.

arms.

She felt the indecorum of the posture he then condescended to take, and was shocked. To see her guardian at her feet struck her with a sense of impropriety, as if she had seen a parent there. With agitation and emotion she conjured him to rise; and, with a thousand protestations, declared, "that she thought the rashness of the action was the highest proof of his regard for her."

Miss Woodley now entered-her care being ever employed upon the unfortunate, Lord Frederick had just been the object of it—she had waited by his side, and, with very good purpose, had preached patience to him while he was smarting under the pain, but more under the shame, of his chastisement. At first his fury threatened a retort upon the servants around him (and who refused his entrance into the house) of the punishment he had received. But, in the certainty of an amende honorable which must hereafter be made, he overcame the many temptations which the moment offered, and remounting his horse, rode away from the scene of his disgrace.

THE END.