"Mr. Hales! Mr. Hales, the clergy- strong as I was, and therefore I wish you man I cannot imagine what he could to push things forward. I have given up, mean. But it must have been something as you know, my proper attention to low, of course; either badger-baiting, or many little matters (which go on very prize-fighting-though people of really badly without me) simply that all my good position have a right to like such things. But now we must let that poor stupid Sir Remnant, who cannot even turn a compliment, have his own way about silly Alice, for the sake of more important things." 66 My dear mother, you sometimes try me. What can be more important than Alice? And to what overpowering influence is she to be sacrificed?" "It is useless to talk like that, Sir Roland. She must do her best, like everybody else who is not of ignoble family. The girl has plenty of pride, and will be the first to perceive the necessity. 'Twill not be so much for the sake of the settlement, for that of course will go with her; but we must make it a stipulation, and have it set down under hand and seal, that Sir Remnant, and after his time his son, shall sell to us, at a valuation, any pieces of our own land which we may be able to repurchase. Now, Roland, you never would have thought of that. It is a most admirable plan, is it not?" "It is worthy of your ingenuity, mother. But will Sir Remnant agree to it? He is fond of his acres, like all landowners." "One acre is as good as another to a man of modern lineage. Some of that land passed from us at the time of the great confiscation, and some was sold by that reckless man, the last Sir Hilary but one. The Chapmans have held very little of it for even so much as two centuries; how then can they be attached to it? No, no. You must make that condition, Roland, the first and the most essential point. As for the settlement, that is nothing; though of course you will also insist upon it. For a girl of Alice's birth and appearance, we could easily get a larger settlement and a much higher position, by sending her to London for one season, under Lady de Lampnor. But how would that help us towards getting back the land?" You look so learned," said Sir Roland, smiling, "with all those books which you seem to have mastered, that surely we may employ you to draw the deed for signature by Sir Remnant.” small abilities might be devoted to this great purpose. I hope to have still a few years left-but two things I must see accomplished before I can leave this world in peace. Alice must marry Captain Chapman, upon the conditions which I have expressed, and Hilary must marry a fortune, with special clauses enabling him to invest it in land upon proper trusts. The boy is handsome enough for anything; and his fame for courage, and his martial bearing, and above all his regimentals, will make him irresistible. But he must not stay at the wars too long. It is too great a risk to run." "Well, my dear mother, I must confess that your scheme is a very fine one. Supposing, I mean, that the object is worth it; of which I am by no means sure. I have not made it the purpose of my life to recover the Lorraine estates; I have not toiled and schemed for that end; although," he added with dry irony, which quite escaped his mother's sense, "it is of course a far less exertion to sell one's children, with that view. But there are several hitches in your little plan for instance, Alice hates Captain Chapman, and Hilary loves a girl without a penny though the Grower must have had good markets lately, according to the price of vegetables." Clever as Sir Roland was, he made the mistake of the outer world: there are no such things as "good markets." "Alice is a mere child," replied her grandmother, smiling placidly; "she cannot have the smallest idea yet, as to what she likes, or dislikes. The captain is much better bred than his father; and he can drive four-in-hand. I wonder that she has shown such presumption, as either to like or dislike him. It is your fault, Roland. Perpetual indulgence sets children up to such dreadful things; of which they must be broken painfully, having been encouraged so." "My dear mother," Sir Roland answered, keeping his own opinions to himself; "you clearly know how to manage young girls, a great deal better than I do. Will you talk to Alice (in your own convincing and most eloquent manner) if I send her up to you?” "I have little doubt that I could do it," "With the greatest pleasure," said replied the ancient lady, who took every-Lady Valeria, having long expected this: thing as in earnest; but I am not so "you may safely leave her to me, I be 66 lieve. Chits of girls must be taught | head, as well as the straight nose, and their place. But I mean to be very quiet delicate chin -a strong resemblance of with her. Let me see her to-morrow, details, but in the expression of the Roland; I am tired now, and could not whole an even stronger difference. For manage her, without more talking than I Alice, besides the bright play of youth am fit for. Therefore I will say good- and all its glistening carelessness, was evening.'" gifted with a kinder and larger nature than her grandmother. And as a kind, large-fruited tree, to all who understand it, shows — even by its bark and foliage and the expression of its growth - the vigour of the virtue in it, and liberality of its juice; so a fine sweet human nature breathes and shines in the outer aspects, brightens the glance, and enriches the smile, and makes the whole creature charming. CHAPTER XXXVII. 66 ALICE had plenty of spirit of her own," which of course she called "sense of dignity;" but in spite of it all, she was most unwilling to encounter her valiant grandmother. And she knew that this encounter was announced, the moment she was sent for. But Alice, though blest with this very nice manner of contemplating humanity, was quite unable to bring it to bear upon the countenance of her grandmother. We all know how the very best benevolence perpetually is pulled up short; and even the turn of a word, or a look, or a breath of air with a smell in it, scatters fine ideas into corners out of harmony. "Is my hair right? Are my bows right? Has the old dog left any pawmarks on me?" she asked herself; but would rather have died—as in her quick way she said to herself — than have confessed her fright by asking any of the maids to tell her. Betwixt herself and her grandmother, there was little love lost, and still less kept; for each looked down upon the other, from heights of pure affection. "A flighty, romantic, unfledged girl, with no deference towards" her superiors "A cold-blooded, crafty, plotting old woman, without a bit of faith in any one;"- thus would each have seen the other's image, if she had clearly inspected her own mind, and faced its impressions honestly. The elder lady, having cares of her own, contrived, for the most part, to do very well without seeing much of her grandchild; who on the other hand was quite resigned to the affliction of this absence. But Alice could never perceive the justice of the reproaches wherewith she was met whenever she came, for not having come more often where she was not wanted. "You may take a chair, my dear, if you please;" said Lady Valeria, graciously; you seem to be rather pale to-day. I hope you have not taken anything likely to disagree with you. If you have, there is still a little drop left of my famous ginger-cordial. You make a face! That is not becoming. You must get over those childish tricks. You are let me see, how old are you?" "Seventeen years and a half, madam; about last Wednesday fortnight." "It is always good to be accurate, Alice. 'About' is a very loose word indeed. It may have been either that day or another." "It must have been either that day, or some other," said Alice, gravely curtsying. "You inherit this catchword style from your father. I pass it over, as you are so young. But the sooner you leave it off, the better. There are many things now that you must leave off. For instance, you must not pretend to be witty. It is not in our family." "I did not suppose that it was, grandmother." Now with all her courage ready, and not a sign in eye, face, or bearing, of the disquietude all the while fluttering in the shadow of her heart, the young lady looked at the ancient lady respectfully, and saluted her. Two fairer types of youth and age, of innocence and experience, of maiden grace and matron dignity, scarcely need be sought for; and the resemblance of their features height- "There used to be some wit, when I ened the contrast of age and character. was young; but none of it has descendA sculptor might have been pleased to ed. There is nothing more fatal to a reckon the points of beauty inherited by young girl's prospects than a sad ambithe maiden from the matron the slim tion for jesting. And it is concerning round neck, the graceful carriage of the your prospects now, that I wish to adwell-shaped head, the elliptic arch of vise you kindly. I hear from your fabrow, the broad yet softly moulded fore- ther a very sad thing - that you receive with ingratitude the plans which we have | If you are so bashful, you may look away ; formed for you." 66 My father has not told me of any plans at all about me." "He may not have told you; but you know them well. Consulting your own welfare and the interest of the family, we have resolved that you should at once receive the addresses of Captain Chapman." "You cannot be so cruel, I am sure. Or if you are, my father cannot. I would sooner die than so degrade myself." 66 Young girls always talk like that, when their fancy does not happen to be caught. When, however, that is the case, they care not how they degrade themselves. This throws upon their elders the duty of judging and deciding for them, as to what will conduce to their happiness." "To hear Captain Chapman's name alone conduces to my misery." you mean. "I beg you, Alice, to explain what Your expressions are strong; and I am not sure that they are altogether respectful." "I mean them to be quite respectful, grandmother; and I do not mean them to be too strong. Indeed I should despair of making them so." "You are very provoking. Will you kindly state your objections to Captain Chapman ? Alice for the first time dropped her eyes under the old lady's steadfast gaze. She felt that her intuition was right, but she could not put it into words. "Is it his appearance, may I ask? Is he too short for your ideal? Are his eyes too small, and his hair too thin? Does he slouch in walking, and turn his toes in? Is it any trumpery of that sort?" asked Lady Valeria, though in her heart such things were not scored as trumpery. "Were such things trumpery, when you were young?" her grandchild longed to ask, but duty and good training checked her. "His appearance is bad enough;" she replied, "but I do not attach much importance to that." "As if I believed it!" thought Lady Valeria. "Then what is it that proves fatal to him, in your sagacious judgment?" "I beg you as a favour, not to ask me, madam. I cannot-I cannot explain to you." "Nonsense, child," said the old lady, smiling; "you would not be so absurd if you had only seen a little good society. but at any rate you must tell me." "Then it is this," the maiden answered, with her grey eyes full on her grandmother's face, and a rich blush adding to their lustre; “Captain Chapman is not what I call a good man." "In what way? How? What have you heard against him? If he is not perfect, you can make him so." 66 Never, never! He is a very bad man. He despises all women; and he he looks he stares quite insolentlyeven at me!" "Well, this is a little too good, I declare!" exclaimed her grandmother, with as loud a laugh as good breeding ever indulges in "My dear child, you must go to London; you must be presented at Court; you must learn a little of the ways of the world; and see the first gentleman in Europe. How his Royal Highness will laugh, to be sure! I shail send him the story through Lady de Lampnor, that a young lady hates and abhors her intended, because he even ventures to look at her!" "You cannot understand me, madam. And I will not pretend to argue with you." "I should hope not, indeed. If we spread this story at the beginning of the season, and have you presented while it is fresh, we may save you, even yet, from your monster perhaps. There will be such eagerness to behold you, simply because you must not be looked at, that everybody will be at your feet, all closing their eyes for your sake, I should hope. Alice was a very sweet-tempered girl; but all the contempt, with which in her heart she unconsciously regarded her grandmother, was scarcely enough to keep her from flashing forth at this common raillery. Large tears of pride and injured delicacy formed in her eyes, but she held them in; only asking with a curtsy, "May I go now, if you please?" "To be sure, you may go. You have done quite enough. You have made me laugh, so that I want my tea. Only remember one serious thing - the interest of the family requires that you should soon learn to be looked at. You must begin to take lessons at once. Within six months you must be engaged, and within twelve months you must be married to Captain Stephen Chapman." "I trow not," said Alice to herself, as with another curtsy, and a shudder, she retreated. But she had not long been sitting by herself, and feeling the bitterness of defeat, before she determined, with womanly wit, to have a triumph somewhere; so she ran at once to her father's room; and he of course was at home to her. "If you please, dear papa, you must shut your books, and you must come into this great chair, and you must not shut even one of your eyes, but listen in the most respectful manner to all I have to say to you." "How many fifties - would you like to know? Come to me, and I will tell you." "No, not yet, papa. There is no kiss for you, unless you say I am worth a thousand!" "You little coquette! You keep all your coquetries for your own old father, I do believe." "Then tell me that I am worth a thousand, father a thousand acres of good "Well, my dear," Sir Roland answered; rich land with trees and hedges, and cows "what must be must. You are a thor- and sheep - surely I never can be worth ough tyrant. The days are certainly get-all that: or at any rate not to you, papa.' ting longer; but they scarcely seem to be long enough for you to torment your father." "No candles, papa, if you please, as yet. What I have to say can be said in the dark, and that will enable you to look at me, papa, which otherwise you could scarcely do. Is it true that you are plotting to marry me to that odious Captain Chapman?" Sir Roland began to think what to say; for his better nature often told him to wash his hands of this loathsome scheme. "Are you so tired of me already," said the quick girl, with sound of tears in her voice; "have I behaved so very badly, and shown so little love for you, that you want to kill me so very soon, father?" 66 Alice, come, Alice, you know how I love you; and that all that I care for is for your own good." "And are we so utterly different, papa, in our tastes, and perceptions, and principles, that you can ever dream that it is good for me to marry Mr. Chapman ?" "Well, my dear, he is a very nice man, quiet, and gentle, and kind to every one, and most attentive to his father. He could place you in a very good position, Alice; and you would still be near me. Also there are other reasons making it desirable." | "You are worth to me," said Sir Roland Lorraine as she fell into his arms, and sobbed, and kissed him, and stroked his white beard, and then sobbed again; "not a thousand acres, but ten thousand, land, and hearth, and home, and heart!" "Then after all you do love me, father. I call nothing love that loves anything else. And how much," she asked, with her arms round his neck, and her red lips curving to a crafty whisper, "how much should I be worth if I married a man I despise and dislike? Enough for my grave, and no more, papa, just the size of your small book-table." Here she fell away, lost in her father's arms, and for the moment could only sigh with her lips and eyelids quivering; and Sir Roland watching her pale loving face, was inclined to hate his own mother. "You shall marry no one, my own child," he whispered through her unbraided hair; "no one whom you do not love dearly, and who is not thoroughly worthy of you." Then I will not marry any one, papa," she answered with a smile reviving; "for I do not love any one a bit, papa, except my own father, and my own brother; and Uncle Struan of course, and so on, in an outer and milder manner. And as for being worthy of me, I am not worth very much, I know. Still if I am worth half an acre, I must be too good for that Cap "What other reasons, papa, may I know? Something about land, I sup-tain Chapman." pose. Land is at the bottom of every mischief." "You desperate little radical! Well, I will confess that land has a good deal to do with it." "Papa, am I worth twenty acres to you? Tell the truth now, am I?" "My darling, you are so very foolish. How can you ask such a question?" "Well, then, am I worth fifty? Come now, am I worth as much as fifty? Don't be afraid now, and say that I am, if you really feel that I am not." From The Spectator. MARY LAMB'S LETTERS.* To say in the same sentence that we are grateful to Mr. Hazlitt for this volume of "gleanings after the gleaners," Mary and Charles Lamb: Poems, Letters, and Remains. Now first collected, with Reminiscences and Notes. By W. Carew Hazlitt. London: Chatto and Windus. and that we dislike its tone and dispute happy in your own way, however odd that way the accuracy of many of its assertions, may appear to me to be. I would now advise may seem inconsistent, but it is an incon- you to drop all correspondence with William sistency into which all lovers of Charles [not W. Hazlitt, we are informed, in a footLamb and his writings will be likely to note, but an earlier William], but, as I said fall. His life was so intimately blended and views of things, your ways not being my before, as I cannot enter into your feelings with that of his sister, that letters from ways, why should I tell you what I would do Mary Lamb are, for biographical pur- in your situation; so, child, take thy own poses, almost as valuable as his own; ways, and God prosper thee in them!. indeed, we are not sure that in the light What is Mr. Turner, and what is likely to they throw upon the fireside existence of come of him? and how do you like him? and one so wedded to his fireside, that on what do you intend to do about it? I almost one of his removals he doubted if some wish you to remain single till your mother of his flesh would not be found adhering dies, and then come and live with us; and we to the door-posts of his late home, they how to live comfortably without. I think I would either get you a husband, or teach you are not superior to any of his own; should like to have you always, to the end of while in force and clearness of expres- our lives, living with us; and I do not know sion, in keenness of insight into charac- any reason why that should not be, except for ter, in strong sense, and in a pleasant, the great fancy you seem to have for marrying, quaint originality of ideas, they are equal which, after all, is but a hazardous kind of an to anything we have ever read in the affair. But, however, do as you like; every range of feminine correspondence. We one knows what pleases himself best. I have are therefore sensible of our indebted-known many single men I should have liked ness to Mr. Hazlitt for the publication of in my life (if I had suited them) for a husband, "" Lamb-Stoddart very letters, letters which dea! pretty freely with the virgin fancies and matrimonial aspirations of his grandmother, and place in a very attractive light the character of one of the most unselfish, amiable, and spite of her repeated attacks of insanity, most ration-termediate love-affairs, Mary Lamb ends a letter to her friend, the 66 al of women. The friendship between Mary Lamb and Sarah Stoddart - sister of the Doctor, afterwards Sir John Stoddart, to whom some of Lamb's letters are addressed was of earlier date than Barry Cornwall has assigned to it. Talfourd, too, is in error in heading a letter from Charles Lamb in 1806 "To Mrs. Hazlitt." Miss Stoddart did not marry Hazlitt till 1808, and in the intervening years had more "slips 'twixt the cup and the lip" than, we hope, often fall to the lot of any young lady. Miss Lamb's cordial interest in the kaleidoscopic changes of her friend's prospects is made healthy by sound advice, and by so wide a tolerance for the fundamental difference of view between them, as goes far to justify the bold assertion made in one of her earlier letters, that she thinks herself the only woman who could live with a brother's wife and make a real friend of her. When we are first introduced to Miss but few husbands have I ever wished was mine, which is rather against the state in general; but one never is disposed to envy wives their good husbands. So much for marrying; but, however, get married, - if you can. About two years later, after sundry in Determine as wisely as you can with regard to Hazlitt; and if your determination is to have him, Heaven send you many happy years together! If I am not mistaken, I have conthis same wish. I hope it is not ominous of cluded letters on the Corydon Courtship with change, for if I were sure you would not be quite starved to death nor beaten to a mummy, I should like to see Hazlitt and you come together, if (as Charles observes) it were only for the joke's sake. Write instantly to me. The marriage thus doubtfully welcomed was not a happy one, but of later differmainder of the correspondence after ences no trace is visible in the brief reSarah Stoddart became Sarah Hazlitt. The following extract from one of the earlier letters seems to us inexpressibly knew that she was), in her brother's touching, coming from one who was (and words, "always on the verge of insanity: I have no power over Charles. He will do, what he will do. But I ought to have some Stoddart, she is engaged to a Mr. Turner, little influence over myself. And therefore I of whom Mary Lamb writes: The terms you are upon with your lover does (as you say it will) appear wondrous strange to me; however, as I cannot enter into your feelings, I certainly can have nothing to say to it, only that I sincerely wish you am most manfully resolving to turn over a new leaf within my own mind. . . . You shall hear a good account of me, and the progress I make in altering my fretful temper to a calm and quiet one. It is but being once thoroughly convinced one is wrong, to make one resolve |