laide; it must not be; and though I believe him to be a gambler, and know him to be a dunce, our sister is willing to wear his coronet, and excuse his errors and deficiencies. For myself, I am not sorry that the bustle of coachmakers, jewellers, milliners, &c. in which we are involved, prevents my having time to think much, for I am low, and quite out of humour. What you say of the world is true enough, and no one feels how true except he is carried round like a fly upon its wheel; but to stand still is worse: it makes one's head giddy to pause; and the country after all is so flat, so utterly devoid of interest, that tiresome as I confess a London life to be, any thing is better than the cobwebs of retirement. A rural bower sets one to sleep, even in imagination, and the only part of the system kept alive in retreat is the muscular apparatus by which we yawn.

If I could find out any " Royal road" to happiness, I should like to cut many of my acquaintances; but till I do, they must be endured, idle and silly as they are.

Here comes a man with Ady's diamonds, and

I am called to council. I will write a line to Paris, poste restante; so as you will probably make at once for the French capital, as a central point; you will there receive intelligence of our advancement to the peerage. I will send you the newspapers that you may see how the paragraph Old Lord Hawkston, being our hundred and fiftieth cousin, La Madre applies to him, to

runs.

act your part in giving the bride away.

Called again. Coming! coming!

Yours, ever affectionately,

L. HOWARD.

LETTER XX.

[Alluded to by Mr. Otway, addressed to him, and inclosed to Charles Falkland.]

My dear Friend,

I HASTEN to obey your injunctions, and give you some account of your amiable kinswoman, Clara Browne. On reaching York, I found a letter from her so earnestly praying me to visit at her house, and so warmly expressive of her wishes to make, as she kindly called me, "one of her oldest and most valued friends" acquainted with her husband, that I prepared as soon as I could to accept the invitation, and set out for Stockton. I found Clara the picture of contentment, and surrounded by all the substantial comforts and rational elegancies of life. Nothing could exceed the openness and affection with which she received me; and I was welcomed

by Mr. Browne in such a manner as to assure me, in the most gratifying language, that I was not a stranger to him. In a few days after my arrival at his house, a letter on urgent business required his presence in a distant part of the country; and I yielded to the united entreaties of my two friends that I would take care of Clara till his return in two days from D——.

Clara and her sister were now my only companions; and upon the first opportunity which occurred in a tête-à-tête walk, the former demanded of me a full, free, and candid declaration of my opinion respecting the object of her choice. I told her truly that I liked her husband extremely, and congratulated her with all my heart on having united herself to a man of high principle and worth; adding, that the suavity of his temper, mildness of his manners, and polite acquaintance with the world, attracted my admiration as sincerely as the graver qualities of his mind commanded my esteem and respect.

"Clara," said I, "you know that I was always a plain man, and as I am an old fellow, too, and used to abuse your fastidiousness in days

of yore, I have the more pleasure in praising now the sensible, excellent person with whom you have allied yourself. There was a time when nothing short of a galaxy of light, a constellation of genius and talent, would have satisfied you. I often told you then that you would one day or other discover your mistake, and I hoped not experimentally. I told you that good sense and a sweet disposition were of more value than all the brilliants upon which you set so high a price. May I not now wish to hear from your own lips that you have proved the truth of my doctrine?"

"Yes," answered Clara, "I glory in my renunciation of the follies which marked my youth; and, as dear Edward Otway will take the same interest that you do in my change, I shall egotize a little, and through you make confession to him of the motives which produced it. You remember, both of you, how I worshipped intellect, and if I am not too insignificant to have made so lasting an impression, you may recollect the silly energy with which I used to descant on moral virtue, and say that,