is, that as I have not yet had the advantage of case-hardening on the continent, I blushed as I bowed a seeming assent, resolving to make my excuse this morning, which I have accordingly done.

If modesty be really one of those cumbrous virtues, which, like the ponderous armour of former days, is no longer necessary in the high state of civilization to which we have attained, why is not the word honestly banished along with the quality which it represents? and why do we foolishly retain the sign, if we must lose sight of the idea to which it belongs? It would be wrong, perhaps, to charge a modern fair onè with actual vice because she can walk with perfect unconcern through files of statues representing the human form in a state of nudity, and that too in company, it may be, of a profligate man; but I must say, that to my untutored sense, the thing is very disgusting; and as London is certainly not the Garden of Eden, I should venture to add, that the practice is not very safe, unless moral virtue be no longer considered requisite to the well-being of the com

munity, but with other antiquities is to be only reserved for the cabinets of the curious; there, as we view it clothed in venerable rust, to excite our astonishment at the difference between the clumsy accoutrements of our ancestors, and the convenient accommodations of our own time.

I am interrupted by Mr. Otway, who sends his love, and bids me say, that he has a letter on the anvil; so I will send mine. But I have been led into the mazes of this brilliant scene, so far remote from domestic subjects, that I find not a word in all my prosing of poor uncle, for whom I feel both tenderness and respect. He suffers much, and, if I am not greatly mistaken, has "that within which passeth shew." His mind appears to me as if it had gone out of Nature's loom a goodly tissue, but has been pulled bias by untoward circumstances of fortune and ill health. As yet I know very little of him, and he is so reserved with his relations, that were there not certain loop-holes through which I peep into the interior, and

thence form judgment of his true texture, the first and second words of Cæsar's triplicate would answer every purpose of description in my instance; and in saying veni vidi, I should tell you all that is to be known; but I sometimes see him shake his head, and catch him now and then, his eyes suffused with tears, and fixed intently on me. The moment of observation is that of change, and, as a person who has dropped asleep in Church, coughs, hems, and kicks his heels, to prove how much awake he is, so my uncle throws a tartness, an abruptness, into his manner after one of these little affectionate lapses, to assure us of the sternness of his character. My next shall be to Emily.

Adieu, beloved! My heart is with you all, though the casket be far from you. I shall have much to tell the three, Graces I will not call them, Furies I cannot call them: what then shall I call them? They shall be the Destinies, because my fate is in their hands, and as they love and value me through life, I shall be happy or the contrary.

Remember me affectionately, if you please, to dear Mr. Oliphant, and do not drive your little car from the door without telling Law

rence that I enquire for him. Farewell!

Your own

FREDERICK.

LETTER XXVI.

MR. OTWAY TO MRS. DOUGLAS.

Dearest Friend,

My former letters have been faithful transcripts from the book of our lives, and Frederick has filled up all interstices, but before I proceed to the main purpose which induces me to write to-day, I must indulge myself, and not displease you, by saying a few words of this dear youth, whom I have hitherto only mentioned incidentally, because I wished to see how he would bear the whirl of a London scene, and comport himself in some situations as trying as they were novel to him, ere I trumpeted his praise. You know how I abhor flattery, and will therefore give me credit for believing what I express of admiration for your son, who