LETTER XIIL

MRS. ELIZA SANDFORD TO MRS. DOUGLAS.

My beloved Friend,

YOUR kind affection has anticipated all that I have to say: it has pleaded for me more powerfully than I could do for myslf, and has surely told you how much I have been engaged on returning after so long an absence, to Checkley. At last I begin to breathe; and my little Agnes makes such rapid advance to returning health, that I can now, without self-reproach, indulge in the dearest pleasure of life except that of conversing with you, and begin once more to pour out my heart into your faithful bosom. I may now in full security of our punctual English posts give you undisguised details of every thing most interesting, and expect the same from you, till the happy season arrive which will, I

trust, re-unite us, and give me the delight of re-visiting Glenalta. I must obey you before I follow the dictates of my own feelings, and answer your questions ere I touch upon matter of another description. "Describe your girls," you say. Well, then, in a few words, they are dear children: Julia is a charming creature, and if I do not take the mother too much upon me in saying so, is worthy of that friendship which is the boast and pride of her life, and which is bestowed upon her by your Emily. Such a letter as she has lately received, describing the retreat! but I must not digress. Julia, then, is really, at seventeen, a most interesting character. She is docile as possible, singularly artless and innocent, yet possessed of admirable faculties, which appear capable of application to a great variety of different purIn short, whatever Julia attempts she accomplishes, and performs well, but without the slightest vanity that I have been able to detect. Bertha is handsomer, quicker, and more striking, though not nearly so solid nor reflecting as her elder sister. She commits more

suits.

faults in a week than Julia in a year, from an impetuosity of temper which was not corrected while she was a little one; but her contrition is so genuine, and her nature so frank, that I always find myself loving her better than I did before whenever she has offended. She will be fifteen, you know, her next birth-day, and is certainly much improved since we went abroad.

The extreme youth of my dear girls, my particular object in leaving England being truly the recovery of health for one of them; the recent losses which they had sustained, and my dislike of company, all conspired to preserve us from the contagion of foreign influence; while I was enabled, by taking my young charge entirely from home, to break at once through a thousand ties which would have perplexed me exceedingly had I remained at Checkley. What I should have found much difficulty in gradually unloosening, I have now boldly dissevered, I shall not hold myself under any obligation to resume the thread of acquaintance with any whose society may not be advantageous

to my young people, who at present furnish me with ample excuse for declining all invitations, and thus avoiding jealousy on the part of our neighbours. Julia has never been in company, and is the only one of my girls whose age makes it expected that she should go out. Bertha will suffer no persecution as yet, and my little dear Agnes is hors de combat. Her delicate state affords me a reason, as genuinely sincere as it is opportune, for lying by in perfect tranquillity; and during this happy interregnum I shall profit by your advice, and learn to act with decision when I am forced out of my retirement.

As I consider myself only in the light of guardian, and have really no stake in this country myself, even the most calculating of the neighbouring gentry must perceive that I am not bound to any particular style of life; and the more discriminating amongst them, I may hope, will give me credit for acting upon principle. This is all that I want. I know how impossible it is to please every body, and indeed I wonder how an upright mind should desire the approval of a multitude made up of the

most discordant elements; but I am much puzzled, notwithstanding, what course to steer, and shall require all your pilotage to keep me steadily in the right track. To give you an idea of my dilemma, I must tell you what sort of people we are living amongst, and present you with a survey of our vicinage, before you can be of use

in directing my steps.

The Burleys, who are our nearest neighbours, are people of large fortune, and decidedly children of this world. They have sons and daughters all brought up in luxury. They have a house in London, go to town every year, have large expectancies, and so no doubt are full of the present "life's futurities;" but while they are in the country, they are inclined to be very friendly, and it will not be their fault if the inhabitants of their splendid hall and those of humbler Checkley are not allied in close intimacy. I am quite aware how the homely adage of "for want of company, welcome trumpery," applies upon many occasions when fine people leave the "flaunting crowd," and come to rusticate for a season in their country seats. But