CHAPTER VIII.
Ourhero now resumed his legal studies, and his literary pursuits. He continued to admire the administration of Mr. Pitt, in general principle, and in most of its particular acts. The commercial treaty with France he regarded as a grand and striking instance of liberal and enlightened policy, and wrote a very ingenious and able pamphlet in its favour, but hitherto did not put his name to his performances. He continued to attend Parliament on important debates, and occasionally to write essays, but was not yet a professed author.
Meanwhile he made very anxious inquiries concerning Jenny Collings, but that worthy girl, with great magnanimity and self-denial, resolutely secluded herselffrom his company during the whole winter. It was now the month of May, and on a Sunday morning, which our hero generally devoted to walking in the fields, and William had strolled as far as the north gate of Kensington gardens, when he saw at a little distance before him, on the other side of the wall, a well-dressed and well-made girl, whom, approaching more nearly, he found, to his surprise and delight, to be his long-lost Jenny. At so unexpected a sight poor Collings screamed and almost fainted, but recovering, she intreated him, for Heaven’s sake, to leave her. But whilst her tongue said so, it was contradicted by her eyes, that melted with tenderness and love. Soft and gentle dalliance proceeded to ardent and dangerous caresses, which Jenny first attempted to resist but at length returned. Poor Collings again experienced that no trial canbe more perilous to female penitence than meeting with the beloved cause of former indiscretion.
In the course of their conversation she informed him, that she was going to Shepherd’s Bush, to spend the day with a sister of her employer. But learning that she had not absolutely promised, he persuaded her to feign an excuse, and to spend the day with him. The ice being once broken, this change was effected with little difficulty, and from this time the frail fair one consented to interviews as often as they could find opportunities.
Mrs. Hamilton was now arrived in town, and a house was taken in Hatton-garden, convenient for her son’s pursuits in Lincolns Inn. Our hero was now beginning to be known among the booksellers, and was not without applications from gentlemen and others of that profession.
It was again a Sunday morning; and William, having pretended an engagement to dine at Richmond, was breakfasting with his mother and sister, previous to his departure to meet his Jenny; when a loud knock thundered at the door, and the maid coming up stairs said, that a person below wanted her master. “A person, Sally, what kind of a person?” “I don’t think much, he be a gentleman, though he be very smart.”—“Well, shew him up.” Accordingly the person, as Sally phrased it, was introduced. He was a short, squat, sturdy man, with a face round like an apple, chubby, and adorned with cheeks of the kind of that fruit that is called red-streak, goggling eyes, and an expression of mingled pertness, self-importance, and inanity. To decorate this graceful presence, there was a cocked hat, a green coat lined with yellow satin, a red silkwaistcoat, and black silk breeches, all bran new, with white silk stockings, now inclining to yellow, very smart shoes, graced with plated buckles, which, having seen service, shewed the brass in various parts. Having walked in with his hat on, he took it off and made to the ladies a bow, which he intended at once to exhibit dignity and condescension; then turning to the gentleman said, “I presume you are Mr. Hamilton.”—“At your service; pray, sir, be seated.”—Having taken a chair, the visitor began: “My name, sir, is Jeffery Lawhunt, I keep a bookseller’s shop; here’s my card; perhaps you have heard of me, and of my character.”—“Yes, I have,” replied the other. “I was not brought up to the bookselling business; I was in the taylor line, and still do a little in that way; these breeches are my own making, and see, madam, they fit verywell.”—The young lady ran out at this appeal.—“I got the piece pretty cheap, in payment of a debt that I thought bad.—But I am wandering from the point on which I called on you.—You must know, sir, since I have taken to the bookselling trade, I am a greatpattern of learning, and hearing you are a very good hand, I am willing to give you employment, sir.”—“You are very kind,” said Hamilton.—“And as to terms, I tell you how I do with my journeymen, and I find some of my authors agreeable to it; also I gives them their wages in traffic.”—“Intraffic!” said Hamilton.—“Yes, and I find it a very good way: for instance, a coat, or a waistcoat, or a pair of breeches, or sometimes in provisions. I buy a lot of hams, and give pieces of them as payment, both at the board and printing-house. Do you ever do any thing in thetheatrical line?”—“Never.”—“Could you not write me a pretty smart novel? I give a very good price. Mrs. Devon, a famous writter, she wrote the Perseverance of Perplexity, and the Lavish Landlord. She has, first and last, had twelve guineas of my money. I have a letter in my pocket here, that will shew you the kind of applications I receive.” Our hero accordingly perused the following epistle:—
“Mr.Jeffery Lawhunt;
Sir;—Having been in business in the child-bed linen way, and not finding things answer, I have been advised by my friends to set up in thelitteraryline, which they tell me requires little capital, and so no wonder so many poor people takes after it;”—(‘A very just remark,’ observed Lawhunt;)—“so I am a writing a novel, with plenty ofghosteses in it; which is now quite the kick.” (‘So it is,’ observed Jeffery, ‘you see she knows what’s what.’) “Now, sir, as I understand you are a great inkurrager of harudishon, I have made bold for to offer to you what, to use a compollison, may be called the first child of my virgin muse.” (‘A very marvellous production,’ said our hero, ‘this first child of the virgin muse, I dare say, is.’) (‘I thought,’ observed Jeffery, ‘you would like the figure.’) “I hope it, will give you satisfaction, and I am, sir, your most humble servant, to command,
Sarah Shift.
P.S. If you could let me have a little in advance, shud be much obligated to you.”
“Well, sir, have you complied with the lady’s request?”—“O yes; I think you will say I behaved very generous.—Igave her two guineas in money, a flitch of bacon, a couple of fowls, and a green goose from my cottage in the country, and stuff for a callimanco petticoat. I got the manuscript, but the printer tells me that the spelling is not so right as it should be. Now, sir, as I am told you are a scoller, I would not scruple twenty pounds for a novel that you should write.” “You are liberal even to munificence, sir; but at present I have no thoughts of any such composition.”—“Will you favour me with your company to dinner, sir; there is to be a literary party; there is to be little Dr. Grub, and Mr. Whippersnapper, a great maker of verses; and Mr. Macculpin.”—“Is Mr. Macculpin a Scotch gentleman?”—“No; damn the Scotch, I have had enough of them; though I am Yorkshire myself, they arefarther north. Here there was one of them that wrote a bookthat I published for him; I thought I could have got him off with thirty pounds, but he would have three hundred: to law we went, and by G—d it cost me five hundred before I was done with it. So that my profits, which I thought would have been six hundred, were little more than one. I will have nothing more to do with the Scotch. No, Mr. Macculpin is a Irish gentleman. There will also be Mrs. Ogle that writes hymns for the Gospel Magazine, and other articles of poetry, especially sacred; and Mr. Spatter, the reviewer, who is a great favourite with her. It is not for nothing that he praises her psalms, but that’s not a subject to speak of before a lady.”—Mrs. Hamilton now hastily followed her daughter; and Lawhunt, not being able to prevail on our hero, at length departed, and William hastened to his Jenny, who waited with the most anxious impatience.Her passion, increased by renewed indulgence, now knew no bounds. She was willing to sacrifice fame, employment, and every thing else, and ardently desired to live with Hamilton.—By perseverance in illicit love, her mind became gradually debased. Sentiment and affection, though still very strong, began now to be surpassed by mere sensual desire, and though Hamilton had no reason for jealousy, the fidelity of Collings was now owing much more to the closeness of his attentions than to the firmness of her constancy. She gradually became negligent about her employment, and not long after relinquished it entirely. Hamilton could not help perceiving her degeneracy, and coolling in his own passion, but conscious that he himself was the cause of her apostacy from virtue, and afterwards from delicacy, felt keen remorse. Her situationsoon came to require retirement; the fruits of their affection was a fine boy, born the very day his father reached the 24th year of his age.
Hamilton was now extending his acquaintance among gentlemen of the law, and also men of literary eminence. He had the honour to be known to Gibbon, who thought very highly of his talents and erudition, perhaps, not the less that a masterly review of the history was found to be the production of Hamilton. He occasionally met Dr. Samuel Parr, bishops Watson and Horseley, and was very intimate with Paley. He knew Dr. Gillies, and received much valuable information from the accurate and well digested knowledge of that elegant scholar. He was well acquainted with the philological research, sportive humour, and convivial hilarity of the younger Burney; the unassuming manners, carelessand thoughtless deportment, but profound erudition of a Porson.
Our hero, encouraged by the high praises bestowed upon his literary essays, determined to bring forward a work of some magnitude and importance.
Hamilton, one afternoon, having been in the neighbourhood of Pancras, where Miss Collings now resided, and returning through Gray’s Inn Lane, observing a literary acquaintance in the Burton ale-house, entered that mansion, where, after they had been about a quarter of an hour, a gentleman came in, and accosting our hero’s acquaintance, joined the conversation. Hamilton was astonished at the brilliancy and strength of this gentleman’s observations, the extent and depth of his metaphysical, moral, and political science. He soon found that this was William Strongbrain, a gentleman very highly prized in the republic of letters,and in Hamilton’s estimation, deserving still higher praise than that which he had received. Hamilton had read, with very great admiration, his execution of an historical plan, projected by another, but left imperfect by his death. He had perused with peculiar delight a mixture of profound philosophy, enlightened policy, and poignant satire, exhibited in a book of a very whimsical title, and comprehending an intellectual and moral portrait of a very illustrious orator, and that he was at this time engaged in conducting a review, commenced by a celebrated vindicator of the lovely and unfortunate Mary. In the course of the evening Hamilton received from this gentleman such an accession, not only of details and facts, but of principles and views, as convinced him he would be a very valuable instructor, while the strength and splendour of his wit andhumour rendered him a most delightful companion. The charms of Strongbrain’s colloquial powers fascinated our hero to a very late hour, and he determined to spare no pains in cultivating so very valuable and pleasant an acquaintance: but for some weeks family parties interrupted the progress of their new acquaintance. The old vicar and his son took an excursion to London, whence their friends promised to return with him to Yorkshire. The day was appointed for their departure, when a letter arriving from Etterick, strongly soliciting William to come as soon as possible to Scotland, as his assistance was very much wanted, both by the father and daughter. The mother had, it seems, been dead upwards of a year, and for many months the father and Mrs. O’Rourke had lived together in tranquillity. But of late, disturbance had taken place, which theythought our hero’s presence would most effectually remove. Imparting the particulars to his friends, he convinced them all, that it was necessary, or at least expedient, for him to comply with the request. Accordingly he set off for the north in the Highflyer, which left town from Fetter-lane, in his neighbourhood. They set off between one and two in the afternoon, having only three inside passengers. Nothing remarkable occurred till they arrived at Hertford, where our hero ordered some coffee, while the horses were changing; and having entered a public room, he observed, standing by a table, talking to an elderly gentleman that appeared settling with a waiter, an object that riveted him to the spot where he stood. This was a young lady about nineteen years of age, with a face and countenance that he thought the most interesting and engaginghe had ever beheld. She was above the middling stature, exquisitely formed, having her shape and proportions exactly displayed by a riding habit. Her features were at once regular and prominent, her hair was black, her forehead small but oval, with eyebrows even, full, and strongly enhancing the penetrating sagacity and brilliant lustre of her dark and piercing eyes, that indicated quickness and strength of genius, mixed with benignity of disposition, and an arch intelligence, that gave a zest to the softness. Her nose was aquiline, the sweetness of her mouth, containing teeth like the driven snow, plump, softly pouting lips, and cheeks on which cupids played in smiles and dimples tempered the fire of her eyes. Her whole countenance displayed an acute and powerful understanding, spirit, sensibility, and benevolence, but a benevolence of ardentaffection, and not sentimental mawkishness. Our hero had gazed on this lovely girl with eyes of speaking delight and admiration for a minute or two, when perceiving their direction she sat down by the gentleman. William soon learned that the young lady and her companion, who was no other than her own father, were to be his fellow travellers in the coach; whither they were now summoned, and William had the pleasure of touching her hand as he assisted her ascent to the vehicle. In the course of the following stage, which was through a very beautiful country, the observations of the young lady, though not many, shewed a mind not only alive to the charms of nature, but which, cultivated and discriminating, could assign to the various objects their due proportion of the beautiful, the grand, or the picturesque, as the one or the other happened to pre-dominate.After they had passed Baldock, a bare and black aspect prevented farther remarks on the face of the country, and some other travellers endeavoured to take the lead in the conversation, by introducing topics on which they conceived they could respectively shine.—One of the first of these was a parson, who had joined them a little before, and who, having observed that the conversation was at a stand, imputed the cessation to veneration and awe of his dignified appearance, and with condescending graciousness said, “Pray, good people, do not constrain yourselves on account of my presence; I am candid and liberal, and ready to make allowance for inexperience or misinformation; therefore open, and if you should happen to be wrong in any assertion or observation, I shall put you to rights.” The bright eyes of the young lady at this pompousand self-sufficient declaration assumed an expression of sportive archness that immediately demonstrated her comprehension of his character, and her relish for humour. Our hero perceiving this, determined to gratify her by inducing his reverence to a full display. He said, he was extremely happy to find a gentleman so willing to communicate his instructions; that he himself was conscious of great ignorance and many errors; but he trusted he was docile. “Docility,” said the priest, in the imperative tone of pulpit inculcation, “docility is one step towards the acquisition of knowledge; to receive instruction you must be willing as well as capable.” “A very just, and, to my belief, an original remark.” “It is,” said the parson, “the result of long experience, accompanied by deep reflection. I have seen and observed much, but I have thought more. In my inquiriesI always dive to the bottom, and do not float on the surface. What had been the subject of your conversation before it was interrupted by my presence and your own modesty?” “We were speaking of the face of the country, which is not so pleasant as that between Hertford and Stevenage. It is bare and chalky.”—“A bare and bleak face of a country, young gentleman, is not so pleasant to the eye, as a succession of woods, lawns, and verdant pastures.—You will farther observe that an expanse of flat is less agreeable than a vicissitude of hill and dale. But if you are going much farther north, I shall have an opportunity of illustrating this remark as we pass through Lincolnshire. Even in the prospects near London, which many shallow judges praise, I have discovered defects; they are either too flat and monotonous, or want the diversification ofwater; for water is a very momentous addition to the external aspect of nature.” These profound remarks were regarded with much admiration by a female passenger who sat opposite to the beneficent instructor, and next to the young lady. This listener conceived she was hearing the voice of wisdom, and being one herself that sought the character of sense and knowledge in her own circle, she treasured these observations in her memory, to be afterwards repeated as the discoveries of her own sagacity. During the delivery of the oracles the coach arrived at Biggleswade, where they were to sup. The parson having expended his wisdom upon one topic displayed his stores on another, and opened on the subject of the coalition, on which, though not new, he professed to deliver some opinions and observations, that the company would find a little out of the ordinary way.—“Youwill observe, Mr. Fox for many years opposed lord North, and said he was totally unfit for being a minister.—He said, the country must be ruined if he continued in office.—He was the chief instrument of driving him out.—Soon after he formed a coalition with this very man, and came together with him into office.—I say, my good friends, that in so doing Mr. Fox was not consistent, mark my words well, Mr. Fox was not consistent.—There are other parts of Mr. Fox’s conduct which I can no less clearly demonstrate to be extremely wrong.—What did his India bill do?—It violated chartered rights; I say, violated chartered rights, and it raised a fourth estate within the empire.—I pointed that out to my friends Burke and Windham, and advised them to explain it to Mr. Fox, but they would have their own ways; and so it fares. There are otherparts of Mr. Fox’s conduct, which I by no means approve. I very much blame his support of the dissenters, and his friendly disposition to Priestley, a heretic and infidel, and one that would destroy our church: one that has himself boasted that he would blow up the church with gunpowder. Can one that is preparing to blow up the church, be called a friend to the church? mark that.” Mrs. Halifax, the lady whom we have before mentioned, being a sound churchwoman, agreed with the censure of Priestley, and observed that “that was a very strongargement, that those who would set fire to a place could not wish well to the owner. There was,” says she, “in our neighbourhood, a barn set on fire on purpose the other week, and all the country said it must have been done in malice.” Our hero praised the sagacity of those who found out that wilful incendiariesmust act from bad motives.—“I remember,” he said, “reading in the history of England, that there was a gunpowder plot contrived, in order to blow up the Parliament house, and that the chief instrument was one Guy Faux;” he with much gravity observed, “I cannot think that this same Guy Faux was a well wisher to the Parliament.” The young lady smiled at this observation in such a way as demonstrated her thoroughly to comprehend the character, or at least, intellectual reach of Dr. Truism. The travellers now returned to the coach, and sleep soon put an end to the conversation. Our hero had been somewhat amused by the pompous emptiness of Dr. Truism, but his mind was really engaged by a very different object. The charms of the young lady engrossed his thoughts and feelings, and did not suffer Morpheus to possess his usual influence.His fine expressive eyes had told the fair nymph the sentiments by which he was impressed, but told it with such delicacy and softness as could not give offence, at least did not give offence. Whether from the jolting of the coach, or some other reason, she also was awake a considerable part of the time. She had fallen into a slumber about morning, and the rest continued buried in sleep, while some of their noses loudly testified that it was not the sleep of death. Our hero was gazing on the lovely nymph with fervid admiration and eager delight, when, the rising sun playing on her eyelids, opened her beautiful eyes, and she beheld the impassioned gaze of Hamilton. She could not possibly misunderstand the expression of his looks, and received them with more confusion than displeasure. Many minutes elapsed before our hero began the conversation.—Hedurst not venture to speak to the young lady on the subject nearest his heart with his tongue, though his eyes spoke the language of love, clear, forcible, and impressive; but wishing to hear the sound of her voice, and to engage her in discourse, he opened with the common compliments of the morning, which he offered in a tone mellowed by tenderness. The young lady very sensible of this intonation, endeavoured to turn the discourse to subjects in which it could not easily be introduced; and seeing, and still better hearing, that the spontaneous preceptor was sound asleep, she observed with arch irony, that it was a very fortunate circumstance for persons pent up in a stage coach to meet with so wise and learned a gentleman, so very willing to communicate his stores for the public benefit. “One person,” said our hero, “receives from his lessonsthe impression which they are designed to make. This sleeping lady on the left hand evidently regards him with very high admiration. I think,” continued he, “there are few absurdities more laughable and humourous than one person speaking nonsense, or at least frivolity, and another listening to it as sense and wisdom.” “It is,” replied the nymph, “I believe, extremely common, sir, and, perhaps, after all, merely shews that if one person is weak, another is weaker.” Hamilton observed that he had never seen it more happily exemplified than by that great master of nature, and of life, Shakespear, in the dialogue between the grave-diggers.—He mentioned several other instances, and passed rather abruptly, though not without design, to another masterly painter of life, and quoted the celebrated instance of the attorney’s clerk, who soprofoundly admired the wisdom of Mr. Partridge. Before the young lady had an opportunity of either agreeing or disagreeing with his remarks, he hurried to a very different subject and character, in the same performance, and expatiated on the charms and loveliness of Sophia Western; declaring that Fielding, in his description of that beautiful creature, exactly hit real objects in their highest perfection. Having a copy of Tom Jones in the coach, which he had taken to amuse himself, he opened the first volume, and read with a very poignant significance the account that he had mentioned, dwelling with peculiar emphasis on the exactness and delicacy of the shape, the black hair, the full and even eyebrows; he then asked the young lady if she did not think the following passage particularly striking: “Her black eyes had a lustre in them which all her softnesscould not extinguish; her nose was exactly regular; and her mouth, in which were two rows of ivory, exactly answered sir John Suckling’s description in these lines:—
‘Her lips were red, and one was thin,‘Compar’d to that was next her chin,‘Some bee had stung it newly.’
‘Her lips were red, and one was thin,‘Compar’d to that was next her chin,‘Some bee had stung it newly.’
‘Her lips were red, and one was thin,‘Compar’d to that was next her chin,‘Some bee had stung it newly.’
‘Her lips were red, and one was thin,
‘Compar’d to that was next her chin,
‘Some bee had stung it newly.’
Her cheeks were of the oval kind; and in her right she had a dimple, which the least smile discovered. Her chin had certainly its share in forming the beauty of her face; but it was difficult to say it was either large or small, though, perhaps, it was rather of the former kind.—Her mind was every way equal to her person; nay, the latter borrowed some charms of the former: for when she smiled, the sweetness of her temper diffused that glory over her countenance, which no regularity of features can give.”
The young lady could not misapprehend the scope of this recitation, and could not avoid blushing. Meanwhile the jolting of the coach upon the rugged stones of Stamford awakened others of the company, and during the next two stages the conversation was more mixed and general. The parson continuing drowsy, the discourse was chiefly carried on by our hero and the young lady’s father. In the course of their talk, Hamilton found that the gentleman’s name was Mortimer, and that he had an estate in the North Riding of Yorkshire, to which his daughter and he were now proceeding. “Pray, sir,” said Hamilton, “is not the name of the place Oakgrove, near Northallerton?” “The same,” replied Mr. Mortimer, with surprise. “Then you are the father of my most intimate friend: we were four years together at Cambridge.” “What,do you know my son Jack? Then I dare say, sir, your name is Hamilton.” “The very same, sir.” “You are a wonderful favourite with our Jack; is he not, Maria?” but before Maria answered, and she was in no haste, the old gentleman, very unjustly imputing her silence to forgetfulness, with a view to refresh her memory said, “Don’t you remember, girl, that when Jack used to be descanting on his friend, you would say to him, Don’t talk so much to me, brother, about that Mr. Hamilton, so handsome, so brave, so witty, and so every thing; or you will make me in love with him by hearsay.” This reminiscence, delivered by the mere undesigning frankness of an open and honest country gentleman, overspread Maria with blushes, the exact source of which she would have found it very difficult to define. Her father afterwards once or twice unintentionally addedto her confusion, and especially when she appeared absent and in a reverie, by slapping her shoulders and chucking her chin, and asking what was become of all her sprightliness; why she did not speak. “Your brother’s friend here will think you a mere mope.” Maria, who from the conveyance of his eyes had received strong expression of very different sentiments, had little apprehensions of that interpretation, but was still farther confused by the appeal. The parson being now completely awake, very agreeably relieved Maria, by a dissertation, in which he demonstrated, that after fatigue one is greatly disposed to sleep, and that sleep is very refreshing.
They now arrived at Grantham, where they were to breakfast. Our hero was waiting to hand Maria from the coach, when, by some inattention of the waiter, the step gave way, and she would havefallen on the pavement, had not Hamilton caught her so quickly as to prevent every danger to her person, but not without an unavoidable shock to her delicacy, of which the adroitness of our hero rendered the cause of the shortest possible duration, and she herself only conjectured what had happened. Greatly agitated, she tottered into the house, and found herself ready to faint; when sal-volatile for the present prevented her, and she was able to collect her scattered spirits. Her father, who had not attended to the accident, at least in all its circumstances, and knew nothing of her being indisposed, sent to hurry her to breakfast. Nanny, who delivered this message, and who was remarkably loquacious, began, “Miss, you is wanted in the parlour to breakfastes.—Well, I have been two years and a half, come nextMichalmus, insarvicehere, and of all the men thatever I see,malliciousand souldiers, with the colonels and captains, and sargents and cruperals, and sweet grenadiers, none of them, in my mind, is fit to carry a candle to the charming gentleman that had you in his arms.” Maria looking down at the last observation, Nanny, to encourage her, “Don’t be abashed, ma’am, you need not be ashamed; a more prittear leg I never see in my life, and besides——.” But before this sentence was finished, Maria hurried away, desiring no farther elucidations. Our hero, as she entered the room, with considerate delicacy forbore every inquiry that could allude to the accident, which he knew she must wish to be buried in oblivion. As they proceeded, though he could not so far command himself as to avoid doing homage to her with his eyes, yet he avoided such topics as led to discussions concerning beauty and love.Fortunately the rest of the company were in a great degree disused to such subjects, and the conversation being diversified, Maria, though much less brilliant than usual, took some part in it; and as they got beyond the bounds of Nottinghamshire, they all joined in celebrating the praises of Yorkshire. Having dined at Doncaster, they, about six in the evening, arrived at Ferrybridge. Here our hero had intended to wait for the Glasgow mail, to convey him to Carlisle; but he now changed his mind, and said, that as he had never seen Edinburgh, he would go to York, and take his seat in the Edinburgh mail. The parson now left them, and soon after the lady and another passenger, so that there remained only squire Mortimer, his daughter, and our hero. When they arrived at York about ten, Hamilton took his place in the mail in which the squire and hisdaughter meant to proceed to Northallerton. Mortimer had strongly solicited our hero to accompany him to his seat, and see his friend John, who was commander in chief in his absence. Hamilton informed him of the necessity of his immediate procedure; but promised to visit Oakgrove on his return. At the usual hour they arrived at Northallerton, and the father having pointed out his house, which was in the immediate neighbourhood, they came to the Inn, whence the squire declared he would see his new friend fairly set off, before Maria and he should walk home. They were sitting in a parlour, and, the squire having gone out, Hamilton very strongly expressed the delight which he had enjoyed from so charming a companion, and the eagerness with which he would avail himself of her respectable father’s friendly invitation. “I shall,” he said, “havevery great happiness in seeing my friend John, than whom I can love nomanmore affectionately, but with what exquisite joy I shall again behold his lovely and angelic sister.” Before he had time to finish, the squire returned; and a minute or two after, a tall strapping lady, very thinly dressed, and who about the neck anticipated the imitation of mother Eve, that has since become so prevalent, came in, saying, she understood there was one gentleman to be her fellow passenger in the mail, she had come to have the pleasure of his acquaintance before they embarked together. “I understand,” she continued, “that he is a very handsome young gentleman, and so, sir, I suppose you are he.” Hamilton, though not unacquainted with the world, and not without many opportunities, could not be called a man of gallantry, and made a very slight answer to thiscompliment, perhaps the more slight from the presence of Maria. The squire, a hearty and a civil man, yet had not that kind of politeness which can completely dissemble sentiments and opinions; he was moreover a wag. He winked significantly on Hamilton, and calling him aside, whispered, “This will be a good joke to your friend John, but take care, my boy, some of those dashing misses are Tartars.” He might have explained this metaphor, but was interrupted by the sound of the horn, and the coachman summoning them to depart. Accordingly Hamilton was under the necessity of leaving the charming Miss Mortimer, and at parting, though he hardly spoke with his tongue, yet in half a minute expressed with his eyes an ardour of affection and tenderness of regret, which Maria must have been as remarkable for dullness as she was for thecontrary, if she had not observed. She did more than observe, she also felt.—After a very cordial squeeze of the father’s hand, and a renewal of his promise to visit the Grove on his return, he departed. Having, after the coach was set off, continued to gaze on the window where Maria stood, on the turning of the corner he lost sight of the beloved object, and, regardless of his fellow traveller, threw himself back, and feigning to be asleep, brooded in fancy over the lovely image of Maria. His companion was one of those young ladies who, having the eye of an hawk after the handsome of the opposite sex, are not unskilled in quarrying upon destined prey. Miss Dartwell was a very likely girl, with animated and fascinating eyes, a clear and fresh complexion, rosy lips, white teeth, tall, straight, and well made. She was the daughter of a tradesman, who being in tolerable circumstances,proposed, at the instigation of his wife, to breed Fanny to be a young lady, trusting that she would acquire, by marriage, rank and fortune; and thus enable her parents to look down upon their neighbours. With these hopes they had sent her to a boarding school, near the metropolis; there she learned to smatter a little French, to strum a little on the pianoforté, to read a little, and to speak a great deal. The lady governess of the seminary often boasted of her connections, and among these had a brother whom she used to style an officer in the guards, and indeed so he was, and a very useful officer too, and having risen from the ranks to be corporal, had afterwards become a sergeant, then sergeant major, and lastly, an adjutant. He had a son, who, inheriting his military spirit, was now a sergeant of grenadiers, one of the handsomest youngfellows on the parade, and peculiarly eminent for his skill in drilling. About this time it began to be deemed expedient by some of the wise persons who superintended female tuition, to have their fair pupils initiated in military affairs; the exercise of a soldier would give thema free and easy carriage, and improve their shapes. The lady to whom the formation and guidance of Miss Dartwell was committed, thinking such preceptorial employment might be a good job for her nephew, introduced sergeant Sycamore in this capacity. Miss Fanny, being the tallest of the young corps, occupied the right hand, and thinking it incumbent on her to do honour, by dexterity of performance, to her conspicuous stature and situation, and being well formed, active, and alert, soon surpassed the rest of the company, and was appointedfugle. Her exhibitions and evolutionsprocured great praise from the sergeant, to which she would listen with much complacency. She often would make comparisons between this heroic youth, and the various other teachers of his sex, and declared to her intimates, that he was far before the dancing-master himself. “To be sure, Mr. Cotillion is a very pretty man, but Mr. Sycamore is a very pretty and a very fine man.” Notwithstanding the strict vigilance of boarding schools, the sergeant found means to make a conquest of one of the teachers, no very difficult achievement; and thereby to have various opportunities of conversing with the misses entrusted to her charge: and how could he employ his time better, than in giving themprivatelessons? Practising the military steps, Miss Dartwell became distinguished forfree and easy carriage, and theimprovement of her shapes. Soon afterthis display of tactics the sergeant, by the influence of another disciple, of much higher rank, who, though of a more advanced age, had condescended to avail herself of his instructions, was promoted to a pair of colours, and ere long to a lieutenancy of guards, whence he had recently been appointed a captain in a marching regiment. Miss Dartwell, after her studies, had returned to her parents, and had received offers of marriage from divers young tradesmen, whom she rejected with disdain, not failing to reprobate the insolence of such fellows, who durst presume to make proposals to a young lady that had beenat boarding-school, and learned so many fine accomplishments. Meanwhile she did not fail to manifest to young squires and captains of militia, that their addresses would not be deemed so degrading. Being artful and insinuating, shehad laid snares with an apparent probability of success for a spruce young counsellor, but at last found that the lawyer was perfectly acquainted with the difference between being taken inmesneprocess, where the caption was only temporary, and being taken inexecution, from which there was no bail.—Her father being now dead, and having some hundred pounds at command, she resolved to set out in quest of Sycamore, and having, in London, learned that his regiment was at Inverness and Fort George, she had left the metropolis in a different coach the same morning as our hero, and having arrived late the evening before at Northallerton, had waited for the mail. Such was the fellow-traveller of our hero. Captain Sycamore still continued the principal favourite of his fair pupil. Deeming the attention and regard of this worthy preceptorthe chief good, yet, being in her philosophy rather a peripatetic than a stoic, she considered it as thesummumbut notsolum expetendum, the greatest but not the only blessing which life might afford. Though she was approaching Sycamore, still he was three hundred miles off: here was a very fine young man close by her; besides, soldiers might, in change of scene, be inconstant. She now recollected that there was some reason to suppose Sycamore rather forgetful. She was one of those prudential persons who preferred possession to reversion, and thought a bird in the hand worth two in the bush. But to justify the application of this proverb, it was necessary that the bird should actually be in hand, and not merely, because very near, supposed within reach. She had penetrated into the sentiments of our hero, the few minutes she saw himwith Miss Mortimer, and observing his concern, she forbore for some time to interrupt his reverie, but at length tired even of so long a silence, she attempted to engage him in discourse. She began with indifferent topics, dexterously sliding into his opinion, however slightly it might be delivered, and by degrees opened upon plays and romances, the species of reading in which she was chiefly conversant, thence passing to various descriptions of beauty, she endeavoured to please him by bestowing high panegyrics on the young lady, who had come in the coach to the last inn. To her observations Hamilton made civil and assenting answers, but very short. They now arrived at Darlington, where miss to her great vexation found that they were to be joined by another traveller. This was a stout, hearty, plain man, who appeared to be a substantialfarmer or a yeoman. He soon, however, informed the company he was a freeholder of Durham, and proceeded, in the usual style of vulgar loquacity, to open upon his own private affairs. He, it seems, farmed his own lands, and had two sons; one of whom, a stout young man, he was breeding up to husbandry: but the other, a poor puny lad, quite unfit for labour, therefore he was making him agenus, he was to be a greatscolard; he was not more than seventeen years of age, and in two or three years more would be fit for thevarsity; so Mister Syntax, our schoolmaster, tells me; and he is aperdigiousgreatscolard. From his own affairs, this communicative person, in the natural course, proceeded to those of his neighbours, mentioned many names, totally unknown to his fellow-travellers, but, at last, came to one lady, of whom they and most others hadvery often heard. Not being sparing in his strictures on combined profligacy and folly, or the connexions which these had formed, he observed, that he remembered her a very good, agreeable young woman. “But, ah! master, when women once begin going to the devil, they do not stop half way; first they are bashful and coy, and we must court them; but after men has once their own way, by jingo then they courts us, and are no more shamefaced.” Our hero could not controvert the observations of this sage, and almost smiled at (as he conceived) their applicability to his fair companion. Whether the lady perceived, or at least felt their appositeness, could not easily be discovered. She certainly did not blush but, perhaps, that might be partly from her original tuition at the boarding-school, and partly from having of late been totally disusedto the suffusion. At Durham they only stopped to change horses. Before they reached Newcastle their fellow-traveller left Hamilton and Miss Dartwell to themselves. The lady began to resume the operations which the worthy freeholder had interrupted: Hamilton, as we have seen, was not insensible to the attractions of even this species of ladies, yet, at present, his imagination was so much engrossed by the charms of the lovely Miss Mortimer, that his senses were less alive to present objects. To Morpeth they were still alone, and the lady began to hope that her efforts would not be in vain. But as they arrived at the inn, whom should miss descry, at a window, but her old friend and favourite, captain Sycamore? Reversing her intended application of the proverb, about “a bird in hand,” she hastened from thecoach, and with looks of the warmest affection, flew to her military instructor. Hamilton proceeded on his journey.—From Berwick he crossed the country in the morning, and arrived at Etterick.