CHAPTER XVI.

"I should beforeHave done that duty to him; but I thoughtMy visits were not welcome."May.

When Markham was left alone to his meditations, he thought over his follies and weaknesses; and soon came to the conclusion, that though books teach a great deal, they do not teach every thing. His own case was one that perplexed him much more than the cases of any of his clients. Had any one brought and proposed the case to hisconsideration, asking for his opinion, he would have been able, it may be, to contemplate it deliberately, and offer something in the shape of advice; but as the case was his own, he could not so calmly and coolly study it. None of his books of law-precedents would give him the least assistance. That is a very awkward state of mind to be placed in, when something must be done and nothing can be done.

Myriads of young gentlemen have been much more assiduous in their attentions to various young ladies than Markham had been to Miss Henderson, and have never thought any thing of ceasing those attentions when they felt so inclined. This, however, was not such conduct as Markham could approve, nor such an example as he would willingly follow. He was a very conscientious man. Some have thought him to be almost fastidious in those matters. He was desirous of having a very high character, and wished that his conduct should be such as to need no apologies or excuses or vindications, either on the ground ofmorals or of intellect. But how to escape in the present instance the reproaches that might cleave to him on a moral ground on one side, or an intellectual on the other, he could not easily and readily see. For if he should in consequence of the attentions which he had paid to Miss Henderson, and by which he had undesignedly given her reason to expect an offer of his hand, actually propose to her and marry her, he felt that he should be making a foolish bargain, and should deserve for his own heedlessness whatever inconveniences might result from the marriage. Or if, as he really had no serious intentions, he should not make the offer of his hand, but gradually decline or drop the acquaintance, then would he be reproached, and not without some show of justice, for having paid unmeaning and deceiving attentions where he had no other motive than merely to amuse himself. This was what he could not bear with any degree of patience. It was absolutely necessaryfor him to decide soon; for he should of course be under the necessity of soon calling on the Hendersons, or giving up his acquaintance with them altogether.

While he was in this painful, or at least very unpleasant state of hesitation and anxiety, he received a message from his noble patron or friend. This message required Markham's immediate attendance on his lordship, and this immediate attendance was by Markham most cheerfully given.

"My good friend," said his lordship, "when you first returned to England you honored me with a call, but I have seen nothing of you since. You have not found my doors closed to you."

"I was fearful," replied Markham, "that I might by repeating my call seem to be intrusive, and claiming an acquaintance to which I have no right to aspire."

"Nonsense, nonsense," returned his lordship; "it is becoming in a young man to be aspiring: ambition is of itself neither virtue nor vice, its moral quality depends on its accompaniments and means. Never be content with an humble station when it is in your power to gain a higher."

"I was also fearful," said Markham, "that I might encroach on your lordship's valuable time."

"Yes, yes, that is very well," said his lordship in reply; "have a proper regard to time. It looks very important to be full of business; but I think you must know me well enough to see that it is not my forte to ape importance by such tricks. Just at this moment I am not at all busy. I can spare you an hour or two, and I may perhaps therefore encroach upon your time. But I have sent for you to say that I have a situation for you in England; one which will not take you from your friends, nor interfere with your health. If you have ambition, as I trust you have, you may have an opportunity of rising in the world. It is all very well to be content with your situation when you cannot make it better; contentment in any other circumstances is mere idleness and indolence."

Markham bowed assent. The patron then stated the situation which was destined for him, and hinted that it would be desirable that he should have a seat in parliament.

"But that," said his lordship, "we must think of hereafter. In the mean time, let me not take upon myself all the merit of appointing you to this office. I am greatly indebted to Mr. Martindale that he has made me more acquainted with those traits in your character which seem peculiarly to fit you for your present employment. But, my good friend, observe this; I am not recommending you merely to make a market of your situation. Make the best of it if you please; but the surest way to make the best of it is to perform its duties conscientiously."

It was very pleasant to Markham to have a situation of so promising a character presented to him under such agreeable circumstances; and it was very pleasant to him to hear from his noble friend good advice, which was perfectly in unison with his own feelings. His noble friend was well aware of the character and complexion of his mind, and he therefore more readily gave him such advice as he was most likely to follow. That is most excellent policy; it answered the purpose of rendering his lordship agreeable to Markham, and it was a very pleasant and agreeable encouragement to the young man's virtues. Perhaps it is better to seek the improvement of mankind by encouraging their virtues than by reproaching their vices.

Pleasant, however, as this new honor was to Markham, it brought with it one inconvenience, inasmuch as it did not by any means promise to diminish, but rather threatened to increase Miss Henderson's tender regards towards him. The young gentleman could not help thinking how happy he should be, if by any means he could but extricate himself honorably and satisfactorily from his unpleasant and perplexing situation as regarded this young lady. It is, we firmly believe, a fact, that many persons owe their marriages to circumstances more than to any deliberate and decided act of their own. Of the multitudes of ill-assorted couples it is often said, "Who would have thought it!" Who, indeed! Nobody. They are even astonished at themselves. And ifMarkham had not been roused by Mr. Martindale's information from his dreams and slumbers, he would have been gradually and surely led step by step to a marriage with Miss Henderson; and when he had been married about ten years, he would have wondered how he came to be married, and would have forgotten all the particulars of the courtship.

It turned out as Markham had expected. Miss Henderson was more loving and affectionate than ever. For as soon as it could possibly transpire that Markham was appointed to the situation above alluded to, the young lady was in possession of the information; and not waiting for the formality of a call from her "dear Markham," she despatched to the young gentleman a letter of congratulation on his honors. Much surprised indeed was he to see upon his table one morning, a neatly-folded note directed "Horatio Markham, Esq. Inner Temple." Surprised was he to see the hand-writing which he knew to be Miss Henderson's. With no very agreeable emotions did he open it, and withno very pleasant feeling did he read it. It was written in a very beautiful and delicate hand, but with all its beauties, it had no charms for him. We hope our readers will be more entertained with it than he was, otherwise we shall waste our time in recording it. Thus it read:

"You will not be much surprised, my dear friend, at receiving a letter of congratulation from me on your appointment. Merit is not always overlooked. Happy is it for our country, that there are sometimes in the ministry men of integrity and discernment. Pa is quite delighted at the thought of your good fortune. He says, and I believe him, that no man better deserves it, and that no man will or can better discharge the duties of that situation. But have you forgot us, my dearest friend? You have not favored us with one single call since your return from the circuit. Now I mention the circuit, let me thank you in the name and on the behalf of the sex in general, for your most excellent and powerful speech in the celebrated action for breach ofpromise. Every body talked about it; it gave universal satisfaction and delight. Oh! if such pure principles as yours were more common, fewer would be the broken hearts, and fewer the miseries of our weak confiding sex. But I must not detain you from your important avocations by my foolish scribbling, I bid you therefore adieu for the present, hoping soon to enjoy the felicity of seeing you again, if you can spare a moment for so insignificant a being asRebecca Henderson."

Rebecca Henderson."

This letter was not very argumentative, but Markham felt it to be unanswerable: and as the young gentleman was not addicted to swearing, he did not curse his ill fortune; and as he was not a believer in astrology, he said not a word in blame of his stars. But he thought he had been making a fool of himself; and he also thought, that if he did not make himself a greater fool, the world would be apt to say that he had made a fool of Miss Henderson. The world is a difficult thing to manage. It never knows when it is pleased; it quarrels with us for trifles, blames for virtues, urges us to folly, laughs at ourperplexities, cares nothing for our misfortunes, and sets us into a state of fermentation and agitation we scarcely know what about. Markham had a great respect for the world, because he wished the world to have some respect for him. Morally speaking, it is very good to have some regard to the world's opinion; it is the religion of a great majority of the human species. It keeps in awe and good order many a one who would otherwise run out into great and grievous extravagancies. Markham, for a man of conscience, was rather too much devoted to the idolatry of the world's opinion: he was so unreasonable as to wish to have the world's good opinion, and his own too. This made him frequently anxious and uneasy. He certainly could have escaped from his present dilemma without much difficulty, if he had not been strongly moved by the thought of what the world would say. That influenced him most powerfully. He was grieved at the idea, that he must be subject to reproach, or undergo captivity for life. If he had consulted his own conscience, that would have told him, that as he had no intentionwhatever to make an impression on the heart of Miss Henderson, so he had no obligation to offer her his hand, because she had offered him her heart. He thought, or he might have thought, that it was possible that there might have been two ladies situated as Miss Henderson, and both might have complimented him on his talents and virtues, and good success in life, and both might have fancied that his civilities had meant more than they actually were designed to mean; he could not marry them both. Let those of our readers who fancy that Markham was to blame in his wishing to be rid of this incumbrance, consider the possibility of two persons forming an attachment to him from attentions not designed to be, and in themselves really not, particular, they could not both have a claim to his hand; and the same argument which would vindicate the desertion of one would vindicate the desertion, or to use a milder term, the relinquishment of both. This lesson, however, may be learned by both sexes from the present situation of Markham, viz., that young gentlemen should be very careful how they pay attentions to youngladies, and young ladies should be as careful how they receive those attentions. Indeed, we would recommend young ladies by no means to fall in love till the question has been put. Then let them fall in love as violently as they please, only let them take care even then not to make too great a display of that love. Young gentlemen also should recollect that there are some young ladies who misinterpret attentions, and take that to be particular which is only general. It has been, that if you look at an Irish lady at table, she will say, "Port if you plase." Thus there are some young ladies in this kingdom who sadly misinterpret looks and fine speeches. There is, however, this consolation in such cases, that the old vulgar proverb, "Lightly come, lightly go," is very applicable to them; and, therefore, though they may be in a violent passion at the loss of an imaginary or imagined lover, they can soon find another.

It would have been very much to Markham's comfort, could he but have known how heroically Miss Henderson transferred Mr. Tippetson to Clara; and how calmly her heart made the transition of its affections from Mr. Tippetson to himself. Then, indeed, he could conscientiously have slipped away by the means of a short absence, and a little cessation of attention, knowing or strongly presuming, that his place would be very soon supplied. But all this he did not know, and all this he did not suspect, and all this he could hardly have believed, had any one told him. In all his multifarious readings about precedents and conveyancing, he had not met with a precedent for such conveyancing as this. He, poor youth, in the simplicity of his soul, thought that Miss Henderson must either become Mrs. Markham, or die of a broken heart; and he would have been very sorry for either of these calamities. The only consolation that he could find under present circumstances was, that perhaps by some unexpected turn of affairs, an opportunity might be afforded him by which he might be extricated from his present difficulties. Thus we remember to have seen some twenty years ago, a comedy in which was introduced a character called Sir Abel Handy, andthis Sir Abel Handy was a very ingenious man in his own estimation, full of contrivances, which might rival the philosophers of Laputa; but these contrivances in general had some unlucky flaw or defect, which rendered them altogether useless. Thus, when in the course of the piece, news is brought that a house is on fire, one of the characters asks Sir Abel Handy, where is his machine or contrivance for putting out fire at a moment's notice. Unfortunately this machine is by some untoward accident not in order, or not forthcoming; and Sir Abel Handy being a wise man, and like all other wise men not liking to look foolish, says, "Oh, never mind, I have hit upon a plan to put the fire out."—"What is that?"—"Why perhaps it may go out of itself." We like this plan very much, and so did Markham, for it was the only hope he had.

"Makes his approach in modesty's disguise,To win applause; and takes it by surprise."Young.

As we finished the last chapter by an allusion to plans, we may wisely commence this by suggesting one of our own. It would be very convenient in narrative to print the narrations of contemporaneous events in parallel columns on the same page; but that contrivance not being sanctioned by high authority, we dare not adopt it. Nowhow pleasant and agreeable it would have been to the reader while perusing the last chapter, and reading how Mr. Markham to his very great annoyance received an epistle from Miss Henderson, how pleasant would it have been to turn his eye across the page, and see at the same time what was passing in Miss Henderson's heart, or in Mr. Henderson's house! And again, how agreeable to know how our good and noble friends, the Earl and Countess of Trimmerstone, are going on at this time! This plan may some day or other be adopted. It would be a good speculation perhaps to publish Tom Jones, or Hume and Smollet, on this plan, and call it the Laputan System. In like manner the stage at our theatres might be divided into divers compartments, and events that occur at the same moment might at the same moment be exhibited to the audience or spectators. There would in this arrangement be a great advantage, inasmuch as, if one scene were stupid and sleepy, the good people might give their attention to another. Among the ingenious men who are daily exhibiting proofs of their Laputan education, some will no doubt besoon found who will adopt and perfect this plan. For the present we must go on according to the old system.

We must return, therefore, to Miss Henderson, who, as soon as she had despatched her note to Markham, began to think that she had acted rather forwardly, and feared that unpleasant consequences might result from thus almost saying yes, before she was asked. It was a pity that she did not think of that before. But there was no help for it. She thought it might be only regarded as an ebullition of friendship; and she thought that such a superior man as Markham would be above regarding the common-place etiquette of every-day society. Oh, how delightful it is to have a mind superior to the common herd of mortals! Miss Henderson was very sure that her mind was superior, and she trusted and hoped that Markham's also was superior. Of this, however, she began to entertain some doubts, when he did not make his appearance at Mr. Henderson's quite so soon as the young lady expected him. She thought that he was not a very ardent lover; butthen again business might prevent him; and then again, what business ought to detain a lover from the idol of his soul? Day after day, Miss Henderson staid at home. Nothing could induce her to leave the house, for it was possible that in the hour of her absence, the beloved one might make his appearance. For with all her conviction of Markham's attachment, there was a lurking distrust and a feeling in her mind that he would not anxiously seek or long wait for her; and this feeling, though unacknowledged and unrecognised, had its influence on her mind. Doubts rose thicker and darker, amounting to serious apprehensions; and her mind was nearly in the same state as it had been when she made the last transfer of her affections. Anxious to miss no opportunity of seeing Markham, she was punctually in her pew at the chapel; and sorry are we to say it, she was more occupied with the thought of the young gentleman's absence than with the edifying and elegant discourse of her father. But Markham was not there. The young lady was absolutely angry, and began to think herself very ill used. Someof our readers may fear, that a very cold reception or severe lecture awaited the young gentleman. In that they are wrong, for had he made his appearance, his transgression would have been forgotten, and his reception most cordial. For at that time Miss Henderson could not spare him, having no one to supply his place. It is desirable always to keep up a proper supply and succession of lovers. Miss Henderson acted on this principle, inasmuch as an interregnum would be a sad loss of time. If indeed Mr. Markham knew as much as we did, his mind would have been much easier. But he was fearful that the young lady might break her heart, and he was fearful that the world would cast bitter reproaches upon him. That was a consideration which weighed mightily with him. Happy, however, was it for him, and a great relief it must be to our readers to be informed, that a new transfer of the heart of Miss Henderson was about to take place. Yet there may perhaps be some who are so hard-hearted as to delight in such torments, and to wishthat our young friend might not be so soon and so easily dismissed from his state of trouble and uneasiness. A strange propensity it is in some minds, that they delight in the sufferings and pains of their fellow-creatures! Treatises have been written to account for this propensity, and many ingenious theories formed on the subject: but one theory is quite as good as another; and we are not willing to disturb the minds of those who have formed their own or adopted another's. To pass on from this philosophising, which is more pleasant to the writer than the reader, we will proceed with our narrative.

As Markham had neglected much beyond the usual period to pay a visit to Mr. or Miss Henderson, the latter began to think him little better than a gay deceiver; and when mention was made in her hearing concerning the probability of her union with the young gentleman, she no longer gave such confident assent to the report, but spoke doubtingly and hesitatingly. In this she acted wisely and discreetly. For if there was a probability that Markham should disappoint her, it would be highly important that she should hold herself disengaged, thatthere might be no time lost in providing herself with a successor. Now here we are in need of that arrangement of double columns, of which we made mention at the beginning of this chapter. For on that very day on which Mr. Markham, after a long absence and a great deal of doubting, did call on Mr. Henderson, on that very day Miss Henderson was out. She had not the slightest idea that Markham would call in the evening, but men of business cannot always call in the morning. Markham was very much occupied in the early part of the day. If we had the double-column plan, we might on one side paint the young gentleman's disappointment at not seeing the lady, and on the other depict the young lady at an evening party at the Right Hon. the Earl of Trimmerstone's town mansion; but as it is, we must leave the gentleman to bear his disappointment in solitude, and accompany our friend Miss Henderson to the mansion of nobility.

The Right Honorable the Earl of Trimmerstone had not, as we have before hinted, a very select circle of acquaintance. Access to his mansion and to the Countess's evening parties was no great difficulty. Easy, however, as it was, it was felt as an honor by some who visited there. Among these Miss Henderson was one. There was also another present at that party who was exceedingly proud of permission to visit a Right Honorable Earl. The person to whom we allude was a young physician of rising reputation in his practice at the west end. His name was Theodore Crack. In nervous cases the doctor had very much distinguished himself. We would indeed recommend all doctors to distinguish themselves in nervous cases. In some instances the patient wants the doctor, but in the nervous the doctor wants the patient. Dr. Crack had succeeded most wonderfully in some cases of this nature. The doctor we have said was young and successful, and the doctor was also very vain. Our readers would scarcely believe us if we were to state the full extent of the young man's conceit. One very special piece of coxcombry consisted in his change of name. He called himself Crack, though his real name was Crick; but as he came of very humble parentage, he altered his name that he might not seemto be related to persons in such humble condition. The west end of the town was quite a new world to him; and when first he settled there, he used to strut about and regard himself with astonishment. His native place he quite forgot; for seeing that the town in which he had been born was very small compared to London, Westminster, Southwark, and the suburbs, he thought it beneath his dignity to acknowledge or to recollect that so small a town was large enough for him to be born in. Sometimes there would come gaping up to London some rustic who had been school-fellow with this magnificent doctor, and sometimes such a one would, if meeting the doctor in the street, be rude enough to recognise and address him, whereupon he would cut them splendidly, and say that his own name was not Crick but Crack. Rustics are not likely to be nervous; and why should doctors care about them? Dr. Crack was constitutionally pompous; in very early life the propensity manifested itself. Being of short stature, he strutted and held up his head as high as he possibly could; and he made daily and hourly use of themost magnificent expressions and the finest words that he could find. There was also mingled with the pompous, something of the finical. In his dress he was superb and extravagant; and while he was engaged in the studies preparatory to practice, he cost his father two-thirds of his income. But Theodore was thought such a wonderful boy, that no expense was spared and no extravagance was grudged him. Theodore ought to have been more considerate; he had too many useless and idle expenses. It was very foolish, for instance, to spend a serious sum of money in finding family armorial bearings; but he was going to become a physician, and hoped to keep a carriage; he thought that it would be a pity not to have arms painted on the pannels; and then he wanted them for his seal; and seeing in a shop-window notice that arms were found there, the temptation was too great for him to resist, and he went into the shop accordingly; but was sadly disappointed after much research to discover that Crick had no arms, but Crack had; therefore from his own internal feelings being assured that he must be of the blood of thehighest family of the two, he forthwith became Crack, and bore the arms of that family; and all the little insignificant low-born cousin Cricks were forgotten and cut; and our young gentleman swelled with conscious pride when he felt the blood of the Cracks flowing in his veins. These matters may appear trifling, but there is something in them interesting to those whose eyes can bear to look closely and minutely on such insect minds as Dr. Crack's. The pride of blood, birth, and connexion, extends very widely and very deeply; and there are multitudes who would have too much pride to be proud of these matters, did they but know how far the feeling extends. Another trait in the character of Dr. Crack ought not to be passed by unmentioned: he thought that every body else had as high an opinion of him as he had of himself. Therefore he could never believe or imagine that any one ever laughed at him; and the arrogance of his manners thus became truly amusing and ludicrous. We have had occasion to remark in a former part of this narrative, thatnature gives instinct to those on whom she has not bestowed the gift of reason; and that in the rational being called man, where the reasoning power is not very strong, nature has made amends by the addition of a respectable and serviceable portion of instinct, thus reasoning for those who cannot reason for themselves. But sometimes it occurs that the pride of a man thus furnished scantily with reasoning power and abundantly with instinct, is such, that he fancies he has sufficient strength of reason, and then sets up for a rational being; at which nature, as if offended at such arrogance, leaves the poor thing to the sole guidance of its own fancied intellect. It is then like a child which is too proud to use leading-strings, and too weak to go without. Our young friend Dr. Crack was thus situated.

We have taken wide and ample space for the delineation of this character; for which we hope to be excused: but we could not manage to compress intelligibly. And as the said personage is not likely to make his appearance again in our pages, at least as acting any very important part, we thought it best to set him forth at once copiously, and we trust clearly.

At the Countess of Trimmerstone's evening party, this worthy doctor felt himself highly honored. He expected much attention from all present, but of that he failed. To several he made the attempt to talk knowingly and learnedly; but most of those whom he addressed had not the organ of discussionativeness strongly developed. Proud therefore as he felt himself, and honored as he conceived himself to be at this evening party, he found that there were in the world some individuals who did not think quite so highly of him as they ought to do; but he took it for granted that they were very ignorant people who were not capable of understanding him. In the course of the evening it so happened that this worthy doctor encountered our friend Miss Henderson. When great geniuses meet, they are sure to recognise each other. So was it in the instance before us. For Miss Henderson and Dr. Crack had been looking about the room to find some one on whom to vent their wisdom; and when they met, they were most happily met. If Markham had but knownDr. Crack and Miss Henderson, and had known that they were talking wisdom and sentiment together at the Earl of Trimmerstone's, his mind would have been relieved from a very heavy burden, and he would have had some well-founded hopes of getting rid of the incumbrance of Miss Henderson's heart. When the two wise ones had been conversing some little time, and they thought that they had impressed each other with a proper sense of their own wisdom, they next wished to let each other know their own importance. This could not be done directly, but indirectly. The doctor was desirous of extending his reputation with a view to business; and the young lady wished all elegant people and lovers of wisdom and sentiment to hear her pa preach his pretty superfine sermons. It is an easy matter to make oneself known to a stranger, there was no necessity for the doctor to say, "I am the great doctor Crack;" nor was it necessary for Miss Henderson to say, "My pa preaches pretty sermons." The doctor to reveal himself to the lady began to talk about such of his patients as bore titles, and some of these had been at the chapel where Mr. Henderson preached, so MissHenderson could thus inform the doctor that her pa was the celebrated fancy preacher. Thereupon the doctor said,

"Indeed! I have heard judicious and intellectual persons highly eulogise the eloquent orations of Mr. Henderson; so that I have more than once had a contemplation of attending at that highly celebrated chapel. There is something in eloquence, in fine eloquence, so fine and so rapturous, that it is truly captivating and enchanting."

Miss Henderson hearing this eloquent encomium on her father's eloquence was greatly delighted, and in a moment she thought Dr. Crack the most pleasant and agreeable man in the world. Miss Henderson was especially pleased with splendid talk and fine orations. Now though her father was very elegant as to his pulpit ministrations, he was in his ordinary talk very plain and straightforward. His daughter however very much admired finery in language at all times, and upon all occasions. It was pleasant therefore to her to listen to the sublimities of Dr.Crack. With readiness and gratitude she replied,

"Eloquence must indeed, sir, be a very high gratification to those who like you can comprehend and enjoy it. It would give me great pleasure to see so good a judge as you at our chapel. Indeed I must do justice to the gentleman who reads prayers. He has a most beautiful and melodious voice: it is quite music. I think you would be highly gratified to hear him read: I am sure you would. Your voice, sir, puts me very much in mind of his."

"That," replied Dr. Crack, "is exactly what I admire. A beautiful intonation and a correct enunciation, give great force and beauty to reading. Truly beautiful reading is a rare accomplishment, because so few persons are capable of reading beautifully and gracefully. But of course where there is such a preacher as Mr. Henderson, there must of necessity be a good and graceful reader also. I apprehend, madam, that the pulpit, the bar, and the stage, are the three great schools of oratory; and I humbly presume to utter it as my decidedand unhesitating opinion, that the pulpit is the sublimest school of the three. We have had and have in our kingdom most magnificent and splendid orators in the pulpit. But, alas! I am sorry to say that my profession does not permit me to attend at church so frequently as I could wish. It would indeed give me great pleasure to listen to such a gentleman as Mr. Henderson; but if I go into church I am sure to be called out, and I am rather fearful lest any censorious people should imagine or apprehend that I am only called out for display: therefore it is I am too seldom at church. I dislike display very much indeed."

"So do I," replied Miss Henderson; "real merit never needs to have recourse to any kind of display to make itself known. It will always be discovered and patronised. I have heard of your fame, Dr. Crack, and I have often wished that my ma, who is dreadfully nervous, would be wise enough to put herself under your care. I am sure she never will be well till she does."

"You flatter me, madam; but indeed I may say that I have a very peculiar mode of treating those complaints; and few cases are so obstinate as not to yield to my treatment. I have cured the Duchess of K., and the Marchioness of P., and the Countess of V., and many others of inferior note. There is a peculiar art in the management of nervous disorders, which I have studied with the greatest care. I was once very nervous myself, therefore I know the proper mode of treatment by actual experience."

Much as it was the practice for Dr. Crack to talk of his own wonderful exploits in the healing art, we do not suppose that our readers will be very desirous of having from us a very elaborate report of all the speeches made by the skilful leech to Miss Henderson. The young lady, however, did very much admire, and very highly commend and compliment, all that the doctor was pleased to say on the subject of medicine; and she listened attentively, because she loved knowledge, and because the voice which uttered it was very musical, and because she was very desirous that the learned and skilful doctor should go tothe fine chapel to hear pa's fine sermons, and to listen to the truly elegant and beautiful style in which prayers were read. Many other topics of conversation were started and pursued by these two knowing ones, and the evening passed away pleasantly to them, and they enjoyed what they both liked; namely, an opportunity for exhibiting their own wisdom, taste, and what they thought eloquence.

"So wondrous dull and yet so wondrous vain."Churchill.

When Miss Henderson returned home from the party she ascertained that Markham had called; but she was not nearly so interested with the information as she would have been the day before. All the time that she was at Lord Trimmerstone's talking with the magnificent Dr. Crack, no thought of Markham entered her mind. Her only thought andall her interest were with the profoundly eloquent and prodigiously skilful doctor, by whose peculiar mode of treatment she hoped that her ma would be effectually cured of her nervousness. Soon as morning dawned, or at least soon as breakfast commenced, which might be a little after dawning of day, Miss Henderson let slip her tongue with mighty volubility on the subject of nerves, and in praise of the very agreeable, intelligent, and skilful Dr. Crack, by whose peculiar mode of treatment all nervous disorders, past, present, and to come, from whatever source arising, were immediately and infallibly cured. Mrs. Henderson, poor thing, had no faith; for she firmly believed that the doctor knew nothing about nerves, and in her mind the terms nervous and incurable were nearly, if not totally, the same in their meaning. Miss Henderson, however, had fully made up her mind that the doctor, who had a peculiar mode of healing nervous disorders, should be sent for; and it is no easy matter to manage an obstinate, favorite, cleverdaughter, of whose wisdom the parents have so high an idea as Mr. and Mrs. Henderson had of the wisdom of their dear Rebecca. By persevering importunity the young lady succeeded, and the doctor was sent for; and so very attentive was this worthy doctor, that notwithstanding his prodigiously extensive practice, and his incessant occupation, he came immediately. He asked the usual questions, made the usual grimaces, scribbled the usual prescription, took the usual fee, and did not immediately take his leave; but suffered all his other anxious and impatient patients to wait his time, while he entered into a learned discourse with Mr. Henderson. The little which Mr. Henderson had ever learned of classical literature at school or college he had nearly forgotten; and the little which Dr. Crack had learned he remembered quite enough to make himself disagreeable to those who having forgotten do not wish to advertise their forgetfulness to all the world. As well as he could, Mr. Henderson parried his talk, and evaded his interrogations; but the ingenious doctor did not perceive that he wasmaking himself disagreeable, he therefore talked away till, showing his own ignorance, the worthy divine was not quite so much afraid of his learning; and then they understood one another a little better, and they talked on many other topics than those of literature, and a little acquaintance and sociability grew up between them, and many truisms and common places were uttered by them. In the conversation Miss Henderson also took her part, and endeavoured to be as eloquent as Dr. Crack; but she could not. When the doctor was gone, then were his praises loudly sounded by Miss Henderson. Then it was—

"There, pa; did not I tell you what a prodigiously clever man the doctor was? Is not he eloquent? Is not he a truly scientific man? I wonder where he comes from. I never heard of him till very lately. I think he will in time be one of the first physicians in the kingdom. Well, I hope his prescriptions will do ma good. What a very pretty hand he writes for a doctor! I declare I can almost read it. He attends agreat many persons of rank. I wonder he does not get knighted; I think he will soon, he must find it useful in his profession. And he is a man of so much sentiment and sensibility. I think he is a very amiable man. Physicians ought to be amiable men. Really, there are some that are enough to make one nervous, if one was ever so strong and healthy; but Dr. Crack, on the contrary, is all amiableness and sentiment. What a very pleasant voice he has!"

The assenting interjections with which pa and ma filled up this morsel of encomium we have not thought it necessary to insert. Our readers will take it for granted, that whatever so favorite and clever a daughter as Miss Henderson should be pleased to say would not, of course, receive from her father and mother any thing short of the most unequivocal assent. That is a wise provision which makes parents look with such ingenious partiality on their own children, and which prevents them from seeing what all the rest of the world can see. It would be very painful to many parents if they could seetheir own children with the same eyes as the rest of the world can see them. Many are the virtues which only a parent's eye can discern; and it is pleasant, that by no logic or declamation whatever can they be undeceived. Pleasant also it is that those wiseacres, calling themselves philosophers, who are hunting after what they are pleased to call truth, should hunt eternally and unsuccessfully. Truth that is unpleasant and unprofitable, is better lost than found. There, reader, scream out at that sentence, throw the book away, and put yourself into a most pious and philosophical passion. We tell you plainly, there are many truths which you cannot find, and which would do you no good if you could; and there are truths which you might find out if you would, but you do not like the look of them, and you will not find them, but will turn away your eyes for fear of seeing truth. We are all of us more or less self-deceivers. Miss Henderson, perhaps, was somewhat more so than the average; she carried the system almost to perfection. It was her will and pleasure to think Dr. Crack a most truly skilfuland intelligent physician; and how should she know any thing about the matter? In this fancy, however, she copied from many much wiser than herself, who think that they who know nothing about physic should know who and who are good physicians.

Dr. Crack now had the honor and happiness of reckoning Mrs. Henderson among his nervous patients; and his visits were remarkably long, considering how many patients he had. Mr. Henderson was a person very much to the taste of Dr. Crack, who gloried in celebrity. Never was he so happy as when he was able to claim acquaintance with those of whom the world talked loudly. And when Mr. Henderson found that the pompous and swelling doctor was not quite such a prodigy of literature as he had at their first interview affected to be, he conversed with him more freely and more agreeably. So it came to pass, that the doctor in a very short time became a regular acquaintance of the family. Never was Miss Henderson out of the way when the doctor's visits were at allanticipated; and thus there was a little compensation afforded for the apparent loss of Horatio Markham.

All this while Markham did not discontinue his visits, but made them shorter and fewer, and was very shy of sentimentality. As yet he was not aware of the visits and intimacy of the ingenious and celebrated Dr. Crack, nor was he at all acquainted with the fact of a rival so happily and opportunely taking his place in Miss Henderson's affections. Perhaps Miss Henderson herself was not aware another transfer of her affections was quite so near at hand, as was really the fact. Miss Henderson did not wish to behave unhandsomely to Markham, and at the same time did not wish to behave unhandsomely to herself. But as the young lady was very good-natured and ardent in her expressions, especially those of commendation and approbation; and as the celebrated Dr. Crack had as high an opinion of his own literary acquirements and profound general wisdom, and superb fashionable manners, as he had of his prodigiously great medical skill; and as he was mightily well pleased with those who were mightily well pleasedwith him, it is very true that in a very short time he found himself so well pleased with Miss Henderson, that he began to spend much time in her company.

While thus neglecting his patients to talk sentimentality with Miss Henderson, and swallow boluses of flattery from the fair lips of the lovely daughter of the fashionable preacher, this skilful doctor inadvertently suffered his affections to be fixed, as far as affections like his could be fixed on any one, on the sentimental and scientific young lady. Notoriety was the doctor's great passion. To be distinguished in the world was in his view the sum and supremacy of earthly bliss. Through this passion might his heart be won, and by this principle might he be easily led, either to wisdom or folly as the case might require.

There are always to be found about town, great, lubberly, weak, idle men of family, with whom such men as Dr. Crack may be on most excellent terms. Such a one was Singleton Sloper, fourth or fifth cousin of Lord Sloper. Singleton Sloper was about five-and-thirty yearsof age; as ignorant as it is possible for any human creature to be. He had not even received the benefit of an education at a public school; but when he was a boy, he did by means of much roaring, blubbering, and grumbling, prevail with his indulgent parents to let him go to a nice, neat, quiet, comfortable, little boarding-school for young gentlemen, where the strictest attention was paid to the health and morals of the pupils, and where the milder arts of persuasion were substituted for the needless severity of public schools. It was one of those schools to which mammas are so partial. The young gentlemen were kept so nicely, and no rude boisterous play was allowed. All the books were so prettily embellished, and the young gentlemen, instead of learning a little Greek and Latin as they do at public schools, were instructed so prettily in all the arts and sciences, that they became in a few years universal philosophers. But we must turn our attention to Mr. Singleton Sloper, who had not, we are sorry to say, profited so much by this excellent system of instruction as younggentlemen usually do. For in general it is found, that though there may be some slight lack of ideas in persons thus instructed, they generally remember some words which might be useful if they knew how to apply them; but Dr. Crack's great friend, Singleton Sloper, had even forgotten all the words which he had learned. He had certainly been very wisely taught by the interrogatory system, which answers finely in the holidays, but unfortunately as Singleton grew up he forgot it, or questions and answers were in his cranium so jumbled together, that he could not tell which was which. Those there are who may be a little surprised that the learned and eloquent Dr. Crack should find pleasure in associating with so stupid a creature as Singleton Sloper. We were astonished when we first heard of it; but the fact is, that the pleasure of an intimacy with a gentleman related to nobility was enough to counterbalance every other consideration. And though Singleton was a sottish, low-minded, and ill-looking being, yet Dr. Crack, who was a smart, spruce dapper-looking, dandy-like animal, was absolutely proudof strutting about in broad daylight with this poor, empty-headed creature. To his capacity and comprehension did the doctor endeavour to adapt himself, and with him would the doctor talk about all the vulgarities and coarsenesses of low-minded, high-born, indolent people. The doctor was really proud of this acquaintance, and to lower people would boast of his intimacy with his friend Sloper. This worthy was not absolutely cut by all of his own rank, because it was possible that in the course of time he might become possessed of large estates and great influence: but such were his low and vulgar habits, that few took much notice of him; therefore, he was accessible to plebeians. Being for his vulgar habits and coarseness of mind and manners treated superciliously by persons of rank with whom his birth gave him a right to be on terms of intimacy and feeling, that his own manners were such as could not recommend him to persons of gentlemanly mind, he was very much addicted to declaim among his vulgar associates on the pride and haughtiness of the great. Dr. Crack too, who had not found rank quite so accessible ashe had desired and expected, joined in the declamation, and expressed his contempt for all kinds of pride. It was amusing enough that Dr. Crack, who had consigned to oblivion all his poor little cousin Cricks to the four-and-twentieth ramification of relationship, should turn up his nose at the pomposity and exclusiveness of persons of rank and fortune.

One day when the doctor and his high-born friend were sauntering about in Pall Mall, and watching the carriages as they drove to the British Gallery, they stopped nearly opposite to the entrance, so that they could see the persons who went in. The doctor put his glass to his eye, he might as well have put it into his mouth for any use it was to him. As he was gaping at a carriage just that moment drawing up, Singleton said, or rather drawled,

"Crack, do you know whose carriage that is?"

"Oh yes, that is my friend Lord Trimmerstone's carriage. There is the Countess I see; but who is that on whose arm the Countess is leaning?"

"That," said Singleton Sloper, "is a perfumed puppy, called Tippetson. I almost smell him at this distance. I wonder that Trimmerstone lets him be always there. He is everlasting dangling after the Countess. He is a fellow of low birth, but he has found out the art of intruding himself into better company than his father ever kept. He is really becoming quite fashionable. I should not be much surprised if he runs away with Lady Trimmerstone. It has been talked about some time."

Our readers will hardly believe us, when we inform them, that upon receiving this intelligence concerning Mr. Tippetson, our friend, Dr. Crack, immediately felt a very strong desire to become acquainted with him, and to set him down among the number of his intimates: it is however a fact. The reason for this may be found in the peculiar ambition of the doctor's mind. His passion was for fashionable society. He had heard and read of the vices and follies of fashionable life; and these being to the eye of the multitude the most prominent features in the portrait of high life, he considered them as essentialcharacteristics of that class, and was pleased whenever it was in his power to identify himself with them. It immediately entered into his mind that it would contribute much to his own celebrity, if he should be intimately acquainted with a gentleman who should immortalise himself by eloping with a countess. Without expressing to Sloper this wish, he proposed, for the sake of consuming half an hour, to go into the Gallery and look at the company. The Gallery was very much crowded, and Dr. Crack felt sorry that he had not left word at home where he might be found: for it would be so delightful to be called out amidst so apparently splendid and fashionable an assemblage. The doctor soon found the Countess sitting on a bench, and Mr. Tippetson standing by her, and making himself as absurdly ridiculous as he possibly could. The doctor addressed himself to the Countess, and her ladyship was most gracious and condescending. Mr. Tippetson retreated a few steps that he might have room to lift his glass to his eye, and look through it at the doctor. Sloper paid his respects to the Countess, and soon retired,leaving the indefatigable physician enjoying the luxury of paying court to a titled lady.

After a few minutes' conversation about nothing at all, the Countess beckoned to Henry Augustus, saying,

"Tippetson, let me introduce you to my friend, Dr. Crack: you have heard of the celebrity of the doctor, and his fame in nervous cases."

"Exactly so," said Mr. Tippetson; and then turning to the doctor, he continued: "I am most happy in the introduction; doctor, I believe I must consult you on the subject of my nerves, for I am growing worse and worse. The other day, when I was setting my watch by the clock at the Horse Guards, an old acquaintance, presuming on his intimacy, gave me a violent slap on the shoulders, and positively I almost fainted. I could not recover my strength all the rest of the day; and when I was endeavouring to raise a glass of claret to my lips, my hand trembled so that I spilled the wine, and so I was betrayed into taking a second glass; a piece of intemperance, of which I am not often guilty."

The doctor listened very attentively and patiently to this pathetic statement of the melancholy case of poor Mr. Tippetson, and shook his head, and said, "Indeed!" That is quite as much as any doctor can do or say gratuitously. Mr. Tippetson then continued,

"Doctor, are you of opinion that nervousness is contagious?"

"There are many opinions on that subject," replied the doctor. "I hardly can presume to set up my opinion against so many great names: though I have been successful in many nervous cases."

This did not answer the young gentleman's question; but it answered the doctor's purpose, which was to procure a patient.

While this discourse was passing between the two gentlemen in the audience, and to the edification of the Countess, Miss Henderson made her appearance in company with her eloquent "pa." The whole group were happy in the meeting, and many compliments passed on all sides. Miss Henderson had not seen Mr. Tippetson since that magnanimous resignationof all claim upon his affection in favor of Clara Rivolta. This, their first meeting since the great event, might be supposed probably full of deep interest and emotion, if not to Mr. Tippetson, at least to Miss Henderson; but it was really no such thing. Such was the philosophical conformation of that young lady's mind, that she met Mr. Tippetson with most perfect composure; and such was the ingratitude of Henry Augustus Tippetson, that he thought nothing of the great sacrifice which she had made for his welfare and happiness. There was much volubility of talk between the parties, greatly to the edification and satisfaction of the talkers. Very kind and considerate was it in these fashionable people that they talked so loudly and so long, with a view no doubt to the illumination and instruction of all in the room. Mr. Tippetson conducted the Countess to her carriage, after having made an appointment for a consultation with Dr. Crack on the subject of nervousness.

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