at present is about the Queen. The able resort, where price alone is the Argents, who are our main instruc- obstacle. Hence the institution of tors in the proprieties of London life, these select Aristocratic assemblies. say that it would be very vulgar in me The Philharmonic concerts, however, to go to look at her, which I am sorry are rather professional than fashionfor, as I wish above all things to see a able entertainments; but everybody personage so illustrious by birth, and is fond of music, and therefore, everyrenowned by misfortune. The Doc- body, that can be called anybody, is tor and my mother, who are less scru- anxious to get tickets to them, and pulous, and who, in consequence, this anxiety has given them a degree somehow, by themselves, contrive to of eclat, which I am persuaded the see, and to get into places that are in- performance would never have excited accessible to all gentility, have had a had the tickets been purchasable at full view of her Majesty. My father any price. The great thing here is has since become her declared parti- either to be somebody, or to be patro and my mother too has acquired nized by a person that is a somebody; a leaning likewise towards her side of without this, though you were as rich the question; but neither of them as Croesus, your golden chariots, like will permit the subject to be spoken the comets of a season blazing and of before me, as they consider it detri- amazing, would speedily roll away mental to good morals: I, however, into the obscurity from which they read the newspapers. came, and be remembered no more. zan, What my brother thinks of her Majesty's case is not easy to divine, but Sabre is convinced of the Queen's guilt, upon some private and authentic information which a friend of his, who has returned from Italy, heard when travelling in that country. This information he has not, however, repeated to me, so that it must be something very bad-we shall know all when the trial comes on. In the meantime, his Majesty, who has lived in dignified retirement since he came to the throne, has taken up his abode with rural felicity in a cottage in Windsor Forest; where he now, contemning all the pomp and follies of his youth, and this metropolis, passes his days amidst his cabbages, like Dioclesian, with innocence and tranquillity, far from the intrigues of courtiers, and insensible to the murmuring waves of the fluctuating populace, that set in with so strong a current towards "the mob-led queen," as the divine Shakspeare has so beautifully expressed it. You ask me about Vauxhall Gardens;-I have not seen them.They are no longer in fashion-the theatres are quite vulgar-even the opera-house has sunk into a secondrate place of resort. Almacks balls, the Argyle rooms, and the Philharmonic concerts, are the only public entertainments frequented by people of fashion -and this high superiority they owe entirely to the difficulty of gaining admission. London, as my brother says,' is too rich, and grown too luxurious, to have any exclusive place of fashionVOL. VIII. At first when we came here, and when the amount of our legacy was first promulgated, we were in a terrible flutter. Andrew became a man of fashion, with all the haste that tailors, and horses, and drivers, could make him. My father, honest man, was equally inspired with lofty ideas, and began a career that promised a liberal benefaction of good things to the poor-and my mother was almost distracted with calculations about laying out the money to the best advantage, and the sum she would allow to be spent. I alone preserved my natural equanimity-and foreseeing the necessity of new accomplishments to suit my altered circumstances, applied myself to the instructions of my masters with an assiduity that won their applause. The advantages of this I now experience-my brother is sobered from his champaign fumes-my father has found out that charity begins at home and my mother, though her establishment is enlarged, finds her happiness, notwithstanding the legacy, still lies within the little circle of her household cares. Thus, my dear Bell, have I proved the sweets of a true philosophy; and, unseduced by the blandishments of rank, rejected Sir Marmaduke Towler, and accepted the humbler but more disinterested swain, Captain Sabre, who requests me to send you his compliments, not altogether content that you should occupy so much of the bosom of your affectionate, RACHEL PRINGLE. 2 L "Rachel had ay a gude roose of hersel'," said Becky Glibbans, as Miss Isabella concluded. In the same moment Mr Snodgrass took his leave, saying to Mr Micklewham that he had something particular to mention to him. "What can it be about?" inquired Mrs Glibbans at Mr Craig, as soon as the helper and schoolmaster had left the room; "do you think it can be concerning the Doctor's resignation of the parish in his favour?" "I'm sure," interposed Mrs Craig, before her husband could reply, "it winna be wi' my gude will that he shall come in upon us-a pridefu' wight, whose saft words, and a' his politess, are but lip-deep; na, na, Mrs Glibbans, we maun hae another on the leet forbye him." "And wha would ye put on the leet noo, Mrs Craig, you that's sic a judge?" said Mrs Glibbans with the most ineffable consequentiality. "I'll be for young Mr Dirlton, who is baith a sappy preacher of the word, and a substantial hand at every kind of civility." "Young Dirlton !-young Deevilton!" cried the orthodox Deborah of Irvine; "a fallow that knows no more of a gospel dispensation than I do of the Arian heresy, which I hold in utter abomination. No, Mrs Craig, you have a godly man for your husband-a sound and true follower; tread ye in his footsteps, and no try to set up yoursel' on points of doctrine. But it's time, Miss Mally, that we were taking the road; Becky and Miss Isabella, make yourselves ready. Noo, Mrs Craig, ye'll no be a stranger; you see I have no been lang of coming to give you my countenance: but, my leddy, ca canny, it's no easy to carry a fu' cup; ye hae gotten a great gift in your gudeman. Mr Craig, I wish you a gude night; I would fain have stopped for your evening exercise, but Miss Mally was beginning, I saw, to weary-so gude night; and, Mrs Craig, ye'll take tent of what I have saidit's for your good." So exeunt Mrs Glibbans, Miss Mally, and the two young ladies. "Her bark's war than her bite,” said Mrs Craig, as she returned to her husband, who felt already some of the ourie symptoms of a henpecked destiny. SKETCHES OF VILLAGE CHARACTER. No III. Helmorran. WHILST vice parades her front in open day, Be thou my theme! in all thy motley show The scorn, contempt, and bye-word of the land. On watchful day has crept the coward night, This wanders far in quest of plunder store, Thy poultry own thy unremitted care, The well known cough, and head of silver hair— Refuse the "bit" bestowed in action bland, Around thee blooms the purple heather-bell, Thy green-sward pasture-ground with snowy shower: Ill-fated wanderer of thy cherished hive, Whence have these cows their food, that seem so sleek, The neighbouring farmer-for he knows full well- Such are thy deeds, Helmorran! such thy shame The actors next we sing in order due, The Village Cobbler. BEHIND that door, by every filth defiled, And plies, with frequent rap, the bungled shoe; The Village Magdalene. URGED by that word, which hell might not gainsay, Or those who did, or those who meant her wrong. Holy Jamie. COME, holy Jamie, come, with all thy store Yes! thou mayst slyly covet, scheme, and cheat, "For to the pure in heart, all things are pure!" Stands higher in the scale of "Man" than he! Father Sycophant. OLD Father Sycophant, stand out to light, Oh! I have marked thee bend, and scrape, and stand, "His Lordship was at church, you marked, to-day; As crows the cock, so chirps the chicken brood:"Were ever gentle folks so very good? "And, dear Papa, my Lady called to-day, "And ask'd my sister Suky to a play; "Such real attentive folks I never saw"They are so very kind, my dear Papa. "And, dear Papa, how very much we need "Society, Papa-we do indeed, Except the Russels,' nobody have we "Worth pinning down a ribbon end to see, "A set of low-bred country farmer folks"Big-bosom'd Jennies, bullet-headed Jocks"With now and then the Laird o' Spittal Miln, "Whose face is ever reeking like a kiln. |