though she considered me an interloper. I very soon understood them all perfectly: perhaps it is a foolish fancy of mine, but I sometimes think I am quick at discerning character.

Mr. Sidney was a perfect man of business, devoted to his mercantile concerns, eager in the pursuit of wealth, yet abhorring speculation—tormentingly punctual and methodical in his habits, (it was said indeed that all the clocks and watches in the neighbourhood were regulated by his move→ ments,) precise in his manners, and rigorously neat in his attire. In person he was tall, stout, and inflexibly erect; his eye was deep set, and penetrating; his brow thoughtful, as that of one absorbed in calculation; his step "plantigrade" and determined. A man he was of "cheerful yesterdays, and confident to-morrows."

Mrs. Sidney belonged to that numerous class of persons who are, at this present day, so rife in the world;-persons whom La Bruyère has described as "portés par la foule, et entrainés par la multitude." There was a species of moral cowardice in her disposition, a truckling to opinion, a slavish fear of out-stepping the bounds of conventional propriety. This all pervading dread influenced every action, and warped every notion. "What will people say?" was her watch-word; "We must do as others do!" was her favourite aphorism.

Alas! how few there are who dare chalk out a path for themselves; how fewer still, who, having chalked it out, walk perseveringly and consistently therein! How many corroding cares and feverish anxieties would be spared to us if we could only dare think for ourselves!-if we were but to assert our own moral dignity, and scorning the shuffling tricks, the petty manœuvres, and dishonest practices of those who are ever hurtling and jostling each other as they strive, with an energy worthy of a better cause, to ascend yet higher and higher on the ladder of artificial society, we were but content to walk nobly and unblenchingly in the sphere allotted to us.

For aught else that appeared, Mrs. Sidney was an estimable woman, devoted to her husband; fond and proud of her children in no common degree. I am sure too she thought she did not make me feel my dependent situation; but I had a foolish pride, and was apt to be mortified when she would bid me ring the bell or fetch a chair, whilst her own boys, or two or three idle young men, were lounging about the apartment; and I have often felt the blood tingling in my cheeks on hearing her say to a stranger, who would perhaps rise politely to greet me on my entering the room, "Oh don't disturb yourself! 'tis only cousin Dorothy.'

I had certainly no right to claim deference or

attention from any person, much less from young men, for I was very plain, and, worse than that, I was unpardonably dowdy looking; even dress failed to improve me-it was not true in my case, that, "fine feathers make fine birds." I had but one offer of marriage during the whole time I lived. with the Sidneys, and that was from an elderly gentleman (as the boys facetiously called him), of threescore and ten, who was so captivated by the skilful manner in which I bound up a lacerated foot, the property of that mischievous imp Dick Sidney, that, having one evening indulged in sundry liberal potations, and being the next day confined to his bed with a toe as inflamed as his temper, he sent me a proposal of marriage in due form, with a detailed statement of his funded and landed property, and the offer of a settlementsuch a settlement! that I think it would have been the climax of virtue in any woman acquainted with his liberal intentions, not to sigh by anticipation for the "pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious" widowhood; but I refused him, although my cousin Charles swore I was a fool for my pains, and Mrs. Sidney prophesied I should never have another offer. She was right, and I was right too; and so I believe they all thought when, shortly after, he married a very young lady, whom he survived; she having died after four years of connubial bliss,

without any visible or tangible complaint. The physicians were driven to a nonplus, they felt her pulse, looked at her tongue, tried the stethoscope to her heart and lungs, and finally, wagging their oracular heads, pronounced it an inward complaint. Her own maid averred she died of worry. The malady or the treatment is little known in the "ars medendi ;" but few are aware how oft it has swollen the bills of mortality.

CHAPTER III.

She was a phantom of delight
When first she gleamed upon my sight;
A lovely apparition, sent

To be a moment's ornament;

Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;

Like twilight too her dusky hair;

But all things else about her drawn

From May time and the cheerful dawn;
A dancing shape, an Image gay,

To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.

WORDSWORTH.

A most pernicious woman.-SHAKSPEARE.

I HAVE not yet spoken of my cousin Viola; how she came by such a name I was, for some time, at a loss to conjecture. I easily perceived that Mr. and Mrs. Sidney were not the kind of people to make Shakspeare stand a god-father to their children; but at length I discovered that, in his younger days, my cousin Charles had been an enthusiastic admirer. of Mrs. Jordan, especially in her performance of