-nay, he could almost venture to predict, would fall a victim to the sudden tension of the lax fibres.

Though a man of sound good sense in most things, Mr. Palmer's weakness was, on medical subjects, as great as bis ignorance; his superstitious faith in physicians was as implicit as either Dr. Wheeler or Mrs. Beaumont could desire.

"Then," said Mr. Palmer, with a sigh still deeper than the first-for the first was for himself, and the second for his country-"then England, Old England; farewell for ever! All my judges pronounce sentence of transportation upon me!"

Mr. Beaumont and Amelia, in eager and persuasive tones of remonstrance and expostulation, at once addressed the doctor, to obtain a mitgation or suspension of his sentence. Dr. Wheeler, albeit unused to the imperative mood. reiterated his dictum. Though little accustomed to hold his opinion against the arguments or the wishes of the rich and fair, he, upon this occasion, stood his ground against Miss and Mr. Beaumont wonderfully well for nearly five minutes; till, to his utter perplexity and dismay, he saw Mrs. Beaumont appear amongst his assailants.

"Well, I said I would submit, and not say a word, if Dr. Wheeler was against me," she began; "but I cannot sit by silent: I must protest against this cruel, cruel decree, so contrary too to what I hoped and expected would be Dr. Wheeler's opinion."

Poor Dr. Wheeler twinkled and seemed as if he would have rubbed his eyes, not sure whether he was awake or in a dream. In his perplexity, he apprehended that he had misunderstood Mrs. Beaumont's note, and he now prepared to make his way round again through the solids and the fluids, and the whole nervous system, till by favor of idiosyncrasy, he hoped to get out of his difficulty, and to allow Mr. Palmer to remain on British ground. Mrs. Beaumont's face, in spite of her powers of simulation, lengthened and lengthened, and darkened and darkened, as he proceeded in his recantation; but, when the exception to the LIVING AGE. VOL. XLIV.

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general axiom was fairly made out, and a clear permit to remain in England granted, by such high medical authority, she forced a smile, and joined loudly in the general congratulations. Whilst her son was triumphing and shaking hands with Mr. Palmer, she slipped down stairs after Dr. Wheeler.

"Ah, doctor! What have you done! Ruined me! ruined me! Didn't you read my note? Didn't you understand it? I thought a word to the wise was enough."

"Why-Then it was as I understood it at first? So I thought; but then I fancied I must be mistaken afterwards; for when I expected support, my dear madam, you opposed my opinion in favor of Jamaica more warmly than any one, and what was I to think?"

"To think! Oh, my dear doctor, you might have guessed that was only a sham opposition."

"But, my dear madam," cried Dr. Wheeler, who, though the mildest of men, was now worked up to something like indignation, "my dear ma'amsham upon sham is too much for any man."

So far we have a narrative as lively and as true to fact as Miss Austen or Mrs. Gaskell could give us. But the Edgeworthian touch follows-which for modern readers poisons the whole. "Thus," the author adds, "by excess of hypocrisy, our heroine disgusted even her own adherents, in which she had the honor to resemble some of the most wily politicians famous in English history."

Let us take another scene in which Mrs. Beaumont makes a last effort to prevent Mr. Palmer from going to see the Walsingham cousins. Her earlier efforts to prevent the visit have failed, and the date of an expedition to Walsingham House is actually fixed. She is still anxious if possible as I have said that he should not know these new cousins at all; moreover, her daughter Amelia is in love with young Walsingham, whereas Mrs. Beaumont has given Mr. Palmer the

impression that she is in love with the rich Sir John Hunter. If possible the visit to the Walsinghams must be stopped altogether and Mr. Palmer sent back to Jamaica without knowing them. At all events Amelia must be prevented from going with Mr. Palmer, and the conversation at Walsingham House (if they do go) must be so managed that her various diplomatic fibs shall not be discovered by the confiding old man. Here is the story of the fresh and final manœuvre of Mrs. Beaumont and its outcome:

Now there was a numerous tribe of hangers-on, who were in the habit of frequenting Beaumont Park, whom Mrs. Beaumont loved to see at her house; because, besides making her feel her own importance, they were frequently useful to carry on the subordinate parts of her perpetual manœuvres. Among these secondary personages who attended Mrs. Beaumont abroad to increase her consequence in the eyes of common spectators, and who at home filled the stage, and added to the bustle and effect, her chief favorites were Mr. Twigg (the same gentleman who was deputed to decide upon the belt or the screen) and Captain Lightbody. Mr. Twigg was the most elegant flatterer of the two, but Captain Lightbody was the most assured, and upon the whole made his way the best. He was a handsome man, had a good address, could tell a good story, sing a good song, and make things go off well, when there was company; so that he was a prodigious assistance to the mistress of the house. Then he danced with the young ladies when they had no other partners; he mounted guard regularly beside the pianoforte, or the harp, when the ladies were playing; and at dinner it was always the etiquette for him to sit beside Miss Beaumont, or Miss Hunter, when the gentlemen guests were not such as Mrs. Beaumont thought entitled to that honor, or such as she deemed safe companions. These arrangements imply that Captain Lightbody thought himself in Mrs. Beau

mont's confidence: and so he was to a certain degree, just enough to flatter him into doing her high or low behests. Whenever she had a report to Lightbody was put in play; and no man circulate, or to contradict, Captain could be better calculated for this purpose, both from his love of talking, and of locomotion. He galloped about from place to place, and from one great house to another, knew all the lords and ladies, and generals and colonels, and brigade-majors and aides-de-camp, in the land. Could any mortal be better qualified to fetch and carry news for Mrs. Beaumont? Besides news, it was his office to carry compliments, and to speed the intercourse, not perhaps from soul to soul, but from house to house, which is necessary in a visiting country to keep up the character of an agreeable neighbor. Did Mrs. Beaumont forget to send a card of invitation, or neglect to return a visit, Lightbody was to set it to rights for her, Lightbody, the ready bearer of pretty notes, the maker always, the fabricator sometimes, of the civilest speeches imaginable. This expert speechifier, this ever idle, ever busy scamperer, our heroine despatched to engage a neighboring family to pay her a morning visit the next day, just about the time which was fixed for her going to see the Walsinghams. The usual caution was given-"Pray, Lightbody, do not let my name be used; do not let me be mentioned; but take it upon yourself, and say, as if from yourself, that you have reason to believe I take it ill that they have not been here lately. And then you can mention the hour that would be most convenient. But let me have nothing to do with it. I must not appear in it on any account."

In consequence of Captain Lightbody's faithful execution of his secret instructions, a barouche full of morning visitors drove to the door, just at the time when Mrs. Beaumont had proposed to set out for Walsingham House. Mrs. Beaumont, with a welldissembled look of vexation, exclaimed, as she looked out of the window at the carriage, "How provoking! Who can these people be? I hope Martin will say I am not at home. Ring-ring,

Amelia. Oh, it's too late, they have seen me! and Martin, stupid creature! has let them in."

Mr. Palmer was much discomfited, and grew more and more impatient, when these troublesome visitors protracted their stay, and proposed a walk to see some improvements in the grounds.

"But, my good Mistress Beaumont," said he, "you know we are engaged to our cousin Walsingham this morning; and if you will give me leave, I will go on before you with Mr. Beaumont, and we can say what detains you."

Disconcerted by this simple determination of this straightforward, plainspoken old gentleman, Mrs. Beaumont saw that further delay on her part would be not only inefficacious, but dangerous. She now was eager to be relieved from the difficulties which she had herself contrived. She would not, for any consideration, have trusted Mr. Palmer to pay this visit without her; therefore, by an able counter movement, she extricated herself not only without loss, but with advantage, from this perilous situation. She made a handsome apology to her visitors for being obliged to run away from them. "She would leave Amelia to have the pleasure of showing them the grounds." Mrs. Beaumont was irresistible in her arrangements. Amelia, disappointed and afraid to show how deeply she felt the disappointment, was obliged to stay to do the honors of Beaumont Park, whilst her mother drove off rejoicing in half the success, at least, of her stratagem; but even as a politician she used upon every occasion too much artifice. It was said of Cardinal Mazarin. he is a great politician, but in all his politics there is one capital defect"C'est qu'il veut toujours tromper."

"How tiresome those people were! I thought we should never have got away from them!" said Mrs. Beaumont. "What possessed them to come this morning and to pay such a horrid long visit! Besides, those Duttons,. at all times, are the most stupid creatures on the face of the earth; I cannot endure them; so awkward and ill-bred too! and yet they are of a good family-who could think it? They are people one

must see, but they are absolutely insufferable."

"Insufferable!"

said Mr. Palmer; "why, my good madam, then you have. the patience of a martyr, for you suf-, fered them so patiently that I never should have guessed you suffered at all.. I protest I thought they were friends and favorites of yours, and that you were very pleased to see them.

"Well, well, 'tis the way of the world," continued Mr. Palmer; "this sort of what do you call it?-doubledealing about visitors, goes on everywhere, Madam Beaumont. But how do I know that when I go away, you may not be as glad to get rid of me as you were to get away from these Duttons?" added he in a tone of forced jocularity. "How do I know but that the minute my back is turned, you may not begin to take me to pieces in my turn, and say, "That old Palmer! he was the most tiresome, humorsome, strange, old-fashioned fellow; I thought we should never have got rid of him?'"

"My dear, dear Sir, how can you speak in such a manner?" cried Mrs. Beaumont, who had made several vain attempts to interrupt this speech. "You, who are our best friend! Is it possible you could suspect? Is there no difference to be made between friends and common acquaintance?"

"I'm sure I hope there is," said Mr. Palmer, smiling.

There was something so near the truth in Mr. Palmer's raillery, that Mrs. Beaumont could not take it with as much easy unconcern as the occasion required, especially in the presence of her son, who maintained a provoking silence. Unhappy, indeed, are those who cannot, in such moments of distress, in their own families, and in their nearest connections, find any relief from their embarrassments, and who look round in vain for one to be responsible for their sincerity. Mrs. Beaumont sat uneasy, and almost disconcerted. Mr. Palmer felt for his snuff-box, his usual consolation; but it was not in his pocket; he had left it on his table. Now Mrs. Beaumont was relieved, for she had something to do, and something to say with her wonted politeness: in spite of all re

an entertainment which had been given two days before by Lady Stock. From her entertainment, the transition was easy to her character, and to that of her whole family. Young Stock was pronounced to have all the purse-proud self-sufficiency of a banker and all the pertness of a clerk; even his bow seemed as if it came from behind the counter.

Till this moment Almeria had at least permitted, if not encouraged, this gentleman's assiduities; for she had hitherto only seen him in company where he had been admired: his attentions, therefore, had been flattering to her vanity. But things now began to appear in quite a different light: she saw Mr. Stock in the point of view in which Lady Bradstone placed him; and felt that she might be degraded. but could not be elevated, in the ranks of fashion by such an admirer. She began to wish that she was not so intimately connected with a family which was ridiculed for want of taste, and whose wealth, as she now suspected, was their only ticket of admittance into the society of the truly elegant. In the land of fashion, "alps on alps arise"; and no sooner has the votary reached the summit of one weary ascent than another appears higher still and more difficult of attainment. Our heroine now became discontented in that situation which but a few months before had been the grand object of her ambition.

Almeria is now determined to win her way into Lady Bradstone's circle of intimates. The opportunity comes, and she throws over Lady Stock without compunction.

One morning she went with Lady Stock to a bookseller's whose shop served as a fashionable lounge. Her Ladyship valued books like all other things, in proportion to the money they cost: she had no taste for literature, but a great fancy for accumulating the most expensive publications which she displayed ostentatiously as part of the costly furniture of her house. Whilst she was looking over some literary lux

uries, rich in all the elegance of hotpress and vellum binding, Lady Bradstone and a party of her friends came into the room. She immediately attracted and engrossed the attention of all present. Lady Stock turned over the leaves of the fine books and asked their prices; but she had the mortification to perceive that she was an object rather of derision than of admiration to the newcomers. None are so easily put out of countenance by airs as those who are most apt to play them off on their inferiors. Lady Stock bit her lips in evident embarassment, and the awkwardness of her distress increased the confidence and triumph of her adversary. She had some time before provoked Lady Bradstone by giving a concert in opposition to one of hers, and by engaging at an enormous expense a celebrated performer for her night: hostilities had thenceforward been renewed at every convenient opportunity by the contending fair ones. Lady Bradstone now took occasion loudly to lament her extreme poverty; and she put this question to all her party, whether if they had it in their power they should prefer having more money than taste or more taste than money? They were going to decide par acclamation, but her Ladyship insisted on her taking each vote separately, because this prolonged the torments of her rival, who heard the preference of taste to money reiterated half a dozen times over with the most provoking variety of insulting emphasis. Almeria's sufferings during this scene were far more poignant than those of the person against whom the ridicule was aimed; not that she pitied Lady Stock-no; she would have rejoiced to have seen her humbled to the dust, if she could have escaped all share in her mortification; but as she appeared as her Ladyship's acquaintance, she apprehended that she might be mistaken for her friend. An opportunity offered of marking the difference. The bookseller asked Lady Stock if she chose to put her name down in a list of subscribers to a new work. The book, she saw, was to be dedicated to Lady Bradstone-and that was sufficient to decide her against it.