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moment, and at last became so violent, that Valnıbirt to his upcle. No doubt seemed to covering his face with his handkerchief, remain in the breast of Monsieur Valmont of be rushed out of the room ; every one re. Mrs. Beriton's being indeed the daughter of his mained in silent astonishment; when after a lamented sister, and who till now, he believed few minutes had elapsed, Mr. Powel left the had shared the fate of ber parents. But a room in search of his visitor; he found hin

few moments passed ere be clasped her with the much agitated, but on his expressing his con fundest emotious to bis beart, wbile his agitacern, he exclaimed:-"Ob! my dear friend, tion almost rendered his blessings inarticulate. you know not the wounds in my heart Ibe sigltAs his fortune, though much diminished, was of that lovely young woman has made bleed still aftuent, he insisted upou tbeir making afresh. Great God! what a resemblauce! but, his house their residence; and, 'deprived of 110; it cannot be !"

every other relative, Mrs. Beriton and the After some time Mr. Powel found Monsieur

little Juliet constituted his sole happiness; Valmont was the only survivor of an illustri.

nor were the amiable manners and excellent ous family in France, who had been barba

character of her husband disregarded, be berously murdered during the revolution, and came likewise a sharer in his affections, and that the strong resemblance of Mrs. Beriton as a proof of his gratitude for his regard to an only and much loved sister, who had shewn to his beloved piece, through the infallen a victim with her husband in the borrid

terest of a friend, obtained for him a valuable scene before-mentioned, and whose death bad living, where he constantly resided during six impressed a sorrow on his heart never to be months of the year. Grateful to the Dieffaced, bad caused the emotions so alarming | vine Providence that had ordered such a to them all.

blissful change in their condition, and suNr. Powel, without expressing to Monsieur premely happy in the affections of one Valmont his feelings, eagerly sought Mr. l other, Mr. and Mrs. Beriton now enjoyed the Beriton, to whom he communicated the in

reward of their resignation to their former suftelligence, not in the least doubting bis wife ferings, nor were the benevolent Mr. and Mrs. was in some degree related to the stranger. Powel forgotten, to wbom they owed so much; After calming in a trifling degree the agita- il the days pever passed so happy as in their tion of Mrs. Beriton, whose hopes and fears society, and united to each other by the were alternately expressed in her countenance, || strongest ties of love and gratitude, both fathough she vainly endeavoured to disguise | milies enjoyed that uninterrupted felicity them, he accompanied Mr. Powel, and ac their virtues so well deserved. quainted Monsieur Valmont with every cir

ELIZA. cumstance that had first introduced Adeline

OAKWOOD HOUSE.-AN ORIGINAL DESCRIPTIVE NOVEL.

(Continued from Page 190.)

TO MRS. BRUDENELL.

LETTER XXV.

“ Last time I was here you need not thank me

for coming. I came a hunting my nephew; Ripon, August 18, 1807. but I was better than, bargain ; for besides We are returned Wither from our pro finding bim, I found such good welcome and jected excursion to Fountain's Abbey, and to-good cheer at Oakwood, that now I'm come morrow we set out home. We have had a o' purpose to see you and your brother, companion we did not expect. When I en ma'am.” tered the drawing-roon, after writiog my I assured him I was glad to see him, and it last, I found Mr. Satterihwaite.

was true; for notwithstanding the man's vul. “How do you do, ma'am? I have taken garity and ignorance, there is something about the liberty to come again, ma'am,” said he him I cannot belp liking. I bave asked my

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self what it is, and I can fix upon nothing but take a place in your chariot,” said Barbara, sincerity. I have a natural antipathy to pre “ because I have engaged your nephew to tence, call it by what name you will: whether drive me in the gig, and I dare not disapart, bypocrisy, duplicity, disguise, or affec-point bim." tation. I feel its repulsive influence so forcibly, “I would not disappoint you myself,” said that specious magners, seeming friendship, or Satterthwaite;

my nephew ught to be even shining talents, will not induce me to

proud of the honour of driving you." mingle with it. But let me see the soul in

“I do not always allow him that honour,” its natural forw; if it is not all I could wish, | said Barbara; “ I drive bim sometimes.” it is my friend. I apply to sincerity what the

“ All fair too," replied Satterthwaite; proverb does to charity-It covers a multitude

"give and take; let every dog have his day. I of sins.

wish he'd mind your driving, ma'am; he never Millichamp bad received his uncle with un

would mine. Well, Sir, then," continued he, feigned affection.

addressing himself to my brother, “ I believe “But how shall we manage?” said I:-"Wel I must go into your broushe, rather than be by are all going to.morrow to see the ruins of myself; though I don't quite know wbat a Fountain's Abbey; perhaps you would like to broushe is; there's so many of them newsee them with us?"

fangded carriages started up, tbat I can hardly “Why, as to ruins, ma'am," answered Mr.

tell one from another.". Satterthwaite, “I cau't say they're much in You will perhaps remark that I formerly told my way. I like improving, not going to decay;

you my bro her never left Oakwood, and in but, for the sake of good company, I'll make ourinlended excursion I have mentioned in:ee one. Though, perlaps, if this young lady and of his carriages. Do not suspect my veracity gentleman are going, they may'nt like to be

in either case: this is one of his oddities. troubled with such an old feilow as I."

He has all sorts of carriages, harnesses, boots, “ Barbara assured him his going would give boxes, budgets, and dickies; and never, till now, ber infinite satisfaction; and Charles said, he

has taken any of them ten miles from home. was always extremely happy in the society of

It is true, in bis narrow circle, he does both any of Mr. Oakwood's friends.

ride and drive; but he had rather walk on " " Then, brother," said 1,“ we will take the

foot, and oftener dors it. barouche, iustead of the chariot, and Mr.

The next morning I appointed my brother Satterthwaite can go with us.”

treasurer, and Saiterthwaite purveyor to the "I beg your pardon, ma'am," said Mr.

expedition; and taking the office of secretary Satterthwaite; “ you know I can go in my

upon myself, we set out; Charles and Mar. own carriage as well as the rest of you; and

garet forming the van; Millichamp and Bar. as to the expence, I'm sure I shall think

bara tte centre; and the barouche bringing nothing of that. No man alive is more ge.

up the rear. Derous thap I am, or spends his money freer.

“ My dear brother," said I, as be sat pinion. I never grudge myself any thing

I've a

ed close to my side, “ do not you find it a mind of."

chararing thing to escape from confinement ? By the bye, my friend, this is oo uncommon Is it not very pleasant so be at large, and species of generosity.

ramble about the world?" “We sball make a cavalcade like a Lord “ Very charming and pleasant, certainly," Mayor's show. I thought, as well as Mrs. rep' ed he; only if you could sit little Oakwood, that you would have preferred our farther off, I should be much obliged to company on the road to being alone,” said my l you."

“ By all means," said l, giving bim a little "Perhaps, that young lady will go witb more room :-" I think," added I, me," replied Mr. Satterthwaite ; and I am never made to vegetate, like a potatoe, always sure I have no objections to making a show.” in one place."

"I am excessively mortised that I cannot “No," said my brother;" we sball soon be

4

1

brother.

man was

was for.

be;

at the end of this stage, and I shall not be the market place at Ripon, erected at the ex. sorry to change my place.”

pence of Mr. Aislaţie, to commemorate bis '- I bope I do not incommode you ?" said I. having represented that borough in Parliament

“ 0, not at all." answered he; “I suffer up' sixty years. As we were sitting after dinner, inconvenience from my neighbours; but it

Pray,”

," said Mr. Satterthwaite, “ what may seems very odd to be cooped up in this nar

be the meaning of them gilt things at top of row space so long."

that pillar?" “ Have not you sufficient variety in the

“ They are the town arms," said my scenes which succeed each other?” said I.

brother ;

a bugle horn and the rowel of a “ Dale and mountain, wood and river: if

spur." your limbs are confined in a smaller space,

“Then I suppose the man that built the your eye ranges over a multitude of objects, town,” said Saiterthwaite,

was a post; such instead of a perpetual repetition of tbe s me, as used to blow their horns and spur their as at Oakwood. What, for instance, can be

nags, before mail coaches was invented : more enchanting than this view as we descend though that was a poor trade too ; I don't see the fell’ibat fertile dale below, with the village, how be could get money enough to build a the church, the water, and ibe bridge ; and town, unless he robbed bis own nail." the mountains rising again immediately be “Ripon," rejoined my brother, hind.”

merly so famous for the manufacture of steel “I am sensible of all their beauties," replied | spurs, that they became proverbial. It is said

“but what you call being at large gives me the corporation presented a pair to James I. the idea of imprisonment. Icannot stretch my which even at ibat time cost five pounds. legs; bowever, I have just thought of a way Po sibly the rowel may allude to this manu. that will set me at liberty: l'll walk. Here, || faciure." John, stop! I'll get out. We are only four “They've a famous manufactory yet," said miles," continued he, "from the place where Satterthwaite; “ but it is of cream cheeses. we are to dine, and I shall not be half au hour | Iu all my life I never eat such; they melt in after you."

one's mouth like a lump of butter. I've beea Very surprising, indeed,” cried Satterthwaite, out to ask our landlord where they are to be “that a gentleman should chuse to walk, had, and he says there's only one dairy makes rather than ride in his own carriage! I bope l 'em, and he takes 'em all. I've bid bim pack he does not expect me to walk with him, fur

me up a dozen, to carry to Oakwood.” company. I am used to sit with my legs

'They deserve your commendation,” said under a desk for half a day together, and they 1; “they are like consolidated cream ; but the never want stretching."

whole country is rich; tbe crops of turnips Saiterthwaite, however, consumed as much are as ex!raordinary as the cheeses.” time in eating as my brother did in walking. " I think our inn is as extraordinary as We travelled at our ease, and it was not till either,” said Charles :-" I should not have our second dinner that we reached the pretty expected a house like this in such an obscure little town of Ripon.

corner of the world." Somebody says, I think it is Holcroft, that “ It is not so obscure as you may imagine," you may form an opinion of the character of said my brother:-“It is only eleven miles a nation, from the bills which are posted on

from Harrowgate, and crowds are daily coming the walls. By this rule I observe we are from thence during the season, to ste Studiy, gamblers and soldiers. The lottery holds out and dine at Ripon." irresistible temptations to grow rich, at the In the afternoon we went to see the Minster; corner of every street; and there are not fewer but that of York was so strongly impressed offers of honour, glory, aud eleven guineas to on my mind, that I viewed it with indiffer. all aspiring heroes, who will only just sacrifice ence; perhaps more than it deserved. Its their liberty and risk their lives in the army. spire, forty yards in beight, fell down in the

A handsome obelisk adorns the centre of li reign of Charles II.' We were asked to see St.

249

Welfrid's Needle, a celebrated narrow passage when she rang for a pipe, and began to smoke, in a vault, formerly of great use in ascertaining I expressed some surprise. She told me she tbe chastity of females. If a woman had al-smoked to procure sleep; and when she was ways walked uprightly, she walked with ease visiting in families where she could xot conve. through the Needle. If ever she had made a niently use tobacco, sbe tuok a dose of opium, false step, she infallibly stuck by the way. Her for her spirits were so lively and volatile that size and shape were out of the question. without one or the other, she never could Why such a wonderful test of virtue should feel the least symptom of drowsiness. A shock. be now laid aside I know not. The chastity of ing babit! little better than getting intoxiwomen may be either no longer suspected, or

cated to drown care. She should liave sub. no longer considered of consequence. We did

mitted to ber uneasy watchfulness till weary not see the Needle. lo my younger days I

nature had furnished repose. bave penetrated to the far end of Castleton This morning we visited Fountain's Abbey, and Pool's Holes, in Derbyshire; but I have which stands in Studley Park, abuut three done with subterranean wonders. All I see in

miles from hence. I stood motionless with future must be above ground.

astonishment, when, at the end of a narrow I spent the evening with an extraordinary grassy glen, with high rocks and woods on woman here, whom I had met with at ibe

each side, the east end of the Abbey Church house of a friend in London. She has a hus.

burst upou us; and, through its lofty pointed band, four children, and four servants, and her window, we saw a nave three hundred and family is in the exactest order. She makes all fifty-one feet in length, where broken arches her own clothes, and those of her children. and spreading trees were striving for the Her drawing.room is furnished with her own mastery. This space bas been divided in peedle-work. They have large dinner parties, length into church and choir; in breadth, and her most admired dishes are of her own

into middle and side aisles. Magnificent making. These are the common occupa. pillars still remain. tions of women; but besides these, she is

I have never seen any place which gave me so an authoress, a poetess, an actoress, and keeps perfect an idea of the manner of living of mosks up a very extensive correspondence. I asked

as Fountain's Abbey. One may trace them ber by what magic she performed 60 much. through the day. The splendid ruin I have Sbe said nothing was more easy ;

and
every

been describivg was the place where they transone might do it, if they pleased. Her graudacted the business of their lives; I had almost secret was only to rise early, and never leave a

said their work-shop; for prayers and praises moment unemployed. When she had finisbed so often repeated must have become mechanic one thing, she never lost time in considering | cal. We next see their refectory, one hunwhat was to be done next; but had another indred and tbirty feet by for y-seven. Another ber mind, which she set about immediately. serious business was transacted here. I could What a pity such a woman should be tinc. | fancy the long tables, the heavy benches, the tured, as she is, with vanity, affectation, and eager monks, aud the excellent fare supplied romance! I have all my life practised ber Il by this luxuriant country. Here I could not secret without knowing it, and great bave been doubt the zeal of the good fathers. Habit my reading, writing, and needle.work; but to could not render them indifferent to this accomplish all she does, great strength of employ. We then come to a venerable clois. body is requisite. She is a large, stout ter, the scene of their walks, or rather Scotchwoman.

lounges, for such pious men had always After supper we left the gentlemeu at table, leisure. From this we mounted by a flight of and she took me into ber drawing-room, where steps, on the outside, to their dormitory, over she ordered away the lights, and threw open

the cloister. I had not so good an opinion a sash. We sat at the window admiring the of their lodging as their living. There are moon, which shone in all its splendour, and about ten small recesses on either side of the the sky, bespangled with ten thousand stars; room, with each a dismal window. They No. XXXII. Vol. V.N.S.

li

were probably wainscotted out from the woe to that sacrilegious hand whiob dares to gallery in the middle. A larger square room touch cathedral, castle, or abbey! they are a occupies one end. Last scene of this not race that will shortly become extioct, and eventful history, behold their torba! at least nothing shall succeed them! If we cannot those of their abbots. They lie buried in the make them, let us not alier or destroy! chapter-house, which is scattered with broken It is said one of Mr. Aislabie's improvements tiles, formerly tlie pavement, and broken glass was to take down some of the ruined cffices; which filled the windows.

perhaps the buttery for one. Another of The kitchen, which is forty.seven feet by || them to remove the broken stones from the twenty-one, remains entire, with its arched area of ihe church, diy it over, and lay it ribbed roof, and two capacious fire places. | level. A third, to travsform a court between The very chimney of one is whole, square at

the church and the refectury, into a flowerthe base, and circular at top; and the mill ll garden. We saw a smart trim janiper growstill grinds corn which supplied the bread. I ing in the middle of the nave; the gardener' looked for the buttery, where Henry Jenkins boasted that was one of bis improvements. shared the hospitality of the monks, but could When I think of these things, I have but one not find it.

comfort. If these interesting ruins had not Fountain's Abbey was erected in the thir been inclosed iņ the park, they might hare teenth century. Mr. Aislabie, the late pro- suffered as much from plunderers as they prietor, bought the estate of Studley, in have done from a mistaken attempt to mend 1766, and inclosed the Abbey in his park. He them; and the remains of the buttery might has been censured for his improvements. I, who have raised a cottage over the head of a thief. vever saw what it was, admire it as it is. But

(To be continued.)

LETTERS ON THE MANNERS, CUSTOMS, &c. OF DIFFERENT

COUNTRIES.

(Continued from Page 205.)

LETTER V.-HUNGARY.

nature has endowed them, for the welfare of I must immediately commepce by making ourselves and our children, than seek to excite a profound apology to the young girl whose in the bosoms of our youthful females those principles I feared could not withstand the passions which we afterwards too often punish suggestions of her vavity. She shews herself, || by our contempt, when we have sacrificed however, at all times equally modest, and on the altar of our sensuality and our pride equally attached to her father; she passes her the sacred claims they had to our veneration. days by the side of the old man's bed, and at Ought we not, from the respect we owe to night she sleeps in an adjoining closet, from ourselves, to respect also those who are deswbence she hastens to fulfil his every wish, tined to be our companions, the mothers of or afford her timely succour to the most our offspring, and our only real friends that triling pains that the sick man may experience. remaja, when after a long career we are reIndeed, my dear friend, this girl is an angel; duced by experience and crosses uo more to but we men, who would rather selfishly seduce reckon on the friendship of men, wlio but too the female sex than admire them, begin always often rival and envy us; and how can we truly by condemving them on perceiving their most respect women, when we look only at their trilling foibles, if they may be called so, and faults? The esteem we shew to ber on whom ascribe faults to them on the slightest suspi we have fixed our choice, is less a tribute to cion; should we not do better to observe and her merit than to our own sagacity: we say admire, in this most amiable part of the human to ourselves that we have kuown how to select species, those virtues and graces with which liebe first woman in the world; our penetration

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