than to meet with people who never contradict you: it is the worst compliment they could pay: it seems as if they abstained from opposing one out of pure compassion for the weakness of one's understanding. I cannot describe what I have suffered from those good creatures that are always of one's own opinion."

"I don't think," observed Mrs. Poole, " that you will find young Lacy that sort of person. I should say, he was rather, satirically inclined. Some declare, he wrote those lines about three of the Almack's Patronesses, whose titles begin with the same letter. 'Three ladies in three distant counties born'-I won't go on-for it is too severe; but I hardly believe it is his, for I know he positively denies it. He is decidedly guilty of the prologue to the Private Theatricals at Norton; and you may see some other things of his when you next meet Lady Barbara Tempest."

"Thank you, Mrs. Poole," said Lady Malvern; "I am sadly in want of a bribe to make me wish to meet Lady Barbara; but I am afraid Mr Lacy's lines are hardly sufficient. Heaven defend me from going again to that dreadfully clever woman's town parties! The room smelt of new publications, and one meets dingy foreign savans, and people that try to look as if they were prodigious thinkers, and talk, by way of light conversation, about 'a superior article in the last Review.' And so this Mr. Lacy is an ally of Lady Barbara? Very well --that is quite enough.—If he is literary, I give him up-I do abhor a wise young man.

"Oh, I assure you," exclaimed Miss Tyrwhitt, "he is not a wise young man, indeed."

"Then pray," said Agnes, "prove him a foolish one as quickly as you can, and put the poor creature out of his misery."

"No, but he is not foolish either. I only mean, he does not talk gravely, and learnedly, and use long words, and that sort of thing; but talks-just all about any thing in the world." "Nonsense, in short.' "Well-yes-perhaps it is."

"That is conclusive," said Lady Malvern. "I can tell you more," resumed Mrs. Poole, "which some may think to his advantage. He is said to be only too agreeable, and likes to turn young ladies' heads, and then turns away his own, and will bave no more to say to them. He is not to be fixed-in fact, a dangler-that is what I have heard of him."

"Dear! that is odd," said Lady Appleby. "It was only the other day I was told that he was engaged to be married to Miss Hartley, his brotherin-law's sister-was not it so, Augusta? You must have heard as well as I."

Miss Tyrwhitt did not seem to have a very clear recollection, but said, she believed she did hear something about his being either engaged or going to be.

"To be what?" said Mrs Poole.

"Oh, going to be engaged-A very critical situation! I believe, Miss Morton, you are the only person present that has not seen this gentleman; what do you think of him from our description?",

"Indeed," said Miss Morton, "I am excessively puzzled-let me consider what have you made him out to be? Retired, sociable, rude, civil, complaisant, satirical, wise, nonsensical, engaged, and a dangler. One may perhaps be curious to see a person who reconciles these contradictions, but, I think, one probably should not like him."

The subject was then dropped, after each had concurred in the reflection, that in in a very short time they should be presented with an ample opportunity of forming or re-modelling their various opinions of the person in question.

VOL. I.

CHAPTER II.

There are but three ways for a man to revenge himself of the censure of the world; to despise it, to return the like, or to endeavour to live so as to avoid it. The first of these is usually pretended the last is almost impossible; the univer sal practice is for the second,

SWIFT.

Ar Lacy Park, a fine old place, situated in one of the midland counties of England, about thirty miles from the residence of Lord Appleby, lived Sir William Lacy, a baronet of the honourable creation of 1611, of ancient family, and ample fortune. At the period at which our tale commences, he was "somewhat inclining to threescore, " and in addition to the above mentioned external advantages, was blessed with good health, a wife who seldom thwarted him, a promising son of about four and twenty, and a daughter one year older, who was happily married to the only son of a late friend and neighbour. He also enjoyed the most perfect independence, was not burthened either with parliamentary duties, or the thankless office of a justice of the peace, had few calls upon his attention from the affairs of others, and had a steward, in whom he placed such reliance, as to feel himself bound to bestow very little upon his If leisure, therefore, be mainly conducive to a life of happiness, Sir William Lacy may be fairly presumed to have attained it: for no one probably had his time more thoroughly at his own dis

own.

posal, or pursued with greater regularity his even tenor of self-indulgence. He was a man of good abilities, but great indolence, an indolence which, though comparatively little apparent during the volatile period of youth, or even in the vigour of mature manhood, had acquired a visible influence during his later years. His very virtues savoured of it: they were all passive. He was good-humoured, purely because it was too much trouble to be vexed; and though he had but little active generosity, and never volunteered a gift, he seldom resisted even an unreasonable request. He had a considerable fund of native humour, and though he never exerted himself to shine in conversation, his remarks were generally pointed and amusing. He had drawn copious stores from books, and was at the same time a shrewd observer of passing events, and the conduct and character of others. He had never been a man of pleasure, nor had he any thing in common with that class, except a thorough hatred of business. His habits were literary; that is to say, he was one of those who amuse themselves in skimming the ever varying surface of literature, in glancing over new publications, and culling entertaining trifles from the pages of reviews and magazines.

The productions of his pen were short and various. Divers of his poetical jeux d'esprit were dispersed in albums. He had written one article in a magazine now defunct, and had addressed a letter to Sylvanus Urban, describing a live toad that was found in a stone quarry on his estate. He had begun many political pamphlets; but always, either the time went by, or he changed his opinion, or grew tired of the subject before he had finished it. These pursuits amused, and in some degree occupied him; and, at any rate, they cheated