Besides these honest folks at the Hall (whose simplicity and sweetrural purity surely show the advantage of a country life over a townone), we must introduce the reader to their relatives and neighbours atthe Rectory, Bute Crawley and his wife.

The Reverend Bute Crawley was a tall, stately, jolly, shovel-hattedman, far more popular in his county than the Baronet his brother. Atcollege he pulled stroke-oar in the Christchurch boat, and had thrashedall the best bruisers of the "town." He carried his taste for boxingand athletic exercises into private life; there was not a fight withintwenty miles at which he was not present, nor a race, nor a coursingmatch, nor a regatta, nor a ball, nor an election, nor a visitationdinner, nor indeed a good dinner in the whole county, but he foundmeans to attend it. You might see his bay mare and gig-lamps a scoreof miles away from his Rectory House, whenever there was anydinner-party at Fuddleston, or at Roxby, or at Wapshot Hall, or at thegreat lords of the county, with all of whom he was intimate. He had afine voice; sang "A southerly wind and a cloudy sky"; and gave the"whoop" in chorus with general applause. He rode to hounds in apepper-and-salt frock, and was one of the best fishermen in the county.

Mrs. Crawley, the rector's wife, was a smart little body, who wrotethis worthy divine's sermons. Being of a domestic turn, and keepingthe house a great deal with her daughters, she ruled absolutely withinthe Rectory, wisely giving her husband full liberty without. He waswelcome to come and go, and dine abroad as many days as his fancydictated, for Mrs. Crawley was a saving woman and knew the price ofport wine. Ever since Mrs. Bute carried off the young Rector ofQueen's Crawley (she was of a good family, daughter of the lateLieut.-Colonel Hector McTavish, and she and her mother played for Buteand won him at Harrowgate), she had been a prudent and thrifty wife tohim. In spite of her care, however, he was always in debt. It tookhim at least ten years to pay off his college bills contracted duringhis father's lifetime. In the year 179-, when he was just clear ofthese incumbrances, he gave the odds of 100 to 1 (in twenties) againstKangaroo, who won the Derby. The Rector was obliged to take up themoney at a ruinous interest, and had been struggling ever since. Hissister helped him with a hundred now and then, but of course his greathope was in her death--when "hang it" (as he would say), "Matilda mustleave me half her money."

So that the Baronet and his brother had every reason which two brotherspossibly can have for being by the ears. Sir Pitt had had the betterof Bute in innumerable family transactions. Young Pitt not only didnot hunt, but set up a meeting house under his uncle's very nose.Rawdon, it was known, was to come in for the bulk of Miss Crawley'sproperty. These money transactions--these speculations in life anddeath--these silent battles for reversionary spoil--make brothers veryloving towards each other in Vanity Fair. I, for my part, have known afive-pound note to interpose and knock up a half century's attachmentbetween two brethren; and can't but admire, as I think what a fine anddurable thing Love is among worldly people.

It cannot be supposed that the arrival of such a personage as Rebeccaat Queen's Crawley, and her gradual establishment in the good graces ofall people there, could be unremarked by Mrs. Bute Crawley. Mrs. Bute,who knew how many days the sirloin of beef lasted at the Hall; how muchlinen was got ready at the great wash; how many peaches were on thesouth wall; how many doses her ladyship took when she was ill--for suchpoints are matters of intense interest to certain persons in thecountry--Mrs. Bute, I say, could not pass over the Hall governesswithout making every inquiry respecting her history and character.There was always the best understanding between the servants at theRectory and the Hall. There was always a good glass of ale in thekitchen of the former place for the Hall people, whose ordinary drinkwas very small--and, indeed, the Rector's lady knew exactly how muchmalt went to every barrel of Hall beer--ties of relationship existedbetween the Hall and Rectory domestics, as between their masters; andthrough these channels each family was perfectly well acquainted withthe doings of the other. That, by the way, may be set down as ageneral remark. When you and your brother are friends, his doings areindifferent to you. When you have quarrelled, all his outgoings andincomings you know, as if you were his spy.

Very soon then after her arrival, Rebecca began to take a regular placein Mrs. Crawley's bulletin from the Hall. It was to this effect: "Theblack porker's killed--weighed x stone--salted the sides--pig's puddingand leg of pork for dinner. Mr. Cramp from Mudbury, over with Sir Pittabout putting John Blackmore in gaol--Mr. Pitt at meeting (with all thenames of the people who attended)--my lady as usual--the young ladieswith the governess."

Then the report would come--the new governess be a rare manager--SirPitt be very sweet on her--Mr. Crawley too--He be reading tracts toher--"What an abandoned wretch!" said little, eager, active,black-faced Mrs. Bute Crawley.

Finally, the reports were that the governess had "come round"everybody, wrote Sir Pitt's letters, did his business, managed hisaccounts--had the upper hand of the whole house, my lady, Mr. Crawley,the girls and all--at which Mrs. Crawley declared she was an artfulhussy, and had some dreadful designs in view. Thus the doings at theHall were the great food for conversation at the Rectory, and Mrs.Bute's bright eyes spied out everything that took place in the enemy'scamp--everything and a great deal besides.

Mrs. Bute Crawley to Miss Pinkerton, The Mall, Chiswick.

Rectory, Queen's Crawley, December--.

My Dear Madam,--Although it is so many years since I profited by yourdelightful and invaluable instructions, yet I have ever retained theFONDEST and most reverential regard for Miss Pinkerton, and DEARChiswick. I hope your health is GOOD. The world and the cause ofeducation cannot afford to lose Miss Pinkerton for MANY MANY YEARS.When my friend, Lady Fuddleston, mentioned that her dear girls requiredan instructress (I am too poor to engage a governess for mine, but wasI not educated at Chiswick?)--"Who," I exclaimed, "can we consult butthe excellent, the incomparable Miss Pinkerton?" In a word, have you,dear madam, any ladies on your list, whose services might be madeavailable to my kind friend and neighbour? I assure you she will takeno governess BUT OF YOUR CHOOSING.

My dear husband is pleased to say that he likes EVERYTHING WHICH COMESFROM MISS PINKERTON'S SCHOOL. How I wish I could present him and mybeloved girls to the friend of my youth, and the ADMIRED of the greatlexicographer of our country! If you ever travel into Hampshire, Mr.Crawley begs me to say, he hopes you will adorn our RURAL RECTORY withyour presence. 'Tis the humble but happy home of

Your affectionate Martha Crawley

P.S. Mr. Crawley's brother, the baronet, with whom we are not, alas!upon those terms of UNITY in which it BECOMES BRETHREN TO DWELL, has agoverness for his little girls, who, I am told, had the good fortune tobe educated at Chiswick. I hear various reports of her; and as I havethe tenderest interest in my dearest little nieces, whom I wish, inspite of family differences, to see among my own children--and as Ilong to be attentive to ANY PUPIL OF YOURS--do, my dear Miss Pinkerton,tell me the history of this young lady, whom, for YOUR SAKE, I am mostanxious to befriend.--M. C.

Miss Pinkerton to Mrs. Bute Crawley.

Johnson House, Chiswick, Dec. 18--.

Dear Madam,--I have the honour to acknowledge your politecommunication, to which I promptly reply. 'Tis most gratifying to onein my most arduous position to find that my maternal cares haveelicited a responsive affection; and to recognize in the amiable Mrs.Bute Crawley my excellent pupil of former years, the sprightly andaccomplished Miss Martha MacTavish. I am happy to have under my chargenow the daughters of many of those who were your contemporaries at myestablishment--what pleasure it would give me if your own beloved youngladies had need of my instructive superintendence!

Presenting my respectful compliments to Lady Fuddleston, I have thehonour (epistolarily) to introduce to her ladyship my two friends, MissTuffin and Miss Hawky.

Either of these young ladies is PERFECTLY QUALIFIED to instruct inGreek, Latin, and the rudiments of Hebrew; in mathematics and history;in Spanish, French, Italian, and geography; in music, vocal andinstrumental; in dancing, without the aid of a master; and in theelements of natural sciences. In the use of the globes both areproficients. In addition to these Miss Tuffin, who is daughter of thelate Reverend Thomas Tuffin (Fellow of Corpus College, Cambridge), caninstruct in the Syriac language, and the elements of Constitutionallaw. But as she is only eighteen years of age, and of exceedinglypleasing personal appearance, perhaps this young lady may beobjectionable in Sir Huddleston Fuddleston's family.

Miss Letitia Hawky, on the other hand, is not personally well-favoured.She is-twenty-nine; her face is much pitted with the small-pox. Shehas a halt in her gait, red hair, and a trifling obliquity of vision.Both ladies are endowed with EVERY MORAL AND RELIGIOUS VIRTUE. Theirterms, of course, are such as their accomplishments merit. With mymost grateful respects to the Reverend Bute Crawley, I have the honourto be,

Dear Madam,

Your most faithful and obedient servant, Barbara Pinkerton.

P.S. The Miss Sharp, whom you mention as governess to Sir PittCrawley, Bart., M.P., was a pupil of mine, and I have nothing to say inher disfavour. Though her appearance is disagreeable, we cannot controlthe operations of nature: and though her parents were disreputable (herfather being a painter, several times bankrupt, and her mother, as Ihave since learned, with horror, a dancer at the Opera); yet hertalents are considerable, and I cannot regret that I received her OUTOF CHARITY. My dread is, lest the principles of the mother--who wasrepresented to me as a French Countess, forced to emigrate in the laterevolutionary horrors; but who, as I have since found, was a person ofthe very lowest order and morals--should at any time prove to beHEREDITARY in the unhappy young woman whom I took as AN OUTCAST. Buther principles have hitherto been correct (I believe), and I am surenothing will occur to injure them in the elegant and refined circle ofthe eminent Sir Pitt Crawley.

Miss Rebecca Sharp to Miss Amelia Sedley.

I have not written to my beloved Amelia for these many weeks past, forwhat news was there to tell of the sayings and doings at Humdrum Hall,as I have christened it; and what do you care whether the turnip cropis good or bad; whether the fat pig weighed thirteen stone or fourteen;and whether the beasts thrive well upon mangelwurzel? Every day since Ilast wrote has been like its neighbour. Before breakfast, a walk withSir Pitt and his spud; after breakfast studies (such as they are) inthe schoolroom; after schoolroom, reading and writing about lawyers,leases, coal-mines, canals, with Sir Pitt (whose secretary I ambecome); after dinner, Mr. Crawley's discourses on the baronet'sbackgammon; during both of which amusements my lady looks on with equalplacidity. She has become rather more interesting by being ailing oflate, which has brought a new visitor to the Hall, in the person of ayoung doctor. Well, my dear, young women need never despair. The youngdoctor gave a certain friend of yours to understand that, if she choseto be Mrs. Glauber, she was welcome to ornament the surgery! I told hisimpudence that the gilt pestle and mortar was quite ornament enough; asif I was born, indeed, to be a country surgeon's wife! Mr. Glauber wenthome seriously indisposed at his rebuff, took a cooling draught, and isnow quite cured. Sir Pitt applauded my resolution highly; he would besorry to lose his little secretary, I think; and I believe the oldwretch likes me as much as it is in his nature to like any one. Marry,indeed! and with a country apothecary, after-- No, no, one cannot sosoon forget old associations, about which I will talk no more. Let usreturn to Humdrum Hall.

For some time past it is Humdrum Hall no longer. My dear, Miss Crawleyhas arrived with her fat horses, fat servants, fat spaniel--the greatrich Miss Crawley, with seventy thousand pounds in the five per cents.,whom, or I had better say WHICH, her two brothers adore. She looksvery apoplectic, the dear soul; no wonder her brothers are anxiousabout her. You should see them struggling to settle her cushions, orto hand her coffee! "When I come into the country," she says (for shehas a great deal of humour), "I leave my toady, Miss Briggs, at home.My brothers are my toadies here, my dear, and a pretty pair they are!"

When she comes into the country our hall is thrown open, and for amonth, at least, you would fancy old Sir Walpole was come to lifeagain. We have dinner-parties, and drive out in the coach-and-four--thefootmen put on their newest canary-coloured liveries; we drink claretand champagne as if we were accustomed to it every day. We have waxcandles in the schoolroom, and fires to warm ourselves with. LadyCrawley is made to put on the brightest pea-green in her wardrobe, andmy pupils leave off their thick shoes and tight old tartan pelisses,and wear silk stockings and muslin frocks, as fashionable baronets'daughters should. Rose came in yesterday in a sad plight--theWiltshire sow (an enormous pet of hers) ran her down, and destroyed amost lovely flowered lilac silk dress by dancing over it--had thishappened a week ago, Sir Pitt would have sworn frightfully, have boxedthe poor wretch's ears, and put her upon bread and water for a month.All he said was, "I'll serve you out, Miss, when your aunt's gone," andlaughed off the accident as quite trivial. Let us hope his wrath willhave passed away before Miss Crawley's departure. I hope so, for MissRose's sake, I am sure. What a charming reconciler and peacemaker moneyis!

Another admirable effect of Miss Crawley and her seventy thousandpounds is to be seen in the conduct of the two brothers Crawley. Imean the baronet and the rector, not OUR brothers--but the former, whohate each other all the year round, become quite loving at Christmas.I wrote to you last year how the abominable horse-racing rector was inthe habit of preaching clumsy sermons at us at church, and how Sir Pittsnored in answer. When Miss Crawley arrives there is no such thing asquarrelling heard of--the Hall visits the Rectory, and vice versa--theparson and the Baronet talk about the pigs and the poachers, and thecounty business, in the most affable manner, and without quarrelling intheir cups, I believe--indeed Miss Crawley won't hear of theirquarrelling, and vows that she will leave her money to the ShropshireCrawleys if they offend her. If they were clever people, thoseShropshire Crawleys, they might have it all, I think; but theShropshire Crawley is a clergyman like his Hampshire cousin, andmortally offended Miss Crawley (who had fled thither in a fit of rageagainst her impracticable brethren) by some strait-laced notions ofmorality. He would have prayers in the house, I believe.

Our sermon books are shut up when Miss Crawley arrives, and Mr. Pitt,whom she abominates, finds it convenient to go to town. On the otherhand, the young dandy--"blood," I believe, is the term--Captain Crawleymakes his appearance, and I suppose you will like to know what sort ofa person he is.

Well, he is a very large young dandy. He is six feet high, and speakswith a great voice; and swears a great deal; and orders about theservants, who all adore him nevertheless; for he is very generous ofhis money, and the domestics will do anything for him. Last week thekeepers almost killed a bailiff and his man who came down from Londonto arrest the Captain, and who were found lurking about the Parkwall--they beat them, ducked them, and were going to shoot them forpoachers, but the baronet interfered.

The Captain has a hearty contempt for his father, I can see, and callshim an old PUT, an old SNOB, an old CHAW-BACON, and numberless otherpretty names. He has a DREADFUL REPUTATION among the ladies. He bringshis hunters home with him, lives with the Squires of the county, askswhom he pleases to dinner, and Sir Pitt dares not say no, for fear ofoffending Miss Crawley, and missing his legacy when she dies of herapoplexy. Shall I tell you a compliment the Captain paid me? I must,it is so pretty. One evening we actually had a dance; there was SirHuddleston Fuddleston and his family, Sir Giles Wapshot and his youngladies, and I don't know how many more. Well, I heard him say--"ByJove, she's a neat little filly!" meaning your humble servant; and hedid me the honour to dance two country-dances with me. He gets onpretty gaily with the young Squires, with whom he drinks, bets, rides,and talks about hunting and shooting; but he says the country girls areBORES; indeed, I don't think he is far wrong. You should see thecontempt with which they look down on poor me! When they dance I sitand play the piano very demurely; but the other night, coming in ratherflushed from the dining-room, and seeing me employed in this way, heswore out loud that I was the best dancer in the room, and took a greatoath that he would have the fiddlers from Mudbury.

"I'll go and play a country-dance," said Mrs. Bute Crawley, veryreadily (she is a little, black-faced old woman in a turban, rathercrooked, and with very twinkling eyes); and after the Captain and yourpoor little Rebecca had performed a dance together, do you know sheactually did me the honour to compliment me upon my steps! Such a thingwas never heard of before; the proud Mrs. Bute Crawley, first cousin tothe Earl of Tiptoff, who won't condescend to visit Lady Crawley, exceptwhen her sister is in the country. Poor Lady Crawley! during most partof these gaieties, she is upstairs taking pills.

Mrs. Bute has all of a sudden taken a great fancy to me. "My dear MissSharp," she says, "why not bring over your girls to the Rectory?--theircousins will be so happy to see them." I know what she means. SignorClementi did not teach us the piano for nothing; at which price Mrs.Bute hopes to get a professor for her children. I can see through herschemes, as though she told them to me; but I shall go, as I amdetermined to make myself agreeable--is it not a poor governess's duty,who has not a friend or protector in the world? The Rector's wife paidme a score of compliments about the progress my pupils made, andthought, no doubt, to touch my heart--poor, simple, country soul!--asif I cared a fig about my pupils!

Your India muslin and your pink silk, dearest Amelia, are said tobecome me very well. They are a good deal worn now; but, you know, wepoor girls can't afford des fraiches toilettes. Happy, happy you! whohave but to drive to St. James's Street, and a dear mother who willgive you any thing you ask. Farewell, dearest girl,

Your affectionate Rebecca.

P.S.--I wish you could have seen the faces of the Miss Blackbrooks(Admiral Blackbrook's daughters, my dear), fine young ladies, withdresses from London, when Captain Rawdon selected poor me for a partner!

When Mrs. Bute Crawley (whose artifices our ingenious Rebecca had sosoon discovered) had procured from Miss Sharp the promise of a visit,she induced the all-powerful Miss Crawley to make the necessaryapplication to Sir Pitt, and the good-natured old lady, who loved to begay herself, and to see every one gay and happy round about her, wasquite charmed, and ready to establish a reconciliation and intimacybetween her two brothers. It was therefore agreed that the young peopleof both families should visit each other frequently for the future, andthe friendship of course lasted as long as the jovial old mediatrix wasthere to keep the peace.

"Why did you ask that scoundrel, Rawdon Crawley, to dine?" said theRector to his lady, as they were walking home through the park. "Idon't want the fellow. He looks down upon us country people as so manyblackamoors. He's never content unless he gets my yellow-sealed wine,which costs me ten shillings a bottle, hang him! Besides, he's such aninfernal character--he's a gambler--he's a drunkard--he's a profligatein every way. He shot a man in a duel--he's over head and ears indebt, and he's robbed me and mine of the best part of Miss Crawley'sfortune. Waxy says she has him"--here the Rector shook his fist at themoon, with something very like an oath, and added, in a melancholioustone, "--down in her will for fifty thousand; and there won't be abovethirty to divide."

"I think she's going," said the Rector's wife. "She was very red inthe face when we left dinner. I was obliged to unlace her."

"She drank seven glasses of champagne," said the reverend gentleman, ina low voice; "and filthy champagne it is, too, that my brother poisonsus with--but you women never know what's what."

"We know nothing," said Mrs. Bute Crawley.

"She drank cherry-brandy after dinner," continued his Reverence, "andtook curacao with her coffee. I wouldn't take a glass for a five-poundnote: it kills me with heartburn. She can't stand it, Mrs.Crawley--she must go--flesh and blood won't bear it! and I lay five totwo, Matilda drops in a year."

Indulging in these solemn speculations, and thinking about his debts,and his son Jim at College, and Frank at Woolwich, and the four girls,who were no beauties, poor things, and would not have a penny but whatthey got from the aunt's expected legacy, the Rector and his ladywalked on for a while.

"Pitt can't be such an infernal villain as to sell the reversion of theliving. And that Methodist milksop of an eldest son looks toParliament," continued Mr. Crawley, after a pause.

"Sir Pitt Crawley will do anything," said the Rector's wife. "We mustget Miss Crawley to make him promise it to James."

"Pitt will promise anything," replied the brother. "He promised he'dpay my college bills, when my father died; he promised he'd build thenew wing to the Rectory; he promised he'd let me have Jibb's field andthe Six-acre Meadow--and much he executed his promises! And it's tothis man's son--this scoundrel, gambler, swindler, murderer of a RawdonCrawley, that Matilda leaves the bulk of her money. I say it'sun-Christian. By Jove, it is. The infamous dog has got every viceexcept hypocrisy, and that belongs to his brother."

"Hush, my dearest love! we're in Sir Pitt's grounds," interposed hiswife.

"I say he has got every vice, Mrs. Crawley. Don't Ma'am, bully me.Didn't he shoot Captain Marker? Didn't he rob young Lord Dovedale atthe Cocoa-Tree? Didn't he cross the fight between Bill Soames and theCheshire Trump, by which I lost forty pound? You know he did; and asfor the women, why, you heard that before me, in my own magistrate'sroom."

"For heaven's sake, Mr. Crawley," said the lady, "spare me the details."

"And you ask this villain into your house!" continued the exasperatedRector. "You, the mother of a young family--the wife of a clergyman ofthe Church of England. By Jove!"

"Bute Crawley, you are a fool," said the Rector's wife scornfully.

"Well, Ma'am, fool or not--and I don't say, Martha, I'm so clever asyou are, I never did. But I won't meet Rawdon Crawley, that's flat.I'll go over to Huddleston, that I will, and see his black greyhound,Mrs. Crawley; and I'll run Lancelot against him for fifty. By Jove, Iwill; or against any dog in England. But I won't meet that beastRawdon Crawley."

"Mr. Crawley, you are intoxicated, as usual," replied his wife. Andthe next morning, when the Rector woke, and called for small beer, sheput him in mind of his promise to visit Sir Huddleston Fuddleston onSaturday, and as he knew he should have a wet night, it was agreed thathe might gallop back again in time for church on Sunday morning. Thusit will be seen that the parishioners of Crawley were equally happy intheir Squire and in their Rector.

Miss Crawley had not long been established at the Hall before Rebecca'sfascinations had won the heart of that good-natured London rake, asthey had of the country innocents whom we have been describing. Takingher accustomed drive, one day, she thought fit to order that "thatlittle governess" should accompany her to Mudbury. Before they hadreturned Rebecca had made a conquest of her; having made her laugh fourtimes, and amused her during the whole of the little journey.

"Not let Miss Sharp dine at table!" said she to Sir Pitt, who hadarranged a dinner of ceremony, and asked all the neighbouring baronets."My dear creature, do you suppose I can talk about the nursery withLady Fuddleston, or discuss justices' business with that goose, old SirGiles Wapshot? I insist upon Miss Sharp appearing. Let Lady Crawleyremain upstairs, if there is no room. But little Miss Sharp! Why, she'sthe only person fit to talk to in the county!"

Of course, after such a peremptory order as this, Miss Sharp, thegoverness, received commands to dine with the illustrious company belowstairs. And when Sir Huddleston had, with great pomp and ceremony,handed Miss Crawley in to dinner, and was preparing to take his placeby her side, the old lady cried out, in a shrill voice, "Becky Sharp!Miss Sharp! Come you and sit by me and amuse me; and let SirHuddleston sit by Lady Wapshot."

When the parties were over, and the carriages had rolled away, theinsatiable Miss Crawley would say, "Come to my dressing room, Becky,and let us abuse the company"--which, between them, this pair offriends did perfectly. Old Sir Huddleston wheezed a great deal atdinner; Sir Giles Wapshot had a particularly noisy manner of imbibinghis soup, and her ladyship a wink of the left eye; all of which Beckycaricatured to admiration; as well as the particulars of the night'sconversation; the politics; the war; the quarter-sessions; the famousrun with the H.H., and those heavy and dreary themes, about whichcountry gentlemen converse. As for the Misses Wapshot's toilettes andLady Fuddleston's famous yellow hat, Miss Sharp tore them to tatters,to the infinite amusement of her audience.

"My dear, you are a perfect trouvaille," Miss Crawley would say. "Iwish you could come to me in London, but I couldn't make a butt of youas I do of poor Briggs no, no, you little sly creature; you are tooclever--Isn't she, Firkin?"

Mrs. Firkin (who was dressing the very small remnant of hair whichremained on Miss Crawley's pate), flung up her head and said, "I thinkMiss is very clever," with the most killing sarcastic air. In fact,Mrs. Firkin had that natural jealousy which is one of the mainprinciples of every honest woman.

After rebuffing Sir Huddleston Fuddleston, Miss Crawley ordered thatRawdon Crawley should lead her in to dinner every day, and that Beckyshould follow with her cushion--or else she would have Becky's arm andRawdon with the pillow. "We must sit together," she said. "We're theonly three Christians in the county, my love"--in which case, it mustbe confessed, that religion was at a very low ebb in the county ofHants.

Besides being such a fine religionist, Miss Crawley was, as we havesaid, an Ultra-liberal in opinions, and always took occasion to expressthese in the most candid manner.

"What is birth, my dear!" she would say to Rebecca--"Look at my brotherPitt; look at the Huddlestons, who have been here since Henry II; lookat poor Bute at the parsonage--is any one of them equal to you inintelligence or breeding? Equal to you--they are not even equal to poordear Briggs, my companion, or Bowls, my butler. You, my love, are alittle paragon--positively a little jewel--You have more brains thanhalf the shire--if merit had its reward you ought to be a Duchess--no,there ought to be no duchesses at all--but you ought to have nosuperior, and I consider you, my love, as my equal in every respect;and--will you put some coals on the fire, my dear; and will you pickthis dress of mine, and alter it, you who can do it so well?" So thisold philanthropist used to make her equal run of her errands, executeher millinery, and read her to sleep with French novels, every night.

At this time, as some old readers may recollect, the genteel world hadbeen thrown into a considerable state of excitement by two events,which, as the papers say, might give employment to the gentlemen of thelong robe. Ensign Shafton had run away with Lady Barbara Fitzurse, theEarl of Bruin's daughter and heiress; and poor Vere Vane, a gentlemanwho, up to forty, had maintained a most respectable character andreared a numerous family, suddenly and outrageously left his home, forthe sake of Mrs. Rougemont, the actress, who was sixty-five years ofage.

"That was the most beautiful part of dear Lord Nelson's character,"Miss Crawley said. "He went to the deuce for a woman. There must begood in a man who will do that. I adore all impudent matches.-- WhatI like best, is for a nobleman to marry a miller's daughter, as LordFlowerdale did--it makes all the women so angry--I wish some great manwould run away with you, my dear; I'm sure you're pretty enough."

"Two post-boys!--Oh, it would be delightful!" Rebecca owned.

"And what I like next best, is for a poor fellow to run away with arich girl. I have set my heart on Rawdon running away with some one."

"A rich some one, or a poor some one?"

"Why, you goose! Rawdon has not a shilling but what I give him. He iscrible de dettes--he must repair his fortunes, and succeed in theworld."

"Is he very clever?" Rebecca asked.

"Clever, my love?--not an idea in the world beyond his horses, and hisregiment, and his hunting, and his play; but he must succeed--he's sodelightfully wicked. Don't you know he has hit a man, and shot aninjured father through the hat only? He's adored in his regiment; andall the young men at Wattier's and the Cocoa-Tree swear by him."

When Miss Rebecca Sharp wrote to her beloved friend the account of thelittle ball at Queen's Crawley, and the manner in which, for the firsttime, Captain Crawley had distinguished her, she did not, strange torelate, give an altogether accurate account of the transaction. TheCaptain had distinguished her a great number of times before. TheCaptain had met her in a half-score of walks. The Captain had lightedupon her in a half-hundred of corridors and passages. The Captain hadhung over her piano twenty times of an evening (my Lady was nowupstairs, being ill, and nobody heeded her) as Miss Sharp sang. TheCaptain had written her notes (the best that the great blunderingdragoon could devise and spell; but dulness gets on as well as anyother quality with women). But when he put the first of the notes intothe leaves of the song she was singing, the little governess, risingand looking him steadily in the face, took up the triangular missivedaintily, and waved it about as if it were a cocked hat, and she,advancing to the enemy, popped the note into the fire, and made him avery low curtsey, and went back to her place, and began to sing awayagain more merrily than ever.

"What's that?" said Miss Crawley, interrupted in her after-dinner dozeby the stoppage of the music.

"It's a false note," Miss Sharp said with a laugh; and Rawdon Crawleyfumed with rage and mortification.

Seeing the evident partiality of Miss Crawley for the new governess,how good it was of Mrs. Bute Crawley not to be jealous, and to welcomethe young lady to the Rectory, and not only her, but Rawdon Crawley,her husband's rival in the Old Maid's five per cents! They became veryfond of each other's society, Mrs. Crawley and her nephew. He gave uphunting; he declined entertainments at Fuddleston: he would not dinewith the mess of the depot at Mudbury: his great pleasure was to strollover to Crawley parsonage--whither Miss Crawley came too; and as theirmamma was ill, why not the children with Miss Sharp? So the children(little dears!) came with Miss Sharp; and of an evening some of theparty would walk back together. Not Miss Crawley--she preferred hercarriage--but the walk over the Rectory fields, and in at the littlepark wicket, and through the dark plantation, and up the checkeredavenue to Queen's Crawley, was charming in the moonlight to two suchlovers of the picturesque as the Captain and Miss Rebecca.

"O those stars, those stars!" Miss Rebecca would say, turning hertwinkling green eyes up towards them. "I feel myself almost a spiritwhen I gaze upon them."

"O--ah--Gad--yes, so do I exactly, Miss Sharp," the other enthusiastreplied. "You don't mind my cigar, do you, Miss Sharp?" Miss Sharploved the smell of a cigar out of doors beyond everything in theworld--and she just tasted one too, in the prettiest way possible, andgave a little puff, and a little scream, and a little giggle, andrestored the delicacy to the Captain, who twirled his moustache, andstraightway puffed it into a blaze that glowed quite red in the darkplantation, and swore--"Jove--aw--Gad--aw--it's the finest segaw I eversmoked in the world aw," for his intellect and conversation were alikebrilliant and becoming to a heavy young dragoon.

Old Sir Pitt, who was taking his pipe and beer, and talking to JohnHorrocks about a "ship" that was to be killed, espied the pair sooccupied from his study-window, and with dreadful oaths swore that ifit wasn't for Miss Crawley, he'd take Rawdon and bundle un out ofdoors, like a rogue as he was.

"He be a bad'n, sure enough," Mr. Horrocks remarked; "and his manFlethers is wuss, and have made such a row in the housekeeper's roomabout the dinners and hale, as no lord would make--but I think MissSharp's a match for'n, Sir Pitt," he added, after a pause.

And so, in truth, she was--for father and son too.