for, it would indeed be highly disagreeable to travel it over again, and no less so to you to 6 travel it over with me.

This seat, then, is an ancient mansion-house: if I was in one of those merry humours, in ❝ which you have so often seen me, I could de scribe it to you ridiculously enough. It looked as if it had been formerly inhabited by a gentle

man. Here was room enough, and not the * less room on account of the furniture; for indeed there was very little in it. An old woman, who seemed coeval with the building, and greatly resembled her whom Chamont mentions in the Orphan, received us at the gate; and, in a howl scarce human, and to me unin telligible, welcomed her master home. In short, the whole scene was so gloomy and melancholy, that it threw my spirits into the lowest dejection; which my husband discerning, instead of " relieving, increased by two or three malicious observations.' "There are good houses, madam," says he, as you find, in other places, besides England; but perhaps you had rather be in a dirty lodging at Bath."

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< Happy, my dear, is the woman, who, in any state of life, hath a cheerful good-natured com. panion to support and comfort her; but why do I reflect on happy situations only to aggra vate my own misery! my companion, far from clearing up the gloom of solitude, soon convinced me, that I must have been wretched with him in any place, and in any condition. In a word, he was a surly fellow, a character per· haps you have never seen; for indeed no woman · ever sees it exemplified, but in a father, a brother, or a husband; and though you have a father, he is not of that character. This surly

fellow had formerly appeared to me the very reverse, and so he did still to every other person. "Good Heaven! how is it possible for a man to 'maintain a constant lie in his appearance abroad and in company, and to content himself with showing disagreeable truth only at home? Here, 'my dear, they make themselves amends for the uneasy restraint which they put on their tempers in the world; for I have observed, the more merry, and gay, and good-humoured, my husband hath at any time been in company, the more sullen and morose he was sure to become at our next private meeting. How shall I describe his 6 barbarity? To my fondness he was cold and insensible. My little comical ways, which you, ( my Sophy, and which others have called so agreeable, he treated with contempt. In my most serious moments he sung and whistled; and whenever I was thoroughly dejected and miscr( able, he was angry, and abused me for though he was never pleased with my good humour, C nor ascribed it to my satisfaction in him, yet my low spirits always offended him, and those he imputed to my repentance of having (as he said) 'married an Irishman.

You will easily conceive, my dear Graveairs (I ask your pardon, I really forgot myself), that when a woman makes an imprudent match in the sense of the world; that is, when she is not < an arrant prostitute to pecuniary interest, she must necessarily have some inclination and affection for her man. You will as easily believe that this affection may possibly be lessened ; nay, I do assure you, contempt will wholly eradicate it. This contempt I now began to' entertain for my husband, whom I now discovered to be-I must use the expression-an

arrant blockhead. Perhaps you will wonder I did not make this discovery long before; but wo men will suggest a thousand excuses to them. selves for the folly of those they like: besides, give me leave to tell you, it requires a most penetrating eye to discern a fool through the disguises of gaiety and good-breeding.

'It will be easily imagined, that when I once despised my husband, as I confess to you I soon C did, I must consequently dislike his company; and indeed I had the happiness of being very little troubled with it; for our house was now mostelegantly furnished, our cellars well stocked, and dogs and horses provided in great abundance. As my gentleman therefore entertained his neighbours with great hospitality, so his neighbours resorted to him with great alacrity; and sports and drinking consumed so much of his time, that a small part of his conversation, that is to say, of his ill-humours, fell to my share.

'

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6

Happy would it have been for me, if I could as easily have avoided all other disagreeable company; but alas! I was confined to some which constantly tormented me; and the more, as I saw no prospect of being relieved from them. These companions were my own racking thoughts, which plagued, and in a manner haunted, me night and day. In this situation I passed through a scene, the horrors of which can neither be painted nor imagined. Think, my dear, figure, if you can, to yourself what I must have undergone. I becane a mother by the man I scorned, hated, and detested. I went through all the agonies and miseries of a lyingin (ten times more painful in such a circumstance, than the worst labour can be, when

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one endures it for a man one loves), in a desert, or rather indeed a scene of riot and revel, with out a friend, without a companion, or without any of those agreeable circumstances which often alleviate, and perhaps sometimes more 'than compensate, the sufferings of our sex at that season.'

CHAP. VI.

In which the mistake of the landlord throws Sophia into a dreadful consternation.

MRS. FITZPATRICK was proceeding in her narrative, when she was interrupted by the entrance of dinner, greatly to the concern of Sophia; for the misfortunes of her friend had raised her anx, iety, and left her no appetite, but what Mrs. Fitzpatrick was to satisfy by her relation.

The landlord now attended with a plate under his arm, and with the same respect in his countenance and address, which he would have put on, had the ladies arrived in a coach and six.

The married lady seemed less affected with her own misfortunes than was her cousin; for the former cat very heartily, whereas the latter could hardly swallow a morsel. Sophia likewise showed more concern and sorrow in her coun. tenance than appeared in the other lady, who, having observed these symptoms in her friend, begged her to be comforted, saying, perhaps all may yet end better than either you or I ex6 pect.'

Our landlord thought he had now an oppor tunity to open his mouth, and was resolved not to omit it. 6 I am sorry, madam,' cries he,

' that

your ladyship can't eat; for to be sure you must be hungry after so long fasting. I hope 6 your ladyship is not uneasy at any thing; for, as madam there says, all may end better than any body expects. A gentleman, who was here just now, brought excellent news; and, perhaps, some folks, who have given other folks the slip, may get to London before they are overtaken; and if they do, I make no doubt, but they will find people who will be very ready to receive them.'

All persons under the apprehension of danger convert whatever they see and hear into the ob, jects of that apprehension. Sophia therefore immediately concluded from the foregoing speech, that she was known, and pursued by her father. She was now struck with the utmost consternation, and for a few minutes deprived of the power of speech; which she no sooner recovered, than she desired the landlord to send his servants out of the room, and then addressing herself to him, said; I perceive, sir, you know who we " are; but I beseech you-nay, I am convinced, if you have any compassion or goodness, you will not betray us.'

'I betray your ladyship!' quoth the landlord; no (and then he swore several very hearty oaths); I would sooner be cut into ten thou sand pieces. I hate all treachery. I! I never betrayed any one in my life yet, and I am sure I shall not begin with so sweet a lady as your ladyship. All the world would very much blame me if I should, since it will be in your ladyship's power so shortly to reward me. My wife can witness for me, I knew your ladyship the mo❤ 4 ment you came into the house: I said it was · your honour, before I lifted you from your