One evening as Mr.
Snodgrass was taking a solitary walk towards Irvine, for the purpose of
calling on Miss Mally Glencairn, to inquire what had been her latest
accounts from their mutual friends in London, and to read to her a letter,
which he had received two days before, from Mr. Andrew Pringle, he met,
near Eglintoun Gates, that pious woman, Mrs. Glibbans, coming to Garnock,
brimful of some most extraordinary intelligence. The air was raw and
humid, and the ways were deep and foul; she was, however, protected
without, and tempered within, against the dangers of both. Over her
venerable satin mantle, lined with cat-skin, she wore a scarlet duffle
Bath cloak, with which she was wont to attend the tent sermons of the
Kilwinning and Dreghorn preachings in cold and inclement weather. Her
black silk petticoat was pinned up, that it might not receive injury from
the nimble paddling of her short steps in the mire; and she carried her
best shoes and stockings in a handkerchief to be changed at the manse, and
had fortified her feet for the road in coarse worsted hose, and thick
plain-soled leather shoes.
Mr. Snodgrass
proposed to turn back with her, but she would not permit him. "No, sir,"
said she, "what I am about you cannot meddle in. You are here but a
stranger--come to-day, and gane to-morrow;-- and it does not pertain to
you to sift into the doings that have been done before your time. Oh dear;
but this is a sad thing-- nothing like it since the silencing of M'Auly of
Greenock. What will the worthy Doctor say when he hears tell o't? Had it
fa'n out with that neighering body, James Daff, I wouldna hae car't a
snuff of tobacco, but wi' Mr. Craig, a man so gifted wi' the power of the
Spirit, as I hae often had a delightful experience! Ay, ay, Mr. Snodgrass,
take heed lest ye fall; we maun all lay it to heart; but I hope the
trooper is still within the jurisdiction of church censures. She shouldna
be spairt. Nae doubt, the fault lies with her, and it is that I am going
to search; yea, as with a lighted candle."
Mr. Snodgrass
expressed his inability to understand to what Mrs. Glibbans alluded, and a
very long and interesting disclosure took place, the substance of which
may be gathered from the following letter; the immediate and instigating
cause of the lady's journey to Garnock being the alarming intelligence
which she had that day received of Mr. Craig's servant-damsel Betty
having, by the style and title of Mrs. Craig, sent for Nanse Swaddle, the
midwife, to come to her in her own case, which seemed to Mrs. Glibbans
nothing short of a miracle, Betty having, the very Sunday before, helped
the kettle when she drank tea with Mr. Craig, and sat at the room door, on
a buffet-stool brought from the kitchen, while he performed family
worship, to the great solace and edification of his visitor.
LETTER XXI
The Rev. Z. Pringle,
D.D., to Mr. Micklewham, Schoolmaster and Session-Clerk, Garnock
Dear Sir--I have
received your letter of the 24th, which has given me a great surprise to
hear, that Mr. Craig was married as far back as Christmas, to his own
servant lass Betty, and me to know nothing of it, nor you neither, until
it was time to be speaking to the midwife. To be sure, Mr. Craig, who is
an elder, and a very rigid man, in his animadversions on the immoralities
that come before the session, must have had his own good reasons for
keeping his marriage so long a secret. Tell him, however, from me, that I
wish both him and Mrs. Craig much joy and felicity; but he should be
milder for the future on the thoughtlessness of youth and headstrong
passions. Not that I insinuate that there has been any occasion in the
conduct of such a godly man to cause a suspicion; but it's wonderful how
he was married in December, and I cannot say that I am altogether so proud
to hear it as I am at all times of the well-doing of my people. Really the
way that Mr. Daff has comported himself in this matter is greatly to his
credit; and I doubt if the thing had happened with him, that Mr. Craig
would have sifted with a sharp eye how he came to be married in December,
and without bridal and banquet. For my part, I could not have thought it
of Mr. Craig, but it's done now, and the less we say about it the better;
so I think with Mr. Daff, that it must be looked over; but when I return,
I will speak both to the husband and wife, and not without letting them
have an inkling of what I think about their being married in December,
which was a great shame, even if there was no sin in it. But I will say no
more; for truly, Mr. Micklewham, the longer we live in this world, and the
farther we go, and the better we know ourselves, the less reason have we
to think slightingly of our neighbours; but the more to convince our
hearts and understandings, that we are all prone to evil, and desperately
wicked. For where does hypocrisy not abound? and I have had my own
experience here, that what a man is to the world, and to his own heart, is
a very different thing.
In my last letter, I
gave you a pleasing notification of the growth, as I thought, of
spirituality in this Babylon of deceitfulness, thinking that you and my
people would be gladdened with the tidings of the repute and estimation in
which your minister was held, and I have dealt largely in the way of
public charity. But I doubt that I have been governed by a spirit of
ostentation, and not with that lowly-mindedness, without which all
almsgiving is but a serving of the altars of Belzebub; for the chastening
hand has been laid upon me, but with the kindness and pity which a tender
father hath for his dear children.
I was requested by
those who come so cordially to me with their subscription papers, for
schools and suffering worth, to preach a sermon to get a collection. I
have no occasion to tell you, that when I exert myself, what effect I can
produce; and I never made so great an exertion before, which in itself was
a proof that it was with the two bladders, pomp and vanity, that I had
committed myself to swim on the uncertain waters of London; for surely my
best exertions were due to my people. But when the Sabbath came upon which
I was to hold forth, how were my hopes withered, and my expectations
frustrated. Oh, Mr. Micklewham, what an inattentive congregation was
yonder! many slumbered and slept, and I sowed the words of truth and
holiness in vain upon their barren and stoney hearts. There is no true
grace among some that I shall not name, for I saw them whispering and
smiling like the scorners, and altogether heedless unto the precious
things of my discourse, which could not have been the case had they been
sincere in their professions, for I never preached more to my own
satisfaction on any occasion whatsoever--and, when I return to my own
parish, you shall hear what I said, as I will preach the same sermon over
again, for I am not going now to print it, as I did once think of doing,
and to have dedicated it to Mr. W-.
We are going about in
an easy way, seeing what is to be seen in the shape of curiosities; but
the whole town is in a state of ferment with the election of members to
Parliament. I have been to see't, both in the Guildhall and at Covent
Garden, and it's a frightful thing to see how the Radicals roar like bulls
of Bashan, and put down the speakers in behalf of the government. I hope
no harm will come of yon, but I must say, that I prefer our own quiet
canny Scotch way at Irvine. Well do I remember, for it happened in the
year I was licensed, that the town council, the Lord Eglinton that was
shot being then provost, took in the late Thomas Bowet to be a counsellor;
and Thomas, not being versed in election matters, yet minding to please
his lordship (for, like the rest of the council, he had always a proper
veneration for those in power), he, as I was saying, consulted Joseph Boyd
the weaver, who was then Dean of Guild, as to the way of voting; whereupon
Joseph, who was a discreet man, said to him, "Ye'll just say as I say, and
I'll say what Bailie Shaw says, for he will do what my lord bids him";
which was as peaceful a way of sending up a member to Parliament as could
well be devised.
But you know that
politics are far from my hand--they belong to the temporalities of the
community; and the ministers of peace and goodwill to man should neither
make nor meddle with them. I wish, however, that these tumultuous
elections were well over, for they have had an effect on the per cents,
where our bit legacy is funded; and it would terrify you to hear what we
have thereby already lost. We have not, however, lost so much but that I
can spare a little to the poor among my people; so you will, in the dry
weather, after the seed-time, hire two-three thackers to mend the thack on
the roofs of such of the cottars' houses as stand in need of mending, and
banker M-y will pay the expense; and I beg you to go to him on receipt
hereof, for he has a line for yourself, which you will be sure to accept
as a testimony from me for the great trouble that my absence from the
parish has given to you among my people, and I am, dear sir, your friend
and pastor, Z. PRINGLE.
As Mrs. Glibbans
would not permit Mr. Snodgrass to return with her to the manse, he pursued
his journey alone to the Kirkgate of Irvine, where he found Miss Mally
Glencairn on the eve of sitting down to her solitary tea. On seeing her
visitor enter, after the first compliments on the state of health and
weather were over, she expressed her hopes that he had not drank tea; and,
on receiving a negative, which she did not quite expect, as she thought he
had been perhaps invited by some of her neighbours, she put in an
additional spoonful on his account; and brought from her corner cupboard
with the glass door, an ancient French pickle-bottle, in which she had
preserved, since the great tea-drinking formerly mentioned, the remainder
of the two ounces of carvey, the best, Mrs. Nanse bought for that
memorable occasion. A short conversation then took place relative to the
Pringles; and, while the tea was masking, for Miss Mally said it took a
long time to draw, she read to him the following letter:-
LETTER XXII
Mrs. Pringle to Miss
Mally Glencairn
My Dear Miss
Mally--Trully, it may be said, that the croun of England is upon the
downfal, and surely we are all seething in the pot of revolution, for the
scum is mounting uppermost. Last week, no farther gone than on Mononday,
we came to our new house heer in Baker Street, but it's nather to be bakit
nor brewt what I hav sin syne suffert. You no my way, and that I like a
been house, but no wastrie, and so I needna tell yoo, that we hav had good
diners; to be sure, there was not a meerakle left to fill five baskets
every day, but an abundance, with a proper kitchen of breed, to fill the
bellies of four dumasticks. Howsomever, lo and behold, what was clecking
downstairs. On Saturday morning, as we were sitting at our breakfast, the
Doctor reading the newspapers, who shoud corn intil the room but Andrew's
grum, follo't by the rest, to give us warning that they were all going to
quat our sairvice, becas they were starvit. I thocht that I would hav
fentit cauld deed, but the Doctor, who is a consiederat man, inquairt what
made them starve, and then there was such an opprobrious cry about cold
meet and bare bones, and no beer. It was an evendoun resurection--a
rebellion waur than the forty-five. In short, Miss Mally, to make a
leettle of a lang tail, they would have a hot joint day and day about, and
a tree of yill to stand on the gauntress for their draw and drink, with a
cock and a pail; and we were obligated to evacuate to their terms, and to
let them go to their wark with flying colors; so you see how dangerous it
is to live among this piple, and their noshans of liberty.
You will see by the
newspapers that ther's a lection going on for parliament. It maks my
corruption to rise to hear of such doings, and if I was a government as
I'm but a woman, I woud put them doon with the strong hand, just to be
revenged on the proud stomaks of these het and fou English.
We have gotten our
money in the pesents put into our name; but I have had no peese since, for
they have fallen in price three eight parts, which is very near a half,
and if they go at this rate, where will all our legacy soon be? I have no
goo of the pesents; so we are on the look-out for a landed estate, being a
shure thing.
Captain Saber is
still sneking after Rachel, and if she were awee perfited in her
accomplugments, it's no saying what might happen, for he's a fine lad, but
she's o'er young to be the heed of a family. Howsomever, the Lord's will
maun be done, and if there is to be a match, she'll no have to fight for
gentility with a straitent circumstance.
As for Andrew, I wish
he was weel settlt, and we have our hopes that he's beginning to draw up
with Miss Argent, who will have, no doobt, a great fortune, and is a
treasure of a creeture in herself, being just as simple as a lamb; but, to
be sure, she has had every advantage of edication, being brought up in a
most fashonible boarding-school.
I hope you have got
the box I sent by the smak, and that you like the patron of the goon. So
no more at present, but remains, dear Miss Mally, your sinsaire friend,
JANET PRINGLE.
"The box," said Miss
Mally, "that Mrs. Pringle speaks about came last night. It contains a very
handsome present to me and to Miss Bell Tod. The gift to me is from Mrs.
P. herself, and Miss Bell's from Rachel; but that ettercap, Becky Glibbans,
is flying through the town like a spunky, mislikening the one and
misca'ing the other: everybody, however, kens that it's only spite that
gars her speak. It's a great pity that she cou'dna be brought to a sense
of religion like her mother, who, in her younger days, they say, wasna to
seek at a clashing."
Mr. Snodgrass
expressed his surprise at this account of the faults of that exemplary
lady's youth; but he thought of her holy anxiety to sift into the
circumstances of Betty, the elder's servant, becoming in one day Mrs.
Craig, and the same afternoon sending for the midwife, and he prudently
made no other comment; for the characters of all preachers were in her
hands, and he had the good fortune to stand high in her favour, as a young
man of great promise. In order, therefore, to avoid any discussion
respecting moral merits, he read the following letter from Andrew
Pringle:-
LETTER XXIII
Andrew Pringle, Esq.,
to the Reverend Charles Snodgrass
My Dear
Friend--London undoubtedly affords the best and the worst specimens of the
British character; but there is a certain townish something about the
inhabitants in general, of which I find it extremely difficult to convey
any idea. Compared with the English of the country, there is apparently
very little difference between them; but still there is a difference, and
of no small importance in a moral point of view. The country peculiarity
is like the bloom of the plumb, or the down of the peach, which the
fingers of infancy cannot touch without injuring; but this felt but not
describable quality of the town character, is as the varnish which brings
out more vividly the colours of a picture, and which may be freely and
even rudely handled. The women, for example, although as chaste in
principle as those of any other community, possess none of that innocent
untempted simplicity, which is more than half the grace of virtue; many of
them, and even young ones too, "in the first freshness of their virgin
beauty," speak of the conduct and vocation of "the erring sisters of the
sex," in a manner that often amazes me, and has, in more than one
instance, excited unpleasant feelings towards the fair satirists. This
moral taint, for I can consider it as nothing less, I have heard defended,
but only by men who are supposed to have had a large experience of the
world, and who, perhaps, on that account, are not the best judges of
female delicacy. "Every woman," as Pope says, "may be at heart a rake";
but it is for the interests of the domestic affections, which are the very
elements of virtue, to cherish the notion, that women, as they are
physically more delicate than men, are also so morally.
But the absence of
delicacy, the bloom of virtue, is not peculiar to the females, it is
characteristic of all the varieties of the metropolitan mind. The
artifices of the medical quacks are things of universal ridicule; but the
sin, though in a less gross form, pervades the whole of that sinister
system by which much of the superiority of this vast metropolis is
supported. The state of the periodical press, that great organ of
political instruction--the unruly tongue of liberty, strikingly confirms
the justice of this misanthropic remark.
G- had the kindness,
by way of a treat to me, to collect, the other day, at dinner, some of the
most eminent editors of the London journals. I found them men of talent,
certainly, and much more men of the world, than "the cloistered student
from his paling lamp"; but I was astonished to find it considered,
tacitly, as a sort of maxim among them, that an intermediate party was not
bound by any obligation of honour to withhold, farther than his own
discretion suggested, any information of which he was the accidental
depositary, whatever the consequences might be to his informant, or to
those affected by the communication. In a word, they seemed all to care
less about what might be true than what would produce effect, and that
effect for their own particular advantage. It is impossible to deny, that
if interest is made the criterion by which the confidences of social
intercourse are to be respected, the persons who admit this doctrine will
have but little respect for the use of names, or deem it any reprehensible
delinquency to suppress truth, or to blazon falsehood. In a word, man in
London is not quite so good a creature as he is out of it. The rivalry of
interests is here too intense; it impairs the affections, and occasions
speculations both in morals and politics, which, I much suspect, it would
puzzle a casuist to prove blameless. Can anything, for example, be more
offensive to the calm spectator, than the elections which are now going
on? Is it possible that this country, so much smaller in geographical
extent than France, and so inferior in natural resources, restricted too
by those ties and obligations which were thrown off as fetters by that
country during the late war, could have attained, in despite of her, such
a lofty pre-eminence--become the foremost of all the world--had it not
been governed in a manner congenial to the spirit of the people, and with
great practical wisdom? It is absurd to assert, that there are no
corruptions in the various modifications by which the affairs of the
British empire are administered; but it would be difficult to show, that,
in the present state of morals and interests among mankind, corruption is
not a necessary evil. I do not mean necessary, as evolved from those
morals and interests, but necessary to the management of political trusts.
I am afraid, however, to insist on this, as the natural integrity of your
own heart, and the dignity of your vocation, will alike induce you to
condemn it as Machiavellian. It is, however, an observation forced on me
by what I have seen here.
It would be
invidious, perhaps, to criticise the different candidates for the
representation of London and Westminster very severely. I think it must be
granted, that they are as sincere in their professions as their opponents,
which at least bleaches away much of that turpitude of which their
political conduct is accused by those who are of a different way of
thinking. But it is quite evident, at least to me, that no government
could exist a week, managed with that subjection to public opinion to
which Sir Francis Burdett and Mr. Hobhouse apparently submit; and it is no
less certain, that no government ought to exist a single day that would
act in complete defiance of public opinion.
I was surprised to
find Sir Francis Burdett an uncommonly mild and gentlemanly-looking man. I
had pictured somehow to my imagination a dark and morose character; but,
on the contrary, in his appearance, deportment, and manner of speaking, he
is eminently qualified to attract popular applause. His style of speaking
is not particularly oratorical, but he has the art of saying bitter things
in a sweet way. In his language, however, although pungent, and sometimes
even eloquent, he is singularly incorrect. He cannot utter a sequence of
three sentences without violating common grammar in the most atrocious
way; and his tropes and figures are so distorted, hashed, and broken--such
a patchwork of different patterns, that you are bewildered if you attempt
to make them out; but the earnestness of his manner, and a certain fitness
of character, in his observations a kind of Shaksperian pithiness, redeem
all this. Besides, his manifold blunders of syntax do not offend the taste
of those audiences where he is heard with the most approbation.
Hobhouse speaks more
correctly, but he lacks in the conciliatory advantages of personal
appearance; and his physiognomy, though indicating considerable strength
of mind, is not so prepossessing. He is evidently a man of more education
than his friend, that is, of more reading, perhaps also of more various
observation, but he has less genius. His tact is coarser, and though he
speaks with more vehemence, he seldomer touches the sensibilities of his
auditors. He may have observed mankind in general more extensively than
Sir Francis, but he is far less acquainted with the feelings and
associations of the English mind. There is also a wariness about him,
which I do not like so well as the imprudent ingenuousness of the baronet.
He seems to me to have a cause in hand--Hobhouse versus Existing
Circumstances--and that he considers the multitude as the jurors, on whose
decision his advancement in life depends. But in this I may be
uncharitable. I should, however, think more highly of his sincerity as a
patriot, if his stake in the country were greater; and yet I doubt, if his
stake were greater, if he is that sort of man who would have cultivated
popularity in Westminster. He seems to me to have qualified himself for
Parliament as others do for the bar, and that he will probably be
considered in the House for some time merely as a political adventurer.
But if he has the talent and prudence requisite to ensure distinction in
the line of his profession, the mediocrity of his original condition will
reflect honour on his success, should he hereafter acquire influence and
consideration as a statesman. Of his literary talents I know you do not
think very highly, nor am I inclined to rank the powers of his mind much
beyond those of any common well-educated English gentleman. But it will
soon be ascertained whether his pretensions to represent Westminster be
justified by a sense of conscious superiority, or only prompted by that
ambition which overleaps itself.
Of Wood, who was
twice Lord Mayor, I know not what to say. There is a queer and wily cast
in his pale countenance, that puzzles me exceedingly. In common parlance I
would call him an empty vain creature; but when I look at that
indescribable spirit, which indicates a strange and out-of-the-way manner
of thinking, I humbly confess that he is no common man. He is evidently a
person of no intellectual accomplishments; he has neither the language nor
the deportment of a gentleman, in the usual understanding of the term; and
yet there is something that I would almost call genius about him. It is
not cunning, it is not wisdom, it is far from being prudence, and yet it
is something as wary as prudence, as effectual as wisdom, and not less
sinister than cunning. I would call it intuitive skill, a sort of
instinct, by which he is enabled to attain his ends in defiance of a
capacity naturally narrow, a judgment that topples with vanity, and an
address at once mean and repulsive. To call him a great man, in any
possible approximation of the word, would be ridiculous; that he is a good
one, will be denied by those who envy his success, or hate his politics;
but nothing, save the blindness of fanaticism, can call in question his
possession of a rare and singular species of ability, let it be exerted in
what cause it may. But my paper is full, and I have only room to subscribe
myself, faithfully, yours, A. PRINGLE.
"It appears to us,"
said Mr. Snodgrass, as he folded up the letter to return it to his pocket,
"that the Londoners, with all their advantages of information, are neither
purer nor better than their fellow-subjects in the country." "As to their
betterness," replied Miss Mally, "I have a notion that they are far waur;
and I hope you do not think that earthly knowledge of any sort has a
tendency to make mankind, or womankind either, any better; for was not
Solomon, who had more of it than any other man, a type and testification,
that knowledge without grace is but vanity?" The young clergyman was
somewhat startled at this application of a remark on which he laid no
particular stress, and was thankful in his heart that Mrs. Glibbans was
not present. He was not aware that Miss Mally had an orthodox corn, or
bunyan, that could as little bear a touch from the royne-slippers of
philosophy, as the inflamed gout of polemical controversy, which had
gumfiated every mental joint and member of that zealous prop of the Relief
Kirk. This was indeed the tender point of Miss Mally's character; for she
was left unplucked on the stalk of single blessedness, owing entirely to a
conversation on this very subject with the only lover she ever had, Mr.
Dalgliesh, formerly helper in the neighbouring parish of Dintonknow. He
happened incidentally to observe, that education was requisite to promote
the interests of religion. But Miss Mally, on that occasion, jocularly
maintained, that education had only a tendency to promote the sale of
books. This, Mr. Dalgliesh thought, was a sneer at himself, he having some
time before unfortunately published a short tract, entitled, "The moral
union of our temporal and eternal interests considered, with respect to
the establishment of parochial seminaries," and which fell still-born from
the press. He therefore retorted with some acrimony, until, from less to
more, Miss Mally ordered him to keep his distance; upon which he bounced
out of the room, and they were never afterwards on speaking terms. Saving,
however, and excepting this particular dogma, Miss Mally was on all other
topics as liberal and beneficent as could be expected from a maiden lady,
who was obliged to eke out her stinted income with a nimble needle and a
close-clipping economy. The conversation with Mr. Snodgrass was not,
however, lengthened into acrimony; for immediately after the remark which
we have noticed, she proposed that they should call on Miss Isabella Tod
to see Rachel's letter; indeed, this was rendered necessary by the state
of the fire, for after boiling the kettle she had allowed it to fall low.
It was her nightly practice after tea to take her evening seam, in a
friendly way, to some of her neighbours' houses, by which she saved both
coal and candle, while she acquired the news of the day, and was
occasionally invited to stay supper.
On their arrival at
Mrs. Tod's, Miss Isabella understood the purport of their visit, and
immediately produced her letter, receiving, at the same time, a perusal of
Mr. Andrew Pringle's. Mrs. Pringle's to Miss Mally she had previously
seen.
LETTER XXIV
Miss Rachel Pringle
to Miss Isabella Tod
My Dear Bell--Since
my last, we have undergone great changes and vicissitudes. Last week we
removed to our present house, which is exceedingly handsome and elegantly
furnished; and on Saturday there was an insurrection of the servants, on
account of my mother not allowing them to have their dinners served up at
the usual hour for servants at other genteel houses. We have also had the
legacy in the funds transferred to my father, and only now wait the
settling of the final accounts, which will yet take some time. On the day
that the transfer took place, my mother made me a present of a twenty
pound note, to lay out in any way I thought fit, and in so doing, I could
not but think of you; I have, therefore, in a box which she is sending to
Miss Mally Glencairn, sent you an evening dress from Mrs. Bean's, one of
the most fashionable and tasteful dressmakers in town, which I hope you
will wear with pleasure for my sake. I have got one exactly like it, so
that when you see yourself in the glass, you will behold in what state I
appeared at Lady -'s route.
Ah! my dear Bell, how
much are our expectations disappointed! How often have we, with admiration
and longing wonder, read the descriptions in the newspapers of the
fashionable parties in this great metropolis, and thought of the Grecian
lamps, the ottomans, the promenades, the ornamented floors, the cut glass,
the coup d'oeil, and the tout ensemble. "Alas!" as Young the poet says,
"the things unseen do not deceive us." I have seen more beauty at an
Irvine ball, than all the fashionable world could bring to market at my
Lady -'s emporium for the disposal of young ladies, for indeed I can
consider it as nothing else.
I went with the
Argents. The hall door was open, and filled with the servants in their
state liveries; but although the door was open, the porter, as each
carriage came up, rung a peal upon the knocker, to announce to all the
square the successive arrival of the guests. We were shown upstairs to the
drawing-rooms. They were very well, but neither so grand nor so great as I
expected. As for the company, it was a suffocating crowd of fat elderly
gentlewomen, and misses that stood in need of all the charms of their
fortunes. One thing I could notice--for the press was so great, little
could be seen--it was, that the old ladies wore rouge. The white satin
sleeve of my dress was entirely ruined by coming in contact with a little
round, dumpling duchess's cheek--as vulgar a body as could well be. She
seemed to me to have spent all her days behind a counter, smirking
thankfulness to bawbee customers.
When we had been
shown in the drawing-rooms to the men for some time, we then adjourned to
the lower apartments, where the refreshments were set out. This, I
suppose, is arranged to afford an opportunity to the beaux to be civil to
the belles, and thereby to scrape acquaintance with those whom they
approve, by assisting them to the delicacies. Altogether, it was a very
dull well-dressed affair, and yet I ought to have been in good spirits,
for Sir Marmaduke Towler, a great Yorkshire baronet, was most particular
in his attentions to me; indeed so much so, that I saw it made poor Sabre
very uneasy. I do not know why it should, for I have given him no positive
encouragement to hope for anything; not that I have the least idea that
the baronet's attentions were more than commonplace politeness, but he has
since called. I cannot, however, say that my vanity is at all flattered by
this circumstance. At the same time, there surely could be no harm in Sir
Marmaduke making me an offer, for you know I am not bound to accept it.
Besides, my father does not like him, and my mother thinks he's a fortune-
hunter; but I cannot conceive how that may be, for, on the contrary, he is
said to be rather extravagant.
Before we return to
Scotland, it is intended that we shall visit some of the watering-places;
and, perhaps, if Andrew can manage it with my father, we may even take a
trip to Paris. The Doctor himself is not averse to it, but my mother is
afraid that a new war may break out, and that we may be detained
prisoners. This fantastical fear we shall, however, try to overcome. But I
am interrupted. Sir Marmaduke is in the drawing-room, and I am
summoned.--Yours truly,
RACHEL PRINGLE.
When Mr. Snodgrass
had read this letter, he paused for a moment, and then said dryly, in
handing it to Miss Isabella, "Miss Pringle is improving in the ways of the
world."
The evening by this
time was far advanced, and the young clergyman was not desirous to renew
the conversation; he therefore almost immediately took his leave, and
walked sedately towards Garnock, debating with himself as he went along,
whether Dr. Pringle's family were likely to be benefited by their legacy.
But he had scarcely passed the minister's carse, when he met with Mrs.
Glibbans returning. "Mr. Snodgrass! Mr. Snodgrass!" cried that ardent
matron from her side of the road to the other where he was walking, and he
obeyed her call; "yon's no sic a black story as I thought. Mrs. Craig is
to be sure far gane! but they were married in December; and it was only
because she was his servan' lass that the worthy man didna like to own her
at first for his wife. It would have been dreadful had the matter been
jealoused at the first. She gaed to Glasgow to see an auntie that she has
there, and he gaed in to fetch her out, and it was then the marriage was
made up, which I was glad to hear; for, oh, Mr. Snodgrass, it would have
been an awfu' judgment had a man like Mr. Craig turn't out no better than
a Tam Pain or a Major Weir. But a's for the best; and Him that has the
power of salvation can blot out all our iniquities. So good- night--ye'll
have a lang walk."
&
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