place where there was a den, and laid me down in that place to sleep;
and as I slept, I dreamed a dream. I dreamed I saw a man, clothed with
rags, standing with his face from his own house, a book in his hand, and
a great burden upon his back.

"O my dear wife and children!" he said, "I am informed that our city
will be burnt with fire from heaven. We shall all come to ruin unless we
can find a way of escape!"

His relations and friends thought that some distemper had got into his
head; but he kept crying, in spite of all that they said to quieten him,
"What shall I do to be saved?" He looked this way and that way, but
could not tell which road to take. And a man named Evangelist came to
him, and he said to Evangelist, "Whither must I fly?"

"Do you see yonder wicket gate?" said Evangelist, pointing with his
finger over a very wide field. "Go there, and knock, and you will be
told what to do."

I saw in my dream that the man began to run, and his wife and children
cried after him to return, but the man ran on, crying, "Life! life!
eternal life!"

Two of his neighbours pursued him and overtook him. Their names were
Obstinate and Pliable.

"Come, come, friend Christian," said Obstinate. "Why are you hurrying
away in this manner from the City of Destruction, in which you were
born?"

"Because I have read in my book," replied Christian, "that it will be
consumed with fire from heaven. I pray you, good neighbours, come with
me, and seek for some way of escape."

After listening to all that Christian said, Pliable resolved to go with
him, but Obstinate returned to the City of Destruction in scorn.

"What! Leave my friends and comforts for such a brain-sick fellow as
you? No, I will go back to my own home."

Christian and Pliable walked on together, without looking whither they
were going, and in the midst of the plain they fell into a very miry
slough, which was called the Slough of Despond. Here they wallowed for a
time, and Christian, because of the burden that was on his back, began
to sink in the mire.

"Is this the happiness you told me of?" said Pliable. "If I get out
again with my life, you shall make your journey alone."

With a desperate effort he got out of the mire, and went back, leaving
Christian alone in the Slough of Despond. As Christian struggled under
his burden towards the wicket gate, I saw in my dream that a man came to
him, whose name was Help, and drew him out, and set him upon sound
ground. But before Christian could get to the wicket gate, Mr. Worldly
Wiseman came and spoke to him.

"How now, good fellow!" said Mr. Worldly Wiseman. "Where are you going
with that heavy burden on your back?"

"To yonder wicket gate," said Christian. "For there, Evangelist told me,
I shall be put into a way to be rid of my heavy burden."

"Evangelist is a dangerous and troublesome fellow," said Mr. Worldly
Wiseman. "Do not follow his counsel. Hear me: I am older than you. I can
tell you an easy way to get rid of your burden. You see the village on
yonder high hill?"

"Yes," said Christian. "I remember the village is called Morality."

"It is," said Mr. Worldly Wiseman. "There you will find a very judicious
gentleman whose name is Mr. Legality. If he is not in, inquire for his
son, Mr. Civility. Both of them have great skill in helping men to get
burdens off their shoulders."

Christian resolved to follow Mr. Worldly Wiseman's advice. But, as he
was painfully climbing up the high hill, Evangelist came up to him, and
said, "Are you not the man that I found crying in the City of
Destruction, and directed to the little wicket gate? How is it that you
have gone so far out of the way?"

Christian blushed for shame, and said that he had been led astray by Mr.
Worldly Wiseman.

"Mr. Worldly Wiseman," said Evangelist, "is a wicked man. Mr. Legality
is a cheat, and his son, Mr. Civility, is a hypocrite. If you listen to
them they will beguile you of your salvation, and turn you from the
right way."

Evangelist then set Christian in the true path which led to the wicket
gate, over which was written, "Knock, and it shall be opened unto you."
And Christian knocked, and a grave person, named Goodwill, opened the
gate and let him in. I saw in my dream that Christian asked him to help
him off with the burden that was upon his back, and Goodwill pointed to
a narrow way running from the wicket gate, and said, "Do you see that
narrow way? That is the way you must go. Keep to it, and do not turn
down any of the wide and crooked roads, and you will soon come to the
place of deliverance, where your burden will fall from your back of
itself."

Christian then took his leave of Goodwill, and climbed up the narrow way
till he came to a place upon which stood a cross. And I saw in my dream
that as Christian came to the cross, his burden fell from off his back,
and he became glad and lightsome. He gave three leaps for joy, and went
on his way singing, and at nightfall he came to a very stately palace,
the name of which was Beautiful. Four grave and lovely damsels, named
Charity, Discretion, Prudence, and Piety, met him at the threshold,
saying, "Come in, thou blessed of the Lord! This palace was built on
purpose to entertain such pilgrims as thou."

Christian sat talking with the lovely damsels until supper was ready,
and then they led him to a table that was furnished with fat things, and
excellently fine wines. And after Christian had refreshed himself, the
damsels showed him into a large chamber, whose window opened towards the
sun-rising. The name of the chamber was Peace, and there Christian slept
till break of day. Then he awoke, singing for joy, and the damsels took
him into the armoury, and dressed him for battle. They harnessed him in
armour of proof, and gave him a stout shield and a good sword; for, they
said, he would have to fight many a battle before he got to the
Celestial City.

And I saw in my dream that Christian went down the hill on which the
House Beautiful stood, and came to a valley, that was called the Valley
of Humiliation, where he was met by a foul fiend, Apollyon.

"Prepare to die!" said Apollyon, straddling over the whole breadth of
the narrow way. "I swear by my infernal den that thou shalt go no
further. Here will I spill thy soul."

With that, he threw a flaming dart at his breast, but Christian caught
it on his shield. Then Apollyon rushed upon him, throwing darts as thick
as hail, and, notwithstanding all that Christian could do, Apollyon
wounded him, and made him draw back. The sore combat lasted for half a
day, and though Christian resisted as manfully as he could, he grew
weaker and weaker by reason of his wounds. At last, Apollyon, espying
his opportunity, closed in on Christian, and wrestling with him, gave
him a dreadful fall, and Christian's sword flew out of his hand.

"Ah!" cried Apollyon, "I am sure of thee now!"

He pressed him almost to death, and Christian began to despair of life.
But, as God would have it, while Apollyon was fetching his last blow, to
make an end of this good man, Christian nimbly reached out his hand for
his sword, and caught it, and gave him a deadly thrust. With that,
Apollyon spread forth his wings, and sped him away, and Christian saw
him no more.

Then, with some leaves from the tree of life, Christian healed his
wounds, and with his sword drawn in his hand, he marched through the
Valley of Humiliation, without meeting any more enemies.

But at the end of the valley was another, called the Valley of the
Shadow of Death. On the right hand of this valley was a very deep ditch;
it was the ditch into which the blind have led the blind in all ages,
and have there miserably perished. And on the left hand was a dangerous
quagmire, into which, if even a good man falls, he finds no bottom for
his foot to stand on. The pathway here was exceeding narrow and very
dark, and Christian was hard put to it to get through safely. And right
by the wayside, in the midst of the valley, was the mouth of hell, and
out of it came flame and smoke in great abundance, with sparks and
hideous noises. But when the hosts of hell came at him, as he travelled
on through the smoke and flame and dreadful noise, he cried out, "I will
walk in the strength of the Lord God!"

Thereupon, the fiends gave over, and came no further; and suddenly the
day broke, and Christian turned and saw all the hobgoblins, satyrs, and
dragons of the pit far behind him, and though he was now got into the
most dangerous part of the Valley of the Shadow of Death, he was no
longer afraid. The place was so set, here with snares, traps, gins and
nets, and there with pits and holes, and shelvings, that, had it been
dark, he would surely have perished. But it was now clear day, and by
walking warily Christian got safely to the end of the valley. And at the
end of the valley, he saw another pilgrim marching on at some distance
before him.

"Ho, ho!" shouted Christian. "Stay, and I will be your companion."

"No, I cannot stay," said the other pilgrim, whose name was Faithful. "I
am upon my life, and the avenger of blood is behind me."

Putting out all his strength, Christian quickly got up with Faithful.
Then I saw in my dream they went very lovingly on together, and had
sweet discourse of all things that had happened to them in their
pilgrimage; for they had been neighbours in the City of Destruction, and
both of them were bound for the Delectable Mountains, and the Celestial
City beyond. They were now in a great wilderness, and they walked on
together till they came to the town of Vanity, at which a fair is kept
all the year long, called Vanity Fair.


_II.--Vanity Fair_


I saw in my dream that Christian and Faithful tried to avoid seeing
Vanity Fair; but this they could not do, because the way to the
Celestial City lies through the town where this lusty fair is kept.
About 5,000 years ago, Beelzebub, Apollyon, and the rest of the fiends
saw by the path which the pilgrims made, that their way lay through the
town of Vanity. So they set up a fair there, in which all sorts of
vanity should be sold every day in the year. Among the merchandise sold
at this fair are lands, honours, titles, lusts, pleasures, and
preferments; delights of all kinds, as servants, gold, silver, and
precious stones; murders and thefts; blood and bodies, yea, and lives
and souls. Moreover, at this fair, there are at all times to be seen
jugglings, cheats, games, plays, fools, apes, knaves, and rogues, and
that of every sort.

When Christian and Faithful came through Vanity Fair everybody began to
stare and mock at them, for they were clothed in a raiment different
from the raiment of the multitude that traded in the fair, and their
speech also was different, and few could understand what they said. But
what amused the townspeople most of all was that the pilgrims set light
by all their wares.

"What will ye buy? What will ye buy?" said one merchant to them
mockingly.

"We buy the truth," said Christian and Faithful, looking gravely upon
him.

At this some men began to taunt the pilgrims, and some tried to strike
them; and things at last came to a hubbub and great stir, and all the
fair was thrown into disorder. Thereupon, Christian and Faithful were
arrested as disturbers of the peace. After being beaten and rolled in
the dirt, they were put into a cage, and made a spectacle to all the men
of the fair. The next day they were again beaten, and led up and down
the fair in heavy chains for an example and terror to others.

But some of the better sort were moved to take their part; and this so
angered the chief men in the town that they resolved to put the pilgrims
to death. They were therefore indicted before the Lord Chief Justice
Hategood with having disturbed the trade of Vanity Fair, and won a party
over to their own pernicious way of thinking, in contempt of the law of
Prince Beelzebub. Mr. Envy, Mr. Superstition, and Mr. Pickthank bore
witness against them; and the jurymen, on hearing Faithful affirm that
the customs of their town of Vanity were opposed to the spirit of
Christianity, brought him in guilty of high treason to Beelzebub. No
doubt, they would have condemned Christian also; but, by the mercy of
God, he escaped from prison, being assisted by one of the men of the
town, named Hopeful, who had come over to his way of thinking.

Faithful was tied to a stake, and scourged, and stoned, and burnt to
death. But I saw in my dream that the Shining Ones came with a chariot
and horses, and made their way through the multitude to the flames in
which Faithful was burning, and put him in the chariot, and, with the
sound of trumpets, carried him up through the clouds, and on to the gate
of the Celestial City.

So Christian was left alone to continue his journey; but I saw in my
dream that, as he was going out of the town of Vanity, Hopeful came up
to him and said that he would be his companion. And thus it ever is.
Whenever a man dies to bear testimony to the truth, another rises out of
his ashes to carry on his work.

Christian was in no wise cast down by the death of Faithful, but went on
his way, singing,

Hail, Faithful, hail! Thy goodly works survive;
And though they killed thee, thou art still alive.

And he was especially comforted by Hopeful telling him that there were a
great many men of the better sort in Vanity Fair who were now resolved
to undertake the pilgrimage to the Celestial City. Some way beyond
Vanity Fair was a delicate plain, called Ease, where Christian and
Hopeful went with much content. But at the farther side of that plain
was a little hill, which was named Lucre. In this hill was a silver-mine
which was very dangerous to enter, for many men who had gone to dig
silver there had been smothered in the bottom by damps and noisome airs.
Four men from Vanity Fair--Mr. Money-love, Mr. Hold-the-World, Mr.
By-Ends, and Mr. Save-All--were going into the silver-mine as Christian
and Hopeful passed by.

"Tarry for us," said Mr. Money-love; "and when we have got a little
riches to take us on our journey, we will come with you."

Hopeful was willing to wait for his fellow-townsmen, but Christian told
him that, having entered the mine, they would never come out; and,
besides, that treasure is a snare to them that seek it, for it hindereth
their pilgrimage. And he spoke truly; for I saw in my dream that some
were killed by falling into the mine as they gazed from the brink, and
the rest who went down to dig were poisoned by the vapours in the pit.

In the meantime, Christian and Hopeful came to the river of life, and
walked along the bank with great delight. They drank of the water of the
river, which was pleasant and enlivening to their weary spirits, and
they ate of the fruit of the green trees that grew by the river side.
Then, finding a fair meadow covered with lilies, they laid down and
slept; and in the morning they rose up, wondrously refreshed, and
continued their journey along the bank of the river. But the way soon
grew rough and stony, and seeing on their left hand a stile across the
meadow called By-Path Meadow, Christian leaped over it, and said to
Hopeful, "Come, good Hopeful, let us go this way. It is much easier."

"I am afraid," said Hopeful, "that it will take us out of the right
road."

But Christian persuaded him to jump over the stile, and there they got
into a path which was very easy for their feet. But they had not gone
very far when it began to rain and thunder and lighten in a most
dreadful manner, and night came on apace, and stumbling along in the
darkness, they reached Doubting Castle, and the lord thereof, Giant
Despair, took them and threw them into a dark and dismal dungeon. Here
they lay for three days without one bit of bread or drop of drink. On
the third day Giant Despair came and flogged them with a great crabtree
cudgel, and so disabled them that they were not even able to rise up
from the mire of their dungeon floor. And indeed, they could scarcely
keep their heads above the mud in which they lay.

Now Giant Despair had a wife, and her name was Diffidence; and when she
found that, in spite of their flogging, Christian and Hopeful were still
alive, she advised her husband to kill them outright. It happened,
however, to be sunshiny weather, and sunshiny weather always made Giant
Despair fall into a helpless fit, in which he lost for the time the use
of his hands. So all he could do was to try and persuade his prisoners
to kill themselves with knife or halter.

"Why," said he to Christian and Hopeful, "should you choose to live? You
know you can never get out of Doubting Castle. What! Will you slowly
starve to death like rats in a hole, instead of putting a sudden end to
your misery, like men. I tell you again, you will never get out."

But when he was gone, Christian and Hopeful went down on their knees in
their dungeon and prayed long and earnestly. Then Christian suddenly
bethought himself, and after fumbling in his bosom, he drew out a key,
saying, "What a fool am I to lie in a dismal dungeon when I can walk at
liberty! Here is the key that I have been carrying in my bosom, called
Promise, that will open every lock in Doubting Castle."

He at once tried it at the dungeon door, and turned the bolt with ease.
He then led Hopeful to the iron gate of the castle, and though the lock
went desperately hard, yet the key opened it. But as the gate moved, it
made such a creaking that Giant Despair was aroused.

Hastily rising up, the giant set out to pursue the prisoners; but seeing
that all the land was now flooded with sunshine, he fell into one of his
helpless fits, and could not even get as far as the castle gate.


_III.--The Celestial City_


Having thus got safely out of Doubting Castle, Christian and Hopeful
made their way back to the banks of the river of life, and, following
the rough and stony way, they came at last to the Delectable Mountains.
And going up the mountains they beheld the gardens and orchards, the
vineyards, the fountains of water; and here they drank and washed
themselves, and freely ate of the pleasant grapes of the vineyards. Now,
on top of the mountains there were four shepherds feeding their flocks,
and the pilgrims went to them, and, leaning upon their staffs, they
asked them the way to the Celestial City. And the shepherds took them by
the hand and led them to the top of Clear, the highest of all the
Delectable Mountains, and the pilgrims looked and saw, faintly and very
far off, the gate and the glory of the Celestial City.

And I saw in my dream that the two pilgrims went down the Delectable
Mountains along the narrow way, and after walking some distance they
came to a place where the path branched. Here they stood still for a
while, considering which way to take, for both ways seemed right. And as
they were considering, behold, a man black of flesh and covered with a
white robe, came up to them, and offered to lead them down the true way.
But when they had followed him for some time they found that he had led
them into a crooked road, and there they were entangled in a net.

Here they lay bewailing themselves, and at last they espied a Shining
One coming toward them, with a whip in his hand.

"We are poor pilgrims going to the Celestial City," said Christian and
Hopeful. "A black man clothed in white offered to lead us there, but
entangled us instead in this net."

"It was Flatterer that did this," said the Shining One. "He is a false
apostle that hath transformed himself into an angel."

I saw in my dream that he then rent the net and let the pilgrims out.
Then he commanded them to lie down, and when they did so, he chastised
them with his whip of cords, to teach them to walk in the good way, and
refrain from following the advice of evil flatterers. And they thanked
him for his kindness, and went softly along the right path, singing for
very joy; and after passing through the Enchanted Land, which was full
of vapours that made them dull and sleepy, they came to the sweet and
pleasant country of Beulah. In this country the sun shone night and day,
and the air was so bright and clear that they could see the Celestial
City to which they were going. Yea, they met there some of the
inhabitants, for the Shining Ones often walked in the Land of Beulah,
because it was on the borders of Heaven.

As Christian and Hopeful drew near to the city their strength began to
fail. It was builded of pearls and precious stones, and the streets were
paved with gold; and what with the natural glory of the city, and the
dazzling radiance of the sunbeams that fell upon it, Christian grew sick
with desire as he beheld it; and Hopeful, too, was stricken with the
same malady. And, walking on very slowly, full of the pain of longing,
they came at last to the gate of the city. But between them and the gate
there was a river, and the river was very deep, and no bridge went over
it. And when Christian asked the Shining Ones how he could get to the
gate of the city, they said to him, "You must go through the river, or
you cannot come to the gate."

"Is the river very deep?" said Christian.

"You will find it deeper or shallower," said the Shining Ones,
"according to the depth or shallowness of your belief in the King of our
city."

The two pilgrims then entered the river. Christian at once began to
sink, and, crying out to his good friend Hopeful, he said, "I sink in
deep waters! The billows go over my head! All the waves go over me."

"Be of good cheer, my brother," said Hopeful, "I feel the bottom, and it
is good!"

With that a great darkness and horror fell upon Christian; he could no
longer see before him, and he was in much fear that he would perish in
the river, and never enter in at the gate. When he recovered, he found
he had got to the other side, and Hopeful was already there waiting for
him.

And I saw in my dream that the city stood upon a mighty hill; but the
pilgrims went up with ease, because they had left their mortal garments
behind them in the river.

While they were thus drawing to the gate, behold, a company of the
heavenly host came out to meet them. With them were several of the
King's trumpeters, clothed in white and shining raiment, who made even
the heavens to echo with their shouting and the sound of their trumpets.

Then all the bells in the city began to ring welcome, and the gate was
opened wide, and the two pilgrims entered. And lo! as they entered they
were transfigured; and they had raiment put on that shone like gold. And
Shining Ones gave them harps to praise their King with, and crowns in
token of honour.

And as the gates were opened, I looked in, and behold, the streets were
paved with gold; and in them walked many men, with crowns on their
heads, palms in their hands, and golden harps to sing praises withal.
There were also of them that had wings and they answered one another
saying, "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord!" And after that they shut up the
gates, which, when I had seen, I wished myself among them. Then I awoke,
and behold! it was a dream.

*       *       *       *       *




FANNY BURNEY


Evelina

"Evelina" was the first tale written by a woman, and
purporting to be a picture of life and manners, that lived or
deserved to live. It took away reproach from the novel. The
opinion is Macaulay's. In many respects the publication of
"Evelina" resembled that of "Jane Eyre," by Charlotte Brontë,
a century later. It was issued anonymously, by a firm that did
not know the name of the writer. Only the children of the
household from which the book came knew its origin. It
attained an immediate and immense success, which gave the
author, a shrinking and modest little body, a foremost place
in the literary world of her day. Fanny Burney, the second
daughter of Dr. Burney, was born in 1752, and published
"Evelina, or a Young Lady's Entrance into the World," in 1778.
She had picked up an education at home, without any tuition
whatever, but had the advantage of browsing in her father's
large miscellaneous library, and observing his brilliant
circle of friends. She knew something of the Johnson set
before she wrote "Evelina," and became the doctor's pet.
Later, Fanny Burney wrote "Cecilia," for which she received
two thousand guineas, and "Camilla," for which she received
three thousand guineas.


_I.--Deserted_


LADY HOWARD TO THE REV. MR. VILLARS

Can anything be more painful to the friendly mind than a necessity of
communicating disagreeable intelligence? I have just had a letter from
Madame Duval, who has lately used her utmost endeavours to obtain a
faithful account of whatever related to her ill-advised daughter; and
having some reason to apprehend that upon her death-bed her daughter
bequeathed an infant orphan to the world, she says that if you, with
whom she understands the child is placed, will procure authentic proofs
of its relationship to her, you may send it to Paris, where she will
properly provide for it.

Her letter has excited in my daughter, Mrs. Mirvan, a strong desire to
be informed of the motives which induced Madame Duval to abandon the
unfortunate Lady Belmont at a time when a mother's protection was
peculiarly necessary for her peace and reputation, and I cannot satisfy
Mrs. Mirvan otherwise than by applying to you.

MR. VILLARS TO LADY HOWARD

Your ladyship did but too well foresee the perplexity and uneasiness of
which Madame Duval's letter has been productive. In regard to my answer
I most humbly request your ladyship to write to this effect: "That I
would not upon any account intentionally offend Madame Duval, but that I
have unanswerable reasons for detaining her granddaughter at present in
England."

Complying with the request of Mrs. Mirvan, I would say that I had the
honour to accompany Mr. Evelyn, the grandfather of my young charge, when
upon his travels, in the capacity of a tutor. His unhappy marriage,
immediately upon his return to England, with Madame Duval, then a
waiting-girl at a tavern, contrary to the entreaties of his friends,
induced him to fix his abode in France. He survived the ill-judged
marriage but two years.

Mr. Evelyn left me the sole guardianship of his daughter's person till
her eighteenth year, but in regard to fortune he left her wholly
dependent on her mother. Miss Evelyn was brought up under my care, and,
except when at school, under my roof. In her eighteenth year, her
mother, then married to Monsieur Duval, sent for her to Paris, and at
the instigation of her husband tyrannically endeavoured to effect a
union between Miss Evelyn and one of his nephews. Miss Evelyn soon grew
weary of such usage, and rashly, and without a witness, consented to a
private marriage with Sir John Belmont, a very profligate young man, who
had but too successfully found means to insinuate himself into her
favour. He promised to conduct her to England--he did. O madam, you know
the rest! Disappointed of the fortune he expected by the inexcusable
rancour of the Duvals, he infamously burnt the certificate of their
marriage and denied that they had ever been united!

She flew to my protection, and the moment that gave birth to her infant
put an end at once to the sorrows and the life of its mother. That
child, madam, shall never know the loss she has sustained. Not only my
affection, but my humanity recoils at the barbarous idea of deserting
the sacred trust reposed in me.


_II.--A Visit to Town_


LADY HOWARD TO MR. VILLARS

Your last letter gave me infinite pleasure. Do you think you could bear
to part with your young companion for two or three months? Mrs. Mirvan
proposes to spend the ensuing spring in London, whither for the first
time my grandchild will accompany her, and it is their earnest wish that
your amiable ward may share equally with her own daughter the care and
attention of Mrs. Mirvan. What do you say to our scheme?

MR. VILLARS TO LADY HOWARD

I am grieved, madam, to appear obstinate, and I blush to incur the
imputation of selfishness. My young ward is of an age that happiness is
eager to attend--let her then enjoy it! I commit her to the protection
of your ladyship. Restore her but to me all innocence as you receive
her, and the fondest hope of my heart will be amply gratified.

EVELINA ANVILLE TO MR. VILLARS

We are to go on Monday to a private ball given by Mrs. Stanley, a very
fashionable lady of Mrs. Mirvan's acquaintance. I am afraid of this
ball; for, as you know, I have never danced but at school. However, Miss
Mirvan says there is nothing in it. Yet I wish it was over.

*       *       *       *       *

We passed a most extraordinary evening. A _private_ ball this was
called; but, my dear sir, I believe I saw half the world!

The gentlemen, as they passed and repassed, looked as if they thought we
were quite at their disposal, and only waited for the honour of their
commands; and they sauntered about in an indolent manner, as if with a
view to keep us in suspense.

Presently a gentleman, who seemed about six-and-twenty years old, gaily,
but not foppishly dressed, and indeed extremely handsome, with an air of
mixed politeness and gallantry, desired to know if I would honour him
with my hand. Well, I bowed, and I am sure I coloured; for indeed I was
frightened at the thought of dancing before so many strangers _with_ a
stranger. And so he led me to join in the dance.

He seemed desirous of entering into conversation with me; but I was
seized with such panic that I could hardly speak a word. He appeared
surprised at my terror, and, I fear, thought it very strange.

His own conversation was sensible and spirited; his air and address open
and noble; his manners gentle, attentive, and infinitely engaging; his
person is all elegance, and his countenance the most animated and
expressive I have ever seen. The rank of Lord Orville was his least
recommendation. When he discovered I was totally ignorant of public
places and public performers, he ingeniously turned the discourse to the
amusements and occupations of the country; but I was unable to go
further than a monosyllable in reply, and not even so far as that when I
could possibly avoid it.

Tired, ashamed, and mortified, I begged at last to sit down till we
returned home. Lord Orville did me the honour to hand me to the coach,
talking all the way of the honour I had done _him_! Oh, these
fashionable people!

*       *       *       *       *

There is no end to the troubles of last night. I have gathered from
Maria Mirvan the most curious dialogue that ever I heard. Maria was
taking some refreshment, and saw Lord Orville advancing for the same
purpose himself, when a gay-looking man, Sir Clement Willoughby, I am
told, stepped up and cried, "Why, my lord, what have you done with your
lovely partner?"

"Nothing!" answered Lord Orville, with a smile and a shrug.

"By Jove!" said the man, "she is the most beautiful creature I ever saw
in my life!"

Lord Orville laughed, but answered, "Yes, a pretty, modest-looking
girl!"

"Oh, my lord," cried the other, "she is an angel!"

"A silent one," returned he.

"Why, my lord, she looks all intelligence and expression!"

"A poor, weak girl," answered Lord Orville, shaking his head. "Whether
ignorant or mischievous, I will not pretend to determine; but she
attended to all I said to her with the most immovable gravity."

Here Maria was called to dance, and so heard no more.

Now, tell me, sir, did you ever know anything more provoking? "A poor,
weak girl! Ignorant and mischievous!" What mortifying words! I would not
live here for the world. I care not how soon I leave.


_III.--An Unlucky Meeting_


EVELINA TO MR. VILLARS

How much will you be surprised, my dearest sir, at receiving so soon
another letter from London in your Evelina's writing. An accident,
equally unexpected and disagreeable, has postponed our journey to Lady
Howard at Howard Grove.

We went last night to see the "Fantocini," a little comedy in French and
Italian, by puppets, and when it was over, and we waited for our coach,
a tall, elderly, foreign-looking woman brushed quickly past us, calling
out, "My God! What shall I do? I have lost my company, and in this place
I don't know anybody."

"We shall but follow the golden rule," said Mrs. Mirvan, "if we carry
her to her lodgings."

We therefore admitted her to her coach, to carry her to Oxford Road. Let
me draw a veil over a scene too cruel for a heart so compassionate as
yours, and suffice it to know that, in the course of our ride, this
foreigner proved to be Madame Duval--the grandmother of your Evelina!

When we stopped at her lodgings she desired me to accompany her into the
house, and said she could easily procure a room for me to sleep in.

I promised to wait upon her at what time she pleased the next day.

What an unfortunate adventure! I could not close my eyes the whole
night.

Mrs. Mirvan was so kind as to accompany me to Madame Duval's house this
morning. She frowned most terribly on Mrs. Mirvan, but received me with
as much tenderness as I believe she was capable of feeling. She avowed
that her intention in visiting England was to make me return with her to