46 great undertaking to poor Cruden, was as nobly borne" as the sad trials through which she had previously passed. Her hopes of succeeding in school are failing; her quiet, reserved, humbled life, have no doubt had a subduing effect upon her, she lacks the preten sion and aplomb then, as now, so effective in the persons and manners of the superiors of ladies' colleges, and fashionable schools, and "Dr. Oliver," the eccentric Bath physician, from whom she receives much kindness but small encouragement, "tells me," she writes to Mr. Ballard, "mine is a wrong employment to hope for any encouragement in. If I could teach to make artificial flowers, a bit of tapestry, and the like, I should get more than I ever shall by instilling the principles of religion and virtue, or improving the minds of young ladies; for these are things little regarded.' From Bath Mrs. Elstob sent Mr. Ballard her autobiography, about which Dr. Rawlinson, Mr. Rawlins, and Mr. Brome were so curious. The Doctor, it appears, was collecting materials for a series of memoirs, and Mr. Ballard had, probably, prospective ideas of writing his account of "Learned Ladies." The meagre sketch of her life which she sent him is compressed into three pages of manuscript. She thought it unnecessary to "stuff it with the particular misfortunes and disappointments she had met with," and requests that it may be committed to the flames as its most proper place, "being very sensible that the learned Dr. Rawlinson's noble design will not want materials far more valuable." On the 3rd of April, 1738, Mr. Brome writing to Mr. Ballard, observes: "I am sorry to hear of the ill state of health of the Saxon lady. Nobody has a greater value and concern for her than I have, or entertain better wishes for her; and consequently a sight of the memoir of her life, and of any of her performances as well by the pencil as the pen, will be most acceptable to me." Upon this, Mr. Ballard forwarded the wished-for manuscript; and on the 8th of the same month Mr. Brome writes (after mentioning Mr. Elstob's life): "The memoirs of his learned sister are very well done, and please me much, and inform me of matters I did want to know. I could not before tell who those gentlemen were that animadverted upon Dr. Hicks, mentioned in her preface to the A. S. Grammar. Where is it that Dean Swift and Dr. Felton has done it? and in what book of Mr. Greenwood is there mention made of her? He goes on to speak of Mrs. Elstob's great talent with the pencil, not less than the "Her Gladiator, thanks to my generous pen: Benefactor, I reckon amongst my greatest rarities." Dr. Rawlinson had written to Mrs. Elstob, in the January of this year, to ask for the loan of a book which he probably knew she had possessed in her brother's time. And she writes to him on the 2nd of February, 1737-8 : “I was obliged, with abundance of sorrow, to part with Leland's Itinery some years ago. You may be assured, if I had it, it should be at your service. I had several designs," she ... goes on to say, "while at Evesham, but was unhappily hindered by a necessity of getting my bread, which, with much difficulty, labour, and ill-health, I have endeavoured to do for many years with indifferent success. If it had not been that Almighty God was graciously pleased to raise me up lately some gracious and good friends, I could not have subsisted, to whom I always was, and will by the grace of God, be most grateful." At the end of a very few months, it became apparent that the attempt to establish herself in Bath must be given up. Her health, instead of improving, had become worse. and the very silence with which she bore her troubles preyed upon her mind and made their burden more wearisome. She is too ill even to call upon the ladies to whom Miss Granville, among others, has given her letters of introduction. "THE REST IS SILENCE." BY ADA TREVANION. This rest and this stillness, Are now with the past, With holiest of fancies Yet let not the scorner But my days are all trances, Still near to me seems. 1 hear sweet words spoken MY ADVENTURE. BY JOHN CHURCHILL BRENAN. comfortably settled down as the wife of some neighbouring squire. Of course I did not say so, but let him dream his dream, as many had done before him, little thinking that such dreams are but castles in the air after all. I believe it is a generally accepted notion that persons of similar habits and ideas seldom agree. The author of this tale, being of a somewhat singular, not to say eccentric nature, certainly believes so; for the few real friendships he has made in this world of doubt and distrust have generally been with people the very opposite of himself. To tell the truth, we poor unfinished mortals soon weary of the limited interest contained in ourselves, and seek for change in na-ing himself. Talk about vain women-why in tures where it is most likely to be found. Now people said that Leonard and I might pass for brothers, though I thought myself certainly superior to him in personal attractions, and I dare say he had the same opinion regard that respect the men beat thein altogether. A Some five years ago I chanced to meet with Leonard Leigh. I was living alone in London, far away from friends and relations, trying to earn a living by sending MSS. to the magazines and periodicals of the day; and he was also Latterly I had seen very little of Leonard alone in the great city, "reading" for the Bar. Leigh. He was working very hard; but had We met at a supper-party, given by a mutual advanced very slightly in his profession, and it friend, who had been left a small legacy, and was my opinion that he would never take a very was doing his best to run through it as quickly | high position. Clever, plodding, and industrious as he could. Leonard and I sat together, and as he was, his manner was against him. Barthat night saw the commencement of a friend-risters, like actors, clergymen, and salesmen, ship, which, alas! is now nearly a thing of the want something more than brains and expepast. rience they require "cheek;" and poor Leonard was as modest and retiring as the heroine of a last-century novel. Excepting that we both believed birth and intellect to be superior to everything else, perhaps because they were our only possessions, our ways were entirely different. I was somewhat of a Bohemian, careless what people said as long as I enjoyed myself. Leonard was nothing if not "respectable," living for the world, and trying hard to win a high position in society. In fact, Leonard Leigh was living for the future; whilst I was merely content with the present, and looked at the future with the eyes of a philosopher-namely, as something that might never be. Still we were friends; and one day he told me his story. Born and brought up in a country-town, belonging to one of the best families in the neighbourhood, Leonard had always considered himself an independant gentleman, until his parents died suddenly, leaving nothing behind but several unpaid bills and an estate deeply mortgaged. So Leonard was obliged to come to London and seek his fortune. Unfortunately he was deeply in love with a young lady (he never told me her name) whose father, under the circumstances, withdrew his consent to the match. : He came to me one day with a ticket for a public ball at W, in Essex. "My old place," he said, mournfully. “A friend sent me the ticket, but I dare not trust myself in the same neighbourhood with her until I am a little better off." "What do you want then?" I asked. "Will you take the ticket-will you go to the ball? It will be a change for you, and you can bring me back some news of the dear old place.' Being always "ready for anything," I accepted the ticket. 399 "I will write to the landlord of the 'Crown,' said Leonard, "to keep you a-bed. You will be in first rate society, for the admission is a guinea, and several ladies of title are amongst the patronesses." 66 So one rainy January afternoon I packed up my bag and took the train for W. It was raining cats and dogs; so I went at once to the " Crown," where the landlord was only too happy to entertain a friend of Mr. Leigh's." I took possession of the best chamber, and, having The lovers swore eternal constancy; and some time to spare, went into the parlour where Leonard had made a vow to keep away from"the farmers and principal tradesmen" (the his love until he was in a position to offer her a home. They corresponded; but knowing the world as I fancied I did, I had not the least doubt that by the time Leonard had made his fortune (if he ever did) he would find the lady landlady's description of her customers) were drinking ale and smoking long clays. I did the same. Of course the conversation was about the ball, and I was so interested in the description of the people I should meet there that I young, but had come to gather stores of scandal, to be afterwards retailed at "little teas;" and everlasting wall-flowers, who never meant to be anything else but young, frisky, kittenish virgins, with angular shoulders and red bony arms, who playfully tapped their chance partners with their fans, calling them “ naughty men," and the whole proceeding "wicked," "shocking," or "dissipated." There was every description of man from heavy dragoons, who knew more about dancing than fighting, down to the son and heir of the W- linen-draper, who had never been to a ball before, and complained of the "'eat affecting his 'ead." forgot all about the time, and suddenly found it | wall-flowers, who made no pretence of being was nearly ten o'clock, and the ball was to commence at eight. Making my toilet as expeditiously as possible, and taking the precaution to ensconce my patent boots in India-rubber goloshes, I picked my way along the muddy street, and soon reached the Town Hall, where all sorts of people were assembled to watch the "swells" enter and criticise the ladies' dresses. Londoners have no idea what an interest the country people take in a thing of this sort. Gammers were as interested in the appearances of the young ladies as if they had been their own daughters; and gaffers were even betting pots of ale as to whether old Lady G-would wear the same old brown velvet she wore at the summer flower-show. I passed through the crowd, who cheered me, somewhat ironically I am afraid (but what could an unknown individual expect who had not come in a carriage), was received at the door by several very amateur stewards, and ushered into a room where I received in exchange for my hat and cloak a ticket marked 65, and a hint that if I lost the duplicate I might never regain my property. Up a wide stone staircase, lined with potted evergreens (kindly lent for the occasion by the Earl of Lambshire), past several gorgeously attired flunkeys (also kindly lent, &c.), evidently placed there to detect uninvited, or rather unpaying guests, and lastly into that paradise of youth, that exactly opposite of age, the ball-room. Taking the first empty seat, I 100ked about me, and this is what I saw: A large, handsomely decorated room. About a hundred people, some looking on, others dancing that dance which Lord Byron thought so wicked, simply because nature had prevented him from joining in its giddy whirl. A welldressed company, but "mixed" without a doubt. A few county families, but more of the upper middle-class, and some of the W-tradespeople. For instance: that red-faced youth who seemed afraid of his dress-coat and did not know what to do with his hands; and those three sisters with little gardens on their heads who giggled all the time they were dancing. Why do some girls always do this? There is nothing comic in dancing, and it is particularly distressing for a man to have his partner continually laughing at nothing. Then there were girls who had toiled through several London seasons, and seemed to fancy they were doing us great honour by their presence; girls to whom a ball was an event, who had come to enjoy themselves, and made no secret about it; and some half-dozen girls of the sort known as "nice," who were after all more attractive with their unaffected ways than all the would-be girls of the period, with their fast manners and slangy conversation. Mothers and aunts were very numerous, poor suffering creatures in brocades and velvets, who were already wearying of the "festive scene" and longing for supper-that terrible mixture of everything unwholesome, which would make them feel so ill the next day. And then the wall-flowers-strangely attired a The M. C. offered to find me a partner for the Lancers. I expected a wallflower; but I was introduced to a Miss Wilson, who reminded me of an animated statue. About the middle of the second figure I ventured to observe that it was 'warm;" and just before the grand chain Miss Wilson remarked that "it was a nice room for dancing." After the dance I escorted her to her friends. We all bowed, and so ended my acquaintance with Miss Wilson. Then I danced with several other statues, whose conversational powers were equally limited. It was getting rather slow, so I made friends with two very young gentlemen, who considered dancing great bore," and proposed a visit to the refreshment room. There we sat some time. Others joined us, whose conversational powers were not limited. Somebody stood champagne, and considering we were mostly strangers to each other, it was wonderful how confidential we became. Stay, though-was it strange? If I had some guilty secret on my soul, I would rather reveal it to some chance acquaintance (made, say, in the stalls of the opera or in a smoking-carriage), whom I never expected to see again, than to a friend of many years' standing. A stranger, of course supposing him to be sober and a gentleman, would at least be polite a friend would either laugh at me for my folly, or censure me for my wickedness. When I returned to the ball-room the "gaiety was at its height," to quote from a future number of the "W. - Express and Weekly News." Swells, who thought it "good form" to come when the evening was half over, had made their appearance, and the shyness of some of the early comers had disappeared. All of a sudden I noticed, on the opposite side of the room, a girl, who almost realized my ideal of feminine beauty. The dancers were passing so quickly, that it was only now and then that I caught a glimpse of the syren, whose beauty had the same effect on me as that of the wicked sea-maiden of old had upon poor Ulysses. I saw a somewhat small figure in blue muslin: I saw arms and shoulders which resembled the burnt almonds sold by foreign confectioners-the sort of skin so common amongst the children of Israel: I saw a round, bright face, beneath a glory of bright hair, arranged in numerous curls, gathered together over the head by a chain of pearls. And fancy my surprise when, ás soon as the dance was over, she hurried | around us. Patti and Nilsson, Madame Rachel across the room, seized me by both hands, and and Mrs. Borrodaile, Robertson's comedies and commenced talking as lovingly as if we had Marie Wilton, "Have you been gay this seabeen engaged for years! What could I do? son?" the dreadful goings-on of the new HighWhat could I say? What would you have church curate at W- "Thanks much," done, O, Young Man of the Day, under such "Awfully Jolly," "Awfully Jolly," "Strikingly Nice," that circumstances? Why, accepted what the gods was the worldly chorus to our sentimental song. had given you, as I did, and whistled propriety Was I doing right? Was it "correct" to make down the wind, or I am no judge of poor hu- love to a young lady whose name and family I manity. The band commenced a Mazurka-my knew nothing about? To tell the truth I felt favourite dance. Would I dance?—with her! like one in a dream, and seemed to have lost Had my legs been made of wood, and my body all control over myself. Fate had brought cramped with rheumatism, I could not have re- Clara and myself together, and as Fate had fused. Dancing with her was like passing five been so kind, I left everything in her hands. minutes in a Turk's paradise! "We are quite safe!" she said. "No one seems to know you here. I have come with old Lady G, and must introduce you. What name shall I say? Better not give your own!" I suggested the first name that occurred to me, that of my friend Mr. Leigh. She laughed at that, and led me to a comfortable-looking old lady in tightly-fitting black velvet, who looked as if she had had a fit of smiling in her youth and had never succeeded in getting her face into its normal condition. "I hope you are not fatiguing yourself, Clara," said Lady G―, with a smile, in which even her nose took part. "Not in the least," answered Clara. "Let me introduce you to Mr. Ashleigh, an old friend of my brother's." Lady G and I talked society talk until the music began again. "You are not too tired for this dance?" I said to Clara. "Tired!" she repeated; and then in a whisper, as if I ever could be tired of dancing with you!" What was going to be the end of all this? "You will take care of her, I know," said Lady Gas we went away. I should think I would! Another glimpse of Turkish paradise and then we joined the lunatic procession marching round the room in pairs, which always makes me think that conventionalities are abolished and schoolboys and schoolgirls are allowed to walk abroad in company. People made strange remarks about us. One dowager said, "It is very kind of him." Why kind? If kindness means monopolizing the prettiest girl in the room I never wish to be selfish again. A wall-flower remarked, "Poor thing!" and looked at Clara. Nothing but envy, I thought, could have prompted such a remark. We danced several times together, passing the intervals with Lady G--. During one happy interval Lady G was absent taking refreshments. "I have so much to say to you," said Clara. "What a pity the room is so crowded! and these stupid people have ears as long as their memories." So we whispered words of love, and our whispers were drowned in the hum of conventional ball-room conversation going on We poor mortals are much more the slaves of circumstances than we care to admit. Were we always masters of ourselves life would have no history, and novelists would have to follow some other profession. Had Paris but possessed self-control the siege of Troy would never have taken place, and old Homer might have died and been forgotten. Could Charles the First have cast away his pride and James the Second have overcome his love for the Jesuits, we might still be under the Stuarts. And if men and women would only look upon love as a mere matter of business-say, for instance, we are about equal in age, position, and fortune, so let us get married and live in a genteel neighbourhood," this old world would be a world of respectability; and as for happiness-what matters happiness if Mrs. Grundy is not shocked? We went down to supper. I sat between Clara and her chaperon. The former ate very little and drank less: good-tempered Lady G- partook of all the "delicacies of the season," coquetted with the sherry, flirted with the port, and made open love to the champagne. Of course silly old gentlemen got " upon their legs" (one of them found it difficult to remain so), and made idiotic speeches, which no one listened to except the reporter of the "W— Express and Weekly News." Of course we had to drink the healths of several uninteresting gentlemen, who returned thanks in the usual imbecile manner; and of course we toasted the Queen and Royal Family, as well as the Army, the Navy, and the Volunteers. Stupid young men clumsily pulled crackers, and silly young ladies blushed and giggled at perhaps the worst poetry that was ever written. Who are the "cracker" poets? Is it a paying branch of literature? If so, I must think about making friends with some fashionable pastrycook. After supper poor Lady G―― was taken ill. "One of my old headaches," she said. "I must go home; still, I don't like taking Clara away. She is enjoying the ball so much, poor dear!" But why "poor dear?" I offered to take charge of Clara, who seemed anything but disappointed with the arrangement. "You are kind," said Lady G——; “my carriage can return for her. And you must promise not to lose sight of her until she is safely in the carriage." Of course I promised; and Lady G-- went to alight and hurried me into the house, but not before I saw that the man on the box was not the one we engaged, but Lady G―'s coachman, who had taken his place. When I recovered my senses, I found myself alone in a handsomely-furnished library, the door of which was locked on the outside. home. I should have been surprised at such fierce-looking gentlemen more than helped me an arrangement, only so many strange things had happened that I was past being surprised at anything. Besides, was I not an old friend of her brother's? We danced everything, even the final galop; and the time passed so quickly, that the clock struck four when I thought it was about half-past one. Most of the people had gone, and Clara and I were standing on the top of the staircase. 66 Are you suddenly. certain you love me?" she asked, No necessity to give my answer. "O, I am so wretched at home!" exclaimed Clara. "Papa and my brother persecute me all day; they want me to marry that horrid Captain Everton. You have no idea how I hate that man." Easily. Get into a cab, drive to Lstation, and take the early train to London." And I foolishly consented. Clara retired to the ladies' dressing-room, and came back in what looked like travelling costume. A hat covered the pearls in her hair, and a long waterproof cloak completely concealed her ball dress. She seemed wonderfully self-possessed, and I was not sorry; for to tell the truth I was just a little nervous, and might have proposed abandoning the flight, only my moral courage was scarcely equal to the attempt. We entered a cab, and told the coachman to drive to Las fast as possible. It seemed an immense time before we started; but at last we were off, and then Clara seized me by the hand, murmuring something about being saved. But suppose they follow us!" she cried. 66 Why should they?" I asked. Don't you know? Lady G--'s coachman will inquire for me; somebody may tell him I have gone with you. How slowly the man drives!" Considering the state of the roads our cabman was driving very fast. It was a damp foggy night, and so dark, that I could not have told where we were going even had I known the country. "My heart beats so," said Clara.' we were safe in the train !" "Would Here was I eloping with a beautiful creature, perhaps an heiress, and yet I already repented; and would have given something to be once more alone at the" Crown." All of a sudden we stopped before a large white house. An elderly gentleman with white whiskers dashed open the door, and almost dragged Clara, who had fainted, from the carriage, and up the steps to the hall. Two Here was an adventure with a vengeance! What with the railway journey, the ale and pipes at the "Crown," the dancing, the champagne, and the strange drive, I felt fearfully sleepy; and was almost sleeping the sleep of the weary, when the elderly gentleman and his two fierce-looking friends entered the room and silently seated themselves. "I am too tired to say much," I began ; “but an explanation "We want no explanation, villain!" said White Whiskers. "That young lady you attempted to decoy away is my daughter." And my sister, wretch!" said Fierce Looks Number One. 66 "And my affianced bride, scoundrel!" said Fierce Looks Number Two. I was about to say that it was the young lady who had attempted to decoy me away, when it struck me that it would be very cowardly to throw the blame on poor Clara; so I was silent. "You have ruined my daughter's reputation," said the father. "Her attempted elopement will be the scandal of the town. Much as I hate you there is but one alternative; you shall not leave this house until she is your wife." "After what has happened I resign all claims," said the affianced husband. And you will have to marry a mad girl, Leonard Leigh," sneered the brother. Then I guessed the mystery, and explained all. Clara Debnam was Leonard's sweetheart. The long separation from her lover had brought on temporary insanity, and they sent her to the ball hoping that the change might have a beneficial effect upon her mind. There she took me for Leonard (we were alike then), and the rest can easily be guessed. And this is how it all ended: Leonard was sent for, and it was proposed to pass him off for the gentleman who appeared at the ball; and when Mr. Debnam found out the character of his future son-in-law, he was not so very much disappointed after all. Clara spent a month at a watering-place. The sea-air, but more likely the constant presence of Leonard, soon restored her mind; and the lovers were at last married, Clara believing that her friend at the ball was no other than Leonard Leigh himself. Of course I was never allowed to see Clara again; for had we met, the consequences would have been too terrible to describe. Still, it was too bad of Leonard Leigh, considering the share I had in bringing about his marriage, never to forgive me for the part I had played on the night of My Adventure. |