than Adelaide, but that I question the utility of endeavouring to snatch her from the evil to come. She has no strength of character: her mind is a mere machine, ready and willing to be worked upon by the arts of any juggler who can produce a certificate of skill in the only science respected by a world holding all things in abhorrence that do not present themselves clad in the trappings of rank and fortune.

If Adelaide were saved from falling into the hands of one profligate coxcomb, she would quickly throw herself into the arms of another. Crayton is not a designing man, and that is the only redeeming circumstance that I can see in his character-if the word character have any meaning when applied to a person who has

none.

Say to my mother that, as a point of duty, I shall obey her mandate, and as soon as I am legally empowered to act, will do any thing to assist her which can be done without injuring a property too heavily burthened already. But, dear Louisa, you must prepare her, Adelaide, and yourself for my absence at the marriage ce

remony: I cannot perform the part assigned to me. My mind revolts from participating in a trick, and I will never sanction the fraud by becoming a witness. I warn you of the evil, and I can do no more. We are totally unacquainted with my uncle, who may never give us a shilling, who may dislike when he is acquainted with his relations, and either marry, adopt a stranger for his heir, or leave his wealth to public charities. In short, we know nothing about him, and if it should turn out that the golden dreams with which my mother has dazzled the imagination of a man who has wasted his patrimony, and involved himself almost in ruin, melt in empty air, what consequences may not be anticipated? I turn with horror from the perspective, and dare not tell you all my fears! Crayton has an uncle too, and one from whom he expects the fortune, upon a reversionary hope of which, he has, to my knowledge, been trading for a long time past to supply the exigencies of the gambling table, to which he is obstinately addicted; and the pale face which you visited on a double dole of Burgundy, was probably

attributable to a loss at play which, under existing circumstances, it would not be pleasant to reveal.

I have now said enough to put my mother and Adelaide on their guard. A little candour would easily bring the matter to a conclusion, and prevent the mischief which is likely to ensue; but it rests with them to determine. I am not asked to advise, and do not say that I am qualified to act as counsel for any one. I trust, however, that I may be forgiven for this unsolicited interference, on the score of brotherly feelings, which shrink from the projected alliance, splendid as it appears.

Louisa, should the day arrive, in which you become acquainted with the Douglas family, I am not without hope of your proselytism. What joy it would give me to see you like these charming girls, and I am the more impatient that it should be so, because you have all the materials which might promise a rich harvest, were they but used to advantage. I would stake more than I shall ever be worth, that you

will delight in the society of our aunt and cousins, if you are ever introduced to them.

Say all that is affectionate to my mother and Adelaide, and add, that I give them present pain, to avoid for them a severer future pang. Adieu. Your affectionate,

ARTHUR HOWARD.

LETTER XVIII.

ARTHUR HOWARD TO CHARLES FALKLAND.

My dear Falkland,

I COMMENCE my Killarney advices on the first evening of my arrival there, or I should despair of sending you the promised packet on my return to Glenalta. We reached our inn in gay spirits, having come over bad and good roads alternately, and through a barren wild looking country; but a party, composed of such agreeable ingredients, and affording so much variety as ours did, is very independent of external scenery. If beautiful, it affords an additional source of pleasure, and one topic more for occasional comment; if otherwise, one can do without it: the latter was our case. Having once exclaimed, How desolate! we thought no more about the grievance of an ugly country,