which he was exhibiting to his French friends, whose horsemanship is different from ours, and who were surprised to see him ride so fearlessly over gates and other impediments. They continued their airing in the park of Villebrun, and turned round to a kind of haha, which was both deep and wide, and about half full of water, by the side of which they saw a party of ladies standing, and me among the rest. Frank was with us. "One of the gentlemen asked whether the horse could leap over the haha, to which Clifton made no answer, but immediately clapped spurs to his hunter, and over he flew. The whole company, gentlemen and ladies, broke out into exclamations of surprise; and Clifton turned his horse's head round, and regained his former place. "While they were wondering, Frank Henley happened to make it a matter of doubt whether a man or a horse could leap the farthest; and Clifton, continually in the habit of contending with Frank, said it was ridiculous to start such an argument, unless he would first show that he himself could make the same leap. Frank, piqued in his turn, retired a few yards; and, without pulling off his coat or deigning to leap, he made a short run and a hop, and sprung over. "You may imagine that the kind good folks, who loved to be astonished, and still more to tell the greatness of their astonishment, were manifold in their interjections. Frank, in order to rejoin the company, was obliged a second time to cross the haha, which he did with the same safety and truly amazing agility as he had done before. "Clifton, indulging his wrong habits, though I have no doubt admiring Frank as much as the rest, told him in a kind of sarcastic banter that, though he could not prove the equality of mankind, he had at least proved himself equal to a horse, to which Frank replied he was mistaken, for that he had shown himself equal to the horse and rider." Frank, of course, always gets the best of it, and eventually wins for a bride the high-born Anna St. Ives. The feud between Clifton and Frank Henley is checked by Frank saving Coke's life-a position very similar to one in Mr. D'Israeli's celebrated novel, where the patrician and Etonians fight it out in so ingenious and interesting a manner. Let us take leave of Holcroft and his fervid humanitarianisms with that beautiful ballad of his, which has been chanted in every roadside of all England, along which wretchedness has passed. Ho! Why dost thou shiver and shake, And why doth thy nose look so blue? "Tis I'm grown very old, And my doublet is not very new, Then line thy worn doublet with ale, And warm thy old heart with a glass. 'Nay, but credit I've none; And my money's all gone; Then say how may that come to pass? Hie away to the house on the brow, And knock at the jolly priest's door. But ne'er gives a mite to the poor, The lawyer lives under the hill, Gaffar Gray; Warmly fenced both in back and in front. 'He will fasten his locks And will threaten the stocks, Should he evermore find me in want, Well-a-day!' CHAPTER XVI. CHARLOTTE SMITH. CHARLOTTE SMITH has more than one claim upon our affections. She was unquestionably a woman of genius, her life was an unhappy one, and she evinced no ordinary courage in the determination with which she faced the difficulties which visited her as a wife and a mother. She was the eldest daughter of Nicholas Turner, Esq., of Stoke House, in Surrey (afterwards the seat of Akenside's patron, Jeremiah Dyson) and of Bignor Park, in Sussex. She was born in King-Street, St. James's Square, on the 4th of May, 1749; and several of her early years were spent at Bignor Park, on the banks of the Arun, which river she addressed in several sonnets, of which the following, though not the best, comprehends the most points of interest. "Be the proud Thames, of trade the busy mart! Dear to the lover's and the mourner's heart, Thy banks romantic hopeless love shall seek, Where o'er the rocks the mantling bind-with flaunts; And sorrow's drooping form, and faded cheek, Choose on thy willowed shore her lovely haunts! Bright as its waves, and various as its way!" As a child the little Charlotte was alike remarkable for her beauty and extraordinary cleverness. Before her tenth year she was a poetess, displayed a correct taste for music, had great talent for drawing, and was never so happy as when she was reading. She was taken from school at twelve years of age, and for some time was the pet and constant companion of her widowed father, who was an accomplished, but frivolous, man of fashion. She was still a child when misfortune approached her. In 1764, her father determined on marrying again, and a busybody of an aunt, who had nominally had the education of the child, determined that her darling pupil should never feel the stern control of a step-mother, but should rather taste the tyranny of a husband. Mr. Turner, engrossed with anticipations of happiness from his second wedding, dismissed all care for his child from his thoughts, and offered no opposition to the plans of the scheming aunt. That sagacious lady fixed on a young man, just twenty-one years of age, the second son of one Richard Smith, a West India merchant, and Director of the East India Company, and so unfortunately successful were her efforts that Miss Charlotte Smith was engaged to the young merchant, when she was only fourteen years old, and was married to him on the 23rd of February, 1765. The story of her married life was a sad one-all the more so from its difficulties having been made over and over again objects of ridicule on the stage. The child-wife was taken from the fresh and lively quarter of St. James's, to a dark and dirty lane in the City, Mr. Smith's place of business. The old man was not a bad fellow for a nabob of those times, but it never struck him that the apartments over his warehouse did not constitute a fit residence for a young bride of aristocratic education and pretensions. He had a rough petulant manner, and felt it his duty to keep his son's "grand little lady" in order, and teach her that she was not to give herself any airs. He was very rude to her 1 |