what is more difficult, to conceal defects where nature had been less kind. Who has not gazed with regret on some lovely picture, where the classical beauty of the form and features, instead of being relieved by a simple and elegant drapery, have been deformed by a corsage cut and slashed in all the colors of the rainbow and decked with a profusion of vulgar ornaments.

Thus looked the worthy Mrs. Gresham on the young and graceful form of her mistress when under the hands of the experienced Roget. There was no innovation on her ideas of beauty that called forth more serious indignation than the cheveu crêpé which in the bitterness of her heart she ventured to say had been invented by some Parisian belle, who (unlike Wordsworth's Highland Girl, of whom he says, "time has not thinned thy flowing hair,") finding her temples less luxuriantly shaded than in former years, had no resource but in the chevelure crêpé, or a wig. It had been her delight, in days of yore, to arrange her lady's rich golden curls, which long after her emancipation from the nursery were allowed to fall in graceful negligence on her fair shoulders. It was not, therefore, to be wondered at, when she saw the head of her ladyship in the hands of her new femme de chambre, if she thought of Samson under the ruthless scissors of Delilah; but fashion is a Delilah which even the amiable and strong-minded Countess of Dudley could not resist, and the work of destruction went on. After the first violent exacerbations of feeling was over, Mrs. Gresham contented herself, while her lady was undergoing the above-mentioned operation, with relating how the luxuriant tresses of her ladyship's grandmother when untied had formed a thick mantle which reached almost to the ground, and directing her attention to a beautifully plated watch-guard, clasped with gold, to which was attached his lordship's hunting-watch. When the discourse reached this climax, Mademoiselle Roget smiled a supercilious smile. She was on terms of intimacy with his lordship's gentleman, and had a different version of the origin of the ornament which Mrs. Gresham had so unceremoniously affirmed to have formed part of the chevelure of her ladyship's noble mother-in-law. According to his account, William, second Earl of Dudley, took much delight in the pleasures of the turf, and when not engaged in attendance on his sovereign spent more of his time at Newmarket than in the boudoir of his Countess. It need not, therefore, be matter of surprise, if part of the silken mane of his favorite hunter, having passed through the hands of a cunning workman, had attained the high distinction of decorating his lordship's person when engaged in the sports of the field. But whether Mrs. Gresham or the gentleman of the chamber was right, must, it is to be feared, remain a matter of doubt, though it is but justice to the latter to state that not fewer than three beautiful engravings representing this four-legged favorite adorned the walls of his lordship's private apartments. Fortunately for Mrs. Gresham, her rival's influence over her lady did not extend farther than the outside of her head, her judgment was too strong to be influenced by her wily femme de chambre's remarks on the good woman's boring propensities.

Mrs. Gresham was soon, however, to be released from the life of inglorious ease which she led since her ladyship's marriage; and, invested with the dignity of headnurse to the infant Lady Susan, she floated through the splendid apartments in all the

glory of brown poplin and Valenciennes lace. Her temper became smooth as oil, and even Roget was allowed to frizzle, and chatter and flirt unmolested with his Lordship's gentleman.'

But this happy state of affairs was destined to be of short duration, and ere two years had elapsed, the Countess was a widow and childless. If Mrs. Gresham had been useful and valuable to her noble mistress in the full tide of prosperity, she was doubly so in the season of adversity, and when the dark cloud of sorrow threatened almost to overshadow her, the faithful servant would watch the faint spark of returning reason; and, by reading the cheering words of the gospel, and directing her attention to active works of charity fan it again into life. Mrs. Gresham has been thus particularly introduced to the reader, because, next to her noble patroness, she was the being destined to influence the formation of the little stranger's character. Reader! have you ever voyaged in a steam boat? If so, you would find an excuse for my not entering into the details of the short period which elapsed between the removal of the little Louisa from under the protection of her kind friends in the north and her arrival in Langham place. And if you have not, my reminiscences might fail to excite your sympathy; for who that has seen the steam packets chasing each other in quick succession on the broad bosom of the Thames, with their bands of music and gay groups of passengers, could guess the misery and confusion which reign below after the lapse of a few brief hours from the period of their starting.

There are, indeed, a few choice spirits who, amid the general bouleversement, can luxuriate on roast beef and Guienness' genuine bottled stout, but, fortunately for the finances of the Steam Navigation Companies, these instances are rare, and the greater number of those who go forth in the morning, rejoicing in good health and a good appetite, are, before the dinner bell rings, prostrated in "green and yellow melancholy" on their hard, narrow couches. But, whatever Mrs. Gresham and her charge may have suffered during their voyage, the beauty of the child never shone more conspicuous than when, conducted to the splendid drawing room in Langham Place, she received the first embrace of her future patroness.

Lady Dudley expected to be pleased with the child, for Mrs. Gresham had written at her desire immediately on her arrival at the parsonage, giving a minute description of the orphan. But neither the old lady's description nor her own imagination had done justice to the grace and loveliness of the chosen protégée. The countess, in the fulness of her joy, determined that no expense should be spared in the education of her adopted charge, and having cautioned Mrs. Gresham not to give the slightest information on the subject of her birth, she desired that she should be introduced to her household by the name of Villiars, her own name before she became the wife of the Earl of Dudley.

It not being intended to fatigue the reader by following the young heroine through her nursery and schoolroom days, the next fourteen years of her life will be briefly passed over, which were spent in the acquirement of all those accomplishments which in this enlightened age are pursued, though with such different results, by all young ladies of rank and fortune.

CHAPTER III.

"That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter
Is most true. True I have married her." Othello.

SUSAN, Countess of Dudley, was the only surviving daughter of the Earl of Somerville, who had been one of the favourite ministers who composed the cabinet of George the third, but, since the death of that monarch, infirm health, caused by over excitement in his ministerial capacity had induced him to retire from public life, and except an annual visit which he had paid to his daughter since her widowhood, he lived in almost uninterrupted retirement at the seat of his ancestors, in the county of Warwick.

The earl was a younger brother, but nature had made some compensation for this disadvantage by endowing him with diplomatic talents of the highest order, and his deficiency on the score of fortune had been remedied by his prudent father, who negociated a marriage for him with the daughter of Sir Peter Fairfax, one of the richest commoners in England.

The young scion of nobility was by nature proud, sensitive and irascible, and even the extreme beauty and rich dowry of his bride could not entirely reconcile him to this roturier connection. But wealth, beauty and parental authority triumphed, and the Morning Post soon announced the marriage of the rich heiress of Sir Peter Fairfax with the Honorable George Villiars, second son of the Earl of Somerville. The father of the fair girl, thus coldly admitted within the magic circle of aristocracy had amassed his immense fortune by his own industry. He had accumulated a large sum of money by exercising the trade of a gun maker, and when the war broke out which banished Napoleon and restored the Bourbons to the throne of France, he made a contract with government to supply the army with fire-arms, which filled his coffers with gold enough to buy a peerage. But Peter Fairfax had no ambition beyond that of obtaining the highest civic honors in his native city. This object he had little difficulty in attaining, and when, as a reward for his zeal in the service of government during his mayoralty, the honor of knighthood was conferred on him, the ci-devant artizan of Saint-Mary-Axe considered himself the greatest man in England, next to the prime minister.

Had the rich old knight been the only person alive with whom his lady claimed kindred, the honorable George Villiars might have borne his degradation with some degree of philosophy, but alas! Sir Peter's genealogical tree was putting forth fresh blossoms, and the name of Fairfax was well known in the land of Cockaigne. The only branch however of her family with which the honorable Mrs. Villiars was permitted to have any intercourse, was the widow and children of her only brother. This Peter the second pursued the business which his father had found so luerative, but not' with equal success: he was a young man of weak constitution and dissolute habits, and Sir Peter began to discover that wealth and civic honors could not shield him from domestic vexations. It was, therefore, a relief to the old man when his son informed him that he had been paying his addresses to Miss Hobbs, the only daughter and heiress of Mr. Alderman Hobbs, and that her Father was inclined to

come down handsomely, provided Sir Peter would make a suitable settlement on his son.

Miss Anna Matilda Hobbs was certainly not the person whom Sir Peter would have chosen to transmit his honestly acquired wealth to posterity; her father was a plain honest citizen, and as he held the office of lord mayor in the highest veneration, was a man according to Sir Peter's own heart; but the alderman had his weak points: and, reader! what alderman has not? The weak point of an alderman is generally supposed to be an undue love for the flesh pots of the Mansion House; but our alderman's weakness was of a more refined character. It was his love, almost bordering on idolatry, for his fat, dumpy, good-natured daughter, Anna Matilda. After the death of her mother, which happened while she was yet an infant, the little girl had been allowed to follow her own devices, and when his female acquaintances hinted to the alderman that the child would be ruined, if left entirely to servants who knew that the slightest opposition to her will would cause their dismissal, he began seriously to consider what was to be done to check what he called 'the little youthful effervescences of his future heiress.'

A boarding school was accordingly the first thing which presented itself to his mind; but that would deprive him of the society of his child, and after a morning spent in all the turmoil of a shop, what had he to cheer him but the tricks and sallies of his Anna Matilda.

The idea of the boarding school was accordingly dismissed, and throwing himself into his patent reclining chair, he turned for relief to the columns of 'The Times.' An advertisement met his eye which appeared à propos to his dilemma.

A lady wished to be received into a family where there was but one pupil. She was capable of giving instruction in the French, Italian, German, and Spanish languages, and drawing in all its branches; she was mistress of the pianoforte, harp and guitar, and would not object to teach writing, geography, arithmetic, and other inferior branches of education if required. Salary £50 per annum, washing included; and the family of a widower preferred. The alderman threw down the paper with a triumphant 'when'! He thought X. Y. Z. had been made on purpose for him, and ringing for pen, ink and paper, he determined (to use his own phrase) to strike while the iron was hot. Having dispatched a note to X. Y. Z. he sat down again to read the advertisement more at leisure, fearful that in the first flush of excitement he might have made some mistake.

"the family

Having satisfied himself that all was right, and dwelt on the phrase of a widower preferred," he began to moralize on the signs of the times. Mr. Hobbs, though a correct accountant and a shrewd man of business, was by no means a literary character. He had been so engrossed in making money that he used to boast that he had never read but two books from beginning to end; one was Jack the Giant-killer, which he had carefully perused and digested before mammon took possession of him; the other a pamphlet, "The March of Intellect," which had been warmly recommended to him forty years afterwards, at a turtle feast given by his friend Mr. Deputy Perkins.

No wonder, then, that on reading the advertisement in The Times,' a certain

sympathy was excited in his mind between " The March of Intellect" and the mighty feats of the redoubtable Jack; and when he thought of the epitome of learning which he could command for a year, for a sum less than he sometimes put into his till in half an hour, he could not help thinking that Jack with his seven league boots was a prototype of the March of Intellect.

"X. Y. Z.,” alias Miss Fox (having dropped her incognito, on her first personal interview with the alderman), readily agreed to undertake the education of the heiress, and in due time she was settled in a suite of apartments in Leadenhall-street. This arrangement completed, Mr. Hobbs felt more easy on his child's account, but he feared that his parental anxiety had given the death blow to his domestic peace. Though an affectionate husband and fond father, he was by no means a lover of the sex in general; he therefore regarded Miss Fox as a sort of necessary evil, and determined to use every lawful means for his own protection. Accordingly, he gave orders that books, globes, drawing materials, and every thing connected with the business of the school-room should be elevated to the third floor; yet he could not bring himself to sit down to table uncheered by the smiles of his Anna Matilda, and of course Anna Matilda could not be separated from her governess at dinner, for, strange as it may appear, this was frequently the time that the young lady selected for her most violent explosions of mirth and frolic. Time, however, soon began to show its soothing effects on the alderman's uneasiness, and, as day after day the starched, frenchified, automaton figure of Miss Fox glided into her chair, the nerves and digestive powers of the sufferer began to resume their wonted happy tone, and it was only when he encountered her unawares that he wiped his forehead with his yellow silk handkerchief and felt nervous.

How "The March of Intellect" proceeded on the third floor, Mr. Hobbs neither knew nor to say the truth much cared. He saw that his child's manners were improved, for she neither pulled off his wig at dinner time, nor made faces at the footman, and as to her studies, he feared to enquire too minutely into the nature of them, lest Miss Fox should discover how shallow had been his own draught at the Pierian Spring.

Years passed on, and the governess at last announced that she had finished her pupil. The alderman was again in a quandary, and again was he relieved from his dilemma by Miss Fox. Though that lady had finished her pupil, she had no intention of parting so soon with Mr. Hobbs. She, therefore, hinted to him in the most delicate manner that, though Miss Hobbs' education was finished, as she had no female relative of a certain age to reside with her, the society of a lady, qualified to act as a companion and chaperon, would be absolutely necessary.

It is almost needless to add that Miss Fox was finally prevailed upon, by the offer of a handsome increase of salary, to remain with the heiress. But the time had now come when the mysteries of the third floor were to be revealed to the world in the person of Miss Hobbs.

In stature, the young lady was considerably below the middle size, but what she