University of Virginia Library

April 5.—

My brother returned to us this day, thank God! in perfect

health. Never was there such an alteration seen in a man; he is grown fat, and looks quite robust. He dropped in upon us just as we sat down to dinner: what a clutter has his arrival made! My mother was so rejoiced, and so thankful, and so full of praises, and asked so many questions, that George could hardly find words enough to answer the over-flowings of her kind inquisitiveness, which lasted all the time of dinner.

When the cloth was removed, my mother proposed his taking up his abode with us: you see, said she, your sister and I have got here into a large house; there is full room enough in it for you and your servants; and as I think in such a town as this, it will be a reputable place for you to live in, I shall be glad of your company; provided you do not encroach upon my rules by unseasonable hours, or receiving visits from such as I may not approve of for the accquaintance of your sister. I was afraid Sir George would disrelish the terms, as perhaps some of his accquaintance (though far from faultey (?)

ones) might fall within my mothers' predicament: but I was mistaken, he accepted of the invitation, after making some slight apologies about the inconvenience of having so many servants: this however was soon got over.

To say the truth, I am very glad that my brother has consented to be our guests, as I hope by his means our circle of acquaintance will be a good deal enlarged. There is no pleasure in society, without a proper mixture of well-bred sensible people of both sexes, and I have hitherto been chiefly confined to those of my own.

I asked Sir George jocosely, what he had brought me home? He answered, Perhaps a good husband.—My mother catched up the word—What do you mean, son? I mean, madam, that there is come over with me a gentleman, with whom I became acquainted in Germany, and whom of all the men I ever knew, I should wish to have for a brother. If Sidney should fortunately be born under the influence of uncommonly good stars, it may happen to be brought about. I can tell you (applying

himself to me) he is prepossessed in your favour already; I have shewn him some of your letters, and he thinks you a good sensible girl. I told him you were very well in your person, and that you have had an excellent education. I hope so, said my mother, looking pleased; and what have you to tell us of this wonderful main that so much surpasses every body? Why, madam, for your part of his character, he is the best behaved young man I every saw. I never knew any body equal to him for sobriety, nor so intirely free from all the other vices of youth: as I lived in the same house with him for some months, I had frequent opportunities of making my observations. I have known him to avoid many irregularities, but never saw him guilty of one.

An admirable character indeed, said my mother. So thought I too; but I wanted to know a little more of him. Now, Sidney, for your share in the description, I must tell you he is most exquisitely handsome, and extremely sensible.

Good sense to be sure is requisite, said my

mother, but as for beauty it is but a fading flower at best, and in a man not at all necessary—.A man is not the worse for it, however, cried by brother—.No, my mother answered, provided it does not make him vain, and too fond of the admiration of giddy girls.—That I will be sworn is not the case of my friend, answered Sir George; I believe nobody with such a person as his (if there can be such another) would be so little vain of it; nay I have heard him declare, that even in a woman he would give the preference to sense and virtue.

Good young man! cried my mother. I should like to be acquainted with him. (So should I, whispered I to my own heart.)

Well, brother, said I, you have drawn a good picture; but to make it complete, you must throw in generosity, valour, sweetness of temper, and a great deal of money.—Fie, my dear (said my good literal parent) a great deal is not necessary; a very moderate fortune with such a man is sufficient!

The good qualities you require in the finishing of my piece, answered my brother, he possesses in an eminent degree, —will that satisfy you? As for his fortune, —there perhaps a difficulty may step in.—What estate, madam (to my mother) do you think my sister's fortune may intitle her to?

Dear brother, I cried, pray do not speak in that bargaining way.

My mother answered him very gravely, Your father you know left her but four thousand pounds; it is in my power to add a little to it, if she marries to please me. Great matters we have no right o expect; but a very good girl, as my daughter is, I think, deserves something more than a bare equivalent. The equality, said my brother (with a demure look) I fear is out of all proportion here, for the gentleman I speak of has but—six thousand pounds a year.

He burst out a laughing; it was not good-natured, and I was vexed at his joke. My poor mother dropped her countenance;

I look silly, as if I had been disappointed, but I said nothing.

Then he is above our reach, Sidney, answered my mother.

I made no reply.—Have a good heart, Sid, cried my brother, if my nonpariel likes you, when he sees you (I felt myself hurt, and grow red) and without a compliment, sister (seeing me look mortified) I think he will, fortune will be no objection. I have already told him the utmost extent of your expectations; he would hardly let me mention the subject; he has a mind for my sister, and if he finds personal accomplishments answer a brother's (perhaps partial) description, it will be your own fault if you have not the prettiest fellow in England for your husband.

My mother reassumed her pleased countenance. Where is he? Let us see him. I forced a smile, though I did not feel myself quite satisfied.—We parted on the road, my brother answered; he is gone to Bath for a few weeks; he has sent his servants and his baggage to town before

him, and has commissioned me to take a house for him in St. James's Square, or some of the adjacent streets; so that we shall have him in our neighborhood.

My mother enquired on what account he went to Bath. Sir George said, he complained of a weakness in one of his wrists, which was the consequence of a fever that had seized him on his journey in their return to England. It seems he had finished his travels, on which he had been absent near five years, when my brother and he met in Germany. The liking he took to Sir George protracted his stay, and he resolved not to quit him while his health obliged him to continue abroad; they took a trip to Paris together, and returned home by Holland.

The name of this piece of perfection is Faulkland, Orlando Faulkland. What a pretty name Orlando is; My mother says it is romantic, and wonders ho sober people can give their children such names.

Now I am dying with curiosity to see this man. A few weeks at Bath,—what

business had he to go to Bath till he had first settled his houshold at London? His wrist might have grown well without the pump. I am afraid he is gone to Bath only to shew himself, and that he will be snapped up before he comes to town. I wish Sir George had kept the account of him to himself, till he returned to London again.