CHAP. X.

SIR John carried me one morning to call on Lady Denham, a dowager of fashion, who had grown old in the trammels of the world. Though she seems resolved to die in the harness, yet she piques herself on being very religious, and no one inveighs against infidelity or impiety with more pointed censure. "She has a grand-daughter," said Sir John, "who lives with her, and whom she has trained to walk precisely in her own steps, and which, she thinks, is the way she should go. The girl," added he, smiling, "is well look, ing, and will have a handsome fortune, and I am persuaded that, as my friend, I could procure you a good reception."

We were shown into her dressing-room, where we found her with a book lying open before her. From a glance which I caught of the large black letter, I saw it was a Week's Preparation. This book it seems constantly lay open before her from breakfast till dinner, at this season. It was Passion week. But as this is the room in which she sees all her morning visitors, to none of whom is she ever denied, even at this period of retreat, she could only pick up momentary snatches of reading in the short intervals between one person bowing out and another courtseying in. Miss Denham sat by, painting flowers.

Sir John asked her Ladyship if she would go and dine in a family way with Lady Belfield. She drew up, looked grave, and said, with much solemnity, that she should never think of dining abroad at this holy season. Sir John said, “As

we have neither cards nor company, I thought you might as well have eaten your chicken in my house as in your own." But though she thought it a sin to dine with a sober family, she made herself amends for the sacrifice, by letting us see that her heart was brimful of the world, pressed down and running over. She indemnified herself for her abstinence from its diversions, by indulging in the only pleasures which she thought compatible with the sanctity of the season, uncharitable gossip, and unbounded calumny. She would not touch a card for the world, but she played over to Sir John the whole game of the preceding Saturday night; told him by what a shameful inattention her partner had lost the odd trick; and that she should not have been beaten after all, had not her adversary, she verily believed, contrived to look over her hand.

Sir John seized the only minute in which we were alone, to ask her to add a guinea to a little sum he was collecting for a poor tradesman with a large family, who had been burnt out a few nights ago. "His wife," added he, "was your favourite maid Dixon, and both are deserving people.' "Ah, poor Dixon! she was always unlucky," replied the Lady. "How could they be so careless? Surely they might have put the fire out sooner. They should not have let it get ahead. I wonder people are not more active.""It is too late to inquire about that," said Sir John ; "the question now is, not how their loss might have been prevented, but how it may be repaired."" I am really quite sorry," said she, that I can give you nothing. I have had so many calls lately, that my charity-purse is completely

exhausted and that abominable Property-tax makes me quite a beggar."

While she was speaking, I glanced on the open leaf at, "Charge them that are rich in this world that they be ready to give ;" and directing my eye further, it fell on, "Be not deceived. God is not mocked." These were the awful passages which formed a part of her Preparation, and this was the practical use she made of them!

A dozen persons of both sexes "had their exits and their entrances" during our stay; for the scene was so strange, and the character so new to me, that I felt unwilling to stir. Among other visitors was Signor Squallini, a favourite opera singer, whom she patronized. Her face was lighted up with joy at sight of him.

He

brought her an admired new air, in which he was preparing himself, and sung a few notes, that she might say she had heard it the first. She felt all the dignity of the privilege, and extolled the air with all the phrases, cant, and rapture of dilet tanteism.

After this, she drew a paper from between the leaves of her still opened book, which she show. ed him. It contained a list of all the company she had engaged to attend his benefit. " I will call on some others,” said she, ❝ to-morrow after prayers; I am sorry this is a week in which I cannot see my friends at their assemblies, but on Sunday you know it will be over, and I shall have my house full in the evening. Next Monday will be Easter, and I shall be at our dear Duchess's private masquerade, and then I hope to see and engage the whole world. Here are ten guineas," said she in a half whisper to the obsequious Signor, "you may mention what I gave for my ticket,

She then

and it may set the fashion going." pressed a ticket on Sir John and another on me. He declined, saying with great sang froid, "You know we are Handelians." What excuse I made I do not well know; I only know that I saved my ten guineas with a very bad grace, but felt bound in conscience to add them to what I had before subscribed to poor Dixon.

Hitherto I had never seen the gnat-strainer, and the camel-swallower, so strikingly exemplified.And it is observable how forcibly the truth of Scripture is often illustrated by those who live in the boldest opposition to it. If you have any doubt while you are reading, go into the world, and your belief will be confirmed.

As we took our leave, she followed us to the door, I hoped it was with the guinea for the fire; but she only whispered Sir John, though he did not go himself, to prevail on such and such ladies to go to Squallini's benefit. "Pray do," said she, "it will be charity. Poor fellow! he is sadly out at elbows, he has a fine liberal spirit, and can hardly make his large income do."

When we got into the street we admired the splendid chariot and laced liveries of this indigent professor, for whom our charity had been just solicited, and whose "liberal spirit" my friend assured me, consisted in sumptuous living, and the indulgence of every fashionable vice.

I could not restrain my exclamations as soon as we got out of hearing. To Sir John the scene was amusing, but to him it had lost the interest of novelty. "I have known her ladyship about twelve years," said he," and of course have witnessed a dozen of these annual paroxysms of de

votion. I am persuaded that she is a gainer by them on her own principle, that is, in the article of pleasure. This short periodical abstinence whets her appetite to a keener relish for suspended enjoyment; and while she fasts from amusements, her blinded conscience enjoys a feast of self-gratulation. She feeds on the remembrance of her self-denial, even after she has returned to those delights which she thinks her retreat has fairly purchased. She considers religion as a system of pains and penalties, by the voluntary enduring of which, for a short time, she shall compound for all the indulgences of the year. She is persuaded that something must be annually forborne, in order to make her peace. After these periodical atonements, the Almighty being in her debt, will be obliged at last to pay her with heaven. This composition, which rather brings her in on the creditor side, not only quiets her conscience for the past, but enables her joyfully to enter on a new score."

I asked Sir John, how Lady Belfield could associate with a woman of a character so opposite to her own?" What can we do?" said he ; 66 we cannot be singular. We must conform a little to the world in which we live." Trusting to his extreme good nature, and fired at the scene to which I had been a witness, I ventured to observe that non-conformity to such a world as that of which this lady was a specimen, was the very cri. terion of the religion taught by Him who had declared by way of pre-eminent distinction, that "his kingdom was not of this world."

"You are a young man," answered he, mildly, "and this delicacy and these prejudices would soon wear off, if you were to live some time in