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'Answer for yourself, lady cousin,' said the squire, ‘I 'will have nothing to do with any of your lords. My daughter shall have an honest country gentleman; I have pitched upon one for her,—and she shall haʼ un. I am sorry for the trouble she hath given your ladyship with all my heart.' Lady Bellaston made a civil speech upon the word trouble; to which the squire answered, 'Why, that's kind, and I would do as 'much for your ladyship. To be sure relations should 'do for one another. So I wish your ladyship a good night.—Come, Madam, you must go along with me by 'fair means, or I'll have you carried down to the coach.'

Sophia said, she would attend him without force; but begged to go in a chair, for she said she should not be able to ride any other way.

'Prithee,' cries the squire, 'wout unt persuade me canst not ride in a coach, wouldst? That's a pretty thing surely. No, no, I'll never let thee out of my sight any more till art married, that I promise thee.' Sophia told him, she saw he was resolved to break her heart. O break thy heart and be d-n'd,' quoth he, 'if 'a good husband will break it. I don't value a brass varden, not a halfpenny, of any undutiful b— upon 'earth.' He then took violent hold of her hand; upon which the parson once more interfered, begging him to use gentle methods. At that the squire thundered out a curse, and bid the parson hold his tongue, saying, 'At'nt 'in pulpit now? when art a got up there I never mind 'what dost say; but I won't be priest-ridden, nor taught 'how to behave myself by thee. I wish your ladyship a good-night. Come along, Sophy; be a good girl, and 'all shall be well. Shat ha' un, d-n me, shat ha' un.' Mrs. Honour appeared below stairs, and with a low curtesy to the squire, offered to attend her mistress; but he pushed her away, saying, 'Hold, Madam, hold, you

เ come no more near my house.' 'And will you take my maid away from me?' said Sophia. Yes, indeed, Madam, will I,' cries the squire: 'you need not fear being without a servant; I will get you another maid, ' and a better maid than this, who, I'd lay five pounds to a crown, is no more a maid than my grannum. No, 'no, Sophy, she shall contrive no more escapes, I pro'mise you.' He then packed up his daughter and the parson into the hackney coach, after which he mounted himself, and ordered it to drive to his lodgings. In the way thither he suffered Sophia to be quiet, and entertained himself with reading a lecture to the parson on good manners, and a proper behaviour to his betters.

It is possible he might not so easily have carried off his daughter from Lady Bellaston, had that good lady desired to have detained her; but in reality, she was not a little pleased with the confinement into which Sophia was going; and as her project with Lord Fellamar had failed of success, she was well contented that other violent methods were now going to be used in favour of another man.

CHAPTER VI.

By what means the squire came to discover his daughter. THOUGH the reader, in many histories, is obliged to digest much more unaccountable appearances than this of Mr. Western, without any satisfaction at all; yet, as we dearly love to oblige him whenever it is in our power, we shall now proceed to shew by what method the squire discovered where his daughter was.

In the third chapter, then, of the preceding book, we gave a hint (for it is not our custom to unfold at any time more than is necessary for the occasion), that Mrs. Fitzpatrick, who was very desirous of reconciling her uncle and aunt Western, thought she had a probable opportunity, by the service of preserving Sophia from committing the same crime which had drawn on herself the anger of her family. After much deliberation, therefore, she resolved to inform her aunt Western where her cousin was, and accordingly she writ the following letter, which we shall give the reader at length, for more reasons than one.

'The occasion of my writing this will perhaps make 'a letter of mine agreeable to my dear aunt, for the sake ' of one of her nieces, though I have little reason to hope it will be so on the account of another.

'Without more apology, as I was coming to throw my unhappy self at your feet, I met, by the strangest acci'dent in the world, my cousin Sophy, whose history you are better acquainted with than myself, though, alas! 'I know infinitely too much; enough indeed to satisfy that unless she is immediately prevented, she is in danger of running into the same fatal mischief, which, 'by foolishly and ignorantly refusing your most wise 'and prudent advice, I have unfortunately brought on 'myself.

• me,

In short, I have seen the man, nay, I was most part 'of yesterday in his company, and a charming young 'fellow I promise you he is. By what accident he came 'acquainted with me is too tedious to tell you now; 'but I have this morning changed my lodgings to avoid 'him, lest he should by my means discover my cousin; for he doth not yet know where she is, and it is advis

'able he should not, till my uncle hath secured her.'No time therefore is to be lost; and I need only inform เ you, that she is now with Lady Bellaston, whom I have seen, and who hath, I find, a design of concealing her 'from her family. You know, Madam, she is a strange เ woman; but nothing could misbecome me more, than to presume to give any hint to one of your great understanding and great knowledge of the world, besides barely informing you of the matter of fact.

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'I hope, Madam, the care which I have shewn on this 'occasion for the good of my family will recommend me เ again to the favour of a lady who hath always exerted เ so much zeal for the honour and true interest of us all; ' and that it may be a means of restoring me to your friendship, which hath made so great a part of my former, and is so necessary to my future happiness.

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"With the utmost respect,

'Honoured Madam,

'Your most dutiful obliged niece,

'And most obedient

'Humble servant,

'HARRIET FITZPATRICK.'

Mrs. Western was now at her brother's house, where she had resided ever since the flight of Sophia, in order to administer comfort to the poor squire in his affliction. Of this comfort, which she doled out to him in daily portions, we have formerly given a specimen.

She was now standing with her back to the fire, and, with a pinch of snuff in her hand, was dealing forth this daily allowance of comfort to the squire, while he

smoked his afternoon pipe, when she received the above letter; which she had no sooner read than she delivered it to him, saying, 'There, Sir, there is an account of 'your lost sheep. Fortune hath again restored her to you, and if you will be governed by my advice, it is possible you may yet preserve her.'

The squire had no sooner read the letter than he leaped from his chair, threw his pipe into the fire, and gave a loud huzza for joy. He then summoned his servants, called for his boots, and ordered the Chevalier and several other horses to be saddled, and that Parson Supple should be immediately sent for. Having done this, he turned to his sister, caught her in his arms, and gave her a close embrace, saying, 'Zounds! you don't seem pleased; one would imagine you was sorry I have 'found the girl.'

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'Brother,' answered she, 'the deepest politicians, who see to the bottom, discover often a very different aspect 'of affairs, from what swims on the surface. It is true, indeed, things do look rather less desperate than they 'did formerly in Holland, when Lewis the Fourteenth was at the gates of Amsterdam; but there is a delicacy required in this matter, which you will pardon me, brother, if I suspect you want. There is a decorum 'to be used with a woman of figure, such as Lady Bellaston, brother, which requires a knowledge of the world superior, I am afraid, to yours.'

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'Sister,' cries the squire, 'I know you have no opinion my parts; but I'll shew you on this occasion who 'is a fool. Knowledge, quotha! I have not been in the country so long without having some knowledge of warrants and the law of the land. I know I may

'take my own wherever I can find it. Shew me my

own daughter, and if I don't know how to come at her, I'll suffer you to call me a fool as long as I live.