his experienced friend Morton introduced him, and in which such topics were eagerly entertained.

A week before he left London, he paid a farewell visit to Mrs. Lamley, the centre of that literary circle of which Morton had become a member by assuming the verses of Mr. Campbell as his own. Eustace was not a frequent guest there, for he had a sincere respect for the female character; and, whatever pleasure it might afford Morton to meet ladies in pea-green gowns, who knew what books every man, woman, and child in the empire had written, and with whom they published to witness what dowdies smirked when the "Woman of Ton" was mentioned, and which blushed blue at any allusion to the "Woman of Fashion"-to converse with awkward girls, absolutely yellow with verse writing, who said they detested literature, and cared for nothing (the saints befriend their partners!) but dancing—to hear the solemn jokes which passed between authors and authoresses; Mr. Thompson, with a mouth squeezed into the most exquisite simper, declaring himself quite at a loss to understand what Miss Wilkinson could mean ; Miss Wilkinson, with a mouth dilated into the most alarming grin, having no idea what Mr. Thompson could mean-to see some older damsels who flavoured their conversation high enough

and

to suit the taste of any Austrian baron,-it caused our hero little else but disgust. He soon determined that he should be very sorry if any in this circle embraced his opinions, and therefore confined himself to their own topics, upon which he talked so ignorantly that he was voted utterly stupid by the whole body, and I believe was only tolerated in consequence of the respect universally felt for his friend. But this evening he received more attention; a circumstance for which he was puzzled to account. At last it was explained. He was conversing with Miss Wilkinson on Mr. Martin's Pandemonium; a subject which she said interested her extremely, because a friend of hers had written a poem in twelve cantos, to illustrate another picture of the same artist,— when she said suddenly, " Mr. Conway, your aunt must be a very extraordinary woman." My aunt, Miss Vyvyan, of Grosvenor Place? She is a very kind, good woman," said Eustace, "but not extraordinary, that I know of." "She does not come up to Mr. Conway's notion of extraordinary, I dare say," said the lady, "but a vulgar person like me may perhaps be allowed to call her so." "What is her distinction?" inquired

our hero.

"Why, I am one of those persons, Mr. Conway, who think it no disgrace to have written such book as 'Tremaine.' “There I

a

"Or

"I

have the pleasure of agreeing with you." 'Pelham,' said the lady. "I was not aware that any one considered it a disgrace," said Eustace. "Then I should think, Mr. Conway, that a person who assisted in the composition of such works may be fairly called extraordinary." "Is that the case with my aunt?" said Eustace, laughing. "Is it not?" exclaimed the lady, indignantly. "I never heard her mention it." declare I will never believe Mr. Morton again,' replied Miss Wilkinson; "for I begged his mother to introduce me to Miss Vyvyan, because he solemnly assured me that she supplied the religion to' Tremaine,' and the philosophy to 'Pelham."" "I am afraid my aunt has no claims on the honour of Miss Wilkinson's acquaintance," said our hero, walking away.

The next day he was at Lady Wharton's, a person of great celebrity in the religious fashionable world; at whose parties also Morton contrived to be a constant guest. If Eustace did not greatly prefer her circle to Mrs. Lamley's, he disliked it for very different reasons. In it there was no deficiency of graceful matrons and fair misses; he occasionally conversed with individuals who pleased him greatly; and though his opinions shocked them far more than the literary ladies, Morton assured him that he, as well as himself,

was considered a very interesting young man. His objections to it lay deeper, and I am not certain that he knew what they were himself. He fancied that it did not distress him at all to find doctrines which he disbelieved, declared to be allimportant; and that what really grieved him was, to see the most sacred questions turned into chat -truths that belong to the inmost soul brought out in raree-show-meditations got up at the shortest notice-drawing-rooms made densely populous in order to exclude the spirit of the world--ladies and gentlemen cultivating each other's humility by the most fulsome flatteries. Herein, I apprehend, he was mistaken; he disliked these people primarily on account of their sentiments, their inconsistencies were an afterthought.

He believed however, and with reason, that Lady Wharton and her friends would be particularly disagreeable to his sister, and he always hoped that her religious feelings might not tempt her into a set in which they, more than all her other feelings, would be outraged. He was somewhat alarmed therefore this evening, when his hostess asked him in a very kind manner if Miss Conway had absolutely declined all society.

My sister does not go out much," he replied. "I am aware of it, and I would not on any

account tempt her to violate a conscientious principle; but a person who has mixed so much in the gay world as she has, will, ere long, I know it by experience, find absolute solitude too much

to bear."

66

Honoria has not mixed at all in the gay world," said Eustace, “and I am not aware that she confines herself to solitude."

"Not mixed in the world!" exclaimed Lady Wharton.

"Not that I know of."

"And she does not shut herself

"I believe not."

up now?"

"Dear! how strange!-Mr. Morton told me that her retirement from the world had made a tremendous sensation, and that now she sits in her room all the day long, with only (so he expressed it, in his naughty way,) a crust of dry bread, and one of Mr. Simeon's Skeleton Sermons.'

Eustace might have attributed either of these practical jokes to his friend's love of quizzing, but two such elaborate inventions he thought must have an object. Morton had often told him that he found his friends in the coteries serviceable in a thousand ways; and the advantage of bringing a young lady into society with which she was not familiar, and where he would constantly make himself useful to her, were evident. The suspicion,