the only door to happiness that ever was open to me. Tell me, in pity tell me, my dear Mary, that, though I have missed that portal of felicity, there is still another, less seductive, yet not to be slighted-that of content; and I will endeavour to reach it.

Lord Annandale has never demanded why I wept, why I was plunged in sadness, ever since he came to claim my hand. Had he questioned me, I might have been saved; for such a demand would have led to an avowal of my feelings. Now it is too late; and I

count the hours of freedom that still remain

to me, as one on the bed of death does those

of his fast-fleeting existence.

Never have I

thought of the dread hereafter so frequently, nor with so little alarm, as during the last few days. It no longer seems terrific to quit this fair earth, and the blue skies that canopy it, when one's fate is linked with that of a

being from whom separation would occasion no sorrow. No! it appears to me as if the rending of such chains would console me for bursting the chain of life. Think of-pity— and, above all, love, your

AUGUSTA.

THE MARQUESS OF NOTTINGHAM TO
EDWARD MORDAUNT, ESQ.

Delaward Park.

My friend Delaward is indeed a lucky man, my dear Mordaunt; for, he has chosen a woman whom it is impossible to see without admiring, or to know without esteeming. I never saw a ménage that presents so tempting an example to a Benedic to forswear his solitary state, as Delaward's. One soul, one mind,

seems to animate him and his lovely wife. Here is no disgusting display of the uxoriousness so often and indelicately protruded before friends, during the first months of wedded life, and as often followed by the indifference that succeeds unwisely indulged passions, leading to their inevitable result-satiety. No! perfect confidence, warm admiration, profound respect, and boundless content, reign between this happy couple, and bid fair to continue while they live. Lady Delaward is at once the most dignified and simple-mannered of her sex; one, before whom no man could utter a light word, or breathe an unholy thought. An atmosphere of pure and elevated sentiment seems to environ her; and all who approach are influenced by it. There is nothing chilling or repelling in her demeanour; for, though she has all the dignity of a matron, she has all the gentleness of a

child but, there is an indescribable charm around her, that precludes the entrance of the vulgar and commonplace topics with which we entertain the generality of her sex; or rather, to speak more accurately, the fashionable portion of it.

To tell Lady Delaward any one of the piquant anecdotes, or histoires à double entente, that are daily related to the women of our coterie in London, would require an impudence that not even A possesses; though he, Heaven knows, is no pauper in that social bronze which, like the famed Corinthian brass, contains all the elements of durity, additionally hardened and consolidated by the fierce fires to which it has been subjected. I worship that native purity which innocence alone can give, and which shines forth in every look, word, and action, of Lady Delaward; while I turn with disgust from

that affected prudery, arising, if not from a participation, at least from a knowledge of evil, which induces certain of our ladies to cast down their eyes, look grave, and shew the extent of their knowledge, or the pruriency of their imaginations, by discovering even in a harmless jest something to alarm their experienced feelings. I respect that woman, whose innate purity prevents those around her from uttering aught that could wound it, much more than her whose sensitive prudery continually reminds one that she is au fait of every possible interpretation of which a word of doubtful meaning admits.

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And Lady Delaward, this "chaste and fair," but not inexpressive she-for she talks as angels might be imagined to talk—is the friend of Lady Annandale, and loves her as a younger sister. Nothing is more captivating to me than a cordial affection between two