Scarce was I seated, before the old Dowager asked me, if her daughter had not made great alterations in the little time she had been at the Castle.

Alterations, Madam!  I reply’d;—­upon my honour, they are so visible, no person can avoid being struck with them.—­How could your father and mother, Sir Harry, bear to live in such an wood? looking and speaking disdainfully.—­He smiled obsequious—­hemm’d—­trembled, and was silent.—­I hope, continued she, not to see a tree remaining near this house before the next summer.—­We want much, Mr. Molesworth, turning to me with quite a different look and voice, to have the pleasure-ground laid out:—­but really her Ladyship has had so much to set in order within doors, that it has taken off her attention a good deal from what is necessary to be done without.—­However, Sir, you shall see our design; so, my dear, speaking to her daughter, let Sir Harry fetch the plan.

It is in my closet, returned her Ladyship, and I don’t chuse to send him there;—­but I’ll ring for Sally.

I had like that moment to have vow’d a life of celibacy—­I saw him redden;—­how could he avoid it, if one spark of manhood remain’d?

The indignation I felt threw such a mist before my eyes, that when the plan was laid on the table, I could scarce distinguish temples from clumps of shrubs, or Chinese seats from green slopes.—­Yet this reptile of a husband could look over my shoulder, hear the opinion of every one present, without daring to give his own.

I was more out of patience at dinner.—­Bless me, says her Ladyship, how aukward you are when I bid you cut up any thing!—­the mother and daughter echoing, Never was there such a carver as Sir Harry!—­Well, I vow, cry’d the latter, it is a strange thing you will not remember, so often as I have told you, to lay the meat handsome in the dish.

Good God! thought I, can this man live out half his days?—­And, faith, if I had not drank five bumpers of Madeira, I could not have stood the sight of his fearful countenance.

He perceived I was distress’d, and whisper’d me as I mounted my horse,—­You see how it is, Molesworth; breeding women must not be contradicted.—­

I do, I do see how it is, return’d I; and could not for my soul forbear saying, I shall rejoice to hear of a delivery.

This is the day when the important affairs of the m——­y are to be settled; the papers will inform you; but can a man in love have any relish for politics?—­Pray, divest yourself of that plague, when you attend the house.—­I should drop to hear you say you espouse this or that cause, for the love of Miss Warley, instead of your country.

Next Friday!—­Well, I long to see you after a dreadful, dreadful absence of eight days.—­There is something confounded ridiculous in all this stuff; nor can I scarce credit that man should pine, fret, and make himself unhappy, because he is loosed from the apron-strings of his Phillida for a few days.—­I see you shrug;—­but my fate is not dependent on your prognostications.—­Was it so, I know where I should be,—­down amongst the dead men;—­down amongst the dead men.—­