I admire Lord and Lady Allen.  I say, I admire them:  their manners are full of easy freedom, pleasing vivacity.—­I cannot admire all the world; I wish I could.—­Mr. and Mrs. Winter happen not to suit my taste;—­they are a kind of people who look down on every one of middle fortune;—­seem to despise ancestry,—­yet are always fond of mixing with the great.—­Their rise was too sudden;—­they jump’d into life all at once.—­Such quick transitions require great equality of mind;—­the blaze of splendor was too much for their weak eyes;—­the flare of surprise is still visible.

It was some time before the conversation became general.—­First, and ever to have precedence,—­the weather;—­next, roads;—­then houses,—­plantations,—­fashions,—­dress,—­equipage;—­and last of all, politics in a thread-bare coat.

About ten minutes before dinner, Lord Darcey joined us, dress’d most magnificently in a suit of olive velvet, embroider’d with gold;—­his hair without powder, which became him infinitely.—­He certainly appear’d to great advantage:—­how could it be otherwise, when in company with that tawdry, gilded piece of clay?—­And to sit by him, of all things!—­One would really think it had been designed:—­some exulted, some look’d mortified at the contrast.—­Poor Miss Winter’s seat began to grow very uneasy;—­she tried every corner, yet could not vary the light in which she saw the two opposites.—­Why did she frown on me?—­why cast such contemptuous glances every time I turn’d my eye towards her?—­Did I recommend the daubed coxcomb;—­or represent that her future joys depended on title?—­No! it was vanity, the love of grandeur,—­that could make her give up fine sense, fine accomplishments, a princely address, and all the noble requisites:—­yes, my Lady, such a one, Lord Darcey tells me, she has refused.—­Refused, for what?  For folly, a total ignorance in the polite arts, and a meaness of manners not to be express’d:  yet, I dare say, she thinks, the sweet sounds of my Lady, and your Ladyship is cheaply purchased by such a sacrifice.

When we moved to go into the dining-parlour, Miss Winter bow’d for me to follow Lady Allen and her mother; which after I had declined, Lady Powis took me by the hand, and said, smiling, No, Madam, Miss Warley is one of us.—­If so, my Lady—­and she swam out of the room with an air I shall never forget.

Lord Darcey took his place at table, next Lord Allen;—­I sat opposite, with Miss Winter on my right, and Lord Baily on my left.—­Sorry I was, to step between the Lovers; but ceremony required it; so I hope they do not hate me on that account.—­Lord Allen has a good deal of archness in his countenance, though not of the ill-natur’d kind.—­I don’t know how, but every time he look’d across the table I trembled; it seem’d a foreboding of what was to follow.

He admired the venison;—­said it was the best he had ever tasted from Sir James’s park;—­but declared he would challenge him next Monday, if all present would favour him with their company.—­Lady Allen seconded the request so warmly, that it was immediately assented to.—­