observation, that I ’must have a woman made on purpose for me,’ for I certainly do want to find one very different from most that I have yet seen.

“Travelling between London and Bath, I met my father’s old friend and college chum, Falkner, who finding I had no settled plans, persuaded me to take Bently’s hunting lodge, which is in the vicinity of his villa.  Falkner is a worthy good creature, whom I should give credit for a great deal of common sense, were he not so completely under the dominion of his wife, a perfect Xantippe; by the bye, I think, however wise he might be in some respects, that Master Socrates was a bit of a goose, particularly if, as history maintains, he did, he knew what a virago he was taking.  But, however deficient in her duty as a wife, Mrs. Falkner goes to the other extreme, and overacts her part as a mother; but I am very ungrateful in thus animadverting on her behaviour, for you must know, she has singled out your humble servant as a most especial favourite; and though she does not wish her girls married, takes right good care to let me know that she thinks the woman who gets me, will be lucky; and that, much as she would grieve to part from one of her daughters, yet, were an eligible chance to offer, she would throw no obstacles in the way.  I do verily believe she has discarded a little girl who taught her daughters music, solely for fear I should fall in love with her; and certainly, she is as far superior to the Misses Falkner as she well can be, both in attainments and personal attractions.  I am so afraid of coming to a hasty conclusion, but own myself greatly prepossessed in her favour.  She has been well and carefully brought up; I have watched her in church, and have marked an unaffected devotion, which I have seen carried to the sick and suffering poor around her.  She has lost both parents, and now by her talents, supports an orphan brother and sister.  The former, an intelligent interesting boy of thirteen, is a frequent companion of mine, and if I can, without wounding the delicacy of the sister, I trust to be of some future service to him.  I have, indirectly, and, perhaps, you will say, unfairly questioned the boy, and all tells in her favour; now, here it must be genuine.  Miss Willoughby plays and sings like a Syren; but then, so does many a pretty trifler.  Beauty and accomplishments are very well to pass an evening away; but in a companion for life, far more is required; much more than these must I find in a woman, ere I venture to ask her to be mine.  I am heartily tired of my present life; it is a lonely stupid way of living; living!  I don’t live, I merely vegetate!  I have no taste for dissipation; neither have I any great predilection for field sports.

“Miss Willoughby is, I think, far superior to the generality of her sex, but she shall never have an idea of my partiality, till I am thoroughly persuaded she can make me happy; for although she may