Our party, on the 5th of November, passed off very well, in spiteof Mrs. Graham's refusal to grace it with her presence. Indeed, itis probable that, had she been there, there would have been lesscordiality, freedom, and frolic amongst us than there was withouther.

My mother, as usual, was cheerful and chatty, full of activity andgood-nature, and only faulty in being too anxious to make herguests happy, thereby forcing several of them to do what their soulabhorred in the way of eating or drinking, sitting opposite theblazing fire, or talking when they would be silent. Nevertheless,they bore it very well, being all in their holiday humours.

Mr. Millward was mighty in important dogmas and sententious jokes,pompous anecdotes and oracular discourses, dealt out for theedification of the whole assembly in general, and of the admiringMrs. Markham, the polite Mr. Lawrence, the sedate Mary Millward,the quiet Richard Wilson, and the matter-of-fact Robert inparticular, - as being the most attentive listeners.

Mrs. Wilson was more brilliant than ever, with her budgets of freshnews and old scandal, strung together with trivial questions andremarks, and oft-repeated observations, uttered apparently for thesole purpose of denying a moment's rest to her inexhaustible organsof speech. She had brought her knitting with her, and it seemed asif her tongue had laid a wager with her fingers, to outdo them inswift and ceaseless motion.

Her daughter Jane was, of course, as graceful and elegant, as wittyand seductive, as she could possibly manage to be; for here wereall the ladies to outshine, and all the gentlemen to charm, - andMr. Lawrence, especially, to capture and subdue. Her little artsto effect his subjugation were too subtle and impalpable to attractmy observation; but I thought there was a certain refinedaffectation of superiority, and an ungenial self-consciousnessabout her, that negatived all her advantages; and after she wasgone, Rose interpreted to me her various looks, words, and actionswith a mingled acuteness and asperity that made me wonder, equally,at the lady's artifice and my sister's penetration, and ask myselfif she too had an eye to the squire - but never mind, Halford; shehad not.

Richard Wilson, Jane's younger brother, sat in a corner, apparentlygood-tempered, but silent and shy, desirous to escape observation,but willing enough to listen and observe: and, although somewhatout of his element, he would have been happy enough in his ownquiet way, if my mother could only have let him alone; but in hermistaken kindness, she would keep persecuting him with herattentions - pressing upon him all manner of viands, under thenotion that he was too bashful to help himself, and obliging him toshout across the room his monosyllabic replies to the numerousquestions and observations by which she vainly attempted to drawhim into conversation.

Rose informed me that he never would have favoured us with hiscompany but for the importunities of his sister Jane, who was mostanxious to show Mr. Lawrence that she had at least one brother moregentlemanly and refined than Robert. That worthy individual shehad been equally solicitous to keep away; but he affirmed that hesaw no reason why he should not enjoy a crack with Markham and theold lady (my mother was not old, really), and bonny Miss Rose andthe parson, as well as the best; - and he was in the right of ittoo. So he talked common-place with my mother and Rose, anddiscussed parish affairs with the vicar, farming matters with me,and politics with us both.

Mary Millward was another mute, - not so much tormented with cruelkindness as Dick Wilson, because she had a certain short, decidedway of answering and refusing, and was supposed to be rather sullenthan diffident. However that might be, she certainly did not givemuch pleasure to the company; - nor did she appear to derive muchfrom it. Eliza told me she had only come because her fatherinsisted upon it, having taken it into his head that she devotedherself too exclusively to her household duties, to the neglect ofsuch relaxations and innocent enjoyments as were proper to her ageand sex. She seemed to me to be good-humoured enough on the whole.Once or twice she was provoked to laughter by the wit or themerriment of some favoured individual amongst us; and then Iobserved she sought the eye of Richard Wilson, who sat over againsther. As he studied with her father, she had some acquaintance withhim, in spite of the retiring habits of both, and I suppose therewas a kind of fellow-feeling established between them.

My Eliza was charming beyond description, coquettish withoutaffectation, and evidently more desirous to engage my attentionthan that of all the room besides. Her delight in having me nearher, seated or standing by her side, whispering in her ear, orpressing her hand in the dance, was plainly legible in her glowingface and heaving bosom, however belied by saucy words and gestures.But I had better hold my tongue: if I boast of these things now, Ishall have to blush hereafter.

To proceed, then, with the various individuals of our party; Rosewas simple and natural as usual, and full of mirth and vivacity.

Fergus was impertinent and absurd; but his impertinence and follyserved to make others laugh, if they did not raise himself in theirestimation.

And finally (for I omit myself), Mr. Lawrence was gentlemanly andinoffensive to all, and polite to the vicar and the ladies,especially his hostess and her daughter, and Miss Wilson -misguided man; he had not the taste to prefer Eliza Millward. Mr.Lawrence and I were on tolerably intimate terms. Essentially ofreserved habits, and but seldom quitting the secluded place of hisbirth, where he had lived in solitary state since the death of hisfather, he had neither the opportunity nor the inclination forforming many acquaintances; and, of all he had ever known, I(judging by the results) was the companion most agreeable to histaste. I liked the man well enough, but he was too cold, and shy,and self-contained, to obtain my cordial sympathies. A spirit ofcandour and frankness, when wholly unaccompanied with coarseness,he admired in others, but he could not acquire it himself. Hisexcessive reserve upon all his own concerns was, indeed, provokingand chilly enough; but I forgave it, from a conviction that itoriginated less in pride and want of confidence in his friends,than in a certain morbid feeling of delicacy, and a peculiardiffidence, that he was sensible of, but wanted energy to overcome.His heart was like a sensitive plant, that opens for a moment inthe sunshine, but curls up and shrinks into itself at the slightesttouch of the finger, or the lightest breath of wind. And, upon thewhole, our intimacy was rather a mutual predilection than a deepand solid friendship, such as has since arisen between myself andyou, Halford, whom, in spite of your occasional crustiness, I canliken to nothing so well as an old coat, unimpeachable in texture,but easy and loose - that has conformed itself to the shape of thewearer, and which he may use as he pleases, without being botheredwith the fear of spoiling it; - whereas Mr. Lawrence was like a newgarment, all very neat and trim to look at, but so tight in theelbows, that you would fear to split the seams by the unrestrictedmotion of your arms, and so smooth and fine in surface that youscruple to expose it to a single drop of rain.

Soon after the arrival of the guests, my mother mentioned Mrs.Graham, regretted she was not there to meet them, and explained tothe Millwards and Wilsons the reasons she had given for neglectingto return their calls, hoping they would excuse her, as she wassure she did not mean to be uncivil, and would be glad to see themat any time. - 'But she is a very singular lady, Mr. Lawrence,'added she; 'we don't know what to make of her - but I daresay youcan tell us something about her, for she is your tenant, you know,- and she said she knew you a little.'

All eyes were turned to Mr. Lawrence. I thought he lookedunnecessarily confused at being so appealed to.

'I, Mrs. Markham!' said he; 'you are mistaken - I don't - that is -I have seen her, certainly; but I am the last person you shouldapply to for information respecting Mrs. Graham.'

He then immediately turned to Rose, and asked her to favour thecompany with a song, or a tune on the piano.

'No,' said she, 'you must ask Miss Wilson: she outshines us all insinging, and music too.'

Miss Wilson demurred.

'She'll sing readily enough,' said Fergus, 'if you'll undertake tostand by her, Mr. Lawrence, and turn over the leaves for her.'

'I shall be most happy to do so, Miss Wilson; will you allow me?'

She bridled her long neck and smiled, and suffered him to lead herto the instrument, where she played and sang, in her very beststyle, one piece after another; while he stood patiently by,leaning one hand on the back of her chair, and turning over theleaves of her book with the other. Perhaps he was as much charmedwith her performance as she was. It was all very fine in its way;but I cannot say that it moved me very deeply. There was plenty ofskill and execution, but precious little feeling.

But we had not done with Mrs. Graham yet.

'I don't take wine, Mrs. Markham,' said Mr. Millward, upon theintroduction of that beverage; 'I'll take a little of your home-brewed ale. I always prefer your home-brewed to anything else.'

Flattered at this compliment, my mother rang the bell, and a chinajug of our best ale was presently brought and set before the worthygentleman who so well knew how to appreciate its excellences.

'Now THIS is the thing!' cried he, pouring out a glass of the samein a long stream, skilfully directed from the jug to the tumbler,so as to produce much foam without spilling a drop; and, havingsurveyed it for a moment opposite the candle, he took a deepdraught, and then smacked his lips, drew a long breath, andrefilled his glass, my mother looking on with the greatestsatisfaction.

'There's nothing like this, Mrs. Markham!' said he. 'I alwaysmaintain that there's nothing to compare with your home-brewedale.'

'I'm sure I'm glad you like it, sir. I always look after thebrewing myself, as well as the cheese and the butter - I like tohave things well done, while we're about it.'

'Quite right, Mrs. Markham!'

'But then, Mr. Millward, you don't think it wrong to take a littlewine now and then - or a little spirits either!' said my mother, asshe handed a smoking tumbler of gin-and-water to Mrs. Wilson, whoaffirmed that wine sat heavy on her stomach, and whose son Robertwas at that moment helping himself to a pretty stiff glass of thesame.

'By no means!' replied the oracle, with a Jove-like nod; 'thesethings are all blessings and mercies, if we only knew how to makeuse of them.'

'But Mrs. Graham doesn't think so. You shall just hear now whatshe told us the other day - I told her I'd tell you.'

And my mother favoured the company with a particular account ofthat lady's mistaken ideas and conduct regarding the matter inhand, concluding with, 'Now, don't you think it is wrong?'

'Wrong!' repeated the vicar, with more than common solemnity -'criminal, I should say - criminal! Not only is it making a foolof the boy, but it is despising the gifts of Providence, andteaching him to trample them under his feet.'

He then entered more fully into the question, and explained atlarge the folly and impiety of such a proceeding. My mother heardhim with profoundest reverence; and even Mrs. Wilson vouchsafed torest her tongue for a moment, and listen in silence, while shecomplacently sipped her gin-and-water. Mr. Lawrence sat with hiselbow on the table, carelessly playing with his half-empty wine-glass, and covertly smiling to himself.

'But don't you think, Mr. Millward,' suggested he, when at lengththat gentleman paused in his discourse, 'that when a child may benaturally prone to intemperance - by the fault of its parents orancestors, for instance - some precautions are advisable?' (Now itwas generally believed that Mr. Lawrence's father had shortened hisdays by intemperance.)

'Some precautions, it may be; but temperance, sir, is one thing,and abstinence another.'

'But I have heard that, with some persons, temperance - that is,moderation - is almost impossible; and if abstinence be an evil(which some have doubted), no one will deny that excess is agreater. Some parents have entirely prohibited their children fromtasting intoxicating liquors; but a parent's authority cannot lastfor ever; children are naturally prone to hanker after forbiddenthings; and a child, in such a case, would be likely to have astrong curiosity to taste, and try the effect of what has been solauded and enjoyed by others, so strictly forbidden to himself -which curiosity would generally be gratified on the firstconvenient opportunity; and the restraint once broken, seriousconsequences might ensue. I don't pretend to be a judge of suchmatters, but it seems to me, that this plan of Mrs. Graham's, asyou describe it, Mrs. Markham, extraordinary as it may be, is notwithout its advantages; for here you see the child is delivered atonce from temptation; he has no secret curiosity, no hankeringdesire; he is as well acquainted with the tempting liquors as heever wishes to be; and is thoroughly disgusted with them, withouthaving suffered from their effects.'

'And is that right, sir? Have I not proven to you how wrong it is- how contrary to Scripture and to reason, to teach a child to lookwith contempt and disgust upon the blessings of Providence, insteadof to use them aright?'

'You may consider laudanum a blessing of Providence, sir,' repliedMr. Lawrence, smiling; 'and yet, you will allow that most of us hadbetter abstain from it, even in moderation; but,' added he, 'Iwould not desire you to follow out my simile too closely - inwitness whereof I finish my glass.'

'And take another, I hope, Mr. Lawrence,' said my mother, pushingthe bottle towards him.

He politely declined, and pushing his chair a little away from thetable, leant back towards me - I was seated a trifle behind, on thesofa beside Eliza Millward - and carelessly asked me if I knew Mrs.Graham.

'I have met her once or twice,' I replied.

'What do you think of her?'

'I cannot say that I like her much. She is handsome - or rather Ishould say distinguished and interesting - in her appearance, butby no means amiable - a woman liable to take strong prejudices, Ishould fancy, and stick to them through thick and thin, twistingeverything into conformity with her own preconceived opinions - toohard, too sharp, too bitter for my taste.'

He made no reply, but looked down and bit his lip, and shortlyafter rose and sauntered up to Miss Wilson, as much repelled by me,I fancy, as attracted by her. I scarcely noticed it at the time,but afterwards I was led to recall this and other trifling facts,of a similar nature, to my remembrance, when - but I must notanticipate.

We wound up the evening with dancing - our worthy pastor thinkingit no scandal to be present on the occasion, though one of thevillage musicians was engaged to direct our evolutions with hisviolin. But Mary Millward obstinately refused to join us; and sodid Richard Wilson, though my mother earnestly entreated him to doso, and even offered to be his partner.

We managed very well without them, however. With a single set ofquadrilles, and several country dances, we carried it on to apretty late hour; and at length, having called upon our musician tostrike up a waltz, I was just about to whirl Eliza round in thatdelightful dance, accompanied by Lawrence and Jane Wilson, andFergus and Rose, when Mr. Millward interposed with:- 'No, no; Idon't allow that! Come, it's time to be going now.'

'Oh, no, papa!' pleaded Eliza.

'High time, my girl - high time! Moderation in all things,remember! That's the plan - "Let your moderation be known unto allmen!"'

But in revenge I followed Eliza into the dimly-lighted passage,where, under pretence of helping her on with her shawl, I fear Imust plead guilty to snatching a kiss behind her father's back,while he was enveloping his throat and chin in the folds of amighty comforter. But alas! in turning round, there was my motherclose beside me. The consequence was, that no sooner were theguests departed, than I was doomed to a very serious remonstrance,which unpleasantly checked the galloping course of my spirits, andmade a disagreeable close to the evening.

'My dear Gilbert,' said she, 'I wish you wouldn't do so! You knowhow deeply I have your advantage at heart, how I love you and prizeyou above everything else in the world, and how much I long to seeyou well settled in life - and how bitterly it would grieve me tosee you married to that girl - or any other in the neighbourhood.What you see in her I don't know. It isn't only the want of moneythat I think about - nothing of the kind - but there's neitherbeauty, nor cleverness, nor goodness, nor anything else that'sdesirable. If you knew your own value, as I do, you wouldn't dreamof it. Do wait awhile and see! If you bind yourself to her,you'll repent it all your lifetime when you look round and see howmany better there are. Take my word for it, you will.'

'Well, mother, do be quiet! - I hate to be lectured! - I'm notgoing to marry yet, I tell you; but - dear me! mayn't I enjoymyself at all?'

'Yes, my dear boy, but not in that way. Indeed, you shouldn't dosuch things. You would be wronging the girl, if she were what sheought to be; but I assure you she is as artful a little hussy asanybody need wish to see; and you'll got entangled in her snaresbefore you know where you are. And if you marry her, Gilbert,you'll break my heart - so there's an end of it.'

'Well, don't cry about it, mother,' said I, for the tears weregushing from her eyes; 'there, let that kiss efface the one I gaveEliza; don't abuse her any more, and set your mind at rest; forI'll promise never - that is, I'll promise to think twice before Itake any important step you seriously disapprove of.'

So saying, I lighted my candle, and went to bed, considerablyquenched in spirit.