The Press.
London, England, 1856-10-18 00:00:00

THE PRESS.

five minutes, and yet no sooner did we pair off arm-in•arm,
than the distance began gradually to increase, till we
found ourselves " in couples," totally independent of each
other's proceedings. In this manner we saw the horse•
manship, and the acrobats, and the man with the globe,
and all the other eccentricities of the circus. I really
think I could have ridden quite as nicely as Madame Rose
d'Amour, had I been mounted on an equally weldbroken
animal with the one which curveted and caracoled under
that much rouged and widely-smiling dame. They do
look pretty, too, at a little distance, these histrionic
horsewomen, with their trappings, and their spangles, and
their costume of Francis I. I often wonder whether
people really rode out hawking got up so entirely regard•
less of expense in the days of the Field of the Cloth of
Gold. From the horsemanship we went to see the people
dance, which they did with a degree of vigour and hilarity
such as might be introduced, in a modified form, with
great advantage, into good society; and here we came
across Cousin John and Lady Scapegrace, just in time to
witness a short and abrupt interview between the latter
and Sir Guy. Yes—there was Sir Guy, with the flower in
his mouth and all—dancing, actually dancing—and he
can't be much less than sixty—with a little smart lady
wearing the most brilliant colour, and the blackest eye-
lashes, and the reddest lips, and the lightest eyes I ever
saw upon a human being. The little lady, whose hair
moreover was dressed d l'lmperatrice, thereby imparting
additional boldness to a countenance not remarkable for
modesty, frisked and whisked round Sir Guy with a
vivacity that must have been of Parisian growth ; whilst
the baronet laboured ponderously along with true British
determination, like a man who habitually wears very
thick shoes, and is used to take his own time. In the
course of his evolutions he brought his foot down heavily
on the skirt of a lady's dress, and turning round to apolo-
gise, found himself face to face with his wife ! To do
him justice, he was not the least taken aback—anger rather
than confusion seemed to be his dominant feeling ; and
although he tried to smother a rising oath in a laugh, or
rather a grin—it was such a muscular contraction of the
mouth as does not give me the idea of a smile.

" Come out for a lark, too, my lady ? hey ?" said the
baronet, studiously interposing his large person between
"my lady " and his partner. "Reminds one of Paris ;
dance with anybody, whether one knows them or not; "
and Sir Guy tried to look as if he was telling the truth,
with indifferent success. But Lady S2apegrace's face was
a perfect study ; I never saw a countenance so expressive
of scorn—intense scorn—and yet, as it seemed to me, not
so much of him as of herself.

" I am glad you amuse yourself, Sir Guy,'' she said
very quietly, but her lip was as white as ashes while
she spoke. " I should think this place must suit yon
exactly. Mr. Jones, we shall be late for the fireworks,"
and she swept on, taking no further notice of the dis-
comfited Sir Guy, whilst Frank and I followed in her
wake, feeling rather awkward even at witnessing this ill-
timed rencontre.

We give the denouement of the story, as
affording a good specimen of the author's dra-
matic skill :

I took my candle, and kissed Lady Scapegrace affec-
tionately as I thanked her, and wished her " good night."
It was already late, and my room was quite at the other
end of the house. As T sped along, devoutly trusting I
should not meet any of the gentlemen on their way to
bed, I spied a figure advancing towards me from the end
of a long corridor. It was attired in a flowing dressing-
gown of crimson silk, with magnificent Turkish slippers,
and carried a hand candlestick much off the perpen-
dicular, as it swayed up the passage in a somewhat
devious course. When it caught sight of me it extended
both its arms, regardless of the melted wax with which
such a manoeuvre bedaubed the wall, and prepared, with
many endearing and complimentary expressions, to bar
my further progress.
The figure was no less a person than Sir Guy, half
tipsy, proceeding from his dressing•room to bed. What
to do I knew not. I shuddered at the idea of meeting the
baronet at such an hour, and in so excited a state. I
loathed and hated him at all times, and I quite trembled
now to face his odious compliments and impertinent
double-entendres. My hunting experience, however, had
given me a quick eye to see my way out of a difficulty :
and espying a green-baize door on my right, I rushed
through it, and down a flight of stone steps that led I
knew not where. Giving a view•holloa that must have
startled every light sleeper in the house, Sir Guy
followed close in my wake, dropping the silver candle-
stick with a most alarming clatter. I saw I had not
the speed of him to any great extent, so I dodged into
the first empty room I came to, and, blowing out my light,
resolved to lie there perdue till my pursuer hac: overrun
the scent.

The mano3uvre answered admirably so far. I heard the
enemy swearing volubly as he blundered along the
passage, thinking I was still before him ; and I now pre-
pared to grope my way back in the dark to my own room.
But I had not escaped yet. To my infinite dismay. I
heard the voices of gentlemen wishing each other the usual
" Good night, old fellow," and proceeding along the
passage from the direction of the smoking-room. Horror
of horrors ! a light approached the door of the very room
in which I had taken refuge; in another second be would
enter—the man would find me in his room. He stopped
a moment on the threshold to fire a parting jest at his
companions, and the light from his candle showed me my
only chance. A covered shower-bath stood in the corner
of the apartment, and into that shower-bath I jumped.
closing the curtains all round me, but, as may be easily be-
lieved, taking very particular care not to pull the string.
Scarcely was I fairly ensconced, before Frank Lovell made
his appearance ; and I saw at once, through a hole in the
curtains, that he was the lawful occupier and possessor of
the apartment.

SATURDAY,

Here was a predicament, indeed ! If the emergency
had not been so desperate, I must have fainted. " Good
gracious," I thought, "if he should lock the door!
Frank, however, seemed to have no such intention ; I be-
lieve this is a precaution gentle:nen seldom adopt. On the
contrary, he proceeded to make himself thoroughly at
home. Lighting his candle, he leisurely divested himself
of his coat, waistcoat, and neckcloth, enfolded his person
in a large loose dressing-gawn, leaned his head on both
hands, and gave a deep sigh. Apparently much relieved
by this process, he took up his hair-brushes, and after a
good refreshing turn at his locks and whiskers, and a
muttered compliment to his own reflection in the glass,
that sounded very like " you fool ! " he unlocked a small
writing-case, and producing from its little bundle of letters,
tied up with pink ribbon, selected them one by one, and
read them over from beginning to end, kissing each with
devout fervour as he replaced it carefully in its envelope.
I would have given a great deal to know who they were
from ; their perusal seemed to afford him mingled satisfac-
tion and annoyance; but he sighed heavily again, and I
saw he had a long lock of hair in his fingers, which he
gazed at till the tears stood in his eyes. He kissed it, the
traitor! and fondled it, and spoke to it, and clasped it to
his heart (men are just as great fools as we are ). Whose
could it be? Not mine, certainly, fort never gave him
such a thing; Miss Molasses'? No : hers was black, and
rather coarse, this was a silky chestnut. Could it have
belonged to Mrs. Lumley? Hera was very much the same
colour, and I often thought Frank rather ipris with her.
Nonsense! that lively lady had not an atom of sentiment
in her composition ; she would just as soon have thought
of working him a counterpane !
I was so interested in my discoveries, that I forgot al-
together my own criticai position, the impracticability of
escape till Frank had gone to sleep, the chance of arous-
ing him as I went out, or, more alarming still, the awful
possibility of his lying awake all night When morning
dawned, concealment could no longer be preserved, and
what to do then ? I meditated a bold stroke. To rush
from my hiding place, blow out both the candles before my
host had recovered his surprise, and then run for it. Thrice
was lon the eve of this perilous enterprise. Thrice my
courage failed me at the critical moment. The fourth
time I think I should have gone, when a knock at the
door arrested my attention, and Frank's " Come in," wel-
comed a visitor whose voice I well knew to be that of
Cousin John. The plot began to thicken. It was impos-
sible to get away now.
" Lovell," said John, in an unusually grave voice, " I
told you I wanted to speak a word with you, and this is the
only time I can make sure of finding you alone."
Frank was busy huddling his treasure back into the
writing-case.
" Drive, on, old fellow," said he, " there's lots of time ;
it's not two o'clock yet."
" Lovell," proceeded John, " you are an old friend of
mine, and I have a great regard for you, but I have a duty
to perform, and I must go through with it. Point blank,
on your honour as a gentleman, I ask you, are you or are
you not engaged to be married to Miss Molasses ?"

Frank coloured, hesitated, looked confused, and then
got angry. . .

" Ko intimacy can give you a right to ask such a ques-
tion." he replied, talking very fast and excitedly ; " you
take an unwarrantable liberty, both with her and me.
Who told you I was going to be married at all? or
what business is it of yours whether I am married or not ?"
John began to get heated, too, but he looked very deter-
mined.

"I am sony you should take it thus," he replied, "for
you force me to come at once to the point. As the nearest
relation and natural guardian of my cousin, Miss Coven-
try, 1 must ask your intention with regard to that young
lady. I have often remarked you paid her great attention,
but it was not till to-day that I heard your name coupled
with hers, and a doubt expressed as to which of the ladies
I have mentioned you meant to honour with your pre-
ference. I don't want to quarrel with you, Frank," added
John, softening, " I don't want to mistrust your good feel-
ings or your honour. Perhaps you don't know her as well
as I do; perhaps you can't appreciate her value like me.
Many men would give away their lives for her—would
think no sacrifice too dear at which to purchase her regard.
Believe me, Frank, she's worth anything; if you have
proposed to her, as I have reasons to think you must have
done, confide in me ; I will smooth all difficulties ; I will
arrange everything for you both. God knows I love her
better than anything on earth ; but her happiness is my
first consideration, and if she likes you, Frank, she shall
marry you."
Captain Lovell seemed to be of a different opinion. Ho
bit his lip, looking angry and annoyed.
"You go too fast, Mr. Jones," he replied, very stiffly; "I
have never given the young lady you mention an oppor-
tunity of either accepting or refusing me. If ever lam
fool enough to marry, I snail take the liberty of selecting
my own wife, without consulting your taste ; and I really
cannot undertake to wed every lively young lady that con-
descends to flirt with me, merely pour passer le tempts."
John's face grew (lark with anger. How noble he looked
as he squared his fine figure and reared his gallant head,
standing erect before his enemy, and scanning him from
top to toe. He was very quiet, too ; he only said :
Captain Lovell, I claim a brother's right to protect
Miss Coventry's reputation, and as a brother I demand
reparation fur the wrong you have done her; need I say
any more?"
" Not another syllable," replied Frank Lovell, carelessly.
" Whenever you like, only the sooner the better. Popham
always acts for me on these occasions; he don't go away
till tomorrow afternoon, so I refer you to him. I'm
getting sleepy now, Mr. Jones. I wish you a good night."
. .

Cousin John took up his candle, and retired. Never in
my life had I been in such a position as this. That there
would be a duel, I had not the slightest shadow of doubt
—and all for my sake. That my gallant, generous, true-
hearted cousin should have behaved so nobly, so tin.

OCTOBER 18, 1856.

selfishly, did not surprise me; but that he should be sacri-
ficed to his devoted fidelity—l could not bear to think of
it for a moment ! How I loved him now ! How I won-
dered that I could ever have compared the two for an
instant. How I resolved to make him full amends, and,
come what might, to frustrate this projected duel But
what could I do? In the first place, how was Ito get out
of the room ?
_ _

My situation was so embarrassing, and at the same time
so ridiculous, that I could with difficulty resist an hyste-
rical inclination to laugh. Here I was, at all events, a
close prisoner till Captain Lovell should go to bed, and he
seemed to have no idea of that rational proceeding, though
it was now past three o'clock. He walked about the room,
whistling softly. Once he came so near my hidiog•place
that I felt his breath on my cheek. "Good heavens,"
thought I, "if he should take it into his head to have a
shower•bath now to brace his nerves!" At last he walked
to a drawer, selected a cigar, lit it, and throwing open the
window, proceeded deliberately to get out. I almost hoped
be would break his neck! But 1 conclude there was a
ledge or balcony of some sort to sustain him, and that he
was accustomed to a nightly cigar in that position. Here
was a chance not to be lost ! 1 bolted out of the shower-
bath ; I popped the extinguisher on one cantle, and blew
the other out at the same instant. I heard the smoker's
exclamation of astonishment, but heeded it not. I rushed
through the door. I flew along the dark passages, breathless
and trembling ; at last I reached my own room, more by
instinct, I believe, than any other faculty, and having
locked the door, and struck a light, sat me down, in a state
of immense confusion and bewilderment, to think what I
abould do next.

Of course the duel is prevented ; Frank Lovell
elopes with a certain Miss Molasses ; John
" squares it " with his cousin, and " Dear me,"
says she, "how delightful it is to think I
"shall always be as happy as I am now."

Self and Self Sacrifice; or, Nelly's Story. By Anna
Lisle. London . Groombridge.
IF this story is, as we understand, the first literary
adventure of the authoress, it does very great credit
to her judgment and good taste. It has none of the
crudeness, none of the inequalities, or purpurei
poenni, which so often denote the unpractised writer.
The style is chastened, and the violence of childish
emotions—for the book, we should say, is in great
part a story of children—not exaggerated. The moral
is brought out with precision, and on that plain, old-
fashioned system which seeks to attain its end rather
by repeated hard blows than by delicate touches of
art. We doubt, indeed, if Miss Lisle has produced
a story in which either children or grown persons
will find much genuine amusement at the present day.
The public taste, both in juniors and seniors, has
been accustomed to different mates ials, and before
" Amy Herbert " and " The Fairy Bower," " Self and
Self Sacrifice" will, we fear, seem deficient both in
freshness and vigour. At the same time we would
by no means undervalue the utility of works like the
present. It sheds a strong light upon certain im-
portant truths. The contrast between the two cha-
racters of Nelly and Edith is so managed as to show
the happiness which awaits those who struggle with
and overcome a stubborn and passionate disposition,
and the misery which an amiable temperament may
.encounter if deficient in the power of self-control, in
a manner we think very agreeable to the under-
standing of children. The two characters remind us
a good deal of Ellen and Caroline in the novel of
" Influence," though the present story is inferior to
that singularly interesting tale, both in the vivid
reality of its incidents and the clever delineations of
human nature.
Nelly and Edith are the daughter and step-daughter
of a young and beautiful widow ; Nelly, the step-
daughter, is six years older than her half-sister, a
little thing described as a sort of beautiful bijou,
petted, spoiled, and impatient. Nelly's early trials
consist in the endurance of her sister's infantine
caprices and reproaches, which, as they sometimes
bea► upon her own want of good looks, provoke the
elder girl to violent outbursts of rage. Her mother's
coldness, and undisguised preference for her own
daughter, add considerably to the burden of Nelly's
sorrows ; and at the opening of the story we find her
in a hopeless state of mingled despondency and irrita-
tion. At this stage of Nelly's history sbe is aided by
the affectionate sympathy and advice of a certain
Aunt Mary, under whose instruction she gradually
learns to win the entire love of li►.tle Edith, and, in
consequence of an heroic adventure with a bull,
becomes endeared to her stepmother. But as the
girls grow up, new trials succeed. Both fall in love
with the same man. Both have opportunities of
becoming acquainted with his worthlessness, and
also of the state of their sister's feelings. Nelly's
conduct in this matter is rewarded by escaping from
a very bad husband, and Edith's by getting one. The
ulterior consequences the reader must discover for
himself. Such is the outline of this story, and such
our opinion of its merits. Its defects are mostly
negative, and its good points simple, broad, and
()hymns to the meanest or the youngest capacity.
There is no attempt at nice discrimination of charac-
ter, nor does the authoress's power over the feelings