The Press.
London, England, 1856-09-20 00:00:00

condescended to accept the hand of a middle-aged man,
who was also a widower with encumbrances, still she did
not like the latter to be thrust into public notice on her
wedding•day, before her friends and former associates:
many of whom were aware of her earlier pretensions and
expectations, and now sneered and looked sympathetic
at her being obliged to put up with such humble matrinto•
nial fare at last. Besides, she had three thousand pounds
fortune (which sum was settled on herself) and "expects.
tions" to an incalculable amount, so that she could afford
to be dictatorial; and on this occasion she was so, some•
what to her bridegroom's chagrin, but not st all to mine.

Well, she came-. We weredressed in our best to receive
her, but it was past ten o'clock, and we looked sleepy and
sad. She was apparelled in bridal white, and wore a ban•
dean of pearls in her raven black hair. Her face was
long, thin, and wan, and every feature wore a pinched and
fretted appearance of its awn. Thus, her forehead above
the eyes was puckered with a premature wrinkle or two,
that seemed to keep perpetual watch over the small, pierc-
ing, jet•black, angry-looking eyes below them, and which
appeared to be always on the look out for something to be
displeased with ; her nose had been very handsome in its
day, but now the nostrils had shrunk into the bridge, and
the skin seemed tightened as though it would burst away
from the bone if it were tightened any more. Her chin
protruded sharply and angularly, and her lips, as thin as
lips could wall be, were compressed and sucked in, as it
were, in order to keep them braced over her teeth ; which
in early life hail been white and regular, but were now
over• arge, from the gums having receded, and they began
to .how a dark mark here and there in the intervals, as
well. My first notion, as I looked at her, was an odd one:
I thought to myself how much better poor aunt Mary
looked in her shroud than did her successor in all her
bridal bravery.

That is well told, and the writer's pen rarely
trips in narration. Part of the foregoing has
a savour of " Jane Eyre's " style of describing
unpleasant persons. What follows, however,
is not so good :

We arose as she entered the room, gallantly led by my
uncle, who was as gay, bustling. and debonair as gentle.
men of forty three or four usually are on such interesting
occasions ; but who, even at that incipient stage of his
new career, seemed to stand a good deal in awe of the
magnificent partner he had taken such pains to secure,
and appeared to be particularly anxious that every thing
should be done to meet her approval from the first.
Perhaps this appearance of over anxiety on his part
acted iu a contrary spirit in what he desired ; or it may be
that she had resolved beforehand to take a decided stand
at the outset, as determined and far-seeing ladies have
sometimes been known to do. At, all events, she was as
little demonstrative as any bride of some hours old, and
married to the man of her own choice, could well be.
She kissed Brent on the forehead and Mary on the cheek;
but it was such a kiss as the perjured witness, predeter•
mined to forswear himself, leaves on the Holy Book—
cold, clammy, apprehensive, and unnatural ; while to me
she simply extended the forefinger of her kid•gloved hand
(it was the left hand too, I remarked). and said, " Well,
Eveleen, 1 have come to take the keys from you ;" she
then, without waiting for an answer, threw herself on a
chair and asked for a glass of water.
"To be sure, my love," assented my uncle at once.;
" but don't take water. Go, Eveleen, my dear, and order
up the wine
' Not for me," interposed the haughty bride; " I don't
wish for wine, thank you! Stay where yon are, Eveleen,
if you please: I asked for a glass of water—l require
nothing more."
"But, sniper is ready in the other room, my love,"
urged Mr. Barrington with his best smile.
" I never eat supper," was her reply ; " it is a useless
and most unwholesome meal, and I hardly pity any one
who suffers sharply, or dies suddenly, from indulging in
such an abominable practice."
There was a dead silence after this decided avowal.
For the last twenty years Mr. Barrington had eaten a
hearty supper every night of his life : in fact, it was his
favorite meal.

" Do you not think, Mr. Barrington, that they (she did
not say children) ought to go to bed? I hope they are
not allowed to remain np so late every night?'
"God bless me ! no, by no mews," he hastily replied :
"only to-night they were kept up to welcome you, Maria."
"Thanks! Well, little people, I think 3nu bad better
go to sleep," she said, with a slight yawn; " and you,
Eveleen, u you to, just order somebody or other to bring
me a glass of water. Don't trouble yourself to ring the
bell, Mr. Barrington it will only cause confusion, and
brine' something we don't want. A glass of wAter, Eveleen,
and good night all."

Mrs. Barrington is extremely overdrawn in
that passage, and the reader is at once made
to recollect that he is perusing a novel. A
new mistress of the house would never have
shown her power so soon. Such a lady would
rather have assumed a demeanour fit for the
sister of a Joseph Surface, and endeavoured
to ingratiate herself at first. Here is some of
the writer's character-painting:—
George Boaverie, without a particle of forwardness,
much less of assurance, spoke evidently from the fulness
of his own light heart, and became, without any exertion
OD his part, a sort of general referee, to whom by tacit
assent every one looked np as a pleasant interpreter of
sassing thouirlits, and a willing director as well as contri•
b 'tor either to conversation or hilarity. Perfectly new to
tie world as Mary and I were, and completely unversed in
i.e social pht+es, his tone and manner, as well as the sub•
jects on which he spoke, had all the freshness of novelty
as well as of originality ; and as he dashed off his sketches