The Sun.
London, England, 1848-02-11 00:00:00

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..iii;.., ii1,i4:...Zi.:,, la libpiuviii,,, Lupkwy tvery woidh,
and now hoasts a corps of writers equal to any of its
competitors. W. H. Maxwell, J. A. St. John, John
Oxenford, Angus B. Beach, Stirling Coyne, Percy

VANITY FAIR. No. XIV. By W. M. Thackeray.
In this number Becky obtains one great object of
her ambition, and is presented at Court by the gentle
Lady Jane, to the great horror and annoyance of
Mrs. Bute Crawley. Nor is this her only triumph—
coerced by Lord Steyne, Lady Steyne invites her to
a grand dinner at Gaunt house, and thus she at
length succeeds in getting into society. Turn we
now to poor Amelia. Old Sedley, who has mortgaged
Jos.'s annuity, is on the verge of starvation, and, to
save her father and mother, Amelia consents to ac-
,cede to old Osborne's proposition .to give tip
Georgy to him on condition that he shall' be per-
mitted occasionally to visit her. On her acceding to
thiS proposition, old Osborne surlily says to his
daughter, " You had better send that woman some
money—she shan't want for nothing—send her a
hundred pounds ;" but the old brute adds, " So she
don't come in here, mind I No, by —, not for all
the money in London." . The feelings and conduct of
poor Amelia, after parting with her child, are thus
beautifully described :
" A few days are past; and the great event of Amelia's
life is consummated. No angel has intervened. The
child is sacrificed and offered to fate: and the widow is
quite alone.
" The boy comes to see her often, to be sure. He
rides on a pony with the coachman behind him, to the
delight of his old grandfather, Sedley, who walks
proudly down the lane by his side. She sees him, but
he is not her boy any more. Why, he rides to see the
boys at the little school, too, and t,..) show off before them
his new wealth and splendour. In two days he hal
adopted a slight imperious air and patrenising manner.
He was born to commar.d, his mother thinks, as his
father was before him.

"It is fine weather now. Of evenings on the clays
when he does not come, she takes a long walk into Lon-
don—yes, as far as Russell. square, and rests on the
stone by the railing of the garden opposite Mr. Osborne's
house. It is so pleasant and cool. She can look up and
see the drawing-room windows illuminated, and, at about
nine o'clock, the chamber in the upper story where
Georgy sleeps". She knows—He has told her. She
prays there as the light goes out, prays with an humble
humble heart, and walks home shrinking and silent.
She is very tired when she comes home. Perhaps she
will seep the better for her long weary walk ; and she
may dream about Georgy.
' One Sunday she happened to be walking in Russell-
square, at some distance from Mr. Osborne's house (she
could see it from a distance though) when all the bells
of Sabbath were ringing, and George and his aunt came
out to go to church; a little sweep asked for charity, wad
the footman, who carried the books, tried to drive him
away; but Georgy stopped and gave him money. May
God's blessing be on the boy! Emmy ran down the
square, and coming up to the sweep, gave him her mite
too. All the bells of Sabbath were ringing, and she fol-
lowed them until she came to the Foundling Church,
into which she went. There she sat in a place whence
she could see the head of the boy under his father's
tombstone. Many hundred fresh children's voices rose
up there and sang hymns to the Father Beneficent; and
little George's soul thrilled with delight at the burst of
glorious psalmody. His mother could not see him for
awhile, through the mist that dimned her eyes."