am fully satisfied that, if these three thousand and odd hundreds of pounds were placed at his disposal to-day, they would fly the way so many other thousands have gone before them, to-morrow. Excuse me saying this; but I can not help it. Yours most sincerely ever,

W. HARNESS.

CHAPTER X.

LETTERS FOR 1834.

To the REV. WILLIAM HARNESS.

Three-mile Cross, Thursday night, May 2, 1834. MY DEAR FRIEND,-Mr. Milman gave my father in court to-day your sermon, for which I thank you most sincerely. It is a very able and a conciliatory plea for the church. My opinion (if an insignificant woman may presume to give one) is, that certain reforms ought to be; that very gross cases of pluralities should be abolished (it is too sweeping, I think, to say all pluralities); that some few of the clergy are too rich, and that a great many are too poor: but (although not holding all her doctrines) I heartily agree with you, that, as an establishment, the Church ought to remain; for to say nothing of the frightful precedent of sweeping away property, a precedent which would not stop there; the country would be overrun with fanatics, and, in the rural districts especially, a clergyman (provided he be not a magistrate) is generally, in worldly as well as spiritual matters, a great comfort to the poor. But our wise legislators never think of the rural districts-never. They legislate against ginshops, which are the evil of great towns, and encourage beershops, which are the pest of the country; the cause of half the poverty and three-fourths of the demoralization. But the Church must be (as many of her members are) wisely tolerant: bishops must not wage war with theatres, nor rectors with a Sunday evening game of cricket. If they take up the arms of the Puritans, the Puritans will beat them. Generally speaking, moreover, I think that the Church of England is tolerant-incomparably more so than the sects that assail her—and, therefore, if for no other cause, ought to be

protected. Do you know Professor Sedgwick, of Cambridge? We have had a young American namesake of his here for this last week-a charming person. Yours ever,

M. R. M.

[Under a more than ordinary pressure from want of money, Dr. Mitford went to London early in May, either to procure the representation, or to sell the copyright, of "Charles the First." Through the introduction of Mr. Serle, he was made acquainted with Mr. Abbott, who had quitted Covent Garden and become manager of the Victoria Theatre. To him the play was offered; and, as the theatre was on the Surrey side of the Thames, and beyond the jurisdiction of the Lord Chamberlain, there was no licenser to be consulted. The piece was immediately accepted. The terms offered were very liberal-two hundred pounds to be paid immediately, and a fourth share of the profits for a certain number of nights. But, though this was the first proposal, there was much delay in the negotiation; and it was not till the end of June that Dr. Mitford returned to Three-mile Cross, after the completion of his literary mission, and that Miss Mitford went to town to be present at the rehearsals, and witness the production of her tragedy.]

TO DR. MITFORD, 8 King Street, Cheapside.

Three-mile Cross, May 13, 1834. I thank you most heartily, my dearest father, for your great kindness about Mr. Bentley.*

Ben desires me to tell you to get the Wallace and the light whip for Miss Mitford; I, for my part, forbid you buying any thing unless you sell the play or the copyright. Ben could only get a dozen cuttings of heart's-ease yesterday, Ratten having sold all the plants. I have had the creepers planted and the dahlias, and we have two beautiful geraniums come out, and your seedling is really superb; but I am sorry to say that the cats are more mischievous than ever. They got into the greenhouse last night—broke one of our best geraniums to pieces-tore a good deal of a night-scented stock-dragged my sofa-cover all over the floor, and danced all over the looking-glass. They have also scratch* The publisher.

ed up our new border of red and blue flowers under the jessamine, and are really past bearing-particularly the white one, for I don't think the tabby would be so bad if alone. All the pets are well. The mare and Ben rolled the field yesterday, and Ben desires me to say that it looks very well. Love to both the Williams and Mr. Sergeant. Ever most affectionately yours, M. R. M.

To DR. MITFORD, King Street, Cheapside.

May 15, 1834.

John and Ben are gone to the flower-show, and have taken some of our blooms to compare with those shown, and mean to bring home the names of the owners of any new geraniums, that we may try to get cuttings. So we shall know as much as if I went; I am so worried and out of sorts, that I should have had no sort of pleasure there. I have no doubt but you will do for the best. I should be content with £200 -£150-£100-any thing rather than risk; though I have a source of confidence in the play* that no one else has; for my reliance on Mr. Cathcart's acting increases rather than diminishes, which-fearful and doubtful as I am of every thing else—is a great comfort. But I would gladly take £100 for the tragedy nevertheless. Unless you get some money, my dear love, my going to town to spend money is absolutely out of the question. I would rather have £50 down than the chance of £500, for I know I shall be cheated, notwithstanding Mr. Serle's kindness.

My garden really looks divine; I never saw any thing so beautiful. God bless you! Ever your own, M. R. M.

To DR. MITFORD, 9 Norfolk Street, London.

Three-mile Cross, July 7, 1834. We have had a most delightful evening at the Barnes's. They regretted your absence much; and so did I, because I think you would have enjoyed the party. There was Mr. McCulloch, the great political economist, whom I was glad to see; and a Mr. Walker, and a Dr. Elliotson; but the persons whom I was most delighted with were Mr. Dilke and his wife. He is the editor of the "Athenæum" (always so kind to me), and I assure you I never in my life liked any

*Charles the First.

one better. He is quite as cordial and enthusiastic as Allan Cunningham, and one of the most perfect and accomplished gentlemen that I ever knew: you would be delighted with him. Barnes said to me, of his own accord, that he saw from the other papers that their reporter must have made a great mistake about Mr. Cathcart, and that he would send some one else and set it to rights. This was very pleasant; and Mr. Dilke promised also to say what was proper. I have neither seen nor heard of Mr. Serle,* nor of Mr. Abbott, who ought to have called to-day.

God bless you, my darling! I long for to-morrow, to hear all about you, and poor Dash, and my flowers; and when I have heard I will finish this. So good-night.

Monday morning.

I copy, my dear father, the charming note which I have just received from the Duke of Devonshire :

"Brighton, July 6, 1834. "MADAM,-I left London for this place on Friday, and could not till to-day reply to your letter, and thank you for the copy of Charles the First.'

"I am happy and proud to accept the dedication of your work, and have the honor to be, madam, your faithful, humble servant, DEVONSHIRE."

TO MISS JEPHSON, Bath.

35 Norfolk Street, Strand, July 8th, 1834. MY DEAREST EMILY,-This is the very first moment in which I have been able to answer your very kind letter. The papers will of course have told you that both I and my actor have been completely successful-though to have succeeded under the disadvantages of bringing out such a trageedy in a minor theatre is very extraordinary. However, we have taught the queen, so that she plays very finely; and the thing is admirably got up, and the theatre beautiful, and Cathcart's acting refined, intellectual, powerful, and command

* Mr. Serle was a gentleman of very superior abilities, who had left the bar for the stage. As an actor he was eminently correct and judicious, but never popular. He was also the author of "The London Merchant" and one other play, which were beautifully written, and preserved much of the spirit and character of the old dramatists.

ing beyond any thing I ever witnessed. Mr. Serle wrote and spoke the prologue, which is just like one of Ben Jonson's, and the profound respect with which the whole thing has been treated is highly gratifying. They make a real queen of me, and would certainly demolish my humility, if I were happy enough to be humble; though I feel that over-praise, overestimation, is a far more humbling thing-a thing that sends you back on your own mind to ask, "Have I deserved this ?" -than any thing else that can be. For the first ten days I spent on an average from four to six hours every morning in the Victoria Theatre, at hard scolding, for the play has been entirely got up by me; then I dined out amongst twenty or thirty eminent strangers every evening. Since that, I have been to operas and pictures, and held a sort of drawing-room every morning; so that I am so worn out, as to have, for three days out of the last four, fainted dead away between four and five o'clock, a fine-lady trick which I never played before, and which teaches me that I must return, as soon as I can, into the country, to write another play, and run again the same round of fatigue, excitement, and pleasure. After all, my primary object is, and has been, to establish Mr. Cathcart. We have done very, very much; and if we had two great theatres he would certainly be engaged at one of them. Write to me, as usual, at home (for I must go back or die here), and believe me ever most faithfully yours,

M. R. M.

TO SIR WILLIAM ELFORD, The Priory, Totnes. Three-mile Cross, August 8, 1834. MY DEAR SIR WILLIAM,—I never heard Lady Morley's novel mentioned; but I have no time for novel-reading, and (except Victor Hugo's matchless "Notre Dame de Paris") have not opened one since "Eugene Aram." And I don't think, from the turn conversation seemed to take in London, that novels were much read there. They are too long. The books I heard spoken of were Crabbe's Life, Mrs. Siddons's Memoirs, Sir Egerton Brydges's Autobiography, the "Bubbles from the Brunnens," and "Philip van Artevelde;" and of these, except the first and last, none will be heard of three months hence. All travels fast in London, and the book of the day is over in a week.