Major (bowing). No need of this, my dear friend. My lord has the cha-ract-er of a fine gentleman him-self, and knows how to receive a gentleman who waits upon him with due respect.

Lord L. I hope I do. But, madam, you know whose protection the lady is in.

Mrs. O’Hara. I do, my lord. Sir Charles Grandison is a very fine gentleman.

Capt. De vinest cha-roc^-er in de vorld. By my salvation, every body say so.

Mrs. O^Hara. But Sir Charles, my lord, is a very sill CHARLES GRANDISON. 31 young gentleman to be a guardian to so young a creature; especially now that she is growing into woman. I have had some few faults, I own. Who lives, that has not? But I have been basely scanda-lized. My first husband had /<m; and much greater than I had. He was set against me by some of his own relations: vile creatures! He left me, and went abroad; but he has answered for all by this time; and for the scanty allowance he made me, his great fortune considered: but as long as my child will be the better for it, that I can forgive. Emily, my dear!

She stepped to the door on hearing the rustling of silks, supposing her at hand; but it was Miss Grandison, followed by a servant with chocolate, to afford her a pretence to see the visiters; and at the same time having a mind to hint to them, that they were not to expect to be asked to stay to dinner.

It is to Miss Grandison that I owe the description of each, the account of what passed, and the broken dialect.

Mrs. O’Hara has been a handsome woman; but well might Sir Charles be disgusted with her aspect. She has a leering, sly, yet confident eye; and a very bold countenance. She is not ungenteel; yet her very dress denotes her turn of mind. Her complexion, sallowish, streaked with red, makes her face (which is not so plump as it once has been) look like a withering John-apple that never ripened kindly.

Miss Grandison has a way of saying ill-natured things, in such a good-natured manner, that one can-not forbear smiling, though one should not altogether approve of them; and yet sometimes one would be ready to wonder how she came by her images.

The major is pert, bold, vain, and seemed parti-cularly fond of his new scarlet coat, and laced waist — coat. He is ctNTtainly, Miss Giandison says, a low man, though a soldier. Anderson, added she, i worth fifty of him. His face, fiery and highly pim-pled, is set off to advantage by an enormous solitaire. His bad and straggling teeth are shewn continually by an affected laugh, and his empty discourse is interlarded with oaths, which, with my uncle’s leave, I shall omit.

Captain Salmonet, she says, appeared to her in a middle way between a French beau and a Dutch boor; aiming at gentility with a person and shape uncommonly clumsy.