You ask me about Vauxhall Gardens;--I have not seen them--they are no longer in fashion--the theatres are quite vulgar--even the opera- house has sunk into a second-rate place of resort.Almack's balls, the Argyle- rooms, and the Philharmonic concerts, are the only public entertainments frequented by people of fashion; and this high superiority they owe entirely to the difficulty of gaining admission.London, as my brother says, is too rich, and grown too luxurious, to have any exclusive place of fashionable resort, where price alone is the obstacle.Hence, the institution of these select aristocratic assemblies.The Philharmonic concerts, however, are rather professional than fashionable entertainments; but everybody is fond of music, and, therefore, everybody, that can be called anybody, is anxious to get tickets to them; and this anxiety has given them a degree of eclat, which I am persuaded the performance would never have excited had the tickets been purchasable at any price.The great thing here is, either to be somebody, or to be patronised by a person that is a somebody; without this, though you were as rich as Croesus, your golden chariots, like the comets of a season, blazing and amazing, would speedily roll away into the obscurity from which they came, and be remembered no more.
At first when we came here, and when the amount of our legacy was first promulgated, we were in a terrible flutter.Andrew became a man of fashion, with all the haste that tailors, and horses, and dinners, could make him.My father, honest man, was equally inspired with lofty ideas, andbegan a career that promised a liberal benefaction of good things to the poor--and my mother was almost distracted with calculations about laying out the money to the best advantage, and the sum she would allow to be spent.I alone preserved my natural equanimity; and foreseeing the necessity of new accomplishments to suit my altered circumstances, applied myself to the instructions of my masters, with an assiduity that won their applause.The advantages of this I now experience--my brother is sobered from his champaign fumes--my father has found out that charity begins at home--and my mother, though her establishment is enlarged, finds her happiness, notwithstanding the legacy, still lies within the little circle of her household cares.Thus, my dear Bell, have I proved the sweets of a true philosophy; and, unseduced by the blandishments of rank, rejected Sir Marmaduke Towler, and accepted the humbler but more disinterested swain, Captain Sabre, who requests me to send you his compliments, not altogether content that you should occupy so much of the bosom of your affectionate RACHEL PRINGLE.
"Rachel had ay a gude roose of hersel'," said Becky Glibbans, as Miss Isabella concluded.In the same moment, Mr.Snodgrass took his leave, saying to Mr.Micklewham, that he had something particular to mention to him."What can it be about?" inquired Mrs.Glibbans at Mr.Craig, as soon as the helper and schoolmaster had left the room: "Do you think it can be concerning the Doctor's resignation of the parish in his favour?" "I'm sure," interposed Mrs.Craig, before her husband could reply, "it winna be wi' my gudewill that he shall come in upon us--a pridefu' wight, whose saft words, and a' his politeness, are but lip-deep; na, na, Mrs.Glibbans, we maun hae another on the leet forbye him.""And wha would ye put on the leet noo, Mrs.Craig, you that's sic a judge?" said Mrs.Glibbans, with the most ineffable consequentiality.
"I'll be for young Mr.Dirlton, who is baith a sappy preacher of the word, and a substantial hand at every kind of civility.""Young Dirlton!--young Deevilton!" cried the orthodox Deborah of Irvine; "a fallow that knows no more of a gospel dispensation than I do of the Arian heresy, which I hold in utter abomination.No, Mrs.Craig, you have a godly man for your husband--a sound and true follower; tread ye inhis footsteps, and no try to set up yoursel' on points of doctrine.But it's time, Miss Mally, that we were taking the road; Becky and Miss Isabella, make yourselves ready.Noo, Mrs.Craig, ye'll no be a stranger; you see I have no been lang of coming to give you my countenance; but, my leddy, ca' canny, it's no easy to carry a fu' cup; ye hae gotten a great gift in your gudeman.Mr.Craig, I wish you a good-night; I would fain have stopped for your evening exercise, but Miss Mally was beginning, I saw, to weary--so good-night; and, Mrs.Craig, ye'll take tent of what I have said--it's for your gude." So exeunt Mrs.Glibbans, Miss Mally, and the two young ladies."Her bark's waur than her bite," said Mrs.Craig, as she returned to her husband, who felt already some of the ourie symptoms of a henpecked destiny.
