Seriously, Madam--now I am _really_ serious--can you believe, after beholding Lord and Lady Darcey, I will ever be content with a moderate share of happiness?--No, I will die first.--To see them at this instant would be an antidote for indifference.--Not any thing of foolish fondness:--no; that will never be seen in Lord and Lady Darcey.--Their happiness is not confin'd:--we are all refreshed by it:--it pours forth from their homes like streams flowing from a pure terrain.--I think I said I could not go to church:--no, not for the world would I have gone:--I expected Miss Powis would be crying, fainting, and I know not what.--Instead of all this fuss, not a tear was shed.--I thought every body cried when they were married:--those that _had_, or had _not_ cause.--Well, I am determin'd to appear satisfied, however, if the yoke is a little galling. How charming look'd Miss Powis, when she smil'd on Lord Darcey!--On Lord Darcey? On every body I mean.--And for him--But I must forget his air,--his words,--his looks, if ever I intend to say love, honour, and obey.--Once I am brought to say love,--honour and obey will slide off glibly enough. I must go down amongst them. Believe me, Madam, I shut myself up to write against intreaties,--against the most persuasive eloquence. This is the day when the Powis family are crown'd with felicity.--I think on it with rapture.--I will set it down on the heart of your dutiful and affectionate E. Delves. LETTER XLV. Miss Delves to the same. _Barford Abbey_ Surely I must smell of venison,--roast beef, and plumb-puddings.--Yes, I smell of the Old English hospitality.--_You_, Madam, have no tenants to regale so;--are safe from such troubles on my account.--Will you believe me, Madam, I had rather see their honest old faces than go to the finest opera ever exhibited.--What think you of a hundred-and-seven chearful farmers sitting at long tables spread with every thing the season can afford;--two hogsheads of wine at their elbows;--the servants waiting on them with assiduous respect:--Their songs still echo in my ears. I thought the roof would have come down, when Lord and Lady Darcey made their appearance.--Some sung one tune,--some another;--some paid extempore congratulations;--others that had not a genius, made use of ballads compos'd on the marriage of the King and Queen.--One poor old soul cried to the Butler, because he could neither sing or repeat a verse.--Seeing his distress, I went to him, and repeated a few lines applicable to the occasion, which he caught in a moment, and tun'd away with the best of them. Lord and Lady Hampstead are so delighted with the honest rustics, that they declare every Christmas their tenants shall be regal'd at Hallum Grove.