Fitzroy's society, and I have found out in what consists the great difference (dearly as they love each other) between her character and that of my aunt: it is this,--Aunt Douglas is drawn by sympathy, Mrs. Fitzroy stimulated by opposition. The former lives more in a region of feeling, though one in which intellect too is continually busy. The latter, though very affectionate, can exist for a long time without applying to the stores of her heart; and provided you give her plenty of brains, she will feed upon them, and keep her affections like the furniture of a state drawing-room, with the _covers on_. _Par consequence_, then, Mrs. Fitzroy delights in seeing Mr. Bentley come to pay a visit, and always rouses to the combat which is sure to ensue, certain that her antagonist is strong, and feeling that "wit sparkles in collision." "Good morrow, good people," said our rough diamond, "I thought you would be all as low as 'gib cats' this morning, after the departure of those two _swains_, (casting a sidelong glance at Charlotte, which she caught, and blushed immoderately,) and so I thought it might divert you all, and adorn a page of Madam Fitzroy's Anthologia Hibernia, to bring you a pretty specimen of Irish impudence which I have had to provoke me to-day. You must know, that while I was playing the fool, and strolling about at Killarney instead of minding my business at home, a dozen of very fine geese were stolen from my farm-yard, by some of those sweet primitive sentimentalists whom the fair flatterer there has decked in such fanciful tissues, that when sent forth from the dressing-room of her imagination, nobody knows who they are. Well, I took proper steps to trace the thief, and have put the neighbourhood into a deuce of a fright; but what do you think of the impertinence of some funny dog (and here he laughed heartily as he drew out from his waistcoat-pocket a dirty scrap of paper) who sent my large gander _twaddling_ home this morning by himself, making such plaguy noise that all the servants ran together to see what was the matter; I found this novel species of carrier-bird with a small bag tied round his neck, containing a bright new shilling, and the following ingenious sample of poetry, after something of the leonine fashion. He then unfolded at arm's length, the crumpled composition, and read, "Squire, dear, I live here, And you live _yander_; I bought your geese, for pence a-piece, The money I send by the gander."