moment, a coach-and-six, a diamond necklace, or a sounding name, will restore them to the true point of vision. But I must be serious. What pains and penalties, my Lucy, does the folly of man give to the pilgrimage of this life! Not satisfied with the allotted portion of trial deemed by Providence for our _benefit_, or to travel in a road prepared by infinite goodness for our feeble powers, we seem to be diligent in obstructing it when smooth and level, with thorns and briars of our own seeking. Your good father, my Lucy, with all his wisdom, dares not make his children happy,—and, why not? Because Miss Cowley ought to marry a man as rich as herself. Where does Mr. Hardcastle find this law? In a world he despises.—“Is it not late, my dear child,” asks the sympathizing, Mrs. Allen, looking compassionately on my tell-tale eyes. It is time to forget the world at least. Yours, ever, RACHEL COWLEY. LETTER X. _From the same to the same._ _Unbending dignity_, Lucy, has been a match for sullenness. I have conquered; and Miss Flint has broken silence, and held out the olive branch. But hold, it was not that unbending dignity you may suspect which produced peace, it was in sober truth my _folly_ which did the business; for as she could not always look grave when others laughed, she forgot her anger and laughed with the rest. As I have measures to keep, I was in nowise ungracious in my turn, and all discord was buried by my reading to the collected circle, the comedy you sent me. Before we parted, Miss Flint mentioned her intention of going to church the next morning, and I readily engaged to accompany her. You must have been surprised, that I have not mentioned to you our having been in a church since I have been here, but the absence of the rector had slackened Miss Flint’s zeal, and the baronet and his lady preferred their own prayers to Mr. Snughead’s. Mrs. Allen likes their form of devotion, and having a head-ach, has remained quiet to profit from Sir Murdock’s sermon. A little of the still fermenting leaven, as I suspect, induced Miss Flint to disappoint my expectations of a ride with her niece; on my enquiring for her, she said with a haughty air, that Mary preferred walking with Warner, her woman. We soon reached the church, and I followed my stately conductress to a pew in the church, in which was another equally distinguished by its size and decorations of lining and cushions. We had scarcely seated ourselves, for Miss Flint performs this business with peculiar caution and regard to her dress, before the Abbey family entered, escorted by Malcolm: and they took the adjoining pew. I instantly rose, and paying my compliments, asked Miss Heartley for the captain. She told me he was with Miss Howard, and following them. I again took my seat. “Why! where, in the name of wonder!” whispered Miss