talents, but by dint of cunning and sycophancy arrived at wealth and importance. In the adoption, contrary to his own judgment and approbation, of the policy which the mean and selfish heart of this person recommends, he has to look for the occasions which call into fatal action the respective characters of his son and daughter.” “I think,” observed young Mortimer, “that the nobleman in question is not without a resemblance to a minister of considerable talents, benevolent and patriotic intentions; who, wanting firmness, and complying with men far inferior to himself, permitted unexampled corruption, entailed on the nation an immense burden of debt without producing any benefit in return.” “John,” said the captain, “the American war, in which either the rash counsels or feeble plans of that administration involved this country, has produced one advantageous effect: it has demonstrated, that if the whole world unite to attack England, England can resist and repel the whole world.” “Bravo,” said a lieutenant, who had hitherto taken little part of the conversation, “my brave commander.” “Come then, Jack,” replied the commander, “suppose, if the ladies have no objection, you sing, Rule, Britannia.” Mrs. Somerive, who, though highly pleased with the criticism upon her performance, yet feeling some uneasiness that she should monopolize the whole attention, was the first to second this motion; and he performed in a very masterly style. This introduced successive requests from the ladies. The lieutenant sang two or three other songs, at the end of each of which, the captain proposed some appropriate bumper toast; by this time, as he shewed a very bountiful example of hospitality, Mrs. Somerive, fearing he might go too far, proposed retiring to the drawing room; a movement, which it had not occurred to Maria herself to suggest. “Nay, you must not go,” said the host, “till we have a chorus of Hearts of Oak; Jack there can sing it to admiration, and I can bear a bob myself.” Mrs. Somerive, seeing no wish in the younger part of the company of either sex for early separation, desisted. The song, notwithstanding rather too much vociferation on the side of the captain, was executed to the satisfaction of the company; when the laird of Etterick, turning to his nephew, said, “Willie, you are half a Scotchman, and descended from an honourable Scotch family; the lairds of Etterick are equal to any gentlemen in the country for descent, and we live, as your father used to observe, in the Scottish Arcadia, the scene of pastoral poetry:--come, sing us a Scottish song.” The company joining in this request, our hero began with Tweedside; and doing justice to the melody of that charming air, he dwelt with an emphasis of peculiar tenderness on the name of Mary. Maria feeling this indirect address, wished to turn our hero’s voice to less interesting subjects, and with a bewitching smile, asked him to favour them with a martial song.