"Oh, my dear sweet jars," cried Lady Meredith; "now positively you shall not abuse them; any thing else you may find what fault you please with, but my sweet jars I cannot give up:--have you ever read Anna Seward's poetical recipe to make one?" "Not I," replied her friend in an angry tone, "nor ever desire it; all the poetry in the world should never induce me to fill my rooms with such nonsense." During this conversation, the little girl, who had tired herself with looking at the jewels and trinkets, rose from her cushion, and said:-- "Pretty mamma, dress pretty Miranda in these," holding up some fine emeralds. "No indeed, child: go to Colonel Lenox, and ask him to adorn you; I cannot take so much trouble." "No, Miranda won't; Miranda go to pretty, sweet, beautiful lady;" and she went to Ellen, who, admiring the lovely little creature, kissed her, and indulged her by putting the shining ornaments round her little fair neck and arms, and twisting some in the ringlets of her glossy hair. "Now I beautiful," said the child, looking at herself. "Is not Miranda pretty now, mamma?" "Yes, my love, beautiful as an angel: come and kiss me, my darling." The child, climbing up the load of cushions, laid her sweet little face close to her mother's and kissed her. "Is not she a beauty and a love?" said the injudicious mother to the Colonel, clasping the little creature to her bosom, with an air more theatrical than tender. He whispered something, in return to which she replied with affected indignation, "Oh, you flattering wretch, _that_ she is, and a thousand times handsomer; but she will never know what[B] her mother was, for before she is old enough to distinguish, I shall either be dead or hideous, and then she will hate me." She heaved a deep sigh, and looked distressed at the idea, which the child perceiving, fondly twined her little arms round her mother's neck, and answered:-- "No, dear mamma, Miranda always love you, you so beautiful." [B] It is said that the once lovely Lady C----, when on her death-bed, lamented to a friend sitting by her, that her little boy, then in the room, _would never know what a beautiful creature his mother was_. "She feels the ruling passion strong in death!" "See," said the old lady, "the effect of your lessons; you teach her to love nothing but beauty, and if you were to lose your good looks, she would of course cease to care any thing about you." "Yes, that is exactly what I dread." "Then why do you not endeavour to prevent it, by giving her more reasonable notions? If she is led to suppose beauty and fine dress the only claims to affection, if she is never taught that virtue and an affectionate heart can alone ensure unfading esteem, she will grow up a mere frivolous automaton, and probably throw herself away on the first coxcomb with a handsome face and red coat she meets with." The Colonel coloured, laughed, and bowed.