“Even I, to follow a theme as dispiriting, even I, grow weary of pleasure, and tired of gaiety. The busy world of enjoyment leaves not a moment free for happiness, and already I am longing to be back in the still valley of Glenflesk. It is not that Dublin is not very brilliant, or that society has less of agreeability than I expected--both have exceeded my anticipations; nor is it, that I have not been what we should call in France 'successful' in my 'debut'--far from that, I am the fashion, or, rather, half the fashion--Sybella dividing public favour with me;--but, somehow, nobody contradicts me here--no one has courage to tell me I'm wrong--no one will venture to say, what you have often said, and even oftener looked, that 'I talked of what I knew nothing;' and, in fact, my dear uncle, every one is so very much in love with me, that I am beginning to detest them, and would give the world to be once more at home, before I extend the hatred to myself, which I must inevitably end by doing, if nobody anticipates me in the sentiment. “You told me I should prove faithless to you. Well, I have refused heaven knows how many 'brilliant offers,' for such even the proposers called them. Generals of fourscore, guardsmen of twenty, dignitaries in the church, sergeants learned in the law, country gentlemen in hordes, two baronets, and one luckless viscount, have asked for the valueless hand that writes these lines; and yet--and yet, my dear chevalier, I shall still write myself at the bottom of this page, Kate O'Donoghue. I have no doubt you are very vain of my constancy, and will be so when you read this; and it is right you should be, for, I promise you, in my 'robe, couleur de cerise,' looped with white roses, and my 'chapeau de paysanne,' I am a very pretty person indeed--at least, it seems a point the twelve judges agree upon, and the Master of the Rolls tells me, 'that with such long eye- lashes I might lift my eyes very high indeed.' “And now, my dear, kind uncle, divide your sorrow between your niece who is dying of vanity, and your nephew who is sick of grief--continue your affection to both--and believe me, in all sincerity of heart, your own fond and faithful, “Kate O'Donoghue.” “I have met Hems worth, and, strange to say, found him both pleasant and agreeable.” Such were the concluding lines of an epistle, in which few, who did not possess Sir Arches acuteness, could successfully trace any thing of the real character of the writer. CHAPTER XXX. OLD CHARACTERS WITH NEW FACES.