arms of Mrs. Whitmore.—­Judge not, Madam, said I, from my present stupidity, that I am so wanting in my head or heart, to be insensible of this undeserv’d goodness.—­With Mr. and Mrs. Jenkings’s permission, I am devoted to your Ladyship’s service.—­Our approbation!  Miss Warley, return’d the former;—­yes, that you have:—­her Ladyship cannot conceive how happy she has made us.—­Sir James seconded his Lady with a warmth perfectly condescending:—­no excuse would be taken; I must spend the next day at the Abbey; their coach was to attend me.

Our amiable guests did not move till summoned by the dinner-bell, which is plainly to be heard there.—­I thought I should have shed tears to see them going.—­I long’d to walk part of the way, but was afraid to propose it, lest I should appear presumptuous.—­Her Ladyship perceiv’d my inclinations,—­look’d delighted,—­and requested my company; on which Mr. Jenkings offer’d his service to escort me back.

How was I surpris’d at ascending the hill!—­My feet seem’d leading me to the first garden—­the sweet abode of innocence!—­Ten thousand beauties broke on my sight;—­ten thousand pleasures, before unknown, danced through my heart.—­Behold me on the summit;—­behold me full of surprise,—­full of admiration!—­How enchanting the park! how clear the river that winds through it!—­What taste,—­what elegance, in the plantations!—­How charmingly are Nature’s beauties rang’d by art!—­The trees,—­the shrubs,—­the flowers,—­hold up their heads, as if proud of the spot they grow on!—­Then the noble old structure,—­the magnificent mansion of this ancient family, how does it fire the beholder with veneration and delight!  The very walls seem’d to speak; at least there was something that inform’d me, native dignity, and virtues hereditary, dwelt within them.

The sight of a chaise and four, standing at the entrance, hurried me from the charming pair of this paradise, after many good days ecchoed to me, and thanks respectful return’d them by the same messenger.

Mr. Jenkings, in our return, entertain’d me with an account of the family for a century past.  A few foibles excepted in the character of Sir James, I find he possesses all the good qualities of his ancestors.  Nothing could be more pleasing than the encomiums bestow’d on Lady Powis; but she is not exempt from trouble:  the good and the bad the great and the little, at some time or other, feel Misfortune’s touch.  Happy such a rod hangs over us!  Were we to glide on smoothly, our affections would be fixed here, and here only.

I could love Lady Powis with a warmth not to be express’d;—­but—­forgive me, my dear lady—­I pine to know why your intimacy was interrupted.—­Of Lady Mary’s steadiness and integrity I am convinc’d;—­of Lady Powis I have had only a transitory view.—­Heaven forbid she should be like such people as from my heart I despise, whose regards are agueish!  Appearances promise the reverse;—­but what is appearance?  For the generality a mere cheat, a gaudy curtain.