A season of town life somewhat sobered me of my intoxication; or rather I was rendered more serious by one of my old complaints—­I fell in love.  It was with a very pretty, though a very haughty fair one, who had come to London under the care of an old maiden aunt, to enjoy the pleasures of a winter in town, and to get married.  There was not a doubt of her commanding a choice of lovers; for she had long been the belle of a little cathedral town; and one of the prebendaries had absolutely celebrated her beauty in a copy of Latin verses.

I paid my court to her, and was favorably received both by her and her aunt.  Nay, I had a marked preference shown me over the younger son of a needy baronet, and a captain of dragoons on half pay.  I did not absolutely take the field in form, for I was determined not to be precipitate; but I drove my equipage frequently through the street in which she lived, and was always sure to see her at the window, generally with a book in her hand.  I resumed my knack at rhyming, and sent her a long copy of verses; anonymously to be sure; but she knew my handwriting.  They displayed, however, the most delightful ignorance on the subject.  The young lady showed them to me; wondered who they could be written by; and declared there was nothing in this world she loved so much as poetry:  while the maiden aunt would put her pinching spectacles on her nose, and read them, with blunders in sense and sound, that were excruciating to an author’s ears; protesting there was nothing equal to them in the whole elegant extracts.

The fashionable season closed without my adventuring to make a declaration, though.  I certainly had encouragement.  I was not perfectly sure that I had effected a lodgment in the young lady’s heart; and, to tell the truth, the aunt overdid her part, and was a little too extravagant in her liking of me.  I knew that maiden aunts were not apt to be captivated by the mere personal merits of their nieces’ admirers, and I wanted to ascertain how much of all this favor I owed to my driving an equipage and having great expectations.

I had received many hints how charming their native town was during the summer months; what pleasant society they had; and what beautiful drives about the neighborhood.  They had not, therefore, returned home long, before I made my appearance in dashing style, driving down the principal street.  It is an easy thing to put a little quiet cathedral town in a buzz.  The very next morning I was seen at prayers, seated in the pew of the reigning belle.  All the congregation was in a flutter.  The prebends eyed me from their stalls; questions were whispered about the aisles after service, “who is he?” and “what is he?” and the replies were as usual—­“A young gentleman of good family and fortune, and great expectations.”

I was pleased with the peculiarities of a cathedral town, where I found I was a personage of some consequence.  I was quite a brilliant acquisition to the young ladies of the cathedral circle, who were glad to have a beau that was not in a black coat and clerical wig.