officiating clergy any way affected, yet it is not at all uncommon to see women who are not in the least concerned in the operations going on-old ladies who are long past marrying, stout middle-aged females with plenty of sons and daughters, let alone pretty young creatures in pink bonnets, who are on their promotion, and may naturally take an interest in the ceremony-I say it is quite common to see the women present piping, sobbing, sniffling, hiding their little faces in their little useless pocket-handkerchiefs, and heaving, old and young, with emotion. When my friend, the fashionable John Pimlico, married the lovely Lady Belgravia Green Parker, the emotion was so general, that even the little snuffy old pew-opener who let me into the seat, was in tears. And wherefore? I inquired of my own soul: she was not going to When, then, Becky told him that the great crisis was near, and the time for action had arrived, Rawdon expressed himself as ready to act under her orders, as he would be to charge with his troop at the command of his colonel. There was no need for him to put his letter into the third volume of Porteus. Rebecca easily found a means to get rid of Briggs, her companion, and met her faithful friend in " the usual place" on the next day. She had thought over matters at night, and communicated to Rawdon the result of her determinations. He agreed, of course, to every thing; was quite sure that it was all right; that what she proposed was best; that Miss Crawley would infallibly relent, or "come round," as he said, after a time. Had Rebecca's resolutions been entirely different, he would have followed them as implicitly. "You be married. have head enough for both of us, Beck,' said he. "You're sure to get us out of the scrape. I never saw your equal, and I've met with some clippers in my time too." And with this simple confession of faith, the love-stricken dragoon left her to execute his part of the project which she had formed for the pair. It consisted simply in the hiring of quiet lodgings at Brompton, or in the neighborhood of the barracks, for Captain and Mrs. Crawley. For Rebecca had determined, and very prudently, we think, to fly. Rawdon was only too happy at her resolve; he had been entreating her to take this measure any time for weeks past. He pranced off to engage the lodgings with all the impetuosity of love. He agreed to pay two guineas a week so readily, that the landlady regretted she had asked him so little. He ordered in a piano, and half a nursery house full of flowers, and a heap of good things. As for shawls, kid gloves, silk stockings, gold French watches, bracelets and perfumery, he sent them in with the profusion of blind love and unbounded credit. And having relieved his mind by this outpouring of generosity, he went and dined nervously at the club, waiting until the great moment of his life should come. The occurrences of the previous day; the admirable conduct of Rebecca in refusing an offer so advantageous to her, the secret unhappiness preying upon her, the sweetness and silence with which she bore her affliction, made Miss Crawley much more tender than usual. An event of this nature, a marriage, or a refusal, or a proposal, thrills through a whole houseful of women, and sets all their hysterical sympathies at work. As an observer of human nature, I regularly frequent St. George's, Hanover-square, during the genteel marriage season; and though I have never seen the bridegroom's male friends give way to tears, or the beadles and Miss Crawley and Briggs, in a word, after the affair of Sir Pitt, indulged in the utmost luxury of sentiment, and Rebecca became an object of the most tender interest to them. In her absence Miss Crawley solaced herself with the most sentimental of the novels in her library. Little Sharp, with her secret griefs, was the heroine of the day. That night Rebecca sang more sweetly and talked more pleasantly than she had ever been heard to do in Park Lane. She twined herself round the heart of Miss Crawley. She spoke lightly and laughingly of Sir Pitt's proposal, ridiculed it as the foolish fancy of an old man; and her eyes filled with tears, and Briggs's heart with unutterable pangs of defeat, as she said she desired no other lot than to remain forever with her dear benefactress. My dear litthe creature," the old lady said, "I don't intend to let you stir for years, that you may depend upon. As for going back to that odious brother of mine after what has passed, it is out of the question. Here you stay with me and Briggs. Briggs wants to go to see her relations very often. Briggs, you may go when you like. But as for you, my dear, you must stay and take care of the old woman." If Rawdon Crawley had been then and there present, instead of being at the club nervously drinking claret, the pair might have gone down on their knees before the old spinster, avowed all, and been forgiven in a twinkling. But that good chance was denied to the young couple, doubtless in order that this story might be written, in which numbers of their wonderful adventures are narrated-adventures which could never have occurred to them if they had been housed and sheltered under the comfortable uninteresting forgiveness of Miss Crawley. Under Mrs. Firkin's orders, in the Park Lane establishment, was a young woman from Hampshire, whose business it was, among other duties, to knock at Miss Sharp's door with that jug of hot water, which Firkin would rather have perished than have presented to the intruder. This girl, bred on the family estate, had a brother in Captain Crawley's troop, and if the truth were known, I dare say it would come out that she was aware of certain arrangements, which have a great deal to do with this history. At any rate, she purchased a yellow shawl, a pair of green boots, and a light blue hat with a red feather, with three guineas which Rebecca gave her, and as little Sharp was by no means too liberal with her money, no doubt it was for services rendered that Betty Martin was so bribed. On the second day after Sir Pitt Crawley's offer to Miss Sharp, the sun rose as usual, and at the usual hour Betty Martin, the up-stairs maid, knocked at the door of the governess's bed-chamber. No answer was returned, and she knocked again. Silence was still uninterrupted; and Betty, with the hot water, opened the door and entered the chamber. The little white dimity bed was as smooth and trim as on the day previous when Betty's own hands had helped to make it. Two little trunks were corded in one end of the room; and on the table before the window -on the pincushion-the great fat pincushion lined with pink inside, and frilled like a lady's nightcap-lay a letter. It had been reposing there probably all night. Betty advanced toward it on tiptoe, as if she were afraid to awake it-looked at it, and round the room with an air of great wonder and satisfaction, took up the letter, and grinned intensely as she turned it round and over, and finally carried it into Miss Briggs's room below. How could Betty tell that the letter was for Miss Briggs, I should like to know? All the schooling Betty had was at Mrs. Bute Crawley's Sunday school, and she could no more read writing than Hebrew. "La, Miss Briggs," the girl exclaimed, "O, Miss, something must have happened -there's nobody in Miss Sharp's room; the bed aint been slep in, and she've run away, and left this letter for you, Miss." "What!" cries Briggs, dropping her comb, the thin wisp of faded hair falling over her shoulders; "an elopement! Miss Sharp a fugitive! What, what is this?" and she eagerly broke the neat seal, and, as they say, "devoured the contents" of the letter addressed to her. Claims even superior to those of my bene factress call me hence. I go to my dutyto my husband. Yes, I am married. My husband commands me to seek the humble home which we call ours. Dearest Miss Briggs, break the news as your delicate sympathy will know how to do it-to my dear, my beloved friend and benefactress. Tell her, ere I went, I shed tears on her dear pillow-that pillow that I have so often soothed in sickness-that I long again to watch-Oh, with what joy shall I return to dear Park Laue! How I tremble for the answer which is to seal my fate! When Sir Pitt deigned to offer me his hand, an honor of which my beloved Miss Crawley said I was deserving (my blessings go with her for judging the poor orphan worthy to be her sister!), I told Sir Pitt that I was already a wife. Even he forgave me. my courage failed me, when I should have told him all-that I could not be his wife, for I was his daughter! I am wedded to the best and most generous of men-Miss Crawley's Rawdon is my Rawdon. At his command I open my lips, and follow him to our humble home, as I would through the world. O, my excellent and kind friend, intercede with my Rawdon's beloved aunt for him and the poor girl to whom all his noble race have shown such unparalleled affection. Ask Miss Crawley to receive her children. I can say no more, but blessings, blessings on all in the dear house I leave, prays Your affectionate and grateful, REBECCA CRAWLEY. 66 "Midnight." But Just as Briggs had finished reading this affecting and interesting document, which feinstated her in her position as first confidante of Miss Crawley, Mrs. Firkin entered the room. "Here's Mrs. Bute Crawley just arrived by the mail from Hampshire, and wants some tea; will you come down and make breakfast, miss?" And to the surprise of Firkin, clasping her dressing-gown around her, the wisp of hair floating disheveled behind her, the little curl-papers still sticking in bunches round her forehead, Briggs sailed down to Mrs. Bute with the letter in her hand containing the wonderful news. Providential that she snould have arrived at uch a time to assist poor dear Miss Crawley in supporting the shock-that Rebecca was an artful little hussy, of whom she had always had her suspicions; and that as for Rawdon Crawley, she never could account for his aunt's infatuation regarding him, and had long considered him a profligate, lost, and abandoned being. And this awful conduct, Mrs. Bute said, will have at least this good effect, it will open poor, dear Miss Crawley's eyes to the real character of this wicked man. Then Mrs. Bute had a comfortable hot toast and tea; and as there was a vacant room in the house now, there was no need for her to remain at the Gloster Coffee House where the Portsmouth mail had set her down, and whence she ordered Mr. Bowls's aid-de-camp, the footman, to bring away her trunks. Miss Crawley, be it known, did not leave her room until near noon-taking chocolate in bed in the morning, while Becky Sharp read the Morning Post to her, or otherwise amusing herself or dawdling. The conspirators below agreed that they would spare the dear lady's feelings until she appeared in her drawing-room: meanwhile it was announced to her, that Mrs. Bute Crawley had come up from Hampshire by the mail, was staying at the Gloster, sent her love to Miss Crawley, and asked for breakfast with Miss Briggs. The arrival of Mrs. Bute, which would not have caused any extreme delight at another period, was hailed with pleasure now; Miss Crawley being pleased at the notion of a gossip with her sister-in-law regarding the late Lady Crawley, the funeral arrangements pending, and Sir Pitt's abrupt proposals to Rebecca. It was not until the old lady was fairly ensconced in her usual arm-chair in the drawing-room, and the preliminary embraces and inquiries had taken place between the ladies, that the conspirators thought it advisable to submit her to the operation. Who has not admired the artifices and delicate approaches with which women "prepare" their friends for bad news? Miss Crawley's two friends made such an apparatus of mystery before they broke the intelligence to her, that they worked her up to the necessary degree of doubt and alarm. "And she refused Sir Pitt, my dear, dear Miss Crawley, prepare yourself for it," Mrs. Bute said, "because-because she couldn't help herself." "Of course there was a reason," Miss Crawley answered. "She liked somebody else. I told Briggs so yesterday." "Likes somebody else!" Briggs gasped. "O my dear friend, she is married already." "Married already," Mrs. Bute chimed in; and both sat with clasped hands looking from each other at their victim. She left a letter for me," Briggs exclaimed. "She's married to”— 66 Prepare her, for heaven's sake. Don't torture her, my dear Miss Briggs." "She's married to whom?" cries the spinster, in a nervous fury. "To-to a relation of”"She refused Sir Pitt," cried the victim. “Speak at once. Don't drive me mad.” "O ma'am-prepare her, Miss Briggsshe's married to Rawdon Crawley." "Rawdon married-Rebecca-governess nobod-Get out of my house, you fool, you idiot—you stupid old Briggs—how dare you? You're in the plot-you made him marry, thinking that I'd leave my money from him--you did, Martha," the poor old lady screamed in hysteric sentences. "I, ma'am, ask a member of this family to marry a drawing-master's daughter?" "Her mother was a Montmorency," cried out the old lady, pulling at the bell with all her might. "Her mother was an opera girl, and she has been on the stage or worse herself," said Mrs. Bute. Miss Crawley gave a final scream, and fell back in a faint. They were forced to take her back to the room which she had just quitted. One fit of hysterics succeeded another. The doctor was sent for-the apothecary arrived. Mrs. Bute took up the post of nurse by her bedside. "Her relations ought to be round about her," that amiable woman said. She had scarcely been carried up to her room, when a new person arrived, to whom it was also necessary to break the news. This was Sir Pitt. "Where's Becky?" he said, coming in. "Where's her traps? She's coming with me to Queen's Crawley." "Have you not heard the astonishing intelligence regarding her surreptitious union?" Briggs asked. What's that to me?" Sir Pitt asked. "I know she's married. That makes no odds. Tell her to come down at once, and not keep me." "Are you not aware, sir," Miss Briggs asked, that she has left our roof, to the dismay of Miss Crawley, who is nearly killed by the intelligence of Captain Rawdon's union with her?" When Sir Pitt Crawley heard that Re"Send her to me the instant she comes becca was married to his son, he broke out into a fury of language, which it would do no good to repeat in this place, as indeed it sent poor Briggs shuddering out of the room; and with her we will shut the door upon the figure of the frenzied old man, wild with hatred, and insane with baffled desire. can't but feel some sympathies and regret." My Lord Dives's remains are in the family vault; the statuaries are cutting an inscription veraciously commemorating his virtues, and the sorrows of his heir, who is disposing of his goods. What guest at Dives's table One day after he went to Queen's Craw- can pass the familiar house without a sigh? ley, he burst like a madman into the room the familiar house of which the lights used to she had used when there-dashed open her shine so cheerfully at seven o'clock, of which boxes with his foot, and flung about her pa- the hall doors opened so readily, of which pers, clothes, and other relics. Miss Hor- the obsequious servants, as you passed up rocks, the butler's daughter, took some of the comfortable stair, sounded your name them. The children dressed themselves from landing to landing, until it reached the and acted plays in the others. It was but a apartment where jolly old Dives welcomed few days after the poor mother had gone to his friends! her lonely burying-place; and was laid, unwept and disregarded, in a vault full of strangers. HOW CAPTAIN DOBBIN BOUGHT A PIANO. If there is any exhibition in all Vanity Fair which Satire and Sentiment can visit arm in arm together; where you light on the strangest contrasts, laughable and tearful: where you may be gentle and pathetic, or savage and cynical with perfect propriety it is at one of those public assemblies, a crowd of which are advertised every day in the last page of the Times newspaper, and over which the late Mr. George Robins used to preside with so much dignity. There are very few London people, as I fancy, who have not attended at these meetings, and all with a taste for moralizing must have thought, with a sensation and interest not a little startling and queer, of the day when their turn shall come too, and Mr. Hammerdown will sell by the orders of Diogenes's assignees; or will be instructed by the executors, to offer to public competition, the library, furniture, plate, wardrobe, and choice cellar of wines of Epicurus, deceased. Even with the most selfish disposition, the Vanity-fairian, as he witnesses this sordid part of the obsequies of a departed friend, F What a number of them he had; and what a noble way of entertaining them. How witty people used to be here who were morose when they got out of the door; and how courteous and friendly men who slandered and hated each other every where else! He was pompous, but with such a cook what would one not swallow? He was rather dull, perhaps, but would not such wine make any conversation pleasant? We must get some of his Burgundy at any price, the mourners cry at his club. "I got this box at old Dives's sale," Pincher says, handing it round; one of Louis XV.'s mistresses-pretty thing, is it not?-sweet miniature," and they talk of the way in which young Dives is dissipating his fortune. 66 How changed the house is, though! The front is patched over with bills, setting forth the particulars of the furniture in staring capitals. They have hung a shred of carpet out of an up-stairs window--a half-dozen of porters are lounging on the dirty stepsthe hall swarms with dingy guests of oriental countenance, who thrust printed cards into your hand, and offer to bid. Old women and amateurs have invaded the upper apartments, pinching the bed curtains, poking into the feathers, shampooing the mattresses, and clapping the wardrobe drawers to and fro. Enterprising young housekeepers are measuring the looking-glasses and hangings to see if they will suit the new ménage(Snob will brag for years that he has purchased this or that at Dives's sale)—and Mr. Hammerdown is sitting on the great mahogany dining-tables, in the dining room below, waving the ivory hammer, and employing all the artifices of eloquence, enthusiasm, entreaty, reason, despair; shouting to his people; satirizing Mr. Davids for his sluggishness; inspiriting Mr. Moss into action; imploring, commanding, bellowing, until down comes the hammer like fate, and we pass to the next lot. O Dives, who would ever have thought, as we sat round the broad table sparkling with plate and spotless linen, ever to have seen such a dish at the head of it as that roaring auctioneer? It was rather late in the sale. The excellent drawing-room furniture by the best makers; the rare and famous wines select ed, regardless of cost, and with the well known taste of the purchaser; the rich and complete set of family plate had been sold on the previous day. Certain of the best wines (which all had a great character among amateurs in the neighborhood) had been purchased for his master, who knew them very well, by the butler of our friend, John Osborne, Esquire, of Russell-square. A small portion of the most useful articles of the plate had been bought by some young stock-brokers from the city. And now the public being invited to the purchase of minor objects, it happened that the orator on the table was expatiating on the merits of a picture, which he sought to recommend to his audience it was by no means so select or numerous a company as had attended the previous days of the auction. "No. 369," roared Mr. Hammerdown. "Portrait of a gentleman on an elephant. Who'll bid for the gentleman on the elephant? Lift up the picture, Blowman, and let the company examine this lot." A long, pale, military-looking gentleman, seated demurely at the mahogany table, could not help grinning as this valuable lot was shown by Mr. Blowman. "Turn the elephant to the captain, Blowman. What shall we say, sir, for the elephant ?" but the captain, blushing in a very hurried and discomfited manner, turned away his head, and the auctioneer repeated his discomposure. "Shall we say twenty guineas for this work of art!-fifteen, five, name your own price. The gentleman without the elephant is worth five pounds." 66 "I wonder it aint come down with him," said a professional wag, "he's any how a precious big one;" at which (for the elephant rider was represented as of a very stout figure) there was a general giggle in the room. Don't be trying to depreciate the value of the lot, Mr. Moss," Mr. Hammerdown said; "let the company examine it as a work of art the attitude of the gallant animal quite according to natur; the gentleman in a nankeen-jacket, his gun in his hand is going to the chase; in the distance a banyan-tree and a pagoda, most likely resemblances of some interesting spot in our famous Eastern possessions. How much for this lot? Come, gentlemen, don't keep me here all day." Some one bid five shillings, at which the military gentleman looked toward the quarter from which this splendid offer had come -and there saw another officer with a young lady on his arm, who both appeared to be highly amused with the scene, and to whom, finally, this lot was knocked down for half-aguinea. He at the table looked more surprised and discomposed than ever when he spied this pair, and his head sank into his military collar, and he turned his back upon them, so as to avoid them altogether. Of all the other articles which Mr. Hammerdown had the honor to offer for public competition that day it is not our purpose to make mention, save of one only; this was a little square piano which came down from the upper regions of the house (the state grand piano having been disposed of previously); this the young lady tried with a rapid and skillful hand, (making the officer blush and start again), and for it, when its turn came, her agent began to bid. But there was an opposition here. The Hebrew aid-de-camp in the service of the officer at the table bid against the Hebrew gentleman employed by the elephant purchasers, and a brisk battle ensued over this little piano, the combatants being greatly encouraged by Mr. Hammerdown. At last, when the competition had been prolonged for some time, the elephant captain and lady desisted from the race; and the hammer coming down, the auctioneer said: "Mr. Lewis, twenty-five," and Mr. Lewis's chief thus became the proprietor of the little square piano. Having effected the purchase, he sate up as if he was greatly relieved, and the unsuccessful competitors catching a glimpse of him at this moment, the lady said to her friend, 66 Why, Rawdon, it's Captain Dobbin." I suppose Becky was discontented with the new piano her husband had hired for her, or perhaps the proprietors of that instrument had fetched it away, declining farther credit, or perhaps she had a particular attachment for the one which she had first tried to purchase, recollecting it in old days, when she used to play upon it, in the little sitting-room of our dear Amelia Sedley. The sale was at the old house in Russellsquare, where we passed some evenings together at the beginning of this story. Good old John Sedley was a ruined man. His name had been proclaimed as a defaulter on the Stock Exchange, and his bankruptcy and commercial extermination had followed. Mr. Osborne's butler came to buy some of the famous port wine, to transfer to the cellars over the way. As for one dozen wellmanufactured silver spoons and forks at per oz., and one dozen dessert ditto, ditto, there were three young stock-brokers (Messrs. Dale, Spiggot, and Dale, of Threadneedlestreet, indeed), who having had dealings with the old man, and kindnesses from him in days when he was kind to every body with whom he dealt, sent this little spar out of the wreck with their love to good Mrs. Sedley; and with respect to the piano, as it had been Amelia's, and as she might miss it and want one now, and as Captain William Dobbin could no more play upon it, than he could dance on the tight-rope, it is probable that he did not purchase it for his own use. In a word, it arrived that evening, at a |