call to speak to those who never can under- ter herself in a genteeler quarter of the stand? Our gentle Amelia was thus soli- town. Black Sambo, with the infatuation tary. She had no confidante, so to speak, of his profession, determined on setting up a ever since she had any thing to confide. She public-house. Honest old Mrs. Blenkinsop, could not tell the good mother her doubts indeed, who had seen the birth of Jos and and cares: the would-be sisters seemed Amelia, and the wooing of John Sedley and every day more strange to her. And she his wife, was for staying by them without had misgivings and fears which she dared wages, having amassed a considerable sum not acknowledge to herself, though she was in their service: and she accompanied the always secretly brooding over them. fallen people into their new and humble place of refuge, where she tended them and grumbled against them for a while.

Her heart tried to persist in asserting that George Osborne was worthy and faithful to her, though she knew otherwise. How Of all Sedley's opponents in his debates many a thing had she said, and got no echo with his creditors which now ensued, and from him. How many suspicions of selfish- harassed the feelings of the good, kindly ness and indifference had she to encounter old gentleman so severely, that in six weeks and obstinately overcome. To whom could he oldened more than he had done for fifthe poor little martyr tell these daily strug- teen years before, the most determined and gles and tortures? Her hero himself only obstinate seemed to be John Osborne, his half understood her. She did not dare to old friend and neighbor-John Osborne, own that the man she loved was her infe- whom he had set up in life-who was unrior; or to feel that she had given her heart der a hundred obligations to him-and whose away too soon. Given once, the pure, bash- son was to marry Sedley's daughter. Any ful maiden was too modest, too tender, too one of these circumstances would account trustful, too weak, too much woman to re- for the bitterness of Osborne's opposition. call it. We are Turks with the affections When one man has been under very reof our women; and have made them sub-markable obligations to another, with whom scribe to our doctrine too. We let their he subsequently quarrels, a common sense bodies go abroad liberally enough, with of decency, as it were, makes of the former smiles, and ringlets, and pink bonnets, to disguise them, instead of vails and yakmaks. But their souls must be seen by only one man, and they obey not unwillingly, and consent to remain at home as our slaves-ministering to us and doing drudgery for us.

So imprisoned and tortured was this gentle little heart, when, in the month of March, Anno Domini 1815, Napoleon landed at Cannes, and Louis XVIII. fled, and all Europe was in alarm, and the funds fell, and good old John Sedley was ruined.

We are not going to follow the worthy old stockbroker through those last pangs and agonies of ruin through which he passed before his commercial demise befell. They declared him at the Stock Exchange; he was absent from his house of business: his bills were protested: his act of bankruptcy formal. The house and furniture of Russell-square were seized and sold up, and he and his family were thrust away, as we have seen, to hide their heads where they might.

a much severer enemy than a mere stranger would be. To account for your own hardheartedness and ingratitude in such a case, you are bound to prove the other party's crime. It is not that you are selfish, brutal, and angry at the failure of a speculationno, no-it is that your partner has led you into it by the basest treachery and with the most sinister motives. From a mere sense of consistency, a persecutor is bound to show that the fallen man is a villain--otherwise he, the persecutor, is a wretch himself.

And as a general rule, which may make all creditors, who are inclined to be severe, pretty comfortable in their minds, no men embarrassed are altogether honest, very likely. They conceal something; they exaggerate chances of good-luck, hide away the real state of affairs, say that things are flourishing when they are hopeless: keep a smiling face (a dreary smile it is) upon the verge of bankruptcy-are ready to lay hold of any pretext for delay, or of any money, so as to stave off the inevitable ruin a few days John Sedley had not the heart to review longer. "Down with such dishonesty," the domestic establishment who have ap- says the creditor in triumph, and reviles his peared now and anon in our pages, and of sinking enemy. "You fool, why do you whom he was now forced by poverty to take catch at a straw?" calm good sense says to leave. The wages of those worthy people the man that is drowning. "You villain, were discharged with that punctuality which why do you shrink from plunging into the men frequently show who only owe in great irretrievable Gazette?" says prosperity to sums-they were sorry to leave good places the poor devil battling in that black gulf. --but they did not break their hearts at Who has not marked the readiness with parting from their adored master and mis- which the closest of friends and honestest of tress. Amelia's maid was profuse in con- men suspect and accuse each other of cheatdolences, but went off quite resigned to bet-ing, when they fall out on money matters?

Every body does it. Every body is right, I the affair between George and Amelia, or suppose, and the world is a rogue.

Then Osborne had the intolerable sense of former benefits to goad and irritate him: these are always a cause of hostility aggravated. Finally, he had to break off the match between Sedley's daughter and his son; and as it had gone very far, indeed, and as the poor girl's happiness, and, perhaps, character, were compromised, it was necessary to show the strongest reasons for the rupture, and for John Osborne to prove John Sedley to be a very bad character indeed. At the meeting of creditors, then, he comported himself with a savageness and scorn toward Sedley, which almost succeeded in breaking the heart of that ruined, bankrupt man. On George's intercourse with Amelia he put an instant veto-menacing the youth with maledictions if he broke his commands, and vilipending the poor innocent girl as the basest and most artful of vixens. One of the great conditions of anger and hatred is, that you must tell and believe lies against the hated object, in order, as we said, to be consistent.

alluded to it, it was with bitterness almost as great as Mr. Osborne himself had shown. He cursed Osborne and his family as heartless, wicked, and ungrateful. No power on earth, he swore, would induce him to marry his daughter to the son of such a villain, and he ordered Emmy to banish George from her mind, and to return all the presents and letters which she had ever had from him.

She promised acquiescence, and tried to obey. She put up the two or three trinkets; and, as for the letters, she drew them out of the place where she kept them; and read them over-as if she did not know them by heart already: but she could not part with them. That effort was too much for her; she placed them back in her bosom again— as you have seen a woman nurse a child that is dead. Young Amelia felt that she would die or lose her senses outright, if torn away from this last consolation. How she used to blush and lighten up when those letters came !

How she used to trip away

with a beating heart, so that she might read unseen. If they were cold, yet how perversely this fond little soul interpreted them into warmth. If they were short or selfish, what excuses she found for the writer!

It was over these few worthless papers that she brooded and brooded. She lived in her past life-every letter seemed to recall some circumstance of it. How well she remembered them all! His looks and tones, his dress, what he said and how-these relics and remembrances of dead affection were all that were left her in the world, and the business of her life, to watch the corpse of Love.

When the great crash came-the announcement of ruin, and the departure from Russell-square, and the declaration that all was over between her and George-all over between her and love, her and happiness, her and faith in the world-a brutal letter from John Osborne told her in a few curt lines that her father's conduct had been of such a nature that all engagements between the families were at an end-when the final award came, it did not shock her so much as her parents, as her mother, rather, expected (for John Sedley himself was entirely prostrate in the ruins of his own affairs To death she looked with inexpressible and shattered honor). Amelia took the news longing. Then, she thought, I shall always very palely and calmly. It was only the be able to follow him. I am not praising confirmation of the dark presages which had her conduct or setting her up as a model for long gone before. It was the mere reading Miss Bullock to imitate. Miss B. knows of the sentence--of the crime she had long how to regulate her feelings better than this ago been guilty-the crime of loving wrongly, poor little creature. Miss B. would never too violently, against reason. She told no have committed herself as that imprudent more of her thoughts now than she had Amelia had done; pledged her love irrebefore. She seemed scarcely more unhap-trievably; confessed her heart away, and py now when convinced all hope was over, than before, when she felt, but dared not confess, that it was gone. So she changed from the large house to the small one without any mark or difference; remained less in her little room for the most part; pined silently; and died away day by day. I do not mean to say that all females are so. My dear Miss Bullock, I do not think your heart would break in this way. You are a strongminded young woman with proper principles. I do not venture to say that mine would; it has suffered, and, it must be confessed, survived. But there are some souls thus gently constituted, thus frail, and delicate, and tender.

Whenever old John Sedley thought of

got back nothing-only a brittle promise which was snapped and worthless in a moment. A long engagement is a partnership which one party is free to keep or to break, but which involves all the capital of the other.

Be cautious then, young ladies; be wary how you engage. Be shy of loving frankly; never tell all you feel, or (a better way still) feel very little. See the consequences of being prematurely honest and confiding, and mistrust yourselves and every body. Get yourselves married as they do in France, where the lawyers are the bride's-maids and confidantes. At any rate, never have. any feelings which may make you uncomfortable, or make any promises which you:

can not at any required moment command | known, the mamma and sisters agreed to

and withdraw. That is the way to get on, and be respected, and have a virtuous character in Vanity Fair.

gether in thinking: and they trembled lest, her engagement being off with Osborne, she should take up immediately her other adIf Amelia could have heard the comments mirer and captain. In which forebodings regarding her which were made in the circle these worthy young women no doubt judged from which her father's ruin had just driven according to the best of their experienceher, she would have seen what her own or rather (for as yet they had had no opporcrimes were, and how entirely her charac-tunities of marrying or of jilting) according ter was jeopardied. Such criminal impru- to their own notions of right and wrong. dence Mrs. Smith never knew of; such "It is a mercy, mamma, that the regiment horrid familiarities Mrs. Brown had always is ordered abroad." the girls said. "This condemned, and the end might be a warning danger, at any rate, is spared our brother." to her daughters. "Captain Osborne, of course, could not marry a bankrupt's daughter," the Miss Dobbins said. "It was quite enough to have been swindled by the father. As for that little Amelia, her folly had really passed all-"

"All what?" Captain Dobbin roared out. "Haven't they been engaged ever since they were children? Wasn't it as good as a marriage? Dare any soul on earth breathe a word against the sweetest, the purest, the tenderest, the most angelical of young women?"

Such, indeed, was the fact; and so it is that the French emperor comes in to perform a part in this domestic comedy of Vanity Fair which we are now playing, and which would never have been enacted without the intervention of this august mute personage. It was he that ruined the Bourbons and Mr. John Sedley. It was he whose arrival in his capital called up all France in arms to defend him there; and all Europe to oust him. While the French nation and army were swearing fidelity round the eagles in the Champ de Mai, four mighty European hosts were getting in motion for the great chasse à l'aigle; and one of these was a British army, of which two heroes of ours, Captain Dobbin and Captain Osborne, formed a portion.

"La, William, don't be so highty-tighty with us. We're not men. We can't fight you," Miss Jane said. "We've said nothing against Miss Sedley: but that her conduct throughout was most imprudent, not to call it by any worse name; and that her parents The news of Napoleon's escape and landare people who certainly merit their mis- ing was received by the gallant-th with a fortunes." fiery delight and enthusiasm, which every "Hadn't you better, now that Miss Sed-body can understand who knows that famous ley is free, propose for her yourself, William?" Miss A. asked sarcastically. "It would be a most eligible family connection. He! he!"

66

“I marry her!" Dobbin said, blushing very much and talking quick. If you are so ready, young ladies, to chop and change, do you suppose that she is? Laugh and sneer at that angel. She can't hear it; and she s miserable and unfortunate, and deserves to be laughed at. Go on joking, Ann. You're the wit of the family, and the others like to hear it."

"I must tell you again we're not in a barrack, William," Miss Ann remarked.

"In a barrack, by Jove-I wish any body in a barrack would say what you do," cried out this improved British lion. "I should like to hear a man breathe a word against her, by Jupiter. But men don't talk in this way, Ann: it's only women, who get together, and hiss, and shriek, and cackle. There, get away-don't begin to cry. I only said you were a couple of geese," Will. Dobbin said, perceiving Miss Ann's pink eyes were beginning to moisten as usual. "Well, you're not geese, you're swans-any thing you like, only do, do leave Miss Sedley alone."

Any thing like William's infatuation about that silly little flirting, ogling thing was never

corps. From the colonel to the smallest drummer in the regiment, all were filled with hope and ambition and patriotic furyand thanked the French emperor, as for a personal kindness, in coming to disturb the peace of Europe. Now was the time the -th had so long panted for to show their comrades in arms that they could fight as well as the Peninsular veterans, and that ail the pluck and valor of the -th had not been killed by the West Indies and the yellow fever. Stubble and Spoony looked to get their companies without purchase. Before the end of the campaign (which she resolved to share), Mrs. Major O'Dowd hoped to write herself Mrs. Colonel O'Dowd, C. B. Our two friends (Dobbin and Osborne) were quite as much excited as the rest: and each in his way-Mr. Dobbin very quietly, Mr. Osborne very loudly and energetically-was bent upon doing his duty, and gaining his share of honor and distinction.

The agitation thrilling through the country and army in consequence of this news was so great, that private matters were little heeded: and hence probably George Osborne, just gazetted to his company, busy with preparations for the march, which must come inevitably, and panting for further promotion-was not so much affected by other incidents which would have interested him

"I shall often play upon the piano-your piano. It was like you to send it."

Dobbin was very soft-hearted. The sight of women and children in pain always used to melt him. The idea of Amelia brokenhearted and lonely, tore that good-natured soul with anguish. And he broke out into an emotion, which any body who likes may consider unmanly. He swore that Amelia was an angel, to which Osborne said aye, with all his heart. He, too, had been re

at a more quiet period. He was not, it must be confessed, very much cast down by good old Mr. Sedley's catastrophe. He tried his new uniform, which became hin very handsomely, on the day when the first meeting of the creditors of the unfortunate gentleman took place. His father told him of the wicked, rascally, shameful conduct of the bankrupt, reminded him of what he had said about Amelia, and that their connection was broken off forever; and gave him that evening a good sum of money to pay for the new clothes and epaulets in which he look-viewing the history of their lives-and had ed so well. Money was always useful to this free-handed young fellow, and he took it without many words. The bills were up in the Sedley house, where he had passed What a pang it was to lose all that: to so many, many happy hours. He could see have had it and not prized it! A thousand them as he walked from home that night (to homely scenes and recollections crowded the Old Slaughter's, where he put up when on him-in which he always saw her good in town) shining white in the moon. That and beautiful. And for himself, he blushed comfortable home was shut then upon Ame- with remorse and shame, as the rememlia and her parents: where had they taken brance of his own selfishness and indifference refuge? The thought of their ruin affected contrasted with that perfect purity. For a him not a little. He was very melancholy while, glory, war, every thing was forgotten, that night in the coffee-room at the Slaugh- and the pair of friends talked about her only. ter's; and drank a good deal, as his comrades remarked there.

Dobbin came in presently, cautioned him about the drink, which he only took, he said, because he was deuced low; but when his friend began to put to him clumsy inquiries, and asked him for news in a significant manner, Osborne declined entering into conversation with him; avowing, however, that he was devilish disturbed and unhappy.

Three days afterward, Dobbin found Osborne in his room at the barracks:--his head on the table, a number of papers about, the young captain evidently in a state of great despondency. "She's she's sent me back some things I gave her-some damned trinkets. Look here!" There was a little packet directed in the well-known hand to Captain George Osborne, and some things lying about -a ring, a silver knife he had bought, as a boy, for her at a fair; a gold chain, and a locket with hair in it. "It's all over," said he, with a groan of sickening remorse. "Look, Will, you may read it if you like." There was a little letter of a few lines, to which he pointed, which said:

seen her from her childhood to her present age, so sweet, so innocent, so charmingly simple, and artlessly fond and tender.

"Where are they?" Osborne asked, after a long talk, and a long pause--and, in truth, with no little shame at thinking that he had taken no steps to follow her. 66 Where are they? There's no address to the note." Dobbin knew. He had not merely sent the piano; but had written a note to Mrs. Sedley, and asked permission to come and see her-and he had seen her, and Amelia too, yesterday, before he came down to Chatham; and, what is more, he had brought that farewell letter and packet which had so moved them.

The good-natured fellow had found Mrs. Osborne only too willing to receive him, and greatly agitated by the arrival of the piano, which, as she conjectured, must have come from George, and was a signal of amity on his part. Captain Dobbin did not correct this error of the worthy lady, but listened to all her story of complaints and misfortunes with great sympathy-condoled with her losses and privations, and agreed in reprehending the cruel conduct of Mr. Osborne toward his first benefactor. When she had eased her overflowing bosom somewhat, and poured forth many of her sorrows, he had the courage to ask actually to see Amelia, who was above in her room as usual, and whom her mother led trembling down stairs.

"My papa has ordered me to return to you these presents, which you made in happier days to me; and I am to write to you for the last time. I think I know you feel as much as I do the blow which has come Her appearance was so ghastly, and her upon us. It is I that absolve you from an look of despair so pathetic, that honest Wilengagement which is impossible in our pres- liam Dobbin was frightened as he beheld it; ent misery. I am sure you had no share in and read the most fatal forebodings in that it, or in the cruel suspicions of Mr. Osborne, pale, fixed face. After sitting in his comwhich are the hardest of all our griefs to pany a minute or two, she put the packet bear. Farewell. Farewell. I pray God into his hand, and said, "Take this to Capto strengthen me to bear this and other ca-tain Osborne, if you please, and—and I hope lamities, and to bless you always A. he's quite well—and it was very kind of you

We have seen how Mrs. Firkin, the lady's The different conduct of these two people maid, as soon as any event of importance to is pointed out respectfully to the attention the Crawley family came to her knowledge, of persons commencing the world. Praise felt bound to communicate it to Mrs. Bute every body, I say, to such; never be squeamCrawley, at the Rectory; and have before ish, but speak out your compliment, both mentioned how particularly kind and atten-point-blank in a man's face and behind his tive that good-natured lady was to Miss back, when you know there is a reasonable Crawley's confidential servant. She had chance of his hearing it again. Never lose been a gracious friend to Mrs. Briggs, the a chance of saying a kind word. As Col