neous effects of good will, or the common forms of politeness. Louisa blamed herself for entertaining ideas so hostile to the gratitude which she endeavoured to persuade herself she ought to feel towards him for his voluntary offer of protection. Yet she could not divest her mind of the unfavourable impression which his first appearance had made on her. On their arrival in London, where Louisa had never before been, her attention was diverted from herself entirely by the busy faces continually passing; all appearing eagerly bent on business or pleasure, and all, as she thought, wearing a brow unclouded by grief or discontent. The many elegant mansions she passed in their way to Bedford-Row, (the place where Mr. Melford's house was,) from Hyde Park Corner, and the splendid carriages and other appearances of opulence, all impressed her mind with an idea that here every body was happy, and in the words of her favourite Goldsmith, she exclaimed Sure scenes like these no troubles e'er annoy! She did not pause to reflect seriously that it was only the fair side of the picture she beheld, as the carriage passed rapidly along the streets, thronged with well-dressed passengers. Could she have beheld the many shivering, houseless wretches, whose miseries are increased by the sight of that profusion in which they must not share, or the aching hearts of many of those apparently happy, she would have owned that no situation, however splendid, was exempt from care. But happily, the youthful mind does not suspect, or look for, more wretchedness than is presented to the eye: if they did, short indeed would be their days of happiness in this life, which is so fertile with woes. Mrs. Melford received Louisa, on her arrival, with a kind of frowning civility and involuntary respect, which her appearance was well calculated to inspire in a vulgar mind, such as that of the person to whom she was now introduced. Mrs. Melford was a short, thick, rosy-faced, mean-looking woman, about the same age as her husband: her little grey eyes were expressive of cunning, but tempered with a degree of goodhumour, that took off the disagreeable effect occasioned by the former. She congratulated Louisa on her arrival in London, which she supposed she must think a prodigious fine place, and vastly more pleasant than a dull old-fashioned mansion-house, which she dared to say was haunted, as most of them old places was. we shall soon make you forget all your troubles, I warrant, now we have got you to London; where there is so many fine things to divert a person's melancholy, as one may say. I am sure, when my dear Mr. Courland died, I don't know what I should have done, if I had not a com'd to London.” "that "Courland!" said Louisa, "are you related to any one of that name? "Yes, sure," replied the lady, was my name before I married Mr. Melford; 'Squire Courland of Cumberland was my first husband." Louisa felt something like regret, to be obliged to own, even to herself, that a being so vulgar should be the only person with whom she could claim any degree of affinity. Yet she conquered her disgust by the recollection, that even that circumstance ought not to render her unthankful to Providence, for having raised her up a friend in a female relation, at a time when she stood so much in need of one. Impressed with this idea, she addressed Mrs. Melford as her aunt; and expressed her surprise that Mr. Melford had not apprised her of the pleasure that awaited her. "Why, to tell the truth," answered she, "it was not the wish of Mr. Melford that you should be made acquainted with that circumstance: as you had never been acknowledged by your father's relation, he thought it as well that you should remain unacknowledged by me, at least for the present.' The entrance of Mr. Melford changed the conversation, which was not renewed that evening. When Louisa retired for the night, she had sufficient to employ her thoughts, and keep sleep from her eyes. She wondered much that Mr. Howard |