times be absolutely unsparing; and, we must add, a depth of cynicism that seems sometimes to be with difficulty restrained within the bounds of conventional decorum. Instances of this will occur to any student of her books, and they are far too numerous, and often too slight, for citation. Let the last pages of Sense and Sensibility serve as a specimen; and observe in these how the fates of all the characters are dealt out to them with not a little of implied sarcasm, and with a cynicism which does not spare even those characters for whom our warmest sympathy is desired. she does not hesitate to hint a little ridicule, even of the characters to whom she is most considerate, and to let her most respectable puppets excite an occasional smile, what must have been the anger, which avenged years of pent-up provocation under the torture of some domestic Mrs. Norris, by the concentrated sarcasm conveyed in that most consummate type of female pest?

If

Miss Austen owed much to Frances Burney, and had not Evelina and Cecilia been written, we might have wanted Pride and Prejudice. But she did not adopt Miss Burney's literary methods, whether at their best or their worst. The same scrupulous care and delicacy of finish which are visible in the treatment, mark also the style of her novels. Her sentences are never eloquent, and never ambitious; but they are absolutely correct, and absolutely lucid, and even when the shade of meaning is most subtle and most delicate, they never leave us with the slightest doubt as to the precise impression which they are to convey. She never is weak enough to avoid that due measure of graceful formality, which is neither forced nor obtrusive, but serves only to keep at a distance the slipshod familiarity often indistinguishable from vulgarity. She wrote when the example of our greatest prose writer was still powerful, when his authority was little questioned; and her admiration for Dr. Johnson preserved her style at once from the ponderous travesty that caricatured his language, and from the flippant carelessness which discarded its dignity and its lucidity. But she owed to Dr. Johnson more than style only. Is there any author of the day who reflected so distinctly as Miss Austen, that clearness of vision, that detestation of cant, that stern and cynical and withal playful humour, that intense interest in all the ways and characters of men, which made up the personality of Johnson? sentence which might come straight from Boswell.

Here is a

"The dis

tinction (between poverty and fortune) is not quite so much

against the candour and common-sense of the world as appears at first, for a very narrow income has a tendency to contract the mind, and sour the temper. Those who can barely live, and who live perforce in a very small, and generally very inferior society, may well be illiberal and cross." Or again "personal size and mental sorrow have no necessary proportions. A large bulky figure has as good a right to be in deep affliction as the most graceful set of limbs in the world. But, fair or not fair, there are unbecoming conjunctions which reason will patronise in vain— which taste cannot tolerate-which ridicule will seize." There was another who, with Johnson, shared the admiration of Jane Austen, and whose powerful and unrelenting realism deeply affected her. From Crabbe's Tales she could draw neither humour, nor playfulness, nor tenderness; but his truthfulness of delineation has left its impression on her pages too deeply to be overlooked.

THE EDITOR.

MR. COLLINS

DURING dinner, Mr. Bennet scarcely spoke at all; but when the servants were withdrawn, he thought it time to have some conversation with his guest, and therefore started a subject in which he expected him to shine, by observing that he seemed very fortunate in his patroness. Lady Catherine de Bourgh's Burke) attention to his wishes, and consideration for his comfort, appeared very remarkable. Mr. Bennet could not have chosen better. Mr. Collins was eloquent in her praise. The subject elevated him to more than usual solemnity of manner, and with a most important aspect he protested that "he had never in his life witnessed such behaviour in a person of rank-such affability and condescension, as he had himself experienced from Lady Catherine. She had been graciously pleased to approve of both the discourses which he had already had the honour of preaching before her. She had also asked him twice to dine at Rosings, and had sent for him only the Saturday before, to make up her pool of quadrille in the evening. Lady Catherine was reckoned proud by many people he knew, but he had never seen anything but affability in her. She had always spoken to him as she would to any other gentleman; she made not the smallest objection to his joining in the society of the neighbourhood, nor to his leaving his parish occasionally for a week or two, to visit his relations. She had even condescended to advise him to marry as soon as he could, provided he chose with discretion; and had once paid him a visit in his humble parsonage, where she had perfectly approved of all the alterations he had been making, and had even vouchsafed to suggest some herself-some shelves in the closets upstairs."

"That is all very proper and civil, I am sure," said Bennet, "and I dare say she is a very agreeable woman. pity that great ladies in general are not more like her. she live near you, sir?”

Mrs.

It is a

Does

"The garden in which stands my humble abode is separated only by a lane from Rosings Park, her ladyship's residence."

"I think you said she was a widow, sir? has she any family?” "She has one only daughter, the heiress of Rosings, and of very extensive property."

"Ah!" cried Mrs. Bennet, shaking her head, "then she is better off than many girls. And what sort of young lady is she? is she handsome?"

"She is a most charming young lady indeed. Lady Catherine herself says that, in point of true beauty, Miss de Bourgh is far superior to the handsomest of her sex, because there is that in her features which marks the young woman of distinguished birth. She is unfortunately of a sickly constitution, which has prevented her making that progress in many accomplishments which she could not otherwise have failed of, as I am informed by the lady who superintended her education, and who still resides with them. But she is perfectly amiable, and often condescends to drive by my humble abode in her little phaeton and ponies."

"Has she been presented? I do not remember her name among the ladies at court.”

"Her indifferent state of health unhappily prevents her being in town; and by that means, as I told Lady Catherine myself one day,) has deprived the British court of its brightest ornament. Her ladyship seemed pleased with the idea; and you may imagine that I am happy on every occasion to offer those little delicate compliments which are always acceptable to ladies. I have more than once observed to Lady Catherine, that her charming daughter seemed born to be a duchess, and that the most elevated rank, instead of giving her consequence, would be adorned by her. These are the kind of little things which please her ladyship, and it is a sort of attention which I conceive myself peculiarly bound to pay."

"You judge very properly," said Mr. Bennet, "and it is happy for you that you possess the talent of flattering with delicacy. May I ask whether these pleasing aftentions proceed from the impulse of the moment, (or are the result of previous study?"

"They arise chiefly from what is passing at the time, and though I sometimes amuse myself with suggesting and arranging such little elegant compliments as may be adapted to ordinary occasions, I always wish to give them as unstudied an air as possible."

Mr. Bennet's expectations were fully answered. His cousin was as absurd as he had hoped, and he listened to him with the keenest enjoyment, maintaining at the same time the most resolute composure of countenance, and, except in an occasional glance at Elizabeth, requiring no partner in his pleasure.

By tea-time, however, the dose had been enough, and Mr. Bennet was glad to take his guest into the drawing-room again, and, when tea was over, glad to invite him to read aloud to the ladies. Mr. Collins readily assented, and a book was produced; but on beholding it (for everything announced it to be from a circulating library), he started back, and begging pardon protested that he never read novels Kitty stared at him, and Lydia exclaimed. Other books were produced, and after some deliberation he chose Fordyce's Sermons. Lydia gaped as he opened the volume, and before he had, with very monotonous solemnity, read three pages, she interrupted him with——

"Do you know, mamma, that my uncle Philips talks of turning away Richard; and if he does, Colonel Forster will hire him. My aunt told me so herself on Saturday. (I shall walk to Meryton to-morrow to hear more about it, and to ask when Mr. Denny comes back from town.")

Lydia was bid by her two eldest sisters to hold her tongue; but Mr. Collins, much offended, laid aside his book, and said—

"I have often observed how little young ladies are interested by books of a serious stamp, though written solely for their benefit. It amazes me, I confess ;-for, certainly, there can be nothing so advantageous to them as instruction. But I will no longer importune my young cousin."

Then turning to Mr. Bennet, he offered himself as his antagonist at backgammon. Mr. Bennet accepted the challenge, observing that he acted very wisely in leaving the girls to their own trifling amusements. Mrs. Bennet and her daughters apologised most civilly for Lydia's interruption, and promised that it should not occur again, if he would resume his book; but Mr. Collins, after assuring them that he bore his young cousin no illwill, and should never resent her behaviour as any affront, seated himself at another table with Mr. Bennet, and prepared for backgammon. (From Pride and Prejudice.)