d by Madame de Genlis; and yet so kindly are her feelings, so
great her indulgence to the little failings and foibles of our common
nature, so intense her sympathy with the wants, the wishes, the
sorrows, and the happiness of her fellow-creatures, that, with all her
frank-speaking, I never knew her make an enemy or lose a friend.

But we must get on. What would she say if she knew I was putting her
into print? We must get on up the hill. Ah! that is precisely what we
are not likely to do! This horse, this beautiful and high-bred horse,
well-fed, and fat and glossy, who stood prancing at our gate like an
Arabian, has suddenly turned sulky. He does not indeed stand quite
still, but his way of moving is little better--the slowest and
most sullen of all walks. Even they who ply the hearse at funerals,
sad-looking beasts who totter under black feathers, go faster. It is of
no use to admonish him by whip, or rein, or word. The rogue has found
out that it is a weak and tender hand that guides him now. Oh, for one
pull, one stroke of his old driver, the groom! how he would fly! But
there is the groom half a mile before us, out of earshot, clearing the
ground at a capital rate, beating us hollow. He has just turned the
top of the hill;--and in a moment--ay, NOW he is out of sight, and will
undoubtedly so continue till he meets us at the lawn gate. Well!
there is no great harm. It is only prolonging the pleasure of enjoying
together this charming scenery in this fine weather. If once we make up
our minds not to care how slowly our steed goes, not to fret ourselves
by vain exertions, it is no matter what his pace may be. There is little
doubt of his getting home by sunset, and that will content us. He is,
after all, a fine noble animal; and perhaps when he finds that we are
determined to give him his way, he may relent and give us ours. All his
sex are sticklers for dominion, though, when it is undisputed, some
of them are generous enough to abandon it. Two or three of the most
discreet wives of my acquaintance contrive to manage their husbands
sufficiently with no better secret than this seeming submission; and in
our case the example has the more weight since we have no possible way
of helping ourselves.

Thus philosophising, we reached the top of the hill, and viewed with
'reverted eyes' the beautiful prospect that lay bathed in golden
sunshine behind us. Cowper says, with that boldness of expressing in
poetry the commonest an