er partiality for the captain, nobly rescues him from
death, I trust will prove a hit. A strange fish is this Hagan: his mouth
full of stage-plays and rant, but good, honest, and brave, if I don't
err. He is angry at having been cast lately for Sir O'Brallaghan, in Mr.
Macklin's new farce of Love A-la-mode. He says that he does not keer to
disgreece his tongue with imiteetions of that rascal brogue. As if there
was any call for imiteetions, when he has such an admirable twang of his
own!

"Shall I tell you? Shall I hide the circumstance? Shall I hurt your
feelings? Shall I set you in a rage of jealousy, and cause you to ask
for leave to return to Europe? Know, then, that though Carpezan is
long since dead, cousin Maria is for ever coming to the playhouse. Tom
Spencer has spied her out night after night in the gallery, and
she comes on the nights when Hagan performs. Quick, Burroughs, Mr.
Warrington's boots and portmanteau! Order a chaise and four for
Portsmouth immediately! The letter which I burned one morning when we
were at breakfast (I may let the cat out of the bag, now puss has such a
prodigious way to run) was from cousin M., hinting that she wished me
to tell no tales about her: but I can't help just whispering to you
that Maria at this moment is busy consoling herself as fast as possible.
Shall I spoil sport? Shall I tell her brother? Is the affair any
business of mine? What have the Esmonds done for you and me but win
our money at cards? Yet I like our noble cousin. It seems to me that he
would be good if he could--or rather, he would have been once. He has
been set on a wrong way of life, from which 'tis now probably too late
to rescue him. O beati agricolae! Our Virginia was dull, but let us
thank Heaven we were bred there. We were made little slaves, but not
slaves to wickedness, gambling, bad male and female company. It was not
until my poor Harry left home that he fell among thieves. I mean thieves
en grand, such as waylaid him and stripped him on English highroads. I
consider you none the worse because you were the unlucky one, and had
to deliver your purse up. And now you are going to retrieve, and make
a good name for yourself; and kill more 'French dragons,' and become a
great commander. And our mother will talk of her son the Captain, the
Colonel, the General, and have his picture painted with all his stars
and epaulets, when poor I shall be but a dawdling poetaster, or, if we
may hope for the best,