uire gives to traditional
saws and ancient opinions, yet I am happy to find that he makes a firm
stand for the credit of this loving month, and brings to his aid a
whole legion of poetical authorities; all which, I presume, have been
conclusive with the young couple, as I understand they are perfectly
willing to marry in May, and abide the consequences. In a few days,
therefore, the wedding is to take place, and the Hall is in a buzz of
anticipation. The housekeeper is bustling about from morning till
night, with a look full of business and importance, having a thousand
arrangements to make, the Squire intending to keep open house on the
occasion; and as to the house-maids, you cannot look one of them in
the face, but the rogue begins to colour up and simper.

While, however, this leading love affair is going on with a
tranquillity quite inconsistent with the rules of romance, I cannot
say that the under-plots are equally propitious. The "opening bud of
love" between the general and Lady Lillycraft seems to have
experienced some blight in the course of this genial season. I do not
think the general has ever been able to retrieve the ground he lost,
when he fell asleep during the captain's story. Indeed, Master Simon
thinks his case is completely desperate, her ladyship having
determined that he is quite destitute of sentiment.

The season has been equally unpropitious to the lovelorn Phoebe
Wilkins. I fear the reader will be impatient at having this humble
amour so often alluded to; but I confess I am apt to take a great
interest in the love troubles of simple girls of this class. Few
people have an idea of the world of care and perplexity that these
poor damsels have, in managing the affairs of the heart.

We talk and write about the tender passion; we give it all the
colourings of sentiment and romance, and lay the scene of its
influence in high life; but, after all, I doubt whether its sway is
not more absolute among females of an humbler sphere. How often, could
we but look into the heart, should we find the sentiment throbbing in
all its violence in the bosom of the poor lady's-maid, rather than in
that of the brilliant beauty she is decking out for conquest; whose
brain is probably bewildered with beaux, ball-rooms, and wax-light
chandeliers.

With these humble beings, love is an honest, engrossing concern. They
have no ideas of settlements, establishments, equipages, and
pin-money. The heart--the heart, is a