P.S. The Miss Sharp, whom you mention as governess to Sir Pitt

Crawley, Bart., M.P., was a pupil of mine, and I have nothing to say in

her disfavour. Though her appearance is disagreeable, we cannot control

the operations of nature: and though her parents were disreputable (her

father being a painter, several times bankrupt, and her mother, as I

have since learned, with horror, a dancer at the Opera); yet her

talents are considerable, and I cannot regret that I received her OUT

OF CHARITY. My dread is, lest the principles of the mother--who was

represented to me as a French Countess, forced to emigrate in the late

revolutionary horrors; but who, as I have since found, was a person of

the very lowest order and morals--should at any time prove to be

HEREDITARY in the unhappy young woman whom I took as AN OUTCAST. But

her principles have hitherto been correct (I believe), and I am sure

nothing will occur to injure them in the elegant and refined circle of

the eminent Sir Pitt Crawley.

Miss Rebecca Sharp to Miss Amelia Sedley.

I have not written to my beloved Amelia for these many weeks past, for

what news was there to tell of the sayings and doings at Humdrum Hall,

as I have christened it; and what do you care whether the turnip crop

is good or bad; whether the fat pig weighed thirteen stone or fourteen;

and whether the beasts thrive well upon mangelwurzel? Every day since I

last wrote has been like its neighbour. Before breakfast, a walk with

Sir Pitt and his spud; after breakfast studies (such as they are) in

the schoolroom; after schoolroom, reading and writing about lawyers,

leases, coal-mines, canals, with Sir Pitt (whose secretary I am

become); after dinner, Mr. Crawley's discourses on the baronet's

backgammon; during both of which amusements my lady looks on with equal

placidity. She has become rather more interesting by being ailing of

late, which has brought a new visitor to the Hall, in the person of a

young doctor. Well, my dear, young women need never despair. The young

doctor gave a certain friend of yours to understand that, if she chose

to be Mrs. Glauber, she was welcome to ornament the surgery! I told his

impudence that the gilt pestle and mortar was quite ornament enough; as

if I was born, indeed, to be a country surgeon's wife! Mr. Glauber went

home seriously indisposed at his rebuff, took a cooling draught, and is

now quite cured. Sir Pitt applauded my resolution highly; he would be

sorry to lose his little secretary, I think; and I believe the old

wretch likes me as much as it is in his nature to like any one. Marry,

indeed! and with a country apothecary, after-- No, no, one cannot so

soon forget old associations, about which I will talk no more. Let us

return to Humdrum Hall.




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