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[Supposed to be a letter from Mrs. Hazeldean to A. Riccabocca, Esq., The Casino; but, edited, and indeed composed, by Miss Jemima Hazeldean.]

HAZELDEAN HALL.

DEAR SIR,—To a feeling heart it must always be painful to give pain to another, and (though I am sure unconsciously) you have given the greatest pain to poor Mr. Hazeldean and myself, indeed to all our little circle, in so cruelly refusing our attempts to become better acquainted with a gentleman we so highly ESTEEM. Do, pray, dear sir, make us the amende honorable, and give us the pleasure of your company for a few days at the Hall. May we expect you Saturday next?—our dinner hour is six o’clock.

With the best compliments of Mr. and Miss Jemima Hazeldean, believe me, my dear sir,

Yours truly, H. H.

Miss Jemima having carefully sealed this note, which Mrs. Hazeldean had very willingly deputed her to write, took it herself into the stable-yard, in order to give the groom proper instructions to wait for an answer. But while she was speaking to the man, Frank, equipped for riding, with more than his usual dandyism, came into the yard, calling for his pony in a loud voice; and singling out the very groom whom Miss Jemima was addressing—for, indeed, he was the smartest of all in the squire’s stables—told him to saddle the gray pad and accompany the pony.

“No, Frank,” said Miss Jemima, “you can’t have George; your father wants him to go on a message,—you can take Mat.”

“Mat, indeed!” said Frank, grumbling with some reason; for Mat was a surly old fellow, who tied a most indefensible neckcloth, and always contrived to have a great patch on his boots,—besides, he called Frank “Master,” and obstinately refused to trot down hill,—“Mat, indeed! let Mat take the message, and George go with me.”

But Miss Jemima had also her reasons for rejecting Mat. Mat’s foible was not servility, and he always showed true English independence in all houses where he was not invited to take his ale in the servants’ hall. Mat might offend Signor Riccabocca, and spoil all. An animated altercation ensued, in the midst of which the squire and his wife entered the yard, with the intention of driving in the conjugal gig to the market town. The matter was referred to the natural umpire by both the contending parties.

The squire looked with great contempt on his son. “And what do you want a groom at all for? Are you afraid of tumbling off the pony?”

FRANK.—“No, Sir; but I like to go as a gentleman, when I pay a visit to a gentleman!”

SQUIRE (in high wrath).—“You precious puppy! I think I’m as good a gentleman as you any day, and I should like to know when you ever saw me ride to call on a neighbour with a fellow jingling at my heels, like that upstart Ned Spankie, whose father kept a cotton mill. First time I ever heard of a Hazeldean thinking a livery coat was necessary to prove his gentility!”

MRS. HAZELDEAN (observing Frank colouring, and about to reply).—“Hush, Frank, never answer your father,—and you are going to call on Mr. Leslie?”

“Yes, ma’am, and I am very much obliged to my father for letting me,” said Frank, taking the squire’s hand.

“Well, but, Frank,” continued Mrs. Hazeldean, “I think you heard that the Leslies were very poor.”

FRANK.—“Eh, Mother?”

MRS. HAZELDEAN.—“And would you run the chance of wounding the pride of a gentleman as well born as yourself by affecting any show of being richer than he is?”

SQUIRE (with great admiration).—“Harry, I’d give L10 to have said that!”

FRANK (leaving the squire’s hand to take his mother’s).—“You’re quite right, Mother; nothing could be more snobbish!”

SQUIRE. “Give us your fist, too, sir; you’ll be a chip of the old block, after all.”

Frank smiled, and walked off to his pony.

MRS. HAZELDEAN (to Miss Jemima).—“Is that the note you were to write for me?”

MISS JEMIMA.—“Yes; I supposed you did not care about seeing it, so I have sealed it, and given it to George.”

MRS. HAZELDEAN.—“But Frank will pass close by the Casino on his way to the Leslies’. It may be more civil if he leaves the note himself.”

MISS JEMIMA (hesitatingly).—“Do you think so?”

MRS. HAZELDEAN.—“Yes, certainly. Frank, Frank, as you pass by the Casino, call on Mr. Riccabocca, give this note, and say we shall be heartily glad if he will come.” Frank nods.

“Stop a bit,” cried the squire. “If Rickeybockey is at home, ‘t is ten to one if he don’t ask you to take a glass of wine! If he does, mind, ‘t is worse than asking you to take a turn on the rack. Faugh! you remember, Harry?—I thought it was all up with me.”

“Yes,” cried Mrs. Hazeldean; “for Heaven’s sake not a drop. Wine, indeed!”

“Don’t talk of it,” cried the squire, making a wry face.

“I’ll take care, Sir!” said Frank, laughing as he disappeared within the stable, followed by Miss Jemima, who now coaxingly makes it up with him, and does not leave off her admonitions to be extremely polite to the poor foreign gentleman till Frank gets his foot into the stirrup, and the pony, who knows whom he has got to deal with, gives a preparatory plunge or two, and then darts out of the yard.