REDMOND BARRY, OF BALLYBARRY.

P.S.-The Fredericks were in the bag, all told.

IV.

_From Mrs. Gamp to Mrs. Prig_.

Mrs. Gamp nurses an old friend who is under a singular delusion.

Todgers's.

MY PRECIOUS BETSY,-Which when last we parted it was not as I could wish, but bearing malice in our hearts. But, as often and often Mrs. Harris have said it before me, with the tears in her angel eyes-one of them having a slight cast from an accident with the moderator lamp, Harris being quick in his temper-often and often have she said to me: "Ah, Sairey, the quarrels of friends is affection's best restorer." And good reason to know it she have, with a husband as was ever true, and never gave her no cause to form the wish to pizen them as has good looks, but, for I will not deceive you, ready with his hands.

And so, between you and me may it be, Betsy Prig, as was constant partners afore them Chuzzlewidges, and Nadgetts, and Lewsomses, and Tiggses, and Chuffeys got that mixed and that aggerawating that to remember who of them poisoned which or for why in a slime draught, it makes my poor head go round, nor could such be soothing to the temper.

So let bygones be bygones between us. For, wanting of my Betsy, I am now in a nice state of confusion, with a patient as was well beknown to me in younger days, when there wasn't so much of a shadder on this mortial vial, {43} meaning Mr. Pecksniff. Which you will not forget of him, by reason of his daughter as married that Jonadge, and his collars as mints of money must have gone to the getting them up; but is now at Todgers's, and confused in his poor mind, thinking hisself Somebody else high in Parliament. And wonder at it I do not, them Chuzzlewidges and Chuffeys being that distracting, and ever proving to be some other pusson in disguise, as would confuge a calkilating boy.

So being applied to for to nightly him, there in that very sick room-for why should I deceive you?-I meets the daily nuss; and, Betsy, I was that overcome to have such a pardner propoged to me as I had to ring and ask the young woman immediate for a small gla.s.s of their oldest rum, being what I am not accustomed to but having had a turn. For, will you believe it, she was not a widger woman as has experience in the ways of men, but a huzzy in a bragian cap like them the Nuns wear in "Mariar Monk," as you may have seen it in the small sweet-shops, at a penny. And her hands as white as her papistry cap, and she a turning up of her nose at what I had took, and a presuming to give _me_ advice about nussing, as St.

Pancradge's Churchyard wouldn't hold them I've seen comfortable to their long homes, and no complaints made but ever the highest satigefaction.

So I ups and gives her a bit of my mind; and Mrs. Todgers coming down, "It's she goes or me," says I, "for never will Sairey Gamp nuss, sick or monthly, with a pardner as has not confidence in me, nor I in her, but contrary." Then _she_ says she'll go and speak to the doctor about it; and out she tramps with her nose in the air, and sneezing most awful, not being accustomed to that which I take, find it strengthening, but as it have been a cause of sorrow and strife let it be nameless between you and me. For to have the name "Snuffey" brought forward it is what the heart can forgive, but never forget in this valley of the shaddock.

I have nussed a many lunacies, Betsy, and in a general way am dispoged to humour them rather than set them right up agin the fire when fractious.

But this Pecksniff is the tryingest creature; he having got it in his mind as he is Somebody very high, and talking about the House, and Bills, and clauses, and the "sacred cause of Universal Anarchy," for such was his Bible language, though meaning to me no more than the babe unborn.

Whereby Mrs. Harris she have often said to me, "What _do_ them blessed infants occupy their little minds with afore they are called into that condition where, unless changed at nuss, Providence have appointed them?"

And many a time have I said, "Seek not, Mrs. Harris, to diskiver; for we know not wot's hidden in our own hearts, and the torters of the Imposition should not make me diwulge it."

But Pecksniff is that aggravating as I can hardly heed the words I now put on the paper.

"Some of my birds have left me," says he, "for the stranger's breast, and one have took wing for the Government benches. {47} But I have ever sacrificed my country's happiness to my own, and I will not begin to regulate my life by other rules of conduct now. I know the purity of my own motives, and while my Merry, my little Sir William, playful warbler, prattles under this patriarchal wing, and my Cherry, my darling Morley, supports the old man's tottering walk, I can do without my Goschy, my dears, I can do without him." And wants to borrer _my_ umbreller for them "to rally round," the bragian idgiot!

A chattering creature he always were, and will be; but, Betsy, I have this wery momink fixed him up with a shoehorn in his mouth, as was lying round providential, and the strings of my bonnet, and the last word as he will say this blessed night was some lunacy about "denouncing the clogeure," as won't give much more trouble now.

So having rung for a shilling's worth of gin-and-water warm, and wishing you was here to take another of the same, I puts my lips to it, and drinks to one as was my frequent pardner in this mortial vale, and am, as in old days, my Betsy's own

SAIREY GAMP.

V.

_From Herodotus of Halicarna.s.sus to Sophocles the Athenian_.

Herodotus describes, in a letter to his friend Sophocles, a curious encounter with a mariner just returned from unknown parts of Africa.

TO Sophocles, the Athenian, greeting. Yesterday, as I was going down to the market-place of Naucratis, I met Nicarete, who of all the _hetairai_ in this place is the most beautiful. Now, the _hetairai_ of Naucratis are wont somehow to be exceedingly fair, beyond all women whom we know.

She had with her a certain Phocaean mariner, who was but now returned from a voyage to those parts of Africa which lie below Arabia; and she saluted me courteously, as knowing that it is my wont to seek out and inquire the tidings of all men who have intelligence concerning the ends of the earth.

"Hail to thee, Nicarete," said I; "verily thou art this morning as lovely as the dawn, or as the beautiful Rhodopis that died ere thou wert born to us through the favour of Aphrodite." {50}

Now this Rhodopis was she who built, they say, the Pyramid of Mycerinus: wherein they speak not truly but falsely, for Rhodopis lived long after the kings who built the Pyramids.

"Rhodopis died not, O Herodotus," said Nicarete, "but is yet living, and as fair as ever she was; and he who is now my lover, even this Phanes of Phocaea, hath lately beheld her."

Then she seemed to me to be jesting, like that scribe who told me of Krophi and Mophi; for Rhodopis lived in the days of King Amasis and of Sappho the minstrel, and was beloved by Charaxus, the brother of Sappho, wherefore Sappho reviled him in a song. How then could Rhodopis, who flourished more than a hundred years before my time, be living yet?

While I was considering these things they led me into the booth of one that sold wine; and when Nicarete had set garlands of roses on our heads, Phanes began and told me what I now tell thee but whether speaking truly or falsely I know not. He said that being on a voyage to Punt (for so the Egyptians call that part of Arabia), he was driven by a north wind for many days, and at last landed in the mouth of a certain river where were many sea-fowl and water-birds. And thereby is a rock, no common one, but fashioned into the likeness of the head of an Ethiopian. There he said that the people of that country found him, namely the Amagardoi, and carried him to their village. They have this peculiar to themselves, and unlike all other peoples whom we know, that the woman asks the man in marriage. They then, when they have kissed each other, are man and wife wedded. And they derive their names from the mother; wherein they agree with the Lycians, whether being a colony of the Lycians, or the Lycians a colony of theirs, Phanes could not give me to understand. But, whereas they are black and the Lycians are white, I rather believe that one of them has learned this custom from the other; for anything might happen in the past of time.

The Amagardoi have also this custom, such as we know of none other people; that they slay strangers by crowning them with amphorae, having made them red-hot. Now, having taken Phanes, they were about to crown him on this wise, when there appeared among them a veiled woman, very tall and goodly, whom they conceive to be a G.o.ddess and worship. By her was Phanes delivered out of their hands; and "she kept him in her hollow caves having a desire that he should be her lover," as Homer says in the Odyssey, if the Odyssey be Homer's. And Phanes reports of her that she is the most beautiful woman in the world, but of her coming thither, whence she came or when, she would tell him nothing. But he swore to me, by him who is buried at Thebes (and whose name in such a matter as this it is not holy for me to utter), that this woman was no other than Rhodopis the Thracian. For there is a portrait of Rhodopis in the temple of Aphrodite in Naucratis, and, knowing this portrait well, Phanes recognised by it that the woman was Rhodopis. {53} Therefore Rhodopis is yet living, being now about one hundred and fifty years of age. And Phanes added that there is in the country of the Amagardoi a fire; and whoso enters into that fire does not die, but is "without age and immortal," as Homer says concerning the horses of Peleus. Now, I would have deemed that he was making a mock of that sacred story which he knows who has been initiated into the mysteries of Demeter at Eleusis. But he and Nicarete are about to sail together without delay to the country of the Amagardoi, believing that there they will enter the fire and become immortal. Yet methinks that Rhodopis will not look lovingly on Nicarete, when they meet in that land, nor Nicarete on Rhodopis. Nay, belike the amphora will be made hot for one or the other.

Such, howbeit, was the story of Phanes the Phocaean, whether he spoke falsely or truly. The G.o.d be with thee.

HERODOTUS.

VI.

Mrs. Proudie, wife of the Bishop of Barchester, admits Mrs. Quiverful into her confidence. Mrs. Proudie first takes pleasure in a new and pious acquaintance, Lady Crawley (_nee_ Sharp), but afterwards discovers the true character of this insidious and dangerous woman.

The Palace, Barchester, July 17.

DEAR LEt.i.tIA,-The appearance of mumps in a small family of fourteen like yours, is indeed one of those dispensations which teach us how mysterious are the ways! But I need not tell you to be most careful about cold, which greatly adds to the virulence of the complaint, and it is difficult for you, in lodgings at Brighton, to keep a watchful eye on so many at once. May this discipline be blessed to you, and to the dear children!

I have much to tell you of Barchester. The light worldly tone of some families in this place (I will not mention the Grantleys nor the Arabins) has been checked, I hope, by one of those accidents which surely, surely, are not to be considered accidents alone! You know how strong is my objection to fancy fairs or bazaars, too often rather scenes of giddy merriment than exhibitions of genuine Christian feeling. Yet by means of one of these (how strangely are things ordered!) a happy change, I trust, is being brought about in our midst.

You have heard of Hogglestock, though you may never have visited that benighted and outlying parish. Indeed, I was never there myself till last week, when Tom felt it his duty (though woefully misdirected, to my mind, but we are fallible creatures) to go and open a bazaar in that place for the restoration of the church. {56} I accompanied him; for I trusted that an opportunity might be made for me, and that I might especially bear in on the mind of the rector's wife the absolute necessity of Sabbath-day schools. The rector is a Mr. Crawley. He led us on our arrival into a scene of red cloth, wax dolls most indelicately displayed, cushions, antimaca.s.sars, and similar _idols_. The Bishop's speech (I composed it myself) you will read in the "Barchester Guardian,"

which I send you. While approving the _end_ he rebuked the _means_, and took the opportunity to read a much-needed lesson on _Jesuitry_ and the dangers of worldliness in high ecclesiastical places. Let those wince who feel a sense of their own backslidings. When the Bishop had ended, I determined to walk once through the bazaar just to make sure that there were no lotteries nor games of chance-a desecration of our _mites_ now too, too frequent. As I was returning through the throng, alas! of _pleasure-seekers_, and wishing that I might scourge them out of the schoolroom, Mr. Crawley met me, in company with a lady who desired, he said, to be presented to me. He is a distant relation of the well-known county family, the Crawleys, of Queen's Crawley; the present baronet, Sir Rawdon, having recently married Miss Jane Dobbin, daughter of Colonel Dobbin. The lady who was now introduced to me, and whose _still pleasing_ face wears an aspect of humble devoutness, was Lady Crawley, mother of the present baronet.

"Madam," she said, "I came here in the belief that I was discharging a pious duty. My life, alas! has been one of sore trial, and I only try to do good." . . .

I was going to say that I had seen her name in a score of charity lists, and knew her as a patroness of the Dest.i.tute Orange-Girls, the Neglected Washerwomen, and the Distressed m.u.f.fin-Men. But she shook her head; and then, looking up at me with eyes like a _saint's_ (if our _privileges_ permitted us to believe in these fabulous beings of the Romish superst.i.tion), she said, "Ah, no! I have always been in the wrong. The beautiful address of the Bishop of Barchester has awakened me, and convinced me that the _path_ does not lie through Fancy Fairs. I have to begin again. Who shall guide me?"

I trust I am not subject to vanity; but the news that I (for I composed the Charge, as I may almost call it) had been the instrument of so affecting a change did not fail to please me. I thanked Lady Crawley, and expressed my deep interest in her altered convictions. Finally she promised to come on a visit to us at the Palace (she usually resides at Bath or Cheltenham), and has been three days an inmate. Never have I met a more singular example of what the Truth can do for one who, as she admits, was long ago a worldling. "I have seen the vanity of it," she tells me, with tears in her eyes; and from her example I expect an _awakening_ among our worldlings. They will follow the path of a _t.i.tled_ person. Tom is much interested in his _convert_, as he thinks her. Not to _me_ be the glory!-Your a.s.sured friend,

EMILY BARNUM. {60a}

_From Mrs. Proudie to Mrs. Quiverful_.

The Palace, Barchester, July 22.