LUCY AUSTIN. 



TOWARDS the close of the autumn of 1825 I was solicited to officiate 

 as bridesman at the marriage of Herman Leader, a quondam school, 

 fellow, who had just returned to his seat near Southam in Warwick- 

 shire from a continental tour, in company with a young 1 lady whom 

 he hadmet abroad under singular circumstances, and was about to 

 marry. 



He received me at the lodge-gate, dressed in a shooting costume, 

 having promised to accompany a friend over his grounds for an hour 

 or two. By his side was a small pointer, named Whip, that had for- 

 merly belonged to me, but which I had presented to Leader imme- 

 diately previous to his commencing his travels. It struck me as sin- 

 gular, that the animal did not instantly recognise me ; and, stooping 

 down to pat him on the back, I cried out, as one would address a 

 dog, " What, Whip ! mine ancient, forget your old master ?'* But 

 Whip received my endearments with an attempt at a bite, which I 

 was silly enough to resent by a somewhat vigorous kick that drove 

 him growling behind Leader. As we proceeded to the house I ob- 

 served Whip had lost all his former vivacity, and when I learned from 

 my friend that symptoms of illness had been apparent in the dog's 

 refusal of food for a couple of days back, I felt rather ashamed of my 

 violence. As, however, he refused another proffered renewal of ac- 

 quaintanceship, unequivocally as before, I took no further notice of 

 him, but went to my chamber for the purpose of removing from 

 my person the indications of a long night journey. 



I soon rejoined Leader in the library, whither he had ordered re- 

 freshments to be conveyed, and where I likewise found Whip en- 

 sconced beneath the table. While I partook of some food, we talked 

 over old matters, as friends usually do after a protracted separation, 

 and presently came to the object of my visit. The details of his 

 courtship would form a very singular episode, but would be much 

 too lengthy for this brief narrative. Be it sufficient, therefore, to 

 say, that Lucy Austin, the lady in question, and her mother, were then 

 inmates of his house ; and although the whole affair was character- 

 ized by more romance than is usually mixed up with love in the 

 nineteenth century, it was altogether untinged with any thing the 

 most fastidious could object to on the score of morality. Just as he 

 had finished recounting the particulars, Lucy entered from the garden. 

 Beauty, I had always set it down in my mind, should be a distin- 

 guished attribute in the wife of Leader ; but for loveliness such as I 

 now beheld I was altogether unprepared. To say she was the most 

 beautiful being I ever saw would be to say much, for I have seen 

 much beauty in England and elsewhere in my time ; but so perfect an 

 amalgamation of dignity and simplicity I never witnessed in any 

 other woman. She approached noiselessly and gracefully, and ac- 

 knowledged her intended husband's introduction of his oldest and 

 most esteemed friend with all the warmth of sincere intimacy. In a 

 short time we were on the best possible terms, engaged in discussing 

 the proceedings of a celebrated countryman, with whom Leader had 



MAY, 1837. 2 1 



