17 

 A PIC NIC. 



Thou hast a speculation in thine eyes. 



Macbeth. — Scene, a Feast — Lords, Ladies, ^c. 



Shall I own it at once, and at starting? Yes, I will. For 

 it would be a shame to deceive people into supposing me better 

 than I am, particularly those who are kindly disposed to read my 

 story, and thus make acquaintance with me on my own terms. 

 I certainly did deliberately set to work to listen to a conversation 

 which was never intended for my ear, nay, worse, which was never 

 intended for any ear except the conjugal, and rather reluctant, ear 

 to which, in all the confidence of supposed privacy, it was ad- 

 dressed. I anticipate the animadversion. It was a rascally, mani- 

 festly rascally, thing of me. But the temptation was strong ; and 

 I need not tell you, ladies and gentlemen, flesh is frail. 



The day was sultry : the sun was still high. I had just assis- 

 ted my hospitable friend and his lady and blooming progeny, below 

 stairs, to despatch a substantial luncheon, and we were not to dine 

 till six. I had retired to my own apartment, "as is my custom of 

 an afternoon," for the declared purpose of severe study, but the real 

 one of undisturbed idleness. My long chair (I hate French names 

 for English furniture, and never use them) was at the open window 

 which commanded afineviewofacountry that smiled in its noon- 

 tide slumber. The cattle slumbered too. An article on political 

 economy lay open on my knee : it had already disproved its own 

 theory; for the demand, I felt, in no degree kept pace with the 

 supply. The ivory knife liad fallen from my hand, and the con- 

 tagious repose was stealing fast over me, when the spirit-stirring 

 voice of Mrs. Allington issued through the opened glass doors of 

 the room beneath. The woman tempted me, and I listened. She 

 was the wife of my host, honest John Allington ; so he was called 

 by all that knew him. Every body loved him for a plain, good, 

 honorable man ; and his house was popular with all persons of 

 all ages, not less for the frankness of his character and of his wel- 

 come than for the sake of the never-failing amusements, and ever- 

 thronging society, purveyed by the care of bis adroit and busy 

 lady. I will not say that to love her was an universal passion. 

 Yet all were attentive to her, and all liked her dinners, and her 

 suppers, and her dances, and her "little music parties," as ladies 

 are wont very properly to denominate those occasions on which 

 they open their houses for company, their windows for air, and 

 their grand piano-fortes for " little music." God wot. And she 



had three pretty grown-up daughters, who . But let the 



VOL. V. — 1835. c 



