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KIDD'S LONDON JOURNAL 



conceived in the finest spirit of philanthropy. 

 Report assigns their authorship to the widow 

 of a military officer. If she be a widow, she 

 is a most charming widow indeed ! By the way, 

 this said " Fly " is supposed to be an invisi- 

 ble insect, taking notes of what came under 

 its eye. Thus much introductory. 



Our object now is, to endeavor to remove 

 the stigma improperly attaching to maiden 

 aunts, who are a grievously ill-used body of 

 kind and excellent people. 



The tale to which we direct attention 

 shows that, hut for Aunt Sarah., the union of 

 two fond hearts never could have taken place, 

 nor could their future prospects have been 

 crowned with happiness. 



The heroine is a lovely young lass — Emily, 

 by name ; the hero, one William Ainslie. 

 The lovers meet on the sly, of course ; and 

 bewail the fact of the papa (as naughty papas 

 often will do) having promised his daughter's 

 hand to a man whom she hates. They rave, 

 they cry, they pout, and talk an immensity 

 of nonsense, as all lovers do ; and then 

 news comes that "Aunt Sarah" has arrived 

 to act as a "spy." 



Emily relates why she considers her l Aunt 

 Sarah ' to be " a spy ; " and her relation of 

 circumstances causes William to have quite 

 a different opinion of the old lady. Indeed, 

 he declares emphatically, that he. is sure she 

 will prove " a brick," The lovers separate, 

 and Emily glides silently into the drawing- 

 room, where sit Aunt Sarah and Emily's 

 papa. Now let us hear the " Fly" speak : — 



Aunt Sarah sat by the lire, busily en- 

 gaged in the Herculean labor of knitting 

 an immense counterpane. She was a little, 

 thin woman of about fifty, dressed in a black 

 silk gown of an old-fashioned shape, and 

 wearing a neat close cap, trimmed with white 

 satin ribbon, over the plain braids of her 

 gray hair. All this white and silver threw 

 out strongly the extreme blackness of her 

 eyebrows, and the keenness and brilliancy of 

 her dark hazel eyes. Indeed, the first thing 

 that struck me about her was an expression 

 of vigilance and unobtrusive watchfulness, 

 that quite justified her niece's description of 

 her. On a further perusal of that thoughtful 

 face, however, I perceived much that Emily 

 had overlooked. There was a great deal of 

 sound sense and caution, holding in check a 

 considerable amount of benevolence. Her 

 very first action corroborated my opinion. 

 " Where have you been, Emily ? " said the 

 father, sternly. " I have just come from my 

 own room, papa," replied Emily, screening 

 herself behind a fib oblique. " How cold it 

 is away from the fire ! " she added, putting- 

 one foot upon the fender as she stood just 

 in front of her aunt. Was there mud in 

 pretty Emily's chamber, or on the stairs, or 

 how came it on that dainty little shoe? 

 Her father stooped for the poker, and would 



most certainly have seen the muddy shoe, 

 but for Aunt Sarah, who threw her work 

 adroitly over it, saying, in a quiet manner, 

 " You have not examined my knitting, Emily. 

 Look closely at it, and then I shall expect a 

 kiss to help me on with it, for it is intended 

 as a present to you when you commence 

 housekeeping." Emily looked at the work, 

 but I thought she seemed rather averse to 

 giving the required kiss ; probably because 

 she understood the '' housekeeping " was ex- 

 pected to be commenced with Mr. Benfield. 

 " I'm sure you are very kind, Aunt," she 

 said at last, approaching her face with an air 

 of constraint towards her aunt's. 



" Change your shoes, foolish girl ! " whis- 

 pered the aunt, drawing the fair round cheek 

 close to her mouth, and then giving it a 

 hearty kiss. " Will you fetch me a packet 

 of cotton that lies on my dressing table, my 

 dear ? And then I'll trouble you to hold 

 the skeins." This was said aloud, and was 

 intended, I thought, to give her an excuse 

 for leaving the room ; and if so, the young 

 man was certainly correct in his notion that 

 Aunt Sarah might turn out to be a brick. 

 At all events Emily took the hint and slipped 

 out, leaving the knitting-needles going click- 

 etty-clicketty, with their customary monoto- 

 nous rattle. " I am glad to see that Emily 

 is coming to her senses a little," said the old 

 gentleman as he refolded the Times with 

 a pompous air, and settled himself down to 

 its perusal. " I fully expected some imper- 

 tinent speech when you alluded to her 

 marriage." " I can't quite understand her 

 yet," responded the lady, in that dubious 

 tone which seems to imply that the speaker 

 cannot discuss the subject till he has ob- 

 tained further information upon it. In a 

 few minutes Emily returned with the cotton 

 in her hand, clean shoes on her feet, and a 

 very puzzled expression upon her face. She 

 knelt at a little distance, and held the skeins 

 for her aunt to wind, watching her counte- 

 nance intently all the while ; but she must 

 have had much sharper eyes than mine, if 

 she could make anything out of that im- 

 moveable face beyond an earnest desire to 

 form the cotton into a symmetrical ball. 

 Whatever she might, or might not see, or 

 fancy she saw, it appeared that by a kind of 

 fascination she caught the infection of fancy 

 work, for she brought out a half-finished 

 anti-macassar, to show her aunt what she 

 could do in the way of ornamental industry. 

 Then the two sat side by side for more than 

 an hour, chatting in low tones that they 

 might not disturb the political lucubrations 

 of him whom I found the young men desig- 

 nated as "the governor," while they com- 

 pared notes and stitches, and discussed the 

 comparative merits and capabilities of knit- 

 ting and crochet. 

 After all this subdued conversation upon 



