newspapers! Here's a paragraph I cut out this very morning from my
paper, lest the poor girl should see it. The other day, I believe you
saw it yourself, there was something of the same sort. 'We hear that, as
soon as he comes of age, Mr. Beaumont, of Beaumont Park, is to lead to
the altar of Hymen, Miss Hunter, sister to Sir John Hunter, of
Devonshire.' Well,--after you left the room, Albina took up the paper
you had been reading; and when she saw this paragraph, I thought she
would have dropped. I did not know what to do. Whatever I could say, you
know, would only make it worse. I tried to turn it off, and talked of
twenty things; but it would not do--no, no, it is too serious for that:
well, though I believe she would rather have put her hand in the fire,
she had the courage to speak to me about it herself."

"And what did she say, ma'am?" inquired Mr. Beaumont, eagerly.

"Poor simple creature! she had but one idea--that you had seen it! that
she would not for the world you had read it. What would you think of
her--she should never be able to meet you again--What could she do? It
must be contradicted--somebody must contradict it. Then she worried me
to have it contradicted in the papers. I told her I did not well know
how that could be done, and urged that it would be much more prudent not
to fix attention upon the parties by more paragraphs. But she was _not_
in a state to think of prudence;--_no_. What would you think was the
only idea in her mind?--If I would not write, she would write that
minute herself, and sign her name. This, and a thousand wild things, she
said, till I was forced to be quite angry, and to tell her she must be
governed by those who had more discretion than herself. Then she was so
subdued, so ashamed--really my heart bled for her, even whilst I scolded
her. But it is quite necessary to be harsh with her; for she has no more
foresight, nor art, nor command of herself sometimes, than a child of