heart; Fanny's, sense, sensibility, and bashfulness, and even a degree of prudery. Her understanding is superior, but her diffidence gives her a bashfulness before company with whom she is not intimate, which is a disadvantage to her. My eldest sister shines in conversation, because, though very modest, she is totally free from any mauvaise honte; were Fanny equally so, I am persuaded she would shine no less. I am afraid my eldest sister is too communicative, and that my sister Fanny is too reserved. They are both charming girls-des filles comme il y en a peu."

Dr. Burney was at this period accustomed to employ his daughters in copying out his manuscripts for the press, tracing over and over again the same page, with the endless alterations his critical judgment suggested. Upon these occasions Frances was his principal amanuensis, and thus she became early initiated in all the mysteries of publication, which was of much advantage to her when she began to write for the press.

At seventeen, Miss Burney wrote "Evelina," her first published novel, and now considered by good judges her best work; though "Cecilia" is the more highly finished. "Evelina" was published in 1778, and soon became popular in London. Its author did not long remain unknown, and Miss Burney attained a celebrity few young novel-writers have ever enjoyed. She was introduced to Dr. Johnson, and speedily gained an enviable place in his favour. He appreciated very justly, both the abilities and moral excellence of Miss Burney. On one occasion, speaking of her work, he observes, "Evelina seems a work that should result from long experience, and deep and intimate knowledge of the world; yet it has been written without either. Miss Burney is a real wonder. What she is, she is intuitively. Dr. Burney told me she had the fewest advantages of any of his daughters, from some peculiar circumstances. And such has been her timidity, that he himself had not any suspicion of her powers. Modesty with her is neither pretence nor decorum; it is an ingredient in her nature; for she who could part with such a work for twenty pounds, could know so little of its worth or of her own, as to leave no possible doubt of her humility."

Miss Burney's next publication was “ Cecilia," which work called forth an eulogium from the celebrated Mr. Burke. In a letter to Miss Burney he says, "There are few-I believe I may say fairly there are none at all-that will not find themselves better informed concerning human nature, and their stock of observations enriched, by reading your Cecilia.'"***" I might trespass on your delicacy if I should fill my letter to you with what I fill my conversation to others; I should be troublesome to you alone if I should tell you all I feel and think on the natural vein of humour, the tender pathetic, the comprehensive and noble moral, and the sagacious observation, that appear quite throughout this extraordinary performance."

In a few years after this, Miss Burney, through the favourable representations made concerning her by her venerable friend Mrs. Delany, was in

vited to accept a place in the household of queen Charlotte. A popular writer thus sketches the result, and the subsequent events of her chequered life:

"The result was, that in 1786 our authoress was appointed second keeper of the robes to queen Charlotte, with a salary of £200 a-year, a footman, apartments in the palace, and a coach between her and her colleague. The situation was only a sort of splendid slavery. I was averse to

the union,' said Miss Burney, and I endeavoured to escape it; but my friends interfered-they prevailed-and the knot is tied.' The queen appears to have been a kind and considerate mistress; but the stiff etiquette and formality of the court, and the unremitting attention which its irksome duties required, rendered the situation peculiarly disagreeable to one who had been so long flattered and courted by the brilliant society of her day. Her colleague, Mrs. Schwellenberg, a coarseminded, jealous, disagreeable German favourite, was also a perpetual source of annoyance to her; and poor Fanny at court was worse off than her heroine Cecilia was in choosing among her guardians. Her first official duty was to mix the queen's snuff, and keep her box always replenished, after which she was promoted to the great business of the toilet, helping her majesty off and on with her dresses, and being in strict attendance from six or seven in the morning till twelve at night! From this grinding and intolerable destiny Miss Burney was emancipated by her marriage, in 1793, with a French refugee officer, the Count D'Arblay. She then resumed her pen, and in 1795 produced a tragedy, entitled Edwin and Elgitha,' which was brought out at Drury Lane, and possessed at least one novelty- there were three bishops among the dramatis personæ. Mrs. Siddons personated the heroine, but in the dying scene, where the lady is brought from behind a hedge to expire before the audience, and is afterwards carried once more to the back of the hedge, the house was convulsed with laughter! Her next effort was her novel of 'Camilla,' which she published by subscription, and realized by it no less than three thousand guineas. In 1802 Madame D'Arblay accompanied her husband to Paris. The count joined the army of Napoleon, and his wife was forced to remain in France till 1812, when she returned and purchased, from the proceeds of her novel, a small but handsome villa, named Camilla Cottage. Her success in prose fiction urged her to another trial, and in 1814 she produced The Wanderer,' a tedious tale in five volumes, which had no other merit than that of bringing the authoress the large sum of £1500. The only other literary labour of Madame D'Arblay was a memoir of her father, Dr. Burney, published in 1832. Her husband and her son (the Rev. A. D'Arblay of Camden Town chapel, near London) both predeceased her- the former in 1818, and the latter in 1837. Three years after this last melancholy bereavement, Madame D'Arblay herself paid the debt of nature, dying at Bath, in January, 1840, at the great age of eighty-eight. Her Diary and Letters' edited by her niece,

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were published in 1842, in five volumes. If judiciously condensed, this work would have been both entertaining and valuable; but at least one half of it is filled with small unimportant details and private gossip, and the self-admiring weakness of the authoress shines out in almost every page. The early novels of Miss Burney form the most pleasing memorials of her name and history. In them we see her quick in discernment, lively in invention, and inimitable, in her own way, in portraying the humours and oddities of English society. Her good sense and correct feeling are more remarkable than her passion. Her love scenes are prosaic enough, but in 'showing up' a party of vulgarly genteel' persons, painting the characters in a drawing-room, or catching the follies and absurdities that float on the surface of fashionable society, she has rarely been equalled. She deals with the palpable and familiar; and though society has changed since the time of 'Evelina,' and the glory of Ranelagh and Maryle-bone Gardens has departed, there is enough of real life in her personages, and real morality in her lessons, to interest, amuse, and instruct. Her sarcasm, drollery, and broad humour, must always be relished."

We will now give a few extracts from the first and the last works of this interesting writer.

From "Evelina."

A PRETENDED HIGHWAY. ROBBERY.

"When we had been out near two hours, and expected every moment to stop at the place of our destination, I observed that Lady Howard's servant, who attended us on horseback, rode on forward till he was out of sight, and soon after returning, came up to the chariot window, and delivering a note to Madame Duval, said he had met a boy who was just coming with it to Howard Grove, from the clerk of Mr. Tyrell.

"While she was reading it, he rode round to the other window, and, making a sign for secresy, put into my hand a slip of paper, on which was written, Whatever happens, be not alarmed, for you are safe, though you endanger all mankind!'

"I really imagined that Sir Clement must be the author of this note, which prepared me to expect some disagreeable adventure: but I had no time to ponder upon it, for Madame Duval had no sooner read her own letter, than, in an angry tone of voice, she exclaimed, 'Why, now, what a thing is this; here we're come all this way for nothing!'

"She then gave me the note, which informed her that she need not trouble herself to go to Mr. Tyrell's, as the prisoner had had the address to escape. I congratulated her upon this fortunate incident; but she was so much concerned at having rode so far in vain, that she seemed less pleased than provoked. However, she ordered the man to make what haste he could home, as she hoped at least to return before the captain should suspect what had passed.

"The carriage turned about, and we journeyed so quietly for near an hour that I began to flatter myself we should be suffered to proceed to Howard Grove without further molestation, when, sudden

"What do you mean by that, sirrah?' said Madame Duval; why, if you lose your way, we shall be all in the dark.'

"I think we should turn to the left,' said the footman.

"To the left!' answered the other; No, no; I'm pretty sure we should turn to the right.' "You had better make some inquiry,' said I. "Ma foi," cried Madame Duval, 'we're in a fine hole here; they neither of them know no more than the post. However, I'll tell my lady as sure as you're born, so you'd better find the way.' "Let's try this road,' said the footman. "No,' said the coachman, that's the road to Canterbury; we had best go straight on.'

"Why, that's the direct London road,' re turned the footman, and will lead us twenty miles about.'

"Pardie,' cried Madame Duval; 'why, they won't go one way nor t'other; and, now we're come all this jaunt for nothing, I suppose we shan't get home to night.'

"Let's go back to the public-house,' said the footman, and ask for a guide.'

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"No, no,' said the other; if we stay here a few minutes, somebody or other will pass by; and the horses are almost knocked up already.'

"Well, I protest,' cried Madame Duval, I'd give a guinea to see them sots horse-whipped. As sure as I'm alive they're drunk. Ten to one but they'll overturn us next.'

'After much debating, they at length agreed to go on till we came to some inn, or met with a passenger who could direct us. We soon arrived at a small farm-house, and the footman alighted and went into it.

"In a few minutes he returned, and told us we might proceed, for that he had procured a direction. But,' added he, it seems there are some thieves hereabouts, and so the best way will be for you to leave your watches and purses with the farmer, whom I know very well, and who is an honest man, and a tenant of my lady's.'

"Thieves!' cried Madame Duval, looking aghast; the Lord help us! I've no doubt but we shall be all murdered!'

"The farmer came to us, and we gave him all we were worth, and the servants followed our example. We then proceeded, and Madame Duval's anger so entirely subsided, that, in the mildest manner imaginable, she entreated them to make haste, and promised to tell their lady how diligent and obliging they had been. She perpetually stopped them to ask if they apprehended any danger, and was at length so much overpowered by her fears, that she made the footman fasten his horse to the back of the carriage, and then come and seat himself within it. My endeavours to encourage her were fruitless; she sat in the middle, held the man by the arm, and protested that if he did but save her life, she would make his fortune. Her uneasiness gave me much concern, and it was

with the utmost difficulty I forbore to acquaint her that she was imposed upon; but the mutual fear of the captain's resentment to me, and of her own to him, neither of which would have any moderation, deterred me. As to the footman, he was evidently in torture from restraining his laughter, and I observed that he was frequently obliged to make most horrid grimaces from pretended fear, in order to conceal his risibility.

"Very soon after, The robbers are coming!' cried the coachman.

"The footman opened the door, and jumped out of the chariot.

"Madame Duval gave a loud scream.

"I could no longer preserve my silence. For heaven's sake, my dear madam,' said I, 'don't be alarmed; you are in no danger; you are quite safe; there is nothing but

"Here the chariot was stopped by two men in masks, who, at each side, put in their hands, as if for our purses. Madame Duval sunk to the bot

tom of the chariot, and implored their mercy. I shrieked involuntarily, although prepared for the attack: one of them held me fast, while the other tore poor Madame Duval out of the carriage, in spite of her cries, threats, and resistance.

"I was really frightened, and trembled exceedingly. My angel!' cried the man who held me, 'you cannot surely be alarmed. Do you not know me? I shall hold myself in eternal abhorrence if I have really terrified you.'

"Indeed, Sir Clement, you have,' cried I; but, for heaven's sake, where is Madame Duval ?-why is she forced away?'

"She is perfectly safe; the captain has her in charge; but suffer me now, my adored Miss Anville, to take the only opportunity that is allowed me to speak upon another, a much dearer, much sweeter subject.'

"And then he hastily came into the chariot, and seated himself next to me. I would fain have disengaged myself from him, but he would not let me. Deny me not, most charming of women,' cried he- deny me not this only moment lent me to pour forth my soul into your gentle ears, to tell you how much I suffer from your absence, how much I dread your displeasure, and how cruelly I am affected by your coldness!'

"Oh, sir, this is no time for such language; pray, leave me; pray, go to the relief of Madame Duval; I cannot bear that she should be treated with such indignity.'

"And will you-can you command my absence?

When may I speak to you, if not now?does the captain suffer me to breathe a moment out of his sight?—and are not a thousand impertinent people for ever at your elbow?'

“Indeed, Sir Clement, you must change your style, or I will not hear you. The impertinent people you mean are among my best friends, and you would not, if you really wished me well, speak of them so disrespectfully.'

"Wish you well! Oh, Miss Anville, point but out to me how in what manner I may convince you of the fervour of my passion-tell me but what services you will accept from me, and you shall

find my life, my fortune, my whole soul at your devotion.'

"I want nothing, sir, that you can offer. 1 beg you not to talk to me so-so strangely. Pray, leave me; and pray, assure yourself you cannot take any method so successless to show any regard for me, as entering into schemes so frightful to Madame Duval, and so disagreeable to myself.'

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The scheme was the captain's; I even opposed it; though I own I could not refuse myself the so long wished-for happiness of speaking to you once more without so many of your friends to watch me. And I had flattered myself that the note I charged the footman to give you would have prevented the alarm you have received.'

"Well, sir, you have now, I hope, said enough; and if you will not go yourself to seek for Madame Duval, at least suffer me to inquire what is become of her.'

"And when may I speak to you again?'

"No matter when; I don't know; perhaps—' Perhaps what, my angel?'

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"Perhaps never, sir, if you torment me thus.' "Never! Oh, Miss Anville, how cruel, how piercing to my soul is that icy word! Indeed 1 cannot endure such displeasure.'

"Then, sir, you must not provoke it. Pray, leave me directly.'

"I will, madam; but let me at least make a merit of my obedience-allow me to hope that you will in future be less averse to trusting yourself for a few moments alone with me.'

"I was surprised at the freedom of this request; but while I hesitated how to answer it, the other mask came up to the chariot door, and, in a voice almost stifled with laughter, said, 'I've done for her! The old buck is safe; but we must sheer off directly, or we shall be all a-ground.'

"Sir Clement instantly left me, mounted his horse, and rode off. The captain, having given some directions to his servants, followed him.

"I was both uneasy and impatient to know the fate of Madame Duval, and immediately got out of the chariot to seek her. I desired the footman to show me which way she was gone; he pointed with his finger, by way of answer, and I saw that he dared not trust his voice to make any other. I walked on at a very quick pace, and soon, to my great consternation, perceived the poor lady seated upright in a ditch. I flew to her, with unfeigned concern at her situation. She was sobbing, nay, almost roaring, and in the utmost agony of rage and terror. As soon as she saw me, she redoubled her cries, but her voice was so broken, I could not understand a word she said. I was so much shocked, that it was with difficulty I forbore exclaiming against the cruelty of the captain for thus wantonly ill-treating her, and I could not forgive myself for having passively suffered the deception. I used my utmost endeavours to comfort her, assuring her of our present safety, and begging her to rise and return to the chariot.

"Almost bursting with passion, she pointed to her feet, and with frightful violence she actually beat the ground with her hands.

"I then saw that her feet were tied together

O! small the tribute, were it weigh'd
With all she feels-or half she owes!
But noble minds are best repaid

From the pure spring whence bounty flows.

P. S. The little bearer begs a kiss

From dear papa, for bringing this.

"I need not, I think, tell you, the little bearer begged not in vain. The king was extremely pleased. He came into a room belonging to the princesses, in which we had a party to look at the illuminations, and there he stayed above an hour; cheerful, composed, and gracious! all that could merit the great national testimony to his worth this day paid him."

A ROYAL READING PARTY.

"In one of our Windsor excursions at this time, while I was in her majesty's dressing-room, with only Mr. De Luc present, she suddenly said, 'Prepare yourself, Miss Burney, with all your spirits, for to-night you must be reader.'

"She then added that she recollected what she had been told by my honoured Mrs. Delany, of my reading Shakspeare to her, and was desirous that I should read a play to herself and the princesses; and she had lately heard, from Mrs. Schwellenberg, nobody could do it better, when I would.'

"I assured her majesty it was rather when I could, as any reading Mrs. Schwellenberg had heard must wholly have been better or worse according to my spirits, as she had justly seemed to suggest.

"The moment coffee was over the princess Elizabeth came for me. I found her majesty knotting, the princess royal drawing, princess Augusta spinning, and lady Courtown I believe in the same employment; but I saw none of them perfectly well.

best; and, indifferent as that was, it would rather have surprised you, all things considered, that it was not yet worse. But I exerted all the courage I possess, and, having often read to the queen, I felt how much it behooved me not to let her surmise I had any greater awe to surmount.

"It is but a vulgar performance; and I was obliged to omit, as well as I could at sight, several circumstances very unpleasant for reading, and ill enough fitted for such hearers.

"It went off pretty flat. Nobody is to comment, nobody is to interrupt; and even between one act and another not a moment's pause is expected to be made.

"I had been already informed of this etiquette by Mr. Turbulent and Miss Planta; nevertheless, it is not only oppressive to the reader, but loses to the hearers so much spirit and satisfaction, that I determined to endeavour, should I again be called upon, to introduce a little break into this tiresome and unnatural profundity of respectful solemnity. My own embarrassment, however, made it agree with me for the present uncommonly well.

"Lady Courtown never uttered one single word the whole time; yet is she one of the most loquacious of our establishment. But such is the settled etiquette.

"The queen has a taste for conversation, and the princesses a good-humoured love for it, that doubles the regret of such an annihilation of all nature and all pleasantry. But what will not prejudice and education inculcate? They have been brought up to annex silence to respect and decorum: to talk, therefore, unbid, or to differ from any given opinion even when called upon, are regarded as high improprieties, if not presumptions.

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"This had been said in attending her royal highness back. I could only confirm it, and that cheerfully, to hide fearfully.

"I had not the advantage of choosing my play, nor do I know what would have been my decision had it fallen to my lot. Her majesty had just begun Colman's works, and Polly Honeycomb' was to open my campaign.

"I think,' cried the queen most graciously, 'Miss Burney will read the better for drawing a chair and sitting down.'

"O yes, mamma! I dare say so!' cried princess Augusta and princess Elizabeth, both in a

ing to her reading to me, I have always frankly spoken almost whatever has occurred to me. But there I had no other examples before me, and therefore I might inoffensively be guided by myself; and her majesty's continuance of the same honour has shown no disapprobation of my proceeding. But here it was not easy to make any decision for myself: to have done what lady Courtown forbore doing would have been undoubtedly a liberty.

"So we all behaved alike; and easily can I now conceive the disappointment and mortification of poor Mr. Garrick when he read Lethe' to a royal audience. Its tameness must have tamed even him, and I doubt not he never acquitted himself so ill.

"The next evening I had the same summons; but The English Merchant' was the play, which did far better. It is an elegant and serious piece, which I read with far greater ease, and into which they all entered with far greater interest.

"The princess royal was so gracious when the queen left the room, upon our next coming to town, to pay me very kind compliments upon my own part of the entertainment, though her brother