song was
sure, through the good offices of the brother, to find its way into the
sister's album, already stored with many a tribute from her lover's
muse.

Fanny was a sweet creature--one of those choice and piquant bits of
Nature's creation which she sometimes vouchsafes to treat the world
with, just to show what she _can_ do. Her person I shall not attempt to
describe; for however one may endeavour to make words play the part of
colour, lineament, voice, and expression--and however successfully--still
a verbal description can never convey a true notion of personal charms;
and personal charms Fanny had, decidedly; not that she was strictly
beautiful, but, at times, nevertheless, eclipsing beauty far more
regular, and throwing symmetry into the shade, by some charm which even
they whom it fascinated could not define.

Her mind was as clear and pure as a mountain stream; and if at times it
chafed and was troubled from the course in which it ran, the temporary
turbulence only made its limpid depth and quietness more beautiful. Her
heart was the very temple of generosity, the throne of honour, and the
seat of tenderness. The gentlest sympathies dwelt in her soul, and
answered to the slightest call of another's grief; while mirth was
dancing in her eye, a word that implied the sorrow of another would
bring a tear there. She was the sweetest creature in the world!

The old Major, used to roving habits from his profession, would often
go on a ramble somewhere for weeks together, at which times Fanny went
to Merryvale to her sister, Mistress Egan, who was also a fine-hearted
creature, but less soft and sentimental than Fanny. She was of the
dashing school rather, and before she became the mother of so large a
family, thought very little of riding over a gate or a fence. Indeed,
it was her high mettle that won her the squire's heart. The story is
not long, and it may as well be told here--though a little out of
place, perhaps; but it's an Irish story, and may therefore be gently
irregular.

The squire had admired Letitia Dawson, as most of the young men of her
acquaintance did--appreciated her round waist and well-turned ankle,
her spirited eyes and cheerful laugh, and danced with her at every ball
as much as any other fine girl in the country: but never seriously
thought of her as a wife, until one day a party visited the parish
church, whose old tower was often ascended for the fine view it
commanded. At this time the to