e diatribe wherein we lately indulged, about the selling
of virgins, by no means applies to Lady Anne Newcome, who signed the
address to Mrs Stowe, the other day, along with thousands more virtuous
British matrons; but should the reader haply say, "Is thy fable, O Poet,
narrated concerning Tancred Pulleyn, Earl of Dorking, and Sigismunda,
his wife?" the reluctant moralist is obliged to own that the cap does
fit those noble personages, of whose lofty society you will, however,
see but little.

For though I would like to go into an Indian Brahmin's house, and see
the punkahs, and the purdahs and tattys, and the pretty brown maidens
with great eyes, and great nose-rings, and painted foreheads, and slim
waists cased in Cashmir shawls, Kincob scarfs, curly slippers, gilt
trousers, precious anklets and bangles; and have the mystery of Eastern
existence revealed to me (as who would not who has read the Arabian
Nights in his youth?), yet I would not choose the moment when the
Brahmin of the house was dead, his women howling, his priests doctoring
his child of a widow, now frightening her with sermons, now drugging her
with bang, so as to push her on his funeral pile at last, and into the
arms of that carcase, stupefied, but obedient and decorous. And though I
like to walk, even in fancy, in an earl's house, splendid, well ordered,
where there are feasts and fine pictures and fair ladies and endless
books and good company; yet there are times when the visit is not
pleasant; and when the parents in that fine house are getting ready
their daughter for sale, and frightening away her tears with threats,
and stupefying her grief with narcotics, praying her and imploring her,
and dramming her and coaxing her, and blessing her, and cursing her
perhaps, till they have brought her into such a state as shall fit the
poor young thing for that deadly couch upon which they are about to
thrust her. When my lord and lady are so engaged I prefer not to call
at their mansion, Number 1000 in Grosvenor Square, but to partake of
a dinner of herbs rather than of that stalled ox which their cook is
roasting whole. There are some people who are not so squeamish. The
family comes, of course; the Most Reverend the Lord Arch-Brahmin of
Benares will attend the ceremony; there will be flowers and lights and
white favours; and quite a string of carriages up to the pagoda; and
such a breakfast afterwards; and music in the street and little parish
boys hurrah