CHAP. II.

ANOTHER FAMILY PICTURE.

HE is a very unfortunate man indeed, who has but one aunt, if she is not more amiable than my aunt Winifred. But it was my happiness to have another, who, for her size, which was remarkably diminutive, was, I do think, one of the best creatures in the kingdom; and the extraordinary candour with which I have presented to the reader one family picture, of which the features are certainly not very creditable to the race and name, will, I trust, induce him to acquit me of all partiality in my sketch of the second.

My aunt Rachel then, was, by the church register, though not by the calculation of my aunt Winifred, at least twenty years younger than her

sister. It is remarkable, in how many instances the eldest child is neither the wisest nor the best. Perhaps, indeed, one solution of the fact is, that, just about the time at which parents become possessed of a second child, they begin to discover the immeasurable mischief of spoiling the first. But I leave solutions to philosophers, and simply state the fact, that such was the case with my two aunts. Indeed, I might briefly describe the younger as having all the excellencies, and none, or very few, of the defects of her sister. She was quite as neat, and nearly as punctual. Her temper was so sweet, that she was always known, among the unprejudiced members of the family, by the name of "Harmony." But what is most worthy of notice, as it respects the following history, is, that her repugnance to a proverb, or maxim, or any thing approaching to a neat, pointed, pithy, oracular, sententious saying, bore a pretty exact proportion to her sister's unbounded reverence

for them. Not that she instinctively abhorred them; for, by nature, I believe, every person loves a short sentence better than a long one; just as we should naturally prefer a bank-note to the same sum in Spartan money. But, to pursue the metaphor, she had so often suffered by the forgery of the notes, that she had learnt to prefer the cumbrous coin, with all its disadvantages, to its fictitious though plausible representative. Be that as it may, I can, even to this day, remember the sort of doubting, scrupulous, inquisitive countenance with which she was always accustomed to receive these dicta of her sister. She had too intimate an acquaintance with her sister's mind, and with the means of promoting truth and peace in the family circle, flatly to controvert these sayings. But I often observed, that, about five minutes after the oracle had delivered its sentence, aunt Rachel quietly slipped out some scriptural quotation which bore no inconsiderable resem

blance to the proverb, and which she endeavoured, almost imperceptibly, to substitute for it.

Now the rationale of this conduct of my aunt was, as I conceive, as follows. Proverbs, for the most part, either contain a portion of truth, or are true in some circumstances, and under particular modifications. The portion of truth conveyed in them is generally conveyed or implied in some passage of Scripture. My aunt Rachel then, by dexterously seizing upon the proper passage of Holy Writ, at once corrected the proverb, half satisfied her sister, established the truth, and set at ease (which was no easy matter) her own conscience.

I must add, however, that partly the constitutional mildness of Rachel-partly the irascibility of Winifred-partly the sordid fact that I depended for my fortune upon the elder sister, gave such authority to the tones of the one, and such insignificance to those of the other, that I, and others who were foolish enough to mistake

confidence for sagacity, were accustomed to think Winifred a very wise aunt, and Rachel rather a weak one.-Nor is this a very uncommon case. 'Why," said a Prussian ecclesiastic of high rank to a celebrated actor—“ Why, "when I and my brethren speak the truth, "does no one believe us; but, when you speak 66 falsehood, every one believes you?" "Be "cause," he replied, we deliver falsehood as "if it were truth; and you, truth as if it were "falsehood."-I heartily wish that my aunt Rachel had lived to enjoy the benefit of this anecdote.

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But, to proceed.-These complicated circumstances produced a remarkable state of things in the family. The point to be ascertained in any given case was, not what was best to be done, but what my aunt Winifred thought it best to do-or, in other words, as she rarely acted but on the authority of a proverb, what she could find proverbial authority for doing.