As we finished the last chapter by an allusion to plans, we may wisely commence this by suggesting one of our own. It would be very convenient in narrative to print the narrations of contemporaneous events in parallel columns on the same page; but that contrivance not being sanctioned by high authority, we dare not adopt it. Now how pleasant and agreeable it would have been to the reader while perusing the last chapter, and reading how Mr. Markham to his very great annoyance received an epistle from Miss Henderson, how pleasant would it have been to turn his eye across the page, and see at the same time what was passing in Miss Henderson's heart, or in Mr. Henderson's house! And again, how agreeable to know how our good and noble friends, the Earl and Countess of Trimmerstone, are going on at this time! This plan may some day or other be adopted. It would be a good speculation perhaps to publish Tom Jones, or Hume and Smollet, on this plan, and call it the Laputan System. In like manner the stage at our theatres might be divided into divers compartments, and events that occur at the same moment might at the same moment be exhibited to the audience or spectators. There would in this arrangement be a great advantage, inasmuch as, if one scene were stupid and sleepy, the good people might give their attention to another. Among the ingenious men who are daily exhibiting proofs of their Laputan education, some will no doubt be soon found who will adopt and perfect this plan. For the present we must go on according to the old system.

We must return, therefore, to Miss Henderson, who, as soon as she had despatched her note to Markham, began to think that she had acted rather forwardly, and feared that unpleasant consequences might result from thus almost saying yes, before she was asked. It was a pity that she did not think of that before. But there was no help for it. She thought it might be only regarded as an ebullition of friendship; and she thought that such a superior man as Markham would be above regarding the common-place etiquette of every-day society. Oh, how delightful it is to have a mind superior to the common herd of mortals! Miss Henderson was very sure that her mind was superior, and she trusted and hoped that Markham's also was superior. Of this, however, she began to entertain some doubts, when he did not make his appearance at Mr. Henderson's quite so soon as the young lady expected him. She thought that he was not a very ardent lover; but then again business might prevent him; and then again, what business ought to detain a lover from the idol of his soul? Day after day, Miss Henderson staid at home. Nothing could induce her to leave the house, for it was possible that in the hour of her absence, the beloved one might make his appearance. For with all her conviction of Markham's attachment, there was a lurking distrust and a feeling in her mind that he would not anxiously seek or long wait for her; and this feeling, though unacknowledged and unrecognised, had its influence on her mind. Doubts rose thicker and darker, amounting to serious apprehensions; and her mind was nearly in the same state as it had been when she made the last transfer of her affections. Anxious to miss no opportunity of seeing Markham, she was punctually in her pew at the chapel; and sorry are we to say it, she was more occupied with the thought of the young gentleman's absence than with the edifying and elegant discourse of her father. But Markham was not there. The young lady was absolutely angry, and began to think herself very ill used. Some of our readers may fear, that a very cold reception or severe lecture awaited the young gentleman. In that they are wrong, for had he made his appearance, his transgression would have been forgotten, and his reception most cordial. For at that time Miss Henderson could not spare him, having no one to supply his place. It is desirable always to keep up a proper supply and succession of lovers. Miss Henderson acted on this principle, inasmuch as an interregnum would be a sad loss of time. If indeed Mr. Markham knew as much as we did, his mind would have been much easier. But he was fearful that the young lady might break her heart, and he was fearful that the world would cast bitter reproaches upon him. That was a consideration which weighed mightily with him. Happy, however, was it for him, and a great relief it must be to our readers to be informed, that a new transfer of the heart of Miss Henderson was about to take place. Yet there may perhaps be some who are so hard-hearted as to delight in such torments, and to wish that our young friend might not be so soon and so easily dismissed from his state of trouble and uneasiness. A strange propensity it is in some minds, that they delight in the sufferings and pains of their fellow-creatures! Treatises have been written to account for this propensity, and many ingenious theories formed on the subject: but one theory is quite as good as another; and we are not willing to disturb the minds of those who have formed their own or adopted another's. To pass on from this philosophising, which is more pleasant to the writer than the reader, we will proceed with our narrative.

As Markham had neglected much beyond the usual period to pay a visit to Mr. or Miss Henderson, the latter began to think him little better than a gay deceiver; and when mention was made in her hearing concerning the probability of her union with the young gentleman, she no longer gave such confident assent to the report, but spoke doubtingly and hesitatingly. In this she acted wisely and discreetly. For if there was a probability that Markham should disappoint her, it would be highly important that she should hold herself disengaged, that there might be no time lost in providing herself with a successor. Now here we are in need of that arrangement of double columns, of which we made mention at the beginning of this chapter. For on that very day on which Mr. Markham, after a long absence and a great deal of doubting, did call on Mr. Henderson, on that very day Miss Henderson was out. She had not the slightest idea that Markham would call in the evening, but men of business cannot always call in the morning. Markham was very much occupied in the early part of the day. If we had the double-column plan, we might on one side paint the young gentleman's disappointment at not seeing the lady, and on the other depict the young lady at an evening party at the Right Hon. the Earl of Trimmerstone's town mansion; but as it is, we must leave the gentleman to bear his disappointment in solitude, and accompany our friend Miss Henderson to the mansion of nobility.

The Right Honorable the Earl of Trimmerstone had not, as we have before hinted, a very select circle of acquaintance. Access to his mansion and to the Countess's evening parties was no great difficulty. Easy, however, as it was, it was felt as an honor by some who visited there. Among these Miss Henderson was one. There was also another present at that party who was exceedingly proud of permission to visit a Right Honorable Earl. The person to whom we allude was a young physician of rising reputation in his practice at the west end. His name was Theodore Crack. In nervous cases the doctor had very much distinguished himself. We would indeed recommend all doctors to distinguish themselves in nervous cases. In some instances the patient wants the doctor, but in the nervous the doctor wants the patient. Dr. Crack had succeeded most wonderfully in some cases of this nature. The doctor we have said was young and successful, and the doctor was also very vain. Our readers would scarcely believe us if we were to state the full extent of the young man's conceit. One very special piece of coxcombry consisted in his change of name. He called himself Crack, though his real name was Crick; but as he came of very humble parentage, he altered his name that he might not seem to be related to persons in such humble condition. The west end of the town was quite a new world to him; and when first he settled there, he used to strut about and regard himself with astonishment. His native place he quite forgot; for seeing that the town in which he had been born was very small compared to London, Westminster, Southwark, and the suburbs, he thought it beneath his dignity to acknowledge or to recollect that so small a town was large enough for him to be born in. Sometimes there would come gaping up to London some rustic who had been school-fellow with this magnificent doctor, and sometimes such a one would, if meeting the doctor in the street, be rude enough to recognise and address him, whereupon he would cut them splendidly, and say that his own name was not Crick but Crack. Rustics are not likely to be nervous; and why should doctors care about them? Dr. Crack was constitutionally pompous; in very early life the propensity manifested itself. Being of short stature, he strutted and held up his head as high as he possibly could; and he made daily and hourly use of the most magnificent expressions and the finest words that he could find. There was also mingled with the pompous, something of the finical. In his dress he was superb and extravagant; and while he was engaged in the studies preparatory to practice, he cost his father two-thirds of his income. But Theodore was thought such a wonderful boy, that no expense was spared and no extravagance was grudged him. Theodore ought to have been more considerate; he had too many useless and idle expenses. It was very foolish, for instance, to spend a serious sum of money in finding family armorial bearings; but he was going to become a physician, and hoped to keep a carriage; he thought that it would be a pity not to have arms painted on the pannels; and then he wanted them for his seal; and seeing in a shop-window notice that arms were found there, the temptation was too great for him to resist, and he went into the shop accordingly; but was sadly disappointed after much research to discover that Crick had no arms, but Crack had; therefore from his own internal feelings being assured that he must be of the blood of the highest family of the two, he forthwith became Crack, and bore the arms of that family; and all the little insignificant low-born cousin Cricks were forgotten and cut; and our young gentleman swelled with conscious pride when he felt the blood of the Cracks flowing in his veins. These matters may appear trifling, but there is something in them interesting to those whose eyes can bear to look closely and minutely on such insect minds as Dr. Crack's. The pride of blood, birth, and connexion, extends very widely and very deeply; and there are multitudes who would have too much pride to be proud of these matters, did they but know how far the feeling extends. Another trait in the character of Dr. Crack ought not to be passed by unmentioned: he thought that every body else had as high an opinion of him as he had of himself. Therefore he could never believe or imagine that any one ever laughed at him; and the arrogance of his manners thus became truly amusing and ludicrous. We have had occasion to remark in a former part of this narrative, that nature gives instinct to those on whom she has not bestowed the gift of reason; and that in the rational being called man, where the reasoning power is not very strong, nature has made amends by the addition of a respectable and serviceable portion of instinct, thus reasoning for those who cannot reason for themselves. But sometimes it occurs that the pride of a man thus furnished scantily with reasoning power and abundantly with instinct, is such, that he fancies he has sufficient strength of reason, and then sets up for a rational being; at which nature, as if offended at such arrogance, leaves the poor thing to the sole guidance of its own fancied intellect. It is then like a child which is too proud to use leading-strings, and too weak to go without. Our young friend Dr. Crack was thus situated.

We have taken wide and ample space for the delineation of this character; for which we hope to be excused: but we could not manage to compress intelligibly. And as the said personage is not likely to make his appearance again in our pages, at least as acting any very important part, we thought it best to set him forth at once copiously, and we trust clearly.

At the Countess of Trimmerstone's evening party, this worthy doctor felt himself highly honored. He expected much attention from all present, but of that he failed. To several he made the attempt to talk knowingly and learnedly; but most of those whom he addressed had not the organ of discussionativeness strongly developed. Proud therefore as he felt himself, and honored as he conceived himself to be at this evening party, he found that there were in the world some individuals who did not think quite so highly of him as they ought to do; but he took it for granted that they were very ignorant people who were not capable of understanding him. In the course of the evening it so happened that this worthy doctor encountered our friend Miss Henderson. When great geniuses meet, they are sure to recognise each other. So was it in the instance before us. For Miss Henderson and Dr. Crack had been looking about the room to find some one on whom to vent their wisdom; and when they met, they were most happily met. If Markham had but known Dr. Crack and Miss Henderson, and had known that they were talking wisdom and sentiment together at the Earl of Trimmerstone's, his mind would have been relieved from a very heavy burden, and he would have had some well-founded hopes of getting rid of the incumbrance of Miss Henderson's heart. When the two wise ones had been conversing some little time, and they thought that they had impressed each other with a proper sense of their own wisdom, they next wished to let each other know their own importance. This could not be done directly, but indirectly. The doctor was desirous of extending his reputation with a view to business; and the young lady wished all elegant people and lovers of wisdom and sentiment to hear her pa preach his pretty superfine sermons. It is an easy matter to make oneself known to a stranger, there was no necessity for the doctor to say, "I am the great doctor Crack;" nor was it necessary for Miss Henderson to say, "My pa preaches pretty sermons." The doctor to reveal himself to the lady began to talk about such of his patients as bore titles, and some of these had been at the chapel where Mr. Henderson preached, so Miss Henderson could thus inform the doctor that her pa was the celebrated fancy preacher. Thereupon the doctor said,

"Indeed! I have heard judicious and intellectual persons highly eulogise the eloquent orations of Mr. Henderson; so that I have more than once had a contemplation of attending at that highly celebrated chapel. There is something in eloquence, in fine eloquence, so fine and so rapturous, that it is truly captivating and enchanting."

Miss Henderson hearing this eloquent encomium on her father's eloquence was greatly delighted, and in a moment she thought Dr. Crack the most pleasant and agreeable man in the world. Miss Henderson was especially pleased with splendid talk and fine orations. Now though her father was very elegant as to his pulpit ministrations, he was in his ordinary talk very plain and straightforward. His daughter however very much admired finery in language at all times, and upon all occasions. It was pleasant therefore to her to listen to the sublimities of Dr. Crack. With readiness and gratitude she replied,

"Eloquence must indeed, sir, be a very high gratification to those who like you can comprehend and enjoy it. It would give me great pleasure to see so good a judge as you at our chapel. Indeed I must do justice to the gentleman who reads prayers. He has a most beautiful and melodious voice: it is quite music. I think you would be highly gratified to hear him read: I am sure you would. Your voice, sir, puts me very much in mind of his."

"That," replied Dr. Crack, "is exactly what I admire. A beautiful intonation and a correct enunciation, give great force and beauty to reading. Truly beautiful reading is a rare accomplishment, because so few persons are capable of reading beautifully and gracefully. But of course where there is such a preacher as Mr. Henderson, there must of necessity be a good and graceful reader also. I apprehend, madam, that the pulpit, the bar, and the stage, are the three great schools of oratory; and I humbly presume to utter it as my decided and unhesitating opinion, that the pulpit is the sublimest school of the three. We have had and have in our kingdom most magnificent and splendid orators in the pulpit. But, alas! I am sorry to say that my profession does not permit me to attend at church so frequently as I could wish. It would indeed give me great pleasure to listen to such a gentleman as Mr. Henderson; but if I go into church I am sure to be called out, and I am rather fearful lest any censorious people should imagine or apprehend that I am only called out for display: therefore it is I am too seldom at church. I dislike display very much indeed."

"So do I," replied Miss Henderson; "real merit never needs to have recourse to any kind of display to make itself known. It will always be discovered and patronised. I have heard of your fame, Dr. Crack, and I have often wished that my ma, who is dreadfully nervous, would be wise enough to put herself under your care. I am sure she never will be well till she does."

"You flatter me, madam; but indeed I may say that I have a very peculiar mode of treating those complaints; and few cases are so obstinate as not to yield to my treatment. I have cured the Duchess of K., and the Marchioness of P., and the Countess of V., and many others of inferior note. There is a peculiar art in the management of nervous disorders, which I have studied with the greatest care. I was once very nervous myself, therefore I know the proper mode of treatment by actual experience."

Much as it was the practice for Dr. Crack to talk of his own wonderful exploits in the healing art, we do not suppose that our readers will be very desirous of having from us a very elaborate report of all the speeches made by the skilful leech to Miss Henderson. The young lady, however, did very much admire, and very highly commend and compliment, all that the doctor was pleased to say on the subject of medicine; and she listened attentively, because she loved knowledge, and because the voice which uttered it was very musical, and because she was very desirous that the learned and skilful doctor should go to the fine chapel to hear pa's fine sermons, and to listen to the truly elegant and beautiful style in which prayers were read. Many other topics of conversation were started and pursued by these two knowing ones, and the evening passed away pleasantly to them, and they enjoyed what they both liked; namely, an opportunity for exhibiting their own wisdom, taste, and what they thought eloquence.