In her childhood, Jane Austen owned a copy of the popular anthology Elegant Extracts: or useful and entertaining Passages in Prose Selected for the Improvement of Scholars, compiled by the Christian philosopher Vicesimus Knox (1752–1821). Like its companion, Knox's Elegant Extracts from the Most Eminent British Poets, this anthology, first published in c. 1770, went through numerous editions, with later ones running to six small volumes. Austen's copy is a single-volume edition, of uncertain date. In 1801, she presented it to her then eight-year-old niece Anna, possibly on the child's birthday on 15 April. On the inside front cover, Austen inscribed her niece's full name, ‘Jane Anna Elizth. Austen’, and the date. Anna also recorded her own ownership, writing ‘1801’ beside JA's ‘1801’, and ‘the gift of her Aunt Jane’ below. The next owner, Anna's eldest daughter (1815–55), also recorded her name below her mother’s, writing, in an adult hand, ‘Anna Jemima Lefroy’. The book remained in the possession of the Lefroy family until the 1980s, when it was presented to the Jane Austen Memorial Trust; it is now on display at Jane Austen's House, Chawton.

Among the excerpts in Elegant Extracts is a passage entitled ‘The Character of Mary Queen of Scots’, taken from William Robertson’s The History of Scotland, during the reigns of Queen Mary and of King James VI (London, 2nd edn, 1759) and one entitled ‘The Character of Queen Elizabeth’, taken from David Hume's The History of England, from the Invasion of Julius Caesar to the Revolution in 1688 (London, 1763). Austen seems to have read these extracts at about the same time that she was reading Goldsmith’s History of England, in 1791, annotating them, in black ink, in a hand similar to that in her copy of Goldsmith. Her marginalia on the excerpt from Robertson concern his depiction of Mary Queen of Scots; those on the excerpt from Hume concern his depiction of Queen Elizabeth. There are also pencil notes on pages 544–5 of the volume and on the inside back cover, in a different hand from the black-ink marginalia. Since they refer to ‘Todds Johnson's dictionary’, an edition by the Reverend Henry J. Todd, first published in 1818 and popular in the early nineteenth century, they are clearly not by Austen but probably by Anna Lefroy.

A FEW days passed away, and Catherine, though not allowing herself to suspect her friend, could not help watching her closely. The result of her observations was not agreeable. Isabella seemed an altered creature. When she saw her indeed surrounded only by their immediate friends in Edgar's Buildings or Pulteney-street, her change of manners was so trifling that, had it gone no farther, it might have passed unnoticed. A something of languid indifference, or of that boasted absence of mind which Catherine had never heard of before, would occasionally come across her; but had nothing worse appeared, that might only have spread a new grace and inspired a warmer interest. But when Catherine saw her in public, admitting Captain Tilney's attentions as readily as they were offered, and allowing him almost an equal share with James in her notice and smiles, the alteration became too positive to be past over. What could be meant by such unsteady conduct, what her friend could be at, was beyond her comprehension. Isabella could not be aware of the pain she was inflicting; but it was a degree of wilful thoughtlessness which Catherine could not but resent. James was the sufferer. She saw him grave and uneasy; and however careless of his present comfort the woman might be who had given him her heart, to her it was always an object. For poor Captain Tilney too she was greatly concerned. Though his looks did not please her, his name was a passport to her good will, and she thought with sincere compassion of his approaching disappointment; for, in spite of what she had believed herself to overhear in the Pumproom, his behaviour was so incompatible with a knowledge of Isabella's engagement, that she could not, upon reflection, imagine him aware of it. He might be jealous of her brother as a rival, but if more had seemed implied, the fault must have been in her misapprehension. She wished, by a gentle remonstrance, to remind Isabella of her situation, and make her aware of this double unkindness; but for remonstrance, either opportunity or comprehension was always against her.

THE following conversation, which took place between the two friends in the Pump-room one morning, after an acquaintance of eight or nine days, is given as a specimen of their very warm attachment, and of the delicacy, discretion, originality of thought, and literary taste which marked the reasonableness of that attachment.

They met by appointment; and as Isabella had arrived nearly five minutes before her friend, her first address naturally was—“My dearest creature, what can have made you so late? I have been waiting for you at least this age!”

“Have you, indeed!—I am very sorry for it; but really I thought I was in very good time. It is but just one. I hope you have not been here long?”

“Oh! these ten ages at least. I am sure I have been here this half hour. But now, let us go and sit down at the other end of the room, and enjoy ourselves. I have an hundred things to say to you. In the first place, I was so afraid it would rain this morning, just as I wanted to set off; it looked very showery, and that would have thrown me into agonies! Do you know, I saw the prettiest hat you can imagine, in a shop window in Milsom-street just now—very like yours, only with coquelicot ribbons instead of green; I quite longed for it. But, mydearest Catherine, what have you been doing with yourself all this morning?—Have you gone on with Udolpho?”

“Yes, I have been reading it ever since I woke; and I am got to the black veil.”

“Are you, indeed? How delightful! Oh! I would not tell you what is behind the black veil for the world! Are not you wild to know?”

“Oh! yes, quite; what can it be?—But do not tell me—I would not be told upon any account. I know it must be a skeleton, I am sure it is Laurentina's skeleton. Oh! I am delighted with the book! I should like to spend my whole life in reading it. I assure you, if it had not been to meet you, I would not have come away from it for all the world.”

Jane Austen wrote to be read and reread. ‘[A]n artist cannot do anything slovenly,’ she remarked to her sister Cassandra. Her subtle, crafted novels repay close and repeated attention to vocabulary, syntax and punctuation as much as to irony and allusion; yet the reader can take immediate and intense delight in their plots and characters. As a result Austen has a unique status among early English novelists – appreciated by the academy and the general public alike. What Henry Crawford remarks about Shakespeare in Mansfield Park has become equally true of its author: she ‘is a part of an Englishman's constitution. [Her] thoughts and beauties are so spread abroad that one touches them every where, one is intimate with [her] by instinct.’ This edition of the complete oeuvre of the published novels and manuscript works is testament to Austen’s exceptional cultural and literary position. As well as attempting to establish an accurate and authoritative text, it provides a full contextual placing of the novels.

The editing of any canonical writer is a practice which has been guided by many conflicting ideologies. In the early twentieth century, editors, often working alone, largely agreed that they were producing definitive editions, although they used eclectic methods and often revised the text at will. Later in the century, fidelity to the author's creative intentions was paramount, and the emphasis switched to devising an edition that would as far as possible represent the final authorial wishes. By the 1980s, however, the pursuit of the single perfected text had given way to the recording of multiple intentions of equal interest. Authors were seen to have changed, revised or recanted, or indeed to have directed various versions of their work towards different audiences. Consequently all states had validity and the text became a process rather than a fixed entity. With this approach came emphasis on the print culture in which the text appeared as well as on the social implications of authorship. Rather than being stages in the evolution of a single work, the various versions existed in their own right, all having something to tell.

A Gentleman whose family name I shall conceal, bought a small Cottage in Pembrokeshire about two Years ago. This daring Action was suggested to him by his elder Brother who promised to furnish two rooms and a Closet for him, provided he would take a small house near the borders of an extensive Forest and about three Miles from the Sea. Wilhelminus gladly accepted the Offer and Continued for some time searching after such a retreat when he was one morning agreably releived from his Suspence by reading this advertisement in a Newspaper.

To be Lett

A Neat Cottage on the borders of an extensive forest and about three Miles from the Sea. It is ready furnished except two rooms and a Closet.

The delighted Wilhelminus posted away immediately to his brother, and shewed him the advertisement. Robertus congratulated him and sent him in his Carriage to take possession of the Cottage. After travelling for three days and Six Nights without Stopping, they arrived at the Forest and following a track which led by it's side down a steep Hill over which ten Rivulets meandered, they reached the Cottage in half an hour. Wilhelminus alighted, and after knocking for some time without receiving any answer or hearing anyone stir within, he opened the door which was fastened only by a wooden latch and entered a small room, which he immediately perceived to be one of the two that were unfurnished— From thence he proceeded into a Closet equally bare. A pair of Stairs that went out of it led him into a room above, no less destitute, and these apartments he found composed the whole of the House. He was by no means displeased with this discovery, as he had the comfort of reflecting that he should not be obliged to lay out any thing on furniture himself—. He returned immediately to his Brother, who took him the next day to every Shop in Town, and bought what ever was requisite to furnish the two rooms and the Closet. In a few days everything was completed, and Wilhelminus returned to take possession of his Cottage.

AN hour passed away before the General came in, spent, on the part of his young guest, in no very favourable consideration of his character.—“This lengthened absence, these solitary rambles, did not speak a mind at ease, or a conscience void of reproach.”—At length he appeared; and, whatever might have been the gloom of his meditations, he could still smile with them. Miss Tilney, understanding in part her friend's curiosity to see the house, soon revived the subject; and her father being, contrary to Catherine's expectations, unprovided with any pretence for further delay, beyond that of stopping five minutes to order refreshments to be in the room by their return, was at last ready to escort them.

They set forward; and, with a grandeur of air, a dignified step, which caught the eye, but could not shake the doubts of the well-read Catherine, he led the way across the hall, through the common drawing-room and one useless anti-chamber, into a room magnificent both in size and furniture—the real drawing-room, used only with company of consequence.—It was very noble—very grand—very charming!—was all that Catherine had to say, for her indiscriminating eye scarcely discerned the colour of the satin; and all minuteness of praise, all praise that had much meaning, was supplied by the General: the costliness or elegance of any room's fitting-up could be nothing to her; she cared for no furniture of a more modern date than the fifteenth century. When the General had satisfied his own curiosity, in a close examination of every well-known ornament, they proceeded into the library, an apartment, in its way, of equal magnificence, exhibiting a collection of books, on which an humble man might have looked with pride.—Catherine heard, admired, and wondered with more genuine feeling than before—gathered all that she could from this storehouse of knowledge, by running over the titles of half a shelf, and was ready to proceed. But suites of apartments did not spring up with her wishes.

Mr Harley was one of many Children. Destined by his father for the Church and by his Mother for the Sea, desirous of pleasing both, he prevailed on Sir John to obtain for him a Chaplaincy on board a Man of War. He accordingly, cut his Hair and sailed.

In half a year he returned and sat-off in the Stage Coach for Hogs worth Green, the seat of Emma. His fellow travellers were, A man without a Hat, Another with two, An old maid and a young Wife.

This last appeared about 17 with fine dark Eyes and an elegant Shape; in short Mr Harley soon found out, that she was his Emma and recollected he had married her a few weeks before he left England.

CHAPTER THE FIRST

Cassandra was the Daughter and the only Daughter of a celebrated Millener in Bond Street. Her father was of noble Birth, being the near relation of theDutchess of ––––'s Butler.

CHAPTER THE 2D

When Cassandra had attained her 16th year, she was lovely and amiable and chancing to fall in love with an elegant Bonnet, her Mother had just compleated bespoke by the Countess of –––– she placed it on her gentle Head and walked from her Mother's shop to make her Fortune.

CHAPTER THE 3RD

The first person she met, was the Viscount of –––– a young man, no less celebrated for his Accomplishments and Virtues, than for his Elegance and Beauty. She curtseyed and walked on.

CHAPTER THE 4TH

She then proceeded to a Pastry-cooks where she devoured six ices, refused to pay for them, knocked down the Pastry Cook and walked away.

CHAPTER THE 5TH

She next ascended a Hackney Coach and ordered it to Hampstead, where she was no sooner arrived than she ordered the Coachman to turn round and drive her back again.

CHAPTER THE 6TH

Being returned to the same spot of the same Street she had sate out from, the Coachman demanded his Pay.

CHAPTER THE 7TH

She searched her pockets over again and again; but every search was unsuccessfull. No money could she find. The man grew peremptory. She placed her bonnet on his head and ran away.

CHAPTER THE 8TH

Thro’ many a Street she then proceeded and met in none the least Adventure till on turning a Corner of Bloomsbury Square, she met Maria.

CHAPTER THE 9TH

Cassandra started and Maria seemed surprised; they trembled, blushed, turned pale and passed each other in a mutual Silence.

CHAPTER THE 10TH

Cassandra was next accosted by her freind the Widow, who squeezing out her little Head thro’ her less window, asked her how she did? Cassandra curtseyed and went on.

IN spite of Udolpho and the dress-maker, however, the party from Pulteney-street reached the Upper-rooms in very good time. The Thorpes and James Morland were there only two minutes before them; and Isabella having gone through the usual ceremonial of meeting her friend with the most smiling and affectionate haste, of admiring the set of her gown, and envying the curl of her hair, they followed their chaperons, arm in arm, into the ball-room, whispering to each other whenever a thought occurred, and supplying the place of many ideas by a squeeze of the hand or a smile of affection.

The dancing began within a few minutes after they were seated; and James, who had been engaged quite as long as his sister, was very importunate with Isabella to stand up; but John was gone into the card-room to speak to a friend, and nothing, she declared, should induce her to join the set before her dear Catherine could join it too: “I assure you,” said she, “I would not stand up without your dear sister for all the world; for if I did we should certainly be separated the whole evening.” Catherine accepted this kindness with gratitude, and they continued as they were for three minutes longer, when Isabella, who had been talking to James on the other side of her, turned again to his sister and whispered, “My dear creature, I am afraid I must leave you, your brother is so amazingly impatient to begin; I know you will not mind my going away, and I dare say John will be back in amoment, and then you may easily find me out.” Catherine, though a little disappointed, had too much good-nature to make any opposition, and the others rising up, Isabella had only time to press her friend's hand and say, “Good bye, my dear love,” before they hurried off. The younger Miss Thorpes being also dancing, Catherine was left to the mercy of Mrs. Thorpe and Mrs. Allen, between whom she now remained.

THE visions of romance were over. Catherine was completely awakened. Henry's address, short as it had been, had more thoroughly opened her eyes to the extravagance of her late fancies than all their several disappointments had done. Most grievously was she humbled. Most bitterly did she cry. It was not only with herself that she was sunk—but with Henry. Her folly, which now seemed even criminal, was all exposed to him, and he must despise her for ever. The liberty which her imagination had dared to take with the character of his father, could he ever forgive it? The absurdity of her curiosity and her fears, could they ever be forgotten? She hated herself more than she could express. He had—she thought he had, once or twice before this fatal morning, shewn something like affection for her.—But now—in short, she made herself as miserable as possible for about half an hour, went down when the clock struck five, with a broken heart, and could scarcely give an intelligible answer to Eleanor's inquiry, if she was well. The formidable Henry soon followed her into the room, and the only difference in his behaviour to her, was that he paid her rather more attention than usual. Catherine had never wanted comfort more, and he looked as if he was aware of it.

The evening wore away with no abatement of this soothing politeness; and her spirits were gradually raised to a modest tranquillity. She did not learn either to forget or defend the past; but she learned to hope that it would never transpire farther, and that it might not cost her Henry's entire regard. Her thoughts being still chiefly fixed on what she had with such causeless terror felt and done, nothing could shortly be clearer, than that it had been all a voluntary, self-created delusion, each trifling circumstance receiving importance from an imagination resolved on alarm, and every thing forced to bend to one purpose by a mind which, before she entered the Abbey, had been craving to be frightened. She remembered with what feelings she had prepared for a knowledge of Northanger.

SOON after this, the General found himself obliged to go to London for a week; and he left Northanger earnestly regretting that any necessity should rob him even for an hour of Miss Morland's company, and anxiously recommending the study of her comfort and amusement to his children as their chief object in his absence. His departure gave Catherine the first experimental conviction that a loss may be sometimes a gain. The happiness with which their time now passed, every employment voluntary, every laugh indulged, every meal a scene of ease and good-humour, walking where they liked and when they liked, their hours, pleasures and fatigues at their own command, made her thoroughly sensible of the restraint which the General's presence had imposed, and most thankfully feel their present release from it. Such ease and such delights made her love the place and the people more and more every day; and had it not been for a dread of its soon becoming expedient to leave the one, and an apprehension of not being equally beloved by the other, she would at each moment of each day have been perfectly happy; but she was now in the fourth week of her visit; before the General came home, the fourth week would be turned, and perhaps it might seem an intrusion if she staidmuch longer. This was a painful consideration whenever it occurred; and eager to get rid of such a weight on her mind, she very soon resolved to speak to Eleanor about it at once, propose going away, and be guided in her conduct by the manner in which her proposal might be taken.

Aware that if she gave herself much time, she might feel it difficult to bring forward so unpleasant a subject, she took the first opportunity of being suddenly alone with Eleanor, and of Eleanor's being in the middle of a speech about something very different, to start forth her obligation of going away very soon. Eleanor looked and declared herself much concerned.

MONDAY, Tuesday,Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday have now passed in review before the reader; the events of each day, its hopes and fears, mortifications and pleasures have been separately stated, and the pangs of Sunday only nowremain to be described, and close the week. The Clifton scheme had been deferred, not relinquished, and on the afternoon's Crescent of this day, it was brought forward again. In a private consultation between Isabella and James, the former of whom had particularly set her heart upon going, and the latter no less anxiously placed his upon pleasing her, it was agreed that, provided the weather were fair, the party should take place on the following morning; and they were to set off very early, in order to be at home in good time. The affair thus determined, and Thorpe's approbation secured, Catherine only remained to be apprized of it. She had left them for a few minutes to speak to Miss Tilney. In that interval the plan was completed, and as soon as she came again, her agreement was demanded; but instead of the gay acquiescence expected by Isabella, Catherine looked grave, was very sorry, but could not go. The engagement which ought to have kept her from joining in the former attempt, would make it impossible for her to accompany them now. She had that moment settled with Miss Tilney to take their promised walk to-morrow; it was quite determined, and she would not, upon any account, retract. But that she must and should retract, was instantly the eager cry of both the Thorpes; they must go to Clifton to-morrow, they would not go without her, it would be nothing to put off a mere walk for one day longer, and they would not hear of a refusal. Catherine was distressed, but not subdued. “Do not urge me, Isabella. I am engaged to Miss Tilney. I cannot go.” This availed nothing. The same arguments assailed her again; shemust go, she should go, and they would not hear of a refusal. “It would be so easy to tell Miss Tilney that you had just been reminded of a prior engagement, and must only beg to put off the walk till Tuesday.”

“No, it would not be easy. I could not do it. There has been no prior engagement.”

Dedication

To the Revd George Austen

Sir,

I humbly solicit your Patronage to the following Comedy, which tho’ an unfinished one, is I flatter myself as complete a Mystery as any of its kind.

I am Sir your most Humle Servant

The Author

The Mystery

a Comedy

Dramatis Personae

Men.

Colonel Elliott

Sir Edward Spangle

Old Humbug

Young Humbug

and

Corydon.

Women.

Fanny Elliott

Mrs Humbug

and

Daphne

Act the First

Scene the 1st

A Garden.

Enter Corydon.

Cory.) But Hush! I am interrupted.

(Exit Corydon.)

Enter Old Humbug and his Son, talking.

Old Hum:) It is for that reason I wish you to follow my advice. Are you convinced of its propriety?

Young Hum:) I am Sir, and will certainly act in the manner you have pointed out to me.

Old Hum:) Then let us return to the House.

(Exeunt)

Scene the 2nd

A Parlour in Humbug's house.

Mrs Humbug and Fanny, discovered at work.

Mrs Hum:) You understand me my Love?

Fanny) Perfectly ma’am. Pray continue your narration.

Mrs. Hum:) Alas! It is nearly concluded, for I have nothing more to say on the Subject.

Fanny) Ah! here's Daphne.

Enter Daphne.

Daphne) My dear Mrs Humbug how d’ye do? Oh! Fanny ‘tis all over.

Fanny) Is it indeed!

Mrs Hum:) I’m very sorry to hear it.

Fanny) Then t’was to no purpose that I… .

Daphne) None upon Earth.

Mrs Hum:) And what is to become of?….

Daphne) Oh! that's all settled. (whispers Mrs Humbug)

Fanny) And how is it determined?

Daphne) I’ll tell you. (whispers Fanny)

Mrs Hum:) And is he to?….

Daphne) I’ll tell you all I know of the matter. (whispers Mrs Humbug and Fanny)

Fanny)Well! now I know everything about it, I’ll go away.

THE housemaid's folding back her window-shutters at eight o’clock the next day, was the sound which first roused Catherine; and she opened her eyes, wondering that they could ever have been closed, on objects of cheerfulness; her fire was already burning, and a bright morning had succeeded the tempest of the night. Instantaneously with the consciousness of existence, returned her recollection of the manuscript; and springing from the bed in the very moment of the maid's going away, she eagerly collected every scattered sheet which had burst from the roll on its falling to the ground, and flew back to enjoy the luxury of their perusal on her pillow. She now plainly saw that she must not expect a manuscript of equal length with the generality of what she had shuddered over in books, for the roll, seeming to consist entirely of small disjointed sheets, was altogether but of trifling size, andmuch less than she had supposed it to be at first.

Her greedy eye glanced rapidly over a page. She started at its import. Could it be possible, or did not her senses play her false?—An inventory of linen, in coarse and modern characters, seemed all that was before her! If the evidence of sight might be trusted, she held a washing-bill in her hand. She seized another sheet, and saw the same articles with little variation; a third, a fourth, and a fifth presented nothing new. Shirts, stockings, cravats and waistcoats faced her in each. Two others, penned by the same hand, marked an expenditure scarcely more interesting, in letters, hair-powder, shoe-string and breeches-ball. And the larger sheet, which had inclosed the rest, seemed by its first cramp line, “To poultice chesnut mare,”—a farrier's bill! Such was the collection of papers, (left perhaps, as she could then suppose, by the negligence of a servant in the place whence she had taken them,) which had filled her with expectation and alarm, and robbed her of half her night's rest! She felt humbled to the dust. Could not the adventure of the chest have taught her wisdom? A corner of it catching her eye as she lay, seemed to rise up in judgment against her. Nothing could now be clearer than the absurdity of her recent fancies.

On 26 November 1791, Jane Austen dedicated her ‘History of England’ to her sister Cassandra. Before then, in all likelihood, and probably earlier in 1791, she wrote over a hundred marginal comments on a copy of Oliver Goldsmith's four-volume History of England. All four volumes bear the signature of her brother, ‘James Austen Steventon’, on the paste-downor front free endpaper, although that in volume three, seen by David Gilson, has since been covered during rebinding. None of the volumes is signed by Austen, but Gilson notes that the front free endpaper of volume four has been roughly removed: perhaps because it contained a signature desired by an autograph collector.

Either during Austen's lifetime or after her death, the volumes were bequeathed to the son of the first owner, James Edward Austen-Leigh (1798–1874). In 1919, they were in the possession of Mary Augusta Austen-Leigh (1838–1922), James Edward’s daughter, who inserted a note to this effect in the final volume and imperfectly transcribed ten of JA's marginal comments. A year later, she included these transcriptions in her Personal Aspects of Jane Austen (1920). After her death in 1922, the volumes were passed down in the Austen-Leigh family, from Laurence Impey (nephew of Richard Arthur Austen-Leigh) to his daughter Evelyn Fowle, and his granddaughter Katharine Beaumont, the present owner.

Austen's marginalia are concentrated almost entirely in the third and fourth volumes of Goldsmith's History. The first volume contains a summary of events in her hand but no marginal comments, while her only contribution to the second volume is the single word ‘wretches’ for the young princes murdered in the Tower. Her commentary begins midway through the third volume, with the outbreak of civil war in 1642, and continues to the end of the fourth volume, which concludes with the death of George II in 1760. Most of Austen's comments are in pencil, which is sometimes faded to the point of illegibility, a few are in ink and some have been written over in ink by another hand, leaving traces of her pencil clearly visible beneath.

THE next morning was fair, and Catherine almost expected another attack from the assembled party. With Mr. Allen to support her, she felt no dread of the event: but she would gladly be spared a contest, where victory itself was painful; and was heartily rejoiced therefore at neither seeing nor hearing any thing of them. TheTilneys called for her at the appointed time; and no new difficulty arising, no sudden recollection, no unexpected summons, no impertinent intrusion to disconcert their measures, my heroine was most unnaturally able to fulfil her engagement, though it was made with the hero himself. They determined on walking round Beechen Cliff,1 that noble hill, whose beautiful verdure and hanging coppice render it so striking an object from almost every opening in Bath.

“I never look at it,” said Catherine, as they walked along the side of the river, “without thinking of the south of France.”

“You have been abroad then?” said Henry, a little surprized.

“Oh! no, I only mean what I have read about. It always puts me in mind of the country that Emily and her father travelled through, in the ‘Mysteries of Udolpho.’ But you never read novels, I dare say?”

“Why not?”

“Because they are not clever enough for you—gentlemen read better books.”

“The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid. I have read all Mrs. Radcliffe's works, and most of them with great pleasure. The Mysteries of Udolpho, when I had once begun it, I could not lay down again;—I remember finishing it in two days— my hair standing on end the whole time.”

“Yes,” added MissTilney, “and I remember that you undertook to read it aloud to me, and that when I was called away for only five minutes to answer a note, instead of waiting for me, you took the volume into the Hermitage-walk, and I was obliged to stay till you had finished it.”

“Thank you, Eleanor;—a most honourable testimony. You see, Miss Morland, the injustice of your suspicions.

CATHERINE was not so much engaged at the theatre that evening, in returning the nods and smiles of Miss Thorpe, though they certainly claimedmuch of her leisure, as to forget to look with an inquiring eye for Mr. Tilney in every box which her eye could reach; but she looked in vain. Mr. Tilney was no fonder of the play than the Pump-room. She hoped to be more fortunate the next day; and when her wishes for fine weather were answered by seeing a beautiful morning, she hardly felt a doubt of it; for a fine Sunday in Bath empties every house of its inhabitants, and all the world appears on such an occasion to walk about and tell their acquaintance what a charming day it is.

As soon as divine service was over, the Thorpes and Allens eagerly joined each other; and after staying long enough in the Pump-room to discover that the crowd was insupportable, and that there was not a genteel face to be seen, which every body discovers every Sunday throughout the season, they hastened away to the Crescent, to breathe the fresh air of better company. Here Catherine and Isabella, arm in arm, again tasted the sweets of friendship in an unreserved conversation;—they talkedmuch, and withmuch enjoyment; but again was Catherine disappointed in her hope of re-seeing her partner.He was no where to be met with; every search for him was equally unsuccessful, in morning lounges or evening assemblies; neither at the upper nor lower rooms, at dressed or undressed balls, was he perceivable; nor among the walkers, the horsemen, or the curricle-drivers of the morning. His name was not in the Pump-room book, and curiosity could do no more. He must be gone from Bath. Yet he had not mentioned that his stay would be so short! This sort of mysteriousness, which is always so becoming in a hero, threw a fresh grace in Catherine's imagination around his person and manners, and increased her anxiety to know more of him. From the Thorpes she could learn nothing, for they had been only two days in Bath before they met with Mrs. Allen.

The Loiterer, a weekly periodical, was launched on Saturday, 31 January 1789 by Jane Austen's eldest brother James, then a Fellow of St John's College, Oxford. Its aim, according to James's first editorial, was to supply ‘a regular succession of moral lectures, critical remarks, and elegant humour’ (no. 1, p. 3). It continued to appear every Saturday for almost fourteen months, until the sixtieth and final number was published on 20 March 1790. A few weeks later, the weekly issues were collected into two substantial volumes, giving The Loiterer a wider circulation than its original, primarily Oxford readership. The contributions are unsigned, but in the final number James Austen provided a key to their authorship. Of the sixty essays, twenty-nine are by James himself; nine are by his brother Henry, then a Scholar at St John’s; two are by the Revd Benjamin Portal, with a third by Portal and Henry in collaboration; and the others are by various Oxonians, most of them unidentified.

Among James's contributions to The Loiterer is issue number nine, published on 28 March 1789, which begins by introducing a letter ‘brought us the last week … and as it is the first favour of the kind we have ever received from the fair sex (I mean in our capacity of authors) we take the earliest opportunity of laying it before our readers’ (pp. 3–4). The letter itself follows, above the pseudonym ‘Sophia Sentiment’, complaining that The Loiterer had hitherto neglected its female readers; unless this is rectified, Sophia will ‘soon drop your acquaintance’. James's reply is a mock-solemn defence of The Loiterer against the letter-writer's various charges. It is possible that James Austen wrote the letter as well as the response. His key to authorship says nothing about ‘Sophia Sentiment’, and the letter is nowhere mentioned in his surviving papers or in any Austen family documents. It is, however, more probable that Sophia was a female writer known to James, and his sister Jane Austen, then aged thirteen, is much the most likely candidate.