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'Mr. Bennet, how can you abuse your own children in such

a way? You take delight in vexing me. You have no com-

passion on my poor nerves.'

'You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your

nerves. They are my old friends. I have heard you mention

them with consideration these twenty years at least.'

'Ah, you do not know what I suffer.'

'But I hope you will get over it, and live to see many

young men of four thousand a year come into the neighbour-

hood.'

'It will be no use to us, if twenty such should come, since

you will not visit them.'

'Depend upon it, my dear, that when there are twenty, I

will visit them all.'

Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic

humour, reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three-~

and-twenty years had been insufficient to make his wife un-

derstand his character. _Her_ mind was less difficult to de-

velop. She was a woman of mean understanding, little

information, and uncertain temper. When she was discon-

tented, she fancied herself nervous. The business of her

life was to get her daughters married: its solace was visiting

and news.

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