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against the belle of Brighton, who, with uncommon spirit, slapped the porter's face, threw his wig into the square, kicked the house-dog, played a sonorous peal on the knocker, and then triumphantly stept into her carriage to the captain, who was her escort in this bold adventure. It has been since whispered in the fashionable circles, that the brave captain and the spirited Mary are off together.'
The paper dropped from the hand of poor Rebecca, and she fell back in the chair in a strong fit, from which she was not recovered when Sabina returned. By her frantic cries, the terrified girl brought up the landlady and her daughter; but it was long ere their united endeavours restored animation to the care-worn form of her broken-hearted mother. When she did open her eyes, she pointed to the newspaper which lay at her feet. Sabina instantly discovered the cause of her mother's illness, and, putting the fatal paper in her pocket, assisted her agitated parent to bed, from which she rose no more for seven weeks. During this time, Sabina was her nurse, her friend, her comforter.
Sabina wrote twice to her sister, but receiving no answer, unknown to her mother, she addressed a few lines to lady Facwett, conjuring her, for the love of Heaven, to honour her with one line informing her of her sister's fate. In a few days the following answer arrived :—
Though personally unknown to you and your excellent mother, my brother has taught me to love you both with much affection. I there
tain and miss Bently are persons of specious manners, but depraved principles. To miss Bently your sister became attached. I frequently warned the volatile Mary of this syren, but without effect: she was never happy but in her company. The captain (an artful coxcomb) introduced a set of wretches to his sister's house, in whose society Mrs. Gordon lost sums of money which I knew my brother's fortune was unable to pay without hurting his child. I therefore informed Mary that she must give up miss Bently, or me. The next morning she called as usual, but as I had the mortification to observe from my window the captain was in her carriage. I gave orders to be denied. I am sorry I did, for Mary's conduct was so very ridiculous on the occasion, that the affair became quite public; and hence arose the foolish paragraph which so affected Mrs. Gayton. I wrote to my brother an account of the business. He came to Brighton, and insisted Mary should accompany him to a little estate of sir Thomas's, in the north of England, where they will remain till their affairs can be adjusted, which at present are very deranged, and I hope, by their œconomy, will retrieve the large sums which have been so thoughtlessly lavished in scenes of dissipation and folly. With a thousand good wishes to yourself and mother, I am your affectionate friend and servant,
Sabina was sitting with her mo❤ ther when this letter was delivered, and as she thought that a knowledge
Mary is not so guilty as we feared.' ed, and was carried to bed insen-
Sabina had often heard her mother speak in terms of high commendation of the skill of sir W. H. and without considering the distance, or expence of his attendance (happening to recollect his address), she wrote, intreating his immediate presence. On the third day sir W- arrived in a post-chaise and four. When he approached the bed, Rebecca was insensible. His countenance changed as he looked on the beautiful ruin. I can be of no service,' said he. Death has already marked her for his own. I do not even think her senses will return: if they should, keep her perfectly quiet; that is all that can be done. I will write a prescription which shall be merely a cordial, and may be given, if she is able to take it, at any time. But I rather think she will go off as she is.' He then retired to his inn, and the next morning sent in his bill of expences on the road, which amounted to twenty-five pounds; though he had humanely declined a fee, as his skill was useless. Sabina opened her mother's pocket-book, and taking a fifty pound note sent it to sir W——, who again. looked in before he commenced his journey, and Guding Rebecca in the same state he had left her the preceding evening, was confirmed in his opinion that her senses would not return, and departed for London.
Thus poor Sabina lessened her small store, and had the mortification to find she had lessened it for nothing but the satisfaction of know
said she, and stretching out her hands to embrace her, convinced the joyful girl that her senses were restored- Are we at home, my dear child, in our little cottage?'
much cheerfulness, said to Mrs, Smith- I shall be at rest to-night. Call my Sabina.' When Sabina entered, she said, 'O my dear child, I shall be at peace from all my sor❤ rows to-night. You, my good, my worthy child! have been the only tie which has long bound me to earth. Now that tie is broken, You are surrounded by difficulties, environed by poverty; yet I can leave you with confidence in the hand of Him who has promised to be a father to the fatherless. I know not what money is in my purse; but I charge you, Sabina, not to lessen it by carrying my body to Crediton. My immortal part will be happy in a noble house not made with hands, and it signifies little where the body moulders. Bury me, therefore, in the nearest church-yard to this place. Take this ring, my inestimable girl! (taking her wedding ring from her finger): keep it in remembrance of both your parents; and sometimes, when you look at it, think of your mother. Every thing at the white cottage I leave to you. Your sister has need of nothing I can give but my good wishes and my blessing. These she has. May she live to become a credit to her husband; and may her future conduct efface, if possible, the present ill opinion the world entertains of her! My good Mrs. Smith, you have been a true friend to the widow and the miserable. God will bless you for it. On your death-bed, may you be as happy in a friend-may you be as calm in yourself as I am! When I am no more, have pity on my child; sooth her sorrows, direct her inexperi
Ah! no, my dear mother; you was taken ill on the road: but we are in the house of a very worthy woman, who has watched over you with as much attention as your own Sabina. Mrs. Smith, my dear mother is sensible of your kindness. She will recover, and thank you for ali your goodness.'
Mrs. Smith approached the bed, and saw that, though the senses of Rebecca were returned, the hand of death was on her. She therefore drew Sabina away, observing that the doctor had ordered quietness, and advising her to send the prescription to be made up. This was done; and it appeared to comfort the sinking spirits of the invalid. She frequently enquired for Mary, and desired Sabiną to write to her, and desire her to come and receive a mother's bless ing, whose days she had helped to shorten. Sabina knew not where to direct to her lady Facwett had not mentioned the name of the place she was at, only said it was in the north of England. She had intended to have again written to her ladyship; but sir W had informed her that sir Thomas had been appointed governor of Bengal, to which country he and his family were gone, But as Sabina did not think proper to inform her mother of sir W -'s visit, on account of the expence attendant on it, she could not mention those particulars; and Rebecca was kept expecting to see her beloved
With those words the pure suffering pirit winged its flight to the presence of its Creator and eternal felicity,
(To be continued.)
ON FASHIONABLE DISTINCTIONS.
Odi profanum vulgus et arceo.
I hate the rabble, and despise Alike their virtue and their vice. I HAVE often wondered that na ture should commit such a great oversight in not establishing proper distinctive marks for the various ranks of society. If things had been so arranged that all in a certain circle, our fashionables, for example, should be tall, slender, handsome, and elegant, and that all who were translated from an inferior sphere to this upper region should instantly acquire these qualities, there could be little difficulty in distinguishing a person of fashion from the vulgar. But unluckily nature has neglected to make any such provision. We have the short, the squat, the crooked, the clumsy, the awkward, and the boobrish, even at Mrs. T's routs, and the countess of K's suppers. There is, indeed, a particular air which is said to distinguish those who move in a certain region, and to be altogether unattainable beyond its boundaries. Such, however, are the effects of imitation in the circles below, and such the unkindly nature of some of the materials which fashion has to work up
are daily invented, to separate thre pure region of fashion from the gross atmosphere that hovers round it. Dress and equipage were formerly considerable badges of distinction; but the rich citizens, incited by a laudable ambition, soon broke through their old restraints of economy and deference to their betters; and Mrs. Flounder having transferred her residence from Cornhill to Cavendish-square, it was no longer possible to discover her origin, either from her jewels or her liveries. This barrier being thus broken down, an immense gap was left in the fences of the fashionable world, through which multitudes from Change-alley, and even Pudding-lane, are daily forcing an entrance.
Rich dresses were now given up: and it was resolved that the intruders, by being deprived of ornament, should be exposed to derision in their native vulgarity. A rapid succession of whimsical fashions, and something new for every day, now distinguish the ladies of the ton. The industrious directresses of the Magazins des Modes, however, rendered all these measures abortive: for the no-bodies were never above a day behind in their imitations, and the very waiting-maids were apt to be mistaken for their mistresses. The ladies of the first fashion, indeed, some time since made a bold effort, in which they thought none of the little could have the assurance to follow them; and, in order to set all competition at defiance, actually appeared in public somewhat more than half
with a little damsel, who, in point of nakedness, might have vied with aay duchess in the land.
The male fashionables have, indeed, adopted a more vigorous mode of revenge, for the encroachments made upon their dignity in the way of dress. They have begun by direct acts of retaliation; and, as their valets and grooms had most impudently aspired to their dress and manners, they have, in their turn, usurped the garb and habits of these gentlemen. It is not to be doubted that this vigorous measure will have its due effect; for a groom must be exceedingly mortified to find so little gratification to his vanity in rising to his master's level.
But it is in their amusements that the fashionables have made the most strenuous efforts to preserve their circle inviolate; and their zeal has at length been rewarded with success. As long as the theatres, or Astley's, or the Circus, or Sadler's Wells, or, in short, any place, which offers the least entertainment is to be found, there is no danger that the fashionables will be followed by the crowd to the Opera-house. There they may in perfect security enjoy their tête-à-têtes and their scandal, and perhaps listen at a few intervals to the queens and kings who are torturing their vocal organ in wonderful modes, to draw down an inspiring bravo! bravissimo!
Other methods of distinction have been devised with equal zeal and ingenuity. The fashionables, perceive ing that the vulgar were contented to have the stage and orchestra filled with professional people, determined to make this a ground of distinction, and thenceforward to play and fiddle for themselves, with the addition of
poisoned in the ordinary way with out themselves having any part in the amusement. The hue and cry. was therefore set up with such fury, that the fashionables were obliged to put an end to their mysteries, lest they should be actually violated by profane hands. The other resource, of amateur concerts, is by far more adviseable, and will be found perfectly secure. The crowd cannot be prevailed upon, even by their desire of appearing fashionable, to listen. whole nights to the enchanting signora Squallanté, uttering unknown words and unknown sounds; and surely it is far less to be apprehended that they will be seized with any irresistible inclination to drink up the melodies of Lady Louisa Thrum, and the honourable Mr. Hum.
To do justice to the taste and ingenuity of the great, there is something in all their pleasures which distinguishes them from those of the little. The form, indeed, is soon copied by the latter; and there are routes and card-parties found in every quarter, as idle and insipid as any in Portman-square. The little, however, on these occasions, pay some attention to the convenience of their guests, and make some calculation of the size of their rooms before they issue their cards. The great, og the contrary, invite all the world; and the hostess is rendered the happiest creature in the universe if there is not a single corner in her rooms where a living creature can sit, stand, or walk with comfort. A squeeze certainly formed a very agreeable variety amidst the languor of a rout; but since the accompaniment of hot suppers has been introduced, it has not been found altogether so pleasant. Every one has heard of