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he yielded himself entirely to the guidance of the good Elinor, dismissed the abandoned Johanna, and sending for the father of Rosalie, restored to him his daughter, fortunately uninjured, imploring, with many tears, forgiveness of both; and entreated their prayers for, as he feared, a dying, but truly repentant sinuer.

But when he had thus relieved his conscience, and firmly resolved to return to the paths of virtue, he began visibly to recover. The good Elinor continually watched him, and attended him night and day; and, when completely restored, he never afterwards relapsed into the licentious and vicious habits of which he had before been guilty. He renewed his acquaintance with the lovely Estella, who, finding that he was indeed another and a better man, gave him her hand in marriage, and they lived many years in love and happiness. Whether the secret of the real nature of the mysterious admonition he had received was ever revealed to him by his worthy aunt, this history saith not, nor is it, indeed, of much importance.

OBSERVATIONS on the PERSONS

and DRESS of the ENGLISH. (From Travels in England translated from the German of C. A. Goede.) I DO not believe that any country in Europe can boast so much general elegance, and symmetry of form, as Great Britain: this at least is certain, that one meets with fewer deformed beings here than elsewhere. The men, however, are better formed than the women; the latter, in particular, are seldom seen with beautifully small feet, a charm common with

French women, but not less admired on that account.

The physiognomy of both sexes inEngland is prepossessing, but devoid of a certair captivating charm: yet their features are soft, and their eyes beam mildness; but without that bewitching languor which fascinates the beholder; and this may arise from the noble and exquisite form of the nose, which gives infinite diguity to the whole countenance.

The complexion of the men is ruddy; that of the women beautiful in the extreme: the skin is of a most dazzling white, and soft as the cygnet's down, but their mouths are either large or not agreeably formed; and ibis defect is glaring, notwithstanding their aptitude to smile, when they discover the whitest teeth possible. Still these smiles, however pleasing, want that alluring grace which animates the features of the less

beautiful Parisienne.

If the st.anger is surprised to find beauty so common in England, he will be still more so when his observation has pointed out to him the equality of exterior which pervades all classes. At Paris it is easy to discover the citizens, the men of letters, the man of business, the nouveau riche, or the peculiar deportment and distindecayed nobleman; each has his guishing apparel; but in England it is scarcely possible to know a lord from a tradesman, or a man of letters from a mechanic; and this seems to arise from the sovereignty of fashion in the metropolis.

In other countries a few trifling individuals, alone obey the fiat of the fickle goddess; but in London young and old bow with submission at her shrine. Here the changes of fashion and the opera

tions of whim, fancy, or caprice, are so various, so rapid, that half the houses in town are completely metamorphosed every two or three years a circumstance, however, which considerably promotes the prosperity of the nation at large.

The fashions, however, of this country are simple and harmonious; the shape, perhaps, does not always please the eye, but the colour is invariably becoming, and the tout-ensemble agreeable. Nothing would appear more ridiculous than to see a man halffashionably clad; as the coat is eut, so must the waistcoat and breeches correspond. Nor would this suffice, unless the shape of the hat, and exact measure of the boot, were in perfect unison: every reform, therefore, must be radical. As Germans either do not understand, or will not attend to these minutiæ, they must thank themselves if they find they are stared at or ridiculed as they walk the streets.

It is notorious that the ladies of France have always disputed the superiority of taste with those of England. Without entering into the controversy it will be proper to observe, that each have a peculiar and diametrically opposite way of setting off their native charms, and while the former enter a draw ing room, as lightly attired as the statue of a Grecian sculptor, the latter envelope themselves in the foldings of a Spanish mantle. The ladies here are as attentive to the corresponding harmony of their dress as the gentlemen. Fine muslins are the invariable order of the day; and a lady is never seen abroad without a hat. But a particular style attaches to particular occasions. At church the ladies are plainly dressed, and the

gentlemen appear with round hats. At the Opera, the former are full dressed, wear their hair ornamented; and the latter appear suitably dressed with cocked hats and shoes.

A VISIT

ON A SUMMER'S EVEŅING.

BY MATILDA SPENCER.

THE scorching heat of the sun had given place to more tempered rays, when I walked out with an intention of visiting the sick daughter of a neighbouring cottager. A rude and unfrequented path led me to my favourite walk. On one side was a rural hedge, from which the little songsters poured their grateful songs, in notes wild, sweet, and harmonious; on the other, cattle were grazing, before me was an open and extensive field decked in a sweet variety of greens,' while a gently-rising hill, with the aid of a few tall and stately poplars, half concealed the spire of the village church. ing reached the hill I sat down, but not to enjoy the rural scenery, which at any other time would have inspired me with delight, for the cold indifference of a friend preyed heavy on my spirits. Lost in pensive recollection, I had almost forgotten the approach of night, and hastily arose to fulfil my engagement. The departing sun-beams still lingered on the cottage which I entered, I found the object of my inquiries much worse than I expected; her pale and faded cheek rested on the maternal bosom of her aged parent,

Hav

whose tears flowed as she witnessed the extreme, the agonizing misery of her daughter, and knew that no relief could save her from an early and untimely grave.

I accepted the friendly offer of a seat, and endeavoured, (though in a faltering voice) to console them, but was quite surprised at finding such meek resignation in the good woman, and such unexampled patience in the heavily afflicted girl. I observed that afflictions were useful lessons to mankind, and incident to mortality; therefore ought to be cheerfully borne.'-'Tis true, she replied, I ought to kiss the chastising rod, and bow before the deerees of an all-merciful God! (a tear strayed down her furrowed cheek,) but we are too apt to murmur. I said we ought not to distrust the goodness of God! Nor do I,' replied she; I have ever trusted in that Being whose care is over all ;—and amid my troubles have I ever remembered him who is both able and willing to help. But to see my daughter suffer thus, is hard,and a mother feels.' Jasked the invalid if she was willing to die: she fixed her eyes earnestly on me, then directed them upwards, and feebly exclaimed Not my will but thine be done.' Her mother said her afflictions had weaned her from the world, but an inward groan from her daughter stopped her. Let me say I felt humbled if,' said I, (mentally,) this poor woman is thus grateful, surrounded by poverty and afflictions, how ought my heart to expand with gratitude? Ought I to repine if a few briars are scattered in my rose-strewn path?' I, however, checked these reflections, and offered my mite which was most thankfully accepted, and

promising to call again on to-merrow, bade them good night.

'Peace to the inhabitants of this cottage!' I exclaimed, as I fastened the wicket-gate; and may that Power, on whose goodness you so humbly depend, take your suffering daughter to that happiness she so ardently pants after.

The full-orbed moon had now shed her silvery light around, and the universal calmness that reigned throughout the face of nature, was in perfect unison with my feelings. Never, ye votaries of fashion and dissipation, did ye experience a satisfaction equal to that I felt. It was a pleasure so pure, so fervent, that it had power to bush each ruder passion; to banish every unpleasant reflection from my memory; and diffuse tranquillity o'er my mind.

But the long pomp, the midnight masquerade,

With all the freaks of wanton wealth array'd;

In these, cre triflers half their wish obtain,

The toiling pleasure sickens into pain; And, e'en while Fashion's brightest arts decoy,

The heart distrusting, asks if this be joy? GOLDSMITH.

I felt seriously improved by my evening's ramble, and concluded it by repeating the following lines from my favourite poet :

Father of light and life! thou good supreme!

Oh! teach me what is good! teach me thyself!

Save me from folly, vanity, and vice! From every low pursuit; and feed my With knowledge, conscious peace, and

soul

virtue pure; Sacred, substantial, never-fading bliss!' THOMSON.

Chatteris, July 10, 1807.

HARRIET VERNON;

OR,

indulge himself in indolent habits which stupefy him he would really be an agreeable man. He takes a long nap after dinner, from

CHARACTERS FROM REAL LIFE. which he is sometimes rouzed by

A NOVEL.
In a Series of Letters.

BY A LADY.

(Continued from p.412.)

LETTER XXXI.

Miss Maria Vernon to Mrs. Ambrose.

Dear Madam, ACCEPT my best thanks for your very kind and affectionate letter, every line of which cannot but interest and afford me pleasure: but I know you might accuse me of affectation did I refrain from acknowledging that the lat ter part of your letter was perused with peculiar satisfaction. To hear of Mr. Wentworth's health and prosperity will ever afford me pleasure, independent of any interested reflections.

We have been nine weeks at this place, but I must own a further acquaintance has not removed my dislike to Mrs. Wilson. She behaves as well to us as she is capable of behaving to any one. She is very pressing that we spend some months longer here. We have engaged to comply with her request, and I have written to our brother for his consent. As we have received no answer, we infer from his silence that he has no objection.

Mr. Wilson improves much on further acquaintance. He seems partial to us both, and did he not

VOL. XXXVIII,

Harriet, who, when it don't rain, insists on his walking on the terrace. She has laughed him out of many of his dull airs, as she calls them. I tell her she must not make so free with him, for I think I can discover a tincture of jealousy in Mrs. Wilson; but this discovery of mine so diverts Har riet that she declares she shall be freer with him than ever. I re pent telling her, for I fear her vi vacity will carry her too far in this particular.

We have a young lady and gen tleman on a visit here: the former a most disagreeable woman, proud, conceited, and ill-tempered: the latter a genteel, sensible young man. They are lovers, but strange ones; for he seems to avoid her company as much as possible; behaves to her with forced politeness, which I think seems to increase daily; while she regards him as a swain her large. fortune has secured to her, and pretends to no other than a plas tonic love for him: I, however, have no doubt but he will shortly prevail on her to bestow her hand in wedlock. I find he is the son of a clergyman lately deceased, whose living of five hundred a-year was promised by his, patron to be be stowed on the son; but no sooner was it fallen in by the father's death, than the man in power be stowed it on another, and poor Mr. Beaumont experiences the fate of many others who trust to the promises of the great. His father, by great economy and a good fortune with his wife, left

30.

a-year

three hundred for the support of his widow; but the young man, now six-and-twenty, is totally unprovided for until his mother's death. In such a situation it is no wonder he should cast his thoughts to his rich neighbour, miss Jones, with whom his family had been long acquainted, nor is it any wonder that his mother should be anxious for the union which would set her son above dependence. This is the situation of Mr. Beaumont's affairs; but the situation of his mind, I fear, is very unhappy. I am certain that his heart is not interested in the business, and most sincerely do I pity him. Mrs. Wilson has taken a fancy to Mr. Beaumont, whom she says she used to dislike. This alteration in her sentiments I think proceeds from his having made her some compliments gratifying to her vanity; for, being a young man of sense and penetration, he soon discovered her weak side.

Harriet informs me that there are cards of invitation to a ball given by a gentleman in the neighbourhood on his coming of age, but Mrs. Wilson says we shall none of us go. Harriet is much vexed on the occasion, and has engaged Mr. Beaumont and Mr. Wilson to coax Mrs. Wilson into the humour of accepting it: I suppose they will attack her on her weak side. I am summoned to dinner, and will relate the success of their endeavours afterwards.

It was very polite, my dear,' said Mr. Wilson, in Mr. Rivers to send us those cards this morning.'

But you are determined not to go, I believe, madam,' said Har

riet.

O certainly,' replied Mr. Wilson, it is out of the question; they do not, I dare say, expect it.'

Dear! what makes it out of the question, Mr. Wilson?' said Mrs. Wilson.

Nay, if you like it, I should be very well pleased to accompany you; it would look very pretty to see a man and his wife dancing together.'

Now you are sneering at me, I suppose; I saw you tip the wink at Mr. Beaumont, so, for that reason, I am resolved to go, though I shall not dance.'

'As you please; I only wonder you should think of going at your time of life.'

At my time of life! what do you mean, Mr. Wilson? I danced as good a minuet five years ago as ever you saw.'

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Well, madam,' said Harriet, as you intend going, who shall be of your party? I suppose you will not go alone.'

'Mr. Wilson, miss Jones, and Mr. Beaumont, will be just a coach full,' replied Mrs. Wilson.

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'No woman of sense,' said miss Jones, can be fond of dancing; I shall not be of the party I assure you.'

"Pray Heaven I may never be a woman of sense then!'exclaimed Harriet. ·

The prayer is unnecessary,' retorted miss Jones.

I positively will not stir out of the house,' said Mr. Wilson, for any ball in Christendom.'

Then I can read Othello to you, as agreed on,' said Harriet archly I was vexed with her.

Perhaps, miss,' said Mrs. Wilson, I may choose to take you with me; and as Mr. Wilson and

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