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a-little of it, and it seemed to re- and came ever so often here, talk. novate her much. She ceased to ing nonsense to Fanny abont her tremble, except from agitation; beauty; and at last I determined to and overcome by Julia's tender tell my lady of it;--and I wish I kindness, reposed in her the full had !--but coon I thought there story of Fanny's seduction, and her was no occasion for it; as, one day,

who should come in, but 'squire • Dear me!' said the sobbing Fitzroy, to look for his brother: dame, " } seems like not to know and the next day he ca ne alone, what I ought to do. Sometimes I and began to advise Fanny not to tsink I onght not to tell you, to listen to his brother, and-oh,goodgrieve your good and tender heart ness! how with his silver tongue with such things of those you love; he hushed my suspicions !-as Fanand then met inks it is meant by ny listened to every word be said, Providence for ne to tell you, I thought there was no use in since you, of all the world, were making mischief with my lady, as sent to me in the sad time of my Fanny would never listen no more trouble;—and you may be, of all to sir Charles, and so he stopped the world, the one marked out to froin coming. But 'squire Fitzrescue Fanny froin her guilty ways, roy, whenever he was staying at and lead her back to penitence the castle, used to come often to and me.'

my cottage; and 1-fool that I Julia shuddered with anticipat- was !-alware made him welcome, ing apprehension; her heart was thinking he was so good and pious! agonized; but, endowed with some- - for he would read the Bible to thing apparently more than mortal me for half an hour together, so firmness, she listened, without be- tinely! and then retire, to ponder traying her feelings, to a tale-to window there, to explain texts of her, a tale of horrors.

Scripture to Fanny: and when I It is now about four years,

wished to hear him too, he advised dear my lady, since Fanny-cruel me not, in so friendly and kind a girl!-irst began to be praised for way! telling me, as I had not so her beauty. She had many a good much learning as Fanny, it would offer froin the neighbouring young only disturb my mind, and perhaps farmers, but she refused thein all; make me waver in my faith ; while as she needs must be in love with Fanny, as she comprehended all, the inan she should


but it served to strengthen in her relishe'll ne'er inarry now! no honest gious principles. man would have her.-Well, dear Well-a-day-So this went on young lady, she got all this lore- for a couple of years; and it never stuff in her head at her uncle's, once came into my old stupid head where the girls are always falling that Fanny could fall in love with foul of story-books (that were writ- so great a gentleman: but, O ten for ladies, not the poor), instead dear me! how I was terrified, and of minding the pigs, and the poul- trembled, when Fanny, hearing try.

you were to be married to the Well, my lady, sir Charles Strat- 'squire, cried all day long about it; ton saw Fanny one day, as she was and, from dearly loving you, began bringing home work to do for the to say you were painted, red and repository; and he followed her, white, and a many such spiteful


things of you. I then said, “I would take her there, in his cart, hoped she was not so mad as to as he always did; but she must, have fallen in love with a man who this time, walk over to his house, would not think the like of her and his new man would fetch her worthy to wipe his shoes' She box. Well, I believed her, for I answered me pertly, for the first never had reason to doubt her time in her life; and it cut me to word. made a nice cake for her, the heart..... Well, dear me! and gave her a bottle of milk, to Fanny, one day, had been at Sed- take on the road. A strange man ley, to buy threads for her needle- caine for her box; and as I kissed work; and home she came from it, and blessed her at parting, her her eyes sparkling with joy, and tears bedewed my

cheeks. her cheeks like roses; and as she Well, dear lady, she is three came in, she saidShe cared for weeks gone to-day, and yet my nothing now, since 'squire Fitzroy mind misgave me not;-though thought (for he had just told her the time of her absence was also himselt) that she was ten thou- ways sad days for me;-but she sand times more beautiful than mostly staid five or six weeks at miss De Clifford.'

her uncle's, and I was no way pre• If the 'squire told you so,' said pared for this cruel letter! 1, · it was only to make game of ...... Dame Banks now took you; for every one, who has eyes,' from between the leaves of her Bimust see that miss De Clifford is ble, a letter, which she handed to as much more beautiful than you Julia; and Julia had power to are, as you are prettier than the open it, and read every ayonizing generality of girls one sees.' Well, word it contained.she gave me another saucy answer, • Dear grandmother, and I cried for grief.

• As I unluckily met neighbour • Well, dear young lady, the Turton to-day, in my linen-dra’squiro went away to be made a per's shop, and as he is going tome murkis; and when you fell sick, in the mail to-morrow night, I hasFanny's natural goodness and love ten to write to you, because, as for you got the better of spite, and soon as he gets home, the murder she was very sorry about you, and will out, and you must then huow went twice a-day up to the castle, where I am, though he, with all lis to inquire for you; and when you curiosity, cannot tell with whom. grew so bad, that no one thought But don't you be cast down at you could get over it, and that what has happened, as it is a good Fanny, when she returned home thing for you ;—for as long as your of an evening, (as I thought, from existence lasts, you shall iive like neighbour Hawthorn's, where I

a lady, with a maid to wait on believed she was at neuille-work,) you; and you shall not stay in and that she seemed melancholy, your mean cottage, but, as soou silent, and odd, I thought it all as I have got a handsoine lodging was grief for you. At last, she

near me for you, I shall send you asked my leave to go to her un- money to bear your expense's up cle's, at Lyme; and I consented, to town in a post-chaise, like a thinking it would amuse her; and lady, and not in a inean, filthy I could not bear to see her sad. stage. She told me, Hobbs, the miller, You will wonder, dear grand


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mother, how I came by all this money; and I have the comfort to tell you, I am with my dear markis of Penmorra, and as happy as a queen, though only his miss;-for his wife he could not make me, having been teased by his foolish meddling uncle Ashgrove, and his parents, into marrying that miss De Clifford, who he does not care for;-never, in all his born days, loving any one but me: so, poor thing she may be his wife; but I shall be dressed as grand as she, and shall have all his love, and his tender attentions.


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with my lord markis, who seemed
in such trouble I stopped to com-
fort him; and so he asked me to
walk with him; and so I did, lean-
ing on his arm, like his wife-no,
not like an insipid wife either, but
like the idol he adored-and be
making love so sweetly! quite
forgetting miss De Clifford, and
every one but me: so that, when
he asked me to meet him nest
morning, I could not find in my
heart to refuse him; so I met him
next day, and every day, telling
you I was working at Hawthorn's,
till at last he persuaded me to go
off with him; and I did, the even-
ing I left you, when he went up to
parliament. We travelled all night

as he had staid to the last moment at the castle, hoping miss De Clifford would let him see her-and we went a round-about road, where he was not known at the inns, feard that it should be knowed he had me with him;-for he is terribly afeared it should be knowed at the castle-so mind, dear grandmother, that you don't 'peach. The time we travelled, I wished myself at home again, and cried sadly; my dear markis made such a fuss about how sweet, and beautiful, and innocent, miss De Clifford looked, as she slept in her chair; and was so alarmed about the delicate state of her health,' that I feared he had deceived me; that it was she he loved, and not me; but when he found how much I took on about it, he talked no more of her, and


In returning from inquiring at repeated his vows of everlasting

Ah! my dear grandmother! how nicely iny dear lord markis deceived you, reading the Bible to you, and in explaining texts of Scripture to me!-Well he knowed how to gull you, and win me.

It is now two years, since my lord markis began to toil (as he calls it) for my love, and to get me into his possession. My love he won in a twinkle; but he found it not so easy to make me forget the rigmaroles you put in my head, about-what not; and I did not like to leave you: and so he never could have got me to be his miss, had he not removed from my mind the clouds of ignorance, and had not chance throwed him in my way, when he was in grief about that miss De Clifford, who, though he is not at all in love with, he regards as a sister, and therefore was in great trouble at the thoughts of her death.

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appearances: but, that I may not be without a beau, to squire me about, as he cannot do it publicly, he yesterday introduced such a lively, handsome, pleasing young barrownight, to be my chusebee (as the other ladies call it), and to protect me, during his painful, compulsatory absence! -How condescending and kind he is!

board in a very grand house, save with one of the sweetest ladies I ever knowed, who has several young ladies boarding with her, who are in the same situation with myself not living publicly with their lovers.

We are a very gay society; all full of spirits. I have been to both theatres, all in a blaze of real diamonds; and beside, grandly dressed, with scarcely a stitch of clothes on. I quaked for the miss of my stuff coats, and warm stays; but I looked so beautiful for the change, I did not mind the cold. The markis did not go with me, for feard of a discovery; that I did not much mind, I had such a plenty of beaus, and was so followed and admired. I scarcely knowed myself, I looked so lovely; and my lord markis says, he could not have thought it was possible for me to look more lovely than I did in my homely apparel, but that he is astounded, and fascinated, at my increase of beauty, my blaze of charms, now dress shows off my person to the most liberal advantage.

I have not exhibited at the operar yet, it not being open; but I have been to a masquerade, and there my dear lord markis attended me; I was greatly delighted, we had such a gay party and all would have been well, only they made me drink too much shampain;— but it proved no sham for me, as, not being used to it, my head ached sadly all next day.

• I never lived till now. I am as happy as a queen and my dear

Direct to Mrs. Banks, at No. 40,street, square, London; and be sure, dear grandmother, I soon shall send for you, to come to your happy, happy granddaughter,


It was impossible for Julia to utter one word of comment upon this dreadful letter. Her heart was now cold, and horror-chilled, as the heart-broken grandmother's; and to speak comfort to poor dame Banks, it was now not in the power of any one to do: but, speechless, and almost torpid with grief and dismay, the lovely Julia sat motionless, apparently listening, with the deepest interest, to the lamentations of the venerable, virtuous, shame-stricken parent, until Edward, tenderly taking her hand, asked Why she looked so very, very pale? and, if she was ill, to come away to good Mrs. Beville, to make her well again.'


Roused by his question and entreaty, Julia hastily arose; and finding from her powerful agitation, and the anguish of her heart, that she could not long sustain the conflict without betraying her feel

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Solitary Walks to a solitary corner of his port-folio, till he can clothe them in more spirited diction,' he shall still continue to publish them.

It is indifferent to him what may be W. M. T''s opinion of them; for, however they may be defective in spirited diction,' he is conscious their morality cannot be impeached and that, though they may be ridiculous effusions' (which he has quoted nothing to prove), they are harmless ones; and possess a kind of negative merit-they will not tire the reader by their length.

J. W. is rather surprised that as W. M. T. declared these ridiculous effusions' scarcely deserve the trouble of criticism, that he condescended to notice them.

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DEPENDING on the civility and impartiality of the Editor, Í, through this medium, beg to give you my sentiments on your criticism. So far as it relates to myself, I must confess, sir, your attack might have been a little more tolerated! but it is always usual with me (when in my power) to return obligations; and debts of this nature I repay in their own coin. Be assured, most learned! I am not so allied to either Billingsgate or St. Giles' as you scem to consider me.

As a subscriber to the Lady's Magazine, I beg to propose that you have some honour conferred upon you, for so important a discovery! You, sir, are a kind of literary Jackall — a nice provider! you may fairly claim some appellation of this kind! A scurrilous critic should wear the wreath of scurrillity! I make no pretensions to infallibility, For my imperfections I stand corrected; and, to dismiss this subject, I subjoin the following lines; though anony mous they are well calculated for the purpose.

Since you so plainly can discern

My faults and make them known, Let me advise you, in return, To contemplate your own. And when to CENSURE you're inclin'd, Thou self-sufficient youth, Pray let your censure be confin'd Within the bounds of TRUTH. Had Nature but ONE grain of sense

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