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board in a very grand house, appearances: but, that I with one of the sweetest ladies may not be without a bean, to I ever kitowed, who has several squire me about, as he cannot do young ladies boarding with her, it publicly, he yesterday introducwho are in the same situation with ed such a lively, handsome, pleasanyself—10t living publicly with ing young barrownight, to be my their lovers.
chusebee (as the other ladies call • We are a very gay society; all it), and to protect me, during full of spirits. I have been to both his painful, compulsatory absence! theatres, all in a blaze of real dia- -How condescending and kind he
a monds; and beside, grandly dress- is! ed, with scarcely a stitch of clothes · Direct to Mrs. Banks, at No. on. I quaked for the miss of my 40, - street,
square, London; stuff coats, and warm stays; but I and be sure, dear grandmother, looked so beautiful for the change, I soon shall send for you, to I did not mind the cold. The coine to your happy, happy grandmarkis did not go with me, for daughter, feard of a discovery; that I did not
• FRANCÉS BANKS.' much mind, I had such a plenty of beaus, and was so followed and ad- It was impossible for Julia to utmired. I scarcely knowed myself, ter one word of comment upon this I looked so lovely; and my lord dreadful letter. Her heart was now markis says, he could not have cold, and horror-chilled, as the thought it was possible for me to heart-broken grandinotber's; and look more lovely than I did in my to speak comfort to poor dame homely apparel, but that he is a- Banks, it was now not in the power stounded, and fascinated, at my in- of any one to do: but, speechless, crease of beauty, my blaze of and almost torpid with yrief and charms, now dress shows off my dismay, the lovely Julia sat moperson to the most liberal advan- tionless, apparentis listening, with tage.
the deepest interest, to the lamenI have not exhibited at the tations of the venerable, virtuous, operar yet, it not being open ; but shame-stricken parent, until EdI have been to a masquerade, and ward, tenderly taking hier hand, there my dear lord markis attended asked. Why she looked so very,
• me; I was greatly delighted, we had very pale? and, if she was ill, to such a gay party : and all would come away to good Mrs. Beville, have been well, only they made to make her well again.' me drink too much shampain;- Roused by his question and enbut it proved no sham for me, as, treaty, Julia hastily arose; and not being used to it, my head ach- finding from her powerful agitaed sadly all next day.
tion, and the anguish of her heart, • I never lived till now. I am as that she could not long sustain the happy as a queen: and my dear .conflict without betraving her feelmarkis is such an adoring lover, he ings, and increasing the distress of spends all the time he can spare the poor deserted parent, spoke from parliament business with me, somne scarcely articulate words of and quite sickens at the thoughts kindness to her, promised to send of leaving me, to go (which he must Mrs. Beville immediately, and to soon do) to Delamore castle, to provide some eligible woman to
remain with her, and to see her as often as possible herself.
To the Editor of the Lady's
MAGAZINE *. The poor woman thanked and blessed her; entreated her to take
Sir, that cruel letter away, out of her DEPENDING on the civility sight, for ever; and added, that and impartiality of the Editor, 1,
she, and her sorrows, would not through this medium, beg to give long trouble the compassionate.' you my sentiments on your cnti
cism. So far as it relates to my
self, I must confess, sir, your atTo the Evitor of the LADY's tack might have been a little more MAGAZINE
tolerated! but it is always usual A CARD;
with me (when in my power) to To W. M. T.
return obligations; and debts of Sir,
this nature I repay in their own JOHN WEBB begs leave to coin. Be assured, most learned ! inform W. M. T. that notwith- I am not so allied to either Bilstanding his ofjiciousness in re- lingsgate or St. Giles' as you seem commending him to commit his to consider me. • Solitary Walks to a solitary cor
As a subscriber to the Lady's ner of his port-folio, till he can Magazine, I beg to propose that clothe them in more spirited dic- you have some honour conferred tion,' he shall still continue to upon you, for so important a dispublish them.
covery! You, sir, are a kind of It is indifferent to him what may literary Jackall - a nice provider! ! be W. M. T''s opinion of them; you may fairly claim some appelfor, however they may be defect- lation of this kind! A scurrilous ive in spirited diction,' he is critic should wear the wreath of conscious their morality cannot be scurrillity! I make no pretensions impeached — and that, though to infallibility, For my imperthey may be • ridiculous effusions: fections I stand corrected; and, (which he has quoted nothing to
to dismiss this subject, I subjoin prove), they are harmless ones ;
the following lines; though anody. and possess a kind of negative me- mous they are well calculated for rit - they will not tire the reader by their length.
Since you so plainly can discern J. W.is rather surprised that as
My faults and make them know, W. M. T. declared these « ridicu- Let me advise you, in return, lous cffusions' scarcely deserve
To contemplate your own. the trouble of criticism, that he And when to censure you're inclind, condescended to notice them.
Thou self-sufficient youth,
Pray let your censure be confind Why, critic spider! why Within the bounds of TRUTH. Dart all thy venom on so mean a fly?". Had Nature but one grain of sense
The guards of chastity asleep are laid,
And quick to ruin sinks the yielding BLAST him, ye lightnings ! quick from maid!
carth remove The foe profess'd of innocence and love! But short thy joys, illicit love!
And swift thy few bless'd moments Oh for a Homer's pencil, while I draw The darkest demon hell itself e’er saw! Scarcely arriv'd ere they decay, A fiend conceal'd beneath an angel's Instant thy raptures pass away. plumes,
For what is sordid selfish lust? With softest steps the social monster A fickle, feeble, feverish gust, comes !
Follow'd by loathing and disgust; With winning blandishments, and sub- Follow'd by terrors that the soul appall, tlest wiles,
A drop of honey in a sea of gall.
Thus have I mark'd in Summer scene He lures the passing fair one to his The landscape smiling and serene ; toils :
Thus have I view'd the peaceful lake,
the waters Young, artless, innocent, devoid of fear,
wake; See unsuspecting Innocence draw near!
But, lo! the sweeping tempests rise, At first, with start!ed look, and slack- Liké reeds the crackling forest flies;
The angry storm in thunder roars, She meets his ardent and insidious And sounding billows lash the shores ; gaze,
Their fate in vain the seamen fly, Slightly alarm’d; yet soon more recon- Madalen'd, they shriek, they sink, and cil'd,
die! She hears his soft address, and accents mild;
The momentary rash delirium past,
en d pace,
DIRGE AT MIDNIGHT.
The mist of passion once remov'd, How strangely alter'd him she lov'd! How cold, how callous is he grown! She looks, and stiffens into stone. The fiend her misery makes his jest, And all the devil stands confess'd!
D and care,
Where now the joys the soul that
move? Where are now the looks of love? Where the anxious wish to bless ? Where, alas! is happiness? Gone for erer! fied like air! Follow'd hard by black despair, Insult, hate, and injury, Scorn, contempt, and beggary; Hunger sharp, and nakedness, Squalid looks, and wretchedness; Feeble frame, and withered linb, Fell reinorse, that spectre grim; Beauty fled, and strength decaying, Conscience on the vitals preying. Sickness sore, diseases dire, Burning with internal fire; Sores, and loathsome rottenness, Agony, and fix'd distress ; Curses, oaths, and desperation, View and dread of near damnation : Convulsive laughter, deepest sadness, Frenzy' wild, and moping madness. Shunn'd, despis'd, by all forgot, Hopeless, helpless is her lot; Who shall ease her pangs acute ? Who'll befriend the prostitute ? Who will bring the wretch relief? Who will soothe the outcast's grief? Death alone her woes must end ; Death, the outcast 's only friend! Ere that last sad hour arrive, May she see her God, and live! May that Power who answers pray'r To the dying wretch draw near! In her wounds soft pour the balm, Unsb her feelines to a calm:
ON the noble organ's swell,
B. STEPHESSOX Pentoncille.
THE OLD MAID'S PETITION.
By S. Y.
PITY the pain of a desponding maid, And with compassion hear my
mournful tale, For all the world my conduct doth
upbraid, And I'in grief and sorrow do bewail. Despise me not, ye gentlest of the fair, But deign to read the cause of all my
A maiden aunt, who took me to her I'd ever prove a fond and doting mate, care,
My constancy would far exceed the Sent me for learning to a boarding, dove; school;
And when sweet offspring cheers our But of her whins I had too great a happy state, share,
You'll see in me a mother's matchless And which, alas! has rendered me a
My eye is dark, though rather grey my I ne'er was known a single pin to waste, hair,
I well obey'd in every thing she said ; And soft the down that does adorn my Dress'd in the mode which suited best
chin; her taste,
And tho' I'm warp'd still I am passing
I And, her to please, I vow 'd I d die fair, a maich
My breast contains a tender heart
within. When bearis approach'd with pleasing mien and air,
Altho' the roses from
cheeks are And plighted vows, my maiden heart fied, to gain,
And saffron-yellow now their place Them I denied, nor would their converse supplies; share,
And but three teeth I have within my And begy'd they'd never trouble me head, again.
And glasses green do now assist mine
eyes ; At length my aunt, oppressed with age
Tho' with Scotch snuff I cherish well Despairing lay, and dim her languid
my nose, eye,
And twice a week I cut my painful I to kind Heaven rais'd a suppliant
By all the gods I swear, and pledge my And soon, ah! soon my maiden aunt VOWS, did die.
My gentle youth shall never wear the
horns. My bosom's pierc'd with Love's unerring dart,
No girl on earth from faults is quite Haste, haste ye swains, my anguish
exempt, to remove,
Then why should I with my small For master Cupid has, with cunning store repine ? art,
Those few by art to hide will I atTaught me to smirk, to lisp, and talk
tempt, For dressing smart would make me
look divine. Sweet forty-five I ain this very morn, And I've left of my aunt's fantastic All off my head my inixed hair I'll ways,
shave, Approach, ye youths, and leave me not
the wig as other ladies do ; forlorn,
A set of teeth of ivory white I 'll have, In pity love, and joy will bless your And patch, and paint, since now it's
days. A cottage neat, with competence beside, Pity the sufførings of an aged maid,
For me my aunt reluctant left behind; Ånd in compassion take me to your And I should wish, ye swains, to be a
Or soon with love I die, (I am afraid, And thus I seek some gentle youth to Then sink to dust my beauty and my find.
all the go.