opening virtues of our sons and daughters are nipt in the very bud. The only prospect then of an end of these absurdities is, that they will soon descend to our tradesmens' wives, and then our fashionable follies will take some other direction; but as they can hardly assume a more dangerous form than the present, any revolution may prove for the better.

I have sometimes been in the situation of the little dark man mentioned by my correspondent. There is in particular a young lady, an acquaintance of mine, and a very clever girl, she is ; one with whom I love to converse above all others, yet if there be any other other person present, particularly if he be young or handsome, I find this quite impossible. When I catch her alone, and complain of this, she tells me with the sweetest smile imaginable, that it is really her misfortune that she does not hear me, because there is no person she would more gladly answer. There is likewise a gentleman of great literary eminence, with whom I have the plea

Could this ill warl' hae been contriv'd

sure of being acquainted. This gentleman possesses great powers of conversation, and when we are alone he treats me with great familiarity and kindness; yet whenever we meet in a mixed company, particularly if there be any person of distinction present, I am unable to draw a single word from him. He is to be sure a little deaf in one ear, but to my great vexation, it is always in the ear next me; and it is wonderful to remark how instantaneously it changes sides, requiring no longer time than I take in stepping from one side to another.

There is no art more difficult than conversation, and none less understood. The grand secret is to make others pleased, not only with you, but themselves. Whatever be your powers, people will much more willingly join in conversation themselves sometimes, than listen to you constantly. may in reality illumine by your blaze, and warm them by your heat, yet they must seem to shine by their own unborrowed light, and to be warmed by their own native ardour.

To stand, without mischievous woman; How peacefu' bodies might hae liv'd!

Releas'd frae a' the ills sae common. Great source o' passion, toil, an' pride, O' slander noise, and tittle-tattle! For them we brave the briny tide,

An' dye, wi' blood the field o' battle.

But since it is the waefu' case,

That man maun ha'e this teezin' crony; Why sic a sweet bewitchin' face?

O! had they no been made sae bonny!

I might ha'e careless screw'd my pegs,
An' carol'd mountain airs s2e gaily,

If we'd but wantit a' the Megs,
Wi' glossy e'en, sae dark an' willey.

I saw the danger, fear'd the dart,
The smile, the air, an' a' sae takin';
Yet open laid my warless heart,

And gat the wound that keeps me wakin'.
My harp waves on the willow green,
O' cheerin' notes it has na' ony,
Sin' e'er I saw that pauky queen,
Sae sweet, sae artless, an' sae bonny.

You

1810.

No. XVI.

RICH.

WHEN I first ventured to introduce myself to my readers, I informed them that I was an old bachelor. I must now inform them further, that this si tuation in life has fallen to me rather by accident than from choice; for though the confession can hardly fail to excite laughter, I frankly acknowledge, that there is nothing I so much regret, as the many favourable opportunities which I have suffered to escape me, of entering into that state, which every natural and uncontaminated biass of the human soul bears testimony

to, as the one our all-wise Creator has ordained for the mutual happiness of his creatures. Never does that day dawn in the east, shedding light and gladness over the universe; nor that night wrap the world in darkness and silence, on which I do not sigh for the want of a kind and beloved bosom friend whom I might love, trust, and cherish, in every circumstance and situation of life to whom I might impart every wish and weakness of my heart, and receive hers in return; rejoice in her joy; share her griefs; and weep with her over her own or others' misfortunes, or the general depravity of depravity of human nature; kneel with her at the same footstool of infinite grace, and

ties and failings, and a blessing on our honest endeavours at fulfilling the duties of our station. But as the case now stands with me, I find myself to be an insignificant, selfish creature, unconnected to the world by any ties that can tend to endear it to me, further than the sordid love of life, or enjoyment of some sensual gratification. I am placed, as it were alone, in the midst of my species; or rather like a cat in a large family of men, women, and children, to whose joys it bears witness, without being able to partake of them; and where no person cares a farthing for it, unless for his own be

nefit or amusement.

When lying on a bed of sickness, instead of experiencing the tender attention and indulgence which the parent or husband enjoys, I am left to languish alone, without one to bind up my aking head, or supply the cordial or cooling draught to my parched lips Is not every old bachelor in the same situation? yes, as Horace says,

Mutato nomine de te fabula narratur. whatever he may be made to believe, he certainly is. If he be a poor man, he is a burden upon his friends, an incumbrance which they would gladly be rid of by any means: if rich, his relations may smile and flatter him, but in

The married state, it is true, may be entered into with rashness and imprudence, especially in the heat and folly of youth; but in any way, it is more commendable than the selfish and unnatural principle of shunning it altogether. In the worst case that can happen to a man, which is, when his selected partner turns out to be really disagreeable, still, the family which she brings him, engages his affection; his happiness becomes interwoven with theirs, and if he has been unfortunate in his connubial love, he enjoys the exhilarating sensations of parental affection with the more warmth and delicacy; so that still his family becomes a kind of stay whereon to rest for worldly enjoyments; and the star by which he is directed throughout the dangerous voyage of life.

The argument, that some are unhapPY in this state, is of no avail; for there are many people in the world of such a refractory and turbulent disposition, that they will be unhappy in any state, and whose tempers will ever contribute in a certain degree, to keep every one unhappy who is connected with them. Such people would probably be still more unhappy in any other state than that of wedlock, and such commonly are one, or both, of the parties, who thus disagree. These are, however, only the worst cases that can happen, and though I myself am a bachelor, my opinion is fixed with respect to this. I am fully persuaded, that if there is any calm, unruffled felicity, within the grasp of an erring and imperfect creature, subject to so many passions,

The first time I fell in love, was with a pretty girl who lived in our family, when I was scarce 17 years of age. I never once thought of marrying her, nor even of informing her how much I loved indeed, I did not know myself what I wanted with her; but I could not stay out of her sight if it was possible for me to get into it. I always found some pretext of being where she was, though it had been only to pick a quarrel with her about some trifle. I could not endure to see any other man speak to her, or take the least notice of her whatever, and on every such occurrence, wreaked my vengeance upon her.

The next time I fell in love, was with one of the most lovely and amiable of the whole sex; but so far above my rank in life, that my cause appeared entirely hopeless. I, however, took every opportunity of being near to her, and was so overpowered with delight at seeing her, and hearing her speak, that the tears sometimes started to my eyes. I frequented the church every Sunday and never once looked away from the front of the gallery where she sat. I commonly knew no more of what the parson was talking, than if he had been delivering himself in Greek. Nothing in nature gave me any delight, that was not some way connected with her, and every thing that was so, was dear to me: I heard with unspeakable delight, that, to the astonishment of the whole neighbourhood, she had positively re

jected two gentlemen, each of whom had made her proposals of marriage highly advantageous.

I shall never, while recollection occupies her little tenement amongst the other powers of my mind, forget the the day on which I first disclosed my passion to this dear and lovely woman! It was on the 20th of March. The day was sharp; and as I walked towards her father's mansion, I perceived her coming as if to meet me. I was wrapped in my tartan mantle, and was rather warm with walking, yet I was instantly seized with a fit of shivering. She, however, turned off at one side, and passed me at about the distance of twenty paces. She gave me only one look, but that was accompanied by a most bewitching smile; and went into a little summer-house. O how fain would I have followed her! but it was a piece of such monstrous rudeness to intrude upon a lady' privacy that it quite startled me !-I thought upon the look which she gave me, and the bewitching smile!-Again concluded, that these were given only by chance-she was always smiling! I spent about ten minutes in the utmost agony, resolving and re-resolving; and still she did not again make her appearance. At length, scarcely sensible, I likewise went into the little summer-house. She was sitting on one of the benches; her lovely cheek leaning on her hand; the train of her gown drawn over her shoulders; a book lay open before her, and the tears were standing in her eyes. dare say I accosted her with a most sheepish look, saying, I was come in to see what detained her so long in that cold house on such a sharp day. She

I

said, that she had by chance opened that book, which was so engaging that she could not quit it; and that it had cost her some tears. I stepped into the bench, going close up to her, merely to see what book it was -I had no other motive!-It was The Vicar of Wakefield. It is a charming work, said I, and sat down to read it along with her. I could not see distinctly to read with the ends of the lines turned towards me; I never could read to any purpose that way; so I was obliged to sit excessively close to her, before I could attain the right point of view. We read on--not a single word passed betwixt us for several pages, save one, which was often repeated, it was, Now. She commonly run over the pages faster than I could, but always refrained from turning the leaf until I cried-Now. I still could not see very well, and crept a little closer to her side. I even found it necessary, in order to see with precision, to bring my cheek almost close to her's.. What raptures of delight thrilled my whole frame!We read on-at least, we looked over the words, without taking any heed to them. This was the case with me, and I believe with her, for she shed no more tears. We came to the end of a a chapter-Now, said I; but it seems I had said it in a different had said it in a different way that time, for instead of turning the leaf, she closed the book! This little adverb has many various meanings, all of which are easily distinguished by the manner of pronouncing it. I am weary of it, said she.-'Tis time, said I. I envied not the joys of angels that day! when I, for the first time, found myself alone with her whom I loved and valued

above all the rest of the world. I was so electrified with delight, that once for a moment I believed it to be all a dream. I declared my violent affection for her, in the most respectful manner I was capable of. She did not receive the information with the smallest degree of surprise, but as something she was previously well acquainted with. I mentioned that her distinguished and admired personal excellencies, together with her elevated rank in life, had hitherto restrained me from making known my love to her; as it also entirely precluded the least chance of my ever attaining her as my wife.-Think how I was astonished at receiving the following answer: The sea, to be sure, is very deep, but he is a great coward who dares not wade to the knee in it!". What do you say, Madam? said I— she repeated the sentence. But do you say that in earnest ? said I. Indeed I do, said she, firmly; while her eyes were fixed on the ground. I clasped her to my bosom, and I do not know what extravagant nonsense I uttered amid the excess of joy with which I was transported.

During the space of three years we were seldom asunder, and enjoyed all the delights of the most pure and tender affection. I placed implicit confidence in her; and she received me always with the most enchanting kindness and good humour; and even, when she once learned that I had been paying my addresses to another, she did not in the least resent it, but observed, that it was no more than she expected; for that she knew me better than I knew myself. I had long been pressing her most ardently to name a day for our mar

riage, and at length she condescended to refer it entirely to me. Will any

person, even the most dead to every sense of honour, gratitude, or love, believe that I could ever abandon this angel of a woman?-To my everlasting shame and confusion, I acknowledge that I did; and it is a just award of providence, that I now sigh for that mutual interchange of hearts, which I can no more enjoy. I first fixed on one day for our nuptials, then another, and another. I knew I was sure of her whenever I pleased, and grew more and more careless, Her behaviour to me continued the same, without the smallest abatement of cheerful condescension: never did a single murmur, ór bitter remonstrance escape from her lips, nor one frown of dissatisfaction cloud her brow: and when, at last, my total neglect threw her into the arms of another, who was more deserving of her, still her behaviour remained unchanged; and to this day she receives me, as an old friend, whom she is glad to see. May heaven smile on that benign face, which never wore a frown but in contempt of vice or folly; and bestow upon her kind and tender heart that peace and happiness which she so well merits, and to which mine must now ever continue a stranger; and to feel the loss more sharply, from the sense of what I once, and still might have enjoyed.

I have, since that period, been several times very deeply in love; sometimes for a fortnight, sometimes for a month, but never exceeding the space of half a year. Some of my adventures with the fair sex have been so whimsical, that I do not think I can divert my