The following is a relic of still greater with my happy indifference concerning curiosity:

disgust of seeing the insipid and com-
mon offices of the city or its neighbour-.
hood, during the first part of the day,
and when necessarily obliged to rise
from restlessness, delicious liquors are
provided for the men, and lulling nareo-
ticks for the women, whereby a delight-
ful confusion is created in the mind,
until the business of the succeeding
evening calls them forth to fresh plea-
sures. Our men and women have long
since adopted the refined fashion of ly-
ing alternately at the midnight ban-
quet, and if our ladies do not permit
us to see so much of the parting bo-
som as they do with you, they conceal,
I assure you, what is better worth at-
tending to, for our air is both purer
and better than your's, and the salu-
brity of the climate enables all of us.
to pursue the delights of society on
firmer and better ground than can be
enjoyed by those who are relaxed and
enfeebled by the sickly influence of
Campania. One inconveniency, I must
however admit, which is owing to the
novelty of our improvement: Our
women are not quite so delightfully
varied and interesting, either in conver-
sation and real accomplishments of the
understanding, as those of Rome and
Athens, but in the pursuit of pleasure
they are indefatigable, going to every
place of amusement for their improve-

sist, as I esteem, in tasting every plea- || the night, they spare themselves the sure to the utmost boundary of health, and fortune, and reputation, and even a little beyond the last. When our circumstances enable us to brave the censure of the Cynicks, here we have as much sense, and more spirit than you have, for our fortunes are by no means equal to our abilities. Few are the sources of wealth with us, That flows from all the world to the Seven Hills, with an uniform and immense stream, disobeying the old laws of nature, and flowing upwards from the boundless ocean to the capital: Some among us, indeed, have been in Bythynia, as I have been, and to better purpose, for they have brought home with them what would have prevented me from leaving Rome, or added to the riches of your illustrious father-in-law, by a modern testament or proscription, suited to the temper and fortune of these happy times. Those sons of fortune and the provinces, who are afraid of being made spunges of in the golden palaces of Rome, drop, without compulsion, enough in this city to make us all open our Tantalean lips to taste the nectareous juice, and whilst these fortunate men are scattering their Aurei among the handmaids of luxury and pleasure, the poor, but elegant provincials of this country, are straining every nerve to carry their whole fortune on their backs or in their bellies, to regalement, and sometimes to two, three their ears with the music of Cepio, or feast their eyes with the significantly voluptious motions of our dancers at the Theatre, to behold the wrestling and boxing of gladiators, the fighting of various animals, and thus deliciously prolonging their pleasures through

and even four in an evening, so that they will gradually attain the object of their ambition, which at present is chiefly directed towards the public amusements, themselves as a primary object, and the killing of time; but by degrees this will wear off, for time, O

Capito, is necessary to fortify the mind not only against the accidents of fortune, but disappointment in the pursuit of pleasure.

In short, my friendly Capito, we do hardly any thing here, but crowd together in small apartments, wandering about to the neglect of the rational amusements of the theatre; which are prepared for us at a great expence of genius and wealth, and without increasing our happiness, political, moral, or domestic. We can endure nothing that is grave, we fiddle, we box, we drive quadridge, four horses in

| hand, we love, we chatter, we frisk about the streets, we drink falernian at the first hour, and we drink it again in the evening; we amuse ourselves with our friends wives, and our friends amuse themselves with ours; nay, there is a province of ours where wives can divorce their husbands when they tire of them. Judge then, dear Capito, for yourself, concerning my situation, the sketch of which may perhaps amuse the circle of your friends at Rome, whom I hope, through your mediation, to embrace before many days.-Farewell,

The bittern's quavering trump on high,
The beetle's drowsy distant hum,
Have sung the day's wild lullaby;
And yet my Peggy is not come.

The golden primrose from the wood,

The scented hawthorn's snowy flower,
Mixed with the laurel buds; I've strew'd,
Deep in my Peggy's woodland bower.

O! come my love, the branches link,
Above our bed of blossoms new;
The stars behind their curtains wink.

To spare thine eyes so soft and blue.

No human eye, nor heavenly gem,
With envious smile our bliss shall see,
The mountain ash, his diadem,

Shall spread to shield the dews from thee.

O! let me hear thy fairy tread,

Come gliding through the broomwood still;
Then on my bosom lean thy head,

Till dawning crown the distant hill.

And I will watch thy witching smile,
List what has caus'd thy long delay,
And kiss thy melting lips the while,
Till die the sweet reproof away.

THE HARPER OF MULL.

When my Nancy was true, oh! how blythe rose the morning,
How light was my heart at the close of the day,

With my wild harp and song, every other care scorning;
My love-winged hours flew unnoticed away,

When I struck the soft notes, and she list ning approved them,
And in accents of tenderness echoed the strain,

How doubly sweet were the notes,---for she lov'd them.
How oft, when alone, have I struck them again.

Ah! moments too blest when transported we wander'd,
And she deck'd my gay harp with the flowers of the glen,
While beneath the proud beach and the hazel, meander'd,
The riv❜let, responsively murm'ring unseen,

In the sweet Lirchen bower, the turf seat overshading,
On my neck o'er my harp oft enraptured she hung,
No footstep the kiss-clad soft moment invading,
Love beamed in the eye, and inspired the tongue.

'Mid these scenes by the moon beam I still love to linger,
In sorrow and silence their beauties survey,

And still on my harp, oft unconscious my finger,

Attempts to awaken some favourite lay;

Though Nancy was false, yet my love never alter'd,

My spirits are wasted my heart is too full,

He struck the strings faintly---more faintly---he faulter'd ;--Now silent forever the Harper of Mull.

EDINBURGH-Printed at the Star Office, (price 4d. a single Number, 4s. 6d. per quarter, deliverable in town, and 5s. when sent to the country), by A. AIKMAN, for the PROPRIETORS; where Subscriptions, and Communications, (post paid), will be received.

The Spy.

SATURDAY, MAY 11.