Walks by Messrs. John Webb, J. M. L, S. Y, &c. ;' it becomes necessary that an answer should be returned, if it is only to thank him for that trouble. As an individual I have only to answer for myself; and I hereby assure Mr. W. M. T. that I feel not a single particle of uneasiness on account of what he has said; nor is my respect for that gentleman (originally inspired by the beauty of his truly-poetical effusions) at all diminished; but, as he has not fairly stated the circumstances in the only part of my Night-Walk for July' he has thought proper to bring forward, it behoves me to reply to that.

I must previously observe that I am upwards of fifty miles from home, and have neither the manuscript of that Walk,' nor the Magazine that contains it, with me; but if I remember right, I stated it was owing to the sudden advance of a thunder-storm that I got completely soaked through;' and who that has been an observer of nature but must have found that the rapid motion of a thunder-cloud will often deceive a man's judgment, and involve him in a shower that must wet him through in a few seconds. Now from Mr. W. M. T's manner of stating this, any one, who had not perused the 'Walk,'would suppose that I had remained stupidly gazing at black clouds till the shower came on, that I might afterward have the pleasure of telling the public (who certainly have nothing to do with this, nor with nine tenths of every other matter that makes its appearance in a newspaper or magazine) that I got wet through, and for fear of taking cold drank a small glass of brandy, and changed every article of my

dress. It was not, however, the common kind of shower, Mr. W. M. T's language implies, that I encountered; no, the (silly trick) which I committed was that of staying on the sea shore to con template Nature in her grandest and most awful form: I beheld her, if I may dare to use the expression in replying to a critic, advancing towards me clad in a thunder-storm; and I found it a sublime contemplation.

I must here beg leave to notice Mr. W. M. T's putting the word small' in Italic, thereby endeavouring to insinuate it was more likely a large glass of brandy that I drank; this is my way of understanding it, and I think it will be that of most who read the Lady's Magazine. I have a peculiar satisfaction in stating here, that I am certain I am as sober a man as Mr. W. M. T. let him be who he will. I am aware that this is of small consequence to the public, but it will go to show them that Mr. W. M. T, with all his friendship for me, could not resist the temptation of insinuating something to my personal disadvantage,. even by so small a matter.

I must, in this place, thank Mr. W. M. T. for his favourable opinion of my ingenuity: as to my employing that ingenuity in a way more likely to add to my reputation, I can only say that my reputation, as a writer, is not of any great importance to me; I have always written as much for my own amusement as any thing else; though, by my writings, would not wish to outrage the common sense of the public. I shall here take occasion to say that I am by no means a competent person to write with, or against, Mr. W. M. T, who is

evidently, by his original pieces, and his translations, a man of much greater learning than myself: I am not ashamed to say that my education was confined to my native language, and I do not pretend to be very grammatically acquainted with that.

What Mr. W. M. T. observes on a piece called The Stroller,' by D. Y, perfectly and exactly agrees with my own opinion of it. With regard to the quotations used in the Walks', I think there can be no doubt that if any writer meets with a passage in an established author, which appears to him to convey his own ideas better than he could himself express them, he is not only justified in using it, but is entitled to praise for so doing; for he may thus glean the best passages of an author for the perusal of the Fair, who might otherwise perhaps never see them; or if they did, must have to wade through matter not at all interesting to them, or congenial to their feelings.

I shall here conclude by assuring you, sir, that, for my own part, I do not feel any thing like anger at your having inserted Mr. W. M. T's letter, the note to which is more than an apology for having done so I only ask that this may be also inserted; and at the same time assure both you and Mr. W. M. T, that whatever may be hereafter said, this letter shall be my first and last on the subject: I originally intended to finish the Night-Walks with the year: with your permission I intend still so to do; and I shall then leave off walking; but shall always, as an ld correspondent, consider my self, Sir,

Your obliged and obedient, Colchester, Nov. 6, 1907. J. M. L.

To the EDITOR of the LADY'S MAGAZINE.

SIR,

In your last Number I observe a Letter of 'Strictures by your correspondent W. M. T.; and, though I am but slightly touched, and feel very little of his critical rod, yet I think myself entitled to a short hearing.

As to my own trifle, The Harvest Evening,' I ce, tainly consider it, in point of language, very trifling indeed-and here I humbly bow to Mr. W. M. T.-but surely the subject may claim a place ra ther above a common-place incident.' For my own part, being acquainted with the parties, and the scene of the catastrophe being my birth-place, I thought it very affecting; and judged it an interesting truth for the perusal of your fair readers. Nor did I depend upon my own judgment, but have to boast the approbation of the ladies; and, like Mr. W. M. T, I boldly declare that it was written at the desire of several of your fair subscribers.' Why, then, Mr. Editor, should not my ladies ( your fuir subscribers') be obliged, as well as those of W. M. T's? In fact, sir, all are not to be pleased; and, as I am well assured that you would never introduce any thing with the expectation of its being uninteresting to your fair readers', I trust you will excuse the imperfections of my first effort, and (if it should so happen) admit my further contributions whether common-place incidents,' or not-so that they may be likely to please the majority.

I BEG W. M. T. will understand that I view his motives in their proper light;' and, with all due

WE have a curious instance of literary valour in Claude Terllon, who was both a poet and a warrior. By way of preface to his poems he informs the critics that if any attempt to censure him he will only condescend to answer him sword in hand.'

Though I do not wholly disclaim this mode, yet, as my pen lies first, I will, with your permission, (and with the indulgence of the editor) flourish that at you. But you must know, sir, that neither my natural or acquired abilities enable me to bully, so you must not expect it.

You will understand that your sarcasms will not intimidate me from declaring my sentiments. Upon my word you have thrown the gauntlet of scurrillity with a vengeance! and I should esteem myself equally meriting the censure, and guilty of a flagrant spe

cies of inattention and unpoliteness, were I not to notice the declamation. Really, sir, you are a modern Goliah in literature, (ycleped a critic!) and it must require a great many little Davids and modern Josephs to contend with you! It is a wonder, sir, you had not added-I was a poltroonof a Joseph-you must have really forgot it-pray try again!

I expected to have found my Walks' completely demolishedthe trunk of the old tree rent asunder! your cloud of scandal tọ have darkened the peeping ray of Aurora !--and enveloped the whole in oblivion !--your steps, sir, are crippled, you crossed my path upon the crutches of criticism, and yet, methinks, you was not carried▾ clean over!

It is hard to define, but I think I see you surrounded by a few antiquated females, as scurrilous, peevish, and as frigid as yourself. Methinks I see you poring over the pages of the Lady's Magazine, and every article that comes not in contact with your groveling ideas you pollute with the breath of scurrillity. I should hope my obambulation is not so offensive to the generality of the fair readers, as you and your peevish few wish to announce it.

We are told that criticism is a study by which men grow important at a very small expense; and he whom nature has made weak, and idleness keeps ignorant, may well support his vanity by the name of a critic;'-and we are likewise informed that Diogenes expressed his astonishment at the folly of critics in tormenting themselves so much to discover all the woes which Ulysses had suf fered, whilst their own miseries attracted none of their attention!

I am free to say, that within the circle of my female acquaintance, your contributions are much approved; and that they, with myself, hope long to be gratified with a continuance of them. Deem not this little panegyric venal praise, nor do I wish you to thank me; you fairly claim it. Believe me, sir, I do not suppose you so susceptible of flattery as Demosthenes was. It is said that he would stand on tiptoe to hear an old basket-woman speak in his praise; and we hear also that Cicero pauted after eulogies of the whole Roman people.

If you, sir, expect to be immortalized in your writing, (you will excuse me) I would advise you to be less censorious-and not let the ignis futuus of Critique mislead you.

I remain, with respect,
Sir, your most obsequions,
S. Y.

Nov. 2, 1807.

THE VICTIM OF SEDUCTION.

[From the Novel of [ SANTO SEBASTIANO; or, the YOUNG PROTECTOR.]

There lived in one of the neighbouring hamlets a most respectap'e woman, of the name of Banks, then in her eighty-first year, who had survived every individual of her family except a grand-daughter, on whom her venerable years fondly rested.

Fanny Banks, this darling grandchild, was then about twenty years old, and uncommonly handsome; for although her stature was rather below the middle size, her figure was strikingly neat, without the least of that clumsy or athletic

appearance which generally distin guishes the rustic race. Her eyes were dark, and sparkling with lustre and intelligence; her hair was shining, wavy chestnut; her complexion, clear brunette; her lips, coral; her teeth, white and even; and the bright vermilion of health tinted her dimpled cheeks.

Julia, very soon after her arrival at Delamore castle, had been introduced, by Lady Theodosia, at Dame Banks' cottage. The ve nerable dame soon captivated her fancy; and, infinitely pleased with fanuy, she often visited them. Much as she admired Fanny's beauty, she was more particularly struck by her affectionate attention to her aged parent; and upon this girl, whose understanding and manners seemed above her station, Julia bestowed many marks of her favour, and for which Fanny appeared most truly grateful.

Lucy had informed Julia, that Fanny Banks had been most constant in coming to inquire after her during the commencement of her illness; but in the latter and most dangerous part of it had not come near the castle at all.' This intelligence much surprised our heroine; and leading her to fear that either Dame Banks or Fanny herself was ill, she one morning took Edward for her escort, and rambled to the dame's cottage. She knocked several times at the door, which, to her surprise, was closed; and concluding, from receiving no answer, that her apprehensions were just, and that the illness of one confined the other up stairs, out of hearing of her knocks, she ventured to lift the latch and enter; when, to her utter dismay, she beheld the poor old dame, with the pale and ghastly countenance of horror and death, seated in her

high-backed wicker chair, her Bible open on a table before her. The ever-before neat hearth was now littered by the ashes of a fire, evidently not of that day. Hastily Julia advanced to the apparently insensible old woman, caught her chilled hand, and eagerly exclaimed

Oh! what, the dreadful, matter is ?'

The poor dame, aroused by her voice and touch, stared vacantly at her for a few moments; then, recognising her, burst into tears, snatched her hand away, and with that and her other covered her venerable face.—

6

.....

Ah! miss, madam!' she cried, I dare not now look upon you! In my old age, 'tis my luck to be ashamed to show my face. . . I have those belonging to me, that shame me. My grey hairs are scandalized; and my heart is broken !'

Oh! what, of terrible, can you mean?' said Julia, trembling with alarm. I fear to ask from you, but are you, alone quite ?'

Quite alone; and so left to die!..... Fanny, oh! Fanny has forsaken me, and virtue! I thought her, for the last three weeks, with her mother's family, that I have sometimes let her go to see:-but no, she deceived me;-she was with the base villain who seduced her, and led her from innocence, and me!....... Oh, Fanny! Fanny! how could you do so!-Oh! your dreadful letter broke your granny's heart!'

Poor dame!' said Edward, how she shakes with cold! I would get the bellows, and blow; but there is no spark left, to kindle the fire.'

dear dame! left alone, to your sorrows?-Alas! and Fanny could leave you, and do, so wrong!' said Julia, piteously.

Ah! dear me! I know nought that passed, since the post brought me that shocking letter, yesterday. I read it, and my heart seemed to break at once. I got my Biblefor it was all that was left to comfort me. I sat down to read; but could not. My head was gone: only now and then remembering my grief and shame, and finding I had no power to move. I sat here all night, I know; for once I remembered it was night-but the world is all night, and darkness, to me now!'.

Alas!' said Julia, I cannot make comfort for you; I cannot warm your so chilled heart; but I will do, my possible, for your poor trembling frame.'

Edward, long used to a cottage, and assisting his mother, was now of essential service to Julia; he helped her to find out the firing, taught her to strike a light; and between them, though both awkward from inexperience, they made up a fire. Julia then filled the teakettle at the well, put it on the fire, and ruinmaged some tea, sugar, and tea-things, out of the cupboard;-for she was determined upon making the poor heart-broken woman drink some tea, before she should leave her, to go and tell Lady Delamore of her situation, and to get some eligible person to stay with her; resolving not to call any of her immediate neighbours to her, as she saw the poor dame recoiled from the idea of seeing any of them.

Our benevolent heroine, at length, made some tea; and, by her resistless entreaties, prevailed upon the poor old sufferer to drink