or cottages, Olivia passed the mornings in bed, and the nights in dissipation; and Mrs. Stanwix was devoted to the cardtable. Destitute of mental resources she had always liked a sober game for amusement; but now she played deep, and her niece would probably have caught the infection, if a friend of Dr. Bryant's had not warned him of her peril. He narrowly observed her movements, and tried to engage her with more rational society; but she repelled with arch raillery every argument, or softened with tears every attempt to reprove her errors. The Doctor was in despair; all his skill could not minister to a mind diseased-unless an introduction to the handsome, elegant, undesigningly fascinating Hampden, might act with salubrious efficacy. He sent his sister to wait upon Melandria. That lady returned the compliment, but could not leave her nephew to accept an invitation to dinner. Dr. Bryant said he would dispense with punctilio, and diue with her. Hampden could do the honours of the table, though confined to the house. Olivia had been accustomed to homage as a divinity; Hampden behaved to her with the cordial frankness of a brother, and the easy gaiety of a polite gentleman. As the daughter of his venerated medical friend he regarded her with warm interest; but her features, complexion, and graceful form, made no impression disquieting his susceptibility till he discovered through the flimsy, yet entangling veil of tonish follies, a mind fraught with lovelier charms than any exterior attraction. Olivia was piqued by his tranquil kindness; she determined to subdue the insensible heart, and flattered herself that the lively pleasure she found in frequent calls upon Melandria originated in ambition for conquest, and in the pleasing vivacity of the aunt; but ere she suspected the fetters she was forging for herself, they were rivetted beyond recal. The Countess was figuring at Paris with many of her British intimates who made a party to the emporium of pleasure; and separated from those fashionables, Olivia's native propensities gradually revived. One forenoon she was ushered into Melandria's drawing-room, where she found Hampden alone, reading a fashionable magazine. She rallied the young gentleman upon this effeminate theme of his studies. He said his aunt had been called out on business soon after the Number arrived, and had bid him cut the leaves and glance it over to pass the time till her return. He was happy to find so much solid instruction in a lady's magazine; and confessed he had been very agreeably entertained. "Now," said Olivia, "though I am a subscriber, I never read a column unless I can discover some narrative clothed in figured, fanciful, and splendid drapery; for indeed I have an insatiable craving for wonders. I must dive into the ocean, or to subterranean scenes of supernatural production." "Here are marvels quite to your taste," said Hampden;" and not less wonderful than true. It is the great advantage of magazines to select from bulky tomes the most useful and amusing particulars for the fair, which saves them the trouble of wading through tedious, dull, or abstruse pages." 66 "If those wonders are really to my taste I shall allow you to direct my studies a whole month; and if they do not please me, I doom you to read every terrific German tale I can find during the same space." Agreed. Permit me to read, in the first place, an account of the sea anemone. You are an admirer of flowers; would you not be more delighted to behold sensitive creatures of floral form, red, green, white, orange, or yellow. They live only in salt water, and feed on fish, crabs, and mussels. If a part should be broken off it grows again, and are propagated like plants by shreds torn from the native flowers. If a small fish approaches, it shuts its petals upon it, and it is soon devoured." Olivia was now disposed to be delighted by any communication from Hampden. Dr. Bryant's watchful anxiety soon discovered the secret which the young people had hardly acknowledged to their own bosoms: he encouraged Hampden's addresses, and gave him to understand he would be accepted as a son-in-law. Olivia became Mrs. Hampden; yielded to the benign influence of a wise and amiable spouse, and, as the happiest, best of wives and mothers, smoothed the decline of life to her father. HISTORY OF A PIN.-FROM THE FRENCH. MADAME DE MAINTENON had received, as a present, from the Abbé Gobelin, her confessor, a pincushion, which fell, one day, out of her pocket, as she was paying a visit to the famous Ninon de L'Enclos. This lady, as curious as the rest of her sex, made Madame de Maintenon blush, by asking her a thousand embarrassing questions; as, where did she get that pincushion? Was it Villarçeau who had given it her? Was it Chevreuse? Was it the King himself?—No, it was the pious and holy director. Ninon was astouished. "I could never have imagined," said she, "that the Abbé Gobelin could have been capable of exciting my curiosity in such a manner: but since it has so fallen out, I will have the honour of placing the first pin in this pincushion. There is one, now, that I have stuck in this ribbon only to remind me that Lachatre is to visit me this evening; the placing this pin there first, will only serve to render the adventure more piquant.” See, then, the first pin in this pincushion belonging to the greatest prude about the court, placed there by the hand of the most celebrated courtesan in Paris. At this period, Madame de Montespan began to repent having introduced so dangerous a rival as Madame de Maintenon into the palace. One summer's day, during her promenade, the heat of the sun being more. intense than usual, she found herself very much oppressed by it. Wishing also to conceal a few tears that, in spite of all her efforts, gushed from her eyes, she endeavoured to throw a gauze veil over her face, but the wind continually bore it upwards. Her temper, never of the best, did not require this contradiction to sour it; and she impatiently asked Madame de Maintenon to give her a piu, who, after looking over her pincushion, said, mildly, that she had not one: for she did not reckon the pin Ninon had given her, which, at that moment, fastened her neck-kerchief, and which her native modesty would not allow her to displace. "Pardon me, Madame," said the Marchioness de Montespan, angrily, "you have one, but you are so disagreeable to-day!" and so saying, she very imprudently snatched the pin which served to conceal the sacred charms of Madanie de Maintenon. The amorous Louis was a spectator-and Madame de Montespan, in a rage at seeing, by the looks of the monarch, what was passing in his heart, and having wounded herself, by her haste, in her finger till the blood came, she vented all her ill-humour on Madame de Maintenon, and threw the pin away with vexation. The King picked it up, and exclaimed, with his usual gallantry, "Henceforward this shall be mine, since it is stained with blood so precious as yours." Very soon this famous pin again came into the hands of Madame de Maintenon; and it was on one fine day, that, as the hand of the monarch, after some resistance, had taken it from an envious haudkerchief, that, by capitulation with the lady, he again became possessor of this memorable pin. Louis XIV. placed it carefully in his casket of jewels, where it remained idle till that remarkable epoch when James II. King of England, betrayed by his subjects, was driven from his throne by the Prince of Orange, and went to take refuge at St. Germaius, with the Queen and Prince of Wales. It is well known that Louis received him with magnificence, and yielded up his own apartment to the fallen monarch. As he was going to meet him, Madame de Maintenon, who regarded this moment as the most glorious in the King's life, wished to add to a diamond loop which fastened his hat, a plume of white feathers, tied with a ribbon on which she had embroidered the following words-If James had been like Louis, his subjects would all have remained faithful. This legend, which flattered at once the feelings and the vanity of the King, pleased him extremely; but he wished, in wearing it, to keep it secret. He, therefore, called to him Bontems, his favourite valet-de-chambre, told him to bring him his casket of jewels, and taking out, with that peculiar grace which belonged to him alone, the cherished pin, he said, "Madame, this only is worthy to fasten and conceal the precious words you have embroidered, and to which this mysterious pin will lend new charms." Madame de Maintenon cast down her eyes, fastened the ribbon with the pin, which, having fulfilled the use to which it was destined, was again replaced with care in the precious case, after the august monarch had consoled, on his throne, the unfortunate James, who had just abdicated his own. We leave, for awhile, Louis XIV. to finish his reign, sometimes at the height of power and glory, at others within two inches of destruction. Let us pass over the period of the regency; and leave our pin lying idle in the late King's casket, either from forgetfuluess or veneration, never having been employed during the whole of that time. We hasten towards the end of the reign of Louis XV. when the pin came again into employ through a very extraordinary adventure. : of the 10th of October, 1685. In one of the corners of the casket was a little case of amber, of exquisite workmanship, in which was enclosed the famous legend given to the King by Madame de Maintenon on the day of the arrival of James II. at St. Germain, and the celebrated pin fastened to the two ends of the ribbon with a paper, on which was written the anecdote that rendered the pin of such intrinsic value. To open the paper, to read the legend, to take possession of the pin, and break the amber case, was, for Madame de Barry, only the work of a moment; who, giving herself up to all the despotism of her own will, never listened to any thing that was offered in opposition to it. "I shall keep this pin," said she; "and it shall, this day, fasten the plume of feathers I mean to wear on my head." In vain the King tried to oppose his arguments against it: there are cases in which opposition only is the forerunner of new weaknesses. The King declared he would not expose himself to the consequences of losing this pin, so precious to his grandfather: but his mistress, as careless as she was insolent, had already gained her apartment, and was occupied in fastening an elegant plume of feathers with that very pin, which had been heretofore consecrated to glory and to love. This little incident happened precisely at that moment when M. D'Aguillon felt almost certain of seeing that intrigue end happily which he had formed with Madame de Barry, to dismiss from court M. de Choiseuil. The ease and familiarity with which Madame de Barry behaved towards Louis XV. is well known nothing was sacred from her sallies, whether idleness or folly were the motives which actuated her. One day after dinner, not knowing how to support a languid and desultory conversation, she took it into her head to open a closet, where the King kept a great number of curious articles belonging to his ancestors. Important and rare manuscripts, curiosities of different kinds; and all these things the favourite threw pêle-mêle, one over the other, notwithstanding all the remonstrances of the King, who, losing the monarch in the lover, had, for a long time, lost his dignity in an unbounded compli ance with the will and fancies of his mistress. In the midst of this devastation, the jewel-casket of Louis XIV. fell from the hand of her to whom that refined monarch would never certainly have confided it. It was filled with the most beautiful diamonds, with an enamelled ring that had formerly belonged to Madame de Maintenon, and which was ornamented with all the heavenly attributes; and on the inside was In the meantime things came to that engraven all that love and elegant wit could crisis, that, yielding to the instances and invent, in the most tender devices and ama- importunities of those who surrounded tory embellishments. There was, besides, him, he consented, from mere complaisance, a little cross of violet-coloured wood, made to take a step which wounded his own in memory of the revocation of the edict vanity, but which appeared the only way of Nantes, on which was engraven the || of parrying the last stroke levelled at him names of Letellier, M. Pere Lachaise, and by the King's mistress and her powerful Madame de Maintenon, with the fatal date "party. The minister, as fortunate as he was adroit, had, for a long time, suffered the storm to gather over his head; and without embarrassing his numerous friends by his fears, and who, by their imprudence, might only have injured him, he appeared always easy, and sure of keeping in his exalted station. He had always thought that there were only two ways for an able and captivating man to succeed with a woman, who might be, perhaps, his most inveterate enemy. These methods had always been successful, and with a head as fertile as his, to think and act were the same thing. He, therefore, approached the Countess, and seemed to contemplate her with admiration: he spoke to her with gaiety and freedom; slightly lamented that he had caused her that momentary ill-humour, which only served to render her yet more lovely; and assured her that one quarter of an hour's conversation would easily destroy all those prejudices that she had conceived against him and he made himself so insinuating, that the triumvirate, composed of the Chancellor, the Duke D'Aiguillon, and the Abbé Teray, began to fear the success of an intrigue which had, till then, seemed so well conducted. Again they assailed the Countess, and endeavoured to keep her from forming any connection with so formidable a man. But the rendezvous, under the title of explanation of business, had already been appointed (and was to take place in the minister's cabinet) by the dangerous favourite, who was highly amused in keeping the matter secret, and whether through caprice, or from the wish of not appearing inconsequent, she would not give it up, but promised to reject, in the most positive manner, every proposal that might be inimical to the interests of her friends. tire, exhibited his hideous bare head.Sometimes she would pierce with it the lame leg of the Abbé Teray; or the back of Cardinal Giraudi; who, in quality of the Pope's nuncio, thought it an honour to put the slippers of the favourite on her pretty little feet: and all these mischievous tricks only rendered the pin doubly dear to Madame de Barry. At length the day of rendezvous arrived. It was at six o'clock; and the King had been at the chace: he was expected to return late. Monsieur de Choiseul had put off twenty important rendezvous. Every thing seemed to conspire to set his mind at ease, and to afford him every hope of a reconciliation; which, though it wounded his pride, he thought he ought not to refuse to his friends. The two folding-doors were thrown open, and Madame de Barry made her appearance, in a dress conspicuous more for its elegance than for its splendour; her beautiful tresses hung in careless ringlets, but in the arrangement of which the utmost art had been resorted to; and she wore, on one side of her bosom, a superb bouquet of those flowers that were in season, fastened together with a knot of ribbons, and fixed to her bust by the famous pin. She appeared like Venus descending from Mount Olympus: but, unfortunately, the ideas of Monsieur de Choiseul were merely terrestrial; and, in the beautiful Countess before him, he saw no other deity than the charming ci-devant courtesan, L'Ange. "Well, Monsieur," said she, flinging herself on a sofa," you will not do what I require of you; I am very angry with you, that you may be assured of: it is not with impunity that a woman in my situation should be denied what she asks, and I hope the King will see justice done me." The air of dignity with which she pronounced these words, was so diametrically opposite It is right to inform the reader, before we proceed any further, that for several days the King had asked, with some degree of ill-humour, and that over and over again, of Madame de Barry to restore him the pin; but she, to vex him, always told him she had lost it: and when the King wished to make her sensible that this pin had formerly belonged to Louis XIV. and was even connected with some of the most into the voluptuousness of her outward apportant circumstances of his life, she ought, he told her, not only to have preserved it, but to have respected it. But Madame de Barry, from the mere spirit of contradiction, made the pin subservient to the most whimsical offices. Sometimes she would make use of it to fasten the Chancellor's wig to her window-curtain, who, when he rose to re pearance, that the Duke could not forbear smiling; and answered her by a flattering kind of sarcasm, of which she felt all the point. She replied with an acrimony that Monsieur de Choiseul affected to mistake for mere caprice, only put on to give more variety to her attractions, and which he thought to put an end to by his temerity. Perhaps he might not have met with a repulse had not that confounded pin, always fated to play an important part, presented its point, tore a beautiful lace ruffle, and most unmercifully scratched his wrist. He cried out, and quitted her in haste. Madame de Barry, who had no notion of the accident that had befallen him, thought herself insulted in the very moment when, perhaps, she was on the point of granting his pardon. She precipitately quitted the apartment, without the bleeding hand daring to detain her. The minister was dismissed two days afterwards; and as he was going to Chanteloup, the place of his exile, as every one in the carriage was speaking of the cause of his disgrace, he answered by the following words, which were an enigma to them all-" A pin has changed the destiny of France." Scarce had the favourite gained her own apartment, before the King returned from hunting. His mistress flew to meet him, impressed with the desire of vengeance for the imaginary affront she had received.Never had the monarch beheld her so tender. This gave him an opportunity of asking her again for the pin: it was restor ed to him, again carefully put by, without the monarch` imagining how useful it had been to him. We will now leave the pin safe lodged again in the royal casket, and we shall soon see how it got out in the succeeding reign, never to be placed there again. (To be concluded in our next.) THE LISTENER. I RECEIVED last night the two following letters; they require no comment; that signed INQUISITOR merits serious at tention. TO TIMOTHY HEARWELL, ESQ. SIR, Whether you be a sectary of Heraclites or of Democrites of old; whether you be inclined to laugh at the miseries of human life, or to weep at the follies of our frail human race; I cannot question, from the correspondence addressed to you, your being endowed with an uncommon share of patience and good nature, and flatter myself accordingly that, by informing you, at once, that I am a foreigner, I shall be entitled to more indulgence, and that my observations may perhaps be listened to with more attention, from the same principle that imported gew-gaws will fetch a higher price than home manufactured goods. Accustomed to hear the English called (no offence intended) a nation of shopkeepers, the first object of my curiosity was naturally to visit those shops so highly spoken of; neither could I help admiring the taste and ingeniousness with which every article, so trifling as it may be, is exposed to the view of passengers, and consequently must command numberless purchasers. This mode of inviting customers no one can find fault with; but a certain method adopted in many shops cannot fail, I think, of creating serious and gloomy reflections. It hurts me, for instance, when I see, in a confectioner and pastry-cook's shop, a young woman obliged to stand up nearly all day long, or, at least, to rise whenever any individual, high or low, a modest woman or an impure one, enters the place. If the girl be handsome (oh! unconquerable power of beauty!) I feel still more for her. I regret a man not filling the situation: but it would not answer, I am told, the purpose of the master or mistress of the house. Mothers, governesses, and children alone, if that were the case, would enter their doors; whereas the hired brunette is an inducement to the grown children, or bucks, as they are called, who will gobble as many shillings' worth of icecream as the others can eat pennyworths of cakes. Those bloods ogle and talk nonsense, if not worse, to the poor creature behind the counter. If she be modest and virtuous, how liable to seduction! The only character inquired into, before she is hired, is, whether she is honest; by which is meant, incapable of robbing the till.— Now this same poor girl must be neatly dressed, and her wages are so very scanty that it cannot be credited they will suffice |