"Oft. when returning with her loaded bill, my would have made the boys I bought thefe of, put the neft back again. Mrs. Woodfield. If you had done fo, dear little boy, it would hardly, in this cafe, have anfwered your humane intention; for those idle boys, as foon as you were out of fight, would have taken the neft again, and have fold the poor birds to fome other perfon. What I mean is, not only to induce you to take care of them, fince they now depend on you, but to engage you, in every cafe, to put yourself in the place of whatever creature you are about to injure or opprefs; that you may acquire an babit of faying to yourself, How fhould I like to be treated thus? What fhould I fuffer, if I were in the place of the cat we are wantonly Hunting with our terriers? of the rooks which we are wounding with our arrows? of the ducks we are fetting the fpaniels at? Whoever learns early in life to make these reflections, will never have a reproach to make himself on the fcore of humanity, either towards the animal or the human species. Mrs. Woodfield (entering). "What they wear!" There is no term in the whole cant of frivolity that is half fo difgufting to me as that. Who are they, my dear Caroline, to whofe mode of drefs you are determined to pay fuch obfequious deference ? Caroline (confufed). Nay, aunt, I mean people that-people that are in the world, you know-that is-people-in fhort.... Mrs. Woodfield. That are not twaddlers and quizzes, and grubs and goodies, and half an hundred other Heury. But, mamma, grown people hunt, and shoot, and fish, and do not feem to think there is any cruel-odd ty in it! Mrs. Wacdfield. So far as it betomes neceffary to kill, for our fupport, the animals Providence bas allotted to us, there is nothing crimihal in it; but to prolong their tortures is highly fo, or wantonly to deftroy any living creatures that are innoxious. For to morrow's task, Edward fhall write out for me thefe lines, on the fubject of inferior animals, and even reptiles and infects: names, that you give to the folks you ufually meet with in the country. Tell me now, Caroline, if it would not have afforded you great pleafure, had you known of this bali foon enough, to have written flily to your fashionable friend, mifs Freemantle, to have fent you down fome very whimsical drefs, with a new name, fuch as, you imagine, having never been seen in this country, would make people stare? Caroline. I fhould not have ventured tured to have done it without your leave, aunt. Mrs. Woodfield. But, however, it would have given you pleasure. Caroline. Certainly; I fhould not like to appear anywhere but properly dreffed, if I could help it. thinks herself on the very pinnacle of politeness and elegance, I fee fome look upon her as a mad woman, and all confider her as a fool. Have you any ambition, Caroline, to fhare, with fuch a woman as Mrs. Scrafton, the ftare of ruftic amazement? Careline. Dear aunt, can you fuppofe I have? Mrs. Woodfield. Let us hear no more, then, of wishes to know what they wear. My mantua-maker, Mrs. Woodfield. And after all, what is fo proper' for a young perfon of your age, as perfect fimplicity and neatnefs? You are ftill in mourning, and would not, I hope, have" thrown it off an hour fooner on ac- who makes for the attornies' and count of this public meeting. Caroline. But all I am afraid of, is, that if one is not a little fashionable, one looks vulgar. apothecaries' wives in the next market-town, often forces me to fnile, by advifing me to have my gown made fo and fo, and affuring me they wear them fo: and when I ask who: the fimperingly informs me, that mifs Kitty Puffins, the daughter of Mr Puffins, an eminent oilman in Carnaby-market, has been down to fee her relations, the mifs Clutterbucks, and gave the mantaa-maker, mifs Gibfon, leave to look at her cloaths, which were made up new to come into the country, “quie in tafle.” Such are the rural hiftories of faions. The belies, who derive their Mrs. Woodfeld. It is infinitely more vulgar, to appear at fuch an affembly over-dreft. Believe me, my dear, mere drefs contributes nothing to that look of elegance, or, if you will, of fuperiority, that you feem fo jealous of. You will be convinced of this, if you should fee tomorrow evening, as you probably will, a lady, named Scrafton, who is the firft and the finest at all our rural affemblies; fhe is the wife of a man who has a small fortune in this coun-information from mifs Putins of ty, but is often in London, as he is Carnaby-market, will take the lead engaged in fome bufinefs there.-in elegance, perhaps for five miles This woman, who is fat, fhort, round, till fir James ****'s family crooked, and coarfe, and who has arrive from London, after the birthneither the manners, the air, nor day; and then the ton of articles à la the voice of a gentlewoman, is the Puffins will be entirely fupe: feded by greatest adept in fashions I ever faw. the knowledge acquired from the She runs about for a week before the happier few who are admitted to birthdays, from millener to millen-contemplate the fuperior elegance of er, to fee the ladies' cloaths, and then the ladies of that house. imagines fomething like the most Do you think, Caroline, fuch remarkable, with which to amaze her ephemeron triumphs as there are country neighbours. Her cloaths are worth a moment's thought? I am made up in every variety of extrava- far, however, from wifhing you engant fashion; and each habiliment tirely to decline appearing what is has fome foreign name that the can-called in the fashion; fuck, affe&tation not pronounce. Without the leaft regard to proportion or propriety, the dreffes out her unfortunate perfon in the wildest mode of the wildeft girl of fashion, and the Tect is, that the creates envy in the weak, and pity in the wife; and, while the would be as ridiculous on one hand, as running into its wildest exceffes is on the other. A young woman fhould drefs as the perfons of her age drefs, but without facrificing decency, common fente, or proportion. Nothing, perhaps, is a more glaring abfurdity, abfurdity, among all the weaknesses women are charged with, than the undiftinguishing avidity with which women of all ages and figures run into modes of drefs, that cannot become them all, and probably 'dffigure five out of fix. Some flender girl of fahion imagines, in the caprice of imputed perfections, a manner of dreffing which fhall flow every one of thofe perfections. It fucceeds; the men compliment, the miffes envy, and the mob wonder. In a few days, the fat red-faced matron of fifty; the dwarfish mifs, who has owed her little confequence to her heels and her head; the round, fnug damfel, as thick as fhe is long; and the genteel young lady, that has lived on vinegar till he is reduced to a ftudy for an anatomift; all follow the fashion but hardly are they established in it, before fome other, more prepofterous, fucceeds; and the former, "Like the bafe'efs fabric of a vision, Leaves not a wreck behind," unless it be in that defcription of perfons who, in Shakespeare's time, were called "The velvet guards, and Sunday citizens." I have often thought, that if it were poffible to have a fet of dolls dreffed in the fashions of the last two hundred years, it would be an amufing fpectacle, and not without its ufe, as a leffon to human vanity. The modes are now forgotten, and memory of mankind by the poets who have celebrated their names. Even the beautiful lady Coventry is obliged to Mafon for telling us what fhe was. "The liquid luftre of her eyes" is remembered but faintly by thofe who yet remember her. There is a fonnet of Drayton's, addressed to a lady, whofe merit he glories in being able to rescue from oblivion, which is appofite to this topic. It is not fo polifhed as modern poetry; but is highly expreffive of his opinion of the power of poefy, and of of whom it has been said, thofe objects of tranfient admiration, "They had no poet, and they died." Drayton's Sixth Sonnet. "How many foolish, paltry, painted things, That now in coaches trouble every street, Shall be forgotten (whom no poet fings) Ere they are well wrapp'd their winding sheet+ But I to thee eternity fhall give, When nothing else remaineth of thefe days, And queens hereafter shall be glad to live Upon the alms of thy fuperfluous praise "Virgins and matrons, reading thus my rhymes, ¡ftory, Shall be fo much delighted with thy That they fhall grieve they liv'd not in thefe times, [glory. To have seen thee, their fex's greatest For thou shalt foar above the vulgar throng, And ftill furvive in my immertal fong the names of the triflers who invent- DERWENT PRIORY; ed them are forgotten too; the only memorial that remains of either, 'exifts, perhaps, in fome book, where they are accidentally alluded to, and which the commentary of the antiquarian and the critic may have explained. Jt should be a leffon to the fpangled butterfly of the paffing day, and it fhould teach her the fuperiority of intellect over beauty, when she reflects that the charms of fo many A NOVEL. In a Series of Letters. (Continued from p. 513.) LETTER XV. Lady Laura to Mifs Rutland. Tavickenham, Sept. 20, 179 my dearest Ellen, that your tion lovely women live now only in the long letter occafioned ine.-Admira tion of your conduct, fear for your fafety, and anxiety for your health, by turns occupied my mind, as I purfued the interefting narration → Welcome, a thousand times welcome was it to my heart; for it relieved me from fufpenfe almost intolerable. To account for my uneafinefs, I muft inform you, that a few days before the date of the laft letter you wrote from the Priory, Mrs. Merioneth received one from lady Derwent, and immediately informed me, that you would fhortly expect my congratulation in the character of lady Bateman. Knowing your averfion to the man, I haftily exclaimed, "Surely they will not exact so severe a facrifice!" "What can you mean? (retorted my aunt)-Is it not an offer infinitely above her expectations?" In the evening we were at a ball, where I was again tormented by my fashionable lover. Entering the breakfast-parlour the next morning before Mrs. Merioneth was ftirring, behold, another letter from the Priory prefented itfelf, This letter, fo quickly following the other, greatly excited my curiofity. I had determined not to betray the leaft fymptom of anxiety: but, unfortunately, the entrance of my aunt put to flight all my wife refolutions, and (directing her eye to the letter) I exclaimed, "What can be the matter at the Priory, to occafion lady Derwent to write again fo early?" | "God forbid!" was my involun- "I hope, Laura, you do not condefcend to be the confidante of a girl who is but too willing to rebel against the first wishes of her best friends!” "By no means, my dear madam.tary -Ellen is too well informed to expect happiness from the poffeffion of wealth, or peace of mind from being dignified with the title of My lady.There are many other things neceffary to make marriage defirable, befides wealth and title." "The latter (the replied), I believe, you think might be easily dif penfed with." “I honour rank, madam, when it gives luftre to virtue; but do not think it of fufficient confequence to palliate or glofs the vices which difgrace human nature; nor can I help frequently exclaiming, with the bard, "What can ennahle knaves, or fools, or cowards? [ards!" I did not answer; and my aunt prefented the letter, which I will tranfcribe as faithfully as memory will permit. After relating the compromife they had made with lord Merioneth, her ladyfhip stated that my noble uncle deemed it quite neceffary to forget his promife, and to infift on your immediate acceptance of fir John. “I ventured (faid her ladyship) to plead my promifes to Albert, and my fears for the health of Ellen. "His lordship, fternly interruptAlas, not all the blood of all the Howing me, replied, 'Your first promise The appearance of company to me, madam, was obedience; and broke up the dialogue.-The mar- don't let me be at the trouble of quis of Langly was one of the again informing you, that I expect groupe; and I was heartily difgufted unequivocal compliance with every By the boisterous behaviour of this meafure neceffity may oblige me to epitome of fashion. He has de- adopt.' clared himself my admirer; and (ftrange to relate!) my aunt abfolutely encourages his vifits. VOL. XXVI. "Sir John entered, and I quitted the room. "In my own dreffing-room, I 44 was was met by Julia, who entreated | he, feizing the hand of Julia, who permillion to visit her friend; which I was constrained to refuse. "She called me unkind, and added, As you have banished my brother, there is double cruelty in preventing my fulfilling his laft wishes.' "Call not the conduct of your parents in question (faid I); but ever remember that the basis of their actions is their children's advantage." "We parted; and, the next day, being engaged to dine at Maplemount, we visited the invalid, and invited her to accompany us.-Sir John was of the party. She pleaded indifpofition, and I excufed her.Julia reluctantly left her friend, who, with great difficulty, wifhed us a pleasant ride.. "Difappointment loured on the brow of the earl, when I informed him Ellen was too much indifpofed to accompany us. "Mere foolery (faid he).-She is too fullen to oblige us." "Heavily paffed the day, and we returned home early in the evening. "On our arrival, every countenance betrayed confufion.-Kitty appeared:-Í haftil afked her if Ellen was worse? "I hope not, my lady:-but lord Merioneth-" "Speak! (faid I, breathlefs with expectation)-What of my fon?" Before the could answer, Julia entered, and (with a frantic wildnefs in her looks) exclaimed, Ellen is gone; my brother is distracted; and I fhall break my heart!-Oh, my unkind mother!-Is it thus you have acted for your children's good?' "Where is your brother?" "In the parlour with the earl." "Thither I haftened, and found him at high words with his father, who was in vain infifting on his filence. "I will be heard (said he, furioufly). I will proclaim your bafenefs -your perfidy.-Is this your attention to your helpless friend? (cried had followed me to the room.)→ Where is the poor wanderer?-To what difficulties may she not be expofed!-No friend to foothe her woe-worn mind!-no hand to fupport her fading form!-no heart to throb for her unmerited misfortunes!" "Thefe images seemed too pow erful. His agitation stopped his words, and he fuddenly quitted us. "Let him go (cried the earl).— A fresh breeze in the wood will be of service to him.” "Shocked at the careless manner with which he treated the fufferings of my poor Albert, I took the arm of Julia, and we entered the chamber fo lately occupied by Ellen -I rang for Kitty, and gave orders for the male domeftics to go different ways in search of lord Merioneth; and, in my name, entreat his return. "Kitty brought a letter fhe had found on my dreffing-table.-It was from Ellen, and written with a trembling hand. It informed me where I might find her jewels, which are valuable; and where, likewife, were thofe of her mother. "We opened the cabinet, and found every thing in the most perfect order. The letter wrung my very soul.-Above difguife, the informed me, that there was no way fo likely to restore tranquillity to my family as her abfence from it. "Lord Merioneth (fhe adds) muft not, on my account, be an exile from his friends. He is yet near the Priory.-I have seen him ;- but I have not spoke to him. - I fly from his ardent, his perfuafive entreaties, -I fly too from the fulfome addresses of a man I deteft:-and I will, if poffible, fly from the undermining treachery of my own fad heart.Yes! I will, if poffible, before I again addrefs your ladyfhip, conquer every fentiment but thofe that you may approve." "Long and fad was the letter but |