by Prince Eugene to be present at a review of the Austrian Cuirassiers, which were a body of ten thousand horse, and said to be the finest troops in Europe: during the review, Prince Eugene turned to an English officer, who had accompanied my Lord Cadogan, and asked him if he thought "that any ten thousand English horse could beat those Austrians?". "I do not know, Sir," says the English officer, "whether they could or not: but I know that five thousand would try." This was a spirited answer, and such as the question deserved; for in this instance the Prince seemed to have dropped his politeness.

Characters.

THE TWO BROTHERS.

THERE is no place I have ever seen which I review with so much pleasure and satisfaction as the place of my school education,* and the scenes of my boyhood. I feel a thrilling secret joy in every street I pass through. How many agreeable trifles and little amusements do I recollect at almost every step! All my actions were then very innocent, and my errors and follies excusable: not so after I had entered into the great world!

Mr. Lesley, a very eminent nonjuring Cler

gyman, the author of the Rehearsals, and of many other political and controversial tracts, during the reigns of King William and Queen Anne, left two sons, with whom I was intimately acquainted. They were both men of good parts and learning; but in their disposition and manners they were so very different, that they did not seem to be of the same family,

nor even of the same nation. The elder bro

ther was overbearing and talkative; and, though he was sometimes an agreeable companion, yet he oftener tired and disgusted his company. He was so careless of his private affairs, that he could never be prevailed on to examine his agent's accounts. I have somefines jocularly asked him if he knew the value of our coin, or the real difference between a piece of copper and a piece of silver of the same weight; for often, when I have been Walking with him in the streets, he has given a beggar, who importuned him for an halfpenny, half a crown; (for he always gave the first piece that came to his hand) but not from any principle of charity, but merely from his contempt of money, and to be rid of the beggar's importunity; so that a small number of artful mendicants would often watch his metions, and by this means empty his pockets before he returned home.

* My mother having died of the small-pox when I was about seven years old, I was sent by my grand-father, Sir William Smyth, to Salisbury, and placed under the care of Mr. Taylor, the

master of the Free-School in that city. There were at that time two very flourishing schools in Salisbury.

Robin to beggars, with a curse,
Flings the last shilling in his purse:
And, when the coachiman comes for pay,
The rogue must call another day.

Young Harry, when the poor are pressing,
Gives them a penny, and God's blessing;
But, always careful of the main,

With twopence left walks home in rain.*

Harry Lesley, the younger brother, who had been a Colonel in the Spanish army, was grave, modest, and very well bred. He seldom talked of any thing which he did not perfectly understand; and he was always heard with pleasure. With an estate, worth about 5001. per annum, he made a good figure, kept a very hospitable table, and was universally esteemed by all his neighbours and acquaintance; for he was a Gentleman of great honour and probity, and great goodness of heart. In his last sickness he ordered his manu

scripts to be sent to me: amongst which are many essays which are worthy of being offered to the public.

Correspondence.

DISCONTENTED HUSBANDS. To the Editor of the Tickler Magazine. SIR---In a certain convivial company a few evenings ago, I could not help noticing several persons who appeared peculiarly solicitous to prolong the entertainment of the evening; these per son's remaining with myself till the major part of the company were retired, by degrees noisy mer riment was supplanted by serious conversation.

I was not a little surprised to find my companions were all married men; but my surprise was greatly increased, at hearing each assert that matrimony (a state for which I have the highest veneration,) had rendered them unhappy; and that to avoid melancholy reflections, they were compelled to seek refuge in the tumult of conviviality.

Irresistibly impelled by the strongest curiosity, I could not forbear enquiring into the immediate occasion of that want of felicity which they complained of; when the person to whom I addressed myself, replied in the following words:

"The avarice of my father, combined with my own imprudence, precipitated me at an early age into a marriage; which though conducive to my interest (as far as interest is connected with wealth), is an insurmountable barrier between me and happiness. Disgusted with the person of my wife, in vain I strive to reconcile myself to her, each succeeding day increases my aversion, and renders her more odious to my sight. Whatever philosophers may assert, beauty is--"

66

Of small importance in the scale of happiness (interrupted the gentleman who sat next

*This is part of a manuscript poem, written by Dr. Swift, in which, in his humorous nanner, he has drawn a character of the two brothers.

him.) I, in the folly of youth, allured by the tinsel charms of a beautiful person, hastily entered the marriage state, without any endeavour to investigate the mind of the person, with whom I was about to be inseparably connected. The consequences may be easily imagined; satiated with possession, her beauty has faded to my view; and sullen ill-nature (the most prominent feature of her character), corroding each hour with discord, and vexation, causes me incessantly to regret my rashness in chusing a partner for life, unadorned with that all-endearing charm, which surpasses all beauty -good nature."

Yet even good-nature (observed a third) will not ensure felicity. My wife, though possessed of genuine good-nature, is incapable of rendering me happy, or even comfortable. Her mind, unenlightened by nature, and unrefined by education, is deficient in all those soft accomplishments that exalt the sex, and render a woman interesting: destitute of that delicate sensibility, that”

"Hang sensibility! (exclaimed the gentle man who sat opposite, with great eagerness) sensibility is the destroyer of my ease: I cannot take a fish from my pond, or shoot a sparrow, without offending the sensibility of my wife."

66

My partner in life (observed another,) though free from those failings which have been enumerated, possesses one of no less magnitude; unsatisfied with the society of those whose circumstances resembling our own, place us on a footing of equality, she aspires to associate, and form connections, with persons whose rank and fortune exalt them to a more elevated sphere than we can possibly move in. In consequence of this, a thousand expenses, as superfluous as extravagant, are daily incur red, to avoid the hateful sight of which I am compelled to seek refuge here."

My spouse (cried a gentleman, on his right hand,) has a failing equally great, though immediately opposite: her economy is such, that she never will make welcome; nor can I ever regale a friend, with any degree of comfort, in my own house."

One lamented youth, and another the age of his wife; one complained of a redundancy of wit, which incessantly galled him; and another deplored the want of it to enliven him. When a gentleman who had hitherto been silent, spoke as follows, with great gravity.

"Gentlemen, my consort unites with beauty and good nature, a mind naturally elevated, adorned with all the graces, and refined accomplishments, which a liberal education can acquire. She is neither curst with a squeamish affectation of delicacy, or an unfeeling insensibility; she is neither parsimoniously mean, nor ostentatiously lavish; her conversation is free, lively, and unembarrassed; there is no desparity in our ages: yet still I cannot boast

of felicity. My wife has been always remarkable for her gaiety, and I have ever been distinguished for my gravity; our pursuits are consequently different; incapable of participating in the plea sures of each other, we cannot associate as I would wish; I behold myself in possession of an invaluable mine, yet wholly unable to convert the treasure it contains to my advantage; thus situated, a secret melancholy, in defiance of the strongest efforts of reason and philosophy, preys on me, over which I endeavour to wear a mask of satisfaction, lest the contagion should extend. I see my weakness, but cannot overcome it; and in order in some measure to drown the gloomy ideas which haunt my mind, at the instance of a friend, I mingle in these scenes of mirth and joviality."

He paused, and a profound silence ensued: which I at length broke; by saying “We should not expect consummate happiness in this world." True, Sir (resumed the gentleman), yet still, I conceive that a much greater share may be obtained than either of us appear to enjoy; and a wife would prove conducive to our felicity, if rightly chosen; but the difficulty is in choosing; it is not so much beauty, so much wit, nor so much good nature, that will rightly direct a man in his choice: when we purchase a suit of clothes, it is not sufficient that we know the cloth to be good, it is essential to see they fit us; an excellent suit, which fit one man well, would make another appear ridiculous; and feel much more uncomfortable, than he would in one of an inferior quality, properly adapted to him. So it is with woman; she may possess many valuable accomplish ments, which (though held in general estim tion) may fall to the lot of one, who incapable of appreciating their true value, would derive more pleasure from the display ofinferior merits, of a different description. The qualities which please one man, disgust another. When a man is about to choose a partner for life, he should seek one possessed of such qualities, as he thinks will best accord with his own; minds exactly similar may not always prove best adapted to come together; to constitute true happiness, the minds, like the sexes, should be accommo dated to each other.

SIR,

TOBY THATCH. *

MARRIAGES IN LENT,

To the Editor of the Tickler Magazine.

To remove an error into which some per sons have fallen, respecting marriages during Lent, I request you to insert in your valuable miscellany, the following remark:

The 62nd canon forbids clergymen to join any person in marriage, at any unseasonable times but only between, the hours of eight and twelve in the forenoon. "The word unseasonable," as Bishop Gibson observes in his codex

SIR,

2,

In your Tickler for January (No. 1, Vol. page 14) is an article called "Revenge, &c." said to be "from an American Paper.' These words seem to imply, that it is of American Manufacture, whereas it was originally published in "LEE's Poetic Impressions." The author (Mr. Lee) is a friend of mine, and I would thank you to re-insert it, after the following more correct copy. For in travelling to America and back again, it has become very

erroneous.

to ourselves, but makes the most unguarded of our actions in some measure pleasing to every body else.

Good humour we might perhaps not improperly term the most amiable species of politeness, since it has so apparent a tendency to promote the universal satisfaction, and so natural an aversion to observe the faults of our acquaintance; but what, in the opinion of the more sensible, can give superficial politeness a preference to this blooming daughter of good-nature and humanity, I am absolutely at a loss to conceive: unless they find it necessary to assume the appearance, in order to attain the reality; and by practising a behaviour they should despise, establish the foundation of a conduct they ought to love.

If to make room for the establishment of universal good humour was the only motive for wearing a pretended politeness, the appearance of this quality might be in some degree allowable; but the man of true politeness is a character as difficult to be found as the woman of real good humour; and all we generally understand by the former of these words, is an agreeable manner of conversing with our friends, and giving our sentiments an air of delicacy superior to the generality of mankind : and were we to inquire into the common acception of the world; the barely not wishing to offend, might be found the determinate signification of the latter.

Though it is possible that good humour and politeness may differ a little in their meaning, and that a person may be infinitely agreeable without any extraordinary share of elegance; yet I fancy that to be truly polite it is absolutely necessary to be really good humoured; as the affectation of being pleased with every trifle we meet with, must otherwise sit very awkwardly, and some time or other betray a man into a behaviour, that may forfeit his chaacter of politeness in the opinion of half his acquain

tance.

Though from what has been said, good humour and politeness must appear to be closely connected, yet the more exalted ranks of life have monopolized politeness to themselves, and not thinking good humour worth the possession, have quietly resigned her to their inferiors: it would be the greatest derogation in a man of quality to think of stooping to the one, and the highest presumption in a tradesman to make the smallest pretension to the other.

It has been the observation of several authors, that the manners of the men are generally formed by approbation of the ladies'; and that one half of mankind would be as much devoted to the pursuit of virtue and honour, as they are now addicted to folly and impertinence, could a conduct of that nature procure a recommendation to their favour: but these sensible gentlemen have not been equally candid in remarking, that were the men a little more attentive to the bahaviour than the dress of

their mistresses, the women would be less fond of fools and coxcombs; and that by a rational endeavour to please, a reformation might be elfected in each of the sexes, that would essentially procure the happiness of both: but since the men are so falsely polite as to admire the conversation of a beautiful ideot, where is the wonder if a woman is good humoured enough not to be offended at the addresses of a blockhead.

Mr. Pope has particularly recommended good humour to the study of the ladies, as one of the greatest additions to the most beautiful face, and the surest preservative of the most wavering heart: this happy serenity of thinking, is admirably expressed by the celebrated poet in the following lines, and strongly paints what the generality of the fair sex are too frequently found not to be, by shewing what they should: O! blest with temper, whose unclouded ray Can make to-morrow chearful as to-day; She who can own a sister's charms, and hear Sighs for a daughter with unwounded ear, Who never answers till her husband cools, Or, if she rules him, never shews she rules: Charms by accepting, by submitting sways, And has her humour most when she obeys: Spleen, vapours, and small-pox, above them all, And mistress of herself-tho' china fall,

In order however that none of our readers may be misled by a pretension to a politeness and an affectation of good humour, we shall close this essay with some negative rules, which, in shewing what these qualifications are not, may fix the absolute criterion of what they are: and though both the sexes have an equal claim to good humour and politeness, yet the first being more generally ascribed to the ladies, as the the latter is to the gentlemen, we shall beg leave to confine ourselves to one of the sexes in the non-definition of both.

To begin then with the ladies:

Whenever a lady feels any uneasiness at hearing the praises of another-Not good

humoured.

Whenever she is disgusted at not being thought the finest creature in the world-Not good humoured.

Whenever she finds fault with the dress of an acquaintance more elegant than her own— Not good humoured.

Whenever she kindly bestows the appellation of fright, or odious, upon another, for talking with a puppy she would wish to dangle with herself Not good humoured.

Whenever she declines listening to an account of her own perfections-Not good humoured.

Whenever she forgets a morning's consultation with her looking-glass-Not good humoured.

And whenever she is in the least displeased with herself O, by no manner of means good humoured.

Now for the gentlemen,

Whenever a man pays a compliment seriously in opposition to his own reason, and every body's opinion-Not polite.

Whenever he expresses a particular esteem, and yet wilfully exposes some little error in the conduct of the man he pretends to valueNot polite.

Whenever he supports a scandalous lye with a horrid imprecation-Not polite.

Whenever he insinuates à particular connec tion with a woman he never spoke to-Not polite.

Whenever he draws his sword, where he knows he must be prevented from using it— Neither manly nor polite.

Whenever (to shew his knowledge of the world) he is unbecomingly importunate with a lady unattended-Not polite.

Whenever he sports with age or infirmities -Not polite.

Whenever he laughs at modesty or virtue― Not polite.

Whenever he despises merit in distressNot polite.

And whenever he banters the sacred word of truth, or doubts the existence of his God, (tho' ever so fashionable)-Not at all polite.

Epitaphs.

ON A LADY.

BY STERNE.

Columns and labour'd urns, but vainly show
An idle scene of decorated woe.
The sweet companion, and the friend sincere,
Need no mechanic help to force the tear;
In heart-felt numbers, never meant to shine
T'will flow eternal o'er a hearse like thine.
T'will flow whilst gentle goodness has one friend,
Or kindred tempers have a heart to lend.

IN ALL SAINTS CHURCH, HERTFORD,

BY LORD JOHN TOWNSHEND.

To the Memory of Isabella Georgiana Townshend, Third daughter of Lord John Townshend and Georgiana Anne his wife; She died the 17th of September 1811, aged 20 Oh! gone for ever! loved, lamented child! So young, so good, so innocent, and mild; With winning manners, beauty, genius, sense, Fond filial love, and sweet benevolence; The softest, kindest heart, yet firmest mind, In sickness patient, and in death resign'd. Never-oh never yet a fairer bloom, Of opening virtues found an early tomb. How hard thy trials, how severe thy woes, She, she alone, thy sorrowing mother knows: Who three long years with sad foreboding heart, Bankrupt of every hope from human art, Still wept and watched, and still to Heaven for aid Her fruitless vows, with much devotion paid; But thou! pure spirit! fled to endless rest, Dear child my heart-dear Bella! thou art blest.