Miss Nev. I hope, cousin, one may speak to one's own relations, and not be to blame? Tony. Ay, but know what sort of a relation you want to make me, though; but it won't do. I tell you, Cousin Con, it won't do, so I beg you'll keep your distance; I want no nearer relationship. [She follows, coquetting him to the back scene. Mrs. Hard. Well! I vow, Mr. Hastings, you are very entertaining. There's nothing in the world I love to talk of so much as London, and the fashions, though I was never there myself. Hast. Never there! You amaze me! From your air and manner I concluded you had been bred all your life either at Ranelagh, St. James's, or Tower Wharf. Mrs. Hard. Oh! sir, you're only pleased to say so. We country persons can have no manner at all. I'm in love with the town, and that serves to raise me above some of our neighbouring rustics; but who can have a manner that has never seen the Pantheon, the Grotto Gardens, the Borough, and such places where the nobility chiefly resort? All I can do is to enjoy London at second-hand. I take care to know every tête-à-tête from the Scandalous Magazine, and have all the fashions, as they come out, in a letter from the two Miss Rickets of Crooked Lane. Pray, how do you like this head, Mr. Hastings? Hast. Extremely elegant and dégagée, upon my word, madam. Your friseur is a Frenchman, I suppose? Mrs. Hard. I protest I dressed it myself from a print in the Ladies' Memorandum Book for the last year. Hast. Indeed! such a head in a side-box, at the play-house, would draw as many gazers as my Lady Mayoress at a city ball. Mrs. Hard. I vow, since inoculation began there is no such thing to be seen as a plain woman; so one must dress a little particular, or one may escape in the crowd. Hast. But that can never be your case, madam, in any dress. (Bowing.) Mrs. Hard. Yet what signifies my dressing when I have such a piece of antiquity by my side as Mr. Hardcastle? All I can say will not argue down a single button from his clothes. I have often wanted him to throw off his great flaxen wig, and where he was bald, to plaster it over, like my Lord Pately, with powder. Hast. You are right, madam; for as among the ladies there are none ugly, so among the men there are none old. Mrs. Hard. But what do you think his answer was? Why, with his usual Gothic vivacity, he said, I only wanted him to throw off his wig, to convert it into a tête for my own wearing. Hast. Intolerable! At your age you may wear what you please, and it must become you. Mrs. Hard. Pray, Mr. Hastings, what do you take to be the most fashionable age about town? Hast. Some time ago forty was all the mode; but I'm told the ladies intend to bring up fifty for the ensuing winter. Mrs. Hard. Seriously! then I shall be too young for the fashion. Hast. No lady begins now to put on jewels till she's past forty. For instance, Miss there, in a polite circle, would be considered as a child, as a mere maker of samplers. Mrs. Hard. And yet Mrs. Niece thinks herself as much a woman, and is as fond of jewels, as the oldest of us all. Hast. Your niece, is she? and that young gentleman a brother of yours, I should presume? Mrs. Hard. My son, sir. They are contracted to each other. Observe their little sports. They fall in and out ten times a day, as if they were man and wife already. (To them.) Well, Tony, child, what soft things are you saying to your cousin Constance this evening? Tony. I have been saying no soft things; but that it's very hard to be followed about so. Ecod, I've not a place in the house now that's left to myself, but the stable. Mrs. Hard. Never mind him, Con, my dear. He's in another story behind your back. Miss Nev. There's something generous in my cousin's manner. He falls out before faces to be forgiven in private. Tony. That's a confounded-crack. Mrs. Hard. Ah! he's a sly one. Don't you think they're like each other about the mouth, Mr. Hastings? The Blenkinsop mouth to a T. They're of a size, too. Back to back, my pretties, that Mr. Hastings may see you. Come, Tony. Tony. You had as good not make me, I tell you. [Measuring. Miss Nev. Oh! he has almost cracked my head. Mrs. Hard. Oh, the monster! For shame, Tony. You a man, and behave so! Tony. If I'm a man, let me have my fortin. Ecod, I'll not be made a fool of no longer. Mrs. Hard. Is this, ungrateful boy, all that I'm to get for the pains I have taken in your education? I that have rocked you in your cradle, and fed that pretty mouth with a spoon? Did not I work that waistcoat to make you genteel? Did not I prescribe for you every day, and weep while the receipt was operating? Tony. That's because you don't know her as well as I. Ecod, I know every inch about her, and there's not å more bitter, cantankerous toad in all Christendom. Hast. (Aside.) Pretty encouragement this for a lover. Tony. I have seen her since the height of that. She has as many tricks as a hare in a thicket, or a colt the first day's breaking. Hast. To me she appears sensible and silent. Tony. Ay, before company. But when she's with her playmates she's as loud as a hog in a gate. Tony. Ecod, you had reason to weep, for you have been dosing me ever since I was born. I have gone through every receipt in the Complete Huswife ten times over; and you have thoughts of coursing me through Quincy next spring. But, ecod, I tell you, I'll not be made a fool of no longer. Mrs. Hard. Wasn't it all for your good, her that charms me. viper? Wasn't it all for your good? Tony. I wish you'd let me and my good alone, then. Snubbing this way, when I'm in spirits. If I'm to have any good, let it come of itself; not to keep dinging it, dinging it into one so. Mrs. Hard. That's false; I never see you when you are in spirits. No, Tony, you then go to the alehouse, or kennel. I'm never to be delighted with your agreeable wild notes, unfeeling monster! Tony. Ecod, mamma, your own notes are the wildest of the two. Mrs. Hard. Was ever the like! But I see he wants to break my heart, I see he does. Hast. Dear madam, permit me to lecture the young gentleman a little. I'm certain I can persuade him to his duty. Mrs. Hard. Well! I must retire. Come, Constance, my love. You see, Mr. Hastings, the wretchedness of my situation. Was ever poor woman so plagued with a dear, sweet, pretty, provoking, undutiful boy? Hast. But there is a meek modesty about Tony. Yes; but curb her never so little, she kicks up, and you're flung in a ditch. Hast. Well, but you must allow her a little beauty. Yes, you must allow her some beauty. Tony. Bandbox! She's all a made up thing, mun. Ah! could you but see Bet Bouncer, of these parts, you might then talk of beauty. Ecod, she has two eyes as black as sloes, and cheeks as broad and red as a pulpit cushion. She'd make two of she. Hast. Well, what say you to a friend that would take this bitter bargain off your hands? Tony. Anon! Hast. Would you thank him that would take Miss Neville, and leave you to happiness and your dear Betsy? Tony. Ay; but where is there such a friend? for who would take her? Hast. I am he. If you but assist me, I'll engage to whip her off to France, and you shall never hear more of her. Tony. Assist you! drop of my blood. Ecod, I will to the last I'll clap a pair of horses (Exeunt Mrs. Hard. and Miss Neville.) to your chaise that shall trundle you off in HASTINGS. TONY. Tony. (Singing.) There was a young man riding by, And fain would have his will. Don't mind her. Let her cry. It's the com- Hast. Then you're no friend to the ladies, I find, my pretty young gentleman. Tony. That's as I find 'um. Hast. Not to her of your mother's choosing, I dare answer: and yet she appears to me a pretty, well-tempered girl. a twinkling; and may be, get you a part of her fortin beside, in jewels, that you little dream of. Hast. My dear 'squire, this looks like a lad of spirit. Tony. Come along then, and you shall see more of my spirit before you have done with me. THE GENTLEMAN IN BLACK. (FROM THE CITIZEN OF THE WORLD.") I am just returned from Westminster, the place of sepulture for the philosophers, heroes, and kings of England. What a gloom do monumental inscriptions and all the venerable remains of deceased merit inspire! Imagine a temple marked with the hand of antiquity, solemn as religious awe, adorned with all the magnificence of barbarous profusion, dim windows, fretted pillars, long colonnades, and dark ceilings. Think, then, what were my sensations at being introduced to such a scene. I stood in the midst of the temple, and threw my eyes round on the walls, filled with the statues, the inscriptions, and the monuments of the dead. Alas, I said to myself, how does pride attend the puny child of dust even to the grave! Even humble as I am, I possess more consequence in the present scene than the greatest hero of them all; they have toiled for an hour to gain a transient immortality, and are at length retired to the grave, where they have no attendant but the worm, none to flatter but the epitaph. duced his fellow-citizens from anarchy into companion, "why, sir, the gentleman that lies here is remarkable, very remarkable for a tomb in Westminster Abbey."- "But, head of my ancestors! how has he got here! I fancy he could never bribe the guardians of the temple to give him a place. Should he not be ashamed to be seen among company where even moderate merit would look like infamy?" "I suppose,” replied the man in black, “the gentleman was rich, and his friends, it is usual in such a case, told him he was great. He readily believed them; the guardians of the temple, as they got by the self-delusion, were ready to believe him too: so he paid his money for a fine monument, and the workman, as you see, has made him one of the most beautiful. Think not, however, that this gentleman is singular in his desire of being buried among the great; there are several others in the temple, who, hated and shunned by the great while alive, have come here, fully resolved to keep them company now they are dead." As I was indulging such reflections a gentle-markable for?"_" Remarkable, sir!" said my man, dressed in black, perceiving me to be a stranger, came up, entered into conversation, and politely offered to be my instructor and guide through the temple. "If any monument," said he, "should particularly excite your curiosity, I shall endeavour to satisfy your demands." I accepted with thanks the gentleman's offer, adding, that "I was come to observe the policy, the wisdom, and the justice of the English in conferring rewards upon deceased merit. If adulation like this (continued I) be properly conducted, as it can noways injure those who are flattered, so it may be a glorious incentive to those who are now capable of enjoying it. It is the duty of every good government to turn this monumental pride to its own advantage; to become strong in the aggregate from the weakness of the individual. If none but the truly great have a place in this awful repository, a temple like this will give the finest lessons of morality, and be a strong incentive to true merit." The man in black seemed impatient at my observations; so I discontinued my remarks, and we walked on together to take a view of every particular monument in order as it lay. As the eye is naturally caught by the finest objects, I could not avoid being particularly curious about one monument, which appeared more beautiful than the rest: "That," said I to my guide, "I take to be the tomb of some very great man. By the peculiar excellence of the workmanship and the magnificence of the design this must be a trophy raised to the memory of some king who has saved his country from ruin, or lawgiver who has re As we walked along to a particular part of the temple, "There," says the gentleman, pointing with his finger,-"that is the poet's corner; there you see the monuments of Shakspere, and Milton, and Prior, and Drayton." "Drayton!" I replied, "I never heard of him before; but I have been told of one Pope, is he there?" "It is time enough," replied my guide, “these hundred years; he is not long dead; people have not done hating him yet."-" Strange,” cried I-; "can any be found to hate a man whose life was wholly spent in entertaining and instructing his fellow-creatures?" "Yes," says my guide, "they hate keeper, "to be sure they may be very right, him for that very reason. There are a set of men | "As for your questions," replied the gatecalled answerers of books, who take upon them to watch the republic of letters, and distribute reputation by the sheet; they somewhat resemble the eunuchs in a seraglio, who are incapable of giving pleasure themselves, and hinder those that would. These answerers have no other employment but to cry out 'dunce,' and 'scribbler,' to praise the dead and revile the living; to grant a man of confessed abilities some small share of merit; to applaud twenty blockheads, in order to gain the reputation of candour; and to revile the moral character of the man whose writings they cannot injure. Such wretches are kept in pay by some mercenary bookseller, or more frequently the bookseller himself takes this dirty work off their hands, as all that is required is to be very abusive and very dull. Every poet of any genius is sure to find such enemies: he feels, though he seems to despise, their malice; they make him miserable here; and in the pursuit of empty fame, at last he gains solid anxiety." "Has this been the case with every poet II could see no curiosity either in the oak chair see here?" cried I.-" Yes, with every mother's son of them," replied he, "except he happened to be born a mandarin. If he has much money he may buy reputation from your bookanswerers, as well as a monument from the guardians of the temple." "But are there not some men of distinguished taste, as in China, who are willing to patronize men of merit, and soften the rancour of male volent dulness?" "I own there are many," replied the man in black; "but, alas! sir, the book-answerers crowd about them, and call themselves the writers of books; and the patron is too in- | dolent to distinguish: thus poets are kept at a distance, while their enemies eat up all their rewards at the mandarin's table." Leaving this part of the temple, we made up to an iron gate, through which my companion told me we were to pass in order to see the monuments of the kings. Accordingly I marched up without farther ceremony, and was going to enter, when a person who held the gate in his hand, told me I must pay first. I was surprised at such a demand, and asked the man, "whether the people of England kept a show? whether the paltry sum he demanded was not a national reproach? whether it was not more to the honour of the country to let their magnificence or their antiquities be openly seen, than thus meanly to tax a curiosity which tended to their own honour?" or the stone: could I, indeed, behold one of the old kings of England seated in this, or Jacob's head laid upon the other, there might be something curious in the sight; but in the present case there was no more reason for my surprise than if I should pick a stone from their streets, and call it a curiosity, merely because one of the kings happened to tread upon it as he passed in a procession. From hence our conductor led us through several dark walks and winding ways, uttering lies, talking to himself, and flourishing a wand which he held in his hand. He reminded me of the black magicians of Kobi. After we had been almost fatigued with a variety of objects, he at last desired me to consider attentively a certain suit of armour, which seemed to show nothing remarkable. "This armour," said he, "belonged to General Monk." "Very surprising, that a general should wear armour!"-" And pray," added he, "observe this cap; this is General Monk's cap." "Very strange indeed, very strange, that a general should have a cap also! Pray, friend, what might this cap have cost originally?"— "That, sir," says he, " I don't know; but this cap is all the wages I have for my trouble.”— "A very small recompense, truly," said I.— "Not so very small," replied he, "for every gentleman puts some money into it, and I spend the money."- "What! more money! Still more money!"-"Every gentleman gives something, sir."-"I'll give thee nothing," returned I: "the guardians of the temple should pay your wages, friend, and not permit you to squeeze thus from every spectator. When we pay our money at the door to see a show, we never give more as we are going out. Sure the guardians of the temple can never think they get enough. Show me the gate; if I stay longer I may probably meet with more of those ecclesiastical beggars." Thus leaving the temple precipitately, I returned to my lodgings, in order to ruminate over what was great, and to despise what was mean, in the occurrences of the day. ADVICE TO THE LADIES, WITH AN ILLUSTRATIVE INDIAN TALE. (FROM "THE CITIZEN OF THE WORLD.") As the instruction of the fair sex in this country is entirely committed to the care of foreigners, as their language-masters, musicmasters, hair-frizzers, and governesses are all from abroad, I had some intentions of opening a female academy myself, and made no doubt, as I was quite a foreigner, of meeting a favourable reception. In this I intended to instruct the ladies in all the conjugal mysteries; wives should be taught the art of managing husbands, and maids the skill of properly choosing them; I would teach a wife how far she might venture to be sick without giving disgust; she should be acquainted with the great benefits of the cholic in the stomach, and all the thoroughbred insolence of fashion; maids should learn the secret of nicely distinguishing every competitor; they should be able to know the difference between a pedant and a scholar, a citizen and a prig, a 'squire and his horse, a beau and his monkey; but chiefly, they should be taught the art of managing their smiles, from the contemptuous simper to the long laborious laugh. But I have discontinued the project; for what would signify teaching ladies the manner of governing or choosing husbands, when marriage is at present so much out of fashion, that a lady is very well off who can get any husband at all. Celibacy now prevails in every rank of life; the streets are crowded with old bachelors, and the houses with ladies who have refused good offers, and are never likely to receive any for the future. The only advice, therefore, I could give the fair sex, as things stand at present, is to get husbands as fast as they can. There is certainly nothing in the whole creation, not even Babylon in ruins, more truly deplorable, than a lady in the virgin bloom of sixty-three, or a battered unmarried beau, who squibs about from place to place, showing his pig-tail wig and his ears. The one appears to my imagination in the form of a double night-cap or a roll of pomatum, the other in the shape of an electuary or a box of pills. I would once more, therefore, advise the ladies to get husbands. I would desire them not to discard an old lover without very sufficient reasons, nor treat the new with illnature, till they know him false; let not prudes allege the falseness of the sex, coquettes the pleasures of long courtship, or parents the necessary preliminaries of penny for penny. I have reasons that would silence even a casuist in this particular. In the first place, therefore, I divide the subject into fifteen heads, and then, "sic argumentor,”—but not to give you and myself the spleen, be contented at present with an Indian tale. In a winding of the river Amidar, just before it falls into the Caspian Sea, there lies an island unfrequented by the inhabitants of the continent. In this seclusion, blessed with all that wild uncultivated nature could bestow, lived a princess and her two daughters. She had been wrecked upon the coast while her children as yet were infants, who, of consequence, though grown up, were entirely unacquainted with man. Yet, unexperienced as the young ladies were in the opposite sex, both early discovered symptoms, the one of prudery, the other of being a coquette. The eldest was ever learning maxims of wisdom and discretion from her mamma, while the youngest employed all her hours in gazing at her own face in a neighbouring fountain. Their usual amusement in this solitude was fishing; their mother had taught them all the secrets of the art; she showed them which were the most likely places to throw out the line, what baits were most proper for the various seasons, and the best manner to draw up the finny prey, when they had hooked it. In this manner they spent their time, easy and innocent, till one day the princess, being indisposed, desired them to go and catch her a sturgeon or a shark for supper, which she fancied might sit easy on her stomach. The daughters obeyed, and clapping on a gold fish, the usual bait on these occasions, went and sat |