out the pretensions of a regular beauty, she has a style of countenance particularly elegant and striking, very much the sort of face that one sees in old pictures of Lady Jane Gray; without having associated with any but the best company, she has, at twenty, a general knowledge, and an acuteness of discernment, beyond any thing that I ever remember to have seen in any woman of fifty. With all these advantages, it is not to be wondered at, if she now and then indulges her Dr. Abington is a physician, who has retired affectation and pedantry of learning, she has a from an extensive practice to enjoy a consider-very tolerable acquaintance with literature; with. able fortune in the pleasures of solitude and study. He seldom emerges from his classic retreat, except on a Sunday evening, when he comes to diffuse the knowledge which during the week he has collected. The gravity of the|| Doctor is scarcely ever known to relax into a smile, even at the whimsical pranks of Colclough, or the entertaining fopperies of Fairfax; on the contrary, he is often considerably annoyed, in the midst of some serious dissertation, by the extraordinary and sudden freaks of these gentle-self in a vein of satire, which, though it excites men. Miss Abington is very pretty, and very agreeable; she has all those qualities which make a young lady interesting in company, though very few of the qualities which raise astonishment. She is among many people what green is among colours, an object on which the eye may repose after the fatigue of what is glit-has, when she pleases, a power of attraction betering and gaudy. There are some men whom one can laugh at, without despising; and such a man is Colonel Fairfax. He is a sort of Will Honeycombe, a man who knows the town, and has been particularly versed in the study of the female character; yet at fifty-five, for I am sure he cannot be less, though he owns to only six-and-forty, he has the blindness to suppose himself a favourite among women. His person is well formed, and always attired with the closest precision; and to do him justice he is a well-informed being for a fine gentleman. Anna Mordaunt is the niece and ward of Mrs. Meade, in whose house she lives. Without the admiration, detracts from the female softness that is so fascinating and amiable, particularly in youth. Lord Chesterfield doubted whether it were desirable that his son should have wit, for wit in a daughter, I am sure he would not have wished. Notwithstanding this, Miss Mordaunt yond that of any other girl I know. Lady Caroline Howard is a good-natured fashionable Miss, talkative when such subjects as dress or visiting are started, but on other occasions an excellent hearer. And as for myself-no, Mr. Editor, I shall not describe that interesting personage, but in my future letters I will attempt to assume the manners of the people of whom I speak; and my real name shall be concealed that my strictures may be open, as a sharp-shooter clothes himself in the colour of the foliage, and fights from behind the bushes. I am then, Mr. Editor (or I chase to call myself), yours, &c. FRANCIS LANSDOWNE, ON THE CAUSES AND EFFECTS OF EARLY MARRIAGES. AMONG those trifling casuists who love to moot in many cases, rather from necessity than choice, a point, and to open a door for discussion on every sometimes from deference to the customs or subject, and particularly among those female de-opinions of the world, and sometimes from pabaters who, when love or marriage is the topic rental coercion. of discourse, display an ease of oratory, and a fund of information, which cannot be attained by the less eloquent sex; it has often been enquired, whether early or late marriages be the more conducive to comfort, and almost as often has it been decided, that late marriages are the more certain purveyors of happiness; yet, in the vast crowd of ladies who in theory favour this opinion, how few can be found who support it by practice, and who, if an early opportunity is offered of establishing themselves in life, can sacrifice the pleasure which appears within their grasp, for the chance of a more solid, though distant felicity; perhaps this inconsistency arises, With respect to the former of these probable causes, namely, custom or opinion, it must be a source of regret to all that consider these matters, to observe how many impertinent, frothy coxcombs are swimming on the surface of fa shion, fellows who, if I may be allowed to use their technical terms, suppose that young ladies come out merely for the purpose of being got off; who sneer at a girl after her second winter; and who take it into their heads, that a commo dity which has so long been in the market unsold, must needs be of no value. It is much to be wished, that a few of those ladies whose example is respected, would disregard this idle and insolent fashion, and recollect that a father and mother are for the most part as indulgent as a husband; that, after their death and the dissolution of their establishment, it may possibly be as comfortable to live on a small income, single and uncontrouled, as to sacrifice independence for the chance of presiding at a more splendid dinner, for the privilege of changing a surname, and for the benefit of paying visits without a Chaperon. The prejudices against old maids are b come in some degree obsolete; it is to be hoped they will soon be totally forgotten. Indeed it seems quite as respectable to have refused solicitations (for small indeed is the number of ladies who never had an offer) as to have snapped at the first bait that was held out, and accepted a husband in the way of a bargain. With regard to the other cause of early marriages, parental coercion, it has been the subject of declamation and the source of regret, ever since novelists could scribble, papas bluster, or Misses complain. So many instances have been adduced of the fatal results which perpetually follow this ill-directed operation of authority, that it seems almost superfluous to add another tale to the files that already occupy the closet and the circulating library; but the story I am going to relate is one so full of extraordinary incidents, and so illustrative of the absurdity against which I have been speaking, that I know not how to conclude my observations with more advantage, than by giving you my tale. It was related to me a few days ago, by a gentleman who resided in the West Indies, where the event happened, and though a number of years have elapsed since its occurrence, the singularity of the facts even now preserves them from oblivion. The scene of the following story was the island of St. Vincents. There, in the interior of the country, lived Mr. M. an Englishman of fortune. He had accumulated his wealth in a traffic, of all others the most completely calcuJated to steel the heart against the feelings of humanity, and inspire it with contempt for the outcries of justice. At the age of forty he married an amiable woman, who died in the moment of giving birth to a daughter; and the young Maria was brought up by a relation of Mr. M. her father being generally occupied at a distance from home in disturbing the quiet of men whose colour had condemned them to ignominy. of his manners, the abilities of his mind, and the reputation of his courage, he in no very long space made a considerable impression on her heart. His fortune, though not large, was independent; and his prospects in life were, from connexion as well as merit, so exceedingly agreeable, that Mrs. M. was induced to encourage his addresses to Maria. Their union was determined, and every arrangement complete, when a sudden communication from the commanding officer of the station, rendered it necessary for Captain T. to leave St. Vincents for several weeks. A few days after his departure, an old Spaniard, of immense fortune, who had purchased an extensive property in the neighbourhood of Mr. M., came to settle on his estate; and being struck by the charms, which his age did not prevent him from discerning in Maria, he called upon her father with a written matrimonial proposal containing the most liberal offers. An advance of such a nature was highly agreeable to Mr. M.; and he instantly sent for Maria, to inform her that sterling reasons had induced him to resolve on a speedy termination of the Captain's views; that she must forget as soon as possible his former reception, nay even his very name; and, that insix weeks time she must be ready to espouse the Don. Now Maria was a girl, in general, perfectly obedient to her father; but a taste for novels, and other valuable and instructive works, had endowed her with a portion of fortitude and romantic sensibility, by no means conducive to that state of mind into which her father required her to bring herself. She told him that she never would abandon the vows of fidelity which she had plighted to her former lover; that she considered a marriage, where the heart had not its share, in every way void and nugatory; and that even were she compelled to unite herself with the Spaniard, she should certainly seize upon the first opportunity of quitting him. Mr. M. for a few moments was petrified, but presently waking from his trauce, he exhibited every symptom of madness; he foamed at the mouth, stamped with both his feet, and when his fury had sufficiently subsided to give utterance for his indignation, he addressed himself to Maria, who, having expended almost all the ammunition of her courage, stood trembling, with her hands resting on the back of a chair. "And so you pretend to argue, do you?" said Mr. M. "you! a child! a brat! curse me if ever I could find out what women have to do with reason, and such nonsense. And you During Maria's residence with her cousin, she had met with Captain T. a young officer in the British service stationed off St. Vincents, and as his stay in the West Indies was of considerable duration, he had frequent opportunities of seeing will not marry the man whom I have chosen to and admiring Miss M By the flattering atten- make you happy. But harkee, Miss Maria, tions which he constantly paid her, by the suavity || either you resolve at once upon marrying him this day se'nnight, or by G- you don't stir out of your chamber till you do!" "Well, Sir," said the young lady, collecting her spirits to a focus, "if it be your will to confine me, I have no alternative; and a thousand times rather would I allow my person to be fettered than my mind." "This comes of your novel-reading," exclaimed her father. "It is there you learn your fine doctrines about bearing imprisonment for love, and leaving your husband in the lurch. But you shall marry Don Pedro; in the mean time you may amuse yourself with your own agreeable thoughts; and, when you have determined quietly to obey my will, you will be let out of your room: till then, hell shall not move you the breadth of a finger." missing. This girl, whose name was Elen, was the daughter of a nayal officer, and had been left, at the age of eleven years, destiture of parents and of fortune. In this deserted situation she was found by Mr. M.'s female relation, who had educated Maria, and was received as a sort of companion to that young lady. They became exceedingly attached to one another, and Ellen, who was naturally of a tender and susceptible disposition, imbibed, by imperceptible degrees, her friend's passion for novels, romances, and sentimental tales. Her heart was in this state of training, when Captain T. commenced his visits at the house. The same accomplishments and virtues which recommended him to Maria, recommended him to her less fortunate friend; and a sentiment was gradually gaining ground in the bosom of Ellen, which was productive of consequences the most fatal to her peace. When she found that the Captain regarded her only as a quiet amiable girl, who could give him neither pleasure nor anxiety, and directed his attentions to Maria alone, her principle of honour forbade her to attempt the conquest of a heart, which was already devoted to her dearest friend. It is true that his coldness and indifference occasioned her a deep and durable sorrow; but she struggled with her feelings till principle and reason so far got the better of passion, as to allow her a perfect command of her countenance and action, even before the lovers. The absence of hope enabled her to overcome so powerful a feeling, more easily than she otherwise could have done; for love, without hope, though among novelists it be a favourite topic of condolence, and a per So he very politely took her by the arm, and led her, unresisting, into her chamber. An old female servant, on whom he could depend, was employed to supply her with every thing she wanted, except pens, ink, and paper; and, contenting himself with the accounts which this domestic used to give him, he spared himself the trouble of visiting his daughter's apartment. For three or four days Maria consoled herself, with a number of soothing reflections, and did not know whether, upon the whole, her confinement was not a matter rather pleasing than vexatious; for she thought she had now a most delightful opportunity of displaying romantic heroism, and made sure that her inflexible constancy would shortly subdue her terrific papa. But when five weeks had elapsed, and no appearance was discernible in that papa of the least approximation to her wishes, she began to imagine that there||petual spring to awaken sympathy, is, in real was not so much sport in a lonely confinement, as at first she had been willing to believe. For a fortnight afterwards she grew gradually more and more gloomy; and at last, thinking any conditions advantageous which afforded her the liberty of departing from her bed-room, she was prevailed upon, at the expiration of two months imprisonment, to join her hand with the skinny palm of Don Pedro. The ceremony was performed in the house of Mr M.; and Maria, the moment it was over, fainted in her husband's arms. She continued for some days extremely indisposed; but when she was deemed sufficiently strong for the jaunt, her new master transferred her from her father's habitation to his own, and she gradually but slowly recovered her health, though not her cheerfulness. As soon as she had so far emerged from the troubles that had overwhelmed her, as to reflect upon circumstances foreign to her own immediate misery, she felt a strange curiosity, mixed with uneasiness, for the loss of a favourite companion, who had now been for some months life, but seldom of long duration. The brightest flame must perish, when deprived of the nourishing air. But, in the bosom of Ellen, though the fires were almost subdued, the emb rs still were warm, and a breath could have kindled them in a moment to their original ardour. With collected resignation she had witnessed the arrangements which were made for the union of her beloved Charles with Maria, the friend of her youth, and patroness of her indigence. She had confined the secret of her love, with sacred caution, to her own bosom; and a tear never strayed along her cheek, to betray the emotions of her soul. Yet her passion was not so completely subdued, as to leave no vestiges of silent sorrow : her eyes were paler, and her form became less round; while her dark eyes gave, to her delicate complexion, an expression of set:led melancholy, the most beautiful and interesting. What must then have been her fee ings, when she learnt that Don Pedro had gained the approbation of Mr. M. and that Maria was about to renounce for ever the possibility of uniting herself with Charles! In a state of the cruelest anxiety did she pass the time of Maria's imprisonment, but the instant the latter had resolved on the acceptance of Don Pedro, she felt herself no longer restrained from following the dictates of her heart. Her fancy had long been fired by accounts of female heroism; Maria's inconstancy surprised, while it rejoiced her; and she longed to give Charles some proof of her affection, which should render it impossible for him to withstand the pleadings of her humble though honourable attachment. She accordingly procured for herself the habili ments of a common sailor, and privately escaped from the house of Mr M. to that part of the island where it was understood that Captain T. must in a short time land. She concealed herself for several days in a small inn frequented by nautical people; and the Captain, as she expected, came on shore near the house, about dusk in the evening. The landlord of this house had been formerly a servant of Mr. M.'s, but as Maria and Ellen had not been educated at home, the person of our fair adventurer was not known to her host, and the disguise of naval attire preserved her from detection, though inquiries were made, and advertisements published in every quarter by Mr. M. When Ellen saw the Captain enter the house, her heart beat so violently as almost to deprive her of breath; but she knew that her opportunity was now arrived, and, mustering all her courage, she requested the landlady to inform him, that a young sailor was in the house, who wished to have a few moment's conversation with him. The Captain desired the sailor to be admitted. Ellen entered, but trembled so that she could scarcely stand. The Captain perceived her agitation, and enquired the cause. sunk upon a chair, and burst into tears. She "Unfortunate youth!" exclaimed Charles, "what would you have with me? Can I be of service in relieving your distress?" "Sir," said Ellen, "I am resolved on a seafaring lite. My parents are dead, I am thrown upon the wide world without friends or fortune, nay, almost without hope." And as she spoke the last words she blushed deeply. "Without hope," said Charles, smiling; "perhaps you are in love." Ellen hid her face with her hands. "Come, my brave lad, be not ashamed of that, I know myself the pleasures of this delightful passion." "Perhaps," said Ellen, softly, "you never knew the pains of it." "Nor ever shall, I hope," said Charles, gaily; "for in two or three days I shall be married, and then farewell to doubt and fear. You shall be of my crew; I like your appearance, and if I find you an honest and well disposed lad, I will keep you about my person. When I marry, I will bring you all on shore, and give you a dance on Mr. M.'s green. My Maria shall welcome you all, and then-" "Miss Maria M." interrupted Ellen, 66 Maria-ah!" "What do you mean," cried Charles. your Ellen gasped for breath; she wished to relate the facts which were happiness to her; but her joy was mixed with sorrow, when she reflected on the pain that her intelligence would give to Charles. She hesitated, and again, but in vain, attempted to speak. "For heaven's sake, keep me no longer in suspense," he exclaimed; "I cannot endure this agony of doubt." "Do you not know then," said Ellen, "that this morning was appointed for her wedding, and that she by this time is the wife of Don Pedro de G; I am just arrived from that part of the island, and have witnessed the mar riage preparations." "It is false-it cannot, shall not be!" cried Charles; and rushing down the stairs, he seized upon the landlord. "Williams," asked he, "have you heard of a wedding to-day upon the island?" "Oh yes, Sir," answered he, "I am this moment come from it. It would have done your heart good to see the fine set out of ladies, and beef, and tables, and fiddles, and ale, in the good old English style, with seats in the garden, and coloured lamps, and I do not know what all." "Whose wedding, whose wedding?" said the breathless Charles. "Lord bless your soul, Sir, why, Miss Maria M.'s to be sure (she is not Miss M. now), to Don Pedro de G. I was an old servant of Squire M.'s and came over with him from England; and so he gave me an invitation for the dinner and ball, you see." "Enough, enough," said the Captain; and clasping his hands together, he called to Ellen to follow him. She was down the stairs in an instant. "I shall not sleep here to-night, Williams," said Captain T. "Why sure, Sir, you will not go back to the ship now in the dark," observed Williams. "I have business," returned the Captain; and followed by Ellen, he walked to the water side. He loosened a skiff that lay tied to the shore, and both, without uttering a syllable, seated themselves within it. [To be continued.] ADVANTAGES OF GOOD SENSE. MR. EDITOR, I HAVE the misfortune to be reputed a woman of sense; which, though in the days of my namesake, Queen Bess, might possess its advantages, has in these times quite a contrary effect; and I (who am not half so wise as report gives me credit for) have yet discernment enough to perceive that were I less intellectual I should be more happy. Perhaps this may strike you as a little wonderful; but only investigate the case, Sir, and I am inclined to think you will be of my opinion. In the first place, a reputed woman of sense is not allowed an excuse for trifling, and perhaps unavoidable, errors. The flippant of her own sex fancy her a spy and a reproach on their follies; consequently she has no very cordial reception amongst them; and as to yours, Sir, although you do talk very feelingly on the beauties of the mind, I really find the generality of you infinitely more attracted by the lustre of an eye, than either the brilliancy of the head or the virtues of the heart. There may possibly be a few rare aves among you which might for an exception to what I advance, but they are so very thinly scattered that I cannot reasonably hope for the good fortune of calling them my friends. The following is part of a conversation which I overheard about a week since, amidst a party of fashionables, who had met at that enervating and insipid amusement called a rout. The subject ran on some indiscretion committed by one of these reputed women of sense; and which was retailed in style, with all that embellishment which the eloquence of envy, calumny, and detraction so liberally bestows. "Only think," half whispered an upright sober looking woman to her partner, just as she had taken up the odd trick, "only think of the sage and moral Mrs. So-and-so, being guilty of such a gross absurdity." plied a loose booted Bond-street lounger, were it not for the danger of our eyes, I should be decidedly of your opinion; a sensible woman is certainly rather a troublesome article; never gives up a point; pesters you into a rage with her prudent advice; and deals out her maxims of virtue in such a wholesale city like manner, that an innocent little retail customer. is frightened to death at the importance of the undertaking." "Yes," weased out a decrepid old beau, "and then so annoyingly officious too, always marring our schemes. Why, gentlemen, do you know that, owing to one of those pests of society, I lost the ultimatum of the most dreadful flirtation I ever recollect to have planned. The commencement was favourable, things were entraine, when one evening, my charmer having consented to meet me in the shrubbery, I was sick with tender expectation, and anxiously waiting the arrival of the sweetest girl in the world, my eyes fell on an ill-looking fellow in a livery, who presented me with a letter brim-full of sentimental quotations and moral reflections, informing me that from a conversation which had passed that afternoon with her friend Mrs. D- (whom every one allowed to be a sensible woman), she had been induced to consider the step she was about to take as disgraceful in its present point of view, and fatal in its issue. That owing to the arguments and advice of this invaluable friend she was preserved to herself, and must beg leave to decline all conversation with me in future. Now, gentlemen, if you will believe me, from that moment the very naming of a sensible woman, immediately brings on my spasms." "Why, I own," rejoined Miss Lightfoot (with a simper which she thought vastly becoming), "that though good sense, as it is termed, is very useful upon some occasions, yet in general such women as are distinguished for this quality are not so pleasant as others of more moderate abili. ties; and indeed, my lord Duke, I do not see that you male characters like us one bit the better for it. I remember well, that my first lover used frequently to tell me, that I owed my power over him to a fascinating indescribable weakness, and that the amiable helplessness of the generality of women constituted their chief attraction. However this may be, I certainly do think that these reputed women of sense are rather dis"Why upon my soul, my dear fellow," re- agreeable than otherwise, and generally so very "Why it was Mrs. Such-a-one, my poor dear Papa's Lady Paragon, and my approved Chaperon," loudly bawled a dashing looking girl, who, with her self-satisfied swain, was seated on a vacant Ottoman, evidently arrived at the third stage of fashionable flirtation. "Well, if these be your women of sense," cried Colonel Simple with a loud laugh, "give me the woman who uses her hands rather than her head." |