in short, nothing could be more considerate and tire, being suddenly seized with a violent attack accommodating than this amiable friend. An elegant but small repast was now served, at which no domestic was admitted; the Count was in the happiest flow of spirits; Melissa's heart could not resist the festivity of the moment, and all was love and gayety, till night was far spent and the hour reminded them of separating. Parthenissa again retired to prepare her bed-chamber, and Melissa was again left with her lover. How it came to pass that Parthenissa omitted so necessary a point of ceremony as that of informing Melissa when her chamber was ready, I cannot pretend to account, but so it was, and that young lady, with a negligence which friendship is sometimes apt to contract, retired to her repose, and never thought more of poor Melissa, who was left in a situation very new to her, to say no worse of it, but who had sweetness of temper, nevertheless, to let her friend off with a very gentle reproof, when after a long time past in expectation of her coming, she was at length obliged to submit to the impropriety of suffering Count Ranceval to conduct her to her bed-chamber door. The next day produced the license, and Melissa was, or appeared to be, as impatient to conclude the ceremony as Count Ranceval himself. This is to be imputed to the timid sensibility of her nature, which rather wished to precipitate an awful act than to remain in terror and suspense. Awful as it was to Melissa, it was auspicious to the happy Count, for it put him in possession of his amiable bride. The mother was let into the secret, and with joy consented to give Melissa away, and receive Countess Ranceval in return. The matter passed in secret as to the neighbourhood, and Parthenissa's uncle, to accommodate the parties, sat up all night to complete the deed, which gave the Count possession of the lady's fortune, and referred her for a settlement to be made at Strasburg in the barony of Lavasques. A very happy company were now assembled at dinner, consisting of the bride and bridegroom, Parthenissa, her uncle, and the old lady, when a coach and six drove to the door, and as if fortune had determined to complete the domestic felicity of this family in the same moment, Maria, who was now Lady Lfollowed by her aunt and his lordship, ran into the room, and falling on her knee, asked a blessing of her mother, whilst Lord L presented himself as her son-in-law, having driven from the church door to her house to pay his duty on this occasion, meaning to return directly, for which purpose the equipage was ordered to wait. Whilst Maria approached to embrace Melissa, and to present to her a very fine bridal favour, embroidered with pearls, Count Ranceval whispered his lovely bride, that he must hastily re of the tooth-ache; being a perfect man of fashion, he contrived to retire without disturbing the company, and putting up his handkerchier to his face to prevent the cold air affecting the part in pain, ran up to his lady's bedchamber, whilst Parthenissa and her uncle very considerately retired from a family party in which they were no longer interested. Melissa received the bridal favour from Maria, with a condescending inclination of her body, without rising from her seat.-" You must permit me, sister," says she, "to transfer your present to the noble personage who has just left the room: for having now the honour and happiness to share the name and title of Count Ranceval, I have no longer any separate property; neither can I with any becoming decorum as Countess Ranceval, and a bride myself, wear the pretty bauble you have given me, and which I can assure you, I will return with interest as soon as I go to London, in my way to Strasburg, where the Count's immense possessions principally lie." 66 "Good heavens!" exclaimed Maria," how delighted am I to hear you have married a man of such rank and fortune! What a blessing to my mother, to me, to my lord!-So saying, she threw her arms round her neck and embraced her; she next embraced her mother, and, turning to Lord L, said, "My lord, you will congratulate the Countess."-" I hope so,” replied Lord L-; every thing that contributes to the happiness of this house will be matter of congratulation for me; but let me ask where Count Ranceval is; I shall be proud to pay my compliments to him, and by the glimpse I had of his person, think I have had the honour of seeing him before."-" Very likely," answered Melissa, "the Count has been some time in London."—" I think so,” said Lord L-; "but I am impatient to make my bow to him.' "I hope he will soon come down," replied Melissa, "but he is suddenly seized with a dreadful toothache, and gone up stairs in great pain.' -"Alas, poor Count," said Lord L, "tis a horrid agony, and what I am very subject to myself, but I have a nostrum in my pocket which is very safe, and never fails to give ease; permit me, dear sister, to walk up stairs with you, and relieve the Count from his distress." So saying, he followed Melissa up stairs, and was accompanied by the whole party. Upon their entering the chamber, Count Ranceval made a slight bow to the company, and again put up his handkerchief to his face; as soon as Lord L approached him, he said "I believe I can soon cure this gentleman."-Whereupon, snatching the handkerchief from his cheek, with one kick, pretty forcibly bestowed upon the seat of dishonour, he laid the puisny NUMBER XXV. HORAT. Unde nil majus generatur ipso, THERE is a great sovereign now upon earth, This extraordinary personage is a living evi dence of the soul's immortality, or, at least, has advanced so far in proof as to convince the world. by his own example, that it is not necessarily involved in the extinction of the body. Though he is the greatest genealogist living, and can with certainty make out the longest and clearest pedigree of any potentate now reigning, yet he is properly speaking, without ancestors. As I cannot doubt but that so striking an event as the general deluge must be fresh in his memory, though a pretty many years have since elapsed, he must of necessity have been none other than Noah himself; for as he has always been his own son, and that son can never have been living at the same moment with his father, it is plain he must have been that very identical patriarch, when he survived the flood. Count sprawling on the floor. The ladies with one consent gave a shriek, that brought the whole family to the door. Melissa ran with agony to the fallen hero, who had his face between his hands, whilst Lord L- cried out-" Take no pity on him, Madam, for the rascal was my footman.' -This produced a second scream from Melissa, who, turning to Lord L- with a look of horror, exclaimed-" What do I hear? Count Ranceval a footman! What, then, am I?"-By this time the Count had recollected himself sufficiently to make reply-" My lawful wife; and as such I demand you: let me see who will venture to oppose it."-This menace would have been followed with a second chastisement from my lord, had not Maria interposed, and, taking her sister tenderly by the hand, with a look of pity and benevolence, asked her if she was actually married?" Irrevocably," said Melissa; and burst into tears.-" Yes, yes," resumed the impostor; "I believe all things are pretty safe in that quarter; I have not taken any measures by halves."—"Rascal! villain!" exclaimed my lord, and was again with difficulty held back by his lady from laying hands on him.--" Have patience, I conjure you," said Maria; "if it be so, it is past redemption; leave me with my sister, take my poor mother out of the room, and if this gentleman will give me leave to converse a few minutes with my sister-" "Gentleman!" said Lord L, and immediately taking him by the collar, dragged him out of the chamber, followed by the mother and the aunt. A scene now ensued between the sisters, inversation; but I have hope upon the next meetwhich, as I feel my pen unable to render justice to the divine benevolence of Maria, I will charitably drop the curtain over the fall of pride. There was no need for any negotiation with the Count, for he and his accomplice Parthenissa, with the lawyer her uncle, set off for London with their credentials to take possession of Melissa's fortune in the funds, which the lawyer had but too effectually secured, having, in a pretended counterpart of the deed he read to Melissa and her mother, inserted the real name of the impostor. Melissa has as yet had no farther trouble from her husband, and lives in retirement in a small house belonging to Lord Lunder his protection: she experiences daily instances of the bounty of Maria, and here, if envy (which yet rankles at her heart) would permit her, reflection might teach her "how superior virtue shines in its natural simplicity, and how contemptible pride appears, though disguised under the mask of false delicacy and affected refinement." As he was but eighteen months old, according to his corporeal computation, when he was last visited, he was not very communicative in con ing he will have the goodness to set us right about Pythagoras, who, I am persuaded sunk some part of his travels upon us, and was actually in his court, where he acted the part of a plagiary, and, in the schoolboy's phrase, critb'd a foul copy of his holiness's transmigration, but with such strong marks of a counterfeit that, after a short trip to the Trojan war, and a few others not worth relating, it is to be presumed he has given up the frolic; for I do not hear that he is at present amongst us, at least not amongst us of this kingdom, where, to say the truth, I do not see any thing that resembles him. In the mean time the religious sovereign of Tibet (for the reader perceives I have been speak ing of Teéshoo Lama), in the spirit of an original, keeps his seat upon the Musnud of Terpâling, which throne he has continued to press ever since his descent from Mount Ararat. After all, we must acknowledge this was a bold creed for priestcraft to impose, but credulity has a wide swallow, and if the doctrine passed upon a nation so philosophical and inquisitive as the Greeks, it may well obtain unquestioned by Calmuc Tartars; and superstition, now retiring from Rome, may yet find refuge in the mountains of Tibet. This may be said for the system of Teéshoo Lama, that imposition cannot be put to a fairer test than when committed to the sim-out reserve: Walk about my chamber: I am plicity of a child: and the Gylongs, or priests, sedentary by necessity, and the habit of indolence attendant upon this extraordinary infant, paid is become to me a second nature."-This is a no small compliment to the faith of their fol- true anecdote, and shows how mild a soul it is, lowers when they set him upon the Musnud. which has now transmigrated into the body of this infant. I forbear entering into a farther account of this infant pontiff, because I hope the very ingenious traveller, who has already circulated some curious particulars of his audiences and interviews at the monastery of Terpâling, will indulge the public with a more full and circumstantial narrative of his very interesting expedition into a country so little visited by Europeans, and where the manners and habits of the people, no less than the sacred character of the sovereign, furnish a subject of so new and entertaining a nature. When a genius like that which actuates the illustrious character, who lately administered the government of Bengal, is carried into the remotest regions of the earth, it diffuses an illumination around it which reaches even to those nations where arts and sciences are in their Could this extraordinary personage communicate his property to all his brother sovereigns through the world, should we, or should we not, congratulate mankind upon the event? Let the nations speak for themselves! I answer for one, that cannot name a period in its monarchy more in favour of the dispensation. NUMBER XXVI. Ω παί σιώπα. πόλλ' ἔχει σιγὴ καλά. SOPHOCLES, ALEASI. advantages in keeping silence. highest cultivation; and we accordingly find Hold thy tongue, good boy! There are many great that besides this embassy, so curious of its kind, the same pervading spirit has penetrated into the sacred and till now inaccessible mysteries of the Brahmins, and by the attainment of a language which religion has interdicted from all others but the sacerdotal cast, has already began to lay open a volume superior in antiquity, and perhaps in merit not inferior to Homer himself. Happy inhabitants of Tibet! If happiness can arise from error, your innocent allusion must be the source of it; for priestcraft, which has plunged our portion of the globe in wars and persecutions, has kept you in perpetual peace and tranquillity; so much more wise and salutary is your religious system of pontifical identity, than ours of pontifical infallibility. The same unchangeable indivisible object of faith secures universal acquiescence under the commodious imposition. No Anti-Lama can distract your attention or divide your duty, for individuality is his essence; no councils can reverse his decrees or overrule his supremacy, for he is coeval with religion, nay he is religion itself. Such as he was in his præterient body, such he must be in his present; the same monastic, peaceful, unoffending pious being; a living idol, drawn forth upon occasional solemnities to give his blessing to adoring hordes of Tartars, and to receive their offerings; and whether this blessing be given by the hands of unreasoning infancy, or superannuated age, it matters little at which degree the moment points, when the scale is undeterminable. "You see me here," said the Lama in his præterient body to one of our countrymen, whom he admitted to a conversation, "a mere idol of state: You are of a more active nation: take your wonted exercise with I HAVE now the satisfaction to inform my countrymen that, after long and diligent search, I have at last discovered a very extraordinary person in this metropolis, at present in some obscurity, but if I shall luckily be the means of drawing him into more notice by publishing what has come to my knowledge of his talents and performances, I shall think myself happy not only in serving a meritorious individual, but also in furnishing a suggestion through the mode I shall recommend for his employ, that may be of the greatest benefit to society. The gentleman in whose favour I would fain interest my candid readers is Mr. Jedediah Fish, of whose history I shall recount a few particulars. He was bred to the law, and many years ago went over to New England, where he practised in the courts at Boston: upon the breaking out of the troubles he came over to England, though from his prudent deportment he might safely have remained where he was, for Mr. Fish made it a rule never to lend any thing but an ear to either side of the question. I cannot speak with certainty as to his real motives for leaving America, as he has not been communicative on that head, but I could collect from hints he has dropped of the extraordinary length and protraction of the pleadings in those provincial courts, that his health was a good deal impaired by his attendance upon causes, though I cannot discover that he was actually employed as an advocate in any. seem singular to such as are unacquainted with those proceedings, but Mr. Fish, though no pleader, was of indispensable use to his clients during the somnolency of the court; for by means This may of his vigilance the efficient counsel could indulge themselves in their natural rest, and recruit their spirits for a reciprocal exertion of prolixity, when the opposite party had come to a conclusion: this happy faculty of wakefulness in Mr. Jedediah Fish was accompanied with the further very useful talent of abridgment, by which in a very few words he could convey into the ear of a pleader, when he had once thoroughly wakened him, the whole marrow of an argument, though it had been spread out ever so widely. When he came over to his native country, he threw himself in the way of preferment, and regularly attended the sittings at Westminster, Guildhall, and elsewhere; but being a modest man, and one who made no acquaintance, he was no otherwise taken notice of, than as being the only person in court who did not yawn, when a certain learned sergeant got beyond his usual quota of cases in point. Nothing offering here, Mr. Fish presented himself during the sitting of Parliament both at the bar of the Peers, and in the gallery of the House of Commons: he gave great attention to the clerks, when they were reading Acts of Parliament in the upper house, and never quitted his post in the lower when certain gentlemen were on their legs, and gave the signal to others to get on theirs and go to dinner: By being thus left alone this modest attendant lost his labour, and remained unnoticed through a whole session. Defeated in all these efforts, he began to frequent coffee-houses, where he observed most talking prevail, and few or no hearers to be found; fortune now began to smile upon his patient endeavours, and he particularly recommended himself to a circle at St. Paul's, where by his address in posting himself between two parties, one of which was very circumstantially explaining a will, and the other going step by step through a bill of inclosure, where the glebe lands of the rector were in great peril of infringement, he so contrived as to lend one ear to the divine, and the other to the civilian, by which he got a dinner at each of their houses; and as they found him a most agreeable companion, and one whose cheering smile enlivened their own conversation, he soon became free of their families under a standing invitation. It was in one of these houses I first became acquainted with Mr. Fish, and as it seemed to me a great pity that a man possessed of such companionable talents (for I can safely aver I had never heard the tone of his voice) should be any longer buried in obscurity, or at best confined to a narrow circle of admirers, I began to reflect within myself what amazing improvements society might receive, if he could be induced to stand forth in the public character of a Master of Silence, or in other words a Teacher of the Art of hearing. As I knew my friend was not a man to speak for himself, I took a convenient occasion one day of breaking my proposal to him, which I introduced by saying I had something to disclose to him, which I conceived would not only be of public benefit, but might also be turned to his particular emolument and advantage. He paused some time, and seemed to expect when I would proceed to explain myself; but being at last convinced that I was really waiting for his consent, he opened his lips for the first time, and in a very soft agreeable tone of voice, delivered himself as follows-" Say on!"-The conversation being now fairly on foot, I said that experience must have convinced him how great a scarcity of hearers there were in this metropolis, at the same time what great request they were in, and how much conversation and society were at a loss for a proper proportion of them: that where one man now made his fortune by his tongue, hundreds might in less time establish theirs by a prudent use of their ears: that a desire of shining in company was now become so general that there was nobody left to shine upon that no way could be so sure of providing for younger sons and people of small fortunes, as to qualify them well in the art of hearing; but by a fatal neglect in our system of education, and the loquacity of nurses and servants, no attention was paid to this useful accomplishment: I observed to him that our parsons were in some degree in the fault, by shortening their sermons and quickening their prayers, whereas in times past, when homilies were in use, and the preacher turned the hourglass twice or thrice before his discourse was wound up, the world was in better habits of hearing that in Oliver's days the grace was oftentimes as long as the meal, now they sat down without any grace at all, and talked without ceasing that the discontinuance of smoking tobacco contributed much to put hearing out of fashion, and that a club of people now was like a pack of hounds in full cry, where all puppies open at the same time, whether they have got the scent or not. In conclusion, I demanded of him if he agreed with me in these observations or not: he again took some time to consider, and very civilly replied-" I do.' "If you do agree with me," rejoined I, "in acknowledging the complaint, tell me if you will concur in promoting the cure." He nodded assent. "And who is so fit as Mr. Jedediah Fish," added I," to teach that art to others, which he possesses in such perfection himself? It shall be my business to seek out for scholars, yours to instruct them, and I don't despair of your establishing an Academy of Silence in as general repute as the school of Pythagoras.' : This institution is now fairly on foot, and school is opened in Magpie Court, Cheapside, I Two authors or our nation began the fashion of novel writing, upon different plans indeed, but each with a degree of success which perhaps has never yet been equalled. Richardson disposed his fable into letters, and Fielding pursued the more natural mode of a continued narration, with an exception however of certain miscel No. 4, name on the door, where the professor is to be spoken to by all persons wanting his advice and instructions. The remarkable success which has already attended Mr. Jedediah Fish would warrant my laying before the public some extraordinary cures, but these I shall postpone to some future opportunity, and conclude with a passage from Horace, which shows that that ingeni-laneous chapters, one of which he prefixed to ous poet, though perhaps he had as much to say for himself as most of our modern prattlers, was nevertheless a perfect adept in the art, which it has been the labour of this paper to recommend. Septimus octavo proprior jam fugerit annus, Hoc genus, ""Tis (let me see) three years and more, As What's o'clock ?" and "How's the wind ?" "Who's chariot's that we left behind?" Or gravely try to read the lines Writ underneath the country signs; Or, "Have you nothing new to-day From Pope, from Parnell, or from Gay?" My lord and me as far as Staines, A NOVEL, conducted upon one uniform plan, containing a series of events in familiar life, in which no episodical story is interwoven, is, in effect a protracted comedy, not divided into acts. The same natural display of character, the same facetious turn of dialogue and agreeable involution of incidents are essential to each composition. Novels of this description are not of many years standing in England, and seem to have succeeded after some interval to romance, which, to say no worse of it, is a most unnatural and monstrous production. The "Don Quixote" of Cervantes is of a middle species; and the "Gil Blas," which the Spaniards claim, and the French have the credit of, is a series of adventures rather than a novel, and both this and Don Quixote abound in episodical stories, which separately taken are more properly novels than the mother work. each book in the nature of a prologue, in which the author speaks in person: he has executed this so pleasantly that we are reconciled to the interruption in this instance; but I should doubt if it is a practice in which an imitator would be wise to follow him. I should have observed, that modern novelists have not confined themselves to comic fables, or such only as have happy endings, but sometimes, as in the instance of "The Clarissa," wind up their story with a tragical catastrophe; to subjects of this 'sort, perhaps, the epistolary mode of writing may be best adapted, at least it seems to give a more natural scope to pathetic descriptions; but there can be no doubt that fables replete with humorous situations, characteristic dialogue, and busy plot, are better suited to the mode which Fielding has pursued in his inimitable novel of "The Foundling," universally allowed the most perfect work of its sort in ours, or probably any other language. There is a something so attractive to readers of all descriptions in these books, and they have been sought with such general avidity, that an incredible number of publications have been produced, and the scheme of circulating libraries lately established, which these very publications seem to have suggested, having spread them through the kingdom, novels are now become the amusing study of every rank and description of people in England. Young minds are so apt to be tinctured by what they read, that it should be the duty of every person who has the charge of education, to make a proper choice of books for those who are under their care: and this is particularly necessary in respect to our daughters, who are brought up in a more confined and domestie manner than boys. Girls will be tempted to form themselves upon any characters, whether true or fictitious, which forcibly strike their imaginations, and nothing can be more pointedly addressed to the passions than many of these novel heroines. I would not be understood to accuse our modern writers of immoral designs; very few, I believe, can be found of that description; I do not, therefore, object to them as corrupting the youthful mind by pictures of immorality, but I think some amongst them may be apt to lead young female readers into affectation and false character, by stories where the manners, though highly charged, are not in nature; and the more interesting such stories are, the greater will be their influence: in this light, |