which was only put an end to by the mediatorial offices of the ladies.

then presented the appearance of a dark and dismal dungeon, which was The internal regulations of the fa- not, however, impervious either to mily were not much at variance with wind or rain. The seats were placed those of a substantial shopkeeper in across, and it was capable of holding England, but were widely different from fourteen to sixteen persons, exfrom that elegance which character-clusive of the driver, who was seated izes the establishments of our English in front. In this elegant carriage, merchants. There was, however, a over roads which presented obstacles plenty of every thing, even to super-at every step, and occasioned such a fluity: the table groaned under the jolting, that every bone was almost viands with which it was covered at forced from its socket, we travelled the different meals; and a want of to Washington, the capital of the hospitality could not be attributed United States. On entering this to any member of the family. place, we were struck with the air of desolation which reigned around; and I was about making an exclamation not very flattering to American pride, when the timely recollection, that it

Mr. Mortimer induced me to be silent. We had had enough of Ame rican stage-travelling, and pursued our journey the same day to Alexandria by one of the packets which ply upon the Potowmac between the two places. A few hours' sail brought us to the future home of Mrs. Mortimer; and we were welcomed by her husband with an urbanity and a warmth, that for a time dispelled the prejudices which I could not but entertain in his disfavour.

Here the marriage between Mrs. | Fitzherbert and Mr. Mortimer was celebrated with the Episcopal rites, Mrs. F. being a member of the Church of England. The gentleman receiv-might produce an altercation with ed her from my hand; the Misses Brown acted as bridemaids; and the lovely Misses Fitzherbert were also present at the ceremony. Two days afterwards we left Baltimore for Alexandria, in an American stage. Such a vehicle I had never before seen: it was of the shape of those caravans which travel from town to town in England, and are seen at our fairs, with exhibitions of tumbling, conjuring, wild beasts, &c. The roof was covered with leather; and the sides were of wood for about two feet, and open to the top, except in cold or, wet weather, when leather flaps suspended from the top were fastened all around, and the interior

The evening was spent cheerfully; fatigue sent us early to repose; and I retired, to reflect on the past and form plans for the future.

A RAMBLER.

THE PARTING.

(From "Recollections of an Eventful Life." By a SOLDIER.)

WE had been about three months | As there were, however, a great many in Jersey, when the order came for our embarkation for Portugal; but only six women to every hundred men were allowed to accompany us.

more than that number, it was ordered that they should draw lots, to see who should remain. The women of the company to which I belonged

were assembled in the pay-serjeant's to scald more of you about the fireroom for that purpose. The men of side." A general murmur of disapthe company had gathered round pointment ran through the whole. them to see the result, with various" She has the devil's luck and her own," said one of them.

degrees of interest depicted in their countenances. The proportionate

number of tickets were made with

66

to go" or not to go" written on them. They were then placed in a hat, and the women were called by their seniority to draw their tickets. I looked round me before they began. It was an interesting scene. The serjeant stood in the middle with the hat in his hand, the women around him, with their hearts palpitating, and anxiety and suspense in every countenance. Here and there you would see the head of a married man pushed forward from amongst the crowd in the attitude of intense anxiety and attention.

The first woman called was the serjeant's wife-she drew "not to go." It seemed to give little concern to any one but herself and her husband. She was not very well liked in the company. The next was a corporal's wife-she drew" to go." This was received by all with nearly as much apathy as the first. She was little beloved either.

The next in turn was the wife of young man who was much respected in the company for his steadiness and good behaviour. She was remarkable for her affection for her husband, and beloved by the whole company for her modest and obliging disposition. She advanced with a palpitating heart and trembling hand to decide on (what was to her, I be lieve,) her future happiness or misery. Every one prayed for her success. Trembling between fear and hope, she drew out one of the tickets, and attempted to open it; but her hand shook so, she could not do it. She handed it to one of the men to open. When he opened it, his coun→ tenance fell, and he hesitated to say what it was. She cried out to him, in a tone of agony, "Tell me, for God's sake, what it is!"-"Not to go," said he, in a compassionate tone of voice." O God, help me! O Sandy!" she exclaimed, and sunk lifeless in the arms of her husband, who had sprung forward to her assistance, and in whose face was now depicted every variety of wretchedness. The drawing was interrupted, and she was carried by her husband to his birth, where he hung over her in frantic agony. By the assistance of those around her, she was soon reco

The next was an old hand, a most outrageous virago, who thought nothing of giving her husband a knockdown when he offended her, and who used to make great disturbance about the fire in the cooking way. Every one uttered their wishes audibly that she would lose; and her hus-vered from her swoon, but she awoke band, if we could judge from his countenance, seemed to wish so too. She boldly plunged her hand into the hat, and drew out a ticket; on opening it, she held it up triumphantly, and displayed" to go."-" Old Meg will go yet," said she," and live

only to a sense of her misery. The first thing she did was to look round for her husband; when she perceived him, she seized his hand and held it, as if she was afraid that he was going to leave her. "O Sandy, you'll not leave me and your poor babie,

will you?" The poor fellow looked | in her face with a look of agony and despair.

fixed in her mind that they would never use them in that way again, and as she put them aside, she watered them with her tears. Her tea-pot, her cups, and every thing that they

apostrophe of sorrow. He tried to persuade her to remain in the barrack, as we had six miles to travel to the place of embarkation; but she said she would take the last minute in his company that she could.

The regiment fell in, and marched

The scene drew tears from every eye in the room, with the exception of the termagant whom I have al-had used in common, all had their ready mentioned, who said, "What are ye a' makin' sic a wark about? Let the babie get her greet out! I suppose she thinks there's naebody ever parted with their men but her, wi' her faintin', and her airs, and her wark!" The drawing was again commenc-off amid the wailing of those who, ed, and various were the expressions having two or three children, could of feelings evinced by those concern- not accompany us to the place of ed. The Irish women in particular embarkation. Many of the men had were loud in their grief. It always got so much intoxicated, that they appeared to me that the Irish either were scarcely able to walk. The feel more acutely than the Scotch or commanding officer was so displeasEnglish, or that they have less re-ed at their conduct, that, in coming straint on themselves in expressing through St. Helier's, he would not it. The barrack, through the rest allow the band to play. of that day, was one continued scene of lamentation.

When we arrived at the place where we were to embark, a most We were to march the next distressing scene took place, in the morning early. Most of the single men parting with their wives. Some men were away drinking. I slept of them indeed it did not appear to in the birth above Sandy and his affect much; others had got themwife. They never went to bed, but selves nearly tipsy; but most of them sat the whole night in their birth, seemed to feel acutely. When Sanwith their only child between them, dy's wife came to take her last alternately embracing their child and farewell, she lost all government of each other, and lamenting their cru- her grief. She clung to him with a el fortune. I never witnessed in my despairing hold. "Oh! dinna, dinlife such a heart-rending scene. The na leave me!" she cried. The vespoor fellow tried to assume some firm-sel was hauling out. One of the serness, but in vain; some feeling ex-jeants came to tell her that she would pression from her would throw him have to go ashore. "Oh! they'll off his guard, and at last his grief never be so hard-hearted as to part became quite uncontroulable. us!" said she; and running aft to the quarter-deck, where the commanding officer was standing, she sunk down on her knees, with her child in her arms. "Oh! will you no let me gang wi' my husband? Will ye tear him frae his wife and his ween? He has

When the first bugle sounded, he got up and prepared his things. Here a new source of grief sprung up. In laying aside the articles which he intended to leave, and which they had used together, the idea seemed

nae frien's but us nor we ony but || us frien'less on the wide world.". him-and, oh! will you mak' us a' "God will be your friend," said I, frien'less? See my wee babie plead- as I took the child from her until in' for us!" she should get into the boat. Sandy had stood like a person bewildered all this time, without saying a word. "Farewell, then, a last farewell then!” said she to him. "Where's my babie?" she cried. I handed him to her-" Give him a last kiss, Sandy." He pressed the infant to his bosom in silent agony. "Now a's owre! Farewell, Sandy! We'll may-be meet in heaven;" and she stepped into the boat with a wild despairing look. The vessel was now turning the pier, and she was almost out of our sight in an instant; but as we got the last glimpse of her, she uttered a shriek, the knell of a broken heart, which rings in my ears at this moment. Sandy rushed down below, and threw himself into one of the births in a state of feeling which defies description. Poor fellow, his wife's forebodings were too true! He was amongst the first that were killed in Portugal. What became of her I have never been able to learn.

The officer felt a painful struggle between his duty and his feelings; the tears came into his eyes. She eagerly caught at this as favourable to her cause. "Oh! aye, I see you have a feeling heart-you'll let me gang wi' him! You have nae wife: but if you had, I am sure you wad think it unco hard to be torn frae her this way-and this wee darling." -" My good woman," said the officer, "I feel for you much, but my orders are peremptory, that no more than six women to each hundred men go with their husbands. You have had your chance as well as the other women; and although it is hard enough on you to be separated from your husband, yet there are many more in the same predicament, and it is totally out of my power to help it."-" Well, well," said she, rising from her knees, and straining her infant to her breast, "it's a' owre wi' us, my puir babie! This day leaves

HISTORY OF A COQUETTE.

(Concluded from p. 74.)

last in making him fancy himself in love with me; and as his rank on the one hand, and his reputed insensibility on the other, made him a very creditable conquest, I enjoyed the

I CONSOLED myself for the defec- || ion. By this means I succeeded at tion of Squire Chase by directing my battery at the heart of Lord Listless, on whom, for some time, I tried all the arts of coquetry in vain; in fact, his lordship was regarded as a man completely invulnerable to eve-delight of leading him about in my ry feeling but self-love. Inaccessible, however, as his heart was supposed to be, I at last found a way to it: I praised his taste in dress, consulted him about my toilet, and occasionally gave my opinion as to what colours were most becoming to his complex

chains, which I thought a little management would induce him to wear till I was tired of his homage. Soon after I had secured the peer, chance threw Mr. Doubtall in my way: he was a philosopher on Hobbes' system, and he maintained his opinions with

rangue to gain my consent to a more philosophical connection; but I evaded it by declaring, that my object be

an obstinacy which piqued me into a desire of convincing him that pain was not an imaginary evil, and I flatter myself that I completely convincing what the grand object of every ed him of it before I had done with rational being ought to be, the prohim. It was necessary to make my motion of general utility, I could by approaches cautiously, and to attack no means consent to a step which his heart by a show of deference to would divert, at least for a time, his his understanding. O Mr. Editor, energies from their proper source: what fools are philosophers in love! but as I was determined not to leave I soon brought my stoic, who pro- him without hope, I added, that when fessed to regard every thing with in- he had succeeded in bringing the difference, to tremble at my frown; greatest part of the nation over to nay, I have actually seen him turn his opinions, I would then join him as pale as ashes at my giving a kind in setting an example to our converts look to any body else. of a rational union. One might reasonably suppose that such an offer as this would be received by a man of his principles with transport; but instead of that, he flew into a most unphilosophical fury, and as in his passion he made some very severe reflections on my conduct, I answered him with an asperity which brought on a violent quarrel, and we parted.

As I considered the conquest of Mr. Doubtall's heart as the most glorious I ever made, I took the greatest delight in exhibiting him as my captive; but in riveting his chains I unluckily loosed those of Lord Listless, who, happening to be present one day at a dispute which I had with his rival on the doctrine of innate ideas, was struck with such horror at hearing me use a Latin quotation, that he abruptly quitted the room, and never could be drawn by any artifice to pay me another visit. As he was at that time the only ostensible pretender to my hand, Mr. Doubtall saw him retreat with great exultation, and seized the occasion to press for my consent to an immediate marriage. I evaded a reply as long as I could, but when I was at last obliged to speak, I told him gravely, that I was really shocked at his making so unphilosophical a proposal; for, thanks to the pains he had taken, to enlighten my mind, I was above submitting to so senseless a yoke; and if he meant to preserve my friendship, he must talk no more about it. He tried in a florid haVol. III. No. XV,

Being at a ball one evening, soon after I had lost Mr. Doubtall, I observed a young gentleman looking at me earnestly, but with perfect indifference. Surprised and piqued at the cold and scrutinizing air with which he eyed me, I inquired who he was, and was answered, "Oh! it is Sir George Worthy: he is lately come to his title and a very fine estate, which is a monstrous pity, for he is a sad stupid animal; indeed some people think him a Methodist." This last piece of information did not discourage me; I soon contrived to be introduced to Sir George, whom I found a man of sense, taste, and of morals more strict than men of fashion generally are, to which it was owing that he acquired the charac ter of a Methodist. He was extremeT