of different individuals? Nay, of what importance is one period of the same life more than another? A few years ago, I could have lain down in the dust, "careless of the voice of the morning;" and now not a few, and these most helpless individuals, would, on losing me and my exertions, lose both their, "staff and shield." By the way, these helpless ones have lately got an addition, Mrs. B— having given me a fine girl since I wrote you. There is a charming passage in Thomson's Edward and Eleanora—

"The valiant, in himself, what can he suffer? Or what need he regard his single woes?" &c.

As I am got in the way of quotations, I shall give you another from the same piece, peculiarly, alas! too peculiarly apposite, my dear Madam, to your present frame of mind:

"Who so unworthy but may proudly deck him
With his fair-weather virtue, that exults

Glad o'er the summer main? the tempest comes,
The rough winds rage aloud; when from the helm
This virtue shrinks, and in a corner lies
Lamenting-Heavens! if privileged from trial,
How cheap a thing were virtue!"

I do not remember to have heard you mention Thomson's dramas. I pick up favourite quotations, and store them in my mind as ready

armour,

armour, offensive or defensive, amid the strug-. gle of this turbulent existence. Of these is one, a very favourite one, from his Alfred:

"Attach thee firmly to the virtuous deeds
And offices of life; to life itself,

With all its vain and transient joys, sit loose."

Probably I have quoted some of these to you formerly, as indeed when I write from the heart, I am apt to be guilty of such repetitions. The compass of the heart, in the musical style of expression, is much more bounded than that of the imagination; so the notes of the former are extremely apt to run into one another; but in return for the paucity of its compass, its few notes are much more sweet. I must still give you another quotation, which I am almost sure I have given you before, but I cannot resist the temptation. The subject is religion-speaking of its importance to mankind, the author says,

" "Tis this, my friend, that streaks our morning bright,” &c. as in p. 259.

I see you are in for a double postage, so I shall e'en scribble out t'other sheet. We, in this country here, have many alarms of the reforming, or rather the republican spirit, of your part of the kingdom. Indeed we are a good deal in commotion ourselves. For me, I am a placeman, you know; a very humble one in

deed,

deed, Heaven knows, but still so much so as to gag me. What my private sentiments are, you will find out without an interpreter.

I have taken up the subject in another view, and the other day, for a pretty Actress's benefit night, I wrote an Address, which I will give on the other page, called The Rights of Woman.

THE RIGHTS OF WOMAN.

An Occasional Address spoken by Miss FONTENELLE on her Benefit-night.

WHILE Europe's eye is fix'd on mighty things,
The fate of empires and the fall of kings;

While quacks of state must each produce his plan,
And even children lisp the Rights of Man;
Amid this mighty fuss just let me mention,
The Rights of Woman merit some attention.

First, in the sexes' intermix'd connexion, One sacred Right of Woman is protection.— The tender flower that lifts its head, elate, Helpless, must fall before the blasts of fate, Sunk on the earth, defac'd its lovely form, Unless your shelter ward th' impending storm.

VOL. 11.

EE

Our

Our second right-but needless here is caution,
To keep that right inviolate 's the fashion,
Each man of sense has it so full before him,
He'd die before he'd wrong it-'tis decorum.—
There was, indeed, in far less polish'd days,
A time when rough rude man had naughty ways;
Would swagger, swear, get drunk, kick up a riot,
Nay even thus invade a lady's quiet.—

Now, thank our stars! these Gothic times are fled;
Now well-bred men--and you are all well-bred—
Most justly think (and we are much the gainers)
Such conduct neither spirit, wit, nor manners."

For Right the third, our last, our best, our dearest, That right to fluttering female hearts the nearest, Which even the Rights of Kings in low prostration Most humbly own-'tis dear, dear admiration! In that blest sphere alone we live and move; There taste that life of life-immortal love.Smiles, glances, sighs, tears, fits, flirtations, airs, 'Gainst such an host what flinty savage daresWhen awful Beauty joins with all her charms, Who is so rash as rise in rebel arms?

But truce with kings, and truce with constitutions, With bloody armaments and revolutions; Let Majesty your first attention summon,

Ah! ça ira! THE MAJESTY OF WOMAN!

I shall have the honour of receiving your criticisms in person at Dunlop.

No.

* Ironical allusion to the saturnalia of the Caledonian Hunt.

No. CXXXVII.

TO MISS B*****, of YORK.

21st March, 1793.

MADAM,

AMONG many things for which I envy those hale, long-lived old fellows before the flood, is this in particular, that when they met with any body after their own heart, they had a charming long prospect of many, many happy meetings with them in after-life.

Now, in this short, stormy, winter day of our fleeting existence, when you now and then, in the Chapter of Accidents, meet an individual whose acquaintance is a real acquisition, there are all the probabilities against you, that you shall never meet with that valued character On the other hand, brief as this miserable being is, it is none of the least of the mi

more.