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Suddenly, the rev. Robert Bathurst,
son of the bishop of Norwich.
The only sister of Mr. Calcraft.
The son of major d'Arley.
Mr. George Wilson, an artist.
Mr. C. Lloyd, banker.

Mr. Thomas Bewick, famous for his wood-cuts.

Mr. Jeremiah Birkwood, of the Prerogative-Office, Doctors'-Commons:

Mr. Fisher, vestry-clerk of the parish of St. Bene't, Paul's-wharf.

In his 77th year, Sir William Curtis; also his brother, the rev. Charles Curtis.

Mr. Richard Peake, treasurer of Drurylane Theatre during a course of forty years.

Sir E. Stracey.

At Exmouth, in his 88th year, Mr. C. Baring.

At Hastings, Sophia, daughter of Sir John Sebright.

Mr. J. Cartwright, marine painter to the duke of Clarence.

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Mr. Samuel Marryat the barrister.
At Norwich, Mr. P. M. Martineau.
At Dover, Mr. G. Finch.
At Wandsworth, Mr. Du-Buisson.
At Putney, Mr. H. Malpas.
At Dulwich, Mr. T. P. Romilly.
At Stockwell, Mr. E. Cartwright.
At Islington, by suicidal violence, Mr.
Naphthali Hart.

The wife of Mr. Ashhurst, M.P.
The hon. Mrs. Lisle.
Lady Caroline Damer.
Lady Stuart, of Allan-bank.
At Carshalton, Mrs. Houstoun.
The relict of Mr. Hale Wortham.
Miss Jones, sister of the comedian.
The baroness Willoughby d'Eresby;-
also her grand-daughter, Miss Charlotte
Burrell.

At Old-Windsor, Mrs. Walkden.

The mother of the late lord Gifford.
In his 70th year, Mr. John Johnstone,
an excellent theatrical representative of
Irish characters.

At Geneva, Mr. J. H. Butterworth, of
Clapham.

Drowned in bathing off the island of Madeira, the hon. captain Canning, son of the viscountess and the late minister.

ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.

THE Wreath, or the gift of intermingled flowers, will more properly be introduced in the spring than in the winter.

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If we should admit the rude and unpolished verses of Lætitia Hardy, we apprehend that we should give disgust to the refined taste of our superior readers.

An "Inquiry into the Seat of the Sensorium and into Mental Power," throws no light on the subject. Like those sportsmen who, after long beating about the bushes, know not where to find game, the writer bewilders himself in a fruitless search, and the inferences of his pretended philosophy are nearly as obscure and unsatisfactory as those of Pope and his associate Bolingbroke.

THE

LADY'S MAGAZINE;

OR,

MIRROR OF THE BELLES-LETTRES, FINE ARTS, MUSIC, DRAMA, FASHIONS, &c.

A New Series.

FEBRUARY 28, 1829.

REMARKS ON FRIENDSHIP, in a Letter to a young Lady.

HAVING the experience of a husband, and (I hope) the wisdom of a reflecting man, I am emboldened to offer a few hints on a subject in which every one is interested, because all persons of either sex would wish to have friends. A proper choice of friends, my dear girl, will be of the greatest consequence to you, as they may assist you on various occasions by their advice and good offices. Even without looking forward anxiously to eventual benefit, the immediate gratification which friendship affords to a warm, candid, and ingenuous heart, is a sufficient motive for courting it. In the selection of your friends, look principally for goodness of heart, but without overlooking the claims of good sense and understanding. When you have found a lady on whom you think you can safely depend, unbosom yourself to her with the utmost confidence. It is one of the maxims of worldly-minded people, never to trust any one with a secret, the discovery of which may give you pain or uneasiness; but this is the maxim of a little mind and a cold heart, except where it is the effect of ill treatment, or of frequent disappointments and mortifications. An open temper, if it be restrained by the occasional suggestions of prudence, will make you, upon the whole, much hap pier, although you may sometimes suffer

VOL. X.

by it, than a reserved and suspicious one. Coldness and distrust are the usual consequences of age and experience; but, as they are unpleasant feelings, I would not advise you to anticipate them.-There are some cases, however, in which openness is not allowable. For instance, you ought not to disclose the secrets of one friend to another: these are sacred deposits, which do not belong to you, and of which, therefore, you have no right to make use. There is another case in which secresy is adviseable, not so much from motives of prudence as of delicacy;-I allude to the concerns of love. Although a woman has no reason to be ashamed of an attachment to a man of merit, yet nature seems to have annexed a sense of shame to it. It is even long before a woman of delicacy dares avow to her own heart that she loves; and, when she cannot by any subterfuge or artifice conceal it from herself, she feels as if her pride and her modesty had suffered some degree of violence.This, I conceive, must always be the case where she is not sure of a return to her attachment. In such a situation to lay the heart open to any person whatever does not appear to me consistent with the perfection of female delicacy: but, perhaps, I am too scrupulous. At the same time I must tell you, that it concerns you to attend well to the consequences of such a discovery. Your amorous secrets, how, ever important in your own estimation, may appear very trifling to your friend,

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who possibly will not enter into your feelings, but may rather consider them as a subject of pleasantry. For this reason, love-secrets are of all others the worst kept. If, however, you must have a friend to pour out your heart to, be sure of her honor and secresy. Let her not be a married woman, especially if she lives happily with her husband. There are certain unguarded moments, in which such a woman, though the best and worthiest of her sex, may let hints escape, which at other times, or to any other person than her husband, she would scorn to utter; nor will a husband, in this case, feel himself under the same obligations of secresy and honor, as if you had put your confidence originally in him, especially on a subject which many are apt to treat so lightly.

If all other circumstances are equal, there are obvious advantages in your making friends of your brothers and sisters. The ties of blood, and your being so much united in one common interest, form an additional bond of union to your friendship. If your brothers should have the good fortune to have hearts susceptive of friendship, to possess truth, honor, sense, and delicacy of sentiment, they are the fittest and most unexceptionable confidents. By placing confidence in them, you will receive every advantage which you could hope for from the friendship of men, without any of the inconveniences that attend such connexions with our sex.

Beware of making confidents of your servants. Dignity, not properly understood, degenerates into pride, which enters into no friendships, because it cannot bear an equal, and is so fond of flattery as to grasp at it even from servants and dependents. The most intimate confidents, therefore, of proud people, are frequently their own domestics or their acknowleged inferiors. Shew the utmost humanity to your servants; make their situation as comfortable to them as possible; but, if you treat them confidentially, you spoil them and debase yourself.

Never allow any persons, under the pretended sanction of friendship, to be so familiar as to lose a proper respect for you. Never allow them to teaze you on any subject that is disagreeable, or where you have once taken your resolution.Many will tell you that this reserve is inconsistent with the freedom which friendship allows; but a certain respect is necessary in friendship as in love: without

it, you may be liked as a child, but will never be loved as an equal. The temper and disposition of the heart, in your sex, make you enter more readily into friendship than men. Your natural propensity to it is so strong, that you often run into intimacies of which you soon find cause to repent; and this makes your friendships so very fluctuating.

Another great obstacle to the sincerity, as well as steadiness of your friendships, is the great clashing of your interests in the pursuits of love, ambition, or vanity. For these reasons it might appear at first sight more eligible for you to contract your friendships with the men. Among other obvious advantages of an easy intercourse between the sexes, it occasions an emulation and exertion in each to excel and be agreeable: hence their respective excellences are mutually communicated and blended. As their interests in no degree interfere, there can be no foundation for jealousy or suspicion of rivalry. The friendship of a man for a woman is always blended with a tenderness, which he never feels for one of his own sex. Besides, we know that you have a natural title to our protection and good offices, and we therefore feel an additional obligation of honor to serve you, and to maintain an inviolable secresy, whenever you confide in us. But, when this subject is more attentively considered, the danger of cultivating the friendship of a man will strike every cautious and delicate female. Hundreds of women of the best hearts and the finest talents have been ruined by men who approached them under the specious name of friendship. Men whose general honor was previously unquestioned have forfeited their claim to it in their treatment of your sex; and, therefore, your friendship cannot safely be extended to our dangerous sex, unless you have an opportunity of uniting it with love and making it holy by marriage.

THE IMPORTANT INTERVIEW, OR A TRIUMPH OVER AVARICE.

A FONDNESS for money was a leading feature in the character of Mr. Wilson, who, influenced by that passion, resolved to connect his son Charles in marriage with Maria, a young lady of great fortune. The youth was thus reduced, as he thought, to the sad alternative of either being obliged to marry against his inclinations, or being disinherited by a tyran

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nical parent. Maria, indeed, had merit sufficient to make any other man happy; but the affections of Charles were preengaged; the beauteous Isabella had captivated his heart, and, though greatly superior in person and qualifications to Maria, had one defect, for which he knew no merit could atone in the eyes of his father, who had often declared, that he looked upon marriages for love, as the strongest examples of the folly and indiscretion of youth. So ardent was the love of Charles, that he preferred the interest of his passion to every other consideration, and immediately espoused Isabella in private, resolving to avoid a marriage with Maria on various pretexts, and, in the mean time, endeavour to procure from his father, by stratagem, that consent which he could not hope from his parental indulgence. Maria being at that time obliged to go into a distant part of the country, to visit a near relative, who had been given over by the physicians, the young gentleman, eager to avail himself of this opportunity, had recourse to the advice of a friend named Butler, who, though a bachelor and a man of a philo. sophical disposition, had often shewn himself able to direct both husbands and lovers in the practical affairs of life. The two friends soon devised a stratagem, which, they hoped, would produce the desired effect. It was agreed that Mr. Butler should present Isabella to Mr. Wilson as the daughter of an intimate friend, who had been obliged by an unfortunate affair to quit the country, and had entreated him to procure her an asylum. The young lady was accordingly introduced, and Mr. Wilson saluted her with warmth rather than with cold and formal politeness. The awe which she felt at the sight of her husband's father, whose consent to their marriage she almost despaired of obtaining, made her fall into a swoon. The old gentleman seeming to discover some curiosity to know how this accident could arise, her maid Florella said archly, "Lord, Sir! do you think any one could embrace such a gentleman as you without emotion?" This pleasantry was justly applied; for it appeared soon after, that, at fifty, he was coxcomb enough to think a fine woman might conceive a passion for him. He was capable, even then, of catching the amorous flame, and soon plainly evinced his inclination for Isabella by his behaviour: Her respectful deportment was, by him, looked upon as an indica

tion of love; and Charles and his friend were overjoyed at hearing this, thinking that it could not fail of proving highly advantageous to their scheme. Mr. Wilson having at length so far yielded to his passion, as to intimate to Mr. Butler his design of proposing marriage to Isabella, the friend replied that the lady's father would probably be pleased at the offer, but seemed to insinuate, that the disparity of age might render the young lady averse to it. Seeing, however, that Mr. Wilson, like the Moor of Venice, had too good an opinion of himself to draw, from his own weak merits, the smallest fear or doubt concerning the lady's affection, he promised to sound her, and prepare her for an interview with him. He now informed Isabella and Charles of what had passed on this occasion; and all three agreed, that there could not be a more proper time for Isabella to confess the whole truth, to ask pardon of Mr. Wilson, and beg to be received into favor by him. It was, however, judged expedient that Mr. Butler should continue to appear ignorant of Isabella's marriage with Charles, and should affect surprise, when made acquainted with it. These preliminaries being adjusted, Florella was despatched to the old gentleman to inform him that her mistress had something to impart to him. He answered in a transport of joy, that he should be proud of receiving the honor of her mistress's commands. The interview was not long delayed. To both it appeared of equal importance, and was in both attended with the throbbings of hope and fear, though the flutter in the gentleman's heart seemed to spring chiefly from the palpitations of hope, and that in the breast of Isabella from the bodings of fear. The latter began the conversation, and said, with a low and interrupted voice of timidity, "Sir, I hope you will hear me with indulgence;" to which he rereplied, with a vivacity not usual in him, "Madam, you can say nothing that will not be highly acceptable to me."—" I never, Sir," she continued, "aspired to the honor of being admitted into your family, and if the choice". Here Mr. Wilson, thinking she had dived into his purpose, answered briskly, "Madam, it is my family that will be honored by your alliance, which would reflect a lustre upon the noblest race in the land." Isabella, not yet sufficiently encouraged, began to lament the smallness of her fortune, which seemed to throw an obstacle

in the way of her happiness; but, as his sordid avarice was now succeeded by the most gallant sentiments, he assured her in the warmest terms, that he thought her beauty and worth more than sufficient to compensate the want of fortune, especially as his estate was an ample provision for both. He continued to descant with so much earnestness upon the little weight that should be laid upon wealth in love-affairs, that Isabella thought this the favorable moment to proceed to an eclaircissement; and, throwing herself at his feet, owned her marriage with his son, and in the most pathetic terms implored his favor and forgiveness. So great was his surprise, that he did not once interrupt her, but stood motionless as a statue, until she had made an end of speaking; and he then paused for some time, with the utmost perplexity visible in his countenance. At length he said, with some confusion, "Madam, I do not complain of you, but the disobedience of my son deserves the severest punishment." Isabella then pleaded the cause of the young delinquent with the most tender eloquence, and the father seemed at last to relent.

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When men are once prepossessed in favor of a person, they seldom immediately pass to the extreme of hatred: in like manner, when they have once con ceived a resentment, though upon unjustifiable grounds, they are not often suddenly reconciled. Mr. Wilson, however, was so far affected by the remonstrances of Isabella, that he yielded in some measure, and said, “Madam, if I forgive Charles, it will be entirely on your account, and not on his."-Charles now entered the room, and joined his wife in her supplications. The old gentleman, whose passions had been thus gradually wrought to a high point, burst into tears, and, giving them his blessing, wished heartily that their union might prove permanent and happy.

Mr. Butler, informed of what had passed, affected great surprise, but at the same time acknowleged, that the match between Charles and Isabella was much more suitable on account of the equality of age. This Mr. Wilson readily granted, and, having by paying his addresses to Isabella so far divested himself of his former character, as to lose sight of his avarice, he now totally dropped it by acknowleging his error.

Maria, who soon after returned from the country with her father, received in

formation of what had happened, and was greatly rejoiced at it, as her heart was pre-engaged, when her father would have obliged her to give her hand to Charles. Thus was a double tyranny avoided, and all parties were made happy by an unexpected event, which was fortunately produced by an important and well-concerted interview.

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HELEN LINDORF, from the Tales of Woman.

THIS is a German story, by no means deficient in interest, however improbable may by some readers be deemed. Helen, an old maid, consents, at the desire of a rich uncle, to marry her cousin Charles, who is much younger than herself; but, before the nuptials are solemnised, the uncle dies, leaving a will very disadvantageous to the young man, if he should recede from the matrimonial engagement. Of such an incident, however, there appears to be no danger, the two cousins being strongly attached to each other; but, the marriage having been postponed during the period of mourning, Charles devotes the interval to some business in the metropolis. While he is thus detained, the ear of Helen is abused with respect to his proceedings, and she finds reason to doubt the constancy of his affections; a suspicion to which her extreme sensitiveness as to the disparity of their ages, and her own want of personal attraction, rendered her the more alive. In this feeling,

"She wrote to him, recapitulating what she had heard. Not the slightest reproach escaped her: she merely expressed surprise that he had not himself acquainted her with the circumstances. She then adverted to their relative situation. All that Charles, had he been really inconstant, could have said in his behalf, she put with persuasive eloquence into his mouth: she even approved his motives, and protested that in her opinion he was justified. Well then,' Charles,-so she concluded this singular epistle- let us continue friends, and act as friends. Let each of us strive to secure the other's respect, and-why may I not employ the word in its nobler sense-the other's love! To accomplish this let us part before we are united. What prevented you from being the first to make the proposal was false delicacy. Another, though I am confident a much less weighty obstacle, I

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