daughter. You don't believe it, Kitty? Yet you must, for 't is true, and sure, if beauty can shed a lustre over puddled blood, she has it. Lord Villiers, chief of the macaronis, said, yesterday was a week,

'Of all the beauties Miss Walpole reigns supreme-if one could forget the little accident of birth! Her face, bloom, eyes, teeth, hair, and person are all perfection's self, and Nature broke the mould when she made this paragon, for I know none like her.'

"T is true, but 't is so awkward with these folk that can't be presented nor can't meet this one nor that. Still, I have had her much to my routs and drums, where 't is such an olla podrida that it matters not who comes. But Lady Waldegrave may go where she will; and certainly the bridegroom has nothing to object on the score of birth, for he comes from James the Second by the left hand, and for aught I know a left-hand milliner is as good these Republican days. Anyhow, 't is so, and Horry, who would have all think him above such thoughts, is most demurely conceited that a Walpole-ahem! should grace the British peerage. Remains now only Charlotte, and I dare swear she will carry her charms to no worse market than Maria, though not so great a Venus.

I went yesterday evening to the Bluestocking Circle at Mrs. Montagu's fine house. I am not become. learned, Kitty, but 't was to hear the lionesses roar, and because I knew the Lord of Strawberry would be there and was wishful to hear his exultations. Lord preserve us, child, what a frightening place! We were ushered into the Chinese Room lined with painted Pekin paper, and noble Chinese vases, and there were all the lions, male and female, in a circle the Circle of the Universe. All the great ladies of the Bluestocking Court were there; the

vastly learned Mrs. Carter, Mrs. Delany over from Ireland, the Swan of Lichfield Miss Anna Seward, Mrs. Chapone, and other lionesses and cubesses. My dear, they sat in a half-moon, and behind them another half-moon of grave ecclesiastics and savants, and Horry at the head of them, in brown and gold brocade. 'T was not sprightly, Kitty. T is true these women are good and learned, and some of them well enough in looks; but 't is so pretentious, so serious, I lack a word! sorious of all that does not pull a long face, that, when Mrs. Montagu rose to meet us with the shade of Shakespeare in attendance (for no lower footman would serve so majestic a lady), I had a desire to seize her two hands and gallop round the room with her that I could scarce restrain. But sure she and the company had died of it!

so cen

I expected great information from such an assemblage, but 't was but a snip-snap of talk remarks passed from one to another, but served as it were on massy plate long words, and too many of 'em. Dull, my dear, dull! And so 't will always be when people aim to be clever. They do these things better in France, where they have no fear of laughter and the women sparkle without a visible machinery. "T was all standing on the mind's tip-toe here. And when the refreshments were served I made for Horry —

On silver vases loaded rise The biscuits' ample sacrifice, And incense pure of fragrant tea. But Bluestockingism is nourished on tea as wit on wine.

'So, Mr. Walpole,' says I, 'what is this news I hear of Miss Maria? My felicitations to the bridegroom on the possession of so many charms.'

And Horry with his bow,

'I thank your ladyship's partiality and good heart. For character and credit, Lord Waldegrave is the first match

in England, and for beauty, Maria - excepting only the lady I address. The family is well pleased, though 't is no more than her deserts, and 't was to be expected my father's grandchild would ally herself with credit.'

"T is when Horry Walpole gives himself these demure airs that I am tempted to be wicked, Kitty. For what signifies talking? The girl is a beauty, but Nancy Parsons and Kitty Fisher are beauties, too, and if the court and peerage are opened to women of no birth, why what's left for women of quality? "T is certain the next generation of the peerage bids fair to be extreme ill-born, and the result may be surprising. But I held my tongue, for I have a kindness for Horry and his niece, though I laugh at 'em.

I thought Mr. Walpole looked ill, and doubted whether I might hope to see him at my Tuesday rout. Says he,

""T is the gout, Madam, that ungal. lant disorder, and had I a mind to brag, I could boast of a little rheumatism too; but I scorn to set value on such trifles, and since your ladyship does me the honor to bespeak my company, I will come if 't were in my coffin and pair. May I hope your ladyship will favor us at Maria's nuptials. Sure the Graces were ever attended by Venus on occasions of ceremony.'

He would have said more, but the Queen of the Blues swam up, protesting and vowing she had never seen such a goddess as Miss Maria Walpole; that were she to marry the Emperor of the world, 't would be vastly below the merit of such glowing charms. And so forth. "T is a lady that paints all her roses red and plasters her lilies white, and whether 't is malice I can't tell, but believe 't is possible to blast by praise as well as censure, by setting the good sense of one half the world and the envy of the other against the victim. So she shrugged and simpered and worked

VOL. 128-NO. 3

every muscle of her face, in hopes to be bid to the wedding; but Mr. Walpole only bowed very grave and precise, and turned away, and I with him. And no more circles for me, my dear; and here I conclude, and my next shall be the epithalamium.

18th May, 1759.

Kitty, child, when you was married, did you look about you from under your hat? did you take a sly peep at the World, the Flesh, and the Devil, and wonder which was the bridegroom? I did, but I'll never tell which he proved to be! Well, Maria was married two days since, and Horry Walpole favored me to-day with a glimpse of the letter he writ to his friend Mann on the occasion. "T was very obliging; but you know all he writes is writ with one eye on the paper and one on posterity, so 't is no wonder if he squints a little by times. However, here's to our letter.

"The original day was not once put off-lawyers and milliners all canonically ready. They were married in Pall Mall just before dinner, and we all dined there, and the Earl and the new Countess got into their post-chaise at eight and went to Navestock alone. On Sunday she is to be presented and to make my Lady Coventry distracted. Maria was in a white and silver nightgown, with a hat very much pulled over her face. What one could see of it was handsomer than ever. A cold maiden blush gave her the sweetest delicacy in the world.'

So far our doting uncle, Kitty; but 't is indeed a fair creature. I saw the long soft brown eyes lifted once and flash such a look at the bridegroom - I dare to swear Lord Waldegrave wished away then the twenty years between them. Poor Lady Coventry, indeed! Her race is run, her thread is spun, her goose is cooked, and any other trope you please; for what signifies all the

white lead at the 'pothecary's compared to the warm brown of Maria's complexion and her long eyelashes!

Lady Elizabeth Keppel had a gown worthy of the Roman Empress she looks, with that beak nose and nutcracker chin. "T was a black velvet petticoat, embroidered in chenille, the pattern a great gold wicker basket filled to spilling over with ramping flowers that climbed and grew all about her person. A design for a banqueting hall rather than a woman; or indeed a committee of Bluestockings might have wore it to advantage. She had winkers of lace to her head, and her hoop covered so many acres that one could but approach at an awful distance and confidences were impossible a sure reason why the modish ladies will soon drop the hoop.

I saluted the bride after the ceremony and says I,

'Maria, my love, I attend your presentation on Sunday, and I bring my smelling bottle for Lady Coventry. "T is already said her guards will now be transferred to your ladyship, together with a detachment from each ship of the Fleet, to secure so much beauty.'

She has the sweetest little dimple in either cheek, and twenty Cupids hide under her lashes.

'I have no wish, Madam, to dethrone my Lady Coventry, if even 't were possible,' says she. "That lady has occupied the throne so long, that 't is hers by right, and the English people never weary of an old favorite.'

"T was two-edged, Kitty, as you see, and I will report it to the other lovely Maria, and 't will be pretty to see the rapiers flash between the two. 'T is not only the men carry dress swords, child. But I thought Miss Maria a downy nestling, with never a thought of repartee, till now. 'T is born in us, child. It begins with our first word and is our last earthly sigh.

May, 1759.

Well, was you at the presentation, Lady Desmond, for I did not see your la'ship.

Says you, 'How was that possible with the Irish Sea between us? So out with the news!'

The company was numerous and magnificent, and Horry Walpole in his wedding garment of a white brocade with purple and green flowers. 'T was a trifle juvenile for his looks, but I blame him not; for my Lady Townshend would choose for him though he protested that, however young he might be in spirits, his bloom was a little past. I could see he was quaking for his nuptialities lest Maria should not be in full beauty.

The old man took it with good humor; but Queen Bess had made a divorce between her lovely head and shoulders for less.

Well, into the midst of this prodigious assemblage, with Uncle Horry quaking inwardly and making as though Walpole nieces were presented every day, comes the fair Waldegrave, gliding like a swan, perfectly easy and genteel, in a silver gauze with knots of silver ribbon and diamonds not so bright as her eyes. I dare swear not a man there but envied my Lord Waldegrave, and many might envy the beauty her husband, a good plain man, grave and handsome. But the bride! She swam

up to His Majesty, like Venus floating on clouds, and her curtsey and handkissing perfect. Who shall talk of blood in future, when a milliner's daughter can thus distinguish herself in the finest company in Europe? "T is true 't is mixed with the Walpole vintage; but when all's said and done, who were the Walpoles? If you get behind the coarse, drinking Squire Western of a father, you stumble up against Lord Mayors and what not! So 't is a world's wonder, and there I leave it.

As for Maria Coventry do but figure her! I saw her pale under her rouge when the bride entered, and her eyes shot sparks of fire, like an angry goddess. Could they have destroyed, we had seen her rival a heap of ashes like the princess of the Arabian Nights. I tendered her my smelling-bottle, out she dashed it from her, and then, smil ing in the prettiest manner in the world, says to my Lord Hardwicke,

"T is said women are jealous of each other's good looks, my lord, but 't is not so with me. I am vastly pleased with my Lady Waldegrave's appearance. "T is far beyond what was to be expected of her parentage. She looks vastly agreeable, and I hope she will favor me with her company.'

"T was cleverer than I supposed her, and sure enough she did nothing but court the bride, and now the two beauties go about to all the sights and routs together and are the top figures in town, and all the world feasts its eyes upon two such works of nature - and Art it must be added, so far as Maria Coventry is concerned; for she is two inches deep in white lead, and the doctors have warned her 't will be the death of her.

Kitty, I found my first gray hair yesterday.. 'T is my swan-song. I am done with the beaux and the toasts and the fripperies. When I spoke to Harry Conway at the Court, his eyes were so

fixed on Lady Waldegrave that he heard me not till I had spoke three times. Get thee to a nunnery, Fanny! I shall now insensibly drop into a spectatress. What care I! To ninety-nine women life ends with their looks, but I will be the hundredth, and laugh till I die!

Four years later.

Why, Kitty, your appetite for news grows by what it feeds on. Sure you are the horse-leech's true daughter, crying, 'Give, give!' You say I told you not of Charlotte Walpole's marriage. Sure, I did. Maria married her sister well to young Lord Huntingtower, my Lord Dysart's son. 'Tis a girl of good sense. She loved him not, nor yet pretended to, but says she to Maria, —

'If I was nineteen I would not marry him. I would refuse point-blank. But I am two-and-twenty, and though 't is true some people say I am handsome, 't is not all who think so. I believe the truth is, I am like to be large and heavy and go off soon. "T is dangerous to refuse so good a match. Therefore tell him, sister, I accept.'

And 't was done. I had this from Maria herself, who took it for an instance of commendable good sense; but I know not somehow I would have a girl less of a Jew with her charms. Anyhow, stout or no, she will be my Lady Countess Dysart when his father dies; and now sure, there are no more worlds left for the Walpole girls to conquer. Their doting Uncle Horry could never predict such success. The eldest girl's husband is now Bishop of Exeter.

Poor Maria Coventry is dead - the most lovely woman in England, setting aside only t'other Maria. "T was from usage of white lead, Kitty, and tell that to all the little fools you know! It devoured her skin, and she grew so hideous that at the last she would not

permit the doctors to see her ruined face, but would put out her hand between the curtains to have her pulse took. She was but twenty-seven.

Sure, I am Death's herald, for I must tell you, too, my Lord Waldegrave is dead, and the beauty a widow after but four years' marriage. I saw her but yesterday, full of sensibility and lovely as Sigismonda in Hogarth's picture. She had her young daughter, Lady Elizabeth, in her lap, the curly head against her bosom, the chubby cheek resting on a little hand against the mother's breast. Sure never was anything so moving as the two- exact to the picture Mr. Reynolds painted.

She has a great tenderness for his memory, and well she may, when the position he raised her to is considered. "T is like a discrowned queen, for her jointure is small, and she is now no more consequence to his party, so his death has struck away her worldly glory at a blow. Indeed, I pitied her, and wiped away her floods of tears with tenderness that was unaffected. But for such a young woman, I won't believe the scene is closed. What are there no Marquises, no Dukes for such perfection?

tled; 'but 't is to be thought she had chose a little less beauty and rather more good fortune, had she been consulted. "T is hard she should be punished for what she could not help!'

'Let her solace herself with her needleworks, Madam. A man cannot hem a pocket-handkerchief and so he runs mad. To be occupied on small occasions is one of the great felicities of the female train and makes bereavement more bearable.'

"T is a bear roaring his ignorance of the world, my dear. But he has a kind of horse sense (if the female train would but let him be) that makes him endurable and even palatable at times.

1764.

Kitty, my dear, have you forgot that, when my Lord Waldegrave died, I writ, 'Are there no dukes to pursue the lovely widow?' Give honor to the prophet! She refused the Duke of Portland, that all the fair were hunting with stratagems worthy of the Mohawks. She refused this, that, and t'other. And the town said, 'Pray who is the milliner's daughter, to turn up her nose at the first matches in England? Has she designs on the King of Prussia, -for our own young monarch is wed to his Charlotte, lotte, or is it the Sultan, or His Holiness the Pope that will content her ladyship?'

No answer. But, Kitty, 't is me to smell a rat at a considerable distance, and I kept my nostrils open! Our handsome young King has a handsome young brother, - His Royal Highness the Duke of Gloucester, and this gentleman has cast the sheep's eye, the eye of passion, upon our lovely widow! What think you of this? That it cannot be? Then what of the King Cophetua and other historic examples? I would have you know that in the tender passion there's nothing that cannot be. It laughs at obstacles and rides