fluenced by the narrow prejudices so common between the two nations, forbade the officer his house, but not before we were, by the most solemn engagements, secretly contracted to each other.

Emily. May I ask the officer's name.

Flo. Excuse me, madam. Till I see or hear from him once more, my prudence, vanity, or call it what you will, will scarce suffer nie to mention it. Your brotner, indeed, is acquainted with

Emily. I beg your pardon-I hope, however, you have no reason to think yourself neglected or forgotten?

Bell. Not at all: a soft lady-like gentleman, with a white hand, a mincing step, and a smooth chin. Where does this pretty master come from?

Emily. From my brother.
Bell. Who is he?

Emily. A present to you.

Bell. A present to me! what d'ye mean?
Emily. Why, did not my brother promise to
take care of you, before he went abroad?
Bell. Well, and what then?

Emily. What then! Why, he has taken care of you-sent you a pretty fellow for a husband. Could he possibly take better care of you?

Flo. Oh no; far from it. He was soon recal- Bell. A husband!-a puppet, a doll, a— led by orders from England; and on my father's Emily. A soldier, Bell!-a red coat, consider. pressing me to consent to another match, my Bell. A fine soldier, indeed!—I can't bear to passion I blush to own it-transported me see a red coat cover any thing but a man, sister. so far, as to depart abruptly from Belleisle. I-Give me a soldier that looks as if he could love came over in an English ship to Portsmouth, | where I expected, according to letters he had contrived to send me, to find the officer. But, judge of my disappointment, when I learnt, that he embarked, but three days before, for the siege of the Havannah.

Emily. The Havannahı!—You touch me nearly-Pray, go on.

me, and protect me; ay, and tame me, too, if I deserved it.-If I was to have this thing for a husband, I would set him at the top of the India cabinet with the China figures, and bid the maid take care she did not break him.

Emily. Well, well; if this is the case, I don't know what my brother will say to you. Here's his letter; read it, and send him an answer yourself.

Flo. In a strange kingdom-alone-and a woman-what could I do? In order to defeat in- Bell. [Reads.] Dear sister, the bearer of this quiries after ine, I disguised myself in this habit, letter is à lady !-So, so! your servant, madam! and mixt with the officers of the place: but your and your's, too, sister!— whose case is truly brother soon discovered my uneasiness, and saw compassionate, and whom I most earnestly rethrough my disguise. I frankly confessed to him commend to your protection,'-Um-um-um every particular of my story: in consequence of take care of her,'-Um-um-um- not too which, he has thus generously recommended me many questions ;-Um-um-um-' in town in to your protection. a few days.'-I'll be whipt now, if this is not some mistress of his?

Emily. And you may depend on my friendship. Your situation affects me strangely.

Flo. Oh, madam, it is impossible to tell you half its miseries; especially since your brother has convinced me that I am so liable to be discovered.

Emily. You shall throw off that dress as soon as possible, and then I will take you into the house with me and my sister- -In the mean time, let me see you every day- every hour. I shall not be afraid that your visits will affect my_reputation.

Flo. You are too good to me. [Weeping.
Emily. Nay, this is too much; it overcomes

me. Pray, be cheerful.

Flo. I humbly take my leave.

Emily. Adieu, I shall expect you to dinner. Flo. I shall do myself the honour of waiting [Exit FLO.

on you.

Emiy. No, no, Bell. I know her whole history. It is quite a little novel. She is a Frenchwoman, Mademoiselle Florival, run away from her father at Belleisle, and dying for an English gentleman at the Havannah.

Bell. The Havannah!-Not for Colonel Tamper, I hope, sister?

Emily. If Colonel Tamper had been at the taking of Belleisle, too, I should have been frightened out of my wits about it.

Bell. Suppose I should bring you some news of him?

Emily. Of whom?

Bell. Colonel Tamper.

Emily. What do you mean?

Bell. Only a card.

Emily. A card! from whom? What card?
Bell. Oh, what a delightful flutter it puts her

Emily. Poor woman! I thought my own un-into! easiness almost insupportable; and yet, how much must her anxiety exceed mine!

Enter BELL.

Bell. So, sister! I met your fine gentleman. Upon my word, the young spark must be a favourite. You have had a tête-à-tête of above half an hour together.

Emily. How d'ye like him?

Emily. Nay, but tell me.

Bell. Well then-while your visitor was here, there came a card from Major Belford; and I took the liberty of sending an answer to it.

it!

Emily. Let ine see it! Dear Bell, let me see

Bell. Oh, it was nothing but his compliments, and desiring to have the honour of waiting on you any time this morning from Colonel Tamper.

Belf. The two principal wounds which the onill fortune could make him, I would prefer Colo-lonel received, madam, were, one a little above nel Tamper to the first duke in the kingdom.

Bell. Oh, sister it is a mighty easy thing for persons rolling in affluence, and a coach and six, to talk of living on bread and water, and the comforts of love in a cottage.

Emily. The coach-and-six, Bell, would give little happiness to those who could not be happy without it. When once the heart has settled its affections, how mean is it to withdraw them for any paltry considerations, of what nature soever! Bell. I think the lady doth protest too much. Emily. Ay, but she'll keep her word.

This life, I am happy. And I ought now to be attached to him, not only from tenderness, but compassion.

Belf. After all, madam, his appearance is much better than you may imagine. His face, by the help of a black ribband, is very little disfigured; and he has got a false leg, inade so naturally, that, except a small hitch in his gait, there is no material alteration in his person and deportment-Besides which, in point of health and spirits, he is particularly well.

Emily. I am glad of it. But, alas! he, whose person was so charming! And then his eyes, that were so brilliant! So full of sensibility!

Belf. This accident, madam, on his own account, gives him no uneasiness; to say the truth, he seems rather vain upon it: I could wish, therefore, when he comes, that you would not seem too deeply affected, but rather assume an air of chearfulness, lest any visible uneasiness in you should shock the colonel.

Emily. Poor colonel! I know his sensibility. Let me endeavour, therefore, to convince him, that he is as dear to me as ever! Oh, yes, cost me what it will, I must show him, that the preservation of his life is an entire consolation to

me.

Enter Servant.

Ser. Colonel Tamper, madam. Emily. Eh! What? [Disordered. Bell. Desire the colonel to walk up-compose yourself, my dear; poor Emily! I am in pain for her. [Aside.

Enter COLONEL TAMPER-Runs up to EMILY. Tam. My dearest Emily! How happy am 1 to see you once again! I have brought back the honest heart and hand which I devoted to you: as to the rest of my body, you see I did not care sixpence what became of it. Miss Bell, I rejoice to see you so well-Major, I am yours-But, my Emily

Emily. Oh, colonel!

[Bursts into tears, and leans upon BELL.

Tam. How's this? Tears!

Bell. You should not have followed the major so soon, colonel; she had scarce recovered the first shock from his intelligence.

Tam. My impatience would suffer me to delay no longer-Why do you weep so, Emily? Are you sorry to see me again?

Emily. Sorry to see you unfortunate.

[Weeping. Tam. Unfortunate! call ine rather fortunate; I am come back alive; alive and merry, Emily. Emily. I am glad you have saved your life. [Weeping. Tam. I dare say you are. Look on me, then. What, not one glance! Won't you deign to look on your poor maimed soldier?-[Pausing.]-Is it possible, then, that any little alteration of my person can occasion a change in your sentiments?

Emily. Never, colonel, never! it is surely no mark of want of affection to be so much hurt at your misfortunes.

Tam. Misfortunes! No misfortunes at allnone at all to a soldier-nothing but the ordinary incidents and common casualties of his lifemarks of honour-and tokens of valour-I declare I bear them about with me as the most honourables badges of my profession-—I am proud of them-I would not part with this wooden leg for the best flesh and blood in Christendom.

Emily. And can you really be so unconcerned at this accident?

Tum. Really; and you shall be unconcerned too, Emily. You shall find more in me still, than in half the battered rakes and fops about town. It injures me no more than it does a fine tree, to lop my branches. My trunk is heart of oak, and I shall thrive the better for it.

Emily. But is there no hope of recovering your eye again? Oh, we must have the best adviceIs the sight quite lost?

Tam. Quite; blind as a mill-horse-blind as a beetle, Emily-But what does that signify? Love is blind, you know; and if I have lost one eye, why, they say, I shall see the clearer with the other.

Emily. I cannot look at him without shuddering. [Retires, and sits down. Bell. What action was it you suffered in, colonel?

Tam. Before the Moro Castle, madam, before the Moro-hot work, hissing hot, by sea and land, I assure you, madam. Ah, the Moro, the Moro! But if men go to run their heads against stonewalls, they must expect to have a sconce or two broken, before they make their way through them -Eh, major?

Bell. Major Belford was with you?

Tam. All the while. The major and I fought side by side, cheek by jowl, till I fell, madam! We paid the Dons-didn't we, major? But Velasco, poor Velasco! A fine brave Don, must be owned-I had rather have died like Velasco, than have lived to be generalissimo.

Bell. [To EMILY.]-How are you, sister? Tam. Nay, p'rythee, Emily, be comforted! More than all this might have happened to me at home. I might have thrown away my life in a duel, or broke my neck in a fox-chace: a fit of the gout, or an apoplexy, might have maimed me ten times worse for ever; or a palsy, perhaps, have killed one half of me at a single stroke-You must not take on thus-If you do, I shall be extremely uneasy.

Emily. Excuse me; I cannot help it—but, be assured, I esteem you as much as ever, sir.

Tam, Esteem, and sir! This is cold language; I have not been used to hear you talk in that style, Emily.

Emily. I don't know what I say-I am not well-let me retire.

Tam. When shall we name the happy day? I shall make shift to dance on that occasion2 P

though as Withrington fought-on my stumps,
Emily. Tell me, when shall we be happy?
Emily. I grow more and more faint-lead me
to my chamber, Bell.
Bell. She is very ill-

-don't tease her now,

and honesty. Let me once see you behave like a poltroon or a villain, and you know I would cut your throat, colonel!

Tum. I don't doubt you, major; but if she don't love me for my own sake, for myself, as I colonel; but let us try to procure her some re-said, how can I ever be certain that she will not transfer that love to another? pose.

Belf. For your own sake! for yourself again! why, what, in the name of common sense, is the self of yours, that you make such a rout about? Your birth, your fortune, your character, your talents, and, perhaps, sweet colonel, that sweet person of yours-all these may have taken bet

Tam. Ay, ay, a short sleep and a little reflection, and all will be well, I dare say; I will be here again soon, and administer consolation, I warrant you. Adicu, my dear Emily! Emily. Adieu! Oh, Bell! Tam. [Assuming his natural air and manner.]—and habitude, and continual intercourse, mes -Ha, ha, ha! Well, Belford, what is your opinion, now? Will she stand the test or no?

[Exit in tears with BELL.

Belf. If she does, it is more than you deserve. I could wish she would give you up, with all my heart, if I did not think you would run stark mad with vexation.

Tam. Why so?

Belf. Because, as I have often told you before, this is a most absurd and ridiculous scheme; a mere trick to impose upon yourself, and, most probably, end in your losing the affections of an amiable lady.

Tam. You know, Belford, there is an excess of sensibility in my temper

increase her partiality for them in you, mart than in any other person. But, after all, te of these things are yourself. You are but the ground; and these qualities are woven into your frame. Yet it is not the stuff, but the richnes of the work, that stamps a value on the piece.

Tam. Why, this is downright sermonizing, m jor. Give you pudding-sleeves, and a grize wig, you might be chaplain to the regiment. Ye matrimony is a leap in the dark, indeed, if we connot before-hand make ourselves at all certain of the fidelity and affection of our wives.

Belf. Marriage is precarious, I grant you, and must be so. You may play like a wary gamester, 'tis true I would not marry a notorious prog

Belf. That will always make you unhappy. Tam. Rather say it will ensure the future hap-gate, nor a woman in a consumption: but there piness of my life. Before I bind myself to abide by a woman at all events, and in all circumstances, I must be assured that she will, at all events, and in all circumstances, retain her affection for

me.

Belf. 'Sdeath, I have no patience to hear you. Have not you all the reason in the world to rest assured, that Emily entertains a most sincere passion for you?

Tum. Perhaps so; but then I am not equally assured of the basis on which that passion is founded.

Belf. Her folly, I am afraid.

Tam. Nay, but I am serious, major. Belf. You are very ridiculous, colonel. Tam. Well, well; it does not signify talking: I must be convinced that she loves me for my own sake, for myself alone; and that, were I divested of every desirable gift of fortune and of nature, and she was to be addressed by fifty others, who possessed them all in the most eminent degree, she would continue to prefer me to all the rest of mankind.

Belf. Most precious refinement, truly! This is the most high-flown metaphysics in sentiment I ever heard in my life! picked up in one of your expeditions to the coast of France, I suppose-No plain Englishman ever dreamed of such a whim-Love you for yourself! for your own sake! not she, truly.

Tam. How then?

Belf. Why for her own, to be sure—and so would any body else. I am your friend, and love you as your friend: and why? because I am glad to have commerce with a man of talents, honour,

is no more answering for the continuance of ber good disposition, than that of her good health.

Tam. Fine maxims! make use of them your A fine time, indeed. self: they won't serve me. to experience a woman's fidelity-after ma riage! a time when every thing conspires to render it her interest to deceive you! No, no; no fool's paradise for me, Belford?

Belf. A fool's paradise is better than a wise acre's purgatory.

Tam. 'Sdeath, Belford! who comes here?-1 shall be discovered!

[Resuming his counterfeit manur.

Enter PRATTLE.

Pra. Gentlemen, your most obedient; mighty sorry, extremely concerned, to hear the lady's taken ill-I was sent for in a violent hurryhad forty patients to visit-resolved to see her, -Major Belford, I rejoice to see you howeverin good health-Have I the honour of knowing this gentleman?

[Pointing to TAMPER and going up to him. Tum. Hum, hum!

[Limping away from PRATTLE, and putting his handkerchief to his face. Belf. An acquaintance of mine, Mr. Prattle You don't know him, I believein the service-that's all.

-A little hurt

Pra. Accidents, accidents will happen-No less than seven brought into our infirmary yes terday, and ten in the hospital-Did you hear, Major Belford, tha: pour Lady Di. Racke

1

shortly.

broke her arm last night, by an overturn, from -But are you not ashamed, Tamher horses taking fright among the vast croud of per, to give her all this uneasiness? coaches getting in at Lady Thunder's rout; and Tum. No matter-I'll make her ample yesterday morning, Sir Helter Skelter, who is so amends at last-What could possess them to remarkably fond of driving, put out his collar-send for this blockhead? He'll make her worse and worse- He will absolutely talk her to death.

bone by a fall from his own coach-box?
Tam. Pox on his chattering! I wish, he'd be
gone!
[dpart to BELFORD.
Belf. But your fair patient, Mr. Prattle-

I am afraid we detain you.

Prat. Not at all;- -I'll attend her immediately [Going, returns.]—You have not heard of the change in the ministry?

Tam. Psha!
Belf. I have.

Prat. Well, well

[Going, returns.]

Lady Sarah Melville brought to bed, within these
two hours-
-a boy- Gentlemen, your
servant; your very humble servant. [Exit.
Tam. Chattering jacknapes!

Belf. So, the apothecary's come already-
we shall have a consultation of physicians, the
knocker tied up, and straw laid in the street

Belf. Oh, the puppy's in fashion, you know. Tam. It is lucky enough the fellow did not know me. He's a downright he-gossip!-and any thing he knows might as well be published in The Daily Advertiser. But come, for fear of discovery, we had better decamp for the present. March!

Belf. You'll expose yourself confoundedly, Tamper.

Tam. Say no more. I'm resolved to put her affection to the trial. If she's thorough proof, I'm made for ever. Come along! [Going. Belf. Tamper!

Tam. Oh! I am lame-I forgot. [Limping. Belf Lord, Lord! what a fool self-love makes of a man! [Exeunt.

EMILY, BELL, PRATTLE, sitting on a sofa.

Emily. I am much better than I was, I thank
-Heigh-ho!

you

Bell. Is it true, Mr. Prattle, that Sir John Medley is going to the south of France, for the recovery of his health?

:

Prat. Very true, ma'am, very true, that he's Bell. I think you seem to be a good deal re-going, I promise you but not for the recovery covered, Emily. of his health. Sir John's well enough himself but his affairs are in a galloping consumption, I assure you. No less than two executions in his house. I heard it for fact, at Lady Modish's. Poor gentleman, I have known his chariot stand at Arthur's till eight o'clock in the morning. He has had a sad run a long time; but that last affair at Newmarket totally undid him.-Pray, ladies, have you heard the story of Alderman Manchester's lady?

Prat. Ay, ay, I knew we should be better by and byThese little nervous disorders are very common all over the town-merely owing to the damp weather, which relaxes the tone of the whole system. The poor Duchess of Porcelain has had a fever on her spirits these three weeks-Lady Teaser's case is absolutely hysterical; and Lady Betty Dawdle is almost half mad with lowness of spirits, headaches, tremblings, vain fears, and wanderings of the mind.

Emily. Pray, Mr. Prattle, how does poor Miss Compton do?

Prat. Never better, ma'am.-Somebody has removed her disorder, by prescribing very effectually to the Marquis of Cranford. His intended match with Miss Richman, the hundred thousand pound fortune, is quite off; and so, ma'am, Miss Compton is perfectly well again-By the bye too, she has another reason to rejoice; for her cousin, Miss Dorothy, who lives with her, and began, you know, to grow rather old-maidish, as we say, ma'am, made a sudden conquest of Mr. Bumper, a Lancashire gentleman of a great estate, who came up to town for the Christmas; and they were married at Miss Compton's yesterday evening.

Bell. Oh, no. Pray what is it?

Prat. A terrible story indeed?-Eloped from her husband, and went off with Lord John Sprightly. Their intention, it seems, was to go over to Holland; but the alderman pursued them to Harwich, and catched them just as they were going to embark. He threatened Lord John with a prosecution: but Lord John, who knew the alderman's turn, came down with a thousand pounds; and so the alderman received his wife, and all is well again.

Bell. I vow Mr. Prattle, you are extremely amusing. You know the chit-chat of the whole town.

Prat. Can't avoid picking up a few slight anecdotes, to be sure, ma'am-Go into the best houses in town-attend the first families in the kingdom-nobody better received nobody takes more care-nobody tries to give more satisfaction.