and much of her portable goods, for the conveniency of her London customers. But her place of residence, and where she has her principal warehouse, is at Deptford, for the opportunity of getting her goods on shore.

She was first brought to me by my mother, to whom she was recommended on the supposal of my speedy marriage, " that I might have an opportunity to be as fine as a princess," was my mother's expression, " at a moderate expense." Now, my dear, I must own, that I do not love to encourage these contraband traders. What is it, but bidding defiance to the laws of our country, when we do, and hurting fair traders; and at the same time robbing our prince of his legal due, to the diminution of those duties which possibly must be made good by new levies upon the public?

But, however, Mrs Townsend and I, though I have not yet had dealings with her, are upon a very good foot of understanding. She is a sensible woman; she has been abroad, and often goes abroad in the way of her business, and gives very entertaining accounts of all she has

seen.

And having applied to me to recommend her to you, (as it is her view to be known to young ladies who are likely to change their condition,) I am sure I can engage her to give you protection at her house at Deptford; which she says is a populous village, and one of the last, I should think, in which you would be sought for. She is not much there, you will believe, by the course of her dealings, but, no doubt, must have somebody on the spot, in whom she can confide; and there, perhaps, you might be safe till your cousin comes. And I should not think it amiss that you write to him out of hand. I cannot suggest to you what you should write. That must be left to your own discretion. For you will be afraid, no doubt, of the consequences of a variance between the two men.

But, notwithstanding all this, and were I sure of getting you safely out of his hands, I will nevertheless forgive you, were you to make all up with him, and marry to-morrow. Yet I will proceed with my projected scheme in relation to Mrs Townsend; though I hope there will be no occasion to prosecute it, since your prospects seem to be changed, and since you have had twenty-four not unhappy hours together. How my indignation rises for this poor consolation in the courtship courtship must I call it? of such a woman! Let me tell you, my dear, that were you once your own absolute and independent mistress, I should be tempted, notwithstanding all I have written, to wish you the wife of any man in the world, rather than the wife of either Lovelace or of Solmes.

Mrs Townsend, as I have recollected, has two brothers, each a master of a vessel; and who knows, as she and they have concerns together, but that, in case of needs, you may have a

whole ship's crew at your devotion? If Lovelace give you cause to leave him, take no thought for the people at Harlowe-Place. Let them take care of one another. It is a care they are used to. The law will help to secure them. The wretch is no assassin, no night-murderer. He is an open, because a fearless enemy; and should he attempt any thing that would make him obnoxious to the laws of society, you might have a fair riddance of him, either by flight or the gallows; no matter which.

Had you not been so minute in your account of the circumstances that attended the opportunity you had of overhearing the dialogue between Mr Lovelace and two of the women, I should have thought the conference contrived on purpose for your ear.

I shewed Mr Lovelace's proposals to Mr Hickman, who had chambers once in Lincoln's Inn, being designed for the law, had his elder brother lived. He looked so wise, so proud, and so important, upon the occasion; and wanted to take so much consideration about themWould take them home if I pleased-and weigh them well-and so forth-and the like-and all that-that I had no patience with him, and snatched them back with anger.

O dear!-to be so angry, an't please me, for his zeal !—

Yes, zeal without knowledge, I said-like most other zeals-if there were no objections that struck him at once, there were none. So hasty, dearest madam

And so slow, un-dearest sir, I could have said -But SURELY, said I, with a look which implied, Would you rebel, sir!

He begged my pardon-Saw no objection, indeed!-But might he be allowed once more

No matter-no matter-I would have shewn them to my mother, I said, who, though of no inn of court, knew more of these things than half the lounging lubbers of them, and that at first sight-only that she would have been angry at the confession of our continued correspondence.

But, my dear, let the articles be drawn up, and engrossed; and solemnize upon them; and there's no more to be said.

Let me add, that the sailor-fellow has been tampering with my Kitty, and offered a bribe, to find where to direct to you. Next time he comes, I will have him laid hold of; and if I can get nothing out of him, will have him drawn through one of our deepest fish-ponds. His attempt to corrupt a servant of mine will justify my orders.

I send this letter away directly. But will follow it by another, which shall have for its subject only my mother, myself, and your uncle Antony. And as your prospects are more promising than they have been, I will endeavour to make you smile upon the occasion. For you will be pleased to know, that my mother

Sat. Sunday, May 20, 21. Now, my dear, for the promised subject. You must not ask me how I came by the originals [such they really are] that I am going to present you with; for my mother would not read to me those parts of your uncle's letter which bore hard upon myself, and which leave him without any title to mercy from me; nor would she let me hear but what she pleased of hers in answer; for she has condescended to answer him—with a denial, however; but such a denial as no one but an old bachelor would take from a widow.

Anybody, except myself, who could have been acquainted with such a fal-lal courtship as this must have been had it proceeded, would have been glad it had gone on; and I dare say, but for the saucy daughter, it had. My good mamma, in that case, would have been ten years the younger for it, perhaps; and, could I but have approved of it, I should have been considered by her as if ten years older than I am; since, very likely, it would have been: "We widows, my dear, know not how to keep men at a distance -so as to give them pain, in order to try their love. You must advise me, child; you must teach me to be cruel-yet not too cruel neither -so as to make a man heartless, who has no time, God wot, to throw away." Then would my behaviour to Mr Hickman have been better liked; and my mother would have bridled like her daughter.

O my dear, how might we have been divert ed by the practisings for the recovery of the long forgottens, could I have been sure that it would have been in my power to have put them asunder, in the Irish style, before they had come together! But there's no trusting to the widow whose goods and chattels are in her own hands, addressed by an old bachelor who has fine things, and offers to leave her ten thousand pounds better than he found her, and sole mistress, besides, of all her notables! for these, as you will see by and by, are his proposals.

The old Triton's address carries the writer's marks upon the very superscription-To the equally amiable and worthy admired [there's for you! Mrs ANNABELLA HOWE, widow-the last word added, I suppose, as Esquire to a man, as a word of honour; or for fear the bella to Anna,

I DID make a sort of resolution ten years ago never to marry. I saw in other families, where they lived best, you will be pleased to mark that, queernesses I could not away with. Then, liked well enough to live single for the sake of my brother's family; and for one child in it more than the rest. But that girl has turned us all off the hinges; and why I should deny myself any comforts for them that will not thank me for so doing, I don't know.

So much for my motives as from self and family; but the dear Mrs Howe makes me go farther.

I have a very great fortune, I bless God for it, all of my own getting, or most of it; you will be pleased to mark that; for I was the youngest brother of three. You have also, God be thanked, a great estate, which you have improved by your own frugality and wise management. Frugality, let me stop to say, is one of the greatest virtues in this mortal life, because it enables us to do justice to all, and puts it in our power to bene→ fit some by it, as we see they deserve.

You have but one child; and I am a bache→ lor, and have never a one-all bachelors cannot say so; wherefore your daughter may be the better for me, if she will keep up with my humour; which was never thought bad; especially to my equals. Servants, indeed, I don't matter being angry with, when I please; they are paid for bearing it, and too, too often deserve it; as we have frequently taken notice of to one another. And, moreover, if we keep not servants at distance, they will be familiar. I always made it a rule to find fault, whether reasonable or not, that so I might have no reason to find fault. Young women and servants in general (as worthy Mr Solmes observes) are better governed by fear than love. But this my humour as to servants will not affect either you or Miss, you know.

I will make very advantageous settlements; such as any common friend shall judge to be so. But must have all in my own power, while I live; because, you know, madam, it is as creditable to the wife, as to the husband, that it should be so.

I am not at fine words. We are not children; though it is hoped we may have some; for I am a very healthy sound man, I bless God for it, and never brought home from my voyages and travels a worser constitution than I took out with me. I was none of those, I will assure you. But this I will undertake, that, if you are the survivor, you shall be at the least ten thousand pounds the better for me. What, in the contrary case, I shall be the better for you, I leave to you, as you shall think my kindness to you shall deserve.

But one thing, madam, I shall be glad of, that Miss Howe might not live with us then[she need not know I write thus-but go home to Mr Hickman, as she is upon the point of marriage, I hear; and if she behaves dutifully, as she should do, to us both, she shall be the better; for so I said before.

You shall manage all things, both mine and your own; for I know but little of land-matters. All my opposition to you shall be out of love, when I think you take too much upon you for your health.

It will be very pretty for you, I should think, to have a man of experience, in a long winter's evening, to sit down by you, and tell you stories of foreign parts, and the customs of the nations he has consorted with. And I have fine curiosities of the Indian growth, such as ladies love, and some that even my niece Clary, when she was good, never saw. These, one by one, as you are kind to me, (which I make no question of, because I shall be kind to you,) shall be all yours. Prettier entertainment by much, than sitting with a too smartish daughter, sometimes out of humour, and thwarting, and vexing, as daughters will, (when women-grown especially, as I have heard you often observe ;) and thinking their parents old, without paying them the reverence due to years; when, as in your case, I make no sort of doubt, they are young enough to wipe their noses. You understand me, madam.

As for me myself, it will be very happy, and I am delighted with the thinking of it, to have, after a pleasant ride, or so, a lady of like experience with myself to come home to, and but one interest betwixt us: to reckon up our comings-in together; and what this day and this week has produced-O how this will increase love!-most mightily will it increase it!—and I believe I shall never love you enough, or be able to shew you all my love.

I hope, madam, there need not be such maiden niceties and hangings-off, as I may call them, between us, (for hanging-off sake,) as that you will deny me a line or two to this proposal, written down, although you would not answer me so readily when I spoke to you; your daughter being, I suppose, hard by; for you looked round you, as if not willing to be overheard. So I resolved to write: that my writing may

stand as upon record for my upright meaning; being none of your Lovelaces; you will mark that, madam; but a downright, true, honest, faithful Englishman. So hope you will not disdain to write a line or two to this my proposal; and I shall look upon it as a great honour, I will assure you, and be proud thereof. What can I say more?-for you are your own mistress, as I am my own master; and you shall always be your own mistress, be pleased to mark that; for so a lady of your prudence and experience ought to be.

This is a long letter. But the subject requires it; because I would not write twice where once would do. So would explain my sense and meaning at one time.

I have had writing in my head two whole months very near; but hardly knew how (being unpractised in these matters) to begin to write. And now, good lady, be favourable to Your most humble lover, and obedient servant, ANT. HARLOWE.

HERE'S a letter of courtship, my dear! and let me subjoin to it, that if now, or hereafter, I should treat this hideous lover, who is so free with me to my mother, with asperity, and you should be disgusted at it, I shall think you don't give me that preference in your love which you have in mine.

And now, which shall I first give you; the answer of my good mamma; or the dialogue that passed between the widow mother, and the pert daughter, upon her letting the latter know that she had a love-letter?

I think you shall have the dialogue. But let me premise one thing; that if you think me too free, you must not let it run in your head that I am writing of your uncle, or of my mother; but of a couple of old lovers, no matter whom. Reverence is too apt to be forgotten by children, where the reverends forget first what belongs to their own characters. A grave remark, and therefore at your service, my dear.

Well then, suppose my mamma, (after twice coming into my closet to me, and as often going out, with very meaning features, and lips ready to burst open, but still closed, as if by compulsion, a speech going off in a slight cough, that never went near the lungs,) grown more resolute the third time of entrance, and sitting down by me, thus begin:

Mother. I have a very serious matter to talk with you upon, Nancy, when you are disposed to attend to matters within ourselves, and not let matters without ourselves wholly engross you.

A good selve-ish speech!-But I thought that friendship, gratitude, and humanity, were

matters that ought to be deemed of the most intimate concern to us. But not to dwell upon words.

Daughter. I am now disposed to attend to everything my mamma is disposed to say to me.

M. Why then, child-why then, my dear [and the good lady's face looked so plump, so smooth, and so shining!-I see you are all attention, Nancy!-But don't be surprised!don't be uneasy!-But I have-I have-Where is it? [and yet it lay next her heart, never another near it-so no difficulty to have found it-I have a letter, my dear !-[And out from her bosom it came: but she still held it in her hand-I have a letter, child.—It is—it is—it is from-from a gentleman, I assure you!Clifting up her head, and smiling.]

There is no delight to a daughter, thought I, in such surprises as seem to be collecting. I will deprive my mother of the satisfaction of making a gradual discovery.

D. From Mr Antony Harlowe, I suppose, madam?

M. [Lips drawn closer: eye raised] Why, my dear!-I cannot but own-But how, I wonder, could you think of Mr Antony Harlowe ? D. How, madam, could I think of anybody else?

M. How could you think of anybody else?— Cangry, and drawing back her face. But do you know the subject, Nancy?

D. You have told it, madam, by your manner of breaking it to me. But, indeed, I question not that he had two motives in his visitsboth equally agreeable to me; for all that family love me dearly.

M. No love lost, if so, between you and them. But this rising is what I get so like your papa!-I never could open my heart to him!

D. Dear madam, excuse me. Be so good as to open your heart to me.-I don't love the Harlowes-but pray excuse me.

M. You have put me quite out with your forward temper! Langrily sitting down again.] D. I will be all patience and attention. May I be allowed to read his letter?

M. I wanted to advise with you upon it. But you are such a strange creature!-you are always for answering one before one speaks!

D. You'll be so good as to forgive me, madam.—But I thought everybody (he among the rest) knew that you had always declared against a second marriage.

M. And so I have. But then it was in the mind I was in. Things may offer

I stared.

M. Nay, don't be surprised!—I don't intend -I don't intend

D. Not, perhaps, in the mind you are in, madam.

M. Pert creature! [rising again]- -We shall quarrel, I see !-There's no

D. Once more, dear madam, I beg your ex

cuse.

I will attend in silence.-Pray, madam, sit down again-pray do [she sat down.]-May I see the letter?

M. No; there are some things in it you won't like. Your temper is known, I find, to be unhappy. But nothing bad against you; intimations, on the contrary, that you shall be the better for him, if you oblige him.

Not a living soul but the Harlowes, I said, thought me ill-tempered and I was contented that they should, who could do as they had done by the most universally acknowledged sweetness in the world.

Here we broke out a little; but at last she read me some of the passages in the letter. But not the most mightily ridiculous; yet I could hardly keep my countenance neither, especially when she came to that passage which mentions his sound health; and at which she stopped; she best knew why-But soon resuming:

M Well now, Nancy, tell me what you think

of it.

D. Nay, pray, madam, tell me what you think of it.

M. I expect to be answered by an answer; not by a question! You don't use to be so shy to speak your mind.

D. Not when my mamma commands me to

do so.

M. Then speak it now.

D. Without hearing the whole of the letter? M. Speak to what you have heard. D. Why then, madam—you won't be my mamma Howe, if you give way to it.

M. I am surprised at your assurance, Nancy! D. I mean, madam, you will then be my mamma HARLOWE.

M. O dear heart!-But I am not a fool.
And her colour went and came.

D. Dear madam, [but, indeed, I don't love a Harlowe that's what I mean, I am your child, and must be your child, do what you will.

M. A very pert one, I am sure, as ever mother bore! And you must be my child, do what I will!—as much as to say, you would not, if you could help it, if I

D. How could I have such a thought!-It would be forward, indeed, if I had-when I don't know what your mind is as to the proposal:-when the proposal is so very advantageous a one too.

M. [Looking a little less discomposed] why, indeed, ten thousand pounds

D. And to be sure of outliving him, madam! This staggered her a little. M. Sure!-nobody, can be sure-but it is very likely that

D. Not at all, madam. You was going to read something (but stopped) about his constitution: his sobriety is well known-Why, madam, these gentlemen who have used the sea, and been in different climates, and come home

to relax from cares in a temperate one, and are sober-are the likeliest to live long of any men in the world. Don't you see that his very skin is a fortification of buff?

M. Strange creature!

D. God forbid, that anybody I love and honour should marry a man in hopes to bury him -but suppose, madam, at your time of life

M. My time of life?-Dear heart!—What is my time of life, pray?

D. Not old, madam; and that you are not, may be your danger!

As I hope to live, my dear, my mother smiled, and looked not displeased with me.

M. Why, indeed, child-why, indeed, I must needs say and then I should choose to do nothing (froward as you are sometimes) to hurt

M. Why so?-Mr Hickman has fortune enough to entitle him to yours.

D. If you think so, that's enough.

M. Not but I should think the worse of myself, if I desired anybody's death; but I think, as you say, Mr Antony Harlowe is a healthy inan, and bids fair for a long life.

Bless me, thought I, how shall I do to know whether this be an objection or a recommendation !

D. Will you forgive me, madam?

M. What would the girl say? [looking as if she was half afraid to hear what.J

D. Only, that if you marry a man of his time of life, you stand two chances instead of one, to be a nurse at your time of life.

M. Saucebox!

D. Dear madam !-What I mean is only that these healthy old men sometimes fall into lingering disorders all at once. And I humbly conceive, that the infirmities of age are uneasily borne with, where the remembrance of the plea santer season comes not in to relieve the health ier of the two.

M. A strange girl!-Yet his healthy constitution an objection just now!—But I always told you, that you know either too much to be argued with, or too little for me to have patience with you.

D. I can't but say, I should be glad of your commands, madam, how to behave myself to Mr Antony Harlowe next time he comes.

M. How to behave yourself!-Why, if you

retire with contempt of him, when he next comes, it will be but as you have been used to do of late.

D. Then he is to come again, madam?
M. And suppose he be?

D. I can't help it, if it be your pleasure, madam. He desires a line in answer to his fine letter. If he come, it will be in pursuance of that line, I presume?

M. None of your arch and pert leers, girl!You know I won't bear them. I had a mind to hear what you would say to this matter. I have not written; but I shall presently.

D. It is mighty good of you, madam, (I hope the man will think so,) to answer his first application by letter.-Píty he should write twice, if once will do.

M. That fetch won't let you into my intention as to what I shall write. It is too saucily put.

D. Perhaps I can guess at your intention, madam, were it to become me so to do.

M. Perhaps I would not make a Mr Hickman of any man; using him the worse for respecting

me.

D. Nor, perhaps, would I, madam, if I liked his respects.

M. I understand you. But, perhaps, it is in your power to make me hearken, or not, to Mr Harlowe.

D. Young men, who have probably a good deal of time before them, need not be in haste for a wife. Mr Hickman, poor man! must stay his time, or take his remedy.

M. He bears more from you than a man ought.

D. Then, I doubt, he gives a reason for the treatment he meets with.

M. Provoking creature!

D. I have but one request to make to you, madam.

M. A dutiful one, I suppose. What is it, pray?

D. That if you marry, I may be permitted to live single.

M. Perverse creature, I'm sure!

D. How can I expect, madam, that you should refuse such terms? Ten thousand pounds!— At the least ten thousand pounds!-A very handsome proposal !-So many fine things too, to give you one by one !-Dearest madam, forgive me!-I hope it is not yet so far gone, that rallying this man will be thought want of duty to you.

M. Your rallying of him, and your reverence to me, it is plain, have one source.

D. I hope not, madam. But ten thousand pounds

M. Is no unhandsome proposal.

D. Indeed I think so. I hope, madam, you will not be behind-hand with him in generosity.