and have returned by the way we came, had not another consideration led me to prefer that which he took, as it led from the sound of the music, and of course from the musician, whom I could not but guess at, and feared to expose my young friend to ineet, her heart thus softened, and her imagination thus warmed, and thus prepared for the most dangerous impressions. We followed our leaders. whose baskets were well filled with fish; and saw them throw their net several times unsuccessfully. Mr. Thomas now grew tired, and proposed returning, to which we readily agreed.

On our return, passing a turnip field after we had left the river, on the side of a coppice, Sailor, who is always of our walking parties, started a fine cock pheasant. Mr. Thomas and his man made a point, as their dogs might have done. The former cursed his stupid head for going a fishing the first day of pheasant shooting; and ordering his man to mark the bird, set down his basket; and, without the least apology, ran off in pursuit of a gun. In the mean time the bird rose again, and directed its flight to the wood. The servant, loaded as he was with the net, took to his heels, to watch its direction; and we were left with the basket of fish, and Sailor, to shift as we could.

We stood looking at each other, in a sort of ridiculous distress, which ended, however, in a fit of laughter. "To be sure they will come back, and seek for their fish, ma'am," said Harriet. "For their fish, perhaps, they may, my dear," said I; "for we seem to be quite out of the question." We then seated ourselves on the grass, and waited patiently a full half hour, expecting their return; unwilling to leave the produce of our morning's sport to the mercy of the first passenger that was able to carry it. We were in a sort of dell, between two rising grounds, and could see nothing beyond. Harriet went on all sides to reconnoitre, but could discover no creature of

whom to inquire our way, or solicit assistance. In this dilemma, we agreed that any thing was better than sitting still to take cold: we, therefore, took the basket between us, and made towards the river, in order to regain the path we knew. Our load warmed as well as wearied us; and we were often obliged to stop and rest. In one of these pauses, just as we were within knowledge, Sailor, who was jumping and caressing us, as suddenly sprang away, as if he had started some other game. The faithful creature ran to greet an acquaintance who always takes notice of him: it was Mr. Ewer, who soon joined us; and, after the first compliments, he expressed his surprise to see us so incumbered. "Who has loaded two fair ladies so unconscionably?" said he. "Have you discovered some poacher's hoard? for, to be sure, you never caught all this fish yourselves?" were obliged to explain how we came in charge of it, and to accept of his assistance to convey it home, which he absolutely insisted upon : he hoisted his pack, and we set forward once more. "My scheme, on leaving home, was to have fished too, ladies," said he ; " but I was beguiled by my flute, and have been sauntering on the banks of the river, and playing old tunes to be guile old sorrows the whole morning through. I was, however, on the point of adjusting my tackle to begin, when my good genius directed me to this meadow, as a more convenient spot, where so much happiness awaited me.'

We

Mr. Ewer is certainly not handsome; yet, at this moment, I almost thought him so. Pleasure flushed his pale cheeks, and sparkled in his expressive eye: he tripped lightly before us; and absolutely carried his load with a grace. His countenance was not the only one that brightened at this unexpected and opportune rencontre; indeed all were pleased, to the very dog; and who could blame us? As for Mr. Ewer, his harmony of spirits broke

out in an extempore song, which he struck up with infinite humour, as follows:

Shepherds, I have lost my love,
Have you seen my Thomas ?
In the path, hard by the grove,
He has wandered from us.

We with him our home forsook,

Near yon misty mountain; Here's the fish the shepherd took At the river's fountain.

Never shall he see them more,

Until his returning;
Should he find the dinner o'er,
Joy will turn to mourning.

Thus entertained, our walk did not seem long: we reached home without seeing any thing of our company, or meeting any further adventure; and Mr. Ewer, having deposited his load, took his leave.

For the Literary Magazine.

DESCRIPTION OF POMPEY'S PILLAR AND CLEOPATRA'S NEE DLE, IN EGYPT.

By an Officer of the British Army.

SOUTH of the city of Alexandria, and nearly in a line with the pharos, stands that great piece of antiquity, Pompey's pillar. Nothing can exceed the beauty of this fine monument of ancient architecture: it is in the highest state of preservation, except on the north-west quarter, which I imagine has suffered from the constant and violent winds blowing from that point the greater part of the year.

The remains of a Greek inscription are plainly visible on the western face of the pedestal.

The French have repaired the foundation supporting the pedestal, which had formerly been destroyed in part by the brutal rapacity of an Arab, who, imagining some treasure lay concealed under it, attempt ed, but happily in vain, to blow up

VOL. VIII. NO. LI.

this beautiful column. A cap of liberty was erected upon a pole on the top, having been placed there by the French, a short time after their arrival in the country.

Close to the sea, S. by E. of the pharos, is Cleopatra's needle. Near it lies its fellow obelisk, which had always been supposed to be broken, part of it being buried in the sand; but the French cleared away the ground all around it, and found it to be perfectly whole. It is exactly the same as the one now standing, both as to size and the hieroglyphics with which it is covered. Those on the north and on the west faces of the obelisk standing are in a very good state of preservation; those on the other sides are nearly obliterated.

These two obelisks are supposed to have stood at the entrance of some temple. Each is of one entire piece of granite, sixty-five feet high. Round the summit of that which is erect we perceived the remains of a rope, most probably put there for the purpose of pulling it to the ground, preparatory to the transporting of both of them to France.

For the Literary Magazine.

THE PIEDMONTESE SHARPER.

IN the year 1695, a Piedmontese, who stiled himself count Carassa, came to Vienna, and privately waited on the prime minister, pretending he was sent by the duke of Savoy on a very important affair, which they two were to negotiate without the privity of the French court. At the same time he produced his credentials, in which the duke's seal and signature were very exactly imitated. He met with a very favourable reception, and, without affecting any privacy, took upon him the title of envoy extraordinary from the court of Savoy. He had several conferences with the imperial council, and made so great a figure in the most distinguished assemblies, that once at a private concert at

4

court, the captain of the guard deny ing him admittance, he demanded satisfaction in his master's name, and the officer was obliged to ask his pardon. His first care was to ingratiate himself with the jesuits, who at that time bore a great sway at court; and in order to this, he I went to visit their church, which remained unfinished, as they pretended, from the low circumstances of the society. He asked them how much money would complete it. An estimate to the amount of two thousand louis-d'ors being laid before him, Carassa assured them of his constant attachment to their order; that he had gladly embraced such a public opportunity of showing his esteem for them, and that they might immediately proceed to finishing their church.

In conse

quence of his promise, he sent that very day the two thousand louisd'ors, at which sum the charge had been computed.

He was very sensible that this was a part he could not act long without being detected; and, that this piece of generosity might not be at his own expence, he invited a great number of ladies of the first rank to supper and a ball. Every one of the guests had promised to be there; but he complained to them all of the ill returns made to his civilities, adding, that he had been often disappointed, as the ladies made no scruple of breaking their word on such occasions, and, in a jocular way, insisted on a pledge from every lady for their appearance at the time appointed. One gave him a ring, another pearl necklace, a third a pair of ear-rings, a fourth a gold watch, and several such trink ets, to the amount of twelve thousand dollars. On the evening appointed not one of the guests were missing; but it may easily be conceived, what a damp it struck upon the whole assembly, when it was at last found that the gay Piedmontese was a sharper, and had disappeared. Nor had the jesuits any great reason to applaud themselves on the success of their dissimulation; for a

few days before his departure, the pretended count, putting on an air of deep concern, placed himself in the way of the emperor's confessor, who inquiring into the cause of his apparent melancholy, he intrusted him with the important secret, that he was short of money, at a juncture when eight thousand louis-d'ors were immediately wanted for his master's affairs, to be distributed at the imperial court. The, jesuits to whom he had given a recent instance of his liberality by so large a donation, immediately furnished him with the sum he wanted; and with this acquisition, and the ladies' pledges, he thought he had carried his jests far enough, and very prudently withdrew from Vienna.

For the Literary Magazine.

THE MELANGE.

NO. XI.

Advice.

THERE is no greater instance of good sense, than to be capable of receiving advice; for we may easi ly find that the greatest part of mankind are unanimously resolved to play the hypocrite with one another. The person who asks advice seldom means any thing more by it, than to let you know either what he has already done, or resolved to do: the giver of advice, therefore, knowing that this is a common mode of proceeding, repays the fraud of his friend with another of his own, and, instead of considering the thing proposed, considers only what the intention of his friend is, and immediately advises him to that.

There are some who ask advice, but proclaim their own resolution before they can receive any answer. Shall I do this?—Yes, I will do it,-is the constant practice of an old physician of my acquaintance; whilst my friend Mr.

Wilful takes a contrary method, and with his-I will do this-Shall I?makes his asking advice an equal absurdity. Mrs. Rentroll is of the same turn of mind with my friend Wilful. She never does any thing without consulting her husband; but wisely lets him know her intention first, and asks his advice after. The other day Bob Spavin, the jockey, brought an elegant saddle-horse to show her, of about eighty pounds value. She immediately asked her husband's advice, whether she should have it or no. He attempted seriously to persuade her against it; but found at last, that her asking whether she should have it, was only her manner of telling him she would.

Tom Sparebones has a far happier way of managing his' wife, who will not take the least step without his approbation. If she would take a jaunt in the summer, if she would invite to a dance, or make one at a tea-party, she never fails to ask his advice first. Tom puts on a grave face, and violently persuades her to what he knows she is resolved

upon. She cries, Well, since you advise me to it, my dear, I willand thus certainly obeys him: by this means, he is the most absolute husband in the world.

There is another set of people, who ask advice only to court our flattery; and it is easy to observe, notwithstanding all their grimace, that it is rather praise than counsel they consult us for. A young author showed a poetical translation to a man of excellent judgment, and solicited him as the oracle who

was to pronounce its fate: the gentleman, with the utmost tenderness and good-nature, yet with a sincerity above the common mode, point.

and thus proved himself a blockhead.

Some men ask advice, likewise, merely to collect' opinions; and though they would be glad that the world agreed with them, they have no intention of altering their conduct, if the case should be otherwise. M Brawn took a mistress into keeping, and asked the sentiments of his friends upon the occasion, in hopes they would think that this step was at least preferable to the indiscriminate pursuit of low pleasures. They candidly expressed their disapprobation.M Brawn has quarrelled with his counsellors, it is true, but he still keeps his mistress.

Thus, sincerity in giving advice is constantly received ill, by all but those persons who have good sense enough to bear with it; and the sincere counsellor comes off well, if he is not recompensed with some blunt remonstrance, or keen reproach.

Of

busy grinders at the well-filled

rack;

Or flapping wing, and crow of chanticleer,

or

plauded his piece; he printed it,

Long ere the lingering morn; bouncing flails,

That tell the dawn is near! Pleasant the path

fields