dress will appear stiff and affected, and the most | throughout, as curious observers of dress have gay habit fantastical and tawdry. As different sorts of poetry require a different style: the elegy, tender and mournful; the ode, gay and sprightly; the epic, sublime, &c. so must the widow confess her grief in the veil; the bride frequently makes her joy and exultation conspicuous in the silver brocade; and the plume and the scarlet dye is requisite to give the soldier a martial air. There is another kind of occasional dress in use among the ladies; I mean the riding-habit, which some have not injudiciously styled the hermaphroditical, by reason of its masculine and feininine composition; but I shall rather choose to call it the Pindaric, as its first institution was at a Newmarket horse-race, and as it is a mixture of the sublimity of the epic with the easy softness of the ode. There sometimes arises a great genius in dress, who cannot content himself with merely copying from others, but will, as he sees occasion, strike out into the long pocket, slashed sleeve, or something particular in the disposition of his lace, or the flourish of his embroide. ry. Such a person, like the masters of other sciences, will show that he hath a manner of his own. On the contrary, there are some pretenders to dress who shine out but by halves; whether it be for want of genius or money. A dancing. master of the lowest rank seldom fails of the scarlet stocking and the red heel; and shows a particular respect to the leg and foot, to which he owes his subsistence; when at the same time perhaps all the superior ornament of his body is neglected. We may say of these sort of dressers what Horace says of his patch-work poets: Purpureus late qui splendeat unus et alter Assuitur pannus" Ars Poet. ver. 15. A few florid lines Others who lay the stress of beauty in their face, exert all their extravagance in the peri. wig, which is a kind of index of the mind; the full-bottom, formally combed all before, denotes the lawyer and the politician; the smart tie-wig with a black riband, shows a man of fierceness of temper; and he that burdens himself with a superfluity of white hair which flows down the back, and mantles in waving curls over the shoulders, is generally observed to be less curious in the furniture of the inward recesses of the scull, and lays himself open to the application of that censure which Milton applies to the fair sex, of outward form Elaborate, of inward, Isas exact.' remarked, is changed from top to toe, in the period of five years. A poet will now and then, to serve his purpose, coin a word, so will a lady of genius venture at an innovation in the fashion; but as Horace advises, that all new-minted words should have a Greek derivation to give them an indisputable authority, so I would counsel all our improvers of fashion always to take the hint from France, which may as properly be called the fountain of dress,' as Greece was of literature. Dress may bear a parallel to poetry with respect to moving the passions. The greatest motive to love, as daily experience shows us, is dress. I have known a lady at sight fly to a red feather, and readily give her hand to a fringed pair of gloves. At another time I have seen the awkward appearance of her rural humble servant move her indignation; she is jealous every time her rival hath a new suit; and in a rage when her woman pins her mantua to disadvantage. Unhappy, unguarded woman! alas! what moving rhetoric has she often found in the seducing full-bottom! who can tell the resist less eloquence of the embroidered coat, the gold snuff-box, and the amber-headed cane! I shall conclude these criticisms with some general remarks upon the milliner, the mantuamaker, and the lady's woman, these being the three chief on which all the circumstances of dress depend. The milliner must be thoroughly versed in physiognomy; in the choice of ribands she must have a particular regard to the complexion, and must ever be mindful to cut the head-dress to the dimensions of the face. When she meets with a countenance of large diameter, she must draw the dress forward to the face, and let the lace encroach a little upon the cheek, which casts an agreeable shade, and takes off from its masculine figure; the little oval face requires the diminutive commode, just on the tip of the crown of the head: she must have a regard to the several ages of women: the head-dress must give the mother a more sedate mien than the virgin; and age must not be made ridiculous with the flaunting airs of youth. There is a beauty that is peculiar to the several stages of the dress of the old, as the young. life, and as much propriety must be observed in The mantua-maker must be an expert anatomist; and must, if judiciously chosen, have a how to hide all the defects in the proportions of name of French termination; she must know the body, and must be able to mould the shape by the stays, so as to preserve the intestines, that while she corrects the body, she may not interfere with the pleasures of the palate. The lady's woman must have all the qualities A lady of genius will give a genteel air to her of a critic in poetry; as her dress, like the criwhole dress by a well-fancied suit of knots, as a tie's learning, is at second-hand, she must, like judicious writer gives a spirit to a whole sen-hin, have a ready talent at censure, and her tence by a single expression. As words grow tongue must be deeply versed in detraction; she old, and new ones enrich the language, so there must be sure to asperse the characters of the is a constant succession of dress; the fringe ladies of most eminent virtue and beauty, to insucceeds the lace, the stays shorten or extend dulge her lady's spleen; and as it hath been rethe waist, the riband undergoes divers varia- marked, that critics are the most fawning sycotions, the head-dress receives frequent rises and phants to their patrons, so must our female erifalls every year; and in short, the whole womantic be a thorough proficient in flattery: she must add sprightliness to her lady's air, by encourag- I will not come up to it. Is it not rather the good ing her vanity; give gracefulness to her step, providence of that being, who in a supereminent by cherishing her pride; and make her show a degree protects and cherishes the whole race of haughty contempt of her admirers, by enume- mankind, his sons and creatures? How shall rating her imaginary conquests. As a critic we, any other way, account for this natural afmust stock his memory with the names of all fection, so signally displayed throughout every the authors of note, she must be no less ready species of the animal creation, without which in the recital of all the beaux and pretty fellows the course of nature would quickly fail, and in vogue; like the male critic, she asserts, that every various kind be extinct? Instances of the theory of any science is above the practice, tenderness in the most savage brutes are so freand that it is not necessary to be able to set her quent, that quotations of that kind are altogether own person off to advantage, in order to be a unnecessary. judge of the dress of others; and besides all those qualifications, she must be endued with the gift of secrecy, a talent very rarely to be met with in her profession. I WENT the other day to visit Eliza, who in the perfect bloom of beauty is the mother of several children. She had a little prating girl upon her lap, who was begging to be very fine, that she might go abroad; and the indulgent mother, at her little daughter's request, had just taken the knots off her own head, to adorn the hair of the pretty trifler. A smiling boy was at the same time caressing a lap-dog, which is their mother's favourite, because it pleases the children; and she, with a delight in her looks, which heightened her beauty, so divided her conversation with the two pretty prattlers, as to make them both equally cheerful. If we, who have no particular concern in them, take a secret delight in observing the gentle dawn of reason in babes; if our ears are soothed with their half-forming and aiming at articulate sounds; if we are charmed with their pretty mimicry, and surprised at the unexpected starts of wit and cunning in these miniatures of man; what transport may we imagine in the breasts of those, into whom natural instinct hath poured tenderness and fondness for them! how amiable is such a weakness in human nature! or rather, how great a weakness is it, to give humanity so reproachful a name! The bare consideration of paternal affection should methinks create a more grateful tenderness in children toward their parents, than we generally see; and the silent whispers of nature be attended to, though the laws of God and man did not call aloud. These silent whispers of nature have had a marvellous power, even when their cause hath been unknown. There are several examples in story of tender friendships formed betwixt men who knew not of their near relation. Such ac. counts confirm me in an opinion I have long entertained, that there is a sympathy betwixt souls, which cannot be explained by the preju. dice of education, the sense of duty, or any other human motive. The memoirs of a certain French nobleman, which now lie before me, furnish me with a very entertaining instance of this secret attrac tion inplanted by Providence in the human soul. It will be necessary to inform the reader, that the person whose story I am going to relate, was one whose roving and romantic temAs I came in, she said with a blush, Mr. Iron-per, joined to a disposition singularly amorous, side, though you are an old bachelor, you must not laugh at my tenderness to my children.' I need not tell my reader what civil things I said in answer to the lady, whose matron-like be. haviour gave me infinite satisfaction; sinco I myself take great pleasure in playing with children, and am seldom unprovided of pluras or marbles, to make my court to such entertaining companions. had led him through a vast variety of gallantries and amours. Ile had, in his youth, attended a princess of France into Poland, where he had been entertained by the king her husband, and married the daughter of a grandee. Upon her death he returned into his native country; where his intrigues and other misfortunes having consumed his paternal estate, he now went to take care of the fortune his deceased wife had left him in Poland. In his journey he was robbed before he reached Warsaw, and lay ill of a fever, when he met with the following adventure, which he shall relate in his own words. · Whence is it, said to myself when I was alone, that the affection of parents is so intense to their offspring? Is it because they generally find such resemblances in what they have pro. duced, as that thereby they think themselves re- I had been in this condition for four days, newed in their children, and are willing to trans. when the countess of Venoski passed that way. mit themselves to future times? Or is it, be-She was informed that a stranger of good fashion cause they think themselves obliged, by the dic-day sick, and her charity led her to see me. I tates of humanity, to nourish and rear what is remembered her, for I had often seen her with placed so immediately under their protection; my wife, to whom she was nearly related; but and what by their means is brought into this when I found she knew not me, I thought fit to world, the scene of misery, of necessity? These conceal my name. I told her I was a German; that I had been robbed; and that if she had the | lady, and then upon the gentleman I had thought charity to send me to Warsaw, the queen would to be her lover. My heart beat, and I felt a seacknowledge it; I having the honour to be cret emotion which filled me with wonder. I known to her majesty. The countess had the thought I traced in the two young persons some goodness to take compassion of me; and order- of my own features, and at that moment I said ing me to be put in a litter, carried me to War- to myself," Are not these my children?" The saw, where I was lodged in her house until my tears came into my eyes, and I was about to run health should allow me to wait on the queen. and embrace them; but constraining myself with pain, I asked whose picture it was? The maid, perceiving that I could not speak without tears, fell a weeping. Her tears absolutely confirmed me in my opinion, and falling upon her neck, "Ah, my dear child," said 1, "yes, I am your father." I could say no more. The youth seized my hands at the same time, and kissing, bathed them with his tears. Throughout my life, I never felt a joy equal to this; and it must be owned, that nature inspires more lively emotions and pleasing tenderness than the passions can possibly excite,'. My fever increased after my journey was over, and I was confined to my bed for fifteen days. When the countess first saw me, she had a young lady with her about eighteen years of age, who was much taller and better shaped than the Polish women generally are. She was very fair, her skin exceeding fine, and her hair and shape inexpressibly beautiful. I was not so sick as to overlook this young beauty; and I felt in my heart such emotions at the first view, as made me fear that all my misfortunes had not armed me sufficiently against the charms of the fair sex. The amiable creature seemed aflicted at my sickness; and she appeared to have so much concern and care for me, as raised in me a great inclination and tenderness for her. She came every day into my chamber to inquire after my health; I asked who she was, and I was answered, that she was niece to the countess of Venoski. I verily believe that the constant sight of this charming maid, and the pleasure I received from her careful attendance, contributed more to my recovery than all the medicines the phy. sicians gave me. In short, my fever left me, and I had the satisfaction to see the lovely creature overjoyed at my recovery. She came to see me oftener as I grew better; and I already felt a stronger and more tender affection for her than I ever bore to any woman in my life; when I began to perceive that her constant care of me was only a blind, to give her an opportunity of seeing a young Pole, whom I took to be her lover. He seemed to be much about her age, of a brown complexion, very tall, but finely shaped. Every time she came to see me, the young gentleman came to find her out; and they usually retired to a corner of the chamber, where they seemed to converse with great ear nestness. The aspect of the youth pleased me wonderfully; and if I had not suspected that he was my rival, I should have taken delight in his person and friendship. They both of them often asked me if I were in reality a German, which, when I continned to affirm, they seemed very much troubled. One day, I took notice that the young lady and gentleman, having retired to a window, were very intent upon a picture; and that every now and then they cast their eyes upon me, as if they had found some resemblance betwixt that and my features. I could not forbear to ask the meaning of it upon which the lady answered, that if I had been a Frenchman, she should have imagined that I was the person for whom the picture was drawn, because it so exactly resembled me. I desired to see it; but how great was my surprise, when I found it to be the very painting which I had sent to the queen five years before, and which she commanded me to get drawn to be given to my children. After I had viewed the piece, I cast my eyes upon the young 'OLD NESTOR,-I believe you distance me not so much in years as in wisdom, and therefore since you have gained so deserved a reputation, I beg your assistance in correcting the manners of an untoward lad, who perhaps may listen to your admonitions, sooner than to all the severe checks, and grave reproofs of a father. Without any longer preamble, you must know, sir, that about two years ago, Jack, my eldest son and heir, was sent up to London, to be admitted of the Temple, not so much with a view of his studying the law, as a desire to improve his breeding. This was done out of complaisance to a cousin of his, an airy lady, who was continually teazing me, that the boy would shoot up into a mere country booby, if he did not see a little of the world. She herself was bred chiefly in town, and since she was married into the country, neither looks, nor talks, nor dresses like any of her neighbours, and is grown the admiration of every one but her husband. The latter end of last month some important business called me up to town, and the first thing I did, the next morning about ten, was to pay a visit to my son at his chambers; but as I began to knock at the door, I was interrupted by the bed. maker in the staircase, who told me her master seldom rose till about twelve, and about one I might be sure to find him drinking tea. I bid her somewhat hastily hold her prating, and open the door, which accordingly she did. The first thing I observed upon the table was the secret amours of, and by it stood a box of pills: on a chair lay a snuff-box with a fan half broke, and on the floor a pair of foils. Having seen this furniture, I entered his hed-chamber, not without some noise; whereupon, he began to "Six pair of white kid gloves £ s. d. for madain Sally, 0 14 0 0 15 0 "Three handkerchiefs for madam Sally, In his chamber window I saw his shoemaker's bill, with this remarkable article: "For Mr. Ringwood, three pair 3 0 0 of laced shoes, And in the drawer of the table was the following billet: "MR. RINGWOOD,-I desire, that because you are such a country booby, that you forget the use and care of your snuff-box, you would not call me thief. Pray see my face no more. Your abused friend, SARAH GALLOP." Under these words my hopeful heir had writ, "Memorandum, To send her word I have found my box, though I know she has it."' No. 152.] Friday, September 4, 1713. swear at his bed-maker (as he thought) for disturbing him so soon, and was turning about for the other nap, when he discovered such a thin, pale, sickly visage, that had I not heard his voice, I should never have guessed him to have been my son. How different was this countenance from that ruddy, hale complexion, which he had at parting with me from home! After I had waked him, he gave me to understand, that he was but lately recovered out of a violent fever, and the reason why he did not acquaint me with it, was, lest the melancholy news might occasion too many tears among his relations, and be an unsupportable grief to his mother. To be short with you, old Nestor, I hurried my young spark down into the country along with me, and there am endeavouring to plump him up, so as to be no disgrace to his pedigree; for I assure you, it was never known in the memory of man, that any one of the family of the Ringwoods ever fell into a consumption, except Mrs. Dorothy Ringwood, who died a maid at fortyfive. In order to bring him to himself, and to be one of us again, I make him go to bed at ten, and rise half an hour past five; and when he is pulling for bohea tea and cream, I place upon a table a jolly piece of cold roast beef, or well powdered ham, and bid him eat and live; then take him into the fields to observe the reap ers, how the harvest goes forwards. There is THERE is no rule in Longinus which I more nobody pleased with his present constitution admire than that wherein he advises an author but his gay cousin, who spirits him up, and who would attain to the sublime, and writes for tells him, he looks fair, and is grown well-shaped; eternity, to consider, when he is engaged in his but the honest tenants shake their heads, and composition, what Homer, or Plato, or any other cry, "Lack-a-day, how thin, is poor young mas of those heroes in the learned world, would have ter fallen!" The other day, when I told him said or thought upon the same occasion. I have of it, he had the impudence to reply, "I hope, often practised this rule, with regard to the best sir, you would not have me as fat as Mr. anthors among the ancients, as well as among Alas! what would then become of me? how the moderns. With what success, I must leave would the ladies pish at such a great monstrous to the judgment of others. I may at least venthing!"—If you are truly, what your title im- ture to say with Mr. Dryden, where he professes ports, a Guardian, pray, sir, be pleased to con- to have imitated Shakspeare's style, that in imisider what a noble generation must, in all pro-tating such great authors I have always excelled bability, ensue from the lives which the town. bred gentlemen too often lead. A friend of mine, not long ago, as we were complaining of the times, repeated two stanzas out of my lord Roscommon, which, I think, may here be applicable: "'Twas not the spawn of such as these, How weak his gold was against Europe stee! :* And won the long-dispated world at Zama's fatal field; Either they dug the stubborn ground, Had changed the shadows, and their task was done, Quin potius pacem æternam pactosque hymenæos myself. I have also, by this means, revived several antiquated ways of writing, which, though very instructive and entertaining, had been laid aside and forgotten for some ages. I shall in this place only mention those allegories wherein virtutes, vices, and human passions are introduced as real actors. Though this kind of composition was practised by the finest authors among the ancients, our countryman Spenser is the last writer of note who has applied himself to it with success. That an allegory may be both delightful and instructive; in the first place, the fable of it ought to be perfect, and, if possible, to be filled next, there ought to be useful morals and rewith surprising turns and incidents. In the Home with their weary team they took their way, eminence of the two sexes, each of which have very frequently had their advocates among the men of letters. Since I have not time to accomplish this work, I shall present my reader with the naked fable, reserving the embellishments of verse and poetry to another opportunity. The two sexes contending for superiority, were once at war with each other, which was chiefly carried on by their auxiliaries. The males were drawn up on the one side of a very spacious plain, the females on the other; be tween them was left a very large interval for their auxiliaries to engage in. At each extremity of this middle space lay encamped several bodies of neutral forces, who waited for the event of the battle before they would declare themselves, that they night then act as they saw occasion. among the males, where he made a more terrible havoc than on the other side. He was here opposed by Reason, who drew up all his forces against him, and held the fight in suspense for some time, but at length quitted the field. After a great ravage on both sides, the two armies agreed to join against this common foc. And in order to it, drew out a small chosen band, whom they placed by consent under the conduct of Virtue, who in a little time drove this foul ugly monster out of the field. Upon his retreat, a second neutral leader, whose name was Love, marched in between the two armies. He headed a body of ten thousand winged boys, that threw their darts and arrows promiscuously among both armies. The wounds they gave were not the wounds of an enemy. They were pleasing to those that felt them; and had so strange an effect, that they wrought a spirit of mutual friendship, recon The main body of the male auxiliaries was commanded by Fortitude; that of the female byciliation, and good-will in both sexes. The two Beauty. Fortitude begun the onset on Beauty, but found to his cost, that she had such a particular witchcraft in her looks, as withered all his strength. She played upon him so many smiles and glances that she quite weakened and disarmed him. In short, he was ready to call for quarter, had not Wisdom come to his aid: this was the commander of the male right wing, and would have turned the fate of the day, had not he been timely opposed by Cunning, who commanded the left wing of the female auxiliaries. Cunning was the chief engineer of the fair army; but upon this occasion was posted, as I have here said, to receive the attacks of Wisdom. It was very entertaining to see the workings of these two antagonists; the conduct of the one, and the stratagems of the other. Never was there a more equal match. Those who beheld it, gave the victory sometimes to the one, and sometimes to the other, though most 'declared the advantage was on the side of the female commander. In the mean time the conflict was very great in the left wing of the army, where the battle began to turn to the male side. This wing was commanded by an old experienced officer called Patience, and on the female side by a general known by the name of Scorn. The latter, that fought after the manner of the Parthians, had the better of it all the beginning of the day; but being quite tired out with the long pursuits, and repeated attacks of the enemy, who had been repulsed above a hundred times, and rallied as often, began to think of yielding; when on a sudden a body of neutral forces began to move. The leader was of an ugly look, and gigantic stature. He acted like a drawcansir, sparing neither friend nor foe. His name was Lust. On the female side he was opposed by a select body of forces, commanded by a young officer that had the face of a cherubim, and the name of Modesty. This beautiful young hero was sup. ported by one of a more masculine turn, and fierce behaviour, called by men, Honour, and by the gods, Pride. This last made an obstinate defence, and drove back the enemy more than once, but at length resigned at discretion. The dreadful monster, after having overturned. whole squadrons in the female army, fell in armies now looked with cordial love on each other, and stretched out their arms with tears of joy, as longing to forget old animosities, and embrace one another. The last general of neutrals that appeared in the field, was Hymen, who marched immediately after Love, and seconding the good inclina tions which he had inspired, joined the hands of both armies. Love generally accompanied him, and recommended the sexes, pair by pair, to his good offices. But as it is usual enough for several persons to dress themselves in the habit of a great leader, Ambition and Avarice had taken on them the garb and habit of Love, by which, means they often imposed on Hymen, by putting into his hands several couples whom he would never have joined together, had it not been brought about by the delusion of these two impostors. THERE is no passion which steals into the heart more imperceptibly, and covers itself under more disguises, than pride. For my own part, I think if there is any passion or vice which I am wholly a stranger to, it is this; though at the same time, perhaps this very judgment which I form of myself proceeds in some measure from this corrupt principle. I have been always wonderfully delighted with that sentence in holy writ,- Pride was not made for man.' There is not indeed any single view of human nature under its present condition, which is not sufficient to extinguish in us all the secret seeds of pride; and, on the contrary, to sink the soul into the lowest state of humility, and what the school-men call selfannihilation. Pride was not made for man, as he is, 1. A sinful, 2. An ignorant, 3. A miserable being. There is nothing in his understanding, in his, |