My uncle, you know, could not bear contradiction. He told Mr. Quirk very abruptly, that was his ignorance. The difpute grew warm the company was appealed to-Juftice Formal, as Mr.Manftein had fo lately obliged him, fided with my uncleJuftice Guzzle acknowledged he understood not these outlandish matters -and I held my tongue, though I fcarcely could my countenance. Mr. Quirk, feeing my uncle in a heat, and hoping fome time or other to fucceed Mr. Mittimus as juftice's clerk, gave up the point-and we parted all very good friends. 'As we were returning home in the chaife, Nephew," faid he, "don't think me quite fo ignorant on this fubject, which we have been difputing, as I appeared to be. I prefently recollected I was mif"taken; but when I have faid a thing, "I think it makes a man in company "look little to draw back, and confefs he is wrong." There, Jack, is a fubject to laugh over; I fhall be happy if it entertains you.' ART. VI. Peggy and Patty; or, The Sifters of Abdale. 4 vols. Small 8vo. 10s. DodЛley. THE HE general outlines of the ftory Peggy and Patty are thefeThe two eldest daughters of a poor Cumbrian curate, at the ages of fixteen and feventeen, being fent for by Mrs. Bennet, an affluent relation in the metropolis, who has engaged to procure each of them a refpectable service, proceed unprotected, and alone, in the Carlile ftage. On the road they are joined by Mr. Jackall, the infernal purveyor to the vices of a man of fashion; who, having artfully contrived to draw from them the little tale of their circumftances and connections, affumes the character of their brother, who he found had been fent abroad too young to be remembered by Peggy and Patty, and thus gets them under his protection. When they arrive in London, he accordingly conveys them to the house of a Mrs. H. who perfonates their coufin Mrs. Bennet; where, in a few days, ' by the aid of the most hellish potions, and brutal force, these poor innocents become the miferable victims of the worst paffions of the vileft libertines.' After this they pass through the feveral gradations of infamy, from keeping to unlimited proftitution; till, at length, worn out with cold, hunger, inquie tude, and difeafe, they miferably expire in each other's arms; unconscious, however, of the melancholy death of both their parents, whofe lives have for fome time been facrificed to their seceffion from virtue. The fair author (for it is avowedly the production of a female pen) has, in an Advertisement prefixed to the first volume, defired the candid reader to obferve, that the ftile is intended to be rather affecting than pompous--the fentiments fentiments flowing from the heart; and rather warmly expreffive than coldly correct? This, indeed, is it's true characteriftic: the ftile is beautifully fimple, and expreffive; though not always accurate. The work, however, all together, feems to be the production of a very feeling and fenfible mind; but, if the fair writer is neither wife nor widow,' we are at a lofs to account for that minute knowledge of life which is in feveral parts displayed, unless, indeed, it may be attributed to her thorough acquaintance with the writings of the inimita ble Fielding: certain it is, that in fome few places, our fair novellift has too palpably availed herself of that gentleman's excellent productions. That our readers may judge of the execution of this little work (though there are four volumes, they are all remarkably delicate) we shall extract the first letter. LETTER I. Afhdale, in Cumberland, May 2. · DEAR EMMA, WHEN Patty and I parted with you last night, at the ftile in the copfe that leads to the little wood by the fide of the valley, we ftill purfued the fubject, that we told you was uppermost in our hearts, and in which you fo much agree with us; namely, our defiring our parents to write to a coufin-german they have in London, (and who is Patty's godmother) to enquire among her acquaintance for fome creditable, little eftablishment, for us, (fuch as waiting on a lady, &c.) that fo we might be able to earn a decent livelihood, without being any longer fuch a burden, as I am fure we must be, to our poor father: indeed indeed, Emma! it grieves both your Peggy and Patty to the foul, to think what a helpless little family he has to provide for and all upon the fcanty pittance of a curacy of thirty pounds per annum; for which fum he is to walk over the bleak moors, eight miles, (as he has, you know, two churches to ferve) every Sunday. In fhört, my fifter and I, being now arrived at the age of fixteen and seventeen, can no longer bear to loiter away our time here, (where we must fill add to the expences of the family) when we might be fo much more profitably employed; and, perhaps, at the year's end, my Emma, be able, from our induftrious earnings, to fend down a small trifle to our dear parents. Patty and I never clofed our eyes last night, for thinking of this journey, and of the advantages that may arife from it. We have had a good education, as to reading the best English authors, writing, and being, as you know, well inftructed in needle-work-the latter by our mother, and the former by my poor father, who, you must remember, formerly kept a little school in the next village; which, joined with his curacy, enabled him to live more plentifully than he has fince done. But, alas! that dreadful fit of illness he had laft winter, (which drove us to fuch extremities, that my excellent mother was obliged to part with her chief apparel to procure the best of husbands fome comfortable nourishment towards his recovery;) that illnefs, Emma, I repeat, was our ruin: but come, let us hope the best-this journey to London will, I hope, produce fomething in our favour. Our CoufinBennet lives in a very handfome manner; and doubtless must be acquainted with families of good fashion: for my part, I have no objection to attend an elderly lady, (for, you know, I can bear confinement;) nay, towait either on one or more children is an employment I should be much pleased with. Our hands, my dear friend, difdain not labour. What delight shall I have, and fo will my beloved Patty, to fend our poor mother now and then a new gown; and every year fome ufeful cloathing, for a prefent, to my little fifters. My brother George, I hope, may yet live to vifit England; and it may pleafe the Almighty Difpofer of all events to fend him home in fuch circumstances as may be the making of us all: I was was fo very young, when a worthy gentleman in this county carried him over to Bengal with him as a writer, that I do not in the leaft remember his perfon; I only remember, in former days, how my little heart ufed to throb with anxious fear,when, fitting round our peat fire, in the winter evenings, I used to defire my father to tell about (whilft I fhuddered to hear it) the lions, the tygers, and the frightful black people, (as I then thought they were) where poor George was gone. You told us, my Emma, yefterday, that you are going foon to your uncle Waller's at Carlife: fo that, was this journey of ours even not to take place, you fee we should lofe you. How hould Patty and I fupport your abfence, were we to remain longer in this country? Not a tree, under whose fhade we have fo often fat and fung together, or played in our careless infancy, but would remind us of our lofs; but now, perhaps, we shall fet out much about the fame time-and then we will write, my Emma!-be fure let us write by every opportunity: but this moment I am called away to affift my mother in fome little family bufinefs. Heaven blefs you! I muft now conclude-and believe us both (for my fifter will fign this as well as myself,) to be Your unalterable Friends, PEGGY AND PATTY SUMMERS. P. S. Sorry am I to fay that the little goldfinch I intended to keep for your fake, and which you brought us yesterday, died this morning in my bofom. As foon as we have broke the ice about our London journey, we will write again. ART. VII. Adelaide and Theodore; or, Letters on Education: Containing all the Principles relative to Three different Plans of Education; to that of Princes, and to those of young Perfons of both Sexes. Tranflated from the VOL. III. THOUG HOUGH this performance of the celebrated Comteffe de Genlis is admirably calculated for the inftruction of youth of both fexes in her own country; fomething more than the art of the mere tranflator was neceffary to adapt it to the genius of a nation fo widely different in many effential characteristics, as that of England. In the original, this is certainly no fault; but, in the 'tranflation, it is unquestionably a very important one. Indeed, in it's prefent ftate, we wish not to fee it in the hands of British youth; though, with a very little management from a judicious pen, it might be rendered as highly interesting even to them as it has already proved to those for whose use it was more particularly intended. The precepts of the Comteffe de Genlis are rendered lively and amufing, as well by the description of her fituation, as by various little incidents, anecdotes, and hiftories, fentimental, pathetic, and moral: fo that, indeed, with a different title, the work might well be taken for a novel. The moft important leffons are pleasingly inculcated; and entertainment is truly blended with inftruction.. We have been informed, from good authority, that a lady of the firft literary talents had fome thoughts of favouring the public with a tranflation of Adelaide and Theodore, when the prefent made it's appearance. Should that lady renew her intention, the prefent performance, we apprehend, would be but little read. To fay the truth, this translation is fo indifferently executed, being in many places egregioufly ungrammatical, and generally very inelegant, that if even the lady in queftion fhould not be induced to take up her pen, we hope, at least, fome perfon of refpectable talents may be prevailed on to render the excellent Letters of Madame la Comteffe de Genlis worthy the attention of the English nation. We shall extract the following deli2 P cate cate little dialogue for the entertainment of our readers, who will eafily perceive that want of elegance and propriety in the ftile of the tranflator which leads us to regret that it was not undertaken by an abler pen. Adelaide. Mama, my bird is hungry. I writing at my desk) replied, Give it fomething to eat, then: you have got what is neceffary. • Adelaide. But he will not eat. Anfw. Because he is unhappy. Ad. Unhappy! O Heaven! why is my fweet little bird unhappy? Anfw. Because you do not know how to take care of him, and feed him, and because he is in prison. Ad. In prifon! Anfw. Yes, certainly he is. Attend to me, Adelaide. If I was to fhut you up in a little room, and not fuffer you to go out of it, would you be happy? Ad. (her heart full) O my poor little bird! • Anfw. You make him unhappy. • Ad. (frightened) I make him unhappy! *Anfa. This little bird was in the fields, at his liberty, and you fhut him up in a little cage, where he is not able to fly. See how he beats against it. If he could cry, I am fure he would. Ad. (taking him out of the cage) Mama, I am going to fet him at li berty: the window is open; is it not? *Anfw. As you pleafe, my dear child: for my part, I would never keep birds; for I would have every thing about me, and all that comes near me, happy. Ad. I would be as good as my dear mama. I am going to put it on the balcony, fhall I? • Anfw. (I still writing) If you please, my little dear. Ad. Bat first I will feed him.O my dear mama, he eats! Anfw. I am very glad of it, if it gives you pleafure. Ah! he kiffes me. How I love him! (She puts him into the cage again; then is thoughtful,and fighs. After fome filence the bird begins to beat himself again.) I (looking compaffionately at him) fay, "Poor little unfortunate!" Ad. (with tears in her eyes) O mama! (taking him again out of the cage) I will give him his liberty; fhall I? Anfw. (without looking at her) As you pleafe, Adelaide. Ad. (going to the window) Dear little one! (fhe returns crying) Mama, I cannot! Anf. Well, keep it then. This bird, like other animals, has not reafon enough to reflect on the fpecies of cra. elty you have, in depriving him of his liberty, to procure yourself a trifling amufement. He will not hate you, but he will fuffer; and he would be happy if he was at liberty. I would not hurt the smallest infect; at least, not maliciously. Ad. Come, then; I am going to put him out of the window. Anfw. You are at liberty to do what you please, my dear! but do not interrupt me any more; let me write! • Ad. (kiffing me, then going to the cage) Dear, dear bird! (She weeps, and, after a little reflection, be goes to the window, and returns with precipitation, her cheeks glowing, but with tears in her eyes) and fays, 66 Mama, it is done! I have fet him at liberty." Anfw. I (taking her in my arms) fay, My charming Adelaide, you have done a "good action!" and I love you a thousand times more than ever. Ad. O then I am well rewarded! Anfw. You always will be, every time you have courage to make a real facrifice. Befides, facrifices of this kind are only painful in idea. They are no fooner done than they render us fo amiable that we leave nothing but joy and fatisfaction in our hearts; for example, you wept at the thoughts of fetting your bird at liberty, but do you regret it now? 'Ad. Ono, mama; on the contrary, Ad. He eats! I know how to feed. I am charmed at having made him haphim. Sweet bird! charming little crea- py, and at having performed a "good ture! (kiffes him. How pretty he is!" action." • Anfwi HESE remains, which are faid TH to be given to the public by Mr. Tytler of Edinburgh, confist of two poems written by James I. of Scotland; the one called, The King's Quair; and the other (which, indeed, is fuppofed by Lord Hailes to have been a production of James V.) Chrift's Kirk of the Green, The latter has been often before published; but the former is fuppofed to be now for the first time printed. Indeed, as the art of printing was not introduced into England till up wards of a century after the death of James I. of Scotland, it is by no means wonderful that most of his productions fhould be loft. rious Treatife on the Scottish Music. The whole is accompanied with judi cious Explanatory Notes. The poem of the King's Quair, the fubject of which is the love with which he was infpired, while a prifoner in Windfor Castle, on feeing Jane the daughter of the Earl of Somerset, (grandfon of John of Gaunt) and whom he married fome time before he was vided into fix fits or cantos. In the permitted to return to Scotland, is difirst, he opens his defign; in the fecond, he mentions his intended voyage to France, and defcribes his unfortunate Capture at fea; in the third, he delineLove; in the fourth, he is conducted to ates his tranfportation to the fphere of the Temple of Wisdom, where he takes Virtue for his guide; in the fifth, he fixth, defcribing the feveral steps which goes in pursuit of Fortune; and, in the led him to the poffeffion of his milkrefs, he concludes the poem. bably like to fee a fpecimen of this li * And in my hede I drew ryt haftily, And eft fones I lent it out ageyne, With no wight mo, bot only women tueyne, Ah! fuete are ze a wardly creature, The manner in which the MS. of the King's Quair was difcovered, is thus accounted for. The Editor had obferved, that Joannes Major, in his Hiftory of Scotland; Dempfter, in his Hiftoria Ecclefiaftica; and Tanner, Bifhop of St. Afaph, in his Bibliotheca. Britannico-Hibernica; had all concurred in mentioning this poem: and that Bishop Tanner, in particular, had referred to it as being among the Seldenian manufcripts in the Bodleian Li-Giff ze a goddeffe be, and ye ze like brary. This excited the Editor's curio fity to fearch for it; and, after several fruitless attempts, on his applying to an ingenious young gentleman, a student of Oxford, the MS. was at laft found. The Editor has prefixed to this publication, an Hiftorical and Critical Dif. fertation on the Life and Writings of James I. and he has added, to that prince's Poetical Remains, a very cu That have depayneit, wt zour hevinly hand, This gardyn full of flouris, as they ftand? Quhat fall I think, allace! quhat reverence Sall I mefter to zour excellence? To do me payne, I may it not aftertz Giff ze be wardly wight, yt dooth me fike, Quhy left God mak zou so my dezeft hert, That lufis zou all, and wote of not but wo, My hert, my will, my nature, and my mynd, Quair is an old word for a Book; fo that the title of this production is, in fact, The King's Book. a Pa |