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ber of dishes that were provided and sent from the temporary kitchens erected in Cotton-garden for this purpose. No less than sixty haunches of venison, with a surprizing quantity of all sorts of game, were laid in for this grand feast: but that which chiefly attracted our eyes, was their majesties' dessert, in which the confectioner had lavished all his ingenuity in rock-work and emblematical figures. The other desserts were no less admirable for their expressive devices. But I must not forget to tell you, that when the company came to be seated, the poor knights of the Bath had been overlooked, and no table provided for them: an airy apology, however, was served up to them instead of a substantial dinner; but the two junior knights, in order to preserve their rank of precedency to their successors, were placed at the head of the judges' table, above all the learned brethren of the coif. The peers were placed on the outermost side of the tables, and the pceresses within, nearest to the walls. You cannot suppose that there was the greatest order imaginable observed, during the dinner, but must conclude, that some of the company were as eager and impatient to satisfy the craving of their appetites as any of your country 'squires at a race or assize ordinary.

It was pleasant to see the various stratagems made use of by the company in the galleries to come in for a snack of the good things below. The ladies clubbed their handkerchiefs to be tied together to draw up a chicken or a bottle of wine; nay, even garters (I will not say of a different sex) were united for the same purpose. Some had been so provident as to bring baskets with them, which were let down, like the prisoners boxes at Ludgate or the Gate-house, with a Pray, remember the poor. You will think it high time that I should bring this long letter to a conclusion. Let it suffice then to acquaint you, that their majesties returned to St. James's a little after ten o'clock at night; but they were pleased to give time for the peeresses to go first, that they might not be incommoded by the pressure of the mob to see their majesties. After the nobility were departed, the illustrious mobility were (according to custom) admitted into the Hall, which they presently cleared of all the moveables, such as the victuals, cloths, plates, dishes, &c. and, in short, every thing that could stick to their fingers.

I need not tell you, that several coronation medals, in silver, were thrown among the populace at the return of the procession. One of them was pitched into Mrs. Dixon's lap, as she sat upon a scaffold in Palace-yard. Some, it is said, were also thrown among the peeresses in the Abbey just after the king was crowned; but they thought it below their dignity to stoop to pick them up.

My wife desires her compliments to you: she was hugeously pleased with the sight. All friends are well, except that little Nancy Green has got a swelled face, by being up all night; and Tom Moffat has his leg laid upon a stool, on account of a broken shin, which he got by a kick from a trooper's horse, as a reward for his mobbing it. I shall say nothing of this illuminations at night: the news-papers must have told you of them, and that the Admiralty in particular was remarkably lighted up. I expected to have from you an account of the rejoicings at your little town: and desire to know whether you' was able to get a slice of the ox which was roasted whole on this occasion.

I am, dear Sir, Yours most heartily,

JAMES HEMMING.

P. S. The Princess Dowager of Wales, with the younger branches of the royal family, did not walk in the grand procession, but made up a lesser procession of their own; of which you will find a sufficient account in the public prints. They had a box to see the coronation in the Abbey, and afterwards dined in an apartment by themselves adjoining to the Hall.

Since my writing the above, I have been' informed for certain, that the sword of state, by some mistake, being left behind at St. James's the Lord Mayor's sword was carried before the king by the earl of Huntingdon, in its stead; but when the procession came into the Abbey, the sword of state was found placed upon the altar.

Our friend Harry, who was upon the scaffold, at the return of the procession closed in with the rear; at the expence of half-a-guinea was admitted into the Hall; got brim-full of his majesty's claret; and in the universal plunder, brought off the glass her majesty drank in, which is placed in the beaufait as a valuable curiosity.

3 K

B. Thornton.

$140,

140. A Letter from a successful Adcenturer in the Lottery.

Sir,

When they were gone, I made shift to get a little rest, though I was often disturb ed by my wife talking in her sleep. Her head, it seems, literally ran upon wheels, that is, the lottery-wheels; she frequently called out that she had got ten thousand pounds: she muttered several wild and incoherent expressions about gowns, and ruffles, and car-rings, and necklaces; and I once heard her mention the word coach. In the morning when I got up, how was I surprized to find my good fortune published to all the world in the news-paper! though I could not but smile (and madam was greatly pleased) at the printer's exalt ing me to the dignity of Esquire, having been nothing but plain Mr. all my life be fore. And now the misfortunes arising from my good fortune began to pour in thick upon me. In consequence of the information given in the news-paper, we were no sooner sat down to breakfast than we were complimented with a rat-a-taloo from the drums, as if we had been just married: after these had been silenced by the usual method, another band of music saluted us with a peal from the marrowbones and cleavers to the same tune. I was harassed the whole day with petitions from the hospital boys that drew the ticket, the commissioners clerks that wrote down the ticket, and the clerks of the office where I bought the ticket, all of them praying, "That my Honour would consider them." I should be glad you would inform me what these people would have given ine if I had had a blank.

You will not be at all surprised when I tell you, that I have had very ill-luck in the lottery; but you will stare when I further tell you, it is because unluckily I have got a considerable prize in it. I received the glad tiding of my misfortune last Saturday night from your Chronicle, when, on looking over the list of the prizes, as I was got behind my pipe at the club, I found that my ticket was come up a 20001. In the pride as well as joy of my heart, I could not help proclaiming to the company my good luck, as I then foolishly thought it, and as the company thought it too, by insisting that I should treat them that even ing. Friends are never so merry, or stay longer, than when they have nothing to pay: they never care too how extravagant they are on such an occasion. Bottle after bottle was therefore called for, and that too of claret, though not one of us, I be lieve, but had rather had port. In short, I reeled home as well as I could about four in the morning; when thinking to pacify my wife, who began to rate me (as usual) for staying out so long, I told her the occasion of it; but instead of rejoicing, as I thought she would, she cried-"Pish, ONLY two thousand pounds!" However, she was at last reconciled to it, taking care to remind me, that she had chosen the ticket herself, and she was all along sure it would come up a prize, because the number was an odd one. We neither of us got a wink of sleep, though I was heartily in clined to it; for my wife kept me awakeby telling me of this, that, and t'other thing which she wanted, and which she would now purchase, as we could afford it.

I know not how the news of my success spread so soon among my other acquaintance, except that my wife told it to every one she knew, or not knew, at church. The consequence was, that I had no less than seven very hearty friends came to dine with us by way of wishing us joy; and the number of these hearty friends was increased to above a dozen by suppertime. It is kind in one's friends to be willing to partake of one's success; they made themselves very merry literally at my expense; and, at parting, told me they would bring some more friends, and have another jolly evening with me on this happy occasion.

My acquaintance in general called know, when they should wait upon me to wet my good fortune. My own relations, and my wife's relations came in such shoals to congratulate me, that I hardly knew the faces of many of them. One insisted on my giving a piece of plate to his wife; an other recommended to me to put his little boy (my two-and-fortieth cousin) out 'prentice; another, lately white-washed, proposed to me my setting him up again in business; and several of them very kind ly told me, they would borrow three of four hundred pounds of me, as they knew I could now spare it.

sure, was not idle in contriving to dis My wife in the mean time, you may b pose of this new acquisition. She found out in the first place, (according to the complaint of most women) that she ha not got a gown to her back, at least not one lit for her now to appear in. Her war

robe

robe of linen was no less deficient; and she discovered several chasms in our furniture, especially in the articles of plate and china. The also determined to see a little pleasure, as she calls it, and has actually made a party to go to the next opera. Now, in order to supply these immediate wants and necessities, she has prevailed on me (though at a great loss) to turn the prize into ready money; which I dared not refuse her, because the number was her own choosing: and she has further persuaded me (as we have had such good luck) to lay out a great part of the produce in purchasing more tickets, all of her own choosing. To me it is indifferent which way the money goes; for, upon my making out the balance, I already find I shall be a loser by my gains: and all my fear is, that one of the tickets may come up a five thousand or ten thousand.

I am,

Your very humble servant,
JEOFFREY CHANCE.

P. S. I am just going to club-I hope they won't desire me to treat them again. B. Thornton.

141. Characters of CAMILLA and FLORA.

Camilla is really what writers have so often imagined; or rather, she possesses a combination of delicacies, which they have seldom had minuteness of virtue and taste enough to conceive; to say she is beautiful, she is accomplished, she is generous, she is tender, is talking in general, and it is the particular I would describe. In her person she is almost tall, and almost thin; graceful, commanding, and inspiring a kind of tender respect; the tone of her voice is melodious, and she can neither look nor move without expressing something to her advantage. Possessed of almost every excellence, she is unconscious of any, and this heightens them all; she is modest and diffident of her own opinion, yet always perfectly comprehends the subject on which she gives it, and sees the question in its true light; she has neither pride, prejudice, nor precipitancy to misguide her; she is true, and therefore judges truly. If there are subjects too intricate, too complicated for the feminine simplicity of her soul, her ignorance of them serves only to display a new beauty in her character, which results from her acknowledging, nay, perhaps from her possessing that very ignorance,

most

The great characteristic of Camilla's un-
derstanding is taste; but when she
says
upon a subject, she still shows that she has
much more to say, and by this unwilling-
ness to triumph, she persuades the more.
With the most refined sentiments, she pos-
sesses the softest sensibility, and it lives and
speaks in every feature of her face. Is Ca-
milla melancholy? does she sigh? Every
body is affected; they enquire whether any
misfortune has happened to Camilla ; they
find that she sighed for the misfortune of
another, and they are affected still more.
Young, lovely, and high born, Camilla,
graces every company, and heightens the
brilliancy of courts; wherever she appears,
all others scem by a natural impulse to feci
her superiority; and yet when she con-
verses, she has the art of inspiring others
with an ease which they never knew before:
she joins to the most scrupulous politeness
a certain feminine gaiety, free both from
restraint and boldness; always gentle, yet
never inferior; always unassuming, yet
never ashamed or awkward; for shame and
awkwardness are the effects of pride, which
is too often miscalled modesty : nay, to the
most critical discernment, she adds some-
thing of a blushing timidity, which serves
but to give a meaning and piquancy even
to her looks, an admirable effect of true
superiority! by this silent unassuming merit
she over-awes the turbulent and the proud,
and stops the torrent of that indecent, that
overbearing noise, with which inferior na
tures in superior stations overwhelm the
slavish and the mean. Yes, all admire, and
love, and reverence Camilla.

You see a character that you admire, and you think it perfect; do you therefore conclude that every different character is imperfect? what, will you allow a variety of beauty almost equally striking in the art of a Correggio, a Guido, and a Raphael, and refuse it to the infinity of nature! low different from lovely Camilla is the beloved Flora; in Camilla, nature has displayed the beauty of exact regularity and the elegant softness of female propriety: in Flora, she charms with a certain artless poignancy, a graceful negligence, and an uncontrouled, yet blameless freedom. Flora has something original and peculiar about her, a charm which is not easily defined; to know her and to love her is the same thing; but you cannot know her by description. Her person is rather touching than majestic, her features more expressive than regular, and her mannerpleases rather 3K2

because

because it is restrained by no rule; than because it is conformable to any that custom has established. Camilla puts you in raind of the most perfect music that can be composed; Flora, of the wild sweetness which is sometimes produced by the irreqular play of the breeze upon the Eolian harp. Camilla reminds you of a lovely young queen; Flora, of her more lovely maid of honour. In Camilla you admire the decency of the Graces; in Flora, the altractive sweetness of the Loves. Artless sensibility, wild, native feminine gaiety, and the most touching tenderness of soul, are the strange characteristics of Flora. Mer countenance glows with youthful beauty, which all art scems rather to dimiFish than increase, rather to hide than adorn; and while Camilla charms you with the choice of her dress, Flora enchants you with the neglect of hers. Thus different are the beauties which nature has manifested in Camilla and Flora! yet while she has, in this contrariety, shewn the extent of herpower to please, she has also proved, that truth and virtue are always the same. Generosity and tenderness are the first principles in the minds of both favourites, and were never possessed in an higher degree than they are possessed by Flora; she is just as attentive to the interest of others, as she is negligent of her own; and though she could submit to any misfortune that could befal herself, yet she hardly knows how to bear the misfortunes of another. Thus does Flora unite the strongest sensibility with the most lively gaiety; and both are expressed with the most betwitching mixture in her countenance. While Camilla inspires a reverence that keeps you at a respectful, yet adimiring distance, Flora excites the most ardent, yet most elegant desire. Camilla reminds you of the dignity of Diana, Flora of the attractive sensibility of Calisto: Camilla almost elevates you to the sensibility of angels, Flora delights you with the loveliest idea of woman. Greville.

142. A Fable by the celebrated Linnæus, translated from the Latin.

Once upon a time the seven wise men of Greece were met together at Athens, and it was proposed that every one of them should mention what he thought the greatest wonder in the creation. One of them, f higher conceptions than the rest, proosed the opinion of some of the astronoers about the fixed stars, which they believed to be so many suns, that had cach

their planets rolling about them, and were stored with plants and animals like this earth. Fired with this thought, they agreed to supplicate Jupiter, that he would at least permit them to take a journey to the moon, and stay there three days in order to see the wonders of that place, and give an ac count of them at their return. Jupiter consented, and ordered them to assemble on a high mountain, where there should be a cloud ready to convey them to the place they desired to see, they picked out some chosen companions, who might assist them in describing and painting the objects they should meet with. At length they arrived at the moon, and found a palace there well fitted up for their reception. The next day, being very much fatigued with their journey, they kept quiet at home till noon; and being still faint, they refreshed themselves with a most delicious entertainment, which they relished so well, that it overcame their curiosity. This day they only saw through the window that delightful spot, adorned with the most beautiful flowers, to which the beams of the sun gave an uncommon lustre, and heard the singing of most melodious birds till evening came on. The next day they rose very early in order to begin their observations; but some very beautiful young ladies of that country coming to make them a visit, advised them first to recruit their strength before they exposed themselves to the laborious task they were about to undertake.

The delicate meats, the rich wines, the beauty of these damsels prevailed over the resolution of these strangers. A fine concert of music is introduced, the young ones begin to dance, and all is turned to jollity; so that this whole day was spent in gallantry, till some of the neighbouring inha bitants growing envious at their mirth. rushed in with swords. The elder part of the company tried to appease the younger, promising the very next day they would bring the rioters to justice. This they per heard; and what with accusations, plead formed, and the third day the cause was ings, exceptions, and the judgment itself, the whole day was taken up, on which the term set by Jupiter expired. On their re turn to Greece, all the country flocked in upon them to hear the wonders of the moor described, but all they could tell was, for that was all they knew, that the ground was covered with green intermixed with flowers, and that the birds sung among branches of the trees; but what kind of

the

Bowers

flowers they saw, or what kind of birds they heard, they were totally ignorant. Upon which they were treated every where with contempt.

If we apply this fable to men of the present age, we shall perceive a very just similitude. By these three days the fable denotes the three ages of man. First, youth, in which we are too feeble in every respect to look into the works of the Creator: all that season is given to idleness, luxury, and pastime. Secondly, manhood, in which men are employed in settling, marrying, educating children, providing for tunes for them, and raising a family. Thirdly, old age, in which after having made their fortunes, they are overwhelmed with law-suits and proceedings relating to their estates. Thus it frequently happens that men never consider to what end they were destined, and why they were brought into the world. B. Thornton.

§ 143. Mercy recommended. My uncle Toby was a man patient of injuries;-not from want of courage, where just occasions presented, or called it forth-I know no man under whose arm I should sooner have taken shelter :-nor did this arise from any insensibility or obtuseness in his intellectual parts :--he was of a peaceful placid nature,- -no jarring element in it,—all was mixed up so kindly within him my uncle Toby had scarce a heart to retaliate upon a fly :— — —Go,-says he, one day at dinner, to an overgrown one who had buzzed about his nose, and tormented him cruelly all dinner time,and which, after infinite attempts, he had caught at last, as it flew by him;-I'll not hurt thee, says my uncle Toby, rising from his chair, and going across the room, with the fly in his hand -I'll not hurt a hair of thy head :-Go, says he, lifting up the sash, and opening his hand as he spoke, to let it escape :-go poor devil,-get thee gone, why should I hurt thee?-This world, surely, is wide enough to hold both thee and me.

This is to serve for parents and governors instead of a whole volume upon the subject. Sterne.

$144. The Starling. -Beshrew the sombre pencil! said I wauntingly-for I envy not its powers, which paints the evils of life with so hard and deadly a colouring. The mind sits errified at the objects she has magnified

herself and blackened: reduce them to their proper size and hue, she overlooks them.'Tis true, said I, correcting the proposition -the Bastile is not an evil › be despised-but strip it of its towers— fill up the fosse--unbarricade the doors-call it simply a confinement, and suppose 'tis some tyrant of a distemper, and not o a man-which holds you in it-the evil vanishes and you bear the other half with, out complaint.

I was interrupted in the hey-day of this soliloquy, with a voice which I took to be of achild, which complained "it coul

66

not get out," I looked up and down the passage, and seeing neither man, wo→ man, nor child, I went out without further attention.

In my return back through the passage, I heard the same words repeated twice over; and looking up I saw it was a Starling hung in a little cage--" I can't get out I can't get out," said the Starling.

66

and to every

I stood looking at the bird; person who came through the passage, it ran fluttering to the side towards which they approached it with the same lamenta tions of its captivity-" I can't get out," said the starling-God help thee! said! I but I will let thee out, cost what it will: so I turned about the cage to get at the door; it was twisted and double twisted so fast with wire, there was no getting ic open without pulling the cage to pieces, I took both hands to it.

The bird flew to the place where I was attempting his deliverance, and thrusting his head through the trellis, pressed breast against it, as if impatient. I for poor creature! said I, I cannot set thee :: liberty-" No," said the Starling. “I can't get out, I can't get out," said the Starling.

my

I VOW I never had affections mor › tenderly awakened; nor do I remember incident in my life, where the dissipated spirits to which my reason had been a bubble, were so suddenly called hom. Mechanical as the notes were, so true in tune to nature were they chanted, that i.. one moment they overthrew all my s tematic reasonings upon the Bastile ; a!. I heavily walked up stairs, unsaying every word I had said in going down them.

Disguise thyself as thou wilt, still, sl very! said I-still thou art a bitter draug!! and though thousands in all ages have be made to drink of thee, thou art no less

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