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as handsome as that of their present owner, graced the walls. Books and papers, of course, lay here, there, and every where.

Now came refreshment for the body: the coffee was thick; tea, the ambrosia of old maids (and here they were decidedly in the majority.) was cold and weak, of a pale, mawkish tint, very like that of the queen of night, when she is bold enough to show her face rather too early in the evening; and cakes-they shall pass without comment, for their looks "I liked not overmuch."

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At this time, fifteen females and one poor, unfortunate man, who had ensconsced himself in a corner, formed our party; although I heard the arrival of many a lion and lioness pronounced as certain in the course of the evening of this I was assured by a good-natured non-blue, who, perhaps, in pity for my apparently forlorn condition, condescended every now and then to address a few cursory and common-place remarks to me. "Hush!" suddenly. exclaimed a Tabby Blue," at my other elbow, "observe the door; Doctor Multum-in-Parvo is expected to make his appearance every minute; look at him well: you must" said she with a sneer," even in the commonest, and least literary society, have heard what an oracle he is! Wonderful versatility of talent, astonishing powers of mind—a born genius treatises upon music, painting, astronomy and optics, as well as a thick octavo upon L'Arte Cuisi niere,' his chef d'œuvre, have successfully issued from his pen, and alike proclaim his erudition and his fame." The curse of writing is an endlese itch, thought I. Thanking my sarcastic informant for knowledge I had contrived to obtain even in the ordinary, and non-blue circle of society, in which it had been my lot to move, and somewhat curious to see this most learned lion, I steadily watched the door. Presently, in shuffled the mighty man himself, a true personification of Shakspeare's sixth age of life, when the man, who was "broader than broad," and big with his own importance "sinks into the lean and slippered pantaloon, with spectacles on nose and pouch on side;" and truly, my friend, you will think his pouch could have been of no very ordinary dimensions, when I name to you some of its contents:-now, all attention, for here they come,

one after another, all of his own invention and manufacturing :--soap!-a jar of portable soup!-a box of patent tooth powder!--and handsful of exquisite lozenges! all of which were duly presented to a tremendously painted blue flirt, (who seemed alternately coquetting with men and literature,) as an offering upon introduction, to be repaid at sight, in coin current of the blue club, FLATTERY. During the ceremony of presentation, Mr. Toady, the doctor's constant attendant, his double it would seem, for where the one is, there will the other be, entreated Lady Rougette, in a "blue whisper," to request a song from the Doctor, whose voice and compositions, (for he seldom or ever condescended to chaunt other folks' words or airs,) were alike ravishing and delightful: of course, the Doctor could not refuse a fair lady's solicitations; he shuffled towards the spirit, dived into the pouch, "deeper and deeper still," and at last suc ceeded in finding and placing before him a two-inch square piece of music paper, covered with dots and words, intelgible only to his own comprehension: all preliminaries settled, and the hems! over, something was squeaked forth in tremulous tones, that told of the " big, manly voice turning again towards childish treble, piping and whistling in its sound," but which all the "Blues," as soon as the final chord was struck, applauded and encored most vociferously; at the same time pronouncing it exquisite, beautiful, and a wonderful proof of the English musical taste. The works of Rossini and Weber, and the most fashionable foreign composers of the day, sunk into pitiable insignificance before such a splendid specimen of native genius. My unlucky laugh passed for applause; otherwise I might (for God only knows the effect of "blue" wrath,) have been politely shown the door. An innocent caterer for originals, autographs, &c. &c. requested the MS. for her Album, but was told, such a thing was impossible : the precious scrap was again safely deposited in the pouch, there to be secure from the anhallowed gaze of the public eye, until such time as it appears in all its own splendour, to dazzle maukind, amongst the Doctor's posthumous

works.

By this time bodies and souls had multiplied in the apartment: I cast my eyes around, in order to catch a

glimpse of Corinna, who, at that very moment, I beheld (her black eyes sparkling with eager enthusiasm, and her lips scarce able to restrain the words she longed to utter) pushing her way through the blue crowd; I approached her; but she waived me off, entreating that I would not for ten thousand worlds impede her progress towards perfect bliss; but granted me permission to follow her. "Gracious heavens," thought I, "what is Corinna's fancy at, at this moment? the girl seems nearly frantic; however, a buzz, amidst which the words head-dress and pantaloons were loudly sounded, caught my attention as it went throught the "blue crowd." I marvelled how such things could be coupled in any shape, but followed my friend, whom, to my utter amazement, I presently saw kissing, and touching with a poetic fervour a lady's turban "a la Grecque;" and overheard these words energetically uttered: "Oh my very dearest Mrs. Highbirth, you must indeed pardon this very, very great liberty. My ardent impulse to see, to touch such an invaluable relic, impelled me to the deed; is it, my dear Madam, indeed true, what I have heard related of its origin? Oh do, I beseech you, very dear lady, tell me! I shall indeed die this very, very moment, unless you gratify my ardent curiosity!"

"Yes, child," replied Mrs. Highbirth tartly, (and looking, Barbara, for all the world like your poor thin-lipped friend Bridget Crab, with a ramrod run down her back) "it's very true; my husband, Mr. Highbirth, brought them himself from Greece; they were really Prince Mavrocordato's pantaloons, which Madame Tocque, my milliner, has fashioned into this Grecian turban." (Here Corinna again saluted the said turban with renewed enthusiasm.) "Indeed, child, you may well worship such a unique, nothing else like it in the kingdom." Now, Bar bara, can you imagine any thing more absurd than the "Mania Blue," which induces people to commit such fooleries: the woman looked a perfect fright in her coarse blue and white striped calico turban, although, to be sure, she would have looked worse than plain without it. She went about, "Morality's prim personification," saying illnatured things to every person, and endeavouring to pull each from the favourite hobby-horse he or she was riding at

full gallop. It, however, would not do; the many heeded her not, and those who could spare a moment from themselves and their own importance, merely observed that such "IRRITABLE SPIRITS" as Mrs. Highbirth, should stay at home, and not endeavour to mar the pleasure of persons disposed to be so happy, and in such good humour with themselves, as those assembled on the present occasion. Upon a sofa, in the midst of a coterie of male blues, all ugly, conceited, and bilious-looking, lolled a fine girl, the envy of all the women, half enveloped in a crimson silk cloak, and raising the laugh, and extorting the compliments from each of her "papillons jaunes," by the gross things she uttered, intending them for wit. Oh! Barbara, I heard such a speech! I would not for the world repeat it, my face crimsoned in an instant, and I was in an agony for Rosalie, who I thought had committed herself inadvertently: I stole a glance at her: I blushed deeper to see her perfectly composed, and greedily devouring the compliments awarded her, as the merit of what was deemed, her exceedingly brilliant " jeu d'esprit." I now began to feel uncomfortable and disgusted, longed to withdraw from the Blues and thought of our quiet little society in the village of W -, recollecting all Mrs. Propriety's lessons upon decorum of manner, and speech, and hastened as fast as possible from Rosalie and her circle, who, I concluded, would judge her pretty severely as soon as she was beyond hearing. In my progress towards the remotest corner of the room, I nearly stumbled over Miss Lucretia Mywork, a little, short, fat woman, with the most spiteful countenance in the world: her withered person was attired in the garb of youthful sixteen; although her figure was the very antipodes of every thing juvenile or graceful. She accosted me with; "Have you read my book?-What! not read my work? Oh, then I've done with you!" with which she turned off to a quartett-of real "blues ;" and was joyfully relieved from the mortification of my negative reply, by listening to the most fulsome praises of her sweet "Tales," her affecting" Romanettes," which had made them weep for hours; but which, as soon as she moved away to repeat the same queries to a third set, each "blue" began to dub the most arrant trash ever L. 34. 1.

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penned, even too bad for the Minerva press! So much for your breathings of sincerity," thought I! I grew weary and angry, urged my friend Corinna (whom such society will ultimately ruin unless she be immediately torn from it) to quit the house, thinking the scene I had witnessed a species of contamination which I ought to shun as I would the plague; and great indeed shall I rejoice at the total annihilation and destruction of the Deep Blue Club, and most gladly its requiem would I sing. Adieu my dear Barbara, believe me your affectionate friend.

THE MILK GIRL'S SONG.

How sweet the dewy breath of morn,
How cheering blows the gentle gale;
What beauteous streaks the sky adorn,
What odours from the earth exhale :
Drowsy mortals never know

The sweets that morning can bestow.

Morning on her balmy wings,

From ev'ry flow'r that blows around,
To those a grateful tribute brings,

Who early trod th' enamel'd ground!
Drowsy mortals never know

The sweets that morning can bestow.

DISAPPOINTED LOVE.

Ir is a common practice with those who have outlived the susceptibility of early feeling, or have been brought up in the gay heartlessness of dissipated life, to laugh at all love-stories, and to treat the tales of romantic passions as mere fictions of novelists and poets: My observations on human nature have induced me to think otherwise. They have convinced me that, however the surface of the character may be chilled and frozen by the cares of the world, or cultivated into mere smiles by the arts of society, still there are dormant fires lurking in the depths of the coldest

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