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Noble Sabina! I must think suck sentiments, such virtues, will meet their reward. I cannot but admire the motive which prompts the re solution you have taken, though that resolution drives me to despair. But condescend to receive my letters: -suffer me to see you sometimes. when I return to London; and if the unkindness of a world which never knows how to appreciate true merit should cause you to change your mind, remember there is one heart at least which beats only for you; one faithful bosom ever open to receive you. Though you may possess neither friends, family, nor connections, yet you must ever possess a heart of more value, and far more acceptable to me, than the riches of both Indies. Then let not new friends nor fresh acquaintance efface the remembrance of him who loves you from a knowledge of your worth-who wishes to be come your husband from a hope that he may render you happy.'

Generous man!' cried Sabina. Never shall the heart you are pleased to value know another at tachment; never own another lord. A time may arrive, when you can receive my vows with prudence: but if at any future time you meet with a woman you could perfer to the one before you, consider yourself as free, and my best wishes shall attend you and your bride.'

'Amiable Sabina! do not think it possible that the heart which has once acknowledged you for its mistress can ever know a change in its affections.'

The entrance of Mrs. Smith prevented Sabina's reply. She had been placing some ham, and a couple of bottles of her best currant wine, for her nephew, whose door the stage would pass, in a little trunk which Sabina promised to deliver. Sabina left the whole of her little property

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in the care of her friend, only taking with her a small trunk, containing her clothes, and a few books, which had been her mother's. This box Hool carried to the stage, where seeing it and its fair mistress safely placed, he said, Remember your promise! and stepped back with emotion, to make way for Mrs. Smith, who, kissing the wet cheek of Sabina, said There's your watch, my child. Take care of your health, and write to me on your arrival in London, which if you don't like, come back to dame Smith, and we will live and die together-that's all.' Sabina bowed her head-she could not speak. The coach drove off, and the worthy Mrs. Smith and the dejected lover returned mournfully to the little parlour.

Dame Smith had redeemed Sabina's watch some days before, but would not give it her till she was seated in the stage, as she was fearful Sabina would leave the money behind her, as she had done once before; and the good dame well knew that in London Sabina would have need of all she possessed.

CHAP. XVIII.

She lets the sullen humour spend, Aud with a virtuous book, or friend, Beguiles th' uneasy hours:

Well colouring every cross she meets,
With heart serene she eats and sleeps ;
She spreads her board with fancy'd sweets,
And strews her bed with flowers.
Dr. WATTS.

ON Sabina's arriving in Throgmorton-street, she was immediately engaged by Mrs. De le Peair, who. asked with much kindness after dame Smith.

Mrs. De le Peair was the mother of two children. Her husband (a Turkey merchant) was in Flanders, and died abroad soon after Sabina became a resident in his family. He left the whole of his property,

congenial minds alone are capable" of enjoying.

A commodious handsome house had been taken by Hool, and here the worthy dame Smith was commissioned with the title of housekeeper, and lived many years their faithful friend and careful servant.

amounting to upwards of forty thou-
sand pounds, to his wife. Her child
ren, à son and a daughter, were
amiable. Accustomed from infancy
to keep their passions in subjection,
they were mild and unassuming: sen-
sible of their dependence on the will
of their mother, they obeyed her
with alacrity; nor was their obe-: The connections of Mrs. De le
dience prompted by interest, for
they loved her from principle.

In such a family it was impossible to be unhappy. Sabina's sweet disposition won the hearts of all. Mrs. De le Peair and her daughter distinguished her by their favour, They had always regarded their servants as their fellow creatures: their manners were conciliating to all, but to Sabina they were particularly kind; ever treating her as their friend, they loved her, and loaded her with presents. Three years soon slipped away, when Hool became importunate with her to fulfil her promise. You have now,' said he, 'friends and connections; and if you had not, my business will allow me to support you in an elegant simplicity.

But Mrs. De le Peair's health being then in a declining state, Sabina would not hear of quitting her; bat the year following, when the health of that lady was perfectly reestablished, and she was informed by Hool of the sacrifices her favourite had made to her convenience, she insisted on her compliance with the wishes of her lover. Mrs. Smith was sent for to be present at the wedding. Miss De le Peair stood bridemaid, and her mother presented the blushing bride with three hundred pounds as a marriage portion, After the ceremony, the company returned to Throgmortonstreet, where an elegant dinner was prepared, and the day spent with that decent mirth, that flow of soul, which

Peair being very extensive, proved of infinite service to Hool. She lived many years their firm friend, and at her death further remembered Sabina by a handsome legacy.

Sabina, respected by her friends, beloved by her husband, blessed in several fine children, almost idolised by the poor, who never went unrelieved from her door, still found a something to convince her that," however hope may flatter or poets dream, this life is not the reward," but the trial, of virtue. Hool possessed a trait of jealousy in his temper, which not unfrequently obscured their otherwise bright prospects with the baleful hue of suspicion. Those fits, indeed, were transient; yet the bare idea of her husband's doubting, though but for a moment, her constancy and virtue, was a thorn which rankled in her pure bosom, and embittered at times her very existence: though to any but a jaundiced eye, her inoffensive life must have proved an antidote to suspicion.

Ever at home, ever cheerful, and ready to contribute to the pleasure and comfort of those about her; instructing her children-clothing the needy-feeding the hungry-comforting the sick advising the young, herself setting an example worthy of imitation thus passed her time; cheerful in trouble, patient in suffering-ever doing good.

Many years have since elapsed, yet she still lives surrounded by admiring friends, in an elegant re tirement a few miles from the me

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tropolis. Time has convinced Hool of the worth, the prudence, the purity of his Sabina. His heart trusts wholly in her, and he now listens to her praises with delight. Two children alone survive: they are both married, and well settled. They on all occasions speak with the utmost reverence of their mother, whom they equally love and admire. They fervently invoke Heaven to lengthen out the thread of her useful life, and still to preserve the kindly ripened fruit on the bough.

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sister a weekly allowance sufficient for her comfortable support, but insufficient for the indulgence of those follies which in some measure attended poor Mary till the last hour of her life. Out of fifteen children, only one survived her. The educa tion of this child Sabina herself attended to. She is now the wife of a respectable tradesman in the city of London. Mrs. Westwood has long been dead: John Adams, her second husband, lived to spend the money which ought to have been her children's; and the amiable Sabina has returned ten-fold to them the kindness her mother received from their father, proving the truth of the good old adage, a good ac tion ever meets its reward."

Mary and Gordon, through the kindness of Sabina, came to London, and entered into the business of old Gordon but the ill habits of profusion and inebriation were still attached to this thoughtless couple. Gordon soon became a bankrupt, and at last was compelled to labour for hire in the warehouse which had been his own. Thus might he date his ruin from the beauty of his wife; for though she preserved her virtue, yet by her follies and extravagance she brought him to misery and want. Lady Facwett died soon after Mrs. Gayton, and sir Thomas marrying a rich widow in India, and settling in that distant country, all correspondence between him and Gordon ceased. At the age of forty-seven, the unfortunate Gordon sunk to a premature grave, to which his fatal propensity to drink had hurried him. Sabina attended his dying bed with the most tender pity, the most unwearied assiduity. She soothed the pangs of nature with tenderness, and charmed the throbs of guilt with the holy precepts of religion. She mourned his fate, and sighed to think that the man who had begun the race of life with so much dignity, probity, and honour, should slacken in the cause of virtue, and stop so distant from the goal.

Mrs. Gordon received from her

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HAVING brought my story to a eonclusion, at least so near one that it would be indelicate to proceed further, the principal character being still alive, I take my leave of the patient reader; and if the lip of beanty has been dimpled by a smile, or the eye of sensibility gemmed with a tear, I am repaid.

This little narrative was commenced in the hour of pain, to amuse the dull monotony of a sick chamber. Could I flatter myself that the reader finds half the amusement in the perusal that I had in the compilation, I should be proud indeed. But methinks I hear some fair novel-reader exclaim-' What a stupid story! no point! no éclaircissement! I expected Rebecca to have been claimed by some rich parent.'-'Tis true, dear lady, the dash of a pen might have made her the daughter of a nabob. I could have poured the riches of both Indies

at her feet: nay, I could have created her a princess, and have brought kings from afar to seek her. But I have aimed at relating things as they were, not as they might have been; and behind the resplendent shield of truth I shelter myself from all critics, whether fair or brown, tall or short, handsome or ugly yet, if further particulars should come to my knowledge they shall be much at the service of those said ladies, if they deign to think ought of mine worthy their notice.

LONDON FASHIONS.

PARISIAN FASHIONS.

PALE olive-coloured promenade coats, of a fine Circassian cloth, are much worn: they are buttoned down the front, cut high in the back, and have open round lappels at the bottom, with a double roll trimming round the arm and wrist. With these are worn full lace tuckers, and double demi-ruffs, à la queen Elizabeth. The sashes are of pale salmon colour, or pink sarcenet tied in small bows, with long ends on the right side. The hair is worn close cropped behind, divided on the forehead, and curled on the sides. The shawls are of pale salmon colour, with blue and crimson borders, and are carelessly thrown over the left arm. The

With an Engraving, elegantly co- gloves and shoes are of straw-colour.

loured.)

1. A LONG dress of plain fine In

dia muslin, the sleeves made of lace

SIR,

MAGAZINE.

and muslin rolleau, intermixed in cross To the EDITOR of the LADY'S stripes, over a white satin linen: the front made to correspond. Headdress, a gold bandeau, with a pearl crescent rather on one side at the back, a drapery of fine nett spotted with gold: necklace and bracelets of gold chain: a circular opera fan of painted ivory. White kid gloves

and shoes.

2. A slip of soft white satin or sarcenet, with a body and sleeves of jonquil crape: the sleeves are full, and confined with a narrow band: the body is continued under each arm in a long drapery,. terminating in a point and tassel, the whole trimmed with a narrow silver fringe; a trimming to match. Hair dressed in plain bands, with a tiara of pearls or small white beads in front. Necklace and bracelets of small amber beads, Yellow kid shoes, with silver rosettes, and white kid gloves. VOL. XXXVIII.

You will much oblige a constant reader by giving a place in your agreeable and extensively circulated Miscellany to the following Curious Patent Inventions, one of which, as tended for the preservation of ladies, you will perceive, is particularly inin case of a dreadful accident, which has of late been but too common; and all are calculated to promote do mestic convenience and utility.

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produces a shower of water to extinguish it.

2. A cistern, with an apparatus of a different kind, by means of which, a shower of water is brought down to quench fire in a chimney, on simply pulling a wire over the mantle-piece.

3. A gridiron, which preserves the chimney from danger of fire, and (with the additional advantage of savory cookery) saves the meat from being singed or smoked.

4. A lantern (with a curious lock) for nurseries, stables, &c. The lock is, by means of a bit of paper, effectually secured against being opened without certain detection. It is applicable to all the purposes of a common padlock, and may, by the aid of a simple contrivance, be fast ened in a moment, and without injury, to the key-hole of a drawer or door, so that neither key nor picklock can be put into the hole without discovery. By means of another simple contrivance, it will prevent fradulent exchanges of articles purchased at market, or sent by carriers.

5. A fire-cloak, to extinguish fire in a lady's clothes, or protect a person from the flames in escaping from a house on fire.

6. A soot-trap, or strainer for the the smoke, to prevent the accumulation of soot in chimneys.

7. A soot-trap register-stove, of two different kinds, also a registertop, with a soot-trap, to be fixed on

a common stove.

8. A water-trough in the back of a chimney, (kept constantly full by means of a ball-cock) to catch soot, and prevent the danger of fire.

9. An elegant japanned fire-screen, answering also the purposes of a fireguard, a chimney-board, and an exLinguisher for a chimney on fire.

JO. A chimney-damper, to ex

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THIS ingenious little novel commences as follows:

Every one who has frequented the Strada de Toledo, at Madrid, must have observed the little barber's shop, near the convent of the Carmelites, kept about twenty years ago by little Pedrosa Leandrez, the most facetious good-natured fellow in the whole neighbourhood: the front of this edifice, which was adorn ed with all the emblems of the profession, although its dimensions to wards the street were not more than six feet, was yet capacious enough to exercise the arts, by which its possessor maintained a wife and three children.

Little Pedrosa, besides his know ledge in twisting a mustachio to advantage, was frequently employed in breathing the veins of his sick neighbours, and in extracting carious stumps from their painful and enflamed gums: this last was indeed his forte; he often boasted of his dexterity in the operation, and it must be confessed, that he had had the honour of torturing many of the prettiest faces in Madrid; but on these occa sions we must do him the justice to say, that his feelings suffered more than his purse gained: nature had never intended poor Pedrosa for a

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