-

Miss Neville. As I live, the most intimate friend of Mr. Hastings, my admirer. They are never asunder. I believe you. must have seen him when we lived in town.

Miss Hardcastle. Never.

-

Miss Neville. He's a very singular character, I assure you. Among women of reputation and virtue, he is the modestest man alive; but his acquaintance give him a very different character among creatures of another stamp you understand me. An odd character, indeed. I shall never

Miss Hardcastle.

be able to manage him. What shall I do?

Pshaw! think no

more of him, but trust to occurrences for success.

But how

goes on your own affair, my dear? has my mother been courting you for my brother Tony, as usual?

Miss Neville.

I have just come from one of our agreeable tête-à-têtes. She has been saying a hundred tender things, and monster as the very pink of perfection. And her partiality is such, that she actu A fortune like A fortune like yours is no small temptation. the sole management of it, I'm not surprised to see her unwilling to let it go out of the family.

setting off her pretty Miss Hardcastle. ally thinks him so. Besides, as she has

Miss Neville. A fortune like mine, which chiefly consists in jewels, is no such mighty temptation. But at any rate, if my dear Hastings be but constant, I make no doubt to be too hard for her at last. However, I let her suppose that I am in love with her son, and she never once dreams that my affections are fixed upon another.

Miss Hardcastle. - My good brother holds out stoutly. I could almost love him for hating you so.

Miss Neville. It is a good-natured creature at bottom, and I'm sure would wish to see me married to anybody but himself. But my aunt's bell rings for our afternoon's walk round the improvements. Allons! Courage is necessary, as our affairs are critical.

"Would it were bed-time, and all were

well."

[Exeunt.

ACT III.

[Enter MISS HARDCASTLE and MAID.]

Miss Hardcastle. What an unaccountable creature is that brother of mine, to send them to the house as an inn, ha ha! I don't wonder at his impudence.

Maid. But what is more, Madam, the young gentleman, as you passed by in your present dress, asked me if you were the bar-maid? He mistook you for the bar-maid, Madam!

Miss Hardcastle. - Did he? Then, as I live, I'm resolved to keep up the delusion. Tell me, Pimple, how do you like my present dress? Don't you think I look something like Cherry in the Beaux' Stratagem?

Maid. It's the dress, Madam, that every lady wears in the country, but when she visits or receives company.

Miss Hardcastle. I vow I thought so; for though we spoke for some time together, yet his fears were such that he never once looked up during the interview. Indeed, if he had, my bonnet would have kept him from seeing me.

Maid. -But what do you hope from keeping him in his mistake?

Miss Hardcastle.-In the first place, I shall be seen, and that is no small advantage to a girl who brings her face to market. Then I shall perhaps make an acquaintance, and that's no small victory gained over one who never addresses any but the wildest of her sex. But my chief aim is to take my gentleman off his guard, and, like an invisible champion of romance, examine the giant's force before I offer to combat.

Maid.-But are you sure you can act your part, and disguise your voice so that he may mistake that, as he has already mistaken your person?

Miss Hardcastle.-Never fear me. I think I have got the true bar cant-Did your honor call?-Attend the Lion there. -Pipes and tobacco for the Angel.-The Lamb has been outrageous this half hour.

Maid. It will do, Madam. But he's here.

[Enter MARLOW.]

[Exit Maid.

I

Marlow. What a bawling in every part of the house! have scarce a moment's repose. If I go to the best room, there I find my host and his story; if I fly to the gallery, there we have my hostess with her courtesy down to the ground. I have at last got a moment to myself, and now for recollection.

[Walks and muses.

Did you call, Sir? Did your honor call?

Miss Hardcastle.-Did you call, Sir?

Marlow. [Musing.]-As for Miss Hardcastle, she's too grave

and sentimental for me.

Miss Hardcastle. - Did your honor call? [She still places herself before him, he turning away.]

Marlow. No, child.

[Musing.] Besides, from the glimpse

I had of her, I think she squints.

Miss Hardcastle. - I'm sure, Sir, I heard the bell ring.

Marlow. No, no. [Musing.] I have pleased my father, however, by coming down, and I'll to-morrow please myself by returning. [Taking out his tablets and perusing.]

Miss Hardcastle. - Perhaps the other gentleman called, Sir?

Marlow.I tell you, no.

Miss Hardcastle. I should be glad to know Sir: we have such a parcel of servants.

Marlow. No, no, I tell you. [Looks full in her face.] Yes, child, I think I did call. I wanted-I wanted-I vow, child, you are vastly handsome.

Yes,

Miss Hardcastle.-O la, Sir, you'll make one ashamed. Marlow. Never saw a more sprightly malicious eye. yes, my dear, I did call. Have you got any of your-awhat d'ye call it, in the house?

Miss Hardcastle. —No, Sir; we have been out of that these ten days.

Marlow. One may call in this house, I find, to very little purpose. Suppose I should call for a taste, just by way of trial, of the nectar of your lips, perhaps I might be disappointed in that too.

Miss Hardcastle. - Nectar! nectar! That's a liquor there's no call for in these parts. French, I suppose. We keep no French wines here, Sir.

Marlow. Of true English growth, I assure you.

Miss Hardcastle. Then it's odd I should not know it. We brew all sorts of wines in this house, and I have lived here these eighteen years.

Marlow.- Eighteen years! Why, one would think, child, you kept the bar before you were born. How old are you? Miss Hardcastle. Oh, Sir, I must not tell my age. They say women and music should never be dated.

Marlow. To guess at this distance, you can't be much above forty. [Approaching.] Yet nearer, I don't think so much. [Approaching.] By coming close to some women, they look

younger still; but when we come very close indeed - [Attempting to kiss her.]

Miss Hardcastle. - Pray, Sir, keep your distance. One would think you wanted to know one's age as they do horses, by mark of mouth.

Marlow. I protest, child, you use me extremely ill. If you keep me at this distance, how is it possible you and I can ever be acquainted?

Miss Hardcastle. - And who wants to be acquainted with you? I want no such acquaintance, not I. I'm sure you did not treat Miss Hardcastle, that was here awhile ago, in this obstropalous manner. I'll warrant me, before her you looked dashed, and kept bowing to the ground, and talked, for all the world, as if you were before a justice of peace.

Marlow. [Aside.] — Egad, she has hit it, sure enough! [To her.] In awe of her, child? Ha! ha! ha! A mere awkward, squinting thing! No, no. I find you don't know me. I laughed and rallied her a little; but I was unwilling to be too severe. No, I could not be too severe, curse me.

Miss Hardcastle. - Oh, then, Sir, you are a favorite, I find, among the ladies?

And yet, hang

At the Ladies'
Rattle, my

Marlow. Yes, my dear, a great favorite. me, I don't see what they find in me to follow. Club in town I'm called their agreeable Rattle. child, is not my real name, but one I'm known by. is Solomons; Mr. Solomons, my dear, at your service. ing to salute her.]

My name

[Offer

Miss Hardcastle. - Hold, Sir; you are introducing me to your club, not to yourself. And you're so great a favorite there, you

say?

Marlow. Yes, my dear. There's Mrs. Mantrap, Lady Betty Blackleg, the Countess of Sligo, Mrs. Langhorns, old Miss Biddy Buckskin, and your humble servant, keep up the spirit of the place.

Miss Hardcastle. Then it's a very merry place, I sup

pose?

Marlow. Yes, as merry as cards, suppers, wine, and old women can make us.

Miss Hardcastle. And their agreeable Rattle, ha! ha! ha!

Marlow. [Aside.]- Egad! I don't quite like this chit. She looks knowing, methinks. You laugh, child!

VOL. X.-12

Miss Hardcastle. I can't but laugh to think what time they all have for minding their work, or their family.

Marlow. [Aside.] — All's well; she don't laugh at me. her.] Do you ever work, child?

[To

Miss Hardcastle. Ay, sure. There's not a screen or a quilt in the whole house but what can bear witness to that.

Marlow. Odso! then you must show me your embroidery. I embroider and draw patterns myself a little. If you want a judge of your work, you must apply to me. [Seizing her hand. Miss Hardcastle. - Ay, but the colors don't look well by candlelight. You shall see all in the morning. [Struggling. Such beauty fires beyond the power of resistance. - Pshaw! the father here! My old luck: I never nicked seven that I did not throw ames-ace three times following.

Marlow. And why not now, my angel?

[Exit Marlow.

PICTURES FROM "THE DESERTED VILLAGE.”
SWEET Auburn! loveliest village of the plain,
Where health and plenty cheered the laboring swain,
Where smiling Spring its earliest visit paid,
And parting Summer's lingering blooms delayed!
Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease,
Seats of my youth, when every sport could please!
How often have I loitered o'er thy green,

Where humble happiness endeared each scene!
How often have I paused on every charm

The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm,

The never-failing brook, the busy mill,

The decent church that topped the neighboring hill,
The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade,
For talking age and whispering lovers made!
How often have I blessed the coming day,
When toil, remitting, lent its turn to play,

And all the village train, from labor free,

Led up their sports beneath their spreading tree;
While
many a pastime circled in the shade,

The young contending, as the old surveyed,

And many a gambol frolicked o'er the ground,
And sleights of art and feats of strength went round;
And still as each repeated pleasure tired,

Succeeding sports the mirthful band inspired.

Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn,