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tiously as I could. In a few minutes after my arrival in the town where she resided, I was informed, by the landlord of the inn at which I stopped, that life of my poor friend was supposed to be in danger. This information at once explained to me the mystery of the billet. I hastened to the house of Mrs. Braggard, and, in the midst of my concern and anxiety for my suffering friend, I felt some comfort on finding, that in our interview we should not be tormented by the presence of her unfeeling aunt, as that lady had been tempted to leave her declining charge, to attend the wedding of a more fortunate relation, and was still detained, by scenes of nuptial festivity in a distant county. When I entered the apartment of Constantia, I perceived in her eyes a ray of joyous animation, though her fram: was so emaciated, and she laboured under such a general debility, that she was unable to stand a moment without assistance.
Having dismissed her attendant, she seemed to collect all, the little portion of strength that remained
| in her decaying frame to address
me in the following manner : “Be not concerned, my dear friend, at an event, which though yeu might not, perhaps, expect it so soon, your friendship will, I hope, on reflection, consider, with a sincere, though melancholy satisfaction. You have often been so good as to listen to my complatoos, forgive me, useke for ca.... ', you to be a witness to that calm and devout comfort, with which I now look on the approaching end of all my unhappiness You have heard me say, that I thought there was a peculiar eruelty in the lot that Heaven had assigned to me : but I now feel, that I too hastily arraigned the dispensations of Torovidence. Had I been surrounded with the delights of a happy domestic life, I could not, 1 believe, have beheld the near approaches of death in that clear and consolitary light in which they now appear to me. My past murmers, are, I trust, forgiven, and I now pay the most willing obedience to the decrees of the Aimighty. The country to which I am departing, is, I hope and believe, the country where I shall be again united to the lost objects of my tenderest affection. I have but little business to adjust on earth, may I entreat the favour of you.” continued Constantia with some hesitation, “to be my executor : My property,” added she, with a tender yet ghastly smile, “being all contained in this narrow chamber, will not give you much embarrassment ; and I shali die with peculiar peace of mind, if you will kindly assure me, I shall be buried by the side of my dear, unhappy father.” The tender thoughts that overwhelmed her, in mentioning her unfortunate parent, now rendered her utterance almost indistinct; yet she endeavoured to enter on some private family reasons for applying to me
on this subject. I thought it most kind to interrupt her, by a general assurance of my constant desire to obey, at all times, every injuction of her’s ; and, observing to her, that her distemper appeared to be nothing but mere weakness of body, I expressed a hope of seeing her restored. But, looking steadfastly upon me, she said, after a pause of some moments. “ Be not so unkind as to wish me to recover ; for, in the world, I only fill up a place which may be better supplied when I have made it empty.” The calm and pathetic voice, with which she pronounced these affecting words of Shakespeare, pierced me to the soul ; I was unable to reply, and I felt an involuntary tear on my cheek. My poor
friend perceived it, and immedi
ately exclaimed, in a more affectionate tone, “You are a good, but weak mortal ; I must dismiss you from a scene which I hoped you would have supported with more Pressing her cold emaciated fingers to my lips, I left her apartment, as she ordered me, in silent haste, apprehending, from the changes in her countenance, that she was in danger of fainting. The next morning she sent me a short billet, in a trembling hand, begging me to excuse her not seeing me again, as it arose from motives of kindness—and in the evening she expired. Such was the end of this excellent, unfortunate being, who died in the fortysecond year of her age.
The calamities of her life, instead of giving any asperity to her temper, had softened and refined it. Farewell ! Thou gentle and benevolent spirit, if, in the present scene of happier existence, thou art conscious of sublunary occurences, disdain not this imperfect memorial of thy sufferings and thy virtues 1 and, if the pages I am now writing should fall into the hands of any indigent and dejected maiden, whose ill fortune may be similar to thine, may they sooth and diminish the disquietude of her life, and prepare her to meet the close of it with piety and composure .
husband never dares interfere:Their gardens, their servants are all their own ; and the husband, from every circumstance of his behaviour, appears to be no other than his wife's first domestic, perpetually bound to her service, and slave to her caprice. Hence it is that a tradition obtains in the country, that this island was formerly inhabited by Amazons, a tradition however founded upon no ancient history that I know of Sappho indeed, the most renowned female that this island has ever produced, . is said to have had many inclinations, in which, as Lucian informs
us, she did but conform with the
singular manners of her countrywomen ; but I do not find that the mode in which she chose to shew these inclanations is imitated by the present female inhabitants, who seem perfectly content with the dear prerogative of adsoulte sway, without endeavouring in any other particular to change the course of nature ; yet will this circumstance serve to shew that the women of Lesbos had always something peculiar, and even peculiarly masculine, in their manners and propensities. But be this as it. may, it is certain that no country. whatever can afford a more perfect idea of an Amazonian commonwealth, or better serve to render probable those ancient relations which our manners would induce us to esteem incredible, than this island of Metelin. These lordly ladies arc, for the most part,
very handsome in spite of their dress, which is singular and disadvantageous.
Down to the girdle, which, as in the old Grecian garb, is raised far above what we usually call the waist, they wear nothing but a shift of thin and transparent gauze, red, green, or brown, through which everything is visible, their breasts only excepted, which they cover with a sort of handkerchief ; and this, as we were informed, the Turks have obliged them to wear, while they look upon it as incumbrance, and as no inconsiderable portion of Turkish tyranny. Long sleeves of the same thin material, perfectly shew their arms even to the shoulder. Their principal ornaments are chains of pearl, t which they hang small pieces of gold coin. Their eyes are large and fine ; and the nose, which we term Grecian, usually prevails among them, as it does indeed among the women of all these islands. Their complexions arC naturally fine, but they spoil them by paint, of which they make abundant use, and they disfigure their pretty faces by shaving the hinder part of the eyebrow, and replacing it with a strait line of hair, neatly applied with some sort of gum, the brow being thus continued in a strait and narrow line till it joins the hair on each side of their face. They are well made, of the middle size, and, for the most part, plump ; but they are distinguished by nothing so much
and so universolly, as by a haughty, disdainful, and supercilious air, with which they seem to look down upon all mankind as creatures of an inferior nature, born for their service, and doomed to be their slaves; neither does this peculiarity of countenance in any degree diminish their natural beauty, but rather adds to it that sort of bewitching attraction, which the French call fliquant.
In the sequel of this paper, Lord Charlemont, has endeavoured with great learning and ingenuity to trace the origin of this extraordi| nary custom up to the first settlement of that island by the Lycians, according to Diodorus, thirty or forty centuries ago, amongst whom we have the authority of Plutarch, that the same usages prevailed. It would indeed, as he adds, be whimsically curious, if we could allow ourselves to imagine that a singular custom at this day subsisting could be traced back to an origin so very remote, and should have taken its rise in a period when the world was yet in its infancy; or that the relations of Diodorus and of Plutarch, which,
For the Lady’s Miscellany.
As I have been in the habit of
perusing your Miscellany of late, I often could not forbear smiling to myself, to see the thoughts of any love-sick beings, there ed, some upon love, some atrimony, some upon the fashions of the day, some teaching how to live, others how to die ; some upon one thing, and some
upon an other ; all to fill up this
And, upon an examination of
these things, matters and subjects, it fully convinces me, that human nature has not altered any from what it was since the first civilization of mankind ; for I find: these same subjects have been treated
upon, by different persons, but in a
different manner,according to their several turns of genius in almost every age ; but all in substance amounting to the same thing.
In truth, of late there are several persons who seem as it were, to have been overcome by a kind of maniac for writing; which I should feel disposed to encourage, provided, their productions could be fraught with rather more moderation, candor, harmony, and fiersferuity, in these qualitics I am inclined to think most of them are a little deficient. They ought to recollect, that their communications are principly perused by the
female part of society, whose taste for Belles-Lettres and polite literature, is most generally very delicate and refined, and capable of viewing them with a critical eye.
Among the number, belonging to your numerous correspondence, there are none that appear to aim, in a very great degree at genuine wit and humour, but all seem to be of the more grave and serious class of writers, endeavouring to inculcate moral principles with long periods, (which by the bye) are many times quite too long, for as L. happened to be in a public house the other day, I saw a man rather immed to corpulency, take up a number, and after reading a paragraph or two, fell fast asleep, and as he gently, leaned down upon a settee standing in the room, gaped out, “there are too many ideas | is one sentance for me.”
In speaking, however, of your correspondents, I perceive there are many, who are likely to become eminent critics, if I might be permitted to form my opinion from the accuracy of their reviews of each others communications : and one would be disposed to believe after taking into consideration the works of this Literati, that this is the dawning of the third AugustEAN Age, and that in the course of a few years we shall be overrun with another set of Rosseau's Voltaire's, Johnson’s, Addison's, Steel’s, Pope's, Parnel's and Goldsmith'ss,
| by which time, I suspect that the