that cannot obtrude its distresses upon the eye of pity, is formed to feel their poignancy the deepest.

In our idea of military operations, we are too apt to forget the misfortunes of the people. In defeat, we think of the fall, and in victory, of the glory of commanders; we seldom allow ourselves to consider, how many, in a lower rank, both events make wretched: how many, amidst the acclamations of national triumph, are left to the helpless misery of the widowed and the orphan; and, while Victory celebrates her festival, feel, in their distant hovels, the extremities of want and wretchedness!

It was with pleasure I saw, among the resolutions of a late patriotic assembly in this city, an agreement to assist the poor families of our absent soldiers and seamen. With no less satisfaction I read in some late newspapers, a benevolent advertisement for a meeting of gentlemen, to consider of a subscription for the same purpose. At this season of general and laudable exertion, I am persuaded such a scheme cannot fail of patronage and success. The benevolence of this country requires not argument to awaken it; yet the pleasures of its exertion must be increased by the thought, that pity to such objects is patriotism; that, here, private compassion becomes public virtue. Bounties for the encouragement of recruits to our fleets and armies, are highly meritorious donations. These, however, may sometimes bribe the covetous, and allure the needy; but that charity which gives support and protection to the families they leave behind, addresses more generous feelings; feelings which have always been held congenial to bravery and to heroism. It endears to them that home which their swords are to defend, and strengthens those ties which should ever bind the soldiers of a free state to his country.

Nor will such a provision be of less advantage to posterity than to the present times. It will save to the state many useful subjects which those families thus supported may produce, whose lives have formerly been often nurtured by penury to vice, and rendered not only useless but baneful to the community; that community which, under a more kindly influence, they might, like their fathers, have enriched by their industry, and protected by their valor.

[No. 53. TUESDAY, JULY 26, 1779.]

To the Author of the Mirror:

SIR-I am one of the young women mentioned in two letters which you published in your 12th and 25th numbers, though I did not know till very lately that our family had been put into print in the Mirror. Since it is so, I think I too may venture to write you a letter, which, if it be not quite so well written as my father's, (though I am no great admirer of his style neither,) will at least be as true.

Soon after my Lady's visit to our house, of which the last of my father's letters informed you, a sister of his, who is married to a man of business here in Edinburgh, came with her husband to see us in the country; and, though my sister Mary and I soon discovered many vulgar things about them, yet, as they were both very good-humored sort of people, and took great pains to make themselves agreeable, we could not help looking with regret to the time of their departure. When that drew near, they surprised us, by an invitation to me, to come and spend some months with my cousins in town, saying, that my mother could not miss my company at home, while she had so good a companion and assistant in the family as her daughter Mary.

To me there were not so many allurements in this journey as might have been imagined. I had lately been taught to look on London as the only capital worth visiting; besides that, I did not expect the highest satisfaction from the society I should meet with at my aunt's, which, I confess, I was apt to suppose none of the most genteel. I contrived to keep the matter in suspense, (for it was left entirely to my own determination,) till I should write for the opinion of my friend, Lady —, on the subject; for, ever since our first acquaintance, we had kept up a constant and regular correspondence. In our letters, which were always written in a style of the warmest affection, we were in the way of talking with the greatest freedom of every body of our acquaintance. It was delightful, as her ladyship expressed it, "to unfold one's feelings in the bosom of friendship;" and she accordingly was wont to send me the most natural and lively pictures of the company who resorted to —; and I, in return, transmitted her many anecdotes of those persons which chance or greater intimacy, gave me an opportunity of learning. To prevent discovery, we corresponded under the signatures of

Hortensia and Leonora; and some very particular intelligence her ladyship taught me not to commit to ink, but to set down in lemon juice.-I wander from my story, Mr. Mirror; “but I cannot help fondly recalling (as Emilia, in the novel, says,) those halcyon days of friendship and felicity."

When her ladyship's answer arrived, I found her clearly of opinion, that I ought to accept of my aunt's invitation. She was very jocular on the manners which she supposed I should find in that lady's family; but she said I might take the opportunity of making some acquirements, which, though London alone could perfect, Edinburgh might, in some degree, communicate. She concluded her letter with requesting the continuation of my correspondence, and a narrative of every thing that was passing in town, especially with regard to some ladies and gentlemen of her acquaintance, whom she pointed out to my particular observation.

To Edinburgh, therefore, I accompanied my aunt, and found a family very much disposed to make me happy. In this they might, perhaps, have succeeded more completely, had I not acquired, from the instructions of Lady, and the company I saw at her house, certain notions of polite life, with which I did not find any thing at Mr. —'s correspond. It was often, indeed, their good-humor which offended me as coarse, and their happiness that struck me as vulgar. There was not such a thing as hip, or low spirits, among them; a sort of finery which, at I found a person of fashion could not possibly

be without.

They were at great pains to show me any sights that were to be seen, with some of which I was really little pleased, and with others I thought it would look like ignorance to seem pleased. They took me to the playhouse, where there was little company, and very little attention. I was carried to the concert, where the case was exactly the same. I found great fault with both; for though I had not much skill, I had got words enough for finding fault from my friend Lady : upon which they made an apology for our entertainment, by telling me, that the playhouse was, at that time, managed by a fiddler, and the concert was allowed to manage itself.

Our parties at home were agreeable enough. I found Mr. -'s and my aunt's visiters very different from what I had been made to expect, and not at all the cockneys my Lady

and some of her humorous guests, used to describe. They were not, indeed, so polite as the fashionable company I had met at her ladyship's; but they were much more civil. Among the rest was my uncle-in-law's partner, a good looking young man, who, from the first, was so particularly attentive to

me, that my cousins jokingly called him my lover; and even my aunt sometimes told me, she believed he had a serious attachment to me; but I took care not to give him any encouragement, as I had always heard my friend Lady talk of the wife of a bourgeois as the most contemptible creature in the world.

The season at last arrived, in which I was told, the town would appear in its gayety, a great deal of good company being expected at the races. For the races I looked with anxiety, for another reason; my dear Lady was to be here at that

period. Of this I was informed by a letter from my sister. From her ladyship I had not heard for a considerable time, as she had been engaged in a round of visits to her acquaintance in the country.

The very morning after her arrival, (for I was on the watch to get intelligence of her,) I called at her lodgings. When the servant appeared, he seemed doubtful about letting me in; at last he ushered me into a little darkish parlor, where, after waiting about half an hour, he brought me word, that his lady could not try on the gown I had brought then, but desired me to fetch it next day at eleven. I now perceived there had been a mistake as to my person; and telling the fellow, somewhat angrily, that I was no mantuamaker, desired him to carry to his lady a slip of paper, on which I wrote with a pencil the wellknown name of Leonora. On his going up stairs, I heard a loud peal of laughter above, and soon after he returned with a message, that Lady was sorry she was particularly engaged at present, and could not possibly see me. Think, Sir, with what astonishment I heard this message from Hortensia. I left the house, I know not whether most ashamed or angry; but afterwards I began to persuade myself, that there might be some particular reasons for Lady- -'s not seeing me at that time, which she might explain at meeting; and I imputed the terms of the message to the rudeness or simplicity of the footman. All that day, and the next, I waited impatiently for some note of explanation or inquiry from her ladyship, and was a good deal disappointed when I found the second evening arrive, without having received any such token of her remembrance. I went, rather in low spirits, to the play. I had not been long in the house, when I saw Lady enter the next box. My heart fluttered at the sight; and I watched her eyes, that I might take the first opportunity of presenting myself to her notice. I saw them, soon after, turned towards me, and immediately curtsied, with a significant smile, to my noble friend, who, being shortsighted, it would seem, which, however, I had never remarked before, stared at me for some moments, without

taking notice of my salute, and at last was just putting up a glass to her eye, to point it at me, when a lady pulled her by the sleeve, and made her take notice of somebody on the opposite side of the house. She never afterwards happened to look to that quarter where I was seated.

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Still, however, I was not quite discouraged, and, on an accidental change of places in our box, contrived to place myself at the end of the bench next her ladyship's so that there was only a piece of thin board between us. At the end of the act I ventured to ask her how she did, and to express my happiness at seeing her in town; adding, that I had called the day before, but had found her particularly engaged. Why, yes," said she, "Miss Homespun, I am always extremely hurried in town, and have time to receive only a very few visits; but I will be glad if you will come some morning and breakfast with mebut not to-morrow, for there is a morning concert; nor next day, for I have a musical party at home-In short, you may come some morning next week, when the hurry will be over; and, if I am not gone out of town, I will be happy to see you.” I don't know what answer I should have made; but she did not give me an opportunity; for a gentleman in a green uniform coming into the box, she immediately made room for him to sit between us. He, after a broad stare full in my face, turned his back my way, and sat in that posture all the rest of the evening.

I am not so silly, Mr. Mirror, but I can understand the meaning of all this. My lady, it seems, is contented to have some humble friends in the country whom she does not think worthy of her notice in town; but I am determined to show her, that I have a prouder spirit than she imagines, and shall not go near her either in town or country. What is more, my father shan't vote for her friend at next election, if I can help it.

What vexes me beyond every thing else, is, that I had been often telling my aunt and her daughters of the intimate footing I was on with Lady and what a violent friendship we had for each other; and so, from envy, perhaps, they used to nickname me the countess, and Lady Leonora. Now that they have got the story of the mantua-maker and the playhouse, (for I was so angry I could not conceal it,) I am ashamed to hear the name of a lady of quality mentioned, even if it be ony in a book from the circulating library. Do write a paper, Sir, against pride and haughtiness, and people forgetting their country friends and acquaintance, and you will very much oblige,

Yours, &c.

ELIZABETH HOMESPUN.

P. S. My uncle's partner, the young gentleman I mentioned