I am now sixteen, dear mother:
If the noble youth should come,
And call upon his little debtor,

Sighing for him here at home;—
Should he come with feathers dancing,
Helm of steel and spurs of gold,
And claim the kisses that I owe him,
I-would pay him, now I'm old!

Hush, child! this is not the language
Worthy a Castilian maid,

One too promised to the altar,

Convent's gloom, and cloister's shade.

For thou'rt given to St. Cecil,

To her holy shrine thou'rt sold ;-
Will not my sweet one read her missal ?"
"Yes!-I'll pay him now I'm old!"

Grave commentators on this ballad suggest, that if the cavalier had not been a superbly dressed cavalier, the little maiden would have forgotten her vow; and in the south of Spain, when a man is inclined to become heedless of external adornment, he is warned of the peril of losing the three kisses of St. Cecilia's Nun.

But the overture to my "opera" is extending beyond due limits; and as I have hitherto been repeating snatches from the airs of others, I will here add, to save my honour, one of my own. It is well known that Henrietta Maria mostly favoured the colour known as the Maiden's Blush, -from the rose of that pretty name. The following lines

will show

HOW THE ROSE GOT ITS HUE.

One starry eve, as Psyche lay

Beneath a cistus bower's shade,

Tearing the flowers in idle play,

Young Love came tripping by, that way,

And to the girl thus, laughing, said,—

The sweetest rose that ever eye

Yet smiled upon I plucked but now;
Pure as the stars in yon blue sky
And whiter than the flowers that lie

In wreaths about thy sunny brow.

The sweetest rose that ever spent
Its balmy store of scented bliss
About thy locks, or gently bent
Above thy bow'r, had ne'er the scent
That lies enshrined, my soul, in this.

Oh for a name, my gentle girl,

That mortals fittingly may call

This matchless rose, of flowers the pearl!Look, sweet, how soft the petals curl!

A name!-and thou shalt have them all.

While Love thus urged his pretty suit,
And to the blushing girl drew near,
He softly struck his golden lute,
As Psyche sat, entranced and mute,
Drinking the sounds with willing ear.

And when the golden lute was hush'd,
And Love still nearer drew, to seek
His usual meed from lips that flush'd
With softer hues than ever blush'd

Upon his own sweet mother's cheek,—

He whisper'd something soft and low,
With arm and flower around her thrown,
That call'd upon her cheeks a glow
Which shed upon the leaves of snow
A hue still deeper than her own.

And Love, rejoicing, mark'd the rush
Of soft and rosy light that came
Upon the flower, which caught the flush
From Psyche's cheek, whose maiden blush

Gave to the rose both hue and name.

Between the days when Psyche blushed on the rose, and the age when Delamira bought her blushes at fifteen shillings the pot, there is a long period;-nature at one end, and hoop-petticoats at the other. The fashion of the latter had got so preposterous, that Mr. William Jingle, coachmaker and chairmaker of the Liberty of Westminster, invented for the service of the ladies " a round chair in the form of a lantern, six yards and a half in circumference, with a stool in the centre of it; the said vehicle being so contrived, as to receive the passenger, by opening in two in the middle, and closing mathematically, when she is seated." Honest Jingle also "invented a coach for the reception of one lady only, who is to be let in at the top." For these inventions he asked the patronage of that Censor of Great Britain, Mr. Isaac Bickerstaff, and therefore it must be true. However, how wide the time between the blushes of Psyche and the era of hoops! Now it is something connected with costume, during this interval, and subsequent to it, that I am now about to speak. These words, between you and me, reader, have been as the fragments of airs, which in musical introductions give us an inkling of more fulness to come. I will only pause to add a sentiment from Cowper; but that would really be worse than Joseph Surface. No, reader! I will fling in my sentiment at the end, and here invite you to consider a subject, whose title heads the following page.

MAN, MANNERS, AND A STORY WITH A

MORAL TO IT.

"Les hommes font les lois, les femmes font les mœurs."-DE SEGUR.

"L'HOMME est un animal!" said a French orator, by way of peroration to his first speech in the Chamber of Deputies; "Man is an animal!"-and there he stopped. He found his subject exhausted, and he sat down in confusion. Thereupon his own familiar friend arose, and suggested that it was desirable that the honourable gentleman's speech should be printed, with a portrait of the author!

The definition is, as far as it goes, a plagiarism from Plato. In the Apophthegmata of Diogenes Laertius, it is stated that Plato defined Man as an animal with two legs and without feathers. The definition having been generally approved of, Diogenes went into the school of the philosopher, carrying with him a cock, which he had stripped of his plumage. "Here," said he, "is Plato's man!" Plato saw that his definition needed improvement, and he added to it "with broad nails." He might have further said, "and needing something in place of feathers."

So much depends upon this substitute, and so much more is thought of habits than of manners, that is, morals,—and of the makers of the former than the teachers of the latter, that it is popularly and properly said, "The tailor makes the man." No doubt of it; and tailors are far better paid than tutors. The Nugees keep country-houses and recline in carriages; the philosophers are accounted of as nuge, and plod on foot to give golden instruction for small thanks

and a few pence. Their device, if they are ever so ennobled as to be thought worthy of one, might be that of the patriotic ladies of Prussia, who, before the time when their country became a satrapy of Muscovy, exchanged their golden adornments for an iron ring, on which was engraved the legend, "Ich gab Gold um Eisen,"-I gave gold for iron. This being the case, it is little to be wondered at that man is more careful about his dress than his instruction. The well-dressed man looks, at all events, like a man well to do; and how profound is the respect of the world for a man who may be catalogued as "well to do!" That man thoroughly understood the meaning of the term who, when on his trial for murder, and anticipating an acquittal, invited his counsel to dinner. The invitation was accepted, but, the verdict rendering the inviter incapable of even ordering a dinner for himself, the intended guest frowned on the convict, and went and dined with the prosecutor.

Philosophy has done its best to cure man of vanity in dress; but philosophy has been vain, and so has man. "For a man to be fantastic and effeminate in attire," says Stobæus, "is unpardonable. It is next to Sardanapalus's spinning among women. To such I would say, Art thou not ashamed, when Nature hath made thee a man, to make thyself a woman ?"

Seneca hath something to the same purpose, and not altogether inapplicable in our days. "Some of the manly sex amongst us," says he, "are so effeminate, that they would rather have the commonwealth out of order, than their hair; they are more solicitous about trimming and sprucing up their heads, than they are of their health or of the safety of the public; and are more anxious to be fine than virtuous." Sir Walter Raleigh asserts that "No man is esteemed for gay garments, but by fools and women," an assertion which shows that his philosophy and his civility were both in a ragged condition. Sir Matthew Hale throws