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please. For my own part, I shall represent, what, in too many instances, I have been in real life, a blundering wild Irishman." "Then let me also come as near nature as I can," replied Edmund, "as a Lancashire lad. I have only to study Tim Bobbin's dialect for an hour or two, and I think I shall puzzle some of your fashionable friends."

This arrangement being agreed on, and breakfast over, the friends parted, having previously determined to dress in Brownlow's chambers, on the following Friday evening, and proceed in Mr. Bolton's coach to the masquerade.

Edmund now recollected his promise, to visit Buersil, at his lodgings in Gough-square. Thither he went, sent up his name, and in a mo. ment, the critic appeared, pen in hand, at the head of the stairs.

He conducted his friend to the front room in the second floor, where Mrs. Buersil received him. "This is our Lancashire friend," said Buersil, introducing Edmund. His wife blushed, and that blush gave animation to a pretty modest countenance. One of her sons lay asleep in a cradle, smiling in all the felicity of an infant's dream; and before Edmund sat down, the other boy entered the room with a spring, but drew back on seeing a stranger. "Come in, my boy," cried Buersil, "you must shake hands

with this gentleman, for he is our friend." "O," said the child, “if he is a friend, I shall love him." "Why, Charles?" "Because our friends always do us good."

From this childish chit-chat the gentlemen retired to the critic's study. "You must dine with us to-day, Mr. Vere," said he, "just in that familiar way that I dined with you at St. Alban's; but our fare will not be so luxurious." "O never mind dainties," said Edmund, "I don't expect much to gratify the palate at the table of an author, but I expect a refection for my mental taste; the feast of reason, and the flow of soul.' Buersil shook his head, as much as to say, I fear you'll be disappointed.

He conducted Edmund into a back-room. "This, Sir," said he, "is my study, and my bedchamber, an union not uncommon in the domestic establishment of an author." "So I should think," replied Edmund, "and now I recollect we have the bonnet nuit of Merceir, and the 'nightgown and slippers,' of Colman, then why not your's? But this is a very handsome apartment." Yes, Sir, and we pay a handsome price for the use of it. We have three rooms: first, that which ، serves us for parlour, for kitchen, and hall,' this apartment, and a small garret for lumber. For these I pay half a guinea a week; aye, you may smile, and so should I with

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your income; but, believe me, Sir, half a guinea a week is a serious sum for a common author, or even a critic, to pay for mere shelter." "Yet you seem contented, Mr. Buersil." "Nay, Sir, I am contented. My income is about three guineas a week for my critical productions, and I now and then produce an essay for a magazine, and occasional strictures on the manners of the age, which defray the expence of our lodging; my wife is an excellent economist, and I'm not extravagant, though I sometimes spend a crown at the monthly meeting of the dissectors.'

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Well, Sir," said Edmund, seating himself at a small desk, "I want to have your opinion of that fashionable amusement, the masquerade; I have a ticket of admission to a masqued ball in my pocket, and, as I am quite a stranger to this modish divertisement, I should like some preparatory information." "I consider a masquerade the school for vice," said Buersil, with some warmth," and have lately produced some desultory thoughts on the subject. I have, myself, been an eye-witness to the unbounded extravagance of a multitude of persons in disguise, and under no controul; the sight was appalling to me, as affording a demonstration of the truth of Cowper's satire.

In cities vice is hidden with most ease,

Or seen with least offence.'"

"Pray, Buersil," said Edmund, "favour me with your remarks on this amusement; they may be useful to me, and enable me to profit by your experience." "Here they are, Sir, very much at your service," replied his friend, taking some papers out of a drawer. "Read them, Buersil." "I shall comply," said Buersil, "but I doubt you will find the observations rather crude." "O! let me hear them, and judge for myself."

Buersil then read the following strictures on an amusement, which has been praised and decried according to the feelings and views of different writers.

HINTS TO MASQUERADERS.

CA

ODLEIANA

When we first step into life, and mingle with the busy world, inexperience frequently misleads us into the labyrinth of indiscretion; we credulously believe the assertions of knaves, and we are too apt to imitate the foppery of fools, unconscious of error, till observation enables us to form more just conclusions.

In order to prevent the evils arising from credulity and ignorance, in an intercourse with polite society, those inestimable institutions, the boarding schools, for young persons of both sexes, were originally established by patriotic individuals. At those seminaries of affectation, young people gradually acquire a certain degree of

confidence and effrontery, while they are taught to disguise their genuine sentiments, and conceal their emotions, that they may be qualified to associate with the rest of mankind on equal terms.

But in many instances, even the deceptive manners, obtainable at a fashionable school, are found inadequate for the purposes of high life; the rapidity of improvements in every branch of philosophy, especially the development of the human powers, outrun the attainments of the pupil of elegance; and the revival of the masquerade by enlightened adepts, has, as it were, instantaneously refined the docile tyro, who in the whirlpool of voluptuousness, while the head swims, and the heart dances, becomes vitiated by intuition.

This most elegant amusement, at once supersedes the delay, occasioned by female timidity and modesty; enables the most bashful virgin, while disguised, to shine with all the attractions of a most finished demirep; and empowers. the nobleman's, or even the tradesman's daughter, to outshine her more scrupulous country cou-. sin, as far as the noxious but beautiful gas light. is superior to the common lamp in resplendence.

At those promiscuous and disorderly assemblages of the curious, the youthful, the vain, the wanton, and the depraved, a licentious privilege