you have lost your way; but a traveller in military garb should be thrice welcome to a veteran soldier." Maninghame was embarrassed; but as every moment of delay increased his reluct ance to explain the purport of his visit, || he briefly stated his orders to seize all papers contained in the house. "To shew my papers I can have no objection," said the old gentleman; “but as they are of great importance to me and to my grandaughter, we must accompany you to Fort William. I am in good health, except this asthma, which obliges me to inhabit the upper story of my cottage, and to sleep with open doors; yet as the paroxysm is sometimes severe, I must have my child with me."-As he spoke, the young lady, half undressed, and covered with a tartan mantle, hastened to his bedside without observing the stranger." My dear grandpapa," said the lovely creature, "where is Callum? where is Ronald? how could they both leave you?"-" Tranquil- || lize your sensitive heart, my child, I am not ill," replied the grandsire. "Callum and Ronald are asleep."-" And to whom did you speak, my dear Sir?"—"To the gentleman on whom you have so politely turned your back, my Elvina."-Elvina looked round; her cheeks were dyed in crimson, and Maninghame blushed with a consciousness unknown before. The old gentleman, in a few words, related to his fair charge the necessity for their excursion to Fort William; and requested her to order an early breakfast for their guest, themselves, and the soldiers. Elvina disappeared. A respectable aged female domestic came in a few minutes to conduct Mr. Maninghame to the parlor; and the trio, so singularly introduced to each other, soon met at the breakfast table. Elvina, habited in a tartan travelling dress, a green velvet bonnet, with an artificial plume of flowering heath, seemed to Maninghame the heaven-born genius of the Alpine scenery, whose graceful wildness and variety charmed beyond the power of art. The voyagers had a pleasant passage to Fort William with the returning tide, and mutually pleased, Elvina and Maninghame wished the duration had been prolonged. The examination of Major M'Donald's papers evinced beyond a doubt that he || had been not only loyal but active in pro⚫ moting the interests of the Prince of Orange: under the Prince's own hand there appeared a letter of thanks for his conduct at the battle of Seneff, and coudolence for the loss of his gallant son in the same action. Several other notes, in the Prince's hand-writing, made inquiries for Major M'Donald's wounds, and repeated expressions of confidence and esteem.Maninghame had leave to escort Major M'Donald and Miss Raymond home, and to accept the Major's invitation to stay with them a fortnight. In their progress to Fort William the veteran inquired if Mr. Maninghame was related to Colonel Maninghame, who, like himself, was exiled by James II. and, like him, had a son killed at Seneff? Colonel Maninghame, the most valued friend of Major M'Donald, was father to the young subaltern. After satisfying himself that his young associate was trust-worthy, the Major asked him if he had no curiosity to know why an enemy had misrepresented him? Maninghame answered him that it seemed too unaccountable to deserve a thought." [ shall, however, shew you the malignant aspersion had a cause; I mean," continued the Major," that I may conjecture the occasion of enmity. I was bred a Papist: I married an English Protestant, but difference in religion made none in affection. Within the first year after our marriage my dear wife brought me a son. I followed the fortunes of Charles II. abroad; my wife remained in England with her relations. After several years she joined me in Holland, where the King lived as a private gentleman. The beauty and accomplishments of my Elvina were universally admired: our son promised all that could delight tenderness and encourage hope. A girl, the mother of our young hostess, was added to my felicity. The King professed every sentiment for us that could flatter the most sanguine expectations. He sent me on a secret service to France, from whence I was recalled by a letter from my wife, hardly legible: she was alarmingly ill. I returned, and saw that my Elvina had but a few days to live. She implored me as I valued her present and eternal peace, to swear the most solemn oath that I should never directly nor indi 24 || || In these words Maninghame hoped he might augur some sanction to the senti ments that glowed in his heart, but which he had not ventured to disclose to Elvina. She had, on their first introduction, behaved to him with the frankness of a sister; of late her vivacity had diminished, and her reserve increased: yet the added softness of her manners, the flushing that mantled in her cheeks if he returued un that impassioned sympathy formed between them a tie which gave new value to his existence. Before the end of autumn the dénouement produced auspicious nuptials; auspicious in the most perfect union of souls, the fondest concord of feeling! but how tragic in the catastrophe! rectly act upon the communication she, my object in her spouse, and, above all, I wished to make. I pledged my soul by shall consult her inclinations, for she is inthe most tremendous vows. My dear capable of loving without well founded Elvina revealed she had suffered violence esteem." from the royal monster of licentious atrocity, for whom I had shed my blood-for|| whom I had journeyed and toiled with the zeal of individual attachment. A Romish priest had been the agent of his attempted seduction; the execrable wretch had introduced him to my wife's apartment when she persevered in defeating every snare for her fidelity and honour. This villain was my confessor. He had written to me a farewell letter, importing that he had reli-expectedly from a walk, or alluded to ingious motives for retiring to a monastery || teresting situations, permitted him to infer in Spain. My wife urged me to examine the principles of the reformed faith, and while pressing her request, sunk upon my bosom and expired. I had sworn not to call Charles to the dread account my soul flamed to exact, and I removed from him. In a few months he was restored to his kingdom, and I came to my own country. I found my nephew was no more, and I was heir to the small patrimony on which I built this cottage. Here I passed a few years but not unmolested: I had abjured the Roman Catholic religion, my children were reared in heretical opinions, and to persecute us must be meritorious. Some of my former intimates among the courtiers of Charles wrote to me that powerful foes had sought my ruin; but, though in the madness of intoxication he had inflicted upon me the most cruel injury, he would not deliberately consign me to destruction. His brother, James, was open to all accusations against Protestants, and I was an apostate. 1 fled with my son and daughter || to Holland. My history there you have learned from the papers examined at Fort William. I came over with King William; but I am too old to ask favours, or to perform any service to the state, and there are many useful adherents to be secured and satisfied. All I shall ask of his Majesty shall be, his royal protection for my grand-parate from the dearer soul of his being. daughter, unless she has the good fortune They parted in agonies dimly presaging their doleful reunion. to obtain the lawful guardianship of some amiable man. Her father was a Captain in King William's army, of English ex-exemption in favour of any M'Donald : traction, but born in Holland: his fortune the aged companion in arms of the King, was considerable, and she is heiress of my who had not only sworn but proved his allesmall estate. Worth, not wealth, shall begiance, was butchered by royal authority, From the end of August to the middle of December, time swam along with Maninghame and Elvina in enamoured extacy, boundless confidence, and a growing sense of each other's ennobling, endearing qualities; but their bliss was interrupted by A letter prospects of aggrandizement. from the Commander in Chief required He Maninghame to repair to London. was appointed a Captain of the Life Guards, which at once gave the rank of Lord R of Lieutenant-Colonel. hearing of his marriage with an heiress, recollected and presented his memorial to the sovereign. William, though cold in his demeanour, was firm in gratitude to his assured friends: he recognized the name of his godson, and the services of his deceased father. Elvina could not travel in the depth of winter, her symptoms promised a pledge of their loves; nor could she leave her grandfather if her own health could have encountered the cold and fatigue of a long journey. Maninghame must se The horrid massacre at Glenco made no surreptitiously indeed assumed, but not less fatal to the victims and to the honour of the monarch. Elvina escaped she knew not how, and fled she knew not whither. Terror and grief had rendered her frantic ; she fled to Stirlingshire, and in the hut of a poor woman was prematurely delivered of a son. It would seem she had not undressed when the military began their slaughter. Restored to her senses she had a faint remembrance o. sitting late to finish a paquet for her husband. That fond husband became alarmed that he had no tidings from her or from Major M'Donald; he sent his trusty servant post to make inquiries, though he had no dread that his wife or grandfather were included in the massacre. She had roamed from house to house in mute dejection, and occasionally troublesome with intemperate sallies of mirth. As she always shewed signs of dismay and ran out when the M'Donalds of Glenco were mentioned, people easily got rid of her by saying that the Captain and his soldiers were coming to the bloody work. One morning very early she came into the kitchen of a public house on the Highland road, where the hostess was preparing oat cakes; she asked, as usual, for a piece of dough to mould a bust of her beloved; but one, two, or three pieces would not satisfy her. A door was heard to open, and presently a young man with a pair of boots in his hand passed into another little chamber." That lad," said the hostess, "is servant to the Captain; he will rise immediately and begin to cut off the rebel M'Donalds, root and branch." Elvina observed a large sharp pointed knife upon a dresser; with the cunning peculiar to madness, she stole it under an old cloak some charitable lady had given to her. The door of the bed-room was left a little open by the servant: the maniac glided in, and plunged the knife into the side of the traveller! His first exclamation recalled her senses. It was the thrilling voice of Maninghame! Elvina sunk before his bed in a death-like swoon. His servant answered the alarming call: Maninghame directed him to bind np his wound, and to summon the hostess to take care of the assassin. So changed was she by a wasting cough, by hardships, and exposure to the weather, that till she was able to speak and declare her name, Maninghame did not know the features engraven on his heart. He tried to reconcile her to herself, but death had previously ensured his claim, and the recent shock hastened the progress of her disease. Maninghame survived her but five days he had left his bed before the state of his wound rendered it safe. He had watched his wife day and night; a fever ensued: one grave held their remains. This dismal tale is but one of many records that in Gaelic monodies perpetuate the remembrance of the woes of Glenco. B. G. THE TRIFLER.-No. VI. WATERING-PLACES. Ir has been justly remarked, that the wives, sons, and daughters of the inhabitants of London, and, in particular, those of our citizens, are seized with an annual madness, which nothing can remove but a dip in the ocean. Tissot, the famous French physician, who wrote his remedies pour la noblesse, and his advice aux peuple, would have classed this mania among the disorders of the metropolis: for the Londoners flock to the different places on the coast like shoals of herrings, and the small fry are sometimes snapped up by a large fish; for it is not now as it was in the beginning, the resort only of valetudinarians; No. 125.-Vol. XX. no, the young and old, rich and poor, wise and foolish, flock to the standard of folly and dissipation, and trausform every village upon the coast into a little London. One would think they were web-footed, and had fins, and that this annual dabbling was necessary to their very existence; and indeed, it has its uses. It obliges those old ladies who resort to rouge to wash their faces, and the young ones to rise early in a morning and comb and brush their hair. The inhabitants keep to their old custom; as the stay of their visitors is short they make the most of them. They want not advice, but their guests may, for they seem to act without any plan. I therefore subᎠ TO THE YOUNG LADIES. mit, as it is now the time when Chelten-, world believe that you have an intrigue ; ham, Brighton, and Margate will be crowd-because it particularly marks your rank ed, the following hints to the lovers of sea- and dignity, and your contempt of the bathing. 1 world's opinion or censure. It is also sure to awaken in your husband a just sense of your extraordinary perfections. But the greatest of all purposes is answered; you excite the jealousy of rival beauties, and prove how much you despise the commou decorums still maintained by more plebeian wives: and when once you are above the opinion of the world, you are decidedly a woman of the first fashion. TO YOUNG GENTLEMEN. Get a genteel bathing déshabille, made something like a pelisse, or when the mornings become chilly, a handsome curricle coat, with several capes, sixteen would be a good mark for notoriety; have an enormous bonnet, under which tuck a great quantity of hair, whether your own or not is immaterial. Take care to have a prodigious ruff round your throat, well stiffened, that your head, particularly if your For the morning, provide yourself with neck should be short, may look as much a white hat, this will preserve your face like John the Baptist's head in a charger from the heat of the sun, which is extremely as possible. When you return to breakfast prejudicial to the complexion. You may throw off all these envelopes, and take have occasion to take off this hat, therecare to shew how nature has formed you fore let your hair be carefully arranged Have an enormous chitby displaying every contour under the thiu à-la-porcupine. decca muslin morning robe: this will shew terling to your shirt, the broader the betyour admirers how charming you really ter; a white waistcoat, a coat with the are. When you dress for a ball, take care collar up to the ears, and appearing above that the trimming at the border of your that a well stiffened cambric collar up to gauze frock be sufficiently heavy. This each cheek-bone. Always wear spurs, to will shew you care not for expence, and look as if you belonged to the staff of the that you are also capable of bearing fatigue. army; they are very useful to walk in, Stay out always as late as possible; for the and if you happen to tear a lady's muslin air of a room filled with gas lights or wax wax dress it will only give you an opportunity candles, and a well dressed crowd, is more to prove your fashionable carelessness, by natural to a London constitution than those walking off with a whistle should she not nasty sea breezes that do so rumple one, be handsome; if she is, the accident will and take one's hair out of curl. Late hours give you occasion to shew how graceful will also have another good effect; they you can make an apology, and perhaps the will correct that vulgar milk-maidish bloom event may commence an acquaintance that which you might otherwise contract, and may be improved hereafter; that is, if she give you that pale delicate tint which is so has fortune sufficient to make it worth desirable. Be very constant in your at- your while. tendance wherever raffling is carried on; and have two or three chances for every prize. This will shew your spirit, and prove that you are not avaricious: besides, the more throws the greater chance, and you may get something that will be very useful when you begin housekeeping; at any rate you will be looked after, and be sure, at the worst, to get—a character. TO MARRIED LADIES OF FASHION. You must be careful to encourage the attendance of such as conspicuously attach themselves to you; not for any criminal intent on your part, but for making all the As to your mode of passing your time, the billiard-room is always open; and if you meet with an adept at the game, you may be eased of your superfluous cash, and that will prevent other people from cheating you of it; besides, by constant atten tion you may learn a few odd tricks yourself. Drink hard, and if you are a little flustered when you get into the assembly room, so much the better; it will take off that awkward bashfulness which is so unbecoming a gentleman; and should you behave ill, you have a reason for waiting on your partner the next morning to make an apology. Take every opportunity of d-ning the place, and swear you will leave it the next morning, and go where you can find better company. This will shew your politeness. TO MARRIED GENTLEMEN. you get to the top of the room: that cannot fail of attracting the eyes of every one, and if you are a handsome man, so much the better for you. Observe also, when you go to a play, never to be there till the second or third act is nearly over, and then the opening and shutting of the box doors, the flapping of the benches, and the adjusting yourself to the best advantage, cannot fail of bringing down on you the benedictions of the audience. You may, in the same If you chance to have come to either of the fashionable watering-places for your health alone, without your wife, who is gone to see her friends in a very distant county, you are to be envied. Be sure on arrival to make acquaintance only with the || manuer, obtain the pious blessings of a very best company, such as peers, peeresses, || and the like; this will certainly gain you consideration and respect, whether you are entitled to them or not. If you are a person of quality it behoves you of all things to make a party at cards; for to be at an assembly without playing at cards, would be to declare that you could amuse yourself in rational conversation with any of the company. When you have made your party, observe to assemble together every night; the same persons seated exactly in the same corner of the room every evening, cannot fail in making you conspicuous: and after you have made yourselves thus remarkable, you need give yourselves no trouble to speak to the rest of the company, you will be sufficiently known without it. The great aim is notoriety; it is of no moment whether for civility or incivility, morality or vice. Remember on a ball night never to come to the rooms till after the dancing has been long begun, and then bustle through the waltzers, the quadrillers, or the reelers till | disturbed congregation at church, if you take care to go there by the time the service is half over. When you have danced down a country dance sit down with your partner immediately; there is nothing so vulgar as to dance up again-few gentlemen are able to submit to such drudgery. Soon after your appearance at any of those public watering-places, Cheltenham, Scarborough, or Brighton, pay your respects to the handsomest woman in the polite circle; be sure to remain constantly at her elbow during the whole time of your stay; this will gain you the reputation of having an intrigue. THE LISTENER. TO TIMOTHY HEARWELL, ESQ. SIR,-I would wish to be informed, if in your power, after you have patiently listened to what I am about to unfold, whether, in this age of politeness, we have gained any thing by our adherence to the rules of fashionable etiquette? For my part I find the cordiality of friendship entirely done away, and formal ceremony to have usurped its place. I have a friend whom I love as myself. He was once the master of a most comfortable home, which was, nevertheless, modest and frugal, without meanness. His courtyard was small and neatly paved, and the old grey headed porter kept his station in a comfortable lodge near the grated iron entrance; it was not far from the courtyard to the hall, from whence two or three footsteps carried one into the dining parlor. If one called in the morning the master of the house was never denied; and his lovely boy was a sweet child, as artless as he was sensible, and beautiful as he was well behaved. Business had taken me from Richmond, |