horseback-canters every day half-way to the House of Lords with the dear Earl, through St. James's Park, by the side of her uncle—makes up parties and excursions becomes a comet instead of a star, and changes her satellites for a Tail, by which she is followed as regularly as the great Agitator is. Sees her name in the papers as the proposer of pic-nics, and the patroness of fancy fairs.

22.-Pursues the same course-autumn comescountry-house-large party of shooting men―juxtaposition-constant association-sociability in the evening-sportive gambols-snug suppers-an offerwhich, being made by the only dandy she did not care about in the mêlée, she refuses.

23.-Regrets it-tries to get him back-he won't come, but marries a rich grocer's widow for her money. Takes to flirting desperately-dresses fantastically—tries a new style of singing-affects a taste -lives with the Italians, calls them divine and charming-gets her uncle to give suppers.

24.-Thinks she has been too forward-retires, and becomes melancholy-affects sentiment, and writes verses in an Annual-makes acquaintances with the savans, and the authors and authoresses-wonders she is not married.

25.-Goes abroad with her uncle and a delightful family-so kind and so charming-stays the year there.

26.-Comes home full of new airs and gracesmore surprised than ever that she is still single, and begins to fancy she could live very comfortably, if not in a cottage, at least upon a very moderate scale.

27.-Thinks the conversation of rational men infinitely preferable to flirting.

28. Looks at matrimony as desirable in the way of an establishment, in case of the death of her uncle —leaves off dancing generally-talks of getting old.

29. Same system-still ineffective-still talks of getting aged-surprised that men do not laugh as they did, when she said so a year or two before.

30.-Begins to inquire when a spinster becomes an old maid.

31.-Dresses more fantastically than ever-rouges a little-country-house not so agreeable as it used to be-goes everywhere in town-becomes good-natured to young girls, and joins in acting charades and dumb proverbs.

32.-Hates balls, or, if she goes to them, likes to sit still and talk to clever middle-aged gentlemen.

33.-Wonders why men of sense prefer flirting with girls to the enjoyment of rational conversation with sensible women.

34.-Uncle dies-break up of establishment—remains with her aunt-feels old enough to go about without a chaperon.

35.-Takes to cards, where they are played-gives up harp, pianoforte, and singing-beaten out of the field by her juniors.

36.-Quarrels with her cousin, who is just married to the prize Marquess of the season-goes into Wales on a visit to a distant relation.

37.-Returns to London-tries society-fancies herself neglected, and "never goes out"-makes up little tea-parties at her aunt's-very pleasant to everybody else, but never satisfactory to herself.

VOL. II.

38.-Feels delight in recounting all the unhappy marriages she can recollect—takes a boy out of an orphan-school, dresses him up in a green jacket with three rows of sugar-loaf buttons, and calls him a page -patronizes a poet.

39.-Gets fractious-resolves upon making the best of it-turns gourmand-goes to every dinner to which she either is or is not invited-relishes port wine; laughs at it as a good joke-stays in London all the

year.

40.-Spasmodic-camphor julep—a little more rouge-fancies herself in love with a captain in the Guards-lets him know it-he not susceptible-she uncommonly angry-makes up a horrid story about him and some poor innocent girl of her acquaintance -they are eternally separated by her means-she happy.

41.-Takes to wearing "a front"-port wine gets more popular-avows a resolution never to marry— who would sacrifice her liberty?—quite sure she has seen enough of that sort of thing-Umph!

42.-Turns moralist-is shocked at the vices of the world-establishes a school out of the produce of a fancy fair-subscribes-consults with the rector-excellent man-he endeavours to dissuade her from an extravagant course of proceeding which she has adopted—her regard turns to hate, and she puts herself under the spiritual guidance of a Ranter.

43.-Learns the Unknown Tongues, and likes them -sees none of her old friends-continues during the whole season enveloped in her new devotions. Her page, having outgrown his green inexpressibles, is dismissed at the desire of her new pastor.

44.-Renounces the Oly Oly Bom school of piety, and gets a pug and a poodle-meets the man she refused when she was two-and-twenty-he grown plump and jolly, driving his wife and two great healthy-looking boys nearly men, and two lovely girls nearly women-recollects him-he does not remember herwishes the family at Old Nick-comes home, and pinches her poodle's ears.

45.-Returns to cards at the Dowager's parties, and smells to snuff if offered her.

45. Her aunt dies.

47.-Lives upon her relations; but by the end of the season feels assured that she must do something else next year.

48. Goes into the country and selects a cousin, plain and poor-proposes they should live togetherscheme succeeds.

49. Retires to Cheltenham-house in a row near the promenade-subscribes to everything-takes snuff and carries a box-all in fun-goes out to tea in a fly -plays whist-loses-comes back at eleven-camphor julep, and to bed-but not to sleep.

50.-Finds all efforts to be comfortable, unavailing -vents all her spleen upon her unhappy cousin, and lavishes all her affections upon a tabby cat; a great fat useless Tommy, with a blue riband and a bell round its neck. And there, so far as I have traced it, ends my Spinster's progress up to fifty.

ERRORS OF THE PRESS.

SIR,-We hear a great deal of the licentiousness of the press, and I am not disposed to say that there may not be some good grounds for the complaint ; but I beg to assert that, to my own knowledge, much is charged to the account of the licentiousness, which is, in truth, only attributable to the errors of the press; and I have had the mortification to see articles of the most innocent information, from my own pen, conveyed to the public with all the colour of libels, by the mere mistake of a single letter.

For instance, I had occasion to report that a certain "noble lord was confined to his house with a violent cold; " next morning, I found that this innocuous piece of intelligence was metamorphosed into a direct inroad on the peace of a noble family, by representing his lordship as being "confined with a violent scold." In the same way, on the occasion of a recent entertainment given by a noble leader of fashion, I had said, very truly, "that, amidst the festivities, the first point of attraction and admiration were her ladyship's looks; " this deserved compliment was changed by the printer into a satire on the whole company, as if the chief point of attraction had been "her ladyship's cooks." In a description of the regatta at Cowes, I was made to represent a lady of fashion as having formed a hasty and ill-assorted match "with a boy," when, in fact, I had only said that the Lady Louisa had, indeed, broken adrift, but had,

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