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Letter of Simon Surface.

lating spirits. Her conductress appeared pleased with her resolution, and leading her toward the entrance, informed her, that as her decision was formed upon conviction, she would remove the restriction, and permit her to approach the fountain.

(To be continued.)

SIR,

To the Editor of the Dublin Inquisitor.

MR. ADDISON says, some where in the Spectator, that his paper is like the bow of Ulysses, where the learned and the witty may try their strength. Now, Mr. Inquisitor, as I cannot boast of much learning, and have never pretended to be a wit, I am at a loss to know in what light you may consider me; as I take it for granted that your publication holds forth the same invitation as that of your illustrious predecessor. If, however, it is meant as a gentle hint to dull and impertinent correspondents to keep their distance, I am much in doubt if this, my lucubration, will ever pass to your printer; for I have no particular view in addressing you; nor do I know on what subject to commence my maiden essay. Indeed, to confess a truth to you, although my reading has been diffuse enough, I could never sit down to write on a given subject.

I am, you must know, a gentleman of an easy independence, who pass my time as pleasantly as my means will admit; and having a taste for the belles lettres, I have become a member of the Dublin Library, where I indulge my inclination at a very trifling expence. Thus I contrive to while away the time from breakfast to dinner with some new novel, tragedy, or poem; and as it is absolutely necessary to speak sometimes on these matters, I refer to the Reviews for a character of the work in hand, and with their assistance and my own opinion, (which, by the bye, I find invariably to tally with one or other of these accommodating works,) I am looked up to, I assure you, as one of the literati, and I deal forth my oracles with all the gravity of a first-rate critic. But I fear you will set me down as a sad egotist, if I continue in this strain any longer.

Letter of Simon Surface.

I have read your Magazine from its first appearance, and I confess that I approve of it very much. Your Philanthropist appears to be an entertaining old moralist; and your correspondent X. Y. Z. with his "black silks" and his "new pumps" has some claim to my approbation; your poetry is decidedly of a superior order, as I have heard a friend affirm, who writes very pretty verses himself: but your reviewing department claims my undivided admiration. It has often been a subject of surprise to me that our city should be without a critical journal; and I confess it was rather degrading that we should be totally silent on a subject of such importance, while our neighbors are always ready at the spur of the moment

"To bring poor authors to the critic's test,

And praise or blame as whim and spleen suggest.".

But I wander from my subject, if indeed I have any; and I fear if I continue longer to eulogize your work, that some of your sagacious readers may think me, perhaps, in some measure interested to do so. I shall, therefore, take the liberty of closing this rambling epistle, by proposing a few queries, which, if you consider them worthy of your notice, you will be kind enough to resolve whenever your leisure may permit.

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Imprimis. Can you divine who Junius was, and who the author of Waverly is? I admire both of these impenetrable gentlemen. Although I confess that the white lady in the novel of the Monastery might have been better managed. Secondly-Why have we not had, among the number of poems that are daily issuing from the press, one of a didactic nature, such, for instance, as Pope's Essay on Man? Thirdly, Why is blue stocking addressed to a female wit-whence is the derivation of the term, and to whom was it first applied? I have a number of questions of a similar nature to propose, but I fancy that these may be sufficient for the present; a fair lady, however, who sits at my elbow, desires me to add one more, which is can you in any way account for the strange disappearance of pins?

I have the honor to be,

Your admiring friend,

And obedient servant,
SIMON SURFACE.

VOL. II.-NQ., I.

The Philanthropist

THE PHILANTHROPIST.

NO. VII.

Novistine locum potiorem rare beato?
Est ubi plus tepeant hyemes? ubi gratior aura
Leniat et rabiem Canis et momenta Leonis,
Cum semel accepit solem furibundus acutum?
Est ubi depellat somnos minus invida cura?

Hie latebræ dulces, etiam (si credis) amœnæ,
Incolumem tibi te præstant Septembribus horis.

66

I WAS amused the other morning by the singularity of an elderly gentleman who was crossing the bridge of Ringsend at an early hour, accompanied by a senior, apparently of his own age and habits;-I do not mean by his appearance, for I am a little outre in that particular myself; but I allude to the vehemence of his action while he endeavored to persuade his ancient friend that early rising and country excursions were not only productive but preservative of good health. sluggards of the city," he said, sawing the air with his hands,'" the sluggards of the city, Mr. Holmes, never enjoy a pleasure like this-routes, masquerades, theatres, and concerts, are the only relaxations they point out, as a refuge from business and fatigue. Look at the dun smoke that, even at this distance, we can discern enveloping their mansions, and obscuring them in their unhealthy repose; when I was a young man, Mr. Holmes, it was my delight to go abroad with the sup-the lark was not before me in the field, and at night I went to bed with the glorious orb that I arose with in the morning; but late hours and dissipation have ruined the present generation, who must become inferior in intellect to their ancestors, in proportion as the mind suffers by the intemperance of the body." This appeal was answered by a significant nod from Mr. Holmes, who seemed to acquiesce to the fullest extent in his friend's observations. As my curiosity was in some measure awakened by the manner in which the old gentlemen conducted their conversation, I was induced to take advantage of my assumed privilege, end become a listener.

"As we are on the topic," continued the former speaker, "it may not be unworthy of remark, that in this season of the year, the general laziness appears to be partially overcome for we find almost every fashionable family deserting

The Philanthropist.

the city and flying into the country-Hawkins'-street is neglected for a hot-house of another character; and the arti ficial roses of the Arcade are supplied by the breathing roses of Nature. This reformation in public taste is however only effected in summer, as we discover the same individuals buried in their former destructive pursuits immediately on the return of winter."

"Verily, thou art right, Solomon," I would have exclaimed, were it not a violation of my own law. I heard his continued observations, until he was interrupted by his companion, in a sudden burst of passion

"Mr. Wheeler-Mr. Wheeler*-you are satirizing a respectable body of men, and by I will not listen to you." I was displeased with his vehemence, and leaving them, I sauntered alone by the seaside, as I was now on the beach at Irishtown.

Led by the observations of these garrulous old men, from whom I had just parted, I could not avoid musing on the truth of some of his expressions. In winter a fashionable family is devoted to the pursuits of the city, in summer to those of the country, and they appear in both places to enjoy the same degree of ease. I drew in my own mind a contrast between the scenes of rural life, and the bustle of a city; and my imagination returned to a circumstance I had witnessed many years ago, which may not be here inapplicable.

A family with whom I was on terms of intimacy had retired in the commencement of summer to a cottage in the neighborhood of Enniskerry: they consisted of a lady, her husband, and three daughters, the youngest of whom was fifteen. The ladies, in compliance with the usage of fashion, were determined to become perfect nymphs-to forsake the toilet at an early hour each morning-to dispose of their ringlets in careless curls-to wear cottage-bonnets, straw-colored veils, and green boots;-to visit the neighboring peasants' sick children to attend at the hay-making and the merrymaking in short, to become romantically virtuous during the seclusion of the summer months. I chanced to be in Bray at the time, and, considering the short distance to Enniskerry, I thought it was incumbent on me to pay them a visit. I will describe the situation in which I found the

I should not, perhaps, have repeated those names here, but I consider that persons who have so little respect for themselves as to publish their names in the open street, can scarcely expect much consideration from strangers.

The Philanthropist.

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sisters-perhaps my readers may draw an useful deduction from the picture. A bower had been erected at the lower end of a close walk, which was completely shaded by a variety of trees; roses and honeysuckles hung their long branches over three or four rustic chairs, with which the taste of the proprietor had decorated this lonely retreat; and the moss which grew luxuriantly on the earth was only broken by a fantastic arrangement of shells which were scattered up and down in grotesque shapes. I sauntered carelessly to the entrance of the bower, and not being perceived by those within, I had a distinct view of Ellen, Jane and Mary, the three daughters of my friend. Ellen sat at the extremitya tuft of moss, placed in a little recess, over which large blossoms of geranium-trees formed an arcade, supported her head-her eyes were half closed as she gazed on a small volume of Thomson's Seasons, from which were suspended half a dozen twisted silk strings-one arm hung over the back of her chair, and her whole form presented the picture of Venus in the retirement of Paphos, surrounded by her maidens. Jane sat at her right hand-her employment was even of a less busy character, for she seemed intent upon playing with the ends of a long girdle that floated over the inflated drapery of her dress. Mary's indolence appeared to have excelled that of her sisters, for she had contrived to frame a sort of protection from the heat, by twining a fan of leaves between her face and the entrance of the bower, and at the moment I arrived she was enjoying a gentle slumber, stretched at full length across two chairs." Is this," thought I," what is termed a country life?—I could find it in my heart to expose the delusion these young creatures are laboring under-but I will see more of their avocations before I finally condemn them." Ellen now perceived me, and halfrising from her chair, she nodded familiarly-I returned a respectful bow, at the same time declining her invitation to a seat, which was made in dumb show. She saw my intention of walking towards the house, and, disturbing her sisters, she arose to accompany me. "Come, Mary-the deaf old boy is here-you know he is an admirer of yours, and you must positively lean on him; there now, run after him, and take his arm-you see how discousolate he looks: oh! la! I shall die with heat." The drift of the young ladies' attentions being ridicule, which I was not supposed to recognize, I determined on preserving an obstinate silence, which neither their laughter nor their jokes could interrupt. At length

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