the good people thereof, and thereby sow discord and debate among neighbors, and often between men and their wives, to the great grief and trouble of all good and quiet people, and to the utter extinguishing of all friendship, amity, and good n ighborhood; for the punishment and suppression whereof, and to the intent that all strife may be ended, charity revived, and friendship continued, we do order, that if any women, from henceforth, shall be convicted of tale-bearing, mischief-making, scolding, or any other notorious vices, they shall be punished by ducking or whipping, or such other punishment as their crimes or transgressions shall deserve, or the governor and council shall think fit."

SIMPLICITY.

At the marriage of Monsieur the Count d' Artois, the city of Paris agreed to distribute marriage portions. A smart little girl of sixteen, named Lise Noirin, having presented herself to inscribe her name on the list, was asked who was her lover? "O," said she, with great simplicity, "I have no lover; I thought the city furnished everything." This being told to the Count, a worthy husband was sought out for the girl, and her marriage portion was doubled.

A REPROOF.

Boursault, in his Letters, relates an anecdote of Mademoiselle d'Orleans, daughter of Gaston, the brother of Louis XIII. to which he was an eye witness. She was amusing herself by playing with her domestics at the game of explaining proverbs by dumb show, and had already found out several by the gestures of the parties; she endeavored, however, in vain to comprehend the meaning of one of her gentlemen, who capered about, made faces, and played a thousand antic tricks. Tired with attempting to discover this enigma, she ordered him to explain himself. "Madam," said he, " my proverb means, One fool makes many." The princess looked on this as a reflection on her imprudence, in being too familiar with her servants; an error of which she was never afterwards guilty; but she banished the unlucky proverbialist from her presence forever.

DANGER OF INSINCERITY.

The Empress Eudocia, amidst all the grandeur of so elevated a station, led a very studious and philosophic life, and lived very happily, till a trifling accident exposed her to the jealousy of her husband.

The emperor, it is said, having sent her an apple of an extraordinary size, she sent it to Paulinus, whom she respected on account of his learning. Paulinus, not knowing from whom it came, presented it to the emperor, who soon after seeing the empress, asked her what she had done with the apple? Eudocia being apprehensive of raising suspicions in her husband, if she should tell him that she had given it to Paulinus,

very unwisely declared that she had eaten it. Her confusion may easily be conceived, when the emperor produced the apple, and indignantly gave vent to his suspicions of the motives which had led to the present, and her disingenuous concealment of it. He ordered Paulinus to be put

to death; but allowed Eudocia to retire to Jerusalem, where she spent many years in the most irreproachable manner, and distinguished herself by her acts of charity and beneficence.

FEMALE CORSAIR.

Jane of Belville, the widow of M. de Clisson, who was beheaded at Paris in 1343, on suspicion of carrying on a correspondence with England and the Count de Monfort, was filled with grief for the death of her husband, and exasperated at the ill treatment which she considered him to have received. She immediately sent off her son secretly to London, and when her apprehensions were removed with respect to him, she sold her jewels, fitted out three ships and put to sea, to revenge the death of her husband upon all the French with whom she should meet.

This new Corsair made several descents upon Normandy, where she stormed the castles; and the inhabitants of that province, while their vil lages were blazing, more than once witnessed one of the finest women in Europe, with a sword in one hand and a torch in the other, urging the carnage, and eyeing with pleasure all the horrors of war.

FEMALE JUDGE.

In the reign of Henry VIII, when during some family quarrels, Maurice Berkely, Nicholas Poyntz, and a riotous company of their servants, entered the park of Lady Anne Berkely, at Yate, killed the deer, and set a hay-rick on fire, this lady repaired to court, and made her complaint. The king immediately granted her a special commission under the great seal to inquire, hear, and determine these riots and misdemeanors, and made her one of the commissioners and of the quorum. She then returned to Gloucester, opened the commission, sat on the bench in the public Sessions Hall, impaneled a jury, and received evidence; when Nicholas Poyntz, Maurice Berkely, and several of their followers were found guilty of divers riots and disorders, and punished accordingly.

REPARATION OF THE WRONGS OF WOMEN.

In almost all countries have cruel laws and customs, at one time or other, contributed to render the condition of woman degraded and unhappy. As civilization triumphs, her wrongs get redressed; but the most polished societies are yet far from the point at which M. Diderot once gallantly desired to see them arrive. "Woman!" said he, "how sincerely do 1 lament with you! There is but one way to make amends for all your sufferings, and were I a lawgiver,

this perhaps you would obtain. Freed from all servitude, you should be sacred wherever you appear."

PUN FEMININE.

A young Spanish lady was once playing on the piano forte in the presence of an English gentleman, but did not accompany the instrument with her voice. On being asked to sing, she pleasantly replied, "Yo no puedo cantur, pero puedo encantar." "I cannot sing, but I can en-chant." The ladies of Spain are said to be fond of punning.

THE DUCHESS OF GORDON. Among those illustrious females who have conferred dignity and honor on rank and nobility, must be mentioned Jane, Duchess of Gordon, a lady eminently distinguished for her engaging deportment, and for being the life and soul of elegant parties, especially those met for festive amusement. Her Grace, however, possessed other qualities of a higher character, and the popularity she had acquired by gladdening life, and diffusing delightful feelings, was employed in benefitting her country.

When the defeat of General Burgoyne's army in America rendered extraordinary exertions necessary, and loyal and patriotic individuals promoted the public service by raising regiments, the Gordon family was among the first to come forward. The Duchess of Gordon, conscious of the influence which she had acquired among all ranks, determined to employ it in promoting so noble an object. In the very depth of winter, when the gay and splendid season was just beginning in London, and when arrangements were making for the elegant parties and festive enjoyments of high life, her grace quitted the metropolis, and set out for the cold regions of the Highlands. The presence of a lady, whose affability, condescension, and goodness they regarded with such gratitude and admiration, inspired the gallant mountaineers, and a corps of volunteers was soon formed, ready to encounter any foe to their sovereign, or the House of Gordon.

VIRTUE REWARDED.

In the year 1773, Peter Burrell, Esq. of Beckenham, in Kent, whose health was rapidly declining, was advised by his physicians to go to Spa for the recovery of his health. His daughters feared that those who had only motives entirely mercenary, would not pay him that attention which he might expect from those who, from duty and affection united, would feel the greatest pleasure in ministering to his ease and comfort; they, therefore, resolved to accompany him. They proved that it was not a spirit of dissipation and gaiety that led them to Spa, for they were not to be seen in any of the gay and fashionable circles; they were never out of their father's company, and never stirred from home except to attend him, either to take the air or drink the

waters; in a word, they lived a most recluse life in the midst of a town, then the resort of the most illustrious and fashionable personages of Europe.

This exemplary attention to their father procured these three amiable sisters the admiration of all the English at Spa, and was the cause of their elevation to that rank in life, to which their merits gave them so just a title. They all were married to noblemen: one to the Earl of Beverly; another to the Duke of Hamilton, and afterwards to the Marquess of Exeter; and a third to the Duke of Northumberland. And it is justice to them so say, that they reflected honor on their rank, rather than derived any from it.

INTREPID ENTERPRISE.

It was to a woman that Europe was first indebted for the introduction of inoculation for the small pox, originally a benefit of the greatest consequence. When Lady Mary Wortley Montague resided at Constantinople with her husband, who was ambassador to the Ottoman court, the practice of inoculation was universal throughout the Turkish dominions. Lady Mary examined into the practice with such attention, as to become perfectly satisfied of its efficacy, and gave the most intrepid and convincing proof of her belief, in 1717, by inoculating her own son, who was then about three years of age. Mr. Maitland, who had attended the embassy in a medical character, first endeavored to establish the practice in London, and was encouraged by Lady Mary's patronage. In 1721, the experiment was successfully tried on some criminals. With so much ardour did Lady Mary, on her return, enforce this salutary innovation among mothers of her own rank, that, as we find in her letters, much of her time was necessarily dedicated to various consultations, and to the superintendence of the success of her plan. In 1722, she had a daughter of six years old inoculated, who was afterwards Countess of Bute; and in a short time, the children of the royal family that had not had the small pox, underwent the same operation with success; the nobility soon followed the example, and the practice thus gradually extended among all ranks, and to all countries, in spite of many strong prejudices which it had

to encounter.

MARIE ANTOINETTE.

The exquisite feeling which pervaded the heart of the beautiful but unfortunate Marie Antoinette, was never more strongly exemplified than in her conduct respecting Sir Charles Asgil, who, but for her interference, would have shared the fate of Major André. The letter which the queen despatched to General Washington, not only preserved the life of this gallant officer, but immortalized the benign spirit which actuated the soul of his truly illustrious advocate. The reception given by the queen to Lady Asgil at Versailles, when she went to thank her for the preservation of a beloved son, was almost unexam

pled; she raised the amiable mother in her arms, and mingled tears of genuine sensibility with those of the noblest, the purest maternal fond

ness.

When this lovely and amiable queen was condemned by the revolutionary tribunal of France, and the sentence was read to her, she was asked, "Have you nothing to answer upon the determination of the law?" She answered, "Noth- || ing." "And you, officious defenders?" said the president, addressing himself to her counsel. "Our mission is fulfilled with respect to the widow Capet," was their reply.

The unfortunate princess suffered under the guillotine, the day after her condemnation. The execution took place in the Place de la Revolution, where Louis XVI. had suffered before her. || The streets were lined by two very close rows of armed citizens. As soon as the queen left the Conciergerie, to ascend the scaffold, the multitude which was assembled in the courts and the streets, cried out bravo, in the midst of plaudits. Marie Antoinette had on a white loose dress, and her hands were tied behind her back. looked firmly round her on all sides. She was accompanied by the rector of St. Landry, and on the scaffold preserved her natural dignity of deportinent.

She

After the execution, three young persons dipped their handkerchiefs in her blood. They were immediately arrested.

The queen had been basely calumniated, yet, during her trial, not one particle of evidence was adduced, tending to taint her moral character, although rewards and honors were held out to any person who would accuse her with the slightest appearance of probability.

FEMALE ENTHUSIASM.

self alone.' Such parts are to be acted by woman alone."

REFORMING A WIFE.

Mynheer van der, who in 1796 lived in high style on the Keizer Gragt, in Amsterdam, had a very modest wife, who dressed most extravagantly, played high, gave expensive routs, and showed every disposition to squander money quite as fast as her husband gained it. She was young, handsome, vain, and giddy, and completely the slave of fashion. Her husband had not the politeness to allow himself to be ruined by her unfeeling folly and dissipation; he complained of her conduct to her parents and nearest relations, whose advice was of no more use than his own. Next he had recourse to a respectable minister of the Lutheran church, who might as well have preached to the dead. It was in vain to deny her money, for no tradesman would refuse to credit the elegant, the fascinating wife of the rich Van der. Involved as the young lady was in the vortex of fashionable dissipation, she had not yet ruined her health and reputation; and her husband, by the advice of his friend M

k-r, determined to send her for six months to a Verbatering Huisen, or House for the Refor mation of Manners, such as is to be found in most of the towns of Holland. With the utmost secrecy he laid before the municipal authorities the most complete proofs of her wasteful extravagance and incorrigible levity; added to which, she had recently attached herself to gaming with French officers of rank, who lay under an impatation of being remarkably expert in levying contributions. She was already in debt upwards of thirty thousand florins to tradesmen, although her husband allowed her to take from his cashier, a stipulated sum every month, which was more than competent to meet the current expens

ports of maternal tenderness, or in the manner in which they partake of popular emotions-it is in these cases, more than any other, that woman excites our astonishment and admiration; beautiful as the seraphim of Klopstock, terrible as the demon of Milton. The distinctions of a busy and contentious life interrupt and repress the passions of men; but a woman broods in silence and retirement over those which occupy her mind." To plunge a woman into madness, who is under the influence of intense emotion," says M. Diderot, "it is only necessary that she attain the solitude she seeks. A man," he continues, "never sat at Delphi on the sacred tripod; a woman alone could deliver the Pythian oracle, could alone raise her mind to such a pitch, as seriously to imagine the approach of a god, and, panting with emotion, to cry, 'I perceive him! I perceive him! there, there! the god!' It was a woman, too, that walked bare-footed in the streets of Alexandria, with dishevelled hair, a torch in one hand, and a vessel of water in the other, exclaiming, I will burn the heavens with this torch, and extinguish the fires of hell with this water, that man may love his God for him

occurred in play, her finest jewels were deposited in the hands of a benevolent money-lender, who accommodated the necessitous, upon unexceptionable security being previously left in his custody.

Her husband was full twenty years older than his volatile wife, of whom he was rationally fond, and at whose reformation he aimed, before she should be carried too far away by the stream of fashionable dissipation.

Against his will, she had agreed to make one of a party of ladies who were invited to a grand ball and supper, at the house of a woman of rank and faded character. Her husband, at break fast, told her she must change her course of life, or her extravagance would make him a bankrupt, and her children beggars. She began her usual playful way of answer, saying, "She certainly had been a little too thoughtless, and would soon commence a thorough reformation." "You must begin to-day," said her husband, “and as a proof of your sincerity, I entreat you to drop the company of, and to spend the evening at home this day, with me and your children." "Quite impossible, my dear man," said the modest wife in reply; "I have given my word,

and cannot break it." "Then," said her husband, "if you go out this day, dressed to meet that party, remember for the next six months these doors will be barred against your return; are you still resolved to go?" "Yes," said the indignant lady, "if they were to be forever barred against me!"

Without either anger or malice, Mynheer van der told her "not to deceive herself, for as certain as that was her determination, so sure would she find his foretelling verified." She told him, "If nothing else had power to induce her to go, it would be his menaces." With this they parted, the husband to prepare the penitentiary chamber for his giddy young wife, and the latter to eclipse every rival at the ball that eve. ning.

To afford her a last chance of avoiding an ignominy which it pained him to inflict, he went once more to try to wean her from her imprudent courses, and proposed to set off that evening for Zutphen, where her mother dwelt; but he found her sullen, and busied with milliners and dressers, and all the paraphernalia of splendid attire.

At the appointed hour, the coach drove to the door, and the beautiful woman (full-dressed, or rather undressed) tripped gaily down stairs, and stepping lightly into the coach, told the driver to stop at -, on the Keizer Gragt. It was then dark, and she was a little surprised to find the coach had passed one of the city gates; the sound of a clock awoke her as from a dream. She pulled the check-string, but the driver kept on; she then called out, when some one behind the coach told her, in a suppressed voice, that "she was a prisoner, and must be still! The shock was severe; she trembled every limb, and was near fainting with terror and alarm, when the coach entered the gates of a Verbatering Huisen, where she was doomed to take up her residence. The matron of the house, a grave, severe, yet well-bred person, opened the door, and calling the lady by her name, requested her to alight. "Where am I? I beseech you tell me, and why I am brought here?" "You will be informed of everything, madam, if you will please to walk in doors." "Where is my husband?" said she in wild affright, "sure he will not let me be murdered?" "It was your husband who drove you hither, madam; he is now upon the coachbox!" This inteiligence was conclusive; all her assurance forsook her, she submitted to be conducted into the house, and sat pale, mute, and trembling, her face and dress exhibiting the most striking contrast. The husband, deeply affected, first spoke. He told her, "that he had no other means to save her from ruin, and he trusted the remedy would be effectual; and when she quitted that retreat, she would be worthy of his esteem."

She then essayed by the humblest protestations, by tears and entreaties, to be permitted to return, and vowed," that never more, whilst she lived, would she ever offend him. Save me (said she) the mortification of this punishment, and my future conduct shall prove the sincerity of my reformation." Not to let her off too soon, she was

shown her destined apartment and dress, the rules of the house, and the order for her confinement, during six months! She was completely overpowered with terror, and fell senseless on the floor. When she recovered, she found her husband chaffing her temples, and expressing the utmost anxiety for her safety. "I have been unworthy of your affection," said the fair penitent," but spare me this ignominious fate; take me back to your home, and never more shall you have cause to reproach me." Her husband, who loved her with unabated affection, notwithstanding all her levity, at last relented, and the same coach drove her back to her home; where not one of the domestics (a trusty man servant excepted) had the least suspicion of what had occurred. As soon as her husband led her to her apartment, she dropped on her knee, and implored his pardon, told him the extent of all her debts, begged him to take her to Zutphen for a few weeks, and promised so to reduce her expenditure, as to make good the sums she had so inconsiderately thrown away.

Allowing for the excessive terror she felt, when, instead of being driven to

's rout, she was proceeding round the ramparts, outside the city gates, which she could not wholly overcome, she spent the happiest evening of her life with her husband; and from that day abandoned her former career of dissipated folly, and became all that her husband desired, a good wife and an affectionate mother.

LADY M. W. MONTAGUE, AND POPE.

Soon after Lady Mary Wortley Montague's return from Constantinople, she was solicited by Mr. Pope, to fix her summer residence at Twickenham; with which she complied, and mutual admiration seemed at first to knit these kindred geniuses in indissoluble bonds. A short time, howev er, proved that their friendship was not super-human. Jealousy of her talents, and a difference in political sentiments, appear to have been the primary causes of that dislike, which soon manifested itself without ceremony and without delicacy. Lady Mary was attached to the Walpole administration and principles. Pope hated the Whigs, and was at no pains to conceal his aversion in conversation or writing. What was worse, Lady Mary had for some time omitted to consult him on any new poetical production; and even when he had been formerly very free with his emendations, was wont to say, "Come, no touching, Pope, for what is good the world will give to you, and leave the bad for me;" and she was well aware that he disingenuously en couraged that idea. But the more immediate cause of their implacability, was a satire, in the form of a pastoral, entitled, "Town Eclogues." These were some of Lady Mary's earliest poetical attempts, and had been written previous to her leaving England. After her return, they were communicated to a favored few, and no doubt relished from their supposed or real personal allusions. Both Pope and Gay suggested many additions and alterations, which were cer

tainly not adopted by Lady Mary; and as copies, including their corrections, were found among the papers of these poets, their editors have at. tributed three out of six to them. The "Basset Table," and the "Drawing Room," are given to Pope; and the "Toilet," to Gay. The publication, however, of these poems, in the name of Pope, by Curl, a bookseller who hesitated at nothing mean or infamous, appears to have put a final stop to all intercourse between Pope and Lady Mary.

"Irritated," says one of her biographers," by Pope's ceaseless petulance, and disgusted by his subterfuge, she now retired totally from his society, and certainly did not abstain from sarcastic observations, which were always repeatetd to him. The angry bard retaliated in the most gross and public manner, against her and her friend, Lord Hervey. Of this controversy, it may be sufficient to observe, that Dr. Wharton and Dr. Johnson both agree in condemning the prevarication with which Pope evaded every direct charge of his ungrateful behaviour to those, whose patronage he had once servilely solicited; and even his panegyrical commentator, Dr. Warburton, confesses that there were allegations against him, which "he was not quite clear of."

HON. MRS. DAMER.

Though many ladies have attained a high rank in the sister arts of poetry and painting, yet very few indeed have attempted to tread in the steps of a Phidias or a Praxiteles. Some ladies, however, have cultivated the art of sculpture, and none more successfully than the Hon. Mrs. Damer, who has brought into mimic life those exquisite busts, which form the most valuable ornaments of Strawberry Hill (the once classical seat of Horace Walpole, who bequeathed it to Mrs. Damer): the noble statue of King George the Third, which formerly graced the Leverian Museum; with the bust of Sir Joseph Banks, and her own exquisite statue, now in the British Mu

seum.

The exhibition at the Royal Academy has often been enriched by the productions of her chisel; and if there had not been a positive decree of the academy, for the exclusion of female artists from being members of that body, Mrs. Damer would long ago have received the highest honors in its power to bestow. But the honors which were denied to Mrs. Damer by the Royal Academy were amply recompensed by the warm suffrages of fame, which she received from other contemporary societies of talent and reputation; for wherever taste, elegance, and accomplishments were prized, there did Mrs. Damer find admirers and friends.

LADY HESTER STANHOPE.

This lady, with the most romantic contempt for dangers or hardship, devotes her fortune and her life to travelling abroad. When she was at Mar Elias, near Sidon, in Syria, in 1816, she received a visit from Colonel Buin, of the French Engineers, who, on the abdication of Bonaparte,

determined on travelling to the east. The col onel had just returned from visiting the Temple of Jupiter Ammon, and Lady Hester advised him to avoid going into the mountains of the Arsarie, near Latikea, which he promised. An over eager curiosity, however, made him break his pledge; he set forward, and was soon murdered.

Lady Hester, on hearing of his death, applied to the French Ambassador, but he would not interfere, and the consuls in Syria had no power. Determined, however, as she said, to “ revenge the death of her poor friend," Lady Hester obtained a body of five hundred men, from the Pacha of Acre and Damascus, and accompanying them, they, after great search, discovered the murderers, who were taken and executed.

THE COUNTESS OF DESMOND. Catherine Fitzgerald, who married the twelfth Earl of Desmond, in the reign of Edward IV., and danced with the Duke of Gloucester, afterwards Richard III., lived to the very extraordinary age of one hundred and forty-five years. The beauty and vivacity of the Countess of Desmond rendered her an object of general admiration, at a period of life when all other women are considered unfit for society; and historians confidently assert that she had passed her hundredth year before she left off dancing and mixing in the gayest circles. She resided at Inchiquin, and held her jointure from many successive Earls of Desmond, until the family being by an attainder deprived of the estate, she was reduced to poverty; but feeling few of the infirmities of age, although then one hundred and forty years old, she crossed the channel to Bristol, and travelling up to London, laid her case before King James the First, and solicited relief, which she obtained.

MADAME DE MAINTENON,

This lady, when very young, was, in order to escape a life of dependence on her relations, induced to marry the old Abbé Scarron. She lived with him many years, which, Voltaire says, were the happiest of her life; but when he died in 1660, she found herself as indigent as she was before her marriage. Her friends, indeed, endeavored to get her husband's pension continued to her, and presented so many petitions to the king about her, all beginning with, "The widow Scarron most humbly prays your majesty," &c. that he was quite weary of them, and has been heard to exclaim," Must I always be annoyed by the widow Scarron?" At length however, through the recommendation of Madame de Montespan, the king settled a much larger pension on her, with a handsome apology for making her wait so long. He afterwards made choice of her to superintend the education of the young Duke of Maine; and the letters she wrote on this occasion charmed the king, and were the origin of her advancement. Her personal merit effected all the rest. The King bought her the estate of Maintenon, and called her publicly Madame de Maintenon; and towards the latter end of the