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Á DVERTISEMENT

TO THE FOURTH EDITION.

Many purchasers of the first and second editions suggested through the Publisher to the Editor that 66 The Birth of the Rose,” which originally occupied this page, however beautiful in itself, and however natural for Mr. H. to cummunicate to Miss was written with too free a pen for the perusıl of those who might otherwise derive ideas of morality, and even of religion, from these letters. The Editor's only wish, in the publication of these Letters, was to serve religion and morality. At the first hint, he determined to take the liberty (the only one he has taken) with Mr. H's. Letters, of omitting the poem in question. It did not appear in the third edition. Were it possible that a syllable which remains could give offence, it should remain no longer; for not only the Editor, but his unfortunate friend H. would heartily fay with Pope, and as well of profe as of verse,

Curst be the verse, how well foe'er it flow,
That tends to make one worthy man my foe;
Give virtue scandal, innocence a fear,

Or from the foft-ey'd virgin steal a tear! The Publishers, however, of this volume, in order to accommodate every class of readers, have printed 66 The Birth of the Rose” upon a separate, but uni

Love and Madness” may be had either with or without it.

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L ET TER IX.

To Mr.

H. Christmas-day, 75. My old friend the Corporal looked as if he had been tarred and feathered yesterday, when he arrived with your dear billet. Omiah took up the sugar-cakter, when he saw him through the parlour window, and powdered a fresh slice of pudding, by way of painting the snowy corporal. Omiah's fimplicity is certainly very diverting, but I should like - him better, and take more pains with him, if I did not think he suspected something. The other day I am sure he came to spy the nakedness of the land. Thank Heaven, our caution prevented him.

But, why do I call your billet dear, when it contained such Poetry? Yet, to confess the truth, it did charm me. And I know not, whether, as you say, those, to whom it could do any harm,could possibly understand it. For uninitiated means, I believe, not yet admitted into the mysteries--those who have not yet taken the veil; or, I fould rather say, those who have not yet thrown off the veil. Why was I not permitted

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by my destiny to keep on mine, till my H. my Mars seiz'd me in his ardent arms? How gladly to his arms would I have given up my very soul!

Cruel fortune, that it can't be so to-day! But we forgot, when we fixed on to-day, that it would be Christmas-day. I must do penance at a most unpleasant dinner, as indeed is every meal and every scene when you are absentand that, without the confolation of having first enjoyed your company. To-morrow, however, at the usual time and place.

Your discontinuing your visits here, since the first day of our happiness, gratifies the delicacy of us both. Yet, may it not, my H., raise suspicions elsewhere? Your agreeable qualities were too conspicuous not to make you missed. Yet, you are the best judge.

My poor, innocent, helpless babes! Were it not on your account, your mother would not nit the part she does. What is Mrs.. Yates's suftaining a character well for one evening ? Is it so trying as to play a part, and a base one too, morning, noon, and night ?-Night! But I will not make my H. uneasy.

At least, allow that I have written you a long fcrawl. Behold, I have sent you a tolerable good fubftitute for myself. It is reckoned very like. I

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need not beg you not to show it. Only remember, the painter's M. is not to rob your own M. of a certain quantity of things called and known by the name of kisses, which I humbly conceive to be her due, though she has been disappoin. ted of them to-day.

So, having nothing further to add at present, and the post being just going out, I remain, with all truth, Dear Sir, Your most humble servant,

M.

There's a pretty conclufion for you. Am I not a good girl? I shall become a most elegant correspondent in time, I see. This paragraph is the postscript, you know--and should there ore have been introduced by a well flourished P. S. the Sir Clement Cottrel upon these occasions.

LETTER

X.

To Miss

Buntingdon,

-23 Dec. 75:

Your condescension in removing my most groundless cause of jealousy yesterday, was more than I deserved. How I exposed myself by my

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violence with you! But, I tell you, my passions are all gunpowder. Though, thank God, no Othello, yet am I " One not easily jealous; but, being wrought, « Perplex'd in th' extreme;"

And that God knows how I love you, worship you, idolize you.

How could I think you particular to such a thing as B? You said you forgave me to-day, and I hope you did. Let me have it again from

your own dear lips to-morrow, instead of the next day. Everything shall be ready--and the guitar, which I wrote for, is come down, and I'll bring the song and you shall fing it, and play it, and I'll beg you to forgive me, and you shall forgive me, and, -five hundred ands besides.

Why, I would be jealous of this sheet of paper, if you kissed it with too much rapture.

What a fool!-No, my M., rather say-what a lover!

Many thanks for your picture. It is like. Accept this proof that I have examined it.

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'Tis true, creative man, thine art can teach The living picture every thing but fpeech !True, thou hast drawn her, as she is, all fair Divinely fair! her lips, her eyes, her hair!

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