perceive the moment he made his appearance-graciously condescending, turning, smiling first on one side, then the other, to the numerous patients, who, on this day, could not forbear venturing out to view the procession, graced by the presence of their handsome and courtly doctor. The windows and balconies filled with beauteous ladies of all ages, and of low and high degree. The matron with her dignified cap and 'kerchief; the old maidens of fifty; the disengaged fair ones from thirty to forty, and upwards, dressed in their best and most alluring style, looking with most bewitching smiles upon the numerous and musical assemblage of gentlemen. The maidens, i. e., young persons from eighteen to five and twenty, in their plain white frocks and straw bonnets, embellished on this great occasion with blue ribbons, enjoying with high glee the holiday; loudly laughing, talking, waving their handkerchiefs, indifferent to the frowns, the pinches, the rebuffs received every instant from the rather large collection of disengaged fair ones. Some reflecting how quickly the years would flee away, and that a hundred chances to one but that they would unwillingly become a member of that class now styled disagreeable, sour, and fidgetty old creatures. By the Doctor's side, his youthful assistant, condescendingly allowed that conspicuous situation from being of good family, and possessing considerable property; and though duly considered by himself a bird of passage, many were the anxious looks directed towards him to find out whom his smiles most honoured. Then came in long array last, though not least, the worshipful gentry, the leading inhabitants of this celebrated town—a rich and dignified worthy-a retired grocer from his populous estate at Houndsditch: by his side floated a well filled old fish of the first water of Billingsgate-stalking forth came a portly, pompous, sturdy lordling noble of Newgate. A gentle contrast followed: a lean and stiff linen-draper, resembling his would-be-forgotten yard measure-then came half-pay officers of the Army and Navy, with their clean brushed clothes, highly polished boots, and anxious looks; here and there the remnants of uniforms which had not seen the light for many a long day, were brought forward and worn with the conscious pride of the great utility the owners were to their Queen and Country, and expected to be honoured accordingly. Bringing up the rear of this mighty procession was the numerous and effective band of All-Tops, followed by children of all ages; old and young people carrying plates, knives, forks and mugs, it having been publicly announced, that every one must provide themselves with these necessaries towards enjoying a feast. Persons of all ranks were hurrying up to the scene of action, clearing their throats and preparing to do justice to the national anthem, to be sung with heart and soul by every one present, previous to setting down to the long expected and promised feast. Behold, my gentle readers, we are now arrived at the field of action; it resounds with loud and deep huzzas-happiness dwells on each countenance, and contentment has for once taken up her abode in the happy town of All-Tops. Both pride and ill nature are cast aside; my lady smiles and nods with affability on the many happy and chubby faces that are setting at the long tables, placed in such a manner as to leave an open space for the promised amusements. On a sudden all is hushed, each happy tongue is still-the grace is said, the dinner commenced; and during the feast I will take for the present the liberty of making my bow. (To be continued.) THE FADED ROSE. BY MRS. WIELES LEIGH-CLIFFE. WHAT ails thee, thou drooping and faded coquette- Thou look'st sickly and sad, and the wandering Fly, Thou hast courted the Sun, till he, tired of thy charms, Hath fled to repose in a younger one's arms; And he smiles, as he passes, to see thee so pale, For he, aye, was inconstant as e'er was the gale. Thou hast met with the fate of all beauties who deem CLEVELAND; OR, THE MAN OF PRINCIPLE. He began by regretting he had been deceived as to the business of that night, or he would have been present earlier, to have taken that decided line it was ever his proudest wish boldly to assert; and, with a glance of mingled disgust and contempt at Aubrey, he assured the house that it was by the grossest imposition he had been delayed, and it was only owing to the kind interposition of the noblest of friends he had then an opportunity of upholding his character, and disclaiming all dishonourable views. He then proceeded to consider the subject in question with such manly vigour, such energy of manner and command of argument, that a new light seemed to rush upon the minds of all his auditors. The threadbare arguments which he knew must have been advanced were quickly opposed, by bold and vigorous, clear and unimpeachable statements: he impressed the truths with such a thorough conviction that no one doubted his sincerity, whilst it made the proper impression on all. The repeated shouts of his friends, the undisguised rapture with which they hailed him, proved that a doubt no longer existed on their minds of his firmness, and their loud and long repeated acclamations resounded when he finished one of the most masterly pieces of eloquence," and one of the most powerful speeches that had ever been made within those walls. The effect was great: a trifling majority, scarcely sufficient to secure the ministry their seats, was the result of the evening's debate; their defeat was rendered more humiliating from the exposure which was made, that some dark act of treachery had been meditated to prevent the presence of the man whom they now confessed to fear. The wily Aubrey did not remain to receive the thanks of his coadjutors, but, baffled and disgraced, he fled the scenes of his defeat, almost rendered desperate by the performance of that night. On coming into the lobby, Cleveland was greeted with rapture by a large party of delighted friends, anxious to express their regret at having indulged for one moment a thought of his insincerity: his efforts were extolled, and they were satisfied, without entering into a detail of the circumstances that had appeared so strongly to bespeak an alteration in his sentiments. In a few minutes he was in the arms of his sincere, his devoted friend, Lord Delaware, whose emotions were highly excited, and whose delight was unequalled. He lavished praise deserved, not dearer to him that received than to him who gave it. They both retired together, and determined to defer their mutual explanations till the morning, for Cleveland was completely exhausted by the fatigues of the journey he had undertaken, by the anxiety he had undergone lest he should not arrive in time, and by the exertions he had made in speaking; and Lord Delaware had suffered much from the constant state of uneasiness in which he had been kept: they both stood much in need of refreshment, and though they had much to say, they were unwilling to go beyond their powers by more mental exertion. The explanations of the following morning, whilst they only threw a more radiant light around the character of Cleveland, exposed the duplicity of Aubrey. He had lured his antagonist to town under the pretence of assisting Miss Avondale to recover from her mother-in-law her father's fortune: he had declared that secrecy was indispensably necessary to the completion of a scheme, which had for its object the happiness of that young lady; and Cleveland brought her to town, and left her under the care of Lady Aubrey. It then was suggested to him, that it was absolutely necessary he should return home, for Lady Mary, his mother, whose sanction was required; and it was with the most solemn assurance from Aubrey, that no business would be transacted in the House of Commons, he again left town to bring her. But Miss Avondale most fortunately became acquainted with the plot that was carrying on: she found her interests were the mask under which the character of Cleveland was to be destroyed. No plan offered itself to her of making the scheme public, but her interview with Lord Delaware, which she accomplished regardless of all difficulties. She went alone to a friend who was intimate at Exeter House, and was by her means introduced in time to give the necessary warning. Aubrey had most industriously circulated reports, had thrown such a veil of mystery, and his arts had been such, that whilst his conduct was perfectly seen through, no clue was offered to make him a sufferer. It was proposed by Lord Delaware to spend the evening in the midst of the circle at Exeter House, and the idea was gladly assented to by his friend, who had often felt a wish to join the society that always assembled there, particularly as the noble Earl had long been known and admired by him, and an agreement was therefore made to meet at Exeter House. They then separated, Cleveland for the society of a few chosen friends who knew and prized him, and Delaware for the fashionable lounge where, as usual, he was welcomed, and where a thousand congratulations awaited him. His gaiety and his wit were heightened by the success of his friend, and he never shone more conspicuously VOL. I. K amid the flirtations and the trifling agreeables of the lovely fair forms whom he encountered in his morning hours of frivolity and fashion. One of the first persons whom he met was Sir George Burrell, who was most anxious to make the amend-honourable for the slur he had cast on the character of Cleveland. He most frankly acknowledged his error, and only sought an opportunity of personally apologizing for his suspicions; and when the plot which was to have entangled this excellent young man was explained, his indignation knew no bounds, and he declared he felt an anxious wish to take a proper and justifiable revenge on Aubrey, for having deceived him. The evening brought, as usual, a large party to Exeter House. The universal theme was the triumph of last night, and the herò Cleveland was in the mouth of every one. A great sensation was produced by the information that he was to be there, as every one felt anxious to offer the still small voice of gratitude; and Lady Harriet, Miss Dormer, and Catharine Peyton, watched with anxiety every time the servant announced an arrival. Sir George Burrell came, and was as slothful as usual; Walsingham and Vivian arrived, and were scarcely noticed; and even the all-fascinating Lord Delaware was not received with the usual share of marked delight. The old favourites seemed to have lost their influence, for they were less amusing than usual; in vain did they exhaust their brilliant imaginations in describing with glowing colours the new opera dancers, the exquisite scenery, or the enchanting voices of the matchless sirens that graced the theatre; still all attention was directed to the door, and yet he came not; as much anxiety as had been felt on a former night was excited by this delay of promised pleasure; yet he came not. Fatigued, at length, with such useless waiting, accompanied by Miss Dormer, Lady Harriet Clifford lounged through the crowded rooms: so many people were gathered together, she had some difficulty "in winning her easy way;" but, overpowered with the heat of the assembly, she threw herself on one of the couches in the ante-room, and there remained for some short time; but, looking around, she saw to her utter amazement the stranger she had met at the Countess of Norfolk's, and whom she afterwards found to be the Aubrey she now more than ever had reason to dislike. He was gazing with apparent rapture on a likeness of herself, which bore a strong resemblance to her, and was considered as a chef-d'œuvre of the master who had designed it. He seemed to pay no attention to any other object; his eyes were rivetted on the picture before him, and his senses quite wrapt in pleasure not unmingled with surprise. She knew not how to act-he had disregarded every object in the room, and she rose with the intention of retreating as fast as she had entered, yet she feared to |