rious unfeeling and irreverend questions and observations were made by the surrounding parties, to which the poor woman could make no reply; her own affliction, and the constant endeavour to pacify the children, engrossed her whole attention. She was seated on the step of a door to a private house. Actuated by a desire to rescue her from the gross observations and ignorant jeers of the unfeeling multitude, I knocked at the door, and was pleased to find the inhabitant prompted with corresponding feelings. At seeing her distress, she was permitted to walk in, and, by shutting the door, screened from the impertinence of the crowd; and, as I had been the cause of her admittance, I accompanied her. She appeared to be about twenty-eight years of age, of pleasing features, and graceful form; her cheeks, though sorrow appeared to have taken up his abode upon them, gave sufficient evidence that the ravager had not wholly destroyed the beauty which had once possessed them; her dress and those of her children were homely, but neat and clean; her fine dark eyes, though robbed of some portion of their original lustre, still beamed intelligence, even through the tear with which it was bedewed. "Alas! Sir," said she, when the tumult of her feelings and the crying of the children had subsided, "how shall I possibly find language to convey to you the grateful sentiments of an overburthened heart? Torn as it has been by the rude storms of adversity and misfortune, it is still sufficiently susceptible to feel indignation towards that being who injured my innocents, and insulted and wounded me and at the same time to glow with a pure emanation of gratitude to the friend who, in that moment of anguish and distress, preserved me from the further torments of an inquisitive and taunting mob. My prayers and my tears can only thank you: may the God of heaven, whose dispensations are founded in unerring wisdom, reward, preserve, and protect you." The fervency with which she uttered the last words, and the tear with which they were accompanied, convinced me of their sincerity. There was in her manner a something which assured me she had seen better days. I became still more interested; and, after stating that I felt sufficiently rewarded if I had afforded her any real service, begged she would accept the contents of my purse, to administer to her present necessity. This she reluctantly complied with. I then importuned her to make me acquainted with her unfortunate history, to which she consented; but felt herself at that moment (from the recent agitation of mind she had undergone) unable to bear the fatigue of such a recital. She, however, informed me of her residence, where, upon calling the next morning, she related the circumstances of her life, as follow: "I am, Sir," said she, "the only daughter of a respectable tradesman, whose name was Dorville, for many years a resident in the neighbourhood of Lincoln's-Inn Fields, who gave me an education suitable to his means and situation in life, and whose parental love and affection for me can never be erased from my recollection. It was his fate to lose an amiable wife, and mine to lose a mother, whom I was not old enough to know, soon after my birth; and the anxious solicitude of my surviving parent became centered upon me, as I have frequently heard him declare. I bore a strong resemblance to my departed mother. At the age of nineteen I first beheld Mr. Thornton, a young gentleman of moderate income, of sprightly manners, and possessing every grace of mind to attract attention. We met, we saw, and loved each other; and, in process of time I accompanied him to the altar, with every prospect of securing our future happiness. But, alas! Sir, how inscrutable are the ways of Providence! I had not been united to this best of husbands above twelve months, when a contagious fever deprived me of my treasure, leaving me with every prospect of shortly giving birth to a fatherless being. I felt my situation, and deplored my loss, which was only to be increased by the loss of my revered father, within a month afterwards! under these afflicting circumstances I became the mother of the two infants in whose favour you so kindly interested yourself yesterday. Poor children!" continued she, "left, as ye are, to the mercy of the wide world, with a mother friendless and forlorn! Excuse me, I have not yet informed you of all my misfortunes! but I will be brief. On the decease of my husband, the arrangement of his affairs was placed in the hands of a confidential friend of my father's; and, when his accounts were all closed, I found my possessions in this world amounted to about 400l.; and my father's property barely settled his own affairs. In this situation, a young gentleman, just embarked in business, induced me, under the most solemn assurances and offers of legal security for my principal, as well as remuneration by way of interest, to trust my little property to his care and management. This, however, proved a fatal step for me; he was, a few days back, gazetted as a bankrupt; and thus am I deprived, for the present, of the necessary means of subsistence. My inquiries, yesterday, afforded me little prospect of the recovery of my property, or any part of it; and I was given to understand he is deeply involved. This induced me to supplicate the generous and humane in behalf of my innocents; of that, however, I have had sufficient experience, and could sooner die than try that mode of obtaining relief again. A few minutes before you discovered me with the infants crying in my arms, a man of ferocious countenance had been impor tuned in the road by a woman, to whom he refused all attentention, till, finding himself annoyed and impeded, he hastily and angrily drew from his pocket a penny-piece to give her, just as they passed by me; and she, not aware of his intention, attracted by another passenger of more promising aspect, had transferred her solicitations to him: the first man, finding she had left him, vented a hearty curse upon her, and threw the piece to me; it struck the poor innocent children, and caused the affliction with which you found me overwhelmed, I beg pardon for so long intruding on your patience, and permission to offer you additional thanks for the supply which you so readily and kindly afforded me. If I was interested in the fate of the narrator before I was possessed of this account, I was doubly so on receiving it. I have found her to be virtuous, lovely, and intelligent; and, unless I am much mistaken, she is destined to be the wife of SINGLEARIUS. THE LADIES' RECEIPT BOOK. No. II. BY ELLEN DARLINGTON. TO KEEP MUSLINS OF A GOOD COLOR. Never wash muslins, or any kind of white cotton goods, with linen; for the latter deposits or discharges a gum and coloring matter every time it is washed, which discolors and dyes the cotton. Wash them by themselves. TO MAKE LAVENDER WATER. Take of rectified spirits of wine half a pint, essential oil of lavender two drachms, otto of roses five drops. Mix all together in a bottle, and cork it for use. TO CLEAN CHINA AND GLASS. The best material for cleaning either porcelain or glass is fuller's earth; but it must be beaten into a fine powder, and carefully cleared from all rough or hard particles, which might endanger the polish of the brilliant surface. TO CLEAN WHITE SATIN AND FLOWERED SILKS. Mix sifted stale bread crumbs with powder-blue; and rub it thoroughly all over; then shake it well, and dust it with clean soft cloths. Afterwards, where there are any gold or silver flowers, take a piece of crimson ingrain velvet, and rub the flowers with it, which will restore them to their original lustre. TO MAKE FURNITURE PASTE. A better furniture paste than most to be bought in the shops may be made as follows:-Scrape four ounces of bees'wax into a basin, and add as much oil of turpentine as will moisten it through. Then powder a quarter of an ounce of resin, and add as much Indian-red as will bring it to a deep mahogany colour. When the composition is properly stirred up, it will prove an excellent cement or paste for blemishes in mahogany, or other furniture. THE WREATH OF LOVE. But slily hid a brier beneath The blossoms of the fairest flower. Delighted with the scented toy, Beauty to gain the treasure strove, Within such sweets a thorn had wove. She laid the chaplet near her heart, |