TASTE.

FROM AN UNPUBLISHED OPERA,

BY MRS. CAREY.

AND, pray what is Taste? shall I try to explain?
Oh! no! If I did, the attempt would be vain:
For no words can define it, though all must confess,
'Tis found in each rank, age, profession, and dress.
The dandy will waste

Half his income on Taste:

Some will lavish their wealth on a toy;

While the Miser's a slave,

That dear money to save,

Which he has not the taste to enjoy.

Some, whose taste is the Fancy, in boxing delight,
And, though last at a sermon, are first at a fight;
While others all joys to the bottle confine,

And think there's no taste like the taste of good wine.
Some are charm'd with sweet sounds;

Some love horses and hounds:
Some will trip it all night at a ball;
While Woman's bright eyes

E'en the dullard can prize;

For Beauty has charms for us all.

Some at hazard (so strange and so various is taste) Their time will consume, and theîr fortunes will waste;

While others, forsooth, are so wonderful nice,

That they shun all amusement, as wise men shun dice.
Some of taste more refin'd,

Seek the good of mankind:

And these, let us hope, are not few-
But, hold! I am wrong,

To protract a dull song:

So, to Taste, for the present, adieu!

Gentleman's Mag.

THE LADY WITH THE DEATH'S HEAD.

Ir is not long since the French papers were amusing their readers with the story of a lady with a death's head: and if we recollect rightly, there was a journal on this side of the channel (the Literary Gazette) which staked its veracity on there being a blue stocking lady of the same description, who resided in the neighbourhood of Kensington. Both stories, however, were but a repetition of a very old date. The original heroine was a lady a Tête de Maure, and not a Tête de Mort, as our modern dealers in the marvellous have it. Two or three centuries ago, when negroes were not so commonly to be seen in Europe as at present, a lady with a blackamoor's head might perhaps be thought as terrific a phenomenon as a lady with a death's head would be in our days. The exact coincidence of the pronunciation of maure and mort, sufficiently explains the sources of the modern deviation.

The first time that we remember to have met with the story in its modern dress, is in a Number of the Journal Historique de Colle, for the year 1750, where it is thus briefly told: There is at present a girl to be married in a convent in Paris, who will receive an annuity of 30,000 livres if she resides in Paris, and 29,000 if she resides in the country. This portion will be settled on her future husband by the marriage contract. It is not required that the husband should be either rich, handsome, well-made, or possessing rank or education: he must, however, be an honest

U

man, and endowed with plain common sense. The girl has a good figure, possesses a considerable share of wit and understanding, and has been well educated: but-since there absolutely must be a but―she is obliged to wear a silver mask continually before her face, as her head, or at least her face, is precisely that of a skeleton. She is besides occasionally seized with convulsions and struggles similar to those of a dying person. Who will consent to marry her? |

The Man of Letters.

I WILL HAVE NO HUSBAND-NO!

"Dicen que me case yo."

THEY say they'll to my wedding go;

But I will have no husband--no!

I'll rather live serene and still,

Upon a solitary hill,

Than lend me to another's will,
And be a slave in weal or woe:
No! I will have no husband-no!

No! Mother! I've no wish to prove

The doubtful joys of wedded love;
And from those flowery pathways rove
Where innocence and comfort grow-
No! I will have no husband-no!

And Heaven, I'm sure, ne'er meant that he
Should thy young daughter's husband be:
We have no common sympathy.
So let youth's bud unbroken blow-
For I will have no husband-no!

Cancronero de Linares Bohl, 347.

Herald.

AMBIGUOUS EXPLANATION.

THE following laconic correspondence has recently got abroad among the upper circles, to the great annoyance of a female of high fashion, who is known to be the subject of it. The words we have put in italics are underscored in the originals:

"Saturday, July 17.

"Lord **** is given to understand, that Sir W**** has affirmed in a public company, that Lady **** was a person of doubtful character. Lord **** requests to be informed whether Sir W**** did make such assertion, and if he did, begs to ask for an explanation of it. The bearer will wait his answer.'

ANSWER.

"Saturday, July 17.

"Sir W**** does not recollect to have used the expression referred to, respecting the character of Lady ****, nor does he think it likely he should, as he does not know any female in the circle of fashion, of whose character there can be less doubt."

Chronicle.

A HOT DAY.

THE following lines have been often published, but in the dog-days they are always "to the purpose." We believe they were written by the late Lord Erskine, at the house of a friend, where he was on a visit:

WHAT a plague's a summer breakfast,

Eat whate'er you will!

Cold butter'd bread's a nasty thing,

Hot toast is nastier still!

Then, how to pass the time away
Till dinner, there's the doubt;
You're hot if you stay in the house,
You're hot if you go out.

And after dinner what to do,

Not knowing where to move :
The gentlemen are hot below,
The ladies hot above.

And now the kettle comes, full trot-
That's not the way to cool one;

Tea makes an empty stomach hot,
But hotter still a full one.

Well, then an evening walk's the thing

Not if you're hot before;

For he who sweats when he stands still,
Will, when he walks, sweat more.

So now the supper's come,—and come
To make bad worse, I wot,

For supper, while it heats the cool,

Will never cool the hot.

And bed, which cheers the cold man's heart,

Helps not the hot

pin:

For he who's hot when out of bed,

Heats ten times more when in.

Examiner.