that took place in the Maries and Betties. Lucy, for example, became of importance when Lucinda; and Fanny, having appeared in sundry novels and plays, was admitted into the parlour, while Frances "looked after the children." Theodosia would have shared the same honours, but for an obstinate propensity to become Doshy; and the Eleanors might have been addressed in a very poetical style, if they had not occasionally submitted to be Nells.

.... Now, when the old names were thus purified or abolished, it was soon discovered that too few were left for family use, especially where families happened to be very numerous. A new set were therefore im ported, or invented, which will answer all purposes. I will mention a few of the most remarkable; as, Sophia, uncommonly sweet and pretty; Silvia, admi rably calculated for a country life, and a prodigious addition to groves, nightingales, and purling streams; Arabella, which is a sort of pirated edition of Isabel; Priscilla, rather dangerous, as it is apt to become Priss, which does not rhyme very prettily; Matilda, very fine; Magdalena, not very common, but exceedingly senti mental when Maddalena; Laura, highly poetical; An gelina, Flora, Euphemia, Amelia, Emilia, Diana, Cle mentina, Camilla, Celia, Cecilia, all admirably adapted to lyrics, sonnets, and other methods of courtship, and all calculated for the coach, the chariot, or the curricle. Wilhelmina is not very common, and I can scarcely find in any genteel family Prudence or Patience.

Louisa deservedly ranks amongst the first of our sentimental names, and a novel without a Louisa must,

I should suppose, be a very insipid composition. I will notice an improvement that has of late years taken place in these new and melodious names, and that is their being joined in pairs, as Laura-Matilda, SophiaLouisa, Matilda-Clementina.

I might now allude to the alterations of old, or the manufacture of new, names for my own sex. But our progress in the sentimentality of names has been but slow, and, like Falstaff, we ought to wish we knew where "a commodity of good names was to be bought:" at present, those in most repute are our Edmunds, Charleses, and Frederics. The truth is, we have very few new ones to supply the place of the vast cargo of Bobs, and Toms, and Jacks which we have dismissed, or which we employ in the stable or the butler's pantry. Whoever arranges his family, and christens his children according to the canons of the circulating library, will always keep his Edmunds, Charleses, Frederics, and Henries in the parlour, while Tom is a footman, John is a coachman, and Humphrey goes to market with eggs and butter. There is, however, a great dearth amongst us, and we are frequently obliged to pair our names, as Charles-Frederic, William-Henry, &c in order to get a little eclat. Augustus, too, has been pressed into the service with some advantage; but still, I must confess, we have among us names as nauseous as Barnaby Brittle, or Napper Tundy.

I shall conclude with observing, that a taste for new nomenclatures is growing among us. There is a new

anatomical nomenclature: whether bones, and arteries, and muscles will be the better for this, I know not. Not many years ago, likewise, the whole science of

chemistry was revolutionised by a new set of names*, I cannot, therefore, if all this be proper and requisite, see any reason why men and women should not be gratified by a similar process+.....

AN ELEGY,

Written by a British Fair, doomed to live far from her native Land.

"And now, by Mem'ry's soft enchantment led,
Britannia! o'er thy peaceful plains I tread.
Near the green confines of my natal dale,
Emotions fond with pleasing sway prevail;
Imagination, through the reign of night,
Soft leads where Nature first illum'd my sight."

DEAR, native Britain, can I e'er forget

T. BATCHELOR.

Thy fertile pastures, verdant through the year! Thy smiling landscape must I not regret,

Thy cherish'd borders ever, ever dear?

* Thus antimonial powder was called oxidum antimonii cum phosphate calcis; and Ethiop's mineral, sulphuretum hydrargyri nigrum, &c. &c.

The writer of this humorous and satirical essay has, perhaps, not unseasonably, but without doubt elegantly, touched on a fashionable caprice, connected with the everchanging manners of modern times. The folly he has exposed appears, however, to be not absolutely modern, or recent. That, not inconsiderable, part of the public, that are guided by the fashion of the day, must ever be the creatures of whim, fancy, or habit, without a wish to bring their opinions to the test of reason.

Scar'd by the sun of this too-southern coast,
For thy soft summer frequently I sigh,
Chill'd by its long and unrelenting frost*,
How do I covet thy oft-varying sky!

Mild glows thy sun, a timid virgin's blush,
The toiling traveller can thy heats abide;
No storms impetuous thy fair harvests crush,
And scatter dearth and desolation wide†.

The hind, laborious, gaily binds his sheaf,
The long, oppressive day content to bear;
For ev'ning comes, with regular relief,

Nor fills with pois'nous insects all the air.

The gaunt wolf prowling through the shades of night, Thy tranquil folds have never learnt to fear; Dread howlings echo'd from the mountain's height, Fall not at eve upon the wounded ear.

* Contrary to the received opinion, it may be asserted with truth, that the winters in France, except altogether in the southern latitudes, are severer, though shorter, than with us; it generally freezes more intensely, and with less interruption.

+ Another unpleasant thing in the climate of France is, the hail storms to which, in summer, it is so exposed, and which usually lay a whole tract of country waste. A gentleman, who was of the late unfortunate French monarch's bodyguard, relates, that he was hunting with him once in the forest of Fontainbleau, when they were surprised by so tremendous a hail storm, that a stone, which was brought to the king, at a farm house where he had taken shelter, being weighed by his order, was found to weigh above five pounds. This storm cut off a number of trees in the forest, killed men and horses, and did immense damage to the adjacent country.

The mild west, temp'ring every ruder gale,
O'er man and brute with softest influence reigns,
In the same tender mould their tempers cast,
Peaceful thy cities, populous thy plains.

Nor gentleness than beauty less their pride,
Thy gen'rous coursers feeble hands restrain;
And ductile to the fair or infant guide,

Turn to the bit, and yield them to the rein*.

Oh! what are golden fruits and roseat bow'rs,

When the heart sickens and enjoyments cease? Oh! what are clamorous mirth, the gayest hours, Compar'd with comfort and domestic peace?

Give me again to hail my native shore,
These vaunted climates cheerful I resign:
Oh, Albion! might I greet thy cliffs once more,
What were a monarch's happiness to mine!

* The extraordinary gentleness of the animals in this country, is a fact that strikes the observation of all foreigners, particularly the French. They are astonished to see, what is so usual here, that no one thinks of remarking it, a fine, showy nag standing with his bridle upon his neck, waiting contentedly the return of his master from the post-office, perhaps, or some other place of business, in a market town, never offering to move till he feels him on his back, then pricking up his ears, and displaying as much mettle and willingness to go, as he lately had shown patience and docility to stand still. They could not venture to leave a French horse in this manner, sur sa bonne foi, as they call it.