The New-York Weekly Magazine, or Miscellaneous Repository Part 73

"If you wish to pursue your plan, you may easily lay a new snare for him, from which the Duke will not be able to extricate himself. You have the best opportunity of sending him an order to repair to Mad**d, and to make to his Majesty an oral report of the state of Port**l."

The minister approved of this advice, and carried it into execution without delay. The Duke of B----a, who was well aware that the order from the Sp***sh court could not be declined any longer, sent his Chamberlain to Mad**d in order to hire a palace, to engage a number of servants, and to make every preparation for his pretended arrival, but nevertheless did not come. One time he pleaded ill health, at another time want of money; and at last, wished to know what rank he was to hold at Mad**d. However, I was so fortunate as to guide the minister in such a manner that every obstacle was removed at last, and the Duke received 6000 ducats for defraying the expences of his journey.

"Now," said the Irishman to me, "the Duke will find it impossible to s.h.i.+ft any longer, and either must repair to Mad**d, which he will take care not to do, or give the signal for the revolution. Your business, my Lord, is finished, and nothing further will be required of you than the strictest secrecy. When your country will be free, we shall meet again, and then you may expect to see all my promises accomplished."

(_To be continued._)

CURIOUS OBSERVATIONS ON MAKING LOVE.

+From The Tatler.+

I fell in the other evening with a party who were engaged in examining which was the handsomest style of addressing the Fair, and writing Letters of Gallantry.--Many were the opinions immediately declared on this subject: Some were for a certain softness; some for I know not what of delicacy; others for something inexpressibly tender: When it came to me, I said there was no rule in the world to be made for writing Letters, but that of being as near what you speak face to face as you can; which is so great a truth, that I am of opinion, writing has lost more Mistresses than any one mistake in the whole legend of Love. For when you write to a Lady for whom you have a solid and honourable Love, the great idea you have of her, joined to a quick sense of her absence, fills your mind with a sort of tenderness, that gives your language too much the air of complaint, which is seldom successful. For a man may flatter himself as he pleases, but he will find, that the women have more understanding in their own affairs than we have, and women of spirit are not to be won by mourners.--Therefore he that can keep handsomely within rules, and support the carriage of a companion to his mistress, is much more likely to prevail, than he who lets her see the whole relish of his life depends upon her. If possible therefore, divert your mistress, rather than sigh to her. The pleasant man she will desire for her own sake; but the languis.h.i.+ng lover has nothing to hope for but her pity. To shew the difference I produced two Letters a Lady gave me, which had been writ to her by two gentlemen who made love to her, but were both killed the day after the date at the battle of _Almanza_. One of them was a mercurial gay-humoured man; the other a man of a serious but a great and gallant spirit. Poor _Jack Careless!_ This is his letter: You see how it is folded: The air of it is so negligent, one might have read half of it by peeping into it, without breaking it open.

He had no exactness.

_MADAM_,

'It is a very pleasant circ.u.mstance I am in, that while I should be thinking of the good company we are to meet within a day or two, where we shall go to loggerheads, my thoughts are running upon a Fair Enemy in _England_. I was in hopes I had left you there; but you follow the camp, tho' I have endeavoured to make some of our leaguer Ladies drive you out of the Field. All my comfort is, you are more troublesome to my Colonel than myself: I permit you to visit me only now and then; but he downright keeps you. I laugh at his honour as far as his gravity will allow me; But I know him to be a man of too much merit to succeed with a woman. Therefore defend your heart as well as you can, I shall come home this winter irresistibly dressed, and with quite a new foreign air. And so, I had like to say, I rest, but alas! I remain, _Madam_,

_Your most Obedient, Most Humble Servant_,

JOHN CARELESS.

Now for Colonel _Constant's_ Epistle; you see it is folded and directed with the utmost care.

_MADAM_,

'I do myself the honour to write to you this evening because I believe to-morrow will be a day of battle, and something forebodes in my breast that I shall fall in it. If it proves so, I hope you will hear I have done nothing below a man who had a love of his country, quickened by a pa.s.sion for a woman of honour. If there be any thing n.o.ble in going to a certain death; if there be any merit, I meet it with pleasure, by promising myself a place in your esteem; if your applause, when I am no more, is preferable to the most glorious life without you; I say, Madam, if any of these considerations can have weight with you, you will give me a kind place in your memory, which I prefer to the glory of _Caesar_.

I hope, this will be read, as it is writ, with tears.'

The beloved Lady is a woman of a sensible mind; but she has confessed to me, that after all her true and solid value for _Constant_, she had much more concern for the loss of _Careless_. Those great and serious spirits have something equal to the adversities they meet with, and consequently lessen the objects of pity. Great accidents seem not cut out so much for men of familiar characters, which makes them more easily pitied, and soon after beloved. Add to this, that the sort of love which generally succeeds, is a stranger to awe and distance. I asked _Romana_, whether of the two she should have chosen had they survived? She said, She knew she ought to have taken _Constant_; but believed, she should have chosen _Careless_.

ARABIAN MAXIMS.

The monument which a wise man is ambitious to leave behind him, is not a numerous posterity, but the lasting honours of a virtuous fame.

In learning to know yourself, you learn to know G.o.d.

Do good; and your reward shall be, if not the plaudits of men, the approbation of G.o.d.

It is lost labour to endeavour to give understanding to him that has none; especially, if he thinks himself more sensible than you.

n.o.bility does not consist in magnificence of dress or eminence of rank.

Art thou virtuous? Thou art sufficiently n.o.ble.

The life of man is a journal: good actions only should be written in it.

He who sows duplicity will reap calamity.

Whatever is not G.o.d, is nothing.

There are three things of which we cannot be certain but in three circ.u.mstances; courage can be conspicuous only in the combat; wisdom, when you are offended; and friends.h.i.+p, in adversity.

Interesting History Of _THE BARON DE LOVZINSKI._

With a relation of the most remarkable occurrences in the life of the celebrated COUNT PULASKI, well known as the champion of American Liberty, and who bravely fell in its defence before Savannah, 1779.

_Interspersed with Anecdotes of the late unfortunate KING of POLAND, so recently dethroned._

(Continued from page 142.)

t.i.tsikan was listening to the story of our misfortunes, with which he appeared to be deeply affected, when one of his centinels approached, and sounded an alarm. He immediately left us in great haste, on purpose to run to the drawbridge. We heard a great tumult, and began already to presage some inauspicious event.

While we remained plunged in consternation,---"Lovzinski, Lodoiska, cowardly and perfidious pair!" exclaims Dourlinski, unable to contain his joy---"you have hoped to be able to elude my vengeance, and escape my chastis.e.m.e.nt. Tremble! you are once more about to fall into my hands.

At the noise of my captivity and misfortunes, the neighbouring n.o.bility are undoubtedly a.s.sembled, and have now come to succour me."

"---They can only revenge you, villain!" cries Boleslas, interrupting him in the midst of his threats, and seizing, at the same time, an iron bar, with which he prepared to knock him down; I, however, instantly interposed and prevented him from executing this act of justice.

t.i.tsikan returned in a few minutes: "It is only a false alarm," said he to us; "it is nothing more than a small detachment which I dispatched yesterday, on purpose to scour the country---they had orders to rejoin me here; and they have brought me some prisoners: every thing is quiet, and the neighbourhood does not appear to be in the least commotion."

While t.i.tsikan yet spoke to me, a number of unfortunates, whose luckless fate had delivered them into the hands of the enemy, were dragged before him. We first beheld five, who, being unbound, walked by the side of their conquerors, with a downcast and melancholy aspect. The Tartars told us, that one of their companions had been overcome with great difficulty, and that was the reason why he was bound hand and foot!

The sixth now appeared: "O Heavens! it is my father!" exclaims Lodoiska, running at the same time towards him.---I, too, threw myself at the feet of Pulaski. "Are you Pulaski?" says the Tartar chieftain, "'tis well; the event is lucky! Believe me, my friend, it is not more than a quarter of an hour since I first heard of you. I know however, that you are proud and hot-headed, but no matter! I esteem you; you possess both courage and abilities; your daughter is beautiful, and does not want for understanding; Lovzinski is brave---braver than myself, as I have already experienced. Attend to what I am about to say----"

Pulaski, motionless with astonishment, scarcely heard the sound of the Tartar's voice; and struck, at the same time, with the strange spectacle that offered itself to his view, he began to conceive the most horrible suspicions.

He repulsed my caresses with the most significant disgust: "Wretch!"

exclaims he at length, "you have betrayed your country, a woman who loved you, a man who prided himself in calling you his son-in-law; it was only wanting to fill up the measure of your crimes, that you should league with robbers!"

"With robbers!" cries t.i.tsikan---"with robbers indeed, if it so please you to call us: but you yourself must acknowledge that description of people to be good for something; for without me, perhaps, your daughter, by to-morrow's sun, would no longer have been a maiden! Be not alarmed,"

said he, addressing himself to me: "but I know that he is proud, and I therefore am not angry."

We had by this time placed Pulaski in a chair; his daughter and myself bathed his manacles with our tears; but he still continued to frown at and to overwhelm me with reproaches.

"What can you wish for?" cries the Tartar, once more addressing his captive: "I tell you that Lovzinski is a brave man, whom I intend to see married; and as for your Dourlinski, he is a rogue, whom I am about to order to be hanged.

"I repeat to you once more, that you alone are more _hot-headed_ than us three put together. But hear me, and let us finish this business, for it is necessary that I should depart. You belong to me by the most incontestible right, that of the sword. But if you promise me, upon your honour, that you will be sincerely reconciled to Lovzinski, and give your daughter to him for a wife, I will restore you to your liberty."