the mother she had better be at ho man's amours were in reality very much inconsiderable fortune, and bluntly t confined in the second and third age of intrigue; his character was too public for a lady to consign her reputation to his keeping. But in the beginning of life, it is said, he knew the secret history of the times, and contributed himself to swell the page of scandal. Were I upon the present occasion to hold the pen of a novelist, I could recount some amours in which he was successful. I could fill a volume with little anecdotes, which contain neither pleasure nor instruction; with histories of professing lovers, and poor believing girls deceived by such professions. But such adventures are easily written, and as easily achieved. The plan even of fictitious novel is quite exhausted; but truth, which I have followed here, and ever design to follow, presents in the affair of love scarce any variety. The manner in which one reputation is lost, exactly resembles that by which another is taken away. The gentleman begins at timid distance, grows more bold, becomes rude, till the lady is married or undone : such is the substance of every modern novel; nor will I gratify the pruriency of folly at the expense of every other pleasure my narration may afford. Mr. Nash did not long continue a universal gallant; but, in the earlier years of his reign, entirely gave up his endeavours to deceive the sex, in order to become the honest protector of their innocence, the guardian of their reputation, and a friend to their virtue. This was a character he bore for many years, and supported it with integrity, assiduity, and success. It was his constant practice to do everything in his power to prevent the fatal consequences of rash and inconsiderate love; and there are many persons now alive, who owe their present happiness to his having interrupted the progress of an amour that threatened to become unhappy, or even criminal, by privately making their guardians or parents acquainted with what he could discover And his manner of disconcerting these schemes was such as generally secured him from the rage of the disappointed. One night when I was in Wiltshire's room, Nash came up to a lady her daughter, who were people of no I shall beg leave to give some che instances of Mr. Nash's good-nature these occasions, as I have had the aca from himself. At the conclusion of treaty of peace at Utrecht, Colone was one of the thoughtless, agreeable a creatures, that drew the attention of company at Bath. He danced and t with great vivacity; and when he among the ladies, he showed th attention was employed rather upca hearts than their fortunes. His cw tune however was a trifle, when co to the elegance of his expense; a imprudence at last was so great, obliged him to sell an annuity arising his commission, to keep up his spie a little longer. t 3 However thoughtless he might be had the happiness of gaining the af of Miss L., whose father designed very large fortune. This lady was o by a nobleman of distinction; but s fused his addresses, resolved upon g ing rather her inclinations than her ava The intrigue went on successfully be her and the colonel, and they both s certainly have been married and be done, had not Mr. Nash apprised her of their intentions. The old gentlem called his daughter from Bath, and Nash a very considerable present fe care he had taken, which he refuse! | In the meantime Colonel M. he' intimation how his intrigue discovered, and, by taxing Nash, that his suspicions were not without dation. A challenge was the immedi consequence, which the king of Bath, scious of having only done his duty, thoug proper to decline. As none are permitt came o wear swords at Bath, the colonel found 10 opportunity of gratifying his resentent, and waited with impatience to find Ir. Nash in town, to require proper satis iction. During this interval, however, he found is creditors become too importunate for im to remain longer at Bath; and his nances and credit being quite exhausted, e took the desperate resolution of going ver to the Dutch army in Flanders, here he enlisted himself a volunteer. ere he underwent all the fatigues of a ivate sentinel, with the additional isery of receiving no pay, and his friends England gave out that he was shot at e battle of In the meantime, the nobleman pressed s passion with ardour; but during the ogress of his amour, the young lady's ther died, and left her heiress to a forne of fifteen hundred a year. She thought rself now disengaged from her former ission. An absence of two years had in me measure abated her love for the lonel; and the assiduity, the merit, and al regard of the gentleman who still ntinued to solicit her, were almost too owerful for her constancy. Mr. Nash, the meantime, took every opportunity inquiring after Colonel M., and found at he had for some time been returned England, but had changed his name, order to avoid the fury of his creditors, id was entered into a company of strollg players, at that time exhibiting at eterborough. He now therefore thought he owed the lonel, in justice, an opportunity of prooting his fortune, as he had once derived him of an occasion of satisfying his wve. Our Beau therefore invited the lady be of a party to Peterborough, and ffered his own equipage, which was then ne of the most elegant in England, to onduct her there. The proposal being ccepted, the lady, the nobleman, and Ir. Nash arrived in town just as the layers were going to begin. Colonel M., who used every means of emaining incognito, and who was too roud to make his distresses known to ny of his former acquaintance, was now legraded into the character of Tom in the "Conscious Lovers." Miss L. was placed in the foremost row of the spectators, her lord on one side, and the impatient Nash on the other, when the unhappy youth appeared in that despicable situation upon the stage. The moment he came on, his former mistress struck his view; but his amazement was increased when he saw her fainting away in the arms of those who sat behind her. He was incapable of proceeding, and scarcely knowing what he did, he flew and caught her in his arms. 66 Colonel," cried Nash, when they were in some measure recovered, "you once thought me your enemy, because I endeavoured to prevent you both from ruining each other; you were then wrong, and you have long had my forgiveness. If you love well enough now for matrimony, you fairly have my consent, and d―him, say I, that attempts to part you." Their nuptials were solemnized soon after, and affluence added a zest to all their future enjoyments. Mr. Nash had the thanks of each, and he afterwards spent several agreeable days in that society which he had contributed to render happy. I shall beg the reader's patience, while I give another instance, in which he ineffectually offered his assistance and advice. This story is not from himself, but told us partly by Mr. Wood, the architect of Bath, as it fell particularly within his own knowledge, and partly from another memoir to which he refers. Miss Sylvia S--was descended from one of the best families in the kingdom, and was left a large fortune upon her sister's decease. She had early in life been introduced into the best company, and contracted a passion for elegance and expense. It is usual to make the heroine of a story very witty and very beautiful, and such circumstances are so surely expected, that they are scarce attended to. But whatever the finest poet could conceive of wit, or the most celebrated painter imagine of beauty, were excelled in the perfections of this young lady. Her superiority in both was allowed by all who either heard or had seen her. She was naturally gay, generous to a fault, goodnatured to the highest degree, affable in conversation, and some of her letters and other writings, as well in verse as prose, would have shone amongst those of the most celebrated wits of this, or any other age, had they been published. But these great qualifications were marked by another, which lessened the value of them all. She was imprudent. But let it not be imagined that her reputation or honour suffered by her imprudence I only mean, she had no knowledge of the use of money; she relieved distress by putting herself into the circumstances of the object whose wants she supplied. : She was arrived at the age of nineteen, when the crowd of her lovers and the continual repetition of new flattery had taught her to think she could never be forsaken, and never poor. Young ladies are apt to expect a certainty of success from a number of lovers; and yet I have seldom seen a girl courted by a hundred lovers that found a husband in any. Before the choice is fixed, she has either lost her reputation or her good sense; and the loss of either is sufficient to consign her to perpetual virginity. Among the number of this young lady's lovers was the celebrated S- who, at that time, went by the name of "the goodnatured man.' This gentleman, with talents that might have done honour to humanity, suffered himself to fall at length He into the lowest state of debasement. followed the dictates of every newest passion; his love, his pity, his generosity, and even his friendships were all in excess; he was unable to make head against any of his sensations or desires, but they were in general worthy wishes and desires, for he was constitutionally virtuous. This gentleman, who at last died in gaol, was at that time this lady's envied favourite. It is probable that he, thoughtless creature, had no other prospect from this amour but that of passing the present moments agreeably. He only courted dissipation, but the lady's thoughts were fixed on happiness. At length, however, his debts amounting to a considerable , he was arrested and thrown into He endeavoured at first to conhis situation from his beautiful mis on. tress; but she soon came to a knowledg of his distress, and took the fatal resolutio of freeing him from confinement by ds charging all the demands of his creditors Mr. Nash was at that time in Lond and represented to the thoughtless young lady, that such a measure would effece ally ruin both; that so warm a concea for the interests of Mr. S. would in first place quite impair her fortune in de eyes of our sex, and what was wre lessen her reputation in those of hero He added, that thus bringing M from prison would be only a temporary relief; that a mind so generous as would become bankrupt under the lot. gratitude; and instead of improving a friendship or affection, he would of* study to avoid a creditor he could repay; that though small favours pr. 2 good-will, great ones destroy friends These admonitions, however, were de garded, and she found, too late, the dence and truth of her adviser. In sh her fortune was by this means exhaust and, with all her attractions, she her acquaintance began to disesteem in proportion as she became poor. In this situation she accepted Mr. Na invitation of returning to Bath. Her mised to introduce her to the best pany there, and he was assured that merit would do the rest. Upon her first appearance, ladies of the h distinction courted her friendship esteem; but a settled melancholy taken possession of her mind, and amusements that they could propose # sufficient to divert it. Yet still, from habit, she followed the crowd levities, and frequented those places wh all persons endeavoured to forget the selves in the bustle of ceremony show. Her beauty, her simplicity, and unguarded situation soon drew the at tion of a designing wretch, who at t time kept one of the rooms at Bath, who thought that this lady's merit, perly managed, might turn to good count. This woman's name was dat Lindsey, a creature who, though vicio was in appearance sanctified, and, thoug designing, had some wit and humour. e began by the humblest assiduity to In this situation, her detestation of life | rest; but when the weather prevented her usual exercise, and her sleep was thus more difficult, she made it a rule to rise from her bed, and walk about her chamber, till she began to find an inclination for repose. This custom made it necessary for her to order a candle to be kept buining all night in her room; and the maid usually, when she withdrew, locked the chamber door, and pushing the key under it beyond reach, her mistress, by that constant method, lay undisturbed till seven o'clock in the morning, when she arose, unlocked the door, and rang the bell as a signal for the maid to return. This state of seeming piety, regularity, and prudence continued for some time, till the gay, celebrated, toasted Miss Sylvia was sunk into a housekeeper to the gentleman at whose house she lived. She was unable to keep company, for want of the elegancies of dress, which are the usual passports among the polite; and was too haughty to seem to want them. The fashionable, the amusing, and the polite in society now seldom visited her; and from being once the object of every eye, she was now deserted by all, and preyed upon by the bitter reflections of her own imprudence. Mr. Wood and part of his family were gone to London, and Miss Sylvia was left with the rest as a governess at Bath. She sometimes saw Mr. Nash, and acknowledged the friendship of his admonitions, though she refused to accept any other marks of his generosity than that of advice. Upon the close of the day on which Mr. Wood was expected to return from London, she expressed some uneasiness at the disappointment of not seeing him, took particular care to settle the affairs of his family, and then as usual sat down to meditation. She now cast a retrospect over her past misconduct, and her approaching misery; she saw that even affluence gave her no real happiness, and from indigence she thought nothing could be hoped but lingering calamity. She at length conceived the fatal resolution of leaving a life in which she could see no corner for comfort, and terminating a scene of imprudence in suicide. at length something particular in his dress, behaviour, and conversation. His equipage was sumptuous, and he usually travelled to Tunbridge in a post chariot and six greys, with out-riders, footmen, French-horns, and every other appendage of expensive parade. He always wore a white hat; and, to apologize for this singularity, said, he did it purely to secure it from being stolen; his dress was tawdry, though not perfectly genteel; he might be considered as a Beau of several generations, and in his appearance he, in some measure, mixed the fashions of the last age with those of the present. He perfectly understood elegant expense, and generally passed his time in the very best company, if persons of the first distinction deserve that title. But I hear the reader now demand, what finances were to support all this finery, or where the treasures that gave him such frequent opportunities of displaying his benevolence, or his vanity? To answer this, we must now enter upon another part of his character,-his talents as a gamester; for by gaming alone, at that period of which I speak, he kept up so very genteel an appearance. When he first figured at Bath, there were few laws against this destructive amusement. The gaming-table was the constant resource of despair and indigence, and frequent ruin of opulent fortunes. Wherever people of fashion came, needy adventurers were generally found in waiting. With such Bath swarmed; and among this class Mr. Nash was certainly to be numbered in the beginning, only with this difference, that he wanted the corrupt heart too commonly attending a life of expedients; for he was generous, humane, and honourable, even though by profession a gamester. A thousand instances might be given of his integrity, even in this infamous profession, where his generosity often impelled him to act in contradiction to his interest. Wherever he found a novice in the hands of a sharper, he generally forewarned him of the danger; whenever he found any inclined to play, yet ignorant of the game, he would offer his services, and play for I remember an instance to this effect, though too nearly concerned in the them. 66 affair to publish the gentleman's nam whom it is related. In the year I there came to Bath a giddy youth, had just resigned his fellowship at Ox He brought his whole fortune with there; it was but a trifle; however he resolved to venture it all. Good for seemed kinder than could be expec Without the smallest skill in play, a sum sufficient to make any unamt man happy. His desire of gain incres with his gains, in the October follo he was at all, and added four the pounds to his former capital. Mr. Na one night, after losing a considera to this undeserving son of fortune, ia him to supper. 'Sir," cried this b though veteran gamester, "pertas v may imagine I have invited you, ir to have my revenge at home; but 1 so inhospitable an action. Í desea favour of your company to give you. advice, which, you will pardon 3 you seem to stand in need of Yurt now high in spirits, and drawn 2:74 torrent of success; but there will time, when you will repent having 42 calm of a college life for the t profession of a gamester. Ill ref come, as sure as day and night each other. Be therefore advised 124 content with your present gains; persuaded, that had you the England, with your present ignor gaming, it would vanish like a fairy You are a stranger to me; but to e you of the part I take in your wel give you fifty guineas, to forfeit every time you lose two hundred sitting." The young gentleman his offer, and was at last undone! The late Duke of B. being cha? at losing a considerable sum, press Nash to tie him up for the future! playing deep. Accordingly, the gave his Grace a hundred guineas, feit ten thousand whenever he lost to the same amount at play, in one s The duke loved play to distractic soon after, at hazard, lost eight th guineas, and was going to throw for thousand more, when Nash, catching of the dice-box, entreated his Gra reflect upon the penalty if he lost |