Syrena was a girl, who even in her cradle gave the promise of being one of the completest beauties of the age: as her years increased, and her features grew more settled, her loveliness increased in proportion; but what was most to be admired in her was, that the innocence which is inseparable from infancy, and which is so charming, even in the plainest children, never forsook her countenance; but continued to dwell in every little turn and gesture long after she came to maturity, and had been guilty of things, which one would think should have given her the boldest and most audacious air.

            Her mother, though in very mean circumstances, when she was born, flattered herself with great things, from the growing beauties of her sweet babe; and though she had other children, this alone engrossed her whole attention: I say her mother, for her father, at least him, whom the law would have obliged to own her, died soon after she came into the world; and was incapable of receiving any share either in the profits or disgrace of our little Syrena's future conduct.

            Being therefore left entirely to the care of a parent, who had been a woman of intrigue in her youth, was far from repenting what she had done; and one of the most subtle mistresses in the art of decoying that ever was; the girl was not out of her bib and apron, before she instructed her in lessons, which she had the wicked satisfaction to find, her pupil knew not only how to observe, but also to improve.

            She had not reached her thirteenth year, before she excelled the most experienced actresses on the stage, in a lively assuming all the different passions that find entrance in a female mind. Her young heart affected with imaginary accidents (such as her mother, from time to time, suggested to her might possibly happen) gave her whole frame agitations adapted to the occasion, her colour would come and go, her eyes sparkle, grow languid, or overflow with tears, her bosom heave, her limbs tremble; she would fall into faintings, or appear transported, and as it were out of herself; and all this so natural, that had the whole college of physicians been present, they could not have imagined it otherwise than real.

            Thus was she trained up to deceive and betray all those whom her beauty should allure; but she had not so soon as she wished an opportunity of discovering how well she should behave, when what had yet only been ideal, should come to be real matter of fact; for being very little of her age, the men took no farther notice of her, than to say she was an exceeding pretty miss–a very fine girl–that she'd soon be a delicate creature, and such like compliments, that were nothing to the purpose at present.

            About this time several of her mother's relations, as she had some that lived well, and in good repute, knowing the indigence of their condition, and that they were obliged frequently to have recourse to them, for even the common necessaries of life; began to ask what was intended to be done with Syrena, for the other children were all taken away by the friends of one side or the other; to which finding no determinate answer, they advised the mother, to put her to a milliner or mantua-maker, though the latter they seemed to think most proper; not only because there required no stock to set up with, when her apprenticeship should be expired; but because also they thought that in that business, having to deal only with persons of her own sex, she would be exempt from those temptations her youth and beauty might expose her to in the millinery way. One of these gentlewomen was so good, as to promise she would give fifteen or twenty pounds with her to a mistress she should approve. The mother durst not refuse so kind an offer, and assured her generous kinswoman she would enquire about it; but as this was not the manner in which she desired to dispose of Syrena, she still found excuses to evade the matter, and pretended she could not hear of any fit place.

            As there seemed no room to suspect the truth of what she said, or that a parent would not be glad her child should be in a way of getting a handsome living; this truly honest and worthy friend, took upon herself the trouble of looking out for a mistress, and in a short time was informed of one who had very great business, and was a woman of a sober and unblemished character. The mother of Syrena had no objections to make, the terms between them was soon agreed upon, and the girl was to go one month upon trial; after which the indenture was to be made, and the money paid by the good gentlewoman, who had taken all this pains, out of a conscientious regard for the preservation of a young creature, who she thought deserved it; and who might otherwise be drawn into those snares, too often laid for youth and innocence; especially where there is an indigence of circumstances, and which a much better education than could be expected than poor Syrena had been blessed with, is not always a sufficient guard against.

            Syrena, who had always been soothed with the hopes of living grand, either by marriage, or a settlement from some man of condition, could not endure the apprehension of sitting all day to run seams; nor was her mother better pleased at this putting her girl out of fortune's way, as she called it; but as she resolved it should not be for any continuance, she was the more easy, and made the other so too. Care was to be taken however not to disoblige their benefactress, and they both affected the highest gratitude to her, and satisfaction in what, indeed, was most irksome to them.

            Here one cannot forbear reflecting, how shocking it is, when those who should point out the paths of virtue, give a wrong bent to the young and unformed mind, and turn the pliant disposition to desires unworthy of it; but more especially so in parents, who seem ordained by heaven and nature, to instil the first principles for the future happiness of those to whom they have given being; and though we cannot suppose there are many, who like the mother of Syrena, breed their children up with no other intent than to make them the slaves of vice, yet if we look into the world, and consider the number of unfortunate women (as they justly call themselves) I believe we shall find the miseries these poor creatures undergo, and frequently involve others in, less owing to their own inclinations, than to the too great indulgence and false tenderness of their parents, who flattering themselves that by breeding them like gentlewomen, and setting them forth to the utmost of their abilities, and often beyond, they shall be able to make their fortune by marriage, give them ideas no way to their advantage. What compassion is due to a mother, who having no portion to give her daughter, shall fill her head with notions of quality; give half a crown for the cutting her hair, when perhaps half the money must serve the whole family for a dinner; make her wear gloves, night and day, and scarce suffer her to wash a tea-cup for fear of spoiling her hands; when such one, I say, shall cry out "My daughter is undone," and exclaim against the cruel man that has robbed her of her child; who can avoid accusing her as the first seducer of the girl's virtue, by flattering that pride and vanity in her nature, which without some extraordinary providence, indeed, must render her an easy prey to the first temptation that offered itself. But as this is an observation, that must occur to every thinking person, I ought to beg my reader's pardon for the digression, and return.

            The day prefixed for the departure of Syrena, the good-natured kinswoman came and took her up in a hackney-coach with her mother, who it was thought proper should go with her, and a trunk with a few clothes in it; which the other looking over, told her, it should be better filled if she was a good girl, and behaved herself well. "I hope madam," answered the young dissembler, "I shall never do anything to forfeit the favour of so kind, so generous a relation; and if I could be capable of any pride, it would be to carry myself so, that the mistress I am going to, should give you such a character of me, as would convince you I am not unworthy of your favours. This speech, accompanied with a thousand modest graces, so charmed the person it was addressed to, that she took her in her arms, and said, "I have not the least doubt about me, that you will deserve much more encouragement than is in my power to give; but," added she, "you may be assured I will do all I can." Many such like expressions of kindness on the one side, and gratitude on the other, passed between them till they got to the end of their little journey, where they were very handsomely received and entertained by Syrena's intended mistress; and our young hypocrite so well acted her part, affecting to be highly pleased with the place and person she was to be with, and testifying no farther regret at parting from her mother, than just so much as served to show her duty and affection, that she was looked upon as a prodigy of sweetness and prudence.

            Thus was she entered on a new stage of life; but in what manner she was used, and her behaviour in it, can be no way so well represented, as by her own letters to her mother; the first of which was wrote three days after their separation.

Thursday afternoon.

            Dear mamma,
            Though my mistress has promised I shall go to see you next Sunday, if the weather proves fair, I could not forbear writing to let you know how I go on. I assure you all here are very kind to me in their way. I lie with my mistress's sister, and breakfast and dine with them; for they say they see something in me that deserves better treatment than any they have had before; but all this don't make me easy. I could not live as they do for the world; and I believe I shall find it a hard matter to stay my month out, they are such an old-fashioned sanctified family. Ah, mamma, what a difference between this and home! We rise every morning at eight o'clock, have but one hour allowed for breakfast, and then to work, the same for dinner, and then to work again; no tea in the afternoon, unless company comes, and then at night, my master who has a place in the stamp-office, comes home about nine; he and my mistress and her sister sit down to eat a bit; after that, I and the maid, and an old woman that has been a nurse in the family, are called into prayers, and so to bed. This they call a sober regular life–my stars! Defend me from such formal ways! I am quite sick of them already. I pretend, however, to be mighty well pleased, and do everything they bid me with a great deal of cheerfulness, but it goes so against the grain, that I know I can't do so long. Therefore, dear mamma, remember your promise, and contrive some way to get me as soon as you can out of this bondage, who am,
            Your dutiful daughter,
            Syrena Tricksy.

            P.S. They don't know of my writing, so I have no compliments to send you.

Monday morning.

            Dear mamma,
            I fretted myself almost sick that I could not come to you yesterday; but you saw it rained incessantly. Indeed I long to see you; and the more, because an adventure has happened to me, which I don't know but may come to something, if I manage right. I'll tell you exactly how it was, and then you will be the better able to advise me. You must know, Mrs Martin, my mistress's sister, and I, lie in a dark closet, within the dining-room; so I go there as soon as I am up, to comb my head and put on my cap in the great glass; but I am always in such a hurry to get my things on before my master and mistress comes down, that I never minded who observed me. I was observed however, and all my motions watched, from the first day I came it seems, as you shall hear. Last Friday some silk [thread] being wanting for our business, and the maid sent out another way, my mistress bade me step for it: I asked if she had any particular place where she bought. "Yes," said she, "but that's too far off: for I generally buy a large quantity together of a wholesale dealer in the city, so you may go to the haberdasher's at the corner of the street, and get a quarter of an ounce for the present, but be sure you match the colour;" with these words she gave me a bit of the damask, and I said no more, but went on my errand. The shop was very full of people when I came in, and among them a fine gentleman with a laced hat and cockade, looking over some white stockings, so I was obliged to wait till most of them were dispatched. All the time I could see the gentleman had his eye upon me, and when all were gone besides ourselves and the gentlewoman behind the counter; "How do you do, my pretty neighbour?" said he. "Very well thank you, sir," answered I, blushing and curtsying, as you bid me when any stranger spoke to me, "but I han't the honour to know you. " "For that matter," cried he, "the honour would be wholly on my side, if you had found anything in me to take notice of; but I assure you I lodge just over against you. I was at my window when you came out of a hackney-coach, accompanied by two grave gentlewomen, who I suppose were your relations; I saw too much of you then, not to wish to see more; and I can tell you the pleasure of looking on you, while you are setting those pretty locks of yours in order, has made me an early riser." As he spoke these words, he took hold of my hair as it hung down on my neck, on which I frowned, and snatched away my head. "I did not know that I had any over-lookers," said I, "but since I have, shall be more careful for the future;" then I turned to the woman of the shop, and desired she would make haste to weigh me the silk, for I could not stay. "Nay, my sweet miss," said he," you must not be angry. I mean no harm to you. I have only a small favour to beg of you, which you must not refuse me." "All the favours I can grant" answered I, "must be small indeed." "What I have to ask is such," said he, "it is no more than to choose a pair of stockings; I am obliged to make a present of a pair to a young relation in the country, and would have your fancy;–pray let us see some of your best women's silk stockings," added he, to the woman; "Yes sir," cried she, and immediately turned to reach a parcel down. "I have no judgment, upon my word, sir," answered I, a little peevishly, "so pray madam let me have the silk." "No, no, I bar that," cried he, "first come, first served, you know miss is the rule; and as I was here before you, I insist on having my stockings before you have your silk." I said nothing, but pretended to be mighty uneasy, though in my heart I was well enough pleased. Well! The stockings were brought, and he would have me choose; so I picked out a pair of white with pink clocks, for there was none with silver. He made me a compliment on the genteelness of my fancy; and having paid for them, and two pair of fine thread for himself, "Now, miss," said he, "you must accept of what you have made choice of, and put them into my hand with a squeeze, that made my fingers ache for an hour after. I was very much surprised I confess, not expecting any such thing, but I threw them down on the counter, and told him, I never took any presents from gentlemen: he attempted to force them upon me again and again, but I would not take them all he could do; and there was a great scuffle between us. At last finding I was resolute, he put them with the others into his pocket, and went out of the shop very much out of humour. After he was gone, the woman of the shop began to banter me, and told me, I had made a conquest; but I seemed to think nothing of it, and went away as soon as I had got my silk. I prevented my mistress from asking why I stayed so long, by telling her, the shop was so full of customers, that I could not get served, at which she seemed not at all surprised. When I began to consider on what had passed; I thought I had been a little too rough in the latter part of my behaviour; for though I did not repent my having refused the stockings (though indeed they were very pretty) yet I did, that I had not done it with more complaisance. I verily believed he loved me; but then, as it was a passion of so late a date, it might want a little hope to give it strength; and though it was necessary I should seem coy, yet it should have been such a coyness, as might give him room to fancy I might at last be won; and so have drawn him in by degrees, till it was not in his power to go back. These reflections kept me awake all night, and when morning came, I dressed me at the usual place; but that I might not seem too forward, I put the window-shutters ajar, so that I could see him through the crack, without his distinguishing me. I was glad to find he was at his post, because it looked as if he had not given over all thoughts of me; I wanted to show myself to him too, but could not tell how to do it, without making him think I did it on purpose. At last I bethought me of our cutting-room, which is over the dining-room. I ran up there, and finding the window open, stood some time; but he not expecting me so high, never lifted up his eyes; so I took a bottle with some mint growing in it, and threw it into the street; the clash made him look up; he seemed pleased to find there what he had so long been looking for in another place, and kissed his hand with a great deal of gallantry and tenderness; I seemed confused, but made a bow, and soon after retired. I saw him no more that day, but yesterday and this morning we have exchanged glances several times through the glass. Dear mamma, I am impatient to know if I have behaved hitherto as I should, and how I shall proceed for the future; for I am certain by all his ways he loves me, and that something may be made of him, for he must be rich; he goes as fine as any lord, and has a man that waits upon him: so pray write your mind with all speed, and send it by old Sarah; but don't let her give it me before any of the family, for fear they should expect me to show it them; but she may come as with a compliment from you to them, and to know how I do: so dear mamma, no more at present, but that I am
Your most dutiful daughter,
Syrena Tricksy.

Monday afternoon.

            Dear mamma,
            As I was coming from putting my letter to you, into the post-house; who should I see in the middle of our street, but my lover, (for I think I may venture to call him so now) talking to another fine gentleman. I found he saw me, and it presently came into my head to make trial of his love; so instead of going home, I turned down a little court, I don't know the name of it, but it goes into Covent Garden, and walked slow. I had not gone many paces before I heard somebody come very fast behind me, I did not doubt but it was my gentleman; and so indeed it proved; for having overtaken me, "So my little cruel dear," said he, taking hold of my shoulder, have I caught you abroad once more. I pretended a great fright and confusion, and desired him to take his hand away; "Not without you'll tell me where you are going, and permit me to accompany you," said he. "Lord, sir," cried I, trembling, "I am only going to–to–" "Where my dear?" again demanded he. "Only to Covent Garden," answered I, "for a little fruit." "Well, said he, and where's the mighty business if I go and buy a little fruit too." I begged he would not, told him we should be taken notice of, and said all I could, but he swore he would go with me, and go with me he did. When we came among the stalls he would needs fill my pockets with the best the market afforded; I would have paid for them, but he would not let me, and I thought it would be carrying the thing too far, to make a bustle in that public place; so I thanked him, and was going to take my leave. "No," said he, "since opportunities of speaking to you are so scarce, I am resolved you shan't quit me now, till you have heard what I have to say;" and with these words took hold of my hand, and attempted to pull me into the tavern, at the end of the piazza. I was frighted now in good earnest; and snatching my hand away with more strength than could be expected from me; "What do you mean, sir," said I, "what do you take me for?" "For everything that's charming." answered he "By heaven! I would rather die than offer anything should give you cause of offence; therefore, dear angel, oblige me so far, as to go in for one quarter of an hour only." "Not for a minute," cried I, "I would not set my foot in a nasty tavern for the world." "Fie, fie," said he, "I shall suspect you for a little prude if you talk at this rate," and looked I thought as if he took me to be silly. "I don't care what you suspect me for, answered I," and turned away as if I was going home; but he came after me, and begged that since I would not go into a tavern, I would take a little walk with him in the church-yard, just to let him tell me something. This I was not averse to in my mind, for I longed to hear what he had to say, and so after some seeming reluctance I complied. dear mamma, 'tis impossible for me to repeat the fine things he said to me, and much more to express the tenderness with which he spoke them. He swore that his intentions were perfectly honourable, that his heart told him the first moment he saw my face, that I was the person that must make him happy or miserable for ever, that he could not live without me, and that if he had millions he would lay them at my feet; and sighed at every word as if his heart were breaking. I replied very little to all this, and seemed to think him not in earnest; but then he swore a thousand oaths, and offered to give me any proof I asked, though 'twere his life. Indeed mamma, I never read more moving things in a play, but I did not seem to believe him for all that, and was for hurrying away; but he would not let me go till I had promised to meet him on Wednesday at the same place. So pray let me have your advice before then, whither I shall keep my word or not, and how I shall behave, for I am quite at a loss. Let old Sarah come by all means. I am,
            Dear mamma,
            your most dutiful daughter,
            Syrena Tricksy.

            The answer to these two letters came to her on Wednesday morning by old Sarah, as she had desired, and contained as follows.

Wednesday morning.

            Dear child,
            I received your letters, and am very much surprised to find you have gone so far in a love intrigue, in so short a time: I perceive nothing, however, to condemn in your behaviour hitherto. Your refusal of the stockings, your giving him an opportunity to speak to you a second time, and the confusion you affected were all perfectly right; but I am a little angry that you so readily believe what he says, and seem assured of his affection. I doubt not, but he likes you, but my girl there is a wide difference between love and liking; the chief aim of the one is to make the beloved object happy: that of the other, only to gratify itself. now your business is by an artful management to bring this liking up to love, and then it will be in your power to do with him as you please. but after all, I am afraid he is not worth taking much pains about. If he be only an officer, as I guess by his cockade, 'tis not in his power to make you any settlement as a mistress; and as a wife; when children come, what is a commission! or what a pension to the widow, left perhaps in an advanced age, when 'tis out of one's power to mend one's fortune any way. No, child! 'Tis your business to make hay while the sun shines, for when youth and beauty are no more–farewell hope! I could wish notwithstanding you knew his name, and what family he is of. He may be born to an estate, and if so, his passion must be cultivated. it won't therefore be improper to give him the meeting to-night, but continue your shyness; yet so as to give him some little encouragement too, that you may the easier get out of him what he is; for there is no advising you how to proceed till we know that. be sure you write me a full account of what passes between you, on Thursday morning; and if you come on Sunday, shall then give you instructions suitable to the occasion. I hope you do not stand in need of any caution against indulging a secret inclination for him; for if it once comes to that you are ruined! No woman ever made her fortune by the man she had a sincere value for. Depend upon it, in a little time you will see finer gentlemen than he, be he as fine as he will. Let your own interest be your only aim, think of nothing, but how to be fine yourself; and by keeping in that mind you will be happy, and also make so,
            Your affectionate mother,
            Ann Tricksy.

            P.S. I charge you not to be prevailed upon to go into any house with him. I don't like his asking you to go into the tavern.

            Syrena was rejoiced to find by this, that her mother approved of her keeping the assignation, and had before prepared an excuse to her mistress for going out. Her lover had detained her so long on Monday, that she was obliged to say when she came home, that in stepping out to buy a few apples, she had met with a relation who was very glad to see her, and to hear she was so well put out; and added, that she had bid her come to see her on Wednesday in the afternoon, for she had something to make her a present of. "Well," said Mrs Martin, to whom all this was spoke; I'll prevail on my sister to give you leave, for 'tis pity you should lose anything for not going for it." The good gentlewoman performed her promise, little suspecting the truth, and Syrena put a handsome Paris cap in her pocket, which at her return, she pretended had been given her by her cousin; but in what manner she had in reality been engaged, she gave her mother a faithful account of, the next morning, in these words.

Thursday morning.

            Dear mamma,
            Having your permission I went at the appointed time, which was four o'clock, to the church-yard. My gentleman was there before me, and his eyes sparkled with joy as soon as he saw me coming: he ran to meet me; "My dear angel," said he, "the place we are in will not permit me to throw myself at your feet, as I ought to do, to thank you for this favour; but be assured, my heart is more your slave than ever by this goodness." "Sir, I have been taught," answered I, "that to be guilty of a breach of promise, is the worst thing almost that a person can be guilty of, so have always been careful to avoid that fault with everybody." "But may I not hope," returned he, "that you make some distinction between me and others, and that I owe this blessing to something more than merely a punctilio of honour." "I wish, sir," said I, "that I have not given you too much cause to think so; for as the promise I made you was upon a sort of compulsion, I might have dispensed with it". This I spoke, mamma, in a more tender air than ever I had done before; in hopes by seeming open and unguarded to him, he might in reality be so to me; and indeed it answered my expectation, for on my representing the hazard I run in my reputation, for meeting by appointment with a gentleman, who was a perfect stranger to me, he readily told me his name was Vardine, that he was of French extraction, and his parents among those who quitted their estates and country for the sake of religion; and that they being dead, a person of quality, but who he did not mention, had been so good to procure him a commission in the army: he concluded this narrative of himself with telling me, he expected to be preferred, for at present he was only a lieutenant; and that if I could once be brought to love him, he would make me a happy woman. I thought of you then, mamma, and how lucky it was for me, that I had not set my heart upon him. I took no notice however of the baulk it was to me, but seemed very civil and obliging. He pressed me again to go and take a glass of wine with him, but I absolutely refused that; however, being afraid somebody might happen to come through the church-yard that might know me, we crossed, at my request, the garden, and struck down Southampton Street, and so into the Savoy, where we walked about an hour: he all the time entertaining me with praises of my beauty, and the impression it had made on him. Indeed I stayed with him more to accustom myself to hear fine things said to me, and to practice an agreeable manner of receiving them, than anything else; for as you say, mamma, he is neither fit to make either husband or gallant to one in my circumstances; so I am resolved to think no more on him. I am a little vexed though now, that I did not take the stockings, for as there is nothing to be done with him, 'twould have been clear gains; but I did not know then, his fine clothes deceived me; and methinks I am sorry he has not an estate, for he has wit at will, and I am sure loves me to distraction; and so you would say, if you heard him as I have done. But that's nothing to the purpose, let him love on. I shall trouble my head no more about him, but wait with patience till something offers more to my advantage. He would fain have exacted another promise to meet him again; but I told him it was not in my power, if even I had an inclination, I was much so confined; and if ever he had an opportunity of speaking to me again, it must be chance that gave it him. he complained bitterly of my cruelty; but I was not to be persuaded, and left him as much mortified as the account he had given me of himself had made me. I shall see you on Sunday, and if anything should happen before, then, shall not fail to let you know it. Till then I am,
            Dear mamma,
            your dutiful, but disappointed daughter,
            Syrena Tricksy.

            Hitherto Syrena had disguised nothing either of her behaviour or sentiments from her mother; but a very little time made her alter her conduct in that point, and practice on her some of those lessons of deceit, she had so well instructed her in. Friday in the afternoon, as she was sitting at work, old Sarah came in: she was surprised to see her, and asked hastily if her mamma was well. "Yes, miss," said Sarah, "very well; but hearing me say, I was coming this way, she desired me to call and give you her blessing, with these three yards and a half of dimitty; she says, if your mistress will be so good to cut it out, and give you leave to run it up at a leisure time, it will serve you in a morning to comb your head and wash in, and save your other clothes;" as she delivered this message, she gave her the bundle, and at the same time slipped a letter into her hand unperceived by anybody. The mistress who was present, said Mrs Tricksy was a very good mother; and she might be sure, the girl should find time to make her gown very soon. Sarah then told her, they hoped to see her on Sunday, which the other promised, and the old emissary went away.

            Syrena could not imagine the reason of her mother's writing again, when she expected to see her so soon, and as she thought had no farther advice to give her, concerning the lieutenant; being full of impatience to see what it contained, she soon made a pretence for going out of the room, and read these lines.

Friday noon.

            Dear child,
            Though I hope to see you on Sunday, I could not refrain giving you some remonstrance, which every hour's delay of, may render less effectual. I have not slept all night for thinking on some passages in your letter. Ah, Syrena!–Syrena! I am afraid you like this poor idle fellow, more than it may be you are yet sensible of yourself. Why else are you sorry he has not an estate? If he has not an estate others have, that, perhaps, may find you as agreeable as he has done. you have a very great opinion too of his wit, and of his love; suppose you are not mistaken, he is only the more dangerous, and you ought the less to trust yourself with him. I charge you, therefore, to shun him henceforward. Be as industrious to avoid all opportunities of seeing him, as 'tis probable he will be in seeking them. You already believe all the fine things (as you call them) that he says to you; and knowing by experience, how susceptible the heart is at your years, I tremble lest all the counsel I have given you, should not be sufficient to guard you from the temptation. Don't think child, that I want to lay you under any unreasonable restraints. No, if we were rich and above censure, I should be far from putting any curb to nature; but as all our hopes depend on your making your fortune, either by marriage or a settlement equal to it, you must be extremely cautious of your character till that point is gained, and when once it is, you may freely indulge your inclinations with this, or any other man. you see, I do not, like most parents, want to deprive you of the pleasures of life; I would only have you first attain, that which alone can give them a true relish; for love in rags Syrena, is a most despicable thing. Therefore, I once more lay my commands upon you, to speak no more to this paltry Vardine; and to endeavour with all your might, to conquer whatever sentiments you may be possessed of in his favour, which is all that can restore peace of mind to her, who is at present,
            Your most discontented mother,
            Ann Tricksy.

            P.S. Come as early as you can on Sunday.

            Syrena was not very well pleased at the contents of this letter: she thought there was no occasion for this caution; and that she had said enough to convince her mother, that she had no regard for anything in competition with her interest. "Why then," said she, "must I be debarred from speaking to a man that loves me? A little conversation with him sometimes would certainly instruct me better how to behave to the sex, than a thousand lessons; besides, I might get some small presents from him; but she will needs have it that I am in love, forsooth! Not I, indeed, I did not care if he was hanged for that matter; but there is something pleasingly amusing, in being addressed by a man that admires one, and can talk well. In the insipid life I lead here, 'tis necessary I should have some diversion to keep up my spirits. she owns my conduct has been perfectly right hitherto, why then should it not be so still? Why must I run away whenever I see him, as if I were afraid he would devour me? Indeed, I shan't make myself such a fool. If fortune or his own endeavours throw him in my way, I shall hear what he has to say, and it may be manage, so as to get something of him, poor as she thinks him."

            Thus did vanity, self-conceit and avarice, tempt her to despise the admonitions of her crafty mother, and make her resolve to act henceforward of herself.

            When Sunday morning came, as she stood drawing on her gloves at the window, she saw him at his ready dressed; she presently imagined he was ready so early, for no other reason than to watch her going abroad; but she had not indulged herself with this idea above three minutes, before it was entirely dashed: he took up his hat and cane and went out of doors, without so much as looking up. "Ha!," cried she in a pet, "is it so, you are strangely altered methinks. mamma need not have been so fearful. The coldness of my behaviour last time, has certainly made him resolve to give over all thoughts of me."

            So instead of thinking she had been too kind, she was beginning to repent of not having been kind enough; and in the room of avoiding her man, was fearful of nothing so much, as not being pursued by him. In this ill-humour she went out of her mistress's house; but was no sooner in the street than she perceived the person who had occasioned it, at the corner of that court, where he had once before overtaken her. Her heart bounded with joy at the sight of him, not doubting if he stood there for any other purpose, than to observe which way she went. She deceived not herself in this; he soon came up with her, and accosted her with more gallantry than ever. She pretended to be greatly alarmed at seeing him; entreated he would leave her, and told him she had suffered enough already by the little acquaintance she had with him. "Somebody," said she, "saw us together in the church-yard, and told my mamma, who is so angry, that she vows she won't own me as her child, if ever I speak to you again". "Your mamma," answered he, "is ignorant of the respect I have for you. Besides, all old people have odd notions in their heads–but, my charmer," continued he," this might have been avoided if you had complied with my request, and gone into a tavern." "O! That might have been worse," cried she. "Much better for us both," said he; "at least if I am not the object of your aversion; for you would have been convinced of the sincerity of my passion, and I should have been happy in your being so; but I'll warrant," added he, "the same scrupulous modesty that made you refuse me then, will not suffer you now to accept of a coach where you are going." "Not for the world," replied she hastily, "I am going to my mamma, who expects me; and if she should send anybody to meet me (as 'tis likely she may, for she is violently suspicious since she heard that story) I should be undone; so pray, sir, don't go any farther with me." He seemed to believe what she said; but swore that whatever was the consequence he would not quit her, till she promised to meet him in the afternoon. "O dear!" cried she, "then we may be seen again." "No, said he, "I'll be in the Birdcage Walk in St. James's Park, about four o'clock, and if you'll come we'll strike up into the fields behind Buckingham House, where we may be private enough." "Well," said she, "I like this better than going into a tavern, and if I can get away from mamma, I will do thus much to oblige you." He called this but a half assurance, nor would leave her till she protested in the most solemn manner, that she would be at the place he mentioned. Had he known her mind, he might have spared himself the trouble of exacting a vow from her, for the fear of losing the first lover she ever had, rendered her in so complying a humour, that she was ready to grant almost anything to secure him.

            The reception she had from her mother, was such as she expected from her letter; but by telling part of the truth, she so cunningly concealed the rest, that artful as the person she had to deal with, was, there remained not the least suspicion in her breast. "The foolish fellow watched me out," said she, "but I gave him such looks, as I believe put half what he intended to say to me, out of his head; but yet he would come with me, and talk his stuff, so I told him we had been seen together in the church-yard, and you had been made acquainted with it, and were very angry; and for my own part I did not like to be followed about, and did not know what he meant by it; but whatever designs he had upon me, he should find himself disappointed; that I could neither like him nor love him, nor desired to be loved by him, and a great deal more to the same purpose. And at last he said; he had been a fool to trouble himself about me, that I was a proud, pert minx, and so went strutting away highly affronted. I dare say, mamma, I am quite rid of him now, and I hope you will be so of all your fears for me." Mrs Tricksy was perfectly well satisfied with this account, and after a little ridicule on the folly of women, who suffer themselves to be seduced by fine speeches only, they fell into other conversation, such as the affairs of the family Syrena was in, and the methods that were to be taken for her coming away at the month's end; till the young gipsy remembering her assignation, said "What a sad thing it is to be confined, mamma, now I have not seen you for almost for a fortnight, and must not stay with you but a small part of the day." "How so child," cried the mother? "Why," said the other, "my mistress dines abroad on an engagement made long ago, and poor Mrs Martin is almost dead with the headache, so she begged I would come home soon, for 'tis our maid's Sunday to go out, and she should be alone." "I thought you had an old nurse in the house," said Mrs Tricksy. "Yes," answered Syrena, "but she has been these two days with her grandson who has the smallpox." "Well then," returned the mother, "I would not have you do anything to disoblige Mrs Martin, or any of them, because they may give you a bad word to your cousin. You shall go as soon as dinner is over." When the time grew near, Syrena played loath to depart to the life, and seemed ready to whimper, but her mother forced her away; and she departed laughing in her sleeve, and applauding her own ingenuity in outwitting so penetrating a judgment.

            Vardine was in the park before the hour prefixed, and Syrena scarce exceeded it; the afternoon being gloomy, there was but little company, especially on that side, so they chose to entertain each other there, rather than walk farther; but this was no sooner agreed upon, than there fell so violent a shower, that had it continued, the trees under which they stood for shelter, would not have defended them from being wet.

            Happily however for them, and all that were abroad, the sky cleared up, yet not enough to give any prospect of a fair evening, so he could not desire her to stay, without showing he had little regard of her health; they walked pretty fast till they came to Spring Garden, when it began to rain again: he called a coach, but there was none in hearing, and they were obliged to stand up in a tavern entry, though when she ran in, she knew it not for such; and when she did, would have quitted it, though all the doors beside being shut, she saw no other refuge from the storm. Nothing could have happened more lucky for Vardine's designs: he had now a very plausible pretence for persuading her to go into a room. "It would be a piece of strange affectation," said he, "to choose to stand in a place where we are exposed to the view of everybody; (and you see how many people pass) rather than go with a man who loves you, and whose every action you may command." With such like arguments she was at last prevailed upon, and he ordered some wine to be made hot with spice and sugar. After they had drank a glass or two, "Now," said he, "where is the mighty business of going into a tavern? Is it not better sitting here than strolling the streets, as if no house would receive us?" "'Twould be more comfortable indeed," answered she, "if it were not for the scandal." "There is no scandal in it," cried he; "beside, who need know it, unless we tell it ourselves, for the drawers here are as secret as confessors." "That may be," said she, in a sort of childish tone; "but methinks I am ashamed to know I am here myself." "That's for want of knowing the world, my dear," replied he. "In such weather as this the veriest puritan would have made no scruple. Did not Dido, though a great queen, run into a cave with a wandering soldier to avoid a storm." "Great folks may do anything," said she, "but pray what is that story?" "I'll tell you anon, my dear," answered he, "but first pray ease me of this luggage. I have had your stockings in my pocket all day, and now I desire you'll take charge on them yourself." With these words he laid them on the table before her. "My stockings," said she, "indeed they are none of mine; and I won't have them." "But you shall, and you must," replied he, "you chose them, and they are bought and paid for;–but maybe you think they won't fit. I should know that, because they may be changed. I can tell in a moment, by grasping your pretty leg." Here he made an offer of doing as he said, but she resisted with all her strength, crying out at the same time, "Hold! Hold! I will have them–they will fit;" and glad enough she was to take them, though in reality a little frightened at the manner in which he forced them upon her. He found she trembled, and would not alarm her modesty too much at once, so drawing back his hand, "Don't be under any apprehensions my sweet innocence," said he; "upon my soul I mean no hurt to you, and did this only to oblige you to accept my little present." "Well, I'll believe you this time," answered she, "but pray don't offer such freedoms any more, for if you do, I'll never speak to you again." He then made her drink another glass of wine in token of forgiveness; and that being followed by several others, her young brain unaccustomed to such an increase of heat, began to grow confused, and she lost all memory of the place, or danger she was in: he plied her all the time with protestations of love, and sometimes by way of parenthesis gave her a kiss, which he had the satisfaction to find she less and less resisted.

            How ought, therefore, the fair sex to beware of indulging even the very temptation of a vice, which I am sorry to say is at present too prevalent among them. I need not say I mean that of drinking, which indeed opens the way to all others; the example before us of a girl trained up in precepts directly opposite, to giving way to any tender inclinations, and taught that the only thing she had to avoid, was the bestowing any favours but where interest directed; now, by the mere force of liquor, betrayed to yield to the impulse of nature, and resign that jewel, on which all her hopes of living great in the world depended, to a person from whom she could have no expectations, and for whom what she felt could not justly be called love; this, I say, may be a warning to all of what principles and station whatever; since there are dangers arising from this pernicious custom, as well in the closet as in the street, though perhaps of a different nature.

            The young officer perceiving the ground he gained, did not fail pursuing the attack, and bombarded her so fast with speeches out of plays, tender pressures, kisses, and the more intoxicating juice of the grape, that at length the town was wholly his. The momentary rapture over, the power of reflection returned to this unhappy ruined girl; she reproached him and herself; she wept; she exclaimed;–but it was now too late. He said a good many fond things to her, but he made a jest of her complaints; "Why, my dear," cried he, "you desired to know the story of Dido and Æneas, and I have more than told it to you, for I have acted it to the life." "O wicked! Wicked man!" cried she, and sobbed most bitterly. He then endeavoured all he could to set her mind at ease: he made a thousand vows of everlasting constancy, and that when his affairs were once settled, he would make her his wife; at last she grew a little more composed; and it being now dark, began to think what excuse she should make at home for being out so late; her ready invention soon supplied her with one, and a coach being called, he set her down at the end of the street, after having made her promise to meet him again the first opportunity, which she was to let him know by a sign from the window.

            The good people at home were very much frighted at her staying so late, for it was near nine, and as much rejoiced to see her safe returned: she told them, that being just coming away, the rain obliged her to stay; and that afterwards a person who happened to dine that day with a lodger in the same house, offered to set her down if she would stay her time; "So madam, said she, "I accepted her favour, as it was a bad evening; and hope you would not be offended." "Not in the least," answered her mistress, "I am very glad it happened so."

            As Syrena had a share of understanding uncommon for her years, she could not recollect what had passed between her and Vardine, without a great deal of uneasiness; but her vivacity and strength of spirits soon threw it off. She considered that as it was past recall, to hurt her eyes and complexion, by crying and fretting, would increase not diminish her misfortune; and therefore resolved to be entirely secret in the matter, and get as much as she could from him, in recompense for what he had robbed her of. How she should contrive any future meetings with him, was now the chief employment of her thoughts; but though she racked invention to the utmost pitch, she could not hit on anything that had not some danger of discovery. She saw her lover the next morning at his window as usual, but had no sign to make but a melancholy shaking her head, accompanied with a look that told him, it was not owing to her inclinations, that they had not a nearer intercourse. The next day it was the same, and probably would have continued so till Sunday, had not fortune befriended her endeavours.

            A gown being in hand, Syrena was ordered to go to the lady's house for silver lace to trim it. What would she not have given to have known this in the morning,–but it was now too late. Vardine was abroad, and she knew not where to send to him. It came into her head however as she was in the street, not to go, but to walk about a little, and return home, pretending the lady had not bought the trimming, and had bid her come for it the next day at three in the afternoon: this was feasible enough, and passed current with people that had not the least suspicion of her conduct.

            Possession had not so far abated the fervour of her gallant's affections, but that he attended the window as before, and she had the opportunity of making him know he might see her in the afternoon; which was done by pointing to the street, and holding up three fingers, in signification that three o'clock was the time. He expressed his satisfaction by a thousand tender gestures; but she was obliged to leave him in the midst of them, fancying she heard somebody coming upstairs. She had indeed more than ordinary reason now for being cautious, not only because guilt naturally makes people so, but also, because his standing so much at the window had been taken notice of: the maid told her one day as she was washing her hands in the kitchen, that she was sure she had got a sweetheart since she came. "A sweetheart!" said Syrena. "What do you mean, Margaret?" "I mean as I say," answered Margaret; "the gentleman that lodges over the way is as surely in love with you, as I am alive." "I never go to the door or into the parlour in a morning, but I see him staring at our windows, as if he'd lose his eyes; and it must be for you, for there's no other young body in the house;" "Why not yourself," said Syrena, "you are not old." "No, no, I am not so vain," cried Margaret; "but if I were, he takes care to undeceive me; for the minute he sees me he pops his head in." Syrena laughed, and the maid being called, there passed no more between them; but this served her as a good warning to be circumspect; for she very well knew that if her conversation with him were once but so much as suspected, it would break the neck of her designs every way.

            When it grew near three Syrena reminded her mistress, that it was the time for her to go; and received the praise her supposed diligence seemed to deserve. Vardine was at the usual corner, and having a coach in waiting at the end of the street, they both stepped into it, and drove immediately to the same tavern they had been in before.

            The pains she took for this interview may very well be taken for the effect of love, as indeed it was; but not of the man, though something belonging to him. She had seen a very genteel snuff-box in his hand of pinchbeck's metal, which she mistook for gold: this box had run in her head ever since Sunday; and she languished with impatience for an opportunity, which she hoped would make her mistress of it.

            She was not deceived in the complaisance of her lover, though she was in the value of the thing she had set her heart upon; for by praising and looking earnestly on it, she so artfully insinuated she had a mind to it, that he soon made her a present of it. They passed about an hour together, in the manner persons usually do, who see each other on the terms they did; and parted with a promise of meeting at the same place at four o'clock, as she came from her mother's next Sunday. After which she went on the business she was sent, and was dispatched time enough not to make her mistress think she loitered; though, to excuse her stay, she pretended she had waited a good while before the lady could be spoke with.

            She had now nothing to think on, but what she should wheedle him out of next: he had no ring on his finger, no laced ruffles, or anything fit for her to ask. She therefore contrived a stratagem to get a small sum of money from him (for she did not imagine he could spare a large one) and executed it in this manner.

            When she came to the tavern, where he was ready to receive her, she put on so wild confused a countenance, as made him, when about to take her in his arms, start back and ask if she were not well. "Yes," said she, "I am well enough in health–but the saddest accident–O that I had been sick, or dead, or anything, so that I had not come out this day!" Then she threw herself into a chair, and burst into tears. He pressed her very endearingly to tell him the occasion; but all the answer she gave him was, "O! I must never look my mamma in the face again. O! I am undone–I durst not go home–I cannot tell what to say, that will pacify my mistress–sure I am the most unfortunate creature in the world." "What, my dear," said he, "nothing concerning me, I hope, is discovered?" "No," replied she sobbing, "but I'll tell you the whole business. You must know, continued she, that my mamma, borrowed five guineas of my mistress, upon a very great exigence: she gave her a note for it, and a time was prefixed for the payment; it became due yesterday, and my mamma having the money ready, desired the note might be sent by me, as I was to come this day. O! Unhappy day that it is to me, I'm sure." "Here she feigned as if she could not speak again; but then seeming to recover a little, "in short, said she, "I carried the note, my mamma gave the money to me, and I put it into my purse, where I had a few pieces of silver of my own; but they are all gone together. Either some rogue has picked my pocket, or I have pulled out the purse with my handkerchief." "An ugly accident indeed, my dear," replied he gravely, "but might have happened to anybody. You must even tell the truth." "O! cried she, "'tis a sign you don't know their tempers; they would tear me in pieces. My mistress would think it a trick between mamma and me, because I carried the note; and mamma beside would be obliged to pay. O! What shall I do? I'll never go home again, unless I have the money." She run on in this manner for a good while, without his offering to interrupt her; which she had cunning enough to look on as no good omen of success; and finding she must speak more plain, "O! If you loved me half so well as I do you," said she, "you would not see me fret so; you'd give me or lend me such a trifle." "I protest, child," replied he, "I have not so much about me." "Well," said she, "you may leave me at the corner of our street while you fetch it." "That I would willingly do," returned he, "but if you must know, I am not at present master of so much." "But you can borrow it," cried she; "Nor can I borrow it anywhere that I know of," answered he; "I never asked such a favour of anybody but our agent, and he happens to be out of town; so you had better own the truth." "I dare not," said she, and you only persuade me to run the risk of it, because you don't care to part with your money." "Upon my soul," answered he, "I have it not; see here," continued he, pulling out his purse, and throwing two guineas on the table; "this is my whole stock, besides a little silver in my pockets." "But you have a gold watch," returned she, "and anybody–the very people of this house, I'll warrant you, would lend you five pounds upon it till your agent comes to town." "Excuse me, my dear," replied he somewhat haughtily, "I never pawn, nor can I part with my watch on any consideration; we in the army are obliged to observe time." "Well," cried she, sobbing again, "I see that I am miserable. You have ruined me, and now neither love nor pity me." "That's unkind, "said he, "I would serve you if it were in my power, but this you ask is not. If these two pieces," added he, would make your mistress easy–" "Give them to me," interrupted she, "I'll tell her, mamma received but half what she expected, and could send no more than two, but she should have the other three some day this week; but then you must be sure to get them for me." He would fain have persuaded her to have told the accident; he said he could not be assured of receiving money so soon, and would be loath to disappoint her. In fine, they had many arguments, he to keep, and she to get the two guineas. At length he found himself forced in a manner to recede, and she pocketed the two pieces. "Well," said she, "I'll tell my mistress, that I forgot to bring back the note; but, my dear, dear Vardine, don't fail to procure me the other three by Tuesday." "I can't promise it so soon as then," replied he, you must say Thursday or Friday" "Ay, let it be Friday," since she found she could do no better, she urged it no farther, and began to grow more cheerful, but the young officer could not so readily dissipate his gloom: he was not quite satisfied with the story she told him, and began to fear his little mistress would become too expensive to him. He concealed his sentiments, however, as well as he was able, and when the close of day reminded them of parting, ordered a coach, and set her down at the same place where he had taken her up. As she took her leave, "Remember Friday, and the three guineas," said she, "I shall look for you at the corner of the court, about ten in the morning, and if you fail, will never speak to you again." "And if I do, child," answered he, "I'll never venture to look thee in the face again."

            Now did Syrena glory in the power of her beauty and invention, she thought it impossible for mankind to refuse her anything; and though it was with difficulty she had gained her point with Vardine, she imputed it only to the scantiness of his fortune; and did not doubt but to find articles to get greater sums of him, though he even sold his commission to raise them for her: but her triumph lasted not long. Friday morning Syrena happening to come into the dining-room, before the maid had quite finished putting it in order, "O miss!" cried she, "you have lost your admirer" "I did not know I ever had any," answered Syrena; "but what do you mean, Margaret?" "Why," said she, "the gentleman that I told you of over the way, that used to stare up so." Syrena's heart fluttered at these words, and in the present confusion, she cried hastily, "Well, what of him?" "He has left our neighbourhood," replied Margaret; "as I was washing our steps about an hour ago, I saw a hackney coach at the door with a portmanteau and other luggage before it, and presently in stepped the beau, and cried, 'Drive away coachman.'" "Pish!" said Syrena, "thou art always troubling one with some stuff or other; what was the fellow to us, I wonder." She said no more, nor, indeed, was she able, nor to stay any longer in the room, without discovering her disorder. She ran upstairs, though she knew not why, she doubted not the truth of what the maid had said. She saw the window open, but no lover appear. She sat down, pondering on this adventure, at last recollected herself. "Well," said she, "a thousand accidents may have obliged him to quit his lodging, but that does not follow, that he must therefore quit me." He will certainly be at the place he promised at the appointed time. I will at least make myself easy till then."

            Soon as she heard the clock strike ten she ran out, pretending she had broke her lace, and must go to buy another; but no Vardine could she see. She stayed a few minutes walking about the court, flattering herself still with the hope that he would come; but instead of him, a sort of ill-looked fellow came up to her, and asked if her name was not Syrena Tricksy, and on her saying it was, gave her a letter, which she hastily opening, found in it these few, and little pleasing lines.

            "Dear girl,
            "Our regiment is ordered to the west, and thence, I believe, to Ireland: I was too lately apprised of it to take my leave of you–make yourself as easy as you can–when I come back I shall with pleasure renew my acquaintance with you,
            "Yours, &c.
            "J. Vardine.

            "P.S. I am sorry I could not comply with your request."

            Rage did not so far bereave her of her senses, but that she asked the fellow a great many questions, but he either could not or would not answer anything to the purpose; and all she could get from him was, that the letter was given him by a gentleman at a coffee-house, who ordered him to wait in that court till she came, and deliver it to her.

            It must be confessed, this action of Vardine's was cruel and ungrateful. What must have become of the undone and forsaken Syrena, had she been possessed of that softness and tenderness which some are; but as she was capable of loving in reality nothing but herself, and carried on a correspondence with him merely on a mercenary view, she was not much to be pitied. The mortification of her pride and avarice, however, gave her agonies which she before had no notion of; and made her the more easily counterfeit an indisposition, which was the pretence agreed on between her and her mother, for her going home at the month's end; and it is certain, she grew so thin and pale, that the mistress herself imagined that sitting so close to her work had prejudiced her health. She had the good-nature to offer her the advice of a physician, but could not help agreeing with everybody who were consulted about it, that it was most proper she should be with her mother, as best acquainted with her constitution. In fine, home she was brought, nor could that kinswoman who had recommended her, take it amiss, when she saw how ill she looked; a violent pain in her head and stomach was the complaint; and it seemed reasonable to believe, that stooping forward to her work, had occasioned it. There was again some talk of putting her to a milliner, which was indeed what Mrs Tricksy aimed at; but the reasons before alleged against that business, being now repeated, stopped her mouth; and nothing seemed now so proper for her, as to wait upon a lady. All the relations in general approved of this, and promised to enquire among their acquaintance for a place for her.

            In the meantime Syrena was so far from recovering her former colour and vivacity, that she looked worse and worse; and had sometimes such sick fits, that her mother began to be afraid she had counterfeited a disorder so well, as to bring it upon her in good earnest: but her penetration did not permit her to continue long in the dark as to the cause. She soon discovered, that a too near conversation with a man had made the alteration; and not doubting but it was Vardine, accused her in such plain and positive terms, that the girl had not courage to deny it. She searched her trunk, and found the stockings, snuff-box, and two guineas, with the letter, which not only let her into the whole mystery of her undoing, but her being forsaken also. It would be tiresome to repeat the exclamations she made, or the reproaches poor Syrena was obliged to bear; 'tis sufficient to say, that the first fury of her resentment over reason resumed its place, and as what was past could not be recalled, all that could be done, was to endeavour to alleviate the misfortune as much as possible: to that end, she prepared a strong potion, which the girl very willing drank, and being so timely given, had the desired effect, and caused an abortion, to the great joy of both mother and daughter. After all was over, and Syrena pretty well recovered, Mrs Tricksy could not forbear renewing her upbraidings; but the other confessing herself to blame, and professing her future conduct should retrieve all, at length mollified her passion; and the more so, because though she had suffered herself to be beguiled by that young officer, yet her management of him afterwards showed the instructions given her had not been thrown away; and that she had both a genius and inclination to make the most of her men, and now an opportunity offered to prove her abilities that way.

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