ease, the contrast between Westmoreland and London must be very forcible. Notwithstanding the little leisure I, who am under the influence of an unconquerable passion can find, I yet cannot entirely forbear, to observe the sudden change of scene. It seems scarce an hour, since the noise of London, with her ten thousand carriages, rattled in my ears. I listen, and find myself conveyed to the region of silence. The face of the country, likewise, is as different as the most romantic imagination can suppose. No beautiful green hedges intersecting the

plain; no regular rows of stately elms, or spreading oaks, meet the eye, but uncouth stone-walls, vast wilds, and prodigious mountains. Nature appears bleak and unadorned, but grand and capacious. Here and there a straggling peasant is seen, with wooden shoes and lank hair, unconscious of what we call grace and elegance, and cloathed only to defend him from the assaults of the season. Here, ever object is bleached, as it were, by time and simplicity: in London, a satirist would add, every thing is sullied by smoak, hypocrisy, and detraction. Not that I should admire either the wit, or sentiment of the expression.
MEN are naturally much the same, and, considering the vast number of them who inhabit that great city, I am often astonished at the order and tranquillity which are generally preserved. If the

people here are honester or happier, it is because they have not so many temptations. The glittering of equipage, the blaze of tapers, the inchantments of music, routs, balls, operas, gaudy colours, lewd women, decorated in all the emblazonments of art, folly, and fashion; such allurements tempt not, inflame not the imagination of the inhabitants of the wilds in Westmoreland. A small assembly among the gentry and opulent tradesmen, and the players for about six or eight weeks, constitute their highest ideas of public luxury. Neither are those wanting, who inveigh, with great warmth and acrimony, against these amusements, especially the latter. This is not wonderful, when we recollect, that great part of the inhabitants of Kendal are Quakers. They have an excellent faculty of staring at a stranger; and I was questioned to-day, by some of

the old dons, who are the only people here that think themselves privileged to ask impertinent questions, how such a good looking young man as I, as they were pleased to call me, could think of becoming a player.
MY landlord tells me, he doubts I am a wild young dog. His wife