The Contrast | Page 7

new
cap for Miss Bloomsbury, which, as it
was very dressy, it is very
probable is designed for a
wedding cap. Now, as she is to be married,
who can
it be to but to Mr. Indigo? Why, there is no other

gentleman that visits at her papa's.
LETITIA
Say not a word more, Charlotte. Your intelligence
is so direct and
well grounded, it is almost a pity that
it is not a piece of scandal.
CHARLOTTE
Oh! I am the pink of prudence. Though I cannot
charge myself with
ever having discredited a tea-party
by my silence, yet I take care
never to report any
thing of my acquaintance, especially if it is to

their
credit,--discredit, I mean,--until I have searched to
the bottom
of it. It is true, there is infinite pleasure
in this charitable pursuit. Oh!
how delicious to go
and condole with the friends of some backsliding

sister, or to retire with some old dowager or maiden
aunt of the
family, who love scandal so well that they
cannot forbear gratifying
their appetite at the expense
of the reputation of their nearest relations!
And then
to return full fraught with a rich collection of circumstances,

to retail to the next circle of our acquaintance
under the strongest
injunctions of secrecy,--ha, ha,
ha!--interlarding the melancholy tale
with so many
doleful shakes of the head, and more doleful "Ah!

who would have thought it! so amiable, so prudent
a young lady, as
we all thought her, what a monstrous
pity! well, I have nothing to
charge myself
with; I acted the part of a friend, I warned her of
the
principles of that rake, I told her what would be
the consequence; I
told her so, I told her so."--Ha,
ha, ha!
LETITIA
Ha, ha, ha! Well, but, Charlotte, you don't tell
me what you think of
Miss Bloomsbury's match.
CHARLOTTE
Think! why I think it is probable she cried for a
plaything, and they
have given her a husband. Well,
well, well, the puling chit shall not
be deprived of her
plaything: 'tis only exchanging London dolls for

American babies.--Apropos, of babies, have you
heard what Mrs.
Affable's high-flying notions of delicacy
have come to?
LETITIA
Who, she that was Miss Lovely?
CHARLOTTE

The same; she married Bob Affable of Schenectady.
Don't you
remember?
Enter SERVANT.
SERVANT.
Madam, the carriage is ready.
LETITIA
Shall we go to the stores first, or visiting?
CHARLOTTE
I should think it rather too early to visit, especially
Mrs. Prim; you
know she is so particular.
LETITIA
Well, but what of Mrs. Affable?
CHARLOTTE
Oh, I'll tell you as we go; come, come, let us
hasten. I hear Mrs.
Catgut has some of the prettiest
caps arrived you ever saw. I shall die
if I have not
the first sight of them. [Exeunt.
[page intentionally blank]
[illustration omitted]
SCENE II.
A Room in VAN ROUGH'S House
MARIA sitting disconsolate at a Table, with Books, &c.
SONG.

I.
The sun sets in night, and the stars shun the day;
But glory remains
when their lights fade away!
Begin, ye tormentors! your threats are in
vain,
For the son of Alknomook shall never complain.
II.
Remember the arrows he shot from his bow;
Remember your chiefs
by his hatchet laid low:
Why so slow?--do you wait till I shrink from
the pain?
No--the son of Alknomook will never complain.
III.
Remember the wood where in ambush we lay,
And the scalps which
we bore from your nation away:
Now the flame rises fast, you exult
in my pain;
But the son of Alknomook can never complain.
IV.
I go to the land where my father is gone;
His ghost shall rejoice in the
fame of his son:
Death comes like a friend, he relieves me from pain;

And thy son, Oh Alknomook! has scorn'd to complain.
There is something in this song which ever calls
forth my affections.
The manly virtue of courage,
that fortitude which steels the heart
against the keenest
misfortunes, which interweaves the laurel of glory

amidst the instruments of torture and death, displays
something so
noble, so exalted, that in despite of the
prejudices of education I
cannot but admire it, even
in a savage. The prepossession which our
sex is
supposed to entertain for the character of a soldier is,
I know,
a standing piece of raillery among the wits.
A cockade, a lapell'd coat,
and a feather, they will
tell you, are irresistible by a female heart. Let
it be
so. Who is it that considers the helpless situation of
our sex,
that does not see that we each moment stand
in need of a protector,

and that a brave one too?
Formed of the more delicate materials of
nature,
endowed only with the softer passions, incapable,
from our
ignorance of the world, to guard against the
wiles of mankind, our
security for happiness often
depends upon their generosity and
courage. Alas!
how little of the former do we find! How inconsistent

! that man should be leagued to destroy that
honour upon which
solely rests his respect and
esteem. Ten thousand temptations allure
us, ten
thousand passions betray us; yet the smallest deviation
from
the path of rectitude is followed by the contempt
and insult of man,
and the more