BOOK THE FIRST.

CHAPTER III.

ARGUMENT.

Address to the British Fair"-The character of Hodges more fully developed-His felicitous project-Its success with Fiam-Fiam's character vindicated; and an unfortunate habit in the private life of that gentleman publicly exposed-The unjust and frivolous tattle of the Fashionable Circles in Bancok-The conversation of the Twins, and the design therein, unfolded-Lines on the ancient Magians-Their pretended successors-The adventurous expedition of the brothers, with all they saw by the way-The Hindoo Temple-Its mysterious tenant— The incantation, and the prophecy.

CHAPTER III.

You know those queer old Novels found in
Some Watering Place's Athenæum,
A marble, motley coat, half bound in,

And oh! so thumbed- I think I see 'em!-
All about love, Ma'am, and the "Major,"
We Novel-wrights have now grown sager.
Majors, indeed!—the vulgar churls!—
We make your lowest flirters Earls.
You know the books I mean-too full
Of curious phrases to be dull.
Their oddities respect bespeak,

Like images grotesque on China;
If manly, writ by "Captain Meek,"
If moving-why, by "Jane Selina ;"
Mid these, my fairer readers, you

May note at times the charming writer

Improves his tone, and at some new

Chapter, grows suddenly politer; Makes female excellence his care, And dashes off, "Ye British Fair!"

This plan resolved to follow him in,
Hear me one word, sweet countrywomen!
I hear a certain novel lately

Sent forth by me, displeased you greatly;
You thought the gentry of the road
Should choose their words more à-la-mode;
You felt indignant that such ug-

Ly words my vulgar folks should utter,
And Peggy Lobkins, of "the Mug,”
Be less refined than Lady Flutter ;-

And

you were right I must allow,

But I will mend my manners now,

Bid Nature seek some other place,

Paint man no more-but sketch "his Grace;"

Mince truth like any other Mister

And shrink, smirk, drivil into L-r.

Soft sex, I yet recall the hours

When ye gave life its only flowers;
Nor truant hope once pass'd the ground,
To which your smiles had set the bound.
And shall I now forego the dream,

That ev'ry mortal bard hath fired;

Nor think those starry eyes will beam

Upon the verse they first inspired?
No! my sweet friends, altho' at times

A Godhead more severe and stupid,
May seize some dozen of my rhymes,
The prettiest still are kept for Cupid.
I own the chapter you have past,
Was rather of too coarse a cast,
And feel your interest poorly lodges,
In such a tenement as Hodges.
But patience, patience, and proceed
When once in England we are landed,
Such pretty things you'll find-indeed

I'm sure you'll own it, if you're candid!

A general satire, quite refined,

But also stinging, on mankind;

Some things especially I've painted,

With which "your Graces" are acquainted,
Smart, striking, side-long, SILHOUETTE touches---
To charm the haut goût of a Duchess.
One draught of that sweet inebriety-
The best champaigne of "good society;"
And just to zest the "glass of fashion,"
Un petit verre of cream of passion;
And, that your interest mayn't be lost,
Our love shall be so nicely cross't-
Then, too, a mystery-and a dear
(But not too shocking) dash of fear ;---