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acquitted himself almost as well as he could have done

himself. Doddington joined us in the course of the By James Miller.

evening, and attempted to mitigate the severity of Quin's I waked and was wearie,

observations, but without effect, for he continued game I sleepit, and then

to the last, and contended that the success of the tragedy A voice at the window

was owing entirely to its own merits, and was very Awoke me again,

little promoted by the efforts of the actors. Crying, “ Rouse thee, my Mary,

At last Quin's natural benevolence conquered his For lang I hae been

spleen, and he rejoiced as much as I could possibly have Awaiting without, and

done at my triumph. I had previously agreed to sup I fain would be in."

with him, be the event what it might; he very justly 'Twas sweet to my ear as

remarking, whether Tancred was damned or not, supper The voice o' the grove,

was a damned good meal, that could not be dispensed with, When its bosom is burst

and that a glass of sack punch would exhilarate my spirits Wi' the nightingale's love;

if depressed, or heighten them if elated. Accordingly, I knew 'twas his voice, for off we set, and took Doddington with us, and I have not

Quin I'd heard it sae oft

passed so pleasant an evening for many years. In accents sae thrilling,

was in the best spirits, and Doddington in excellent buMelodious, and, soft.

mour, laying aside his usual pomposity of manners.

Quin became amazingly affectionate; first of all it was I flew to the window

Doddy,” and then “ Bubb”—a freedom which the As swift as the gleam

courtier, who is indeed a good creature, pocketed. When O’ the moon frae a dark cloud

the evening bad advanced, I ventured to propose the Obscuring her beam ;

health of Garrick, to whom I am under great obligations, Could my fond heart deceive me?

and Quin, without hesitation, pledged a bumper to the I flew to the bar,

toast, confessing that Davy had something in him after But judge my surprise when

all; “but had I been Tancred,” said he," by GI No Jamie was there.

would have electrified them !” and with that he gave us

some exbibitions, which nearly made Doddington and myYe maidens, forgive me,

self die with laughter, for the love speeches he had selected For what could I do?

were given in the same manner as if he were about to So sweet was the vision,

address the Roman senate. Fortunately for us, he was I thought it was true.

too much taken up with himself to attend to us. We I toss'd, and was eerie,

left him spouting at four o'clock, and I slipped home with Till morning cam'in,

Doddington in his chariot.
An'aye wish'd to dream o'er

I have already said so much of myself, that I have
My vision again.

only room to add, that I am in treaty for sale of the having been sent to us anonymously, we cannot vouch for Tom, believe me to be your attached friend, The letter to which we are now about to give a place, copyright, for a sum that will astonish you, and which I

With kindest love to its authenticity, but whether genuine or not, it is a curi

James Thomson. ous document, and will be read with interest :

(Addressed,) Mr Wm. Paterson, THE POET THOMSON.

at Mrs Nichol's, Rochester (Kent.) To the Editor of the Edinburgh Literary Journal.

We shall now look westward, and first of all, to a town

for which we have a regard, for more reasons than oneSır,—Perhaps you may find a corner in your valuable Miscellany Glasgow. She need not be ashamed of the poet who gave for the enclosed curious letter from Thomson, the poet, to his friend Paterson, the author of "Armenius," which has not, I believe, hi

birth to the stanzas which he has entitled therto been printed. Your obedient servant,


Alas! they had been friends in youth ;
London, 19th March, 1745.

But whispering tongues can poison truth.

COLERIDGE My Dearest Friend,- You have been remiss in not

Beautiful one! To me thou art answering my last, but I cannot refrain from acquaint

Like a fairy mirror's glance, ing you with my good fortune, more especially as to you

Fili’d with a legend of the heart,I am indebted for many hints, which I turned to good

An hour of young romance, account, in dramatising the old story from Gil Blas,

In the still and dreamy sunshine which you so much admire.

Of the soul's remember'd bliss; Well, thank God, it is over; Tancred and Sigis

And the fair world's realities munda has been acted with unlooked for success. My

Have nothing like to this. friend Garrick did wonders, although, as you will afterwards see, his success was wormwood to one of my It was the first the brightest oldest and truest friends, a worthy fellow for all that,

Of my spirit's Geyser streams, and, like myself, of social habits. Quin, who was with

Blending the fear and pride of love me during the performance, was but a Job's comforter;

With all its wildest dreams; and while he told me the characters were finely imagined, And there was gladness on the hill, added, that the actors, including little Davy, had not

And music on the seas, mind enough to understand my conceptions; and their But the sunlight hath departed bad acting would infallibly ruin the play. However, he

From my own heart, as from these. admitted that Mr Cibber had some merit, but that Garrick strutted about too much like a Bantam cock, and

And thou hast call'd them forth again, that he had not a partiele of tenderness in his composi

The light-the song—the braetion. This was bad enough, and you, my dear friend, And all the shining phantoms must have pitied me; but I was rewarded at last, for

Of an unforgotten day: my play was rapturously received, and even Quin, pre A flush of early feeling judiced as he is, obliged to admit that little Davy had

In its lightning beauty gleams ;


The colouring that life can lend

But once unto its dreams.

Travelling a little farther west, we arrive at the good town of Paisley, and there we find the author of some stanzas with which we are well pleased :


An interval of years hath past,

With the change that time will bring ; My thoughts have lost the flashing

And the freshness of their spring.
I have trified since like others,

I have vow'd as others vow;
And I've learn’d to laugh at constancy

With a bitter laughter now.

Yet is the memory of the past

A sacred thing to me;
Like a sunbeam on the silence

Of the cold and changing sea ;
And I thank thee for the glimpse of all

The glorious things of old,
Of the free words and the fearless,

And the soul of truth they told.

M. If we are not mistaken, the following touching verses also come from Glasgow or the vicinity :

Old Stanely, thy walls so bleak and bare,

As they rise o'er the moorland lea,
Bring back to our mind the scenes that were,

In the days of cbivalry
In the days of maild warrior knight,
Of lawless power, and feudal might.
They mind us of feasting in the hall

With noisy revelry;
And many a merry lay recall

Of the ancient minstrelsy ;
And they mind us of love in the ladye's bower,
At the witching time, sweet midnight's hour.
When the lovely streaks of rising morn

In the eastern sky appear, We hear the sound of the huntsman's horn

As he follows the fleet red-deer; Or the merry yo! ho! through wood and glen, When the wolf is roused from his braky den.


Near yon green spot, ’mid waving woods,

Where Kelvin rolls its limpid stream Through silvan haunts and solitudes,

There I in youth was wont to dream,

When earth a fairy land did seem; I culld bright flowers—nor mark'd the hours

Chimed frequent by the village bell, A reckless boy, I leapt with joy,

Regardless, round the Pear-Tree Well.

Fond mem'ry still hangs o'er that spot :

Its ev'ry green sequester'd nook The noisy mill-the rustic cot

The bridge that spann'd the crystal brook

The fisherman with rod and bookThe moss-clad bank whence streams I drank

Came gushing,-round me wove a spell, Ere care and strife had marr'd my life,

Or I forsook the Pear-Tree Well.

That wooded bank I've stroll'd along,

Oft ere the summer sun had set, And mingled with the joyous throng,

That round that fountain's margin met,

Hours that I never shall forget;
When looks exprest the throbbing breast,

And more than graceless bard may tell,
And maiden's eyes, bright as the skies,

Sparkled beside the Pear-Tree Well. Now years have past,—that lovely place

Looks fresh, but not so fresh as then ; I meet not one familiar face,

I hear the shouts of stranger men

Come pealing up the silvan glen; My friends are gone—I'm left alone,

And cares and griefs my bosom swell; The rank grass waves above their graves,

Far from the gurgling Pear Tree Well. Ah! boyhood scenes, dear to my heart,

Were I allow'd one fond request, 'Twould be, when I from hence depart,

And when I'm laid with them that rest,

That this green turf may wrap my breast,
And my grave be beneath that tree,

The song of birds my funeral knell;
Then, freed from foes, sweet my repose,
Lull’d by the murmuring Pear-Tree Well.

M. S.

They mind us of tilt and tournament,

'Mong knights both brave and keen ;
And we hear the sport and merriment

Of the peasantry on the green,
As they quaff the cups of the castle ale,
Or list to the wandering minstrel's tale.
We witness the gallant knight's return

From the land of Palestine ;
And we feel our hearts within us burn,

As he tells of every scene,
Where with sword and lance he boldly crush'd
The pride of the heathen in the dust.
At the altar, from his fair ladye,

He claims the lovely hand
He has won by his matchless braverye,

Far off in the Holy Land;
And we note the hooded monks around,
And we list to the abbey-bell's merry sound.-
But all is changed ! no music now

Resounds through thy arched halls,
Save that of the winds as they rudely blow

Through thy bare and ruin'd walls ;
And the noise of mirth and of revelry
Hath pass'd away for ever from thee.
At the early dawn of rising morn,

We may hear the merry yo! ho !
Or catch the sound of the huntsman's horn,

But it starts nor deer nor roe;
For they all have fled from the face of men,
And the wolf for ever hath left its den.
Within thy walls no festive band

Proclaims thy knight return'd,
To claim the lovely ladye's hand,

By matchless valour earn'd;
And we mark no marriage-train wend its way
From thy castle gates to the abbey grey.
The deep-toned bell sounds merry no more ;

The abbey, too, yields in decay;
And the altar is gone where oft of yore

Knelt knight and ladye gay;
And monk, and fair ladye, and warrior bold,
Forgotten, are mouldering beneath the mould.

J. J. Sailing down that beautiful river, the Clyde, as in days of yore we have rejoiced to do, we reach Helensburgh,


where we meet with the Rev. J. Anderson, who walks in the discoveries of the present day, there is mention of among the hills, and muses on sweet fancies like those whole chambers, and whole series of excavations, syscontained in the following

tematically filled with the mummies of the bird. In the

subterraneous caverns of Abousir—the famed repositories STANZAS,

of birds-travellers find a sort of conical jar, made of

coarse earthenware, and the cover of it luted on with the By the Rev. J. Anderson.

mud of the Nile. This urn contains an embalmed bird, · The sun looks joyous forth again,

swathed in linen, and so described by the travellers, as to And the short winter day,

be taken for no other than the sacred ibis. The urns Like to some widow'd mother, smiles

lie on their sides with the mouths outwards; they are Beneath her weeds of grey.

packed in regular tiers from floor to roof; and the Arabs,

who seem to have bad patience to examine, assert that The skies, without a floating cloud,

the series are continued to an infinite distance from the Gleam mirror'd in the sea

front backwards. The ibis was a long-legged bird, nearly The merry birds are wantoning

of the size of a partridge ; its body was covered with Upon the leafless tree.

snow-white plumage, and its extremities were tipped

with black. It frequented the Nile, fed on insects, and On day so bright as this, how sweet

was called the enemy of serpents. The priests told HeTo wander down the stream,

rodotus that the ibis, every spring, encountered the And muse on things long past away

winged serpents coming into Egypt, and destroyed them. Like visions in a dream!

From its service in this particular, as well as in devour

ing the reptiles and insects of the land, arose that sacred How sweet to mark the homeward ship, protection and ceremony, with which it had, from time While winds all sleeping be,

immemorial, been regarded. At the present day, there With laden wings slow floating o'er

is in Egypt, a bird, corresponding with the old mention The wide and glorious sea !

of the ibis, and with its mummies, now found in the

urns, which is believed by the sçavans and naturalists to How sweet to hear in forest glade

be the sacred fowl of the ancient priests. In the pagan The feather'd minstrels sing,

times of Egypt, the hierarchy inflicted the pain of death The chirrup of the household bird,

on any of the people who had killed an ibis even by acciIt seems the voice of spring!

dent; and this ancient prejudice remains at the present

day, for the natives are greatly offended if one of these Yet more I love a winter day,

birds is wantonly destroyed. The solemn sacrifice and So fair and calm as this;

burial of an ibis took place on the initiation of a priest, It minds me, 'mid the darker time,

and at other public and private ceremonies. —The history Of bygone happiness.

of the hawk is well known, as its rapacity has signalized Helensburgh.

it in many countries, to be the terror of the helpless. Like Wordsworth, we must still be “ steppiog west

But it seems to be more gentle in Egypt, for Pococke ward,” and down we must go to Ayr, where we onci,

says he saw the pigeon and the hawk perched amicably were, and never may be again. A scholar sits there in together. The brilliancy of its eye rendered this bird an his study, who supplies us with the subjoined entertaining emblematic type of the sun :—to Osiris, therefore, it and interesting paper :

was sacred. Osiris, or the sun, was worshipped under the

figure of a hawk, and the bird is frequently sculptured on AN ACCOUNT OF SOME OF THE SACRED ANIMALS OF EGYPT, the ancient excavations. In these, its image, like that CHIEFLY RELATING TO SEPULTURE.

of the fox, is often quite detached from hieroglyphic symThe animal race of Egypt was not numerous for an bolism, and stands as a charm, or merely an ornament. African country, but it must have been carefully pro. The present natives, and even the Turks of Egypt, never tected, as every beast, according to Herodotus, was held kill this bird ; and among the old heathen, its destrucin veneration. Whoever was known to have killed a tion was a capital offence. The solemn rites of embalmhawk, could not escape the punishment of death. The ing and interment were performed on the hawk at Butos dying of a cat or dog was an occasion of the deepest in the Delta. mourning. But it required the artifice of the priest Among quadrupeds, the cat, dog, and hippopotamus, hood to nourish a religious propriety of adoration, and at chiefly claim our attention ; but of these we have least to the same time prevent the political evil of bestial swarms. do with the hippopotamus, as it is the least connected

The phænix, ibis, and hawk, are the most remarkable with sepulture. This animal had cloven hoofs, the mane of the feathered tribe, for the ceremonies with which they and tail of a horse, a thick and ponderous hide, and in were regarded. The history of the phenix is well known size equalled a large ox. It was sacred to that district to be fabulous; and the reasons of its adoration are not of Egypt, in which the crocodile was abhorred; and the sufficiently established. Herodotus appears to have seen beasts were each symbolical of one event—the Deluge, drawings, in which its size and form resembled the eagle's, although they had a great enmity the one to the other. and its wings were of a ruby and golden hue. The It never descended farther into Egypt than the cataracts priests maintained that the phenix was seen in Egypt, near Phile, or the straits and falls of the Nile at the only once in five centuries, on the regular occasion of the southern extremity of the land. In the beginning of the new bird carrying the body of its parent to the Temple Persian conquest, we find the Egyptians severely bowing of the sun.—The history of the ibis is better authenti- to the sanctity of animals. Cambyses opened the eastern cated; for, in coincidence with the clear records of gate of the land with the key of Egyptian superstition, Herodotus, it is found, by modern travellers, in the and burst the barriers of Pelusium with a holy and insubterranean tombs, And the circumstance of the bird's violable vanguard. The townsmen shrunk from the identity is sufficiently confirmed, although the localities defence of the city, when they beheld the sacred animals are at variance with history, which has given Hermo- of their country exposed, on the ranks of the enemy, to polis as the exclusive deposit. In like manner, it is the first brunt of their own resistance. The cat and the related that the cats were buried at Bubastis, and yet dog were the principal actors in this singular scene of we do not fail to find them at Gurnook and other places brute ascendency, but here maintained a part by no means in great numbers. The ibis was embalmed, and after- unproportioned to their usual consequence. For when a wards entombed with much solemnity and care. And domestic cat sickened and died, the family lamented the

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loss by a general tonsure of their eyebrows; and the death Thus is it, that the men, who cannot lend of a dog could only be mourned by shaving from the crown From their own souls to what they hear or see, of the head to the soles of the feet. And the dead cats Whose hearts to Nature's secrets bear no key, were removed to sacred places, and, after the honours of Laugh at the things they dare not comprehend. embalming, were entombed in those wonderful caverns that attest, at the present day, the truth of the recorded

SONNET. -- A WELL-LOVED SCENE. infatuation. The dogs also had their funeral pomp, as is A rushing stream by dipping hazels veil'd, well proved by the catalogues of the antiquarian, which Making high music as it hurries on, make strange mention of large earthen jars, crumbling in Now swelling into thunder, and anon the decay of age, and exposing the shrunk remains of the Fainting like gentlest breath, as if it fail'd, canine god.

To let the shoutings of the merry birds We conclude our account of these mysteries with a Fall on the ear,-a mead of level green, short notice of the crocodile. From the point of the With hanging trees at intervals between, Delta to Elephantina, the religious sway of the crocodile Furnish a scene which lacketh not our words was only interrupted by a few instances of detestation. To call it beautiful. In such a spot, The people, for instance, of Tentyris or Dendera, in With fair Contentment for a dower, and one L'pper Egypt, were celebrated for their ingenuity and Willing and happy to cast in her lot boldness in combating the mailed champion of the Nile. With ours—a gracious life, too early done, The head, back, and tail of this creature, are incrusted Might glide away; for these bright streams and skies in hard impenetrable scales, and the physical strength of Need nought beside to make a paradise. it is enormous. Its hideous presence is terror and flight, St Vinians, January 23, 1831. LAMBDA. scarcely less to man than to every other animal. Some additional circumstances, peculiar and abominable, com

We must now give a short glance northward. The folplete the stamp of horror so strangely impressed on this lowing comes to us from Gordon Castle : monster, but they do not need to be celebrated by the

IMPROMPTU, antiquarian. In the old records of Herodotus, we find a passage which is thus translated by Beloe:-“They who

On reading Chap. 1st of Dr Adam Smith's Work live near Thebes, and the Lake Mæris, hold the crocodile entitled, The Theory of Moral Sentiments.in religious veneration; they select one, which they render tame and docile, suspending golden ornaments from

The hollow gust sweeps o'er thy head,

Lone tenant of the tomb, its ears, and sometimes gems of value; the fore-feet are

Nor genial spring, nor summer gay, secured by a chain. They feed it with the flesh of the sacred victims, and with other appointed food. While it

Shall ever cheer thy gloom. lives, they treat it with unceasing attention; and when it dies, it is first embalmed, and afterwards deposited in

For thee no more the circling sun a sacred cbest.” None of these chests are known to us,

Shall lighten up the morrow, but we have read strange accounts, given by travellers,

Nor the cold moon again be told of crocodile tombs and subterranean labyrinths. Some

Thy heart-consuming sorrow, of these places have been discovered near an Arab village in Upper Egypt, called Amabdee.

No more shall friendship’s kindly glow

The travellers first descend a perpendicular pit, about twenty feet deep; then

Thy mouldering heart inspire, they find an entrance into a subterranean chamber hewn

Nor beauty's witching smiles again out of the solid rock. One door leads onwards from this

Awake thy young desire. room, but the travellers may lose their way in intricate

Forgotten-lone and desolatepassages, or, after long and apprehensive toil, find they have got no farther than the original apartment. If they

All festering in thy shroud, have courage to make a second attempt, they may indeed

No human voice shall break thy rest, unfold the way to another chamber, but the entrance to

Nor tempest roaring loud. it may be defended by some dark and perilous gap or hole. They may succeed in crossing this unsounded

Bound by the icy hand of Death trench, and, rallying their courageous numbers under the

Fast to thy couch of clay, banner of the torch, continue to stoop and file through

Nought thy dull ear shall strike, until the darksome passages; but the foremost may be smother

The heavens are fled away. ed to death by some mephitic blast, and the terror of the sarvivors may redouble the hazard of their returning

When awful, through the realms of space, way. Such are the places which the old heathens have

The trumpet's voice shall sound, formed for the interment of their sacred crocodiles.

Then thou, array'd in light, shalt rise Ayr, Oct. 1830.

S. T.

From thy repose profound.
Gordon Castle.

G. Where is St Ninians ? for we blush to confess that we have at this moment forgotten. Wherever it be, the in Among many other good things which we have recei. habitants need not be afraid to own “ Lambda," if he al- ved from Forres, we like the tone of the annexed little ways writes as good sonnets as the two which we now sacred piece : present to our readers : SonNET TO WORDSWORTH.

By G. M. Bell.
Wordsworth ! thy mind, with eloquence embued,
Derived from mighty Nature, chasten'd too

“ Whom have I in the heavens high," By deep Divinity, from storm and flood,

Or in the star-bespangled sky? And rugged rock, and flower, and waving wood,

Who on the earth, who on the sea ? Draws a strong moral. There be many, who,

None, mighty Lord of Hosts, but thee ! lo pettish ignorance of what is due To one whom God hath gifted specially,

Where'er I wander, there thou art, Scorn at the workings of thy glorious spirit,

In all my thoughts thou sharest a part; And scoff (in much content and ribald glee)

I could not breathe, I could not be Applause and triumph, to their own demerit.

One moment, Lord, apart from thee !



Puts on his stockings.


Flannel drawers a comfort able wear.


Barbarous customs recommended.

The late Mr Skirving, the painter, nonplussed in the case of Neck. cloth v. Neck.


Human hair compared to farthing can dles.

In silent watches of the night,
When all is dark, my mind is light;

Morn is the time to rest ;
And in ten thousand ways I see

To rest upon the chair ;
The goodness of the Lord to me!

Snatch up our stockings-say, the best,

Because the only pair-
At early morn, my humble prayer

Drawing them fiercely on, to see
Is wafted on the ambient air;

Our ten toes peep forth smilingly.
At closing eve, I love to be
An humble suppliant, Lord, to thee !
I am a stranger in the land,

Morn is the time to don
Lord, guide me by thy gracious hands

(Provided there's a pair)
And may at last my dwelling be

Good flannel drawers, or cotton ;
In endless glory, Lord, with thee !

Then to start up from the chair,

And with our arms' resistless might, Inverness, too, and Elgin, and Aberdeen, and Stone. Make shutters fly from left to right. haven, and Forfar, have sent forth their poets to greet us lovingly, but as we cannot annihilate time and space to make a poet happy, and as both are pressing on us, we

Morn is the hour to shave; must return at once so near ourselves as the celebrated

To soap the chin about; town of Leith, and whether the following poem be the

To sheer down every grizzly knave production of Mrs Cookson or not, (and we are strongly

That ventures to peep out; inclined to think that no other living poetess is capable of Then bring the razor smoothly round, producing it,) we earnestly recommend it to the best at- To leave no stubble on the ground. tention of our readers. It is probably the most splendid effort which they will have an opportunity of seeing in print for a long while, and is certainly calculated to add new laurels to the already over-laden br ow of Leith :

Morn is the time to take

Our neckcloth, black or white,

And feel our fame at stake,
Now in a musing mood,

In folding it aright ;
Thinking for mortal good,

Twisting it round our neck with grace,
My thought I'll write

Until it suits our morning face.
It may some wight
Touch to the heart. It should :
Oh, from my inmost soul, I wish it would !

Morn is the hour to deck
Then know, thou glowing youth,

Rebellious hair with taste,
That bliss is but in truth;

Nor let it hang down round our neck
By it hold fast,

In farthing candlous * haste;
'Twill make joys last,

A glorious crop that's lain unshorn
Even past this world of ruth,

For fifteen months, from eve to morn.
And here 'twill cheer thy soul in all her trials forsooth.

Oh, truth, blest truth! bide here,

Morn is the hour to brush,
This weary soul to cheer ;

The shining beaver round;
Thine is the balm

Then clapping 't madly on, to rush
The soul to calm ;

With many a desp'rate bound,
With thee I may not fear,

Out-out-we care not where it be,
Or future, past, present, although tenfold severe.

Provided there are none to see!
What's here but empty toys?
No sooner held but cloys,
And leaves one left

Morn is the time to gaze
(If of truth reft)

On Nature's varying face ;
To that which more annoys

To mark the sun's refreshing rays
The longer held. All earthly joys are grievous joys. Illumine every place ;

To have the pleasure, as we pass,
What's here but soon will die ?

Of kicking dewdrops from the grass.
But to eternity

Blest truth will live,
Bliss ever give ;

Morn is the hour to mark
And souls in truth will fly,
To that blest home of bliss, far, far beyond the skyo ?

Creation all rejoice,

To hear the bold aspiring lark An Edinburgh bard of livelier fancy supplies us with a jeu d'esprit of a different character from this exquisite Mount from his mossy bed unshriven,

Lift up his merry voice; gem. Here it is :

And meet the morning clouds in heaven.


Morn is the time to look

Closely on all around; The auth Morn is the time to rise,

To mark the daisies by the brook commends morning as the To cast the night-gown off,

Droop from the bord’ring ground, best time for Rub up our sleepy, winking eyes,

And, pictured in the morning beam,
Kilmarnock red to doff ;

Deck their pure beauty in the stream.
Leap from our warm bed, and meet
The carpet with our shrinking feet.

# Vide Smollett.

Something mysterious


Turns philoso pher.


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A concert the lark's pipe preferred

A peep at a lady's dress ing room.

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