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them over a gentle fire, putting a small quantity of grains in it; and so apply it to your use as you see convenient. To make a red Water for white Silk or Wool, green, yellow,

violet, or azure. Take two quarts of running water and an ounce of Brazil, heat them up till half be consumed ; then take it off the fire, and put an ounce of grains and a quarter of an ounce of gum-arabic, with a quarter of a pound of alum powder; and suffering it to stand all night, in the morning you may

use it.

To make grey Florey. Take florey, and soak it twenty-four hours ; at the end of which, wring it through a cloth; then take the ashes of the vine, and make a lie with them, and spread the fiorey for the space of two hours upon a table; and having put the lie into three vessels, take the florey and put it into one of the vessels, and so sbift it to the rest ; putting, before you dip the linen, &c. vinegar to it, and your colour will be good.

To die Linen with Crampmede. Use in this a pound of crampmede to three ells of linen, and put it to a gallon and a half of water, or so proportionable to the quantity, and warm it over the fire till it appears ready to seethe; then add to it two ounces of galls, and so put your linen into it, and as often as you take it out, which must be frequently, wring it; then having a pot of water ready heated, with alumn dissolved in it, put the linen well wrung into it, and so rub it over at the taking out, and dry it, but if you would have it the darker colour, then it is requisite to have a lie made with limestone, or unslacked chalk.

To die Velvet a curious Black. Take of galls two pounds, copperas half a pound, smith's water a gallon, the powder of burnt ivory an ounce, and of oak bark, and shoemaker's black, ground to powder, the like quantity, and two gallons of water; mix them well together, and suffer them to stand in the sun, or some other warm place, for the space of thirty days, with often stirring about; then put your materials in it, and as often as you dip hang to dry, and your expectation will be answered.

For a light Green. Take the juice of the herb called horsetail, add to it a little alum, verdigrease, and copperas.

To make bran Water, much used in Dying. Take half a peck of wheat bran, and two gallons of water ; set them on the fire, giving them a gentle heat ; which being done, put half a pound of alum powder into it, and suffer it to stand a week or more, with sometimes stirring it about before you use it.

To die Wool or woollen Yarn. Take four pounds of wool, or yarn ; two pounds of woad, putting the woad into a kettle to two gallons of water; then throw in two handfuls of wood ashes, and when it seethes put your wool or yarn into it, and let it remain there about half an hour; at that time take it out and wring it, and put it in again, and let it seethe as long as before ; and then if it be before a brown blue, it will be a dark green ; or if it was white, it will be a yellowish colour.

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My dear Miss D-, The affection I bear you, and the sincere regard I have for your welfare, will, I hope, excuse the liberty I am going to take in remonstrating against the indulgence of a too partial affection, which I see with sorrow is growing upon you every day. I see you start at the imputation; but hear me with patience, and if your own heart, your own reason do not condemo you, and bear witness to what I say, then blame my suspicion and my freedom. need I say much to convince you of the power this favoured lover has over you, when at this moment he absorbs all your faculties, and engrosses every power of your mind, to such a degree as leaves it doubtful whether any friendly admonition will reach your ear? Lost as you are in the soft enchantment, is it not evident that in his presence you are dead to every thing around you? The voice of your nearest friends, your most sprightly and once loved amusements, cannot draw your attention : and is not this the very delirium of passion ? And when he has left you do not I see you languid and pale, bearing in your eyes and your whole carriage the marks of his power over you? When we párted last night did not I see you impatient to sink in his arms? Have you never been caught reclined upon his bosom on a soft carpet of flowers, by the banks of a purling stream, where the murmurs of the waters, and the whispering of the trees, the silence and solitude of the place, and the luxurious softness of every thing around you, favoured his passion and disposed you to listen to his addresses ? Nay, in that solemn temple which ought to be dedicated to higher affections, has he not stolen insensibly on your mind, and sealed your ears from hearing the voice of the preacher,

though truth and eloquence spoke in every period ? Have not his visits greatly increased within these few weeks? and do not you every day sacrifice lo him a larger portion of your time? Not content with devoting to him those hours when business, and cares, and day are fled,

does he not entrench upon the morning watches, break .. in upon your studies, and detain your mind from the

pursuit of knowledge, the pursuit of pleasure, of all but the enervating indulgence of your passion ? Diana, who still wishes to number you in her train, invites you to join her sports ; for you Aurora batbes the new-born rose in dew, and streaks the clouds in gold and crimson, and youth and health offer a thousand pure and innocent pleasures to your acceptance. And what, tell me, can you find in the company of him to whom you are now devoted, to make amends for all you give up for his sake? Does he entertain you with any thing but the most incoherent rhap. sodies, the most romantic and visionary tales ? To believe the strange, improbable, and contradictory things he tells you, requires a credulity beyond that of an infant. If he has ever spoken truth, it is mixed with so much falsehood and obscurity, that it is esteemed the certain sign of a weak mind to be much affected with what he says. You answer, I know, to all this, that it is not in your power to break your chains; that your reason must be first roused before it can be exerted; and that your thoughts, will, and reason, are held fast by this powerful enchanter. You will perhaps tell me (and I must acknowledge the justice of the retort) that I myself (though my situation affords me a thousand reasons to resist him, which do not take place with you) have been but too sensible of his attractions: with blushes I confess the charge. At this moment, however, the chain is broken, my mind is collected within herself, and reason has her full empire over me. This moment, therefore, I would seize to give an impartial description of him, who now has you enslaved. I would not disguise his good qualities, and therefore will allow that he is a friend to the unhappy and the friendless; that his breast is the only pillow for misfortune to repose on; and that his approaches are so gentle and insinuating, as in some moments to be almost irresistible. If he is at all disposed to partiality, it is in favour of the poor and mean, with whom he is thought generally to associate more readily than the rích. Yet he is himself of a very ancient family, which came in long before the conquest, which was in high favour

in the court of France during one whole race of kings, and has the greatest influence in the inmost palaces of eastern monarchs. The dissolution of the monasteries, however, greatly hurt its credit in England. He who is the subject of my letter has a half-brother who has made himself very famous in the world, and has destroyed more men than Marlborough or Alexander. Nevertheless he himself is fond of peace, sleek and corpulent, with a mild heavy eye, and a most placid countenance. Yet with all this opposition of form and character, there is such a resemblance between them, as often happens in family likenesses, that in some lights and atti. tudes you can scarcely distinguish the one from the other. To finish the description of your lover, he is generally crowned with flowers of the most languid kind, such as poppies and cowslips; and he is attended with a number of servants, thin and light footed, to whom he does not give the same livery, for some are dressed in the gayest, others in the most gloomy habits imaginable ; but all fantastic. He is subject to strong antipathies, and as strong likings: the warbling of the lark, to others so agreeable, is to him most odious ; and Peter did not start more at the crowing of the cock than he will do. His favourite animal is the dormouse, and his music the droppings of water, the low tinkling of a distant bell, the humming of bees, and the hollow sound of the wind rushing through the trees. But enough surely has been said to let you into his character, and to convince you, I hope, how necessary it is for you to exert yourself. Let this letter break the charın ; let it convince you of the excess of your attachment, and rouze you from the embraces of S

Your sincere Friend,

A. L. B.D.



you are a tenant at will in a very handsome genteel house, and are now capable of furnishing it in a genteel manner, and ruling it with the strictest maxims of economy and decorum, permit a friend to give a few cursory hints in an affair of so much importance.

Your building is composed of some of the finest materials I ever saw;

and is so much the more liable to discover

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