has so impartially made fools of kings and beggars-of heroes and cowards; and to which the wisest professors of law, physic, and divinity, have from time immemorial surrendered their liberty and their reason.

Regularity of feature is very distinct from expression of countenance, which I never yet saw mere symmetry successfully rival. I thank

heaven, that I never was either the captive or the victim of " perfect beauty;" in fact, I never loved any handsome woman save one, who still lives, and I hope will do so long: those whom I admired most (when I was of an age to admire any) had no great reason to be grateful for the munificence of creating Nature.

Were I to describe the person of D. W., I should say that she had no beauty; but, on the contrary, seemed rather to have been selected as a foil to set off the almost transparent delicacy of the bride whom she attended. Her figure was graceful, it is true; but, generally speaking, I incline to think that few ladies would have envied her perfections. Her dark and rather deep-sunk, yet penetrating and animated eye, could never have reconciled their looking-glasses to the sombre and swarthy complexion which surrounded it; nor the carmine of her pouting lip to the disproportioned extent of feature which it tinted. In fine, as I began, so will I conclude

my personal description-she had no beauty. But she seems this moment before me as in a vision. I see her countenance, busied in unceasing converse with her heart ;-now illuminated by brilliant wit, now softened down by sense and sensibility-the wild spirit of the former changing like magic into the steadier movements of the latter;-the serious glance silently commanding restraint and caution, whilst the counteracting smile even at the same moment set caution at defiance. But upon this subject I shall desist, and only remark further, that before I was aware of the commencement of its passion, my whole heart was hers!

D. W. was at that time the fashion in society: many admired, but I know of none who loved her save myself, and it must have been through some attractive congeniality of mind that our attachment became mutual.

It will doubtless appear unaccountable to many, whence the spell arose by virtue of which I was thus bound to a female, from whom every personal attribute seems to have been withheld by Nature. But I am unable to solve the enigma. I once ventured myself to ask D. W. if she could tell me why I loved her? She answered by returning the question; and hence, neither of us being able to give an ex

VOL. I.

H

plicit reason, we mutually agreed that the query was unanswerable.

There are four short words in the French language which have a power of expressing what in English is inexplicable-" Je ne sais quoi"and to these, in my dilemma, I resorted. I do not now wish the phrase to be understood in a sentimental vein,-or, in the set terms of young ladies, as "a nice expression!" In my mind it is an amatory idiom; and, in those few words, conveys more meaning than could a hundred pages.

I have said that the phrase is inexplicable; but, in like manner as we are taught to aim at perfection whilst we know it to be unattainable, so will I endeavour to characterize the "Je ne sais quoi" as meaning a species of indefinable grace which gives despotic power to a female. When we praise in detail the abstract beauties or merits of a woman, each of them may form matter for argument, or subject for the exercise of various tastes; but of the "Je ne sais quoi" there is no specification, and upon it there can be no reasoning. It is that fascinating enigma which expresses all without expressing anything; that mysterious source of attraction which we can neither discover nor account for; and which nor beauty, nor wit, nor education, nor anything, in short, but nature, ever can create.

D. W. was the fashion :-but she depended solely, as to fortune, on her father and her uncle. I was the third son of a largely estated, but not prudent family, and was entitled to a younger child's portion in addition to some exclusive property; but I had passed twenty-one, and had not even fixed on a profession-therefore, the only probable result of our attachment seemed to be misery and disappointment. Notwithstanding, when in the same neighbourhood we met, when separate we corresponded; but her good sense at length perceived that some end must be put to this state of clandestine intercourse, from which, although equally condemning it, we had not been able to abstain. Her father died, and she became entitled to a third of his estate and effects; but this accession was insufficient to justify the accomplishment of our union. I saw, and, with a half-broken heart, acquiesced in her view of its impossibility until I should have acquired some productive profession. She suggested that there was no other course but the Bar, which might conciliate her uncle. The hint was sufficient, and we then agreed to have a ceremony of betrothal performed, and to separate the next moment, never to meet again until fortune, if ever so disposed, should smile upon us.

The ceremony was accordingly performed by

a Mr. Tay, and immediately afterwards I went on board a packet for England, determined, if it were possible, to succeed in a profession which held out a reward so essential to my happiness.

I did succeed at the Bar: but alas! she for whose sake my toil was pleasure had ceased to exist. I never saw her more! Her only sister still lives in Merrion Square, Dublin, and in her has centered all the property of both the father and uncle. She is the wife of one of my warmest friends, a King's Counsel.

I hasten to quit a subject to me so distressing. Some very peculiar circumstances attended, as I learned, the death of that most excellent of women: but a recital of these would only increase the impression which I fear I have already given grounds for, that I am deeply superstitious. However, I have not concealed so important an incident of my life hitherto not published, and I have done.