nitions of Blackstrap, nor thought, nor
care, nor friendly intercession could withhold the artist from making
a pilgrimage to the altar of love. For be it known to the amorous beau,
these things are not permitted to pollute the sanctity of the sainted
Chelts; but in a snug convent, situate a full mile and a half from
Cheltenham, at the extremity ~267~~of a lane where four roads meet, and
under the Cleigh Hills, the lady abbess and the fair sisters of Cytherea
perform their midnight mysteries, secure from magisterial interference,
or the rude hand of any pious parochial poacher. Start not, gentle
reader; I shall not draw aside the curtain of delicacy, or expose "the
secrets of the prison-house:" it is enough for me to note these scenes
in half tints, and leave the broad effects of light and shadow to the
pencils of those who are amorously inclined and well-practised in giving
the finishing------touch.

But to return to my friend Transit. Bright Luna tipt with silvery hue
the surrounding clouds, and o'er the face of nature spread her mystic
light; the blue concave of high heaven was illumined by a countless host
of starry meteors, and the soft note of Philomel from the grove came
upon the soul-delighted ear like the sweet breathings of the Eolian
harp, or the celestial cadences of that heart-subduing cherub, Stephens;
when we set out on our romantic excursion. Reader, you may well start at
the introduction of the plural number; but say, what man could abandon
his friend to such a dangerous enterprise? or what moralists refuse his
services where there was such a probability of there being so much need
for them? But we are poor frail mortals; so a truce with apology, or
prithee accept one in the language of Moore:

"Dear creatures! we can't live without them,
They're all that is sweet and seducing to man;
Looking, sighing, about and about them,
We dote on them, die for them, do all we can."

To be brief: we found excellent accommodation, and spent the night
pleasantly, free from the sin of single blessedness. Many a choice
anecdote did the Paphian divinities furnish us with of the _gay
well-known_ among the Chelts; stories that will be told again and again
over the friendly bottle, but must not be recorded ~268~~here. Whether
Transit, waking early from his slumbers, was paying his devotions to
Venus or the water-bottle, I know not; but I was awoke by him about
eight in the morning, and