surely win the heart of every one, who is fortunate enough to get into her com- pany, and make you pant for the en- joyment of the more essential bliss; for the performance of which, who indeed, is better qualified? who is of a sweeter temper? who can better twine in the en- chanting folds of love? who can fill the night with stranger raptures? few, if any. Inslead of expecting two guineas for the performance, we may rather wonder at her moderation in not ex- pecting more: and though she is per- fectly charming when drest, yet we are informed that her naked beauties are still more enchanting; her lovely demi globes of delight, with their ruby buds, ravish the wondering eye. Descend still lower to the _regions of happiness_, the _true country of pleasure_, and there appear the _flaxen tendrils_ wantonly playing over the _mother of all saints_, whilst the _pouting protuberances_ leave it doubtful which _lips_ better deserve the burning kiss; the ex- tatic embrace both act in concert, and charm with delightful unison; whilst those _above_ murmur the transports of the soul, those which are placed _below_, per- form the delicious suction, which cannot be resisted till every atom of the genial juice ( 56 ) juice is drawn through its most natural vent--that the man blest with enjoy- ment, may cry out with Lee in his _Caesar Borgia_, ---------O thou great chemise, nature, Who draw'st one spirit so divinely perfect, Thou mak'st a dreg of all the world beside. Ireland lays claim to the honour of giving birth to this charming girl, who has not sported her figure in public life more than ten months; indeed her particular friend, the Captain, whose name she has taken the liberty of assuming, thinks her rather more honest than we believe her to be; she is now in her eighteenth year, dances well, and is fond of frequenting public hops, where, if her partner pleases her, for two guineas she has no objection to take him home, and return the com- pliment, that is, provided the Captain, is from town. Miss ( 57 ) Miss M--nt--n, No. 55, _Berwick-Street, Soho_. Toil all the night, and at the approach of morn, When tir'd nature calls aloud for rest, The wanton fair, a stranger to fatigue, With eager fondness will renew the sport; Entwine the busy limbs to force the joy, Whilst through the parting lips, the playful tongue, The vital fire thro' every nerve propels, And drown the senses in love's potent stream.