give you an idea of the other. They were hardly distinguishable, you would think, when they were apart, though extremely different when together. What made their enmity the more entertaining to all the rest of their sex was, that in detracting from each other neither could fall upon terms which did not hit herself as much as her adversary. Their nights grew restless with meditation of new dresses to outvie each other, and inventing new devices to recal admirers, who observed the charms of the one rather than those of the other on the last meeting. Their colours failed at each other's appearance, flushed with pleasure at the report of a disadvantage, and their countenances withered upon instances of applause. The decencies to which women are obliged, made these virgins stifle their resentment so far as not to break into open violences, while they equally suffered the torments of a regulated anger. Their mothers, as it is usual, engaged in the quarrel, and supported the several pretensions of their daughters with all that ill-chosen sort of expence which is common with people of plentiful fortunes and mean taste. The girls preceded their parents like queens of May, in all the gaudy colours imaginable, on every Sunday to church, and were exposed to the examination of the audience for superiority of beauty.

During this constant struggle it happened, that Phillis one day at public prayers smote the heart of a gay West-Indian, who appeared in all the colours which can affect an eye that could not distinguish between being fine and tawdry. This American in a summer-island suit was too shining and too gay to be resisted by Phillis, and too intent upon her charms to be diverted by any of the laboured attractions of Brunetta. Soon after, Brunetta had the mortification to see her rival disposed of in a wealthy marriage, while she was only addressed to in a manner that shewed.

she was the admiration of all men, but the choice of none. Phillis was carried to the habitation of her spouse in Barbadoes: Brunetta had the ill-nature to enquire for her by every opportunity, and had the misfortune to hear of her being attended by numerous slaves, fanned into slumbers by successive hands of them, and carried from place to place in all the pomp of barbarous magnificence. Brunetta could not endure these repeated advices, but employed all her arts and charms in laying baits for any condition of the same island, out of a mere ambition to confront her once more before she died. She at last succeeded in her design, and was taken to wife by a gentleman whose estate was contiguous to that of her enemy's husband. It would be endless to enumerate the many occasions on which these irreconcileable beauties laboured to excel each other; but in process of time it happened that a ship put into the island consigned to a friend of Phillis, who had directions to give her the refusal of all goods for apparel, before Brunetta could be alarmed of their arrival. He did so, and Phillis was dressed in a few days in a brocade more gorgeous and costly than had ever before appeared in that latitude. Brunetta languished at the sight, and could by no means come up to the bravery of her antagonist. She communicated her anguish of mind to a faithful friend, who, by an interest in the wife of Phillis's merchant, procured a remnant of the same silk for Brunetta. Philiis took pains to appear in all public places where she was sure to meet Brunetta; Brunetta was now prepared for the insult, and came to a public ball in a black silk mantua, attended by a beautiful negro girl in a petticoat of the same brocade with which Phillis was attired. This drew the attention of the whole company, upon which the unhappy Phillis swooned away, and was immediately conveyed to her house. As soon as she came to herself, she fled from

her husband's house, went on board a ship in the road, and is now landed in inconsolable despair at Plymouth.

POSTSCRIPT.

After the above melancholy narration, it may perhaps be a relief to the reader to peruse the following expostulation.

TO MR. SPECTATOR.

The just Remonstance of affronted THAT. THOUGH I deny not the petition of Mr. Who, and Which, yet you should not suffer them to be rude and to call honest people names: for that bears ( very hard on some of those rules of decency, which you are justly famous for establishing. They may • find fault, and correct speeches in the senate and at the bar: but let them try to get themselves so often, and with so much eloquence repeated in a sentence, as a great orator doth frequently introduce me. "My Lords!" says he, "with humble submission, "That that I say is this: that, That, that that gentle"man has advanced, is not That that he should have "proved to your Lordships." Let those two ques'tionary petitioners try to do thus with their Who's and their Whiches.

What great advantages was I of to Mr. Dryden in his Indian Emperor.

"You force me still to answer you in That.

to furnish out a rhyme to Morat? And what a poor 'figure would Mr. Bayes have made without his Egad and all That? How can a judicious man distinguish one thing from another, without saying, This here, or That there? And how can a sober man

without using the expletives of oaths, in which in• deed the rakes and bullies have a great advantage ⚫ over others, make a discourse of any tolerable length, without That is; and if he be a very grave man indeed, without That is to say? And how instructive as well as entertaining are those usual expressions, in the mouths of great men, Such Things at That, and the like of That.

I am not against reforming the corruptions of speech you mention, and own there are proper seasons for the introduction of other words besides That; but I scorn as much to supply the place of a Who or a Which at every turn, as they are unequal always to fill mine; and I expect good language and civil treatment, and hope to receive it for the future: That, that I shall only add is, that I am,