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Mrs. Cr—sby, No, 24, George Street, over Black Fryars Bridge.

Fast lock'd in her arms,
And enjoying her charms,
Every frown of old care I'll defy;
Give desire such a loose,
That the all potent Juice,
Shall pervade ev'ry sense, and swim in each
Eye.

Birmingham lays claim to the birth of this daughter of love, and, under the care and protection of an indulgent father and mother, she reached her fifteenth year " pure and unsullied;" at this period nature began to be very bay with Nancy, and a strong propen- sity for seeing Life, compelled her to leave her parents and enter into servitude, and being particularly attached to the sons of Neptune, she chose for her master a sea captain, whose name she still prefers to any other. A twelve month had not elapsed in the captain's service before our charmer's feelings had reached their highest pitch, and the captain, blest with a keen appetite, after a six months voyage, with little persua- sion, opened her port hole, cleared her gangway, and threw her virtue overboard. He grew strongly attached to her, and, being a man rather advanced in years, became contented and happy, nor wished for any other but his dear Nancy. She was his own, and he was all she at that time wished or desired for; one or two little prattlers were pledges of their mutual regard, and till the day of the captain's death they lived " the happy pair." It is near two years since she lost her friend, by whose death she receives a little annuity, that will ever keep her from the necessity of parading the streets merely for support, and you are certain to meet with her at home at almost any hour of the day; in the evening the generally visits one of the Theatres, and always sits in the side boxes, in which place she contrives to chuse her spark, and if possible to take him home with her (for she never sleeps out,) where he will meet with snug com- fortable apartments, civility, good hu- mour, and a very engaging partner, whilst she continues good humoured; if he uses any language or behaviour to ruffle her temper, she can act the Virago as well as most of her sex. She is rather below mediocrity in size, with dark hair, flowing in ringlets down her back, languishing grey eyes, and a very toler- able complexion, and a pair of pretty little firm bubbies. Her leg and foot is particularly graceful, always ornamented with a white silk stocking, and a neat shoe; she is a loving bed-fellow, and sincerely attaches herself to the enjoyment, feels the thrilling sensation with poig- nancy, and for one guinea will enjoy you as many times as you please.

N. B. She keeps the house, and you must not mention to her a syllable con- cerning her pretty lodger above, if you wish to be calm below.

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Miss Harriet J—n—s, St. George's
Hotel, opposite Virginia Street, Wapping.

For lips to lips, and Tongue to Tongue,
Will make a man of sixty young.

Yes, 'tis Harriet, the fair, still blooming Harriet, whose eyes are molded for the tender union of souls (let them but borrow a little fire from Bacchus) "by Heaven's, shoot Suns" whose nectar-distilling lips pour sweetest balm; whilst the soft silent lingual inter- course shoots powerfully through all the frame, and awakes each dormant sense. When naked she is certainly Thomson's Lavinia.

For loveliness,
Needs not the foreign aid of ornament,
But is, when unadorned, adorned the most.

A beautiful black fringe borders the Venetian Mount, and whether she pursues the Grahamatic method from a practical knowledge of its increase of pleasure, from motives of cleanliness, or as a cer- tain preventative we will not pretend to say; but we well know it makes her the more desirable bed-fellow, and after every stroke gives fresh tone and vigour to the lately distended parts; her legs and feet claim her peculiar attention, nor do their coverings ever disgrace their owner, nor their actions under cover ever do injustice to that dear delightful spot they are doomed to support, protect, and pay just obedience to; the eager twine, the almost unbearable press at the dye away moment, with all love's lesser Artillery, she plays off with uncommon activity and ardor, and drinks repetition with thirst insatiable. Half a guinea, and a new pink ribband to encircle her bewitching brows, is the least she expects for a night's entertainment. There are three or four more ladies of our order in the house, if this lady should not exactly suit.

But being blest with beauty's potent spell,
Must from her other sisters bear the bell.

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Miss W—lk—ns—n, No. 10, Bull-and-
Mouth Street.

Forbidding me to follow she invites me,
This is the mould of which I made the sex,
I gave them but one tongue to say us nay,
And two kind eyes to grant.

Here we present our readers with as pretty a man's woman as ever the bountiful hand of nature formed; a pair of black eyes that dart resistless fire, that speak a language frozen hearts might thaw, and stand as the sweet index to the soul; a pair of sweet pouting lips that demand the burning kiss, and never receives it without paying with interest; a complexion that would charm the eye of an anchorite; a skin smooth' as monument alabaster, and white as Alpian snow; and hair that so beauti- fully contrasts the skin, that nought but nature can equal. Descend a little lower and behold the semi-snow-balls. "Studded with role buds, and streaked with celestial blue," that want not the support of stays; whose truly elastic state never suffers the pressure, however severe, to remain, but boldly recovers its tempting smoothness. Next take a view of nature centrally; no folding lapel, no gaping orifice, no horrid gulph is here, but the loving lips tenderly kiss each other, and shelter from the cold a small but easily stretched passage, whose depth none but the blind boy has liberty to fathom; between the tempting lips the coral headed tip stands centinal, sheltered by a raven coloured- bush, and for one half guinea conduct the well erected friend safe into port. She is a native of Oxfordshire, and has been a visitor on the town about one year, is generally to be met with at home at every hour excepting ten at night, at which time she visits a favourite gentle- man of the Temple.

Miss N—ble, No. 10, Plough Court,
Fetter Lane.

She darted a sweet kiss,
The wanton prelude to a farther bliss;
Such as might kindle frozen appetite,
And fire e'en wasted nature with delight.

She is really a fine girl, with a lovely fair complexion, a most engaging be- haviour and affable disposition. She has a most consummate skill in reviving the dead; for as she loves nothing but active life, she is happy when she can restore it: and her tongue has a double charm, both when speaking and when silent; for the tip of it, properly applied, can talk eloquently to the heart, whilst no sound pervades the ear and send such feelings to the central spot, that imme- diately demands the more noble weapon to close the melting scene.

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Miss Sophia M—rt—n, No. 11, _Ste- phen Street, Rathbone Place.

Oh! the transporting joy!

Impetuous flood of long-expected rap-
ture, she is a charming black beauty;
her vivid eyes, speak the liveliness of her disposition, and the joy she conceives in the hour of bliss. As yet she hath not ap- proached the verge of satiety; she is not so hackneyed in the ways of man as to be merely passive, she enjoys the pleasure, and though she is very fond of a noun substantive that can stand by itself, yet she loves to make it fall, and indeed the stoutest man cannot stand long before her; many a fine weapon she has made a mere hanger and the most stubborn steel hath melted in her sheath; yet no one complains, but rather rejoices at the de- bility she produces, and wishes for repe- tition which she enjoys with a gou peculiar to herself, and is possessed of every amo- rous means to produce it, as she is of every luscious one to destroy it.—To be met with at any of the genteel houses about St. James's.

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Miss W—d, at a Hair-dressers, Wind-
mill Street, Tottenham Court Road.

———-Fair
As May morning rising from the east,
Or day dismounting from the golden west.

This young charmer is of the middle
size, and the resplendent black lively eyes is finely contrasted by the fairness of her complexion and lightness of her hair: her teeth are good, and her temper complying. She is really a delici- ous piece, and her terra incognita is so very agreeable to every traveller therein, that it hath ceas'd to deserve that name, and is become a well known and much frequented country; freely taking in the stranger, raising up them that fall, making the crooked straight, and although she does not pretend to restore sight to the blind, she'll place him in such a direc- tion that he cannot mistake the way; and for one guinea will engage he returns the same way back without any direction at all.

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Miss Fanny C—ortn—y, at Mrs. Woods,
Lisle Street, Leicester Fields.

My heart's so full of joy,
That I could do some wild extravagance
Of love in public, and the foolish world,
That knows not tenderness, might think
me mad.

This lady is fair, of a good size, very
chatty, fond of obliging, and far from
being mercenary: the more agreeable
her man, the less of money she expects or demands. It is true, she has other customers that make up for what she may loose by her attachments to plea- sure; so that between the one and the other, she is very well off, and we pro- phesy will be long in vogue; we have known her only six months, and have reason to think very few has known her longer.

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Miss R—fs, at Mrs. Wanpoles, No. 1,
Poland-Street.

Soft, as when the wooing dove,
Woo's his mate in vernal bowr's,
Is this purest child of love,
When she her choicest treasure pours.

Here youth and beauty are combined, and unadorned by education or art; what she feels in the amorous encounter cannot be feigned. Her natural simplicity is yet so unstained, and her knowledge of the world so very little, that it is almost impossible for her to dissemble; her hair, eye-brows and eyes, are of the deepest black; her complexion of the roses red, and her neck and breasts of the purest white; her limbs are nobly formed, every joint possessing the most enchanting flexibility, which she mana- ges with uncommon dexterity, and her Venus Mount is so nobly fortified, that she has no occasion to dread the fiercest at- tack, nor does she: and although she is obliged to make sudden retreats, her ad- vances follow so very brisk, and are so effectual, that

Whene'er she quits the field,
Waits vice on her lovely shield.

but we must advise our lovers of the sport to keep her pleased, as her temper, a little different from another part, is not to be sported with.

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Mifs S—-ms, No. 82, Queen Ann's-Street
East.

Like some fair flower, whose leaves all co-
lours yield,
And opening, is with rarest odours fill'd;
As lofty pines o'ertop the lowly reed,
So does her graceful height most nymphs ex-
ceed.

Miss S—ms is fair and tall, and if
well paired, would be a very proper
mould to cast grenadiers in; she is about twenty, and though rather above the common heighth, is not ungraceful nor awkward. She knows her value, and will seldom accept of less than two guineas, which indeed, are well be- stowed. It is remarkable, that her lovers are most commonly of a diminutive size. The vanity of surmounting such a fine tall woman, is, doubtless, an incentive to many, to so unmatch themselves, that they are content to be like a sweet-bread on a breast of veal. Yet, notwithstand- ing her size, we hear her low countries are far from being capacious, but like a well made boot, is drawn on the leg with some difficulty, and fits so close, as to give great pleasure to the wearer; it is about two years since her boot has been ac- customed to wear legs in it, and though often soaled, (sold) yet never wears out.

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Miss B—lt—n, No. 14, Lisle-Street,
Leicester Fields.

Why should they e'er give me pain,
Who to give me joy disdain;
All I ask of mortal man,
Is to————-me whilst he can.

These four lines were not more appli- cable to Miss C—tl—y, than to this pre- sent reigning lover of the sport; she is rather above mediocrity in height and size, with fine dark hair, and a pair of bewitching hazel eyes; very agreeable and loving, but she is not so unreasonable as to expect constancy; it is a weak un- profitable quality in a woman, and if she can persuade her husband or keeper that she has it, it is just the same as though she really possessed it. Miss B—lt—n is conscious she loves variety, as it con- duces both to her pleasure and interest; and she gives each of her gallants the same liberty of conscience, therefore she never lessens the fill of joy, by any real or affected freaks of jealousy; when her lovers come to her, they are welcome, and they are equally so when they fly to another's arms. Indeed, when they do so, it is generally to her advantage, as she finds they return to her with re- doubled ardour, and her charms are in general more dear, from a comparison with others; and although her age is bordering upon twenty-four, and she has been a traveller in our path four years, her desires are not the least abated, nor does she set less value on herself.
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Miss D—v—np—rt, No 14, Lisle-street,
Leicester-fields.

The nymphs like Nereids round her couch
were plac'd,
Where she another sea-born Venus lay;
She lay and lean'd her cheek upon her hand,
And cast a look fo languishingly sweet,
As if secure of all beholders hearts,
Neglecting she could take 'em.

This young charmer, for she is not yet past the bloom of eighteen, has so beautiful a face, that though here and there the general ravager of beauty has left his dented marks in a skin, that the finest tints of the tulip, carnation, or rose, blended with the hue of the fairest lily, cannot equal, (so vastly superior is the vermilion tinge of nature, in this her choicest and most animated work over all other) yet their effect is rather pleas- ing than otherwise; and perhaps have tempered a blaze of beauty, which with- out them would have been insupportable. Her eyes are of that colour, which the celebrated Fielding has given the heroine ofhis most admirable work, and which dart a lustre peculiar to themselves. From such an eye each look has power to raise

"The loosest wishes in the chastest heart,"'

and melt the soul to all the thrillings of unasked desire, till quite overpowered with the transporting gaze, the senses faint, and hasten to enjoyment. Her hair is also black, of which great orna- ment, nature has been lavishly bountiful, for when loose, it flows in unlimited tresses down to her waist; nor are the tendrills of the moss covered grotto thinner distributed, but though not yet bushy, might truly be stiled Black Heath; how early this thicket of her maidenhead was penetrated through, by the natural invader of Middlesex, we cannot pretend to say; moft probably when it was only a small brake; for from its present state, and the extraordinary warmth of the soil, it must have began to shoot very early, and the mother of all things must have opened the sanguinary sluices in this delightful Channel, at an early period. The mount above, has a most delicious swell, as ambitious to receive on it downy bed, its _swelling rival_and antagonist and it is so well clothed, that it may be justly called the Cyprian Grove; whilst her breasts are so fine and so fully shaped, as to entitle her to be stiled en bon point, in the richest sense of the words, and they have a springinness that defies any weight whatever, of amo- rous pressure. Here the voluptuary might revel in pleasure, better imagined than described, in

"Soft silent rapture and extatic bliss."

Her teeth are remarkably fine; she is tall, and so well proportioned (when you examine her whole naked figure, which she will permit you to do, if you per- form Cytherean Rites like an able priest) that she might be taken for a fourth Grace, or a breathing Animated Venus de Medicis. Her disposition and tem- per is remarkably good, so sweet that it is your own fault if it be soured; for she is possesed of an uncommon share of politeness, nothing rude or un- courteous in her manner, but abounding with civility and good breeding; her connections are good, and she has a keeper (a Mr. H—nn—h) both kind and liberal; notwithstanding which, she has no objection to two supernumerary guineas.

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Miss G—rge, at a Grocer's Shop, South
Moulton-Street.

Hast thou beheld a fresher, sweeter nymph,
Such war of white and red upon her cheeks,
What stars do spangle, Heaven, with so much
beauty,
As those two eyes become that Heav'nly face.

At the tempting luscious age of nine- teen, this lovely girl presents us with a face well worth the attention of the na- turalist; She is of a fine fair complexion, with light brown hair, which waves in many a graceful ringlet, has good teeth, and her tell-tale dark eyes, speak indeed, the tender language of love, and beam unutterable softness; she is tall of stature; and of the moft tempting en bon point; plump breasts, which in whiteness sur- pass the driven snow, and melt the most snowy of mankind to rapture. Her name she borrows from a gentleman, who, some little time ago, posessed her (as he thought) entirely for some time, but find- ing himslef mistaken, and tired with the cornuted burthen on his brows, he left her about six months ago, to seek support in this grand mart of pleasure; and as she has been remarkably successful, and sti11 remains a favourite piece for the enjoy- ment of her charms, and the conversa- tional intercourse, with a temper remark- ably good, for a whole night she ex- pects five pounds five shillings.

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Miss Cl—nt—on, near Middlesex Hospital.

Mark my eyes, and as they languish,
Read what your's have written there.

This is a very genteel made little girl, with the languishing eye of an Eloise; like her too, she is warm with the fire of love, in all its native freedom, which, fanned by the amorous air, soon kindles into a flame that cannot be quenched but by the powerful effects of the Cyprian Torrent, which she is very fond of being bathed in; she has good teeth, And a lilly white skin, which is beauti- fully contrasted by a grot black as the sooty raven, which, for two pounds two, will entertain you a whole night.

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In about a week the desiderate ship put in by the black mole and tall lighthouse, and Carter was glad to see that she was a barque of wholesome men, with painted sides and yellow lateen sails and a grey captain in silken robes. Her cargo was the fragrant resin of Oriab’s inner groves, and the delicate pottery baked by the artists of Baharna, and the strange little figures carved from Ngranek’s ancient lava. For this they were paid in the wool of Ulthar and the iridescent textiles of Hatheg and the ivory that the black men carve across the river in Parg. Carter made arrangements with the captain to go to Baharna and was told that the voyage would take ten days. And during his week of waiting he talked much with that captain of Ngranek, and was told that very few had seen the carven face thereon; but that most travellers are content to learn its legends from old people and lava-gatherers and image-makers in Baharna and afterward say in their far homes that they have indeed beheld it. The captain was not even sure that any person now living had beheld that carven face, for the wrong side of Ngranek is very difficult and barren and sinister, and there are rumours of caves near the peak wherein dwell the night-gaunts. But the captain did not wish to say just what a night-gaunt might be like, since such cattle are known to haunt most persistently the dreams of those who think too often of them. Then Carter asked that captain about unknown Kadath in the cold waste, and the marvellous sunset city, but of these the good man could truly tell nothing.

Carter sailed out of Dylath-Leen one early morning when the tide turned, and saw the first rays of sunrise on the thin angular towers of that dismal basalt town. And for two days they sailed eastward in sight of green coasts, and saw often the pleasant fishing towns that climbed up steeply with their red roofs and chimney-pots from old dreaming wharves and beaches where nets lay drying. But on the third day they turned sharply south where the roll of the water was stronger, and soon passed from sight of any land. On the fifth day the sailors were nervous, but the captain apologised for their fears, saying that the ship was about to pass over the weedy walls and broken columns of a sunken city too old for memory, and that when the water was clear one could see so many moving shadows in that deep place that simple folk disliked it. He admitted, moreover, that many ships had been lost in that part of the sea; having been hailed when quite close to it, but never seen again.

That night the moon was very bright, and one could see a great way down in the water. There was so little wind that the ship could not move much, and the ocean was very calm. Looking over the rail Carter saw many fathoms deep the dome of a great temple, and in front of it an avenue of unnatural sphinxes leading to what was once a public square. Dolphins sported merrily in and out of the ruins, and porpoises revelled clumsily here and there, sometimes coming to the surface and leaping clear out of the sea. As the ship drifted on a little the floor of the ocean rose in hills, and one could clearly mark the lines of ancient climbing streets and the washed-down walls of myriad little houses.

Then the suburbs appeared, and finally a great lone building on a hill, of simpler architecture than the other structures, and in much better repair. It was dark and low and covered four sides of a square, with a tower at each corner, a paved court in the centre, and small curious round windows all over it. Probably it was of basalt, though weeds draped the greater part; and such was its lonely and impressive place on that far hill that it may have been a temple or monastery. Some phosphorescent fish inside it gave the small round windows an aspect of shining, and Carter did not blame the sailors much for their fears. Then by the watery moonlight he noticed an odd high monolith in the middle of that central court, and saw that something was tied to it. And when after getting a telescope from the captain’s cabin he saw that that bound thing was a sailor in the silk robes of Oriab, head downward and without any eyes, he was glad that a rising breeze soon took the ship ahead to more healthy parts of the sea.

The next day they spoke with a ship with violet sails bound for Zar, in the land of forgotten dreams, with bulbs of strange coloured lilies for cargo. And on the evening of the eleventh day they came in sight of the isle of Oriab, with Ngranek rising jagged and snow-crowned in the distance. Oriab is a very great isle, and its port of Baharna a mighty city. The wharves of Baharna are of porphyry, and the city rises in great stone terraces behind them, having streets of steps that are frequently arched over by buildings and the bridges between buildings. There is a great canal which goes under the whole city in a tunnel with granite gates and leads to the inland lake of Yath, on whose farther shore are the vast clay-brick ruins of a primal city whose name is not remembered. As the ship drew into the harbour at evening the twin beacons Thon and Thal gleamed a welcome, and in all the million windows of Baharna’s terraces mellow lights peeped out quietly and gradually as the stars peep out overhead in the dusk, till that steep and climbing seaport became a glittering constellation hung between the stars of heaven and the reflections of those stars in the still harbour.

The captain, after landing, made Carter a guest in his own small house on the shore of Yath where the rear of the town slopes down to it; and his wife and servants brought strange toothsome foods for the traveller’s delight. And in the days after that Carter asked for rumours and legends of Ngranek in all the taverns and public places where lava-gatherers and image-makers meet, but could find no one who had been up the higher slopes or seen the carven face. Ngranek was a hard mountain with only an accursed valley behind it, and besides, one could never depend on the certainty that night-gaunts are altogether fabulous.

When the captain sailed back to Dylath-Leen Carter took quarters in an ancient tavern opening on an alley of steps in the original part of the town, which is built of brick and resembles the ruins of Yath’s farther shore. Here he laid his plans for the ascent of Ngranek, and correlated all that he had learned from the lava-gatherers about the roads thither. The keeper of the tavern was a very old man, and had heard so many legends that he was a great help. He even took Carter to an upper room in that ancient house and shewed him a crude picture which a traveller had scratched on the clay wall in the olden days when men were bolder and less reluctant to visit Ngranek’s higher slopes. The old tavern-keeper’s great-grandfather had heard from his great-grandfather that the traveller who scratched that picture had climbed Ngranek and seen the carven face, here drawing it for others to behold; but Carter had very great doubts, since the large rough features on the wall were hasty and careless, and wholly overshadowed by a crowd of little companion shapes in the worst possible taste, with horns and wings and claws and curling tails.

At last, having gained all the information he was likely to gain in the taverns and public places of Baharna, Carter hired a zebra and set out one morning on the road by Yath’s shore for those inland parts wherein towers stony Ngranek. On his right were rolling hills and pleasant orchards and neat little stone farmhouses, and he was much reminded of those fertile fields that flank the Skai. By evening he was near the nameless ancient ruins on Yath’s farther shore, and though old lava-gatherers had warned him not to camp there at night, he tethered his zebra to a curious pillar before a crumbling wall and laid his blanket in a sheltered corner beneath some carvings whose meaning none could decipher. Around him he wrapped another blanket, for the nights are cold in Oriab; and when upon awaking once he thought he felt the wings of some insect brushing his face he covered his head altogether and slept in peace till roused by the magah birds in distant resin groves.

The sun had just come up over the great slope whereon leagues of primal brick foundations and worn walls and occasional cracked pillars and pedestals stretched down desolate to the shore of Yath, and Carter looked about for his tethered zebra. Great was his dismay to see that docile beast stretched prostrate beside the curious pillar to which it had been tied, and still greater was he vexed on finding that the steed was quite dead, with its blood all sucked away through a singular wound in its throat. His pack had been disturbed, and several shiny knick-knacks taken away, and all around on the dusty soil were great webbed footprints for which he could not in any way account. The legends and warnings of lava-gatherers occurred to him and he thought of what had brushed his face in the night. Then he shouldered his pack and strode on toward Ngranek, though not without a shiver when he saw close to him as the highway passed through the ruins a great gaping arch low in the wall of an old temple, with steps leading down into darkness farther than he could peer.

His course now led uphill through wilder and partly wooded country, and he saw only the huts of charcoal-burners and the camps of those who gathered resin from the groves. The whole air was fragrant with balsam, and all the magah birds sang blithely as they flashed their seven colours in the sun. Near sunset he came on a new camp of lava-gatherers returning with laden sacks from Ngranek’s lower slopes; and here he also camped, listening to the songs and tales of the men, and overhearing what they whispered about a companion they had lost. He had climbed high to reach a mass of fine lava above him, and at nightfall did not return to his fellows. When they looked for him the next day they found only his turban, nor was there any sign on the crags below that he had fallen. They did not search any more, because the old men among them said it would be of no use. No one ever found what the night-gaunts took, though those beasts themselves were so uncertain as to be almost fabulous. Carter asked them if night-gaunts sucked blood and liked shiny things and left webbed footprints, but they all shook their heads negatively and seemed frightened at his making such an inquiry. When he saw how taciturn they had become he asked them no more, but went to sleep in his blanket.

The next day he rose with the lava-gatherers and exchanged farewells as they rode west and he rode east on a zebra he had bought of them. Their older men gave him blessings and warnings, and told him he had better not climb too high on Ngranek, but while he thanked them heartily he was in no wise dissuaded. For still did he feel that he must find the gods on unknown Kadath, and win from them a way to that haunting and marvellous city in the sunset. By noon, after a long uphill ride, he came upon some abandoned brick villages of the hill-people who had once dwelt thus close to Ngranek and carved images from its smooth lava. Here they had dwelt till the days of the old tavern-keeper’s grandfather, but about that time they felt that their presence was disliked. Their homes had crept even up the mountain’s slope, and the higher they built the more people they would miss when the sun rose. At last they decided it would be better to leave altogether, since things were sometimes glimpsed in the darkness which no one could interpret favourably; so in the end all of them went down to the sea and dwelt in Baharna, inhabiting a very old quarter and teaching their sons the old art of image-making which to this day they carry on. It was from these children of the exiled hill-people that Carter had heard the best tales about Ngranek when searching through Baharna’s ancient taverns.

All this time the great gaunt side of Ngranek was looming up higher and higher as Carter approached it. There were sparse trees on the lower slope, and feeble shrubs above them, and then the bare hideous rock rose spectral into the sky to mix with frost and ice and eternal snow. Carter could see the rifts and ruggedness of that sombre stone, and did not welcome the prospect of climbing it. In places there were solid streams of lava, and scoriac heaps that littered slopes and ledges. Ninety aeons ago, before even the gods had danced upon its pointed peak, that mountain had spoken with fire and roared with the voices of the inner thunders. Now it towered all silent and sinister, bearing on the hidden side that secret titan image whereof rumour told. And there were caves in that mountain, which might be empty and alone with elder darkness, or might—if legend spoke truly—hold horrors of a form not to be surmised.

The ground sloped upward to the foot of Ngranek, thinly covered with scrub oaks and ash trees, and strown with bits of rock, lava, and ancient cinder. There were the charred embers of many camps, where the lava-gatherers were wont to stop, and several rude altars which they had built either to propitiate the Great Ones or to ward off what they dreamed of in Ngranek’s high passes and labyrinthine caves. At evening Carter reached the farthermost pile of embers and camped for the night, tethering his zebra to a sapling and wrapping himself well in his blanket before going to sleep. And all through the night a voonith howled distantly from the shore of some hidden pool, but Carter felt no fear of that amphibious terror, since he had been told with certainty that not one of them dares even approach the slopes of Ngranek.

In the clear sunshine of morning Carter began the long ascent, taking his zebra as far as that useful beast could go, but tying it to a stunted ash tree when the floor of the thin road became too steep. Thereafter he scrambled up alone; first through the forest with its ruins of old villages in overgrown clearings, and then over the tough grass where anaemic shrubs grew here and there. He regretted coming clear of the trees, since the slope was very precipitous and the whole thing rather dizzying. At length he began to discern all the countryside spread out beneath him whenever he looked around; the deserted huts of the image-makers, the groves of resin trees and the camps of those who gathered from them, the woods where prismatic magahs nest and sing, and even a hint very far away of the shores of Yath and of those forbidding ancient ruins whose name is forgotten. He found it best not to look around, and kept on climbing and climbing till the shrubs became very sparse and there was often nothing but the tough grass to cling to.

Then the soil became meagre, with great patches of bare rock cropping out, and now and then the nest of a condor in a crevice. Finally there was nothing at all but the bare rock, and had it not been very rough and weathered, he could scarcely have ascended farther. Knobs, ledges, and pinnacles, however, helped greatly; and it was cheering to see occasionally the sign of some lava-gatherer scratched clumsily in the friable stone, and know that wholesome human creatures had been there before him. After a certain height the presence of man was further shewn by hand-holds and foot-holds hewn where they were needed, and by little quarries and excavations where some choice vein or stream of lava had been found. In one place a narrow ledge had been chopped artificially to an especially rich deposit far to the right of the main line of ascent. Once or twice Carter dared to look around, and was almost stunned by the spread of landscape below. All the island betwixt him and the coast lay open to his sight, with Baharna’s stone terraces and the smoke of its chimneys mystical in the distance. And beyond that the illimitable Southern Sea with all its curious secrets.

Thus far there had been much winding around the mountain, so that the farther and carven side was still hidden. Carter now saw a ledge running upward and to the left which seemed to head the way he wished, and this course he took in the hope that it might prove continuous. After ten minutes he saw it was indeed no cul-de-sac, but that it led steeply on in an arc which would, unless suddenly interrupted or deflected, bring him after a few hours’ climbing to that unknown southern slope overlooking the desolate crags and the accursed valley of lava. As new country came into view below him he saw that it was bleaker and wilder than those seaward lands he had traversed. The mountain’s side, too, was somewhat different; being here pierced by curious cracks and caves not found on the straighter route he had left. Some of these were above him and some beneath him, all opening on sheerly perpendicular cliffs and wholly unreachable by the feet of man. The air was very cold now, but so hard was the climbing that he did not mind it. Only the increasing rarity bothered him, and he thought that perhaps it was this which had turned the heads of other travellers and excited those absurd tales of night-gaunts whereby they explained the loss of such climbers as fell from these perilous paths. He was not much impressed by travellers’ tales, but had a good curved scimitar in case of any trouble. All lesser thoughts were lost in the wish to see that carven face which might set him on the track of the gods atop unknown Kadath.
 
At last, in the fearsome iciness of upper space, he came round fully to the hidden side of Ngranek and saw in infinite gulfs below him the lesser crags and sterile abysses of lava which marked the olden wrath of the Great Ones. There was unfolded, too, a vast expanse of country to the south; but it was a desert land without fair fields or cottage chimneys, and seemed to have no ending. No trace of the sea was visible on this side, for Oriab is a great island. Black caverns and odd crevices were still numerous on the sheer vertical cliffs, but none of them was accessible to a climber. There now loomed aloft a great beetling mass which hampered the upward view, and Carter was for a moment shaken with doubt lest it prove impassable. Poised in windy insecurity miles above earth, with only space and death on one side and only slippery walls of rock on the other, he knew for a moment the fear that makes men shun Ngranek’s hidden side. He could not turn round, yet the sun was already low. If there were no way aloft, the night would find him crouching there still, and the dawn would not find him at all.

But there was a way, and he saw it in due season. Only a very expert dreamer could have used those imperceptible foot-holds, yet to Carter they were sufficient. Surmounting now the outward-hanging rock, he found the slope above much easier than that below, since a great glacier’s melting had left a generous space with loam and ledges. To the left a precipice dropped straight from unknown heights to unknown depths, with a cave’s dark mouth just out of reach above him. Elsewhere, however, the mountain slanted back strongly, and even gave him space to lean and rest.

He felt from the chill that he must be near the snow line, and looked up to see what glittering pinnacles might be shining in that late ruddy sunlight. Surely enough, there was the snow uncounted thousands of feet above, and below it a great beetling crag like that he had just climbed; hanging there forever in bold outline, black against the white of the frozen peak. And when he saw that crag he gasped and cried out aloud, and clutched at the jagged rock in awe; for the titan bulge had not stayed as earth’s dawn had shaped it, but gleamed red and stupendous in the sunset with the carved and polished features of a god.

Stern and terrible shone that face that the sunset lit with fire. How vast it was no mind can ever measure, but Carter knew at once that man could never have fashioned it. It was a god chiselled by the hands of the gods, and it looked down haughty and majestic upon the seeker. Rumour had said it was strange and not to be mistaken, and Carter saw that it was indeed so; for those long narrow eyes and long-lobed ears, and that thin nose and pointed chin, all spoke of a race that is not of men but of gods. He clung overawed in that lofty and perilous eyrie, even though it was this which he had expected and come to find; for there is in a god’s face more of marvel than prediction can tell, and when that face is vaster than a great temple and seen looking down at sunset in the cryptic silences of that upper world from whose dark lava it was divinely hewn of old, the marvel is so strong that none may escape it.

Here, too, was the added marvel of recognition; for although he had planned to search all dreamland over for those whose likeness to this face might mark them as the gods’ children, he now knew that he need not do so. Certainly, the great face carven on that mountain was of no strange sort, but the kin of such as he had seen often in the taverns of the seaport Celephaïs which lies in Ooth-Nargai beyond the Tanarian Hills and is ruled over by that King Kuranes whom Carter once knew in waking life. Every year sailors with such a face came in dark ships from the north to trade their onyx for the carved jade and spun gold and little red singing birds of Celephaïs, and it was clear that these could be no others than the half-gods he sought. Where they dwelt, there must the cold waste lie close, and within it unknown Kadath and its onyx castle for the Great Ones. So to Celephaïs he must go, far distant from the isle of Oriab, and in such parts as would take him back to Dylath-Leen and up the Skai to the bridge by Nir, and again into the enchanted wood of the zoogs, whence the way would bend northward through the garden lands by Oukranos to the gilded spires of Thran, where he might find a galleon bound over the Cerenerian Sea.

But dusk was now thick, and the great carven face looked down even sterner in shadow. Perched on that ledge night found the seeker; and in the blackness he might neither go down nor go up, but only stand and cling and shiver in that narrow place till the day came, praying to keep awake lest sleep loose his hold and send him down the dizzy miles of air to the crags and sharp rocks of the accursed valley. The stars came out, but save for them there was only black nothingness in his eyes; nothingness leagued with death, against whose beckoning he might do no more than cling to the rocks and lean back away from an unseen brink. The last thing of earth that he saw in the gloaming was a condor soaring close to the westward precipice beside him, and darting screaming away when it came near the cave whose mouth yawned just out of reach.

Suddenly, without a warning sound in the dark, Carter felt his curved scimitar drawn stealthily out of his belt by some unseen hand. Then he heard it clatter down over the rocks below. And between him and the Milky Way he thought he saw a very terrible outline of something noxiously thin and horned and tailed and bat-winged. Other things, too, had begun to blot out patches of stars west of him, as if a flock of vague entities were flapping thickly and silently out of that inaccessible cave in the face of the precipice. Then a sort of cold rubbery arm seized his neck and something else seized his feet, and he was lifted inconsiderately up and swung about in space. Another minute and the stars were gone, and Carter knew that the night-gaunts had got him.

They bore him breathless into that cliffside cavern and through monstrous labyrinths beyond. When he struggled, as at first he did by instinct, they tickled him with deliberation. They made no sound at all themselves, and even their membraneous wings were silent. They were frightfully cold and damp and slippery, and their paws kneaded one detestably. Soon they were plunging hideously downward through inconceivable abysses in a whirling, giddying, sickening rush of dank, tomb-like air; and Carter felt they were shooting into the ultimate vortex of shrieking and daemonic madness. He screamed again and again, but whenever he did so the black paws tickled him with greater subtlety. Then he saw a sort of grey phosphorescence about, and guessed they were coming even to that inner world of subterrene horror of which dim legends tell, and which is litten only by the pale death-fire wherewith reeks the ghoulish air and the primal mists of the pits at earth’s core.

At last far below him he saw faint lines of grey and ominous pinnacles which he knew must be the fabled Peaks of Thok. Awful and sinister they stand in the haunted dusk of sunless and eternal depths; higher than man may reckon, and guarding terrible valleys where the bholes crawl and burrow nastily. But Carter preferred to look at them than at his captors, which were indeed shocking and uncouth black beings with smooth, oily, whale-like surfaces, unpleasant horns that curved inward toward each other, bat-wings whose beating made no sound, ugly prehensile paws, and barbed tails that lashed needlessly and disquietingly. And worst of all, they never spoke or laughed, and never smiled because they had no faces at all to smile with, but only a suggestive blankness where a face ought to be. All they ever did was clutch and fly and tickle; that was the way of night-gaunts.

As the band flew lower the Peaks of Thok rose grey and towering on all sides, and one saw clearly that nothing lived on that austere and impassive granite of the endless twilight. At still lower levels the death-fires in the air gave out, and one met only the primal blackness of the void save aloft where the thin peaks stood out goblin-like. Soon the peaks were very far away, and nothing about but great rushing winds with the dankness of nethermost grottoes in them. Then in the end the night-gaunts landed on a floor of unseen things which felt like layers of bones, and left Carter all alone in that black valley. To bring him thither was the duty of the night-gaunts that guard Ngranek; and this done, they flapped away silently. When Carter tried to trace their flight he found he could not, since even the Peaks of Thok had faded out of sight. There was nothing anywhere but blackness and horror and silence and bones.

Now Carter knew from a certain source that he was in the vale of Pnath, where crawl and burrow the enormous bholes; but he did not know what to expect, because no one has ever seen a bhole or even guessed what such a thing may be like. Bholes are known only by dim rumour, from the rustling they make amongst mountains of bones and the slimy touch they have when they wriggle past one. They cannot be seen because they creep only in the dark. Carter did not wish to meet a bhole, so listened intently for any sound in the unknown depths of bones about him. Even in this fearsome place he had a plan and an objective, for whispers of Pnath and its approaches were not unknown to one with whom he had talked much in the old days. In brief, it seemed fairly likely that this was the spot into which all the ghouls of the waking world cast the refuse of their feastings; and that if he but had good luck he might stumble upon that mighty crag taller even than Thok’s peaks which marks the edge of their domain. Showers of bones would tell him where to look, and once found he could call to a ghoul to let down a ladder; for strange to say, he had a very singular link with these terrible creatures.

A man he had known in Boston—a painter of strange pictures with a secret studio in an ancient and unhallowed alley near a graveyard—had actually made friends with the ghouls and had taught him to understand the simpler part of their disgusting meeping and glibbering. This man had vanished at last, and Carter was not sure but that he might find him now, and use for the first time in dreamland that far-away English of his dim waking life. In any case, he felt he could persuade a ghoul to guide him out of Pnath; and it would be better to meet a ghoul, which one can see, than a bhole, which one cannot see.

So Carter walked in the dark, and ran when he thought he heard something among the bones underfoot. Once he bumped into a stony slope, and knew it must be the base of one of Thok’s peaks. Then at last he heard a monstrous rattling and clatter which reached far up in the air, and became sure he had come nigh the crag of the ghouls. He was not sure he could be heard from this valley miles below, but realised that the inner world has strange laws. As he pondered he was struck by a flying bone so heavy that it must have been a skull, and therefore realising his nearness to the fateful crag he sent up as best he might that meeping cry which is the call of the ghoul.

Sound travels slowly, so that it was some time before he heard an answering glibber. But it came at last, and before long he was told that a rope ladder would be lowered. The wait for this was very tense, since there was no telling what might not have been stirred up among those bones by his shouting. Indeed, it was not long before he actually did hear a vague rustling afar off. As this thoughtfully approached, he became more and more uncomfortable; for he did not wish to move away from the spot where the ladder would come. Finally the tension grew almost unbearable, and he was about to flee in panic when the thud of something on the newly heaped bones nearby drew his notice from the other sound. It was the ladder, and after a minute of groping he had it taut in his hands. But the other sound did not cease, and followed him even as he climbed. He had gone fully five feet from the ground when the rattling beneath waxed emphatic, and was a good ten feet up when something swayed the ladder from below. At a height which must have been fifteen or twenty feet he felt his whole side brushed by a great slippery length which grew alternately convex and concave with wriggling, and thereafter he climbed desperately to escape the unendurable nuzzling of that loathsome and overfed bhole whose form no man might see.

For hours he climbed with aching arms and blistered hands, seeing again the grey death-fire and Thok’s uncomfortable pinnacles. At last he discerned above him the projecting edge of the great crag of the ghouls, whose vertical side he could not glimpse; and hours later he saw a curious face peering over it as a gargoyle peers over a parapet of Notre Dame. This almost made him lose his hold through faintness, but a moment later he was himself again; for his vanished friend Richard Pickman had once introduced him to a ghoul, and he knew well their canine faces and slumping forms and unmentionable idiosyncrasies. So he had himself well under control when that hideous thing pulled him out of the dizzy emptiness over the edge of the crag, and did not scream at the partly consumed refuse heaped at one side or at the squatting circles of ghouls who gnawed and watched curiously.

He was now on a dim-litten plain whose sole topographical features were great boulders and the entrances of burrows. The ghouls were in general respectful, even if one did attempt to pinch him while several others eyed his leanness speculatively. Through patient glibbering he made inquiries regarding his vanished friend, and found he had become a ghoul of some prominence in abysses nearer the waking world. A greenish elderly ghoul offered to conduct him to Pickman’s present habitation, so despite a natural loathing he followed the creature into a capacious burrow and crawled after him for hours in the blackness of rank mould. They emerged on a dim plain strown with singular relics of earth—old gravestones, broken urns, and grotesque fragments of monuments—and Carter realised with some emotion that he was probably nearer the waking world than at any other time since he had gone down the seven hundred steps from the cavern of flame to the Gate of Deeper Slumber.

There, on a tombstone of 1768 stolen from the Granary Burying Ground in Boston, sat the ghoul which was once the artist Richard Upton Pickman. It was naked and rubbery, and had acquired so much of the ghoulish physiognomy that its human origin was already obscure. But it still remembered a little English, and was able to converse with Carter in grunts and monosyllables, helped out now and then by the glibbering of ghouls. When it learned that Carter wished to get to the enchanted wood and from there to the city Celephaïs in Ooth-Nargai beyond the Tanarian Hills, it seemed rather doubtful; for these ghouls of the waking world do no business in the graveyards of upper dreamland (leaving that to the web-footed wamps that are spawned in dead cities), and many things intervene betwixt their gulf and the enchanted wood, including the terrible kingdom of the gugs.
 
Miss Cl—nt—on, near Middlesex Hospital.

Mark my eyes, and as they languish,
Read what your's have written there.

This is a very genteel made little girl, with the languishing eye of an Eloise; like her too, she is warm with the fire of love, in all its native freedom, which, fanned by the amorous air, soon kindles into a flame that cannot be quenched but by the powerful effects of the Cyprian Torrent, which she is very fond of being bathed in; she has good teeth, And a lilly white skin, which is beauti- fully contrasted by a grot black as the sooty raven, which, for two pounds two, will entertain you a whole night.

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Miss Betsy Cl—rke, No. 1 1, Stephen-Street,
Rathbone Place.

Hope, with a gaudy prospect feeds the eye,
Sooths every sense, does with each with
comply;
But false enjoyment the kind guide destroys,
We lose the passion in the treacherous joys.

Enjoyment is the most exquisite of human pleasures; ah! what a pity it is so short in duration. Nature wound up to the highest pitch, after striking twelve, immediately descends to poor solitary one: these are the reflections that na- turally arise on enjoying Betsy. Though she is but little, she is an epitome of de- light, a quintescence of joy, which by the most endearing chemistry, give all spirit, and unite in small compass, the efficacy of a much larger bulk. Her lovely fair tresses and elegant countenance beat alarms to love; but we attack only to fall in the breach, and lament that the luscious conflict is so soon ended. The common destroyer of beauty has made a few dells on the face of this fair Jewess, but a pair of pretty dimples makes ample amends, and quite over balances these trifling imperfections; she has been in life not more than six months, and ex- pects, if she calls any man a friend, to receive two guineas the first visit.

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Miss D—gl—ss, No. 1, Poland-Street.

See through the liquid eye, the melting glance,
The buried soul in lovely tumults lost,
And all the senses to the centre sent.

She is of the middle size, light hair, blue eyes, and about twenty-two; she is a very agreeable companion, fings a good song, and is a buxom, lively, luscious bed-fellow, but has nothing re- markable above the common run of women of the town, who are young and handsome; she has been a sportswoman in the Cyprian Games about five years, and always expects two pounds two be- fore she is mounted.

Miss Betsy H—ds—n, at Mrs. Kelly's,
Duke-Street, Saint James's.

How dull the spring of life would prove,
Without the kiss that waits on love;
From youthful lips you soon receive
The richest harvest lips can give.

Eloped from her friends in the country but a short time, flushed with all the amorous fire of youth insatiate, and ripe with every personal charm the heart of man can wish, this pleasing girl enters our list. The fresh country bloom still remains unimpaired, the rural vivacity is still the same, and united with a beauti- ful skin and complexion, we can present our readers with a temper and disposition that good nature and affability must call their own. Her teeth are regular, and very white, her eyes of the most lively hazel, which, without the least fire from Bacchus, shoot the most powerful glances; her hair a lovely brown, her breasts are small and never have been sufficiently subjected to manual pressure to deprive them of their natural firmness; she is willingly compliant to any liberty in company, that does not extend beyond the bounds of decency; but let nature come forth unadorned, get once the enchanting girl in bed, she opens all her charms, and gives a sudden loose to such a bent of amorous passion, she would fire the most torpid dispolition; when once you press her in your eager arms the game must instantly begin, and scarcely does she allow an introductory kiss, so uncurbed is her appetite, and so fond is she of repetition, that she would with every lover that passes a night with her to be able to say with Ovid,

Fair Betsy knows, when numbering the delight
Not less than nine full tranfports crown'd the
night.

Only six months has this child of love dealed out her charms in public, but well knowing their value, is not quite satisfied if she does not receive on paper a proof of their excellence.

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Miss Br—wn, No. 8, Castle Street, Ox-
ford Market.

Give me plenty of bub,
From the large brandy tub,
And I'll spend the whole night in your arms,
I'll expose every part
Of my brown apple cart,
And stifle, quite stifle the boy in its charms.

I hope none of our readers will proves a
Mr. L-d-tt, who, about six months ago,
from a mere silly quarrel with this his fa- vourite fair, thought it convenient to fin- ish his existence in the leaden way; she does not possess either youth or novelty sufficient to tempt many, to act in that way, having been at least seven years a trading nymph to our knowledge; she is tall, and genteelly made, with a fine skin, and beautiful flaxen hair, but is too fond of the brandy bottle to give that sincere delight, that mutual interchange of souls so necessary to stamp the extatic rapture; she may, however, prove to those that will drink a glass with her, and has no objection to become as merry as herself, a desireable piece, as she is neither extra- vagant in her demands, or nice in the choicee of her admirers.

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Mrs. D—f—ld, at a Sadler's, Charles
Street, Soho.

Then he began to rave and tear,
And swore once more he'd try the fair
To grace his notes he would take care,
She gave her kind consent.
He pitch'd the highest note he could,
And kept the stops just where he should,
Damon, says she, your musick's good,
And I am now content.

This lady, we are told, is remarkably
fond of musick, and there is no tune
within compass of the flute but she plays with the greatest dexterity; she is perfect mistress of all the graces, is never out in stopping, and is full as well skilled in pricking; altho' the principal part of her music is played in duets, and every duet in a natural key, she has not the smallest objection to two flats; she has a variety of sweet notes, and many pleasing airs, and generally chooses the lowest part; every shake and quaver she feels in- stinctively, and sometimes has played the same tune over twice, before her partner has gone through it once, without the least deviation from true concord; she does not allow of any cross barrs, and is particularly partial to the Tacit flute; her moving stars are as black and as round as the end of a Crotchet; no flower that blows is like her cheek, or scatters such perfume as her breath: no advice can controul her love; she does as she will with her swain, presses him away to the copse, puts the wanton God where the bee sucks into her pleasant native plains, soon after you feel the graceful move and find how sweet it is in the low-lands; and should it be in sable night, she loves to restore the drooping plant, thinks variety is charming, and always gives one kind kiss before she parts; and as she is now only nineteen, can sing a French as well as an English song, and has a very good friend, whose name she at present assumes: you must not approach her shrine without being well fortifyed with root of all evil.
 
Miss B—nd, No. 28, Frith-Street.

A rose-bud blows in either cheek,
Round which the lily makes its bed;
Two dimples sweet good nature speak,
And auburn ringlets deck her head.
Her heaving breasts pant keen desire,
Their blushing summits own the flame;
Her eyes seem wishing something nigher,
Her hand conducts it to the same.

Miss B—nd is a very genteel agreeable little girl, and is distinguished more by the elegancy of her dress, than the beauty of her person, which might perhaps have been ranked in the list of tolerable's, had not the small-pox been quite so unkind; she is, nevertheless, a desirable _well tempered piece_, and one that does not degrade herself by her company or her actions; she comes into our corps, in confequence of her good keeper's leaving England, and enlists a volunteer, in all the spright- liness and vivacity of nineteen, with beautiful auburn hair, and a pair of pretty languishing blue peepers, that seem at every glance to tell you how nature stands affected below; nor will those swimming luminaries deceive you; it is ever ready to receive the well formed tumid guest, and as the external crura en- twine and press home the vigorous tool, the internal crura embrace it, and presses out the last precious drops of the vital fluid, which her hand, by stealth, conveyed to the treasure bags of nature, by tender squeezings seem to increase the undiscrib- able rapture, at the dye away moment; in short, during her performance of venereal rites, she is all the heart of the most in- flamed sensualist can wish, or any man that has two spare guineas in his pocket, can desire.

Miss Gr—n, No. 32, Little Russel-Street.

Strait a new heat return'd with his embrace,
Warmth to my blood and colour to my face;
Till at the length, with mutual kisses fir'd,)
To the last bliss we eagerly aspir'd, ]
And both alike attain'd, what both alike )
desir'd.

When beauty beats up for recruits, he must be an errant coward indeed, who re- fuses to enlist under its banner; and when good humour, complaisance, and engaging behaviour are the rewards of service, it is shameful to desert. This lady's charms attract most who behold them; though of a low stature, and rather under the middle size, she is ele- gantly formed; her black eyes, contrasted with her white teeth, are highly pleasing, and the goodness of her temper rivets the chains which her agreeable form first put one. One guinea, is then, too poor a re- compence for such merit; and it is to be deplored, that a girl, who should only exchange love for love, should be obliged to take payment for what is ever beyond price: in bed, she is by far the better piece, and is up to every manoeuvre necessary to restore life, and every luscious move to destroy; hands, tongue, lips, legs, and every part of the busy frame is engaged at once in the pleasing task, and all to provoke and bring the soul breathing conflict to the last extatic gush.

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Mrs. D—d, No. 6, Hind-court, Fleet
Street.

——————————— O my soul,
Whither, whither art thou flying,
Lost in sweet tumultuous dying?
You tremble love, and so do I!
Ah! stay, and we'll together dye;
My soul shall take her flight with thine
Life dissolving in delight,
Heaving breasts and swimming sight,
Faultering speech and gasping breath,
Symptoms of delicious death;
My soul is ready for the flight.

This lady appeared some years ago, to our readers, under the name of Ogl—, but as we have frequently seen, that a girl, though young, may yet be very disagreeable, so we may conclude, from Mrs. D—d, that a woman in years may be perfectly alluring; she is, indeed, turned of forty, rather fat and short, yet she looks well, dresses neat, and can divide as smartly covered, and as neat a leg and foot as ever beat time to the silent flute; her temper and be- haviour are good, and if you are not soon disposed for the attack, she will shew you such a set of pictures, that very seldom fails to alarm the sleeping member. Then may you behold the lovely fount of de- light, reared on two pillars of monu- menatal alabaster; the symmetry of its parts, its borders enriched with wavering tendrils, its ruby portals, and the tufted grove, that crowns the summit of the mount, all join to invite the guest to enter. The cordial reception he meets therein, with the tide of flowing bliss, more delicious than the boasted nectar of the gods, engulph the raptured soul, and set the lovely owner of the premisses, above nine tenths of the green gew- gaws that flutter about the town. If discipline forms the soldier in the wars of Mars, experience finishes the female combatant in the skirmishes of Venus. That experience this lady has,and is perfectly skilled in every delightful manoeuvre, knowing how to keep time, when to advance and retreat, to face to the right or left, and when to shower down a whole volley of love; so that those who are vanquished by her glory in their defeat, pant only for returning vigour to renew the combat; she is perfectly mistress in the art of restoring life, and performs the tender friction with a hand soft as turtles down. Keeps the house, and after giving you a whole night's en- tertainment, is perfectly satisfyed, and will give you a comfortable cup of tea in the morning, for one pound one.

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Miss Bl—ke, No. 74, Castle Street,
Oxford Road.

The soft desiring girl expects thy coming;
Busy in thought, and hasty for the hour,
She turns and sighs, and wishes, counts the
clock,
And every minute drags a heavy pace,
Till thou appear, the champion of the bed,
Arm'd at all points, and eager for the charge
That calls thee to the combat of thy love.

This lady's graceful figure, beautiful
face, dark hair, and ivory teeth, must
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 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.
 
So is that a yes or a no? Did you enjoy 'The Cats of Ulthar" or the big kitty rescue in "Dream Quest of Unknown Kadath" so far?
 
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