"It is to the credit of the rising generation of females, that they have unanimously quitted those infamous meetings, called Private Pharoes, where some of their shameless Mammas, and the faded reputations of the present age, still expose their vices, and cheat the boys who have not been long enough in the army, to wear out their first cockades."—(Times, Dec. 30, 1795.)
"To the CONDUCTOR of the TIMES.
"Sir,—London is certainly an eligible place for persons who have nothing but their labour to depend on, to get forward in life, provided they steer clear of the many snares, and temptations, which hover in every alley, street, winding, and corner.
"The mischief is, however, that the generality of young men, the moment they set foot in town, or, if brought up in the Metropolis, directly they enter the world on their own account, are hurried away, thoughtlessly, with the stream of error, and dissipation. If he happens to be a young man possessed of a moderate independence, without the suggestion of prudence, the caution of experience, the councils of wisdom or the restraint of authority, his whole conduct is then influenced by the passion with which he is actuated, which becomes at once, whether good or bad, his impulse, and his guide.
"The Play-house is the first place of resort, which from the frequency of his visits, instead of being an instructive amusement, or a moral lesson, turns out a rendezvous of intrigue, and intemperance, where he soon acquires an intimacy with the idle, the profligate, the gambler, and the prostitute, who eye him as their lawful prey, and with all that ease, dexterity, and artifice, which a knowledge of the town, and its vicissitudes, has furnished them with, they imperceptibly lead him from one crime to another, till at length he becomes extravagant, and irregular, callous, and abandoned. Bagnios, gaming-tables, horses, and black-legs, are now his only wish, theme, and delight, and, so long as his pocket will endure the burden, so long, and no longer, is he duped, flattered, caressed, and encouraged, by those who surround him. But everything must have an end, and enormous expenditures cannot keep pace with that income which should be managed with care and frugality. The young Gentleman runs short, as it is termed, and, on his first embarrassment, is advised to apply for the assistance of some friendly advertising money lender, who, upon proper security, has the modesty to procure him from time to time, sums of money, at the equitable premium of 100 per cent. A repetition so involves him, that, by degrees, his estate falls into the hands of Mr. Usurer, who takes an absolute assignment of his estate, for a consideration less than half its true value: and reflection never once enters his head, but he unfortunately squanders the last shilling: but it is, now, he conceives, a folly to repent, or retreat: consequently he gets into debt, is arrested, carried to a spunging house, and from thence is removed to the King's Bench, or Fleet Prison.
"Far be it from me to throw any odium on an unfortunate class of people immured in the walls of either of those places, there are no doubt, imprisoned, as worthy, and as good a set of people, as any in society. But the young spark I am speaking of, being mortified at his late companions standing aloof, and resigning him to his fate, becomes loaded with obloquy, associates with characters equally as vicious as himself, smoaks, swears, and carouses, and, all at once, is wholly lost, as it were to himself, and to the world.
"R. K—y."
—(Times, Dec. 31, 1795.)
Modern Hospitality.