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omniscient Power to pervade my A NIGHT WALK frame, I prefer a walk in the rude IN JANUARY,

gale of winter to lingering by the

fire-side of indolence. Here I do not By Y. M. L.

wish to be understood as being an "I love to stroll when others sleep,

enemy to an Englishman's fire-side,'

for certainly it has many charms, A truant from my pillow.'

Author's MSS. and when shared with a social friend,

its influence expands the heart, and METHINKS I hear the fair pe- adds a zest to enjoyment. For vasusers of the Lady's Magazine, as rious reasons, January, I love thee; they start at the title of my essay, exclaim - A Night Walk! who • Though Winter is pre-eminently thine, ever heard of such a thing?' To this

And gives his snows and storms at thy

wommand, I reply, Lovely friends, at some With fearful gloom forbids the sun to sbirre, time or other, all of us, either from And binds the lucid lake in icy band.' choice or necessity, are led forth in the gloom of night: at one time, scured by snow.charged clouds, and

Suddenly the moon became obwe pace the crowded pavements of the metropolis ; at another, we stroll presently the feathery flakes began beneath the howered walks of the to fall, till the air was loaded with country. In either of these situa

them. I buttoned up closer, and

increased my pace, the snow pitilessly pourtray the feelings of the moral pelting in my face as I walked. 1 mind with as much propriety as

had not proceeded in this way far,

when I heard, in some distant fields when the walk is taken beneath the influence of a “Noontide beam?'

on my right, a voice, apparently I had spent a day in January about proceeding from a boy of eight of four miles from home; the weather nine years old, screaming in the most was clear and frosty, and conse

exquisite distress imaginable. I conquendy the paths perfectly clean. jectured, from the tone, that it was I supped with my friend; and as I

the cry of a lost child; and I soon quitted the hospitabie door, the after inarticulately heard, “I can't house clock toid out ‘ten. The of the sentence: I was now almost

find the wind bore away the rest bright beam of a full moon guided convinced, but made a discretionary me in my way, and made my walk particularly pleasant. I could not pause as I crossed the road to follow

the sound. I had heard of children help exclaiming

being set to scream, that the tra• Hail! fairest Luna! queen of night! veller might leave the road, influ

Oh! shed on me thy mildest beam! enced by the divinest impulse of his Oh! soothe my soul to soft delight, . And lull my mind with pleasure's dream !'

nature-humanity; and when he

arrived at the spot of supposed disThe wind was extremely cold, but tress, to fall a prey, to robbers. my wintry friend, a good great coat, Spurning the thought, I proceeded, with the help of exercise, set it at and soon saw a lanthorn gleaming deñance; for I am not one of those through the night, evidently going feeble sons of excess whose fragile towards the same spot that I was in forms shrink from the northern search of. Presently the cry breeze, like the sensitive plant from despair ceased, and I observed the the rude hand of intrusive man: but light coming towards me. I waited, when health is permitted by the all- and found that it was a benighted

of

man

vens,

boy, about the age I had conjec His way quite lost, he spends his breath 1x

cries; tured, who, in returning home, had He falls a victim to the cold, and dies!" unconsciously lost his way, owing to the fields being covered with snow; Again the clouds disappeared, and when, impressed with terror at the the moon, seemingly with renovated forlornness of his situation, he had lustre, burst in splendour upon the screamed in the way I have describe world. I remembered having reed, and a benevolent cottager, who cently read, in an anonymous author, lived hard by, had gone in quest of some lines applicable to the present him with his lanthorn, and rescued scene. Behold, the rage of the temhim from his perilous prospect, pest is spent, and evening leads on And how soon, poor wanderer !

more tranquil hours ; her solitary star might you not have perished, had scarce has shed her silver twilight than no such benevolent-minded milliong of distant suns slowly rise been near, to preserve you from in- before our sight, and crowd the plains evitable destruction! This brought of space. How pure the breath of to my recollection some lines I had night! how grand and solemn are long since written during such a her scenes! It is a torrent of snow night, and the following extract oc that has suddenly deluged the hea. curred more forcibly to my mind than Lo! now it rolls like a sea any other part of them.

of blood, and sports harmless above

our heads. Hail, northern lights ! la sûch a night, by sad misfortune led,

awful,, mysterious fires ! Can the Where shall the houseless wand'rer hide his

ingenuity of man imitate your' dazhead? No gladsome caper gleams upon his way,

zling glory? No: to him whose Nor moon nor stars emit one friendly ray: soul, untainted by the prejudices of He wanders o'er some wide and dreary moor,

blind mortals, defies the clamours of Perchance, where foot of man ne'er trod be. fore;

the world, and despises the weakGloomy resort of all the reptile race, ness of its inhabitants, the wonders Each bird of terror there has found its place.

of Nature alone will appear worthy Before him still, as on he cautious goes, Some dreadful bog imagination shews;

of his admiration.' At this moEach step he takes may lead him to its side, ment, and often before, I have reMay

, plunge him in its vortex long and vide; greleed my limited knowledge of Or else some pit profound may scop In either, death before him secins to lay. asirodomy. Noble science! that He dares tot move, by terrors circled round; leads the mind through the immenThere, claps'd by death, he lays him down sity of space, to mark the motions at last,

of the multiplied worlds that su* Stretch'd out and ble:ching in the northern blimely roll in order and regularity; blast."

and from them guides the wandering In such a night, some hapless village child, Who lost his way upon the gloomy wild,

idea to triat Great Being, whose arm His long'd-for home in vain essays to find, controuls and regulates the whole. And all the pleasing joys he left behind. vain he asks his mother's helping aid ;.

The astronomer may exclaimFie only answering hears the echoing glade. Turn to his home: the parent's pang there My steps ascend, and, on the wing of hope,

I sail resistless througb the ambient air. Forth fraớn her cot the mother wildly fiew, Around the stars of heav'n their orbs cifrom door to door, with anguish see her run, pand:

alber neighbours asks her wand'ring son. I see, fair Venus, thy relucent hills;

ways

view;

I rush;

From sphere to spbere, from world to world, silence,, I trust I shall find forgive

liess for an omission that has not And, soaring far beyond Creation's fields, Amid his depths of light behold, adore,

deprived you of entertainment. You The mighty Father of a thousand worlds.' country ladies are apt to imagine

that we London ones must always My humbler untaught mind can

have a vast stock of news and anecbut gaze in admiration and astonish- dotes, and that it is in our power, ment; inwardly ejaculating,

whenever we please, to entertain a • These are thy glorious works, Parent' of whole village with town wonders; good.'

whilst, in retivn, you promise to give

us descriptions of purling streams, I began to approach my home. A distant church clock struck eleven

shady groves, and pastoral lovers.

Take the following account of the as I was passing a few scattered cottages, whose tenants my mind pic- the last winter, and then candidly

manner my sister and I have spent tured as enjoying the sweetest repose judge if I have been to blame in not that can attend on mankind.

committing the account to paper for • While oppression's gloomy slave,

the criticism of you country girls. Though on bed of down reclin'd, In January last we removed from a Feels the horrors of the grave

very inconvenient house in MoorCreeping o'er his guilty mind;

fields to the one we now occupy in • Here, unmix'd with earthly woes, Lombara-street. This street, famed

Jocund visions light as air, Joyous thoughts and calm repose,

for its wealthy inhabitants, is situInnocence and candour share.' ated in the heart of the city, and,

from its vicinity to the Royal ExMy humble home now met my change, is peculiarly convenient to sight; I entered it, and in a few

our brother, who is what they call a minutes resigned myself, after a stock-broker, a line of business I by short prayer to the Fountain of all

no means comprehend, nor is it mahappiness, into the arms of sleep, terial that I should: sufficient for us • Whose mandates can controul

is it, that he supports us in all the The bitter throes,

necessaries of life; but the strong The goading woes,

tincture of avarice and parsimony That rend the writhing soul.'

that marks his character cannot but

tend to abate that esteem and grateHARRIET VERNON; ful affection we should otherwise en

tertain for him. A difference nearly CHARACTERS FROM Real Life.. of twenty years in our ages préA NOVEL,

cludes, in some degree, that pleasing

freedom and familiarity that should In a Series of Letlers.

mark the fraternal conduct. I believe he loves us better than any thing

on earth, his darling money exceptLETTER I.

ed: that he regards that in a super

lative degree is a notorious fact, and Miss Harriet Vernon to Miss Susan

were you to witness our manner of West.

living, you would consider us as London.

labouring under the inconveniences IT is a long time since I wrote.to of a narrow income; but the world my dear Susan ; but as want of sub- speaks him a man of very large forject has been the only cause for my tune, and he does not contradict the VOL. XXXVII.

E

OR,

BY A LADY.

report but by his actions, which variation, I assure you. We breakthough in general the criterion to fast about eight, dine at four, sup at judge by, must in this instance be nine, and fill up our time in working excepted. We have only one sera and reading: about six o'clock brovant, and the old worthy Dorcas, ther goes to his club; Charles Wentwhom you have frequently heard worth leaves the counting-huuse and me speak of with esteem and affec- joins us, reads to us whilst we work, tion ; she nursed my sister and me, or entertains us with his conversation, and has lived in the family more which is always agreeable.

At nine than thirty years. I believe our bro- brother arrives, when we sit down ther looks on her as a fixture, which to supper on simple bread and it has never entered his head as yet cheese ; after which brother and I to part with. As company is ex. generally play cribbage for a penny pensive, we never receive any visits, a game, when if he wins, he goes to but live as recluse in this great city bed in very good humour at eleven as if we were a hundred miles out of o'clock. it. I petitioned last year to attend Having mentioned Charles Went. the lord mayor's ball, but it would worth, I am tempted to entrust you not do. I have subscribed to a cir- with a secret I think I have lately culating library, and have set myself discovered, which is an attachment down to study novels. This was to him on Maria's part'; but, with much against the approbation of all my penetration, I cannot deterMaria, whose superior prudence I mine whether she holds an equal have ever acknowledged. From this place in his affections. He behaves kind of reading I have imbibed a to us both with that easy polite atromantic idea of love; and unless á tention which, whilst it pleases both, swain will die for me, I believe I shall distinguishes neither. I sometimes never think him worthy my concern. think it impossible that a young I know nothing of the world, or of man of the least sensibility can live love; but if the descriptions given in an inmate with Maria, and not feel these books are just it must be the the effects of her charms; but my most charming thing in nature to partiality to my sister, added to my see the world, and obtain admirers. ignorance of the other sex as to the I think I will read no more of them, charms that usually attract them, for I begin to be very discontented may mislead my judgment on this with my lot. I look forward to the subject. next winter with a good degree of You may depend on my writing pleasure, as we are permitted to in as often as any thing occurs worth vite you. Brother says, you are a your notice, and I know the kind ingood sort of girl, as girls go; and terest you take in our affairs will your mother. is a notable woman, induce you to peruse with pleasure that knows what's what: he means, the most trivial transactions, wholly I suppose, that she has a saving unentertaining to any one else. With knowledge of the cash, for that most affectionate respects to your good knowledge alone does he (poor soul!) mother, and love to all the village hold in any estimation,

girls of our acquaintance, in which But I intended to give you a brief Maria joins, I remain, dear Susan, account of our passing our time; and your sincere and affectionate friend, in the transactions of one day you

HARRIET VERNON. may read a hundred, with very little

/

tioned you. He informod me that LETTER II.

you was a wealthy stock-broker in

in the city of London, and he beColonel Anbrose to George Vernon, lieved a bachelor. I immediately Esq.

sat down to write to you; and having DEAR SIR,

Portsmouth.

thus briefly informed you of the

state of my affairs, will defer partiIr is impossible to express the culars till I have the pleasure of an sensations of a man who having been interview, which I hope to enjoy as absent from his native country twenty soon as you can appoint a conveyears, returns to it impressed with nient time when I may spend a the same warm sentiments of affec. week at your house. You see by tion to all those he left behind as he my proposal I have presumed on a felton quittingit. In proportion to the continuance of your friendship: if pleasure he took in these connections I am mistal:en, a line from you will is the pain he experiences on being undeceive me; but, at all events, I informed that some of them are hope the favour of an answer to this dissolved by death, and others lost to letter : and in the full confidence I his friendship by a train of incidents shall not meet an old friend with a tedious to enumerate, and painful new face, I subscribe myself yours to recollect. In this situation is

your

most sincerely, friend Ambrose, whom you parted

CHARLES AMBROSE. from twenty-one years since, a lieutenant in the army, embarking for

LETTER III. the East Indies. Fired with a youthful ambition, I distinguished George Vernon (in answer) to Colonel myself in the service, and was raised

Ambrosc. to the rank of a colonel, which I. dow hold. I was not, however, to be

DEAR SIR,

London. satisfied with honour alone; I formed some considerable connexions with I RECEIVED yours dated the the commercial men of the country, 27th ultimo, which should have and have been so far successful, as replied to before, but waited the opto find myself in possession of wealth portunity of a free conveyance, not sufficient to satisfy my utmost being willing to put you to the exwishes. The desire I always enter- pence of postage.

Take care of the tained of ending my days in my pence, and the pounds will take care native country redoubled. I found of themselves, is a maxim I have * no difficulty in closing my affairs in always abided by, and I have found India, and embarked for old Eng. my account in it too. Your letter land, where I have been arrived ten gave ne more pleasure than any days. I am at an inn in this place, event that could have happened, exthe master of which I well knew cept the rise of stocks, or the fall of previous to my departure; but he is loitery tickets: the former have been dead, and a son of his, who was then very low some time, and the latter 2 chubby-faced lad, has now suc so high, that I have given over all

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