Well, I will if I can.' But do you see the propriety of refusing?' said Maria.

'I cannot say I do; but if you think it right, I acquiesce.'

'I had rather you would acquiesce, my dear Harriet, from your own conviction than compliance to my opinion, flattering as that compli

ance is.'

'Well,' said Harriet, I'll think no more of it: manage it as you please.'

I will not enter into more particulars at présent, but proceed to inform you, that I never have discovered my passion for my beloved Maria. The motive which hath withheld me has been this: I am not in a situation to marry, and shall I endeavour to gain a woman's affections, and fetter her by engage ments I shall most likely never have it in my power to fulfil? Miss Vernon will probably meet with good offers, and surely I do not shew my love by wishing to attach her to myself, when ruin must be the consequence of that attachment. No: I will forget her; I will fly from the house while I have resolution to fly. A thousand times have I made this resolution, but I have found myself as it were chained to the spot. The struggle I have maintained in for bearing to declare my passion can only be conceived by those in like circumstances. Judge then my feelings when acceding to the colonel's proposal. I tear myself from all the hopes of ever possessing the dear Maria I might, however, previous to my departure, declare my sentiments, and receive my fate from her own lips. Would you, my dear friend, advise this measure? I have informed Mr. Vernon of my intentions of quitting him, but have not had resolution to mention it to the ladies. The agitation of mind I Now labour under is extreme; I can

THANKS, my dear Harriet, for your two last letters, which have afforded my mother and me much entertainment. Pray, my dear, continue to favour us with more of them; I say us, for I know you will have no objection to my mother's seeing all you write. We have had as dull a winter here as you describe to have had in town, with this dif ference, that our slender income obliges us to live retired, whilst your artificial poverty prevents your partaking in any amusement attended with expence. And pray where is the difference between possessing wealth for no other purpose than locking it up, and the absolute want of it? The difference, indeed, taken in a moral view, is great; but it is truly astonishing to me how any one can love money for its own sake alone. Finding that with economy we might live comfortably, we gave up the school about nine months since, as I informed you, and took a small house more out of the village. The fatigue of a school is too great for my mo ther, whose health very much declines, although she has been obliged to follow that mode of livelihood ever since my father's death, which

is now fourteen years. So much for our affairs.-I observe what you say respecting your sister and Mr. Wentworth it does not surprise me; an amiable young man and woman living together usually produces an attachment: but if your conjecture is right, I own I am sorry, as there is little comfort to be expected in a marriage where there is a lack of money on both sides; unles, indeed, your brother could be prevailed on to draw his purse-strings, which, from your account of his disposition, I fear is not likely. Prudence cannot always direct in the choice of a lover; but it is surely in our power to conquer an imprudent passion, though we may not be able to transfer our affections to another. You give such pleasing outlines of this colonel, that I wish to my heart he may fall in love with one of you. What say you, Harriet? If he is the man you describe, I think you will not have his company long, unless he is attracted by ether, motives than your brother's society. I shall judge by the length of his visit how this matter stands.

I fear I shall not be able to visit you next winter; my mother's ill health and recluse life will make my eaving her improper. This I know you will deem a sufficient reason. But it is time enough to talk of this. I suppose you will, before the summer is over, pay your cousin Wilson a visit. You have promised to give me a description of that lady, who I conceive to be a strange character. I hear she has lately taken to herself a third husband; a young man too. avarice! what sacrifices are daily making at thy shrine! I smile at your romantic notions, as you well call them, of love; I, however, wish you to continue them for the present: it is time enough for you to Be convinced that a man may be

worthy your hand that would neither hang or drown himself at the refusal of it. I wish you, however, to engage in more important studies than those you mention. My mother says she will allow you' no novels but Richardson's, and a very few besides. I think a welldisposed mind would not be hurt by many of our modern novels, but they certainly should not be made our chief study: more useful and instructive authors should claim our first attention. When I write to you I take the privilege of advising : you know I am five years older, and have seen more of the world than yourself; added to this, I love you, and that alone will be a sufficient excuse for the liberty I take.

my eyelids with his ebon wand, and presented the following vision to my mind's eye.'

Methought I stood on an exceeding high hill. A plain but elegant structure rose before me, from which issued hundreds of youth of both sexes: they were just emancipated from the restrictions of their governors, and gay hope was theirs, by fancy dressed.' On each side of the porch stood two women of uncommon height and beauty; the name of the one was Virtue, the other was called Religion.., At parting, Virtue embraced her pupils, and cautioned them to treasure in their memory the lessons she had inculcated. Religion also presented each with a thick volume, which she commanded them to peruse with the utmost diligence, nor suffer a day to elapse without consulting its holy pages. This book,' continued Religion, is an unerring guide: if you follow its instructions you can never deviate; it will be your counsellor in difficulties, your support in danger, your comfort in sickness, your triumph in death, and your sure passport to immortal happiness.' All promised to remember the many kind lessons of their first instructors, and began their journey with alacrity. The road, for the first few miles, appeared most charming. It was an easy declivity of green, embroidered with fragrant flowers of the most vivid colours, and intersected with pleasant cool springs. The sun shone uncommonly bright; the birds sung melodiously; every face wore the smile of expectation, every eye beamed with rapturous hope. But after a while the way became less pleasant; the descent was steep, and in many places exceedingly dangerous. Many stumbled and fell, and rose no more, Others, affrighted at the horrid prospect, and dispirited at the sudden

reverse, threw themselves down the precipice, and were dashed to pieces.

One charming maid I observed walk alone, with sober pace, over the enamelled lawn. Her face was dazzlingly beautiful, and the symmetry of her person exquisite; her fine arms clasped to her lovely bosom the volume given her by Religion. She had been less elated by the pleasures of the first part of the journey, and appeared less depressed by the disagreeable reverse than most of her companions. When her feet became defiled with the dust and dirt of the way, or torn by the rugged stones which in many places stuck up with sharp points, she would stop, and, washing them with her tears, dry them with the redundant tresses of her golden hair, and after reading a little in her book proceed with an air of contentment and cheerfulness. While so engaged, she frequently became the object of derision to the passers by: but their sarcasms had no effect on the mind of Innocence (for that was the maiden's name). I observed, that she was particularly careful to preserve her garments free from soil; they were white, and spotless as the unsullied snow. After descending for some time with much toil and care, a pipe and tabor struck on her ear: she looked on one side, and in a green lane beheld several lovely shepherdesses with their swains dancing, while their flocks peacefully grazed by their side. The scene appeared at once cheerful and innocent. She stood for a moment irresolute whether to enter this charming place, or pursue the rugged but straight-forward path. While she deliberated, a youth of an engaging figure approached, and desired her to join the happy dancers. Innocence, without answer ing, opened her book and read, Flee youthful lusts. She imme

diately turned her back, and again began to descend. The youth followed, imploring her to stop. Innocence turned her head, and, pleased with the beauty of her pursuer, did as she was desired. Now whether it was owing to the impetuosity of the youth or to the slippery ground on which she stood I know not, but poor Innocence fell! The beautiful robe, which had been preserved with So much care spotless, was contaminated by the filth of the place (for it happened on a very dirty spot). Her exertions joined to those of her companions were ineffectual to remove the stains; they remained indelible. From that time, she appeared more anxious to conceal the spots already acquired than careful of adding more.

The youth, whose name was Manfredo, led Innocence to a neat handsome building by the road side, where they were joined together by a small but very strong link of gold. Innocence here lost her name, and was afterwards distinguished by that of Matena.

One thing surprised me much. Manfredo, though he had been very assiduous to repair the soiled robe of Innocence, and had seemed much distressed at her misfortune, now, as they journeyed together, would frequently hold up the spots to Matena's view, when nobody was near. This I thought very ungenerous, as it was entirely his fault that it became soiled; and it so much incensed Matena, that she rushed to the house of Vanity, which stood a little on the left-hand out of the way, and there purchased a change able robe of Fashion, who was the journeywoman of Vanity. Attired in this, her bosom bare to the sighing gale, her long golden hair braided with gems, she came forth a most sparkling figure, and attracted the eyes of her fellow-travellers, to the

evident dissatisfaction of Manfredo. The way too became particularly laborious and disagreeable. Matena, wholly occupied in admiring the elegance of her appearance, and watching the admiration it excited, heeded 'not her footsteps, but frequently stumbled, and received serious hurt by her falls, yet acquired no caution by her misfortunes, though hundreds who walked by her side, with their eyes fixed on distant objects, suddenly fell into some small chasms in the earth, were covered up, and seen no more. Manfredo and Matena appeared totally uncon scious of their fate, though they knew not but the next step might participate them also in one of those unobserved pits. They were entirely occupied in devising means to lengthen the golden link which bound them, that they might roam at greater distance from each other. They had collected a quantity of gilt copper, and formed a kind of chain; and as it allowed a greater latitude for their several fancies, and as they had contrived to cover the copper with a few sickly flowers, they were satisfied, and imagined that the cheat would pass on others. Thus they proceeded till they had reached about the middle of the descent, when the whole attention of Manfredo became riveted on a number of beautiful nymphs dancing in the shade to the most delightful airs, with matchless grace and spirit. His heart panted to be with them: he cast a look on Matena she observed him, and with one bound he sprang over the hedge, and was received in the arms of the smiling nymphs. Matena, without immediately observing the departure of her companion, walked on till she arrived at a most sumptuous palace. The air was perfumed with aromatics. Magnificent fountains cast up little rivers of the clearest waters to the sky, that were

again received in large basons of virgin marble. Bowers of full-blown roses, myrtle, and jasmine elegantly entwined, invited the feet of the weary traveller to rest, while the luxurious grape, the blushing orange, the fragrant musk-melon, which hung on all sides, promised a refreshing and delicious repast. The doors of this enchanting palace were of massy silver, and stood wide open. The softest music, accompanied by the most exquisite voices, was heard; and between every house the gay laugh of mirth resounded through the high-arched roof, Matena turned round, intending to consult with Manfredo whether they should enter this charming place, as the open door seemed to invite. She was surprised at his absence, but the grief she would have experienced at his desertion at any other time was now superseded by her curiosity; and she determined to enter, not doubting but when Manfredo should arrive there he also would enter, and find her in the charming palace.

The resolution was no sooner formed than adopted; but in her haste to enter, she dropped the volume given her by Religion, which hitherto she had preserved with so much care, and which had formerly been such a comfort to her. Unconscious of her loss, she eagerly pressed forward to view the interior of a palace, of which the smallest appendage denoted splendour and clegance beyond imagination. In a magnificent saloon, she beheld a sparkling company of youth of both sexes. Some were dancing, others were singing the songs of mirth, and all were amusing themselves in whatever took their fancy, and indulging the whim of the moment, however absurd. They received Matena with shouts of welcome, inviting her to partake of their amusement. The unthinking Matena complied, and entered with spirit

Yet

into all their diversions. often would her mind wander back to the path of duty she had quitted; often would the sigh of regret agitate her bosom, on recollecting that the rugged path must yet be trodden, in spite of delays and proer. nation ; and that the time she was then so ly wasting, so foolly misapplying, would one day be required at her hands with a terrible exactitude; when no excuses would be accepted, no palliations allowed. She would often rise to depart, but as instantly reseat herself. The pleasures which surrounded her appeared too great, too various, to quit suddenly and voluntarily, and she promised that the morrow should witness her departure. To-morrow came and went, yet Matena still lingered in the shades of pleasure.

One evening, after a day spent in voluptuous gratification, Matena retired with a youth who had bee her partner in the festive dance to a close arbour of eglantine and tuberoses. The moon cast a soft light on the surrounding orangery; the dashing of a distant water-fall soothed the car of night; while Matena, her soul enervated by tumultuous pleasures, sat leaning her head on the treacherous bosom of her companion, listening with guilty atten tion to his false blandishments; when suddenly Manfredo stood before them, his face inflamed with passion. With one strong effort he broke the chain which united them, and tauntingly throwing the gilt part at the weeping Matena, himself retaining the golden, departed from her for ever. Poor Matena, left alone (for her gay companions had all fled on the first appearance of danger), was wholly absorpt in the deepest melancholy. She shed the bit ter tears of poignant regret, and gave way to the torturing sighs of despair. The moon became obscured by black clouds, the thunder roared,