an affociate in all true and generous friendships. The banquets of my votaries are never coftly, yet always delicious; for none eat or drink at them who are not invited by hunger and thirst. Their flumbers are found, and their wakings cheerful. My young men have the peasure of hearing themfelves praised by those who are in years; and those who are in years, of being honoured by those who are young. In a word, my followers are favoured by the Gods, beloved by their acquaintance, efteemed by their country, and, after the clofe of their labours, honoured by posterity.

We know, by the life of this memorable hero, to which of these two ladies he gave up his heart; and I believe, every one who reads this, will do him the justice to ap prove his choice.

CHAP.

TATLER.

VIII.

PITY.

N the happy period of the golden age, when all the ce

IN

leftial inhabitants defcended to the earth, and converfed familiarly with mortals, amongft the moft cherished of the heavenly powers were twins, the offspring of Jupiter, LOVE and joy. Wherever they appeared, the flowers fprung up beneath their feet, the fun fhone with a brighter radiance, and all nature feemed embellished by their prefence. They were infeparable companions, and their growing attachment was favoured by Jupiter, who had decreed that a lafting union should be folemnized between them fo foon as they were arrived at maturer years. But in the mean time the fons of men deviated from their native innocence ;, vice and ruin over-ran the earth with giant ftrides ; and Aftrea, with

her

her train of celeftial vifitants, forfook their polluted abodes. Love alone remained, having been ftolen away by Hope, who was his nurfe, and conveyed by her to the forests of Arcadia, where he was brought up among the fhepherds. But Jupiter affigned him a different partner, and commanded him to espouse SORROW, the daughter of Atè. He complied with reluctance; for her features were harsh and difagreeable, her eyes funk, her forehead contracted into perpetual wrinkles, and her temple were covered with a wreath of cyprefs and wormwood. From this union fprung a virgin, in whom might be traced a ftrong refemblance to both her parents; but the fullen and unamiable features of her mother were fo mixed and blended with the fweetnefs of her father, that her countenance, though mournful, was highly pleafing. The maids and fhepherds of the neighbour◄ ing plains gathered round, and called her PITY. A redbreaft was observed to build in the cabin where she was born, and while she was yet an infant, a dove pursued by a hawk flew into her bofom. This nymph had a dejected appearance, but fo foft and gentle a mien that she was beloved to a degree of enthusiasm. Her voice was low and plaintive, but inexpreffibly sweet; and she loved to lie for hours together on the banks of fome wild and melancholy ftream, finging to her lute. She taught men to weep, for he took a ftrange delight in tears; and often, when the virgins of the hamlet were affembled at their evening sports, fhe would steal in amongst them, and captivate their hearts by her tales full of a charming sadness. She wore on her head a garland compofed of her father's myrtles, twisted with her mother's cypress.

ONE day, as the fat mufing by the water of Helicon, her tears by chance fell into the fountain; and ever fince

the Mufes' fpring has retained a strong tafte of the infufion. Pity was commanded by Jupiter to follow the fteps of her mother through the world, dropping balm into the wounds fhe made, and binding up the hearts she had broken. She follows with her hair loofe, her bofom bare, and throbbing, her garments torn by the briers, and her feet bleeding with the roughness of the path. The nymph is mortal, for her mother is fo; and when fhe has fulfilled her defined courfe upon the earth, they fhall both expire together, and LOVE be again united to Joy, his immortal and long betrothed bride.

MRS. BARBAULD.

A

CHA P. IX.

THE DEAD AS S.

ND this, faid he, putting the remains of a cruft into his wallet-and this fhould have been thy portion, faid he, hadst thou been alive to have shared it with me, I thought by the accent, it had been an apostrophe to his child; but it was to his afs, and to the very afs we had seen dead in the road, which had occafioned La Fleur's mifadventure. The man feemed to lament it much; and it inftantly brought into my mind Sancho's lamentation for his ; but he did it with more true touches of nature.

THE mourner was fitting upon a stone bench at the door, with the afs's pannel and its bridle on one fide, which he took up from time to time-then laid them down-looked at them, and fhock his head. He then took his cruft of bread out of his wallet again, as if to eat it; held it fome time in his hand-then laid it upon the bit of his ass's bridle -looked

-looked wiftfully at the little arrar gement he had madeand then gave a figh.

THE fimplicity of his grief drew numbers about him, and La Fleur among the reft, whilft the horses were getting ready; as I continued fitting in the post-chaife, I could fee and hear over their heads.

HE faid he had come last from Spain, where he had been from the furtheft borders of Franconia; and had got fo far on his return home, when his afs died. Every one seemed defirous to know what business could have taken fo old and poor a man fo far a journey from his own home.

Ir had pleafed Heaven, he said, to bless him with three fons, the finest lads in all Germany; but having in one week loft two of them by the Imall-pox, and the youngest falling ill of the fame diftemper, he was afraid of being bereft of them all, and made a vow, if Heaven would not take him from him alfo, he would go in gratitude to St. Iago in Spain.

WHEN the mourner got thus far in his story, he stopp'd to pay nature her tribute-and wept bitterly.

HE faid Heaven had accepted the conditions; and that he had fet out from his cottage with this poor creature, who had been a patient partner of his journey-that it had eat the fame bread with him all the way, and was unto him as a friend.

EVERY body who flood about, heard the poor fellow with concern-La Fleur offered him money-The mourner said he did not want it-it was not the value of the afs-but the lofs of him-The afs, he faid, he was affured, loved him-and upon this told them a long story of a mifchance upon their paffage over the Pyrenean mountains, which had feparated them from each other three days; during which

time the afs had fought him as much as he had fought the afs, and that neither had scarce eat or drank till they

met.

THOυ haft one comfort, friend, faid I, at least, in the lofs of thy poor beaft; I am fure thou haft been a merciful master to him—Alas! faid the mourner, I thought so, when he was alive-but now he is dead I think otherwise-I fear the weight of myself and my afflictions together have been too much for him-they have shortened the poor creature's days, and I fear I have them to answer for.-Shame on the world? faid I to myself-Did we love each other, as this poor foul but lov'd his afs-'twould be something.—

W

CHAP X.

THES WOR D.

STERNE.

HEN ftates and empires have their periods of declenfion, and feel in their turns what distress and poverty is-I ftop not to tell the causes which gradually brought the house d'E**** in Britany into decay. The Marquis d'E**** had fought up againft his condition with grear firmnefs; wifhing to preferve and ftil fhew to the world fome little fragments of what his ancestors had been -their indifcretion had put it out of his power. There was enough left for the little exigencies of obscurity-But he had two boys who looked up to him for light-he thought they deferved it. He had tried '. fword-it could not open the way—the mountings too expenfive-and fimple œconomy was not a match for it-there was no refource but

commerce.

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In any other province in France, fave Britany, this was

fmiting