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an associate in all true and generous friendships. The banquets of my votaries are never costly, yet always delicious ; for none eat or drink at them who are not invited by hunger and thirst. Their slumbers are found, and their wakings cheerful. My young men have the peasure of hearing themselves 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, esteemed by their country, and, after the clofe of their labours, honoured by pofterity.
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 apo prove his choice.
N the happy period of the golden age, when all the ce
familiarly with mortals, amongst 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 sun shone with a brighter radiance, and all nature seemed embellished by their presence. They were inseparable companions, and their growing attachment was favoured by Jupiter, who had decreed that a lafting union should be solemnized between them so soon 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 strides ; and Aftrea, with
her train of celestial visitants, forsook their polluted abodes. Love alone remained, having been stolen away by Hope who was his nurse, and conveyed by her to the forests of Arcadia, where he was brought up among the shepherds. But Jupiter assigned him a different partner, and commanded him to espouse SORROW, the daughter of Atè. He complied with reluctance ; for her features were harsh and disagreeable, her eyes sunk, her forehead contracted into perpetual wrinkles, and her temple were covered with a wreath of cypress and wormwood. From this union sprung a virgin, in whom might be traced a strong resemblance to both her parents ; but the fullen and unamiable features of her mother were so mixed and blended with the sweetness of her father, that her countenance, though mournful, was highly pleasing. The maids and shepherds of the neighbour. ing plaias gathered round, and called her pity. A redbreast 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 bosom. This nymph had a dejected appearance, but fo soft and gentle a mien that she was beloved to a degree of enthusiasm. Her voice was low and plaintive, but inexpressibly sweet ; and the loved to lie for hours together on the banks of some wild and melancholy stream, singing to her lute. She taught men to weep, for he took a strange delight in tears ; and often, when the virgins of the hamlet were assembled at their evening sports, she would steal in amongst them, and captivate their hearts by her tales full of a charming sadness. She wore on her head a garland composed of her father's myrtles, twisted with her mother's cypress.
One day, as the fat muling by the water of Helicon, her tears by chance fell into the fountain ; and
the Muses' spring has retained a strong taste of the infufion. Pity was commanded by Jupiter to follow the steps of her mother through the world, dropping balm into the wounds she made, and binding up the hearts she had broken. She follows with her hair loose, her bosom 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 so ; and when she has fulfilled her deftined course upon the earth, they shall both expire together, and love be again united to joy, his immortal and long betrothed bride.
CH A P. IX.
THE DEAD AS S.
ND this, said he, putting the remains of a crust into
his wallet-and this should have been thy portion, faid he, hadft thou been alive to have shared it with me, I thought hy the accent, it had been an apostrophe to his child ; but it was to his afs, and to the very ass we had seen dead in the road, which had occafioned La Fleur's misadventure. The man seemed 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 mou: ner was sitting upon a stone bench at the door, with the ass's pannel and its bridle on one side, which he took from time to time-then laid them down-looked at them, and shock his head. He then took his crust of bread out of his wallet again, as if to eat it ; held it fome time in his hand-hen laid it upon the bit of his ass's bridle
looked wiftfully at the little arrar gement he had made-and then gave a figh.
The fimplicity of his grief drew numbers about him, and La Fleur among the rest, whilft the horses were getting ready ; as I continued fitting in the post-chaise, I could see and hear over their heads.
He said he had come last from Spain, where he had been from the furthest borders of Franconia ; and had got so far on his return home, when his afs died. Every one seemed desirous to know what business could have taken fo old and poor a man so far a journey from his own home.
It had pleafed Heaven, he said, to bless him with three sons, the finest lads in all Germany ; but having in one week loft two of them by the small-pox, and the youngest falling ill of the same distemper, he was afraid of being bereft of them all, and made a vow, if Heaven would not take him from him also, he would go in gratitude to St. Iago in Spain.
When the mourner got thus far in his story, he stoppia to pay nature her tribute and wept bitterly.
He said Heaven had accepted the conditions ; and that he had set out from his cottage with this poor creature, who had been a patient partner of his journey-that it had eat the same bread with him all the way, and was unto him as a friend.
Every body who stood 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 afsbut the lofs.of him— The ass, he faid, he was assured, loved him-and upon this told then a long story of a mischance upon their passage over the Pyrenean mountains, which had separated them from each other three days ; during which
time the ass had fought him as much as he had fought the ass, and that neither had scarce eat or drank till they met.
Thou hast one comfort, friend, said I, at least, in the loss of thy poor beast ; I am sure thou hast 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 affli&ions 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.
of clension, 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 against his condition with grear firmness ; wishing to preserve and still shew to the world some little fragments of what his ancestors had been their indiscretion had
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 threy deserved it. He had tried ".. sword—it could not open the way—the mounting us too expenfive-and simple ceconomy was not a match for it-there was no resource but commerce. In any other province in France, save Britany, this was