culprit, devoid of hope, and incapable of defence. His pride, however, would not allow him to confess. He suffered the ladies to quit the room without attempting a reply. Mr. Wilson thinks he did not see them depart, for, on his asking him if he had any further business with him, he started from his reverie, and looking round the room, answered, No, nor ever should. Will you permit me,' said Mr. Wilson, to give you a little advice?'- The devil take you, and your advice,' cried he, and so hurried out of the house.

When Mr. Wilson had finished his relation, he sent word to the ladies that I was there, and in a very few minutes they both joined us; surely there never were two lovelier girls: miss Vernon is as you described her to me, elegance itself: but there is something in Harriet so inexpressibly agreeable, and yet I know not what makes her so: I have seen much handsomer faces and finer forms, but it is not in the power of beautiful features or of form alone to charm. You, I remember, described her to me as very lively. There is, indeed, much life and spirit in her countenance, but, as you may suppose, at this time, little in her manners and conversation. She looks grave, but not dejected. When she entered the room I was startled to see her look pale and languid. She made me a courtesy, and offered me her hand, involuntarily, as I thought. I took it, and, as you may sup-, pose, put it to my lips. This action brought a blush on her cheeks, which I had the pleasure to see did not quite disappear the whole

dav.

The party seemed at a loss what to say, and an aukward silence set my wits to work for a speech. At

length, addressing myself to miss Harriet, I told her Mr. Wilson had informed me of the result of the affair I had been so happy to divulge; and if you please,' said I, we will avoid a subject that must be painful to think of.—You are very kind, sir,' said she, we will do so, if you please.'

No, no,' said Mrs. Wilson, whose voice I had not heard before; I want to know, sir, how you got acquainted with this Mi. Beaumont, and all about it.'

I will at some other time, madam, inform you, but at present must beg to be excused.'

So she is to be obliged before me!-it is all mighty well, sir,' drawing herself up as she spoke, Who the deuce are you, thought I; a proud, unfeeling dame, I fancy-I made no answer, but turning to miss Vernon, resolved to put a few questions to her which might be interesting to my friend. I began with asking if she was not acquainted with a Mr. Wentworth. Whether it was the abruptness of the question, her chagrin at Mrs. Wilson's behaviour, or a sudden indisposition, I leave you to determine; but certain it was, no sooner had I mentioned your name, than a visible alteration took place in her whole countenance. She looked out of the window, then on the carpet, something was the matter with her chair; at length she said- Yes, yes, sir, very well, he lived with my brother; I mean we all lived together at that time.'

do not suffer the disappointment to prey on your spirits; that is all the return I wish or expect from you.' She smiled, the tears standing in her eyes, and promised obedience. Any one but me, I suppose, would have taken a kiss at so fair an opportunity; I never scrupled it before if I found inclination; but hang me if I could summon resolution. They both attended me to the door, and followed the coach with their eyes, (as I saw from the window) till it was out of sight.

As soon as I arrived at home, I found that a ship would sail for Bengal in a few days. I sat me down to write, and have now brought my long letter to an end. From what I have said of miss Vernon you must draw your own conclusions. I will only say, my opinion is, that you are by no means indifferent to her; nay, I will give up all pretensions to penetration if she does not love you. Her engagements to colonel Ambrose are from some cause or other at an end. Your own heart must suggest what step to take: for my part, although I am resolved to continue free, I would not prejudice others against matrimony. Pray write to me as often as you can. Welcome to me will be the time of your return to England. Cannot you prevail on the old gentleman and your cousin to leave India?-Think of it, and use all your influence, if you would promote the happiness of your truly affectionate friend,

J. JOHNSON.

LETTER XXXIX. Miss Winstanley to Lady Amaranth. dear

I PROMISED to write to my

friend soon, but I never felt less inclination, having nothing good to say. I am half distracted, and quite comfortless, yet still I hope; for love will hope, where reason would despair. Oh, Lady Amaranth! all is out: this Wentworth was not insensible to my charms for nothing: an English lady has possession of his heart; yet she shall not retain it. No; my beauty and art shall supplant her, let what will be the consequence. You may remember I told you in my last that he had received a packet of letters from England, and that I was summoned to attend him and my father. I went, and soon found the contents of this packet from his intimate friend was to acquaint him that the lady he loved, who, when he left Eugland, was on the point of marriage, was not married; and, in short, that he had every reason to think that she remained single for his sake.-Guess the rest.-My father's consent was obtained for a letter from Wentworth, offering himself and fortune to her acceptance, to be immediately dispatched to her by captain Sommerville, who sails in a few days. Wentworth was in ecstasy, expatiating in praise of the lady, who, by his account, is a paragon of perfection. Oh! how I hate her. I begin to think I really love this monster Wentworth. But no! it is my pride, my mortified pride. which makes me resolved to conquer him. I solemnly declare he shall never marry miss Vernon, (that is the odious name). I have thought of a scheme that shall frustrate his wishes, and crown my own. I will not disclose it even to you until my success warrants me. Pen begone, I can write no more, but to subscribe myself, Yours, LETITIA WINSTANLEY.

We will now, if the reader please, return to England and the miss Vernons. They wrote to their friends, Mrs. West and Mrs. Ambrose, a particular account of what Mr. Johnson had informed Mr. Wentworth. As, in the main circumstances, their account must be the same, their letters are omitted. A few days after Mr. Johnson had written to his friend he received the following letter from Mr. Beaumont:

LETTER XL.

Mr. Beaumont to J. Johnson, esq.

You have basely betrayed me. It could be by no other mean than yours that miss Vernon could be made acquainted with my marriage and designs respecting her. It will be to no purpose to deny this charge: come forth like a man of honour, and give me satisfaction for a conduct you cannot recall. I shall leave the kingdom and my detested wife as soon as possible. I only wait for my revenge on the base villain whom I honoured with my confidence. Appoint your time and place. I will bring pistols. None but a coward will lose time upon such an occasion.

W. BEAUMONT.

LETTER XLI.

Mr. Johnson, in Answer.

WHY should I deny an action I shall for ever glory in? Yes, Beaumont, I informed miss Vernon of your vile intentions-I expostulated with you to no purpose, and was driven to the necessity of either renouncing your friendship and betraying your confidence, (which, by the way, I never soli VOL. XXXVIII.

cited), or suffer an innocent girl to sink into infamy and ruin. And here let me tell you, had I not known you too well not to be aware that would certainly be the case, I should have suffered you to proceed, for I never conceived a‚woman protected by a man of honour sunk into infamy and ruin. On no consideration, as you have frequently heard me say, would I give a challenge. Brand me, if you please, with the name of coward, if I say, I wish not to meet you on the present occasion. You letten appears to me to have been written in the heat of resentment. If, upon cool perusal, you can approve the contents, I will not refuse you the satisfaction you desire. Until I hear further from You, the time and place for our meeting must remain undecided. J. JOHNSON.'

To be continued. ]

THE FABLE.

THE scene lies in the neighbour hood of a camp, in the Prussian province of Molwitz, and the action takes place immediately after a great victory has been obtained by the electoral prince. The heroine, Ella Rosenberg, is the wife of a young officer, formerly a page of the elector, and much beloved by him. Colonel Mountfort, a man of intrigue, high in power, and possessing an unlimited influence with the prince, conceives a passion for Ella, at a time when Rosenberg is one of his intimate friends. He then finds a pretence to insult Rosenberg, who is provoked to draw his sword upon the parade against his superior officer; and dreading the consequences, from the severity of the military law, hastens immediately, it is understood, to the capital, for the purpose of appealing to the prince, but being heard no more of, he is supposed to have fled his country. At the commencement of the Drama, two years have elapsed since this circumstance. Rosenberg's wealth is confiscated, and Ella, in a state of poverty, is under the protection of Storm, an old officer of invalids, to whom she has been consigned by his friend, and her dying father. Mountfort, unwearied in his designs, pursues the object of his passion, discovers her new abode, and enters it in disguise. In his attempt, however, to bear her off, he is encountered by Storm, who, in the violence of his indignation, tears the scarf from the colonel's shoulders, and tramples on it. In consequence of this outrage, the invalid is made a prisoner. Ella is left the victim of her persecutor, and his followers succeed in carry ing her off. Mountfort then pro

ceeds to congratulate the elector on his victory, and finds him considering a petition from Storm, praying for a support for Rosenberg's wife. The elector being much interested in the fate of Rosenberg, imparts his design of visiting her incognito, if possible, to learn the place of his retreat. Mountfort is at first alarmed, and endeavours to dissuade him; but he believes Ella in his power, and taking advantage of the elector's strict injunctions to enforce his martial law with the utmost rigour, to complete his security, he hurries Storm on his trial, who is immediately condemned. Ella, however, by the assistance of armed travellers, escapes, and meets her protector, guarded, on his way to execution. Storm has previously engaged the commander of the guard to endeavour still to find her a place of security, and at this unexpected meeting, endeavours to conceal from her his fate; but it is soon betrayed, and she is tom from him in a state of frantië agony. She is then conducted to a solitary inn by a soldier. On the approach of night, the prince, concealing his person, fulfils his intention of visiting the cottage of Storm. On his way he encoun ters a man of wretched appearance, having escaped from prison, and flying from pursuers. This man is the lost Rosenberg. He supplicates of the elector the means of purchasing a shelter. A brief conference ensues, in which the former, without betraying himself, is led to disclose that Rosenberg has been secretly and violently im prisoned. The elector directs him to the house where Ella has been, expressing his intention of meeting him there in the morning, and rendering him further aid. Re