and in which her image was esteemed to work such great miracles, that pilgrims came from parts very remote to visit it; and it was held in such veneration, that all ships passing within sight of it, are reported to have constantly lowered their topsails, to salute it. And the Feast of the Invention of the Holy Cross, which was the third day of May, being to be celebrated there, with great solemnity, her gratitude for her recovery, and for the supposed intercession of the Virgin, determined her to go herself at that time and fulfil her vow.

Isabella obtained permission to accompany her sister in this devout purpose; and the roads being little frequented in that age, and a horse almost the only conveyance, they resolved to put themselves, with two attendants, aboard a passage-sloop, that usually went, at stated times, from Feversham to Broadstairs, and other parts along the coast, between that place and the Downs.

They set sail in the evening, but had not been at sea above two hours, before a violent storm arose.-Every one who is acquainted with the navigation of this coast, quite to the mouth of the Thames, knows how difficult it is rendered, by reason of the many flats, and banks of sand, that obstruct it.

The suddenness and fury of the storm, together with the thunder and lightning that accompanied it, threw a dismay amongst all the passengers; and the mariners, from the opposition of the wind and tide, were unable to direct the vessel. To pursue their course was impracticable; they therefore attempted to save themselves, by running in on the shore, at a place called Reculver (which is a small village, though of great antiquity, situate on the border of the isle of Thanet); but the advance of the night, and a thick fog, prevented them from discerning exactly whereabout they were.-Every endeavour to reach the shore was frustrated by the storm driving them from it; and their sails being all shattered, a sudden swell of the sea bore them quite out of their direction, and struck the vessel on a bank of sand, called the Horse, that lies a little off from Reculver.

The surprise-the confusion-and the image of death that must naturally rush into the minds of people, who were on the point of being wrecked, can only be justly felt, or described, by those who have stood in so dreadful a situation. Each one recommended himself to God, and to his tutelar saint.—

The mariners hoisted out their long boat as precipitately as they could; and that which most agitated the thoughts of Francis and Isabella, was the mutual preservation of each other.

Scarce was the boat on the surface of the waves, when every one was eager to rush into it; for it was certain the vessel must bulge in a few hours, and, to add to the horror, night advanced. The captain, almost by force, dragged the lady abbess and her sister from the cabin, and scarce had he' heiped the first, half dead as she was, down the side of the ship, when those who were already in the boat, finding they must all perish, if more got in, pushed off instantly, and rowed towards the shore, in spite of the menaces of the captain, who stood on deck, supporting Isabella-the intreaties of the abbess, who was wild to return-or the cries of the passengers left behind.

The only faint hope which now remained to those on board, was, that the vessel might possibly hold together, till some assistance could be obtained from the shore; which they still flattered themselves would come, in case the boat reached the land,-which it providently did, though with the utmost risk. Every one who remained in the vessel was resigned to his fate; and surrounded as Isabella was by impending death, it afforded no small consolation to her to think that there was a possibility that her sister had escaped.

It was four hours after the arrival of the boat, before any one durst venture out; when, the storm abating with the departure of the tide, and the day being near dawning, a large boat put off to the wreck. When those who went to assist got to it, they found all the people on board retired to different places beneath the deck, great part of which was broken away. Isabella had remained in the cabin; one side of which was also washed off, and the room half filled with water, she was almost exhausted by the terrors she had sustained,— the bruises she had received,-and the extreme cold in which she had so long suffered. They led her with the utmost gentleness from this wretched place, while she, all pale and trembling, scarcely comprehended at first what they were doing; yet life seemed to flush anew in her countenance, on hearing that her sister was preserved.

As soon as they had brought her on shore, she was sup

ported by several women, who were waiting to receive her; and conducted to the house where the lady abbess was.Frances, transported at the first sight of her sister, ran out to meet Isabella, who, the moment she approached, made an effort to spring forward to her, but sunk down, overpowered, into the arms of her attendants. Frances clasped her hand, and, in eager joy, would have uttered something, but could only faintly pronounce her name and fell at her feet in a

Swoon.

Isabella was immediately put into bed, and received every assistance that could be procured; but her strength and spirits were so far exhausted, by the terror and fatigue, which her mind and body had undergone, and by remaining so many hours in water, that she lived but till the evening of the fol lowing day.

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Francis, though still sinking from the shock and agitation of the preceding night, forgot, in her attention to her sister, her own sufferings. She never stirred from her bedside, and often accused herself as being the fatal cause of all that had befallen her, by suffering her attendance in this expedition. Isabella chid her for thinking so,-declaring it was the will of Heaven, to which she patiently submitted. 'Though we came into the world together," says she, "yet as we were not destined to perish together, a time must inevitably have come, when death would have dissolved our union. I rejoice that I am not the survivor. I die, where I have ever wished to live, in the arms of the most beloved of sisters. Pray for the repose of my soul; and lay me in the tomb which you have allotted to be your own-that one grave may in death hold our remains, who in life had but one beart."

The loss of Isabella plunged the lady abbess into that deep distress, which minds formed like her's, with the noblest sentiments of tenderness, and benevolence, must, on such a trial, inevitably feel. She caused the body of her unfortunate sister to be transported in solemnity to their convent; where, after it had been exposed with accustomed rites, it was deposited, with every mark of respect, in a vault, on one side of the shrine of Saint Benedict,-bedewed with tears of the most heart-felt sorrow, dropped from the eyes of all the sisterhood.

When time and reflection had somewhat calmed her affliction, Frances failed not to transmit, by the hands of her confessor, (her uncle, the abbot, having been sometime dead) her intended offering to the Virgin of Broadstairs, accompanied by a donation of twelve masses, to be said for the repose of Isabella's soul. And soon after to perpetuate the memory of her sister, as well as to direct the mariners in their course, that they might escape the sad calamity herself had so fatally experienced, she caused a very ancient church, that stood on a rising ground just above the village of Reculver, and which was greatly fallen into decay, to be restored, and much enlarged, and at one end thereof erected two towers with lofty spires upon them,-the which she directed should be called "THE SISTERS ;"-and to this day it retains the name, and is a sea-mark of great utility.

It less than seven years the whole church was completed; which she endowed very liberally, by a grant out of her own fortune; and ordained, that there should be celebrated one solemn mass, on the first day of every month (the wreck having happened on the first of May); and that a perpetual litany should be sung for the eternal peace of the departed Isabella.

She lived to see this her will executed, as well as to bestow many other charitable donations, not only on the convent over which she presided, but on several other religious institutions; and was, from her amiable character, and pious example, beloved and respected to the last hour of her life.

She survived Isabella eleven years, and died most sincerely and deservedly lamented, towards the end of the year 1512. Her remains, pursuant to her own desire, were deposited by the side of those of her sister, with all that solemnity due to her high rank and office. A monument was erected near to the place where they were interred, with their figures kneeling, hand in hand, before a cross; and beneath it a plate of brass, recording their unshaken friendship,

Faithful, congenial spirits!-in whatsoever world ye reside, peace be your lot!- -as virtue was your portion here!-Long, long may this memorial of your love remain!-to guide the dubious vessel in its course, and make your names blest by the wanderers of the deep!

THE AUTO-BIOGRAPHY OF A SPOILED

CHILD.

The tooth-ache is a plague-and a stupid neighbour who comes to spend long afternoons with one, is a plague ;-and so is a "managing" wife, and a "highly accomplished” sister; and a friend with too "fine feelings "--but without doubt the plague of a yet greater magnitude, is, a SPOILED CHILD! To have, however, this plague of plagues in perfection, a person must neither belong to, nor have any control over, the little miss or master; as then, there would, at least, be this consolatory reflection -“I did the mischief—I spoiled the child?" No; the unhappy wight must be governess, or nurse, or eldest sister; or hold some official situation, by virtue of which, she is required to manage, without being allowed to master. Then there is no putting tears into type; or sighs into letterpress; or the daily and hourly sorrows of one who thus lives with spoiled children, into words! Yet I do dearly love children of all descriptions, whether spoiled or unspoiled; trowsered, or petticoated-in a poem, a picture, and a cradle! So long as they remain in these, their silent spheres, no one can speak with more sincere delight than myself, of "infantine simplicity"-" engaging prattle"-"dawning intelligence"--"the morn of life" — "the spring time of existence"-etc.; but I am fain to confess, that too often when the buds of beauty come forth living realities-no longer the childhood of poetic fancy, but the childhood of cries, questions, and sugar candy,-my ardour abates, my admiration degenerates, and on the first opening I am prone to tear myself away from the sweet little cherubs! There are exceptions to this, as to every other rule, but as a general assertion, I like children as I do wind instruments, a good way off! In both cases,

"Tis distance lends enchantment to the sound!

I am not going to trouble the reader with any details of the various afflictions I have suffered through the agency of spoiled children, which have induced this otherwise unpardonable want of complacency towards the whole species. My L. 34. 1.

H