so unequal to what (he is persuaded) my education has

been.

I have not yet accepted his proposal, nor discovered my rank to him; but it is very probable I shall do both. What objection can I, or rather what can you make against it? His descent is every way illustrious, and has vastly the advantage of mine Nature has distinguished him with an air of grandeur, beyond ali the borrowed lustre of titles or equipage. There is an elegance in his behaviour superior to the rules of art or imitation; not Paris, when confessed prince on the plains of Ida, appeared more graceful. He talks of love, not in the strains of dramatic frenzy, but with the sobriety of reason and virtue. Persuasion dwells on his tongue, while he describes the gentle passion in accents calm as the midnight-air. What the consequence will be, I cannot yet determine. Dear Lady Sophia, adieu.

ROSALINDA

LETTER II.

To Lady Sophia.

My romance is now finished, the drama is come to a conclusion: I have been married these four months; and from the sober regular way of life I am now in, you must expect no more adventures.

I forgot in my last to inform you, that, with the six thousand a year, there was a seat nobly furnished left to

What must I call him? Not my husband, for fear the aukward domestic sound should give you the spleen. And if I should give him the appellation of my gallant, my lover, or the charming youth, you would think me run mad in romance. But I hope I may call him by his proper name, which is Lucius.

The seat of which he is now the possessor, looks like the abode of liberty and guiltless delight. The situation has something in it so jovial and airy, that it gives an alacrity to the mind. It stands on a gentle rising, with the view of a spacious valley before it, through which

a luxuriant river draws its shining train, and blesses the borders with immortal verdure; the wide champaign beyond opens a fair variety of hills, of groves, and fertile plains, which terminate in a distant prospect of the You have this beautiful scene of nature from every window in the front of the house.

sea.

The opposite side of the structure discloses a quite different view, As that seems the triumph of nature, this appears the insult of art. The gardens and groves are so exquisitely fine and regular, that I fancy myself in a fairy land; it looks all like the effect of enchantment, and beyond human contrivance.

The loves and graces figured in the painted alcoves, persuade me I am got among the immortals, who seem to court me to their soft recesses; when through a long vista the smiling forms rise in just proportion before me, I converse with the deities, and am charmed with the wonders of the poetical world.

I find leisure enough, for, these visionary delights, be ing discharged from family cares by my husband's grand mother, who is qualified to manage those affairs with great prudence and decency. It is a pleasure to me to submit to her advice in every punctilio, as I find it o bliges Lucius, who treats her with the utmost deference and respect; nor fails to find some handsome excuse for any thing that has the appearance of obstinacy or ca, price in her temper.

His merit, in every occurrence, secures my esteem, An air of justice and benignity shines through his whole conduct. His mind was in the same elevation when his fortune, was at the lowest; nor has this unexpected turn had the least influence on the modesty and evenness of his: disposition. His management in every thing is at once generous and discreet. He has devoted a thousand pounds a-year out of the six thousand to charitable uses; another thousand he secured to me for my peculiar expences; the rest to be spent in his household, the charge of which he has limited to his income, and pays his bills once a-month with great exactness, that no honest tradesman may be injured by his delay. Whatever tres

pass is done by the carelessness of his servants, in the pursuit of their rural sports, he patiently hears the complaints of the sufferers, and restores their damage to the full.

His compassion is equal to his justice. Never has he been seen to turn away from a spectacle of pity; never has he shut his ears to the voice of distress; never, by an insolent reproach, silenced the cries of poverty, nor delayed his bounty to the necessitous.

Several honest clergymen with large families and narrow incomes have already experienced his generosity, and blessed their young benefactor. He has taken a son of a neighbouring minister into the family, who was bred at the university, and is a youth of great piety, and very good sense. He reads constantly to us morning and evening prayers, when not a servant in the house is suffered to be absent.

Lucius has a handsome collection of English and French authors. His father lived long enough to see him instructed in both these languages: so that his books, with the conversation of the young student, are the agreeable amusement of his leisure hours; which are not so many as he seems to wish, his rank and merit still engaging him in new acquaintance, there being several gentlemen's seats scattered about in this pleasant champaign.

I find myself more free and disengaged, having no companion but Sally. In her conversation I forget I am below the stars, and mingle with immortal beings. Her sentiments are all elevated and refined; the language of heaven flows from her lips, in accents sweet as an angel's voice. She has a surprising memory, and speaks the finest parts of Milton by heart. I fancy myself amongst the celestial minstrels, when she repeats that description, where

C -Their golden harps they take,

Harps ever tun'd, that glitt'ring by their side,
Like quivers hang, and with preamble sweet
Of charming symphony, they introduce
Their sacred song, and waken raptures high.'

Mr Pope's Messiah is another of her favourite poems;

which she recites with such a graceful pronunciation, that it seems always new and surprising.

But while I am enjoying this agreeable society, I know it is a pleasure that is stealing from me, like some fair flower, whose bloom withers while I am regaling my senses with its fragrancy. The young saint is bidding adieu to mortal things, and preparing for her native skies. I brought her hither, to try if the change of air would mend her health :- but I see no advantage she has by it; and finding her impatient to return, I have promised to carry her in my chaise, to-morrow back to her father's house. I go the more willingly, that I may make a visit to the peaceful abode where I spent so many happy hours.

I know not if my mistress has yet recovered the confusion she was in at the discovery of my quality. As for Lucius, it seemed to be no secret to him. He told me, there was something in my behaviour that convinced him I was not in my proper situation; but by what misfortune I was sunk, he could never make the least conjecture. My conduct, he thought, was too reserved. to suffer him to suspect any thing to my disadvantage; and when he found my concealment was on a religious account, it gave him the highest satisfaction, to find it in his power to place me in circumstances more agreeable and independent.

Two or three days after I was married, I writ to my father, with all the submission and tenderness that natural affection could dictate. I am informed he relents, and is pleased with an alliance to this noble family. But I have not yet had the honour of any letter or message from his lordship. Oh! could I throw myself at his feet, and once more hear his paternal blessing, my happiness were complete!

The pastoral have inclosed was only writ as a solitary amusement; which makes me send it without any apology, or giving myself the airs of being an author. I hope it will not displease you, that niy shepherd happens to be a Christian; and that the pastoral scene lies on the British plains, as long as I leave you to wander

at your leisure in the vale of Tempe, or follow your fleecy charge on the fair Arcadian pastures. Adieu.

Yours, &c.

ROSALINDA,

A PASTORAL.

HENRY

AND

LUCY.

Henry. Lucy, while resting in this verdant shade,

By pow'r divine thus elegantly made,

Say, can'st thou envy pomp and regal rooms,

Gay with the luxury of Persian looms ?

Or painted roofs, whose beauty would entice

The thoughts through all the fabled joys of vice?
Fabled, indeed! true joys it cannot boast,
Since pleasure flies when innocence is lost.
Remorse, despair, and every cruel guest,
Become the inmates of the guilty breast.

Lu. How spotless,' Henry, is thy well turn'd mind,
Averse to ill, to follow good inclin'd!
With thee conversing, ev'ry day I learn
New charms in sacred virtue to discern ;
And, emulous of thee, with joy pursue
That goodness I admire and love in you.

Hen. Thou needst not learn of me. In nature's book
Thou may'st on thy Creator's wisdom look:
And, as the planets run their constant race,
His glorious footsteps in their order trace.
He bids the sun in all its beauty rise,
To bless our soil, and gild the vaulted skies;
And, by the word of his almighty power,
Ordains the moon to cheer the midnight hour!
While sparkling stars in solemn order wait
Upon her silent course, to grace her state.

Lu. Nor in the skies alone his power is seen;
We view it in the grove, and flow'ry green.
To imitate whose charms all art is faint.
The rose's glowing blush what hand can paint?
Or equal the pale lily's snowy hue?

1 Or emulate the cornflow'r's glossy blue !