This cruel message, with the sad tidings of her moTM ther's death that followed, and the full evidence that she was deluded by my brother with feigned promises of marriage, had almost proved fatal to her life; nor could any argument allay her sorrow, till her distressed lover engaged never to ask any future favour of her, what the nicest virtue may grant. On this condition, she consented to go to his new seat in the country; for indeed she has no other refuge. He has kept his promise; she lodges in my apartment, and is treated by him with as much decency as if she was his sister.

I never thought such a libertine would turn Platonic: it is an unusual refinement, and, I believe, the first gal-: lantry of this kind he ever practised. But he has an esteem, a tenderness for her, of which, by his dissolute manners, I always fancied him incapable.

Her behaviour is really modest; nor was there ever a more natural impression of truth and innocence, than appears in her face. Her too credulous temper, and unexperienced years, have betrayed her into this state of shame and misery; of which, though too late, she seems exquisitely sensible. Since I began this letter, she came into my closet, and, with a flood of tears, begged me to contrive some way to free her from this dangerous place.

But whither (said she,) can I fly! My friends will • never receive me; nor have I the confidence to meet their reproaches. My crime has sent a tender mother weeping to her grave, it loads my father's hoary head • with a heavier weight of sorrow than all his other misfortunes. Love was not my excuse; I am yet a stran ger to that passion: it was a cowardice, it was fear of 6 poverty. A criminal distrust of celestial Providence. I should have begged, I should have starved, rather than parted with my innocence, on such mercenary ⚫ terms. However sincere my repentance is, it can signify nothing with regard to the world. The scandal ⚫ will never be obliterated. I must either face the public contempt, or waste my days in a joyless obscurity, Put my condition in the best light; would this false

man, as he promised, marry me; what opprobrious language, what terms of infamy, must I expect, in his intervals of chagrin ! Besides this, the impiety of his • conversation terrifies me, while I hear him make a jest of those sacred subjects for which I have been taught the highest veneration. I should live happier with a • wild American.'

I made no reply; the reasoning was too just to admit a contradiction. But this melancholy instance makes me more than ever resolved not to surrender, nor even capitulate on any terms, but those of a lawful English wife. Adieu.

LAURA.

LETTER III.

WHAT mutable things we are! You will be surprised to hear I am grown fond of the country, and have acquired a relish for its harmless delights. I can talk to an echo, or listen with great attention to a purling stream. I am in a fair way to make garlands, invoke the muses, and write pastorals. Since you heard last from me, I have met with an agreeable adventure that has given a sort of romantic turn to my imagination.

As I was taking my constant diversion of riding on the Downs, the evening being exceeding pleasant, I wandered some miles beyond my usual limits, till I came in sight of a venerable pile of building, which could be distinguished from a church by nothing but the want of a steeple; every thing about it had an air of grandeur and antiquity. At some distance from the house there was a thick wood, with several fine walks cut through

it.

I had a great inclination to ramble in those agreeable shades; and alighting, ordered my footman to wait at the place where I left him. It was not long before I came to the centre of the forest, in which was a large grass plot of a circular figure, with a double row of

high elms growing in the same form round it. In the middle of the green was a little mount, that, by easy steps of turf, had a winding ascent to the top; where stood an arbour of jessamine, woodbine, and roses, , twisted together with a sort of elegant disorder, The gaudy blossoms pleased the sight, while their mingled sweets perfumed the ambient air. On the lower branches of the circling elms hung several gilt cages, with a variety of singing birds in them, which were now chant ing their evening songs, while a musical flagellet, in clear and shrill responses, answered from the delicious arbour.

I began to think there were indeed such things as inchanted forests and vocal groves, or that the great Spirit of nature was solacing itself in those innocent abodes.

However, curiosity led me on till I came to the charm. ing bower; where I found a well dressed beautiful youth of about seventeen, sitting with a flagellet in his hand. His complexion was a lively brunette, that disgraced the lily and the roses; his dark hair fell in large and graceful curls below his neck; nothing could be more elegant than his shape and feature; nor was there any meeting the splendour of his eyes, without being sensible of every darting glance.

I made some apology for my intrusion; which he answered with an easy natural civility. Nor could I perceive that my presence gave him the least surprise or confusion. He received me with perfect composure, nor seemed to have any manner of curiosity to know whence I came, or whither I was going; nor (to my great mortification) did he so much as ask whether I was a mortal or a goddess.

It gave me some uneasiness, I confess, to find myself no more an object of surprise, to one who perhaps had never seen any thing so fine in his life: for I was in a very rich habit, blazing with scarlet and gold. You cannot imagine how it humbled my vanity, to observe with what indolence and tranquillity the young insensible looked at me; and the more, because he did not seem to want wit or politeness. I was extremely vexed, that at three and twenty he should treat me with as

much indifference and respect as if I had been his great grandmother.

This sedateness gave me a curiosity to pry into his studies: for I saw two books lie in the place where he sat. When I opened them, I found one was, A dise course of the government of the passions: the other, A treatise of the immortality of the soul. I had nothing to say on those grave subjects; but after some formal discourse of the fine situation of the place, I took my leave of it; the young philosopher attending me to the limits of the wood, where I left my servant; and there we parted, without any seeming reluctance on either side.

But I own I had a restless curiosity to know the history of this lovely youth, and to whom the house belonged. Nor was it long before I received satisfaction from a clergyman that was riding the same road with me. He said, The mansion was Sir Harry Lizzard's, a man of merit, and well acquainted with the world; at which he was now unreasonably disgusted, and grown solitary,, on the account of the death of his eldest son, to whom he had given very liberal education, and with a generous allowance, sent him into Italy; where his time was spent in the most dissolute manner; till being unhappily engaged with a lewd woman, in a fit of jealousy, he shot himself through the head. This tragical event made Sir Harry resolve to give his younger son a quite different education.Indeed his character is entirely the reverse of his elder brother's: he is remarkable for his early piety, and great proficiency in all sorts of learning, having a very polite and ingenious person for his tutor. But Philocles, that is the younger gentleman's name, has too great an allay of gravity for his early years, and is of so retired a temper, that he is known by the title of The handsome hermit, as he is indeed very hand

'some.'

: Here the clergyman left me, overjoyed with this intelligence. As soon as I got home, I related my adventure to Charlotte, who gave me but little attention,

being, as I told you, in the utmost anxiety at the manner of life to which she was confined, I am,..."

Dear Aurelia,

Most sincerely your's, &c.

LAURA.

LETTER IV..

SINCE you received my last letter, I have taken another ramble in Sir Harry Lizzard's forest. My brother knows nothing of this adventure. And the first afternoon that I found him engaged, I persuaded Charlotte to go with me; who was glad of any pretence to fly from her own gallant, though she expressed but little curiosity to see mine.

At the entrance of the grove, we left the servants to wait with our horses till we returned. In my first visit I perceived, by Philocles' discourse, that when the evening was fair, he constantly spent it in the charming bower; where we now found him reading Dr Young's True Estimate of Human Life, with such attention, he did not immediately see us, and seemed surprised at the encounter.

0:

It diverted me to find his philosophy discomposed. I began to flatter myself, it was the effect of my charms, The hopes of such a conquest delighted me more than all my past victories. It gave a sudden vivacity to my thoughts; and resolving by my wit to secure the conquest of my eyes, I began, with great gaiety, to rally him on his recluse manner of life, and losing his gayest hours in a joyless solitude.

By this time the young Stoic had assumed his natural superiority; and, instead of replying, as I expected, in a gallant and modish strain, he talked to me of the satisfactions of virtue, the tranquillity of the mind in the rectitude of its passions; themes which, from another person, would have composed me better than à dose of laudanum. But here,