"The grave rebuke,

Severe in youthful beauty, added grace

"Invincible."

Like the fallen angel in Milton,

"Abash'd I stood,

"And felt how awful goodness is, and saw
"Virtue how lovely in her native shape!"

The glory that darted from his eyes, the agreeable accent, the moving eloquence that flowed from those rosy lips, commanded my whole attention. Had he preached a sermon, I could patiently have listened to the blooming orator,

"From morn to noon,

"From noon to dewy eve, a summer's day."

事

MILTON.

And yet I could not forbear sometimes laughing at his gravity, and begging he would put himself into holy orders. But he was not to be rallied out of his sobriety. Nor could I possibly draw from him that flattery, with which till now I had been addressed. He seemed rather to have an inclination to humble my vanity.

Charlotte, the whole time, sat in a pensive silence, while the tears, which, she, strove to conceal, would so netimes drop from her eyes. Philocles, in every pause of conversation, surveyed her with looks that expressed great humanity; but I was in no disposition to be jealous of any thing I looked on so inferior to myself.

However, my concern to conceal this affair from my brother, made me break off the conversation a little abruptly, that we might be at home at the usual hour. As soon as ever we were got alone, I asked Charlotte how she liked the handsome hermit. Oh (said she with a tender emotion,) that I had never seen him! Till now I was not sensible, of the injury this barbarian (your brother) has done me. He has cut me off from all the lawful joys of life, from the pleasure of a reciprocal affection for a man of worth and virtue. With my innocence I lost a right to that happiness.

-

What am I a prostitute !a kept mistress! your brother'sO infamy: your brother's whe!' If you had not been that (said I) Charlotte, you had been a beggar.'

O envied title! (she replied,).O glorious poverty! thou hast been the choice of saints and heroes; Virtue has made thee her sanctuary, her peaceful retreat. I could have fed on wholesome vegetables, quenched my thirst at some chrystal brook, indulged my harmless slumbers on the verdant turf, undisturbed with guilty fears. Pardon me (said she, recollecting her self) these passionate sallies. I find myself more than ever undone, condemned to waste my hours in sullen obscurity; in the pride of life, the bloom of soft desires, to languish in solitary despair. My conscience will not suffer me to gratify an unlawful passion : nor should any advantage (were my guilt a secret,) persuade me to impose on a man of worth. I have been true even to this rake that has undone me, and frustrated all my hopes of a lawful happiness.'

That is, my brother has spoiled your marriage, (said I). But, dear Charlotte, why should that thought afflict you, who intend to pass your future time in penitence and retirement? Has the handsome hermit altered your pious resolutions ?'

gave

No, (she replied;) he has rather confirmed them. Never had the cause of virtue a more resistiess advo< cate. Methinks I see the beauty that lightened in his face; I hear the charming accent still; I felt the en· ergy of his arguments; my soul its full assent to the celestial dictates. I wondered you could so of ten interrupt the graceful orator with your ill-timed raillery. I could have listened to his lecture of, morality till the mid-night dews had fallen, till the stars had set.'

Dear Charlotte, (said I,) forgive this interruption; I find you are in love. My intention is entirely frus trated, of having your picture drawn as the Fair Pe nitent, with a lamp and prayer-book before you. I perceive you design yet to converse among sinful mor

tals. Will you go with me to-morrow to hear ano⚫ther lecture from the charming divine?'

Rather (she replied) let me retire to the silent grave to conceal my infamy. I would not deceive him with an air of innocence, while I am conscious of my own dishonour. 1.know myself; this is the crisis of my • misery; nothing can obliterate this secret sense of shame. I may retire from the public view, as it is my full resolution; but what is a resolution at sixteen? Without a peculiar assistance from heaven, I shall never conquer the dictates of love and nature.In this perplexity, I must either marry some worth • less wretch that knows my infamy, or deceive some • man of merit to whom it is a secret.'

Here she burst into a flood of tears, intreating me to write to an uncle she had, to receive her into his favour, and let her live, privately in his family. This I promised; nor despair of prevailing. My concern for her makes me forget it is time to subscribe myself

your bumble servant,

LAURA.

LETTER V.

CHARLOTTE, to her great satisfaction, has this morning left us, and is gone to her uncle; who was easily persuaded to receive her, after he was assured of the sincerity of her penitence. But I found it a harder task to prevail with my brother to resign the idol of his affections; though he lost nothing by her absence, but the pleasure of gazing on her,

I am in pain till you know the sequel of my advenfure with Philocles; who, since I writ last, has several times, by appointment, met me in the delicious bower: but still, to my great vexation, he appeared insensible of any tender impression. I could discern nothing in his conversation, but a pious design to convert me to Christianity, and convince me of the folly of the new scheme to which my brother had made me a proselyte. But the last time we met, Fobserved a soft confusion

in his looks, till, after a long pause, which I had no mind to interrupt, I am going, (said he,) to set my'self in a very ridiculous light to one of your character; < but I am content to pass for an enthusiast, till the event convinces you of the truth of what I shall relate.

If a domestic tradition may be credited, there has • no person died out of our family, but what has had a warning of their approaching fate, by hearing music passing through the house in the dead silence of the night; which is heard by none but the person con cerned. My mother and sister both foretold their own death from this presage. I see you smile, (continued Philocles :) but I have had the same warning, and am superstitious enough to credit it. Last night, some • trifling disorder kept me waking; my thoughts, however, were placid and serene: some verses I had heard · my sister repeat in her last sickness came fresh into my memory..

While night in solemn triumph reigns,

Ascend, my soul, the heav'nly plains;

Thy flight to those gay regions take:

Angels and God are still awake.
The smiling stars will light thy way

To the gladsome realms of day:
While drowsy men, with idle themes,
Fantastic joys, and airy dreams,

Are entertain'd; do thou converse

With heav'n, and heav'nly strains rehearse ;

Visit the peaceful climes above,

And through the fields of pleasure rove;

Forget the scenes of care and strife,

"And walk among the trees of life;
Taste the rich fruits of paradise,
And bathe in flowing streams of bliss:
Solac'd in those eternal springs,

Lose ev'ry thought of mortal things.

Just as I had repeated these verses, I was serenad ed by an invisible musician, with the sweetest strains that ever delighted mortal ears. The harmonious echo seemed to pass from room to room till it came into my chamber; where, after a short space, it sunk away in a gentle cadence.

I knew my obsequies were now sung, and heard

C c

the fatal summons without surprise.

Death was a

theme familiar to my thoughts, as I never expected or desired to reach the decline of life.'

I listened to this story as to a fairy tale, or a sort of waking dream. As gravely as he told it, I could not forbear laughing.

This, Madam, (said he,) is what I expected; but it will not make me less serious on a subject of such importance. You have often rallied me on a manner of life so unsuitable to my years. Perhaps it may be ⚫ more the effect of reason than inclination. My bro⚫ther's tragical end convinced me of the fatal effects of love, and made me resolve never to admit chat distracting passion to my breast, But whatever opposition I have made, my heart has not been insensible of your charms, nor with all my philosophy sufficiently guarded against the allurements of love and soft desire. Even now, when I find myself disengaged from " every other care, I have the utmost solicitude for your happiness. I am distressed to leave you in this state <of infidelity; for this is the last interview we shall have, unless I am permitted to make you a visit from the immortal regions, in order to convince you, that ⚫ the hopes of Christianity are no delusion.'

This proposal (said I) charms me. There would be no resisting such evidence. I hope you will prove a ghost of honour, and not fail the assignation, which • on my side shall be punctually kept, on condition you ⚫ appear in open day-light, and dressed in your celestial • finery. With these circumstances, I may venture to • promise you, neither to run away, nor fall into fits. The place of your reception, though not perhaps suitable to your future dignity, shall be a painted alcove, fronting a walk shaded with limes at the end of my brother's garden.'

The gaiety, (replied Philocles) with which you treat this subject, persuades me you have courage enough to be as good as your word; which is the last • and only favour I have to ask. I must now bid you farewel, and, in the retirement of my closet, prepare