She

on a kinder heart, but it was not made for this world. it was who so long preserved the widowed life of her that was first dear to me; but fortune smiled not on our courtship, and Phoebe was doomed to be the wife of another." Gregory hastily brushed away the tear, and proceeded: "They took a little farm in the neighbourhood, but it was ill managed; their cattle died; and the landlord's distraint soon reduced them to poverty and ruin. Bad habits but too frequently accompany misfortune. In a fit of desperation the husband of Phoebe was induced to enter the army, thus trusting to the precarious contingency of a soldier for the support of himself and his family. His regiment was soon ordered abroad, and he fell nobly in defending the honour of his country. His wife, and three helpless children, were thus left to the rude protection of the world; and but for the timely interference of that angel to whom the painter has done so much justice, the whole family of the Hawthornes would have early found a grave.Phoebe, however, had felt a pang which the gentle hand of philanthropy could not alleviate, and the lilly drooped, withered, and died. Her remains were interred in the corner of the village church-yard, and no memorial marks the spot."

But a stone shall render more sacred the relics," interrupted Westerville.

"I happened to pass through the village a few months after, (continued Gregory), and stopping to make enquiry, I learned the melancholy catastrophe. A rosy little fellow, all that was now left, directed me to the grave of his mammy. I held him by the left hand, and looking me full in the face, he pointed with his right hand to the place of interment. I had a few roots of the sweet-scented violet in my pocket, some of which I carefully covered with a little fresh mould that lay on the south side of the grave, and giving my guide a trifle, he engaged at least once a day to water the plants. It should be, he said, his little garden, and not a weed should rankle there. His mammy was fond of flowers; and Joey too, and Jane liked flowers, but they were gone to mammy. Still, (said he) Old Margery is very kind to me, but I shall never more see my mammy'-and he burst into tears." "Darling fellow," exclaimed Westerville.

The heart of Old Gregory swelled, and he turned to hide his feelings.

"But now, (and the rising sob nearly choaked his utterance), there is no child to water the flowers, and every root has perished."

A SERIOUS COMPLAINT.

TO THE EDITOR.

SIR-As you are, by virtue of your office, bound to give a patient hearing to the calls of the distressed, so I am persuaded you are inclined, by the benevolence of your intentions, to give as much relief as lies in your power. My complaint is, indeed, of a nature so very singular, that while I make it, I am in doubt whether it be in your power to afford a remedy; yet I am willing to claim the common right of mankind, the right of making my wrongs public.

To be brief, Sir, I have to prefer a charge against the frequent use of certain words in our language, which, although short, and seldom exceeding one syllable, yet imply in them the importance of a whole harangue. They have likewise more weight and influence in the deliberations of mankind than all the rest of the language put together.

The chief of these obnoxious words is-BUT. This single word has overthrown more schemes of great magnitude and importance, has broken more chains of sound argument, and acute ratiocination, than any of its brethren.

BUT is a favourite word with all your men of candour, and who would wish to appear condescending and conciliating."To be sure, Sir, what you advance is very well founded; your arguments are well put, and they apply closely to the case in point. More eloquence, too, I have never heard upon any subject; and, upon the whole, what you have said does equal honour to your head and heart; and I at first felt myself strongly impelled to join issue with you in promoting a plan so excellent in itself, and so beneficial in its consequen ces-BUT!"- -The moment, Sir, this But gets into his head he forgets all his candour, and, in ten minutes, proves that there is not a particle of truth or common sense in all he has heard from the learned Gentleman whom he complimented with so much profuseness.

BUT is also the favourite and true friend to all those, who, from ill-nature, inability, or any other secret reason, do not choose to grant the favours required of them: A man, who is worth thousands, would gladly assist a poor relation, who wants only a few pounds to begin business with; BUT.-The great man, too, is exceedingly happy to see you; perfectly well remembers that he promised you the place which is now

become vacant, and no man on earth is more sensible of the obligations he owes you; nor more sincerely wishes to serve you upon every occasion; BUT-. Miss Laura, perfectly disengaged in her affections, and always happy when she can please her parents, who have proposed a lover of rank and fortune equal to her own, of unexceptionable person, manners, and disposition; to be sure it shocks her she has the very highest opinion of the gentleman's merit, and really knows very few like him; BUT—.

To do BUT justice, however, there is something of openness and candour, and something of decision and firmness about it, which ends an affair very quickly, by shewing us the worst at first. I cannot say so much of another very obnoxi ous word-IF. The former is manly; but this is a sneaking, qualifying scoundrel, that dares not speak out, or look you in the face. You do not know what it means, nor how far it is intended to go. It may mean every thing undoubtedly, but, at the same time, it may mean any thing. Now double'dealing is hateful between man and man, and is eminently promoted by an IF.

A trader of credit applies to his Banker to discount some bills, a process which the calls of trade render occasionallynecessary, and he demonstrates to him undeniably the goodness of the paper. "Why, Mr. these bills may be very good, and the drawers, acceptors, and indorsers, equally so, and I should have no scruple about doing what you desire, for I have the greatest inclination to serve you, İF—” The business would have ended here had BUT been the word : after a number of mortifying applications, the business is done in a half-and-half way, attended with very unpleasant circum

stances.

PERHAPS is another word of the same breed with Bur and IF, and partakes of the gentleness of the latter, indeed it has most of the qualities of an IF; but it is infinitely more cautious. It is therefore used by all who are afraid to give an opinion in matters of consequence, in critical times, when freedom of opinion is not very safe. As far as it concerns the affairs of common life between man and man, it is liable to the same objections as IF: in judging of political affairs, and in canvassing and criticising the lives and actions of men,with whom we have but little acquaintance, and in whom we are nevertheless much interested, a PERHAPS judiciously used, would, I am persuaded, lead to a candid way of thinking, and heal many of those breaches which are occasioned by the unZ

happy mixture of ignorance and intemperance, prejudice and passion, interest and common sense.

I might, Sir, go on to complain of some other words which are the cause of great mischief, from the ease in which they may be used, and the little scruple which most people have in abusing them. I shall not, however, take up more of your room, than in expressing my hope that you will admit the present letter. If you comply, PERHAPS it may not be unpleasing to your Readers; and I may be induced to continue the subject in a future letter; BUT whether I shall, or not,

You ask me, if error be useful to man? you ought rather to call in question the utility of truth. The former has always something pleasant to tell us, and the latter nothing but what is disagreeable. Are we happy? error tells us that our happiness will endure; and truth convinces us that it is perishable. Are we unhappy? truth shews us that our misfortunes are as just as they are lasting; error, on the contrary, persuades us they are unjust, and but for a season. One glass exhibits you full of beauties, and another covered with defects-which do you choose?

The very immutability of truth proves that it is foreign to mutable man. Error, on the contrary, varying to infinity, amalgamates better with his varying nature. Observe, that error has always somewhat of conformity to our will; for our judgment is swayed more than any thing by our passions, and our errors crown the whole by complying with our tastes.The ambitious man hopes every thing he wishes; the covetous man enjoys all that he denies himself; the lover dreams that he is beloved; every one is deceived according to his own fancy.

How can we avoid being deceived? every thing conduces to it: error is within us and without us; our perceptions are false; our judgments are liable to imposition; and our fancied knowledge is but the result of our illusions. Error is to reality what a picture is to a map. In the map, nothing is in its apparent place; in the picture, nothing is in its real place ; but the one pleases, and the other only instructs.

Error is still more useful than agreeable; it is error which causes people to submit to the yoke, by persuading them that they are weaker than their masters; it establishes peace and union in societies and in families, by concealing from one that he is despised, from another that he is hated, from a third that he is deceived: to it, all ranks, all ages, owe their happiness. But remark, that the less you resist it, the more agreeable you will find it; judge by the joyful air of him who abandons himself to error, and the melancholy of the philosopher who combats it. Judge by the two sweetest seasons of life, infancy and youth; in one we know nothing; in the other we are deceived in every thing. Can you wish for better, here below, than a sweetner of every good, and an antidote to every evil? We owe them to error. With one hand

she intoxicates the rich man reclining upon purple; with the other she consoles the wretch on his bed of straw; she is the protecting genius of man; happy or unhappy she never abandons him; she cradles him at his birth, she flatters him thro' life, and she smiles upon him even when descending the steps of the tomb. Every thing is error; the child kisses his doll with raptures; the old man loves; the dying man plants his park, and traces the plan of a future habitation. Life with out error would be miserable, because death would be for ever before our eyes: it is error which conceals it, and thus permits us to taste of happiness, by persuading us that we have still time to enjoy. X.

TO THE EDITOR,

SIR-I have sent the inclosed account of Oliver Cromwell's birth, thinking it may entertain your Readers; none of our historians having observed that his mother was a Scotswoman.

I am, &c.

M. R.

Robert Cromwell, father to Oliver, though he was, by the countenance of his elder brother Sir Oliver, made a Justice of Peace in Huntingdonshire, had but a slender estate; much of his support being a brewhouse in Huttingdon, chiefly managed by his wife, who was sister to Sir Robert Stewart, of the city of Ely, and by whom he had issue this our famous Oliver, whose uncle left him an estate of L.500 a-year, in the Isle of Ely.

Oliver Cromwell's mother was daughter to Stewart of Rothsyth, in the shire of Fife.-It is supposed the family of Rothsyth went into England with James VI.