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Clarissa,' said the Doctor, 'is one of “ You and I," said my aunt,

es under: those tempers upon whom every thing sits 'stand very different things by the same light ; her mind is ardent but instable. werd, and perhaps this is the source of our She will make you a most affectionate wife disagreement, which is rather in terms than as long as you live and can be with her, but in argument; by sentiment I understand if you die, or become long aksent, you must


that propensity to take every thing for the expect to be forgotien as soon as Edward. best, and to inake the best of every thing. It is right that you should know what you I take sentiment as the lawyers take equity, have to expect. By not expecting too as a reasonable departure fiom the strictness much you will suffer no disappointment; of reason, and by which some allowance is half the misery of life arises from extrava- made for the illusions of fancy. How happy gant expectations. We are apt to form an". would be our lot if we could always live in estimate of life from the size and colour fancy instead of realty, if imagination was through which it presents itself to our view to give us a stage instead of valure." through the medium of our imagination, “ This is a kind of nonsense, my dear and because nature, even in her happiest i aunt, so like sense, that I conceive it my mood, can never reach the spirit of fancy, duty to express my clear opinico of it. Tie can never paint with its brilliancy, we feel lare reasovable and accountable creatures; ourselves disconcertel, and lose the retish we are not born to sleepard in dream; slee; of the good we have, because we cannot is but the repose afier labour which nature reach all that we had hoped. If hope some- has made necessary in o der to invigorate times indemnifies us for the miseries, it labour'; dreams, or dreaming, is tiie exnot unfrequently, when unwisely encourag- crcise of fancy above nature ; the mind is ed and indulged, leads us into real misery. I still active whilst all the motions of the Such is Clarissa; you now know what you body are suspended. Imaginatioli, in its have to expect.'

best exercise, is but a waking dream; in “And I am perfectly satisfied,' said Sir , iis proper, sphere, where it illustrates and William. “What is it 10 me whether my adopts ihe scenes and realities of nature, it widow weeps six months or twelve, or till is in its proper place, but no where chic. her weeds wear out, or till her shoes be old? To return, however, to my narrative," Give me the woman who cau love me whilst said my aunt. _“ The puptials of Clarissa living, and I will readily dispense with her aud Sir Williain were such as were suited sorrow when dead ; surely it is enough for to their rank; and though every one did me if I am loved as long as I live, if the not approve of the conduct of Ciarissa, ihic comforts of domestic lite do not follow me splendour of their equipage and side of into my tomb."

living, male every thing to be shortlyf.'“Well,” said I to my aunt, “I cannot gotien. What a world is that in licin but acknowledge that these two lovers, we live, Hynienza; tell me what is the Clarissa and Sir William, were well worthy i criine, short of any thing infamous, which of each other; the delicacy of the one is is not paidoned, and not overlooked in very well matched by the delicacy of the those who can cover it with wealth: rank other; they both seem to me as destitute and money are every whe'e the presumpo of a heart as a calculating Jew."

lions of worth, and the worla bow before “I wonder,” said my aunt, “ that you them wheresoever they are found." should make this objection, who of all “I am happy,” said I, “ that you have people in the world seem most adverse to become a satyrist. The first step is to see any thing in the shape of sentiment.” the follies of others, the next to apply thie

“ Where sentiment is in opposition to rule to ourselves. Every person of fashion reason," said I, "I cannot place myself on must becoine a misanthrope, in a degree, its side. I abhor that sertinent whicis, before I can induige any hope of his having no foundation in nature or seuse, ' amerdment." only renders us unfit for the condition of “Well," replied my aunt, smiling, “ if life; but where sentiment is but another sagacity in seeing the faults of others be name for virtue and delicacy, wliere it is the first sep at self-ref rmation, you may not a fiction but a reality--,"

doubtless fiud reformers at every tea-table

in London. For my own part I am saga-, said I; “for according to them, womer eious enough in seeing the faults of mybave no souls, and I suppose this has befriends, and deariy as I love the world and come a point of their faith, because they its delusions, I can see them, and can ex- think them better without them. If you patiate on thein; but to confess the truth, can really be content to resign your reason, Hymenæa, I do not see that I am a whit and become as it were a piece of furniture pearer amendment."

in your drawing-room, you are in the “Do not despair, aunt," said I; “ the right to wish for such a husband ; but if first step to become indifferent to the world women can do something better than their is to see it and understaud it."

harps, if they are born for some other pur. “To proceed, however, with my narra- pose than to dress all day and to dance all tive," continued my aunt. “ Nothing I night, why, then you should wish for could be more happy for some months than something better than these self-sufscient the life of Clarissa and Sir William. . Cla- | coxcombs." rissa, as I have told you, had that kind of

“ Well,” said my aunt, say what you temper which, having more vivacity than | please, I have my own taste, and I should sensibility, could extract content and bap- prefer a man of this kind to all your acpiness from every thing; sorrow passed complished Sir Charles Grandisons or over her mind like a summer cloud. And Mortimers in all the Circulating Libraries I cannot but think that this kind of temper in London." is best suited to the bappiness both of the “ You will find neither Sir Charles possessor and of those about him or her. I Grandison nor Mortimers in real life," said Domestic life is not much suited to he- 1. “ As to Mortimer, I suppose you intend roines, nor heroines to domestic life ; life him as a specimen of the novel heroes in is neither comedy or tragedy, but some- general, and therefore I dismiss him as un. thing between both, and those are not suit worthy of a thought. These kind of heable actors who are always on the stilts. roes are usually made up of all the virtues, Clarissa and Sir William became the bye. beauties, and accomplishments, sewed toword of the country as models of conjugal gether as girls sew patch-work, without perfection. More than one Epithalamium any consideration of any thing of harınony, was written to celebrate their mutual con- concert, or aptitude between them, nocord. A young artist, moreover, deeming thing being required but a collection of their figures suitable subjects for his pencil, finery. Sir Charles Grandison is another chose them as his subjects, and displayed kind of being; he certainly has too many their pictures at the Exhibition. You virtues for a character in life, but then be must not forget this circumstance as you is held up as an example, and there is will find it to be of consequence in what I nothing absurd or unnatural that what is bave hereafter to relate.

intended for a copy should have an excel" Sir William, on the other hand, was a lence which few must expect to reach. character of a very different kind, but still There is another excellence which disnot less suited to make what the world calls tinguishes Sir Charles Grandison. The a good husband. He was grave, but not virtues, though too numerous, and existing the less indulgent, and though he possessed en mass, as it were, are not repugnant; the a mind infinitely superior to his wife, and suit is somewhat too splendid, but it is not could not himself but see it, he had that made by one of the journeymen of Nature, opinion of women, or rather of the quali. No one can read Sir Charles Giandison ties which were required in them, that he without admiring and feeling the exceldeemed any superior intellectual accom- l, lence of many of the parts, and at a certain plisbments as perfectly indifferent. lle, age, and in a certain station, to admire and chose his wife as he did his riding-horse, a

to feel is to imitate, and to conceive a define creature, a handsome figure, and easy sire to resemble. The manners of Sir 10 manage without wanting spirit. Oh,if Charles Grandison, with some deductions ever I marry again, may Heaven send me on the score of formality, are likewise mosuch a husband !".

dels; he is always the gentleman), as Miss " Then tleaven should send you a Turk,”: Byron is always the lady, And as to the

objection that such books may give false | experience, I think, may prove that they ideas of life, what does a young woman can never be read without sympathy, and want to know about life but the duties of therefore without a direct and strong in. it in their several stations ? you might as Auence on the mind. Their faults are reasonably complain that Æsop's Fables those of a master, and detract nothing from give a false notion of nature. These false the effect of the work.” notions are of no consequence, and are “I am happy,” said my aunt, “ that easily cured by experience. In the mean some novels please you. To return, how. time the works of Richardson will stand || ever, to my narrative." forth as examples of a moral excellence

(To be continued both of virtue and manners; and our own


No. v.



WHEN I wrote you last I expected term the Opera.

From the small acthat we should have left this country be quaintance that I had with the English fore this, as our mission was compleled. language, I discovered that the language The Great Vizier, who, in the jargon of of the performers was not that which I hear this country, is called the First Minister, or daily spoken in the country. Premier, bears so strong a l'esemblance to “ Whence is this," said I to our inter. Persians in his manners and way of think preter; “ they do not talk the language of ing, that I can almost imagine myself, when the audience?" in bis company, with one of our own Vi. “No," replied he. ziers. He conducts the affairs of the na. Perhaps," rejoined I, “ as the Koran tion without troubling himself to defend is Arabic, and the colloquial Persian an his measures; he leaves to others to speak, adulteration of the Hindostanee, so the and contents himself, like a wise Mussel. language of these performers which you man, with acting. He is likewise fond of call Italians, is but a purer kind of Eng. shew and splendour, and when his house lish, and is allowed, in order to keep up is prepared for the reception of visitors, he the memory and the knowledge of your is not inferior to the Princes of Persia. original tongue." The riches of this country overflow on every No," said he; it is Italian, a lansubject, and even attach to those which guage to:ally foreign, and which ninedo not seem naturally to admit them. I tenths of those who are here do not unThere is no article of furniture about an derstand." Englishman's house the cost of which * Then why are they there?" said I. would not buy a Persian estate. Once for “ Because," replied he, “it is the faall, as I have told you before, the English | shion ; because it is a place where friends live in this world as if they had no hopes can meet each other; and because of the of another; they remember that they are

music." not Mahometans, and therefore having no “ And cannot th:lave this same sohope are without shame.

ciety, and as good music, without this Since I wrote last I have been at one of foreign language as with it? You have their houses of amusemeut, which they l other thieatres in the country in which the

we are

performeis are your own couptrymen, and grubs and butterflies, and poor and rich, in which the language spoken is your own; the ragged and the well clothed, are why cannot you be satisfied with this?” buddled together as if in a playhouse; “I really know not,” said be;

their parks and streets are then full. rich."

I have mentioned the park. An Eng. “ There it is," replied I; “ you have all lish park is the open garden of a serag,io, the ampie means of folly, and you are all where every one may walk at his pleasure. resolved not to lose the opportunity. You | The English are so fond of spectacle that are enabled to play the fool, and you avail they convert every thing into one. They yourselves of it to become a va:ion of fools. lave nothing close, open, or reserved; There is a Peisjan fable, that the Persians their women are made spectacles, and they of earlier days being rendered barbarous throw down the walls of their gardens that by long anaichy, suddenly took to the they may see every one, and every one woods, and in the next generation became see them. Such is this unaccountable monkeys. One would imagine that these people. monkers had now left the woods and were Oh, Cali Bey, when shall I again see again in your country, in their progress the delightful regions of Persia! where towards civilization."

the women are hidden-as if in tomb-stones Have I ever mentioned to you, my dear only for the enjoyment of the faithful ; friend, what in this country they call gal- where every man has a property in what lantry. The women, as I have informed is most peculiarly his own; where be may youl, are suffered to roam at raudom; they l shut up bis house and gardens, and imare wild birds, which, according to the prison his wife. Persian laws, are every man's game who Fix up your horse at night, and your can take them. Now the net in which

women both day and night, says the prothey are taken, and the method in which Iphet Sadi. And again in the same book they are pursued, is here termed gallantry. Lof wise sayings, -break out the bottom of The women attack the men by the eves ;

your drinking cup, and expect the liquor the men make their attack by the ladies'

to remain in; but forget the padlock to ers. Ther deceive them by all manner of

your harem, and expect not to find your flattery, inrent all manner of delusions, I wife. and are guilty of every mode of imperti.

There is a people in this country whom This is what they term gallantry. they call Jews; ihey are the wisest people Imagine a spaniel in liis most fawning in the nation, for, like the Persians, they moed, and you have a competent notion of

can distinguish between clean and unclean an English gailant.

beasts, and avoid the latter. Like the There are two fillies above all others, | Persians, too, they wiely hate all but says the Persian Sadi; the one is to talk | those that belong to their own sect; this seriously to a woman, and the other to is true wisdom, to love each other, but to waik about where you can repose. The nate those who have no concern with Enlish are guilty of both these follies.

you. With the exception of some wise men whom they term Aldermen, and who seem

From London, the city of Infidels, tvo porily for exercise, the English never in the Month denomirted April.seen to live but when they are in motion, they walk for amusement. When the sun

(To be continued.) siones, they issue forth like a-nation of




(Continued from Page 167.)

The dinner was scarcely concluded, || lar person, Sir Harry Mirabel, a Baronet, before they were joined by Mirabel, who who has been cast in the court in heavy was to attend them to the rout of the damages for more than one intrigue. This Countess of Shuffleton.-Mirabel was un is rather a singular guardian for a young usually thoughtful.

lady, the more particularly so as the articles “ Now what mischief are you medita- of the guardianship, dividing the trouble ting?" said Miss Beachcroft, with her between the two, make Mirabel guardian uzual Aippancy.

From the rudeness of of her person, and Sir George of her prothe address, or some other cause, Mirabel | perty." started, and was evidently, for a moment

This information was so alarming, and at least, discomposed.

appeared so evidently done with design, “ I never knew a libertine thoughtful, / that Bellasis resolved without delay to in. except to some bad purpose," continued form Agries of her situation. It was too she.

late, however, to effect this purpose that The conversation was broken off to go evening, and he was compelled to delay to the rout of the Countess of Shufflcton, | his visit till the following morning, that as the hour now approached.

after the rout at the Countess Shuttleton. The history must now return to Bellasis. Bellasis accordingly cal.ed at the house Informed of the situation of Agnes, heat rather an early hour, and enquired for knew not how to act. It did not require | Agnes. The servant informed him that the natural penetration he possessed to

she was not at home. understand the selfish designs of Sir “My business is important," said Bela George. The profligate character of this lasis

, I must see her; inforın her that I am Baronet confirmed every suspicion to his below." disadvantage.

He feared that he would | Indeed, Sir," said the servant, “ she spare nothing in his power to ensure she is not at home; she did not return from success of Mirabel's addresses.

the Countess's with my Lady last night. informed of a circumstance of which I know not where she has gone, except Agnes was ignorant, and which appeared that she has accompanied some friend." to him replete with danger.

Bellasis was fixed to the spot in astonish. The Captain and Sir George had the ment; by a mechanical motion of his same solicitor. Bellasis having occasion hand he put it into his pocket, and con. to call on the latter, had seen Sir George | veyed a guinea into the hand of his in. leave the door as himself approached it.former, whilst he questioned bim in basty Mentioning casually this circumstance to | monysyllables. the solicitor:-“ Sir George's business," “I'll call the coachman, Sir," said the said he, " is no secret, as it must become | fellow; " he is more likely to inform you a matter of record in the Court of Chan. l of the circumstances than myself.” cery, though I confess it is of a very sin- The coachman was accordingly called, gular nature. By the will of the Lady and obeyed the summons. Priscilla Harrowby, he is appointed guar- tioned by his fellow-servant if he knew dian to a young lady of large property. I what was become of Miss Agnes, he and the will empowers him, should he beckoned Mr. Bellasis into the street, and deem it necessary, to appoint her a second thence to the corner at some distance guardian, as his assistant. He has this from the house. morning made this appointment, and his “ Young gentleman," said he, “I am nomination has fallen upon a very singu- || afraid you have lost her." No. V. Vol. I.--N. S.


He was

Being ques.

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