"""Tis said, in Paris that a man may live In all the luxuries a world can give, And in a space confined to narrow bound All the enjoyments of our life are found; There we may eat and drink, may dance and dress,

And in its very essence joy possess ;
May see a moving crowd of lovely dames,
May win a fortune at your favourite games;
May hear the sounds that ravish human sense,
And all without receding foot from thence."
'The conquer'd wife, resistless and afraid,
To the strong call a sad obedience paid.

'As we an infant in its pain, with sweets Loved once, now loath'd, torment him till heeats, Who on the authors of his new distress Looks trembling with disgusted weariness, So Harriet felt, so look'd, and seem'd to say, "O! for a day of rest, an holiday!"

At length her courage rising with her fear, She said, "Our pleasures may be bought too dear!"

'To this he answer'd-"Dearest! from thy
heart

Bid every fear of evil times depart;
I ever trusted in the trying hour

To my good stars, and felt the ruling power; When want drew nigh, his threat'ning speed was stopp'd,

Some virgin aunt, some childless uncle

dropp'd;

In all his threats I sought'expedients new, And my last, best resource was found in you." 'Silent and sad the wife beheld her doom, And sat her down to see the ruin come; And meet the ills that rise where money fails, Debts, threats and duns, bills, bailiffs, writs and jails.

Came one more fierce than bailiff in arrest;
Amid a scene where Pleasure never came,
Though never ceased the mention of his name,
The husband's heated blood received the
breath

Of strong disease, that bore him to his death.
'Her all collected,-whether great or small
The sum, I know not, but collected all ;-
The widow'd lady to her cot retired,
And there she lives delighted and admired :
Civil to all, compliant and polite,
Disposed to think "whatever is, is right;
She wears the widow's weeds, she gives the
widow's mite.

At home awhile, she in the autumn finds
The sea an object for reflecting minds,
And change for tender spirits; there she
reads,

And weeps in comfort in her graceful weeds. 'What gives our tale its moral? Here we

find

That wives like this are not for rule design'd,
Nor yet for blind submission; happy they,
Who while they feel it pleasant to obey,
Have yet a kind companion at their side
Who in their journey will his power divide,
Or yield the reins, and bid the lady guide;
Then points the wonders of the way, and makes
The duty pleasant that she undertakes;
He shows her objects as they move along,
And gently rules the movements that are
wrong:

He tells her all the skilful driver's art,
And smiles to see how well she acts her part;
Nor praise denies to courage or to skill,
In using power that he resumes at will.'

why.'

still

the Lover-Of Ellen.

BLEAK was the morn-said Richard, with a sigh,

I must depart!'- That, Brother, I deny,'

The guest submitted to the ruling will; But every day gave rise to doubt and fear,

He heard not now, as he was wont to hear, That all was well-though little was express'd,

It seem'd to him the writer was distress'd;

please,

Pains and endeavour-not Matilda's ease;Not the pure lines of love! the guileless friend In all her freedom-What could this portend? Fancy!' said George, the self-tormentor's pain

And Richard still consented to remain.

'Ride you this fair cool morning?' said

the squire:

Do-for a purchase I have made inquire, And with you take a will complacently t' admire :

Southward at first, dear Richard, make your way,

Cross Hilton Bridge, move on through
Breken Clay,

At Dunham Wood turn duly to the east,
And there your eyes upon the ocean feast;
Then ride above the cliff, or ride below,
You'll be enraptured, for your taste I know;
It is a prospect that a man might stay
To his bride hastening on his wedding-day;
At Tilburn Sluice once more ascend and view
A decent house; an ample garden too,
And planted well behind—a lively scene, and

new;

A little taste, a little pomp display'd,
By a dull man, who had retired from trade
To enjoy his leisure-Here he came prepared
To farm, nor cost in preparation spared;
But many works he purchased, some he read,
And often rose with projects in his head,
Of crops in courses raised, of herds by
matching bred.

'We had just found these little humours out, Just saw-he saw not-what he was about; Just met as neighbours, still disposed to meet, Just learn'd the current tales of Dowling Street,

And were just thinking of our female friends, Saying "You know not what the man intends,

A rich, kind, hearty "-and it might be true
Something he wish'd, but had not time to do;
A cold ere yet the falling leaf! of small
Effect till then, was fatal in the fall;
And of that house was his possession brief-
Go; and guard well against the falling leaf.
'But hear me, Richard, looking to my ease,
Try if you can find something that will please;
Faults if you see, and such as must abide,
Say they are small, or say that I can hide;

mend,

These like a foe detect-or like a friend. Mark well the rooms, and their propor

tions learn,

In each some use, some elegance discern;
Observe the garden, its productive wall,
And find a something to commend in all;
Then should you praise them in a knowing

way,

I'll take it kindly-that is well-be gay.

'Nor pass the pebbled cottage as you rise Above the sluice, till you have fix'd your eyes On the low woodbined window, and have seen, So fortune favour you, the ghost within; Take but one look, and then your way pursue. It flies all strangers, and it knows not you.'

Richard return'd, and by his Brother stood, Not in a pensive, not in pleasant mood; But by strong feeling into stillness wrought, As nothing thinking, or with too much thought;

Or like a man who means indeed to speak, But would his hearer should his purpose seek. When George- What is it, Brother, you

would hide?

Or what confess? Who is she?' he replied,

'That angel whom I saw, to whom is she allied?

Of this fair being let me understand, And I will praise your purchase, house and land.

'Hers was that cottage on the rising ground, West of the waves, and just beyond their sound;

'Tis larger than the rest, and whence, indeed,
You might expect a lady to proceed;
But O! this creature, far as I could trace,
Will soon be carried to another place.

'Fair, fragile thing! I said, when first my

eye

Caught hers, wilt thou expand thy wings and fly?

Or wilt thou vanish? beauteous spirit-stay!
For will it not (I question'd) melt away?
No! it was mortal-I unseen was near,
And saw the bosom's sigh, the standing tear!
She thought profoundly, for I stay'd to look,
And first she read, then laid aside her book;
Then on her hand reclined her lovely head,
And seem'd unconscious of the tear she
shed.

repose;

If not, she reasons; if they still remain, She finds resource, that none shall find in vain. 'Whether disease first grew upon regret, Or nature gave it, is uncertain yet, And must remain; the frame was slightly made,

That grief assail'd, and all is now decay'd!
'But though so willing from the world to
part,

I must not call her case a broken heart;
Nor dare I take upon me to maintain
That hearts once broken never heal again.'

'She was an only daughter, one whose sire Loved not that girls to knowledge should aspire;

But he had sons, and Ellen quickly caught Whatever they were by their masters taught; This, when the father saw-" It is the turn Of her strange mind," said he, “but let her learn ;

'Tis almost pity with that shape and faceBut is a fashion, and brings no disgrace; Women of old wrote verse, or for the stage Brought forth their works! they now are

reasoners sage,

And with severe pursuits dare grapple and engage.

If such her mind, I shall in vain oppose, If not, her labours of themselves will close." 'Ellen, 'twas found, had skill without pretence,

And silenced envy by her meek good sense; That Ellen learnt, her various knowledge proved;

Soft words and tender looks, that Ellen loved; For he who taught her brothers found in her A constant, ready, eager auditor;

This he perceived, nor could his joy disguise, It tuned his voice, it sparkled in his eyes.

Fond, and he therefore may securely plead,Weak, I have therefore of his firmness need; With whom my father will his Ellen trust, Because he knows him to be kind and just."

'Alas! too well the conscious lover knew The parent's mind, and well the daughter's too;

He felt of duty the imperious call,
Beheld his danger, and must fly or fall.
What would the parent, what his pupils think?
O! he was standing on perdition's brink :
In his dilemma flight alone remain'd,
And could he fly whose very soul was chain'd?
He knew she loved; she tried not to conceal
A hope she thought that virtue's self might
feel.

'Ever of her and her frank heart afraid, Doubting himself, he sought in absence, aid, And had resolved on flight, but still the act delay'd;

At last so high his apprehension rose, That he would both his love and labour close. ""While undisclosed my fear each instant

grows,

And I lament the guilt that no one knows, Success undoes me, and the view that cheers All other men, all dark to me appears!

'Thus as he thought, his Ellen at his side Her soothing softness to his grief applied; With like effect as water cast on flame, For he more heated and confused became, And broke in sorrow from the wondering maid,

Who was at once offended and afraid; Yet "Do not go!" she cried, and was awhile obey'd.

"Art thou then ill, dear friend?" she

ask'd, and took

His passive hand-"How very pale thy look! And thou art cold, and tremblest-pray thee

tell

Thy friend, thy Ellen, is her master well?

And let her with her loving care attend To all that vexes and disturbs her friend."

666

'Nay, my dear lady! we have all our cares, And I am troubled with my poor affairs: Thou canst not aid me, Ellen; could it be And might it, doubtless, I would fly to thee; But we have sundry duties, and must all, Hard as it may be, go where duties callSuppose the trial were this instant thine, Could thou the happiest of thy views resign At duty's strong command ? "_" If thou wert by,"

Said the unconscious maiden, “I would try!”— And as she sigh'd she heard the soft responsive sigh.

'And then assuming steadiness, "Adieu!" He cried, and from the grieving Ellen flew ; And to her father with a bleeding heart He went, his grief and purpose to impart; Told of his health, and did in part confess That he should love the noble maiden less. "The parent's pride to sudden rage gave way

"And the girl loves! that plainly you would say

And you with honour, in your pride, retire! Sir, I your prudence envy and admire." But here the father saw the rising frown, And quickly let his lofty spirit down.

666

Forgive a parent!-I may well excuse A girl who could perceive such worth and choose

To make it hers; we must not look to meet All we might wish ;-Is age itself discreet? Where conquest may not be, 'tis prudence to retreat."

'Then with the kindness worldly minds

assume

He praised the self-pronounced and rigorous doom;

'Long was he absent; as a guide to youth, With grief contending, and in search of truth, In courting peace, and trying to forget What was so deeply interesting yet.

'A friend in England gave him all the news, A sad indulgence that he would not lose; He told how Ellen suffer'd, how they sent The maid from home in sullen discontent, With some relation on the Lakes to live, In all the sorrow such retirements give; And there she roved among the rocks, and took Moss from the stone, and pebbles from the brook ;

Gazed on the flies that settled on the flowers, And so consumed her melancholy hours.

'Again he wrote-The father then was dead, And Ellen to her native village fled, With native feeling-there she oped her door, Her heart, her purse, and comforted the poor, The sick, the sad,-and there she pass'd her days,

Deserving much, but never seeking praise, Her task to guide herself, her joy the fallen to raise.

Nor would she nicely faults and merits weigh, But loved the impulse of her soul t' obey; The prayers of all she heard, their sufferings view'd,

Nor turn'd from any, save when Love pursued; For though to love disposed, to kindness

prone,

approve;

Much he lamented such a mind to lose,
And begg'd to learn if he could aid his views,
If such were form'd-then closed the short
account,

And to a shilling paid the full amount.

'So Cecil left the mansion, and so flew To foreign shores, without an interview; He must not say, I love he could not say, Adieu !

She knew my motives, and she must approve
The man who dared to sacrifice his love
And fondest hopes to virtue: virtuous she,
Nor can resent that sacrifice in me."

'He reason'd thus, but fear'd, and sought the friend

In his own country, where his doubts must end;.

They then together to her dwelling came,
And by a servant sent her lover's name,