variety of conjectures has been hazarded. Some profane mortals have had the temerity to assert that Love was neither God nor King. If this error was credited formerly, your power dissipates it now: since that blind God has taken up his abode on your bosom, he has from which Cupid issued. Plato says, that at the celestial bauquet, Porus, the God of Abundance, being drunk with nectar, met in the gardens of Jupiter with Persia, the Goddess of Poverty, who became the mother of Cupid, whom Venus adopted. Sappho made him the son of Heaven and of Earth; Alcacus, of Dis-regained his sceptre and his divinity by a cord and of the Air; others have given him for parents, Zephyrus and Flora. In fact, there is not a new Peer upon whose origin a greater : single glance your eyes prove his sovereignty, and your virtues are his apotheosis.-Adieu. (To be continued.) OAKWOOD HOUSE.-AN ORIGINAL DESCRIPTIVE NOVEL. LETTER XXII. TO MISS FREEMAN. (Continued from Page 75.) ' Arrowby Lodge, July 22, 1907. I DID not mean to have remained here more than a month; but I shall leave Mrs. Douglas something sooner on account of a letter I have received from Oakwood. My brother tells me Charles Oakwood is coming to pass a few months with him, and if I can return, he will desire him to bring his sister, whom he has not seen since she was a child. I know very little of this nephew and niece of ours; but I believe he is a dashing coxcomb, and she a fine lady. I am afraid their gay habits and our sober ones will not mingle well together. Our two emigrants are gone. I pity them sincerely. Accustomed to affluence, reduced to bare necessarics, and every tie which held them to the world cut asunder! If it were my misfortune to be an inhabitant of a country agitated by such convulsions, unless I were personally endangered either by the govern ment or the mob, I would abide the storm, and settle down quietly with the mass, when the ferment was over. a stern, and leaned rather forwards, she was supposed to be in no great danger. She had two reasons for placing herself there. One was to alarm Millichamp's fears for her safety: the other, that she might give him her hand, to keep her steady. The offered hand he took; but in her first design she completely failed; for he viewed her little motions, calculated to excite an apprehension of her falling, with perfect indifference, if, indeed, he saw them at all; but I suspect he was thinking of his black ribbon. At length a gun was fired very near us, in the wood which borders the lake. It put her off her guard. She really started; the sudden motion withdrew her haud from Millichamp's, who certainly did not grasp it as he ought, and she fell overboard. This roused him; be started too; aud to jump after her was the work of a moment. The lake was not of a drowning depth. He caught the lovely waternymph, and bore her in his arms safely to the shore. Here he seemed much disposed to let her walk; but she could not find her feet, and he was obliged to carry her to a neighbouring cottage, whither we all followed. We sent him home to change his dripping garments, and put Miss Mornington to bed, till a change could be procured for her. Mrs. Douglas would have ordered the carriage, but she was now able to walk home. Milichamp has been playing the knighterrant. Mr. Murray and he, Mrs. and Miss Mornington, Mrs. Douglas and 1, were ju a boat, on small lake in Mrs. Douglas's grounds, when Miss Mornington chose to sit on the top, and set her feet on the seat. She was warned by Mr. Murray that her situation was not perfectly safe; but as she sat at the Il she met Millichamp she was faint and lan At dinner I thought the cold bath had given a freshness to her complexion. She was, however, far from being recovered. When guid, cast down her eyes, and looked as if she meant to blush; called him her preserver, and knew not how she could make him amends for having risked his life for her sake. He was too generous to remember the service, and too disinterested to wish for a reward. I believe she would take such a dip at any time with such a bather. But fear her not, Margaret, her tiny arts instead of making an impression on your lover, are not even seen by him. He carries a talisman about him, which preserves him not from the influence of evil, but of beautiful eyes. Mrs. Douglas, who is a Scotchwoman, was very well acquainted with the Lismahago of Humphry Clinker, and says that Smollett has drawn his character very faithfully. He was a Colonel Cochrane, a relation of Smollett's, and a very worthy man; but he was highly exasperated at Smollett, for having exhibited him in a ridiculous light to the world, and never forgave him. Mrs. Douglas says he dined with her one day, when Mrs. Smollett, of Loch Lomond, wife of the Doctor's brother, was present; and taking up bis glass, after dinner, he said to her, "All our friends; but the devil take our relations!" Mrs. Douglas shewed me a portrait of the Colonel, sketched || unknown to him, by a gentleman at her house, as they were sitting after dinner. It is the most frightful human face I ever saw. I could scarcely be persuaded it was not a caricature; but she and Mr. Murray, who also knew him well, both assured me it is an excellent likeness. Lismahago was not so fortunate as to be married to Tabitha Bramble. He died a bacheler, about the year 1787, at about the age of sixty-five. uttering a single sentence: two, in succession, are absolutely beyond his powers; he loses one before the other is finished. How could such a being afford enter ainment? how excite mirth? Would it not be monstrous to laugh at him for a natural defect? That is the point I wish to make you comprehend. He possesses the risible faculties in a degree proportioned to his want of all others. His attempts to speak always end in a laugh, and a laugh so hearty, so sincere, and so good-humoured, that it is impossible not to join with him. Though it was only his mirth that provoked ours, it seemed to him, and almost to ourselves, that his and our cause of laughter were the same. If a person born deaf had witnessed his merriment, he must have caught the infection from his features. He kept the whole table in a roar, and renewed our mirth at tea. Every reply begins The elder brother of this gentleman, whom we have often seen here, resembles him in nothing but his person. He knows every thing, and is so kind as to be always informing us of every thing. He is as fond of argument as Millichamp. with a but; or, if it be to a lady, as he is very polite, it is, "What you say is very right, Ma'am, but—.” He argues in a clear decisive manner; and, with his thus and his therefore, not only convinces us of what we might have doubted, but of what nobody could. deny. Millichamp frequently enters the lists with him; but the modesty and simplicity of the one is too hard for the imposing reasoning, sententious gravity of the other. He does not like him for an opponent. You will think me severe, Margaret, but forgive me if I have eyes that discover the We dined yesterday at the house of a gentle- ridiculous in my fellow-creatures, they are not man in this neighbourhood, whose brother less quick in seizing the amiable and the afforded us a very extraordinary degree of en-estimable; and I have a heart to love and prize tertainment, though of a species I can hardly || them as they deserve. To doubt this would describe to you, and, upon reflection, am a little ashamed of. He is a younger brother, turned of thirty, possessing only a rent charge on the estate, and living chiefly in his brother's house. He is handsome, and while he continues silent, respectable. The moment he opens his mouth, he betrays such a poverty of understanding as I never beheld in any person abore an idiot. He is almost incapable of be doubting my love for yourself. I have put the patience of my philosopher to the proof. He longs to be with you. LETTER XXIII. TO MRS. BRUDENELL, BELMONT COTTAGE. I HAVE been at the Lakes, of which I will give you no account, because you have seen them. On my arrival at Arrowby Lodge, || I found it full of company, and determined to ramble till the gayest family had left. Mrs. Douglas likes society, and never goes abroad for it. Her fortune enable; her to assemble a number of people round her, and she is not very difficult in her selection. Persons of wit and sense entertain, and folly amuses her. She is herself good-humoured and agreeable, the soul of the company, the maker of parties; what poor Paul of Russia offered to be, the rallying point. Though her conversation is chiefly matter of fact, her language is so correct, it would bear committing to paper. She is never at a loss for a word; never repeats one; and hardly ever makes use of one that is superfluous. I hastened my return to Oakwood at my brother's request. He expected the son and daughter of our brother Charles; and I arrived only one day before them. Millichamp was impatient to see Margaret; and as he is above disguise, he asked my permission to ride forward on his horse the last day's journey, while James drove me home at my leisure. This short absence has appeared longer to my brother and myself than our long separation before. He wishes me to let my house at Belmont, and live with him entirely. But I cannot give up your society, and that of a few other friends; and at my age one ought not be without a spot of which one can say, It is my own. A spot we can call by that name which conveys the idea of comfort and independence, home. Our mutual inclinations, however, will induce me to pass the greater part of every year of our remaining lives at Oakwood. My nephew, Charles Oakwood, is a young man of common understanding, brought up to the expectation of a share of his father's moderate fortune; and suddenly arrived at affluence, by the death of his mother's brother, who had just before lost an only son. He may now reasonably look forward to the time when Oakwood shall be added, as my brother is not likely to marry. Such possessions aud prospects might turn a strong head. Charles Oakwood's is not a strong one. I can give you an anecdote that will prove it. When he found himself in possession of a || large fortune, he thought it incumbent on him to fit up a library. He sent for the catalogue of one of the principal booksellers in Loudon; and, as he was ignorant of books, he naturally judged of their value by their price. He had the penetration to discover that those which had no price marked, were above all price. These he, bought, and among them many early printed books; and such as were valuable only on account of their scarcity. For about six months he was very vain of his library, and boasted of it in all companies. This book was scarce, that was curious, this was rare, and that unique, just as he had seen them characterized in his catalogue. Till, one day, a man of acknowledged taste and genius happened to say that they were good for nothing, and that the only books worth having were the History of England and the Bible, which might be illustrated to any extent. My wise nephew caught at the idea, which he retailed as his own. He returned his Caxtons, Pynsons, and Wynkyn de Wordes, to his bookseller; and found to his cost, they were, indeed, good for nothing.-Nobody bought them now. In their place he purchased Rapin's His tory of England, and the largest folio Bible he could find. You may possibly imagine his library is very small. No such thing. It is neither very small, or of little value. Lest you should not undersstand the techical term illustrate, I will explain it. The Bible would be pulled to pieces, and every Scripture print of merit that could be purchased, bound up with it, opposite the passage it illustrated. And as most of the first masters painted from Holy Writ, and many of their works have been engraved, the letter-press would be very trifling, compared to the prints. If the engraving were large, its margin must submit to be pared down to the size of the book; if small, it would be let into the finest paper. So by the History of England. Every book would be ransacked, and despoiled of every portrait or view of any value, relating to the persons and events recorded there. When to these were added all historical prin's, such as the Dissolving the Long Parliament, the Landing of Charles II. the Battle of the Boyne, and an endless et cetera; you would think the connoisseur guilty of no great exaggeration, when he said these books might be illustrated to any extent. "I wonder, Sir,” said Charles to my brother, two nights ago," that you should collect such a number of books, when there is nothing worth having but the History of England and the Bible!" "I always told Mr. Oakwood so," said John Freeman; "I never read any thing else myself." "Read them!" cried Charles, "they are the last books I should think of reading! I never read any thing but a newspaper; except now and then looking into the Fashionable Magazine. But every gentleman ought to have them; and as they are a library of themselves, be need have nothing else." "I believe you may be right," said my brother; "but I am a singular man, and collect my books for an uncommon purpose. I do read them." I may so express myself, as 1. I have burst into tears on hearing Cartwright play the simple tune of Auld Robin Gray, on the musi cal glasses. I have gone to bed at noon with a distracting head-ache, on bearing the Messiah performed by a full band. And I would run out of the house any time, rather than be confined in a room with a musical young lady. Music that I do not like I cannot bear at all, and music that I do like makes so powerful an impression on me, that I cannot bear it long. I suppose Charles and Miss Oakwood had agreed to quiz the old bachelor and old maid to-day; and after dinner he began by asking his sister how she liked Oakwood. "O, amazingly," replied she; "I doat upon it. I find these trees so excessively entertaining, that I shall never endure the society of my fellow-creatures again." "You have the advantage of me then," said her brother; "for if it was not for the charm Oakwood, curse me if I should not find the place insupportably fatiguing." "If the trees were like those of Ovid," said Millichamp, "each the abode of a nymph, you might think their company very agreeable, as well as Miss Oakwood.” My niece, Barbara Oakwood, is very beauti-ing, edifying conversation of Mr. and Mrs. ful, and does not want sense; but she has a confident manner very unpleasing in a young woman. Indeed there is no age at which a woman should be bold. Deprived of her father when very young, she has been brought up in an expensive manner by her mother, who has looked to her daughter's person and accomplishments for her establishment in the world. A temptation of a more solid kind may be added by my brother and myself, if she prove deserving. The young folks are thrown into an unknown element at Oakwood. My brother digs in a morning and reads in an afternoon;|| and my dressing-room door never opens without I bid it. Charles is reduced to the necessity of driving his sister in his curricle, conversing with his groom, and seeing his hunters exercised in leaping. To-day he has had an entertainment he cannot hope for often: one of his horses has flung the fellow over his head, and he has been laughing ever since at the joke. My brother has had his pianoforte put in tune for Miss Oakwood. plays, and sings, and dresses; but where there are none to listen or admire, the trouble is ill repaid. She Few people have such a feeling of music, if "Worse and worse!" replied Charles; "I Ishould never be able to walk through the wood for the noise. No, if the trees must be inhabited, let it be with woodlarks and liunets, I beseech you." "Mr. Millichamp,” said Barbara, “I understand you have been here some time'; pray how have you managed to exist at Oakwood!" "I never knew the charm of existence till I came to Oakwood," answered Millichamp. "Really!" exclaimed Barbara ; "that is very surprising! I must come to you to take a lesson. At present I feel as if I should be covered with moss and ivy, like the ruins of the old Abbey; and I look in the glass every day to see if they are not beginning to sprout." Inactivity may produce some strange effect, for aught I know," said I. "There are no better preventives than books and needles.” "Lord, ma'am!" returned she, 66 one can not be always working and reading; you would have me drudge like Margaret Freeman, and ruin my eyes and my complexion! No, I will take Millichamp for my preceptor; I will find out the secret of enjoying Oakwood. Do you think he learned it from Margaret Freeman?" "I do not doubt it," said I; "she is better acquainted with Oakwood than any of us except my brother." "Neither working or reading has ruined her complexion, however," said Charles to his sister; "for she has a finer one than you, who never read any thing but a new novel, and never work at all." "What a brute!" exclaimed Barbara. "Millichamp, I ealist you as the champion of my complexion: and I insist upon your defending its beauty against that of all the milk maids of Oakwood. I intend to set my cap at you while I am here; for you are the only rational being in the place; unless the curate may be MR. EDITOR, NEWS FROM THE COMET! IN the present era of philosophy, when every thing is attempted to be brought to the test of experiment or observation, it may seem presumptuous in an individual who is neither lecturer nor professor, neither F.R.S. L.L.D. nor A.S.S. to offer conjectures on a subject which has long been a puzzler to the learned, || although they have had of late years so many opportunities of making themselves wiser respecting it. To advance conjectures, however, as facts, or even to adduce them as founda tions for a theory, is not my intention; but I shall simply state a chain of ideas which have made some impression on my mind, and leave them to the learned for investigation, provided they think them worth notice or examination. As some of our wisest and best philosophers have always pursued their examination of nature with the sacred scriptures in their hands, and as some of ur modern philosophers have actually acknowledged that their various dis coveries, particularly in chemistry, when enlarged from the scale of their laboratory to the scal of creation, all tend to prove the plausibility, the probability, and the chemical accuracy of the mosaic account of that creation, it is surely not unfair to infer that Moses was well acquainted with what we call the modern system, or that he was directed by divine inspiration to detail the Almighty process in words intelligible in that period of ignorance, though not sufficiently so as to develope chemical elements before that era designed for it by Almighty power and goodness. If this, Sir, is granted, I hope that I shall neither be considered as a bigot or methodist, by taking a single fact from the above divine source of knowledge, as the subject of the following discourse. The Scripture tells us in sundry places, that this world shall be destroyed by fire; I think it says, also, in an instantaneous manner. Now, Sir, it is not to be supposed, that this earth will be kindled by a match, nor by a thunderbolt, nor by any way of making a fire upon a small scale; but that it may be done by some great natural causes adding a superabundance of caloric, or by their putting in motion that portion of caloric (both of light and |