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moment, and at last became so violent, that Valmıbirt to his upcle. No doubt seemed to covering his face with his handkerchief, l remain in the breast of Monsieur Valmont of be rushed out of the room ; every one re- || Mrs. Beriton's being judeed the daughter of his mained in silent astonishment; when after a lamented sister, and who till now, he believed few minutes had elapsed, Mr. Powel left the had shared the fate of ber parents. But a room in search of his visitor; he found him few moments passed ere be clasped her witb the much agitated, but on his expressing his con fondest emotious to bis beart, while his agitacern, he exclaimed :—" Ob! iny dear friend, tion almost rendered his blessings inarticulate. you know not the wounds in my beart Ibe sight || As bis fortune, though much diminished, was of that lovely young woman has made bleed l still alluent, he insisted upon their making afresh. Great God! what a resemblance ! but, I his house their residence; and, 'deprived of 10; it cannot be !"

every other relative, Mrs. Beriton and the After some time Mr. Powel found Monsieur little Juliet constituted his sole happiness; Valmont was the only survivor of an illustri. nor were the amiable manners and excellent ous family in France, who had been barbal character of her husband disregarded, be berously murdered during the revolution, and came likewise a sharer in his affections, and that the strong resemblance of Mrs. Beriton | as a proof of his gratitude for his regard to an only and much loved sister, who had shewn to his beloved piece, through the infallen a victim with her husband in the borrid terest of a friend, obtained for him a valuable scene before-mentioned, and whose death had

W living, where he coustantly resided Juriog six impressed a sorrow on his heart never to be months of the year. Grateful to the Dia effaced, bad caused the emotions so alarming vine Providence that had ordered such a 'to them all.

blissful cbange in their condition, and suMr. Powel, without expressing to Monsieur premely happy in the affections of one an. Valmont his feelings, eagerly sought Mr. | other, Mr. and Mrs. Beriton now enjoyed the Beriton, to whom he communicated the in- jj reward of their resignation to their former suf. telligence, not in the least doubling his wife ferings, nor were the benevolent Mr. and Mrs. was in some degree related to the stranger. Powel forgotten, to whom they owed so much; After calming in a trifling degree the agita- || the days never passed so bappy as in their tion of Mrs. Beriton, whose hopes and fears society, and united to each other by the were alternately expressed in her countenance, || strongest ties of love and gratitude, both fathough she vainly endeavoured to disguise milies enjoyed that uninterrupted felicity them, be accompanied Mr. Powel, and ac- ll their virtues so well deserved. quainted Monsieur Valmont with every cir.

ELIZA. cumstance that had first introduced Adeline


(Continued from Page 190.) LETTER XXV.

“ Last time I was here you need not thank me TO MRS. BRUDENELL.

l for coming. I came a hunting my nephew; Ripon, August 18, 1807. but I was better than, bargain ; for besides We are returned hither from our pro finding bim, I found such good welcome and jected excursion to Fountain's Abbey, and to good cheer at Oakwood, that now I'm come morrow we set out home. We have had a o purpose to see you and your brother, companion we did not expect. When I en- | ma'am.” tered the drawing-roon, after writing my I assured him I was glad to see him, and it last, I found Mr. Satterihwaite.

was true; for notwithstanding the man's vul. “How do you do, ma’am? I have taken garity and ignorance, there is something about the liberty to come again, ma'am," said hans. "him I cannot belp liking. I bave asked myself what it is, and I can fix upon nothing but, take a place in your chariot,” said Barbara, sincerity. I have a natural antipathy to pre- | “ because I have engaged your nephew to tence, call it by what name you will: whether drive me in the gig, and I dare not disapart, bypocrisy, duplicity, disguise, or affec- ll point him." talion. I feel its repulsive influence so forcibly, “I would not disappoint you myself,” said that specious manners, seeming friendship, or | Satterthwaite; " my nephew ought to be even shining talents, will not induce me to li proud of the honour of driving you." mingle with it. But let me see the soul in li “I do not always allow him that honour,” , its natural form; if it is not all I could wish, I said Barbara; “ I drive bim sometimes." it is my friend. I apply to sincerity what the “ All fair too,” replied Satterth waite; proverb does to charity-It covers a multitude || “ give and take; let every dog have his day. I of sins. at the end of this stage, and I shall not be the market-place at Ripon, erected at the ex. sorry to change my place."

wish he'd mind your driving, ma'am ; he never Millichamp had received his uncle with an. I would mine. Well, Sir, then," continued he, feigned affection.

addressing himself to my brother, “I believe “But how shall we manage ?” said J:-" We

I must go into your broushe, rather than be by are all going to.morrow to see the ruins of || myself; though I don't quite know wbat a Fountain's Abbey; perhaps you would like to broushe is; there's so many of them new. see them with us?”

fangled carriages started up, ibat I can bardly “Why, as to ruins, ma'am,” answered Mr. I tell one from another." Satterthwaite, “I cau't say they're much in ll You will perhaps remark that I formerly lold my way. I like improving, not going to decay; Il you my bro her never left Oakwood, and in but, for the sake of good company, I'll make ourin'ended excursion I have mentioned in:ee ove. Though, perhaps, if this young lady and l of his carriages. Do not suspect my veracity geotleman are going, they may’nt like to be in either case: this is one of his oddities. troubled with such an old feilow as I.”

He has all sorts of carriages, harnesses, boots, “ Barbara assured him bis going would give boxes, budgets, and dickies; and never, till now, her infinite satisfaction; and Charles said, he

bas taken any of them ten miles from home. was always extremely happy in the society of lluis true, in bis narrow circle, he does both any of Mr. Oakwood's friends.

ride and drive; but he had rather walk on “ Then, brother,” said I, “ we will take the

foot, and oftener dors it. barouche, instead of the chariot, and Mr.

The next morning I appointed my brother Satterthwaite cau go with us.”

|| treasurer, and Satterthwaite purveyor to the “I beg your pardon, ma'am,” said Mr.

expedition; and laking the office of secretary Satterthwaite; “ you know I can go in my

upon myself, we set out; Charles and Marown carriage as well as the rest of you; and

garet forming the van; Millichamp and Bar. as to the expence, I'm sure I shall think

bara the centre; and the barouche bringing nothing of that. No man alive is more ge

elop the rear. nerous than I am, or spends bis money freer. « My dear brother," said I, as he sat pinion. I never grudge myself anything. I've alled close to my side,' “ do not you find it a mind of.”

charoing thing to escape from confinement ? By the bye, my friend, this is no uncommon Is it not very pleasant so be at large, and species of generosity.

ramble about the world?" " We sball make a cavalcade like a Lord Very charming and pleasant, certainly," Mayor's show. I thought, as well as Mrs. I rep' ed he; “ only if you could sit a litile Oakwood, that you would have preferred our | farther off, I should be much obliged to company on the road to being alone,” said my ll you." brother,

“By all means," said I, giving him a little “ Perhaps, that young lady will go witb || more room :-" I think," added 1,“ man was me," replied Mr. Satterthwaite ; and I am never made to vegetate, like a potatoe, always sure I have no objections to making a show." ll in one place."

“I am excessively mortised that I cannot HI “No,” said my brother;“ we oball soon be

s is no uncommon

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pence of Mr. Aislabie, to commemorate his '« I hope I do not incommode you ?” said I. || baving represented that borough in Parliament

“O, not at all." answered he; “I suffer ng ' sixty years. As we were sitting after dinner, inconvenience from may neighbours; but it “ Pray,” said Mr. Satterthwaite, “wbat may seems very odd to be cooped up in this nar. ! be the meaning of them gilt things at top of row space so long."

that pillar?" “ Have not you sufficient variety in the « They are the town arms," said my scenes which succeed each other ?" said I.-- brother : “ a bugle hora and the rowel of a “ Dale and mountain, wood and river: if I spor." your limbs are confined in a smaller space, “Then I suppose the man that built the your eye ranges over a multitude of objects, | town," said Saiterthwaite, “ was a post; such instead

lead of a perpetual repetition of the same, as used to blow their horns and spur their as at Oakwood. Wbat, for instance, can be nags, before mail coaches was invented : more enchanting than this view as we descend though that was a poor trade too; I don't see the fell that fertile dale below, with the village, il bow be could get money enough to build a the cburch, the water, and the bridge ; and townı, unless he robbed his own mail.” the mountains rising again immediately be. “Ripon,” rejoined my brother, “ was for. hind."

merly so fainous for the manufacture of steel “I am sensible of all their beauties," replied | spurs, that they became proverbial. It is said he; “but what you call being at large gives me the corporation presented a pair to Janes I. the idea of imprisonment. I cannot stretch my which even at that time cost five pounds. legs; bowever, I have just thought of a way Po sibly the rowel may allude to this manu. that will set me at liberty: l'll walk. Here, ll facture.” John, stop! I'll get out. We are only four! “They've a famous manufactory yet," said miles," continued he, "from the place where Satterthwaite; “ but it is of cream cheeses. we are to dine, and I shall not be half au lourlu all my life I never eat such; they melt ja after you.”

one's mouth like a lunip of butter. l've been Very surprising, indeed,” cried Satterthwaite, out to ask our landlord where they are to be “that a gentleman should chuse to walk, had, and he says there's oply one dairy makes rather than ride in his own carriage! I hopel 'em, and be takes 'em all. I've bid bim pack he does not expect me to walk with him, for me up a dozen, to carry to Oakwood." company. I am used to sit with my legs il “ They deserve your commendation," said under a desk for half a day together, and they 1; “they are like consolidated cream ; but the never want stretching."

whole country is rich; tbe crops of turnips Saiterthwaite, however, consumed as much are as extraordinary as the cheeses." time in eating as my brother did in walking. “I think our inn is as extraordinary as We travelled at our ease, and it was not till either,” said Charles :-"I should not have our second dinner that we reached the pretty expected a house like this in such an obscure little town of Ripon.

corner of the world.” Somebody says, I think it is Holcroft, that! “It is not so obscure as you may imagine," you may form an opinion of the character of said my brother :-“It is only eleven miles a nation, from the bills which are posted on from Harrowgate, and crowds are daily coming the walls. By this rule I observe we are from thence during the season, to ste Studiy, gamblers and soldiers. The lottery holds out and dine at Ripon." irresistible temptations to grow rich, at the · In the afternoon we went to see the Minster; corner of every street; and there are not fewer but that of York was so strongly impressed offers of honour, glory, and eleven guineas to on my mind, that I viewed it with indifferall aspiring heroes, who will only just sacrifice li ence; perhaps more than it deserved. Ils their liberty and risk their lives in the army. ll spire, forty yards in height, fell down in the

A handsome obelisk adorns the centre of | reigo of Charles II. We were asked to see St.

Welfrid's Needle, a celebrated narrow passage ,, when she rang for a pipe, and began to smoke, in a vault, formerly of great use in ascertaining I expressed some surprise. She told me she the chastity of females. If a woman had al-smoked to procure sleep; and when she was ways walked uprightly, she walked with ease visiting in families where she could kot conve. through the Needle. If ever she had made a ! niently use tobacco, sbe tuok a dose of opium, false step, she infallibly stuck by the way. Her for her spirits were so lively and volatile that size and shape were out of the question. without one or the other, she never could Why such a wonderful lest of virtue should feel the least symptom of drowsiness. A shock. be now laid aside I know not. The chastity of ing habit! little better than getting intoxiwomen may be either no longer suspected, or cated to drown care. She should liave sub. no longer considered of consequence. We did mitted to ber uneasy watchfulness till weary not see the Needle. lo my younger days I nature had furnished repose. bave penetrated to the far end of Castleton ! This morning we visited Fountaiu's Abbey, and Pool's Holes, in Derbyshire; but I have which stands in Studley Park, abuut three done with subterranean wonders. All I see in miles from hence. I stood motionless with future must be above ground.

astonishment, when, at the end of a narrow I spent the evening with an extraordinary grassy glen, with high rocks and woods on woman here, whom I had met with at the each side, the east end of the Abbey Church house of a friend in London. She has a hus. | burst upou us; and, through its lofty pointed band, four children, and four servants, and her window, we saw a nave three hundred and family is in the exactest order. She makes all fifty-one feet in length, where broken arches her own clothes, and those of her children. I and spreading trees were striving for the Her drawing room is furnished with her own mastery. This space bas been divided in needle-work. They have large dinner parties, l length into church and choir; in breadıb, and her most admired dishes are of her own into middle and side aisles. Magnificent making. These are the common occupa.

pillars still remain.' tions of women ; but besides these, she is l I have never seen any place which gave me so an authoress, a poetess, an actoress, and keeps perfect an idea of the manner of living of mouke up a very extensive correspondence. I asked as Fountain's Abbey. One may trace them ber by what magic she performed so much. through the day. The splendid ruin 1 lave She said nothing was more easy; and every

been describing was the place where they transone might do it, if they pleased. Her graud | acted the business of their lives; I had almost secret was only to rise early, and never leave a li said their work-shop; for prayers and praises moment unemployed. When she had finished so often repeated must have become mechanione thing, she never lost time in considering I cal. We next see their refectory, one hunwhat was to be done next; but had another in dred and thirty feet by for yseven. Another ber mind, which she set about immediately. I serious business was transacted here. I could What a pity such a woman should be tinc. | fancy the long tables, the heavy benches, the tured, as she is, with vanity, affectation, and eager monks, and the excellent fare supplied romance! I have all my life practised ber l by this luxuriant country. Here I could not secret without knowing it, and great bave been doubt the zeal of the good fathers. Habit my reading, writing, and needle-work; but to could not render them indifferent to this accomplish all she does, great strength of employ. We then come to a venerable cloisbody is requisite. She is a large, stoutter, the scene of their walks, or rather Scotchwoman.

lounges, for such pious men bad always After supper we left the gentlemeu at table, leisure. From this we mounted by a flight of aud sbe took me into ber drawing-room, where steps, on the outside, to their dormitory, over she ordered away the lights, and threw open the cloister. I had not so good an opinion a sash. We sat at the window admiring the of their lodging as their living. There are moon, which shone in all its splendour, and about ten small recesses on either side of the the sky, bespangled with ten thousand stars ;"room, with each a dismal window. They No. XXXII. Vol. V.-N.S.


were probably waioscotted out from the || woe to that sacrilegious hand whieb dares to gallery in the middle. A larger square room touch cathedral, castle, or abbey! they are a occupies one end. Last scene of this not race that will shortly become extioct, and eventful history, behold their toraha! at least nothing shall succeed them! If we cannot those of their abbots. They lie buried in the make them, let us not alter or destroy! chapter-house, which is scattered with broken It is said one of Mr. Aislabie's improvements tiles, formerly the pavement, and broken glass was to take dowo some of the ruined cffices; which filled the windows.

perhaps the buttery for one. Another of The kitchen, which is forty-seven feet by || them to remove the broken stones from the twenty-one, remains entire, with its arched area of ihe church, dig it over, and lay it ribbed roof, and two capacious fire places. | level. A third, to transform a court between The very chimney of one is whole, square at the church and the refectury, into a Aower. the base, and circular at top; and the mill l garden. We saw a smart trim janiper grow. still grinds corn which supplied the bread. I izg in the middle of the pave; the gardener looked for the buttery, where Heury Jenkins boasted that was one of bis improvements. shared the hospitality of the monks, but could When I think of these things, I have but one not find it.

Il comfort. If these interesting ruins had not Fountain's Abbey was erected in the thir- | been inclosed in the park, they might hare teenth century. Mr. Aislabie, the late pro ! suffered as much from plunderers as they prietor, bought the estate of Studley, in have done from a mistaken attempt to mend 1766, and inclosed the Abbey in his park. He them; and the remains of the buttery might has been censured for his improvements. I, who have raised a cottage over lhe head of a thief. vever saw what it was, admire it as it is. But i

(To be continued.)



(Continued from Page 205.)

LETTER V.-HUNGARY. | nature has endowed them, for the welfare of I must immediately commence by making ourselves and our children, than seek to excite a profound apology to the young girl whose in the bosoms of our youthful females those principles I feared could not withstand the passions which we afterwards too often punish suggestions of her vavity. She shews herself, by our contempt, when we have sacrificed however, at all times equally modest, and on the altar of our sensuality and our pride equally attached to ber father; she passes her the sacred claims they had to our veneration. days by the side of the old man's bed, and at | Ought we not, from the respect we owe to night she sleeps in an adjoining closet, from ourselves, to respect also those who are des. whence she hastens to fulfil his every wish, ll tined to be our companious, the mothers of or afford ber timely succour to the most our offspring, and our only real friends that triling pains that the sick man may experience. ll remain, when after a long career we are reIndeed, my dear friend, this girl is an angel;/ duced by experience and crosses yo more to but we men, who would rather selfishly seduce reckon on the friendship of men, who but too the female sex than admire them, begin always loften rival and envy us; and how can we truly by condemving them on perceiving their most respect women, when we look only at their trilling foibles, if they may be called so, and faults? The esteem we shew to her on whom ascribe faults to them on the slightest suspi- l we have fixed our choice, is less a tribute to cion; should we not do better to observe and her merit than to our own sagacity: we say admire, in this most amiable part of the human to ourselves that we have kuown how to select species, i bose virtues and graces with whicb ll the first woman in the world; our penetration

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