"That nobleman has received it, madam," said a young man who now joined my aunt, "and has made an offer to one of the leading parties this very day, which offer waits only for the acceptance of one main term by the principal."

"And what is this term?" said my aunt. "The previous dismissal of the household," replied the gentleman.

"Then I can tell them," said my aunt, "that this negociation will not succeed."

"And what is your Ladyship's reason?" said the young man.

"Your Lordship will excuse me," said my aunt, smiling, and moving into another part of the circle.

"Who is that nobleman," said I, "who seems to labour with some purpose, and yet to labour without passion and agitation ?"

“One of the wisest and best noblemen of the day, and who restored his colleagues to the state, when the inconsiderate vote of the House displaced them," said my aunt. "That nobleman, by his official situation, holds the Prince's conscience, and it cannot be in better keeping."

In going farther into the assembly we passed a groupe consisting of an elderly gentleman and a younger one, and one or two Officers of the Household. They talked so loud as to render it no impropriety to give some attention to their words.

"We are all going to resign," said the young man ; so you may as well take your leave of us to-day, for to-mor

"Well but," said the other, with some appearance of earnestness, "are you serious in your advice?"

"As serious as ever I was in my life," said the other. "We are old friends, and I am somewhat older than you are-know the world, therefore, and know the value of a good situation. There are too many pretty things attached to the White Sticks to have them thrown in the fire so rashly."

"But the Ministry will not come in unless they have a clear house," said the young man.

"Then let them keep out," said the other," for a pack of unconscionable rogues. The plague is in it, if they get the whole House besides, if they cannot leave you and me the kitchen and cellar. They seem to think you a kind of witch, and are resolved to stick at nothing to get you off."

"But is it not better to go out, than to be turned out?" demanded the other.

"Yes," replied the elderly man, “when it comes to that alternative.-But possession you know is," &c.

"Very good, my friend," said the young man, taking him warmly by the hand, "your advice is excellent. Perhaps you will meet us all to-morrow to consider it more in detail."

'Certainly," said the other, "stay in by all means; certainty is better than hope; and the sticks in the fable furnish no bad precedent. Keep altogether, and you will compose a feuce that they will not easily overleap."

My good, good, very good friend," said the other warmly.

ters."

Resign!" said the other; "you will be

the crowd.

(To be continued.)

LETTER XXI.

FREQUENTLY, my dear Emilia, must observation have taught you to doubt the fidelity of husbands: a thousand times must you have heard it said, that to the disgrace of society, a faithful husband is cited as a prodigy only to be equalled by a discreet wife. The assertion appears strong, yet it is nevertheless true, though not without exceptions in the middling ranks of life. I proceed now to give you some idea of the fidelity of the higher classes, and for that purpose, will instance Bacchus, This husband of Ariadne, who was often absent upon little tours, having been particularly well received by Icarus, remained with him some time; his sojourn was made less with the intention of teaching his host how to cultivate the vine, than with the design of himself cultivating the favour of his daughter Erigone. Erigone was then but fifteen; and her young beart educated in profound ignorance of the world, was as yet acquainted only with virtue. Bacchus of course found this a great obstacle to his projects. In vain did he employ near her all the common places of gallantry: Erigone seemed neither to listen, or understand them. At length the God, after long study of her impregnable character discovered its weak place. He perceived that Erigone loved grapes exceedingly, and that she went every evening to the vineyard of her father to eat them clandestinely. Sure of his victory, he flew to the vineyard of Icarus, plants himself in the path by which Erigone comes to it, and takes the form of a ruby cluster depending from a young vine. Meanwhile Erigone arrives; she catches a glimpse of it through its mantle of foliage, utters an exclamation of delight, and plucks it. Scarcely has she eaten the first grape before an inconceivable intoxication spreads through all her senses: her bosom sweils and heaves, her eye wanders, her ardent lips eagerly seek the fatal cluster again, presses, and devours it.—“ Oh ye Gods!" she exclaims, "this is your nectar! I die of delicious poison!"-At these words No. XXXIII. Vol. V.-N. S.

Bacchus resumes his original form. "Com. pose yourself," he says, "that poison is not mortal. Love me, and I will cure you.”— Erigone then casting down her eyes, blushed, sighed, and abandoned her hand: whether for her cure, or her destruction, I will not pretend to say. The time of the vintage now arrived: Icarius had invited to it all the shepherds of the Athenian territory. At the sound of their rustic pipes and artless voices, the nectar flowed from the blushing grapes: to refresh, and re-animate them, Icarus presented to them the first flaggons of the newly expressed juice. But unluckily the musicians' of those times had neither the capacity nor the coolness of ours; the new wine fermented in their Athe nian heads, and killing Icarius, they cast him into a well. No sooner was this crime com. mitted than the wives of the murderers were seized with a transport of furious rage, which nothing could appease. The Oracle was consulted, and it ordered that they should institute games in honour of Icarus, to expiate the guilt of their husbands. These feasts were called the Icarian games. They were celebrated by persons balancing themselves upon a cord attached to a couple of trees. In our days we call it a swing. I never look at this exercise without complacently recalling the antiquity of its origin. At the moment in which the Prince was assassinated by his guests, he was followed by a little bitch, called Mera. This little creature was made famous not by the songs, the epistles, the madrigals, which the poets addressed to her; not by the civility of the young priest of Jupiter who took her out walking; not by the senti

mental discourses which the ladies directed to her in society; but solely by her instinct, and her fidelity to her master. She ran to Erigone, and dragged her by the robe even to the very well in which the murderers had thrown the body of her father. At such a || dismal sight, Erigone hanged herself in despair; Mera died of grief, and the Gods transported them to the heavens. Icarius became

extreme beauty, his desolate state, the superb ornaments with which he was covered, all conspired to render him interesting. They adopted him, and took care of his education. The most venerable of these shepherds, who loved him with a tender friendship, often felicitated him upon the fortunate destiny, which far from the dangers of grandeur and of opulence had led his infaucy to the sylvan asylum of peace and virtue. Sometimes the old man would take him upon his knee, and pressing him between his trembling arms, would thus address him." My son! you enter into life by a road strewed with flowers. Even till now you have never shed a single tear: no person has abridged your innocent pleasures; and you have not yet felt that delightful frenzy which tyrannises over so many hearts: you aspire not to honours; you fear not old age. Oh, my son! You enter a path strewed with flowers. I would not trouble the tranquillity of your tender years, but alas, you must learn betimes to dread the poison of Love. My son, I can foresee the day in which that cruel child will seduce your heart by his syren tongue. You will believe that happiness awaits you in the delicious retreat to which he invites, and you will find but the most painful slavery. Fly, fly then; that is true courage. Feeble and timid bird, avoid that vulture, or look to perish in his grasp! Amiable child, whose eyes shine with the light of peace and innocence, may you never seek more vivid enjoy. ments than what your childhood has bestowed; be poor, be virtuous; bind not yourself to the car of opulence; go not to dwell in sumptuous palaces; preserve yourself from bowing under the haughty looks of a proud protector; tremble to penetrate the dark paths by which Intrigue silently walks; remorse alone is the reward of the most fortunate crimes. When time shall have furrowed that brow new dressed in the flowers of youth, your heart will soon be environed by langour and sadness; when man verges towards decay, he is condemned to pain. Weak in the cradle, weak in old age; he dies, my son, as he is born. Nourish friendship; succour distress; attach to yourself by tenderness, the child whom Heaven may have given to your affection. That support will become one day the solace

of your feebleness, and will make you taste a renewal of delight, when time shall have furrowed that brow now decorated by the flowers of youth."

Soou did the young Paris become the most celebrated and the most beautiful of the shepherds. Nature recompensed him for the empire of which Fortune had deprived him. He reigned over the meadows, over the flowers of the fields, over the herbage, the flocks, and the hearts of the mountain nymphs, whose sighs found a sweet echo in the sounds of his lyre. Amongst them, he first saw the tender Oenone, brilliant with the freshness of youth and love; softly stealing from her gay companions, she came at the decline of day to share the bed and throne of Paris; for the mossy turf was by turns his throne and his bed. In truth, Paris lived happily; but to continue, happiness should remain concealed from others.

The celebrity of the shepherd made the misery of himself and of his wife. He appeared at the public games which Priam celebrated in Troy, and his beauty attracted every eye. Hector, the eldest son of the King, after having vanquished all his opponents, was vanquished by his unknown brother. This triumph interested the whole court: the King himself interrogated the conqueror, and recognized him for his son. Then began the fortune and finished the happiness of Paris. Oenone was the first to perceive it. Pomp, etiquette, and cold inconstancy, soon banished love from their nuptial bed; and the poor nymph learned by sad experience what it is to have a husband at court. Paris, by unanimous consent was declared the fashion, by the committee of Trojan coquettes. The beauties quar relled for him, and possessed him by turns. Thus, without peace, as without enjoyment, Paris was hurried away in the whirlwind of female vanity. Nevertheless a secret sentiment brought him back to his faithful Oenone. In spite of himself he rendered justice to her merit, saying, with an unaffected smile" She has mind, she has heart; na. ture has endowed her soul with all the vir tues; upon my honour she is a treasure; but he is my wife."

The reputation of Paris naturally extended

with his conquests; he united himself in friendship with the God Mercury, who became his counsellor and his agent, and who finished by proposing him to the celestial court as judge of the dispute between the three Goddesses. Such was the rapid read that led Paris to distinction. But alas! that dis

tinction had sad consequences, since it caused his death and the ruin of his country.

Allow me to postpone the history till tomorrow; I will then offer you my hand to lead you to Mount Ida; till then-keep the apple !-Adieu.

(To be continued.)

LETTER XXVI.

TO MRS. BRUDENELL.

Oakwood, Aug. 24, 1807. "How proud should I be," said my brother, when we were returned to the inn at Ripon, "to inclose Fountain's Abbey in my own grounds! I should guard it with a more religious care than ever the monks did."

“Give me,” said Millichamp, with enthusiasm, a wife, a friend, a book, and a cottage, in the dale of Fountain's Abbey, I ask no more in this world."

"Mere fool you, then, for asking so little," cried Satterthwaite: "give me the Abbey, and I'd pull down every rotten arch of it to the ground, and build a handsome manufactory, || with fifteen windows on a row, and three stories high. That pretty little stream would supply all the works."

"I am very glad, however," said Barbara, "that you take a wife into your scheme of happiness. I never heard you acknowledge so much before."

Margaret looked as if she had heard him acknowledge it.

"And pray, Charles," said I," what would you do with the Abbey"

"Run away from it," replied he; should sleep with the old abbots, in three days, if I did not."

"Well, Millichamp," said I, "if you will chuse the cottage and the book, and let me chuse the wife, I will be the friend."

"I dare take you at your word," said Millichamp.

"Then, Millichamp," said my brother, "enlarge your plan, and take two friends; for I will sometimes make one."

"Now, my dear ma'am," said Barbara, "it rests with you to name the wife."

"I shall give my apple, not to the fairest, but to the best," answered I; "and I shall take time to consider of it."

"If you give it to either, you must trundle it to Miss Oakwood," said Satterthwaite.

"I wish," said she, "your nephew had half your taste and politeness. I am afraid I must give him up as incorrigible."

"Thank you, ma'am; I wish he had, ma'am," answered Satterthwaite :-"He has all sorts of sense but common sense; and his taste is all for them Greek and Latin authors; and I take it they don't teach much politeness. Only think of his ungenteel notions! Here, he asks but for a shabby cottage and a mean wife; I won't say any thing against his friends, because they're a credit to him; and books may be well enough, when a man has nothing to do but read 'em; when he might have a fine estate, a fine house, and, perhaps, some fine young lady into the bargain! But don't give him up, ma'am. He is good-tempered; and who knows, if you can't conquer him, nobody

can."