LETTER XXVI.

You know, Emilia, or one day you will know, that what desolates one woman, frequently consoles another. The death of Adonis threw Cypris into despair, and gave joy to Proserpine. This Queen who was terribly tired of her kingdom, was enchanted to receive there the favourite of Venus; she was still more enchanted with the certainty that the Goddess could not pursue her lover into Elysium. Venus, who yet wept for her Adonis, apprized of Proserpine's project, fell into the most desperate sadness; but vexation soon succeeded to sorrow, and rage to vexation. Her sobs ceased, her tears dried upon her burning cheeks. The daughter of Ocean flew to Olympus, traversed the crowd of Gods, threw herself at the feet of Jupiter, pressed them with her trembling hands, and dissimulating no more, exclaimed:

"Yes, my father, I loved Adouis; I loved him. I have lost him, I have lost the youth; the charms, the tenderness of my lover his soul yet remained faithful to me, and Proserpine would ravish that from me. Oh, Jupiter! avenge me! restore to me my Adonis! Let him live, that Proserpine may not triumph over thy daughter, and her immortality be no longer a burthen."

Jupiter was melted, but ventured not to decide so delicate a cause; he referred it to Themis. That immortal virgin, daughter of Heaven and of Youth, and sister of the amiable Astrea, wore a fillet over her eyes; with one hand she held a sword, in the other a balance and the mirror of youth.

After having heard Venus and Proserpine, Themis decided upon a middle course, and decreed that Adonis should pass six months of each year upon the earth, and six in Elysium. This expedient put the rivals in something like amity; but it was still a question which should first enjoy the presence of her lover.

As Proserpine was already in possession, she obtained a grant of the first half year-What an eternity for Venus! But oh! my Emilia, can you believe it? Mars continued to sweeten the bitterness of that wearisome period.

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After a faint resistance, she suffered him to converse with her alone; she allowed him to sympathize in her grief, to mingle his tears with hers in fine, she permitted him to console her. When the six months were over, when Adonis, yet tender and faithful, returned from the gloomy shores of Acheron, he found, alas! that the absent have always faults.

The sad Adonis for a long time deplored this strange perfidy. He groaned through the weight, and complained aloud to Aurora. Aurora, touched with his sorrow, repeated it to Apollo. That God learned with secret vexation, the loves and the infidelities of Venus. He remembered former times, and those tender recollections gave birth to jealousy. Concealed behind a cloud, he deceived the vigilance of Gallus, who watched over their privacy, and he espied the lovers. The radiant God reported it to Vulcan, who, during their voluptuous sleep, envelopped Mars and Venus in a net of nearly impalpable fineness. All Olympus was assembled to behold their waking and their confusion.

Mars, in a rage, transformed Gallus into a lock, to punish his negligence. It would seem that under that new form Gallus became vigilant, for every day with the same accuracy, he announces to lovers the uprise of Phœbus, and Mars, while listening, quits the arms of Beauty.

Vulcan having raised the net at the prayer of the Gods, Mars saved himself in the mountains of Thrace, where he has since been adored, and Venus in the isle of Cyprus. There she was surprised by a new prodigy: every day her girdie became straiter, till at

no sooner was he able to totter, than he crept among the woods, sucked the milk of savage animals, and with their substance, he imbibed their ferocity.

LETTER XXVII.

Ir you should be told, my Emilia, that there exists a blind boy, armed with poisoned arrows, who by a cruel instinct discovers his victims, and strikes direct at their heart; that this blind youth wears a bandage over his eyes which possesses the strange power of multiplying itself ad infinitum, and immediately covers the sight of every one his darts have wounded, you would doubtless treat this recital as a fable or a falsehood; but if we should add that the blind boy is of your acquaintance, that you frequently lend him your eyes, and that in return he lends you his bandage, your incredulity would give place to surprise Nay, more, if you should be assured, that from the age of fifteen, you have led the blind archer by the hand, and have yourself directed the most burning of his arrows, then perhaps, with a tender smile you would recal the friend of Emilia, and would say, "this blind boy is Love!"

Venus had but just given birth to Cupid, when Jupiter, reading in his secret and perfidious face all the sorrows he should one day cause, proscribed him even in his cradle. To remove him from the anger of Jupiter, Venus took her son in her arms, and still languishing, went with her lovely burthen to the forests of the isle of Cyprus. There she soon forgot the brilliant pleasures of the heavenly court, and gave herself up wholly to the delights of maternal affection.

Yet with all this tenderness for her son, Venus was not his only nurse. If Love had sucked only the milk of Beauty, his character had but received a tincture of coquetry; but

Forming a bow of ash-wood, and arrows of cypress, he essayed them against the beasts who had nourished him. Assured of his dex. terity, he exercised them upon men; and Venus herself was not spared. The darts which struck happy lovers were tipped with

ingratitude to the bottom of the heart, were pointed with lead; but the greater number, dipped in subtle poison, struck, and continue to strike, unfortunate lovers. Their wound is often inevitable: nevertheless, Love conceals his arrows with so much address, Nature and the Arts are so faithful to his interests, that Suspicion herself is constantly taken by surprise. Those fatal arrows find us every where! in the world, in solitude, in the flowers of a nosegay, in the folds of a gauze, in the reflexions of a glass, in romances, in letters, even in friendship-in my friendship perhaps. Although these darts penetrate the very soul, it is nearly always by the eyes that they enter. Assuredly there must exist some delicate fibre which serves as a conductor of the electric flame from the eyes to the heart: in this age of science, where the knowledge of our nervous system is pushed so far, 1 trust some skilful anatomist will discover that con

ducting fibre; for the moment it can be proved that the power of Love holds by a single thread, that thread once cut, adieu to all the secrets of coquetry, sighs, tears, glances, smiles, treasons; adieu resentments, fears, suspicions, black children of jealousy! Adieu also to the softer sentiments of tender souls! adieu murmuring sighs, downy kisses, tears and oaths! adieu to the happiness of lovers! Yet can the repose of indifference compensate for the loss of pleasure? Ah, no! to love, to enjoy, to suffer, this is the lot of man. So now, let us abandon the project of our discovery. Could we shelter ourselves, my Emilia, from the arrows of Love, he would still subdue us by the charms of his persua. sion. No God possesses like him, the talent of insinuating himself into the heart, of em

bellishing virtue, or of smoothing scruples, and giving to human frailty the colours of virtue. We are told that his arguments are always unanswerable: I suspect, however, that upon the chapter of morals, he is not infallible, and that he reasons of chastity as a blind man does of colours. At all events, if his logic is not always good, it is amusing, since it is inspired by Folly, whom Jupiter assigned him for a conductress. That active Goddess conducts him to assemblies, to spectacles, to balls, to social parties: be generally appears at these places in the masquerade of different dresses; for when he assumes not a strange costume the poor little urchin is reduced to the necessity of going

naked. When we behold him thus, a delightful thought unites itself with the tender interest his nudity inspires; we look at him, and recal the first days of this changing world, the beautiful golden age, when he appeared without shade, without artifice : in these happy days, the lips pronounced the blissful words, I love, the instant the heart had uttered them; the blind boy studied not his timid discourses, like a certain sweet Emilia who pretends to save her modesty by throwing over it the veil of amphibology, while at the same time her glances, her sighs, her languor, make the secrets of her heart but the secret of a play. -Adieu.

(To be continued.)

THOSE who are insensible to great passions, and have loved with that sincerity which forms the character of true tenderness, have, without doubt, more than once experienced that all their passions centre in the object of their love. A heart in which love reigns the absolute master, neither sees, acts, nor speaks any thing but through the impressions of that self same love. Ambition in such a heart is only a passion to rise itself above others, and thereby appear more valuable and considerable in the eye of its mistress; all the other passions tend to the same end.

While the Colonel was thus insensible to every evil but that of being removed from his dear Elvira, this tender lady experienced the same fate. Her tears flowed in the presence of Zara, who treated her with all possible tenderness, and obtained of her father that she should be constantly with her. Elvira felt nothing from her slavery but the absence of the Colonel, whom she knew not what was become of,and which was a source ofinexhaustible grief. Shut up in the recesses of a palace, she had seen nothing since she had been there

but female slaves like herself, and eunuchs appointed to guard them, and keep them from the rest of mankind. These mortifying circumstances were too violent to be supported, though the beautiful Zara did every thing she could to soften her afflictions. "I love you," said she to Elvira, “as though you were my sister; moderate your grief, and I will endeavour to make your stay in the seraglio as little irksome as possible."

A faithful friend is one of the greatest comforts we can meet with in affliction; they teach us how to calm our grief, fortify our souls with courage, and mitigate the greatest evils of life.

Zara would sometimes ask of Elvira the cause of her inordinate grief; but she thought it not prudent to discover her birth and condition, fearing lest the Dey coming to the knowledge of it, should demand too considerable a ransom; she dared not even to say that love was the cause of her tears, for if the eunuchs had discovered it, they would have redoubled their vigilance, and have deprived her even of the little liberty she had. She was permitted