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*-B •'Rrmarltihk Iitjfantt cj
loitft: so lose the opportunity os so ^mwf 3 mutch for one 6s them, would tain have cndca-voured ro turn the OBrra-nt of the ^enileman's affictions to (the youngest; but aH efforts of thair uarure were wholly vain,—bis meadbrn avowed the merits of the lim&r fair,—it pointed out the lasting enmiofts he might enjoy with one who tender W loved him; but his heart refused to listen to any Other dictates than its own, and shut out at! impresS.ms, but those it had at first received :—not all the disdain he was treated w ith by the one, had power to abate the ardour of his fyxzt; nor all the soft though modest softens of an affection adequate to her sister's hate, could in the othrr kirrdle the least spark: — a kind look from the one had transported him beyond himself, but the tender glances of the other served only to add to his disq'iiet.
Thus did tli? beautiful insensible, her hapless sister, and despairing lover, unwillingly continue to torment each other, till one ill-fated day put a final period to ail uncertainty and vain depcodanec.
The gentleman had lately bought a Ihtle pinnace, beautifully ornamented and fitted tip for pleasure; to this Le invited the two sisters, with several other ladies and gentlemen, who lived near the sta-side, in order to give them a regale on board. The weather being calm and clear when they set out, tempted them to fail a considerable distance from shore; when all at once the aspect of the heavens was changed, and from a most serene sky, became clouded and tempestuous : — the wind grew every moment higher, and blew so strong against them, that in spite of their intention they wen. borne still farther out to sea.
the Force es Gratitude. British —The storm increasing, the vtsset being weak, and, as slime say, the maiiners unskilful, it bulged against a rock and split at the bottom; — the sea came pouring in on all sides, —:here was but a moment between the accident and sinking,—every one was in the utmost consternation, — the circumstances admitted no time for consideration, — all Jumped overboard, taking hold of thole they were the most anxious to preserve; — the gentleman ca:ched the two sisters, one under each arm, and for a while, evcr> thus encumbered, combated the waves; bur his strength failing, there was an absolute necessity to quit his grasp of the one, in order to lave the other; on which, following the emotions of his gratitude rather than his love, lit let go the elder of these l»dres, and swam with the younger till he reached the more.
One os the sailors, who had none under his protection, saw the distress of her, whom her lover had left floating, and catched hold of her garments just as she was sinking; but destiny forbad success to his endeavours; a billow too large and boisterous for human skill or strength to cope with, came rolling over them both, and plunged this unfortunate lady, with her intended deliverer, in the immense abyss.
Her lover, who had just eased himself of his burthen, beheld from shore what had befallen her, and not able to survive the sliock, turned to the lady he had preserved at the expence of all he valued in life, and with a countenance full os horror and despair, said to her, " Madam, I have discharged my debt of gratitude lo you for the unsought affection you have for me,—I must now obey the calls of love, and follow Mag.
History of Palemon and Sylvia.
her, whom to outlive would be the worst of hells." With these words, they fay, he threw himself with the utmost violence amongst the waves, which iinuiediattiy swallowed him up.
The young lady had neither power nor time to utter any thing to pre
vent so desperate a deed, and omBjr giving a great Ihriek fell down la a swoon; in which posture she Wss found by those, who seeing the «ffi£-t tress of the pinnace afar •oss, w«e coming to administer what relief lie occasion would adæit.
HISTORY »/ PAL!
To the Authors of the Gentlemen,
SYWia, the daughter of an industrious fanner, was born with all the beauty which nature could bestow ; her air was greatly superior to her birth, and good nature sat smiling on her countenance; she was the object of universal admiration, and the village swains wtre always collected about the church-door to fee her pass: happy he, and envied hy all besides was the man on whom she smiled as she went by.
At no great distance from Sylvia lived Palemon, who had been taken when he was young from his parents by a neighbouring gentleman, who, pleased with the child's physiognomy, and having no off-spring of his own, had determined to charge himself with his education, and settle him very advantageously in the world. Unhappily for Palemon, in a few years after his patron died suddenly, without having made any provision for him in his will; by this event he was obliged to return *o his father, after having spent those years at a school, where he had made some little progress in the hitin language.
His father, to whom he was an only child, died soon after he was of age, and Jest him in uosleflion os the
!MON WSYL Vi A.
little he had acquired by Cweraf
** You have it in your power, 37* Wtjlorj §s Palet
Sylvia, lo make me the happiest of mankind. I tremble when I consider that your heart may be engaged, and I may become wretched without being able to accuse you of cruelty. 1 (hall come, my dearest maid, this evening to your house, and shall then read my fate in thy eyes. Heaven grant they tell me that Sylvia shall be mine. 1 am, with the lincerest affection, your's, Sec."
It will be necessary only to fay, that Sylvia's eyes convinced the happy swain that her heart was all his own, and that they were soon after united in the tender link. Sylvia could give to Palemon nothing but the most perfect love, and this her Palemon would have purchased with the wealth of Crœsus if he had possessed it. They lived the envy of all around, and happy in each other, saw nothing in superior circumstances which deserved a wish. Thus day succeeded day 'till an accident of the most terrible nature happened, which reduced them from the ambition of their humble wishes to poverty and want.
By some misfortune the farm took fire, the greatest part of his cattle were destroyed, the hay burnt, and all that Palemon could truly call his own was lost. At this melancholy season, the only serenity he could find was in the presence of his beloved Sylvia ; her smiles secluded the thoughts of his misfortune, and taught him to acquiesce in his condition; his own understanding convinced htm that honest poverty was no disgrace, and that a reasonable man should never think himself unhappy whilst he has it in his power to be virtuous. Reflections of this kind, and the chearfulness which his Sylvia for ever wore before him, by degrees reconciled him tg his cir.
on and Sylvia. Britisfi
cumstance?, and the morning whicH called him to the labours of the fieid, found them as happy as they had ever been. He went with content to that labour which supported the woman he loved, and was repaid at his return by emanations of gratitude and affection from his Sylvia's* eyes. He felt a pleasure when he saw her with their infant off-spring on her lap, which the sons of wealth might envy; and connubial felicity seemed to have fixed its residence irl their humble cottage. Health smiled upon their labours, and dispensed its blessings with a liberal hand, whilst decent neatness appeared in every thing around them.
When they were thus restored by the lenient power of time to ease and tranquillity, a message came one morning to Palemon, which summoned him with the utmost haste to a village at some distance. He left his Sylvia with reluctance though bur for a trifling space, and bad her be chearful in his absence, which should be as short as possible.
When Palemon arrived at the place where the messenger,was to conduct him, he was shown into the chamber of a sick man, whom he soon discovered to be a person who had once lived in the same village with himself. "You see here, said he to Palemon, a man whom love has made as unhappy as a human creature can be. Sylvia, with whoni you are happy, is the cause of all my pain. 1 sought with honour, and the most earnest entreaties, her affections, which I could never gain, and felt, when your hands were united, the severest pang. If you can form any idea of the distraction you yourself would have felt if Sylvia, instead of yielding to your solicitations, had blessed another with her love,