liar indignity at the insult,and das tardly conduct of Mustapha. The kindness of Aranza was even magnified in his imagination; and the native excellence of his heart burst forth in acclamations of the gratitude by which it was won.But when Alfonso related the discovery of Morgiano--his beloved sister and partner of his misfortune, the transports of his joy were. without bound. Rich in wealth and in the pleasing prospects of declining years, he hurried Alfon so to a realization of the dreams he fancied. 7'his happy day was the the most glorious eposh of his life, It gave чim back a nephew, and restored a sister! what higher blessings could indulgent provi. orator-' to conquer resentment is more glorious than to vanquish in the field,' still the vanity of human wishes was predominant in practice. We do not wholly approve the character of Kyoprili. Mild and amiable in disposition he was still human. Much as his fidelity was questioned for a while,a public scrutiny re-established his great name with the divan: wiped away the foul aspersions and restored his fame untarnished to the archives of his country's glory. This should have quieted his high sense of honor. With some it had been esteemed not merely a testimony honorable to their feelings, but Battering to their pride. But differently was the operation in the mind of Kyoprili. It was un pali-dence bestow? but heaven, sull "tion for INSULT. The very ques-prodigal,outran the pleasing vision tion of honor was infamy. Indignant at the affiont, he secritly remitted the bulk of his princely fortune to England; and at the period he accidentally discovered Morad was on a tour through Spain. Alfonso in his turn communicated a circumstantial detail of what had happened to himself from his period of their separation. He described the catastrophe of the forest with a feeling heart-dwelt upon the amiable character of the duke with warmth bordering on enthusiasm; and spoke of his friendship and generous bounty, though now no longer essential to him, with an affecting sensibility Kyoprili listened to him with a lively interest. He manifested pecu he had formed. They entered the apartment of Morgiana. Morad was already there-Bernard too! and Violante-' cried Alfonso-'what! in tears?'-they were the tears of gladness. Rosalvo exclaimed Kyoprili starting back. Yes, it was Rosalvo--the duke Aranza in Morgiana's arms! Alfonso flew to Mariana for an explanation of the scene he saw, but she could barely whisper through her tears, BEHOLD YOUR FATHER!' We must own or inability to do justice to a scene which had not disgraced the eye of Pericles. The pencil of Zeuxis might delineate what we have not the power to describe; such a painting the wealth of Athens indeed never could have purchased.* For our part we prefer the sublime but ef ficacious modesty of Timanthes of Lycion, who having exhausted allhis recourses of grief in the countenances of those who lamented the intended sacrifice of Iphigenia threw a veil over the face of Agamemnon because he knew not how mention of Alfonso's name changed the tone of this watchful servant. The gate instantly flew open ;— Morad was received and forthwith conducted to the presence of ranza. The duke was alone with Vio lante, he had seen nothing of the casket. Be seated, seignior,' said he, ' and my niece will look for it. Do you know Alfonso?' added the duke to express the exquisite feelings of scrutinizing the features of Morad the father! Twas evening when Morad knocked at the castle of Aranza; the duke was at home; but the suspicious of the porter were excited as much by the unseasonable hour. as the appearance of the visitor. Morad was a turk; and tho he wore the costume of Spain, still had he a peculiar harshness in his countenance which his recens pursuit rather confirmed than diminished but he was resolute in his demand; he said he had business of importance with the duke he must see him, he had no time to lose it was growing with prying curiosity- tis strange he should send you back without some more palpable authority.Was he so anxious for this casket? did he fear to trust it in my house? such were the questions he put. To each Morad gave an answer the least likely to alarm; but he began to feel his situation not the kate, and that he had a distance to travel before the morning dawned. In vain he begged admission-in vain were threats employed, nothing could move; till at last the *This vain artist, Zeuxis, on presenting his collection to the state, affirmed it to possess more meris than the city of Athens could purchase. most enviable in the world. The duke had been described to him as a man of uncommon affabilityeasy of access, and rather condescending for one of his high rank in life. How reverse the picture in the eye of Morad! Violante returned she had found the casket and would have given it to Morad. 'leave us, my child-seignior || childhood; he must have told you this is no time for ceremony. My mind misgives.ine-where is Alfonso? speak--noequivocation now.' Morad was ignorant of the deception practised by Alfonso on the duke, and he replied in the greatest simplicity that he had gone to France. To France!' exclaimed the how much I esteem him, and you will not be so cruel as to leave me in suspence-say I implore yousay who you are-how you should know so much yet so little of Alfonso?' Morad had no cause, no desire to conceal what he knew. Most willingly had he parted with all he duke; he left me to join his regi- possessed, his life not excepted, to prove his affection for Alfonso. The duke's agitation, and know ment in Andalusia. Look at these jewels-did you ever see them be-ledge of the jewels too were sin fore?' 'Never!", gular enough, and though it was not probable yet he chose to imagine the possibility of ascertaining some circumstance interesting to Alfonso. 'How long have you known Also 'You still hesitate? cried the duke. By no means,' replied Morad, . I was only collecting my scattered thoughts that I might the more easily satisfy your inquiriesMy name is Morad. I was bora in Turkey In Turkey interrupted the duke. 'Yes, in Wallachia,' was the re ply. Proceed, I pray you.' Morad retraced the story before related, concluding with Alfonso's discovery of his mother and the cause of the journey they had undertaken. The duke heard him to the end not without repeated in terruption. Violante was called in-questioned as to her knowledge of Agnes, and the time elapsed since she had taken the veil. Still Kyoprili's in a sister, in a nephew, (Concluded.) For the Lady's Miscellany.. The LUCUBRATOR, NUMBER V. On the UTILITY and PLEA SENEGA DE TRANQUILL, all was dark and mysterious: Vi-bly cemented in the friendship of alante knew little of Agnes, she their respective wives! had met her as a nup of St. Clare, and was grateful for the uniform attention she had shown-more Violante knew not; Morad could explain no farther: Bernard was sent for he recollected the agita, tion of Agnes in the vaults of St. Clare, when the duke's life was threatened. Aranza hoped, yet doubted he paused, he reflected: he thought it possible his beloved wife might have survived the crim. inal rashness of a suspicious mind; long since had he doubted the fatal impressions of a jealous moment. Years of unavailing sorrow-promised to poison the felicity of future existence. Fortunately he found a solace in a second marriage: that also in the end proved unhappy, and the only temporal tranquility he looked for was in the society of his niece and the husband he had selected. Morad's story carried him back to former days. This Agnes might be Zaide, (the Morgiana of Georgia) the first inspirer of a tender passion. He resolved to follow her, and the journey gave her back to his enamored heart! || The passion of Rosalvo was not gone, it was only smothered to break forth with renewed violence in the breasts of the now duke Aranza. Morgiana's happiness was complete in the treble blessing of a brother, a husband, and a son-general mass of groveling minds The comprehensive genius of man speaks him made for the attainment of learning, as much as his social faculties declare that he was not made for solitude. The uses of the several parts of his body are not more obvious,or more certainly determined than the uses of his mental powers. Nature has made nothing in vain. If Man hides from the world the strength and capacity of his mind, he is a neglectful servant, who has wested, by inactivity, the talents committed fo his care. If, in spite of the most assidious endeavours, 'he wastes his sweetness on the desart air,' and his excellence is disregarded, he but shares the fate of many a mute inglorious Milton, that lies buried in the ied down to pursuits beneath the level of their powers. It had been long agreed to by Moralists, that learning, if it be not virtue, is at least one of its principle ornaments It is a food as necessary for preserving the vigour of the mind, as common food is for preserving the vigour of the body. The anaology betwixt mental and corporeal food is perhaps as truly logical as any analogy we possess know not why; for in a healthy and a temperate man what is there but the Divi Fiat that can date the existene? Delicacy of appetite returns,and with regard both to mind and body, we seem to subsist more on the juices and strength already stored up than by any fresh supplies from without. At length, we visit the mansions of earthly oblivion, with many a faculty not called forth, and many a power whose existence tells us we are here but entering on the elements of that perfection which is finished in another world. Virtue is seldom the portion of absolute ignorance, for the virtue of a savage is more the instinct of interest than the emanation of principle. But Learning by deve If a man reads without thinking, it is like eating without digesting; if he reads contrary to his inclination, he profits not, because he has no appetite. If he writes more than he reads, his writing is crude, unwholesome, and vitiated; but if he reads in proportion to his thinking, his mind separates, by oblivion; the noxious form the saluta-loping the works of heaven and ry part, and the latter is assimilated into, and becomes part of, his own thoughts. If he reads frivolous and fictitious writings, his mind suffers a gradual decay from want of due nourishment, and its powers become polluted. If he reads works where the judgment is interrested, his mind is richly nourished. and its vigour regularly supplied. As age advances, this mental diet must be changed.The tender and slight foods that would have agreed with the constitution in the days of youth, must be changed for the solid matter that can give stability to vigour of mind, and please an appetite more keen after variety of diet: but when the evening of life approaches, both mind and body decay, we the nature of man, teaches us the de M |