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the affirmative, they quitted the castle : at her place of destination, and the Miranda taking along with her nothing packet luckily being ready to fail, she but two miniatures, one of her father, took her place and removed into it. the other of his wife. When herself There, on opening her pocket-book, and companion had reached the top of the found that the generous Bentinck an eminence from whence she could had inclosed a thort letter to her, begtake her last view of Hundfon-lhe ging her to accept, what he took the liturned herself sorrowfully towards it, and berty of presenting, a note for one exclaimed in the bitterness of her heart hundred pounds, and entreating, that
-“6 Dear and ever beloved walks ! upon any necessity she would apply to from my earliest infancy until now, say, him for more ; concluding with respecdid I ever wander beneath your shades fully requesting that she would write to with a guilty heart? were ever you witness him, and address her letters to his fato other vows, than those of friendship ther's house. between Miranda and Plantagenet? O! The packet, with a fair wind reach. Effex! Essex! where art thou now?” ed Ireland. In a few hours fhe land
-It was in vain that Bentinck tried to ed, and taking a coach, drove to Dubfoothe the anguish of her bosom : she lin, where, tired with fatigue, she prowept incessantly, until reaching the cured a bed at the inn, and retired to town they fought for, shame obliged her sleep. to wipe away the streaming tears, lest Here, to augment her misfortunes, the prying eye of curiosity should dif- the servant, whom she had brought with turb her with its impertinence. her from England, became acquainted
Bentinck procured a post chaife, and with a needy villain, who, under the seating her, and a trusty female fer- appearance of a gentleman, prayed upon vant, who was recommended to her by the fortunes of others. He professed the landlady of the inn, (for, from an ardent and disinterested love for the prudence, they had agreed that he should girl ; who, wild for the title of a gennot accompany her); he gave orders for tleman's wife, and dazzled by the happy the post-boy to drive to Holyhead, from splendour that seemed attached to it, whence the intended to take shipping met him half way in all his advances. for Ireland, as they had settled that to After first making himself fure of her be the place of her retirement. Mi- heart, he began to interrogate her conranda grasped his hand, and shedding cerning the property of her mistress ; a torrent of tears over it, half frantic, and he foon heard, that she possessed a bid him assure her father of her most considerable sum of money, which she dutiful love:
kept deposited in her pocket-book. Bentinck's eyes glistened with manly The maid had conceived it to be far tears, he pressed her hand in filence; more than it really was; and allured by and giving her å pocket-book, wlierein the specious infinuations of her villainhe had before told her, was bis ad- ous lover, who laid before her the dress ; quitted the chaise. Miranda impossibility of marrying her without funk back on the seat in fpeechless a- any fortune ;
not but that poverty cony : every tender idea reçurred to her with her would be a happiness;" yet mind :-her father's once doing love ; his relations would discard him for ever, -her happiness ;-Plantagenet's en- and take from him the only means he raptured conversation, and the delicate had of making life comfortablewere friendship of William Bentinck; all it but two thousand pounds, it would suihed upon her with such violence, have a better appearance than nothing, that unable to bear the recollection, she and might be forgiven.
Deceived by burst into a flood of tears, and remains thefe hints, she came to the refolution ed half her journey fenfeless with her of robbing her mistress. She did fo, woes. The next morning the arrived
when she was asleep ; and bore off to _“ Miranda !” was all they could per lover the money and the direction utter. She beheld Plantagenet, but Captain Bentinck.
oh! how changed! His preI was not long before Miranda be served their lustre ; but it was the eager 2e cooscious of her wretchedness. brilliancy of phrenzy.. His beautiful 2. girl's precipitate departure alarmed brown hair, was hanging down his back
and looking for her pocket book, in wild disorder, and his whole figure ketars were confirmed; it was gone. expressed grief, almost despair. ReSte poscited only five guineas in the covered from the first emotions of difwi; to Beatinck she could not apply, tracted joy, Miss Hundson related the
knew not where to direct ; and if progress of her misfortunes; and ená, :, the could not be capable of treated him to inform her what had
frameless avidity. She came to been his fate since the fatal moment of **. determination of instantly quitting feparation. 'k piace the then resided in, and of “ When I left you (said he) I pafled Fornag to a cheaper and more feclud- the remainder of the night in distraction,
not knowing whither I should go ; it greeable to this resolve, the bade rent my heart the thought of leaving 23 to Dublin, and with a small bundle you ; but for your peace of mind, I at
te hand, wandered into its environs, last determined to set off for Sedgethorp, Dowing whither the strayed. At (the seat of a distant relation) as it was A, Ending herself wearied and faint, the farthest from the country that conne satered a little neat cabin, and hum- tained yon. Here my relation, who - Baguired, if they could let her have was upon a sick bed, treated me with iscale room, for which she would the greatest love. He blessed the wiwiy pay. The woman replied chance that had fent me to close lis a the aförmative, and thewed her a eyes. I remained with him fone misii, fery small room, which she was weeks ; at last heaven took him to itself ; 2 tase at a moderate rate. Here and how was I surprised, when I found .:.:2002 took up her abode, and spent that he had left me fole heir to his
* fter day, week after week, in fruit- estate an estate of fix thousand a-year ! kes lamentations, which, by degrees, All my dreams of poffesling my Miranda Ve her delicate frame almost to a recurred to my mind : I wished, I
hoped, that you loved me ; and then my One day, as she was-straying through want of fortune could no longer be the the romantic walks of the Dargle, her bar to my happiness. I set off for the america was arrested by hearing a castle, a fortnight after the interment 1, in acccnis low and tremulous, of my benefactor. There I was re12.g these words :-“ Does hea- ceived with astonishment, almost amountHet isfopy a wretch so miserable as I ing to rudeness : his Lordship taxed me
-ah! no, adversity has not a with the base design of stealing away pers fo exquisite, as is the least of mine. his daughter; and said, he was certain -i crtane! that fortune for which I that she fled to my protection. I bezoeitly prayed, is rendered but to folemnly denied every article, and by te me the more miserable.-0! I the distraction that was visible in
becei carero me in the remoteft point haviour, when I was
your deu the globe, and wear out an existence' parture, I staggered his belief, and he **s anguish itself._“ Miranda ! cursed his credulity and cruelty a thou
da !"-_Miranda! echoed Mifs fand times, which had led him to treat Hudlon in a loud shriek, that led the a worthy cliild in so barbarous a manleader to her; who in a moment, held ner, In the mean while, his wife, unde la his arms.--- Plantagenet !" Jiappy woman: having been accused by
of this meeting, she was led into the
Lord Hundfon, in one of his furious sensations she could not speak much ; momenis, of alienating his affections therefore returned with Eflex to her from you, Aung herfelf into fo violent a miserable apartment, whose manly cheek rage in denying the charge, that her glittered with a tender tear, when he reaton forsook her.—Avenging heaven! contemplated the poverty of such an how juft are thy ways !--And she laid abode, tor her, whose life had before open the whole of a heart, wicked from been spent in the splendid palaces of the weakness of her head."
the great. In a few days they set off Here he was interrupted by the fobs for Hundson castle. of his fair auditor, who hid her face. Let that mind, which is “ trem. with one hand, and med a torrent of blingly alive" to every animated fenti
He would, have stopt ; but, at ment, conceive the feelings which thril. her repeated assurances, of its not affec. led the agitated soul of Miss Hundson. ting her to an injury, he proceeded She trembled, she felt a chill, a cold thus :
dew steal over her frame, succeeded by “ Lord Hundson, convinced of mine, a feverish glow. Her heart seemed to and
your innocence,” (for the confessed make a stop within her bosom, when that the whole of her conduct was they reached the gate of the castle : actuated by piqued pride and reje&- the scarce respired ; a convulfive tremor ed love,)“ gave way to the wildest shook every limb, and her heart beat phrenzy • he advertised for you ; he again with furious violence. Her sent people to search : and at last meet. father, at the found of the wheels, flew ing with Captain Bentinck, he told all to the gates : they were opened, and that you know ; but expressed his fears in a moment he was in her arms. of your fafey, from your never having “ Miranda ! my child, my child !” She written to him. Finding that your shrieked out, and his fatherly breast destination was Dublin, I flew to Ire- was pressed only by a lifeless form. land ; I sought every where ; I passed The blood fled from his cheek. PlantaNeepless nights, and fatiguing days, in genet, half frantic, snatched her hand, search of my dear, my idolised Miranda, squeezed it with such force of agonised I was wandring in these walks, deter- love, that she awoke ; she hung her mined to seek in every house, to inquire arms around the neck of her overjoyed of every one for some intelligence of parent, and discharged the emotions of you, when the well known echo of your her loaded heart, in copious showers of seraphic voice, called me to joy unut- tears. Recovered from the transports terable.”
He ceased, and gazing ardently on 'castle, where she beheld the generous her pallid features, gave her an im. William Bentinck, who suluted her passioned though delicate pressure to his with the warmth of friendship. Essex faithful bosom. “ Plantagenet !” said embraced him, and called him his beMiranda, raising up her streaming eyes nefactor, the preserver of his Miranda,
“ Where is my beloved father ? and a thousand other epithets, which Where my unhappy mother-in-law ?" displayed how trong was the love, that
Safe ! Safe, my ever-adored maid ; animated his bosom. safe in Hundson-castle.
Essex gave up his whole soul to the Miss Hundson's foul was filled with highest excess of joy, and a few weeks the most opposite sensations ; the mild. so softened the distress of Lord Hundest bless sparkled in her eye, when she fon, and his enchanting daughter, that thought on Plantagenet's love, and her Plantagenet received with transport, as father's, being restored to her : but a a reward for his constancy, the hand Kuid swam over its radiance, as her of Miranda, at the sacred foot of the pained heart dwelt on the image of his altar, wife's guilt and punishment. With such
OF THE SENTIMENTS OF THE SOUL. to
The following articles are selected from Dr Hunter's Translation of M. de St v chel
Pierre's Etudes de la Nature (Studies of Nature) in five Volumes, 8vo. i en het Of Mental Affections.
Thus, I repeat it, mind is the perich 2:
I SHALL speak of mental affections ception of the laws of society, and senbeter chiefly in the view of distinguishing timent is the perception of the laws of ices de them from the sentiments of the soul : nature. Those who display to us the
they differ essentially from each other. conformities of society, such as comic For example, the pleasure which come- writers, satyrists, epigrammatists, and dy bestows is widely different from that even the greatest part of moralists, are of which tragedy is the source. The men of wit : Such were the Abbe de emotion which excites laughter is an Choisy, La Bruyere, St Evremond, affection of the mind, or of human rea- and the like. Those who discover to fon; tha: which diffolves us into tears, us the conformities of nature, such as is a sentiment of the soul. Not that tragic, and other poets of sensibility, I would make of the mind, and of the the inventors of arts, great philosophers, foul
, two powers of a different nature: are men of genius : such were Shakebut it seems to me, as has been already speare, Corneille, Racine, Newton, faid
, that the one is to the other, what Marcus Aurelius, Montesquieu, La it being fight is to the body; mind is a faculty, Fontaine, Fenelon, J. J. Roufuau.
and soul is the principle of it: the foul The first class belong to one age, to S.
is, if I may venture thus to express one season, to one nation, to one jun-
be referred We shall be still more sensible of the breas the other faculties of the understanding, difference which fubfifts between mind
as the imagination, which apprehends and foul, by tracing their affections in things future ; memory, which contem- opposite progresses. As often, for explates things that are paft; and judge- ample, as the perceptions of the mind ment, which discerns their correspon- are carried up to evidence, they are exdencies. The impresion made upon alted into a source of exquisite pleasure, us by these different acts of vision, some independently of every particular relatimes excites in us a sentiment which tion of interest; because, as has been is denominated evidence; and in that said, they awaken a feeling within us. case, this last perception belongs imme. But when we go about to analize our. diately to the soul; of this we are feelings, and refer them to the exami. made sensible by the delicious emotion nation of the mind, or reasoning power, which it suddenly excites in us; but, the sublime emotions which they exraised to that, it is no longer in the cited in us, vanish away ; for in this province of mind; because, when we case, we do not fail to refer them to begin to feel, we cease to reason : it is some accommodation of society, of forno longer vision, it is enjoyment. tune, of fyftem, or of some other per
As our education and our manners fonal interest, whereof our reason is direct us toward our personal interest, composed. Thus, in the first case, we hence it comes to pass, that the mind change our copper into gold ; and in employs itself only about social confor- the second, our goli into copper. mities, and that reason, after all, is Again, nothing can be less adapted, nothing more than the interest of our at the long-run, to the study of nature, pasions ; but the soul, left to itself, is than the reasoning powers of man ; for, inceffantly pursuing the conformities of though they may catch here and there rature, and our sentiment is always the fome natural conformities, they never icterest of mankind.
pursue the chain to any great Jength:
OF THE SENTIMENT OF INNOCENCE.
besides, there is a much greater number which the mind does not perceive, be The sentiment of innocence exalts cause it always brings back every thing us toward the Deity, and prompts us to itself, and to the little social or scien- to virtuous deeds. The Greeks and tific order within which it is circum- Romans employed little children to sing scribed. Thus, for example, if it takes in their religious festivals, and to prea glimpse of the celestial spheres, it will sent their offerings at the altar, in the refer the formation of them to the lac view of rendering the gods propitious bour of a glass-house; and if it admits to their country, by the spectacle of inthe existence of a creating power, it fant innocence. The fight of infancy will represent him as a mechanic out of calis men back to the sentiments of naemployment, amusing himself with mak ture, When Cato of Utica had forming plobes, merely to have the pleasure ed the resolution to put himself to death, of seeing then turn round. It will bis friends and servants concealed his conclude, from its own disorder, that sword; and upon his demanding it, there is no such thing as order in nature; with expressions of violent indigoation, from its own immortality, that there is they delivered it to him by the hand of no mortality. As it refers every thing a child : but the corruption of the age to its own reason, and seeing no reason in which he lived, had stifled in his for existence, when it shall be no longer beart the sentiment which innocence on the earth, it thence concludes, that, ought to have excited. in fact, it shall not in that case exift. To Jesus Christ recommends to us to bebe consistent, it oughe equally to con come as little children: we call them clude, on the fame principle, that it innocents, non necentes, because they does not exist now ; for it certainly can have never injured any one.
But, nola discover, neither in itself, nor in any withstanding the claims of their tender thing around, an actual reason for its age, and the authority of the Christian
religion, to what barbarous education We are convinced of our existence are they not abandoned? by a power greatly superior to our mind,
Of Pily. which is sentiment, or intellectual feel The sentiment of innocence is the ing. We are going to carry this natu- Dative source of compaffion; hence we 'ral instinct along with us into our are more deeply affected by the sufferscarehes respecting the existence of the ings of a child than by those of an ald Deity, and the immortality of the foul; man. The reason is not, as certain fubjects, on which our versatile reason philosophers pretend, because the rehas so frequently engaged, sometimes on fources and hopes of the child are infethis, sometimes on the other side of the rior; for they are, in truth, greater question. Though our insufficiency be than those of the old man, who is fretoo great to admit of launching far into quently infirm, and hastening to diffothis unbounded career, we presume to lution ; whereas the child is entering hope, that our perceptions, nay, our into life : but the child has never ofvery mistakes, may encourage men of fended; he is innocent. This fenti, genius to enter upon it. These sublime ment extends even to animals, which, and eternal truths seem to us so deeply in many cases, excite our fympathy imprinted on the human heart, as to more than rational creatures do, from appear themselves the principles of our this very consideration, that they are intellectual feeling, and to manifest harmless. themselves in our most ordinary affcc The sentiment of innocence deve. tions, as in the wildest excelles of our lopes, in the heart of man, a divine paffions.
character, which is that of generofity.