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this hand, the impreffion of his burning lips. "You are not then unfeeling," faid I, feeing him half ftifled by his fobs?" Unfeeling! I! Ah! my good father," faid he, in the most affecting tone. "Well," rejoined I, if you be well difpofed, if you love your father, promise him to mend." "Mend!" faid he, in a faltering voice. "What then is the crime of your child? Is it the having- ." Here he stopped, and looking up at me with an expreffion that pierced me to the heart; "Father," faid he, 66 my dear father, in the name of her who is dead and gone, give your bleffing to your child, who is going to leave you." He was at my feet, and while I bade heaven bless him, he bedewed them with his tears.

"I was as much affected as he, and nature, which pleaded in his looks, and in my heart, was about to reconcile us: my arms were opened, and his pardon was upon my lips. Alas! one word more, and what a world of torments fhould I have avoided.

"At that moment his mother-inlaw made her appearance with her two children. "Rife, fon," faid I, "kifs your mother's hand, and ask the continuance of her kindness." At thefe words his tears flopped, his whole foul took fire, and a look of indignation was the only farewell my wife received from him. I bade him embrace his brothers; but he pushed them fcornfully away, and fell again at my feet. "Father," said he, "forgive me! I love and revere you; but do not force me to kifs the hand that oppreffes me; do not order me to embrace"- "Get up, unnatural child," faid I, "I no longer own you;" and when he was walking away with the wildness of defpair upon his countenance, I exclaimed, "Let him go, and never let him appear before my face again."

"What I had feen of the fire and harfhness of his temper, the perfuafion I was in that his hatred of his motherin-law was unjuft, and my hopes that his removal from home, with riper

years, and the affiduity of a good matter, would correct his bad temper; all this, I fay, foftened the impreffion his departure made upon my mind, and caused his abfence to appear advantageous both to him and myself.

"But the fatal prepoffeffion that had ruined him in his father's opinion, was equally injurious to him in that of his tutor. The worthy man was a compofition of mufic and pedantic manners. You may imagine how he went about correcting a fpirit that was reprefented to him as ungovernable, and which, if he could not bend, he was ordered to break. A fevere and tirefome difcipline, a rough manner, with strict and rigorous rules, for ever attended by threats and chastisement; every thing, in fhort, that is most oppreffive in power, and most painful in flavery, was the fyllem of education to which my fon was fubjected. His feelings were hurt by it, and he conceived an averfion for every thing in pofed by fo hard a task-master.

"But what afflicted him the most was his being told, whenever he complained of the conftraint and rigour of his fituation, that fuch was the will of a juftly-irritated father. 'Juftly irritated!" would he exclaim, hedding tears; "ah! if he had known, if he could but know the heart of his child! Curfe on the wretches who have thus envenomed the heart of a kind parent. Curfe on the ferpent whofe poison is inftilled into it every day, and all day long!" And when his mafter reproached him with hating fludy, he used to answer; "no, it is not fludy that I hate, 'tis life; nor do I know why I fo long defer my deliverance."

"Severe as his mafter was, he was neverthelefs obliged fometimes to relax a tle, to appease him. My fon w therefore allowed now and then fome moments for diverfion; but the only ufe he made of his liberty was to feek folitude; and when he was found there immerged in his gloomy melancholy, and asked the cause, he used to say, "he was fick.". -"And where is your complaint ”—“It is here," an

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fwered he, ftriking his hofom at the place where his heart was beating.

"If I had then known what I have known fince, I should have been fenfible of my injustice, and fhould have gone, in fpite of my wife, to embrace and confole my unhappy boy. A fingle carefs, a mark of kindness from me, would have changed his difpofition: he would have grown gentle and affectionate in my arms. But it was never to me that his mafter wrote; and the most afflicting paffages of his letters were the only ones I faw. But a trait of cruelty I cannot pardon, even to the fhade of her who was guilty of it, was the keeping back of the letters that my fon wrote to me in the paroxyfms of his grief.

"It was the despair to which my filence reduced him, that made him take his last resolution. He ran away; and the vicinity of the foreft of Lyons favouring his flight, a fingle night enabled him to baile the purfuit of a man, whofe means of fending after him were but small.

pel my grief, and to divert my tendernefs and attention to the bringing up of my two remaining children under my own infpection. But, as if nature had been refolved to revenge a ftep-mother's cruelty, both her fons were carried off by a rapid infection. That contagion, which in our cli mates is fo fatal in the early periods of life, feized them both together; and their inconfolable mother foon followed them to the grave.

"Thus was I left alone, overwhelmed with forrow; but as I did not think myself to blame, I fhould have had fortitude enough to bear with patience all the rigour of my fate, if heaven, which leaves nothing unpunished, had not made me difcover, at the bottom of a bureau, the affecting letters that my unfortunate fon had written to me during his exile, and that my wife had concealed. Ah! my dear friend, it was from that moment that my bofom was haunted by the deep and poignant grief, of which you faw me the prey.

"When I received the news of his "In what a ftyle were those letters efcape, or perhaps of his death, I felt written! I recollect the last, and will the fhock that fo fatal an accident repeat it to you: "What, my dear must occafion in the mind of a father. father," faid he, "will you never afBut my wife had addrefs enough to ford a word of confolation to your divert my grief, by pretending to unhappy child? Ten letters, couched look upon this event as a piece of in the most tender and fuppliant terms; youthful folly, and by affuring me that ten letters, bathed in the tears of an in a few days my fon would either be unoffending fon, whofe only request brought back, or would return of his is that you will ceafe to hate him, own accord. In the mean time, we could not obtain that last favour. O, agreed to keep the matter private, fir, write me the confolatory words, though I did not fpare my endeavours the words that will reftore me to life, to find him out. The idea that "" gave a wrong direction to my fearch, was the fuppofition that he might be gone on board a merchant fhip, as often happens to the children of low people. I wrote to all the fea-ports, and fent thither his description, although I did not name him. But the molt exact and diligent enquiries were all to no purpose, and at the end of fix months deceitful hopes, I fell into the afflicting perfuafion that my fon was no

more.

No means were neglected to dif

My child, I do not hate you." I will kifs the facred characters a thoufand times a day. They shall be imprinted upon my lips, and engraved on my heart. That heart overflows with refpect and tenderness for you. It is not of you that it complains. Ceafe then any longer to rend it by your unkindness. It has hitherto had the fortitude to bear every thing; but the filence, the neglect, the forgetfulnefs, or the hatred of a father, is an evil it is unable to fupport. I feel it will foon fink under the burthen."

"Figure to yourfelf, if it be poffible," continued Monf. de Vaneville, "the excefs of my grief and indignation. What could have been more criminal than to intercept my fon's letters; to make him believe that I had given him up, and me that he braved my refentment. It is to you alone that I have revealed this fatal fecret."

"See," fays Voltaire, "how the kindeft and the most tender fentiment of nature, the affection of a mother for her children, becomes, in its excefs, baneful and atrocious."--"Alas!" faid Vauvenarque, "all the paffions are the offspring of felf-love, and to be unjust and cruel, they need only resemble their parent."

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"The old gentleman," continued Cideville, then related to me how he was haunted in his folitary abode by the most excruciating reflections. I recollected," said he, "a thousand traits of the hatred that this unjuft woman had conceived against my fon, and which I ought to have perceived through all their difguifes.

"I was angry with myself for having given way to fuch infatuation. I fometimes upbraided Nature for not having pleaded in favour of my own blood; and fometimes, confidering myself as criminal for not liftening to her dictates, my refentment fell upon my own head. My house was hateful to me. The world, in which I fancied every eye enquired after my fon, became quite infupportable, and I then acquainted you with the refolution I had taken to abandon it, and to hide myself from mankind.

"I was ready to fet off, when to complete the rending of my heart, Juliana, the nurse of my unhappy fon, having heard that I had loft him, came to me all difconfolate, and in the effufion of her grief disclosed the secret of their converfations. Never did father fuffer as I did, while liftening to her. In thefe declarations I recognized all the mortifications and difgufts he had laboured under, without ever having ventured to utter a

complaint. I perceived that cruelly' as his heart had been tortured, his affection and refpect for me had ever remained unalterable. I perceived, in fhort, that I had been an unkind father to the best of children. "And perhaps he is no more," cried I, throwing myfelf back in my chair, "I am the cause of his death."

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"The poor woman, mingling her tears with mine, endeavoured to con fole me:" No, fir," faid fhe, “unlefs any one has had the cruelty to lay violent hands upon him, which hea ven forbid I fhould believe, or fome accident should have fhortened his days, your fon cannot be dead. Twenty times have I heard him, in the violence of his forrow, declare, that if his life were his own, he would have taken his refolution; but instantly the amiable youth, lifting up his eyes and hands to heaven, would cry out, "No, my life is thine, O God! thou haft conferred this gloomy and painful existence upon me, and thou alone haft a right to recall the gift. But," added he," thou art witness to what I endure; in retribution reftore me ere long my father's kindness, and in his arms I will forget all my fufferings."

"I began then to entertain fome hopes; but I was ever figuring to myself what hardships my fon might yet undergo, and all comfort was banished from my heart. I confidered giving way to the least effufion of joy as a criminal indulgence; a frugal and ruftic manner of living was ftill too full of enjoyment; nor could I forgive myself the moments of diverfion which the culture of my garden afforded in mitigation of my forrow. This labour," faid I, "is voluntary and grateful, while that to which neceffity has condemned my fon is hard and unremitting. I amufe myself in ornamenting a fertile fpot, and he perhaps is forrowfully occupied in clearing a rugged and ungrateful foil, and watering it with the fweat of his brow. My table will be covered with plenty of fimple viands,

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while I know not but a morfel of bread, of coarse bread, with no other feafoning than his tears, may fometimes be denied him. How do I know, but, on board a veffel, at the mercy of the waves, toffed about by empefts, and fpent with the fatigue of the day, his nightly flumber may be broken by the ftorm, while I go to enjoy the sweets of a tranquil repofe ?-O, no-it was not tranquil, the image of my fon, pursuing me continually, broke my reft. At table I fancied I faw him ftanding pale and languid before me, and every thing I tafted loft its relifh. Shall I tell you all? Whenever I was alone, and impreffed with the idea of his image, the tears ftreamed from my eyes. I ftretched out my arms to my fon, and afked his pardon.

HON

"Thus, my friend, did I pass three years of my life in this folitude, partaking of the labours of the rude inhabitants, to whom Nature has given joy in recompence, but who were afflicted at my forrow; and, believe me, I have but imperfectly defcribed this long and mournful fcene of parental grief, this tedious night of forrow.

"In the mean while, what was become of my fon, and how did I find him? This is what he will himself relate, when you are alone together."

The young couple and their friend having now joined us, we directed our fteps toward the rifing ground, whence we enjoyed a view of rural labours, magnificently terminated by a finé fetting fun.'

[To be concluded in our next.]

THOUGHTS ON HONESTY.

ONESTY is a word on every tongue; but a virtue by no means the poffeffor of every heart. Its acceptation, as a term, is fufficiently understood; but with its extent, as a moral duty, not many are enough acquainted. It is the duty of all, yet the practice, in eminent degrees, of very few. It implies much more than the oppofite of fraud and injuftice: it nearly relates to, and is deeply connected with, all our motives, thoughts, acts, and employments; and fhould be confidered as refpecting the character and circumitances, no less than the property, of our neighbour. To be honeft, is to act invariably with truth and juftice: this will affect both ourselves and others; and spread its influence through all our connexions. And in the practice of it, it is by no means fufficient that we are juft in our pecuniary tranfactions, or that we full our engagements of a commercial nature. Much, very much more than this is implied therein. It primarily refpects our-. felves; muft originate in our own breafts. Not our actions only, but our motives, must be honeft, or we cannot,

with propriety, appropriate the exalted title of what Mr. Pope has termed the noblest work of God.' From our interior muft our actions spring, in order to conftitute them virtues; otherwise they cannot be honest and upright, refpecting their intentions: in defect of this, they only become fimple actions, which may, under different circumftances, be done from any, and from oppofite motives. Many commercial men are strictly honeft thus far, who would be otherwife, if it were found equally confiftent with their reputation. Many men are externally and publicly honeft, as well as generous, who are known privately and internally to be otherwise. Can thefe be termed either honeft or generous men, whatever their actions, excited by fordid and felfish views, may be? It muft, moreover, respect our neighbour: it becomes our duty to practice the golden rule of our Saviour, of doing to others as we would they should do to us. As we are to defign and intend, fo we are to act and practice no difhonefty. Yet how few do this? In our daily commerce with each other, how little is this at

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tended

tended to! How exceeding few are willing, in dealing, to give as much for an article as it is fairly worth, if it can be obtained at a lower rate? Is this dealing honeftly; or is it doing as we would be done by? Who wishes not to make of a commodity he has to difpofe of, as much as it is fairly worth? Yet how rarely do we fee a man willing to give his neighbour the fame advantage, if he can otherwife get it? Is this putting our neighbour in the fame fcale with ourselves, or loving him as ourselves? Do we not act fraudulently whenever we obtain any thing for less than it is justly worth, especially when advantage is taken either of his ignorance or of his neceffity? Is not, in fuch a cafe, so

much as we gain by the bargain, an actual fraud and robbery, against which the feller is unable to defend himself, by reafon of preffing circumftances? Or is this the exact meafure we fhould ourselves with to have meafured to us in like circumftances? How void of real honesty, not to say of charity, are the common dealings of men with each other? How few are ftrictly honeft characters among men, if this be a rule? And how many act by its direction? How few in the most common actions of life do to others, as they would that they fhould do to them? Yet these call themfelves Chriftians!

MORALIS,

The CULTIVATION of PHILOSOPHY, or VIRTUOUS SENSIBILITY neceffary to CONSISTENCY of CHARACTER and CONDUCT: An Effay, illuftrated by an affecting Story, founded on fact.

IT T has been generally fuppofed, that a philofophical turn of mind, or a difpofition to fympathy, or as it is ufually, though fomewhat confusedly denominated, fenfibility, are qualities fo innate, and fo little dependent upon the exertions and volition of the individuals in whom they are found, that little praife, in a moral point of view, can attach itfelf to the characters of men on their account. I am, however, of an entirely different opinion, and am, indeed, almoft tempted to believe that there is fcarcely a perfon of either fex, by whom an amiable degree, either of the one or other of thefe principles, might not with proper attention be attained; and even in the compafs of my own acquaintance, I have fometimes with a figh beheld perfons who, by the attainment of both, might have prefented to the world the nobleft fpecimens of the perfection of character, to which human nature can afpire, fink, for want of proper cultivation, into the degraded ftate, where scarcely either the one or the other is difcoverable to any effectual degree.

Appetentius is a youth to whom Nature has been partial in the diftribution of mental powers; and who, at a period fo early as before the paffions which ufually ftamp the characters of men had begun, in any confiderable degree, to unfold themfelves, gave feveral flriking proofs of genius and understanding, which excited the admiration of all who knew him; and as these marks of ability were feconded by an unusual degree of application to claffical fludy, the expectations of his friends were naturally raised; and all began to look forward, with the moft flattering hopes, to the maturer years of a youth, who neglected the sports and paitimes of his companions, to devour the beauties of ancient lore, or pour forth his inventive faculties in ftrains of moral and religious meditation.

Thefe expectations, nevertheless, have not been realized: for, too much confined to the fociety of perfons, who have few gratifications but thofe of fordid indulgence, and encouraged by the interefted prudence of those who hould have infpired him with nobler

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