the last few hours experienced from her husband. The Foor crest-fallen Lovemore stood in the midst, unable for some moments to utter a sentence; till yaded by the sarcasms of Sir Bashful, he resolved to have some little revenge. Pulling therefore from his pocket, the letter of Sir Bashful to Lady Constant, he read it aloud, and then presented it to her ladyship, assuring her those were his real sentiments. It was now Sir Bashful's turn to be disconcerted, but Lovemore cheered him, by saying that no wise man would be ashamed of loving a valuable woman. Mutual explanations, acknowledgments, and apologies, now took place on all sides; and the sprightly widow undertook to be a peacemaker, assuring Lovemore that all his errors should be pardoned, on condition that he made due expiation for his errors to his neglected wife. When to the great surprise of all présent, and most particularly of Isabel-he declared she had not any cause of complaint, for that the improprieties of his conduct had originated in the folly of hers.

"Of my conduct, Sir! (exclaimed Isabel, in anger) I cannot understand you!"

"Yes, madam, I repeat it, in your conduct-I here declare before you all, and I am above palliating the matter, 1 here declare, that no man in England could be better inclined to domestic happiness, if you, madam, on your part, had been wilJing to make home agreeable. You could take pains enough before marriage; you could put forth all your charms; practise all your arts; for ever changing; running an eternal round of variety, to win my affections; but when you had won them, you did not think them worth your keeping; never dressed; pensive, silent, melancholy; and the only entertainment in my house was the dear pleasure of a dull conjugal tete-a-tete; and all this insipidity, because you think the sole merit of a wife consists

in her virtue a fine way of amusing a husband, truly."

Isabel willingly owned her conviction of error, and promised amendment in future. "There, there (cried the lovely widow), kiss and be friends, nay, no tears! Here, Mrs. Lovemore, take your reclaimed libertine to your arms.” Lovemore now pressed her to his heart; and solicited her pardon for all his follies past; assuring her that it was indeed in her power to make a reclaimed libertine of him, if she would exert that power.

their

Timely awakened to a sense of mutual error, future lives were happy in the extreme. Each faithful to their promises of amendment, they were ever afterwards considered as patterns of conjugal happiness.

The timid Sir Bashful, shielding himself under so powerful an example, set the prejudices of the world at defiance, and made it his perpetual study to contribute to the happiness of his wife, whose increasing attachment rewarded his affection.

Sir Brilliant Fashion, aroused by these circumstances to something like serious reflection, began to think that there was more happiness in the moderation of virtue, than in the excesses of fashionable levity; and strengthened in his opinions by the good sense of Mrs. Belmour, a revolution took place in his manners and habits; so that, when, soon afterwards, he received her hand in marriage, he found there was more solid happiness in being a faithful husband, than a professed rake. From the errors of others he learned to correct his own; and light, trifling, and insignificant as the conduct of Sir Brilliant, Sir Bashful, and Mr. Lovemore had previously been, the timely and judicious interference of Mrs. Belmour awakened them all to reflection, and from reflection they learned the pleasing and profitable task of amendment.

"Tis observation, well applied,

Much more thau studied precept, forms the mind
Nor will, the ready tribute freely paid
To excellence, self excellence inspire.
The splendid beauties of another's mind,
Will not, however great, or wise, or good,
By dim reflection purify our own.

Oft vanity, the bane of mental beauty,
Whispers perfection in our listening ears,
And, in imagination's powerful scope,
The wish alone will oft the substance form.
Thus may the soundest judgment be misled
By vanity!-a subtle inonitor-

Subtle indeed, not faithful or sincere!
Faults, are by faulty semblance easiest cured-
A mirror for its own deformity-

Each bane an antidote to cure itself.

The industrious bee, which rankling poison bears,
Yet from her own rich store of hoarded sweets,
A balsam yields to draw the venomed sting .
So judgment organizes well the soul,
When light-wing'd vanity o'erleaps itself,
Till sober reason holds the reins of power

Oh! vice accursed, that lurest thy victim on
With specious smiles, and false deluding hopes-
Smiles that destroy, and hopes that bring despair,
Infatuation dangerous and destructive,

Pleasure most visionary, if delight, how transient
Prelude of horror, anguish, and dismay!

"WHY what a world is this! The slave that digs for gold receives his daily pittance, and sleeps contented; while those, for whom he labours, convert their good to mischief, making abundance the means of want. What had I to do with play? I wanted nothing-My wishes and my means were equal. The poor followed me with blessings; love scattered roses on my pillow; and morning waked me to delight-Oh! bitter thought, that leads me to what I was, by what I am! I would forget both. My wife, my wife! Oh, I have played the boy, dropping my counters in the stream; and, reaching to redeem them, lost myself!"

Such was the gloomy soliloquy of the afflicted Beverley; as with wild and haggard looks he sat, after a night spent at the gaming table; a long, long, night, the first he had ever passed from his own happy roof and the pangs of self reproach, as he reflected on the agonizing anxiety of his affectionate wife, tortured by his absence, were almost more than he could endure. His sorrows were interrupted by the entrance of his old steward, the faithful Jarvis, who came to comfort his poor un

happy deluded master; to entreat his return home to his wife and infant boy, and to offer, for present exigencies, the little money he had saved in his own and his father's service.

Beverley at first, considering his visit as an intrusion, repulsed him sternly; but at length the unaffected sorrow of the faithful old man, and his liberal offers of pecuniary aid, struck him to the heart. "What! (he exclaimed) thinkest thou I'd ruin thee too, I have enough of shame already. Go to thy mistress, tell her I'll come presently: go, go, I prithee."

And Beverley did return; but, oh how changed! No longer the happy husband, and delighted father,