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Sir Edward a Story.

THE virtue of Louifa was vanquished; but her fenfe of vir tue was not overcome.-Neither the vows of eternal fideli→ ty of her feducer, nor the conftant and refpectful attention which he paid her during a hurried journey to England, could allay that anguish which the fuffered at the recollection of her past, and the thoughts of her prefent fituation. Sir Edward felt ftrongly the power of her beauty, and of her grief. His heart was not made for that part, which, it is probable, he thought it could have performed; it was ftill fubject to remorse, to compaffion, and to love. Thefe emotions, perhaps, he might foon have overcome, had they duction to fome poems printed by him, defired his readers, if they chanced to find a foot too short, to go on a little farther, and they would probably meet with another with a foot too long, which, he hoped, would be confidered as making up for the first defect. Perhaps our hobbling bard reafons after the fame manner. Yet we would advife, when he next intends to bestride his hobby, oft mifnamed Pegafus, he would carry him to the fmith, and give the poor animal a set of new shoes, to keep his feet found in going overthe rugged road which he is likely to encounter;--and alfe that he wuold put a little hard meat in his belly, to give him bottom, before he grafps the whip and ties on his fpurs; for it is a painful thing to fee a poor beaft pufhed by whip and fpur beyond his natural fpeed, coming wheezing and limping on; and we are afraid fome of our tender hearted readers might dislike that kind of sport ;-befides, he might have a chance of being distanced and thrown out; which, according to the rules of the turf, would put it out of his power to ftart again for the fame prize. -But by keeping his feet in good order, and his body hearty, he may be enabled to fcamper away with eafe to himself, pleafure to the rider, and fatisfaction to the fpectators.

The editor begs alfo to obferve, that though he is not so hardy as to difpute the canon of Pope," one line for ferfe, and one for rhime," for fear of the confequences; as, if he is to judge from their practice, he has no doubt but the whole right of rhiming race would be immediately at him, to defend their facred rights.-Yet as he knows not if it is an article in the Magna Charta of poetafters, that for the fake of rhime they have a right to coin new words at pleafure;-till this privilege be clearly afcertained, he shall object to the practice as licentious, and contrary to the fpirit of the laws of Parnaffus. Indeed poor profe writers will think it a very unreasonable demand, after the conceffion that has juft been made; for if fenfe be facrificed to found, it must be a very extraordinary cafe indeed, where a known word cannot be found to clink with another. That our impartiality may not be called in queftion, we have copied the aVOL. I

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been met by vulgar violence or reproaches; but the quiet and upbraiding forrows of Louifa nourished those feelings of tenderness and attachment. She never mentioned her wrongs in words; fometimes a few starting tears would Ipeak them; and when time had given her a little more compofure, her lute difcourfed melancholy mufic,quòd lacra On their arrival in England, Sir Edward carried Louifa to his feat in the country. There he was treated with all the obfervance of a wife; and, had the chofen it, might have commanded more than the ordinary splendour of one But she would not allow the indulgence of Sir Edward to blazon with equipage, and fhew that state which the wished to hide, and, if poffible, to forget. Her books and her mufic were her only pleafures, if pleafures they could be called, that ferved but to alleviate mifery, and to blunt for a while the pangs of contrition. dace.od of

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bove lines from the author's manufcript with all poffible fidelity, verbatim et literarim, that our readers may be able to decide whether he

culpable of a licentious trefpafs on the established laws in this has been

not.

or

Satire is a weapon, that, if rightly wielded, the editor has ever thought may be of the highest utility in the republic of letters; but it is a weapon that few can handle with adroitnefs; and he recommends the following lines to the confideration of thofe who think themselves qualified to wield it:

penAs in smooth oil the razor belt is whet,

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So wit is by politeness sharpest set;
Their want of edge from their offence is feen; d. 19 ban
jesp to urn. . bart
Both pains us leaft when exquifitely keen.

That bad ali 090 982 If thefe rules be adhered to, he will be better pleafed with the faluta y lafh, than with the most studied language of panegyric.- Much good refults from a juft and well timed reprimand but little good can ever attend the language of compliment, even when there is fome foundation for it. He begs his young correfpondents to advert to this, and they will reap much benefit from it. If at any time they feel a smart under the lash of fatire, let them be aflured the fatire is And instead of being enraged at the person who wounds

them and danger in this respect. They may ret ce, rather

tudy to avail themfelves of the light he affords to them, and to to conduct themselves as to difarm him in future. Let them not, however, dread the lath of captious fatire; for the editor will put himself between his protection against thofe mifchievous fhafts that are pointed by than a fpirit of just cenfure; for though he courts found criticifm, he will banish from his mifcellany, with contempt, every hint that seems to be dictated by ill-ature or malevolence,

Thefe were deeply aggravated by the recollection of her father sa father left in his age to feel his own misfortunes, and his daughter's difgrace. Sir Edward was too generous not to think of providing for Venoni. He meant to make fome atonement for the injury he had done him, by that cruel bounty which is reparation only to the bafe, but to the honeft is infult. He had not, however, an opportunity of accomplishing his purpose. He learned that Venoni, foon after his daughter's elopement, removed from his former. place of refidence, and, as his neighbours reported, had died in bone of the villages of Savoy. His daughter felt this with anguish the most poignant; and her, affliction for a while refufed confolation. Sir Edward's whole tender-nefs and attention were called forth to mitigate her grief; and, after its first tranfports had fubfided, he carried her to London, in hopes that objects new to her, and commonly, attractive to all, might contribute to remove it.

With a man poffeffed of feelings like Sir Edward's, the affliction of Louisa gave a certain refpect to his attentions. He hired her a house, feparate from his own, and treated. her with all the delicacy of the purest attachment. But his folicitude to comfort and amufe her was not attended with fuccefs. She felt all the horrors of that guilt, which she' now confidered not only as the ruin of herself, but the murderer of her father.

In London, Sir Edward found his fifter, who had married a man of great fortune and high fashion. He had married her, because fhe was a fine woman, and admired by fine men; fhe had married him, because he was the wealthiest of her suitors. They lived, as is common to people fuch a fituation, neceffitous with a princely revenue, and very wretched amidit perpetual gaiety. This feene was fo foreign from the idea Sir Edward had formed of the reception his country and friends were to afford him, that he found a conftant fource of difguft in the fociety of his equals. In their converfation, fantastic, not refined, their ideas were. frivolous, and their knowledge fhallow; and with all the pride of birth and infolence of ftation, their principles were mean, and their minds ignoble. In their pretended attachments, he difcovered only defigns of felfifhnefs; and their ✔pleasures, he experienced, were as fallacious as their friend...

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fhips. In the fociety of Louifa, he found fenfibility and truth; her's was the only heart that feemed interested in his welfare. She faw the return of virtue in Sir Edwardy and felt the friendship which he fhewed her. Sometimes, when the perceived him forrowful, her lute would leave its melancholy for more lively airs, and her countenance affume a gaiety it was not formed to wear. But her heart was breaking with that anguish which her generofity endeavour ed to conceal from him; her frame, too delicate for the ftruggle with her feelings, feemed to yield to their forced her reft forfook her; the colour faded in her cheek, the luftre of her eyes grew dim. Sir Edward faw these fymp toms of decay with the deepest remorfe. Often did he curfe thofe falfe ideas of pleasure which had led him to confider the ruin of an artlefs girl, who loved and trufted him, as an object which it was luxury to attain, and pride to accom plish. Often did he wish to blot out from his life a few guilty months, to be again restored to an opportunity of giving happiness to that family, whofe unfufpecting kindnefs he had repaid with the treachery of a robber, and the cruelty of an afsaffin.

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One evening, while he fat in a little parlour with Louifa,t his mind alternately agitated and foftened with this impressi fion, a hand-organ, of a remarkably fweet tone, was heardi in the ftreet. Louifa, laid afide her lute, and listened. The airs it played were those of her native country and a few tears which the endeavoured to hide, stole from her on hearing them. Sir Edward ordered a fervant to fetch the organist into the room. He was brought in accordingly,' and feated at the door of the apartment.

He played one or two fprightly tunes, to which Louifal had often danced in her infancy: She gave herself up too the recollection, and her tears flowed without controuhot Suddenly the musician changed the ftop, introduced a little melancholy air, of a wild and plaintive kind. Louifa ftarti ed from her feat, and rushed up to the ftranger. He threws › off a tattered coat and black patch. It was her father She would have fprung to embrace him; he turned afideo ! for a few moments, and would not receive her into his arms. But nature at last overcame his refentment; he burst into tears, and preffed to his bofom his long loft daughter.

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>Sir Edward flood fixed in aftohishment and confufion

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But

I come not to upbraidly ou," faid Venoni; I am a poor, weak old man, unable for upbraidings; I am come but to find my child, to forgive her, and to die. When you law us first, Sir Edward, we were not thus. You found us virtuous and happy; we danced and we fung; and there was not a fad heart in the valley where we dwelt. Yet we left our dancing, and our fongs, and our cheerfulness ;you were diftreffed, and we pitied you. Since that day, the pipe has never been heard in Venoni's fields; grief and fickness have almost brought him to the grave; and his neighbours, who loved and pitied him, have been cheerful no more. Yet, methinks, though you robbed us of hap pinefs, you are not happy; elfe why that dejected look, which, amidst all the grandeur around you, I faw you wear; and thofe tears, which, under all the gaudinefs of her apparel, I faw that poor deluded girl fhed?" fhe shall shed no more," oried Sir Edward; you shall be happy, and I thall be juft. Forgive, my venerable friend, the injuries which I have done thee; forgive me, my Louifa, for rating your excellence at a price fo mean. I have feen those high born females to which my rank might have allied me; I am ashamed of their vices, and fick of their fol lies. Profligate in their hearts, amidst affected purity, they are flaves to pleafure, without the fincerity of paffion; and, with the name of honour, are infenfible to the feelings of virtue. You, my Louifa!-but I will not call up recollections that might render me lefs worthy of your future esteem Continue to love your Edward; but a few hours, and you shall add the title to the affections of a wife; let the care and tenderness of a husband bring back its peace to your mind, and its bloom to your cheek. We will leave for a while the wonder and the envy of the fashionable circle here. We will reftore your father to his native home; under that roof I fhall once more be happy without alloy, b caufe fhall-deferve my happinefs. Again fhall the pipe and the dance gladden the valley, and innocence and peace beam on the cottage of Venoni.”