fortunes to any; but, when my deliverer is pleased with the relation, my pleasure is prompted by duty.

* I was born in a country far to the west, where the men are braver, and the women more fair, than those of Circassia; where the valour of the hero is guided by wisdom, and where decacy of sentiment points the shafts of female beauty. I was the only daughter of an officer in the army, the child of his age, and, as he used fondly to express it, the only chain that bound him to the world, or made his life pleasing. His station procured him an acquaintance with men of greater rank and fortune than himself; and his regard for me, induced him to bring me into every family where he was acquainted; thus I was early taught all the elegancies and fashionable foibles of such as the world calls polite; and though without fortune myself, was taught to despise those who lived as if they were poor.

"My intercourse with the great, and my affectation of grandeur, procured me many lovers; but want of fortune deterred them all from any other views than those of passing the present moment agreeably, or of meditating my future ruin. In every company I found myself addressed in a

* This story bears a striking similitude to the real history of Miss S―d, who accompained Lady W, in her retreat near Florence, and which the editor had from her. own mouth.

warmer strain of passion than other ladies who were superior in point of rank and beauty and this I imputed to an excess of respect, which, in reality, proceeded from very different motives.

66

Among the number of such as paid me their addresses was a gentleman, a friend of my father rather in the decline of life, with nothing remarkable, either in his person or address, to recommend him. His age, which was about forty, his fortune, which was moderate, and barely sufficient to support him, served to throw me off my guard; so that I considered him as the only sincere admirer I had.

'Designing lovers, in the decline of life, are ever most dangerous. Skilled in all the weaknesses of the sex, they seize each favourable opportunity, and, by having less passion than youthful admirers, have less real respect, and therefore less timidity. This insidious wretch used a thousand arts to succeed in his base designs; all which I saw, but imputed to different views, because I thought it absurd to believe the real motives.

"As he continued to frequent my father's, the friendship between them became every day greater; and at last, from the intimacy with which he was received, I was taught to look upon him as a guardian and a friend. Though I never loved, yet I esteemed him; and this was enough to make me wish for an union for which he seemed desir

ous, but to which he feigned several delays; while in the mean time, from a false report of our be ing married, every other admirer forsook me.

"I was at last, however, awakened from the delusion, by an account of his being just married to another young lady with a considerable fortune. This was no great mortification to me, as I had always regarded him merely from prudential motives; but it had a very different effect upon my father, who, rash and passionate by nature, and, besides, stimulated by a mistaken notion of military honour, upbraided his friend in such terms, that a challenge was soon given and accepted,

66

“It was about midnight, when I was awakened by a message from my father, who desired to see me that moment. I rose with some surprise, and, following the messenger, attended only by another servant, came to a field not far from the house, where I found him, the assertor of my honour, my only friend and supporter, the tutor and companion of my youth, lying on one side, covered over with blood, and just expiring. No tears streamed down my cheeks, nor sigh escaped from my breast, at an object of such terror. I sat down, and, supporting his aged head in my lap, gazed upon the ghastly visage with an agony more poignant even than despairing madness. The servants were gone for more assistance. In this gloomy stillness of the night,

no sounds were heard but his agonizing respirations; no object was presented but his wounds, which still continued to stream. With silent anguish i hung over his dear face, and, with my hands strove to stop the blood as it flowed from his wounds. He seemed at first insensible; but, at last, turning his dying eyes upon me, “My dear, dear child (cried he), dear, though you have forgotten your own honour, and stained mine, I will yet forgive you; by abandoning virtue you have undone me and yourself; yet take forgiveness with the same compassion I wish Heaven may pity me." He expired: all my succeeding happiness fled with him. Reflecting that I was the cause of his death, whom only I loved pon earth; accused of betraying the honour of his family with his latest breath; conscious of my own innocence, yet without even a possibility, of vindicating it; without fortune, or friends to relieve or pity me, abandoned to infamy and the wide censuring world, I called out upon the dead body that lay strecthed before me, and, in the agony of my heart, asked why he could have left me thus? Why, my dear, my only papa, why could you ruin me thus, and yourself for ever? O pity and return, since there is none but you to comfort me!

"I soon found that I had real cause for sorrow; that I was to expect no compassion from my own sex, nor assistance from the other; and that

reputation was much more useful in our com merce with mankind, than really to deserve it.

Wherever I came, I perceived myself received either with contempt or detestation; or, whenever I was civilly treated, it was from the most base and ungenerous motives.

"Thus driven from the society of the virtu ous, I was at last, in order to dispel the anxieties of insupportable solitude, obliged to take up with the company of those whose characters were blasted like my own, but who perhaps deserved their infamy. Among this number was a lady of the first distinction, whose character the public thought proper to brand even with greater infamy than mine. A similitude of distress soon united us: I knew that general reproach had made her miserable; and I had learned to regard misery as an excuse for guilt. Though this lady had not virtue enough to avoid reproach, yet she had too much delicate sensibility not to feel it. She therefore proposed our leaving the country where we were born, and going to live in Italy, where our characters and misfortunes would be unknown. With this I eagerly complied: and we soon found ourselves in one of the most charming retreats in the most beautiful province of that enchanting country.

Had my companion chosen this as a retreat for injured virtue, an harbour where we might look with tranquillity on the distant angry world, I