fold, and seeing how she shunned all other men, and how civilly she entertained him, believed that a secret power had wrought a mutual inclination between them, and daily frequented her mother's house, and had the opportunity of conversing with her in those pleasant walks, which, at that sweet season of the Spring invited all the neighbouring inhabitants to seek their joys; where, though they were never alone, yet they had every day opportunity for converse with each other, which the rest shared not in, while every one minded their own delights. "They had not six weeks enjoyed this peace, but the young men and women, who saw them allow each other that kindness which they did not afford commonly to others, first began to grow jealous and envious at it, and after to use all the malicious practices they could invent to break the friendship. Among the rest, that gentleman, who at the first had so highly commended her to Mr. Hutchinson, now began to caution him against her, and to disparage her, with such subtile insinuations, as would have ruined any love, less constant and honourable than his. The women, with witty spite, represented all her faults to him, which chiefly terminated in the negligence of her dress and habit, and all womanish ornaments, giving herself wholly up to study and writing. Mr. Hutchinson, who had a very sharp and pleasant wit, retorted all their malice with such just reproofs of their idleness and vanity, as made them hate her, who, without affecting it, had so engaged such a person in her protection, as -they with all their arts could not catch. He in the meanwhile prosecuted his love, with so much discretion, duty, and honour, that at the length, through many difficulties, he accomplished his design. "I shall I shall pass by all the little amorous relations, which if I would take the pains to relate, would make a true history of a more handsome management of love than the best romances describe: for these are to be forgotten as the vanities of youth, not worthy mention among the greater transactions of his life. There is this only to be recorded, that never was there a passion more ardent and less idolatrous; he loved her better than his life, with inexpressible tenderness and kindness, had a most high obliging esteem of her, yet still considered honour, religion, and duty, above her, nor ever suffered the intrusion of such a dotage as should blind him from marking her imperfections: these he looked on with such an indulgent eye, as did not abate his love and esteem of her, while it augmented his care to blot out all those spots which might make her appear less worthy of that respect he paid her; and thus indeed he soon made her more equal to him than he found her, for she was a very faithful mirror, reflecting truly, though but dimly, his own glories upon him, so long as he was present; but she, that was nothing before his inspection gave her a fair figure, when he was removed, was only filled with a dark mist, and never could again take in any delightful object, nor return any shining representation. "The greatest excellency she had was the power of apprehending and the virtue of loving his: so as his shadow, she waited on him every where, till he was taken into that region of light, which admits of more, and then she vanisht into nothing. It was not her face he loved, her honour and her virtue were his mistresses, and these (like Pigmalion's) images of his own making, for he polisht and gave form to what he found with all the roughness of the quarry about it; but meeting with a compliant subject for his own wise government, he found as much satisfaction as he gave, and never had occasion to number his marriage among his infelicities. "That day that the friends on both sides met to conclude the marriage, she fell sick of the small-pox, which was many ways a severe trial upon him; first her life was almost in desperate hazard, and then the disease, for the present, made her the most deformed person that could be seen, for a great while after she recovered; yet he was nothing troubled at it, but married her as soon as she was able to quit the chamber, when the priest and all that saw her were affrighted to look on her: but God recompenced his justice and constancy, by restoring her, though she was longer than ordinary before she recovered as well as before. "One thing is very observable, and worthy imitation in him; although he had as strong and violent affections for her, as ever any man had, yet he declared it not to her till he had first acquainted his father, and after never would make any engagement but what his love and honour bound him in, wherein he was more firm and just than all the promissory oaths and ties in the world could have made him, notwithstanding many powerful temptations of wealth and beauty, and other interests, that were laid before him; for his father had concluded another treaty, before he knew his son's inclinations were this way fixt, with a party in many things much more advantageable for his family, and more worthy of his liking: but his father was no less honourably indulgent to his son's affection, than the son was strict in the observance of his duty, and at length to the full content of all, the thing was accomplished, plished, and on the third day of July, in the year 1638, he was married to Mrs. Lucy Apsley, the second daughter of Sir Allen Apsley, late Lieutenant of the Tower of London, at St. Andrew's Church in Holborn." Jan. 10, 1807. [To be continued.] ART. XIX. Memoirs of Mrs. Charlotte Smith. There is a pleasure of a very pure and elevated kind in paying a tribute to the memory of departed genius. But there are characters which it requires a venturous spirit to touch; the nice shades of intellectual eminence, the evanescent movements of a trembling heart, demand no common pen to delineate them. Mrs. Charlotte Smith was the daughter of Nicholas Turner, Esq. a gentleman of Sussex, whose seat at Stoke near Guilford was afterwards owned by Mr. Dyson.* But her father possessed another house, as it seems, at Bignor Park, on the banks of the Arun, where she passed many of her earliest years: of which she speaks in the following beautiful stanza. "Then, from thy wildwood banks, Aruna, roving, How enchanting must have been the day-dreams of a mind thus endowed, in the early season of youth and The name of Jeremiah Dyson is well known, as the patron and friend of Akenside, F3 hope! hope! Amid scenery, which had nursed the fancies of Otway and of Collins, she trod on sacred ground: every charm of Nature seems to have made the most lively and distinct impression on her very vivid mind; and her rich imagination must have peopled it with beings of another world. She has often addressed the river Arun. The following is her xxxth SONNET. "Be the proud Thames, of trade the busy mart! Thy classic streams anew still hear a lay, Bright as its waves, and various as its way!" Again she thus speaks of her early propensities in her XLVth SONNET. 66 Farewell, Aruna! on whose varied shore My early vows were paid to Nature's shrine, When thoughtless joy, and infant hope were mine, And whose lorn stream has heard me since deplore Too many sorrows! Sighing I resign Thy solitary beauties; and no more Or on thy rocks, or in thy woods recline; |