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from the garden's coolness, seek that refreshment which the busy workings of her memory denied her in sleep. The evening was one of stillness and delight. Night, as though jealous of the protracted day which still lingered on the horizon, had sent forth her starry attributes, and the reaper's moon hung full and luminous. Even the Abbess was touched with something more than her usual calm devotion, and wondered not that her unfortunate friend should often commune with God in this temple in preference to the one built by mortal hands. Something like human regret passed through her mind as she thought of Adelaide, beautiful, accomplished, and full of youthful energies, doomed to be imprisoned for life; subject to the constant jealousies and littlenesses of a conventual life, its apathy and extinction of human feelings. But then her blighted affections made a convent her only refuge; and while she was superior, she could protect her from much of suffering, bodily and mental.

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"Unable to find her in the garden, she proceeded to the chapel: the lamps used at the recent ceremony were mostly extinct, or burned dimly. Adelaide, daughter, are you here?' said the Abbess; but the low echo of her own words was the only reply. She turned to leave the place, when the red glare of evening pouring through a window discovered the object of her search, kneeling by the font, with one arm hanging over the marble basin, against which her head reclined. Her attitude and statue-like appearance made her seem part of the sculpture. The Abbess thought

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her wrapt in pious ecstacy and drew near to arouse her. In vain the consolations of friendship, the chidings of religious austerity were alike equal; her withered heart could resist no longer; she had returned to the chapel where she had last beheld her lord, and pressed his infant to her heart. Again she traced its blooming features, and dwelt upon its father's delighted countenance; till, overcome by one of those bitter pangs which swell the heart to bursting, her spirit yielded to the struggle, and left her fixed and lifeless, as she has been described."

All the company were much moved with the story told by Amanda, more especially the female auditors, with whom the distresses of disastrous love find ever sympathy. And now a dispute arose, which of the two sexes were most capable of feeling love to its fullest extent; which was warmly maintained in favour of the softer sex by the fair champions, who quoted innumerable proofs in support of their opinion from ancient and modern history, Fabulous, Apochryphal, or otherwise, as suited their peculiar humour. The names of Venus, Ariadne, Cleopatra, Clelia, Phædra, Cassandra, Heloise, Penthea, Juliet, Imogen, and innumerable others were mentioned with the familiarity of old acquaintances; and their several degrees and sorts of passion described with a minuteness which filled me with admiration at the extent and variety of these ladies studies, and of the vast capabilities of their memories. At length, out of

politeness to their antagonists, and not from any lack of precedents (as they assured us they could name a hundred more, equally good in support of their argument) they waited to hear what the gentlemen should advance in behalf of their lukewarm brethren.

Cynthio and Florio, both young men and scholars, undertook their defence, but I own rather failed in naming as many heroes as the ladies had previously named heroines. One argument Cynthio however adduced, which I thought had great force. "You must own ladies," said he, "that if the passion of love has been fully portrayed in the recorded accounts of these several ladies mentioned by you, their histories have been generally written by men. Nay, some of them never existed but in the poet's brain; and to all a more exquisite and rare charm has been given by the tenderness and fire of their conceptions. Does it not therefore follow, that they who can so well describe each thought and feeling of love, must themselves be deeply capable of the passion?"

This argument seemed to stagger the fair opponents; but yet, tenacious of their loving superiority, they shook their heads and looked incredulous. At length Gracianna, blushing with a mingled conscious-. ness of the subject and of womanly diffidence, said, "No one here, I believe, will deny their obligations to the poets, or doubt their power of making what is good yet more beautiful; witness our present meeting, the pleasure of which is greatly enhanced by our recollections of all they have written on the beauties of

nature and the delights of genial fellowship. But, I believe, it will be generally allowed, that no men could better feign an ardour they never felt, and that all the passions could equally exist in their imagination at a bidding; and so conscious do they (the poets) seem of the preference which should be given to our sex of deeply feeling the passion, that when they wish to portray pure and disinterested love, a woman has been generally chosen as the properest agent to display its force and enthusiasm."-"Fair ladies," replied Flavius (another of the company) "the persuasive manner of your last advocate, and the weight of testimony, oblige us to yield the palm of love and loving to your beauteous sex; as indeed we must in all that is graceful and kind. But although I am inclined to allow that woman's love is more disinterested and devoted-more seeking the good of the beloved object and glorying in its perfections, than that of men, yet do I feel assured, that the passion has with equal force been experienced by man of all ages and of all countries; and my recollection now serves me with a story in corroboration, which I shall have great pleasure in relating to this good company when my turn is appointed."-All the party begged he would proceed to relate it immediately while yet their thoughts were occupied with the subject; and at the desire of Amanda, whose choice was to fix the next speaker (as had been agreed upon in the outset) he began the Story of Sylvanus,

TALE III.

THE STORY OF SYLVANUS.

"I have too long suppress'd my hidden flames,
That almost have consumed me; I have spent
Many a silent night in sighs and groans,
Ran over all my thoughts, despised my fate,
Reasoned against the reasons of my love,
Done all that smooth-cheeked virtue could advise,
But found all bootless: 'tis my destiny,
That you must either love or I must die.

FORD.

AURELIA, the lady of Glenryn Abbey, was, at the age of twenty-eight, left a widow, in possession of a princely fortune and in the maturity of health and beauty,yet, with all these advantages, she determined upon remaining in a state of widowhood, and to bestow the whole of her affections and cares upon her only son, Sylvanus, who was then in his 6th year: the lady had been married by her father, contrary to her inclinations, and was said not to have lived very happily during her husband's life-time, on account of his jealous and morose temper. He knew that he had not been the object of her choice, and well imagined that his advanced age and unsocial habits were not likely to

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