Jonas had sisters, and of these was one

Who lost a husband and an only son;
Twelve months her sables she in sorrow wore,
And mourn'd so long, that she could mourn no

more.

Distant from Jonas, and from all her race.

She now resided in a lively place;
There, by the sect unseen, at whist she play'd,
Nor was of churchmen or their church afraid :
If much of this the graver brother heard,
He something censured, but he little fear'd;
He knew her rich and frugal; for the rest
He felt no care, or, if he felt, suppress'd;
Nor for companion when she ask'd her niece,
Had he suspicions tha. disturb'd his peace;
Frugal and rich, these virtues as a charm
Preserved the thoughtful man from all alarm;
An infant yet, she soon would home return,
Nor stay the manners of the world to learn ;
Meantime his boys would all his care engross,
And be his comforts if he felt the loss.

The sprightly Sybil, pleased and unconfined,
Felt the pure pleasure of the opening mind-
All here was gay and cheerful; all at home
Unvaried quiet, and unruffled gloom :
There were no changes, and amusements f
Here all was varied, wonderful, and new
There were plain meals, plain dresses,
looks;

Here, gay companions and amusing bo
And the young beauty soon began to
The light vocations of the scene sho

A man of business feels it as a cr
On calls domestic to consume his t
Yet this grave man had not so col
But with his daughter he was gr
And he demanded that in every
The aunt and niece should at h
"Yes! we must go, my ci
A grave conformity of minge
Must sing at meeting, and
The more t' enjoy when w

Thus spake the aunt.
Was pleased to learn lo
Her artful part the yo
And from the matron
When thrice the fri
For more delay, an
Till a tall maiden
In all the bloom
He gazed admir,"
Glanced an arch.
For she was gav
And stood a ve
Pure, pensive.
When Jonas |
For Sybil, Jon
Had still a se
Vain as she
Her simul

Again 11 Found the The au But st Letter

And y

All w

It se

The aunt and niece And quiet days had

Near him a wid
Like his her ma:
The wealth her

For one tall yo
His love resu
Her wishes
Sober he
Mindful of
In a lig

And I

A ha
And

Ye

So.

lone,

and alone! ver to cam 'tarm: C of sin.

sad the nymph

Te to teach;

from the patient learn ecure is thy concern." "Then know, 'tis thy

'rt too much a saint; A of the sedate and pure, art formal and demure : insocial, unpolite;

g, and insolent if right.

d, but why should goodness be

such formality?

might please a damsel's eye, with a scarlet dye;

what virtue canst thou trace

orm that hides thy sober face? g-skirted drab, that over-nice Hothing, prove a scorn of vice? ane accent-what in sound can be grace as dull monotony?

a thousand varied notes to move heart-thou mayst not speak of love ast cast thy formal ways aside, se becoming youth and nature tried : terior freedom, spirit, ease,

study and delight to please;

I bese follies meet thy just disdain,
est the virtues and thy worth remain."
Is severe-O! maiden, wilt not thou
ng for habits, manners, modes, allow ?”—
at allowing much, I much require,

a besif, for manners, modes, attire!" as lovely Sybil; and, this point agreed, ze those of greater weight proceed: aber"-"Nay," she quickly interposed, Sactor, here our conference is closed!" There the youth, who, lost in his retreat, - the good matron on her garden-seat; were troubled, and his air, once mild

burried My audacious child!” the dame. "I read what she has done caieasure-Ah! the thoughtless one! Jest, to my stern good man

the maid as mildly as you can: evo, not seem to woo a little while daughter's will, the father to beguile! ma has wrath in time may wear away; vok, preserve our peace, Josiah? say." Y my good neighbour," said the gentle

stain ;

The formal air, and something of the pride
That indicates the wealth it seems to hide ;
And looks that were not, she conceived, exempt
From a proud pity, or a sly contempt.

Josiah's eyes had their employment too,
Engaged and soften'd by so bright a view;
A fair and meaning face, an eye of fire,
That check'd the bold, and made the free retire:
But then with these he mark'd the studied dress
And lofty air, that scorn or pride express;
With that insidious look, that seem'd to hide
In an affected smile the scorn and pride;
And if his mind the virgin's meaning caught,
He saw a foe with treacherous purpose fraught-
Captive the heart to take, and to reject it caught.
Silent they sat:-thought Sybil, that he seeks
Something, no doubt; I wonder if he speaks:
Scarcely she wonder'd, when these accents fell
Slow in her ear-" Fair maiden, art thou well?"
"Art thou physician?" she replied; “my hand,
My pulse, at least, shall be at thy command."

She said-and saw, surprised, Josiah kneel, And gave his lips the offer'd pulse to feel; The rosy colour rising in her cheek, Seem'd that surprise unmix'd with wrath to speak; Then sternness she assumed, and-" Doctor, tell, Thy words cannot alarm me-am I well?"

Proceed, good doctor; if so great my need, What is thy fee? Good doctor! pray proceed." "Large is my fee, fair lady, but I take None till some progress in my cure I make : Thou hast disease, fair maiden; thou art vain; Within that face sit insult and disdain ; Thou art enamour'd of thyself; my art Can see the naughty malice of thy heart: With a strong pleasure would thy bosom move, Were I to own thy power, and ask thy love; And such thy beauty, damsel, that I might, But for thy pride, feel danger in thy sight, And lose my present peace in dreams of vain delight."

"And can thy patients," said the nymph," endure Physic like this? and will it work a cure?"

Such is my hope, fair damsel; thou, I find, Hast the true tokens of a noble mind; But the world wins thee, Sybil, and thy joys Are placed in trifles, fashions, follies, toys; Thou hast sought pleasure in the world around, That in thine own pure bosom should be found: Did all that world admire thee, praise, and love, Could it the least of nature's pains remove?

"Speak'st thou at meeting?" said the nymph "thy speech

Is that of mortal very prone to teach;
But wouldst thou, doctor, from the patient learn
Thine own disease?-The cure is thy concern."
"Yea, with good will."-" Then know, 'tis thy

complaint,

That, for a sinner, thou'rt too much a saint;
Hast too much show of the sedate and pure,
And without cause art formal and demure :
This makes a man unsocial, unpolite;
Odious when wrong, and insolent if right.
Thou mayst be good, but why should goodness be
Wrapt in a garb of such formality?

Thy person well might please a damsel's eye,
In decent habit with a scarlet dye;

But, jest apart-what virtue canst thou trace
In that broad brim that hides thy sober face?
Does that long-skirted drab, that over-nice
And formal clothing, prove a scorn of vice?
Then for thine accent-what in sound can be
So void of grace as dull monotony?
Love has a thousand varied notes to move
The human heart;-thou mayst not speak of love
Till thou hast cast thy formal ways aside,
And those becoming youth and nature tried :
Not till exterior freedom, spirit, ease,
Prove it thy study and delight to please;
Not till these follies meet thy just disdain,
While yet thy virtues and thy worth remain."

"This is severe !-O! maiden, wilt not thou Something for habits, manners, modes, allow ?"— "Yes! but allowing much, I much require, In my behalf, for manners, modes, attire!"

Good doctor, here our conference is closed!" Then left the youth, who, lost in his retreat, Pass'd the good matron on her garden-seat; His looks were troubled, and his air, once mild And calm, was hurried :-" "My audacious child!" Exclaim'd the dame, "I read what she has done In thy displeasure-Ah! the thoughtless one! But yet, Josiah, to my stern good man Speak of the maid as mildly as you can: Can you not seem to woo a little while The daughter's will, the father to beguile! So that his wrath in time may wear away; Will you preserve our peace, Josiah? say."

The thoughtless girl, and shall he love in vain? She may be stubborn, but she shall be tried, Born as she is of wilfulness and pride."

With anger fraught, but willing to persuade, The wrathful father met the smiling maid: "Sybil," said he, "I long, and yet I dread To know thy conduct; hath Josiah fled? And, grieved and fretted by thy scornful air, For his lost peace betaken him to prayer? Couldst thou his pure and modest mind distress, By vile remarks upon his speech, address, Attire, and voice ?"-" All this I must confess."— "Unhappy child! what labour will it cost To win him back !”—“ I do not think him lost." "Courts he then, trifler! insult and disdain ?”— "No: but from these he courts me to refrain." "Then hear me, Sybil; should Josiah leave Thy father's house ?"-" My father's child would grieve."

"That is of grace, and if he come again

To speak of love?"-"I might from grief refrain.""Then wilt thou, daughter, our design embrace?""Can I resist it, if it be of grace?"

The maidens with them, and with these the cook;
When one huge wooden bowl before them stood,
Fill'd with huge balls, of farinaceous food;
With bacon, mass saline, where never lean
Beneath the brown and bristly rind was seen;
When from a single horn the party drew.
Their copious draughts of heavy ale and new;
When the course cloth she saw, with many a stain,
Soil'd by rude hinds who cut and came again,
She could not breathe; but, with a heavy sigh,
Rein'd the fair neck, and shut th' offended eye;
She minced the sanguine flesh in frustums fine,
And wonder'd much to see the creatures dine:
When she resolved her father's heart to move,
If hearts of farmers were alive to love.

She now entreated by herself to sit
In the small parlour, if papa thought fit,
And there to dine, to read, to work alone.
"No!" said the farmer, in an angry tone;

Who lacks attention, till her tasks be done;

TALE VII.

THE WIDOW'S TALE.

Ah me for aught that I could ever read,
Or ever hear by tale or history,

The course of true love never did run smooth:
But either it was different in blood,
Or else misgrafted in respect of years,
Or else it stood upon the choice of friends;
Or if there were a sympathy in choice,
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it.

Midsummer Night's Dream, act i. sc. 1.

O! thou didst then ne'er love so heartily,
If thou rememberest not the slightest folly
That ever love did make thee run into.

As You Like It, act ii. sc. 4. Cry the man mercy; love him, take his offer. Ibid. act iii. sc. 5.

To farmer Moss, in Langar Vale, came down
His only daughter, from her school in town;
A tender, timid maid! who knew not how
To pass a pig-sty, or to face a cow:
Smiling she came, with petty talents graced,
A fair complexion, and a slender waist.

Used to spare meals, disposed in manner pure,
Her father's kitchen she could ill endure;
Where by the steaming beef he hungry sat,
And laid at once a pound upon his plate:
Hot from the field, her eager brother seized
An equal part, and hunger's rage appeased;
The air, surcharged with moisture, flagg'd around,
And the offended damsel sigh'd and frown'd;
The swelling fat in lumps conglomerate laid,
And fancy's sickness seized the loathing maid :

13*

And what you make not, see that others make:
At leisure times attend the wheel, and see
The whitening web he sprinkled on the Lea;
When thus employ'd, should our young neighbour

view

A useful lass, you may have more to do."

Dreadful were these commands; but worse than

these

The parting hint, a farmer could not please :
"Tis true she had without abhorrence seen
Young Harry Carr, when he was smart and clean;
But to be married, be a farmer's wife,

A slave! a drudge! she could not, for her life. With swimming eyes the fretful nymph withdrew,

And, deeply sighing, to her chamber flew ;
There on her knees, to Heaven she grieving pray'd
For change of prospect to a tortured maid

Harry, a youth whose late departed sire
Had left him all industrious men require,
Saw the pale beauty; and her shape and air
Engaged him much, and yet he must forbear: