asleep; I sighed and was silent; my servants would have spoken to me, but I commanded silence; I threw myself upon a bed, and ordered them, at the same time, to leave me and retire to rest. After a few hours repose, worse than the agitation of the preceding evening, I arose before it was yet day; and traversing, softly, the apartments, I approached the chamber of Sophia; there, unable to refrain, I proceeded, with the most despicable meanness, towards the door, the threshold of which I bathed with a torrent of tears, and covered with a thousand kisses; then, retiring with all the precaution and dread of a thief, I left the house, determined never more to enter it.

there that knows the dreadful contrast of leaping, at once, from excess of bliss to excess of misery, and of passing the immense space without one moment to prepare for it. Yesterday! even yesterday, at the feet of an adored wife, I was the happiest of beings; it was love who had subjected me to his laws, and who held me in his chains; his tyrannic power was the work of my tenderness, and I was happy even beneath his rigours. Why was I not permitted to pass the course of ages in this too delightful state; to esteem, respect, cherish, yet murmur at his tyranny; to demand, implore, suppli cate unceasingly; desire, and never aught obtain. Those hours, those happy hours of wished return, of uncertain expectation, were equal to those when possessed. But now! hated! deceived! dishonoured! hopeless, and without resource: I possess not even the consolation of daring to form a wish!--I start back, filled with horror at sight of the object which must supply the place of that which once possessed so many charms for me! To contemplate Sophia debased and despicable! What eyes can endure this profanation! My greatest torment did not consist in reflecting on my misery; it was excited by mingling the idea of shame with the object that had caused it. This wretched and distracted picture was the only one which I could not support.

Here finished my short but fierce folly; and I once more returned to common sense. I thought, even, that I did no more than what I ought to do in yielding, at first, to the passion which I could not conquer; in order, afterwards, to be able to govern it when its first effervescence had subsided. The impulse which had guided me having disposed me to tenderness, the rage, which, till then, had trans ported me, now gave place to sadness, and I began sufficiently to penetrate the bottom of my heart to see engraved there, in indelible characters, the most profound affliction. I, how ever, continued to walk, hastening, with all possible rapidity, froin that dreadful place, without making one On the preceding evening my turn. I left the city, and entering the gloomy and desperate grief had saved first public road, suffered myself to me from this idea: I thought only of pursue the path with a slow pace, suffering. But, in proportion as the which bespoke extreme debility and sentiment of my wrongs began, as it humiliation. As the new born day were, to arrange itself in my heart, displayed the surrounding objects, and impelled me to take a retrospect imagination pictured to me a new of their source, I, spite of myself, reheaven, another universe, and another traced the fatal object. The resentearth; all was changed to me; I was ment which I manifested, when we no longer the same as on the preced- parted, too strongly marked the uning evening; or rather, I was no worthy propensity which would have more; it was my own death I had to led me back. The hatred which she weep. Oh! how many delightful merited hurt me less than the disdain images rushed upon my heart, already which ought to accomp.ny it; and loaded with anguish, and compelled it that which most I felt was not so to expand itself to them, which over- much the idea of renouncing her, as whelmed it with vain regrets. The that of being compelled to despise remembrance of all my past joys her.

heightened the keenness of my losses, My first reflections with regard to and occasioned me, at that instant, her were bitter. If the infidelity of greater torments than they had ever an ordinary woman is denominated a afforded me pleasure. Ah! who is crime, what appellation then can we UNIVERSAL MAG. VOL. XIV.

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affix to hers. Vulgar souls, in acting of vice and misery into which you basely, yet are not debased; they still have been precipitated yourself. — remain as they were before; there Alas! she had been always circumcan be no ignominy in it, for there spect but for thee, and would always was no antecedent nobleness; the have studied and promoted thy hapadulterics of women of fashion are piness. merely fashionable intrigues: but Sophia an adultress is the most odious of all monsters; the distance from what she is to what she was is immense; no-there is no degradation, no crime, that can be equivalent to hers.

Ob Emilius! thou hast lost her! to hate yourself and pity her is what you ought to do; but what right have you to despise her? Art thou thyself irreproachable? Has not the world censured thy conduct? It is true you But I, (I continued), I, who accuse have not partaken of her infidelity, her, and who have but too much right, but you have, in a great degree, sanc(since it is I who am injured), by tioned it by ceasing to honour her what right do I so severely judge her virtue! Hast thou not, too, in a great before being judged myself; before degree, caused it by living in places endeavouring to ascertain how far I where all that bears the mark of ho may reproach myself for her aberra- nesty is held in derision; where wotions? You accuse her of not being men would blush to be thought chaste; the same? Emilius! and hast thou and where the only meed of virtue not too changed? How different from their own sex is raillery and inhave I seen thee towards her in that credulity. The honour which you great city to what you formerly were! have not violated, has it been exposed Ah! her inconstancy was the conse- to the same temptations, to the same quence of your own. She had vowed risks? Have you received, like her, ever to be faithful to thee; and you had sworn ever to adore her. You abandoned her, and yet would have her still the same; you treated her with contempt,and yet you would have Ler honour you! It was thy coolness, thy indifference, thy forgetfulness, that tore you from her heart! We must not cease to be amiable if we wish always to be beloved, She has violated her vows only from thy example; had you never neglected her, she had never deceived you.

that temperament of fire, that warmness of constitution, which produce both the greatest virtues and the greatest faults? Have you a form so exquisitely formed for love; so exposed to perils from its charms, and to temptations from its senses? Oh! how much is the fate of such a handsome woman to be mourned-What contests had she not unceasingly to sustain against others, and against herself?-What invincible, courage, what heroic firmness, what intrepid What cause for complaint did she determination does she stand in need ever give you in that retreat where of?-What dangerous victories has you found her, and from whence you she not every day to obtain, and of all ought never to have taken her. In these triumphs no witness but Heaven her tenderness for you what coolness and her own heart! And yet, after did you ever remark? Did she ever so many years thus passed in suffering, beg of you to take her from that hap- in incessant struggles and conquests, py place? You know it! She quit- one moment of weakness, one single ted it with the greatest regiet and moment of remissness and forgetful sorrow. The tears which she there ness sullies, for ever, that irreproach shed, how much more pleasure did able life, and dishonours so many vir they afford her than all the wanton tues! Unfortunate woman! Alas! sports of the metropolis. She there one moment's indulgence has caused passed her innocent lite in the pure all thy misfortunes and mine. Yes; study of increasing the happiness of thy heart is still pure; every thing thine; but, she loved you raore than her own tranquillity, after having in vain endeavoured to retain yon, she quitted it to follow you; you it was then, who, from the bosom of peace and virtue, dragged her to the golph

convinces me of it; it is too evident for me to be deceived. And who knows in what subtle snares the per fidious arts of an abandoned woman, and one jealous of thy virtues, might surprise thy innocent simplicity

Have I not seen her regret? Have I not seen repentance in her eyes? Was it not thy sadness which brought me to myself and thy feet?-Was it not thy grief, thy inexpressive grief, which revived in me all my tenderness? Ah! that was not the artful conduct of a woman who deceives her husband, and afterwards regards her treachery in the pleasure!

Then, beginning to reflect more particularly on her conduct, and on her astonishing delaration, what were

bourers, and all his ancestors had been so time out of mind.

Young Brown must have followed the profession of these ancestors, had not his parents conceived so high au idea of his rising talents, as to inspire them with the resolution of bestowing on him an education superior to their condition; and this education, as is well known from the frequency and the cheapness of schools in Scotland, it was no very difficult matter to give him.

not my sensations when I beheld that Happy country! though nature bas modest and timid woman suffering her dealt niggardly with thee, though thy ingenuousness and candour to overclimate be unkind, and thy soil but ill come her shame; in beholding her repay the cultivator's toil; yet are thy reject an esteem which the heart be- inhabitants happy, more happy than lied; disdaining to preserve my conthose of more favoured regions; for fidence and her reputation at the ex- virtue and pure and simple manners pense of concealing a fault which are theirs, and happiness is insepanothing forced her to avow; in recerable from virtue. The feelings, the ding from caresses which she had honest inclinations with which nature, in her sound and healthful state, inrejected, and fearing to usurp my paternal tenderness for a child which spires her children, are still to be was not of my blood. What strength found among thy sons; and the dedid I not admire in that invincible and haughty intrepidity which, even at the expense of life and honour, would not suffer her to humble herself to the degradation of a falshood, but enabled her, even in vice, to maintain the intrepid boldness of virtue. Yes, I exclaimed to myself with a secret pleasure, even in the bosom of iguominy that noble soul maintains all its energy she is guilty, but not vile; she has committed a fault, but she has not acted basely.

[To be continued.]

The LIFE of JOHN BROWN: with

Sketches of Scottish Manners. JOHN BROWN was born in a small

on the borders of the Lammermuir hills, which divide the fertile plains of East Lothian and Berwickshire, in the south of Scotland. Of the genealogy of his family there remain but very scanty memorials, It was remembered, however, as a sort of epocha in it, that his greatgrandfather, by the mother's side, was present as a militia man at the battle of Sheriffmuir.

Our hero may properly, however, be called the first distinguished man of his family. His parents were la

praved and factitious inclinations, which nature disavows, are hitherto strangers to them. There the parent places bis highest enjoyment in the happiness of his children, and there the children strive, with pious emalation, to shield the declining yea, of their parents. Willingly does this parent submit to every privation to raise his offspring to a more envied and, as he conceives, happier station than his own; and the instances are rare, indeed, when th's honourable purpose is sacrificed to the gratification of his own appetite. Happy country! may'st thou be long pieserved in the possession of thy Simple virtue, and long continue to furnish examples of honest industry and suc

cessful learning.

Let the reader and author here understand one another. The title announced a narrative; and, behold! a disquisition almost in the very outset. From a work of this kind the author well knows that disqusitions, it net sparingly introduced, are welcome to almost no class of readers. young maiden, whose heart begins to flutter at the approach of a favoured youth, expects to beguile h ́s absence by a tale of love. The superannuated man of pleasure expects to recal his past enjoyments by

The

for the reader will be equally able, with the author, to decide for himself, if he will have the patience to read on.

a succession of voluptuous images. prematurely pronounce in this place; Even the sage philosopher (and many more philosophers read novels than are willing to own it) expects to forget, for an hour or two, his accustomed intellectual exercises, and to recruit his worn-out mind with something that may make him laugh or weep, but never think.

Mothers are such important personages in the first part of the drama of human life, that it would be inexcusable not to dedicate a sentence or Rakes, maidens, and philosophers, two to the delineation of the mother then, the author apostrophises you as of our hero. In her youth even she was, representing the body of novel readers, and justly enough, reckoned homeand he humbly implores your forgive- ly by her neighbours, which, as those ness. He promises to adhere to his know who have seen the lower ranks narrative as closely as possible; only of people in Scotland, is saying a great he hopes a little excursion now and deal. Her looks, good woman, were then may be forgiven him, though by no means improved at the period contrary to the most orthodox rules of our hero's infancy, when she bad of composition, which condemn every thing into a story that does not strictly conduce to elucidate it. It may be considered that the author had two objects in view-the gratification of his own vanity and the pleasure of the reader; he wishes to let it now and then be seen, that, though circumstances have reduced him to rank in that class of historians, commonly called novellists, nature has given him some claim to rank among philosophers, who may, for the most part perhaps, without any great breach of propriety, so far as remoteness from truth is the criterion, be styled novellists.

But to our narrative. Our hero, who, as has been said, was the son of a labourer, was also an only child, a circumstance, which, in many cases, it is believed, has more influence on the child's present than his future happiness. Being an only child he was, of course, a favourite. He was born, too, under circumstances rather calculated to increase this partiality; as the birth was a subject of no small gratulation to both the parents, who happened to be united together at that period of life when the utmost diligence in the exercise of the marriage duties is perhaps prudent to ensure success, and to avoid the ridicule which the world, maliciously enough no doubt, is disposed to attach to a failure.

Under such powerfully predisposing eircumstances, it was almost impossible that young Brown should not appear a prodigy of abilities to his fond parents. Whether or not he merited this opinion, we must not

passed her grand climacteric; and, accordingly, it was not for her looks that her husband chiefly valued her. It was for the soundness of her religious principles, the strength of her faith, and fervency of her devotion: her faith was ever unclouded by the smallest doubt, which those, who claim a right to decide on that subject, pronounce to be the most meri torious kind of faith. Her devotional fervour would often burst forth in that peculiar kind of groan, well known among the orthodox in Scot land, when Mess John held forth in his best style, or when her husband happened to be more than ordinarily powerful in his prayers; who would confess that he felt this a great encouragement to him in that holy exercise, Having an excellent memory, improved by cultivation, she would refresh her husband, of an evening, with recitations of the most choice morsels of a good old version of the psalms of King David, or with some of the most approved Gospel sonnets. Women, in this way, are found to be of great service, whether war, reli gion, or whatever else be the darling occupation of a people. In a former age. the rude warriors of these borders were cheered by their dames with a bloody ballad, in the taste of those lately edited by Mr. Walter Scott; and their religious descendants are no less cheered by them with all manner of hymns and spiritual songs.

As an instance of the scrupulons exactness with which she discharged her religious duties, I may mention that when, at certain seasons of the

year, her husband was absent during lower Scotch, gained him no small the week, and returned home only in reputation. It must be owned, inthe Saturday evenings, she would, deed, that a rigorous conformity behowever late, insist on the punctual tween the name enounced, and the performance of prayers before enter- letters of which it is composed, is not ing bed, which, when good Benjamin exacted on these occasions; it is sufBrown was cold, wet, and weary, he ficient that the Israelite get a name sometimes grumbled to do; and, if that he may be known by, and the hour of twelve was struck before that bears a decent verisimilitude.all this was accomplished, she would insist on her husband strictly observing that rest which is enjoined to all living creatures on the Lord's day, however warm his affectionate desire might be, until the twenty-four hours which were sacred were expired. In this way she was of great service to keep Benjamin firm in the right path; and she may well be held forth as an example to dutiful and conscientious spouses.

The rest of the good woman's character may best be described by negatives. She had no prominency of character but her religion: she had no vices. Whether she owed this to religion, or temperament, or the custom of the country, I will not take upon me to say. She had no very great share of penetration; and she had not the least idea of neatness in her person or her household; and no doubt she was much indebted for this to the custom of the country.

Through all this course had young Brown gone, under the instruction of his mother, when he had little more than finished his fifth year; and it is no wonder, therefore, that she should conceive the most favourable opinion of his talents, and that every thing was to be expected from their proper cultivation.

The fond mother anticipated, already, the day when she should hear him thundering from the pulpit against the unrighteous, and thrilling the hearts of the godly with the consolations of Zion. She saw the day when the honours of her son would be reflected back on herself, when an enraptured audience would point to her as his mother, and hail her as happy among women.

Benjamin, her husband, having no less ambition, in this respect, than his wife, and entertaining equally sanguine views of his son, they agreed that he should, without delay, go to a school in a neighbouring town, where he might commence the necessary course of instruction.

Before introducing our hero at school, it may be proper to give some idea of the objects that had hitherto surrounded him.

This was the woman destined to observe and draw forth the dawning talents of our hero; and conscientiously, as in all other things, did she set about it. He was scarcely able to speak when she made a trial of his abilities on the horn-book, the difficulties of which he overcame very Burnmil, the hamlet where he had creditably. He went, successively, been born and brought up, consisted through the different gradations in only of two houses or cabins, his tause among the Scotch peasantry with ther's, and that of an old woman who great success. These were, first, the lived alone. His prospects without Assembly of Divines Shorter Cate- doors and within were equally rural. chism; then the Proverbs of King The house was divided into two apartSolomon, then the New Testament, ments, by means of two wooden beds, and, lastly, the Chronicles of the which occupied the breadth of the Kings of Juda and Nehemiah. If this house, with the exception of a small course be successfully gone through, passage between them; in one apartà reader is pronounced well near to ment lived the human beings, aud perfection. It was observed, that of those of the animals more immediateall the Israelites that came through ly connected with man, the cat and our author's hands, he had a name for dog; the ground of the other apartevery one of them, which he bestow- ment was fitted up for the cow and ed without hesitation and without the sow, who had every opportunity spelling; which accomplishment, as of contemplating, one another, but is in much estimation among the were prohibited from all other kind