without any other appellation but what the gentle swains now and then give me, of a handsome last, or a proper damsel, with which I am infinitely better pleased than when I was an angel, or a goddess, and impiously addressed in the strains of ado ration. If ever I return to the modish world, I must learn to dance again, having perfectly forgot to make my honours: I have made but one courtsey since I came here, and that was to a Squire, who, because it was something low, and not finished in the twinkling of an eye, catched me by the hand, verily believing I was sinking to the ground in a fainting fit. I am not turned Quaker, but I have laid aside all ceremony, and call every body in the village by their Christian name; except my master and mistress, and the parson of the parish, whom I cannot pass by without telling you he is a man of exemplary piety, of universal charity, and a great blessing to this place. My splendid distinction of being the head ser vant, as it gives me a pretence to keep my distance, and to be as reserved as I think fit, so it frees me from any drudgery but what is my own choice; the worst of which is rubbing a long oaken table that graces the hall, and is kept as bright as a locking glass. My Saturday's work is dressing four or five spacious chimnies with pionies, holly-oaks, or branches of bays. Some part of my time (and that the most delightful) is spent in rambling the fields with my master's children, the pretty boy and girl I mentioned while they are following their little sports, I give up my thoughts to some innocent reverie, or pious meditation; to this the view of the fair creation invites me; here the present Deity seems to challenge a natural homage, while he cheers me in the glory of the sun, refreshes me in the fragrant breeze, is beauty in the flowers of the field, and harmony in the nightingale's voice. With a sort of ecstacy I repeated Milton's Morning Hymn, to which the Italian translation gives new life and music : Gloriofe opre tue tutte son queste Padre del bene omnipotente: E' tuo Ineffabil But I am not always in the sublime; I somtimes. descend to gather cowslips and daisies, or pursue some gaudy butterfly, with my pretty companions; or please myself with dressing up their fine flaxen hair with tufts of flowers. These, you will think, are very guiltless amusements; and if I should tell you I have an amour These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, Almighty, thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair; thyself how wondrous then! Unspeakable altogether as guiltless, dear Lady Sophia, would you not believe me? I suppose you will ask me if my charms have captivated the Lord of the manor, or a Justice of the quorum, or the High Sheriff of the county? Alas! my ambition sleeps; 1 should not aim at these glorious conquests, not even in my best apparel; and in that, I must tell you, I am as fine as any shepherdess in an opera. But, if you was to see the gentle youth that I have the vanity to think sighs for me, you would believe him some poetical form: he is so elegant, so beautiful, that when he appears the scene is all Arcadia; and (except a certain person with a star and garter) he is the handsomest youth that ever your eyes beheld. Nor will you wonder when I tell you his descent is from a younger branch of the S- family, a race remarkable for heroes and beauties. By the extravagance of his ancestors the estate has been long sunk to about two or three hundred a year: this youth was left from his infancy to the care of his grandmother, and bred as well as her narrow fortune would allow; but it is easy to perceive he owes nothing but to Nature, which has given him every advantage, without the vices, of a polite education: he is about my own age, hardly turned of nineteen When I first saw him, he was sitting under a shady beech, with an English Pastor Fido in his hand; he appeared like another Adonis in the softest bloom of life. I cannot describe him better than in the following verses, writ by Lady B-'s on another subject: His faultless shape appear'd with ev'ry grace, Reveal'd the spotless mind that dwelt within. In this perfection of youthful charms he has all that modesty that rises from a delicacy of thought, and a constant fear of offending. I am so demure and reserved that he has not the least suspicion of my partiality for him; nor dares discover his own for me, though he believes his station so superior to mine: he looks and sighs, but is as silent as your great grandfather's busto that stands on his monument. I am, indeed, a very great prude, and never gave him an opportunity to speak on this subject; but, if I should, the attempt would infallibly suffocate him. He lately brought me a basket of flowers from a little neat garden of his grandmother's; but he stood so long in suspense with the basket in his hands, that I feared the fragrant blossoms would have been withered before he could He would certainly have presented them to the Queen with more assurance and a better grace, had he been received with those propitious smiles which never fail to encourage modest virtue, and scatter every human care. ROSALINDA. LETTER II. To Lady SOPHIA, from the same. Nor bubling fountains to the thirsty swain were ever more welcome, dear Lady Sophia, than your letter to me; nothing can be more solemn than the profession of your friendship, nor more agreeable than your raillery on my gallant. He may be, as you imagine, one of Count Gabalis's sylphs; or some gentle spirit of the vale, propitious to virtuous lovers; or of the number of the Sylvan Genii, with whom he seems to converse more than with any thing of human race. I have seldom seen him but either walking in some verdant inclosure under a hedge-row of shady trees, or sitting with a flute in his hand by some purling rivulet, mimicking the nightingale's pensive note, while the melting music glides along the stream and echoes through the flowery dale. In one of my rambles with my little mistress I followed the | course of a pretty cascade, which fell from an easy descent, and led me to a natural bower of trees, |