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The Danes thanked her with warmth, and retired to the room which had been prepared for them....
.... The day after their arrival in Berne, they hastened to pay their respects to Miss Haller. They found her not at home, but were received very politely by the uncle and aunt. "Will Miss Haller not soon return? Will Miss Sophia be from home long? Shall we soon have thepleasure of seeing our amiable fellow traveller?" To all these questions the uncle and aunt were obliged to answer a hundred times. At length she returned. The Danes could not forbear the most joyful exclamations. She welcomed them as acquaintances, which made her appear in their eyes still more charming and amiablo. The Count, Baggesen, and Becker, all wanted to speak to her; all put questions to her at the same time. She replied to one with words, to the other by a smile, and the third by a nod; and all three were satisfied. Towards evening a walk was proposed-. Male and female friends assembled; but the Danes saw and heard only Sophia. At length they parted, after having made the appointment to see each other again' the next day. The second, third, and fourth day, were Spent in the same way. At last Becker perceived he was not the first in the favour of Sophia. He modefated his warmth in conversation with her, and resigned •11 claims to her partiality. The count, who, perhaps, preceived the same, became dull, and soon entire!/ fteaped his visits to Sophia. To dissipate his melancholy, he sought all kinds of social amusements. As to Baggesen, perhaps, only the poetess of Lesbos loved her Phaon with such a passion 33 he loved hit
Sophia; and scarcely could the inspired Pythia, on her golden tripod, have been so beside herself as our young poet, when his lips hung.upon her hand. Each of his words was animated by profound sensibility, when he spoke of her, and'that sensibility was like a powerful flame. He durst not tell her, I love you; but the tender Sophia understood him, and did not remain indifferent. Hergaiety and vivacity diminished; she waa frequently lost in deep thought, and her eyes sparkled. They often walked out in the evening in the avenues of the platform, and the thick foliage of the chesnut trees, and the rays of the full moon, witnessed their virtuous intercourse; till at length the Platonic lover, one of these fine evenings, threw himself on his knees before Sophia, seized her hand, and exclaimed, " It is mine!—thy heart is made for mine!—we will be happy." It it thine," replied Sophia, with a look of tenderness, "it is thine, and I hope to be happy with thee!"
.... I leave to abler hands the description of this moment! The same evening the family of Haller embraced Baggesen, as Sophia's bridegroom, and their friend. The wedding day was fixed. The poet now enjoys the beauteous dawn of that happiness which awaits him in the arms of his beloved wife; and praises, in raptures, the lake of Thun, where his eyes first beheld her, and where his heart loved her at first sight. Mean time Count Moltke has become quite tranquil, and rejoices at the felicity of his friend, as does Becker too, who related to me this history as I have written it to you
I AIR ELLEN, OR THE MANIAC.
"Hark how she mouths the Heav'ns, »nd mates the gods:
Stranger, if sight of human woe,
Thy gentle bosom swelling,
"Twill stream for lovely Ellen!
Tenant of the rural shade,
Than beauteous, love-lorn Ellen!
Her tale would melt a heart of stone j
Sad it is—ah! past expressing;
Of reason, Heav'n's supremest blessing.
Of human bliss—thou foe to joy,
The hopes of blooming Ellen! i
The day was fix'd, the village throng, . .
With pipe and tabor, hail the dawn?
With funeral plaint*, too soon, they mourn.
The joy and hope of Ellen!
E'er since, distracted doth she roam,
The field, the wild wood is her home,
There lone she wanders night and morning,
Her sad employ is still the same—
She weaves the garland's poppy'd flame,
Or wildly calls on Henry's name,
And oft she doth the darkness brave,
To strew fresh flowers o'er Henry's grave,
And wails her sorrows to the moon,
Queen of the night, the maniac's noon!
Fix'd, gazing on that heav'n, where soon
Yes, hapless maid, thy woes e'er long,
And thou, Elysian fields among,
With peace and Henry shall be straying.
Remov'd from every mortal ill,
Eternal love thy cup shall fill,
For thee each heav'nly joy instil,
TUNBRIDGE wells, 1748.
“Veniunt spectentur ut ipsae.” Ovid.
“To be themselves a spectacle, they come.”
.... WHAT say you to me here, Miss H-"? I, a bad traveller, cannot sit a horse–come hither to drink the waters for health sake—propose but three weeks— have been here one last Friday—this is my situation. Tunbridge in high season, a place devoted to amusement.—Time entirely at command, though not hanging heavy; impossible indeed it should,—Vehicles, whether four-wheeled or four-legged, at will; riding a choice. .... I had rather be in a desert than in a place so public and so giddy. But these waters were almost the only thing in medicine that I had not tried; and as my disorders seemed to increase, I was willing to try themt. Hitherto, I must own, without effect is the trial. But people here, who slide upon me, as I tra
* The following sketch of Tunbridge wells was addressed by Richardson to Miss Highmore, one of his fair correspondents; and the daughter of a painter of eminence—at a time when the arts were at a very low ebb in England, the reigns of George the First and the Second. He painted most of Richardson's chaIracters.
+ The health of Richardson was affected by those disorders which pass under the denomination of nervous, and are the usual consequence of bad air, confinement, sedentary employment, and the wear and tear of the mental faculties. He took tar-water, then very much in vogue, and lived for seven years upon a vegetable diet; but his best remedy was probably his country house, and the amusements of Tunbridge, which he was accustomed to fiequent in the season.