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advertised in the newspapers, and cried in the neighbouring parishes. Some time having elapsed, and the money not being demanded, the vicar carried it to Perrin:

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7. "These twelve thousand livres bear at present no profit-you may reap the interest at least- lay them out in such a manner as to insure the sum itself to the owner, if he shall appear. A farm was purchased, and the consent of Lucetta's father to the marriage was obtained. Perrin was employed in husbandry, and Lucetta in family affairs. They lived in perfect cordiality, and two children endeared them still more to each other. Perrin one evening returning homeward from his work, saw a chaise overturned, with two gentlemen in it.

8. He ran to their assistance, and offered them every accommodation his small house could afford. This spot, cried one of the gentlemen, is very fatal to me. Ten years ago, I lost here twelve thousand livres. Perrin listened with attention. What search made you for them? said he. It was not in my power, replied the stranger, to make any search. I was hurrying to Port l'Orient to embark for the Indies, for the vessel was ready to sail.

9. Next morning Perrin showed to his guests his house; his garden, his cattle, and mentioned the produce of his fields. "All these are your property," addressing the gentleman who had lost the bag; "the money fell into my hands; I purchased this farm with it; the farm is yours The vicar has an instrument which secures your property, though I had died without seeing you." The stranger read the instrument with emotion. He looked on Perrin, Lucetta, and the children.

10. Where am I? cried he-and what do I hear? What virtue in people so low! Have you any other land but this farm? No, replied Perrin-but you will have occasion for a tenant, and I hope you will allow me to remain here. Your honesty deserves a better recompense, answered the stranger. My success in trade has been great, and I have forgot my loss. You are well entitled to this little fortune, keep it as your own.

11. What man in the world would have acted like Perrin? Perrin and Lucetta shed tears of affection and joy. "My dear children," said he, "kiss the hand of your benefactor. Lucetta, this farm now belongs to us, and we can enjoy it

without anxiety or remorse." Thus was honesty rewarded-Let those who desire the reward practise the virtue.

1.

IV. GHARACTER of a YOUNG LADY.

SOPHIA

OPHIA is not a beauty; but in her presence, beauties are discontented with themselves. At first she scarcely appears pretty; but the more she is beheld, the more agreeable she appears. She gains when others lose, and what she gains she never loses. She is equalled by none in a sweet expression of countenance; and without dazzling beholders, she interests them.

2. She loves dress, and is a good judge of it; despises finery, but dresses with peculiar grace, mixing simplicity with elegance. Ignorant she is of what colours are in fashion, but knows well what suits her complexion. She covers her beauties; but so slightly, or rather artfully, as to give play to the imagination. She prepares herself for managing a family of her own, by managing that of her father.

3. Cookery is familiar to her, with the price and quality of provisions; and she is a ready accountant. Her chief view, however, is to serve her mother, and lighten her cares. She holds cleanliness and neatness to be indispensable in a woman; and that a slattern is disgusting, especially if beautiful.

4. The attention given to externals, does not make her overlook her more material duties. Sophia's understanding is solid without being profound. Her sensibility is too great for a perfect equality of temper; but her sweetness renders that inequality harmless. A harsh word does not make her angry; but her heart swells, and she retires to disburden it by weeping.

5. Recalled by her father and mother, she comes at the instant, wiping her eyes and appearing cheerful. She suffers with patience any wrong done to her: but is impatient to repair any wrong she has done, and does it so cordially as to make it appear meritorious. If she happens to disoblige a companion, her joy and her caresses, when restored to favour, show the burthen that lay upon her good heart.

6. The love of virtue is Sophia's rulling passion. She loves it, because no other thing is so lovely: She loves it because it is the glory of the female sex. She loves it as the only road to happiness; misery being the sure attendant of

a woman without virtue. She loves it as dear to her respectable father and tender mother. These sentiments inspire her with a degree of enthusiasm, that elevates her soul and subdues every irregular appetite.

7. Of the absent she never talks but with circumspection; of her female acquaintance especially. She has remarked, that what renders woman prone to detraction, is talking of their own sex; and that they are more equitable with respect to the men. Sophia therefore never talks of women, but to express the good she knows of them: Of others she says nothing.

8. Without much knowledge of the world, she is attentive, obliging and graceful in all she does. A good disposition does more for her than art does for others. She possesses a degree of politeness, which, void of ceremony, proceeds from a desire to please, and which consequently ne--ver fails to please.

1.

V. AGATHOCLES and CALISTA.

CALI

ALISTA was young and beautiful, endowed with a great share of wit and solid sense. Agathocles, whose age very little exceeded hers, was well made, brave, and prudent. He had the good fortune to be introduced at Calista's, where his looks, wandering indifferently over a numerous circle, soon distinguished and fixed upon her.

2. But recovering from the short ecstacy occasioned by the first sight, he immediately reproached himself, as being guilty of rudeness to the rest of the company; a fault which he endeavoured to correct, by looking round on other objects. Vain attempt! They were attracted by a powerful charm, and turned again towards Calista. He blushed as well as she; while a sweet emotion, till then unfelt, produced a kind of fluttering in his heart, and confusion in his countenance.

3. They both became at the same time more timid and more curious. He was pleased with gazing at Calista, which he could not do without trembling; whilst Calista, secretly satisfied with this flattering preference, cast her eyes on him by stealth. They were both under an apprehension, but especially Calista, of being caught by the other in the fact, and yet caught they were almost every moment.

4. The hour of separation came, which to them appeared too sudden: Melancholy were the reflections they made on the rapidity of time. Imagination, however, did not permit them to be entirely absent from each other; for the image of Calista was deeply engraved on the mind of Agathocles, and his features were strongly impressed on that of Calista. They both appeared less cheerful the rest of the day. A lively sentiment, which they did not well comprehend themselves, entirely employed their minds, in spite of every attempt to divert themselves.

5. Two days passed without seeing one another again; and though this interval of time had been filled up either by business or recreations, yet they both, notwithstanding, experienced a weariness and dissatisfaction in their minds, for which they could no way account. But the moment which brought them together again explained it to them. The perfect contentment they felt in each other's company, made them sensible of the real source of their melancholy.

6. Agathocles took more courage that day: He addressed Calista, in a most obliging manner, and had the happiness to converse with her for the first time. As yet he had seen only her outward charms; but now he discovered the beauty of her mind, the integrity of her heart, the dignity of her sentiments, and the delicacy of her wit; but what charmed him the most, was the opinion he conceived that she did not judge him unworthy of her esteem.

7. From this time he made her frequent visits; in every one of which he discovered some new perfection in the fair Calista. This is the characteristic of true merit it gains by being exposed to the eye of a judicious person. A man of sense will soon dislike a coquet, a fool or a giddy woman; but if he falls in love with a woman of merit, time, far from weakening, will only strengthen and augment his pas

sion.

8. The fixed inclination of Agathocles convinced him, now, that what he felt for Calista, was love, and that of the most tender nature. This he knew; but Calista did not as yet know it, or at least had not learnt it from his lips. Love is timorous and diffident. A bold suitor is not the real lover of the lady to whom he addresses: He seeks for nothing but pleasure.

9. Agathocles at last resolved to open his heart to Calista,

but he did not do it in the affected language of a romantic passion. "Lovely Calista," said he ingenuously, "it is not mere esteem that binds me to you, but a most passionate and tender love. I feel that I cannot live without you: Can you without violence to your inclinations, consent to make me happy? I may love you without offence; 'tis a tribute due to your merit; but may I flatter myself with the hopes of some small return?"

10. A coquet would have affected to be displeased at such a declaration. But Calista not only listened to her lover without interrupting him; but answered him without ill-nature, and gave him leave to hope. Nor did she put his constancy to a tedious trial: the happiness for which he sighed was no longer delayed than was necessary to prepare for the ceremony.

11. The marriage settlements were easily regulated betwixt the parties; for interest was out of the question: The chief article consisted in the mutual interchange of hearts, which was already fulfilled. What will be the lot of the new married couple? The happiest I may venture to foretel, that mortals can enjoy upon earth.

12. No pleasures are comparable to those that affect the heart, and there are none, as I have observed before, that affect it with such exquisite delight, as loving and being loved. To this tender union we can never apply the words of Democritus, that the pleasure of love is but a short epilepsy. He meant without doubt mere sensual pleasure, which has so little in it of the nature of love, that a man may enjoy it without loving, and love without ever enjoying it.

13. They will be constant in their love. This I dare also to predict; and I know the reason. Their affection is not founded on the dazzling charms of beauty; they are both the friends of virtue; they love each other on this account. They will therefore continue to love, as long as they are virtuous-and their union itself is a pledge of their perseverance for nothing so much secures our continuance in the paths of virtue, as to have perpetually before our eyes the example of a person whom we love.

14. Nothing is capable of disturbing their happiness, but those disasters and misfortunes from which their love cannot shelter them. But supposing such a reverse of fortune, world not their fate in this respect be common with that of the rest of mankind? Those who have never tasted the pleasures of

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