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this reason when she should apologize' for her || sensitive sensibilities! Verily, Julie, theu tude remark, Julie's heart throbbed with the I wouldst not crush a worm to gain a kingdom. sense of a different motive, something less | All this ruefulness for fear of having bruised nervous, but more painful.

the broken read! Well, you are a dear ten. Troubled and irresolute, instinctively dread. der-hearted little fool, and I will make your ing to analyze her feelings any further, she peace with Bertolini; but do not imagine that was continuing to traverse a deeply-embower- I will follow your example: love-matters are ed path, when the voice of Francois surprized always fair game for mirth; so as I am sure her. The hour of dinner was nigh, and he This fatal epistle comes from Bertolini's bad come in search of her.

marble-breasted tyrant, I will indulge my Till his approach she bad been shedding Il spleen and rail at ber till sunset. What must tears unconsciously; now she fearfully dried ll the woman be who can scurn such a heart them, and advanced to meet him with eyes i as his ?" so swoln, and cheeks so pale, that Francois A responsive exclamation was springing was not to be deceived by the more than smile Il from the bosom of Julie to her lips, when rewith which she bajled him.

collecting its indiscretion, she blushed, and Francois was the fondest of brothers, though merely intreated her brother to make no illone of the most unreflecting; easily alarmed timed addition to the apology he had proor easily tranquillized. He inquired the cause mised to offer to Bertolini in her name. of her distress, and by dint of intreaties at “I shall say nothing more than that you are length obtained satisfaction.

a woman, therefore curious, and too glib · Julie began an incoherent detail of her of tongue,” returned Francois ; « Bertolini fancied impertinence to Bertolini, her cer- || knows your sex too well not to pardon in an tainty since that his letter was likely to have individual tbe faults of the species! there's a been unpleasant, therefore that her fault taste of philosophy for you." As he ended was doubly great, &c. Francois interrupted hesnatched her hand, and ran with her into her with a violent burst of lauglater._" De | the chateau. fend me, Oh, Jupiter!” le cried, “ from such

(To be continued.)


(Continued from Page 180.) LETTER IX.

Italian languages, be joins the diguity of a TO MRS. BRUDENELL.'

philosopher, the modesty of a maiden, the

simplicity of a child, and the forgetfuluess of Oakwood, April 27, 1807.

Parson Adams. I HAVE nothing to offer you, my dear |Mr. Millichamp likes bis quarters at Jobr friend, except the fireside pictures at this Freeman's so well, and they are so fond of their place; but we have another figure in the guest, that there is a tacit agreement between groupe, not unworthy your notice; a Mr.!! them to avoid all subjects which might lead Millichamp, whom chance and a dark rainyl to a separation. He attends the father and night sent to John Freeman's door to beg a daughter here every night, and we find as lodging. He is a young man, of appearance little pleasure as they in anticipatiug his deand manners extremely prepossessing ; cir- | parture. cumstances I will not forget in announcing

“ Sir," said John Freeman to him, last him, though you and I are no longer young night, “ when you first came to our house, women; for these make a favourable imprese and had forgotten your whip and your horse, I sion on all women. He is the son of a clergy- || had a great mind to have asked you where you man in the south; himself educated and in- had left your spurs; for I observed you bad tended for a clergyman; but, declining the not them on." profession, he now lives with a rich manufac. | “A very natural question," said Milli. turing uncle, from whom he has great ex- | champ; “ but I never wear spurs, for two rea. pectations. If being an oddity is a requisite | sons. The first is, I had rather be run away with for the society at Oakwood, he bears his by my own thoughts than by my horse, and if testimonials about him. To the most pro-|| I wore spurs, one would be the inevitable con. found erudition, to a thorough knowledge of || sequence of the other; for I sbould stick them the Hebrew, Greek and Latin, French and ll into him inadvertently, while I was thinking of something else. The other is, I have | ticable. It requires a personal acquaintance doubts in my own mind of the propriety of with him that no horse-breaker could have wounding a poor animal, because he does not with every animal that passes through his go exactly the pace I wish him."

hands; and, in such a long course of educa. “I honour your doubts,” said my brother. tion, if time were allowed, patience would “ I wear spurs because I have no reveries; sometimes be wanting in the preceptor." but I never let them touch my horse. For “The time it would demand," replied Millimy own part, I think we shall be answerable champ,“ is an objection I cannot answer. But hereafter for our in humanity to brutes. As if patience only were wanting, it would be the they are treated they ought to be made of fault of the man, not the method. The best wood and wire. Indeed, if they were, men systems of education for our own species rewould be more careful not to knock the ma quire uninterrupted patience." chine to pieces, than as it is made of flesh and " Besides," said my brother, “I should blood.”

doubt whether the fear of his master's dis“ Possibly," said Millichamp, “ we may be pleasure would be strong enough always to the beasts of burthen in the next world, and restrain a horse, if that of corporal punishour horses may ride us."

ment were unknown. It might sufficiently “I am prepared for that," rejoined my influence your groom ; because it would inbrother; “there is not one of my horses that clude the fear of losing his place, and getting will not make me a good master. I'must own, a worse. But the tempers of horses differ ; when I was young, I did amuse myself some some require greater severily than others, times with docking, nicking, and cropping Yours might be a very gentle one." . them, and I have run them too far after a fox; “He was," said Millichamp; " and while but I never killed or maimed one, and I bave he was in possession of himself, needed no asked their pardon long ago. I never breed other incitement or curb than my orders. But my horses ; because if a colt did not turn out I shall not conceal from you,' that turning a well, I could not bear to part with him to be | corner one day, when the whole earth was one flogged. But I never buy a horse without in uniform picture of snow, and seeing a woman quiring into his character as particularly as I in a large bright scarlet cloak, he refused to would tbat of a coachman; for I trust my neck | pass her. For the first time I struck him with in the care of both; and never sell one. When the whip. He was ignorant of its meaning, and he is grown old in my service bis place is a instead of using all his legs, found only the sinecure; and when life is no longer an en

two hind ones. He kicked, and threw me. Had joyment I have him shot, and buried in his he bad a previous knowledge of the smart, his skin and shoes. I have a cemetary on pur

|| fear of that might have been stronger than of pose for horses."

the scarlet cloak, and impelled him to pass it. I once broke a horse myself,” said Milli I do not mean, therefore, to recommend my champ."What idea does this word broke con method of training horses; but I thinks a vey?"cried he, interrrupting himself.“ In its great deal of it might, with advantage, be inliteral meaning, that of tearing the animal

corporated with a little of the old; and, in to pieces; in its common acceptation here, that, I am certain you will be of my opinion.” only breaking his spirit! I conceived that " And I, too,” said I._“I believe it is un.

hey who make it a trade proceeded not ll discovered how far the intelligence between only upon a cruel, but upon a wrong prin

men and horses might be carried, except ciple. I trained my horse from a colt. I ac.

Gulliver discovered it, who kept no other com. customed him to expressions of kindness. Il pany. I had a noble beast, (and I gave a When I began to ride him he had never seen sigh to his memory), so beautiful that I a wbip. I did not then use one. I only made was bidden to name my own price, if I would him sensible of his errors by the alteration in

have sold him ; but money could not come my tone of voice; and he had such a love of || in competition with him. He carried me my friendship, and such a fear of my displea. on a pillion seven years. In my airings, sure, that he became perfectly obedient.” || when be reached any place where he had been "I should wish every servant of mine,

accustomed to turn back, and, by a little whether on two legs or four,” said my brother, || shuffling, indicated his wish to go s

shuffling, indicated his wish to do so, the ser" to be actuated by both these motives. Love) vant who rode before me, and who had long alone is not strong enough to secure obedi- ll been intimate with him, would say, in a tone ence; and I would shoot myself rather than of common conversation, 'No, not yet.' The live only to be feared. But your method of creature submitted, and went on. When we training a horse would not be generally prac- || arrived at a place where I chose to turp again,


the man would say, in the same unmarked, You tell me I am in love! You laugh at me tone, Now, you may turn back, if you will;' for insisting upon your being happy with and the horse instantly availed himself of the | Mr. Millichamp, when I have a miod to be permission. I have travelled journies of three happy with bim myself! If I really loved or four hundred miles on bis back; and as I him, what must have been my situation, thought saddle and pillion, with their separate knowing him engaged to my friend? Knowing burthens, too heavy a lead to go safely down a he was violating every duty every hour be steep hill, I always got off and walked. At the siayed, and that tbe innocent partiality I felt top of which he would, of his owu accord, set for him must be checked as a deadly sin, lest himself across the road, that he night stand it should be a step towards making me the steady, while the man dismounted aud lifted : rival of that friend? You have set my heart me off; and if it were a short one, and I at ease. You ask me why I should doubt your chose to keep my seat, on his saying, "No, l settled affection for Mr. Marriot, wben I not this bill,' he would go on. I once had him have seen such uniform proofs of it? Forgive with me at a sea-bathing place. I rode on the me, my friend, if I thought Mr. Millichamp sands regularly every day, and when my airing so much his superior that you must be senPas finished, I always got off at a particular sible of it, and would cease to love tbe lesser spot, and walked to my lodgings. Tbe ser merit when the greater was knowin. vant then flung the bridle over the horse's | I am now conjuring up another set of mou. neck, aud he followed him to his stable. Itsters. If I love Mr. Millichamp, which I do not bappened one day I was attracted by some believe I do, I am still in a miserable situation. beautiful sea weeds, and alighted before I came | Though I no longer regard him as the destined to the usual place. The man led the way to husband of my friend, I have no reason to be. wards the stable, expecting the horse to fol. lieve he loves me. The lovers I have hitherto low, but though he cast a wishful look to bad, and you know they bave not been few, wards his keeper, as he receded from him, he | from the parson of the parish, to the farmer in would not leave his mistress, believing hel bis barn, have all sought an opportunity to had not yet discharged his duty. The man assure me of their regard. He has daily op. called him; be hesitatad what to do; but i portivities, and never glances at the subject. finding I did not oppose it, inclination pre- || That I am a favourite with him, I cannot vailed; and he trotted off at a great rate, till || doubt, every look and every action prove it; he overtook bis conductor, and then followed but so are my father and mother ; so are Mr. him quietly to his rack and manger.”

| and Mrs. Oakwood. “ And what becaine of him at last ?" said | Witb regard to myself, what is this love! Margaret.

It is unknown to me. I will describe my symp“I kept him two years after he was unable toms, and you, whom experience bas into work,” replied I; “ and in that time he structed, shall judge; shall tell me if I am never lay down. Towards the last, he grew so unfortunate and imprudent as to love so weak that be fell, when asleep, and could | where no professions of love have been made not get up again without the assistance of two to me. meu. Having done so several times, a kind I know every thing Mr. Millichamp likes, friend took tbe opportunity of my absence to and he has it, or it is done. I have seen him order him to be shot; and be lies buried in ll cut a crust at dinner; he has always ope laid my garden."

by his plate. I saw one of his pillows laid on « Avd what did you say to it?" asked Mar- || the other; he finds it so when he goes to rest. I garet.

saw a hole in his night.cap; it is darned, and so “I thanked my friend very sincerely, and neatly that he will never perceive it. All this obed bitter tears over my horse."

I do for my father and mother. He has had a slight indisposition since he has been here;

I have been his purse, and never failed to preLETTER X.

sent bis medicine at the appointed hour, or TO MISS CARADINE.

reinind him of his great coat, if he were going

out. All this, and more, I should have done Oakwood, May 5, 1807. | for my father. Cruel, hard-hearted Maria, what a week I I am almost afraid to go on. If we walk have you made me pass! You have suffered out alone be offers me bis arm; I take it, . me to turn all the pleasure I receive from and am happy. If we are with Mrs. Oak. Mr. Millichamp's company into self-reproach! wood, be offere it her ; I feel a little sullen,

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and sometimes loiter behind, though I would cote ; an oi believe there's no bigger a skoun. not take it from her for the world. This I dril under't nor there is i' yore yaller westcot.” should not feel if Mrs. Oakwood had my “I shall give you one piece of advice, bow. father's arm. I do not know how it is, but ever,"returned the footman; "and that is that one thiúg I ain sure of, that when I believed | you let Molly alone, or you'll come by the you were destined for each other, I most sin. || worst on't.”. cerely wished him gone, though I dreaded, “ Beleddy that's moor nor tha know'st, foin and still dread, the taking leave,

as tha art. Oi could double thee up, and put I will have done with this subject, whicb | thee in an auger hole. An oi'd doot tew ; ouly puzzles and distresses me, and give you love | I think my mester would na loik me th' bet. in another form.

ter for geeing thee a black oye or a bluddy I yesterday took a solitary walk to the ruins nose ; and, beside, he's so koind I should be of the old Abbey, and taking Thompson's | loath t'anger 'im. Tha'rt mistekken i' thy Seasons out of my pocket, sat down on a mon; an oi think tha'rt mistekken i' th' broken stone to read. Mr. Oakwood never wench. 'Its my mind to hae her, lu' thee; and lets man, woman, or cbild apply to him for hes hin ony toime this ten year. Ma'happen work in vain. His grounds are so large | its thin t'pley wee her, an then fo'sake her." there is employment for all. Once, indeed, “What my mind is, is nothing to you. it happened there was not, and he set two Molly knows my mind, and that's enough." strangers to remove a large stack of kids i “ If Mally purtends to loike thee, hur's a to a distant place, and, as soon as they had fause jade; an tha' mest hae her to thy sen, finished, ordered them to bring them back; ll for oi'll gee her o'er." neither suffering them to eat the bread of idle

“ You may give her over then, I'll promise ness, or to go without any bread at all. He was giving orders for the third removal, when I " Bur oi shanna tek thoi wud for't. Oi'll he was told the men had left his service. This speak to her my sen, an oi'll sey, Mally, says I did not mean to tell you. I was only going to loi, Robbut says yo lojken bjm ; an if you dun, say, that about three years ago, a young stout sesso, an oi'll gee my sen no moor trubble rustic solicited employment, and after la- || abaute you. Ma'happen oi ma fret a bit at bouring some time in the fields, he proved so fust; but oi shall think oin a good miss. industrious, attentive, and honest, that he was Bur if you dunna loike him, nor hanna loiked promoted to the rank of waggoner at the farm- him, by gost, oi'm afraid i' shall knock him house. He now appeared; and from an op- | down i' good arnst; and sarten sure oi shall, posite quarter advanced one of the footmen | if iver he's aater you agen.” belonging to the Hall. They were very near i Here they parted, Robert muttering, if the me; but I was concealed by a broken arch.. ll girl might chuse, she would not be a fool; but

« Tom,” says the footman,“ how came you I thought he did not seem entirely satisfied to follow Molly, the kitcben-maid, last night, ll with the reference. when she had been down to the farm-house In this village scene appear the charac. for some eggs."

ters of higher life. The real lover is a " Mun nubbuddy fullo nubbuddy without waggoner; the man of gallantry is a footman ; axing yore leave?" said Tom, who is a native and, I suppose, the coquet in the kitchenof Derbyshire. ,

maid. Your forgetful swain is still here ; un“ Nobody shall follow Molly without ask heeding, or not seeming to heed, the vows bis ing my leave, and having it too,” replied the ll uncle has made for him. What will be the footman.

end of it, God knows; but now I know his “ And if so bee I wunnot ax it, whot then?” stay prolongs your happiness, as well as “ Why then I'll knock you down.”

my own, it sball meet with no interruption "An whot mun oi be doing th’ whoile!" || from me.

“ Doing, you scoundrel! why, doing your I have just discovered that the darn is cut best. Do you think I fear what such a clod- | out of the night-cap, and the hole left bigger hopper as yon can do?"

li than before. I wonder whether he expects me “ May be you dunuot; no moor nor oil to mend it again. moind a laced cote an a shouder-knot. My

(To be continued.) frock's my own, an yo conpa say that o' yore||

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|| I spake: since, to be candid with you, the I have to thank you for your insertion of l embarrassment was ou my side, for I did not my last letter, and from the vumber of answers kuow how to put an end to my visit without with which I have been favoured, it certainly coming to an explanation that must burt her must be my own fault if I do not commence feelings; I therefore pretended to be duped Benedict. But I must honestly own that by her affected delicacy; and saying that I those of my fair correspondents whom I have was sorry to see her so agitated, and that I seen were out any of them women who would would for the present wish ber a good moruing, be likely to tempt a reasonable man to com. I snatched up my hat, and made my exit in mit matrimony; and lest you should suspect | spite of her assurances that she bad conquered me of being a fastidious fellow, I will relate to her confusion. you the particulars of a few visits I paid to Il The next epistle I received was calculated Tadies wbose humanity and kindness would to put me equally in good humour with myself bave induced them to relieve me from the ll and with its fair writer. After some very disgrace of celibacy.

pretty and well turped compliments on the The first letter I opened came from a lady style in whicb I had related my adventures, who signed herself Clarinda. She said that the lady, who called herself Clelia, appointed after mature deliberation (by the bye the letter | an interview on the following day. She did was dated on the very day your Magazine is not say a single syllable about ber own quali, published), she could not help thinking it was || fications, but her letter proved that her mental a pity that a man so apparently amiable and ones were much superior to the generality of well disposed should remain a bachelor ; and | her sex, and in the hope that I should find her if I would call at No. -, in street, I person as amiable as her understanding was should see a lady who might perhaps console | excellent, I dressed myself next day with more me for the disappointments I had met with. || than my usual care, and waited upon her. I have given you the substance of the letter, “ If the gem within answers but to the Mr. Editor, but I confess I was not bigbly casket,” thought I as she entered, “ all will pleased with it, for the spelling was terribly || be well;" for I was very much struck with her. incorrect, and the style neither easy nor gram- | Yet she was far from handsome, but there was matical. However, as the lady had so frankly an indescribable something in her countenance appoiuted a meeting, I thought it would be that prepossessed me in her favour. Her ill-bred to disappoint her, and accordingly I figure was extremely genteel, and there was a immediately repaired to the place of assig. grace and lightness in her motions that, to me, pation.

was more pleasing than the most exact sym· I was ushered into a very elegant apartment, metry, and half an hour's conversation deterand in a few minutes a lady entered, who was mived me (if she was what she appeared) to apparently turned of sixty. I must do her the make her my wife. Nothing could be more justice to say, that she was an excellent artist, sprightly, easy, and captivating than her for her face and neck were enamelled in a very manner, which was equally free from levity or finished style; and ber frizeur is certainly one prudery; but just as I was about to take my of the first people in bis way, for her flaxen leave, a smart rat-tat at the door made her wig would, on a younger woman, have passed || turn pale, and the vext moment I heard a for a natural head of hair. Picture to yourself, masculine voice say :- Not at home? all Mr. Editor, a woman of the age I have describ. sham, know better, suppose there's some one ed, and of a tall, robust, bony figure, dressed with her, walk up and see, however;" and in (though in the morning) in a frock which dis- | spite of the maid's assurauces that, upon her played her bosom and arms; and softening honour her mistress was that very moment gove her naturally harsh and masculine voice into out, a geutleman entered the room where we an affected lisp, while she hoped I would ex were. cuse her being so very much flurried, but shell As the expressions I had heard were sntfi. was naturally so timid, and she thought pro- || cieut to explain to me the nature of his visit per to favour me with a long harangue on the to Clelia, I made a hasty retreat as soon as he difficulty she had to bring herself to write to entered; and on making inquiries in the neigh. me, and the cruel embarrassment into which bourhood, I learaed that iny fair intended was the sight of we had Ihrowo her. On that biut || at present under this gentleman's protection ;

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