men at all; or if they were, would never think of applying their flattery to the mind.

Mr. Winbrooke observed the weakness of my soul, and took every occasion of improving the esteem he had gained. I saw myself revered, as a superior being, by one whose judgment my vanity told me was not likely to err: preferred by him to all the other visitors of my sex, whose fortunes and rank should have entitled them to a much higher degree of notice: I saw their little jealousies at the distinguished attention he paid me; it was gratitude, it was pride, it was love! Love which had made too fatal a progress in my heart, before any declaration on his part should have warranted a return: but I interpreted every look of attention, every expression of compliment, to the passion I imagined him inspired with, and imputed to his sensibility that silence which was the effect of art and design. At length, however, he took an opportunity of declaring his love: he now expressed himself in such ardent terms, that prudence might have suspected their sincerity: but prudence is rarely found in the situation I had been unguardedly led into; besides, that the course of reading to which I had been accustomed, did not lead me to conclude, that his expressions could be too warm to be sincere: nor was I even alarmed at the manner in which Ire talked of marriage, a subjection, he often hinted, to which genuine love should scorn to be confined. The woman, he would often say, who had merit like mine to fix his affection, could easily command it for ever. That honour too which I revered, was often called in to enforce his sentiments. I did not, however, absolutely assent to them; but I found my regard for their opposites diminish by degrees. If it is dangerous to be convinced, it is dangerous to listen; for our reason is so much of a machine, that it will not always be able to resist, when the ear is perpetually assailed..

"In short, Mr. Harley (for I tire you with a relation, the catastrophe. of which you will already have imagined), I fell a prey to his artifices. He had not been able so thoroughly to convert me, that my conscience was silent on the subject; but he was so assiduous to give repeated proofs of unabated affection, that I hushed its suggestions as they rose. The world, however, I knew, was not to be silenced; and therefore I took occasion to express my uneasiness to my seducer, and entreat him, as he valued the peace of one to whom he professed such attachment, to remove it by a marriage. He made excuse from his dependence on the will of his father, but quieted my fears by the promise of endeavouring to win his assent.

66

My father had been some days absent on a visit to a dying relation, from whom he had considerable expectations. I was left at home, with no other company than my books: my books I found were not now such companions as they used to be; I was restless, melancholy, unsatisfied with myself. But judge my situation when I received a billet from Mr. Winbrooke informing me, that he had sounded Sir George on the subject we had talked of, and found him so averse to any match so unequal to his own rank and fortune, that he was obliged, with whatever reluctance, to bid adieu to a place, the remembrance of which should ever be dear to him.

"I read this letter a hundred times over. Alone, helpless, conscious of guilt, and abandoned by every better thought, my mind was one motley scene of terror, confusion, and remorse. A thousand expedients

suggested themselves, and a thousand fears told me they would be vain, at last, in an agony of despair, I packed up a few clothes, took what money and trinkets were in the house, and set out for London, whither I understood he was gone; pretending to my maid, that I had received letters from my father requiring my immediate attendance. I had no other companion than a boy, a servant to the man from whom I hired iny horses. I arrived in London within an hour of Mr. Winbrooke, and accidentally alighted at the very inn where he was.

He started and turned pale when he saw me; but recovered himself in time enough to make many new protestations of regard, and begged me to make myself easy under a disappointment which was equally athicting to him. He procured me lodgings, where I slept, or rather endeavoured to sleep, for that night. Next morning I saw him again; he then mildly observed on the imprudence of my precipitate flight from the country, and proposed my removing to lodgings at another end of the town, to elude the search of my father, till he should fall upon some method of excusing my conduct to him, and reconciling him to my return. We took a hackney-coach, and drove to the house he mentioned.

"It was situated in a dirty line, furnished with a tawdry affectation. of finery, with some old family-pictures hanging on walls which their own cob-webs would better have suited. I was struck with a secret dread at entering; nor was it lessened by the appearance of the landlady, who had that look of selfish shrewdness, which, of all others, is the most hateful to those whose feelings are untinctured with the world. A girl, who she told us was her niece, sat by her, playing on a guitar, while herself was at work, with the assistance of spectacles, and had a prayer-book, with the leaves folded down in several places, lying on the table before her.

“ I dined that day with Mr. Winbrooke alone. He lost by degrees that restraint which I perceived too well to hang about him before, and, with his former gaiety and good-humour, repeated the flattering things, which, though they had once been fatal, I durst not now distrust. At last, taking my hand and kissing it, "It is thus," said he, "that love will last, while freedom is preserved; thus let us ever be blest, without the galling thought that we are tied to a condition where we may cease. to be so." I answered, "That the world thought otherwise; that it had certain ideas of good fame, which it was impossible not to wish to maintain," "The world," said he, " is a tyrant; they are slaves who obey it let us be happy without the pale of the world. To-morrow I shall leave this quarter of it, for one, where the talkers of the world shall be foiled, and lose us., Could not my Emily accompany me? my friend, my companion, the mistress of my soul! Nay, do not look so, Emily! your father may grieve for a while, but your father shall be taken care of; this bank-bill I intend as the comfort for his daughter."

"I could contain myself no longer: "Wretch," I exclaimed, "dost thou imagine that my father's heart could brook dependance on the destroyer of his child, and tamely accept of a base equivalent for. her honour and his own?" "Honour, my Emily," said he, "is the word of fools, or of those wiser men who cheat them. "Tis a fantastic bauble that does not suit the gravity of your father's age; but, whatever, it is, I am afraid it can never be perfectly restored to you : exchange. the word then, and let pleasure be your object now." At these words

he clasped me in his arms, and pressed his lips rudely to my bosom. I started from my seat. "Perfidious villain!” said I, "who dar'st insult the weakness thou hast undone; were that father here, thy coward soul would shrink from the vengeance of his honour! Curst be that wretch who has deprived him of it! oh! doubly curst, who has dragged on his hoary head the infamy which should have crushed her own! I snatched a knife which lay beside me, and would have plunged it in my breasts but the monster prevented my purpose, and smiling with a grin of barbarous insult, Madam," said he, "I confess you are rather too much in heroics for me: I am sorry we should differ about trifles; but as I seem somehow to have offended you, I would willingly remedy it by taking my leave. You have been put to some foolish expence in this journey on my account; allow me to reimburse you." So saying, he laid a bank-bill, of what amount I had not patience to see, upon the table. Shame, grief, and indignation, choaked my utterance; unable to speak my wrongs, and unable to bear them in silence, I fell in a swoon at his feet.

"What happened in the interval I cannot tell; but when I came to myself, I was in the arms of the landlady, with her niece chasing my temples, and doing all in her power for my recovery. She had much compassion in her countenance: the old woman assumed the softest look she was capable of, and both endeavoured to bring me comfort. They continued to shew me many civilities, and even the aunt began to be less disagreeable in my sight. To the wretched, to the forlorn, as I was, small offices of kindness are endearing.

"Mean time my money was far spent, nor did I attempt to conceal my wants from their knowledge. I had frequent thoughts of returning to my father; but the dread of a life of scorn is insurmountable. I avoided therefore going abroad when I had a chance of being seen by any former acquaintance, nor did my health for a great while permit it; and suffered the old woman, at her own suggestion, to call me niece at home, where we now and then saw (when they could prevail on me to leave my room) one or two other elderly women, and sometimes a grave business-like man, who shewed great compassion for my indisposition, and made me very obligingly an offer of a room at his countryhouse for the recovery of my health. This offer I did not chuse to accept; but told my landlady," that I should be glad to be employed in any way of business which my skill in needlework could recommend me to; confessing, at the same time, that I was afraid I should scarce be able to pay her what I already owed for board and lodging; and that for her other good offices, I had nothing but thanks to give her."

My dear child," said she, "do not talk of paying; since I lost my own sweet girl (here she wept), your very picture she was, Miss Emily, I have no body, except my niece, to whom I should leave any little thing I have been able to save: you shall live with me, my dear; and I have sometimes a little millinery work, in which, when you are inclined to it you may assist us. By the way, here are a pair of ruffles we have just finished for that gentleman you saw here at tea; a distant relation of mine, and a worthy man he is. 'Twas pity you refused the offer of an apartment at his country-house; my niece, you know, was to have accompanied you, and you might have fancied yourself at home a most sweet place it, is, and but a short mile beyond Hampstead. Who

knows, Miss Emily, what effect such a visit might have had! if I had half your beauty, I should not waste it pining after e'er a worthless fellow of them all." I felt my heart swell at her words; I would have been angry if I could; but I was in that stupid state which is not easily awakened to anger: when I would have chid her, the reproof stuck in my throat; I could only weep!

"At last the wretch, who had thus trained me to destruction, hinted the purpose for which those means had been used. I discovered her to be an artful procuress for the pleasures of those, who are men of decency to the world in the midst of debauchery.

"I roused every spark of courage within me at the horrid proposal. She treated my passion at first somewhat mildly; but when I continued to exert it, she resented it with insult, and told me plainly, "That if I did not soon comply with her desires, I should pay her every farthing I owed, or rot in a jail for life." I trembled at the thought; still, however, I resisted her importunities, and she put her threats in execution. I was conveyed to prison, weak from my condition, weaker from that struggle of grief and misery which for some time I had suf

fered.

"Amidst all the horrors of such a state, surrounded with wretches totally callous, lost alike to humanity and to shame, think, Mr. Harley, think what I endured; nor wonder that I at last yielded to the solicitations of that miscreant I had seen at her house, and sunk to the prostitution which he tempted. But that was happiness compared to what I have suffered since. He soon abandoned me, and I was cast among those miserable beings in whose society I have since remained.

"Oh! did the daughters of virtue know our sufferings; did they see our hearts torn with anguish amidst the affectation of gaiety which our faces are obliged to assume! our bodies tortured by disease, our minds with that consciousness which they cannot lose! Did they know, did they think of this, Mr. Harley!- -their censures are just; but their pity perhaps might spare the wretches, whom their justice should

condemn!

"Last night, but for an exertion of benevolence which the infection of our infamy prevents even in the humane, had I been thrust out from this miserable place which misfortune has yet left me; exposed to the brutal insults of drunkenness, or dragged by that justice which I could not bribe, to the punishment which may correct, but, alas! can never amend the abandoned objects of its terrors. From that, Mr. Harley, your goodness has relieved me."

I beckoned with my hand: I would have stopped her mentioning them; but I could not speak, had it been to beg a dia

dem.

She saw my tears; her fortitude began to fail at the sight, when the voice of some stranger on the stairs awakened her attention. She listened for a moment; then starting up, exclaimed; "Merciful God! my father's voice!"

She had scarce uttered the word, when the door burst open, and a man entered in the garb of an officer. When he discovered his daughter and me, he started back a few paces; his look assumed a furious wildness! he laid his hand on his sword. The two objects of his wrath did not utter a syllable." Villian," he tried, "thou seest a father who

had once a daughter's honour to preserve; blasted as it now is, behold him ready to avenge its loss!"

"Sir," said I, "if you will be a moment calm”..............“ Imfamous coward!" interrupted he, " dost thou preach calmness to wrongs like nine?" He drew his sword. "Sir," said I, "let me tell you"... The blood ran quicker to my cheek......my pulse beat one......no more ......and regained the temperament of humanity "You are deceived, Sir," said I, "you are much deceived; but I forgive suspicions which your misfortunes have justified: I would not wrong you, upon my soul I would not, for the dearest gratification of a thousand worlds; my heart bleeds for you!"

His daughter was now prostrate at his feet. "Strike," said she, "strike here a wretch, whose misery cannot end but with that death she deserves." Her hair had fallen on her shoulders! her look had the horrid calmness of out-breathed despair! Her father would have spoken; his lip quivered, his check grew pale; his eyes lost the lightning of their fury! there was a reproach in them, but with a mingling of pity! He turned them up to heaven......then on his daughter. .He laid his left hand on his heart......the sword dropped from his right......he burst into tears.

I kneeled also at the side of the unfortunate daughter; "Allow me, Sir," said I, "to entreat your pardon for one whose offences have been already so signally punished. I know, I feel, that those tears, wrung from the heart of a father, are more dreadful to her than all the punishments your sword could have inflicted: accept the contrition of a child whom heaven has restored to you." "Is she not lost," answered he, "irrevocably lost? a common prostitute to the meanest ruffian!”.

"

Calmly, my dear Sir," said I, "did you know by what complicated misfortunes she had fallen to that miserable state in which you now behold her, I should have no need of words to excite your compassion. Think, Sir, of what once she was! Would you abandon her to the insults of an unfeeling world, deny her opportunity of penitence, and cut off the little comfort that still remains for your afflictions and her own!" "Speak," said he, addressing himself to his daughter; "speak, I will hear thee."......The desperation that supported her was lost; she fell to the ground, and bathed his feet with her tears!

I undertook her cause: I related the treacheries to which she had fallen a sacrifice, and again solicited the forgiveness of her father. He looked on her for some time in silence; the pride of a soldier's honour checked for a while the yearnings of his heart; but nature at last prevailed, he fell on her neck, and mingled his tears with hers.

I discovered from the dress of the stranger that he was just arrived from a journey, and begged that they would both remove to my lodgings, till I could procure others for them. Atkins looked at me with some marks of surprise. His daughter now first recovered the power of speech: "Wretch as I am," said she, " yet there is some gratitude due to the preserver of your child. See him now before you. To him I owe my life, or at least the comfort of imploring your forgiveness before I die." "Pardon me, young gentleman," said Atkins, "I fear my passion wronged you."

Never, never, Sir," said I; "if it had, your reconciliation to your daughter were an atonement a thousand fold." I then repeated my re quest that I might be allowed to conduct them to my lodgings; to which