she composed a romance, entitled, The Loves of Amoret and Melissa, which, we are told, exhibited "fertility of invention, and extraordinary specimens of genius."

Her mother was a beauty, with all the vanity of her sex; and fearing that her daughter's understanding might become a more attractive object than the personal charms on which she valued herself, took no pleasure in the progress which Hester seemed to make; and if she did not obstruct, took at least no extraordinary pains in promoting her education.

This mother, however, died when her daughter was yet young; and a circumstance which otherwise might have been of serious consequence, seemed to strengthen the inclination Miss MULSO had shown to cultivate her mind. She studied the French and Italian languages, and made some progress in the Latin. She read the best authors, especially those who treat of morals and philosophy. To these she added a critical perusal of the Holy Scriptures; but history, we are told, made no part of her studies until the latter part of her life.

Her acquaintance with RICHARDSON, whose novels were the favourites of her sex, introduced her to Mr. CHAPONE, a young gentleman then practising law in the Temple. Their attachment was mutual, but not hasty or imprudent. She obtained her father's consent, and a social intimacy continued for a considerable period, before it ended in marriage.

In the mean time, Miss MULSO became acquainted with the celebrated Miss CARTER; a correspondence took place between them, which increased their mutual

esteem, and a friendship was thus cemented, which lasted during a course of more than fifty years.

Miss MULSO's first production appears to have been the Ode to Peace, and that addressed to Miss CARTER on her intended publication of the translation of Epictetus. About the same time she wrote the story of Fidelia, which Miss CARTER and her other friends who had read it, persuaded her to send to the editor of the Adventurer.

In 1760 she was married to Mr. CHAPONE, removed o London, and for some time lived with her husband n lodgings in Carey Street, and afterwards in Arundel Street. She enjoyed every degree of happiness which mutual attachment could confer, but it was of short uration. In less than ten months after they were married, Mr. CHAPONE was seized with a fever which erminated his life, after about a week's illness. At rst Mrs. CHAPONE seemed to bear this calamity with ortitude, but it preyed on her health, and for some me her life was despaired of. She recovered, howwer, gradually, and resigned herself to a state of life which she yet found many friends and many conlations.

Most of her time was passed in London, or in occaonal visits to her friends, among whom she had the ppiness to number many distinguished characters of th sexes, LORD LYTTELTON, Mrs. MONTAGUE, and e circle who usually visited her house. In 1770 she companied Mrs. MONTAGUE into Scotland. In 1773 she published her Letters on the Improveent of the Mind, originally intended for the use of niece, but given to the world at the request of

Mrs. MONTAGUE, and her other literary friends. As this was her first avowed publication, it made her name more generally known, and increased the number of her admirers. This work was followed by a Volume of Miscellanies.

The latter years of her life were imbittered by the loss of the greater part of the friends of her youth; and after the death of her brother in 1799, as London had no more charms for her, she determined to settle at Winchester, where her favourite niece was married to the Rev. BEN. JEFFREYS; but the death of her niece in childbed made her relinquish this design, and remain in her cheerless lodgings in London. So many privations had now begun to affect her mind, when her sympathizing friends persuaded her to remove to Hadley, where she died Dec. 25, 1801, in the 74th year of her age*.

Such are the few particulars we have been able to collect relative to the history of the ADVENTUrer†. Its pleasing variety rendered it at once more popular than the RAMBLER. The sale in numbers was considerable, and four large editions in volumes were published in less than nine years. The elegance, indeed, of the composition; the charms of the narrative part. and its evident tendency to promote piety and virtue are recommendations which, it is hoped, can neve lose their effect.

* This sketch is taken from her Memoirs lately published, 2 vols. 12mo Dr. JOHNSON asserted, that the Hon. HAMILTON BOYLE wrote i the ADVENTURER; probably one of the few papers which remain with out assignment. BOSWELL'S Journal, p. 240.

As every man in the exercise of his duty to himself and the community, struggles with difficulties which no man has always surmounted, and is exposed to dangers which are never wholly escaped; life has been considered as a warfare, and courage as a virtue more necessary than any other. It was soon found, that without the exercise of courage, without an effort of the mind by which immediate pleasure is rejected, pain despised, and life itself set at hazard, much cannot be contributed to the public good, nor such happiness procured to ourselves as is consistent with that of others.

But as pleasure can be exchanged only for pleasure, every art has been used to connect such graifications with the exercise of courage, as com

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pensate for those which are given up: the pleasures of the imagination are substituted for those of the senses, and the hope of future enjoyments for the possession of present; and to decorate these pleasures and this hope, has wearied eloquence and exhausted learning. Courage has been dignified with the name of heroic virtue ; and heroic virtue has deified the hero: his statue, hung round with ensigns of terror, frowned in the gloom of a wood or a temple; altars were raised before it, and the world was commanded to worship.

Thus the ideas of courage, and virtue, and honour, are so associated, that wherever we perceive courage, we infer virtue and ascribe honour; without considering, whether courage was exerted to produce happiness or misery, in the defence of freedom or support of tyranny.

But though courage and heroic virtue are still confounded, yet by courage nothing more is generally understood than a power of opposing danger with serenity and perseverance. To secure the honours which are bestowed upon courage by custom, it is indeed necessary that this danger should be voluntary: for a courageous resistance of dangers to which we are necessarily exposed by our station, is considered merely as the discharge of our duty, and brings only a negative reward, exemption from infamy.

He, who at the approach of evil betrays his trust or deserts his post is branded with cowardice; a name, perhaps, more reproachful than any other, that does not imply much greater turpitude: he who patiently suffers that which he cannot without guilt avoid, escapes infamy but does not obtain praise. It is the man who provokes danger in its recess, who quits a peaceful retreat, where he might have slumbered in ease and safety, for peril and labour, to drive before a tempest or to watch in a camp; the man who descends from a precipice by a rope at midnight, to fire a city