I travell❜d then till health again resumed
Its former seat-I must not say re-bloom'd;
And then I fill'd, not loth, that favourite place
That has enrich'd some seniors of our race;
Patient and dull I grew; my uncle's praise
Was largely dealt me on my better days;
A love of money-other love at rest-
Came creeping on, and settled in my breast;
The force of habit held me to the oar,
Till I could relish what I scorn'd before:
Inow could talk and scheme with men of sense,
Who deal for millions, and who sigh for pence,
And grew so like them, that I heard with joy
Old Blueskin said I was a pretty boy;
For I possess'd the caution with the zeal,
That all true lovers of their interest feel:
Exalted praise! and to the creature due,
Who loves that interest solely to pursue.
'But I was sick, and sickness brought
disgust;

My peace I could not to my profits trust:

Again some views of brighter kind appear'd, My heart was humbled, and my mind was clear'd;

I felt those helps that souls diseased restore, And that cold frenzy, avarice, raged no more. From dreams of boundless wealth I then arose;

This place, the scene of infant bliss, I chose, And here I find relief, and here I seek repose. 'Yet much is lost, and not yet much is

found,

But what remains, I would believe, is sound;
That first wild passion, that last mean desire,
Are felt no more; but holier hopes require
A mind prepared and steady-my reform
Has fears like his, who, suffering in a storm,
Is on a rich but unknown country cast,
The future fearing, while he feels the past;
But whose more cheerful mind, with hope
imbued,

Sees through receding clouds the rising good.'

Morning Walk and Conversation-Visit at a Cottage-Characters of the Sisters--Lucy and Jane-Their Lovers--Their Friend the Banker and his Lady-Their Intimacy Its Consequence-Different Conduct of the Lovers-The Effect upon the SistersTheir present State The Influence of their Fortune upon the Minds of either.

THE morning shone in cloudless beauty bright;

Richard his letters read with much delight; George from his pillow rose in happy tone, His bosom's lord sat lightly on his throne: They read the morning news-they saw the sky Inviting call'd them, and the earth was dry. The day invites us, brother,' said the 'squire ;

If Phoebe comes, do you attend to her;
And let not Mary get a chattering press
Of idle girls to hear of her distress:
Ask her to wait till my return—and hide
From her meek mind your plenty and your
pride;

We still may beauty in our prospects trace; If not, we have them in both mind and face. "Tis but two miles-to let such women live Unseen of him, what reason can I give? Why should not Richard to the girls be known?

Would I have all their friendship for my own?

This said, the brothers hasten'd on their way,

With all the foretaste of a pleasant day. The morning purpose in the mind had fix'd The leading thought, and that with others mix'd.

possess

The strength that bears us up in our distress;
And need not the resources of our pride,
Our fall from greatness and our wants to hide;
But have the spirit and the wish to show,
We know our wants as well as others know.
'Tis true, the rapid turns of fortune's wheel
Make even the virtuous and the humble feel:
They for a time must suffer, and but few
Can bear their sorrows and our pity too.
'Hence all these small expedients, day by
day,

Are used to hide the evils they betray:
When, if our pity chances to be seen,
The wounded pride retorts, with anger keen,
And man's insulted grief takes refuge in
his spleen.

'When Timon's board contains a single dish, Timon talks much of market-men and fish, Forgetful servants, and th' infernal cook, Who always spoil'd whate'er she undertook. 'But say, it tries us from our height to fall, Yet is not life itself a trial all?

And not a virtue in the bosom lives,
That gives such ready pay as patience gives;
That pure submission to the ruling mind,
Fix'd, but not forced; obedient, but not
blind;

The will of heaven to make her own she tries,
Or makes her own to heaven a sacrifice.

'And is there aught on earth so rich or rare, Whose pleasures may with virtue's pains compare?

This fruit of patience, this the pure delight,
That 'tis a trial in her Judge's sight;
Her part still striving duty to sustain,
Not spurning pleasure, not defying pain;
Never in triumph till her race be won,
And never fainting till her work be done.'
With thoughts like these they reach'd the
village brook,

And saw a lady sitting with her book;
And so engaged she heard not, till the men
Were at her side, nor was she frighten'd then ;
But to her friend, the 'squire, his smile
return'd,

Through which the latent sadness he discern'd.

The stranger-brother at the cottage door
Was now admitted, and was strange no more :
Then of an absent sister he was told,
Whom they were not at present to behold;

'The girls were orphans early; yet I saw, When young, their father-his profession law; He left them but a competence, a store That made his daughters neither rich nor poor;

Not rich, compared with some who dwelt around;

Not poor, for want they neither fear'd nor found;

Their guardian uncle was both kind and just, One whom a parent might in dying trust; Who, in their youth, the trusted store improved,

And, when he ceased to guide them, fondly loved.

'These sister beauties were in fact the grace Of yon small town,-it was their native place; Like Saul's famed daughters were the lovely

If told the childish wishes, one bespoke
A lamb, a bird, a garden, and a brook;
The other wish'd a joy unknown, a rout
Or crowded ball, and to be first led out.

'Lucy loved all that grew upon the ground,
And loveliness in all things living found;
The gilded fly, the fern upon the wall,
Were nature's works, and admirable all;
Pleased with indulgence of so cheap a kind,
Its cheapness never discomposed her mind.
'Jane had no liking for such things as these,
Things pleasing her must her superiors please;
The costly flower was precious in her eyes,
That skill can vary, or that money buys;
Her taste was good, but she was still afraid,
Till fashion sanction'd the remarks she made.
The sisters read, and Jane with some
delight,

The satires keen that fear or rage excite, That men in power attack, and ladies high, And give broad hints that we may know them by.

She was amused when sent to haunted rooms,
Or some dark passage where the spirit comes
Of one once murder'd! then she laughing
read,

And felt at once the folly and the dread:
As rustic girls to crafty gipsies fly,
And trust the liar though they fear the lie,
Or as a patient, urged by grievous pains,
Will fee the daring quack whom he disdains,
So Jane was pleased to see the beckoning
hand,

And trust the magic of the Ratcliffe-wand.

'In her religion-for her mind, though light, Was not disposed our better views to slightHer favourite authors were a solemn kind, Who fill with dark mysterious thoughts the mind;

And who with such conceits her fancy plied, Became her friend, philosopher, and guide.

'She made the Progress of the Pilgrim one To build a thousand pleasant views upon; All that connects us with a world above She loved to fancy, and she long'd to prove; Well would the poet please her, who could lead

Her fancy forth, yet keep untouch'd her creed.

Led by an early custom, Lucy spied,
When she awaked, the Bible at her side;
That, ere she ventured on a world of care,
She might for trials, joys or pains prepare,

They loved each other with the warmth of youth,

With ardour, candour, tenderness, and truth; And though their pleasures were not just the same,

Yet both were pleased whenever one became ; Nay, each would rather in the act rejoice, That was th' adopted, not the native choice.

Each had a friend, and friends to minds
so fond

And good are soon united in the bond;
Each had a lover; but it seem'd that fate
Decreed that these should not approximate.
Now Lucy's lover was a prudent swain,
And thought, in all things, what would be
his gain;

The younger sister first engaged his view,
But with her beauty he her spirit knew ;
Her face he much admired, "but, put the
case,"

Said he, "I marry, what is then a face?

'But Lucy found him to his mother kind, And saw the Christian meekness of his mind; His voice was soft, his temper mild and sweet, His mind was easy, and his person neat. Jane said he wanted courage; Lucy drew No ill from that, though she believed it too;

"It is religious, Jane, be not severe; "Well, Lucy, then it is religious fear." Nor could the sister, great as was her love, A man so lifeless and so cool approve.

'Jane had a lover, whom a lady's pride Might wish to see attending at her side, Young, handsome, sprightly, and with good address,

Not mark'd for folly, error or excess;
Yet not entirely from their censure free,
Who judge our failings with severity;
The very care he took to keep his name
Stainless, with some was evidence of shame.
'Jane heard of this, and she replied,
Enough;

66

Prove but the facts, and I resist not proof;
Nor is my heart so easy as to love
The man my judgment bids me not approve."
But yet that heart a secret joy confess'd,
To find no slander on the youth would rest;
His was, in fact, such conduct, that a maid
Might think of marriage, and be not afraid;
And she was pleased to find a spirit high,
Free from all fear, that spurn'd hypocrisy.
"What fears my sister?" said the partial
fair,

For Lucy fear'd,-" Why tell me to beware?
No smooth deceitful varnish can I find ;
His is a spirit generous, free, and kind;
And all his flaws are seen, all floating in his
mind.

And far from need, both loving and beloved. Thus grew, as myrtles grow; I grieve at heart

That I have pain and sorrow to impart.
But so it is, the sweetest herbs that grow
In the lone vale, where sweetest waters flow,
Ere drops the blossom, or appears the fruit,
Feel the vile grub, and perish at the root;
And in a quick and premature decay,
Breathe the pure fragrance of their life away.

'A town was near, in which the buildings all Were large, but one pre-eminently tallAn huge high house. Without there was an air

Of lavish cost; no littleness was there;
But room for servants, horses, whiskies, gigs,
And walls for pines and peaches, grapes and
figs;

Bright on the sloping glass the sun-beams shone,

And brought the summer of all climates on. 'Here wealth its prowess to the eye dis

play'd,

And here advanced the seasons, there delay'd; Bid the due heat each growing sweet refine, Made the sun's light with grosser fire combine, And to the Tropic gave the vigour of the Line.

'Yet, in the master of this wealth, behold A light vain coxcomb taken from his gold, Whose busy brain was weak, whose boasting heart was cold.

'O! how he talk'd to that believing town, That he would give it riches and renown; Cause a canal where treasures were to swim, And they should owe their opulence to him In fact, of riches he insured a crop,

So they would give him but a seed to drop.
As used the alchymist his boasts to make,
"I give you millions for the mite I take;"
The mite they never could again behold,
The millions all were Eldorado gold.

'By this professing man, the country round Was search'd to see where money could be found.

The thriven farmer, who had lived to spare,

Became an object of especial care;

He took the frugal tradesman by the hand, And wish'd him joy of what he might command;

And the industrious servant, who had laid
His saving by, it was his joy to aid;
Large talk, and hints of some productive plan
Half named, won all his hearers to a man;
Uncertain projects drew them wondering on,
And avarice listen'd till distrust was gone.
But when to these dear girls he found his way,
All easy, artless, innocent were they;
When he compell'd his foolish wife to be
At once so great, so humble, and so free;
Whom others sought, nor always with suc-
cess !

But they were both her pride and happiness;
And she esteem'd them, but attended still
To the vile purpose of her husband's will;
And when she fix'd his snares about their
mind,

Respected those whom she essay'd to blind; Nay with esteem she some compassion gave To the fair victims whom she would not save. 'The Banker's wealth and kindness were

her themes,

His generous plans, his patriotic schemes; What he had done for some, a favourite few, What for his favourites still he meant to do; Not that he always listen'd-which was hard

To her, when speaking of her great regard For certain friends-" but you, as I may say, Are his own choice-I am not jealous-nay!"

Then came the man himself, and came
with speed

As just from business of importance freed;
Or just escaping, came with looks of fire,
As if he'd just attain'd his full desire;
As if Prosperity and he for life

Were wed, and he was showing off his wife;
Pleased to display his influence, and to prove
Himself the object of her partial love:
Perhaps with this was join'd the latent fear,
The time would come when he should not be
dear.

'Jane laugh'd at all their visits and parade, And call'd it friendship in an hot-house made;

A style of friendship suited to his taste, Brought on, and ripen'd, like his grapes, in haste;

She saw the wants that wealth in vain would hide,

And all the tricks and littleness of pride; On all the wealth would creep the vulgar stain,

And grandeur strove to look itself in vain. Lucy perceived-but she replied, "why heed

Such small defects?-they're very kind indeed!"

And kind they were, and ready to produce
Their easy friendship, ever fit for use,
Friendship that enters into all affairs,
And daily wants, and daily gets, repairs.
Hence at the cottage of the sisters stood
The Banker's steed-he was so very good;
Oft through the roads, in weather foul and fair,
Their friend's gay carriage bore the gentle
pair;

His grapes and nectarines woo'd the virgins' hand,

His books and roses were at their command; And costly flowers,-he took upon him shame That he could purchase what he could not

In her regard; she smiled, but listen'd too; Nay, would be grateful, she would trust her all, Her funded source,-to him a matter small; Taken for their sole use, and ever at their call: To be improved-he knew not how indeed; But he had methods-and they must succeed.

"This was so good, that Jane, in very pride, To spare him trouble, for a while denied; And Lucy's prudence, though it was alarm'd, Was by the splendor of the Banker charm'd;