I cannot doubt, but my proposal will be agreeable to you both. And I beg of you, dear Sir, to take me at my word; and don't let me be tortured, as I have been so many weeks, with such anguish of mind, that nothing but religious considerations can make supportable to me.'

And are you in earnest, Pamela ?' coming to me, and folding me in his arms over the chair's back, the seat of which supported my trembling knees Can you so easily part with me?'

'I can, Sir, and I will!-rather than divide my interest in you, knowingly, with any lady upon earth. But say not, however, can I part with you, Sir; it is you that part with me; and tell me, Sir, tell me but what you had intended should become of me?'

'You talk to me, my dearest life, as if all you had heard against me was true; and you would have me answer you, (would you?) as if it was.'

'I want nothing to convince me, Sir, that the Countess loves you; you know the rest of my information; judge for me, what I can, what I ought to believe!-You know the rumours of the world concerning you: even I, who stay so much at home, and have not taken the least pains to find out my wretchedness, nor to confirm it, since I knew it, have come to the hearing of it; and if you know the license taken with both your characters, and yet correspond so openly, must it not look to me, that you value not your honour in the world's eye, nor my lady hers? I told you, Sir, the answer she made to her uncle.'

You told me, my dear, as you were told. Be tender of a lady's reputation-for your own sake. No one is exempted from calumny; and even words said, and the occasion of saying them not known, may bear a very different construction from what they would have done, had the occasion been told.'

This may be all true, Sir: I wish the lady would be as tender of her reputation as I would be, let her injure me in your affections as she will. But can you say, Sir, that there is nothing between you, that should not be according to my notions of virtue and honour, and according to your own, which I took pride in, before that fatal masquerade?

You answer me not,' continued I; and may I not fairly presume you are not able to answer me as I wish to be answered? But come, dearest Sir,' (and I put my arms round his neck) let me not urge you too boldly. I will

never forget your benefits and your past kindnesses to me. I have been a happy creature: no one, till within these few weeks, was ever so happy as I. I will love you still with a passion as ardent as ever I loved you. Absence cannot lessen such a love as mine: I am sure it cannot. I see your difficulties. You have gone too far to recede. If you can make it easy to your conscience, I will wait with patience my happier destiny; and I will wish to live, (if I can be convinced you wish me not to die) in order to pray for you, and to be a directress to the first education of my dearest baby. You sigh, dear Sir; repose your beloved face next to my fond heart. 'Tis all your own: and ever shall be, let it, or let it not, be worthy of the honour in your estimation. But yet, my dear Mr B., if one could as easily, in the prime of sensual youth, look twenty years forward, as one can twenty years backward, what an empty vanity, what a mere nothing, will be all those grosser satisfactions, that now give wings of desire to our debased appetites! Motives of religion will have their due force upon your mind one day, I hope; as, blessed be God, they have enabled me to talk to you on such a touching point (after infinite struggles, I own) with so much temper and resignation; and then, my dearest Mr B., when we come to that last bed, from which the piety of our friends shall lift us, but from which we shall never be able to raise ourselves; for, dear Sir, your Countess, and you, and your poor Pamela, must all come to this! —we shall find what it is will give us the true joy, and enable us to support the pangs of the dying hour.-Think you, my dearest Sir,' (and I pressed my lips to his forehead, as his head was reclined on my throbbing bosom,) that then, in that important moment, what now gives us the greatest pleasure, will have any part in our consideration, but as it may give us wo or comfort in the reflection? But I will not, I will not, O best beloved of my soul, afflict you farther.Why should I thus sadden all your gaudy prospects? I have said enough to such a heart as yours, if divine grace touches it. And if not, all I can say will be of no avail!—I will leave you therefore to that, and to your own reflections. And after giving you ten thousand thanks for your kind, your indulgent patience with me, I will only beg, that I may set out in a week for Kent, with my dear Billy; that you will receive one letter at least, from me, of gratitude and blessings; it shall not be of upbraidings and exclamations. But my child you must not deny me; for I shall haunt, like

his shadow, every place wherein you shall put my Billy, if you should be so unkind to deny him to me!-And, if, more. over, you will permit me to have the dear Miss Goodwin with me, as you had almost given me room to hope, I will read over all the books of education, and digest them, as well as I am able, in order to send you my scheme, and to show you how fit I hope your indulgence, at least, will make you think me, of having two such precious trusts reposed in me!'

I was silent, waiting in tears his answer. But his generous heart was touched, and seemed to labour within him for expression. He came round to me at last, and took me in his arms. Exalted creature!' said he; 'noble minded Pamela ! Let no bar be put between us henceforth! No wonder, when one looks back to your first promising dawn of excellence, that your fuller day should thus irresistibly dazzle such weak eyes as mine. Whatever it costs me, and I have been inconsiderately led on by blind passion for an object too charming, but which I never thought equal to my Pamela, I will (for it is yet, I bless God, in my power) restore to your virtue a husband all your own.'

O Sir, Sir!' (and I should have sunk down with joy, had not his kind arms supported me) what have you said? -Can I be so happy as to behold you innocent as to deed! God, of his infinite goodness, continue you both so!-And Oh! that the dear lady would make me as truly love her, for the graces of her mind, as I admire her for the advantages of her person !'

'You are virtue itself, my dearest life; and from this moment I will reverence you as my tutelary angel. I shall behold you with awe, and implicitly give up myself to all your dictates: for what you say, and what you do, must be ever right. But I will not, my dearest life, too lavishly promise, lest you should think it the sudden effects of passions thus movingly touched, and which may subside again, when the soul, as you observed in your own case, sinks to its former level; but this I promise you, (and I hope you believe me, and will pardon the pain I bave given you, which made me fear, more than once, that your head was affected, so uncommon, yet so like yourself, has been the manner of your acting) that I will break off a correspondence that has given you so much uneasiness: and my Pamela may believe, that if I can be as good as my word in this point, she will never more be in danger of any rival whatever.

But say, my dear love,' (added he) say you forgive me; and resume but your former cheerfulness, and affectionate regards to me; else I shall suspect the sincerity of your forgiveness: and you shall indeed go to Kent; but not without me nor your boy either; and if you insist upon it, the poor child you have wished so often and so generously to have, shall be given up absolutely to your disposal.'

Do you think, Madam, I could speak any one distinct sentence? No indeed I could not- Pardon, pardon you, dear Sir !'-and I sunk down on my knees, from his arms—‹ All I beg-All I hope-Your pardon-my thankfulness.—O spare me-spare me but words'-And indeed I was just choked with my joy; I never was so in my whole life before. And my eyes were in a manner fixed, as the dear man told me afterwards; and that he was a little startled, seeing nothing but the whites; for the sight was out of its orbits, in a manner lifted up to heaven-in ecstacy for a turn so sudden, and so unexpected!

THOMAS SKINNER SURR.

ABOUT twenty years ago, SURR was a fashionable and popular novelist; and it is but proper to give a specimen of him. His novels had the merit of being readable at a time when scarcely any thing but trash filled that department of literature. The titles of them are: Consequences,' 2 vols.— George Barnwell,' 3 vols. Splendid Misery' (his most popular one) 3 vols. Magic of Wealth,' 3 vols.—and 'Winter in London,' 3 vols. These are still to be found in every circulating library. Our extract is from the last work, which was published in 1806, and although it is not quite characteristic of the author, we prefer it as a very clever piece of biography-resembling some of the spirited sketches of Miss Edgeworth.

THE FOUNDER OF A FAMILY.

MR Sawyer Dickens was universally known as one of the wealthiest commoners in England. There was not wanting, however, some persons with strong memories who recollected that the origin of the wealthy banker was far from splendid. In truth, the first property acquired by the father of Mr Dickens was obtained by the application of his talents and industry to the useful employments of cleaning boots and shoes, and knives and forks at a public house in the neighbourhood of Newgate Market. Ned Dickens was indebted to Yorkshire for his birth, parentage, and education, and was a firm and sincere professor of that celebrated creed, 'that pence get shillings, and shillings get pounds.' This faith enabled him to endure with patience and humility, many a cuff and kick, and cheered him under many a cloud