find a comfortable home; but, alas? a short time sufficed to convince me that these hopes were perfectly vain. Miss Specious' ambition is to make a figure; but as she is extremely fond of money, it is not without pain that she goes to the least expense. Thus while her house, her dress, and her public entertainments are all in the best style, she exerts, in all respects that do not come under the public One bad consequence of this violence is, the entire derangement of our family economy; for the servants, very often seeing themselves unjustly blamed by him, give me real cause of complaint, and I am forced to submit, or else be always changing. Another is, that these storms are so sudden and so frequent, that they keep my mind in a state of perpetual uneasiness. I must own that this is his only fault, for he is liberal, good-inspection, an economy, or rather a natured, and fond of me; and, on my part, I protest that I love him better than any thing but peace and quietness; but as I cannot live if deprived of these blessings, I must, if this perverse humour of his contimues, leave him to enjoy it alone. I should have communicated this resolutions to him some time ago, but whenever I attempt to reason with him, he always flies out in such a manner, that it is quite impossible to have any thing like a quiet conversation with him. As I know that he reads your paper, if you will have the goodness to insert my letter, it may perhaps be a means, if he really has any affection for me, to recall him to his senses. I am, sir, your most obedient servant, GRISELDA GROWL. H SIR, TO THE LOITERER. I am an orphan of respectable parentage; my father had a post under government, which died with him, and as his death left me destitute, I thought myself very fortunate in receiving an invitation from Miss Specious, to reside with her as her friend and companion. As she had the reputation of being very generous, and appeared perfectly goodhumoured, I hoped that I should parsimony, that is the torment of all around her; and nobody suffers so much from this struggle between avarice and ostentation as my unfortunate self: for as she only took me to gratify her pride, so her avarice is perpetually representing the expense I am to her, and she tries to indemnify herself for it by employing every moment of my time; but as I, unfortunately, have not the cleverness to execute to her satisfaction the various and often contradictory orders that she gives me, I am continually assailed with reproaches, which seem the more bitter, because I feel that they are undeserved. זי It was stipulated that I should be treated in every respect as a gentlewoman. The list, which I am about to give of my employments, will shew you how well this stipulation has been observed. I rise very early, and occupy myself till breakfast-time in mending her best laces and muslins, or in some other kind of needle-work that requires particular neatness. I then make the coffee for breakfast, because she does not choose to intrust it to the servants, who, she thinks, would pilfer it. When breakfast is over, Miss Specious wants something from Flint's, or a little fruit from Covent-Garden market, or perhaps a chicken from a cheap poulterer's whom she had discover- || that I often rise from table with half 1 a meal. Well, sir, as soon as the cloth is removed, I resume my employment, unless we happen to have company. in which case I am permitted to employ myself in fancy-work for my patroness; and if any of the compa 3 ed about three miles from our house. These commissions can be intrusted to nobody but me. But then also there are a variety of jobs equally in a hurry for me to do at home, such as remodelling her bonnets, fresh trimming her gowns, reading the newspapers, combing the lap-ny is good-natured enough to try to dog, and assisting at the composition draw me from my work, Miss Speof the spie or pudding, for fear the cious never fails to say, in a tones of cook should make free with part of the most perfect kindness, "It is lathe materials. After fidgeting for bour in vain to talk to Sophia; for ca quarter of an hour, Miss Specious the dear girl is so very obstinate, that decides that the out-door affairs must she will ply the steel-bar incessantly, -be first attended to, and I am dis- though she knows I do not like to spatched accordingly, with a hundred see her slave in such a manner." I charges to make all possible haste, was once so completely imposed on but at the same time to get every by the natural and easy manner in thing as cheap as I can. which she spoke, as to put by my work; but she took care, after the departure of the guests, to make me pay pretty dearly for the folly I had been guilty of in believing herons Well, sir, I go, hurry back almost fainting with heat and fatigue, and -am saluted with a volley of reproaches for my long absence in the first place, and for the shameful prices I -have given for whatever I have bought in the next. No moment of rest is sallowed, no refreshment offered me; to work I set directly in some way or other till the dinner-hour arrives; -and if we dine alone, which is generally the case, the meal is sure to be va slender, one, for Miss Specious has ea horror of seeing young people eat heartily. - Middle-aged persons sindeed, she says, want something of -extra nourishment to support their failing strength, for which reason -she eats heartily of animal food, and drinks wine and porter; while I am salmost entirely restricted to bread sand vegetables, washed down with what my patroness calls the most wholesome of all beverages, spring water; and even of this slender diet I am forced to eat so moderately, 43 Vol. IV. No. XXIII. Take what pains I may in my várious occupations, I never have the gratification to acquit myself to the satisfaction of Miss Specious; but as her discontent is expressed only when we are alone, her servants consider me as a high favourite and confidante; and as they think, though unjustly, that I am a spy upon their conduct, they revenge themselves accordingly, by inflicting upon me every mortification in their power, and those, I assure you, are not a few It is now nearly two years that I have borne this kind of life without any complaint, nor should I now have made any, but for a circumstance which renders it impossible for me to go on much longer. I have no fixed salary; for Miss Specious said, she preferred making me presents from time to time, because she could in NON... Logod 1 benvred THE day that Frederic received, addressed, looked first at him, and his discharge from the hospital, his then glancing back at the hospital, benefactress said to him, after hav-said, in a benevolent tone, "I fear ing listened with tears to the expres- you will not be able to reach it; sufsion of his pious gratitude, "Oblige fer me to call a coach for you."me by delivering this letter yourself." No, no," cried Frederic with vivaThe street is far off, and it will be very fatiguing for you to go thither; but it is of importance to me that it should be safely delivered, and for that reason I shall confide it to you, if you will promise to render me this service." city, "I must find the place myself." The passenger, who understood this reply only as a refusal, contented himself with pointing out the way, and Frederic, heedless of the fatigue, went on cheerfully. The sister of St. Camille had part "If I will promise!" cried Frede-ed from him without inquietude for ric. "Oh! if I were to crawl thither on my hands and knees, your wish should be accomplished." In taking the letter, he raised the hand of the sister to his lips; and this chaste kiss, covered by the burning tears that fell from his eyes, filled the heart of the benevolent nun with the sweetest emotion. his fate. She believed that she had provided for him; the letter that he carried was to procure him an asylum. "Take care of him, and above all encourage him," wrote she to her best friend; "for depression will be a mortal blow to him. He does not want resources, but the will to make use of them. Strive, O strive, to make him love life!" 厘 This mission of benevolence was sure to be fulfilled; for the person to whom the letter was addressed had known misfortune. Formerly she was rich and happy in the affection of a worthy husband; but he was then no more, and a law-suit had de Hardly able to support himself upon the crutch placed under the stump of his arm, Frederic quitted the hospital; but he had only taken a few steps when he took from his bosom the precious letter confided to him by the good sister, and inquired his way to rue Fer à Moulin, Faubourg St. Marceau. The person whom he "prived her of her property. Adaugh 265 very dear to me," said she in a sorrowful tone: "she has charged me to take care of you, and to try to dissipate your melancholy; but, alas! she knows not, for I could not resolve to tell her, that I have myself the greatest need of consolation; that I am sinking under a new and terrible misfortune. My daughter, the sole support of my old age, exhaust ter was the only comfort that remained to her: but how precious was that comfort! Though only sixteen, Cecilia had already undertaken to support her mother, whom weeping had nearly deprived of sight: for more than a year, all her moments had been consecrated to this pious duty. She worked without ceasing; her efforts had succeeded, and Madame Freval owed to her in-ed by her incessant labours, is dying dustry the decent necessaries of life. This picture of domestic felicity was present to the imagination of the Sister of Charity, at the moment when, on the threshold of the hospital, she waved a last adieu to Frederic. Happy in the certainty that she had provided for him a safe and agreeable asylum, she returned with a smile of delight to solace the unfortunates who still claimed her attentions. Frederic quitted the hospital at seven in the morning, and it was midday before he reached the rue Fer à Moulin. He mounted to the fifth story in a house of good appearance, and was going to knock at the apartment of Madame Freval, when he heard the voice of some one moaning as if in pain. After listening for a moment, he knocked; the groans continued, but the door was not opened. As the key was on the outside, he opened it softly, and saw an aged female, apparently asleep, near the fire-place. Awakened by the noise of his crutch, she started up in surprise at seeing a stranger. Frederic advanced timidly, saying, "Pardon my unceremonious entrance, but I have promised to deliver this letter into the hands of Madame Freval; and doubtless, madam, you are the lady." She extended her hand for the letter, and sighed heavily when she had finished reading it. "You come from a friend who is of a slow fever. Three days ago she was first attacked with it; but she refused to yield to my entreaties to seek a little rest, because she wanted to finish a drawing that was ordered. She was unable to complete it; for yesterday she was obliged to keep her bed. I have not the means to procure her medical assistance, nor even necessaries. Good young man, I see that you are affected at my sorrow; I am obliged to tell it to you, that you may see how impossible it is for me to serve you at this moment." "Ah! madam, put me entirely out of the question; I think only of you at this moment," said Frederic in a tone of lively interest. In fact, her sorrowful recital sensibly touched him: the sweet hope of being useful to a fellow-creature roused him on a sudden from the apathy in which he was plunged, and the pleasure that he felt appeared in his countenance. Madame Freval saw the change with surprise, but she was not long ignorant of the cause. He seated himself, without speaking, at the table on which the unfinished drawing lay, and prepared to complete it. You know how to draw then?" said Madame Freval, reanimated by a sweet hope.-" Yes, madam; and, thanks be to God, I have preserved my right arm! I can finish this piece in a few hours." In spite of fatigue, hunger, and weakness, he fell to work with alacrity. He was really a clever artist; but the sweet sentiment that inspired him made him excel himself: the drawing was a master-piece. While he was thus occupied, Madame Freval, leaning over the head of her daughter's bed, which was placed in an alcove, and concealed by curtains, conversed with her in a low voice on the providential chance which had sent him to their relief. Cecilia wished to see the drawing when it was completed, and though too weak to take more than a transient view of it, yet a glance sufficed to shew her, that it was the performance of a master, whose talents she was far from equalling; and the faint smile that followed a movement of admiration, apprised Madame Freval that the future already presented itself under a less dreary aspect to her daughter. The good mother, leaving her daughter under the care of a female neighbour, hastened to receive the price of the drawing. She soon returned, followed by a physician, who declared that repose and nourishment were all that was necessary to restore Cecilia to health. Madame Freval now prepared a comfortable supper, which the young soldier partook of, with a delight to which he had long been a stranger. Life, lately so valueless in his eyes, now opened upon him in dazzling colours. He had been able to serve a fellow-creature, and one too who was beloved by his preserver. He had made, as he hoped, a friend with whom he could live in that sweet interchange of good offices which he had despaired of finding: in a word, he was no longer desolaté upon earth. Peace and joy dawned upon his soul, and he retired to the humble bed which Madame Freval had engaged in the same house for him, in a happier frame of mind than he had known since the death of his mother. From that day, the affairs of this little family prospered. The health of Cecilia was soon re-established; she pursued her labours with alacrity, and under the tuition of Frederic, with increased success. Frederic himself worked incessantly, and, as he obstinately refused to receive any other compensation for his labours than his board and lodging, Madame Freval soon found herself able to live comfortably, and even to save money. In a word, notwithstanding her reverse of fortune, the good woman would have thought herself at the height of human felicity, could she have secured to herself the blessings she then enjoyed; but Frederic and her daughter were too young to be so constantly together without giving rise to scandal: there was but one way to obviate it, and that was to marry them. But Frederic had never spoken of love, and though Cecilia appeared partial to him, yet she was so very young, that she might perhaps mistake a transient inclination for a real passion. These thoughts embittered the happiness Madame Freval would otherwise have enjoyed: more than once she went with a determination to open her heart to her friend the good Sister of Charity; but when she beheld the pious religieuse wholly absorbed in the duties of religion and charity, she felt ashamed to speak of the weaknesses of humanity to one, who, though still y young and beautiful, appeared so wholly above them. One day, however, an occasion |