Servant. Horatio started, his imagination eagerly interpreted these words to have been spoken of Amelia, and he could scarcely restrain the anguish of his feelings from loud exclamation and complaint. 'My lord's conseience grows unusually troublesome, continued the servant; he has or dered me again to enquire after her health, and to provide for the funeral of the child; would she were safe in America! for to be sure, her father is the best old man that ever lived?' 'It is well!' cried Horatio. Did you call sir? said the hostess, opening the door. The servant tock this opportunity of withdrawing and. Horatio silently followed him, at a distance, till he arrived at the habitation of Amelia, in the critical moment which enabled him to save the life he had given, and to rescue his deludedǝdaughter from the desperate sin of suicide. The voice of Honorius, enquiring for the letter, roused Ho ratio from the reverie into which its contents had plunged him.--The honor of his son, the villainy of his antagonist, and Amelia's sufferings, contending with the feel||ings of the father, and the for bearance of the christian, at last prevailed with him to suffer the hostile interview to which Doliscus had thus consented. When therefore, Honorius entered the room, and the natural expressions of tenderness and surprise were mutually exchanged, they freely discoursed of the lamentable history of Amelia, and warmly execrated that treachery which had accomplished the ruin of her peace and fame. Nor had Doliscus confined his baseness to this object. The chance of war had thrown Honorius into his power When Horatio returned to the inn, after discharging the last solemn duties to the departed infant, the landlord presented a letter to him, which a servant had just left at the bar, and asked if he was the person to whom it was addressed. As soon as Horatio had cast his eye upon the superscription, he exclaimed,' What mystery is this? a letter left for my son Honorius at an inn in London.' He eagerly seized the paper, and retiring into an adjoining chamber, he perused its contents with increased amaze-shortly after his departure from ment and agitation. the cottage, and discovering his ffinity to Amelia,the persever ing hypocrite artfully insinuated to the commander in chief, that Honorious meditated an ascape, and obtained an order for his imprisonment on board a frigate, which sailing suddenly for England, he was lodged upon his arrival, in the common gaol, appropriated for the confinement of American priso ners. Here it was, however, that he acquired the information of Amelia's elopement, and heard the cause to which it was imputed, from the captured master of an American vessel, who had formerly been employed in the service of Horatio, and had received the communication from the lips of his ancient patron, in the first moments of his grief. The fate which had unexpectedly led him to Britain, Honorious now regarded as the minister of his revenge. He frowned away the tears which started at the recital of his sister's wrongs, as if ashamed to pity till he had redressed them; and feeling, upon this occasion, an additional motive for soliciting his freedom, he employed the interest of Horatio's name, which notwithstanding the political feuds that prevailed, was sufficient, at length, to procure his discharge upon parole. Having easily learned the abode of Doliscus, he immediately addressed that note to him which produced the answer delivered to Horatio. (To be concluled next week.) MISCELLANEOUS. EXTRACT From Fordyce's Sermons to Young Wo men. Text I will, that women adorn themselves with sobriety. 1 Tim. ii. 1.9 The ornament of Sobriety which comes next to be considered, is But by no means a cheap one. though it be purchased with difficulty, it is lost with ease. To preserve it will require the unremitted exercise of prudence, vigilance and severe circumspection; Or, to speak more properly, these are parts of this quality, which in effect is of a mixed and comprehensive nature. To describe it at large, is not my design. The attempt would lead into a discussion much too dry and uninteresting. If possible, I would engage your attention to truth, and your hearts to goodness, in a different way: by sentiment, pursuasion, and the native influence of fraternal counsel. Come, then, my sisters, and hearken to a brother, while he endeavours to show you on one side those things which you ought principally to shun, in order to the maintaining of your sobriety; and to point out on the other that positive discipline, which must co-operate for this purpose. At pres ent we can only undertake the former of these points. But, before we proceed to that, let me desire you to take notice with what propriety the apostle's ideas seem to rise one above another. He be gins with that which is most directly obvious, and the very first precaution to be observed, modesty of Apparel. Then he mentions shamefacedness; which, though sometimes less apparent, yet one observing cannot fail of recommending itself to every eye, and without which decency of garb is merely affectation. Shamefaced ness, as he has marked it, appears like a kind ef finer covering, the virgin veil of chastity, to be thrown over all the rest. But that it may be a veil in the best sense, a holy veil, and no mask, he subjoins sobriety, as the more inward habit (so to speak) which must support and give value to the whole; or, drop the metaphor, as that eternal and prevailing character, by which every part of a woman's dress and demeanor must ever be regulated. Now to cultivate this character, it is of infinite consequence. In the first place, to avoid dangerous connexions. If that be not done, what is there on earth, or in heaven, that can save you? Of miraculous interposition I think not at present. She can have no right to expect it, who throws herself into the broad way of temptation. What those dangerous connexions are, it may not be always easy to explain, when it becomes a question in a real life. Unhappily for young women, it is a question sometimes of very nice decision. Cases there are, in which nothing can be clearer. The man that behaves with open rudeness; the man that avowedly laughs at virtue; the man that impudently pleads for vice ;. such a man is to be shunned like a rattle-sneke.In this case, the woman that deliberates is. lost. What! would you parley with the destroyer, when he gives you warning? Then you are not ensnared; you knowingly and wilfully expose yourselves. If you be poisened, if you be lost; your folly is without excuse, and your destruction without alleviation. But in this manner none will proceed, except w etches alike licentious and imprudent. Of artful men the approaches will be silent and slow, all will be soft insinuation. Or else they will put on a blunt face of seeming good humour, the appearance of honest frankness, drawing you to every scene of dissipation, with a kind of obliging violence, should violence of any kind be necessary.If they be also agreeable in their persons, or lively in their conversation; above all, if they wear the air of gentlemen, which unfortunately for your sex, is too often the case; then indeed your danger is extreme. Thus far, the trap is concealed. You apprehend nothing; your unsuspecting hearts. begin to slide. They are gone before you are aware. The men 1 am speaking of perceive their advantage the moment it appears. I have supposed them destitute of worth. If they be also uncheck ed by fear, what can preserve you? A sense of reputation? the cread of ruin? Perhaps they may; but perhaps not. They have often, no doubt, come in to prevent the last excess. And, but for such restraints, what would become of many a woman who is not under that best one, religious principle? The experiment, however, you will own, is hazardous. Multitudes have trusted to it, and been undone. But do these, who, in the world's sense, are not undone, escape, think ye, unhurt; unhurt in their health and spirits; in their serenity and self enjoyment; in their sobriety of mind, and habits of self controul? You cannot think it. But how, you will ask, is the spare to be eluded, hidden, as it frequently is? Not so hidden, throughout, as to be invisible, unless you will shut your eyes. Is it not your business to enquire into the character of the man that professes an attachment? Or is character nothing? Is there no essential difference between a man of decency and honor, or who has all along passed for such, and a man who is known to lead an irregular life, or who is suspected, however, to be the smiling foc of female virtue? May you not learn, if you 6 Another thing, no less abominablc, I cannot forbear to mention.How common is it to see young ladies, who pass for women of reputation, admitting into their company in public places, and with visible tokens of civility and pleasure, men whom, the moment before, they saw herding with creatures of infamous name! Graci o u God! what a defiance to the laws Between the bold and the abandoned woman there may still remain, notwithstanding such behaviour, a. distinction in the world's eye, but we scruple not to declare, that religion, purity and delicacy, make none. THE MONITOR. THE CHRISTIAN PHILOSOPHY. BY DR. KNOX. From the eternal fountain of light, both natural and spiritual, there streams a sight, which lighteth every one that cometh into the world. Whoever loves that which is good, and just and true, and desires to act a virtuous part in his place allotted to him in this world, whether high or low, may be assured of the blessing of Heaven, displaying itself, not, perhaps, in wordly riches or honours, but in something infinitely more valuable -a secret influence upon his heart and understanding, to direct his conduct, to improve his nature, and to lead him, though in the lowly vale, yet along the path of peace. THE COMFORTS OF RELIGION. earth trembles to the very,oles the virtuous mind is not assailed by fears, or even doubts, for storms are to it but as zephyrs, or, if possible, more gentle galesand when the labouring breath is obstructed by disease, when the heart sickens, and death is in each gale, even in that awful moment, religion shall sustain the just-it shall grace their last moments, nor will it desert them in the grave. Those who affirm that labour is the only path to glory, are almost left alone within their schools. We are always complaining that our days are few, and acting as if there would be no end of them. It is the delight and charm of literature, that it affords us a refuge from the tumults and contentions of active life. Montesquieu says that he never knew a sorrow which an hour's reading would not assuage. Show us the country where it depends on the cloquence of a Demostenes to determine whether to march or not against Philipand the man will in due time appear, who, like him, will make the chains of the tyrant resound in the cars of his countrymen, till they like the Athenians, involun When the fury of the storm in-tarily start up to oppose him. creases to its utmost height, when the thunder rolls over the heads of affrighted mortals, and when the Nature herself has furnished us with many allurements, which overpower virtuc, & her asleep |