tude of his soul could hardly sustain a conflict against the grief and passion that consum ed him, while, on the one hand, he beheld the distrac tion of his daughter, and, on the other, anticipated the danger of his son. He resolved, however, to keep Amelia's indisposition a secret from Honorius, with whom he arranged the dreadful business of the morning, and, kaving fervently bestowed his blessing there, he returned to pass the night in prayer and watching by Amelia's side. Honorius retired to his chamber, but not to rest. It was not, however, the danger of the approaching combat, which occasioned a monent's anxiety or reflection; for his courage was superior to every consideration of personal safety. But that courage had hitherto been regulated by a sense of obligation consistent with the precepts of religion-he had often exerted it to deserve the glorious meed of a soldier, but he scorned to employ it for the contemptible reputation of a duelist; it had taught him to serve his country, but not to offend bis God. "If there is insult, or a petulant disposi tion that influences my conduct:" said Honorius, as he mused upon the subject."A sister basely tricked of her innocence and fame, a father ungratefully plundered of his peace and hopes, in the last stage life, and myself (but that is little) treacherously transported to a remote and inhospitable land-these are my motives ; and Heaven, Doliscus, be the judge be tween us ! As soon as the dawn appeared, Honorius repaired to the place of appointment, where a few minutes before the hour, Doliscus, likewise arrived.He was attended by a friend, but perceiving his antagonist alone, he requested his comt panion to withdraw to a distant spot, from which he might observe the event, and afford. assistance to the vanquished party. "Once more we meet, Sir," sad Doliscus, "upon the business of death; but that fortune which failed you in your country's cause, may be more propitious in your own.""What pity it is," exclaimed Honorius, "that thou should'st be a villain, for thou art brave!" a cause which can justify the act, is it mine? "Tis not a punctilious honor, a visionary" Nay, I come to offer a more substantial revenge for the repentance, and, if you dare ask her to forgive me." The resentments of Honorius were gross an epithet-take it, sir-subdued, he presented his hand to the dying Doliscus, in whose eye a gleam of joy was kindled at the thought, but it was quickly superceded by a cold and sudden tremour; he attempted, but in vain, to speak; he seized the offered hand; he pressed it eagerly to his lips, and in the moment of that expressive action, he expired. Honorius now hastened to inform Horatio of this fatal event, and to contrive the means of escape. But when he returned to the inn, confusion and distress were pictured on every face; a wild, but harmonious, voice, occasionally broke forth into melancholy strains, and the name of Amelia was repeatedly pronounced in accents of tenderness and compassion. "How is it my son?" cried Ho rtio "Doliscus is no more!" replied Honorius.Would he had lived another I wished not the ruin Nobly done," cried Do- of his soul." Here their conversation was interrupted, by the melodious GA chauntings of Amelia: I'll have none of your flowr's, tho, so blooming and sweet; Their scent, it may poison, and false is their hue; I tell you begone! for I ne'er shall forget, That Doliscus was lovely and treach erous too. Honorius listened 'attentively to the song; it vibrated in his ear, and swelled the aching artery of his heart. • Come on!" said Horatio leading him to Amelia's chamber. They found her sitting on the bed, with a pillow before her, over which she moved her fingers, as if playing on a harpsichord. Their entrance disturbed her for a moment, but she soon resumed her employment. He said and swore helov'd me true: A heavy sigh followed these lines, which were articulated in a wistful and sympathetic tone, and she sunk exhausted on her bed. In a few minutes, however, she started from this still and silent state, and having gazed with a wild and aching eye around the room, she uttered a loud and piercing cry-it was the awful signal of ber dissolution-and her in jured spirit took its everlasting flight. The reader will excuse' a minute description of the succeeding scenes. The alarm raised by the death of Doliscus compelled Honorius to quicken his departure, and he joined the standard of America a few hours before the battle of Monmouth, in which, for the service of his country, he sacrificed a life that misforconsider of no other use or estune had then taught him to timation. As for the venerable Hora tio-having carried with him to the cottage the remains of his darling child, in a melancholy solitude he consumes the time; his only business, meditation and prayer; his only recreation a daily visit to the monument, which he has raised in commemoration of Amelia's fate, and all his consolation resting in this assurance, that whatever may be the suf ferings of virtue HERE, its por. tion must be happiness HERE AFTER. ORATORS. Orators should never attempt to move the passions until they have endeavoured to convince Blair. munity, there are to be found, would any discriminating per son take the trouble to visit them, in want of the common necessaries of life, suffering cold, enduring hunger and fatigue, and consequently, ingering out a dire and miserable existence. What scenes would the Poetic Muse find here, worthy of recapitulating in tuneful and heart melting number, and whilst she hovered over the habitation of poverty, her pensive strains would awaken dormant Humanity, and conduct her open handed, and in tears to the habitation of MISERY.. THE following beautiful verses subjoined to this sketch I committed to memory when young, and as the author from whom they were extracted has escaped my recollection, whilst I am yet capable of communicating them to you withot doing any injury to the ingenious composer, i would wish them printed in your Miscellany, where I imagine they will meet with the approbation of every admirer of that pathos which is so eminently calculated to arrest the attention to Poetic beauty, and to fan up by a mild, yet irresistible im-ed, and every son of Adam has pulse the less turbulent feel- his perplexities and burden of ings of the bosom into a pleas- calamity. There is one speing and museful melancholy. cies of unhappiness, however, which I imagine will be found on experience, the most exexcrutiating, and at the same time the least vulnerable for Are the lower classes of civilized society the least hap py? Perhaps not. The middle grades of the more exalt The gathering ills' of life, is ever the complaint of nearly the aggregate of the uncultiva ted sons of men, who, not capable of expressing their un- philosophy to combat. I mean happiness in the strains of ele- where a man in full enjoyment gant and refined sentiment of that plenty, the consequent notwithstanding, can speak the of good fortune and wealth, voice of nature. Hundreds, who sees his coffers daily fillnay, thousands of the lowered with the latter without even classes of every civilized, com- being capable of coumerating the sources from which they copiously flow. His carriage rolling in splendour. His mansion the resort of the fashionable and the gay. His princely table groaning under the weight of delicious viands, whose perfumes ascend to heaven, commingling with the odours of Arabian and Asiatic profuseness-and a single blast of ill-fortune reduces him to poverty, beggary and rags,deserted by the friends of his prosperity; his children crying for bread, and his wife looking to him for sustenance and protection-alas, I here feel the impotency of the prosaic pen; at least the feeble powers of my own must too visibly demonstrate the want of genius to delineate the eloquence of sympathy and imagination. LINES. COME, take the harp-'tis vain to muse Upon the gathering ills we see ; Oh take the harp, and let me lose All thoughts of ill in hearing thee. Sing to me, love!--though death were near, Thy song could make my soul for- Nay, nay, in pity dry that tear, Let me but see that snowy arm Once more upon the dear harp lie, And I will cease to dream of harm, Give me that strain of mournful touch, We used to love, long, long ago, Before our hearts, had known so much, As now, alas! they bleed to know. Sweet notes! they tell of former peace, Of all that look'd so rapt'rous then, Now wither'd, lost-oh! pray thee cease, I cannot bear those sounds again. Art thou too, wretched? yes, thou art, If any of your correspondents will furnish the communication of the above lines, the name of their author, through the medium of your paper, he will take it as a particular fa vour. To the Editors of the Lady's Miscellany. Gentlemen, As you are about closing the 11th volume of the Lady's Miscellany, (and the second, since it has been in your hands,) I deem it a mark of gratitude, which is not only due from me but each individual of your subscribers, to take some notice of the rapid improvement the Miscellany has undergone since it came into your hands. We must give Mr. Whitley Will smile at fate while thou art nigh. (the former proprietor) credit |