youthful sallies, she seemed never better pleased than when she could add to our amusement and happiness.

In this manner I had passed my time, and had entered my seventeenth year, when my aunt was seized with an indisposition, which alarmed me much, although her physicians assured me it was by no means dangerous. My fears increased, on observing that she herself thought it serious, Her tenderness seemed, if possible, to increase; and, though she was desirous to conceal her apprehensions, I have sometimes, when she imagined I did not observe it, found her eyes fixed on me with a mixture of solicitude and compassion, that never failed to overpower me.

One day she called me into her closet, and, after embracing me tenderly, My dear Harriet,' said she, it is vain to dissemble longer. I feel my • strength decay so fast, that I know we soon must 'part. As to myself, the approach of death gives me little uneasiness; and I thank Almighty God that I can look forward to that awful change without dread, and without anxiety. But when I think, my child, of the condition in which I shall leave you, my heart swells with anguish !You know my situation; possessed of no fortune, the little I have saved from my jointure, will be altogether inadequate to support you in that society in which you have hitherto lived. When I look back on my conduct towards you, I am not sure that it has been altogether prudent. I thought it impossible to bestow too much on your education, or to render you too accomplished, I fondly hoped to live to see you happily established in life, united to a man who could discern your merit, who could put a just value on all your acquirements. These hopes are at an end; all, however,

'that can now be done, I have done.-Here are two papers; by the one you will succeed to the little I shall leave; the other is a letter to your father, in which I have recommended you in the most ' earnest manner to his protection, and intreated 'him to come to town as soon as he hears of my ⚫ death, and conduct you to Scotland. He is a man of virtue; and I hope you will live happily in his 'family. One only fear I have, and that proceeds < from the extreme sensibility of your mind, and gentleness of your disposition; little formed by nature to struggle with the hardships and the ⚫ difficulties of life, perhaps the engaging softness ⚫ of your temper has rather been increased by the education you have received. I trust, however, that your good sense will prevent you from being 'hurt by any little cross untoward accidents you 'may meet with, and that it will enable you to • make the most of that situation in which it may be the will of Heaven to place you.'

To all this I could only answer with my tears; and, during the short time that my aunt survived, she engrossed my attention so entirely, that I never once bestowed a thought on myself. As soon after her death as I could command myself sufficiently, I wrote to my father; and, agreeably to my aunt's instruction, inclosed her letter for him; in consequence of which he came to town in a few weeks. Meeting with a father to whose person I was a perfect stranger, and on whom I was ever after entirely to depend, was to me a most interesting event. My aunt had taught me to entertain for him the highest reverence and respect; but, though I had been in use to write, from time to time, both to him, and to a lady he had married not long after my mother's death, I had never been able to draw either the

one or the other into any thing like a regular correspondence; so that I was equally a stranger to their sentiments and dispositions as to their persons.

On my father's arrival, I could not help feeling, that he did not return my fond carresses with that warmth with which I had made my account; and afterwards, it was impossible not to remark, that he was altogether deficient in those common attentions which, in polite society, every woman is accustomed to receive, even from those with whom she is most nearly connected. My aunt had made it a rule to consider her domestics as humble friends, and to treat them as such; but my father addressed them with a roughness of voice and of manner that disgusted them, and was extremely unpleasant to me. I was still more hurt with his minute and anxious inquiries about the fortune my aunt had died possessed of; and, when he found how inconsiderable it was, he swore a great oath, that, if he had thought she was to breed me a fine lady, and leave me a beggar, I never should have entered her house. But don't cry, Harriet,' added he, it was not your fault; be a good girl, and you shall never 'want while I have.'

On our journey to Scotland, I sometimes attempted to amuse my father by engaging him in conversation; but I never was lucky enough to hit on any subject on which he wished to talk. After a journey, which many circumstances concurred to render rather unpleasant, we arrived at my father's house. I had been told that it was situated in a remote part of Scotland, and thence I concluded the scene around it to be of that wild romantic kind, of all others the best suited to my inclination. But, instead of the rocks, the woods, the water-falls I had fancied to myself, I found an open, bleak, barren moor, cover. ed with heath, except a few patches round the

house, which my father, by his skill in agriculture, had brought to bear grass and corn.

My mother-in-law, a good looking woman, about forty, with a countenance that bespoke frankness and good-humour, rather than sensibility or delicacy, received me with much kindness; and, after giving me a hearty welcome to presented me to her two daughters, girls about fourteen or fifteen, with ruddy complexions, and every appearance of health and contentment. We found with them a Mr. Plowshare, a young gentleman of the neighbourhocd, who, I afterwards learned, farmed his own estate, and was considered by my father as the most respectable man in the county. They immediately got into a dissertation on farming, and the different modes of agriculture practised in the different parts. of the country, which continued almost without interruption till some time after dinner, when my father fell fast asleep. But this made no material alteration in the discourse; for Mr. Plowshare and the ladies then entered into a discussion of the most approved methods of feeding poultry and fattening pigs, which lasted till the evening was pretty far advanced. It is now some months since I arrived at my father's; during all which time I have scarcely ever heard any other conversation. You may easily conceive, Sir, the figure I make on such occasions. Though the good-nature of my mother-in-law prevents her from saying so, I can plainly perceive that she, as well as my sisters, consider me as one who has been extremely ill educated, and as ignorant of every thing that a young woman ought to know.

When I came to the country, I proposed to pass great part of my time in my favourite amusement of reading; but, on inquiry, I found that my father's library consisted of a large family Bible,

VOL. XXXVI.

I

Dickson's Agriculture, and a treatise on Farriery and that the only books my mother was possessed of were, the Domestic Medicine, and the Complete Housewife.

In short, Sir, in the midst of a family happy in themselves, and desirous to make me so, I find myself wretched. My mind preys upon itself. When I look forward, I can discover no prospect of any period to my sorrows. At times I am disposed to envy the happiness of my sisters, and to wish that I had never acquired those accomplishments from which I formerly received so much pleasure. Is it vanity that checks this wish, and leads me, at other times, to think, that even happiness may be purchased at too dear a rate?

Some time ago I accidentally met with your paper, and at length resolved to describe my situ ation to you, partly to fill up one of my tedious hours, and partly in hopes of being favoured with your sentiments on a species of distress, which is perhaps more poignant than many other kinds of affliction that figure more in the eyes of mankind. I am, &c.

H. B.

E