be in condition rather to lay, than to receive, an obligation. That your goodness has always enabled me to do; and I am rich through your munificence; richer in your favour.

"Have you any thoughts, sir, of commanding me to attend you at Paris, or at the Hague, according to the hopes you gave me in your last?-I will not, if you do me this honour, press for a return with you to my native country: but I long to throw myself at your feet; and, wherever the opportunity of that happiness shall be given me, to assure you personally of the inviolable duty of your

CHARLES GRANDISON.'

Must not such a letter as this, Lucy, have stung to the heart a man of Sir Thomas Grandison's pride? If not, what was his pride?-Sir Thomas had as good an education as his son, yet could not live within the compass of an income of upwards of 7,000l. a year. His son called himself rich with 800l. or 1,000l. a year; and though abroad, in foreign countries, desired but half that allowance, that he might contribute, by the other half, to lessen the difficulties in which his father had involved himself by his extravagance.

His father, Lady L. says, was affected with it. He wept: he blessed his son; and resolved, for his sake, to be more cautious in his wagerings than he had hitherto been. Policy, therefore, would have justified the young gentleman's cheerful compliance, had he not been guided by superior mo tives. Sir Charles would not, I think one may be sure, have sacrificed to the unreasonable desires even of a father, the fortune to which he had an unquestionable right: an excess of generosity, amiable indeed, but pitiable, as contrary to the

justice that every man owes to himself, and to those who may hereafter depend upon him; and what I have often heard my grandmamma lament in the instance of the worthy Mr. M. whose family has suffered from an acquiescence with a father's extravagance, for which that father was only the more wretched.

Sir Charles's is the true, the reasonable virtue, that keeps clear of every extreme.-O my dear! the Christian religion is a blessed religion! How does honest policy, as well as true greatness of mind, recommend that noble doctrine of returning good for evil!

LETTER XV.

MISS BYRON. IN CONTINUATION,

My lord repeated his request, that he might have Sir Thomas's consent to his nuptials upon his own terms; and promised never to expect a single shilling in dowry, but to leave the whole of that to time, and to his own convenience and pleasure.

'We know,' said Sir Thomas, 'what all this means. You talk, my lord, like a young man. You ought not to think (you once said it yourself) of involving a young woman you love, as well as yourself, in difficulties. I know the world, and what is best to be done, if you will think no more of my daughter. I hope she has discretion. First love is generally first folly. It is seldom fit to be encouraged. Your quality, my lord, to say nothing of your merit, will procure you a rich wife from the city. And the city now is as genteel, as polite, as the court was formerly. The wives and daughters of citizens, poor fellows! are apes of us

gentry; and succeed pretty well, as to outward appearance, in the mimicry. You will, by this means, shake off all your father's sins. I speak in the language of young fellows, who expect a father to live solely for them, and not for himself. Some sober young men of quality and fortune, affrighted at the gaiety and extravagance of the modern women, will find out my girls; who, I hope, will have patience. If they have not, let them pursue their inclinations: let them take their fill of love, as Solomon says; and if they run their heads into a hedge, let them stick there by the thorns, with all my heart."

See, my dear, what a man a rakish father is!O, my good Lady Grandison, how might your choice have punished your children!'

'I pray to God, Sir Thomas,' said my lord, bowing, but angry, I pray to God to continue me in a different way of thinking from yours, if this be yours. Give ine leave to say, you are too young a gentleman to be a father of grown-up children. But I must love Miss Grandison; and still, if possible, poor young lady! more than ever, for what has passed in this conversation.' And saying this, he withdrew.

Sir Thomas was very angry at this spirited speech. He sent for his daughter, and forbade her to receive my lord's addresses. He ordered her never to think of him: and directing Miss Charlotte to be called in, repeated his commands before her; and threatened to turn them both out of his house, if they presumed to encourage any address, but with his knowledge. And don't think,' said he, of going on to engage your affec tions, as a sensual forwardness is called, and then hope to take advantage of my weakness to counteuance your own. I know the world: I know your

sex. Your sister, I see, Charlotte, is a whining fool: see how she whimpers !-Begone from my presence, Caroline!-and remember, Charlotte, (for I suppose this impertinent lord's address to your sister will go near to set you agog) that I expect, whether absent or present, to know of any application that may be made to you, before your liking has taken root in love, as it is called, and while my advice may have the weight that the permission or dissent of a father ought to have.'

They both wept, curtsied, and withdrew.

At dinner, Miss Caroline begged to be excused attending her gay and arbitrary father; being excessively grieved, and unfit, as she desired her sister to say, to be seen. But he commanded her attendance.

Miss Charlotte Grandison told me what this wicked man [Shall I call Sir Charles Grandison's father so?] said on the occasion. Women's tears are but, as the poet says, "the sweat of eyes." Caroline's eyes will not misbecome them. The more she is ashamed of herself, the less reason will she give me to be ashamed of her. Let me see how the fool looks, now she is conscious of her folly. Her bashful behaviour will be a half confession; and this is the first step to amendment. Tell her, that a woman's grief for not having been able to carry her point, has always been a pleasure to me. I will not be robbed of my pleasure. She owes it me for the pain she has given me.'

Lord L. and she had parted. He had, on his knees, implored her hand. He would not, he said, either ask or expect a shilling of her father: his estate would and should work itself clear, without injury to his sisters, or postponing their marriage. Her prudence and generosity he built upon: they would enable him to be just to every one, and to

preserve his own credit. He would not, he generously said, for the beloved daughter's sake, utter one reflecting word upon her father, after he had laid naked facts before her. Those, however, would too well justify him, if he did. And he again urged for her hand, and for a private mar riage. Can I bear to think with patience, my dearest Miss Grandison,' added he, that you and your sister, according to Sir Thomas's scheme, shall be carried to town with minds nobler than the minds of any women in it, as adventurers, as female fortune-hunters, to take the chance of attracting the eyes and hearts of men, whether worthy or unworthy, purely to save your father's pocket? No, madam: believe me, I love you not for my own sake merely, though heaven knows you are dearer to me than my life, but for yours as well; and my whole future conduct shall convince you that I do. My love, madam, has friendship for its base; and your worthy brother, once in an argument, convinced me, that love might be selfish; that friendship could not; and that in a pure flame they could not be disunited; and when they were, that love was a cover only to a baseness of heart, which taught the pretender to it to seek to gratify his own passion, at the expense of the happiness or duty of the object pretended to be beloved.'

See, my Lucy!-Did we girls ever think of this nice but just distinction before? And is not friendship a nobler band than love?—But is not Lord L. a good man? Don't you love him, Lucy?-Why have I not met with these notions before in the men I have known?

But Miss Caroline was not less generous than my Lord L. No scheme of my father's shall