liam is no adoring husband. The Baron's lips trembled as they touched mine; and I felt an emotion, to which I was hitherto a ftranger.

I was doomed, however, to receive ftill more fhocks. On the Baron's faying he was happy to see me fo well recovered after my fright, and hoped I had found no difagreeable confequence-" No difagree"able confequence !" repeated Sir William, with the most unfeeling air; “Is "the loss of a son and heir then nothing? "It may be repaired," he continued, laughing, "to be fure; but I am ex"tremely disappointed." Are you not enraged with your brother-in-law, Louifa? How indelicate! I really could no longerfupport thefe mortifications, though I knew I fhould mortally offend him; I could not help leaving the room in tears; nor would I return to it, till fummoned by the arrival of other company. I did not recover my spirits the whole evening..

Good God! how different do men appear fometimes from themselves! I often am induced to ask myfelf, whether I really

A

gave my hand to the man I now fee in my husband. Ah! how is he changed! I reflect for hours together on the unaccountableness of his conduct. How he is carried away by the giddy multitude. He is fwayed by every paffion, and the laft is the ruling one

"Is every thing by ftarts, and nothing long."

A time may come, when he may fee his folly I hope, before it be too late to repair it. Why should fuch a man marry? Or why did fate lead him to our innocent retreat? Oh! why did I foolishly mistake a rambling difpofition, and a tranfient lik ing, for a permanent attachment? But why do I run on thus? Dear Louisa, you will think me far gone in a phrenzy. But, believe me, I will ever deferve your tender

affection.

JULIA STANLEY.

4

LE T

G

LETTER XIV.

To Lady STANLEY.

OOD heavens! what a variety of emotions has your last letter excited in my breast! Surely, my Julia did not give it a fecond perufal! I can make allowance for the expreffions of gratitude which you (in a manner lavish, not) beftow on the Baron. But oh! beware, my beloved fifter, that your gratitude becomes not too warm; that fentiment, fo laudable when properly placed, fhould it be an introduction to what my fears and tenderness apprehend, would change to the most impious. You already perceive a visible difference between him and your husband

I affert, no woman ought to make a comparison, 'tis dangerous, 'tis fatal. Sir William was the man of your choice;it is true you were young; but still you ought to refpect your choice as facred.You are still young; and although you may have seen more of the world, I doubt your fentiments are little mended by your

experience.

experience. The knowledge of the world at least so it appears to me-is of no further use than to bring one acquainted with vice, and to be lefs fhocked at the idea of it. Is this then a knowledge to which we fhould wish to attain ?-Ah! believe me, it had been better for you to have blushed unfeen, and loft your sweetnefs in the defart air, than to have, in the bufy haunts of men, hazarded the privation of that peace which goodness bofoms ever. Think what I fuffer; and, constrained to treasure up my anxious fears in my own bofom, I have no one to whom I can vent my griefs: and indeed to whom could I impart the terrors which fill my foul, when I reflect on the dangers by which my fifter, the darling of my affections, is furrounded? Oh, Julia! you know how fatally I have experienced the interest a beloved object has in the breast of a tender woman; how ought we then to guard against the admiffion of a paffion destructive to our repofe, even in its most innocent and harmless ftate, while we are single! But how much more fhould you keep a

ftrict watch over every outlet of the heart, left it should fall a prey to the infidiousenemy;-you refpect his filence ;-you pity his fufferings.-Reprobate respect! — abjure pity!-they are both in your circumftances dangerous; and a well-experienced writer has obferved, more women have been ruined by pity, than have fallen a facrifice to appetite and paffion. Pity is a kindred virtue, and from the innocence and complacency of her appearance, we fufpect no ill; but dangers inexplicable lurk beneath the tear that trembles in hereye; and, without even knowing that we do fo, we make a fatal transfer to our utter and inevitable difadvantage. From having the power of bestowing compaffion, we become objects of it from others, though too frequently, inftead of receiving it, we find ourselves loaded with the cenfure of the world. We look into our own bofoms for confoltaion: alas! it is flown with our innocence; and in its room we feel the sharpeft ftings of felf-reproof. My Julia, my tears obliterate each mourn-. ful paffage of my pen..

LET