very accomplished, a good housewife had no occasion for harpsichords and books; they belonged to women who brought wherewithal to support them. Such was the language of vulgar illiberal natures! yet for three weeks I endured it patiently.

Knowing that Mr. Harris was disposed to think favourably of me-that he even declared he should

have liked me for his wife, had I not married Tom," though he was then between sixty and sewenty years of age, I thought it most prudent to depart, lest through the machinations of Miss Betsy and Mrs. Molly I should lose the share I had gained in his affections. My mother was still at Bristol; and the morning of our departure being arrived, to my infinite astonishment, Mr. Harris proposed accompanying us thither. It was in vain that Molly and Miss interfered to prevent him; he swole that he would see me safe across the Channel, whatever might be the consequence of his journey. We set out together.

On our arrival at Bristol Mr. Harris was presented to my mother, and by her introduced to many respectable friends. He was consequently invited to several dinner parties. I was his idol; he would dance with me; when he had taken the evening draught he would sing with me, and I was to him the most delightful of beings. Many embellishments for Tregunter-house were submitted to my taste and choice; and I remember, on his giving or, ders for the marble chimney-peces, he said, $ Choose them as you like them, Mrs. Robinson, for they are all for you and Tom when I am no more." Indeed he frequently assured me, while I was at Tregunter, that the estate should be my husband's.

After passing many days at Bristol Mr. Harris returned to Wales, and our party set out for London. Mr. Robinson's mind was easy, and his hopes were

confirmed by the kindness of his uncle; he now considered himself as the most happy of mortalsWe removed from Great Queen-street, to a house, No. 13, in Hatton-garden, which had been recently built. Mr. Robinson hired it, and furnished it with peculiar elegance. I frequently inquired into the extent of his finances, and he as often assured me that they were in every respect competent to his expences. In addition to our domestic establishment, Mr. Robinson purchased a handsome phaeton, with saddle horses for his own use: and I now made my début, though scarcely emerged beyond the boundaries of childhood, in the broad hemisphere of fashionable folly..

MAXIMS AND MORAL REFLECTIONS.

By the Duke de la Rochefoucault.

(Continued from Page 347.)

CLEMENCY.

50. T stroke of policy to gain the affections of

HE clemency of princes is often but a

their subjects.

51. That clemency we make a virtue of proceeds sometimes from vanity, sometimes from indolence, often from fear, and almost always from a mixture of all three.

CONDUCT..

52. That conduct often seems ridiculous, the secret reasons of which are wise and solid.

53. A man often imagines he acts, when he is acted upon; and while his mind aims at one thing, his heart insensibly gravitates towards another.

CONFIDENCE.

54. Confidence has a greater share in conversation than wit.

55. The desire of being pitied or admired, is commonly the true reason of our confidence.

56. Nothing flatters our pride more than the confidence of the great, because we look on it as the effect of our merit; not reflecting that it proceeds most frequently from their vanity, or inability to keep a secret; so that confidence is sometimes, as it were, the relief of the mind, which wants to ease itself of an oppressive load.

CONSTANCY.

57. The constancy of the wise is only the art of keeping their disquietudes to themselves.

58. We all bear the misfortunes of other people with an heroic constancy.

59. Criminals who are executed affect sometimes a constancy, and contempt of death, which is in fact nothing more than the fear of looking on it: so that their constancy may be said to be to the mind, what the fillet is to their eyes.

60. Constancy in love is perpetual inconstancy: it attaches us successively to all the good qualities of the person beloved, giving sometimes the preference to one, sometimes to another: so that this constancy is no more than inconstancy confined to one object.

61. In love there are two sorts of constancy: one arises from our continually finding in the beloved object fresh m tives to love; and the other proceeds from our making it a point of honour to be

constant.

62. In misfortunes we often mistake dejection for constancy; and we bear them, without daring to look on them; as cowards suffer themselves to be killed without resistance.

CONTEMPT.

63. We sometimes condemn the present by praising the past; and shew our contempt of what now is, by our esteem for what is no more.

64. None but the contemptible are apprehensive of contempt.

CONVERSATION.

65. One reason why we meet with so few people who are reasonable and agreeable in conversation is, that there is scarcely any person who does not think more of what he has to say, than of answering what is said to him. Even those who have the most address and politeness think they do enough if they only seem to be attentive; at the same time that one might perceive in their eyes and their minds a distraction as to what is addressed to them, and an impatience to return to what they them-' selves were saying; not reflecting that to be thus studious of pleasing themselves is but a poor way to please or convince others; and that to hear pati ently, and answer precisely, are the great perfections of conversation.

COPIES.

66. The only good copies are those which point out the ridicule of bad originals.

COQUETRY.

67. It is a sort of coquetry, to boast that we never coquet.

68. All women are coquets, though all women do not practise coquetry; some are restrained by fear, others by reason.

69. Women are not aware of the extent of their coquetry.

70. Women find it more difficult to get the better of their coquetry than of their love.

71. The greatest miracle of love is the reformiation of a coquet.

72. We are always afraid of appearing before the person we love when we have been coqueting elsewhere.

73. Coquets take a pride in appearing to be jea

lous of their lovers, in order to conceal their being envious of other women.

CRIMES.

74. There are crimes which become innocent, and even glorious, through their splendour, number, and excess. Hence it is that public theft is called address; and to seize on provinces unjustly, to make conquests.

75. We easily forget crimes that are known only

to ourselves.

76. There are people of whom we never believe ill till we see it; but there are none in whom we ought to be surprised to see it.

77. Those who are themselves incapable of great crimes, do not readily suspect others of them."

CUNNING.

78. The greatest of all cunning is, to appear blind to the snares laid for us; men being never so easily deceived as while they are endeavouring to deceive others.

79. Those who have most cunning always affect to condemn cunning, that they may make use of it on some great occasion, and to some great end.

So. The common practice of cunning is a sign of a small genius: it almost always happens that those who use it to cover themselves in one place, lay themselves open in another.

81. Cunning and treachery proceed from want of capacity.

82. The sure way to be cheated is, to fancy our selves more cunning than others.

83. The reason we are angry with those who trick us is, because they appear to have more wit than ourselves.

84. One man may be more cunning than another, but not more cunning than all the world.

85. Those who are deceived by our cunning do

G