ill-suppressed emotion, and when she attempted to speak, the tremour of her voice prevented her words from being distinctly heard. I, however, soon gathered from her broken sentences, and the sympathetick replies of the philosopher, that she was the wife of an old school-fellow, one of his early and esteemed friends-that she had been born to affluence, but forfeited the favour of her family by her marriage; her husband having virtue and talents, but no fortune. His talents, however, had been turned to good account; he had employed himself in drawing plans of the estates of the affluent, which his taste taught him to embellish in such a manner as gratified the vanity of his employers by the admiration it excited. He was contented with the profit, while they enjoyed the praise.

"We were doing charmingly," said the Lady," and had the prospect of soon getting above the world, and paying off all the little debts, which at our first setting out in life necessity had compelled us to contract;

when in the beginning of last Summer my husband was seized with a fever, which lasted seven weeks, and left him so weak that many more elapsed before he was able to go abroad. During that time, he lost some of his most advantageous situations; gentlemen who had employed him having in the time of his illness contracted with others. Winter came on, and no funds were provided against its wants; my husband, whose tenderness and affection for his family seemed to be encreased by the difficulty he found in procuring their support, had a genius fruitful in resources. In those months, when the season necessarily put a stop to his employments, he wrote for the printer of a periodical publication, in which work he taught me to assist him; and thus by our united endeavours we contrived still to keep up a decent appearance, and to maintain with frugality our four little ones, whose innocent endearments repaid all our trouble, and made us when we sat down to our little meal forget the labour by which it had

been earned. Ah! my poor babes! it is your sufferings, that, more than his own, now wrings your father's heart !”

"But where is now my friend ?" interrupted Severan. "Is he well? What can I do to serve him? Where can I see him?"

"Alas! he is in prison!" returned the Lady. "He is in a loathsome, dismal prison!-deprived of light, of liberty, of every comfort and enjoyment; and his dear children, his pretty darlings, of whom he used/ to be so fond, they too must go, must be nursed in the abode of misery, and made familiar with every species of wretchedness!" -Her tears came to her relief, and for sometime choaked her utterance.

At length, recovering herself, and assuming an air of dejected composure, “I beg "I your pardon," continued she, (observing the marks of sensibility that overspread the benignant countenance of our friend) "I did not mean to distress you, but it is so few that can feel for one's affliction !-and the voice of sympathy is so grateful to

the wounded heart, that I could not deny myself the consolation of speaking to you. But things may yet go better-My husband has enough owing to him to enable him to pay every one. But the misfortune is, that his debtors are all people of fortune, whose favour would be for ever lost by an untimely application for money; and should the news of his having been imprisoned for debt once get abroad, he is ruined for ever! No person of fashion will ever employ him more !"

"I cannot think so," said the Doctor, with his wonted mildness; 66 we see daily instances of the high favour that is shewn to people of ruined circumstances; many of whom I have known, even when worthless and depraved, to meet with attention and support from people of elevated rank and fashion."

"Ah! Sir," replied the Lady, "these were people who had squandered their fortunes in luxury and dissipation; such, indeed, seldom fail to meet with patrons and benefactors; but it is far otherwise with the

poor man, who has been struggling with adversity and employing his efforts for the maintenance of a virtuous wife and family: when he fails, he is considered as an object unworthy of notice; his situation creates no interest; his wretchedness excites no commiseration."- "But your own family, my dear Madam, they have it in their power to extricate you from every difficulty; will you permit me to apply to them in your behalf ?"

"Alas! Sir," I fear it would be in vain, "they are too fond of money to give it to those who have none. You know how I offended them by my marriage; yet, had my husband succeeded in the world, and made a fortune, mine would not have been withheld from him. It would have been given, if we had not wanted it; but, now that we are reduced to poverty, I have no hopes of assistance from any of my friends. Yet would I thank you for making trial of an application to them if they were in town-but they are not. They are all at