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Such a one has Miss Percy experienced in the father of Denbeigh. He has already convinced her that the indulgence of melancholy, instead of being an amiable weakness, rather deserving of admiration than censure, is, in reality, equally selfish and sinful.—It is, he says, the height of ingratitude to the Giver of all good, peevishly to refuse the enjoyment of the many blessings that are left us, because we are deprived of a few, which were in their very natures perishable.—“ But, alas !” replied Miss Percy, “what is left to those whose earliest and dearest friends have been snatched from them by the hand of death !”

“Much is left to all,” replied Mr. Denbeigh. “No one, who enjoys the blessings of health, and a peaceful conscience, can, without ingratitude, repine. The proper discharge of the duties of life is a source of happiness to every well regulated mind.”

“But how circumscribed are the limits of those duties to a female, who has no longer any parent to attend on : no family to

manage: no fortune to bestow in deeds of charity: and who has it little in her power to be useful, even to a friend ?” “And is the gift of reason then nothing?” retorted Mr. Denheigh. “And are the powers of the mind to lie dormant, because, forsooth, you have not now the management of a family: or the exercise of the benevolent affections to be given up, because you have not a fortune to build ain's-houses? These are the mere subterfuges of indolence. Believe me, my dear Charlette, that whoever seriously resolves not to suffer any opportunity of benefiting a fellow-creature to pass unemployed, will find, that the power of doing good is not circumscribed within very narrow limits. “Why, (let me ask you farther) should your mind, cultivated as it has been by education, and improved by listening to the conversation of the enlightened and judicious ! why should it not exert its powers, not only for your own entertainment, but for

the instruction, or innocent amusement of others ?” “Ah ! Sir,” returned Charlotte, “you know how female writers are looked down upon. The women fear, and hate; the men ridicule, and dislike them.” “This may be the case with the mere mob, who receive every prejudice upon trust,” rejoined Mr. Denbeigh; “but if the simplicity of your character remains unchanged—if the virtues of your heart receive no alloy from the vanity of authorship; trust me, my dear Charlotte, you will not be the less dear to any friend that is deserving of your love, for having employed your leisure hours in a way that is both innocent and rational.” Thus did this venerable old man persuade Miss Percy to reconcile her mind to the evils of her destiny, and, by the exertion of activity, to seek the road to contentment. Nor has his attention been confined to her. Me also, he has honoured with much of his instructive conversation. He has been particularly solicitous to know my opinions concerning all that I have seen in England; and expecting to reap advantage from his observations, I have put into his hands a copy of all my letters to you. These it was easy for me to give in English; it having been my custom to write down such conversations as I intended to recite to you, in that language, and after having given it to seme English friend to translate, have from the corrected copy made the translations intended for your use. Mr. Denbeigh was much entertained with my account of the philosophers, but said, “if it was known in England, people would think that I intended to turn philosophy itself into ridicule.” Thus it is that the designs of authors are mistaken Perhaps this is not the only passage in my letters that might, to an English reader, appear to be absurd.-Happily they will never be exposed to any eye, save that of my friend.—It is therefore sufficient, if to him they convey

a picture of the truth, such as it appears to the mind of Zaarmilla. I have already hinted my astonishment at the number of new books that are every year produced in England ; but now that I know what these books have to escounter, before they fight their way into the world, my astonishment is increased tenfold ! Many and various are the evils which these poor adventurers have to encounter. Besides the smarting, though superficial wounds, which they may expect to receive from the small-shot of the ladies and gentlemen genteelly educated, who call every thing stupid that is beyond the limits of their slender comprehensions, they have to sustain the heavy blows of those who cut down every thing as nonsense, that swerves from the beaten track over which they have been accustomed to trot. Should they be endowed with sufficient strength to survive the attack of both these adversaries, they have still to pass before the formidable phalanx of Reviewers, each of whom, like the mighty

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