politeness to their antagonists, and not from any lack of precedents (as they assured us they could name a hundred more, equally good in support of their argument) they waited to hear what the gentlemen should advance in behalf of their lukewarm brethren.

Cynthio and Florio, both young men and scholars, undertook their defence, but I own rather failed in naming as many heroes as the ladies had previously named heroines. One argument Cynthio however adduced, which I thought had great force. "You' must own ladies," said he, "that if the passion of love has been fully portrayed in the recorded accounts of these several ladies mentioned by you, their Histories have been generally written by men. Nay, some of them never existed but' in the poet's brain; and to all a more exquisite and rare charm has been given by the tenderness and fire of their conceptions. Does it not therefore follow, that they who can so well describe each thought and feeling of love, must themselves be deeply capable of the passion?”

This argument seemed to stagger the fair opponents; but yet, tenacious of their loving superiority, they shook their heads and looked incredulous. At length Gracianna, blushing with a mingled consciousness of the subject and of womanly diffidence, said, "No one here, I believe, will deny their obligations to the poets, or doubt their power of making what is good yet more beautiful; witness our present meeting, the pleasure of which is greatly enhanced by our recollections of all they have written on the beauties of

nature and the delights of genial fellowship. But, I believe, it will be generally allowed, that no men could better feign an ardour they never felt, and that all the passions could equally exist in their imagination at a bidding; and so conscious do they (the poets) seem of the preference which should be given to our sex of deeply feeling the passion, that when they wish to portray pure and disinterested love, a woman has been generally chosen as the properest agent to display its force and enthusiasm."-" Fair. ladies," replied Flavius. (another of the company) "the persuasive manner of your last advocate, and the weight of testimony, oblige us to yield the palm of love and loving to your beauteous sex; as indeed we must in all that is graceful and kind. But although I am inclined to allow that woman's love is more disinterested and devoted-more seeking the good of the beloved object and glorying in its perfections, than that of men, yet do I feel assured, that the passion has with equal force been experienced by man of all ages and of all countries; and my recollection now serves me with a story in corroboration, which I shall have great pleasure in relating to this good company when my turn is appointed."-All the party begged he would proceed to relate it immediately while yet their thoughts were occupied with the subject; and at the desire of Amanda, whose choice was to fix the next speaker (as had been agreed upon in the outset) he began the Story of Sylvanus.

TALE III.

THE STORY OF SYLVANUS.

"I have too long suppress'd my hidden flames,
That almost have consumed me; I have spent
Many a silent night in sighs and groans,
Ran over all my thoughts, despised my fate,
Reasoned against the reasons of my love,

Done all that smooth-cheeked virtue could advise,
But found all bootless: 'tis my destiny,
That you must either love or I must die.

FORD,

"AURELIA, the lady of Glenryn Abbey, was, at the age of twenty-eight, left a widow, in possession of a princely fortune and in the maturity of health and beauty,yet, with all these advantages, she determined upon remaining in a state of widowhood, and to bestow the whole of her affections and cares upon her only son, Sylvanus, who was then in his 6th year: the lady had been married by her father, contrary to her inclinations, and was said not to have lived very happily during her husband's life-time, on account of his jealous and morose temper. He knew that he had not been the object of her choice, and well imagined that his advanced age and unsocial habits were not likely to

reconcile her to the sacrifice she had made to filial affection; yet were fondness and despite so strangely mingled in his disposition, that by his will he left her sole mistress of his immense wealth, yet denied her quitting Glenryn Abbey, to visit any one of his other more beautiful and cheerful estates, on penalty of forfeiting for ever the society and charge of the young Sylvanus.

“Aurelia was in disposition gentle, timid, and affectionate:-not able to resist the importunities and persuasions of her father, she had given her hand to her late lord, though her heart owned a preference for another; and had she met with gratitude and kindness, would have been, at least, calmly happy; but wearied with causeless jealousies and harshness, a melancholy seized upon her mind, which was increased by the death of her father and of the man she had loved.

"Alarmed for her life, her husband removed with her to London for advice ;-change of scene and air, but above all, affectionate attentions had a beneficial effect on her health and spirits. During her residence in town she made several agreeable acquaintances, and her warm heart opened to a thousand social sympathies: but, alas! this did not long continue; relieved from apprehensions for her life, her husband's complaisance vanished and his jealous humour returned; the gaieties of London were hateful to him, and he proposed their returning to the country, urging, as a reason, that the child she was pregnant with he wished should be born at the seat of his ancestors. Unused to opposition, she

consented-and, to soften his request, lest her regrets might have a prejudicial effect in her present state, he offered to take her to visit his estates in the most picturesque parts of England. Their cheerfulness and beauty could not fail of making Glenryn Abbey (on her return) appear yet more gloomy to her imagination; and when she entered its long grassy avenues, where thick high trees made a constant twilight, she felt a sad presentiment that she never more should quit its shades alive. Glenryn Abbey was a vast gothic building, surrounded by lofty mountains and thick groves of elm, beech, and chesnut,-a scene to delight the happy enthusiast of nature, but to a mind pensive and languid, presenting nought but images of desolate sadness. The long grass had overgrown the paths, and the nettle and the bindweed mingled with the moss and ivy round the roots and stems of the trees, whose high tops, bald with dry antiquity,' were the abode of the cawing rook and stately heron. A large sheet of water wound through part of the grounds, and would have added greatly to their ornament, but neglect had suffered the long rush and the water lily to flourish in luxuriance, making its surface appear an enamelled meadow, connected with several willowed islets, on which bred the lordly cygnet, the wild duck, mallard, and plover; whose mingled notes aided by their monotony the solemnity of the surrounding scene.

"Such objects but ill assorted with the fancy of Aurelia; to melancholy was added an indefinable dread, approaching to superstitious belief; nor did the inte