a place I have one to propofe to you. At no great diftance from home, near Neufchatel, in the village of Flamais, lives a refpectable man, who retired thither fome time ago; and who has chofen, I am told, the fame occupation as myself. He is looking out for an able gardener; and I think I am fufficiently known to him to recommend you; it is the prefident de Vaneville."

"You will eafily conceive the emotion I felt at the mention of this name. I was fo ftruck with astonishment, that I could hardly breathe, and I felt my voice dying away upon my lips. He faw me pale, deprived of fpeech, and motionlefs; but he attributed this fufpenfion of my faculties to my love for Natalie, and to the violence I did my heart. "Come, my friend, courage, "faid he, "it is no doubt a painful refolution we have taken to part; but our fituation renders it inevitable."

"I made no answer: my thoughts were far different from what he fuppofed. I was burning with the defire of returning to my father: but I thought I fhould find him with my mortal enemy and her two children. What kind of a reception was I about to meet with ?"

"The man to whom I am going to propofe you," added M. de Nelcour, is probity itfelf; and every body agrees that he conceals a great deal of goodness under an air of aufterity. He is melancholy, but his melancholy renders him interefting, for he is much to be pitied! He has loft his wife and his two children, the only hopes of his old age, and lives alone at Flamais, a prey to grief. I hope it will be a confolation to him to have to good, and fo worthy a young man as you in the house."

66

readily fuppofe, that from that moment my refolution was taken. “Yes, fir," faid I, "write to him, offer my fervices to the virtuous and folitary man; but do not tell him any thing you know refpecting me."

"He wrote, fpoke much in praise of my manners, and of my knowledge of gardening and farming, and, with, out giving any hint of my first educa, tion, made himself answerable for my good behaviour. I was accepted, and fet off; but my impatience to fee my father did not make me infenfible to the regret of leaving my dear Natalie, Adieu, mademoiselle," faid I; "in bidding you farewell, I do not give up the hope of ferving you. May the young trees we have planted and tended together, fometimes recall Alexis to your remembrance. May you, in gathering the apples and peaches that refemble you, defire that Alexis were there to gather them with you."

"The dear girl let fall a tear; and faid to me, in a voice that touched me to the heart, "Farewell, Alexis, I should be very forry if I were to see you no more. Do not forget Natalie."

"I took the road to Flamais, with a heart full of joy and hope, of uneafinefs and fear. I was going to fee my father, but I was going to fee him weeping the lofs of a woman I had offended, and of two children I had flighted. Had I been more fubmiffive and more docile, I should have staid with him; if I had governed my temper, and fuffered every thing, he would have had a fon in me to wipe away his tears. But, wretch that I was, after my difobedience and my flight, after my criminal defertion, how appear before his eyes?-Should I remain long enough undifcovered to expiate my faults, foften his refentment, and incline his heart to clemency? Seven years abfence and labour, my altered features, my hair and complexion grown darker, my drefs, and ruftic air, might make me a ftranger in any other eyes; but

Gould

fhould I be fo in those of a father? Well, faid I, if nature fpeak and betray me, I will take that moment to fall at his feet, and, instead of his indulgence, will implore his mercyBut then my pardon will be that of a criminal, to whom his judge remits his punishment; and who knows if he will not look upon M. de Nelcour as his child's accomplice, and as the inhuman favourer of my flight?Ah! if once that idea ftrikes him, there will no longer be any hope of conciliating his good will for my charming Natalie. Such were the reflections that occupied my mind, in my journey from Fleury to Flamais, where I arrived trembling, for fear my father fhould recollect me.

"Alas! whether his eyes, weakened by weeping, could no longer perceive in me any thing but confufed and uncertain features, or whether I had really outgrown all recollection, I know not, but he did not fufpect that his fon was standing before him. But what a fudden and painful impreffion did the fight of him make on me! Sorrow had wrinkled his forehead more than age; the tears that I had coft him feemed to have furrowed his cheek; and fadness had bowed him toward the grave.

"Impelled by grief and affection, I was going to throw myself proftrate at his feet. But I felt myself suddenly held back by my remorfe. I was ftruck by his look of aufterity, and by the deep gloom fpread over his countenance, which indicated a heart long envenomed by its wounds. I trembled when I begged leave to af. fure him of my obedience, and of my defire to be ferviceable. He bade me follow him; led me about his garden; pointed out my work; conducted me back to the dwelling that was destined for me; and while my little habitation was fitting up, provided for my wants. "Farewell till to-morrow," said he, on leaving me; "At the dawn of day I fhall be at work myself."

but little that night; but I felt inexpreffible comfort on finding myself at my father's, and in a fituation where I might merit his indulgence, and let him fee how much I was changed.

Nothing will be more eafy,' faid I, than to fhew him an unalterable gentleness, a perfect docility; and an implicit obedience. It fhall be my delight, rather than my duty, to anticipate his wifhes; and it fhall be this deep refpect, this filial piety which, in his gardener, fhall at length make him discover and forgive his unfortunate child.' But I ftood in need of courage to disguise and repress the workings of nature; and I promised myself that it should not be wanting.

"And what is

"Next day the morning and [ found him among his trees. Our work was filent, and only interrupted by a few words, with long intervals between. He asked me, what was my native place." -I answered, "Anet;" and this was my only fiction." Is your father alive ?" "Yes, thank heaven!"" And your mother "No, I have loft her."-Ho heaved a deep figh. your father's occupation?"" Gardening."-" Is he young?" "He begins to grow cld."" Are you his only child?" "His only one."--Andyou have left him?" "He would have it fo himfelf."-"He is then in eafy circumftances, and can do without you?" "Yes; but if I please my mafter, I hope he will permit us to live together at his houfe."--"Alexis,” faid he, "conduct yourself with me as you have done at M. de Nelcour's; be fober, industrious, and honest; and I promife you that you fhall foon have your father with you; it fhall not be I who will deprive you of him.” thefe words he turned afide, and I faw him wipe away his tears.

At

"I have fince put him in mind of our firft converfation. "Ah!" faid he, "if you had feen the impression every word you answered, made upon my heart! It was more than a year fince the names of father and fon had paffed my lips. I had not fortitude

enough

enough to pronounce them; it was like a load upon my heart; and yet with you, I felt relief in speaking and hearing them."

"Satisfied at feeing me redouble every day my diligence and activity, creating him as it were a new garden, and teaching him with due deference a ftyle of cultivation unknown to him before; my father had fometimes the kindness to moderate the ardour with which I worked; an involuntary inclination making him conftantly attend my steps. "Alexis," faid he, one day, "how old are you?" "One and twenty."-He repeated one and twenty with a deep figh, and remained a long time filent.

"After taking a few turns in the garden, to calm his agitation, he returned and asked me, if it were not my intention to marry?"-" Yes, fir, I have been thinking about it," faid I," and if you have no objection, and my father confent, I think I have found a fweet girl at Fleury, who would make me happy." "How old is the?"" Sixteen.". "Are her friends decent people ?"-" She is the daughter of a man who fpilt his blood in the fervice of the flate.""A good extraction?"-" Like me, fhe lost her mother when only feven years old."" Poor children! and pray who took care of her?"-"M. de Nelcour.' 66 She is pretty, with out doubt ?". -"Even if ugly, fhe would still be amiable: fhe is as mild and gentle as a dove. M. de Nelcour is as fond of her as if he were his own."-"This M. de Nelcour is then a very charitable, benevolent man?"—"Yes, fir, as his goodness to Natalie and me fufficiently teftify." "He has committed a few follies," rejoined my father, "but they were the pardonable follies of a weak and eafy man; and it is very lucky for him, that this weakness has coft him nothing but his fortune. It fometimes colts much dearer. Does he know that you love Natalie ?"-"He fu'pects it"-"That is perhaps the reafon he has feparated you."-t is

-

poffible it may.""Why does not he marry you?"-" Ah, fir, my father's confent is neceffary, and as yet I have not dared to afk it.". "Why not?”

"The poor orphan has little or nothing in the world."" She has her gentleness, her virtue, and her happy difpofition, and let me tell you that is no bad portion."- "Yes, fir, but my father - I dread the speaking to him."-"Your father is then a very fevere one?"-" He has been fo fometimes, fir, but he is not the less affectionate for that; and if I durft fay it, his goodness is equal to yours."

"In that cafe, I hope I, fhall obtain the confent to your happiness. If, however, he should perfift in a refusal, I tell you beforehand, that I have no authority to oppofe that of a father; and you yourself, Alexis, would be obliged to obey."-"Yes, fir, yes, I promife that I would, even if my life were at ftake. Never did child refpect and love his father better than I do mine. I will not deny that I find in Natalie all that is defirable in woman; that I love her with the greatest tenderness, and that I shall never be happy without her; yet if my father did but fay," Alexis, you must give up all thoughts of her, and never fee her more, I would obey without murmuring.". Happy father!" exclaimed mine. "Alexis, go to-morrow, and beg M. de Nelcour to do me the honour to come and see me at Flamais, and to bring his orphan with him. I will intercede with your father for both of you. But you fhall give me your word that, while I live, you will not leave me. I am an old and folitary man, and ftand in need of confolation; in need of more than you may perhaps imagine. You and your wife at least will love me, and I will treat you both as if you were my children."

- 66

"At thefe affecting words, I fell at his feet, bathed them with my tears, and was on the point of making myfelf known. But if paft difpleafurs thus rekindled in his bofom, he should no longer look upon Natalie with fo

favourable an eye; if he should even refuse to see her - - - - I trembled for fear of deftroying all our hopes; and my father confidered my emotion, merely as that of a young man tranfported with love and gratitude.

"The next day I arrived at M. de Nelcour's, with a heart beating high with joy. "You have," said I," put the finishing hand to your favours, and I am come to thank you. M. de Vaneville, the virtuous old man, who was wafting away with forrow, and whom it was the will of heaven to confole Join me, fir, in adoring the hand that directed us: M. de Vaneville is my father. Yes, you are the inftrument that heaven has em ployed to restore me to my father: it is to you, fir, that I am indebted for the hope of appeafing him. Send for Natalie. It depends on her to complete my happinefs; and I hope to prevail on her to do fo.

"She came; I related to them all that had paffed between my father and me; and in proportion as Natalie became acquainted with my fecret, her emotion, her blushes, and her innocent and ingenuous joy let me into hers.

days at his houfe; and during all that time was entirely taken up with the amiable orphan. At length, when fhe was going to return to Fleury : " My refolution is fixed," faid he, "and I am going to write to your father. You fhall carry the letter yourself, and if, as I prefume, he approve of the match, bring him along with you. Tell me his name, and tell me that of Natalie's father."

"It was then I felt every fibre in my body tremble, and every pulse beat high.

"Sir," faid I, “ you fee me stand trembling before you at the confeffion I am about to make. It does not fuffice to afk my father's confent; fince you are fo kind to me, my pardon and forgiveness must first be implored."-" Your pardon," replied my father with astonishment! "Are you then guilty?""Yes, fir, I am. Yes, it is a guilty and penitent child, that must be laid at his feet; if my tears touch you, it is by those means he must be moved; for that I may hide nothing from my generous protector, in my early youth I have perhaps given him great caufe of afflic tion.' How fo?" faid he, with a look of disappointment and concern.— "By my ungovernable violence, and impetuous temper."

cert.

"M. de Nelcour, Natalie, and I, fet off together. She appeared before my father dreffed like a fimple country girl, and enchanted the old man with her grace, her modefty, her ingenuous language, and with the turn of her mind, which discovered, unknown to her, a tincture of cultivation. Her beauty rendered her fill more interefting in his eyes. He exprefied his fatisfa&ion at M. de Nelcour's having taken fo much care of her education; made him ftay three

"He liftened to me with his eyes fixed on mine, and I faw the trembling of his hands and knees redouble at every word. "Ah! fir," cried I, at length, "in the name of Nature, and your own blood, afk pardon for a thoughtless youth, who ran away from his father, and for thefe feven years palt, has not dared to appear before him." At these words, I fell at his feet. "Ah!, unfortunate boy! 'tis you," cried he, running up to me, and taking me in his arms, while I, half filled by my fobs, felt my face bedewed with tears. "Thefe are tears of joy," faid I, “let them flow; I have fhed many of a bitterer kind. O my dear father! do you forgive my being the caufe ?"" Yes, I forgive you, and every thing is for

X X

.gotten,

gotten, fince you are restored to me; but do you not come to afflict and diftrefs my old age; tell me who is this young woman you wish to marry?"— "Fear nothing, father; mademoifelle de Leonval is not unworthy to bear your name." These words cleared up every thing.

"Come, fir," faid he to M. de Nelcour, " come and receive my thanks. What do I not owe you? You restore my fon; you restore him

The idea of a ftep-mother being odious to her family, is applied, in this paffage, in a very beautiful and uncommon manner, to illuftrate the tediousness of expectation, But this idea of the character of a step-mother as odious, however general it may be, is very often unfounded; as many inftances may be recorded of women, who, in that too frequently unthankful and unenviable office, have difplayed a greater fuperiority of virtue, than they could poffibly have fhewn in the exercife of their natural duties. Terence has given us the portrait of

an excellent mother-in-law:

'Tis now my chief concern to make age

my

Eafy to all, that no one may regret
My lengthen'd life, or languish for my

death.

COLMAN.

This portrait, we are perfuaded, is neither inimitable nor unfrequent.

Parental Authority.

To you your father should be as a god; One that compos'd your beauties; yea, and one

To whom you are but as a form in wax, By him imprinted, and within his power To leave the figure, or disfigure it

The expreffion, to leave the figure, fignifies no more than this: That the child being but a form imprinted in wax by the father, he has as abfolute authority over it, to kill or to fave it, as he has over a waxen image, to leave the figure, that is, to let it remain as he has formed it; or, entirely to disfigure, that is, to destroy, or melt it down again.'-In this play, the scene of which is at Athens, there is a peculiar propriety in this paffage; for a law of the great legiflator Solon gave to parents an abfolute authority over the life and death of their children. Thus Egeus had faid, in the fpeech immediately before :

I beg the ancient privilege of Athens;
As he is mine, I may difpofe of her:
Which fhall be either to this gentleman,
Or to her death; according to our law,
Immediately provided in that cafe.

Neither the Athenian privilege, nor indeed any unreasonable exertion of parental authority, can be warranted by the precepts of religion or the principles of morality. But, after this obfervation, we may be allowed to add, that filial piety is not only one of the most amiable and becoming

vis'd, fair maid,

too great a stress cannot be laid; for