To the AUTHOR of the MIRROR. SIR, AS you are very fuccessful in delineating the manners of modern times, it might add, perhaps, to the effect of your pictures, if you fometimes gave a view of former manners. The contraft would be agreeable; and, if I may use the expreffion, would give a certain relief to your other delineations. I offer you a small sketch of an incident, fupposed to have happened in the times of our forefathers. I flatter myself you have no objection to it on account of its being in verfe. It is merely an outline; yet, I hope, it is fo marked, as that concomitant circumftances, though not expreffed, may readily be conceived. MONTANUS. The MARRIAGE of EVAL. I. Loud from JURA's rocky fhore, Heard ye the tumultuous roar?— Sudden Sudden from the bridal feast, By impetuous ire poffefs'd, The tow'ring eagle foars away. The wild-deer from their close retreat, Down on the furious conflict gaze, Then to deep forests bend their nimble feet. II. Ah! that reckless fpeech fhould fire Kinsmen with inhuman ire !. Goaded by vindictive rage Lo! the martial clans engage. With rav'ning fwords the fudden foes, And now the purple torrent streams: The white foam on the fea-beat fhore.Ah! who will fuccour his afflicted bride? III. Lo! the flies with headlong speed; "Bloody, bloody was the deed;" Wild with piteous wail, fhe cries,. Treffes torn and ftreaming eyes; "Lift, O! gently lift his head : "Lay him on the bridal bed; “My kinsmen! — cruel kinsmen ye! "Thefe your kindlieft deeds to me! "Yes, the clay-cold bed prepare, "The willing bride and bridegroom there "Will tarry; will for ever dwell. "Now, inhuman men, depart ; "Go, triumph in my broken heart.' She faid, fhe figh'd, a breathlefs corfe the fell. N° 97. N° 97. TUESDAY, April 11. 1780. To the AUTHOR of the MIRROR. SIR, OUR correfpondent K. B. has well de YOUR fcribed the calamitous condition of a private tutor, without money or friends. Perhaps it will afford him fome confolation, to hear of one who needlefsly entangled himself in difficulties of a like nature. My father bred me to the ftudy of letters, and, at his death, left me in poffeffion of a fortune, not fufficient to check my industry in the purfuit of knowledge, but more than fufficient to fecure me from fervile dependence. Through the interest of his friends, I obtained an honourable and lucrative office; but there were certain arrangements to be made, which delayed my admiffion to it for a twelvemonth. While I was confidering in what way I might beft fill up this interval of life, an acquaintance of mine requested, as a particular favour, that I would bestow the year year which I could call mine, in reading with the only fon of the rich Mr Flint. The conditions offered were uncommonly advantageous, and fuch as indeed flattered the vanity of a young man. For understanding my ftory, it is fit that you should be informed of the characters of that family into which I was received with fo many marks of favour and distinction. Rowland Flint, Efq; was born of poor but honeft parents; they made a hard shift to have him inftructed in reading, and even in writing and arithmetic, and then they left him to find his way through the world as he best could. The young man, like a philosopher, carried about with him all that was truly his own, his quill and his ink-holder; he attached himself to one of the fubordinate depart ments of the law, in which his drudgery was great and his profits fcanty. After having toiled for many years in this humble, contented, and happy vocation, he was fuddenly rai fed to opulence by the death of an uncle. This uncle went abroad at a very early period of life, with the fixed refolution of acquiring a competency, and then of enjoying it at home. But that competency, which filled up |