verity of her looks, administered to him the most faithful counsel, weaning his heart from the immoderate love of earthly things, and teaching him to revere the gods, and to place his whole trust and happiness in their government and protection. She humanized his soul, made him modest and humble, -taught him to compassionate the distresses of his fellow-creatures, and inclined him to relieve them.

"I am sent,” said she, " by the gods to those alone whom they love: for I not only train them up by my severe discipline to future glory, but also prepare them to receive with a greater relish all such mode. derate enjoyments as are not inconsistent with this probationary state. As the spider, when assailed, seeks shelter in its inmost web, so the mind which I afflict, contracts its wandering thoughts, and flies for happiness to itself. It was I who raised the characters of Cato, Socrates and Timoleon to so divine a height, and set them up as guides and examples to every future age. Prosperity, my smiling, but trea-cherous sister, too frequently delivers those whom she has seduced, to be scourged by her cruel followers, Anguish and Despair: while Adversity never fails to lead those who will be instructed by her, to the -blissful habitation of Tranquillity and Content."

Uranio listened to her words with great attention; and as he looked earnestly on her face, the deformi<ty of it seemed insensibly to decrease. By gentle degrees his aversion to her abated; and at last, he gave himself wholly up to her counsel and direction. She would often repeat to him the wise maxim of the philosopher, "That those who want the fewest things, <approach nearest to the gods, who want nothing." She admonished him to turn his eyes to the many thousands beneath him, instead of gazing on the few who live in pomp and splendor; and in his addresses to the gods, instead of asking for riches and popula

rity, to pray for a virtuous mind, a quiet state, an unblameable life, and a death full of good hopes.

Finding him to be every day more and more composed and resigned, though neither enamoured of her face, nor delighted with her society, she at last addressed him in the following manner.

"As gold is purged and refined from dross by the fire, so is Adversity sent by Providence to try and improve the virtue of mortals. The end obtained, my task is finished; and I now leave you, to go and give an account of my charge. Your brother, whose lot was Prosperity, and whose condition you so much envied, after having experienced the error of his choice, is at last released by death from the most wretched of lives. Happy has it been for Uranio, that his lot was Adversity, whom if he remembers as he ought, his life will be honourable, and his death happy."

As she pronounced these words, she vanished from his sight. But though her features at that moment, instead of inspiring their usual horror, seemed to display a kind of languishing beauty, yet as Uranio, in spite of his utmost efforts, could never prevail upon himself to love her, he neither regretted her departure, nor wished for her return. But though he rejoiced in her absence, he treasured up her counsels in his heart, and grew happy by the practice of them.

He afterwards betook himself again to merchandize; and having in a short time acquired a competency sufficient for the real enjoyments of life, he retreated to a little farm, which he had bought for that purpose, and where he determined to continue the remainder of his days. Here he employed his time in planting, gardening and husbandry, in quelling all disorderly passions, and in forming his mind by the lessons of Adversity. He took great delight in a little cell or hermitage in his garden, which stood under

a tuft of trees, encompassed with eglantine and honey-suckles. Adjoining to it was a cold bath, formed by a spring issuing from a rock, and over the door was written in large characters the following inscription:

Beneath this moss-grown roof, within this cell,

Truth, Liberty, Content, and Virtue dwell.

Say, you who dare this happy place disdain,
What palace can display so fair a train ?

He lived to a good old age; and died honoured and lamented.

No. LXXXV. THURSDAY, AUGUST 15.

To Mr. Fitz-Adam.

SIR,

I AM a young country bride of eighteen (if I may call myself a bride, after having been married a -month and two days); and, if my husband, who every body says is the handsomest and best made man in the county, docs not flatter me, I am as agreeable as youth, health, good features, a clear skin and an easy shape can make me. We both married for love; and I may venture to say that no couple in the world have been happier than we. But alas! Mr. FitzAdam, within this week the dear man has appeared to be unusually thoughtful and low-spirited; and the day before yesterday he came booted to me at breakfast, and told me that a sudden and unexpected affair had made it necessary for him to set out that morning for his estate in Berkshire.

As I thought it my duty not to pry into more than he had a mind to tell me, I only wished him a safe journey and speedy return, and saw him take horse.

I amused myself as well as I could the first day of his absence by looking into family affairs. The second day I was visited by a widow lady in the neighbourhood, who from a vast flow of spirits, and a particular freedom of speech, is thought by our sober country people to be a very odd kind of a lady. "My dear creature!" said she, running up to me and saluting me, "I heard you were alone, and thought it would be a charity to visit the forsaken and afflicted." "Indeed, madam." answered I with a sigh, "I am foolishly out of spirits." "Nay," says she, "my dear, I am far from blaming you; the absence of a husband a month after marriage is as bad as his death would be some years hence." "How, madam," interrupted I, "do you think.....?" "Nay, nay, no grave faces," she replied, "I only speak for myself. I had not been married to major Machoney three weeks before he was ordered away with his re giment to Flanders; and I assure you that the news of his death four months after did not shock me half so much as our first parting." "You are not in earnest!" cried I, with astonishment. "Why not?" said she. "But I should have told you, my dear, that he had lost a leg and an arm the week before; so that I was quite pre¡ ared: and indeed it was always a sentiment of mine, that a brave man had better be dead than disabled. But pray," continued she, smiling and looking oddly with her eyes, "where is your husband, child?" I told her, business had called him into Berkshire. "Yes, yes," says she, "we all know his business. Have you never heard of his having an uncle in that county? Depend upon it, my dear, he is gone to see his uncle.”

I was greatly surprised at hearing of my husband's uncle, having never received the least hint from him that he had any such relation; and of this Mrs. Machoney would give me no other information, than by assuring me, that to her certain knowledge he was gone to see his uncle.

A particular friend of my husband's dropped in upon us at this instant, who, upon my enquiring after this uncle, and if he had heard his friend talk of making him a visit, seemed to be of the widow's opinion, though he could not take upon him to assert, that he had ever seen him, or so much as knew in what part of Berkshire he lived.

I began now to grow uneasy; for as I had been married in the face of the world, and as none of my own relations were strangers to my husband, I thought it a little odd that any of his should be so to me. But I was soon eased of this perplexity by being thrown into a greater. As I have constantly taken in your papers, it occurred to me all at once, that this uncle whom my husband was gone to visit, was no other than a Welch uncle, who according to the fifty-sixth number of THE WORLD, is one who officiates in genteel families in the capacity of a Hearer. And now it went to my very heart to think, that I had so tired my husband by my talkativeness, as to compel him to take a journey into Berkshire in search of a hearer. It is impossible to tell you what pain it gave me. Yet surely some allowance should be made for the prattling of a bride, who has a thousand things to say to a husband, which she durst not to her lover. But whatever excuses may be made for me, either from my youth, my sex, my fondness, or my love of talking, it gives me the most piercing concern to know that I am the sole cause of his taking this journey; and it is to tell him of this concern, and the amend