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I have my reasons-- Indeed, Sir!' cried Deboral, if you have your reasons, that's another affair; but I should be glad to know those reasons.'- Excuse me, madam,' returned he, they lie too deep for discovery,' (laying his hand upon his bosom) they remain buried, rivetted here.'

After he was gone, upon a general consultation, we could not tell what to make of these fine sentiments. Olivia considered them as instances of the most exalted passion; but I was not quite so sanguine: it seemed to me pretty plain, that they had more of love than matrimony in them; yet, whatever they might portend, it was resolved to prosecute the scheme of Farmer Williams, who, from my daughter's first appearance in the country, had paid her his addresses.

CHAP. XVII.

Scarcely any virtue found to resist the power of long and pleasing temptation.

As

SI only studied my child's real happiness, the assiduity of Mr. Williams pleased me, as he was in easy circumstances, prudent, and sincere. It required but very little encouragement to revive his former passion; so that in an evening or two he and Mr. Thornhill met at our house, and surveyed each other for some time with looks of anger: but Williams owed his landlord no rent, and little regarded his indignation. Olivia, on her side, acted the coquette to perfection, if that might be called acting which was her real character, pretending to lavish all her tenderness on her new lover. Mr. Thornbill appeared quite dejected at this preference, and, with a pensive air, took leave; though I own it puzzled me to find him in so much pain as he appeared to be, when he had it in his power so easily to remove the cause, by declaring an honourable passion. But whatever uneasiness he seemed to endure, it could easily be perceived that Olivia's anguish was much greater. After any of these interviews between her lovers, of which there were several, she usually retired to solitude, and there indulged her grief. It was in such a situation I found her one evening, after she had been for some time supporting a fictitious gaiety. You now see, my child,' said I, that your confidence in Mr. Thornhill's passion was all a dream; he permits the rivalry of another, every way his inferior, though he knows it lies in his power to secure you to himself by a candid de. claration.' Yes, papa,' returned she, ' but he has his reasons for this delay; I know he has. The sincerity of his looks and words convinces me of his real esteem. A short time, I hope, will discover the

generosity of his sentiments, and convince you that my opinion of him has been more just than your's.' Olivia, my darling,' returned I, every scheme that has been hitherto pursued to compel him to a deciaration, has been proposed and planned by yourself, nor can you in the least say that I have constrained you. But you must not suppose, my dear, that I will ever be instrumental in suffering his honest ri val to be the dupe of your ill-placed passion. Whatever time you require to bring your fancied admirer to an explanation, shall be granted; but at the expiration of that term, if he is still regardless, I must absolutely insist that honest Mr. Williams shall be rewarded for his fidelity. The character which I have hitherto supported in life demands this from me; and my tenderness, as a parent, shall never inAluence my integrity as a man. Name, then, your day; let it be as distant as you think proper, and in the mean time take care to let Mr. Thornhill know the exact time on which I design delivering you up to another. If he really loves you, his own good sense will readily suggest that there is but one. method alone to prevent his losing you for ever." This proposal, which she could not avoid cousidering as perfectly just, was readily agreed to. She again renewed her most positive promise of marrying Mr. Williams, in case of the other's insensibility; and at the next opportunity, in Mr. Thornhill's presence, that day month was fixed upon for her nuptials with his rival.

Such vigorous proceedings seemed to redouble Mr. Thornhill's anxiety: but what Olivia really felt gave me some uneasiness. In this struggle between prudence and passion, her vivacity quite forsook her, and every opportunity of solitude was sought, and spent in tears. One week passed away; but Mr. Thornhill made no efforts to restrain her nuptials. The succeeding week he was still assiduous, but not more open. On the third he discontinued his visits entirely; and instead of my daughter tes

tifying any impatience, as I expected, she seemed to retain a pensive tranquillity, which I looked upon as resignation. For my own part, I was now sincerely pleased with thinking that my child was going to be secured in a continuance of competence and peace, and frequently applauded her resolution, in preferring happiness to ostentation.

It was within about four days of her intended nuptials, that my little family at night were ga thered round a charming fire, telling stories of the past, and laying schemes for the future. Busied in forming a thousand projects, and laughing at whatever folly came uppermost. Well, Moses,' cried I,

we shall soon, my boy, have a wedding in the fa mily; what is your opinion of matters, and things in general? My opinion, father, is, that all things go on very well; and I was just now thinking, that when sister Livy is married to Farmer Williams, we shall then have the loan of his cyder-press and brewing tubs for nothing.'- That we shall, Moses,' cried 1, and he will sing us Death and the Lady, to raise out spirits into the bargain.'-'He has taught that song to our Dick,' cried Moses; and I think he goes through it very prettily. Does he so,' cried I, then let us have it: where is little Dick, let him up with it boldly.' 'My brother Dick,' cried Bill, my youngest, is just gone out with sister Livy; but Mr. Williams has taught me two songs, and I'll sing them for you, papa. Which song dɔ you chuse The Dying Swan; or, the Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog? The elegy, child, by all means,' said I, I never heard that yet-and Deborah, my life, grief, you know, is dry; let us have a bottle of the best gooseberry-wine, to keep up our spirits. I have wept so much at all sorts of elegies of late, that, without an enlivening glass, I am sure this will overcome me. And, Sophy, love, take your guitar, and thrum in with the boy a little.'

AN ELEGY

On the Death of a Mad Dog.

GOOD people all, of every sort,
Give ear unto my song;

And if you find it wond'rous short,
It cannot hold you long.

In Islington there was a man,
Of whom the world might say,
That still a godly race he ran,
Whene'er he went to pray.

A kind and gentle heart he had,
To comfort friends and foes;
The naked every day he clad,
When he put on his cloaths.

And in that town a dog was found,
As many dogs there be,

Both mungrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,

And curs of low degree.

This dog and man at first were friends;
But when a pique began,

The dog, to gain some private ends,
Went mad, and bit the man! -

Around from all the neighb'uring streets
The wond'ring neighbours ran;
And swore the dog had lost his wits,

To bite so sood a man.

The wound it seem'd both sore and sad

To every Christian eye;

And while they swore the dog was mad,
They swore the man would die.

But soon a wonder came to light,
That shew'd the rogues they lied;

The man recovered of the bite,
The dog it was that died.

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