DOMESTIC INDUSTRY. A PASTORAL DIALOGUE. PHILLIS and Damaris were too country laffes, the pride of the village where they lived; both hand fome to perfection, but exceedingly different. The unaf fected Damaris, had no attention but to affift the infirmities of an aged parent, whom fevere illness confined to his cottage, while fhe tended his flock by the wood fide, her hands were generally employed in fome useful work; and while fhe knit or spun, to procure her old father a more tolerable fubfiftence, the cheerfulness of her fongs expreffed a contented heart. Her drefs, though very poor, was always neat and clean; fhe ftudied no ornament in it, and if the neighbours commended her person, she paid them very little attention. Phillis, had been bred up under a careless mother, she was exceedingly pretty, and knew it perfectly well. On holidays,no-body fo fpruce as fhe. Her hat was wreathed with flowers or ribbands, every fountain was confulted for her dress, and every meadow ranfacked to adorn it. From morning till night she was dancing and sporting on the green. The shepherds all courted and admired her, and she believed every word they said, yet she felt many a difcontent. Sometimes her garland was lefs becoming than fhe wished it. Sometimes fhe would fancy that a fhepherd flighted her, or that a newer face was was more admired than her's. Every day was spent in the pursuit of gaiety, and every day brought with it fome difquiet fhe was one morning fitting very penfive under a poplar, tying up a nosegay, when she heard Damaris (who was concealed from her only, by the shade of fome bushes) finging wirh a merry heart, a fong in praise of industry. Phillis could not help interrupting her in the midst of it, and when she went towards her, found her bufy in plying the diftaff, which was fixed in her fide. When the gay maid thus accofted her: PHILLIS. How is it poffible, Damaris, that you should be fo merry in leading a life of fuch drudgery? What charms can you find in it? How much better would it become your years to be dancing at the may-pole? DAMARIS. Ah! Phillis, I prefer this way of life, because I fee you very unhappy in yours. For my part, I have never a moment's uneafinefs. I am fenfible I am doing what I ought. I fee myfelf the comfort of a good old father, who fupported my helpless infancy, and now wants this return of duty in his decrepid age. When I have penned the fold at night, I return home, and cheer him with my fight, I drefs his little fupper, and partake it with more pleasure than you enjoy at a feast. He, in the mean time, tells me fome ftories of his younger days, and inftructs me, by his experience. Sometimes Sometimes he teaches me a fong, like that I was finging juft now, and on holidays, I read to him out of fome good book. This, Phillis, is my life, I have no great expectations, but have every cheerful hope that can make the heart light and easy. PHILLIS. Well, Damaris, I fhall not difpute your tafte. My father is able enough, by his own labour, to provide for his family, and my mother never fets us the example of working. 'Tis true, we are poor, but who knows what good fortune may throw in our way. Youth is the time for mirth and pleasure, and I don't care how hardly I fare, provided I can get a filk lining to my hat, and be lady of the May next year. DAMARIS. Oh! Phillis, this is very pretty for the prefent, but in what will it end? Do you think that smoothness of face will last always? Yon decrepid old woman that now limps upon her crutches, was once, they fay, as handfome as you. Her youth paffed without engaging any body's real affection for her, and her good name was loft among the follies fhe engaged in. Poverty and age came on together. She has long been a burden to the village and herself. If any neighbour's cow is ill, all fufpicions of witchcraft fall upon her. She can do nothing to maintain herfelf, and every body grudges her what she has, PHILLIS, PHILLIS. You are ill-natured, Damaris, to compare me with her whom all the world abhors! I wish you would come to the paftimes, they would put you into a better humour? befides, you would there hear what the fhepherds fay to this Phillis, whom you are pleased to des pise fo. DAMARIS. I don't defpife you, Phillis, but wish you well, and would fain fee you as happy as myself. That fine green fuff your gown is made of, would become you much better if it was your own spinning. But I talk like an old man's daughter, and am little heeded. Go, pretty butterfly, and rejoice in the fummer of thy days. Let me, like the homely but industrious ant, lay up fome provifion for the winter. MISS TALBOT. A CONVERSATION BETWEEN WORTHY, SOFHRON, AND SOPHIA. FROM THE UNIVERSE DISPLAYED. WORTHY. I do not wonder that our English Poets have so often made the month of May the fubject of their theme. All the landscape around us is now extremely charming, and I cannot forbear thinking of, and repeating to my. felf, Milton's beautiful fong on May morning: Now Now the bright morning-ftar, day's harbinger, And I fee too, Sophia, your care in your flowergarden has collected all the beautiful flowers of May, to entertain our fight and fmell. How lovely do those flowers that border the parterre, look from this window! Sophia. We will, if you please, go down and take a nearer view; but I must first intreat you to inform me, Mr. Worthy, why the firft appearance of a flower-garden infpires each beholder with a fudden pleasure; and whence it can proceed, that without any diftinct thought we are, that moment, fenfible of a fatis faction we experience in no other place? The caufe, in my opinion, is to be derived from the rich colours which ftrike our fight; and it is not without defign, that flowers have been arrayed with fo much fplendor. Worthy. I would willingly know Sophron's fentiments on this fubject. Sophron. I freely confefs it never entered into my thoughts to feek for any design in flowers: but if I may judge of them by the delight they afford me, they were certainly created to pleafe us. Sophia. |