itself of a most amiable mother, who, in the prime of life, and dissipations of society, esteems it one of the most pleasing employments to inspect the education of her offspring, and to this only applies her maternal cares and personal attendance. Surely it must be the earnest wish of every good mind, that she may have the since e and noble satisfaction of seeing them grow up under her tender and watchful eye, in every virtue and excellence which may render them public ornaments and blessings, and diffuse a beneficial and extensive influence, of great use in the present age, and the effects of which may be transmitted to succeeding generations.

Viewing his family in this amiable light, Henry thought he could never exert himself sufficiently to augment their pleasures; and as a tribute for the pure gratification. which had emanated from the sensible converse of his sisters, he presented to their perusal a rapid sketch of his tempe sous existence under the title of "The Clerical

Wanderer,"

Wanderer," a true story. This little picture it is that furnishes me with the materials of these volumes. It opens by describing to his sweet sisters his early love for Clara; his disappointments at home and abroad, which effected the calamity of Clara's loss; and concludes by a grateful expression of the happiness he experiences in his intercourse with them, and the other invaluable members of his father's house.

Few could be happier than Henry was in this contracted circle of relative personages; but humble obscurity was not to be the portion of a man of his education and endowments. Besides, he had several military and college connexions of the first respectability in Bristol, and who forced him into a more brilliant intercourse than would have suited the tranquil and unostentatious habits of his domestic home. In recalling the occurrences of this interesting period of his existence, Henry felt the courteous friendly intervention of Sir Harry Claxton deeply impressed with gratitude on his reminiscence.

miniscence. He had the pleasure of passing much time with Sir Harry at a former juncture; they were inseparable companions. From that association, and from Sir Harry's being superior to the unphilosophic pride that sometimes accompanies elevation of rank and extent of fortune, he no sooner met with Henry in Bristol than he introduced him to his friends, and gave him every other convincing proof of the goodness. of his heart and the fidelity of his remembrance. Of the most interesting of these introductions, that to Mrs. Millwood appeared to Henry of the first number. The family consisted of Mrs. Millwood and her four daughters; their collected beauties were calculated to win a heart unengaged, and their blended qualities admirably fitted to make an impression on a mind not occupied by a previous love. A considerable degree of intimacy naturally took place between Henry, his honourable friend, and these charming girls; and as it subjected him to unusual absences from home, it at

tracted

tracted the attention of his mother, and on his return later than usual from the party in which he had been engaged, she humorously asked him, "What amiable people it was that robbed his family of a society they cherished so dear?" Henry replied, with all his usual graciousness and simplicity of manners, "That indeed he did regret that his friend Sir Harry could engage him so much, for that it was he who detained bim at Mrs. Millwood's till that late hour.

"At Mrs. Millwood's !" exclaimed Mrs. Percy with a great degree of emotion; "At Mrs. Millwood's, Henry!!"-To this Henry could not avoid answering without considerable astonishment; and after repeatedly demanding of his mother whether she considered that family as improper or dangerous, he ran out into encomiums upon them all. He considered Mrs. Millwood as a woman of amiable wit, facetious sense, and génerous sentiments. The daughters all are enchanting; as to Sara, the eldest, her countenance, figure, and deportment,

VOL. III.

E

are

are most elegant and graceful. In the meredian of her youth and beauty, the sun of her charins shone bright, and 'abundant' fascinations beam from her expressive eyes and highly animated features. On concluding this rapid panegyric he told Mrs. Percy he deplored her ignorance of such a family, and assured her that nothing could be more delightful than a friendship between two such houses.

Henry could experience no interruption in the course of this rhapsody, because the intellectual faculties of Mrs. Percy, appeared deprived of the power of sensation, or chilled with the frost of horror. At length, restored by the soft attentions and soothing enquiries of Henry into the nature of the disorder of her mind, she burst out into exclamations of enthusiastic pity, and declared, that the Tale of Sorrow she had heard was a judgment upon her for depriving her son of Clara's pure heart and unsullied hand. These expressions, and this conduct, were so singular and enigmatical, that Henry was

too