Here it would be wrong to omit the very remarkable and feeling censure which was passed on this pernicious waste of time, by the very person of whom we are speaking, and who, as we shall find, suffered so much from the evil. Adverting to what had been her own practice in early life, she used to condemn very pointedly those who, from design or carelessness, threw such allurements in the way of their domestics. So strong, indeed, was her sense of the mischievous tendency of those productions on the minds of the giddy and uninformed, as to declare that if she had the choice, her preference would be given to a servant that could not read at all, to one that was so qualified. This, to be sure, was carrying matters to the utmost extremity; and the reason she was pleased to assign for her opinion, though curious and ingenious enough, cannot by any means be admitted as a sufficient justification of the decision founded upon it. Wherever," she would observe,. a female servant, especially if she is young, and has a turn for reading, can indulge her inclination by the books which lie in the apartments of her mistress, the business in which she should be employed will surely be neglected, and her mind be raised, by the perusal, above the sphere in which it is her province to move."

66

The truth of this remark, in all its extent, can hardly be denied, and yet the purpose to which it was applied must be condemned, as a pitiful endeavour to license that folly in superiors, from which their dependents should be debarred by ignorance. The proper refutation of such sophistry, when offered as an apology for an arbitrary distinction, is that which transfers the culpability from the servants to their employers; since, if the last were properly mindful of their duty, and took care not to place such allurements in the way of their domestics, these last would neither idle away the time, which should be better

employed, nor poison their minds, which ought to be otherwise exercised.

Novels and the theatre have, perhaps, ruined more than ever they instructed; yet it be an act of vandalism to consign all works of fiction to the flames, or to pronounce an absolute decree of proscription against all dramatic representation, instead of regulating both by the laws of morality, and teaching the use to which alone they ought to be applied.

An inordinate attachment to books, exhibiting the falsest pictures of human nature, and to the play-house, where the passions are inflamed rather than corrected, had the most baneful influence on the mind of this giddy adventurer on the perilous ocean of life. That which commenced at the outset in the laxity of discipline, became habitual by the want of monition in the progress; and this being confirmed by the total absence of example in the heads of the household, had the effect of lessening that delicacy of sentiment, and dread of shame, which will ever prove an adamantine shield to the female heart, and the most powerful guard of its bonour.

The next place to which she removed, was one that flattered her vanity, and gave a latitude to her inclinations. Her appearance became almost as powerful a recommendation as her character, to a lady who figured greatly in the fashionable world, and whose house was the continual resort of gay persons, among whom were some distinguished writers for the stage, and others, who stood high in the public esteem, as singers and performers. This, it may naturally be supposed, was exactly the place that best suited the peculiar inclination of the lively Emma, whose heart was but too susceptible of the allurements which were now most amply spread before her by the folly of the vain, and the designs of the vicious.

The family, into which she thought herself perfectly

happy in being admitted as housemaid, presented to her view a perpetual round of bustling activity, which had no other object than to provide luxury for those who thought only of indulging their love of pleasure, by pampering the senses with new sources of extravagance. The day was occupied in preparations for the festivities of the evening; and those hours which should have been devoted to rest and reflection, were sacrificed to scenes of dissipation. One part of the week was nearly the same as the other; and there was hardly any thing to mark the return of that day which human and divine authority have combined to render sacred, except in the selection of company and the change of amusements. The servants were under the necessity of pursuing their ordinary avocations, instead of enjoying that rest which the law enjoined, and their improvement required. In this whirlpool of hurry and pleasure, the domestics had neither time for serious meditation, nor opportunities allowed them to learn their duty. From those who should have established order by their authority, and recommended temperance by their example no rules of sobriety were received, nor any useful knowledge gained for the regulation of the conduct, and the improvement of the mind. So long as the respective business of each servant was discharged, entire satisfaction was given, and no attention was paid to the manner in which the residue of time was employed, or to the company that they kept.

In such a place, the dangers attending youth and beauty were multiplied by the facilities now offered of indulging that love of theatrical amusement which had already been too strongly excited by the incessant flatteries which were addressed to a credulous ear, and the various arts that were continually adopted to charm away all apprehension of future misery, in the desire of present gratification. It was impossible that in a house like this, the charms of

Emma should pass unobserved by the numerous visiters who were on terms of close intimacy with the family. To a figure of uncommon elegance were added features perfectly regular, with a countenance of such indiscribable sweetness of expression as fixed the beholder in admiration. The airiness of her form gave a peculiar grace to her movements, and such was the flexibility of her limbs, that she might have been considered as a mountain nymph. Her agility, however, though light and sportive, and nothing in it of boisterous activity; nor in the gayety which she supported, did there appear any of that levity which seems to court instead of repelling temptation. Among the many attractions which at this period distinguished the female of whom we are speaking, that of a very mu sical voice was one that could hardly fail, in the situation where she was placed, to. excite attention and inflame vanity. Having the advantage of a good.ear, aided also by a retentive memory, she was enabled to sing popular airs with considerable effect; and the opportunities which she enjoyed of frequenting places of public amusement, served to increase the passion for dramatic entertainments. The effect produced by these exhibitions, was that of adding to her love of singing a strong turn for mimicry, which was encouraged by her companions to such a degree, as to become the subject of very general conversation.

By the folly of those who should have checked this propensity, instead giving it any countenance, that which was at first a mere playful act of occasional humour, and perhaps nothing more than a harmless amusement, settled into a habit, and drew off the mind from its proper pursuits, and those occupations, which, diligently attended to, and regularly followed, might have rendered this young person a much more useful, though a less brilliant member of society. Hereby she acquired a boldness which proved the leading feature of her character through life, to which

her ruin was owing in the first instance, and which confirmed her in the habits of intrigue and extravagance, so completely as to render her equally the deceiver of her own heart, while she was imposing on the credulity of others.

CHAPTER III.

Ah, turn thine eyes

Where the poor houseless shiv'ring female ligs.
She once, perhaps, in village plenty blest,
Has wept at tales of innocence distrest;
Her modest looks the cottage might adorn,
Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thoru:
Now lost to all, her friends, her virtue fled,
Near her betrayer's door she lays her head,
And, pinch'd with cold, and shrinking from the show'r,
With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour,

When, idly first, ambitious of the town,

She left her wheel and robes of country brown....Goldsmith.

THE female who hesitates on the threshold of temptation, by stopping to listen with inquisitive delight to the tale of flattery, is lost. She betrays her virtue, by giving encouragement to the voice of praise, when she should be employed in examining her conduct, to discover what it is that renders her an object of admiration. Thus it was in the present instance, and more could not well have been expected, considering the circumstances in which this young person was placed, the gifts with which she was furnished, the graces she possessed, and the companions with whom she daily associated. Her first lapse from the paths of virtue was occasioned by an act of good nature; for, in the early part of the American war, a friend or relation having been impressed and sent on board the tender off the Tower, she had the courage to wait upon the