 by which he was distinguished, avoid similar wretchedness, by guarding their minds against the influence of passion; since, if it be once suffered to acquire an undue ascendency over reason, we shall in vain attempt to controul its power: we might as soon arrest the winds in their violence, or stop the torrent in its course. It is too late to rear the mounds of defence when the impetuous flood rages in its strength, and overthrows all opposition. With a frame labouring under disease, we may recall, with regret, the blissful hours of health; but have no power to new string the nerves, or shake off the malady that loads the springs of life. Alas! the distempered heart, when it

has suffered the disorders of passion to gain strength, can find no balsam in nature to heal their malignancy; no remedy but death. In vain we may lament the loss of our tranquillity; for peace, like the wandering dove, has forsaken its habitation in the bosom, and will return no more.
Julia, so far as she had indulged any sensibility to Seymour's attachment, was proportionably wretched. Women have even greater reason than men to fortify their hearts against those strong affections, which, when not regulated by discretion, plunge in aggravated misery that sex, who, to use the words of an elegant and amiable writer*, "cannot plunge into business, or dissipate themselves in pleasure and riot, as men too often do, when under the pressure of misfortunes; but must bear their sorrows

in silence, unknown and unpitied; must often put on a face of serenity and chearfulness, when their hearts are torn with anguish, or sinking in despair." Though a woman with rectitude of principle, will resolutely combat those feelings which her reason condemns; yet, if they have been suffered to acquire force, the struggle often proves too severe for the delicacy of the female frame; and, though reason, virtue, and piety, may sustain the conflict with the heart, life is frequently the atonement of its weakness.
Julia, when she saw that Seymour was dead, fixed her eyes on his corpse: she shuddered, she groaned deeply, but uttered not a word. From this dreadful stupor she was roused by a message from Charlotte, who suspected, from the anxiety visible in the countenances of her attendants, that Seymour was worse; and Julia's looks confirmed all her apprehensions.

She enquired eagerly for her husband: Julia spoke, but her words were incoherent, and only half-pronounced. Charlotte, every moment more alarmed, became so positive in
