For softness she, and sweet attractive grace.
And her husband, so far from a churlish insensibility to her perfections, politely calls her

Daughter of God and man, accomplish'd Eve.
I will not, however, affirm that Adam, or even Milton, annexed to the term accomplished precisely the idea with which it is associated in the mind of a true modern-bred lady.

It may be objected to the poet's gallantry that he remarks

How beauty is excell'd by manly grace,
And wisdom, which alone is truly fair;
let it be remembered that the observation proceeds from the lips of Eve herself, and thus adds to her other graces, the crowning grace of humility.

But it is high time that I should proceed from my criticism to myself. The connexion, and of course the transition, will be found more natural than may appear, till developed by my slight narrative.

CHAPTER II.

I am a young man, not quite four and twenty, of an ancient and respectable family, and considerable estate in one of the northern counties. Soon after I had completed my studies in the university of Edinburgh, my father fell into a lingering illness. I attended him with an assiduity which was richly rewarded by the lessons of wisdom, and the example of piety, which I daily received from him. After languishing about a year, I lost him, and in him the most affectionate father, the most enlightened companion, and the most Christian friend.

The grief of my mother was so poignant and so lasting, that I could never prevail on myself to leave her, even for the sake of attaining those advantages, and enjoying those pleasures, which may be reaped by a wider range of observation, by a more extended survey of the multifarious tastes, habits, pursuits, and characters of general society. I felt with Mr. Gray that we can never have but one mother, and postponed from time to time the moment of leaving home.

I was her only child, and though it was now her sole remaining wish to see me happily married, yet I was desirous of first putting myself in a situation which might afford me a more extensive field of inquiry before I ventured to take so irretrievable a step, a step which might perhaps affect my happiness in both worlds. But time did not hang heavy on my hands; if I had little society, I had many books. My father had left me a copious library, and I had learnt from him to select whatever was most valuable in that best species of literature which tends to form the principles