thy father had set thee was lost! I cannot forbear repeating it: "He who fails in the discharge of one of his duties, will soon betray them all successively;" and he who, by forsaking me, had broken asunder so many bonds, could be brought back into the paths of virtue only by an excess of disappointments and wretchedness. The an hour, before his second wife had an execution in his house, which he was enjoined to give up, besides the intimation of her sueing for a divorce, on account of the incompatibility of tempers. This event, which I had foreseen, stunned me: notwithstanding Iwas avenged, I was far from feeling happy! What was to become of your father? Was I to expect his return only from the ingratitude of the woman whom he had preferred to me? The most gloomy reflections assaulted me! I appointed several persons to watch and ob serve my husband, and thought of following only the dictates of my reason, whilst I yielded to the suggestions of the most tender affection. I was informed that he had left his house The moment was drawing near. behaviour of your father's second wife was become so scandalous that he could no longer put up with it without exposing himself to public ridicule, and yet he dared not use all his authority for fear of necessitating a rupture, that would be accompanied with his total ruin. What an humiliation for a man who is not lost to every sentiment of honour! Each day brought on new scenes, when that artful woman had recourse al-without the least representation, and I apternately to threats, intreaties, scorn, and caresses, according as she thought it would the better answer her purpose. Mr. Dormeuil was reduced to the necessary precaution of concealing from her the real circumstances he was in, having observed that her regard for him diminished in proportion as he appeared willing to use economy, and rather embarrassed how to honour his engagements. proved of his having done so the more fortitude he would display, the more I was inclined to esteem him., I felt apprehensive, however, lest he would go bewailing his hard fate from door to door; but he had good sense enough to know, that situated as he was, no friends were to be relied upon; perhaps, also, he was conscious, that from his behaviour he had no right to complain. He took refuge in an hotel. Unfortunate Husband to two wives, both Had I been allowed to see him,-had I || wretch! dared to advise him, I would have said to alive! Father of two children, by different him :-" It is too late, your ruin is unavoid- || wives,-so lately in affluence, now forlorn, able; but at least avoid disgrace, and wait and reduced to seek an asylum in a house not until a woman turns you out of your || open for the reception of wanderers! What own house. A repudiated wife is often in a situation! What pangs had he to enthe eyes of the public a victim only, whom dure! opinion is eager to console; but a man expelled by her who bears his name, whom he has overwhelmed with benefits, will always appear more deserving of contempt than of pity." How many times was tempted to write to him again! Shall I confess to you, my dear child, from what sentiment I was withheld, when to this very day I cannot account for it to myself? No, I never considered as legal the union between your father and my rival; and yet I should have thought myself guilty of a crime if I had intervened to dissolve that union, even at the moment when I foresaw the rupture was inevitable. In the mean time the new company, of which Mr. Dormeuil was a partner, was forced to stop payment; and the circumstance had not yet been rumoured for above The only servant who had followed him was the man so devoted to me, whom I have already mentioned. I sent ten times in the course of the day to enquire after Mr. Dormeuil. I would have willingly given half of what I was worth to find out a pretence for flying to assist him. Yet how many considerations kept me from him? 1 was afraid lest too much eagerness should appear troublesome to him: if he had been in distress only, I should not have hesitated one single moment; but he was so culpable towards me that I was obliged to use great caution to render my presence supportable. Was I even certain whether he did not still love the woman who had betrayed him? The passion with which she had inspired him was so opposite to all the ideas 1 had conceived of love, that I was at a loss to divine whether so much ingratitude had dried up the source of his desires or of his weakness. mouth of your father, removed at once all my house. I was informed by his servant that the fortitude which he had displayed upon leaving his home, forsook him since he was left solitary. Subsequently to violent agitation, he had gone to bed, and a burning thirst denoted a feverish state. I sent for my physician, to whom I imparted in what manner he might gain access; but Mr. Dormeuil refused admitting him. This piece of intelligence stung me to the quick.found practicable, I had him conveyed to Was it on account of my having solicited I had previously requested, the doctor's attendance that he had been that never in your presence, my dear child, refused admittance? the least word should be mentioned tending to let you into the secret of your father's past conduct. When he saw you, he bathed you with his tears, and recommended your never ceasing to love me. You were surprised at the intimation, because you could not be aware at the time of what passed within his mind. To have restored your father to health would have been but a Be it as it may, the fever increased, and my apprehensions knew no bounds. Too deeply alarmed to listen to any consideration, in company with a confidential female servant, I repaired to the hotel where your father had taken up his residence. So long as he continued delirious I did not leave his remained not unimpeached. My agent was in possession of my entire confidence, and most deservingly so. I invited Mr. Dormeuil to give him his power of attorney, and the trusty man attended to the liqui dation of the engagements entered into by the company to which your father belonged. bedside; and by the excess of my grief I was made acquainted with my own weak-secondary consideration, if his character ness. I was proud in the idea of discharging a duty; I thought I had triumphed over all my just resentment; but whilst viewing Dormeuil, I trembled for his life; I became but too sensible that I had never ceased loving him, therefore, when he was out of danger I could not determine to withdraw. When he saw me, he looked as if annihilated by my presence. Too weak to be able to speak, he seemed fearful of turning his eyes towards me: I seized one of his hands, which I pressed within mine as a token of reconciliation, without his returning any kind of answer, even by a slight motion. My tears then began afresh to flow abundantly. Dormeuil," said I, "do you command me to leave you?""Julia!" exclaimed he, "do you wish to kill me?" Alas! I could feel that life within me was nearly extinct. Your father had just been speaking to me; it was three years since I had heard his voice, that voice whose sound had never reached my ears without causing my heart to beat. My name was the first word which he had uttered; he had called me Julia, the same as he was wont to do during the days of our happiness. He therefore had not forgotten my name. That name, so sweet in the The firm, notwithstanding apparent embarrassments, had, in fact, sustained but very inconsiderable loss; my signature removed many difficulties, yet I never would give it but with a certainty of risking only what I was willing to lose. My duty towards your father never induced me to forget what I owed to you. The day on which his divorce from Mademoiselle Olivier was pronounced, was for me a day of happiness; methought he was more strongly bound to me. Though he had retained for her the least partiality, the behaviour of which she made a parade, would alone have sufficed to cure him. Could you believe, that overloaded with the spoils of Mr. Dormeuil, she carried her effrontery so far as to claim a pension for her daughter, unless he preferred taking the child with him? I'invited him to claim her as his own; but I never hinted even at the possibility of the girl being admitted H into my family. She was taken to a board-parison to what I had now to endure. Ining-school, without my having seen her. capable of upbraiding him with his past I felt chagrined at seeing your father re- conduct that he lamented, not daring to duced so low in his own estimation as not enjoy the present,-without hopes with to presume soliciting in behalf of his other || regard to the future,-every thought of daughter; but it was above my power to mine being coupled with sorrow,-every act otherwise. The illusion which I had desire attended with remorse! I could not entertained for a while had already va- but delight in that grief which shortened nished. The laws, my dear child, had the period of my existence. In this respect much more authority than I had sup- I so far proved successful,-my constitution posed: Dormeuil was no longer my hus- was impaired. band; and in spite of myself I was no longer the wife of Dormeuil! It is this horrid truth that has hurried me to my grave. The contract, by virtue of which our property had been made common, was annulled; and fruitless were all my endeavours to persuade your father that he was the only master in the house: myvery efforts to convince him that I wished to consider him as such, made him sensible that he had once ceased being so. Nay, his submission also brought it back to my own mind. How severely did I suffer to be reckoned every thing, and Mr. Dormeuil nothing! || Wherefore did that unfortunate divorce ever take place? Most undoubtedly he had renounced his former errors, loved me as I deserved, and as I had ever wished to be beloved; but could he speak to me of virtuous and disnterested love whilst a dependent on me? What claim had I to those caresses which intimacy renders so familiarly welcome between man and wife? Was he mine husband-Yes,-in the bottom of his heart he had never ceased being so; and yet, in the name of the laws I appeared to keep a criminal intercourse with a man who was ! who was no longer my husband! Cruel, dreadful situation! Both his tears and mine warned us, upon many occasions, that those laws had decreed us strangers to each other. Devoted by fate a victim to the varying passions of Dormeuil, it was when he sincerely and wholly returned to me that my misfortunes became irremediable. What I had bitherto suffered was trifling in com I had been told that I might marry my husband a second time. Alas! the need of linking anew his existence to mine, whispered it more loudly still than the laws, and my tortures increased in proportion. Was I, by a second marriage, to consent to render legal my divorce, and Dormeuil's sacrilegious union with my rival?—No; never. Although the voice of my conscience had not spoken louder than my desires, know, your mother, my beloved child, felt in her bosom an inexpressible delicacy, which warned her that a second marriage would put an end to the esteem she entertained for herself, and, perchance, to the affection which your father had inspired me with. It is now all over; the blow has proved mortal. The attention of Dormeuil, and his grief increase my despair: however, I feel great satisfaction from the certainty that he loves me, and that he will never cease regretting me. Be you his comforter when I am no more. I am well assured that he will often speak of me to you. When you have attained that age at which I intend this present writing to be given to you, you may then let him know how much I doated on him. I alone knew it, and my dissolution even is inadequate to the task of manifesting the liveliness of the attachment that I had vowed to him. Farewel, my dear child! at some future period your tears will mingle on this paper with those that shower from my eyes in this last adieu. Adieu then! sacrifice every thing to your duty; love your father, and watch over her whom he has made your sister. NADIR.-A TALE OF FORMER TIMES. (Continued from Page 127.) On the following day our hero was rejoicing at his metamorphoses, when the consort of a noble Lord sent to propose a mysterious interview, and he appointed the hour of their meeting. Another messenger presents him with a note from a lady of ton, informing him of the time she was to begin her toilet, and he promised to be punctual. Now comes a third deputy, bearer of an epistle: the tenth muse invited him to dinner, after which she proposed to read a poem of her composition, in twelve cantos. Nadir, however, recollecting his former situation, shuddered, and declined the invitation. Once more his door is opened; a letter, with at least fifty erasures, contained an hardly legible summons to tea from the wife of an army contractor, which Nadir engages to obey. It was reported, but we vouch not for the truth of the assertion, that he supped, uninvited, with an operadancer. Such was the rage amongst the fair of the metropolis, that they thought themselves disgraced who could not boast of having made a conquest of him. Two caskets can hardly contain the declarations, bracelets, and other pledges of love that are sent to him, besides those that he procures by stealth. One female alone is doomed to resist him, and what a woman! She, who in him loves but him alone; she, who rejects his declarations to remain faithful to him-Elma. In consequence of the treacherous schemes of Phanor, in excuse of which he might indeed have urged the bad principles of his education, and the influence of bad example, Elma had repaired to the capital. Notwithstanding Phanor had never seen Elma, the wit and feelings he had observed in her correspondence, the idea of possessing a woman who was indebted for her attractions to nature alone, and I blush as I repeat it, the secret pleasure he expected to derive in seducing her from his friend, had induced him to execute a most abominable project. In the beginning he was satisfied with adding a few tender and witty sentences to what Nadir had been writing. By this means he had made himself known to Elma, and had gained her confidence. But it was necessary for him to inspire Nadir with suspicions, so as to cool his ardour; and Phanor had accordingly intercepted the correspondence between the two lovers. Elma then determined to enquire of Phanor wherefore she was thus neglected; the traitor expected as much; he wrote to her that Nadir had been severely wounded in an affair of honour. "I would have wished," added he in his letter, "to conceal that accident from you; but he refuses every assistance, will not even allow me to be near him, but is continually calling after, and will see no other than Elma. If love and compassion still prevail in your heart, come to-, and restore to us both our unfortunate friend." It was subsequent to his having dispatched that letter that Phanor had parted from Nadir to repair to the place he had appointed; where he had not long to wait. Elma, notwithstanding she had to bewail the recent loss of her mother, could not bear the mere idea of losing Nadir. She hesitated not, but set off immediately, and, without stopping on the road, met her false friend on the second day. The first words she spoke were to enquire after the only man on whose account she considered life as a boon; she wished to be introduced to him, she begs, she entreats, and wonders at the pretences under which her solicitations are not granted. Phanor at last produces, `apparently with regret, the paper on which the dying Nadir had written a last adieu, and conjured Elma to give her hand to~. Elma had read enough,—she surmised the treachery, and shed abundance of tears. Beauteous as she was, those tears added to her natural beauty. Phanor could no longer moderate his transports. After having tried means of persuasion, he presumed to have recourse to violence: but nothing is equal to the powers of defence of a true lover. She disengaged herself from the grasp of the ruffian, threw a window open and made her escape. The god of love protected her, secured her flight, and directed her course towards the metropolis. She arrived exactly at the time when Nadir experienced his sad disgrace, which rendered him still dearer to her. She determined to continue in town until she could find out her lover; but all her researches proved fruitless. One day as Nadir was crossing a solitary walk he descried a female seated on a bench of turf, and who appeared plunged in deep reverie. He approached her without being able to discover her features, accosted, under the most frivolous pretexts, all who passed near her, till at last he recognised her to be Elma. with each other who should have the honour first of running him through. The intelligence was more than sufficient to induce our hero to renounce the hazardous career he had chosen. He had no time to lose he knew; he therefore hastened to carry off his most precious effects, and the lock of Elma's hair; he threw the two caskets into the fire, made his escape through a private back door, and sought an obscure asylum. There he was at leisure to enquire of himself of what use had been to him the fatal present that had been granted him in consequence only of his inconsiderate desires. He even was engaged for a time in reflection that would have induced any other besides himself to return the book to Alzor, and to sue for the restoration of Elma to his embrace. His first idea prompted him to accost her, but curiosity and vanity, which so frequently misguide us contrary to our real interest, suggested the thought of trying But after having hesitated for some time, whether the aspect of the adorable Adonis Nadir, however, drew a very different should not eclipse the distant remote image event from those that had lately occurred. of the once candid Nadir. Compliments," Wherefore have I been miserable?" said declarations, indifference, rage, all that may be calculated to awaken tenderness, || or provoke jealousy, is put in practice, but with not the least success. Elma remains iuflexible. Ah! Nadir, with one single word you might have made her happy, whereas. But become the sport of a wild error, are you still deserving of appreciating and enjoying real happiness? An elderly woman approaching Elma, whispered something in her ear, and they soon after withdrew together. Nadir piqucd at his ill success, thought not of following them, till such time as they were gone a great distance, and entirely out of sight. he to himself. "Because I had not chosen a situation in life that might have made me otherwise. I could only shine in academical assemblies, or in voluptuous boudoirs; whilst, whenever I chanced to meet with men of great property, I always found that gold served them as a substitute for accomplishments and merit. Is it not in behalf, and for the sake of the rich, that wisdom occasionally forgets itself, and that justice even will slumber? The whole of nature pays a tribute to the rich: to gratify the rich, does not the poet sit up all night by the light of a half replenished lamp; the mariner brave the stormy seas, and the pale miner dig the bowels of his A thousand new triumphs soon afforded mother earth? him consolation, and made him forget what thing: men, therefore, use craft, and submit he considered as an affront. Tired, in some to cringe with a view of obtaining riches. respect, of his high reputation, he endea When, by pronouncing a single word, I voured to persuade himself that he was may become rich; wherefore should I much to be envied, when he was informed hesitate?"-Opulence! repeated Nadir at all at once, that an extravagant nymph three different times. He had scarcely uthad forsaken him for a favourite of Plutus; tered the word when an individual, whose that another belle, who thought he had features were entirely unknown to him, neglected her, had just stabbed herself, came forward, and addressing him in the after having exposed all his infidelity; that most respectful manner, said:" My Lord, a third, incensed at his inconstancy," had I have just been paying the price of the bribed his cook; that a jealous husband rich mansion that you approved of." Next had procured bravos to murder him; and presenting his hand to support the amazed that many disappointed lovers contended | Nadir, he ushered him into an elegant car, The rich man is every |