That union which is not established upon the broad basis of mutual confidence, firm affection, and inflexible virtue, can never prove happy. What confidence can a man place in the affection of his wife, when he finds that, on a slight persuasion, she could be prevailed upon to tear assunder those powerful ties, which duty holds to be inviolable? There is something in female delicacy and virtue that is ever averse from actions that are not stamped with the seal of approbation; and it is lamentable that so many girls should be so blinded by passion as not to see and know that she who oversteps the bounds of duty opens a door for the admission of guests, who, under the mask of friendship, may despoil the house, and deprive it of its comforts forever.

I address this paper to those ladies who have just entered upon the theatre of life, who are yet single, and whose vivacity has seldom permitted them to give a serious thought on the subject of their future destiny. A true gentleman, young ladies, despises every action that originates in meanness: and there are few actions, to which that character will apply, more despicable than that of forming a family alliance in an indirect or clandestine manner. He knows and feels the immense importance of reputation and will make any sacrifice to preserve it untarnished. Hence, if he meet a refusal to an honourable application, he will endeavour to obviate objections by a candid discussion of them; and should his arguments not be successful in convincing or persuading, he will retire with manly pride, and either postpone his overtures until a more favourable period, or abandon the object of his attention.

Fortunately for the happiness of mankind, all clandestine mar riages do not terminate equally unprosperous; and instances may be produced wherein the parties have proved shining examples of conjugal tenderness and harmony. But these instances are rare, and do not militate against my position, which is that a union thus effected is dishonourable, and consequently deserving the highest

censure.

That repentance which comes too late, never fails to be attended with anguish of mind, the less able to be endured the more conscious we are of deserving it. And the memory of former joys seems to brighten in proportion as our present prospects become adverse

and gloomy; as if that faculty were deputed to be the inflicter of punishment, by contrasting what we once were, with what we now are: which leads to the melancholy conclusion-That we might have been happier, had we acted with more circumspection and prudence.

Amelia Howard was the third daughter of John Howard, formerly an eminent merchant of the city of Boston. Mr. Howard had the misfortune to lose his wife, after a happy union of ten years: she died, leaving behind her three daughters and one son. Amelia, whose history I am about to relate, was only five years old at this distressing period; and consequently was not sensible of the value of the mother she had lost. Mr. Howard being in the prime of life, and feeling the want of a partner to superintend the concerns of his household, after a lapse of fourteen months from the decease of his first wife, introduced a new mother to his little family.

For some time affairs wore a very pleasing aspect, and Mr. Howard's friends congratulated him on his seemingly prudent choice; but the period was not far distant when all these flattering prospects were to be overclouded, and the demon of discord was fated to usurp the dwelling of harmony and love. Mrs. Howard was possessed of an ungovernable temper, which was only calm when no adverse event aroused it into action. Such an event she was doomed to encounter. The children, in play, unfortunately happened to be guilty of a misdemeanor which, in her eyes, was unpardonable. She broke out into a violent rage, and proceeded to such extremities, that Mr. Howard, to keep peace, and preserve his children from abuse, removed them from his house, and placed them under the guardianship of a maiden sister, who resided in another part of the city.

Children that are taken from under the eye of their parents, are very apt to suffer by the change. Such was the case with Mr. Howard's; who, feeling that the yoke of bondage was removed, considered themselves as perfectly free to act as they pleased; notwithstanding Miss Howard used her utmost endeavours to restrain them within the bounds of sobriety and decorum.

As Amelia advanced to womanhood she gave evident tokens of an amiable disposition. But her education had been neglected. She wanted an attentive mother to instruct her in domestic duties; to

counsel her against the snares and delusions of the world; and, in short, to qualify her for that sphere in life, which the fortune and the reputation of her father gave her a title to move in.

Mr. Howard was a man of the world, and so taken up with its concerns that he neglected his duty as a parent: and, excepting that he liberally provided for the temporal wants of his absent children, seldom gave a thought with regard to their future welfare and happiness. From this neglect sprung a train of evils, the malignant influence of which he was destined to suffer; and, at a period of his life too, when he was the least enabled to endure them.

Amelia was now a woman; beautiful, lively, and engaging. Her company was courted by several young gentlemen of family and reputation; but her vivacity would not permit them to be upon more intimate terms with her than mere politeness allowed.

In the same street wherein Miss Howard resided, a young man, named Saunderson, kept a dry-good store. She had purchased several small articles of him, at sundry times; but one day having bought a piece of muslin, he insisted upon carrying it home for her. She endeavoured to dissuade him from his intention, by informing him that her servant would save him that trouble; but finding him resolute in his purpose, and her entreaties in vain, she consented; and he walked with her to her place of residence. The next day Mr. Saunderson waited upon Miss Amelia to inquire concerning her health. Hence an intimacy commenced; and after a courtship of six weeks, the beautiful Miss Howard consented to elope with Mr. Saunderson.

The evening for their nuptials was fixed. Saunderson had taken lodgings in a distant part of the city; and, in conjunction with a friend, had settled the plan of their proceedings. The fatal period arrived; a coach was provided; and Amelia, placing herself under the protection of her lover and his confidant, was hurried to a tavern, where, a clergyman being sent for, they were shortly united in the sacred bands of wedlock.

Saunderson and his friend retired to express their joy over a bottle of Madeira, leaving Amelia in the chamber, wherein the ceremony was performed, without one being to support her at that solemn and eventful period. She sat down, and leaning her head

upon her hand, became deeply engaged in thought. After a few minutes, hearing the door opened with rudeness, she turned hastily to learn the cause. Judge of her consternation upon beholding her husband and his associate so much inebriated, that it was with difficulty they could enter the room. She started from her seat, and seizing her bonnet, which was lying on the table at hand, sprang out of the chamber, and in an instant found herself in the street. Fear gave her speed a few moments brought her to her own home; where, breathless, she had no sooner entered, than sitting down on a chair, she instantly fainted.

It unfortunately happened that no one was in the house except her eldest sister; who overcome with fright, was hardly capable of any assistance. A dash of cold water in the face, however, brought Amelia to her senses; who soon quieted the alarm of her sister by disclosing to her the whole history of the transaction. Her sister reproved her in a tender manner for her imprudence; counselled her with regard to her present conduct; and it was finally resolved that she should break off all connexion with Saunderson forever.

The next morning the bridegroom appeared with evident to kens of confusion and disgrace. He attempted to apologize for his base conduct by declaring that he had been deceived by the landlord, who had treacherously adulterated the wine which had occasioned his intoxication. But finding his wife more resolute than he expected, he fell upon his knees, kissed her hand, wept, and made so many protestations of innocency, and vows of eternal constancy and love, that the unfortunate and gentle Amelia overcome by his attitude, his tears, and his intreaties, regardless of her resolve, sunk down upon his bosom, and clasping him in her arms passionately exclaimed-" I submit."

The sister of Amelia, concluding it would be vain to oppose this fresh resolve, agreed to accompany her to her new home; where, after giving her some good advice relative to her future conduct, she left her, but not without many embraces, and many

tears.

Mr. Howard during the above-mentioned transactions was absent, on business, in the state of New-York, and was not apprized of his daughter's imprudence until his return. As soon as he arriSA

VOL. III.

ved, and before he had the least intimation of the affair, he called at his sister's to visit his children. Amelia, since she had attained her sixteenth year, had shared more of his attention than formerly: for he often declared that she most resembled her mother of all his daughters. Judge of his astonishment, ye who are parents, upon being told of the disgrace of his favourite daughter. He paced the floor for some moments in silence-his face became alternately flushed and pale; at length he sat down, and, with a countenance on which was depicted marks of unusual anguish of mind, clasping his hands, exclaimed," my God, is it possible!"

Amelia now had leisure to reflect on her late conduct. Already she had repented of her indiscretion. The thought of the grief which she had occasioned in a tender father filled her with remorse. Her seclusion from her friends, particularly her sisters, who were forbidden to visit her, overwhelmed her with distress. She consumed the tedious hours of the day, which were passed in the absence of her husband, in unavailing sighs and tears. At length, driven almost to distraction at the idea of her forlorn and solitary situation, she boldly resolved to cast herself at the feet of her father, to implore his forgiveness, and to entreat him once more to bless and acknowledge her as his daughter.

In pursuance of this determination, she reached his door, and having gained admittance sat down, waiting, with anxiety, his arrival. Mr. Howard in a few moments entered the parlour: but, on beholding Amelia, who was leaning upon a piano, with a handkerchief to her eyes, walked hastily two or three times across the room; then, as if suddenly recollecting himself, he gave her a look expressive of stern displeasure, and was just hasting out of the door when she sprang from the chair, seized his hand, and casting up her lovely blue eyes, suffused with tears, wildly and tenderly exclaimed "My father!" The sound of her voice, and particularly the endearing appellation she uttered, aroused, in spite of the resolution of Mr. Howard, all the sensibilities of his soul; he broke from her, and throwing himself upon a sofa, gave vent to his feelings in a torrent of tears.

After this tempest of grief had subsided, Mr. Howard told his daughter that he freely forgave her, and hoped she would so con