wardly provoked at his solemn foppery, pro- | was absurd in the last degree, and she began mised all he required, and he then informed his impatient auditress, that several of his literary friends were about to establish a critical journal, in which all the best talents of the city were to be displayed—“and you will not be surprised," said he, "to hear, that much is expected from me, particularly in the department of the belles-lettres. I hope you are not surprised," he continued, as he saw the astonishment painted on Elizabeth's countenance. "No, I am never surprised at people's expectations, and I am sure Mr. Warren will not disappoint those formed by his well-judging friends; but, pray, proceed." 'Everybody says to me, 'Warren! now is your time. This is the opportunity for you to show your critical acumen. Seize the moment, Warren! and give us something that will be read a hundred years hence.' I am pressed on all sides, and I begin to feel that I really ought, in justice to myself, to do something to keep up the credit of this journal." 'He is mad," thought Elizabeth, "or has been in the hands of some dexterous quizzer;" | and she sighed as she thought that he could have nothing to say that could interest her, for she had at first hoped that he might bring her occupation. However, Warren went on:— "My health, you know, is delicate, and my avocations very numerous; and from various causes I am afraid I shall not be able to write until the spring; but, in the meantime, my dear Miss Latimer, I will make use of your pen. Our minds-I say it without flattery, believe me our minds are somewhat of the same order, allowing for the difference of sex and education. Now, all I ask of you is this: just give me, from time to time, a critique upon some modern writer, and now and then we will review an old one. I leave the choice of subjects to you; of course you will have the advantage of my additions and corrections. Well, what say you? Does the scheme appear feasible? However, I see you are taken by surprise? An hour's reflection will be necessary. Good morning. This evening you shall see nie again." "He has made me laugh, at least," said Elizabeth, after an impatient "pshaw!" "I always thought him a fool, but never expected such an excess of folly from him; but it will cure me of attempting to set bounds to the folly of a foolish man." Elizabeth did not, at first, give his plan a second thought. The idea of being joined with Warren in a work which she knew would be conducted by men of learning and science, her letter to the publisher, but her reluctance to undertake this laborious kind of occupation increased every moment. She threw down her pen and abandoned herself to despondency. Then, in spite of herself, Warren's plan recurred to her. It was not as ridiculous as she had thought. There had been, she recollected, instances of starving authors in a garret, while the indolent or empty were building up a reputation upon their labours. Besides, Warren would not be the first fool who had thrust himself into the place of wiser men. They are to be found everywhere-in the halls of legislators, in the cabinet of ministers. They have had their followers and their eulogists, and we have only to look behind the scenes to exclaim with Oxenstiern, Quam parva sapientia regitur mundus! At all events it would not be Warren, but herself who would write, and though she doubted her own capacity for the task, still she wished to try. It offered a means of accomplishing her grand object, keeping Louis at school, and it had the charm of privacy; for, since her unsuccessful attempts to escape from her gloomy closets, she had shrunk into them with a feeling more allied to love than to distaste. By the time Warren returned Elizabeth had so balanced the advantages of his scheme against its objections, as to give him the assent he expected. His presence revived the ridiculous ideas that his proposal had at first suggested. The tone of his voice was expressive of extreme dulness, and there was a stupidity about him that completely oppressed Elizabeth. She began to be ashamed of acceding to his plan, doubting, indeed, if any production, supposed to be his, would obtain a reading from the editor. However, a short time would decide her fate, and she resolved to make the experiment. She inquired beforehand what was to be the compensation for her trouble. He named the probable sum. "You rate intellectual labour very low," said she, "but no wonder. However, that, four or five times repeated, will be enough for my purpose. You are aware that you must furnish me with books. I must have a great many authorities to bring to the field. A man like you will be expected to be very accurate." He professed himself willing to be guided by her in everything, begged her to try and catch his style, and urged her over and over to exert herself to the utmost, before he relieved her of his presence. Elizabeth began her task with great animation, but she soon found it more difficult than she had anticipated. Her mind was full, yet she was puzzled and distressed. She wanted the habit of writing, which alone, according to Lord Bacon, insures correctness. She found great difficulty in arranging and condensing her ideas, and preserving a degree of order, without which even the writings of the learned and brilliant appear a chaotic mass. She had to weigh well all she said, lest she should be guilty of error or presumption. Her subject was a comparison between the writers of the reign of Anne and the present day. It was not without some timidity that she expressed opinions opposed to the prevailing cant which raves about the march of mind. Physical science is in its glory, and philosophy has made such magnificent presents to the arts, that knowledge is carried with winged speed from the college to the cottage; but mind, alas! must have its limits, must obey the law, which says, "So far shalt thou come and no farther." Though Elizabeth wrote with facility, she was obliged to refer to so many authorities, to correct and strike out so many redundancies, that she sat up a great part of the night previous to the latest day on which Warren was to call for her little essay. It was finished at last, and she committed it to its trial with a beating heart. Great was the astonishment of the editor when Warren presented himself in his library with a manuscript of an imposing size in his hand. Greater still at sight of the subject; and it rose to its highest pitch after reading the first few sentences. He knew little of Warren, but he had always heard his name used as a synonym with dulness, and he was betrayed into abruptly exclaiming, "Mr. Warren! I had no idea---I mean I did not expect Mr. Warren, is this yours?" The blush of guilt flew to poor Warren's face, but Mr. Leslie hastened to apologize. "Leave it with me for an hour or two," said he, "and you shall hear from me to-morrow." Dr. B's seminary was a mile out of town, and the fresh air of the country, the song of the birds, the very sight of the sky, made her heart glow again with hope and peace. She had something to look forward to. Louis would one day reward her toils. She should one day recount to him how, for his sake, she had conquered the indolence and love of leisure which she foresaw would be a stumbling-block in his way. To see Louis kindling at the tale of her difficulties and promising to repay them all, to hear him spoken of with distinction, and to witness his happiness and success in life, now formed her daily reveries. Her pen often fell from her hand while indulging in these dreams. Dreams they were indeed. She continued to supply Warren with materials for the fame he was acquiring, though there were times when Mr. Leslie strongly doubted his positive assertions that he was the author of the manuscripts. There was a taste, an elegance in their style, and a sensibility that he felt never came from the coarse mind of Warren. However, he had no means of elucidating the point, and gave it up, hoping that accident might one day or other expose the deception. In the meantime Warren, who began to find the sums he received from Mr. Leslie extremely convenient for his own purposes, began to reduce Elizabeth's share to a third, and then a fourth of the whole. "She cannot want much," he argued with his conscience, "living in those little garrets. I don't see how she can possibly spend five dollars in six months, and always plainly dressed too. I really think I give her more than enough. dare say she can manage a little to great advantage." People who are extravagant on themselves are often wonderfully ingenious in devising plans of economy for others. Elizabeth was surprised at this falling off; but, in the simplicity of her heart, she never suspected him of such a pitiless fraud. said she, "and yet I certainly think I have improved. I have studied the rules of good writing; I read with a deeper spirit of observation; it is strange my pieces should appear of less value to the publishers in proportion as they seem to me more spirited and better finished. Perhaps they are thought studied. I myself find a sameness in them." As soon as Warren received what gave him a delight which he felt in the same degree with I have overrated my own productions," Harpagon-that of "touching something"he hastened in a transport of generosity to divide it with Elizabeth. It was more than she had hoped for, and the consciousness of possessing the means of contributing to her own support, gave an exhilaration to her spirits to which she had long been a stranger. She walked to the school where Louis was making a progress that repaid her for parting with him, and paid, with a thrill of delight, the first-fruits of her industry to his master. Among the many causes she was attributing her diminished resources to, the true one never occurred to her. She knew, of course, from Warren's imposing on Mr. Leslie and the pub-contrasting her situation with mine, to hear lic that he was not a man of much principle. her speak to me with that easy, confiding tone Indeed, a fool cannot have strict principles. He cannot distinguish sufficiently between right and wrong; but, in the broad path of honesty, she thought he might find his way. A year passed on, and she found that she had just enough to defray Louis' school expenses, and nothing to lay by towards sending him to college. Her health, too, was impaired by constant application, and her spirits crushed by the unvaried sameness of her employment. Sweet is the sleep of the labouring man; but it must be that labour which feels the breath of heaven fan the brow-alternate motion and rest. But when, after a whole day has been passed in mental exercise, the fevered head is laid upon its pillow, and the stretched and burning eyelids refuse to close; when the glare of white paper, or interminable rows of letters dance before the throbbing eyeballs, and one idea haunts the brain till its repetition becomes maddening-these, these are the pains and penalties of mind that make us wish to have been born among those whose hands alone are employed to procure their daily bread. Elizabeth had been accustomed to study and reflection, but there is something very different between study in a large and airy chamber where light and shade are pleasantly blended, when the first sensations of fatigue may be dissipated by exercise or conversation, and leaning incessantly over a flat, low table, by the side of a little window where light is struggling with darkness. She felt her health languish, her head ached inces. santly, but still she went on for several months, indulging herself now and then with a walk to Dr. B- -'s, and an evening spent at Mrs. Graham's. This lady had often a little circle of friends around her, whose society would have been of service to Elizabeth's spirits, but she shrunk from company, and, with an irritability peculiar to the unfortunate, who feel lonely, neglected, and unappreciated, often repulsed those who wished to be kind to her. "My temper is growing savage," said she, one evening, while she was putting on her hat to go to her friends; "I believe I answered that kind and lovely-looking woman who spoke so sweetly to me the last time I was at Mrs. Graham's, with a canine growl. But, alas! I felt a horrid kind of envy at seeing a creature so happy and apparently so beloved by every one present. Her happiness did not seem to be put on for the occasion, but the abiding expression of her face, and while I was of voice that came from a heart at ease-oh! she would have forgiven me if she had seen the wretchedness of mine!" and Elizabeth sat down and wept in penitence at having given way to such feelings. She hoped to meet Mrs. Leslie again, and was disappointed to find Mrs. Graham alone. She dared not speak of Mrs. Leslie, for she felt her voice falter as she thought of her. Yet she tried to induce Mrs. Graham to begin the subject. But as she was drawing a portrait of gentleness and beauty which made her friend exclaim, "Why, one would think you were acquainted with Mrs. Leslie," Mr. Graham came in, and after expressing his pleasure at seeing Elizabeth, whose absence from his little parties had pained him, he turned to Mrs. Graham and asked her if she had any idea to whom she was indebted for the pleasure of her morning's reading. "No," said she; "I am glad you remind me of it, for I thought of Elizabeth while I was reading. It is," she continued, turning to her friend, "a very well-written essay upon simplicity, real and affected; and contrasts the strong, manly simplicity of Crabbe with the childish, unmeaning prattle of Wordsworth, in almost the same words which I have heard you make use of in arguing with Marianne." I Elizabeth trembled. She suspected Mr. Graham alluded to her, but he went on. "I would ask you to guess the author, but should be weary of seeing you puzzled. Know, then, that Warren-Philip Augustus Warren-is the principal contributor to Mr. Leslie's journal." This "Now, I am not surprised," said his wife, "for it is impossible to make me believe such a tale. You forget we both know Warren, and know that he is ignorant as well as dull. I question much if he knows what poetry is, unless he attaches some idea of rhyme to it." "I thought so myself, but listen.. morning I was talking with Mr. Leslie, who was in his library, where, to my surprise, I found Warren taking down books and turning over leaves with quite the air of an author. Something was said about the miseries of authors:-They are no longer pecuniary miseries,' said Leslie. "The times are changed since Dryden wrote prologues for two guineas a piece.' Here Warren turned briskly round, exclaiming, 'Two guineas! bless me! times are changed. Why, Mr. Leslie, I receive more than triple that sum for some of my humble contributions to your journal.' I looked at Leslie with as much amazement as if I had heard him proclaim himself the Emperor of China; but Leslie did not look surprised, he only said, 'Very true.' I waited a long time for Warren to go away, that I might understand this mystery, and at length I learned that he regularly carries Mr. Leslie every month a paper for his magazine. He pointed them out to me in some of the numbers, and I assure you they were the same I have frequently heard you admire." "Even now," said Mrs. Graham, "I do not believe it. He is vain as well as foolish, and he has either stolen those pieces, or hired some one to write them." One service; mine writes not another word for you." swore. It was in vain Warren entreated, promised, He even knelt to conjure her to retract. He offered to refund, to pay most liberally; but she was inexorable, and he was obliged to depart, cursing his own folly for boasting of making more by his pen than Dryden by his prologues. And now what was to become of Elizabeth? She thought of sending her papers to Mr. Leslie, but that would instantly betray Warren, and she had promised him to be silent. She was strongly tempted, but resisted. "He has behaved ill to me, certainly," said she, "but I must not, on that account, forget my own principles. It is the spirit of retaliation that makes dishonesty travel on like a snowball. I must not think of such redress; but what am I to do? The Grahams have already proved their inability to assist me. However, God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb,' That is what I hinted to Leslie; but he told me that he had once offended Warren by expressing his own doubts on the subject, and that his assurances of their being his were so positive that he felt he had no right to accuse him of falsehood till he had proved it. thing that disgusted me in Warren was his-and, hurrying to her room, Elizabeth put on counting up the money he had received, and muttering every now and then, "Dryden wrote prologues for two guineas! Why, I have made two hundred dollars in the last six months." That entirely convinced me that he is speculating in the talents of some one he keeps concealed." It is impossible to describe Elizabeth's indignation at learning how she had been deceived. She did not hesitate a moment how to act. Warren was to call the next morning for some manuscripts that she had ready for him, and she determined to speak to him of the baseness of his conduct, and break with him at once. But there is something in the mere presence of a fool that blunts our most eloquent reproaches. It would be absurd, she thought, to talk to him of defrauding the orphan; it will be enough to tell him he has acted dishonestly, and that I will no longer lend him my pen." Warren turned pale at her stern inquiry whether he had fulfilled his promise of giving her whatever he should receive from the editor. He solemnly declared that he had done so, but Elizabeth stopped him short by repeating, word for word, the conversation that had passed in Mr. Leslie's library. her bonnet and set out for the publisher to offer herself as a translator. The courteousness of her reception encouraged her, but he looked dubious as to the success of her plan. "Translations did not take," he said, "at present-almost everybody read French, and the best novels were already translated." "But," said Elizabeth, hurriedly, "I do not confine myself to French or to novels. I know several languages, and have the habit of writing. Let me undertake any work that you will risk the publication of; and if you are not satisfied I will give it up." For several minutes she waited in suspense while he knit his brows, tapped upon the table, and gave evident signs of hesitation. At length he said, Well, madam, there is a work of Herder's that you may try." "May try!" Elizabeth rose, then sat down again. At last, summoning all her fortitude, she said, "My object is neither amusement nor reputation, sir. I simply write for my support, and came to know if you would give me occupation, with a moderate compensation." Mr. C was touched by the look of pain and weariness on her countenance, and agreed immediately to give her a hundred dollars for an elegant translation. The sum sounded magnificent, and she retraced her steps with a lightened heart. But her task proved tedious and difficult. The extreme attention it required fatigued her mind. There were subjects for verbal criti eism that required a great deal of thought, | her pain, but she felt that she could not stop, and, in the present state of her health, and some days after the time appointed by Mr. thought and study completely overpowered C she walked with a beating heart to his her. Eighteen months of seclusion and appli- house with her translation. She was shown cation, uncheered by success, and rendered into a parlour at the back of the book-shop, still more painful by the privations to which where she sat absorbed in her own feelings, unpoverty is liable, had destroyed the vigour of conscious that she had drawn the attention of a her mind, and injured a frame that had never gentleman who entered some moments after been robust. There were times when she felt her, and who stood gazing with painful interest such a dying away of her mental powers that upon her anxious and excited countenance, she feared her faculties were leaving her. which he was sure he had seen before, but She sought to revive her sinking spirits by could not recollect when or where. And, going oftener to Mrs. Graham's, and by fre- indeed, Elizabeth was changed since he had quent walks to Dr. B's, but the exertion seen her last. The calm, high, meditative now became a toil, and panting for breath brow was now contracted by pain, and care she would sit on a bank at some distance from had dug caves for those once placid eyes. She the school, hoping that chance or sport might sat leaning her head upon her wasted hand, lead her darling in that direction. One even- lost in her own anxious thoughts till Mr. Cing he did discover her, and rushing into her came in. arms reproached her for her long absence. "You must ask leave to come and see me, Louis. This walk is not a short one, you know, and I am apt to be tired." "Ah! you have brought the translation. However, I have changed my mind since you were here last." Elizabeth, who had learned to anticipate injustice, lost all self-command, and clasping her hands, burst into a passion of tears. Nay, do not suppose," said Mr. C- distressed at his own abruptness, "that I have forgotten our agreement. I have no idea of depriving you of the price of your labours." Louis looked at her and attempted to speak, but turned his head away and burst into tears. Elizabeth soothingly inquired into his distress, and found that he wished to be taken from school. Oh! do not deny me, dearest Elizabeth. It is for me you look so thin and pale. Instead of living in comfort, you are spending all you have upon me. Now take me from school and bind me to some trade. Don't look so shocked! I have been reading the Life of Franklin, and if he, from being an apprentice to a printer, rose to be such a great man, why should I despair? Do, dear sister, bind me to a printer. It is the best trade-at least, the most agreeable trade I can think of, and some years hence I may repay all your good-hopelessness, "Should you have occasion to "Louis-Louis-dear, generous boy! do not pain me by such language. You can requite me better by applying to your studies, than by trying the uncertainty of rising from obscurity into eminence. You forget Dr. Franklin had a wonderful mind, and lived in times to draw forth powerful energies. The probability is, dear Louis, that if you are a printer at fifteen, you will still be a printer at thirty; but another time we will speak of this. The sun is setting and I have far to walk." It was with feeble steps she regained her dwelling, and, with a reluctant pen, resumed her task, which became daily more difficult. Her headaches were so frequent and so intense that she frequently spent whole days in correcting the mistakes of the preceding ones. The very attitude necessary for writing gave He unlocked a desk and took out bills which he put into her hand, saying, "I only meant to tell you that I have deferred the publication of this work for a few months, as there are so many new books in the press." Elizabeth hardly heard him. All she thought of was to be at home and alone. Yet still the future occurred to her. She offered her address to Mr. C, saying in a voice of employ any one in the drudgery of literature, in copying, correcting "- -she paused, feeling as if she were soliciting charity. The card dropped from her fingers and she hurried away. Mr. Leslie, for it was he who had been an unobserved spectator of Elizabeth's distress, took up the manuscript that lay on the table. "A singular young person, that," said the bookseller; "I must try and find her some employment. Yet I cannot understand how such an elegant and accomplished woman should be in such extreme distress. But what astonishes you?" for, as soon as Leslie had cast his eyes on the handwriting, he recognized that of Warren's manuscripts. Everything was the same-the folding of the paper, the very silk with which it was |