her solicitude, it was plain that her whole care cen tered in him.

It was impossible that a girl so amiable as Emily Hargrave could fail to attract attention. Several young men of fortune and character became her professed admirers. But, though she had a sweetness which gave her a benevolent affability to all, she was of a mind too delicate to be easily satisfied in the choice of a husband. In her present circumstances, she had another objection to every change of situation. She felt too much anxiety about her father, to think of any thing which could call off her attention from him, and make it proper to place any of it elsewhere. With the greatest delicacy, therefore, and with that propriety with which her conduct was always attended, she checked every advance that was made her; while, at the same time, she was at the utmost pains to conceal from her father the voluntary sacrifice she was resolved to make on his account.

About a month ago, I paid a visit to Mr. Hargrave's family. I found him more changed than I had expected; the imbecilities of age, which were beginning to approach last time I had seen him, had now made great advances. Formerly Mr. Hargrave used to be the delight of every company, and he never spoke without instructing or entertaining. Now he spoke little; when he did, it was with feebleness both of voice and manner. Feeling his memory declining, sensible that he was not so acute as he once was, and unable to keep up his attention to a continued discourse, though his understanding was still perfectly good, he was afraid to venture his opinion, or to take any decided measure. He was too conscious of his own infirmities; and that consciousness led him to think, that his failure was greater than it really was. In this situation his

whole dependance was upon Emily, and she was his only support. Never, indeed, did I see any thing more lovely, more engaging. To all her other charms, the anxious solicitude she felt for her father had stamped upon her countenance,

That expression sweet of melancholy
Which captivates the soul.'

There is something in the female character which requires support. That gentleness, that delicate softness approaching to timidity, which forms its most amiable feature, makes it stand in need of assistance. That support and assistance Emily had received in the completest manner from her father. -What an alteration now! Instead of receiving support herself, she was obliged to give it; she was under the necessity of assisting, of counselling, and of strengthening the timid resolutions of him who had been, in her earlier years, her instructor and her guide, and to whom, next to Heaven, she had ever looked up. Emily felt all this;-but feeling took not from her the power of acting.

Hargrave is abundantly sensible of his daughter's goodness. Her consciousness of this, and of how much importance her attentions are to her father gives her the best consolation.

While I was at his house, he hardly ever spoke of himself. Once, indeed, I remember he said to ine, I am become a strange being;—even the goodness of that girl distresses me; it is too much for me to bear;-it is,' added he, in a very faint and broken voice, like to overwhelm me.'

I have often remarked, that there is a perseverance in virtue, and a real magnanimity in the other sex, which is scarcely to be equalled in ours. In the virtue of men, there are generally some considerations, not altogether pure, attending it, which,

though they may not detract from, must certainly diminish our wonder at their conduct. The heroic actions of men are commonly performed upon the great theatre, and the performers have the applauses of an attending and admiring world to animate and support them. When Regulus suffered all the tortures which cruelty could invent, rather than give up his honour or his country, he was supported by the conscious admiration of those countrymen whom he had left, and of those enemies in whose hands he was;-when Cato stabbed himself, rather than give up the cause of liberty, he felt a pride which told him, that Cato's would be no less honoured than Casar's sword;'-and when the self-devoted 'Decii died,' independent of their love for Rome, they had every motive of applause to animate their conduct:-but when Emily Hargrave sacrifices every thing to filial goodness and filial affection, she can have no concomitant motive, she can have no exter, nal circumstance to animate her. Her silent and se cret virtue is the pure and unmingled effect of tens derness, of affection, and of duty.

N° 64. SATURDAY, DECEMBER 18, 1779.

THE science of Manners, for Manners are a science, cannot easily be reduced to that simplicity in its elements of which others admit. Among other

particulars, the terms employed in it are not, like those of Arithmetic, Mathematics, Algebra, or As tronomy, perfectly and accurately defined. Its subjects are so fleeting, and marked with shades so delicate, that wherever a general denomination is ventured there is the greatest hazard of its being misap❤ plied or misunderstood.

In a former paper I endeavoured to analyse the term A man of Fashion, in this I am enabled by an ingenious Correspondent to trace the meaning of another phrase, to wit, Good Company, which, as it is nearly connected with the former, is, I believe, as as doubtful in its signification. The following letter is a practical treatise on the subject; which I shall lay before my readers in the precise terms in which I

received it.

SIR,

To the AUTHOR of the MIRROR.

I AM at that time of life when education formerly confined to the study of books, begins to extend itself to the study of men. Having lately arrived in town, I was anxious to be introduced into good company of every rank and denomination; and, in virtue of some family-connections, assisted by the kindness of some college-friends and acquaintance, I flattered myself I should succeed in my purpose.

My strong bent for Letters induced me first to procure an introduction into the good company of the learned; and I went to a dinner where several of the literati were to be assembled, full of the hopes of having my mind enlightened with knowledge, expanded with sentiment, and charmed with the Atticism of elegant conversation.

During our meal, there was a more absolute suspension of discourse, than I expected in a society of spirits so refined as those with whom I was associated. The ordinary functions of eating and drinking made no part of my idea of a learned man; and I could observe in my fellow guests an attention to the dishes before them, which I thought did not quite correspond with the dignity of that character. This, however, was but a small deviation from my picture, and I passed it over as well as I could, in expectation of that mental feast with which I was to be regaled when the table should be uncovered.

Accordingly, when the cloth was removed, the conversation, which I expected with so much impatience, began. I had too humble an opinion of myself to take any other part than that of a hearer; but I very soon discovered that I was the only person in the company who had an inclination to listen. Every one seemed impatient of his neighbour's speech, and eager to have an opportunity of introducing his own. You, I think, Mr. MIRROR, have compared conversation to a favourite dish at an entertainment; here it was carried on like a dinner at one of those hungry ordinaries, where Quin used wittily to call for a basket-hilted sword to help himself with : in a short time, every one, except your Correspondent, endeavoured to secure it to himself, by making it a dish which nobody else could taste. An old gentleman, at the head of the table, introduced a German treatise, written by a man whose name I could neither pronounce nor remember, which none of the rest of the company had seen. Another taking advantage of a fit of coughing with which he was seized, brought us upon a philosophical inquiry into the properties of heat, and a long account of some experiments he had lately witnessed