Enter JOHN, and his eldest son THOMAS.

John. Is your honour here?

Landl. Yes, John; and I have found somewhat worth coming for.

John. What is that, sir?

Land. A relation, John. This young woman, whom you have so kindly entertained, is my kinswoman. John. What our Fanny ?

Thomas. Fanny!

Landl. Yes, indeed. And after thanking you for your kindness to her and her poor grandmother, I mean to take her home for a companion to my wife and daughters.

John. This is wonderful news indeed! Well, Fanny, I am very glad you have got such a home to go to--you are worthy of it—but we shall miss you much here.

Betty. So I have been telling her. Thomas (aside to FANNY). What, will Fanny? Must we part?

you

leave us,

Fan. (aside to him). What can I do, Thomas? Landl. There seems some unwillingness to part, I see, on more sides than one.

Betty. Indeed, sir, I believe there is. We have lived very happily together.

Thomas (aside to FANNY). I see we must part with you, but I hope-Surely you won't quite forget us? Fan. (to him). You distress me, Thomas. Forget you! O no!

Landl. Come, I see there is something between the young folk that ought to be spoken about plainly Do you explain it, Betty.

Betty. Why, your honour knows we could not tell that Fanny was your relation. So, as my son Thomas and she seemed to take a liking to one another, and she was such a good clever girl, we did not object to their thinking about making a match of it, as soon as he should be settled in a farm.

John. But that must be over now.

Thomas. Why so, father?

John. Why you can't think of his honour's kins

woman.

Landl. Come, Fanny, do you decide this affair.

Fan. Sir, Thomas offered me his service when he thought me a poor friendless girl, and I might think myself favoured by his notice. He gained my goodwill, which no change of circumstances can make me withdraw. It ny determination to join my lot with his, be it whe

Thomas. My dearest Fanny. [Taking her hand. Landl. You act nobly, my dear girl, and make me proud of my relation. You shall have my free consent and something handsome into the bargain.

Betty. Heaven bless your honour! I know it would have been a heart-breaking to my poor boy to have parted with her. Dear Fanny! [Kisses her. Landl. I have a farm just now vacant. Thomas shall take it, and Fanny's portion shall stock it for him.

Thomas. I humbly thank your honour.

John. I thank you too, sir, for us all.

Fan. Sir, since you have been so indulgent in this matter, give me leave to request you to be satisfied with my paying my duty to the ladies, without going to live in a way so different from what I have been used to, and must live in hereafter. I think I can be nowhere better than with my friends and future parents here.

Landl. Your request, Fanny, has so much propriety and good sense in it, that I cannot refuse it. However, you must suffer us to improve our acquaintance. I assure you it will give me particular pleasure.

Fan. Sir, you will always command my most grateful obedience.

Landl. Well-let Thomas bring you to my house this afternoon, and I will introduce you to your rela

tions, and we will talk over matters. Farewell, my dear! Nay, I must have a kiss. Fan. I will wait on you, sir.

[Exit Landlord. Betty. My dear Fanny-daughter I may now call you—you cannot think how much I feel obliged to you.

Thomas. But who is so much obliged as I am?

Fan. Do you not all deserve everything from me? John. Well, who could have thought when I went to help up the waggon, that it could have brought so much good luck to us?

Betty. A good deed is never lost, they say.

Fan. It shall be the business of my life to prove

that this has not been lost.

ON EMBLEMS.

"PRAY, papa," said CECILIA, "what is an emblem? I have met with the word in my lesson to-day, and I do not quite understand it."

"An emblem, my dear," replied he, "is a visible image of an invisible thing."

C. A visible image of I can hardly comprehendP. Well, I will explain it more at length. There are certain notions that we form in our minds without the help of our eyes, or any of our senses. Thus, Virtue, Vice, Honour, Disgrace, Time, Death, and the like, are not sensible objects, but ideas of the understanding.

C. Yes, we cannot feel them or see them, but we can think about them.

P. True. Now it sometimes happens that we wish to represent one of these in a visible form; that is, to offer something to the sight that shall raise a similar notion in the minds of the beholders. In order to do this, we must take some action or circumstance belonging to it, capable of being expressed by painting or sculpture; and this is called a type or emblem. C. But how can this be done?

P. I will tell you by an example. You know the Sessions-house where trials are held. It would be easy to write over the door, in order to distinguish it, "This is the Sessions-house;" but it is a more ingenious and elegant way of pointing it out, to place upon the building a figure representing the purpose for which it was erected, namely, to distribute justice. For this end the notion of justice is to be personified, that is, changing from an idea of the understanding into one of the sight. A human figure is therefore made, distinguished by tokens which bear a relation to the character of that virtue. Justice carefully weighs both sides of a cause; she is therefore represented as holding a pair of scales. It is her office to punish crimes; she therefore bears a sword. This is then an emblematical figure, and the sword and scales are emblems.

C. I understand this very well. But why is she blindfolded?

P. To denote her impartiality-that she decides only from the merits of the case, and not from a view of the parties.

C. How can she weigh anything, though, when her eyes are blinded?

P. Well objected. These are two inconsistent emblems; each proper in itself, but when used together, making a contradictory action. An artist of judgment will therefore drop one of them; and accordingly the best modern figures of Justice have the balance and sword, without the bandage over the eyes.

C. Is there not the same fault in making Cupid blindfolded, and yet putting a bow and arrow into his hands?

P. There is. It is a gross absurdity, and not countenanced by the ancient descriptions of Cupid, who is represented as the surest of all archers.

C. I have a figure of Death in my fable-book. I suppose that is emblematical?

P. Certainly, or you could not know that it meant Death. How is he represented ?

C. He is nothing but bones, and he holds a scythe . in one hand and an hour-glass in the other.

P. Well, how do you interpret these emblems ?

C. I suppose he is all bones, because nothing but bones are left after a dead body has lain long in the grave.

P. True. This, however, is not so properly an emblem, as the real and visible effect of death. But the scythe?

C. Is not that because death mows down every thing?

P. It is. No instrument could so properly represent the wide wasting sway of death, which sweeps down the race of animals, like flowers falling under the hand of the mower. It is a simile used in the Scriptures.

C. The hour-glass, I suppose, is to show people their time is come?

P. Right. In the hour-glass that Death holds, all the sand is run out from the upper to the lower part. Have you never observed upon a monument an old figure, with wings, and a scythe, and with his head bald all but a single lock before?

C. O yes; and I have been told it is Time.

P. Well-and what do you make of it? Why is he old ?

C. O! because time has lasted a long while.

P. And why has he wings?

C. Because time is swift, and flies away.

P. What does his scythe mean?

C. I suppose that is, because he destroys and cuts down everything, like Death.

P. True. I think, however, a weapon rather slower in its operation, as a pick-axe, would have been more suitable to the gradual action of time. But what is his single lock of hair for ?

C. I have been thinking, and cannot make it out.