IN the suburbs of the city of Philadelphia, in the soft season of the year, about one o'clock, on a moon shining morning, on the terrace of an high building, forty feet from the ground, appeared a most beautiful lady of the age of sixteen—she was clad in a long white vest, her hair of a beautiful chesnut colour, hang­ing carelessly over her shoulders; every mark of great­ness was visible in her countenance, which was over­cast with a solemn gloom, and now and then, the un­willing tear, unnoticed, rolled down her cheek.

She cast her eyes around, taking a survey of the garden below, and the places adjacent—a fixed melan­choly, apparently, increased on her countenance, and now and then the big sigh would burst from her la­bouring bosom—more than once she attempted to re­turn into the chamber from which she had made her appearance—and then would appear unresolved. At length, taking a chair, and seating herself near the side of the terrace, and after a few moments of expres­sive silence, she thus uttered herself.

[Page 6]"O cruel fortune! O more cruel parent!—when shall I again behold my adorable CONSTANTIUS? but why do I mention him? why do I recall his loved ideas? He is gone,—I am banished forever from him, cloistered up in this unblessed mansion—debarred from him, for whose sake only I could wish to live!—But I must deface his memory.—O for one draught from the river Lethe, that the tender feelings of my dis­tracted bosom might no more be harrowed up by his recollection! Alas! vain is the wish; the impression on my heart is so deep, that it cannot be defaced but by annihilation!—Can I ever eradicate from my mind his lovely features, his charming disposition, his fine sense, with all his finished accomplishments! No, sooner than that could be the case, the adamant would vegetate. All impossibilities will become practicable, sooner than I could forget that stood of transport with which I surrendered my heart to him, and took deliv­ery of his in exchange, and called on Heaven to regis­ter the indissoluble contract.

Oh! the effusion of extacy of that happy moment, the soft remembrance of which serves no other pur­pose than to plant daggers in my distracted bosom. Why should a father be lost to every tender feeling, and tear me instantaneously from the summit of hap­piness, and place me in the focus of torment!—"never more to see him!" The cruellest accents which ever were uttered by one who is totally unworthy the name of " father!" Has he assassinated him? or has he procured his manumission to some foreign barbarous land? O could I but once more see him, though it were but just long enough to bid him a final farewell— O could I but have the satisfaction of taking my leave of him, though it were in the agonies of death; how would I wash his mangled limbs with tears, and kiss [Page 7] the departing soul from his quivering lips! How would my soul burst through the shackles of its clay tenement, and bear him company through the unex­plored regions of Elysium! but in vain the wish.— But what doth my eyes see passing through the moon shade of the garden? It is my dear, loved CON­STANTIUS, or his spirit returned from the Elysian fields! But hark, I hear his footsteps, it is he, and not his spirit—Once more have my optic nerves re­animated my almost deserted body—CONSTAN­TIUS! CONSTANTIUS! once more your PULCHE­RA beholds you; my eyes are enchanted at the pros­pect, though bars of iron hold me from your embra­ces! Three bolted doors secure me from you—yet I behold you, and never more will I complain of ad­verse fortune, if I can but expire before you are taken from my view, dear CONSTANTIUS! CONSTAN­TIUS!" He lifted up his eyes and beheld her—with the strongest emotions of elevated joy, he exclaimed, "my dear PULCHERA, it is enough! once more I do behold the object to which in my mind I had given a final adieu!—driven from your arms by a father, who till the fatal moment had expressed his approba­tion of me in the most flattering terms, with a ferocity which I never before believed human nature capable of, he drove me from his house, after having torn from me the delight of my eyes, and the ravisher of my heart—tell me, my dearest PULCHERA, what was the cause of this strange alteration of conduct in him, whom once I thought worthy to be called your father."

The distressed PULCHERA replied,—"Ambition! cruel ambition is the cause of our misfortune—no man was ever better pleased with another than my father was with you, until Monsieur Le Monte, only son and [Page 8] heir to a rich nobleman in France, waited on him, and offered to make me his wife, giving a most in­chanting description of the honours and pomp he would advance me to—the temptation was too great for him to withstand—the anticipations of tinselled greatness took the full possession of his soul—he prom­ised Monsieur that I should be his—he soon informed me of my destination, and I could see joy sparkling in his eyes when he reflected on the good fortune to which he fondly imagined my good stars had destined me.—In vain did I remonstrate to him, that by his own voluntary consent I had formed an indissoluble union with my dearest CONSTANTIUS, and that love had cemented us beyond the power of separation; and while I was going on with my most pathetic lamenta­tion for his conduct, your approach interrupted me— a degree of rancour, which till then I supposed him totally incapable of, appeared in his visage, and your own recollection will furnish you with ideas of his conduct, until he drove you from the garden in which we were, and gave you the solemn assurances you never should see me more.

He then secured me in the chamber communicating with the terrace, on which you see me forty feet high; and tomorrow I am to embark for France, in a pack­et, lying in the river, with Monsieur, to be his for­ever"—Here her voice failed her, and she almost dissolved in a flood of tears. CONSTANTIUS was on the rack at this fatal intelligence—in despair he drew his sword, and was on the eve of falling on its point, thereby putting a period to an existence which he no longer could consider as a blessing; but fortune, which always favours the virtuous, suggested to his mind a tow line he that day had observed in his store, which had been left there by accident—he cries out, PUL­CHERA, [Page 9] be contented a few moments, and I will re­lieve you. So running to his store, which stood not far distant, he takes the tow line, and lashing three oars at the end of each other, made the rope fast to the end of them. He by this means reached the rope to PULCHERA, who disengaged it from the oar, made it fast to one of the bannisters of the ter­race, by which means she descended, tho' the knot by which she made the rope fast, slipped before she had got to the ground, yet she was so near it that she received no material damage thereby. Never, perhaps, was joy more triumphant than on this occasion: he straitway conveyed her to his chamber, where the remainder of the night was spent in a far more agreeable manner, than the former part thereof had been.

Never was there, perhaps, a greater transition from doleful anticipations to real joy, than had been expe­rienced by PULCHERA; for nothing could be more distressing to her than the idea of being forever separat­ed from CONSTANTIUS; to be forced by cruel pa­rental authority from her home, her friends, and from every pleasing prospect, into a foreign land, and there to be shackled for life to a man to whom she had the most fixed and irreversable aversion, and from whom she had no other conceivable way to escape than through the avenue of death; thus circumstanced, to be in a manner bordering on the invisible world, and divested of all her fearful apprehensions, at the same time to find herself in the full possession of him who was dearer to her than all things else, was well nigh too hard for her. They scarcely had finished their reciprocal congratulations, when the clock advertised them that two hours of the last half of the night was expended, when CONSTANTIUS informed her that her safety required her to be put in some place more [Page 10] secure from the researches of her father, who would doubtless make the most vigorous efforts to recover her. This piece of information gave a most surpris­ing shock to PULCHERA, who till that moment had considered herself in the most perfect security; vari­ous schemes of safety were proposed by each of them, not one of which on examination proved admissible; at length the dawn of day approaching, necessity obliged them to leave their present place of retreat, and conclude on some place of security after their de­parture from the haven.

In this determination they quitted the chamber, hand in hand through the meadows, while invention supplied the place of conversation until they wandered down the banks of the Delaware some miles; when on some occasion PULCHERA being a few rods be­hind, CONSTANTIUS, as just entering a short turn of the bank, was seized by half a dozen armed men, who hurried him on board of a boat. PULCHERA, by the means of the feeble rays of light which were retained by the atmosphere, had a dim prospect of this transaction; and altho what she esteemed as her sum­mum bonum was torn from her, yet so sudden was the onset, and so complete the surprize, that it summoned all the tender and fearful feelings which female nature is susceptible of; and PULCHERA retired behind the opposite declivity of the bank, out of the prospect of the scene, and secure from their view. Dreadful were the sensations which she here experienced; her apprehensions of personal danger being at last in some measure abated, the safety of CONSTANTIUS in the next instance occupied her distracted bosom; she burst into a flood of tears, and exclaimed, "Oh! heavens, where is he! what have they done with him! he is gone! he is gone! never more shall my wretched eyes [Page 11] behold him! he has fallen a prey to relentless British barbarity! he must expire in some loathsome prison­ship, or give up the ghost in some forlorn, death-im­pregnated dungeon, without a friendly hand to close his eyes when they are dimmed by death! Why did my cowardly fears prevail on me to leave him? Why did I not like a true lover (as I thought I was) press forward to him, and have been a partner in his mis­fortunes? Had I been worthy the name of a lover, I should have done it; but I was a stranger to love, tho' I professed it, and now I am justly left to suffer tor­ments greater than would be probable on any circum­stances where he was present. But can I not yet get to him?—She ran to the bank of the river, where she was seized by the party, but nothing of him or his captors could be discovered—Frantic in despair, she beat her breast, tore her hair, cursed her fate, and prayed for annihilation, and was just about commit­ting her body to the watery grave, when she was pre­vented therefrom by her father's taking hold of her arm.

The consternation she was now in is more easily conjectured than described—Her father, unacquainted with what had happened to CONSTANTIUS, any further than he gathered from the exclamations of PULCHERA, suffered her to stay there no longer, but instantly conducted her home, and confined her to an inner chamber, leaving her to the reflections of her own mind, where sleep and comfort were equally strangers to her.

The next day her father entered her chamber in a pleasant air, inquiring after her health, and saying a a variety of pleasant things to her, taking no notice of her late elopement: — At length, in soft accents, he observed to her that this was the day on which M. Le [Page 12] Monte had proposed to embark with her for his native country, in order to make her his wife; and that all he waited for was to be informed of her readiness to attend him. Her father was about to proceed, but was interrupted by PULCHERA, who thus accosted him, "Dear father, the obligation of paternal autho­rity, and the duty of filial obedience, are amongst the first ideas which took place in my mind; and with such forcible lessons have those duties been inculcated on my mind, that nothing will ever be able to deface them; and I shall make it my first business, as long as I re­tain a rational existence, to practise the one, and sub­mit cheerfully to the other. But, dear and respected father, the barely naming of M. Le Monte to me, under my circumstances, cannot fail of giving me sen­sations, worse than the most studied torture of the Wheel and Rack: But was I at my own disposal, you, Sir, could command nothing which I could hesitate at obeying! but I am not my own.—At your special leave and request, I have, in a most solemn manner, given up myself to CONSTANTIUS, and am no more my own—he took full possession of my heart when I gave him my promise, and I have neither power nor inclination to take it back. You, Sir, was present, and ratified our contract by your most explicit appro­bation thereof; and therefore cease to possess the right or power of disposing of me again: Pray, dear Sir, give these considerations that weight which they de­serve: remember that I am under the most solemn obligations to my dear CONSTANTIUS, that heaven has recognized it, and that a violation thereof would involve me in the horrid sin of perjury, which would eventually deprive me of every species of peace here, and procure endless misery to me hereafter. Consider also, I pray Sir, that Le Monte is as odious to me as [Page 13] CONSTANTIUS is agreeable—that his temper and disposition is naturally fierce and cruel to the last de­gree—that it is one of the articles of his religion, that "no faith is to be kept with hereticks," and such, you are sensible, he esteems me—that he despiseth that holy religion, whose principles, in my early infancy, you have taught me to have the highest regard for, as being inseparably connected with my future welfare. I hope you will reflect suitably on these things, and not let the idea of the pomp and show of tinseled greatness, and the place near a Monarch's court, in­duce you to destroy the present peace and future wel­fare of your only child."

Her father listened to what she said until she had gone through; when, with a stern aspect, he replied, "Poor silly creature, your folly would be your utter ruin, had you not a father living to bridle your giddy passions: but to reason with a person void of ration­ality is no part of my business. Remember you are under my government, and that my will is your law— that nothing will be able to divert me from my pur­pose of having Le Monte for a son in law, and you may as well submit to my pleasure quietly, as to be dragged to it by force, which will be the case if you prove refractory. As to your CONSTANTIUS, he is a man whose fortune does not exceed that to which you are born; but Le Monte has an inexhaustible fund, both of riches and honour." Thus saying, be left her to her own doleful reflections. Sleepless and wearisome moments were her companions until the next morning, when a servant of the family entered the room, informing her it was her father's pleasure that she should prepare herself to breakfast with Le Monte and himself; at which he left the room throw­ing into her lap a newspaper of that day. She took [Page 14] up the paper, and the first thing she espied therein, was the fatal intelligence that CONSTANTIUS, after he had been taken prisoner by the British, proved so franticly refractory, that in a fit of rage one of the of­ficers had sheathed his sword in his heart, and he was dead!—At the reading of which, poor PULCHERA swooned away, and fell on the floor; the noise of which brought the servant again into the apartment, for, by his master's order, he had waited at the door to observe her. He, seeing her in that condition, called up the family, and a long time it was before they could restore her to her senses; and when at last it was effected, with eyes starting with horror, she ex­claimed, "He is gone! He is gone! CONSTAN­TIUS is no more! Had it not been for my cruel fa­ther, he would still have been alive and with me; but untimely death hath closed his eyes; and you, Oh! my father, must be answerable for that and all its con­sequences! But you shall be disappointed; never will I be Le Monte's; if I am deprived of him in life, I will still be his in death; he has my heart, and I will never give it to another. I will descend to the grave! I will retire from the theatre of this world, which has no longer any thing in it to allure me, and will seek that peace, in the unexplored regions of futurity, of which I am deprived here by a relentless father."

To no purpose did her father attempt to reason with her, telling her, that as CONSTANTIUS was dead, she was absolved from all her obligations—that she, in consequence thereof, was again under parental dispo­sal—that now she had no excuse of duty to CON­STANTIUS—that that religion which she the day before spoke so highly of, made it her duty now to submit to the dictates of her father, and that if she refused, she must lose his blessing and her own peace [Page 15] conscience here, and be sure of the indignation of her Maker and Judge hereafter; and that for her to con­tinue obstinate would be of no service to her, as she was totally in his power, and that he was fully deter­mined she should, that very night approaching, em­bark with Le Monte. She observed to him, that to urge the death of CONSTANTIUS as an argument for her again coming under his disposal, when at the same time he was in reality the guilty cause of it, did not carry any great matter of force with it, and that it was enough for him to deprive her of CONSTANTIUS, without adding a curse of little less magnitude to her misfortune; for the joining her to Le Monte would add as much to her wretchedness as the depriving her of CONSTANTIUS.

Her father, finding that expostulation had no kind of effect upon her, withdrew, to prepare for her em­barkation; and the evening following forced her into a coach, which conveyed her in the course of the night to the wharf where lay the ship in which Le Monte was to return to France, waiting for her arrival. She was hurried on board—and the wind being fa­vourable, they hoisted sail, and in a few hours lost fight of the American snore. Grief, amazement and horror occupied the breast of PULCHERA, though Le Monte used every effort to recommend himself to her; but all to no purpose. She replied to him, that it was in vain for him to attempt what was totally im­possible—that her aversion to him was so great, that time and circumstances would never be able to efface it—that though he had the power over her body, yet her mind was, and should continue, free—that she never would give him her hand or heart, and that he might rest assured he would never have the satisfaction of being her husband—that even the crown of France [Page 16] was too trifling a toy to have any effect on her mind. In discourses like this they passed a tedious passage of thirty one days, when one morning the light presented to their view three British ships at not more than half a league's distance, at the leeward of them: a flight was impossible, and in a few minutes the nearest of the British ships fired a shot across their bow. The Cap­tain of the French ship called his officers together, and held a momentary council of war, the result of which was to strike their colours, and yield themselves pris­oners of war; which was done immediately.

The Captain and some of his principal officers, to­gether with Le Monte and PULCHERA, were carried on board the Commandant's ship; but what was the surprize of PULCHERA, when on board of the captor she beheld her lost CONSTANTIUS! Nor were the sensations of CONSTANTIUS less nervous at behold­ing his adorable PULCHERA —they both stood silent, swallowed up in extacy, while their expressive counte­nances declared the emotions of their hearts more in­telligibly than the most finished composition of words is capable of doing.

The Captain of the British ship, on observing what passed, took PULCHERA into his cabin, saying, "Fair lady, by the silent messages which have passed between you and CONSTANTIUS, a prisoner in my ship, I fancy you have had some former acquaintance with him, and that by some means he has been forced from you▪ and your meeting appears to be unexpected to both; be so good as to inform me of the circum­stances, as far as may be proper: you are both in my power; I will see you have ample justice done you." PULCHERA then went on to inform him that she was the only daughter of a rich farmer in the neighbour­hood of Philadelphia—that her father had paid every [Page 17] attention to her education—that at the age of seven­teen her father informed her that for three years past he had made it the whole of his study to devise means of recommending her to the only son of a wealthy merchant in the same neighbourhood, whose name he said was CONSTANTIUS; and that CONSTANTIUS and his father had both agreed to the match, and that he hoped there would be no objections on her part— that with blushes she told her father she had no ob­jection to offer to such a proposal—that she had long had a strong prepossession in favour of CONSTAN­TIUS; in fine, she proceeded to give him a brief histo­ry of the transactions which we have before related, until the then present moment.

The Captain, at the end of the narration, called CONSTANTIUS into the cabin, saying to him, "You have hitherto been a prisoner in my ship—you from this moment cease to be one—you are henceforth at liberty, and have the freedom of the ship; I congratu­late you on your fortunate meeting with your admired PULCHERA—an elegant stateroom shall be allotted for your use—you and PULCHERA shall henceforth participate at my table, and when we arrive at Ports­mouth, I will take suitable care of you: you shall have a safe conveyance to Holland, from whence at your leisure you may return to your native coun­try." CONSTANTIUS politely returned him his warmest thanks for his offered goodness, and noth­ing but harmony subsisted in the cabin.

Le Monte, who continued a prisoner on board the same ship, in a few days was informed of all that had taken place with regard to CONSTANTIUS and PULCHERA, and was stung with resentment at the information, and swore revenge. The next day he sent CONSTANTIUS a challenge to a duel, which [Page 18] he accepted; and that night met for the purpose; in the issue of which Le Monte fell, and had to ask his life of CONSTANTIUS, who magnanimously gave it to him.

Le Monte was so sensible of his obligation to CONSTANTIUS, that he rose and expressed his warmest acknowledgments to him on the occasion; adding, that after experiencing such a favour from him, he had too much gratitude to do any thing which could in any degree prove disagreeable to him:—"I therefore," said he, "do relinquish every idea of any claim to the admirable PULCHE­RA—I resign her to you, sir—your conduct has rendered you worthy of her who has not an equal on earth. May you long live mutual blessings to each other, and may a beneficent Providence grant that you may forever be sharers of the best of blessings which heaven has reserved in store for its dearest favourites; and may I hope, notwithstanding all which has passed, that Le Monte will be record­ed amongst the number of your friends."

Nothing could exceed the courtesy with which CONSTANTIUS and PULCHERA treated Le Monte on this occasion; and the remainder of the voyage was spent in the most agreeable manner, until one night, after a most beautifully serene day, they saw a prodigiously black cloud make its appearance in the western hemisphere, which was so hurried on by a terrific gale, that in twenty minutes time it total­ly obscured the whole face of the heavens, and in­volved them in one solid mass of substantial dark­ness, while the wind continued to rage with the wild madness of the most violent hurricane, so that the greatest skill and exertions of the officers and mariners became necessary to prevent their being [Page 19] totally ingulphed in the bottom of the great deep. What added to their frightful situation was, that after it had continued without any mitigation for the space of about two hours, their ears were salut­ed with the sound of distant thunder, which every moment, with astonishing rapidity, approached nearer and nearer to their astonished observation, until their ship, by the flashes of lightning, seem­ed to be wrapped in sheets of fire, which were ac­companied by such dreadful peals of thunder as in­dicated that the final dissolution of universal nature was fast approaching, while torrents of rain, as though the flood gates of heaven were unstopped, fell upon them with such impetuosity as was suffi­cient (one would have thought) to have over­whelmed them in inevitable destruction.

While in this pitiable situation, being the sport of the enraged elements, at one moment tossed up to the clouds, at the next immerged into the bottom of the convulsed deep, expecting every moment to be the last; when nothing but fruitless cries and lamentations were to be heard between those amaz­ing peals of thunder which kept almost constantly bursting over their devoted heads; in the tenth hour of this desperate condition, they felt the shock of the vessel's striking on a bar. This was but a com­pletion of their despair. The Captain, however, ordered the longboat to be thrown out, that any who chose it might take their chance in it, as it was more than probable that the next sea would beat the ship to pieces, and bury those in the sand who remained on board; neither was the prospect of venturing in the boat any more favourable, as it was bordering hard on impossible for a boat to stand it for two minutes. It was at this time that CON­STANTIUS [Page 20] and PULCHERA, who till then had kept hold of each other's hands, by some means sepa­rated; and in a few minutes PULCHERA discover­ed, through the medium of the lightning, that she was the only person remaining on board. This circumstance, distressing as it was, could add but little to her wretchedness, which before was com­plete; she stood still, and resigned herself to fate. It was not long before she perceived that the beat­ing of the seas had made a fatal inroad on the ship, which threatened every moment to come to pieces— which in about five or six hours took place.

PULCHERA, who was almost in a suspension of thought, found herself floating on one of the hatch­es, on which she was soon washed upon the beach. The disconsolate PULCHERA, with the small re­mains of strength she yet possessed, was just able to avoid the fury of the succeeding wave, which, if she had not escaped, could not have failed of prov­ing fatal to her. When she found herself beyond the reach of the boisterous surges, she reclined her­self against the declivity of a bank, where she sat to bemoan her disasterous fate: weariness overcame her, and she fell into a sleep. When she awoke, she found that the storm had subsided, the boisterous wind had sunk into a perfect calm, the sky was clear, the air was serene, the face of nature appear­ed smiling, the birds on the boughs filled the air with their melody, the sun shone with peculiar lustre, and every appearance seemed calculated to inspire the bosom with pleasing sensations; but all these circumstances had no delights for PULCHERA —a fixed gloom occupied her countenance, and the most melancholy sensations rent her distressed breast▪ she wandered, making an useless moan to the heed­less [Page 21] flowers which decorated the wanton soil over which she rambled. Hours after hours in succession passed away, while she traversed the shore, where lay in forlorn ruins the shattered remains of the ship; but no signs of any of the people, dead or alive, were to be found.

In unsuccessful researches she spent the day, in the course of which she found she was on a small island, which, though under cultivation, was des­titute of inhabitants. The night succeeded the day which she passed in a manner not less joyless than the day before had been; but on the return of day, just after bright Phoebus had risen from his orient bed, she discovered a vessel coming down from the northward. As good fortune would have it, she came within call of the shore; she therefore, with a voice as loud as her enfeebled situation would ad­mit, hailed them; and being asked what she desir­ed, she answered, that she was the only survivor from a ship lately cast away there in a storm, and wished to come on board. The Captain ordered his boat to bring her on board his vessel, which was done accordingly. This vessel proved to be an American privateer, fitted out from a port in France, the Captain being M—, of New York, with whom PULCHERA had formerly had a slight acquaintance, and knowing him to be a gentleman of strict honour, she informed him of the whole of her adventure. Capt. M—was very much af­fected with her story, but with no part of it more than with the hapless fate of his friend CONSTAN­TIUS, with whom he had been bread at school, and for whom he entertained the greatest regard; and nothing in Capt. M—'s power was left unes­sayed to render PULCHERA happy; and she expe­rienced [Page 22] every mark of distinction, as well from all the officers as the Captain and seamen, which their situation would admit of.

Capt. M— informed her that after a few days cruise in those parts, they were bound to America, and on their arrival there it should be some of his first business to see her conducted safely to her friends; and in a few days they sat out to put this purpose into effect. Nothing material happened the first ten days—but on the eleventh day, they found they were chased by a vessel of superior force, and that she gained considerably upon them—and it was soon made certain that she was a vessel of more than twice their force, consequently a capture (extraor­dinaries excepted) was unavoidable. Capt. M— advised PULCHERA, in order to escape any ill usage from their captors, to divest herself of wo­men's apparel, and attire herself in a suit of his, which she accordingly did, putting on a neat suit of red regimentals, a gold laced hat, and a sword by her side, and took upon her the character of a Lieutenant under the name of VALORUS. By this time their pursuer was within reach of them, which was announced by the discharge of one of her bow guns. Capt. M—, on a more particular inspec­tion of his enemy, began to conceive some hope of being able to make good his defence against them: he accordingly made ready for an engagement, which soon commenced with great fury on both sides. In a few moment the combatants were at not more than sixty feet distance, while an incessant discharge of cannon, many of which were loaded with langrage and grape shot, was sufficient to have effectually tried the fortitude of the oldest veterans; and for a very considerable time fortune [Page 23] seemed undetermined in whose favour to decide, until a well directed fire from the British, caused Capt. M— to strike his colours, and thereby de­cided the action. The captor put a prize master on board of the prize, taking the officers (among whom was VALORUS, under the character of a lieutenant) into his own vessel.

The captor proved to be a sloop of war from Portsmouth, bound to Quebeck. Capt. M— and his officers received as good treatment on board the sloop as could reasonably be expected from the hands of a captor; in particular the delicate appearance of VALORUS insured to her an uncommon degree of respect from the under officers and men—she kept her countenance as smooth as the unruffled sea, tho' at the same time her recollection of CONSTANTIUS totally destroyed every agreeable idea which was about to rise in her mind, though none but her pil­low was a witness to her immoderate grief on the occasion.

They pursued their voyage for Quebeck, where the prisoners had the promise of being liberated, they giving their parole not to enter into actual service against the British, until regularly exchang­ed. But how fickle is fortune! When they suppos­ed, by their reckoning, they were near in with the land, a terrible storm assailed them, which continu­ed without intermission day after day, the wind rather increasing than diminishing, till on the night of the third day after the commencement of the storm; when, about one o'clock, they were alarm­ed by the breaking of the sea but a very small dis­tance before them; a sure indication that a bar, shoal, rocks, or land, was there, and so nigh was it, that all attempts to avoid it were made use of in [Page 24] vain; they had scarcely time to realize their situa­tion before their vessel was a ground—their fate was apparently fixed▪ and their small remains of hope seemed to be totally annihilated. But this suspense lasted not long; the wind was so violent and the seas so enormous▪ that the fourth sea after she first struck, reduced her to a heap of ruins, and the hands, by the violence of the waves, were washed on the shore, which was but a few feet distant from the bow of the vessel, and they had the surprising good fortune to escape a watery tomb, saving three only, who were drowned. They endeavoured to seek a shelter from the storm by advancing up on the land; but all attempts of this nature were in vain; for, twenty feet from the water was the far­thest they could extend, by reason of a bank which ascended nearly perpendicular, and the state of the night was so dark that they could form no idea of its height; and as they traversed to the right hand and the left, they found it was not to be avoided either way, as at a short distance it butted down into the water, and they found they must con­tent themselves in that situation until morning; but they were overwhelmed by one very melancholy consideration, viz. that they were ignorant of what time of tide it was; if it should happen to be any thing near low water, they could not possibly avoid being swallowed up long before it was high water: however, it so happened that at the time of their being cast ashore, it was high water, and by keep­ing a constant observation they soon found that the tide was on the ebb, which soon eased them from their dismal apprehensions on that account. The night, however, passed away in a very joyless man­ner. When the daylight appeared, the storm still [Page 25] continuing [...] very pleasing prospect presented itself to their view.

The beach on which they were, was about thirty rods in length, bounded by an insurmountable ledge of rocks, to the height of one hundred and fifty feet, which butted at each extremity into the sea, the ends of which they in vain attempted to double; their boats they found crushed in ruins with the remains of their ship.—Providentially, among the rubbish they found considerable quantities of provisions: but, un­fortunately, no kind of tools larger than a jack-knife could they obtain, though the most diligent searches were made therefore—They busied themselves in se­curing their provision, by carrying it above the reach of the tide. They then secured a few barrels of am­munition which they found undamaged, and some fire arms. Fruitless attempts were then made to ascend the precipice, until experience had taught them that nothing was to be expected from their most vigorous exertions.

Having secured the whole of the provisions they could find among the ruinous remains of their ship, they began to collect materials for building a raft, and immediately began to erect one, though this busi­ness went on very slowly for the want of tools proper to execute it with—however, they did as well as they could, and in the course of two or three days, by their exertions, they had fabricated one sufficient to float the whole of the unhappy sufferers, on board of which the next morning they embarked with a part of their provisions, their fire arms, and a quantity of ammu­nition; with this they pushed off from the shore, the weather being very cold, and the heavens indicated the approach of a storm.

It was a question at first which way they should di­rect [Page 26] their course—at last it was agreed to cruise along shore, to the eastward. They prosecuted this inten­tion, at about three, and sometimes four rods distance from the shore, for five or six miles, while nothing appeared to them to favour their wishes—nothing but a perpendicular ledge of ragged rocks was to be seen; and by this time the snow began gently to descend.

They kept a constant look out for a place where it was possible for them to run their raft ashore, where they might encamp on dry land; but this they long sought for in vain, till towards evening, when the snow had fallen to the depth of twelve or thirteen inches, they discovered a small declivity in the bank, where they run their raft on shore. And through this declivity they ascended the bank, which was about one hundred feet in length.

When they had attained the summit, they had an extensive uncultivated plain in pursuit, and not the least sign that any thing human was ever there before them.

With some difficulty in collecting materials, they built them a comfortable fire, and frying a quantity of bread and meat, they soon ate a very hearty sup­per; by this time it being dark, they made prepara­tions for taking some repose.

In the morning they awoke and beheld a serene air, and a pleasant sky—they consulted what course they should then take, when it was agreed that they should divide into a number of small companies, each com­pany to take a different route, taking a quantity of provisions each, and if either party found any inhabit­ants, to return to that place and wait for the return of the rest.

VALORUS, with two others, composed one of those small companies, each taking a gun, a quantity of [Page 27] ammunition and provisions; they each took their differ­ent [...], the snow being about six inches deep. They employed themselves, the first day, in exploring the inhospitable wilderness, without meeting with any thing worthy of remark.

On the latter part of the second day, they were o­vertaken by a furious storm of snow. They travelled till almost night, and seeing no kind of probability of finding any inhabitants, they concluded to stop under the leeward side of a large rock, and make as good preparations for the ensuing night as they could, which was only to tread down the snow, and collect such fu­el as they could, to support a fire. The storm contin­ued to rage with uncommon fury during the whole of the night, and the succeeding day, during which time, it was with the greatest difficulty they kept themselves from freezing, their fuel being exhausted, and it was with the greatest difficulty that they procured a small quantity more. They found, at the abatement of the snow, that it had fallen to the immoderate depth of four or five feet, and by reason of its not being capa­ble of sustaining half the weight of a man, it was en­tirely impossible for them to proceed either backward or forward.

In this situation, all they could do, was to make themselves as comfortable as their dreary circumstan­ces would permit. The weather was so intensely cold, that a large fire was indispensably necessary; and though they were surrounded with timber, they lack­ed the means of procuring it; however, they collected the small remains of wood which they had, and after incredible pains, they beat a track to an old dry oak tree, at about a rod's distance from them, and kindled a fire in a fracture at the bottom thereof, by which means in less than two hours they burned it down, [Page 28] which providentially falling across the rock, broke, and split the main trunk to pieces; this was a very valuable acquisition, making as much as two cords and a half of wood. This lasted them for better than three days, when their situation seemed to arrive at the height of wretchedness; the rigour of the weather not having in any degree abated, and the small store of provisions they had brought with them being spent, there seemed nothing but inevitable death before their eyes; for although a second attempt similar to the first had furnished them with a considerable stock of wood, yet, with nothing else to sustain nature, death could not appear at a very great distance from them, especially, as their natural strength, by excessive exer­tions, the inclemency of the weather, the severe hard­ships, and want of food, was greatly debilitated.

In this situation they lived, or rather existed, for six days, having no kind of sustenance, excepting the bark of trees, which, as it was frozen, they could get off only in small pieces with their knives, and then, thawing it by the fire, chewed and swallowed it.

At the commencement of the seventh day, when their sufferings had reduced them to a surprising state of weakness, and it was become certain that they could exist but a very little time longer, they began to wreck their invention to determine what they should do next. In vain did they then lament that they had not, as soon as the storm had abated, attempt­ted to have forced through the snow a way back to their rendezvous, though the prospect was very un­promising, it being, by the best of judgment, nearly fifty miles; but it was now too late to think of an at­tempt like that; and after mutually condoling each other on their desperate situation, one of the party thus addressed his partners: Dear Fellow Sufferers, [Page 29] In our sad situation, a few hours more will close our eyes, to be opened no more; we now cease to be any advantage to each other; and though life is hard to part with, yet it is of little consequence whether we die to day or to-morrow; and if one dying to day will eventually save the life of the two survivors, one had better die alone for the other two to live, than for all three to die together. For my part, as one, I move that we cast lots which of us shall die, to save the oth­er two suffering partners. The other two consented to this proposal; the lots were immediately prepared, and it was the fate of VALORUS to be the victim.

VALORUS told them, if they would indulge him so far as to give him time to write a few lines to his fa­ther, which he requested them to take the care of, and if ever an opportunity presented, that they would for­ward them to him, that he would then submit to his fate—They granted his request, and he wrote as fol­lows:

[Page 31]VALORUS had just finished the letter, and de­livered it, when one of his woful partners took up the fatal gun, well loaded, and had got it to his face, and was just pulling the trigger in order to lodge its contents in his head, when he chanced to raise his eye a little, and discovered a bear wallow­ing in the snow, at about twenty yards distance— He exclaimed, "VALORUS! Thank God, you may yet live!" and discharged his piece at the bear, lodging two balls in his head, of which he died instantly.—If ever joy was to excess, it was then so amongst this little unfortunate company—VAL­ORUS, whom they both loved equal to themselves, was still alive—without going to their prey, they both fell upon him, embracing him as one from the dead, and the most tender, expressive congratula­tions passed on the occasion—they all seemed lost in extacy for some space of time.

After their effusions of joy were in some measure abated, their small remains of strength were exerted in beating a road to their new acquired provision, which after having with difficulty accomplished, they made a small repast upon. By this time it was night, and the heavens had gathered an unusual de­gree of blackness, and very soon a torrent of rain began to descend.—They so fixed their bearskin (which was a very large one) as to be a very con­siderable shelter to them from the rain, and kept them tolerably dry through the sleepless night.— The light of day at last approached, after the most rainy night they had ever known, when soon the clouds broke away, the wind sprung up at the northwest, and a very severe cold day ensued. So much water was in the snow, and the cold so se­vere, that by the middle of the day it was frozen [Page 32] sufficiently to bear them; which perceiving, they formed an idea of trying to regain their place of general rendezvous; but their enfeebled state was such, that they scarcely were determined whether to attempt it or not; but after mature deliberation, it was concluded to set out in the morning, which accordingly they put in practice, taking with them a quantity of meat, which they judged sufficient for their use, till such time as they should arrive at their place of rendezvous.

It is needless to recount the wearisome steps which they experienced on their journey; suffice it to say, that on the fifth day, just before night, they arrived at the place exceedingly fatigued, which they found in the same situation they had left it, and no signs were to be discovered that intimated any per­son's having been there since their departure; but it was so near the windward side of the land, that the wind, in the time of the falling of the snow, had driven the snow quite off from that place.

Fatigued as they were, they built a fire, and pro­vided some supper:—Here they found bread, pork, beef, tea, sugar, and some cooking utensils, which they had left there; and they prepared and ate a more comfortable meal than they had since their being cast away. The next day they had recourse to their raft, which they found inclosed with ice;— they then repaired on the ice to the place of their shipwreck, which they likewise found the snow drifted off from. Tired of any further researches, they consulted which was the best place to fix their abode at; and when they had considered, that at this place was the greater part of the provisions they had to depend on—that here, from the ruins of their ship, they could obtain materials for build­ing [Page 33] them a shelter—and that likewise, here they could procure fuel from the same resource—they unanimously agreed to make that the place of their residence, hoping they had provisions enough to carry them through the winter, and that in the spring, Providence would find some way for their deliverance.

Under the impression of these ideas they went to work, and fabricated themselves a hut, tolerably warm; and to add to their good fortune, amongst the ruins of the ship they found a cask of Jamaica Rum, and another of Brandy, and about eight thousand nine hundred pounds in cash, though that they looked on as a very small acquisition, but they secured it. In this situation they considered themselves tolerably happy; but a misfortune now attacked them which they were in no measure pre­pared for. VALORUS and one of his companions were taken sick of a pleurisy; this deadly disorder seized them so violently, that in three days both of their lives were despaired of by themselves and their companion, who left nothing unattempted, which he had reason to hope would contribute to their recovery. There was nothing but what the unfortunate two underwent, both from the extreme raging of their distemper, and also from the forlorn situation which they were unfortunately in; how­ever, contrary to their own and their companion's expectations, on the eighth day the fever broke, and by slow degrees they regained their wonted strength, so that in about five weeks they were able to walk about, and were in a good measure able to do such kind of business as their circumstances re­quired to be done. They now passed their time as agreeably as could be expected for people in such [Page 34] lonely circumstances, saving only the disconsolate VALORUS, who as her thoughts began to be less taken up on her own personal safety, the idea of her beloved CONSTANTIUS would keep continu­ally arising in her distracted mind. The horrors of that dreadful night wherein they parted by ship­wreck, to meet no more, would keep continually harrowing up her mind, and depriving her of every species of comfort—her mind was distracted with terrific dreams, and her days spent in melancholy reflections. At times she was half resolved to un­bosom herself to her comrades; but reasons of policy forbid the measure.—They still supposed VALORUS to be what he appeared to be—a man.

In this situation they spent their time, until the return of spring, at which time their provision was nearly exhausted; when one morning, to their in­expressible satisfaction, they espied a small vessel, not more than a league and an half from shore. They made use of every means in their power to give them notice of their situation, by firing guns of distress, which at last had the desired effect, and the vessel stood in for the shore, until they got with­in call, when they hailed them, and asked them what they wished. They gave them a short account of their disaster, and that in all probability they were the only survivors of a large crew. The vessel sent their boat a shore and took them on board She proved to be a privateer from a port of Essex county, in Massachusetts state.—VALORUS did not think proper to make known his sex, though he in­formed them he was an American, and that he was a prisoner when he had the misfortune to be ship­wrecked. The captain of the privateer told VAL­ORUS, if he would enter on board voluntarily, he [Page 35] should be entitled out of the dead shares to a lieu­tenant's proportion of the prize money; the hands on board having agreed thereto, he accepted the appointment—as for the other two, it was agreed that they should be set at liberty the first opportu­nity that presented.

They cruised on this coast about a week, when they fell in with and took a brigantine, from Bristol bound to Quebec, with a very valuable cargo on board. The captain of the privateer put VALORUS on board prize master, with a sufficiency of hands, and ordered her into Salem; but unfortunately the next day she was captured by a forcible British cruiser, and was carried into Halifax. VALORUS had, through unacquaintedness with this kind of business, left the papers which he had of the captain of the privateer; and when the captor demanded his papers, he had nothing to shew. In vain did VALORUS inform him of the whole transaction. The captain of the cruiser said any one might make as good a story as that—he accordingly put VAL­ORUS in irons, and when they arrived at Halifax (perceiving that the irons hurt his wrists, they were taken off) he was put into the dungeon, and there kept in order for a trial for piracy.

Those who are acquainted with Halifax, know that the provost, under which the dungeon is situ­ated, stands on a rising piece of ground, and that from a vault in the bottom of the dungeon there is a drain of about two feet square, which leads from the said vault out to the side of the hill on which the provost stands. After VALORUS had been con­fined [Page 36] in this place about ten days (the eleventh be­ing appointed for their trial) he got acquainted with this circumstance of the drain; he therefore, in company with some others, determined to make their escape through that avenue: they therefore, one by one, let themselves down into the vault, and crept out through the drain on their hands and knees, it being about half filled up with filth; how­ever, they lived through the operation, though it was nauseous to the last degree; and they all got safely through, though they were all in a filthy con­dition; in order to divest themselves of this, they had immediate recourse to the water, where they found a small shallop, on board of which they en­tered, and under cover of the night got clear of the harbour: But their evil genius had not yet left them; for on the second day after their escape they were taken up by a small vessel of force, bound from Penobscot to London; so their pleasing hopes of seeing home were once more brought to nothing.

The captain of this little cutter, proved to be a ve­ry good natured sort of a man, and VALORUS made it his business to enter as far into his good graces as possible, and he had every success he could wish for, and on their arrival at London, he sat VALORUS and the rest of the prisoners at liberty.

VALORUS now found the advantage of the money, which he had saved out of the wreck, he having about two hundred guineas in his pockets which his captors had not taken from him: he procured himself a couple of suits of genteel clothes, and in a few days had an opportunity to embark for Lisbon, and from thence in a few days more for France. When he arrived at France, his first inquiry was, if any Americans were in that place, or not. As it happened there was pre­sent [Page 37] a French officer, who understood the English lan­guage tolerably well, who informed him that at the next door but one, there lodged an American gentle­man, who he believed was of a very considerable rank in life.

VALORUS stepped to the door, and asked if he could have lodgings there, till an opportunity present­ed for him to ship for America? He was answered in the affirmative, and entered the house; he was conduc­ted into a parlour, where sat a gentleman reading a manuscript: the gentleman rose to receive him, but how great was the astonishment of VALORUS, when in the face of the gentleman, he recognized every fea­ture of the long (thought) lost CONSTANTIUS. At first thought, VALORUS had like to have discovered his sex and person, by the most pathetic acclamations; but a second thought forbid any thing like that: " Time and absence cure the fondest love:" so taking each other by the hand, they passed mutual and civil compliments, and each seated himself. CONSTAN­TIUS ordered a bottle of wine and some glasses to be brought to them, and after drinking to each other, CONSTANTIUS inquired what part of America VALORUS was from? He informed him, he belonged to a privateer from Salem, that he was captured and carried into Halifax, from whence he made his escape, was again taken and carried into England, where he was liberated, and came to this place in order to seek a passage home. Just as this discourse happened, a French gentleman entered the parlour, whom VALO­RUS, at first sight, knew to be Le Monte, the first cause of all her trouble; mutual compliments passed between CONSTANTIUS and Le Monte, and a miscellaneous discourse passed away the time, until supper was serv­ed; VALORUS then proposed taking his lodging, and [Page 38] was conducted to his bed; CONSTANTIUS and Le Monte afterwards repaired to their lodging, which was separated from that of VALORUS only by a parti­tion.

Sleep had in a great measure departed from VAL­ORUS. He attended to the discourse of CONSTAN­TIUS and Le Monte, after they had taken their beds. He found that the most intimate friendship subsisted between them, and that a purpose of marriage was on foot between CONSTANTIUS and the only sister of Le Monte, and that she would be in town on the mor­row from Paris, and that in a short time the nuptials were to be celebrated. Confusion now took full pos­session of the distressed heart of the feigned VALORUS. She viewed her CONSTANTIUS as totally lost to her forever; now did she curse her unfortunate stars, and lamented the time she escaped the gaping liquid grave, and all the horrors of the disconsolate island on which she had been shipwrecked; but most of all, the ill fat­ed moment which again introduced her to the presence of CONSTANTIUS.—Despair and anguish rent her heart through the tedious watches of the night, and her pillow was wet with the choicest tears that ever flowed within the realms of France.

On the return of the morning, they all arose, and every preparation was making for the reception of the lady ( Le Monte's sister.) Breakfast was at last bro't on the table; Le Monte, CONSTANTIUS and VAL­ORUS sat down. During breakfast time. VALORUS inquired of CONSTANTIUS what part of America he was from? He replied, from Philadelphia. Pray sir, said he, did you ever have any acquaintance with a gen­tleman by the name of—? Yes, replied he, with a very expressive countenance—Did you know a daughter of his by the name of PULCHERA? Yes, [Page 39] replied CONSTANTIUS, with a degree of melancholy visibly blended in his once cheerful countenance. Why, continued CONSTANTIUS, was you ever ac­quainted with her? Some years ago, replied VAL­ORUS, I was very intimate in the family, and if I forget not, when I last knew the family, she was the only surviving child which her father had. Can you inform me if ever she married, and whether she is yet alive or not? This question brought tears into the eyes of CONSTANTIUS, who, with a voice which bespoke the perturbation of his mind, replied—Poor PULCHERA, the ornament of her sex, and the pride of human nature, is no more; some misunderstanding with her father, with regard to a proposed marriage, caused her to leave her home and cross the Atlantic, in which voyage the vessel was wrecked, and the un­happy PULCHERA was the only person that was lost! His tears prevented him from proceeding any further, and VALORUS's feelings were too sensible to prose­cute the inquiry.

After breakfast, VALORUS asked CON­STANTIUS to take a walk with him in the garden. CONSTANTIUS rather declined, say­ing, he should be exceeding fond and proud of an interview, but it was absolutely necessary for him to make all the preparation he could, to receive some company of rank which would attend on him in the afternoon, in consequence of which, Sir, said he, I dare say you will excuse me. VALORUS replied, he had too much good nature to urge him to a measure that was disagreeable to him, and retired to his cham­ber, and wrote a letter to CONSTANTIUS, then wal­ked out to take a view of the town, giving the letter to a boy in the street, making a present to him of a gui­nea to secure the delivery of it to the lady of the house where CONSTANTIUS boarded.

[Page 40]In about half an hour CONSTANTIUS received the letter of the lady; he opened, and read the contents, which were as follows:

[Page 42]CONSTANTIUS was thunderstruck at reading these lines, viewing the writing, he would exclaim—"It must be so—I am too well acquainted with the hand, to be capable of being imposed on. She is still alive, and I am hers, and she is mine. An indissoluble bond has united us together, which nothing but death is capable of dissolving. O heavens! where is she? I am on the rack till I behold her! Where is the post boy who delivered the letter?" &c.

CONSTANTIUS went on in such like exclamations until Le Monte came in, to whom he read the letter. Le Monte was a little struck at first hearing it, but on considering the subject, he told CONSTANTIUS it was impossible for it to be a reality, but it was a piece of imposition, contrived by some ill minded person, in order to break off his proposed marriage with his sister; saying, you know, you positively know, my CONSTANTIUS, that it is beyond the reach of possi­bilities for her to be alive. She did not leave the ship with us, and it is not in the power even of credulous­ness itself to form an idea of her escaping. CON­STANTIUS stood in amaze; at last he replied, "it must be, you are in the right; it is impossible she should be alive; she has long since paid the debt of nature, and is no more."

VALORUS continued to walk the streets, wishing to know the effect which the letter had on the mind of CONSTANTIUS, not being able to form a judg­ment how his affections stood towards PULCHERA; about noon he returns to the house, closely examining the looks of CONSTANTIUS, but could read nothing in his countenance for certain.—He then enters into a discourse with him, in the course of which he inquires of him how long since he was in Phila­delphia? He answered, about six or eight weeks.— [Page 43] Was the father of PULCHERA alive when you left the place? He was—Was he much affected at the loss of his daughter? Exceedingly—it had like to have rained his senses. I think, when I was there last, continued VALORUS, a certain gentleman by the name of CONSTANTIUS was paying his addresses to PULCHERA. Do you know any thing with regard to him? CONSTANTIUS, with some tender emo­tions, replied, yes, I am the person. I was once happy in the love of the amiable PULCHERA; but cruel death, that interrupter of human felicity, forced her from me, and left me, inconsolably to bemoan her hapless fate.

Shipwrecked on the coast of England, having but a moment to avail ourselves of the boat (which was at best a forlorn hope) I, by some means, let go her hand, and in the confusion I did not perceive it till after I was in the boat, and the fast out from the vessel. Distracted, I had like to have thrown myself from the boat into the water, and have attempted to have regained the vessel, and mingled fates with her; but being fully sensible of the impracticability of re­gaining the vessel, I contented myself to live, though every moment expecting to be swallowed up in a gaping watery grave—however, we floated, in a man­ner truly miraculous, about four or five miles, when, providentially, we struck on a small uninhabited island, two days after which we were taken off by a pleasure boat, who went with us to the island on which we supposed our vessel was wrecked, which proved to be the same.

Here was I in hopes of finding my PULCHERA, whether dead or alive, but my hopes were in vain, not a trace of her was to be found; a small trunk of here I found washed up, which I took into possession, out [Page 44] of which I took this locket, having her picture set in gold—this I have ever worn on my breast, and never shall it be transferred to any other place.—O thou amiable PULCHERA! never will your image be erased from my memory—never shall I forget the time when we exchanged mutual vows, and gave our­selves up to each other, when joys extatic took full possession of our enraptured breasts at anticipating scenes of felicity, which we promised ourselves, but which cruel fortune never designed we should realize —here CONSTANTIUS's utterance failed him— here he gave himself up to a flood of immoderate grief, and VALORUS could scarcely contain himself—at length, in broken accents, he thus accosted him:— " Dear Sir, I pray that you would moderate your grief, which can be of no service to you—your sorrows can never reanimate PULCHERA; when death sepa­rates lovers, though it is impossible entirely to forget, yet▪ duty makes it necessary to banish every idea, as far as is practicable—you may no doubt find another to supply the place of PULCHERA." O! replied CON­STANTIUS, these are the reflections of a mind at ease— it is true I cannot reanimate the admirable PULCHE­RA—she has bid farewell to all sublunary things, but my veneration for her will never cease to exist, neither will it in any degree abate. It is true, I have sought for relief in the arms of another, and soon, very soon are the nuptials to be celebrated; but there is nothing which can erase that supreme indissoluble affection which I have once for all placed on the inimitable PULCHERA: she is no more!

Dear Sir, replied VALORUS, your affections were very sincere, and Providence will never admit of such virtues going unrewarded—it must have in its store of beneficence some peculiar blessing to bestow upon [Page 45] you, and though I am no prophet, I will venture to predict that your days of sorrow are nearly at an end— something you have no idea of at present, will soon o­pen upon you, which will inspire you with such sens­ations as you have a long time been a stranger to.— I pray you to dismiss the subject, and ask me no fur­ther questions on this matter which interests me beyond your conception—whether ever you see me again or not, remember what I now say to you.—Saying this, he bid him adieu; and the most earnest entreaties of CONSTANTIUS could not prevail on him to tarry any longer with him—he walked away into the city, leaving CONSTANTIUS in amazement.

CONSTANTIUS employed his reasoning powers to conclude what the sequel of this matter should be, and and from what VALORUS could obtain such informa­tion concerning him; various were his conjectures, although he could form no fixed idea in his own mind favouring the elucidation of this riddle which VAL­OROUS had put upon him—he walked into the house, where he sat down and continued his rumination on this inexplicable adventure. While he was thus mus­ing, there came in a boy, and, delivering him a letter, he immediately retired—he opened the letter, and read the proceeding contents:

[Page 47]This still served to increase his wonder—but he considered it as rather an unfortunate appointment on one account, as that was the time appointed for the arrival of Le Monte's sister, whom he wished to receive with all the respect possible—he at one time would imagine it was a stratagem of some enemy of his, in order to introduce a friend between him and his proposed bride, and then he would determine to pay no kind of attention to the message; then again the anxiety of his mind would be such, that he resol­ved, let the event be what it would, he would at­tend the summons.

Accordingly, at a little past four, he made prepa­rations to go, and at twenty five minutes sat out, but as he had left the door, he looked round and discovered his proposed bride, approaching at some distance, attended with a very splendid retinue, the sight of which staggered his resolution of proceed­ing—it could not fail of striking his mind most powerfully, that if he absented himself at this time, the lady would conceive such a dislike, at this want of respect, that she would abandon him forever, and that he should draw upon himself the revenge of Le Monte, and all his connexions—however, his curiosity was so great, and his anxiety so irresisti­ble, that his determination to go overcame every consideration to the contrary. He therefore turned his face towards the eagle, and suffered nothing to divert his steps—he arrived at 29 minutes past four; at the door he met a barber and a toilet woman going out. He asked the hostess if there were any commands there for him? She answered, that in the chamber parlour was a young gentleman waiting for you, if your name is CONSTANTIUS: That is my name, re­plied he—she shewed him▪ the way to the room, [Page 48] which he entered—but heavens, what a surprise was he seized with, when he, instead of a young gentle­man, found his eyes fixed on his adorable PULCHERA; decked in all the magnificence which the city of Bour­deaux could afford—she rose in the most graceful manner to receive him: such a sweetness was in her countenance, as could not fail of ravishing the heart of the most stupid beholder—her eyes acquired addi­tional lustre, as they met those of her long wished for CONSTANTIUS, whose surprise was so great, that his organs of speech were totally incapable (for a while) to perform their functions, while PULCHERA thus ad­dressed him: Dear CONSTANTIUS, it is long since my heart has been totally in your possession, and many and great have been the sufferings which I have passed through for the sake of him whom I have now the plea­sure of beholding; and you Sir, and you only know whe­ther my sufferings have been in vain or not—you Sir, know whether I am to be happy in your favour, or whether the sister of Le Monte predominates in your affections. You, Sir, can decide on a question which is of more consequence to me, than the riches of both the Indies. My complete happiness, and my insu­perable misery, are now suspended in the balance of your mind, and as one or the other scale preponderates, will my fate be happy or miserable in the extreme—yet Sir do not misunderstand me, perhaps my language conveys ideas different from my intentions, notwith­standing the many terms I have made use of, I value your repose so highly, that I never can wish you to do a thing disagreeable to yourself, in order to oblige me; and even an event like that, was I sensible of it, would only add to my torment—If Sir, I have posses­sion of your heart, I shall be thankful for your hand also; but to have the latter without the former, this [Page 49] is so foreign from my wish, that it never can obtain my consent. I plead no contract, but leave you to the free determination of your affections."

CONSTANTIUS by this time had in some good de­gree recovered of his surprise: he encircled her in his arms, and in accents of rapture exclaimed, "O tran­scendently propitious heaven! thrice bountiful, inex­haustible, magnificent Providence! inexpressibly be­nevolent and superlatively beneficent fates! the most exalted language is more than infinitely too inexpres­sive to give an idea of the grateful sensations which occupy my breast, which is borne down with the grateful sense which I have of your inconceivable benediction towards me! I am arrived at the summit of human gratification—I am lost in extacy. O! ye powers Omniscient, is this real, or the unsubstantial fabrick of an empty vision? O transcendently be­neficent powers! 'tis no fiction, 'tis no reverie of an insane mind, for I am above being imposed on in this matter—I have her in my arms, the real, half adora­ble PULCHERA! propitious Providence has once more placed her in my embraces, and the freaks of wild fortune shall never more separate me from the object of my delight. No, no, my adorable angel, my dearest PULCHERA, you have the full possession of a heart totally incapable of dissimulation or change. No—sooner than I could withdraw my supreme af­fection from you, and place it on another, shall the course of nature receive a total revolution, the sun shall cease to communicate his light or heat, darkness shall become the medium of discerning objects—be­lieve me, my dearest PULCHERA, as soon as my small affairs in France are settled, we will cross the Atlantic, we will revisit the land of freedom—we will solemnize the long wished for marriage ceremo­nies, [Page 50] and we will live the remainder of our days in that felicity which we have so long in vain sought for."

In this way they exchanged a variety of mutual expressions of the most fond affections, until time had insensibly introduced the shades of the evening, when CONSTANTIUS again began to think of his appointment with the sister of Le Monte. He men­tioned to PULCHERA the overtures which he had made to Le Monte's sister, in consequence of his totally despair­ing of ever seeing her again—that a sense of honour made it necessary for him to repair to his lodg­ings, and to inform her of his situation, and to make as good terms with her as he could, and that he would spend as little time on this matter, as the nature of the thing would admit of.

CONSTANTIUS then repaired to his place of abode, where he found Le Monte and his sister waiting with anxiety for his return. On his arrival, joy seemed to sparkle in their countenances, but rather decreas­ed as they read in his visage that every thing was not right in his mind. However, CONSTANTIUS went through the usual formalities of welcoming the lady with a tolerable good grace, But he soon called Le Monte aside, desiring to speak with him alone. "My dear friend, said he, we have long been in strict friendship together, which I zealously wish to cultivate and improve, and there is a mat­ter which lays with peculiar weight on my mind, about which I wish to ask your advice: I hope you will give me your sentiments fully." "Speak on, quoth Le Monte; the best of my poor advice is al­ways at your service, and you cannot lay a greater obligation upon me, than to command my best ser­vices." "For a considerable time (continued [Page 51] CONSTANTIUS) you have been acquainted with my affairs; you was no stranger to my trea [...] with PULCHERA, to the passion I had for her, and the solemn obligations I was under to her: since her exit you have been fully let into the particulars of my negociations with your amiable sister, and the length to which we have carried the matter—now, Sir, supposing that PULCHERA should prove to be still alive, and should insist on my fulfilling my engage­ments, what could you advise me to do, Sir? Pray, dear Sir, on the sacred bonds of friendship, by which we are cemented, give me your impartial o­pinion on the matter."

"What should you do!" replied Le Monte, "can there remain a doubt in your mind with regard to what you should do? I think it is impossible there should—are you not a man of honour? Do not your engagements, your solemn promises, lay with some degree of weight on your mind? Can you harbour an idea that you are at liberty to break through the solemn and delicate obligations of a matrimonial contract? If you do, how can you answer it to your own conscience, to the wronged lady who has plac­ed so much confidence in you? Can you have the most distant idea that you can make a second con­veyance of yourself to one woman before you are discharged from the other? Can you lawfully dis­pose of any article, after you have conveyed away the whole of your title to it? If you cannot, I wish to be informed of the means by which you were dis­charged from your obligations to PULCHERA: Will you say, you supposed she was dead? Is that sufficient, think you? Can your own mistake de­prive her of that right which she had to you, in consequence of your voluntary con­tract? [Page 52] No—your good sense will forbid your harbouring such unworthy ideas. If PULCHERA is alive, in the name of common justice, marry her: your engagements to my sister must, in the nature of things, be, on this implied condition that PULCHE­RA is no more; it was totally out of your power to make any other contract with her, whether that con­dition was expressed or not.'

Well (said CONSTANTIUS) strange as it may ap­pear, PULCHERA is yet alive! I have seen her—she is now at the sign of the Eagle! Le Monte inter­rupted him, saying, "Then marry her, otherwise I should esteem you as totally unworthy of any share in my friendship—you seem to hesitate: I will call in my sister—I will inform her of the circumstances; and then, if she will consent to marry you under this predicament, and rifle PULCHERA of that felicity which she has hazarded her life to obtain, I shall blush when I reflect that I was ever allied to her, and from henceforth will forever disown her as a relation of mine. I will call her in and inform her, as I see by your countenance that your sentiments correspond with mine."

Le Monte called in his sister to them, and informed her of the whole affair; who, looking on CONSTAN­TIUS with a pleasant and very wishful countenance, gave the following decision in favour of CONSTAN­TIUS—a proof of female generosity and nobleness of mind.

"Dear Sir, disappointments were never agreeable to my nature, and I have often thought that I had the least patience to bear with them of any mortal existing—and I have not a single doubt but my affec­tions are as strong towards you as PULCHERA'S are; yet you are her's by right, and your after engagements [Page 53] to me, under the mistaken idea of her being dead, cannot make her claim to you invalid. Hesitate not, my dear CONSTANTIUS—fulfil your engagements to her; for you will totally forfeit every claim to my affections and esteem, if you do not. You have my most fervent prayers that you may continue long and lasting blessings to each other in the connubial state— she will always be sure of a peculiar place in my esteem, for the good will I bear to you. I hope you will favour us by introducing her into our company this evening—it will afford me the most sensible plea­sure, to be in any measure instrumental in conducing to her happiness.

CONSTANTIUS returned her a very polite compli­ment, for her candid and amiable overture; express­ing his wishes, that providence would furnish her with an husband suitable to her rank in life, and one that would be much more worthy of her than he could have the arrogance to pretend to be. He then, in company with Le Monte, waited on PULCHERA from the sign of the eagle, and introduced her to the sister of Le Monte, where the remainder of the evening was spent in the greatest conviviality, and nothing could exceed the pleasing compliments which passed between those two rival ladies.

CONSTANTIUS and PULCHERA, after this, made the greatest dispatch possible in their preparations for returning home; and in about a week's time they embarked accordingly, taking an affectionate farewell of Le Monte and his sister; and, after a short and pleasant passage, they arrived safely at Philadelphia, and on the same day repaired to her father's house. The shock was almost too great for her father's nerves—he embraced them both extatically, asking a thousand pardons for his misconduct towards them, [Page 54] and with tears of joy promised to devote the remain­der of his days to the substantiating their happiness.— About a week from this they joined their hands at the altar of Hymen, amidst a croud of spectators, whose pleased countenances bespoke the inward joy of their hearts: and they now live the greatest ornaments of the married state.