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t.h.m hope? Our hearu are its altars, and our

days its ucririces.

Necepsos, I could perceive, had a kindness for me; yet he spoke to me but little; he observed me with attention: the wise first consult the mind and disposition of those with wh«m they are to live.

■Not a single accident obstructed or impeded our voyage; we a/.ived at Gaul, and landed at the port of Mallalia: the residence of Nccepsos was at Lutefa; we parted from Massalia ta> go thither. When we were almost arrived there, I perceived in the countenance of Necepsos, a violent emotion mixed with fear and sorrow; I was surprized at it: Nccepsos had Appeared to me an absolute master os his passions. Necepsos knew my thoughts, he had already learned to read my heart.

Be not astonished my daughter, said he, at the alteration you behuld in me j philosophy doth not render us insensible; there are some passions which do honour to mankind. I am alarmed for an only son, whom 1 affectionately lov.-: I received a letter from his mother while I was at Athens, acquainting me that he had been attacked and dangerously wounded by a gang of thieves; I fear my son reposeth in his tomb.

Oh, my lord! cried I, Heaven grant that your fears are groundless ! I endure your pains; and sure I may partake of the miseries of my father and benefactor. Yes, continued I, transported with grief and gratitude, I would gladly give up my life to preserve that of your son. What ought I not to do for you! Neepsos was affected with my tender sensation. However generous we are, we arc delighted with Having obliged the grateful. . Lutcsia is a small town handsomely situated, it is encompassed with a river, whose stream is clear and limpid. * . Tcnecis, the wife of Necepsos, came to meet us: sorrow was imprinted on her countenance: you come, said slie to Necepsos, to receive your son's last breath; the situation he is now in will not permit the smallest hope. At these werds a trcinUing, an uneasiness

abandon me, when a cry of surprize and joy

from Thyamis, recalled it. Thyamis extended his arms, I threw myself into them. Thyamis, delirious with joy, repeated etery-moment, My dear Mirri), is it then true. Do I again behold thee? What favourable God has granted you to my wislres?

Love, for some moments, supported the: strength of Thyamis; but the violence of his transports had enfeebled it, I thought he was expiring. I was plunging into an abyss of despair; but Necepsos, leaving Thyamis in the arms of a tender mother, obliged me to follow him into another chamber.

Daughter, said he to me, your presence would cause the death of Thyamis; he is not in a condition to support so violent an emotion j I hope, however, he will be restored. Yesr Mirril, love will effect this miracle; nothing is impossible to him: but acquaint me with the birth of your passion for Thyamis: that dear child has need of repose; employ that time then in satisfying my curiosity: and first, remember, that solfhood is base and mean.

My lord, said I to Necepsos, I understand you, and I knew how greatly I am culpable. Daughter, resumed he, be not uneasy, I do not intend to afflict you with reproaches: there arc none of us free from error; but it is noble to confess our faults, and correct them. You have deceived me at Athens, but speak to me now with sincerity.

These words encouraged me. I assured Necepsos that 1 would not conceal or disguise any thing. Well, resumed he, when I bad ceased speaking, is you had placed an entire confidence in me, you would now have nothing to desire. You would have been with your father, your husoand, and your son. Perhaps it may be so still.

Oh, my lord, cried I, throwing myself at the feet of Neccpsoi, what is it you fay to me? Ought I to hc|e for so much happiness * I am your stave, I am your son's stave. Duty ahd gratitude has attached me to you, love attaches hie to Thyamis. W'ould.you then convert my chains into a glorious title f How mail

unknown before, invaded me. I went with I support the weight of your generosity ? How Necepsos into his son's chamber. I thought iny alarms and agitations were the children of acknowledgment. 1 ought to have comprehended that the emotions I felt proceeded from love. Instinct often furnishes us with sorer conjectures than those which reason forms: thij, however, I experienced; I beheld in the son of Necepsos my dearest Thyamis. But my eyes were less sensible of it than my heart; 'id palejiesihad chaced the beautiful ver

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lips was entirely changed. His eyes, liULch I had beheld as brilliant as the rays of fan, were overcast and dying. Cod-! tat did I endure! my loul was about 10

shall 1 .express a grateful fense of it? The vivacity of jay fenf.bility is too great to be augmented, j ,

Mirril, said .??eec'pfos, tenderly embracing me, you .ieferye to lie my daughter j I perceive in your heart the feeds q. all the virtues; an ill education has not been able to destroy them; a^soul.like yours is worthy of all my care; I will raiic it to the Gods, cf whom it is the ima^e; but, let us return to Thyamis, he iias perhaps reeov. rad his strength. We are presently accustor.'.cd :o happiness-, and it becomes Lranquille; his ioy will coubilefsVe equally great, butit v»iil be sofs affecting v,hen he is acquainted with what I am

preparing The History of Mirri

preparing for hirn. The greatest object of a father's attentions should be to render his children happy;

Thyamis waited for me with all the impatience which love inspires 5 his looks were no longer dull and inanimate. 1 fat myself down by his bedside; our Cghs and caresses were for 11 long time our sole interpreters. How confused and unconnected were our expressions! When we endeavoured to speak, our words could not keep pace with the rapidity of our thoughts: we spake both at the fame time, and could not understand or answer each other.

Neccpfos, alarmed with the agitation in which he beheld his son, approached us: he related to Thyamis what he had heard from me. Thyamis listened to it with attention :' from the recital he felt the pains which I had suffered to preserve myself for him: it penetrated his foul. What is bestowed upon a grateful heart is never lost.

When Necepfos had finished his narrative he promised my hand to Thyamis; and thus to compleat our happiness.

Necepfos was perfectly acquainted with the virtue of simples, he knew all the secrets of medicine; by the help of that art he cured Thyamisi;. rnyT' presence seconded* his endeavours 1 our ;hodies generally partake of thet impressions ef our minds.

My dear Mirril, said Thyamis to me one day, I must acquaint you with every thing that has happened'to me since our separation: the xecirar of my sufferings will be a pleasure to me; 'Aster a cruel shipwreck, when we are secure in port, it is with delight we behold a tempestuous and 'troubled sea.

I left Athens wjth a heart full.of love and grief; the winds were so favourable to us that at the end of eight days we landed at Massalia j I proceeded hastily from thence to Lutefa.

Tenesis was surprized and alarmed at faeing me; I was not to have returned without Necepfos: stie was under apprehensions for him"; I- consoled her, and told her it was in obedience to the commands of Neccpfps that I was returned to Lutesia.

* It was not to Tenesis that I was to apply for money to satisfy the demands of Melita; our ■fortune was top • small s it was Arminius that I depended! upon. United to Arminius by the most tender friendship, I was perfectly acquainted with his disposition; I had often received testimonies of his affection.

Arminius is beloved and favoured by the kiijg of'Lutesia; he is not less esteemed by the nobility and people, so well he knows how to employ the riches and power he enjoys. Hatred, injustice, or vengeance, have never possessed a single portion of his heart. He is one of those fouls td which vice of all kinds is •utterly a stranger.

[; a Grecian Tali. 2,63

I opened my heart to Arminius; I acquainted him with the excess of my passion, joy was visible in his countenance j he thanked me for giving him an opportunity of declaring his esteem; his sentiments were those of a real friend. Though the fortune of Arrninius was great, the sum t requested was very considerable for him. Arminius joyfully consented. A generous foul is ignorant of thevalue of the favours he bestows.

I departed from Lutesia to go to Massalia; some rtbbers attacked me in the middle of a thick forest: they were a great many in num-' ber, and I had with me only two Haves: I defended myself a long time; out having received several wounds, I lost my'strength and fell down weltering in blood at the fopt of a tree: the robbers thought me dead; they robbed me and departed; my slaves, who ran' away and hid themselves in the wood, returned when the danger was over, and carried me to a neighbouring village: one of them set out for Lutesia; we were not then far from it.'

The wounds'I received were not mortal, but the quantity of blood I had lost, rendered my recovery doubtful. I was insensible of the care that was taken of me.

Tenesis, in the mean time, arrived, trembling and terrified, lest I should not recover:' she caused me to be conveyed to Lutesia. My wounds did hot heal or grow better; they were envenomed by the' uneasiness with which I was agitated. ' When I recovered my senses, I perceived how great were my misfortunes. I law 'every glimpse of hope was vanished: I was now unable to satisfy the exactions of Melita, and break the chains of my dear Mirrli. I could indeed return again to Arminius; but was not that an abuse upon hist friendship? After a long combat, love got the victory of my just repugnances; I sent to the palace of Arminius, to acquaint him with, what happened to me. What a thunder stroke! The messenger informed me that Arminius W29 npt at Lutesia, that he was that very day set out upon some private business, and the road he had taken was held a profound secret.

I saw the time advancing with long strides^ when Melita was to dispose of you; I was so overwhelmed with grief that Tenesis was hopeless of my recovery. Shewrote to Necepfos j (he knew the time when he was to be at Athens. You have seen, my dear Mirril, how just were her alarms; and the sorrowful condition which despair and love can reduce us to.

When the health of Thyamis was re-established, Necepfos tbouchr of our wedding; the preparations were presently made; Necepfos loved simplicity.

1 married Thyamis, and we experienced together those joys which almighty love bestows- • Lit '" ldl1r*V ' 'Tbueo

Then I was happy '■ but how dearly have I since paid for my happiness J My lord, said I one day to Necepsos, you are an Egyptian, by what caprice of fortune came you to fix your residence in Gaul? Your curiosity is natural, replied Necepsos; I will satisfy it; it is reasonable that you should know those to whom you are united in the strongest bands.

Metfiphis is my country. My blood derives its source from that of the kings of Egypt. Loaded with the gifts of fortune, I did not, like many other mortals, make her my sole divinity. I despised effeminacy and ease, and ran with speed into the paths of philosophy. I did not neglect any of the sciences.

Necepsos, admired and respected, was the sole felicity of his family, when the cruel sheers cut asunder his thread of life.

Lamentations and tears of sincerity were ♦he funeral pomp of Necepsos; he desired he might not have any more, and his desires were always deemed sacred by us. All the inhabitants of Lutesia were afflicted for the death of Necepsos. Virtue and knowledge are inevitable charms.

Thyamis had often written to his friend at Athens, but never received an answer to any of his lettets. I was greatly alarmed for my son; Heaven had not given me any other child. I requested to Thyamis to make a voyage to Athens: Thyamis had no desires but mine. With difficulty Tenesis consented to our dep; rture; we went to Masialia.

A stiip was ready to set sail for Greece; we embarked in it. The second day of our voyage, the /hip Was tossed with the most violent tempest; it continued thus fifteen days, during which time we had little hopes of ever beholding land again. We were already hurled beyond the columns of Hercules, and were failing in the immense ocean, when we perceived several little islands. The pilot cried out with a loud voice, let us exert our utmost efforts to reach the shore, before our ship be swallowed up by the waves: his flcill preserved us from all the rocks ; we landed in one of the islands; we saw the remains of a ship which the tempest had just before shattered to jitces; 1 wept for the unfortunates who had Jurfe/ed shipwreck ; I ought rather to have envied their fate; 1 was about ru become a greater Object of pity.

Our ship was in a terrible shattered condition; We obtained permission of the king to remain some days in the island: seeking for a place to lodge in, we arrived where they offer up cruel sacrifices to Neptune.

We were ignorant of so barbarous a custom,

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the people, and run to one of the miserable wretches they were going to sacrifice.

Arminius! my dear Arminius, cried he, preserve thy life, or let us pcrifli together.

It was in vain to endeavour to stop Thyamis; with his sword he warded off those that approached him. Arminius tore from the priest the fatal halbert, and with it seconded the efforts of Thyamis 1 I .was seized with horror, I drew my poniard, and rushed in the middle of them. I strove to parry off the blows which were addressed to Thyamis. Love gave me strength, that of Arminius and Thyamis.was more than human; but it was im-, possible that we should long resist, the number of our enemies encreafed every moment.

Arminius fell first, being wounded all over the body: Thyamis would have revenged the death of his friend, but the sorrow he felt, his fears on my account, and the wounds which he had received, enfeebled him; he was easily disarmed.

I presently threw down my poniard, and changed a fruitless defence into submission; I conjured the priest to spare Thyamis, and sacrifice me. . , , , . . .

But they would not hearken to my petition; the people cried out, let them both be sacrificed; they both deserve death; they ought to supply the place of that victim, of which they have robbed Neptune. This fatal decree was to be immediately executed. I .was only just permitted the mournful pleasure of embracing Thyamis for the last time; our looks and groans were the sole interpreters of our grief; it could hot be expressed by any other language. . •

We would have suffered for each other; despising death on our own accounts, we feared 6nly for the objects of our love.

My lord, said I to the priest, suffer me to die before Thyamis, or the grief of feeing him expire, will rob you of part of your vengeance; I shall expire with him. Thyamis preferred the fame petition. Alas! my prayers were useless, and his were hearkened to..

And now, what am I going to tell you? I saw the mortal stroke given, the blov» which robbed me of my Thyamis. Hold, cried L my dearest husband, I will follow thee! our souls shall not be separated. In saying these words, I uncovered my breast, and presented it to the priest. But oh! greatest of misforr t»ncs! when he was going to strike the blow, he started back trembling and amazed.

He threw himself before the altar. O ye Gods! cried he, do not demand my daughter, Jest I sacrifice myself I No, you cannot exact such barbarity. Good people, continued he, seek for another arm to plunge' it in my perform the cruel

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The History of Mirril; it Grecian Tale.

I knoW my daughter by the mark worn by all those who descend from your kings. I have seen the sacred print engraven by myself. •

Almarif, that was the name of the priest, was beloyed by the people, some of them ran to the kipg, who was his brother, to relate to him what had happened, the others came to me and released me; they unanimously cried out that I ought notto perish.

My father wanted to embrace me, an impulse of tenderness made me approach him; but when I was about to throw myself in hw arms, seeing his hands crimsoned with the blood of Thyamis, I drew back with horror, and threw, myself on my unfortunate husband; I strove to bring him back to life and love. ....

He breathed still; his eyes, during this time, being fixed upon me, he saw by what means I escaped impending death. I beheld in his countenance a tender joy, which he had not strength to express with his lips; I strove to delay the flight of his foul, or to accompany it with my own. What cannot love effect? Thyamis was reanimated by my caresses.

My dear Mirril, said he, I return thanks to the Gods for the care they have taken to preserve you; finish the work they have begun; promise me, and confirm it with an oath, that you will not abandon yourself to despair; live, to the end that I may live in you; live for our son; for that dear pledge of Our affection; and, to enable you to combat with your grief, reflect upon the wise lessons of Necepsos. . -.

. My lojrd, continued Thyamis, speaking to Almarif, you whom I pardon for taking away my life, qnd whom I look upon as a father, do not, I beseech you, suffer my body, and that of Arminius, to be treated Tike those of plains. The cruel accidents which stop the course of our days, are not always the chastisements as the Gods! t die by endeavouring to preserve the life of my friend. A glorious death is often the recompence of virtue.

Almarif promised Thyamis, upon oath, that he would comply with his request. I .could not avoid obedience to the oath which • Thyamis, bad exacted from me; Thyamis insisted on it; I ratified it, and saluted him with a tende/ -ki<«.' -i^las! it was replete with sorrow and bitterness; my lips received the last breath of Thyamis. - ,

Till That moment, the hopes of following thyamis to the tomb had given me strength; .1 could not support the horror of surviving him. Speechleis, and almost breathless, I threw myself upon the body of Thyamis.

When I. recovered, I found; myself in the arms of a venerable woman, who called me her daughter, and embraced roe with the utmost tenderness. I was insensible of it. I ^invoked death to take me in his ajms: but

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when I called to mind the promises which had made Thyamis, my transports were in some degree abated.

Elima (that was the name of my mother) would not leave me; three days elapsed without seeing Almarif; I durst not speak of him; I both wish'd and fear'd his presence; nature pleaded in my heart in his favour; but love extinguished its voice.' I saw in Almarif a tender father, but I also saw in him the murderer of my husoand. ... .

These variety of sentiments tore my very sou(; reason and virtue came to decide between them; Necepsos had councelled me to call them to my assistance; they tpld me that the most sacred of al) duties was that of shewing our attachment and respect to those who had given us being; and that nothing should excuse us from it; T hearkened to their voice, and I submitted to their impressions. .»j

Madam, said I to Elima, you do not speak to me of Almarif; have I rendered myself unworthy of his affection? Noj my dear daughter, replied Elima, he will ever love you, but he fears he shall augment your grief; he hopes time will alleviate it. Reason, resumed I, will have the same effect upon a heart of for* titude, that time will have upon a timorous one: it admonishes and conducts me notwithstanding all the torturing agitations which it cannot appease: deign therefore to request Almarif to pardon me; I refused his caresses! alas! I knew not what I did in the first emotions of my grief.

Elima made me no answer, but went immediately to calt Almarif. Spight of all my reasoning, and the resolution with which I armed myself, my heart was grievously agitated at the sight of Almarif; speech expired within mylips before I ceuld give it utterance. A sudden trembling seized me, I presented my hand to my father, and entertained in my soul a confused mixture of sorrow, tenderness and horror.

Almarif saw my confusion ; he was deeply affected' at it. Daughter, said he, I pity your misfortunes, but I am as great an object of pity as yourself. After having for a long time petitioned the Gods for ydu'r return, you at length was granted me, and I have plunged you into an abyss of grief; I sacrificed, before your eyes, your affectionate husband; I was about to sacrifice you also. But my intention had not any part in those fatal blows. Alas * I did not know you; but I am not less the author of your miseries: whenever you be* hold my hands you will think them crimsoned with the blood of Thyamis. 'How tormenting is it to a father to be indebted to your virtue only for the testimonies of the affection which you bestow on me. '—

My lord, said I to Almarif, how little are you acquainted with my heart? the paffions

which which riot in it, are not able to erase the sentiments engraved therein by nature. I bahoid in you the author of my life, and not that of my misfortune*: Heaven has ordained me to fllftflr, to exercise my virtue*. Adversity and misfortunes make them ftine out with greater lustre. But, my lord, deign to inform me how is the body of Thyamis disposed.

You know, answered Almarif, that I promised1 Thyamis that I-would preserve his body,' and that of Arminius, from an outrage whichthey did not deserve. It was with the greatest difficulty that I could defend them from the aeai of the people. I was obliged to have re-course to artifice. I caused the bodies of the two malefactors to be thrown into the sea, and those of your husband and his friend I' have privately conveyed1 away: they are em-.

halmed, and yon' may render them your last duties whenever you please.

I thanked Armarif; the hope of seeing: again the precious remains of my dear Thyamis gave me new strength and spirits.

I was conducted into a private chamber beneath Almarif *s palace; I found the^re the bodies of Thyamis and Arminius, I causedthem to be laid both in the fame coftin, and had the chamber hung with mourning; ther more sorrowful it appeared, the more it nourished my grief. It is in this place that I" pass the greater part of my days and nights; r never should leave it but in obedience r» Elima and Almarif.

I related to them my adventures; AlmariP acquainted me with the accident which had separated me from him, and explained to metric mysterious mark which I had worn.

The F & R R I N G D O N

, December Zq. 1768. .

To the-'Worthy Inhabitants of the Ward of

'■ . 'Farringdon Without.: *' '"• - Centlimbk,

\TOUR Vote, Poll, and Interest are desired 1 for JOHN WILKES, Esq; Citizen'am, Joiner, to be Alderman of this respectably ward, in the. room,, of .Sir Francis Gosling Knight, deceased. „ ('

N. B. The Wardmote is directed to he hel£ on Morjday next, at twejve at noop, at St. pride's Church in Fleet-Street, where your early attendance is requested. .

December 30, 1768. To xheWonhy and Independent Freeholders of ,. . the Ward of Fajringdon Without.; VÆB.. Wilkes is a candidate to represent you ~ ,-. —I will not memionhis abilities or puhlic merit—The world is too well convinced of •she strength !of both.—»Jf the Freeholders in Middlesex have entrusted him with the highest 'concern in life, and have given him the noblest . proof of their good opinion in chusing him Do represent the first county in England, is he not surely as equally worthy to represent the first and tnost extensive ward in the city of London;?

I trust that no man will contradict me—#-1 know your minds to be as pure as the untainted air, and that the-fpirit of liberty glows in your breasts-with unieniitting ardor—May it - newr be extinguished r' May it ftine with such amaaing brightness,' 33 to dazzle the eyes of -.ail wicked and imperils ministers; and may -tJ»e-court? of Aldermen of this great and opu. krifc city be .honoured with the assistance of Mr. Wilkcs.—Let no .man deny his principles,

• but'with a fteidy »eal> eaert himself in a cause

CONTROVERSY.

that will reflect glory and dignity on this waul—Consider how much you arc indebted to Mr. Wilker, who is at this moment saffering the cruel persecution of ministerial vengeance for defending the rights and liberties of his fellow fobjecte.-»-Gratitude will surely inspire you to this noble undertaking, and set a glorious example to all other wards, to elect men c Ap A Bl E of so great an office. To you I appeal for this solemn testimony of your approbation, and that every man will dare pronounce the language of his heart. The insolence of passive-obedient sycophants is intolerable; and if a few headstrong animals oppose this measure, I hope the general fense will overcome: that slavish spirit, -which degenerates the character of

'.: :AN ENGLISHMAN.

To tie Worthy Inhabitants of tit Ward tf Farringdon Without.

GlNTLSMIV, . . >

.V4R. Wilkes has addressed himself to you in A the consistent spirit of his own principles. He does not wish to be created Alderman of your ward by the mandate of yon'r Common-Council; he hopes to be chosen by the free -voices of a majority of then Stay, in whom-the law has vested the right of election. It is notorious, that on the death of an Al

■ derman, a private meeting of the CommonCouncil of the ward has constantly been convoked. At this meeting, they have as eftn

. stantly nft/rped the privilege of nominating the successor; generally complimenting their

• own body: and they have but too often been

- successful in obtruding their decision, in a matter which ought to be determined by the general fense of the whole ward.—Thus jot

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