{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_27754/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_27754","id":"gutenberg_27754","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/27754","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Fairy tales","Siblings -- Juvenile fiction"],"text":"Produced by The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at\nhttp://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images\ngenerously made available by The Internet Archive/American\nLibraries.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: FRONTISPIECE. _Page 23._]\n\n\n_Published by Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme & Brown, London, April, 6,\n1816._\n\n\n\n\n    THE FLOWER BASKET.\n\n    A FAIRY TALE.\n\n\n    --------------I never may believe\n    These antick fables, nor these fairy toys.\n\n\n    London:\n\n    PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN,\n    _PATERNOSTER ROW_.\n\n    1816.\n\n\n    BARNARD AND FARLEY,\n    _Skinner-Street, London_.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nWhoever honours the following little Tale with a perusal, will probably\nanticipate in the Preface, the so-often-framed apology, that it was not\nwritten with an intention of being published. Yet stale as the assurance\nmay be, it is in this instance strictly true.\n\nIt was composed solely at the request, and for the amusement of, the\nchildren of a friend; nor would it ever have entered my head to offer\nany thing in the shape of a Fairy Tale to this enlightened age, when\nsuch productions have long been banished from all juvenile libraries.\nAmong the innumerable works which do so much credit to the talents and\ninvention of the writers, that have been substituted for them, it may\nadmit of a question, whether beings, not professedly ideal, are not\nsometimes pourtrayed nearly as imaginary as any that ever \"wielded wand,\nor worked a spell.\" I believe (for I have never happened to meet with\nthe book, since it was first published) I have the sanction of one of\nthe most celebrated female writers of the age, in her \"Thoughts on the\nEducation of a Young Princess,\" for supposing that the mind of a child\nis less likely to be misled by what is avowedly fictitious, than by\nthose high wrought characters of perfection, which they would have\nlittle better chance of meeting with in the world, than with the\nfantastic agents of Oberon.\n\nHowever true this may be, I certainly did not feel entitled to oppose\nmy sentiments to popular opinion; but the few friends, to whose\ninspection this trifle was submitted, pronounced it worthy of\npublication. I am aware, that it may be said, more partiality than\njudgment was evinced in this decision; but there was amongst the number,\none whose knowledge of the public taste cannot be disputed, and whose\nname, affixed as the publisher, may be considered as a passport in\nitself. Under such unquestionable recommendation, I am induced to hope,\nthat \"The Flower Basket\" may find admittance into the literary\ncollections of the youthful members of society; and, though conscious\nthat it will add nothing to their store of information, I flatter myself\nit will not diminish the correctness of their principles.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FLOWER BASKET.\n\n_A FAIRY TALE._\n\n\nAdrian and Amaranthe were born in an old castle, that had once been the\nscene of splendour and festivity, but, together with the fortunes of its\nowners, had fallen very much into decay. Their parents, in proud\nresentment of the fancied neglect and ingratitude of the world, had\nlived retired in the only habitable part of it from the time of their\nbirth, associating but little with the surrounding neighbourhood. The\nworld, however, is not ungrateful, nor neglectful of real merit, but it\nis wise, and when people squander their fortunes rather with a view to\ndisplay their own consequence than to gratify or benefit their fellow\nbeings, they must not expect that others will come forward to re-instate\nthem in their grandeur, though they would readily do so to relieve\nunavoidable distress.\n\nThe establishment consisted of a few domestics, and an old governess\nwho was retained in that capacity rather from known worthiness of\ncharacter and attachment to the family, than from any knowledge or\nacquirements she possessed, that befitted her for such an office. There\nwas besides a little orphan girl, a niece of the lady's, who had been\nbred up with them from the time she was five years of age. From the\ndisadvantages under which they laboured, it may be supposed these poor\nchildren had not many attractions to boast of. Adrian had the benefit of\nrather more education than his sister and cousin, as his father would\nsometimes devote himself to his instruction, but listless from\ndisappointment, and out of humour with a world in which he despaired of\nhis son ever appearing with the distinctions of rank and fortune, his\nlessons were never regularly given, or enforced in a manner likely to\nmake any profitable impression on the mind of a playful thoughtless boy.\nHe had a good natural disposition, was spirited and generous, and felt\nthat his wishes were not bounded by the retirement in which he lived,\nbut from his total ignorance of all beyond it, he was unable to define\nwhat those wishes were. Amaranthe was well-grown, lively, and not\nill-tempered, notwithstanding having been always injudiciously flattered\nand indulged by her doating governess. From the stories she had read, or\nheard her relate, she had formed a general idea of the advantage of\npersonal attractions, which, in her own person robust and awkward, had\nno great chance of being displayed.\n\nClaribel, who was rather younger than her cousins, was also less of her\nage. She was pretty and sweet-tempered, but timid and without energy of\ncharacter. Her timidity and her littleness made her the jest of her\ncompanions, and in their play-hours she had often cause to feel and\nacknowledge their superiority in age and size; but as their teasing of\nher proceeded more from unchecked liveliness than real ill-nature, and\nas she was too gentle to retort upon them, their childish squabbles\nnever amounted to serious disagreements, and they lived in perfect\nharmony together. She was too docile to be naughty, would seldom fail to\nlearn the task that was given her, but never felt a desire to learn\nmore.\n\nFrom the continual ill health of the lady, her daughter and niece were\nalmost wholly consigned to the care and culture of the faithful Ursula.\nShe had taught all the children to read, write, and spell, and as much\nof arithmetic as enabled them to cast up a sum that was not very\ndifficult. She was also anxious that her \"own blessed young ladies\"\nshould be proficients in the various kinds of needlework, on which she\nhad valued herself in her \"better days.\" In order to accomplish this,\nand prevent the work being twitched out of their hands, and themselves\ndragged off by Adrian to play at ball or shuttlecock with him, she would\nsecure the quietness and attention of the party by singing old ballads,\nand relating marvellous histories, to which they would listen with an\neagerness and interest that banished all wish for any other kind of\nentertainment. Of these she had an abundant store, but what afforded the\nhighest delight to her auditors, was the dexterous feats, or beneficent\nacts, that she would record of fairies, a race of beings that she\nprofessed to have personal knowledge of. She once incautiously hinted,\nthat had not their father, by his pride, offended one of the order, they\nshould all have been in a more prosperous state; but no sooner had the\nwords escaped her than she repented having uttered them, nor could all\nthe entreaties of her pupils ever prevail upon her to satisfy their\ncuriosity upon the subject.\n\nAdrian had nearly completed his twentieth year, Amaranthe was eighteen,\nand Claribel near sixteen, when a messenger arrived at the castle,\nbringing with him a packet addressed to its master, the contents of\nwhich announced the landing of a very old friend at a place on the coast\nat a considerable distance. He mentioned having intelligence of infinite\nconsequence to impart, and his intention of proceeding directly to the\ncastle for that purpose, but that he had been only a few hours on shore\nwhen he was seized with an illness which prevented his travelling. He\ntherefore besought the gentleman and his lady to lose no time in\nrepairing to the place where he was confined, that they might themselves\nreceive his communications.\n\nOn examining the letter they found that some length of time had elapsed\nsince its date, for those days boasted not of turnpike roads and mail\ncoaches, and the bearer had had a tedious journey of it. When they\nquestioned him concerning their friend, they could gain no farther\ninformation, than that, on finding himself too ill to attempt\ntravelling, he had intrusted him with the packet, with strict\ninjunctions to deliver it safely, but of the nature of his disorder they\ncould extort no satisfactory account from him.\n\nThe case admitted of no deliberation, and Adrian and Amaranthe found\nthemselves, for the first time in their lives, going to be separated\nfrom their parents.\n\nThe lively emotions of interest produced by the bustle and novelty of\npreparation for their departure, and the eager curiosity excited by the\nextraordinary occurrence that occasioned it, at first predominated over\nevery other feeling; but when the carriage came to the door that was to\nconvey their father and mother from them, a sensation of concern and\ndismay extinguished their vivacity at once. The former, with an\nagitation and warmth of manner unusual in him, embraced his children and\nniece, saying, as he parted from them, \"It is for your sakes, my\ndarlings, that I quit a retreat, from which I believed no consideration\ncould ever again have drawn me, but my absence shall not be long. If I\nfind my old friend able to undertake the journey, we will bring him back\nwith us, and you will soon know how to value such an acquisition to our\ndomestic party. If he should decline accompanying us at present, we will\nwait but to learn what he has to disclose, and return to you forthwith.\nIt is only the hope of that disclosure producing advantage to you in\nfuture that now tempts me from my home.\" The lady, whose heart seemed\ntoo much oppressed by her feelings to give vent to them in words,\nclasped each of them in silence to her bosom, and with a deep-drawn\nsigh, and look of anguish that foreboded evil, followed her husband into\nthe carriage. It drove off, attended only by the old and faithful\nGabriel, who had for many years acted in the double capacity of butler\nand steward.\n\nThe young people gazed after it, till the closing of the great gates at\nthe end of the avenue excluded it from their view. They returned into\nthe hall, preserving for some time a mournful silence, when Adrian, who\nthought tears would be disgraceful to his manhood, rushed into an\nadjoining apartment, and resting his folded arms upon a table, hid his\nface in them. Amaranthe began to sob audibly, while tears flowed\nplentifully down the cheeks of the gentle Claribel.\n\nThough that sweet familiar, yet judicious intercourse, which so happily\nunites affection with respect, had but little subsisted between these\nyoung people and their parents, (for in that light Claribel always\nconsidered her uncle and aunt) they both loved and revered them. Never\nhad they experienced severity from them, and but seldom received even a\nreprimand. When the reserve of their father, and languor of their\nmother, occasionally gave way to the natural bias of tenderness, and\nthey would testify pleasure and gratification in the society of the\nyoung people, the latter felt such occasions to be those of their\nhighest enjoyments. They had sense to discern the difference of the\nconversation they were then entertained with from that of Ursula, old\nGabriel, or other domestics, whom they were too much in the habit of\nassociating with. Sure of meeting only with indulgence and kindness,\nthey eagerly sought every opportunity of admission to the authors of\ntheir being, and protectors of their infancy.\n\nSadly passed the hours that succeeded their departure, and few were the\noccupations that could beguile the tediousness of time. Adrian had\noutgrown his boyish amusements, and found himself very scantily provided\nwith substitutes for them. He had naturally some taste for literature,\nbut though, as has before been said, it was sometimes assisted by his\nfather, it had never been properly cultivated or usefully directed. He\nwould frequently have recourse to books for employment, but from want of\nhabitual application soon grew weary even of those that most engaged his\nattention.\n\nAmaranthe and Claribel had long satisfied all the pride of Ursula's\nheart, by the perfection they had attained in the important branches\nof embroidery that she had taken such pains to instruct them in, but\nto themselves they failed to afford any source of enjoyment. They\nfelt that they had nothing to work for, and could take little pride\nin performances which they had nobody to commend. The poor governess\nhad exhausted all her store of histories, as well as all her stock of\nknowledge, upon her pupils, and they could no longer be entertained\nwith narratives which they could now relate in better words\nthemselves.\n\nThe party were generally employed in sauntering about the grounds\ntogether, wishing for their parents' return, and forming different\nconjectures concerning the stranger, and the important intelligence\nthat he was the bearer of.\n\nA fortnight elapsed, and no tidings of the travellers arrived. Another\nweek passed over, and nothing was heard of them; and the inhabitants of\nthe castle began to grow uneasy, and feel some alarm for their safety.\nIt was so unusual a circumstance for letters to be brought thither, that\nit occurred to Ursula that some might be lying at the post-office\nneglected to be forwarded. A messenger was therefore despatched to the\npost town to inquire for such, but none were there.\n\nSix dreary weeks were gone, and governess, pupils, and the remaining\ndomestics, were obliged to endure all the misery of suspense and\napprehension, without any means of obtaining relief of their anxiety.\n\nAt the end of that time, as Adrian, his sister, and cousin, were one\nday standing at a window with their eyes fixed on the avenue, they\nperceived the gates at the end open, and the carriage that had\nconveyed their parents from them entering into it. Transported with\njoy they flew to communicate the glad news through the castle, and\nthen hastened to plant themselves at the great hall door to be in\nreadiness to receive the welcome wanderers.\n\nSlowly drove the vehicle up the avenue, but so eagerly did they watch\nits approach, that they remarked not at the time that Gabriel was not\nattending it. At length it stopped; but what was their surprise and\ndismay, when, instead of springing into the arms of their parents, as\nthey were preparing to do, they saw only Gabriel, looking more dead\nthan alive, and clad in deep mourning, alight from it!\n\nGazing on him in speechless terror, they mechanically followed his\nfootsteps into the hall, without one of them having the power to\ninquire the cause of his extraordinary and alarming appearance.\nThe poor old man dropped into the first seat that offered itself,\novercome by his emotions. There he was instantly surrounded by\nUrsula, and the rest of the household, who, at the same time,\nand in loud voices, beset him with a multitude of questions. It\nwas some time before he could recover himself sufficiently to\nanswer them, or look up; at last after wiping his swollen eyes,\nand heaving a deep sigh, he began his narrative.\n\n\"Dreadful, my beloved children, is the tale I have to relate! I\nattended my ever-honoured master and mistress, as you know, on their\njourney. Tedious and wearisome it proved, for the roads were bad, the\nweather unfavourable, and horses sometimes not to be had, so that it was\ntwo days later than the time we had calculated upon when we reached the\nfatal sea-port. Would to heaven we had never entered its gates! The\nplace and the few inhabitants we saw looked gloomy, as we did so; and on\narriving at the inn, from whence my master's friend had dated his\nletter, we were informed, with little ceremony or preparation, that he\nexpired the day but one after he had despatched the messenger to the\ncastle. Too soon we learned the direful cause, a malignant epidemic\ndisorder was raging in the place, and daily sweeping off scores of its\ninhabitants. The poor gentleman, they told us, when he found himself\ndying, sent for a priest to pray by him, to whose care he consigned a\nparcel, with a charge to deliver it in safety to the friends who would\ncome to inquire for him. I was sent in search of this priest, as soon as\nwe could procure his direction. Alas! the poor man had himself soon\nafter fallen a victim to the distemper, and none of his household knew\nany thing of a parcel, or had ever heard of the gentleman. The people of\nthe inn were honest; they had taken good care of what effects he had\nwith him, and delivered them to my master. The magistrates having issued\nstrict orders, that all bodies should without loss of time be interred\nin an adjacent ground allotted for the purpose, to prevent, as much as\npossible, the infection spreading.\n\n\"Your dear father appeared overwhelmed with this unexpected calamity;\nand my excellent lady declared herself so fatigued in body, and harassed\nin mind, that it was absolutely necessary she should have some days of\nrest, before she undertook travelling again. In vain did I urge them to\nquit instantly a place, the remaining in which might be attended with so\nmuch danger. My master busied himself in inspecting all the property\nthat had belonged to the deceased. He found clothes, money, and many\nletters, but none that gave him any insight into what so nearly\nconcerned himself. On the second evening he felt ill, and retired early\nto his bed, from whence he never again arose. An hour or two served to\nconvince us, that he was seized with the fatal disorder; and so rapid\nwas its progress, that a few more decided that no hopes of recovery\ncould be entertained. My poor dear distracted mistress quitted not his\nbedside night or day, though I plainly perceived by her looks on the\nthird morning, that she had taken the infection. I too was growing very\nill, but of myself I could take no thought. On the fourth day, my\never-honoured and lamented master breathed his last. Well do I remember\nthe look of silent agony with which your blessed mother contemplated his\nremains! I remember too her being conveyed into another apartment, and a\nphysician administering a medicine to her. After that, all is a blank in\nmy mind. I knew nothing that passed, and the first consciousness of\nexistence I experienced, was awaking, as it appeared, from a stupor, and\nfinding myself in bed, with an old woman, who looked like a nurse,\nsitting at some distance from it. On hearing me move she came to me,\ngave me something to moisten my mouth, and going out of the room,\nreturned with the physician I had seen before, who feeling my pulse,\ntold the woman the crisis was over, and taking a favourable turn; but\nthat I must be kept quite quiet. Some days passed before I had strength\nto rise, or to hear the particulars the people had to relate. Too soon,\nhowever, was I made acquainted with the awful facts. My mistress\nsurvived her loved lord but three days, and both had long been consigned\nto the earth. The physician, who was remarkably humane, had himself\nattended to the care of their effects, and visited me constantly during\nmy delirium.\n\n\"To what misery did I recover! and what torture to me was the sight of\nevery object in this scene of disease and desolation! As soon as my\ndebilitated frame would permit me, I set out on my dreary journey, to be\nthe bearer of these dismal tidings.\"\n\nGabriel had proceeded thus far in his melancholy detail uninterrupted\nby a word, or even a voice, so deeply was the attention of his audience\nrivetted upon him; but now sobs and groans resounded on every side.\nAdrian held his hands to his head, which seemed bursting with the\nviolence of his feelings. The castle rang with the screams of Amaranthe,\nand Claribel fell senseless into the arms of a maid servant who stood\nnear her.\n\nMiserable, indeed, was the situation of these unfortunate orphans. Left\nwithout fortune, without protection, in this joyless abode, life\npresented a gloomy prospect before them; yet, how were they to enter a\nworld in which they would feel themselves total strangers, and of the\nways of which they were wholly ignorant? Adrian had gathered just\nknowledge enough from the discontented murmurings of his father, to\nbelieve that riches would secure the best reception in it; and his\nthoughts were continually turned towards the attainment of them; but,\nuninstructed in all the employments of life, what method could he take\nin the pursuit? Many vague and romantic schemes presented themselves to\nhis mind, with which he would entertain his sister and cousin, and to\nwhich they listened with interest, but without the power of assisting or\nadvising him.\n\nOne afternoon, as the mournful trio were sitting together in a saloon,\nthat opened with glass doors upon the lawn, bewailing the loss of their\nparents, and their own helpless state, there suddenly appeared before\nthem a lady, whose countenance was fair and captivating; her figure\ngraceful, and her dress light and flowing. They involuntarily rose at\nher entrance, though astonishment kept them silent. She approached them\nwith a gracious smile, holding in her hand a basket, which appeared to\nbe filled with a profusion of beautiful flowers. \"My children,\" said\nshe, \"I am of a race of beings of whom I know you have heard, though\nprobably never expected to be acquainted with. I am the Fairy Felicia; I\nwould have been the friend of your father, but his own conduct prevented\nit. My elder sister, Benigna, who is more powerful than I am, had long\nbeen the friend and protector of your mother: she is all excellence, but\nmore strict, and imposes greater restraint upon those she takes under\nher care than I do. She disapproved the marriage with your father, which\noffended him so highly, that he forbade his lady ever holding farther\nintercourse with her; and Benigna, in return, forbade me ever attempting\nto serve or befriend him, which I was well disposed to do. The errors of\nthe father, however, are not to be visited upon the children. Moved with\ncompassion for your hapless situation, I am come to take you under my\nfuture patronage, if you choose to accept of it.\"\n\nAdrian and his sister, bounding with joy, threw themselves at the\nfairy's feet, while the former exclaimed, \"O, Madam, how can we\nsufficiently thank you for thus taking pity on our forlorn state. We\nare, indeed, miserable orphans, without a friend in the world; and how\nrejoiced must we be to place ourselves under so powerful a protector!\"\nClaribel too, though not given to raptures, endeavoured to express her\nsatisfaction, but in a voice so low that it was scarcely audible by the\nside of her vociferous cousins.\n\n\"Observe then,\" said the fairy, \"that you secure my good offices only\nby deserving them. If you prove unworthy of my kindness, I shall feel it\nproper to forsake you; and you will be left in a more deplorable state\nthan this from which I am now desirous to relieve you.\" The brother and\nsister protested again and again, that they should never forgive\nthemselves if they could be guilty of any thing that would incur the\ndispleasure of so good and generous a friend.\n\n\"I shall judge of your wisdom,\" answered Felicia, with a smile, \"by your\nchoice.\" She then displayed her basket, and they discovered that though\nthey thought it had contained a variety of flowers, there were but three\nsorts. These consisted of the finest damask roses, in full blow;\nbeautiful hyacinths of the brightest azure blue; and simple lilies of\nthe valley, but whose fragrance was delicious to the senses.\n\n\"This,\" said the fairy, holding up one of the first, \"will bestow\nimmense, but not inexhaustible riches on its possessor. As long as they\nmake a right use of their wealth, they will find no end to it; but if\nspent in licentious profusion, that gratifies only luxury and pride, or\nchurlishly grasped solely for their own advantage, without a wish to\nrelieve the necessitous, or benefit their fellow creatures by it, then\nwill the rose begin to wither, and the riches, and its bloom disappear\nat the same time.\n\n\"This,\" said she, producing a hyacinth, \"has the power to endow the\nperson of its possessor with the brightest and most captivating beauty.\nAdmiration will follow their footsteps, and the homage of crowds be paid\nto their charms. But even you, my children, uninformed as you are, must\nknow that beauty at best is but a fading flower, and the adoration it\nexcites equally transitory. If in those who derive it from this gift, it\nbe accompanied with modesty and humility, it will insure to them all the\nhappiness and gratification that a consciousness of the power to please\nmust naturally confer. But if, on the contrary, it renders them vain,\nhaughty, and unfeeling, demanding universal admiration, and jealous of\nall who have any claim to share it with them; regardless of the pain\nthey inflict on those whose affections they have seduced, or glorying in\nthe victims of their coquetry, they will find this coveted beauty the\nsource of shame and mortification. Then will the bright tint of this\nadmired flower turn to a sickly and disgusting hue, and the late\nbeauteous person share its fate.\n\n\"But here,\" continued the fairy, taking up one of the lilies, \"is my\nbest and most valuable gift. This modest flower will neither change its\nhue or lose its fragrance. The person who wisely chuses this, will enjoy\nthe inestimable blessing of content in whatever situation they are\nplaced. No envy will torment their heart at the prosperity of others; no\nrepining at their own less exalted lot; their wishes will be bounded by\nthe sphere in which they move, and care or disappointment be a stranger\nto their breast.\n\n\"And now,\" she added, \"it remains for you all to make your election;\nremember my words, and prove by your prudence what influence they have\nhad upon you.\" \"Ah,\" cried Adrian, \"how can I hesitate? poor and\ndestitute as we are left, it is fortune I know that is wanting to\nre-instate us in ease and independence, and to secure us the respect of\nthe world. But, gracious fairy, do not, I beseech you, think me capable\nof making an ill use of the wealth you will bestow upon me. Believe me,\nthe greatest pleasure I feel in the thoughts of possessing it, is the\npower it will give me of assisting others, and making all around me\nhappy.\" \"Rash boy,\" answered Felicia, \"how can you pretend to judge of\nwhat your feelings and conduct will be in a situation so wholly new to\nyou? The obscurity in which you have lived, has ill fitted you to\nencounter the snares and temptations of an interested world. You will be\nthe prey of designers, and repent when too late of the inconsiderate\nchoice you have made. But now, Amaranthe, for your decision.\" Amaranthe\nfelt a little awkward in declaring her choice, after what the fairy had\nsaid; but at length, in some confusion, replied, \"I have always longed\nto be handsome. My governess has told me such pretty stories of\nbeautiful ladies, and of their being so followed and admired, and every\nbody being desirous to serve and please them, that I am sure they must\nbe the happiest of all creatures.\" \"Your governess was very foolish,\"\nsaid the fairy; \"she had better have told you of the heart-aches and\ndiscontent that generally fall to the lot of beauties.\" \"How can that\nbe?\" inquired the astonished girl, \"surely being courted and caressed by\nothers, must make one anxious to please and oblige in return. I should\nbe too happy to be proud and ill-natured.\" Poor Amaranthe spoke the\ntruth at the time. Her innocent mind was unacquainted with the failings,\nthat the fairy had stated as being usually attendant on beauty. Having\nnever met with competitors, she had not experienced the grievances of\nrivalship or jealousy; and vanity and coquetry were hardly known to her\nby name.\n\n\"I perceive,\" said the offended fairy, \"you are as opinionated as your\nbrother. I fear the time may come when you will both repent not having\npaid more regard to my admonitions. And which of these, my gentle\nClaribel, (turning to her,) shall I present to you?\" Claribel timidly\nanswered, \"I am not ambitious of riches, they would but embarrass me;\nneither do I covet beauty--to be an object of general notice, would to\nme be only distressing. A contented mind must surely be the greatest of\nall blessings: at least, I can neither imagine or desire a greater. I\nshall therefore gratefully accept one of your favourite flowers,\"\nlooking at the lilies.\n\n\"Amiable girl,\" exclaimed the fairy, \"there is no fear of your ever\nrepenting of your choice. How may your cousins wish they had partaken of\nyour prudence; but it is not yet too late to repair their error. I give\nyou,\" addressing Adrian and Amaranthe, \"the remainder of the evening to\nconsider of what I have said. Before you retire to rest, your choice\nmust be finally fixed, for to-morrow it will be irrevocable.\" With these\nwords, she and the flower-basket disappeared in a moment from their\nsight.\n\nThey remained for some minutes motionless, almost doubting their senses,\nor whether such an extraordinary visitation had really occurred to them;\nat length, arousing from their stupor, they agreed to seek Ursula, and\nrelate the adventure to her.\n\nThe joy of the poor governess almost exceeded that of her pupils. \"Ah,\"\ncried she, \"it is indeed the sweet fairy Felicia; well do I know her. Do\nnot you remember my children, that I once nearly betrayed the secret of\nher existence to you? Benigna is, as she says, an excellent fairy, but\nterribly strict in her notions. She was the friend and guardian of my\ndear lady from her infancy; but your father could not endure what he\ncalled her severity, or forgive her opposition to his marriage with your\nmother. All intercourse ceased between them; and Felicia was obliged to\nwithdraw her protection from your father. This gave him a disgust to the\nwhole race of fairies, and he would not suffer you to know that he had\never had any connexion with them.\"\n\nThe simple Ursula could not disapprove the choice of Adrian and\nAmaranthe. To see him surrounded with splendour, and her with admirers,\nwould gratify the fondest wishes of her heart. Gabriel was now summoned\nto the conference. He by no means agreed with Ursula in her approbation.\n\"Alas, my dear, young master,\" said he to Adrian, \"it was riches that\nproved the bane of your father's happiness and comfort. He mistook the\ncourt that was paid him while in possession of them, for the real\nrespect and good will that he fancied was his due, though to say truth\nhe took no other means of obtaining them. When his fortune was gone, his\npretended friends soon followed; and that occasioned the reserve and\nmoroseness with which you must have observed his temper was tinctured.\nInexperienced as you are in the world, wealth may prove but a\ntreacherous snare; and as the fairy wisely says, you will probably fall\na prey to wicked designers.\" \"A truce, I beseech you,\" cried the\nimpatient Adrian, \"with these dismal forebodings. Neither you nor the\nfairy can make me believe, that being happy myself, and having the power\nto make others so, can prove my destruction. Depend upon it, old man,\"\ncontinued he, with an arch smile, and laying his hand on Gabriel's\nshoulder, \"when you begin to reap the advantages of my fortune, which\nyou shall certainly do, you will be vastly glad that I did not listen to\nyour preaching!\" Gabriel shook his head with a look of distrust. \"And\nwhat, my sweet young lady,\" addressing Amaranthe, \"can beauty do for\nyou? I remember your dear mother the fairest of the fair, and yet her\nlot in life was far from a happy one.\" \"O dear Gabriel,\" interrupted\nshe, \"you are ten times more disagreeable than the fairy. Here is the\nvery thing offered to me that I have all my life been wishing for, and\nthen I am told I must not accept of it. What evil can attend being\nhandsome? I shall like to look at myself in the glass; I shall like to\nsee other people looking at me; shall be pleased and happy all the day\nlong; and what harm is there in that?\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Gabriel with a sigh, \"I am still of opinion that your\ncousin has made the wisest choice.\" \"O yes, the wisest choice for\nClaribel, doubtless. As long as she may go creeping unnoticed about the\nworld, taking no trouble herself, or being troubled by others, that is\nall she desires. I have no notion of such tame satisfaction.\" To this\nClaribel only answered by a smile.\n\nThey all retired at the usual hour to their beds, but to Adrian and his\nsister it was not to rest. The thoughts of what the morrow would produce\nkept them waking the greater part of the night. Soon as the sun darted\nhis first rays into the chamber, Adrian sprang from his bed, and looking\neagerly around, discovered the desired rose appearing with luxuriant\nglow upon the toilet before him. Enraptured, he hastened to seize his\nprize, when he perceived a folded paper lying by it, in which on\nopening, he found these lines:\n\n    Since Adrian, spite of warning voice,\n    This specious gift decides thy choice,\n    Slight not the counsel that would fain\n    Preserve thee from remorse and pain.\n\n      While boasting coffers richly stor'd,\n    And plenty smiling on thy board,\n    In grandeur's costly garbs array'd,\n    With servile homage basely paid\n    From summon'd tribes of venal bands,\n    That wanton luxury commands,\n    Let thy untainted mind beware\n    And shun corruption's lurking snare.\n\n      If, when of long-sought wealth possess'd,\n    Thou fail to succour the distress'd;\n    And flatterers feed in splendid state,\n    Yet drive the needy from thy gate,\n    Soon will destructive vice impart,\n    Her baneful influence to thy heart,\n    Chasing those purer feelings thence\n    The meed of blameless innocence.\n    Then shall this drooping rose decree\n    The loss of fortune and of me;\n    For harden'd heart and vicious mind\n    From fairies ne'er protection find.\n\n      Yet let discretion bounty guide,\n    Nor succour sloth, nor pamper pride,\n    To suff'ring want give ready ear,\n    And dry the modest suppliant's tear,\n    Yet still the grateful boon dispense\n    With lib'ral hand, but guarded sense.\n\n      Then may this dangerous treasure deal\n    Those blessings virtuous mortals feel,\n    And favour'd Adrian haply prove\n    Deserving of esteem and love.\n\nCharming fairy, he exclaimed, mistrust me not; I value this precious\ngift too highly ever to abuse it; so saying he ran off to find\nAmaranthe, whom he met coming as hastily from her apartment with the\nhyacinth in her hand. Look, look, shouted Adrian, here is my darling\nrose;--and see, answered his sister, I have got my sweet hyacinth, but\nwith it I found this paper, containing some mighty crabbed, dismal\nwords, that I could very well have dispensed with. \"Aye, my gift was\naccompanied with a sort of a lecture too. It is very strange that so\npowerful a fairy should not be able to discern my good intentions,\nwithout my making so many protestations of them,--but what says your\npaper?\" and unfolding it read as follows:\n\n      Beauty, that peerless gem whose magic smile\n    Can teach the frigid heart with warmth to glow,\n    Or smooth the frowning Cynic's sullen brow,\n    And the cold glance of cautious age beguile;\n\n    Still decks the nymph who wears her potent spell\n    With sparkling eye, and gaily dimpled cheek\n    That sportive ease and conscious pow'r bespeak,\n    Nor dreads that time her cherish'd pride may quell.\n\n    While flatt'ring crowds proclaim unrivall'd sway\n    With haughty triumph glows her radiant bloom,\n    But soon the bright illusion fades away\n    And yields to vanity's unwelcome doom.\n    So, Amaranthe, may this flower decay\n    And blighted beauty seek the shelt'ring tomb.\n\nThey then proceeded together to the apartment of Claribel, whom they\nfound in a sweet slumber, from which their exclamations soon aroused\nher. \"Look at this stupid girl,\" cried Amaranthe, \"if she be not\nsleeping as soundly and unconcernedly as if she had never heard of the\nwonderful events this morning was to produce.\" \"And yet,\" said Adrian,\n\"I dare to say the fairy has not forgotten her,\" and casting his eyes\nround soon espied the lily. \"Aye, there is the favourite flower, and I\nhope accompanied by some sage admonitions as well as ours.\"--Then\nadvancing towards it, \"Sure enough, here is the attendant scroll,\" and\nopening it immediately, read aloud:\n\n    When mild contentment rules the breast\n    Unchecked the pleasure, sweet the rest,\n        The passing hours that close;\n    No fruitless wish disturbs the maid,\n    No blasted hopes her peace invade\n        Who courts the calm repose.\n\n    The placid smile, the brow serene,\n    Unstudied glance, unruffled mien,\n        Glad approbation gain;\n    From rankling spleen, and envy free,\n    The venomed pang of jealousy\n        Essays to wound in vain.\n\n    Fair as the lily's polished hue\n    Impending fate shall meet her view\n        Who shuns ambition's lure;\n    And thus shall gentle Claribel\n    In tranquil ease serenely dwell\n        From vain regrets secure.\n\nWell, the fairy promises you fair at least, cousin, said he, and your\nlily smells very sweet, and I hope we shall all be very happy together\nwith our separate gifts!\n\nFairies had such dexterous, ingenious methods of bringing to pass,\nwhatever they projected, that it is not necessary to inquire by what\nmeans Adrian soon found himself master of wealth to the utmost extent of\nhis wishes, or that the plain features and awkward person of Amaranthe\nwere changed into the most dazzling beauty of countenance, and perfect\nsymmetry of form. In Claribel the effects of the fairy's power were the\nleast visible. Her nature had always been so placid, that it could admit\nof no great increase of contentment, but she was perfectly at peace with\nherself and others, and free from any portion of envy at the riches of\none cousin, or the beauty of the other.\n\nThe news was soon circulated through the surrounding country that\nthe old melancholy castle was now become the scene of affluence and\nhospitality. In consequence it was not long before visitors and\npetitioners poured in from every quarter. The now superbly furnished\nmansion, and magnificent establishment of Adrian, did not prove more\nattractive than the charms of his sister, which excited the wonder and\nadmiration of all beholders. The native modesty of a young person bred\nup in seclusion, for some time prevailed over every other sensation, and\nshe almost repented of the gift she had solicited. She shrunk abashed\nfrom the perpetual and ardent gaze of all who approached her, and the\nadmiration she had thought so desirable, was at first oppressive and\npainful to her. Pure and genuine feelings of uncorrupted nature, why are\nye ever subdued? what art or ornament can ever replace the fascinating\nblush that mantles on the cheek of innocence!\n\nAdrian found himself at the summit of his wishes. His dwelling was\nthronged with joyous spirits like himself, who courted and flattered\nhim, always extolling in exaggerated terms his generosity and powers of\npleasing. Invitations came from far and near, and neighbouring families\nvied with each other in giving costly entertainments to this charming\nbrother and sister, nor was Claribel ever left out of the party. Adrian\nforgot not the injunctions of his patroness. He gave orders that no\nobject of charity should ever be turned without relief from the castle,\nbut absorbed in the pursuit of pleasure, he gave himself no leisure to\nlearn the nature of their wants, or to ascertain that that they were in\nfact objects of charity.\n\nAmongst other sources of festivity, games were instituted in which the\nskill and activity of the rival youths were exerted, and on such\noccasions the prize adjudged to the victor, was generally laid as a\ntrophy at the feet of the beautiful Amaranthe. This indeed was a trial\nto poor mortal vanity. She soon grew so accustomed to the distinction\npaid to her charms, that instead of oppresive it became necessary to\nher. The brother and sister who fondly loved each other, who from their\ninfancy had shared all their little joys, and little griefs together,\nwere mutually delighted at the praises the other received. Amaranthe\nloved to hear of the excellent qualities of the heart, and liberal\ntemper and vivacity of her brother, and Adrian's heart bounded with joy\nand swelled with pride at the homage paid to the beauty of his sister.\nBut too soon these exquisite feelings, derived from the purest source of\naffection human nature is capable of, were extinguished. Engaged in the\npursuit of their separate enjoyments, they ceased to feel an interest in\nthose of each other. Claribel was the quiet spectator of the\ndistinctions of her cousins. She served as a sort of cabinet to\nAmaranthe, in which she deposited all the little histories of her\ntriumphs, and the flattery that had been amply bestowed upon her; and\nClaribel would listen to the details with kind complacency, and\nsometimes an idea would occur to her that the extravagant joy and\ngratification they appeared to produce in her cousin, must be worth\nsharing, but the gift of the fairy secured her from any anxious wish to\ndo so.--Though she occasionally obtained notice from those whom she met\nin the parties in which she mixed, for no one could fail to feel\ncourtesy towards so mild and inoffensive a being, she was aware that she\nwas considered as little more than a cypher by the side of her cousins,\nbut she was not liable to discontent, and repined not at the\nobservation.\n\nAdrian had been too much occupied by his lively companions to think of\nmaking inquiries after the objects of his bounty, but a long list was\nbrought him by Gabriel of mendicants, who had been relieved, which\namounted to a sum that astonished him. Is it possible, said he, there\ncan be so many unfortunate creatures in want? It is well the fairy has\nsupplied me so liberally, or I might soon come to be in want myself, but\nI think, he proudly added, she must be satisfied with my manner of\nemploying my wealth. One day a person desired to be admitted to him, who\ntold him a long pitiful story of his being reduced from easy\ncircumstances by a rich and powerful man, who in revenge for some\noffence he had given him, had contrived his ruin, and driven him with a\nlarge helpless family to beggary. The natural good disposition of Adrian\nwas manifested at this recital. He exclaimed, with honest warmth against\nsuch shameful cruelty, and gave the man a large sum of money to\nalleviate his unmerited misfortune. The petitioner was profuse in his\nacknowledgments, expatiated on the benefit of riches, when entrusted in\nsuch hands, and retired invoking a thousand blessings on his benefactor.\n\nAdrian felt all the satisfaction of the most approving self-complacency.\nExcellent Felicia, he exclaimed aloud, your's is indeed a most precious\ngift, to be enabled to perform such actions, and merit such gratitude,\nand I flatter myself you will allow that I have strictly obeyed your\ninjunctions!\n\nThe next day Gabriel informed him that he had discovered the person to\nbe a worthless impostor, who had ruined himself by extravagance and\nprofligacy, and in return for Adrian's generosity, had gone about making\na jest of his credulity. Adrian uttered the most vehement expressions of\nresentment and indignation. To find himself only a dupe when he had\nthought himself a pattern of benevolence, was a sore check upon his self\napplause, and he formed many prudent resolutions to be more upon his\nguard in future. Some days after, in passing through his grounds, he was\naccosted by a man who exhibited an appearance of extreme wretchedness.\nHis face was wan, and his features sunken. His dimmed eye seemed hardly\nable to discern the object on which it gazed; and his tottering limbs\nwith difficulty supported his feeble frame. His moving lips appeared to\nbe framing a prayer for compassion, but his hollow voice had not power\nto give it sound. Adrian involuntarily stopped, regarding him with looks\nof commiseration, but suddenly recollecting himself--No, said he, I will\nnot again be imposed upon; I must not forget that the fairy enjoins\ndiscretion as well as charity, and hastily passed on, congratulating\nhimself on this effort of prudence.\n\nIt was not long before he learned that the unfortunate being had, in\ndespair of obtaining any relief of his sufferings, sought an obscure\nshelter, in which he soon terminated his miserable existence.\n\nAdrian's heart smote him severely; he felt that he would have given half\nhis possessions to have recalled the past hours; and the circumstance\nfor a short period dwelt heavily on his mind; but contrition was soon\neffaced by dissipation.\n\nWhen this brother and sister, who had suddenly burst in such radiance\nupon the astonished neighbourhood, had ceased to be novelties, it was\nnot long before they ceased also to excite the interest and good liking\nthat their first appearance had created.\n\nAll the rational members of their acquaintance, who had been agreeably\nstruck with Adrian's good humoured vivacity and generous spirit, grew\ndisappointed and displeased at finding they must look for nothing\nbeyond. Uninformed in almost every branch of knowledge, destitute of the\nacquirements generally possessed by, and absolutely indispensable in a\nyoung man at his time of life, and of the rank in which he appeared in\nit, they discovered that though he could laugh with the joyous, he was\nincapable of conversing with the serious, and it was chiefly by the idle\nand ignorant like himself, that his society continued to be sought.\n\nThe astonishment that the outward attractions of Amaranthe had produced\nin all beholders, was soon succeeded by astonishment that she possessed\nno others. No improved understanding, no cultivated taste, accompanied\nthe charms of person, and it was agreed that she must be looked at, and\nnot listened to. The graces of figure could not compensate for the want\nof graces of mind, nor a polished skin be deemed a substitute for a\npolished manner. The gift of the fairy had secured her from awkwardness\nof gesture, but it could not conceal awkwardness of expression and\naddress.\n\nStill, however, both continued to have followers in abundance. The\ncastle was the constant resort of gay dissipated youths, who, in the\ngood spirits and good cheer of Adrian, enjoyed all they wished or cared\nfor; and who took pains to initiate him in all their vicious courses. He\nhad no real relish for the pleasures of the bottle, but was soon laughed\nout of his moderation; and rather than be thought wanting in spirit,\npoor Adrian plunged into excesses for which he had no natural taste, and\nin which he found little acquired gratification. They thought proper\nalso to find fault with the decorations of the castle, on which Adrian\nhad valued himself, and suggested many useless and expensive\nalterations. These were immediately ordered, but when the poor\ntradesmen, who had worked hard to oblige him, made their demands, his\nchoice companions exclaimed in terms of violent wrath against them,\nassuring him it was extremely insolent in those people to expect payment\nas soon as their work was done, and that he ought to make them wait his\nleisure. The fact was, these wicked advisers, who were ignorant of the\nsource from whence his fortune was derived, were afraid, if he paid his\ndebts, he would not have money left to squander upon them. Adrian had\nnot the slightest intention of defrauding any of the persons to whom he\nwas indebted; he felt secure of being able to pay them whenever he chose\nit, and honestly intended to do so; but too weak in mind to bid defiance\nto the ridicule of those whom he ought to have despised, he suffered\nhimself to be guided by them. In vain did Gabriel remonstrate; Gabriel\nhad long lost his influence, though his young master's heart was not yet\nso corrupted as to dismiss the worthy man from his service, which his\nassociates, who called him a tiresome preaching old fellow, would fain\nhave persuaded him to do.\n\nSeveral gentlemen who wished to pay their addresses to Amaranthe, had\napplied to Adrian for his interest, and also for information respecting\nthe fortune they were to receive with her. Adrian expressed great\nindignation at such inquiries being made. He had really, in his heart,\nformed the most generous intentions towards his sister, but in the\nenthusiasm with which he first contemplated her beauty, and from the\nsincere affection he then felt for her, he conceived that she deserved\nthe most disinterested attachment, and refused to make any promise of\nbestowing a portion upon her.\n\nThe first person who paid any serious attention to Amaranthe, was in\nher opinion, as, generally speaking, I fancy in that of all other young\nladies in the same case, the most charming creature in the world. He was\nfollowed by a second, and she found him as charming; but when a\nsuccession of adorers appeared, she was completely perplexed. Her heart\nwas incapable of making an election, and she began to think it would be\nvery dull to fix upon one, and by that means lose the adulation and\nflattery of all the others. She therefore received them all alike, and\ndivided her attention and her smiles equally amongst them. Thus the\ninnocent Amaranthe, who was unacquainted with the name of coquetry, soon\ngrew expert in the practice. On her first entrance into society she had\nformed an intimate acquaintance with Ethelinde, the daughter of a family\ndistinguished for goodness and benevolence, and who lived in a handsome,\nthough not profuse style. Ethelinde had nothing of the dazzling beauty\nof Amaranthe to boast of, her features were not so perfect, nor her\ncomplexion so brilliant, but her countenance was enlightened by\nintelligence, and her smiles were the smiles of modesty, and sweetness\nof temper. She was always unstudied and unaffected, and in her person\nand appearance were combined ease and elegance, with the irresistible\ncharm of the most engaging feminine softness. Her understanding was\nexcellent, and well cultivated, her manners correct, and her heart the\nseat of virtue and purity. Perfectly free from any meanness of temper,\nshe felt no envy at the beauty of Amaranthe, but was, on the contrary,\nan unfeigned admirer of it, and eagerly sought her friendship.\nAmaranthe, who for some time felt gratified and obliged by Ethelinde's\nearly notice, was equally desirous of cultivating her's, but ere many\nweeks had elapsed, they mutually discovered that they were not\ncompanions for each other. Ethelinde grew weary of hearing no other\nconversation than descriptions of the fine dresses her friend had worn\nat the different entertainments she had been at, or repetitions of all\nthe nonsense that had been addressed to her there, and Amaranthe thought\nher deplorably dull and disagreeable, for wanting to talk of any thing\nelse. Ethelinde was both too kind-hearted and too well-bred to appear to\nshun Amaranthe, and Amaranthe, who felt quite secure of never finding a\nrival in Ethelinde, continued to call her friend. She began, however, by\ndegrees to suspect that she had been a little mistaken in this\nsatisfactory point. It is true that whenever she appeared in public she\nwas immediately surrounded by all the gentlemen in the room, but she\ncould not avoid observing, that when Ethelinde was there also, many of\nthem would turn to her, and when once engaged in conversation with her,\nnever again quit her side, for that of her friend. This was sufficient\nground for her conceiving a rooted dislike to the unassuming and\nunsuspicious Ethelinde.\n\nAn important addition was now made to the society into which Adrian and\nAmaranthe had been introduced, by the arrival of a young gentleman\nlately returned from travelling, to take possession of a large estate,\nand noble mansion annexed to it, in that country. Lionel had every thing\nthat could recommend him to the favour of all to whom he was made known.\nHandsome and elegant in his person, his mind was stored with\ninformation, his taste refined, his conversation instructive and\nentertaining, and his manners affable and polished. Every father openly\ncourted him as a companion and example to his son, and every mother\nsecretly wished him to become the husband of her daughter.\n\nLionel was charmed with the brother and sister on his first\nintroduction to them. He liked the frank cordiality of Adrian, and\nbecame the professed slave of Amaranthe's beauty. It required no length\nof time for penetration like Lionel's to discover his error in regard to\nAdrian; he found he had mistaken vivacity for genius, and frankness of\nmanner for generosity of heart, when in fact his favourite proved\nunformed and untaught, indifferent to the opinion of all whom he ought\nto have valued, and given up to idleness and self-indulgence. Such a\ncompanion was quitted without any effort of resolution, but the sister's\npower over him did not yield so easily. Amaranthe's vanity had been too\nmuch flattered by such a conquest, for her to endeavour to conceal the\nsatisfaction it afforded her, and the enamoured Lionel was willing to\nattribute the approbation she evinced, to genuine affection. He\nconfessed himself disappointed in her mental qualities, but he laid all\nthat to the want of education, and the blame upon those who brought her\nup. He delighted in the thought of instructing and cultivating her mind\nhimself, and dwelt with rapture on the prospect of possessing such a\ncreature, formed exactly to his own taste, and according to his own\nrules of right. The devoted lover indulged himself, in these pleasing\nexpectations during several interviews that he had with his idol, when\nnot interrupted by the presence of any other candidates for her favour;\nbut when he saw her in company with some of her previous adorers, and\nobserved the evident pleasure and complacency with which she listened to\nthem all by turns, nothing could exceed his surprise and indignation.\nWhat! had she no more regard for him than for any of these senseless\ncoxcombs? Were the smiles and attention that had so captivated him to be\nequally shared by them? This was not to be borne. He could have endured\nher ignorance, even a fool might be tolerated, but an unfeeling coquette\nnever could. From that moment Amaranthe, with all her beauty, was\ndismissed from his heart for ever.\n\nDuring his attendance on Amaranthe, Lionel had often remarked with\napprobation the meek and unaffected demeanor of Claribel. He had never\nindeed heard her converse much, but he judged that her silence was owing\nto timidity, and fancied that under so retired a manner, might be\nconcealed solid sense, taste, and judgment. Her person, though not\nstrikingly handsome, was pleasing, and her temper and disposition\nappeared to be perfectly amiable. He began therefore to pay her very\nserious attention, but here again poor Lionel had only to lament his\nmistake. He found Claribel quite as untutored as her cousins, without a\nspark more desire of improvement. He was not likely to meet with a\nrepulse from so gentle a creature, but the acquiescence with which she\nreceived his assiduities seemed more the result of habitual passiveness\nthan of reciprocal attachment. She betrayed no emotion of pleasure at\nhis approach, or of concern at his departure. She listened to his\nconversation as he hoped with interest, but when describing what he\nconsidered as requisite points to insure happiness and respectability,\nhe could perceive no symptoms of regret that their sentiments so little\ncorresponded, nor could his avowed opinions awaken in her any exertion\nto render herself more acceptable to him. When he had taken sufficient\ntime to study her character, he decided that the inelegant mirth, and\nungoverned vanity of Amaranthe were preferable to the dawdling\ninsipidity of Claribel. After this decision Lionel ceased to be a\nvisitor at the castle.\n\nThe pride of Amaranthe had never before experienced so severe a wound.\nHer consequence was lessened in her own eyes, and she felt that it would\nbe so in those of others, by the desertion of such a lover, for she had\nsense enough to discern the superiority of Lionel over all her other\nadmirers. She could appreciate his worth, but she could not controul her\nown too long indulged inclinations, and was still too artless to conceal\nthe wrong bias they had taken. The disappointment had a visible effect\nupon her temper: she grew peevish, and dissatisfied with every thing\nabout her. She resolved to leave no means untried to regain the heart of\nLionel, and the suggestion of a rival in his affection made her\nabsolutely outrageous. She had so little considered Claribel in that\nlight, that she had not deigned to notice Lionel's attention to her,\nwhich indeed her vanity whispered was merely a feint to pique herself,\nand to give him an opportunity of still hovering near her. The gift of\nthe fairy, which had operated so much to Claribel's disadvantage in the\nopinion of her lover, secured her from sharing the keen mortification of\nher cousin at his loss.\n\nSome time after this had happened, an invitation was sent to the\ninhabitants of the castle to an entertainment, which was to consist of a\ntrial of skill in archery in the morning, and a ball in the evening.\nAdrian, who was now wholly devoted to his ill-chosen companions, had\nmade some engagement he liked better with them, and would not go, and\nClaribel was confined at home by indisposition. Amaranthe looked forward\nwith the most flattering anticipation to this proving the scene of her\ntriumph, and restoring all her power over Lionel, who she knew was to be\na principal guest there. She exhausted all her invention in contriving\nthe most becoming dresses for both occasions, and selected every\nornament that she thought would add lustre to her beauty. The anxiously\nexpected morning arrived, and Amaranthe set forth in all her glory. She\nfound a large company assembled in the part of the grounds marked out\nfor the archery, where a tent was erected ingeniously fitted up, and a\nhandsome collation prepared in it. The gentlemen who were to engage in\nthe contest were all properly equipped for the purpose. Amongst the most\nconspicuous was Lionel, who with his bow in his hand and quiver on his\nshoulder, was compared by some of the company to the god of love. In a\ngroup of ladies opposite to her, Amaranthe discerned Ethelinde very\nsimply attired, but looking so elegant, so unaffectedly good humoured,\nand desirous to please and be pleased, that no one could behold her\nwithout being prepossessed in her favour. She accosted Amaranthe with\nthe utmost kindness, who very coldly accepted her proffered hand, for\nshe felt an inward acknowledgment of superiority that fretted her beyond\nendurance. Nor could she at all account for it, having settled in her\nown mind, quite to her satisfaction, that she had never seen any thing\nhalf so ugly or so ill dressed.\n\nThe game began, and after each candidate for victory had exerted his\nstrength and skill, Lionel was unanimously proclaimed the conqueror. The\nmistress of the feast had tastefully entwined a wreath of laurel, which\nstepping forward she, with an appropriate and polite compliment, placed\nupon the head of Lionel. Amaranthe's heart beat violently, for she felt\nassured of receiving her accustomed homage, and had ready all her\nsweetest smiles, and most engaging complaisance, as she saw Lionel\napproach the spot where she was seated. She found, however, that she\nmight as well have reserved them for a fitter occasion, for he passed\nher without notice, and with a graceful bow, and look that bespoke\nrespect and esteem, laid his trophy at the feet of Ethelinde. Amaranthe\nhad no strength of mind to command herself on such a trial, nor could\nshe conceal the disappointment and vexation it cost her, and was still\nmore insupportably irritated by the general murmur of approbation that\naccompanied this action of Lionel. She refused to partake of the\nrefreshments, and went home burning with feelings of resentment against\nhim, and of most malignant animosity towards Ethelinde. Still her vanity\nwas not subdued: she determined that the ball, where she meant to appear\nin a blaze of glittering ornaments, that she believed would render her\nbeauty irresistible, should repay her for all the mortifications of the\nmorning. She recounted the insult, as she thought fit to call it, that\nhad been offered to her, in terms of bitter wrath to Claribel, who\nattended her toilet; but comforted herself with the near prospect of\nrecrimination, and declared she should have far more pleasure in\ncrushing the pride of that insolent little ugly moppet Ethelinde, than\nin captivating the first lord in the land. Claribel listened with\npatience and pity to the detail of her lamentable misfortunes, and\ndisclosure of her amiable intentions, and at last ventured to say--\"But,\nmy dear cousin, are you not afraid of incurring the displeasure of the\nfairy, by falling into the errors she cautioned you against? You may\nremember she threatened to withdraw her favour if you were guilty of\njealousy and envy, and do you know, I do not think you look near so well\nas you used to do.\"\n\nTo this remark Amaranthe for some moments answered only by surveying\nher cousin with a look of ineffable scorn, at last, her lips quivering\nwith anger, she said--\"Really, my dainty Claribel, whatever the fairy\nmay do by me, I am afraid her precious gift to you has failed in its\neffect. I thought _you_, at any rate, were to be secured from the\ndominion of envy and spite.\" \"Upon my word, cousin,\" answered Claribel\nmildly, \"I am unconscious of ever having been subject to either. Since\nthe fairy first appeared to us, I never felt less disposed to envy her\nfavours to you than at this moment, and what can there be spiteful in\nthinking you do not look so well as you used to do?\"\n\nUrsula, who was present, assented to the opinion of Claribel. \"Indeed,\nmy sweet young lady,\" said she, \"your cousin is right. I have lately\nobserved, with pain and apprehension, your altered looks. I believe the\nracketing life you have led so long disagrees with you, and am seriously\nfearful that you will injure your health if you continue it.\"\n\nIt was in vain to urge any arguments against the self-conceit of\nAmaranthe: that her beauty could be in any degree diminished was a\nsupposition that she would not admit into her thoughts. She added more\nornaments to the profusion that already glittered on her person, and\ndoubted not that, with such aids, she should eclipse every belle who\nwould appear at the entertainment. Under this happy persuasion she\nentered the ball-room, but did not long remain under its cheering\ninfluence. No emotion seemed excited by her appearance, no gaze followed\nher footsteps; those of her former admirers, whom she saw there, rather\nshunned than approached her, and those who were strangers did not appear\nto notice her. After she had been seated some little time however, she\nwas in joyful expectation of having her best wishes fulfilled, for she\nsaw Lionel advancing, who, on coming opposite to her, stopped short, and\nfixed his eyes intently upon her.\n\nMuch as her heart fluttered, and her cheeks glowed at this almost\nunhoped for circumstance, she could not avoid discovering that his looks\nbetrayed more of astonishment than of admiration. Suddenly seeming to\nrecollect himself he slightly bowed, and passing on went up to\nEthelinde, whom he immediately engaged for his partner. Fortunately for\nAmaranthe the bustle and confusion of the dance just then beginning,\nscreened her from the observations that her violent agitation must\notherwise have drawn upon her. The dance indeed began, but no one\nsolicited the honour of her fair hand. Amazed, appalled, she knew not\nwhat to make of it, at length, rising up, she drew near a party who were\nin earnest conversation, and did not perceive her. \"Is it possible,\" she\nheard one of them say, \"that that ordinary awkward looking girl, so\nbedizened with finery, should be the beautiful Amaranthe, of whom I have\nheard so much, and who my chief purpose in coming hither was to see?\"\n\"Believe me,\" answered another, \"what I tell you is true. What has\nhappened to her I cannot conjecture, but I do assure you that not many\nweeks ago she was the most beautiful creature my eyes ever beheld.\"\n\n\"Oh, oh,\" said Amaranthe to herself, \"now I discern the truth. This\nis a vile conspiracy amongst my enemies. Some of my wicked rivals,\nunable to submit to my superior attractions, have planned this scheme on\npurpose to mortify me, but they shall find themselves defeated in their\natrocious designs.\" She then reared up her head, and stalked along the\nroom with all the stately airs she could assume, but all in vain. Few of\nthe company noticed her at all, and to those who did, she was evidently\nan object of ridicule. She had not command enough over herself to endure\nthis long with patience. Abruptly quitting the assembly, she returned\nhome in a state of mind and temper that threatened her with insanity.\nWhen arrived there she tore off all her gaudy apparel without once\nlooking in the glass, and threw herself into bed, where for some hours\nshe lay tumbling and tossing, but at last fell into a doze, from which\nshe did not awake until mid-day. As soon as she arose she summoned\nClaribel, that she might give vent to her fury at the detestable events\nof the evening. Claribel heard the relation of her disgrace with\nunfeigned concern, but all the time she was speaking looked earnestly at\nher with marks of excessive surprise. After some hesitation, she,\ntrembling as she spoke, said, \"Pray, cousin, have you lately looked at\nyour hyacinth?\" The question operated like an electric shock upon\nAmaranthe. The truth flashed across her mind. She considered a moment,\nand then rushed to the cabinet where Felicia's pernicious gift was\ndeposited. There indeed she found it with its \"bright tint turned to a\nsickly and disgusting hue.\" She contemplated it with an aspect of wild\ndespair, then with an effort of desperate resolution flew back to the\nglass, where, for the first time for many months, she looked at herself\nwith eyes not blinded by vanity. What a spectacle presented itself to\nher view! Gladly would she have found herself only reduced to her\noriginal plainness. Her eyes then, though they sparkled not with the\nlustre with which the fairy afterwards endowed them, were yet brightened\nby the vivacity of youth. The texture of her skin was not so delicate,\nbut her cheeks glowed with ruddy health, and though no fascinating\ndimples accompanied her smiles, they were the playful smiles of\ninnocence. Now, sad reverse! her eyes were dimmed and sunk in her head,\nher cheeks hollow and of ghastly paleness, and the malevolent passions\nthat had corroded her heart, were traced in deep furrows over her\ncountenance. Almost frozen with horror she uttered a piercing shriek,\nand fell lifeless on the floor. Claribel affrighted, endeavoured to\nraise her, and called for assistance, but no one came near her. She\nthought she heard an unusual disturbance in the castle. Sounds of\nstrange voices speaking loud, trampling of feet, and clapping of doors\nmet her ear, and appeared as if a general uproar prevailed throughout.\nAfter she had for some time tried in vain to recover Amaranthe, Ursula\nhastily entered the apartment, her face pale with terror and dismay,\nwhich were increased by seeing the alarming state of her young mistress.\nClaribel, while she assisted in restoring her, briefly related what had\nhappened, and the poor governess, on hearing it, broke out into bitter\nlamentations. \"Ah! wicked, treacherous fairy,\" said she, \"how have you\nabused my poor innocent children! would that you had never appeared with\nyour vile gifts, only to betray them to their ruin, and plunge them into\na thousand times greater misery than they could have experienced had\nthey never seen you.\"\n\nClaribel earnestly enquired her meaning, and the cause of the\nconfusion she had heard, and with difficulty, amidst her sobs and moans,\ngathered what Ursula had herself learned from Gabriel. The creditors of\nAdrian, hearing of the extravagant style in which he lived, concluded he\nmust soon expend his fortune, and that they should then have no chance\nof receiving what was due to them. They, therefore, determined to come\nin a body, and insist upon immediate payment. Adrian, though extremely\nenraged, resolved, in spite of the opposition of his associates, to\nsatisfy all their demands at once that he might be rid of them. He\naccordingly repaired to the coffers where his treasures were secured,\nbut on opening found them all empty. He exclaimed loudly that he had\nbeen basely robbed; then flew to every chest, desk, or bureau in which\nhe had been used to seek a supply, but found not a single piece of\nmoney, or article of value of any kind: while searching the last place\nof safety he could think of, he was suddenly struck with the sight of\nhis rose, which had fallen from the stalk, and every leaf withered and\ndead: frantic with despair, he rushed all over the castle proclaiming\nhimself ruined, but hardly sensible of what he said or did. On hearing\nthis, the profligate crew, who had called themselves his friends,\nspeedily made off, nor would stay even to offer him consolation. The\ncreditors incensed at being thus defrauded of their right, thought it\nbest to make themselves what amends they could, and began tearing away\nall the costly furniture, and seizing upon every thing valuable they\ncould find. The servants too, thinking they should have no other method\nof being paid, had joined in the general plunder, and were all taking\ntheir departure as soon as they could secure what they had pillaged.\n\nAmaranthe revived before Ursula had finished her dismal narrative, but\nshe attended not to it, nor seemed conscious of any thing that passed.\nClaribel and Ursula continued administering restoratives to her, when\nthe door opened, and the form of Adrian, but far more resembling that of\na spectre, slowly entered. He placed himself on a seat, and fixed his\nhaggard eyes upon his sister. She raised her's to him, but no sound gave\nutterance to the feelings their looks mutually expressed. It was not the\nmild grief that could be soothed by sympathy; it was the gloomy anguish\nof remorse, the humiliating sense of unworthiness, the incurable torture\nof shame. Claribel and Ursula looked at them in speechless sorrow, for\nno ray of comfort presented itself to alleviate their sufferings.\n\nThus were these unfortunate young people, by the indulgence of their\nown wishes, and the attainment of what they supposed could produce only\ngratification and happiness, reduced to a state of apparently\nirremediable distress. Even Claribel shared in the general misery. Not\nthat the gift of the fairy had lost its influence upon her; the lily was\nfresh as ever. She was contented in her own person, and formed no wishes\nfor herself; but she could not behold the wretched condition of her\nfriends unmoved. Though not subject to strong emotions, her heart was\ntender and affectionate. Her cousins were her sole objects of\nattachment, and it was still unabated towards them. Ursula could do\nnothing but bewail their sad destiny; she was weak and helpless. Gabriel\nwas the only rational person of the party. He collected together the\nlittle that remained out of the wreck of the possessions, and tried to\nput things in some order to make them more comfortable. The generous old\nman never reminded them of the advice he had given, or took to himself\nthe credit that was his due for his better judgment.\n\nClaribel had used all the arguments she could devise to reconcile\nAmaranthe to her altered state, but with little success. One remarkably\nfine day she prevailed upon her to go out into the air: they walked to a\npart of the grounds that had in their childhood been appropriated as\ntheir play place. Here, while resting on a bench, they were joined by\nAdrian. The brother and sister now found words to relieve the weight of\nwoe that oppressed them, but it was by heaping invectives on the\ndeceitful Felicia. From accusing the fairy they began to upbraid each\nother. \"You, Amaranthe,\" said Adrian, \"have no right to complain: you\nmight at least have been spared the misfortune of poverty. Had it not\nbeen for your abominable vanity and coquetry, you might have been\nhappily and nobly settled.\"\n\n\"You are unjust to say so, Adrian,\" retorted his sister; \"you know very\nwell it was your refusing to bestow a fortune upon me, that prevented\nmany of my lovers from soliciting my hand in marriage; but you were\ngiven up to selfishness, and cared not what became of me.\"\n\n\"For pity's sake, my dear cousins,\" cried Claribel, \"do not quarrel.\nRemember, destitute orphans as we are, we have nothing left in this\nworld but each other, and if we are not united, what is to become of\nus?\"\n\nAdrian was touched; looking tenderly on his sister, \"Claribel is\nright,\" said he. \"We are, indeed, bereaved of every thing else, and\nshall we forsake each other? Ah, Amaranthe!\" he continued, his eyes\nswimming in tears, \"time was when all our joys and all our wishes\ncentred in each other. How fondly you once loved me--and is it at an\nend? Will you love me no more?\" The native good feelings of Amaranthe's\nheart, that had so long lain dormant, were now revived. Bursting into an\nagony of crying, she threw her arms round her brother's neck, and sobbed\nout, \"Yes, yes, dear Adrian; I love you better than ever. Oh, do but be\nkind to me, and I will cease to deplore the loss of my beauty.\" After\nembracing her affectionately, Adrian, looking mournfully round,\nobserved--\"This was the scene of our childish sports. How joyously we\nbounded like fawns over this lawn! When turning our hoops or tossing our\nballs, how little cared I for riches or you for beauty! And there,\"\npointing with his hand, \"is the shrubbery where we used to play at hide\nand seek, and laugh at poor Claribel for not being able to find us. See\nthe woodbine that you and she used to twine round my hat and crook, when\nI played at being a shepherd.\"\n\n\"And those,\" said Amaranthe, \"are the trees you so often climbed to get\nbirds' eggs for Claribel and me to string, when we pretended to be\nhermits, and called them our rosaries!\"\n\n\"Happy, happy days of blessed innocence!\" groaned out her brother;\n\"would to heaven ye could be recalled! Never again would I barter ye for\ngrandeur and licentiousness!\"\n\nWhile the unhappy trio continued weeping over these painful\nrecollections, they suddenly observed an extraordinary appearance in the\nair. A large machine, resembling a car, was hovering in it, and at\nlength descending slowly to the earth fixed itself at no great distance\nfrom them. They then saw a lady clad in a purple robe, with a long white\nwand in her hand, step out of it and advance towards them. They were\nimmediately struck with the belief that it was the fairy, but with what\ndifferent sensations did the brother and sister now greet her, to those\nwhich her first appearance had occasioned! Confused and dismayed, they\nwould have fled from her presence had not terror rendered them\nmotionless, for they doubted not that she was come to reproach them, if\nnot to punish their ill conduct. When she drew nearer, and they ventured\nto look at her again, they discovered that the figure was taller and\nmore dignified than that of Felicia. Her face was not so fair, and its\nexpression was more solemn, but her countenance was more commanding, and\nher aspect altogether inspired awe and veneration. \"Perhaps,\" whispered\nClaribel, \"it is the fairy Benigna.\" The minds of her cousins assented\nto this suggestion, but it by no means diminished their apprehensions.\nIf they had so much cause to dread the censure of Felicia, what had they\nto hope from the severe Benigna?\n\nTrembling, and not daring to speak or move, they stood before her,\nwhile she regarded them for some time in silence, with looks that lost\nmuch of their solemnity, and expressed pity and benevolence. Then, in a\nmild tone, said, \"Poor hapless victims of ignorance and error, your\nconsciences tell you that I am come to inflict the chastisement due to\nyour folly and guilt; but lay aside your fears. I can allow for and\ncompassionate the offences of feeble mortality. I am come to take you\nfrom this scene of desolation and disgrace, which can only remind you of\nlost happiness. Are you willing to trust yourselves with me?\" Whatever\nthe private inclinations of the party might be, they were too much in\nawe of this powerful being to offer any resistance to her will: they\nonly bowed in token of submission. She then placed them all in the car,\nand mounting it herself after them, waved her wand when the machine\narose with a gentle motion into the air, which it wafted them through,\nbut at what rate, or whither to, they could not judge. They were so\namazed, and their senses so bewildered, that they almost doubted if they\nwere awake, or whether all that had passed were not a dream!\n\nThey could not calculate how long they had been travelling in this easy\nmanner, when they found the vehicle again descending to the earth, where\nit rested before a white house, that had every appearance of neatness\nand comfort, though not of magnificence.\n\nIt was situated in the middle of a garden, laid out in excellent taste,\nand well stored with fruits, flowers, and shrubs of all kinds, bounded\nby verdant meadows, with a fine river passing through them, and the\nsurrounding country richly cultivated, and luxuriantly beautiful.\n\nTheir conductress desired them to enter the house, where the first\nobjects that met their view, were Ursula and Gabriel, who had been\nconveyed thither by the agents of the fairy, and who welcomed them with\nraptures of joy.\n\nBenigna led them through the apartments which were sufficiently spacious\nfor convenience, and fitted up with elegance and propriety. The last she\nintroduced them into was, a library, furnished with a large collection\nof books, maps, globes, &c. \"And now, my young friends,\" said she, \"do\nyou think you can be happy in such a habitation as this?\" Adrian,\nwilling to ingratiate himself in her opinion, promptly replied, \"Ah,\nMadam, we shall be most happy to receive any favour from you. You, no\ndoubt, will always continue your generous kindness, and not desert us\nlike the treacherous Felicia.\"\n\n\"Presumptuous mortal!\" answered Benigna, with a frown, \"what right\nhave you or your sister to call Felicia treacherous? Did you not\nobstinately persist in choosing the gifts she warned you against? And\ndid either of you practise the good precepts she gave you with them? Had\nthey been observed, you are conscious that you might still have been\nrich, and Amaranthe handsome. But come,\" she added, observing the effect\nher words had upon them, \"be not alarmed. My design is not to arraign,\nbut to instruct. The fact is, my sister is not treacherous, but she is\ninjudicious. Her power is very limited, and the few gifts she has to\nbestow, are more likely to ensnare than to benefit those whom she means\nto serve. She gave you, indeed, good advice, but she could not endow you\nwith the good sense that would enable you to follow it. Even you, my\nquiet Claribel, have not, I fancy, profited much by her favor. Say, were\nyou very happy in the possession of your lily?\" Claribel, after\nconsidering a little, answered, \"I do not know that I was absolutely\nhappy. I was, indeed, always contented, as she promised I should be, and\nnever felt inclined to repine, or be vexed at any thing; but I do not\nremember ever experiencing any particular pleasure.\" \"No,\" returned the\nfairy, \"nor would any one under such circumstances. The content Felicia\nbestowed on you, was not the happy result of a well-regulated mind,\nsatisfied with its own exertions, and the performance of those duties\nincumbent on all rational beings. It was indolence, mistaken for a\nvirtue. A being endued with reason, of which it obeys not the dictates;\nwith faculties, of which it makes no use, but is content to occupy its\nstation in life without fulfilling the purposes for which it was placed\nthere, is scarcely less censurable than those who waste their time in\nriot and dissipation. Others may reap some advantage from their follies,\nbut no benefit can be derived from a mere moving machine.\"\n\nThe vaunted favorite of Felicia found herself no higher in the esteem\nof Benigna than her indiscreet cousins, and felt ready to sink under her\nreproving eye; but, resuming her benevolent aspect, the fairy continuing\nher discourse, said, \"take courage, my children, you are none of you\nirreclaimable, and may hope, by your future conduct, to make some amends\nfor past transgressions. The fault has not been so much in yourselves,\nas in those whose duty it was to have prepared you for the trials and\ntemptations, that you had little chance of passing through the world\nwithout encountering. Now, let me try if this wand cannot confer more\nlasting happiness than the roses and hyacinths of my sister.\" So saying,\nshe waved it gently over their heads. In a moment, they all felt like\nnew-created beings. They seemed to awaken to a different sense of\nexistence. They became painfully sensible of their own deficiencies, and\nof the deplorable want of education, yet the pain was alleviated by the\ncheering influence of the light let in upon them, and the earnest desire\nthey felt for improvement.\n\n\"You are now,\" said Benigna, \"all conscious of the folly and uselessness\nof your past lives; and if my wand has done its duty, you are equally\nwilling to repair the evils they have been the cause of. As I before\nsaid, you have been less to blame than others. You wanted instruction in\nevery thing, but the chief and most important instruction you wanted,\nwas--principle! Had that been properly inculcated into you, all the ills\nthat have befallen you, might have been avoided. In this apartment,\n(looking round,) you will find store for your minds, and employment of\nthe most pleasing kind for your time; but this (placing her hand on a\nvery large volume that was on a desk before her) must be your first and\nmost assiduous study. In these writings you will find how unnecessary is\nthe aid of fairies to your welfare, when by humbly imploring that of the\nall-powerful Being who never forsakes those who resort to him, you will\nsecure those endless blessings that magic has not to bestow.\n\n\"But you probably wish to know where you are. Learn then that this\nabode, and the fortune annexed to it, is no gift of mine; it is the\nbequest of your uncle, who died in a foreign country. He, as well as the\nrest of her friends, disapproved of his sister's connexion with a person\nwho had always conducted himself very ill towards him; and when the\nmarriage took place, his resentment was so great, that he forsook his\nnative country, accompanied by the friend whose return to it cost you\nthe loss of your parents. On his death-bed, your uncle's heart relented\nin favour of his sister, to whom and her children, he bequeathed his\nproperty, with an equal portion to his niece, Claribel. He consigned the\ndeed of gift to that friend, exacting a promise from him, that he would\ndeliver it only into your mother's hands. You already know how he was\nprevented doing that; and when the priest, to whom he entrusted it, also\ndied, I took care to secure the deed for the purpose of restoring it to\nyour mother; but death defeated all our intentions.\n\n\"I should not have withheld your own property so long from you, had not\nmy sister taken you so hastily under her protection; but as I surmised\nwhat the result of her patronage would be, I determined to reserve this\nresource against the hour of distress, to which I had little doubt her\nfavours would reduce you. And now, my children, it only remains for you\nto make a right use of these valuable possessions. You have not\nboundless riches, but have sufficient to satisfy all your own reasonable\nwants, and to administer to the wants of your suffering fellow beings. I\nhave furnished you with the means, as well as the desire of improvement.\nLet the remembrance of your past errors, and the folly of your first\nwishes, operate on your future conduct. Fail not to observe these\ninjunctions, and you will secure the love and esteem of all whose good\nopinion you wish to obtain; and though I may never appear to you again,\nmy attendant spirit and good offices shall not be withdrawn.\"\n\nSo saying, the excellent fairy Benigna, casting on them all a look of\nmaternal affection, again gently waved her powerful wand, and vanished!\n\nThe fairy indeed vanished, and the wand was seen no more; but their\ninfluence was still felt by the now happy and deserving orphans. They\nassiduously obeyed her commands in seeking knowledge and instruction and\ntook care that their first study should be that volume to which she had\ndirected their attention. There Adrian learned that \"in Godliness is\ngreat riches,\" and Amaranthe found in \"the beauty of holiness\"--that\npure gratification and unabated happiness, that beauty of person, had no\nchance of bestowing. Claribel, by \"faith and good works,\" experienced\ncontent, accompanied by real enjoyment, instead of the negative\nsatisfaction derived from her lily. She became as animated and active as\nshe had before been indolent and helpless.\n\nAdrian, in acquiring wisdom, was able to indulge his natural good\npropensities. He knew how to manage the fortune he possessed, and by\nlearning to be frugal could afford to be generous. His vivacity, now\ntempered by good sense, was the delight of all to whom he was known; and\nthe happiness springing from a cultivated mind and corrected heart,\nrendered him once more a joyous, but never a licentious spirit.\n\nAmaranthe, though never restored to the radiant beauty of the hyacinth,\nregained her original healthy and sprightly looks. The ease of her heart\nwas manifested in her countenance. She could behold beauty in others\nwithout a repining sigh, nor coveted any other admiration than what her\nuniform good conduct and commendable desire to please and oblige, always\nprocured for her.\n\nUrsula had often the gratification of seeing her sweet young ladies\nemployed in the embroidery she had so industriously taught them for the\nbenefit of their indigent neighbours; and the faithful Gabriel enjoyed\nthe exquisite delight of knowing that his honoured young master and\nmistresses obtained the blessings of the poor, and the respect of the\nrich.\n\nThus these children of the old castle, whose lives began under such\nunpromising auspices, and for whom I hope my young readers are\nexcessively interested, ended them as prosperously as mere human beings\ncan ever hope to do. They were happy because they were rational; and\nbeing rational, they felt well disposed to laugh heartily at all absurd\nstories about Fairies, Flower Baskets, and White Wands!\n\n\nTHE END.\n\n\n    BARNARD AND FARLEY,\n    _Skinner-Street_, _London_.\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Note:\n\nSpelling variations for choose/chuse, as well as archaic spelling\nfor controul and pourtrayed have been retained as the appear in\nthe original publication.","title":"The Flower Basket: A Fairy Tale","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":14882}