Willingly," was the answer, and, murmuring a prayer for his beloved sister, he went with the angel.

And now the girl was left alone to fight the battle of life -its sorrows and trials. But her face was glorified, and ever could I see the angel of light by her side, as the girl passed through many scenes before which brave hearts have quailed. Truly did the angel guard her.

In my dream I saw the girl's heart pierced by many arrows. At last came love, her crowning sorrow; and I wondered if the angel would come for her now?

Then in my dream a broad river stretched, and on its bank the woman stood, shading her eyes with her hand, as she gazed intently on the opposite shore. The mist cleared, and I descried the figure of a man. The girl's lips parted, and a half cry escaped. Then suddenly the man, with a leap, cleared the stream dividing them, and is holding in his strong clasp the woman. His lips utter "At last!" as her head rests on his breast.

The sun bursts forth in its glory, illumining their faces. The strong face of the man is gentle with the love-light as he kisses the woman's lips.

I heard the birds singing overhead, the vision faded, and with a start I awoke to the realities of day.

THE POST BOY ROBBED OF HIS MAIL.

A SEVENTEENTH CENTURY FICTION.

By G. W. NIVEN.

"He comes, the herald of a noisy world . . .
Yet careless what he brings, his one concern

Is to conduct it to the destined inn;

And having dropped the expected bag, pass on.
To him indifferent whether grief or joy,
Houses in ashes and the fall of stocks,
Births, deaths and marriages, epistles wet
With tears that trickled down the writer's cheeks
Fast as the periods from his fluent quill.

IN

Or charged with amorous sighs of absent swains,
Or nymphs responsive, equally affect

His horse and him, unconscious of them all.
But O, the important budget ushered in
With such heart-shaking music, who can say
What are its tidings?"

-Cowper, "The Task."

N the Athenian Oracle of 27th September, 1692, there appeared the following advertisement: "Next Thursday will be published The Post Boy Robb'd of his Mail; or, The Pacquet Broke Open,' consisting of five hundred Letters to Persons of Several Qualities and Conditions, with observations upon each Letter; published by a Gentleman concerned in the Frolic. Price, 2s. 6d. Printed for John Dunton at the Raven in the Poultry."

After the publication of the book a query was addressed to the authors of the Athenian Oracle which may have emanated from a bona fide correspondent, but which we cannot avoid suspecting was more probably written by one concerned in the production of the book, either author or publisher. The query and answer are as follows::

"Q. I find in the book entitled The Post Boy Robb'd of his Mail; or, The Pacquet Broke Open,' a letter of platonic love; it gives me so fair an idea of that romantic fancy that I could almost wish there were such a thing, if there be not. I desire your opinion whether there be or no, and also your judgment of that book, and whether you think it a fiction or not?

"A. Since you are not satisfied with what the gentlemen concerned in that frolic have said on that point, our opinion is that 'tis not impossible there should be some that may have so refined a passion for each other; at least, 'tis obvious there are pretenders to it. As for the book itself, the Compleat Library for the month of July has given a very true character of it, which, though it seemed something extravagant in the praise, yet upon view of the performance we acquit him of a false judgment in what he has said upon it. It contains both pleasure and profit; and Horace, as good a judge of wit as

any, tells us, he has hit all points that has mingled the profitable with the pleasant. In this book you may find the several passions that influence all the life and actions of mankind, the softnesses and the wrecks of lovers, the intrigues and extravagances of lust, the blind inveteracy of hate and indignation, the pretences of the debauchés and atheists, the voraciousness and restless desire of wealth and honour, the vanities that pride betrays us to, the effect of fear and hope, the subtle windings of self-interest, how it reigns in all our actions, in religious as well as temporal concerns. Here you'll find the general hypocrisies of mankind unmasked; and, in short, all that may any way contribute to the pleasure or advantage of the reader; the letters are so natural that nothing we've seen published of late (we'll scarce except the Turkish Spy) equals them; the comments are always both pleasant and witty, never tedious, but full of various and surprising observations. In short, if it be not truth, as to matter of fact (though we are apt to believe 'tis), yet 'tis so like truth that it satisfies the mind as well; Nature in them being so well drawn that it seems not an imitation of Nature but Nature itself."

Having perused this highly laudatory criticism, the reader may possibly feel curious to know something more of the contents of the book and its authorship. The first edition, we have already seen, was issued in 1692; it is somewhat rare, but we are fortunate in having a copy of the second edition, almost as scarce, which was published in 1706. It is entitled "The Post Boy Robb'd of his Mail; or, The Pacquet Broke Open," consisting of letters of love and gallantry, and all miscellaneous subjects; in which are discovered the virtues, vices, follies, humours, and intrigues of mankind, with remarks on each letter. Both volumes in one. The second edition, with the additions of many new and ingenious letters never before published. London. Printed by B. Mills, for John Sprint, at the Bell in Little Britain, 1706.

If the first edition contained five hundred letters, the second contains only one hundred and eighty-two.

The English author and translator conceals his identity

under the letters "C. G." These initials represent Charles Gilden, a critical and dramatic writer, born at Gillingham, in Dorsetshire, in 1665. His parents, who were Roman Catholics, sent him to Douay to be educated for the priesthood. He returned to England when about nineteen years of age, and coming into possession of considerable property, devoted himself to the gaieties of London life. He published Blount's "Oracles of Reason," and some years afterwards, "The Deist's Manual." His plays were unsuccessful on the stage, but his Complete Art of Poetry," published in 1718, shows evidence of considerable research. Gilden had the misfortune to prefer Tickell as a translator and Ambrose Philips as a pastoral poet, to Pope, and hence was keenly satirised in the Dunciad. He died on 12th January, 1724.

"The Post Boy Robb'd" is partly founded on, and partly translated from the Italian of Pallavicino. We learn no more on this subject from the volume itself, but we may be allowed to supplement that meagre statement from other sources. The author of the Italian work, "The Courier Robbed," was Ferrante Pallavicino, who was born at Piacenza, a city of northern Italy, in 1615 or 1618. He was educated chiefly at Padua, and entered the Augustinian Order. For a short time he accompanied Ottavio Piccolomini, Duke of Amalfi, in his German campaigns as field chaplain. On leaving the Army he published a number of clever but severe satires on the Roman Curia and the powerful house of the Barberini. These satires caused so much offence in Rome that a price was set on his head. He resided at Venice, but a Frenchman named Charles de Breche enticed him thence to the vicinity of Avignon, and there delivered him over to his enemies. After suffering imprisonment for fourteen months, and a form of trial having been gone through, he was beheaded at Avignon on 6th March, 1644.

As already stated, one of Pallavicino's works was translated by Charles Gilden, and published by John Dunton, the principal author and the publisher of the Athenian Oracle, with the enticing title, "The Post Boy Robb'd of his Mail.”

Following the epistle dedicatory to Henry Cartwright, Esq.,

Captain in the Honourable Colonel Godfrey's Regiment, is the preface in which the English author explains the object of the book. "The design," he says, " being to lay open the secret rogueries and villainies of mankind, and that with the greatest variety that could be, it was thought that number and brevity, provided they included but roguery, would answer that end. Five lines in some furnishing a useful subject for moral reflections, which, it is hoped, are in no place so dull as to merit contempt, nor yet so light as to offend the truly pious, of which peculiar care has been taken in this edition."

The story begins with a letter to a friend, in which a pretended account is given of the origin of the letters that follow, but prefixed with a philosophical disquisition, in which the author says: "But not to dwell too much upon the vindication of the worst of our crimes, and which we ourselves condemn, and are very seldom guilty of, I will, by sending you a Relation of One of our Frolicks, convince you that we make a better use of our extravagances than you do imagine; and that they proceed from choice, not accident: for while your virtuosi are poring over the unaccountable secrets of Dame Nature, we are busy in searching into fully as intricate a subject the humours and nature of men, while they are conversing with labour and study with the mineral, vegetable, and animal kingdoms, our pleasure leads us in chase of the secrets of the rational world. Their studies may have the face of more harmless innocence, but I'm sure our delights are more profitable and more to the purpose of living. They are like our travellers, who ramble abroad to see foreign countries before they know anything of their own; for your great naturalist will seldom arrive to any knowledge in man, and in conversation, and in the affairs of the world would merit that name in its worst sense. Mankind walks in a mist, and cannot be seen at a little distance; you must keep close to it, or you lose sight on't, at least till you have got a competent knowledge, to secure yourself from the assaults which are continually offered to the innocent; that is, the ignorant part. No man is what he appears to be; we are all Janus's, and have two or more faces in all our actions, as well as designs. as you'll find by what I send you, which is part of those