My tale is simple, but so are truth, and virtue, and happiness; and to enforce this moral is the purpose of my story. I might have filled my canvas with the brilliant colours and iris tints of romance and fiction; but the eye of the spectator would have been dazzled, and he would have found nothing on which to rest his gaze: the chaste and sober hues of truth alone are healthful to the mental sight. If in this humble colouring I have so traced the picture of Edward and Eliza, as to show that marriage is one of the first of blessings, and that its joys, though removed from the superficial and fastidious, may yet be attained by the simple and sincere; if I have at all shown what are the qualities to be sought for in a virtuous wife, and how, and where they may be found; if thus my humble page shall have shed a beam of hope over the desponding and the solitary, its object will be attained. "Domestic happiness! thou only bliss Of paradise, that has survived the fall! Though few now taste thee unimpaired and pure, Or tasting, long enjoy thee; too infirm, Or too incautious, to preserve thy sweets Unmixed with drops of bitter, which neglect Or temper sheds into thy crystal cup; Thou art the nurse of virtue; in thine arms She smiles appearing as in truth she is, Heaven-born, and destined to the skies again. Thou art not known where pleasure is adored, That reeling goddess with the zoneless waist. And wandering eyes, still leaning on the arm Of novelty, her fickle, frail support. For thou art meek and constant, hating change, And finding, in the calm of truth-tried love, Joys that her stormy raptures never yield." THE BEAUTY OF BUTTERMERE; OR, TRAGEDY IN REAL LIFE. John Hatfield, who acquired the appellation of the Keswick Impostor, and whose extraordinary villany excited universal hatred, was born in 1759, at Mortram, in Cheshire, of low parentage, but possessing great natural abilities. His face was handsome, his person genteel, his eyes blue, and his complexion fair.