and Miss Burney, like Sheridan, had her applause "dashed in her face, sounded in her ears," for the rest of a long and meritorious life. Her second novel, "Cecilia," was received with such universal transport, that in a very moral epilogue of a rather immoral play we find it seriously commended to the public as an antidote to vice:—
Let sweet Cecilia gain your just applause,
Whose every passion yields to nature's laws.
Miss Burney, blushing in the royal box, had the satisfaction of hearing this stately advertisement of her wares. Virtue was not left to be its own reward in those fruitful and generous years.
Indeed, the most comfortable characteristic of the period, and the one which incites our deepest envy, is the universal willingness to accept a good purpose as a substitute for good work. Even Madame d'Arblay, shrewd, caustic, and quick-witted, forbears from unkind criticism of the well-intentioned. She has nothing but praise for Mrs. Barbauld's poems, because of "the piety and worth they exhibit"; and she rises to absolute enthusiasm over the
