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 MONTAGITE NEWBUHGtt; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE MOTHER AND SOX. 
 
 T©L. I.
 
 lie^uier.scu^ib.Gt' 3t»4iioxSt'H«ju>T»r S.j? 
 
 MONTAGUE, 
 
 Lm h^ttrimj thi- rt'irf of Jiis JTot/mr, ois^ritu/ itf i/iWtti\>/i ,i- fiturtilu 
 .fUp/nhif (isiJe. recciyi-tl t/i^ ,r/mrp point of ihf Waipon in tlu palm 
 of JihfM hanJ . putji.- yi. 
 
 Iffjidvn Fublulud.MaTcli.iSif.'b^ L<nv mi WhOtaJcer. ttve MaruiLarie .
 
 MONTAGUE NEWBURGH; 
 
 OR, 
 
 €f)e Motf)tv anJr ^on. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 BY ALICIA CXTHERINE MANT, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 EUen; or the Young Godmother ^ and Caroline Lismore; or 
 the Errors of tashion. 
 
 "Tf there be any one man to whom Keli^ion is 
 
 "more necessary at all times than it is to another, a 
 
 ^^ fioidier is that man." 
 
 Bp. Horne. 
 
 VOLUME I. 
 
 PRINTED FOR LAW AND WHITTAKER, AVE-MARIA-LANE, 
 
 LON DON. 
 1817.
 
 'printed by E. Sketl<m^;td. 
 
 s«, High f^treet, Southampton.
 
 V. I 
 
 TO WHOM CAN A WORK, 
 
 PROFESSEDLY WRITTEN 
 
 TO PORTRAY 
 
 fBE LOVELINESS OF THE MATERNAL CHARACTER 
 
 BE WITH MORE PROPRIETY 
 
 DEDICATED, 
 
 THAN TO 
 
 d An affectionate and conscientious Motherf 
 c^ TO MY Mother, then, 
 
 ^ TO HER, 
 
 O ^°® 
 
 o IN Infancy nursed me, 
 
 
 
 ^ who 
 
 to 
 
 IN Childhood instructed, and 
 
 WHO 
 
 IN Youth advised, 
 
 THE following NARRATIVE IS DEDICATEB, 
 with the SINCEREST SENTIMENTS OF 
 
 Orateful Affection, and Filial Duty, 
 
 A, a M,
 
 ]PM1E]F%^€1E^ 
 
 J[ T was a double train of reflection which suggested the idea 
 qf tlie following narrative to the Author; that of erincing tJie 
 propriety of a submission to the will of Providence under the 
 severest trids we are called on to sustain, and tluit of im- 
 pressing on the mind the necessity of making religion the 
 ground work on which the study of every profession should be 
 erected. Hence arose the two principal characters in ** the 
 Motbet^ and Son;" and t'lie one appearing so naturally to 
 spring from the other, it lius been eiuieavourea so to represent 
 them, under an idea, tliat the influence of women over the 
 virtues and vices oftlieir chldien is so great, that the growth 
 of the former, and the suppression of the lattei' depend, in a 
 great measure, on maiernal precept und example. 
 
 The subordinate cliuracters which have been introduced to 
 increase the inte< est of the story liave been formed with a 
 view to the originul design of the uork; and the incidents 
 occasionally interwnen with the recital by way of variety 
 and amusement, will not, it is hoped, be unproductive qf the 
 •sa>me effects.
 
 yJ preface. 
 
 In regard to the execution of a work, which has been an 
 employment of peculiar interest and attention, the author has 
 only to obseixe tk^t while she feels a satisfaction from the 
 sincerity of the attempt she has made to exhibit tlie beauty 
 and loveliness of the maiemal and filial characters, she regrets 
 that her powers were not more adequate to give to so impor- 
 iant a subject the zest and interest it so well deserves. Where 
 sl^e has failed, however, it has been from a vmnt of capacity, 
 not of exertion; and if she has in any degree succeeded, it has 
 been from the sincerity of a wish to impress on the minds of 
 women in general, a truth to which the experience of many 
 tcill bear testimony, that the feelings of the lieart must be 
 made subservient to the principles of religion ; mid particu- 
 larly to lead mothers to the reflection, that on their exertions 
 depends in a great measure both the present and futw* 
 welfare of the infants to wlwm they give birth*
 
 OR, THE , 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 '• Aias! wlKit links of love that nlorw 
 Has War's riuJe hand asunder torn ! 
 For ne'er was fiehl so steriily fought, 
 And ne'er was conquest dearer bought. 
 Here piled in common slaughter sleep 
 Thosa whom affection long shall weep ; 
 Here rests the sire, that ne'er shall stralii 
 His orphans to his heart again; 
 The son, Mhom, on his native shore, 
 The parent's voice shall bless no more ; 
 The bridegroom, who has hardly prest, 
 His blushing consort to his breast :
 
 The husband, whom throuj^h many a year 
 Long love and mutual faith endear. 
 Thou can'st not name one tender tie 
 But here dissolv'd its reliques lie !" 
 
 W. SCOTT, 
 
 UL HE streets of London were thronged with people ; 
 the clamorous rejoicings of the populace testified the 
 triumph of victory, and the houses blazed with the 
 most brilliant illuminations! From the splendour of 
 this spectacle and the general transports of joy ; the 
 Hon. Mrs. Newburgh, with sinking spirits, and an 
 almost breaking heart, retired into her back drawing- 
 room ; her son, and only child, was the companion of 
 her retirement, and she pressed the weeping boy to her 
 bosom, in silent agony. The great naval achievement 
 which reflected infinite credit on the skill of its com- 
 mander, the bravery of the seamen, and the honour of 
 England, had not been accomplished without immense 
 loss : many a widow and orphan had lost in the death of 
 the brave, their only protectors and comforters ; and 
 in the fall of Captain Newburgh, while his country 
 lamented a hero, who was one of the greatest sup- 
 porters of her navy, his widow mourned over the bier 
 of a husband, and his child over that of a father, who.
 
 ill the tender and conscientious discharge of both re- 
 lations, united every quality calculated to attract 
 and endear. 
 
 The sensibility of Mrs. Newburgh Mas extreme, and 
 her feelings acute ; she loved her husband w ith almost 
 enthusiastic afl'ection, and she felt his loss as depriving 
 her of every wish to live; — at least, such was the 
 emotion with which she first heard of his death, and 
 such the feeling which was revived, by the noise 
 of the tumultuous joy around her. But, if the natural 
 bias of her disposition inclined her to this excessive 
 indulgence of feeling, there was a principle within her, 
 which checked its overflowing, and made her bow 
 with submission to the hand of Him, whose dispensation 
 had plunged her into such deep distress; and, very 
 quickly exerting herself, as she witnessed the agonized 
 sobs of her child, she endeavoured to pacify hijn by 
 those arguments, which enable the religious to endure 
 affliction and solace grief. 
 
 Montague Newburgh was, at the commencement of 
 
 this history, about ten years of age; in person, the 
 
 exact miniature of his father's manly form, and in 
 
 temper and disposition, the inheritor of his spirit and 
 
 open-hearted courage : the quick feelings of his mother 
 
 B 2
 
 beamed in the vivid expression of his eye; and his opeiij 
 countenance spoke a heart of tenderness and truth. 
 
 " Can I ever be happy again, mamma," said the 
 weeping boy, as his tearful eyes met those of Mrs, 
 Newburgh, in answer to her entreaties that he wouhl 
 moderate his grief; " can I ever be happy, since I 
 have lost my father r" 
 
 The last words almost died away on his lip5, and 
 could be intelligible to her only who too deeply felt 
 their force; as they were uttered, Montague dropped 
 his head on his mother's knee, and the tears of Mrs. 
 Newburgh flowed afresh. 
 
 At length, composing herself, she pressed tlic 
 burning clieek of her son, and endeavouring to re- 
 gulate her voice, she said in a low and solemn tone : 
 ^' My child, remember you have still a father in heaven; 
 it was by his will that your earthly parent was removed 
 from us, and it is impious to encourage thoughts of 
 despair; we must rather gather comfort from the re- 
 flection, that the beloved object of our distress has ever 
 passed his life in such a manner as never to have 
 feared death, that thcslast act of it was spent in nobly 
 discharjjiug his duty towards his king and countrVj
 
 and that the blow that has deprived us of such a 
 treasure, we humbly hope, was the passport to 
 everlasting happiness.'* 
 
 INIontague's grief only appeared to increase with 
 this recapitulation of his father's virtues ; he continued 
 sobbing, and his mother conceiving it would compose 
 the agitated feelings of the child recommended him to 
 retire to rest : the faithful Barlow attended him to his 
 apartment; and dismissing her maid, she soon after 
 retired to her own. 
 
 Montague w as of an age to feel acutely : after the 
 violence of his grief had subsided, his mind became 
 gradually more composed, and when Mrs. Newburgh, 
 as she left her dressing-room, entered the adjoining 
 apartment of her son, to give him as usual her nightly 
 blessing, she found him sunk into a sweet and gentle 
 sleep. The association of ideas, which the sight of her 
 orphan boy occasioned, might have renewed the 
 violence of her grief: but she had just spent an hour 
 in supplicating divine aid, and the softened expression 
 of melancholy submission, had taken place of the rest- 
 lessness of violent grief: she silently kissed the face, 
 whose every feature reminded her of the blessing she 
 
 had lost, and reconiniCDding him to the care of Heaven, 
 
 B 3
 
 
 
 retired to her room, and endeavoured to compose hcN 
 self to sleep. The effort, however, was unsuccessful, 
 and she arose in the morning calm, but without having 
 Hosed her eyes.
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 ^r uiictlicr on the ocean's boisterous Iwck 
 Thou ride triumphant, and with outstretch'd arm 
 Curb the wild winds and discipline the billows. 
 The suppliant sailor tinds Thee there, his chiel". 
 His only help — When thou rebuk'st the storm, 
 It ceases — and the vessel gently glides 
 Along the glossy level of the calm. — 
 
 SMART. 
 
 CvAPTAINNewburghhad been designed for tiie sea^, 
 from the moment when Admiral Courley, an intimate 
 friend of his father, answered for him at the font of bap- 
 tism, and his progress in this profession had ever done jus- 
 tice to the kindness and attention he had received* 
 He had attained the rank of Post Captain when he 
 married; which event, changing his fortune from that 
 of dependance on his profession, to an aiRuence which 
 warranted every indulgence, it was no longer neces- 
 sary to continue in active service. But his spirit and 
 courage were such as to forbid his quitting it, and he 
 fondly hoped that before he finally retired, he should 
 ?ec his son growing up to adorn the character of a
 
 B 
 
 British Sailor. The frustration of this hope, though un- 
 felt by himself, for his life was instantaneously taken from 
 him, was a ^Jevere blow on his beloved wife and child. 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh, during the occasional absence of 
 her husband, had constauily resided in Grosvenor 
 Square; tliat she might be near her uncle, Lord 
 Peuhurst, whose title, in case ofhis dung without heir, 
 ■»vas, by a grant of the crown, to descend to her son. 
 Unfortunately, the character of her uncle was not such 
 as to awake any ardent affection in the bosom of his 
 niece ; bat she considered it right, both out of respect 
 to him, and on account of her son, to preserve the con- 
 nection between them. There was one point, however, 
 on which they never had agreed, and this was the 
 future destination of Montague. The wishes of hi;^ 
 father and mother concurred in giving the preference 
 to the navy, while those of Lord Penhurst particularly 
 dwelt on the less perilous profession of the law\ The ar- 
 guments of the latter, how ever, were always respectfully, 
 though positively silenced by the fixed determination 
 of both Captain and Mrs. Newburgh. Mrs. Newburgh 
 had not yet seen her uncle since the intelligence had 
 arrived of the death of her husband. He had been out 
 of town some days, but hastened his return on re- 
 ceiving the melancholy news. Mrs, Newburgh fore-
 
 
 
 ^aw the attempt which would be again made to i^hake 
 her resolution in regard to tlie dcsrination of her son ; 
 yet steadily resolved to pursue her husband's plan, she 
 was prepared to meet the arguments of her uncle, with 
 her usual firmness of temper. In appointing his wife 
 the sole .guardian of his son, Captain Newburgh had 
 exhibited the perfect confidence which he had in her 
 judgment and conduct, and in discharging the trust, 
 she conceivetl it to be her first duty, to consult what 
 would have been his wish concerning the boy. 
 
 On the evening of his arrival in London, Lord 
 Penhurst paid a visit of condolence to his niece : the 
 violence of Mrs. Xewburgh's grief had subsided, and 
 although the first sight of her relation re vived her emotion, 
 she quickly resumed her composure. The subject of 
 Montague's profession was not discussed, and she felt 
 grateful to her uncle for a delicacy, not generally cha- 
 racteristic of him. This forbearance, hov.ever, was 
 not of long continuance, for the very next morning, 
 w hen Lord Penhurst again visited his niece, he referred 
 to the subject of their frequent discussion. 
 
 ** Well, Louisa, I suppose you will now relinquish all 
 idea of bringing up Montague to the sea ; the danger 
 of the profession must at length be clear to you."
 
 10 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh passed over the thoughtless addition 
 to her uncle « supposition, the force of which she 
 deevij felt, and answered, " that her determi- 
 nation was now, what it ever had been, on the subject, 
 and even if it were not her wish, the remembrance 
 that it was that of her husband, would ever prevent 
 her from altering it." 
 
 Lord Penhurst was provoked at this obstinacy, as he 
 termed it, of his niece, and rising hastily began, 
 
 *' Well, Madam, if"— 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh was hurt at her uncle's indifference 
 to tLe sstate of her feelings, and exhibited her emotion 
 in nieiligence of her eye. His Lordship felt that 
 
 hi . Ml ;^een too warm, and taking his niece's hand, and 
 b»-> .aig pardon for his abruptness, immediately left 
 tl.N .u, resolved to rend w the atta:;k at some future 
 opoortunity. In the hall he met his little nephew, who 
 was returning up stairs from his lamented father's 
 libiivry l;o carry his mother a dirk which she had sent 
 hiv!: to fetch. He had been examining every part of 
 iU . ment^d handle, and was pressing it to his lips 
 w:. ; enthusiastic feeling, when he met the eye of lus. 
 oricle.
 
 11 
 
 ** Well, my boy, what are you going to do with that 
 pretty playtliing." 
 
 With any but his uncle, Montague would have been 
 disposed to be angry, on hearing such an appellation 
 given to a weapon, which had been presented to his 
 father, when only a midshipman, on account of the 
 great bravery and conduct he had evinced in some 
 naval engagement; but out of respect to him he 
 checked the indignation that was rising, and quietly 
 answered, " To place it in my own room, Sir ; it is my 
 father's legacy, and I hold it far dearer than any play- 
 thing that could be offered me." 
 
 " But of what use will it be to you, child? I hope 
 you will never think of wearing it." 
 
 "Never, Sir?" exclaimed the little fellow with 
 warmth, while the fire of his father's courage flashed 
 in his eye j " never — till I have deserved it." 
 
 "And what do you mean by deserving it?" resumed 
 his Lordship, inwardly mortified at the probable re- 
 sult of an attack on his nephew, the success of which 
 he had hoped would have counterbalanced the opinions 
 of his niece 3 " come hither, you seem to me to be »
 
 u 
 
 at'^atigti little fellow, " now do till mc whui yon uu'dii 
 by deserving that sv.ordr" 
 
 " Why, iijy Lord," replied the boy, " when I shall 
 have had an opportunity of leaping from the deck of uiy 
 own frigate, regardless of the fire around nie, spring- 
 ing on that of the enemy, climbing up his top-must, aud 
 hai'.ling down his colours, -as my father did.'" — 
 
 Our young sailor r.tkrcd these words with inexpreSi 
 sihlc emotion; and at their conclusion was so atfccted^ 
 that even Lord Peuhurst was moved. His feelings, 
 however, did not divert him from 'his purpose of at- 
 tempting to wean his nephew from the sea; yet ob- 
 serving tliat the present time was nut favourable for 
 pressing thesubject,and thai, to use his own expression, 
 " Mont.igue was a little hit as well as his mother," he 
 patted the child on the head, told liim to go and kara 
 common sense, iind left the house. 
 
 A fcwwecks passed over tiie heads of JMrs. ^S'cwburgn 
 and her son without a)iy material event ; Montague at 
 times began to be cheerful, and his motlicr grew every 
 hour more resigned to her situation. She now began 
 seriously to consider \\\\<\t would be the best way of 
 disposing of her M->n for the iu'\t tour years, it not bving
 
 13 
 
 Ver intentiou that he should enter the navy till he waai 
 ^)uitcen years of age. She was perfectly aware of the 
 iuditlerence shewn by many parents on points which 
 sjie considered most essential in the education of those 
 sons destined for the naval and military professions; 
 ^uid she was determined, if possible, to avoid in hev 
 vwn son, so great an error. Her husband hud conso- 
 lidated with his character of a British Sailor, tlie 
 qualiiications of the scholar, the gentleman, and thr 
 viiristian, and she wished to sec in Iiis representaiive 
 <ai equal union of learning, apconiplishmcnt and 
 Religion. Had the life of Captain Nev.burirh been 
 ;[.ared,itwas determined that ^lonta^ue should receive 
 V.i-s education under his father's roof: his mother being 
 V^i:alif;ed to direct him in his studies during- the oc- 
 v;asional absence of Cai)tain Xewburgh, tlie only 
 objection to tiiis plan, that of acquiring spirit and 
 iictivity in mixing with other boys, being obviated by 
 ills naturally possessing a disposition which rather 
 icquired to be repressed, than stimulated to ex- 
 V»tion. Eat as in the death of her husband, iMrs. 
 >iewburgh had lost the director who was accustomed 
 Vi> superintend the management of her son, she at fust 
 >VU some hesitation in deciding to continue his sole 
 ii:>;ructress : she was fully aware of the importance of 
 
 i[hc: task, and as sensible that in taking it on herself, 
 
 c
 
 14 
 
 «lie mii&t bfe entirely devoted to it. The opinion of 
 her uncle site avoided asking, for she had no confidence 
 in his judgment, and she was yet balancing between 
 the delight of continuing the tutor of her boy, and the 
 regret she should feel, if convinced it would be more 
 to his advantage to be sepaitited from her, when Barlow 
 entered the drawing-room to enquire if she would see 
 Admiral Courley ? 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh had not yet seen any one but her 
 uncle since the death of her husband, but as Admiral 
 Courley was one of the first and most faithful friends 
 of Captain Newburgh, and felt the interest of a parent 
 in his fate, she conquered her unwillingness to see eveH 
 him, and desired her servant to introduce him. 
 
 The gallant veteran entered with the air of a man 
 ^ieeply interested in the feelings of the mourner before 
 him, equally fearful of shocking them by indifference, 
 or agitating them by emotion. Mrs. Newburgh rose to 
 receive him, and taking the hand which was silently 
 and respectfully oflfered, pressed it between her own. 
 The tear of sensibility fell on the sun-burnt skin as she 
 resigned it, and the weather-beaten sailor turned aside 
 to brush oif an answering drop of sympathy. Montague 
 was leaving; the room as Admiral Gourley entered), he
 
 15 
 
 stopped to receive the hand which was offered him by 
 his father's friend, and then retired. As he closed the 
 door, Admiral Courley said : " That is a noble boy of 
 your's, Madam, I am sure : on the honour of a sailor, 
 the little fellow, I see, is just built for our profession, 
 and will be an honour to it very soon, unless," added he, 
 sinking his voice," the early death of his ever lamented 
 father should have alarmed you, ray dear madam, and 
 induce you to alter your resolutions in regard to my 
 little friend." 
 
 The kind and conciliating tone of her friend was a 
 balm to the yet tender wound in the breast of Mrs. 
 Newburgh : she looked her thanks to her friend for his 
 encomium on her son, and assured him that she should 
 consider it impious to make any 'alteration in his 
 destiny on the grounds of his father's fall. " I am 
 well aware," continued she, " of the dangerous pro- 
 fession of arms, and that in that of the navy, the alarm 
 is twofold ; but though I am convinced of this by the sad 
 certainty of experience, I should consider myself a& 
 vainly striving to counteract the Almighty's will, if I 
 suffered considerations of this sort to prevail with me 
 in regard to the disposal of my son. It is. true, the ball 
 of the enemy has deprived me of the dearest blessing of 
 
 life3 but I am conscious that it was not directed by 
 
 c 2
 
 v'liancc: had it been the will of Heaven it wouhl have 
 passed without touchincj; and had my husband never 
 entered this engagement, nor indeed ever tempted the 
 dangers of the sea, it is equally probable that I might 
 at this moment have been a widow, by the agency 
 of the. most unexpected event. These are the 
 sentiments with which I have always been in the habit 
 <i{ contemplating the situation of my husband, and to 
 these I partly attribute the power of subduing, within 
 the bounds of Christian propriety, the agonized feelings 
 I experienced at his loss. They are these, my dear 
 Sir, with the certainty that such would have been the 
 wish of my husband, that now determine me to pursue 
 tlic plan we have ever formed in regard to my dear 
 boy; audi shall see him as quietly and comfortably 
 ^nter on iiis sendees in his majesty's navy, as I should to 
 engage in any apparently less hazardous employ." 
 
 " Spoken like the wife of Montague Xcwburgh, my 
 ^ood lady," exclaimed the Admiral, viewing the interest- 
 ing and animated figure before him, with admiration and 
 respect; " Though I scarcely doubted what you would 
 do, yet I own it is a relief to me to be certain that this 
 is your determination; and if it please God to spare my 
 life, I hope yet to see another Montague Ncwburgh, 
 supplying the place of my own boy. But, I l)cg yowt
 
 17 
 
 jmrdon, my dear Madam," added he, again drawing his 
 hand across his eyes ; " I have no regard for youi^ 
 feelings." 
 
 " I am truly grateful to you for the interest you shevr 
 in my distress, my good Sir," replied Mrs. New burgh, 
 when her feelings would allow her; " far from require 
 ing forgiveness, it must ever share ray warmest senti- 
 ments of respect. You made of ray husband every 
 thing that was desirable in a British Commander; and 
 your offer of perforraiug the same task for my son,, is. 
 a balm to the w ound I have lately experienced." 
 
 " Well, well. Madam," replied Admiral Courley,. 
 taking Mrs. Newburgh's hand, and rising to take leave^ 
 " let me have the boy w hen he is fourteen, and we will 
 then introduce him to the quarter-deck. In the mean, 
 time, keep him yourself ; I am not afraid, after all I 
 know of you, that you will take from him a jot of the 
 spirit or enterprize, necessary is our profession : let 
 some man of science direct his studies in naval tactics, 
 and for the rest, he cannot have a better instructor than 
 yourself. God bless you, Madam," 
 
 C 3
 
 18 
 
 " Go(l bloss you, Sir," replied Mrs. 'Kewburgh, as 
 .she accepted his proffered hand; " you may depend on 
 my best exertions to make our little sailor worthy of tbfe 
 ^thcr he has lost.''
 
 CHAP. III. 
 He parted frowning from me. 
 
 SHAKSPEARE, 
 
 ^HE unsolicited opinion of Admiral Courley on the 
 subject of her capacity to retain the charj^c of her son, 
 was decisive with Mrs. Newburgh. She knew that her 
 friend was no adept in compliment, and that his judg- 
 ment was as clear as the delivery of his opinions was 
 honest; she immediately dismissed everj- idea of being 
 separated from her son, and, that his education might 
 be carried on w ithoiit those interruptions, a residence 
 in London wonld subject her to, she resolved on taking 
 a house in the country : but before she proceeded to 
 make any arrangements for this purpose, she thought 
 it right to acquaint her uncle with her determination. 
 
 Anxious to see his Lordship she ordered her carriage 
 and taking the hand of her son, descended the stair- 
 case; but sighing deeply, as, for the first time, she 
 \iewed the mourning appendages of her vehicle, she 
 drew back with an involuntary impulse, and hiil her 
 face in her veil. The servant, who was offering ht$
 
 20 
 
 arm on her approach, dropped it mournfully by his side, 
 and Montague burst into tears. For the sake of her 
 child, as well as on her own account, Mrs. Newburgh 
 exerted herself, and instantly advanced with him 
 into the carriage, and very soon alighted at Berkely 
 Square. 
 
 " I am glad you are come, Louisa," said Lord Penhurst, 
 as Mrs. Newburgh entered, " I had just ordered the 
 carriage to go to you, and am not sorry to be saved tlie 
 drive to your house." 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh was accustomed to her uncle's in- 
 attention to the feelings of others; and perhaps it 
 checked the tenderness of her ovmi, on entering his 
 house for the first time since the death of her beloved 
 husband, to perceive the total indiflference with which 
 he considered the circumstance. She said she was 
 glad to save him any unpleasant exertion, and assured 
 him that she never felt it any trouble to come to him 
 ff he wished to see her, and that her present induce- 
 ment was to speak to him < n the subject of her son 
 and acquaint him with her future plans. 
 
 " Ah ! that is just what I wanted, Louisa, and I sin 
 cerely hope by seeing you so willing to enter on the sub'
 
 al 
 
 'jcct, that you have discarded all yoHi- foolish romantic no* 
 tions respecting the boy, and are by this time deter- 
 mined to make a landsman instead of a seaman of him, 
 I have been talking of liim to a friend of mine, a 
 counsellor, and a very eminent man in his way, and he 
 promises to make it his care that he shall rise in the 
 profession of the law, and that for the present we can- 
 not do better than send him to Westminster. His 
 abilities will there be well nursed, and he will get on 
 much faster than he ever could under petticoat govern- 
 ment." 
 
 Mrs. Ncwburgh allowed lier uncle to proceed thus far 
 without interruption: indeed, he spoke with such 
 velocity and self-confidence, that she could not have 
 broken on his speech without rudeness, yet she was no 
 otherwise affected by it than as it obliged her still to 
 <ilisscnt from her nearest relation, and she replied : 
 
 ^ I am particularly sorry, my dear uncle, that your 
 opinion, on the subject of my dear boy, should still so 
 widely differ from the dctennination I have formed, 
 on his. future plans. I had hoped that you were con^ 
 vinced that I spoke sincerely, when I assured you. 
 that I meant to fulfil the wishes of my husband, in the 
 education of my son."
 
 22 
 
 Mi"s. Newburgh ventured not to lift her eyes t<» 
 those of Lord Penhurst, as she uttered these words ; 
 she was conscious of their angry expression, and 
 to have moderated their fire, would have made any 
 sacrifice, consistent with what she conceived to be 
 her duty. Fondly as she anticipated the delight of 
 seeing her son an ornament to the profession, so en- 
 deared to her by its having been that of her beloved 
 husband, she might perhaps have sacrificed her owu 
 /<?t'/iwg's on the subject, to have obliged her uncle; but 
 those of her husband she considered too sacred to allow 
 this concession : the execution of his first wish, was 
 the only manner in which she could shew her tender 
 respect for his memory, and she felt that the erectioi^ 
 of the most costly and elegant monumental stone, 
 could her husband be allowed to witness it, would not 
 be half so grateful to his feelings, as that of a son who 
 was the pride and pillar of his country. With these 
 feelings she quietly waited the storm which she feared 
 was gathering on her uncle's brow, 
 
 " Then you really are determined to send your boy 
 to be shot at," at length exclaimed Lord Penhurst, 
 with more warmth than feeling ; *' why, I thought the 
 fate of his father would certainly have prevented th& 
 execution of this mad scheme."
 
 83 
 
 *^0n the contrary, Sir," mildly replied Mrs, 
 Kcwburgh; "I am more than ever resolved to carry 
 I: into effect; and I do entreat, my dear uncle, that if 
 Ibc discussion of this snbject can only be productive 
 Of unpleasant dissention, you will for the future avoid 
 any farther remarks on it." 
 
 " I shall never take any more trouble about the boy, 
 1 assure you, Madam," angrily replied Lord Penhurst ; 
 '• if you are determined on exposing him to the dangers 
 rf the sea, you must do so; but you may be certain, 
 livcit however it may be out of ray power to prevent 
 r.y title descending to him, he never shall have a 
 sixpence of my money that I can keep from him." 
 
 If any arguments could have prevailed on Mrs. 
 .Newburgh, to change her determination in regard to 
 I.LT son, these were the most unlikely to have that 
 r.rect: pecuniary considerations were of no conse- 
 <,r.cnce to her, and she only felt hurt at the idea, that 
 i.?r uncle could for an instant suppose she might be 
 '-'Auyed by them : she rose to beg that her carriage 
 ::.'.'^ht be ordered. 
 
 r.ord Penhurst replied by pulling the bell violently, 
 f,r. i seating himself gloomily in a chair, suffered
 
 24 
 
 tns niece and nephew to follow his servant out of 
 the drawing-room. 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh returned from her visit to her uncle, 
 without having informed him of her design of retiring 
 to the country; but feeling it useless in his present 
 temper, to touch again on the subject of her son, she 
 determined to write immediately to some ftiehds re- 
 siding in the Isle of AVight, and request them to take a 
 house which was to be let in their neighbourhood, if 
 its situation and general convenience corresponded 
 with the professions of the advertisement. In a few 
 days she received a favourable answer to her enquiries, 
 and instantly prepared for her departure^ 
 
 Before she left London, it was Mrs. New burgh's -vS'ish, 
 and she made several attempts, to see her uncle ; but 
 they were rendered fruitless by the continuance of the ill- 
 humour of Lord Penhurst, who, mortified at the failure of 
 his favourite scheme, of seeing the probable heir to his ti- 
 tle make a figure at the bar, persevered in denying him- 
 self to his niece. Mrs. Newburgh was vexed at liis 
 pertinacity ; but as there was no chance of conciliating 
 him without giving up a point, she conceived it her duty to 
 be firm in maintaining, she wrote to her uncle an affection- 
 ^te adieu, in which she informed him of her intendea
 
 ^■5 
 
 tleparture into Hampshire, and ended with a hojie, tha'f, 
 ere long, he ^\ollld indulge her witli a visit. She then, 
 jifter every arrangement was made, prosecuted lior 
 journey.
 
 28 
 
 CHAP. I\\ 
 
 In tlieir race 
 To rear their }:;raccs into second Ul'c 
 
 This be the female dignity, and praise. 
 
 THOMSOX. 
 
 jlHE interesting woman who was thus turning her 
 back on scenes to which but too many fly tor that relief 
 in distress, they arc incapable f feeling within their 
 own bosoms, was, at the death of her husband, about 
 five and thirty; of a light and graceful figure, and pos- 
 sessing a set of features, though not regularly handsome, 
 irresistibly fascinating and expressive: a lively and 
 pointed wit gave a constant and various charm to her 
 conversation, while its edge was ever tempered by the 
 sootiiing balm of good nature. She had moved in the 
 first circles of fashion, and attracted universal admira- 
 tion, without occasioning envy or detraction. The 
 general distribution of her smiles, and her particular 
 and delicate a.tention to her husband, defied the most 
 distant murmur of slander in her conversation with the 
 men, while among the females of her acquaintance, her 
 epsy and unaffected attention to all, secured their good
 
 27 
 
 opinion and respect. SUe had moved to be admired, 
 and her absence occasioned an universal sensation of 
 regret. The easy and unfettered flow of spirits, how- 
 ever, which had been accustomed to awake this 
 universal satisfaction was now moderated; yet, Mrs. 
 Newburgh was still lovely ; her charms had changed 
 their character, not lost their force, and the hand of 
 sorrow had softened, not extinguished the amiable 
 expression of her countenance. 
 
 The spot to which Mrs. Newburgh retired, that she 
 might withoutinterruptiou attend to the education of her 
 son, was one of the most beautiful in the back part of 
 the island, commanding a sublime and extensive view 
 of the open sea, and decoiated on the laud by 
 the most romantic touches of natural scenery. The 
 beautiful object of J'hanklin Chine opened its wonder- 
 ful chasm on the right, while the natural ramparts of 
 the Underclitf extended thence lowardsthe left, nearly 
 as far as the eye could reach, and was bounded by the 
 hills on the opposite shore. The cottage which Mrs. 
 Newburgh now entered (although suiiiciently large 
 In its dimensions, it was of that description of buildings 
 now generally enrolled und' r that name) was immedi- 
 ately surrounded by a copse of underwood, and standing 
 
 pn a gentle declivity : the viranda, erected around it, 
 
 D 2
 
 28 
 
 was covered with honeysuckles, roses, and sweet- 
 scented creepers, while the acre of i^round on which 
 the cottage stood, was tastefully ornamented with 
 flowering shrubs and evergreens. 
 
 The situation was sufTiciently removed from the sea 
 in front, to relieve the eye from the tiresome eliect, 
 produced by an uninterrupted view of the ocean, hut 
 near enough to form a most interesting variety of pros- 
 pect, when it was seen occasionally introduced between 
 the surrounding foliage. In this retired spot, if the sea 
 was more beautiful than sublime, more interesting than 
 striking, a walk of five minutes up the ciiiT would give, 
 to the eye fond of contemplating that element in its 
 grandeur of extent, ample scope for indulgence, while 
 one, of an equal portion of time extended below, would 
 carry the footsteps close to the edge of the wave. 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh drew a convulsive sigh, as she first 
 approached the broad expanse on which she had been 
 accustomed to gaze, as the repository of her first earthly 
 blessing, and the f.eld on which the courage and conduct 
 of her husband had frequently both alarmed and grati- 
 tied her tenderness: the oi)ject of these emotions was 
 now buried in the deep before her ; site was no more to 
 watch the return of the s\yel|ing sail, as the transport%^-
 
 29 
 
 of her earthly comfort, and the storm that threatened 
 shipwreck, and the prospering gale which wafted the 
 vessel in safety to her destination, were now equally 
 divested of power to awake personal feeling. To 
 a heart like that of Mrs. Newhurgh, and to an 
 imagination capable of forming the clearest and most 
 animated conceptions of fancy, such a scene as that she 
 was now approaching, would have indulged, rather 
 than repressed grief, had there not been in her bosom 
 that gentle regulator of hurried emotion, and that 
 moderate repressor of enthusiasm, the true spirit of 
 Christianity gives to its humble votaries. It was this 
 principle that prevented Mrs Newburgh from avoiding 
 scenes, that were likely to awake painful feelings, and 
 it was this, that taught her to stifle the sigh with w hich 
 her bosom heaved, on thus approaching her new resi- 
 dence. 
 
 " What a beautiful spot for our retired residence, 
 Montague," said Mrs. Newburgh, as she approached 
 the cottage; "it is lovely even in the deeply faded 
 tints of autumn." 
 
 " Yes, mamma," replied the animated boy, brushing 
 
 off the tear which a sympathy with his mother's feelings 
 
 liad brought into his eye ; " it is all beautiful, but look 
 
 D 3
 
 30 
 
 at that ship yonder to leeward ; how finely she scnits 
 along, she looks so like the" — 
 
 Tlien checkins; himself, as he was on the point ot* 
 incautiously mentioning his father's ship. 
 
 " Well, I think I shall not have much difficulty in 
 studying amongst these dill's; it will he very pleasant to 
 carry my Virgil up, on one of those mossy crags, and 
 scat myself amongst the surrounding beds of flowers." 
 
 " Well said, my little classic," replied Mrs.Newburgh, 
 smiling on her son; " keep this resolution, and we shall 
 do very well: but," added she, reverting to th<> taste 
 which she knew to be paramount to every otlier, in the 
 imagination of her son ; " I believe you must always 
 make choice of a crag which gives you an opportunity 
 of turning your back on the sea, or probably you may, 
 now and then, be more inclined to follow the fisherman's 
 boat with your eye, than the vessel of ^neas, through 
 the medium of the imagination, and the assistance of 
 the grammar and dictionary." 
 
 "Well, mother, T own I do love to sec the sailors 
 scamper up and down their ladders of ropes," replied 
 Montague; " but I will promise yon not to indulge this
 
 31 
 
 fancy of mine at the risk of leaving the crew of .Eneas 
 supperless on the African sliore." 
 
 " We shall make out ver\- well no doubt," said ^Irs. 
 Newburgh, "in our retreat. You will give me all the 
 attention I shall require in tlie earlier hours of the day ; 
 in return for which I wnli procure for you those water 
 excursions I know you are so fond of." 
 
 Montague's eye glistened with pleasure at this kind- 
 ness of his mother, who anxious to cultivate the mind 
 ef her son with the most refined taste for elegant Htera- 
 ture, was equally cautious not to repress that ardour 
 for naval distinction, which so strongly marked his 
 epening character. 
 
 The friends, whose occasional residence in the island 
 was an inducement w ith Mrs. Newburgh to give this 
 neighbourhood the preference, were Mr. and Mrs. 
 Lenville. Their surviving family consisted of three 
 children, two boys and a girl. The two former being 
 designed for the array, in which a maternal uncle was 
 distinguished for military abilities, and the possession 
 of powerful interest, were to receive their education at 
 Sandhurst; but they had not yet joined that establish- 
 ^racnt; having only iu the preceding snmiuer attained
 
 3-2 
 
 the ages of eleven and twelve years. Little Louisa 
 Lenville was the youngest and darling child of this 
 family, the only daughter amongst a numerous list of 
 sons, the inheritress of all her mother's dazzling 
 beauty, and the object of her father's most extravagant 
 and niisvjla (cd indulgence. She was about nine years 
 of age, unusually tall and well-formed for her years, 
 possessing every advantage of ijitellectual endowment, 
 and an activity of imagination which was absolutely 
 surprising. Her t'aought was as quick as light, and 
 there was an intelligence in her eye, that expressed 
 every feeling as it arose in her bosom. But all these 
 endowments, so lavishly bestowed by nature on the 
 little Louisa, threatened to be the rock on which her 
 happiness was to split before one of them had reached 
 its maturity. The obvious and undisguised distinction 
 with which she was caressed, and the applause bestowed 
 on her inf<int sallies of wit and humour by her doatiug, 
 but imprudent father, made her vain, self sufficient, 
 and conceited : tlie peevish murmurs of dissatisfactioi 
 that escaped her mother, who possessed sense enough 
 to see the mischief preparing for her child, without the 
 resolution, or even the power to prevent it, increased 
 her buoyant spirits into restless irritability ;and inflamed, 
 rather than repressed, the warmth of her passions. The 
 uulimited precedence, rclimjuibhcd to her by one of Ue>
 
 33 
 
 brothers, made her overbearing towards him, ^vhile the 
 implicit and serviie attention of the servants to the 
 slightest of her wishes, made h'or the impetuous tyrant 
 among them. There was one of the family alone who 
 retained any influence over her, and this was her elder 
 brother, ^^'iliiam, who w as gentle, mild, and prepossess- 
 ing in iiis mamjers : her fiery temper cooled before his eye 
 of tenderness, and when sht witnessed tiie tirmuess with 
 which he always withstood her unreasonable attempts 
 at power, and the generous warmth with which he 
 always attempted to prevent her falling into error, her 
 natural ingeuaousness frequently triumphed over her 
 niomentary fits of passion. Thus, if she contended 
 with her mother, William was called to reason with 
 her ; if -he flounced at her father^ it w as William alone, 
 who could recal her sense of filial duty ; and if in the pro- 
 gress of her pets, one servant received a slap on the 
 face, and another moi:rned over a torn garment, Master 
 William was applied to, to cool the little fmy, and it 
 was Master William alone, whose smiles could atone to 
 Betty, for the loss of her best muslin handkerchief. 
 
 But this sweet tempered boy was borp for other 
 purposes, than to preside at the education, and correct 
 the growing passions of a spoiled sister. Tiie lield of 
 Jionour and of glory was open before him, and it wa's
 
 34 
 
 only on his occasional returns Iiome, after sedulously 
 employing his time in acquiring the possession of ne- 
 cessary knowledge, that he could hope to be a benefit 
 to the Utile Louisa, who was equally, if not more dear 
 to him, than to any other of the family. He, with his 
 brother, had left the island now some weeks after their 
 summer vacation, and Louisa had had full time to re- 
 sume all her overbearing qualities, when Mrs. Newburgh 
 and Montague arrived, and the little girl was intro* 
 duced to her godmother. 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh and Mrs. Lenville, though of charac- 
 ters in many points very opposite to each other, had for 
 many years been in habits of familiar friendship. They 
 had be :i intimate, when young, and having been, as 
 they settled in life, thrown into the same society, the 
 affection, which was so early formed, had encreased 
 with their yeurs. Mrs. Ne\vbur;.h would often regret 
 peculiarities in her friend which she anxiously wished 
 to be removed ; but, as her taults appeared to be those of 
 the head, not the lieart, and hererrors those of judgment, 
 not of principle, she never relaxed in her friei.dship 
 towards her; and although she saw much to disapprove 
 in the glaring defects of Mr. Lenville, yet as she fre- 
 queiitly observed that gentleman repress the boisterous 
 oath in her presence, and had known hinravoid bi caches.
 
 S5 
 
 of the sabbath in deference to her better principles, 
 she hoped that her intimacy with him, and the correct 
 example he had always seen in the conduct of her lais- 
 bai.d, might awake, in the course of time, belter 
 motives for the correction of his vicious habits. Thus 
 th» two families had ever been on terms of intimacy, 
 and at the birth of Mr. Lenvilie's only daughter, Mrs. 
 Newb;iroh's ofier of answering for the little girl at the 
 font of baptism, was accepted with readiness by both 
 her parents, and the name of Louisa Newburgh was 
 given her in compliment to that lady. 
 
 Tlic meeting between Mrs. Xewburgh and ^Irs. 
 Leavillc was such as might be expected after the recent 
 loss which the former had sustained, and the as'ioci- 
 ations awakened on the first sight of her friend. Zhs, 
 Lenvillc was not deficient in feeling; she repressed, 
 therefore^ her high flow of spirits, and by a natural 
 impulse, clianged the usually imposing style of her 
 conversation, to the soothing voice of sympathy. This 
 tenderness was not lost on Mrs. Newburgli; it proved a 
 balm ptculiary grateful to the heart of our affiicled 
 widow. It was the first tribute of the kind she had 
 received from female friendship, and she embraced 
 ^rs. Lenville with all the warmtli of youthful aliectioB.
 
 30 
 
 f* I am almost sorry that we are so soon to leave tlic 
 island," said Mrs. I^envillc, on the evening of Mrs. 
 JNewbnri^h's arrival j " I feel so much pleasure in seeing 
 you, that I regret we are to part so soon." 
 
 "I shall also regret losing you," replied Mrs^ 
 Jsewburgh ; " but tlie winter months will quickly pass 
 over our heads, and in the next summer, I trust wo 
 shall spend many happy days together. Montague 
 an,d I," adt-ed she, smiling, and taking the hand of her 
 son, " have a great deal to do in the next few years, 
 and perhaps, if we were not sometimes left to ourselves, 
 we might grow too fo;:d of our friends, and think less 
 of our books than we ought. But take a run by 
 the water, my boy, before the evening closes. 
 Mrs. Lenville will, I am siire, excuse you, and I know 
 you wish to be running about.'' 
 
 Montague looked an apology with his fine dark eye 
 at Mrs. Lenville ; then taking up his hat with eagerness, 
 AVas at the water's edge in the course of a few minutes. 
 
 " Yoitr son is a fine fellow," said Mrs. Lenville, as 
 IMontague closed the door ; " but tell me how you edu* 
 rate him: I Ihoughl you would have left him at school,^ 
 po you mean to have a ttifor for himT'
 
 "Neither the one nor the other, I trust," replied 
 Mrs. Newburgh ; " it may be a singular determination 
 that I have made to educate him entirely myself; but 
 as I received froiii my father a classical education, and 
 as I feel that I have sufficient strength both of body 
 and mind for the undertaking, I cannot see any reasoa 
 why I should resign the high gratification I promise 
 myself." 
 
 " Then you relinquish the sea for him ; for surely a 
 boy will get laughed at, who enters the navy immedi- 
 ately from his mother's management." 
 
 " On the contrary, it is my first wish that he should 
 be of the profession which of all others is dearest to me, 
 and which the remembrance of his father renders almost 
 sacred. I would nut relinquish it ou any consideration, 
 and I have no fear whatever, while I am determined to 
 give him, by the blessing of God, those principles which 
 will fit him for any profession, that I shall be the means 
 of depriving him of that spirit and courage, so ne- 
 cessary of the navy. No, believe me," continued 
 Mrs. Newburgh, with her couuteuance aniraaled by an 
 expression of tenderness, and her eye emitting a spark 
 •f her husband's courage; " I have too much of the 
 
 YOL. I. E
 
 38 
 
 sailor about me, ever to damp the ardour with whicfi 
 my Montague always speaks of his intended profession." 
 
 The subject of their conversation now entered, ac- 
 comjianied by Mr. Lenvilieand Louisa, who, runninsf 
 np to lier mother, asked if she was not going home to- 
 night? 
 
 Mrs. Lenvllle was in no haste to leave her friend, 
 but as tiicre was no peace in her society, where 
 Louisa made one of the company, and as sh6 thought 
 Mrs. Nevvbuvgh would like to be left quietly alone, 
 she accepted Mr. Lenville's Invitation to walk, and 
 returned to their own cottage, situated about a quarter 
 of a mile from that now occupied by Mrs. Newburgh. 
 
 "What a beautiful little girl Louisa Lenville is, 
 mamma," observed Montague to Mrs. Newburgh, as 
 soon as their visitors were gone; " but 1 never saw such 
 a spirit as she has. I met her and Mr. Lenville soon 
 after 1 went oiit, and we were walking along the shore, 
 where the waves rolled over and over so fast that it 
 was impossible to follow them, w hen Miss said she must 
 go home, and when her papa begged her to walk a little 
 
 . farther, she fell into such a p,assion that poor child," 
 
 added Blcntague, *' but I dare say they do not manage 
 her well, for I am sure she looks sweet tempered 
 enough."
 
 39 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 In him thy well appointed proxy see, 
 Ann'd for a work too difficult for thee ; 
 Prepared by taste, by learning, and true worth, 
 To form thy son, to strike his genius fortii, 
 Beneath thy roof, beneath thine eye to prove 
 The force of discipline when backed by love; 
 To double all thy pleasure in thy child, 
 His mind iuforraed, his morals undeliled. 
 
 COWPER. 
 
 jThE observations which ^Montague made to liis mo- 
 ther on Louisa Lenville the first evening of their 
 arrival were fully justified, by the experience of a very 
 few days. She observed with regret, the unhappmess 
 preparing for the daughter of lier friend, and perceiving 
 that the natural di5positiori of the child was amiable, 
 was anxious to try the eftect that a change of manage- 
 ment would produce on her at present ungovernable 
 temper. The circumstance of her father anU mother 
 leaving the island appeared to her a favourable oppor- 
 tunity to make the experiment, if they could be induced 
 
 to leave her behind them; but she almost dreaded 
 
 £ 2
 
 40 
 
 making the request, seeing the blind partiality and 
 indulgence of Mr. Lcnville. 
 
 She very soon, however, gained the first point in her 
 undertaking, without which it would have been useless 
 to attempt its accomplishment, and that was the favour 
 and fondness of the child herself; for Louisa, pleased 
 with the conciliating kindness of her new acquaintance, 
 and no less delighted in having so pleasant a i)lay- 
 fellow as Montague, whose good humour tempted him 
 to indulge all her fancies and whims, was always 
 desirous of paying visits at the Underclilf Cottage, 
 and when Mrs. Newburgh one day asked her, in the 
 midst of a game of play in the shrubbery, what she 
 should do when in London, where there were no 
 pleasure grounds, she immediately answered " she 
 wished she could stay behind, and she certainly would 
 if Mrs. Newburgh would allow her." 
 
 " I should be veiy happy to keep you, my love,'' 
 replied Mrs. Newburgh, " but you know we must ask 
 papa and mamma, for — '' 
 
 " Oh ! I never mind what they say," eagerly replied 
 Louisa ; " I always do every thing I please." 
 
 Never were truer words than these spoken, and 
 never had Mrs. Newburgh more difficulty to repress
 
 41 
 
 nn admonition slie wished to make on their impropriety ; 
 bnt fearing to check the vviliingness her little friend 
 evinced of staying with her in the country, if she now 
 began to administer even the most gentle reproof, she 
 merely repeated the necessity there was of asking: Islr. 
 and Mrs. Lenville's consent to the proposed arrange- 
 ment, and leaving Louisa, under the care of her own 
 maid, walked immediately to their residence. 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh had very little difnculty, in sur- 
 mounting the objections at first started by her friend, to 
 resigning her to her care during the approaching win- 
 ter. That lady too deeply felt the sad consequences 
 resulting from her want of resolution, in direcll: g tiie 
 lively passions of her child, not to be easily persuaded i 
 by the kindness of a friend, whom she saw possessed of 
 that superiority of judgment, necessary to produce a 
 desirable change in the character of Louisa. But from 
 Mr. Lenvilie, it was more difficult to procure the de- 
 sired consent. His wiicle delight seer;;ed concentrated 
 in his daughter; the advancement of either of his sons 
 appeared of miuor importance to the cultivation of 
 those personal graces and lively turn of thought which 
 peculiarly marked the lovely Louisa, and he v.ould 
 pass whole hours in anticipating the delight, with which 
 
 h« should witness the admiration her charms would 
 
 Mi
 
 42 
 
 excite when she arrived at an age to be introduced 
 into the splendid circles of fashion. But he little 
 considered that he was depriving her, by his false 
 indulgence, of everj' advantage likely to ensure this 
 admiration, as well as of those more estimable qualities, 
 accompanied by which, they could alone be desirable. 
 He did not consider that the most blooming youth, 
 requires the decent mantle of propriety; the most 
 dazzling beauty has no charms, if it be not shaded by 
 the chaste veil of modesty; and that the most sportive 
 gaiety becomes disgusting, if it be unaccompanied by 
 the artless companion innocence. Mr. Lenville was 
 not sutficiently aware of the probable retreat in whicl^ 
 these guardians of female honour and virtue were to be 
 met v.ith, even if he wished to seek them : he knew 
 little of the peace and happiness that Christianity bestows 
 on the heart, and was not conscious that within the 
 shelter of its principles alone could be found these 
 inestimable treasures. 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh v\as careful not to touch on these 
 points in her conversation with Mr. Lenville, relative 
 to the visit of Louisa : she was too anxious for the 
 event, to venture any risk in the execution of her plan, 
 and merely grounded her request on the solitude of her
 
 43 
 
 own situation, and the resource it would be to lier to 
 have so lively a coaipanion as Louisa. 
 
 Mr. Lenville was a long time hesitatiug, and was 
 just on the point of putting a decisive refusal on the 
 subject, when Louisa, always impatient when any 
 favourite scheme was in agitation, entered tlie room in 
 haste, and completely out of breath, having escaped 
 from the guardian under whose care Mrs. Newburgh 
 had left her. 
 
 " Papa," cried she, running up to Mr. Lenville, " I 
 do not mean to go to London with you : I must stay 
 here with Mrs. Newburgh, for the country is so much 
 prettier than the town." 
 
 On first glancing at his child, as she entered the 
 room in the full blaze of animated loveliness, Mr. 
 Lenville congratulated himself on the refusal he had 
 determined to give to Mrs. Newburgh's request, but 
 he was accustomed never to offend against the imperious 
 mv^tj with which Miss Lenville assured him she should 
 not accompany hira to town, and taking her by the 
 liand, while he declared she was the sweetest little 
 apgel he ever saw, he said, " he could never deny her 
 apj thing*"
 
 44 
 
 Mrs. Lenville looked exnressivelyat Mr«, Newbiirgh, 
 that she might obserrc the power her child possessed 
 over her father ; and Mrs. Psewburgh auswciing the 
 glance with a sigh of interest, felt thankful both for the 
 sake of the child, and her friend, that she had trained, 
 by any means, the consent of Mr. Lenville to part with 
 the beloved object of his mistaken fondness for the 
 next six months. In a very few days after Mr. and 
 Mrs. Lenville left the island ; and Mrs. Newbnrgh, 
 whose spirits were now soothed into cor.iposure, ar.d 
 whose melancholy, by well-principled retiection, was 
 now changed into a strenuous exertion of mrulal 
 faculty, entered on the plan of education she had 
 formed for her ^on; while the intermediate hours were 
 employed in the improvement of the little Louisa, and 
 in the exercise of active charity among the few poor cot- 
 tagers, who resided in the vicinity. The idea of watcr- 
 cxcur-sions was laid aside for this year, and Montague, 
 though he frequently longed to be on the element, to 
 which he was so partial, in compliance with his mother's 
 wishes that he would wait the return of spring, was 
 satisfied in exercising the activity of his limbs, in 
 climbing the rough crags of the Underclilf in ev try- 
 direction, exploring each hidden recess of the neigh- 
 bouring chines, roaming along the sea-shore in search 
 •f curiosities, or bi watching the swelling sails from-
 
 45 
 
 the time when they appeared in the distant horizon,, 
 till their full sheets were near enough for the eye to 
 distinguish, with the glass, the size and freight of the 
 vessel. 
 
 Although IMrs. Newburgh, from having been the wife 
 of a naval officer, of both theoretical and practical 
 knowledge, had naturally from her constant participa- 
 tion in any pursuits that interested him, acquired more 
 information on the science of navigation, than ii is neces- 
 sary, oreven expedient, for women in general to possess ; 
 yet, in directing the studies of her son, this was the 
 only point on which she mistrusted her own powers. 
 She possessed books of every description on the sub- 
 ject, aud, as they had been selected by her husband, 
 she could not doubt of their propriety and value: but 
 she was fearful, in studying them, of misapplying 
 phrases, or misconstruing passages, in such a manner, 
 as might obscure, rather than elucidate, the system she 
 wished to explain. A course of simple mathematics 
 she had gone through ; and the sciences of geography 
 and astronomy had been her peculiar delight ; but she 
 knew that the knowledge of a sailor on the former 
 should extend very far beyond the elements to which 
 she had confined herself, and that in applying the two 
 latter to the observations to be made at sea, a different
 
 view of things was requisite, than such as she could 
 commnnicate. Her mind, however, was very soon 
 relieved from anxiety on this account, by an introduc- 
 tion to the clergyman of the neiglibouring village, %Yho 
 with his wife, a pretty diUldcnt young woiiiau, paid a 
 visit to the Undercliif cottage, a few flays after Mrs. 
 Newburgh made her appearance at church. 
 
 Mr. Carlton, although naturally averse to the pro- 
 fession, had been designed for the navy from his earliest 
 years. Family-interest rendered this profession advi- 
 sable, and he had the good sense, not only to make no 
 objections to the wishes of his parents, but strenuously 
 to apply to those studies most likely to advance him in 
 the line pointed out for his pursuit. Under the au>pi- 
 ces of a friend of his ftither he entered th<; service 
 much <2arlier than is at present usual, and had com- 
 pleted his term of years as a midshipman, before he 
 had reached his seventeenth year. But notwicLsta^iding 
 tho profciency he had made in nauti-i-al learning, and 
 tlie practical knowledge he had gained, his natural 
 dislike to the sea, increased by an almost entire loss of 
 health and spirits, whan he embarked on that element, 
 still continued; and before he was of age to pass for a 
 lieutenant, a considen.ble fortune being left him 
 Vy a distant female relation of the family, his father
 
 47 
 
 "was induced to change his views with regard to his son, 
 and to comply v. ith his first wishes cf becoming a can- 
 didate for holy orders. The studious turn of Mr. 
 Carlton's mind, and the hope he had always cherished 
 ol' being enabled to follow his natural inclination in the 
 choice of a profession, had induced him to apply con- 
 stantly to his classical studies; consequently, after a 
 short residence with a clergyman of respectability, who 
 prepared him for his examination, he entered the uni- 
 versity of Oxford with credit; and after the usual term 
 of years, v. as ordained to the cure of a parish in the 
 back of the Island. To this spot he immediately re- 
 tired, with his wife and infant cliiid, meaning to reside 
 there till the living, to which he expected to be pre- 
 fered, should be vacated by the deaih of its present 
 incumbent. 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh was much pleased with the manners 
 and address of Mr. and Mrs. Carlton, and was not long 
 in discovering in the former, the exact person adequate 
 to supply the only, and important deficiency she felt in 
 the guidance of her son ; and suggesting the plan, she 
 instantly formed, as delicately as possible to Mr. Carlton, 
 she found that gentleman most willing to give her the as- 
 sistance she required. The necessary arrangements were 
 quickly made; Montague was to spend two hours every
 
 48 
 
 morning with Mr. Carlton, and this time Mrs. Newburgh 
 meant to appro^jriate to the improvement of little 
 Louisa Lenville. She designed to be engaged with her 
 son in his classical studies, an equal portion of time : 
 the middle part of the day, as best calculated at this 
 season of the year, was designed for sports and exercise 
 out of the house, and the employments of the evenings 
 were to be varied in the perusal of history, poetry, and 
 elegant literature, in the exercise of the pencil, or in 
 any rational amusement that could be obtained in the 
 house. Among the latter may be reckoned, a selection 
 which our young sailor was making, in a book set apart 
 for the purpose, of the naval engagements, particularly 
 signalized in the annals of history; this employment 
 was much encouraged by his mother, who frequently 
 pleased her son by begging him to read her a sketch 
 from his manuscript. 
 
 Besides the advantage which the acquaintance of 
 Mr. Carlton proved to Montague, the society of his 
 wife was a source of gratification to Mrs. Newburgh. 
 "With her spirits still depressed from her recent misfor- 
 tune, and Utile disposed for company, she found, in the 
 retiring loveliness and gentle manners of her new ac- 
 quaintance, a pleasure she could not have received from 
 a general intercourse with the world 3 and Mrs. Carlton,
 
 49 
 
 vrhrse diffidence concealed much intellectual capability, 
 unbent to the winning manners of Mrs. Newburgli ; 
 while the lisping sweetness of the infant Mai y, was an 
 additional source of interest, and frequently beguiled 
 the tear, that would unbidden start from the eye of 
 the sailor's widow. 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 6(^ 
 
 CHAP VI. 
 
 But ah ! how oft my lawless passions rote 
 And break those awful precepts I approve. 
 
 MRS. CARTER. 
 
 JM-ANY days had not elapsed after Mr. and Mrs, 
 Leuville's departure from the Island, before Louisa, the 
 charm of novelty having subsided, and the fear oi 
 exposing herself before Mrs. Newburgh being removed, 
 testified some symptoms of that passion and pettishness, 
 which had been occasioned by the indulgence of her 
 father. The provocation was, as usual, slight, but th© 
 consequences had nearly proved fatal. 
 
 The dirk, which Montague possessed as the legacy 
 of his fathei', and which he valued more than any thing, 
 both as a pledge of his affection, and a proof of that 
 early bravery, he was so anxious to imitate, had a place 
 assigned it in a cabinet standing in a small room pe- 
 culiarly appropriated to his use: a day never passed 
 without his paying u visit to this precious gift, and he 
 frequently drew its shining blade from the scabbard, to 
 watch the appearance of the slightest spot of dust,
 
 51 
 
 which might, if allowed to adhere, produce rust, or 
 tarnish the high polish it had received. His apartment 
 led from the drawing-room to a conservatory, which 
 •pened into the shrubbery. He was engaged one 
 morning, in paying his usual attentions to his father's 
 legacy, when his mother, who was sitting in the drawing 
 
 room at her work by the window, called him to fetch 
 
 * 
 
 the glass, that she might ascertain the size of a passing 
 vessel. Montague, eager to wait on his mother, in- 
 stantly flew to her with the telescope, which usually 
 stood on the table, and incautiously left the dirk 
 unsheathed, with the glittering girdle by its side. A 
 few moments after he had left the room, Louisa entering 
 it through the conservatory, espied before her " ihe 
 beautiful little sword' which she had so frequently seen 
 through the glass doors of the cabinet, and wished to 
 play with. Without hesitation she seized the prize, 
 and was exultingly carrying it oif, when IMontague, 
 hearing the rattle of the gold chain which depended 
 from its hilt, quickly left his mother, to discover who 
 had obtained the possession of his treasure. But it 
 was not to be recovered easily : for Louisa, delighted 
 with the dazzling ornaments with which it was embos- 
 sed, and heedless of the danger likely to result from 
 playing with so sharp an instrumjent, dragged it with all 
 its appendages from the table, declaring she woul* 
 
 0.0'"^
 
 53 
 
 Ijave it, and Montague might take it from her if ho 
 could. Montague, alarmed for the safety ot his dirk, 
 and for the hands that carried its naked edge, hastily 
 followed the child, who was now screaming with the 
 fear of losing her prize, and running through the con- 
 servatory into the shrubbery. At this momeut, Mrs. 
 Newburgh, hearing s; me confusion in the adjoining 
 apartment, and desirous of Iciirning its occasion, fol- 
 lowed the traces of the little fugitives, who both tied 
 swiftly through the grounds. She foil i wed them by a 
 shorter way, and arrived at a summer-house at the bot- 
 tom of the garden nearly with them. Louisa was not 
 aware of the vicinity of Mrs. Newburgh, but hearing 
 that lady's voice as she approached, and being conscious 
 that it would be now impossible to retain her treasure, 
 without turning her head, passionately threw it behind 
 her. Its direction was immediately at Mrs. Newburgh's 
 breast, and being hurled with much violence, aithougU 
 by a young hand, it is impossible to say what fatal 
 injury it might have occasioned, had not Montague 
 who had fallen back a few steps, on hearing the voice 
 of his mother, observed its direction, and hastily step- 
 ping aside, received the sharp point of the weapon in 
 the palm of his left hand. The wound bled profusely, 
 but its pain was forgotten in the grateful feeling which 
 warmed the heigrt of our young sailor, as he contera-
 
 53 
 
 plated the wound his mother might have received, bnt 
 for his presence of mind. He instantly drew the dirk 
 from his bleeding hand, and silently ejaculating a 
 prayer of thanks to heaven, threw himself into the arms 
 of Mrs. Newburgh, who, alarmed at the stream of blood 
 which flowed from the wound of her son, was for a few 
 moments deprived of the power of taking any step for 
 its relief. The tenderness and courage of her husband 
 ar.ise to her imagination, at the early m.anifestation of 
 these qualities in her son, and she pressed the glowing 
 boy to her bosom in silent, hut agonized delight. She 
 at length recovered her composure, and shuddering as 
 she looked at the incision which the sharp point of the 
 dirk had made, took out her handkerchief to bind it, 
 
 " Why, it is nothing, mamma," said Montague, who 
 
 now began to suffer acute pain ; " it will soon heal, I 
 
 dare say; and if I should loose the use of my hand, 
 
 surely I can spare one hand for my mother. I shall 
 
 still have my sword-arm left for my country, you 
 
 know," added the spirited boy, at the same time 
 
 twisting round his head, the dirk which he had not 
 
 dropped since he took it from the other hand. Mis. 
 
 Newburgh smiled through her tears at her son's ardour, 
 
 and looking at him with much tenderness, continued t* 
 
 bind the wound. 
 
 f3
 
 54 
 
 The passionate little girl, who was the occasion of 
 this interesting event, had gone into the summer house 
 conscious and ashamed of what she had done : her 
 passion was cooled, and when Mrs. Newburgh, before 
 she returned to the house, went to seek her, she hung 
 down her head, and burst into tears. Montague's 
 compassion was immediately excited, and turning to his 
 mother he begged she would not be angry with Louisa, 
 for she would not, he was sure, be in a passion again. 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh, however disposed to oblige her son, 
 thought that the present opportunity should not be 
 passed without impressing on the miad of Louisa the 
 dangerous tendency of her unsubdued passions ; and 
 coolly telling her that she was afraid of living with little 
 girls who were such dangerous companions, begged she 
 would go to her own room. Louisa, sobbing and 
 crying, slowly entered the house, and Mrs. Newburgh 
 followed with her son, who now proceeded to clean the 
 shining blade, on which the marks of his own blood 
 were still visible; and carefully arranging all its orna- 
 ments, returned it safely to its place. 
 
 But he could not be happy whilst Louisa was in 
 disgrace, and at length persuaded his mother to relax 
 from her determiuatioQ of coutiaing her up stairs all
 
 55 
 
 the day, and allow her to join her friends at dinner, 
 Mrs. Newburgh accordingly visited Louisa in her own 
 room, and represented to her the injury she had done 
 poor Montague, and how long it would be before he 
 would be able to use his hand again. She asked her 
 bow she should like to have killed her, which it was 
 probable she might have done, had not ihe interposition 
 of Montague's hand, arrested the course of the dirk. 
 
 Lonisa was mnch moved by this representation and 
 the arguments which Mrs. Newburgh thought it neces- 
 sary to employ for her benefit, and promising for the 
 future never to touch any thing she was desired not, 
 nor to put herself in a passion w hen she was denied the 
 possession of what she very much wished to obtain, 
 Mrs. Newburgh kissed her tenderly, and told her to 
 run and ask Montague to shake hands with her. 
 
 " Yes, I will forgive you," said Montague, " since 
 you have left me my right hand ; and all the punishment: 
 that I shall inflict will be, that you must cut my dinner 
 for me, as long as I cannot do it myself." 
 
 He then took her affectionately by the hand, and they 
 tripped down to dinner, in obedience to the summons 
 the footman had just given.
 
 50 
 
 Mrs. Newbiirgh followed : the little party were a^ain 
 restored to cheerfulness, and in the evening Montague 
 was called on by his mother to give her an extract from 
 his manuscripts. He selected the account of the glo- 
 rious victory which signalized the close of the life of 
 Admiral Blake, " the Nelson, and the Sidney Smith of 
 his day;" who, though he unfortunately fought for an 
 usurper, was averse to his cause.
 
 57 
 
 CHAP. vir. 
 
 The hunter on the mountain's brow. 
 The rosy youth from study free, 
 
 Ne'er breath'd, O Cheerfulness ! a vow 
 Mare fond than I have breath'd to thee. 
 
 Yet sometimes, if in lonely hour 
 I leave thy lov'd, enchanting bower, 
 
 By glooms of wayward fancy driven ; 
 And from thee turn my languid eyes, 
 Kor longer deem thy pleasures wise, 
 
 Ohl be my sufiering heart forgiven. 
 
 SMYTH. 
 
 jL he winter was now approaching upon the little party 
 assembled in this retired spot. The trees had shed 
 their last withered leaves, and the evergreens stood 
 prominent objects in the surrounding plantations. A 
 regular succession of employuieuts beguiled the heavi- 
 ness of the dark days before Christmas. Montague, 
 with occasional, but not frequent fits of idleness and 
 inattention, pursued with diUgence his classical studies 
 ■mith his mother, and those more immediately relating
 
 58 
 
 to bis profession with Mr. Carlton; and Louisa, vilh 
 |>as.si()ns regulated, and aflf'ectionate docility, attending 
 to the khid instructions of her valuable friend, now 
 shewed the advantages of a lively imagination and 
 quick intellect, when properly managed and apprc- 
 priated. Her instances of pettish self-will were now 
 rare and trivial ; and when they did occur, a word of 
 admonition from Mrs. Newburgh checked the rising 
 fire ; and the firm and entreating eye of Montague, 
 when he saw her likely to be ruffled in their plays, im- 
 mediately found its way to her feeling heart. 
 
 Mrs. Newburnh, with that best regulator of the 
 affections, the pure spirit of Christianity as her di- 
 rector, w^as now become generally cheerful, and her 
 countenance was recovering that smile of satisfaction, 
 which had so peculiarly characterized its expression, 
 before the death of her husband had overspread it with 
 melancholy. That there were still moments, however, 
 when very painful reflections would obtrude themselves 
 on the imagination of this lovely woman, cannot be 
 denied ; but at these times, she would retire from the 
 society of the young people to her ow n apartment, and 
 seek in the consolations of religion the balm for her 
 bleeding wound. She would now and then also find a 
 pensive pleasure in dwelling on the happiness of her
 
 ^9 
 
 former life, and on the subject that touched the softest 
 feelings of her heart ; but, fearful lest the indulgence 
 might deprive her of that presence of mind and serenity, 
 necessary in the instruction of her young charges, slie 
 seldom allowed her fancy this free rgage. AVhin she 
 did, it was at those times, when leaving them at their 
 amusements, she spent half an hour by the sea-shore, 
 with the prospect of the boundless ocean before her, 
 and felt relief by committing to paper ideas occasioned 
 by her peculiar train of thought. 
 
 It was one morning, at the latter end of November, 
 ■when the threatening clouds and the rising waves gave 
 indication of an approaching storm, that, unusually de- 
 pressed by the association of ideas they occasioned, 
 Mrs. Newburgh, leaving her young charges at their 
 respective employments, strolled down to the sea-shore. 
 She felt her heart sicken with sad remembrances, as 
 she viev. ..t? the stormy element before her, and taking 
 from her pocket a pencil, she relieved her imagination 
 by the production of the following wild effusion : 
 
 Saw ye not, Lucy, from the covert glide 
 
 The mountain-brook along ? 
 She stay'd a moment by its murm'ring side. 
 And lowly stoop'd, the glitt'ring drop to hide, 
 
 That fell its weeds among.
 
 60 
 
 :Tlien hastily she past ; 
 But as she fled, she cast 
 J^. troubled glance upon the distant sea; 
 
 It was the theme on which her spirit hung. 
 And as across her breast her lyre she flung, 
 Thus wildly flowed its melody : 
 
 '* Hark ! to yon billow's distant roar I 
 What airy footsteps on the shore. 
 
 Among the surges dance ? 
 *Tis the wild genius of the flood. 
 Who menacing, in angry mood, 
 
 Forbids me to advance. 
 
 Oh ! is there none, who from her brow will tear 
 That flowing ringlet of his nut-brown hair ? 
 -And quickly bring the waving lock to me, 
 A last sad pledge of tender memory? 
 
 For alas ! he is gone ; 
 
 And the cold marble stone 
 Now cruelly covers his breast ; 
 
 And the fire of his eye, 
 
 Is lost in the sigh, 
 That has laid liis brave spirit to rest.
 
 6t 
 
 Is it his bark that stems yon curling tido? 
 
 Is it his signal on the topmast high ? 
 
 Oh ! bear me to the vessel's gallant side, 
 
 That I may see him as he passes by : 
 
 The floating sail I seize, 
 
 Ah ! blow each fav'ring breeze, 
 
 Till in his faithful breast my burning head I hidci 
 
 Alas ! I vainly grasp ; the shadowy prize 
 Has vanish'd swiftly from my aching eyes, 
 
 And leaves a void behind; 
 And yet again, I see the stately prow, 
 Where in the sunbeam, distant waters glow, 
 Scudding before the wind. 
 
 Is not the sky serenely bright ? 
 Does not the sun his clearest light 
 
 Softly reflect around ? 
 Then whence that atmospheric flame ? 
 Thrice — thrice across the deck it came j 
 
 And whence that fearful sound ? 
 
 TOL. I. G
 
 62 
 
 ^Tis the dire instrument of hostile rage : 
 
 Oil! from tlie murd'rous war, yon squadrons rage, 
 
 Ye guardian spirits save! 
 Again the fire along the bow-sprit flam'd ; 
 The mortal thunder was too surely aim'd ! 
 
 He sinks among the brave!" 
 Here dropp'd poor Lucy's lyre — and as it fell, a cloud 
 Bore her soft shade away, to meet her sailor's shroud !
 
 63 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 And Pity at the dark and stormy hour 
 
 Of midnight, when the moon is hid on high, 
 
 Keeps her lone watch upon the topmost tow'r, 
 And turas her ear to eadi expiring cry; 
 
 Blest, if her aid some fainting wreich might save, 
 
 And snatch him cold and sleepless from the grave. 
 
 BOWLES. 
 
 JlHE rain was now beginning to fall, and Mrs. 
 Newhurgh, whoj-e spirits were much agitated from the 
 indi;Igence she had allowed her fancy, felt a general 
 chill after the feverish heat which had before over- 
 spread her fiice. She hastened home, and meeting her 
 son as she approached the cottage, whose anxious 
 countenance evinced his consciousness of the state of 
 his mother's feelings, she inwardly condennied herself 
 for the indulgence she had given to ihe reius of her 
 fancy Her usual serenity was gone, and a nervous 
 irritability possessed her frame. She accepted the 
 proffered arm of her sou; but be5;gin;- him not to follow 
 her as they entered the house, she immediately retired 
 to her own apartment.
 
 64 
 
 ^' Oh! this storm which is working up, Barlow," said, 
 Montague to the servant who then crossed the hall as 
 he entered the dining room j " this storm will quite cut 
 up my mother, see how she is agitated, at only viewing 
 the threatening clouds !" 
 
 "Ah! poor lady!" answered the feeling Barlow, 
 '' she cannot help thinking sometimes of our poor brave 
 captain ; but it is not very often she takes on neither, I 
 think, considering, sir!" 
 
 " No," replied Montague, while the tears started 
 from his eyes ; " we seldom sec her so moved as she is 
 to-day ; and I dare say, when we meet at dinner, she 
 will be quite calm again, for she always is so, after 
 having been alone in her room." 
 
 " Ah ! she knows where to find comfort, sir ; and I 
 am sure, if it was not for thinking the poor dear cap- 
 tain is gone aloft, and for my good lady's sayint*, we 
 should all work ship with him again in t'otJicr world, 
 if we keep straight a head here, I should not have 
 much heart to keep out to sea without him." 
 
 "Do you think the storm will increase very much 
 Barlow?" enquired Montague.
 
 65 
 
 "Ah! sir; the gale has been fresheinng ever sine* 
 noon •, and I am no sailor, if we don't have foul weather 
 afore midnight. But what shall I do with all these bits 
 of reckoning here. Sir, and the log-book, for John's 
 c.ming to lay the cloth for dinner P' 
 
 The fact was, that the mind of Montague, as well as 
 that of his mother, had been a littlfe disturbed this 
 morning by the lowerinj; atmosphere, and his attention 
 had been so frequently -diverted from the exercise 
 before him on the table to the scene on the outside of 
 the house, as he sat in his own room, that at iength_, 
 when it approached four o'clcck, and his Latin con- 
 struction remained yet unprepared, he had made a 
 sudden resolution to complete his task ; and for that 
 purpose carried all his apparatus into the dininir-room, 
 which being in the back of the house presented no 
 obstacle from without Casting his eyes, however, on 
 his watch, as he was just completing his task, and 
 finding that it was within a quarter of live, that The day 
 was fast closing in, and that he had not heard his 
 mother retum, he hastily took up his hat, and leaving 
 all his papers on the table, met her as she entered the 
 gate that led to the cottage. He now smiled at th« 
 
 question put to him bv Barlow, and taking up Ids 
 "g 3
 
 m 
 
 rccJcoimigs and Ids lo<>;-honk, left the apavtmont, when the 
 fuotuian entered with the tray. 
 
 Montague was right when he said that his motlier 
 would recover her composure by dinner-time, and Bar- 
 low was equally so, for she knew where to find comfort. 
 She met the young people in the dining-room w ith her 
 usual composure, was more than commonly cheerfHl 
 during tea-time, and in the course of the evening re- 
 quested her son to read the account of Lord Nelson's 
 victory off Copenhagen. It was the first engagement 
 of consequence in which her husband had ever served, 
 and its remembrance, as was every other circumstance 
 relative to his naval career, was cherished with a sort 
 of veneration by his widow. Montague was agitated 
 as he turned to the page in which was written the 
 account he was desired to read ; but quickly recovering 
 himself complied with his mother's request. 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh, having a very violent head-ache, 
 retired early to bed : her apartment being over the 
 dining-room, in the back part of the house, she was 
 little disturbed by the wind which blew immediately 
 against the front windows, and fell asleep earlier than 
 was customary with her. The slumbers also of Louisa, 
 who lay in u bed in Mrs. Newburgh's room; were
 
 67 
 
 equally undisturbed ; but Montague, whose apartment 
 \vas towards the sea, and who had been listening to the 
 increasing storm, ever since Barlow had given his 
 opinion that theie would be foul weather, could not 
 prevail on himself to go to bed. He sat up in his own 
 room till near twelve, at which time the wind had risen 
 to a tremendous height : the rain which seemed to fall, 
 more in torrents, than in showers, threatened to break 
 his windows, and the ocean literally " roared horribly :'* 
 he was meditating on the probability of any ships or 
 boats being exposed to the ravages of the storm, when 
 he heard a loud hallow from the shore, immediately 
 opposite his window : it was answered from a little dis- 
 tance, when the first voice quickly said : 
 
 " Do ye think she will weather it, Jack V' 
 
 '' No, she was water-logged when I passed her, and 
 there was such a swell, and my boat drove in shore so 
 fast, I could not get after her." 
 
 " If we were to get a pair of oars and stretch out, 
 Jack," resumed the first voice. 
 
 " I would not for twenty guineas try to get through 
 -Such a surf again," answered the other man ; who was
 
 C8 
 
 approaching his r.oni])anion, and as they now drew close 
 together, it was no longer possible to distinguish what 
 they said. 
 
 Montasjue, whose heart was swelling with feelings of 
 humanity, at the idea of the danger to which, from 
 what he had heard, some of his fellow creatures were 
 exposed, could remain " quiet no longer, and going 
 gently along the passage which led to the stair-case, in 
 fear of awakening his mother, crept down to the room 
 where Barlow slept. That kind-hearted fellow had not 
 yet been in bed, and having also heard the conversation 
 from the shore was in the act of putting on his great 
 coat to proceed to the spot, whence the voices had 
 issued, when his young master made his appearance. 
 
 " Wait an ins'ant for me, Barlow,'' said Montague, 
 at the same time putting his arm into his great coat. 
 
 " You wont go, sir, will you?" rejoined Barlow, hesi- 
 tating as he put the candle into a lantern which he held 
 in his hand ; " why, sir, to be sure you'll be blown 
 overboard, the wind does blow such a hurricane just 
 now." 
 
 " Then I shall thank you, Barlow, who taught me to 
 swim," replied Montague, " come, follow your captain/'
 
 69 
 
 "^ added he briskly, as he took up the lantern which the 
 man had put down, in doubt whether the young gen- 
 tleman should go out without the knowledge of his 
 
 mistress. 
 
 " Shut the door gently, lest you should awake my 
 mother," said Montague as he stepped out of the house, 
 and was tottering from the violent gust of wind which 
 came full in his face. 
 
 Barlow followed his direction, and immediately over- 
 took his young master: they proceeded to the sea- 
 sliore : the two men, whose voices had attracted their 
 attention, were still conversing together, and our young 
 sailor, instantly addressing oae of them, asked for 
 whom tiiey were in alarm. He was informed that an 
 old man of the n :me of Peter Hopkms, with his sou, a 
 lad of fourteen years of age, had gone out tishing early 
 in the day in company with two other boats, but against 
 the advice of the other boatmen : for his boat was tlien 
 leaky, and there was every appearance of rough wea- 
 ther. The storm had increased to a greater height 
 tjian auy of tltcm had expected; but having met with 
 great success in their employment, they delayed their 
 return till the darkness of the night, and the increasing 
 fury of the storm rendered their approach to the shore
 
 70 
 
 highly dangerous. Two of the boats, however, had 
 after much difficulty arrived in safety ; but the third, 
 hcing in a shattered condition, was not yet come in, 
 and it was feared had encountered some accident. 
 
 " Is there no possibility;" eagerly asked Montague, 
 " of getting off to the rescue of those poor people, in a 
 boat better calculated to weather the storm ? could not 
 either of you," continued he addressing the two men 
 alternately; " could not either of you" — 
 
 The rest of this speech was prevented by the violence 
 of a swelling wave throwing on the shore a substance 
 which fell at the feet of Barlow : the next wave would 
 have probably returned it to the ocean, had not his 
 presence of mind anticipated such an event, and putting 
 his hand upon it, and dragging it a few paces up on the 
 shore, he discovered by the light of the lantern, the 
 apparently lifeless body of the younger Peter Hopkins. 
 
 "Then the boat must have sunk," exclaimed IMonta- 
 gne, striking his breast with his rii,ht hand, and bending 
 over the body of the lad in silent horror: but quickly re- 
 covering himself, he turned to Barlow, and taking up 
 one of the hands of tlie body, whose immediate return te
 
 71 
 
 Ihe earth gave little hope of the probability of the sug- 
 gestion ; " perhaps he may not be dead I have heard my 
 father say that animation has been restored after a body 
 has to all appearaace been dead some hours, and this 
 lad cannot have been in the water more than one. Let 
 us take him instantly to the cottage, and be careful to 
 carry him with his heid raised;" continued he, as he 
 saw the men beginning to follow his directions. 
 
 " My cottage is as nigh," said one of the sailors, " and 
 my good woman is up, and waiting for me : if I might 
 be so bold as to advise, we had better steer in that way, 
 for fear of frightening madam, sir." 
 
 "Thank you, my good friend," replied IMontague. 
 " it might be better." 
 
 " Bear away then, Jack," said the man, whose voice 
 Montague now recognised to be the one that had first 
 attracted his attention. 
 
 " Can we do any thing about the poor old man," asked 
 i^Iontague of Barlow. 
 
 " Nothing, sir," replied he ; " there can't be a doubt 
 but the boat's upset ; unless please God to send up his
 
 1^ 
 
 body too, then we might do the same by him, as we are 
 trying to do by the boy." 
 
 They were now arrived at the cottage, and Montatine 
 giving the lantern to Jack as his companion called him, 
 and desiring him to return with it to the sea-shore in 
 case the body of old Hopkins should be thrown up, re- 
 mained himself with Barlow and the other man, to assist 
 in using means most likely to restore animation to the 
 body of the poor lad. 
 
 They laid him on a bed, with his head considerably 
 raised. Then taking off his clothes, and carefully clean- 
 ing his mouth and nostrils, they proceeded to rub him 
 gently with flannel sprinkled with spirits : at the same time 
 they kindled a fire on the hearth and applyed hot flan- 
 nels to the feet and hands. The good woman of the house 
 was active in giving her assistance ; and the whole party, 
 being none of them ignorant of the means to be used, 
 though they at first wanted the presence of mind neces- 
 sary to direct exertion, continued their endeavours with 
 alacrity, under the direction of their youug instructor. 
 Montague again adverting to the relations of his father, 
 and recollecting the application of the bellows t < the 
 mouth and nostrils, in cases where proper instruments 
 could not be obtained, continued to make nse of them
 
 73 
 
 at iotervals, and withiu the space of two bonrs after the 
 lad had been thrown on the shore, the party, who were 
 huu.anely employed for his benetit, had the indescriba- 
 ble satisfaction of witnessing symptoms of returning 
 life. They diu uot relax in their exertions, and in the 
 space of another hour, the languishing eyes of the lad 
 opened to the great joy of his preservers. 
 
 His first enquiry, on perceiving strangers around 
 bim, and finding himself in a warm bed, instead of tos- 
 sing about on the sea, was for his father, on whom he 
 called with a sort of agonized feeling. His recollection, 
 however, was momentary : the powers of mental exer- 
 tion were yet very weak, and lie quickly reposed into 
 a state of ajiathy. A little spirits and water were given 
 him, which appeared to revive him, and after again 
 ©peiiing his eyes, and looking round the room, he sunk 
 into a gentle and calm sleep. 
 
 And now Barlow, who was beginning to feel very 
 
 oncomfortable at the idea of his young master's having 
 
 been so long exposed to the tfFects of wet clothing, to 
 
 which he had not, like himself and his companions, been 
 
 accustomed, entreated 3iontague to return home, saying 
 
 that if he pleased he would remain with Peter, or 
 
 return to him, after seeing him to the coi-tage, 
 vol.. I. m
 
 n 
 
 HoiiCst Will BowiTian, however, declared he could 
 watch on dock all night, and shoi^ld not want any mate 
 but mistress: so Montague, findins; that remaining from 
 home could no longer be of any use, complied with 
 Barlow's request, and left the fisherman's cottage, ac- 
 companied by his faithful attendant. 
 
 As they went along the sea-shore, they spoke to the 
 other lis-licrman, who had hitherto neither seen nor 
 heard any thing of old Peter, but this honest fellow 
 declaring, " that Fclcr should not be lost for want of 
 a hand to haul him ashore, said, he should keep watch 
 all niglit : so good night, your honour," added he to 
 Montague. 
 
 " Good night, honest Jack," replied Montague, 
 shaking him by the hand ; " God grant that your hu- 
 manity may find its reward in preserving the life of 
 another fellow creature : let me hear from you the first 
 thirg in the morning, however this may turn out." 
 
 " God bless your honour," said Jack, as Montague 
 turned away; then adding to Barlow who was a few 
 steps behind, " the young gentlen^an is just ringed out, 
 like for a sailor, with his warm heart, and his head 
 always clear for action."
 
 75 
 
 Barlow concurred heartily with this remavl-:, and 
 slapping his hand upon Jacks, said, " he wished that 
 when his young master entered the navy, he might 
 always sail with such as he." 
 
 It was three o'clock before Montague and Barlow 
 returned to the cottace, and by this time t'ae violeiice 
 of the storm was very much abated. All was quiet in 
 the house, and Montague, taking the precaution of 
 rubbing himself with spirits, as ^oon as he had taken 
 oft' his clothes, which were literally soaked through ; 
 and recommending Barlow to do the same, lay down 
 on his pillow, with his heart beating with violent and 
 varying emotions. 
 
 It was some time before sleep visited his eyes: but 
 the fatigue both of body and mind he had undc^rgone, 
 at length surmounted the rovings of his imagination : 
 sinking into a deep and heavy slee;), he remained in 
 that state till a much later hour in the morning than he 
 was accustomed to rise. 
 
 W2
 
 76 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 Virtue may be as -ail'd, but never hurt, 
 SurprisM by unjust force, but not enthrall'd. 
 
 MILTO.V, 
 
 On her arrival in the breakfast-parlour, Mrs. New- 
 burgh was surprised to find that her son had not risen. 
 She enquired for BurJow, who usually attended him in 
 his mornin;^ walk, and iearninsf trom the other servants 
 that he had not yet made his appearance from his 
 chamber, went up to that of her son, to see what de- 
 tained him so long in bed. The housemaid, who had 
 been engaged all the morning in cleaning from the 
 stairs and passage the dirt which had been brought in 
 during the night by Montague and his companion, 
 followed her up stairs. 
 
 " I can't think where Master Newburgh can have 
 been, Ma'am," at length said Betty; "why I've been 
 doing nothing since I got up, but clean oft the marks of 
 his dirty footsteps all along here," added the girl, 
 poin ing to the floor that was still wet, " and there were 
 bigger steps than his besides, Ma'am."
 
 77 
 
 " Why did not you come to me as soon as you found 
 them," replied Mrs. Newburgh in much alarm, at the 
 same time opening the door of her son's chamber. 
 
 " Oh ! Ma'am, and only do look at his clothes,*' said 
 Betty, following her mistress into the room, '' why 
 this never can be fit to wear again," added she, taking 
 up the great coat, " and good lack, only see his 
 stockings." 
 
 The astonishment and anxiety of Mrs. Newburgh 
 were very great, but the immediate cause of alarm beiug 
 removed by the sight of her son in bed, still wrapt iu 
 sleep, she determined not to disturb him, but suspend 
 her curiosity till he should awake. Ordering the 
 housemaid therefore to move quietly near Master 
 New burgh's chamber, siie a^>ain descended the stairs, 
 and at the door of the breakfast-parlour was met by 
 Barlow, who had just risen. 
 
 The adventures of the night were immediately re- 
 
 lated by this faithful servant, who in speaking of his 
 
 young master did not fail to represent, with all the 
 
 ardent warmth of a sailor, the humanity, feeling, and 
 
 presence pf mind he had shewn; and adding that he 
 
 never saw a little frigate so like a first rate, as Master 
 
 h3
 
 78 
 
 Montague was to the poor dear captain, concluded, 
 with hoping he had not done wrong in going out without 
 awaking his mistress. 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh was much affected with the account 
 received from Barlow : a sensation of grateful thank- 
 fuhiess possessed her as she contemplated the opening 
 virtues of her son, and telling her faithful servant that 
 he always ensured her approbation, when he assisted 
 his young master in discharging ihe duty of benevo- 
 lence, desired him to go directly to the fisherman's 
 cottage, and learn what had passed after he and her 
 son returned home. 
 
 Young Peter had been awake about an hour when 
 Barlow entered. He was perfectly sensible, and as it 
 was impossible to conceal the fears that were enter- 
 tained that his father never would be found alive, the 
 lad on receiving the intelligence had burst into a flood 
 of tears, and was still continuing to weep. Barlow 
 made use of every argument he could to pacify him, 
 and perceiving that he was in that weak state which 
 required better nourishment than could be otained in 
 the cottage, returned to his mistress for those comforts, 
 which she was always willing to bestow where they 
 were wanted.
 
 79 
 
 By this time Montague was risen, and on meeting hi« 
 mother, not being aware th it she was acquainted with 
 the events of the night, was pret airing to relate them 
 with that delicate precaution he had now learnt to use, 
 when he spoke on any subject relating to the sea. The 
 emotion she evinced, however, on first meeting her son, 
 and the tenderness with which she embraced him, 
 quickly shewed that his explanations were unnecessary. 
 He accordingly took the opportunity of representing 
 the kindness and humanity, not only of their own ser- 
 vant, but of the two tishermen, and tiie wife of one of 
 them, and expressed a hope that his mother would 
 make them objects of her future benevolence. ** And 
 for poor Peter Hopkins," continued the feeling boy; 
 ** if he does not find his father, what can we do for himf 
 for he has no mother to supply his place," added he, 
 fixing his eyes with tender gi-atitude on those of Mrs. 
 ISewburgh, in which glistened tiie tear of maternal 
 fondness. 
 
 *' You must be a father to him, my Montague ;" re- 
 plied Mrs. Newburgh ; " and while the sad coincidence 
 of your situation, in one point, awakes in you that glovf 
 of tender interest for the fatherless, which those can 
 scarcely feel, who are still blessed in the arms of pater- 
 sal fondness 3 be thaukfal, my child, that the wide
 
 80 
 
 difference existing between you, in regard to fortune, 
 aifords you the tn.iable satisfaction of wipintj the 
 tears, and making nn ample provision for the necessities 
 of the orphan, deprived by accident of his natural 
 guide an3 protector." 
 
 Montague thanked his mother for this anticipation of 
 his wit-hes, in regard to Peter Hopkins; and Barlow 
 now entering gave an account of his visit to the 
 cottage. Finding from him what necessaries were 
 requisite, Mrs. Newburgh sent little Louisa Lenville to 
 Mrs. Carlton with a request to that lady to allow her to 
 remain with her during the morning, and immediately 
 went to Will Bowman's cottage accompanied by her 
 son and Barlow. 
 
 On going along the shore, the other fisherman ap- 
 proached, and addressing Montague told him that 
 nothing had yet been seen either of the boat, or of old 
 Peter ; that the former had most probably sunk, and 
 that the latter would not be thrown up before the next 
 tide. Having received this information, Mrs. New- 
 burgh proceeded to Bowman's cottage, where her pre- 
 sence and advice administered comfort both to the 
 sufferer and his attendants. The surmises entertained 
 relative to the body of old Peter Hopkins proved to be
 
 gl 
 
 well founded : in the evening it was thrown on th*; 
 shore, but in such a state that it was useless to attempt 
 any means for its restoration. Mrs. Newburgh under- 
 took the expenses of the fi?iteral, which was performed 
 a few days after, and from that time considered the 
 orphan son of the deceased the peculiar object of the 
 charity of her son. It was not her design, however, 
 that he should exercise his benevolence in any way 
 calculated to remove the boy from the situation in life,, 
 in which he was born, but as she did not wish to confine 
 him to a service he might have taken a dislike to, from 
 the loss of his father, and his own hazardous escape ; 
 as he began to recover his strensrth, she gave him free 
 choice of remainiiig in it, and ultimately accompanying 
 her son, when he should enter the navy, or of being 
 bound io any other trade he might have more inclina- 
 tion to follow. 
 
 Peter did not hesitate in making his choice, but de- 
 claring he should like to live and die with young 
 master, accepted Mrs. Newburgh's offer of attaching 
 himself to the service of her son. In the mean time, 
 that he might not be exposed to the ill etiects of 
 idleness, till Montague should j>o to sea ; Mrs. New- 
 burgh, not requiring the assistance of another servant 
 m the house, engaged tiie services of Peter gratuitously
 
 82 
 
 to Will Bowman, althoiifrh the lad was fed, lodged, and 
 clothed under the roof of her own cottage. 
 
 This arrunL'ement was of erea'^ benefit to the inhabU 
 tanf? ot'th? Uttle cottage, whose humane assistance had 
 b<'Pu >o rece<i^aiy to the restoration of Peter: and 
 Mrs. Nevvourt:,h, always judicious in the e.verclse of 
 her charities, considered ^his a more prudent method 
 of reuiunerucion, than that of a pr sent in money ; and 
 the la ', who i^o-^sesyed a feeling and giatefui heart, 
 worked cheerfully in the service of Will Bowman. 
 Honest Jack too, who had ueeu equally exposed to the 
 fury of iJie elements on his account, frequently sliared 
 his wirm-hearied thanks, while Mrs. Newb«u«;h did 
 not for^< t to give him more substantial proofs of her 
 generosity. 
 
 Thus was Peter Hopkins established in the Xew- 
 burgh fum.ly; and Mrs. Newourgh, still constantly 
 employed m ihe eJucatioa or" her son, for the sphere of 
 action he w.is destiiicd to iili, now gave some portion 
 of her tiuie to ihe lad, on whom she lo ked with no 
 little interest, as ilie object of her charily, and as one 
 who would . rooalnv become <is faithful and honest a 
 servant to her son, during his service at sea, as Barlow 
 had ever been to her lamented husband : nor did sho
 
 83 
 
 think tliat in providing him with the necessaries of life 
 she had completely discharged the duty she had im- 
 posed on herself. There were blessings of a hi^'her 
 nature, which she must bestow, if she wished to see 
 that result from her benevolence, her humanity taught 
 her to wish : there were good principles to be instilled, 
 plain and direct instructions to be imparted, equally 
 necessary to be learnt by the prince and the peasant, 
 by the captain and the cabin-boy ; and these Mrs. 
 Newbnrgh made it her business to inculcate. Peter 
 was as free from vice as most boys of his age, and 
 ardent and zealous in his disposition, quickly became 
 eager td ol)serve whatever directions his mistress gave 
 him. He had one propensity, however, whicli in spite 
 of all jNIrs. Newburgh's cautions, for she had more than 
 once remarked it, Peter had not yet broken himself of. 
 His father had fallen into that sad perversion of Ian* 
 guage, of accompanying every speech that he uttered by 
 an oath. The son, a proof of the fatal effects of bad 
 example, had adopted his father's method of exclamation, 
 and notwithstanding Mrs. Newburgh's frequent expos- 
 tulations, was frequently relapsing into the commission 
 of the sajDC fault. From the nature of the lads situation 
 in the family, it was natural that between him and liis 
 young master there should be frequent intercourse, and 
 Mrs. Newbnrgh, besides the wish of preventing the boy
 
 84. 
 
 •n his own account, from continninj; this sad habit, was 
 fearful of the etFccts it might produce on her son, who 
 however siiocked at its first intr eduction to his ears, 
 might insensibly and thoughtlesslv grow accustomed to 
 its frequency, and at length fail into tlie same habit. 
 Nor were her fears entirely ili-grounded Monta?;ue 
 was one evening sitting in his room, emuloyed with his 
 compasses, in preparing his morning exercises for Mr. 
 Carlton: his attention being wavering, he did not com- 
 plete the object he had in view so easily as he wished, 
 ind being still awkward in the use of his hand from the 
 wound of the dirk, he failed several times in the for- 
 mation of a figure he was much interested in making : 
 he at length became irritated, and pettishly threw 
 the instruments on the table, at the failure of his fourth 
 attempt to accomplish what he was striving to perform, 
 with the first oath that hud ever contaminated his lips. 
 
 "My Montague!" exclaimed Mrs. Newburgh, who 
 entered at the moment, while the vexation and astonish- 
 ment she felt, made her totter against the table, " did 
 my ears deceive me, or " 
 
 A blush of consciousness overspread the countenance 
 •f her son, as he felt the full force of Mrs. Newburgh's 
 ^ust rebuke, and his eye falling under that of his
 
 85 
 
 tBOther, on wh^m fee looked round as she entered the 
 room, he dropped his bead on the table. 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh gently approached the spot where 
 her son was sitting, and drawing a chair close to his, 
 sat down by him, and placing her hand on his shoulder, 
 spoke to him in a calm and afiectionate manner. *' Of 
 "what use is it, ray dear child, that from your very in- 
 fancy, I endeavour to instil into you a reverence for 
 those precepts, by which our conduct in life is to be 
 regulated, if you are so easily diverted from their 
 practice, and allow yourself to be led from your duty 
 by the^ example of an inferior, whose language you Iiave 
 frequer.tly heard me disapprove, and whom I have as 
 frequently directed to look up to yoa as a pattern, in 
 the freedom he i* to give his tonjrue. I would not 
 justify the practice of swearing in any one ; but I can- 
 not forbear saying, that it is more defensible in this 
 poor lad, much more so, tlian in you. His father, I 
 understand, was addicted to it, in a most notorious 
 degree ; your father, my dear boy," while a tear started 
 into the eye of Mrs. Newburgh at the recollection, and 
 those of iier son fell fast on the sleeve of his coat ; 
 ** your father w as so careful to avoid it, that during the 
 fborteen years we lived together, I do not recollect 
 «ver t© have heard hira so f^ forget himself, as t« 
 
 VOL. I. i
 
 86 
 
 make use of the most trifling oath. Again, this poor 
 lad has been hrouiiht up in a state of almost total 
 ignorance of his dependance on a Maker, and of the 
 existence of those rules of Christianity, by which we 
 are to learn our duty. You, my child, have been €n- 
 coura2;ed from your cradle in the exercise of every 
 virtue, and tauiiht to hold in just abhorrence a propen- 
 sity to vice and ineligion. Remember that this lad is 
 now an object of your charity ; he is a dependant on 
 you for advancement in life, and he will naturally look 
 up to you, not only for the advantages likely to result 
 from your future patronage, but will naturally form his 
 ideas of morality from the example you set him. To 
 speak of no other motive then for your circumspection, 
 will you so far change situations with this youth, as to 
 istoop and learn ol'him those vicious inclinations he may 
 have acquired, instead of his taking from you that 
 purity of language, I have been at such pains, and your 
 father was at such pains, to excite in you, my Montague? 
 I am willing to believe this is the first, and will be the 
 last tiiue, my dear boy, that you will so far forget 
 yourself, both as a geutlenum and a christian. But 
 while I am speaking on the subject, let me ^nce more 
 caution you, against ever being tempted to fall into a 
 practice, so utterly indefensible, and which possesses 
 no excuse, even iu the gratification it aliords. You arc
 
 $7 
 
 destined for the navy, my child, and there are, I know, 
 some persons, who, in tliis profession, thouj^htlessly 
 defend the practice, as necessary to inforce ordeF 
 amongst the seamen, and as impossible to he prevented 
 through the whole crew. 1-et nie caution you against 
 faliiri^ into this dangerous error, and as a proof in point 
 of the fallacy of thi^ argument, I can assure you, my 
 beloved child, and I posses^ the information from one 
 ot the ablest and most courageous officers in the 
 service, that an oath was rarely heard in the crew, over 
 which join father commani^-d, and was never allowed 
 to pdss unnoticed, when it did oc ur; but the same 
 gentleman has iuformed m?, and his country bears 
 testitiiony to the assertion, that the greatest order and 
 regularity alwa>s prevailed amongst the men whom 
 your father commanded, and the utmost cordiality and 
 friendship amongst the olficers. In fact, remember 
 this remark ot your father for I know it has been made 
 with eOect to many a midshipman, just entering the 
 navy — " When I read the simple sentence of " Swear 
 not at all," I see no limitation in favour of him who 
 wears a blue coat ; nor is there any passage in the bible 
 which says that the anchor on the button, is an ex- 
 emption to hi.n who wears it, from observing the 
 commandment which directs, that we are not to take 
 
 the name of God in vain." 
 
 x2
 
 98 
 
 Montague listened respectfully to his mother, the 
 whole time she was speaking; and heartily repenting 
 of the fault he had unwarily fallen into, and for the 
 momentary passion that had occasioned it, thanked her 
 for her admonition, and assured her he was convinced 
 that he never should otiend in the same point. 
 
 BIrs. Newburgh replied that his own feelings of con- 
 trition were sufficient punishment for the fault he had 
 committed ; and again urging him to caution, both oil 
 his own account, and on that of his dependant, left him 
 to compose himself. She spoke with some severity to 
 the lad upon the propensity she found he still indulged ; 
 and telling him that it would be impossible for her to 
 keep him in her house, unless he would attend to her 
 instructions, said, that if he continued his practice of 
 swearing she must be compelled to send him away. 
 
 Observing afterwards that a degree of sadness still 
 hung about her son, and judging that he was uneasy at 
 having incurred her displeasure, to recover his cheer- 
 fulness, she kindly took his hand which ha<l been 
 interposed to save her own bosom from the point of the 
 dirk. " Well, my Montague, you will still h;jve two 
 hands to enter the navy with. You have almost re- 
 covered the use of this j have you not?" added nhe^
 
 89 
 
 gently removing the bandage which still confined it. 
 *' Apropos! of losing hands ; it was his right, tliat the 
 brave Nelson lost oflF Cape St. Vincent, was it not ?" 
 
 " Yes, mamma, when he was only a commodore," 
 replied Montague, " shall I read you the account of the 
 action?" His mother assented, and the interest of the 
 recital soon banished all remains of sadness from our 
 young sailor. 
 
 13
 
 00 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 To thee the young for learning bend, 
 The poor have mark'd thee for their friend ; 
 And ev'ry grief to thee appeals, 
 Which pity soothes, or bounty heals. 
 
 SMYTH..- 
 
 Jl HE winter was now rapidly sliding away, and Mrs, 
 Newburgh had derived all the comfort and consolation 
 she expected from the employments, in which she had 
 been engaged during its continuance. Still cherishing 
 in her bosom the remembrance of him, whose tenderness 
 had been her first blessing during the period of fourteen 
 years, and whose loss was a wound to her happiness, 
 which nothing but a principle of christianily could 
 have healed, she could now think with tranquillity both 
 on the happiness she had enjoyed, and the comfort she 
 had lost; sincerely thankful for the former, and calmly 
 resigned to the latter. Her son, in whom her best 
 hopes of earthly bliss were now concentred, and in 
 ■whom she anticipated the satisfaction of seeing all the 
 private virtues, as well as the professional character of 
 his father renewed, promised amply to repay the de-
 
 91 
 
 votion of her time to his instruction. For Montague, 
 looking back on the memory of his father with venera- 
 tion, and forward to the time when he should begin to 
 tread in his profession, with all the ardour of youthful 
 spirit and bravery, repaid the care of his mother by a 
 cheerful acquiescence in her wishes, and a close ap- 
 plication to those pursuits she pointed out to him; while 
 the hope of supplying in her affections, by his warm 
 and grateful attachment, the loss she had sustained in 
 the death of his father, stimulated every exertion, and 
 animated his open countenance v\ith the warmest glow 
 «f filial fondness. 
 
 The progress, which he made both in elegant litera- 
 ture and in the studies more immediately relating to his 
 profession, was rapid ; w hile the lapse of every month 
 ^'itnessed the growth of tliose manly virtues, which 
 springing from the source of natural inheritance had 
 budded under her watchful hand who gave them birth, 
 and were gradually arriving at that maturity to be 
 attained only by constant and unremitting care. 
 
 Nor was her son the only object, from whose in- 
 struction our amiable widow had derived consolation 
 during the progress of this winter. Although his 
 vrelfare and happiness were her first care, and more
 
 92 
 
 closely interwoven round her heart than any other 
 earthly objects, her views were not so selfish as to 
 allow no consideration for others On the contrary, 
 her hand and heart were open to all; and in the small 
 vicinity in which she now resided, as had always been 
 the case when moving in a larger sphere, there was 
 not an individual, of whatever rank, whose heart did 
 not own the feelings of gratitude and attachment 
 towards her, and feel an interest in her situation. 
 
 But those, who more immediately shared her atten- 
 tion, besides her son, were the two younger inhabitants 
 of the cottage; one, a child of fortune, the other, the 
 object of her charity. On the latter she bestowed that 
 regular and judicious attention, calculated to improve 
 him into an useful member of society, a brave and loyal 
 seamen, and a good christian, an humble follower of 
 the blessed Jesus. She herself taught him to read and 
 to write, and made him a tolerable proficient in arith- 
 metic. The abilities of the lad were not particularly 
 good, but they were sufficient for the attainment of 
 instruction expedient for him to acquire; and Mrs. 
 Newburgh had no wish that he should learn any thing 
 farther 
 
 To Louisa Lenville, although only an occasional 
 visitor, Mrs, Newburgh gave constant and close atten-
 
 9$ 
 
 tion, and during the six months she remained with her, 
 ■was of that advantage to her, which no attachment on 
 the part of the cluld could be too great to repay. 
 From a spoiled, fractious girl, she made her submissive, 
 gentle, and tractable ; not breaking her spirit by 
 violent and injudicious correction, but taming it by 
 the influence of tender and affectionate management. 
 Instead of allowing her to run wild the vvhoie day, and 
 exercise her lively imagination in every species of 
 mischief and idleness, she brought her b\ degrees to 
 regular application and constant employment ; and so 
 judiciously blended amusement with instruciion, that 
 the child, who use ; to be wishing for dinner time 
 before noon, and for bed-tirne before sunset, now 
 never found a moment of her time hang heavily upon 
 her hands. She was constantly cheerful, lively and 
 active ; but never rude, boisterous or uncivil. 
 
 On the return of the spring, Mrs. Newburgh did not 
 forget the promise made to her son of enjoying those 
 excursions on the water, he had been lookmg forward 
 to with so much pleasure during the winter, and as the 
 laoat of Will Bowman, his own services, and those of 
 Peter Hopkms, were always at the command of Madam 
 and young master, whenever they liked to have a sail, 
 a week seldom passed, when the weather was fine,
 
 94 
 
 -vr4thout Montague being indulged in his favourite 
 amusement. The lively and now j)leusant and tractable 
 Louisa enjoyed tiie freshness of the water-breezos, and 
 either JNIr. or Mrs. Carlton, and sometimes both of 
 them, added the pleasure of their company to the little 
 party. The latter, with her sweet and pensive voice, 
 would frequently increase the sootiiing calm of the 
 water-scene ; while Mrs. Newburgh now and theu 
 repaid the exertions of her friend to amuse their young 
 companions, by the exercise of her fuller and more 
 refined melody. She had in the days of her gaiety 
 been remarkable for her execution on the liarp and 
 the piano forte, while the crowded asseiubly had oftea 
 been delighted by the chaste and easy expression, with 
 which her voice had accompanied these instruments : 
 but she had felt little inclination to exercise her 
 musical powers since her residence in the island : for 
 indeed she had scarcely opened her piano forte. 
 
 Ctvptain Newburgh had. himself been fond of music 
 without having been a performer ; and the same taste 
 displaying itself in Montague, with the curiectnes> of 
 his mother's ear, Mrs Newburgh was very willing to 
 encourage a wish he had formed of learning the tlute. 
 For being aware of the many idle hours likely to be 
 passed at sea, if not adapted to some subordinate em-
 
 ¥5 
 
 ptoymcnt, and dreading their effects, as opeuing^ if 
 temptation to tlie dice box and the card table, she 
 thought it would be a resource to him, alternately with 
 the literary taste she formed great hopes of his ac- 
 quiring. The flute was therefore occasionally tlie 
 companion of these water-parties; for Mr. Carlton, 
 having acquired some degree of skill on that instru- 
 ment, frequently accompanied the voice of his wife, 
 and gave his young favourite Montague some instruc- 
 tions in blowing it. At other tinies,^ when his mother 
 was not inclined to take a sail, or the weather was not 
 suflaciently calm for her, Montague, attended by Bar- 
 low, accompanied the fisherman and Peter in the 
 progress of their employments ; for Mrs. Newburgh 
 wished that her son should feel himself qnite at home 
 on the element, on which he was destined to pass the 
 greater part of his life ; and w as never better pleased 
 than when she watched the skill he was acquiring in 
 the management of the sail or the rudder, or his address 
 in exercising his boyish strength at the oar. It is true, 
 she would sometimes feel an anxious throb, when the 
 rising waves, or the whistling winds gave indication of 
 a storm, while her young sailor was on the water. But 
 the pleasure, with which she received him on his return, 
 as he jumped nimbly on the shore with his lace glowing 
 with health and his brisk eye sparkling with joy on her
 
 96 
 
 approach, amply compensated for her momentary fearf , 
 and filled her heart with feelings of gratitude to the 
 merciful Being, who in depriving her of one earthly 
 blessing had left her another, whose growing virtaes 
 lessened every honr the sense of her affliction : and if a 
 sigh of regret would accompany these feelings, that the 
 father of her son was not a sharer in these pleasing 
 emotions of parental fondness, it was a tribute due to 
 the remembrance of conjugal faith and affection, not 
 <he distrustfal murmur against the ways of Providence;
 
 97 
 
 CHAP. XI. 
 
 Yet, O my soul ! thy rising murmurs stay ; 
 Nor dare th' all wise Disposer to arraigu, 
 Or against his supreme decree 
 With impious grief complain, 
 That all thy full-blown joys at once should fade, 
 Was his most righteous will — and be that will obey'd. 
 
 LYTTLETOIff. 
 
 iL RE month of April was remarkably fine this year, 
 about the middle of which Montague entered his twelfth 
 year. Mrs. Newburgh desirous of giving him every 
 gratification in her power allowed him the choice of any 
 amusement, to celebrate the anniversary of his birth. 
 She had no doubt of the water being included in the 
 arrangements for the day, and was not a little surprised 
 at his wishes being confined to an excursion to Brook 
 Down, which lay within a few n.iles of their residence. 
 She expected also, that his friends the Carltons would 
 have been included, in whatever plan was formed : but 
 her proposal that they should be of the party was 
 gently objected to ; and as Mrs. Newburgh wished to 
 be DO impediment to her son's gratification, she did not 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 98 
 
 agalil mention the subject. The carriage was ordered 
 at an early hour after breakfast, when Mrs. Newbiirgh 
 vvith lier son and Louisa entered it, and inimerlhitely 
 proceeded to the Down. The day was unusually tine, 
 the atn^osphere was cloudless, and a fresh breeze swept 
 over the summit of the hills. The party left the car- 
 riage to enjoy the surrounding view of nature in her 
 sublime garb, and the young people frequently quitted 
 the side of Mrs. Newburgh to ramble over the Down 
 and climb the steepest parts in search of vegetable 
 curiosities. 
 
 • 
 
 " Are not these tumuli, mamma?" asked Montague, 
 pointing to several mounds of turf they were passing 
 over ; " they are very like those you once shewed me 
 on Salisbury Plain." 
 
 " They certainly appear very like them," answered 
 Mrs. Newburgh, " but I never knew them noticed in 
 any account of the island; therefore I should be more 
 inclined to think, they are merely some natural rough- 
 Messes in the soil." 
 
 " What are tumuli, Mrs Newburgh ?" enquired 
 Louisa; " I have never heard of them before?"
 
 99 
 
 " Tumulus is a Latin word," replied Mrs. Newburgh, 
 " the Eiiglish of which is a hillock, also a grave, or 
 sepulchre. There are large numbers ot' them to be 
 found on Salisbury Plain, of which 31ontague was 
 speaking, and they indicate the burying places of the 
 ancient inhabitants of the coiuitry. Many of them 
 have been opened by the curious, and discovered to 
 contain skeletons of the human form ; urns tilled Mith 
 bones, and many glass beads and other ornaments 
 which it was the practice of the ancients to bury with 
 their dead." 
 
 " Very curious indeed," said Louisa, " how very 
 much I should like to see one opened, for I wish to 
 kno\N and see every thing, that was done so many years 
 ago. Do iet us come up here uitU liailow and John, 
 Madam, and allow them to open one of these heaps of 
 earth." 
 
 " Well said, little antiquarian," good humonredly 
 
 replied Mrs. Newburgh, " and who is to give us leave 
 
 to begin our operations r besides my dear child, as I 
 
 before told Montague, 1 am very much inclined to 
 
 think that the heaps we are now sitting on are not any 
 
 thing of the sort of which you are desirous of learning; 
 
 K 2
 
 100 
 
 the contents : therefore they would not pay us for the 
 pains of ex? loring." 
 
 Away tripped Louisa a p;ain to the brow of the hill, 
 the steepest part of wnicSi Vioiitague, who had left his 
 mother's side a few minutes before, was now bcgiiiniug 
 to descend, 
 
 " This willnot do for me, Montague, will itr" asked 
 Louisa, disappointed at uot being able to follow her 
 play-feLow. 
 
 " No, you cannot get down here," replied Montague ; 
 at the same tuiiC scanns; himself on the turf ho was at 
 the bottom in a few moments. 
 
 He quickly re-ascended however, and brought with 
 him a inettallic substance, which ho gave to Louisa, in 
 remembrance of thtir ramble on Brook Down. She 
 presented to him in return a b 'autifuiiy veined pebole, 
 when the young friends r« turned to Mrs. Ncvvburgh, 
 tvho said it was a;>proaching four o clock. Montague 
 was now dis;atched to t'.e servants, who were wuidng 
 with the carnage ai a hftic distance, to say tluit his 
 mother was ready to return ; and the horses being 
 quickly turned towards the Uudercliii Cottage, the
 
 101 
 
 party soon arrived at their retreat, much pleased with 
 the excursion of the moniina'. The evening continued 
 fine and beautiful; and after dinner, Mrs. Newburgh 
 proposed a walk on the sea-shore. Louisas straw- 
 bonnet was quickly adjusted, but Montague hesitated 
 as he fetched his hat. He looked with an enquiring 
 eye on his mother's countenance, on which had been 
 oversitread a shade of pensiveness during the day, and 
 as he opened the gate at the bottom of the shrubbery, 
 asked her if she should not prefer a walk to Mr. 
 Carlton's? 
 
 " AVhy, ray dear boy," asked Mrs. Newburgh, feeling 
 slightly dissati>tied with her son, ''• have you quite given 
 up the sea then? This morning when I thought you 
 would have been delighted with a sail, you declined it 
 to ramble on the Down, whence you could only have a 
 distant view of it ; and now, when I propose the enjoy- 
 ment of its fresh breezes, while the moon is sparkling 
 on its rippling surface, you seem rather to avoid, than 
 accept the pleasure I thought I was ofi'ering you." 
 
 " Ah ! my dear mother," replied Montague, hurt at 
 
 her entertaining even a distant idea of his taste for the 
 
 sea dindnishing, or becoming less ardent j " indeed I 
 
 am as fond of the w-aler as ever ; but to day," added he, 
 
 k3
 
 102 
 
 pressinsr with tenderness the hand of his mother, whicU 
 was drawn withni his arm; " today, I thonghi you had 
 better tiiir::v on 'aaother subject, than that wliich must 
 awaken, above all others, the remeiubrauce •" 
 
 Moiitap;ue's voice was here choked by tears, and 
 some moments el {i)sed before his mother could thank 
 him for t'uii delicate nuuk of his attention to her 
 feelings, she had been attributing to a much less in- 
 teresting occa.sion. The truth was, this very day was 
 the anniversary of o;ie, which in the preceding year 
 had been reiidered particularly ha]!py by the presence 
 of Captain Newburgh. lie had accompanied liis wife 
 and son on an excursion up the river Thames, when 
 surrou aded by a uuinerous circle of friends he had 
 been the life of the party, and the delight and happi- 
 ness of the two objects so nearly connected with him. 
 A few days after, his ship having been put into com- 
 mission, when he took leave of his family on her sailing, 
 it was his last adieu. 
 
 " And have you really been studying my feelings to- 
 day, my dear fellow, instead of your o>vu amusement? ' 
 at length said Mrs. Newburgh, lookiug affectionately 
 at her son*
 
 103 
 
 " And my own too, my dear mother indeed ;" replied 
 Monfcigue, " / should not have enjoyed the water 
 to-day, and I did not think you would: so as I knew 
 Louisa was very fond of running up and down hills, I 
 thought we might as well give the day to an excursion 
 to Brook Down." 
 
 " To the sea, or to Mr. Carlton's," now enquired 
 liOuisa looking back, for she had gone on before her 
 companions, and had arrived at the foot-path v. hich led 
 to the house of the latter. 
 
 Montague looked at his mother : " which you please,' 
 she replied to his enquiring eye; and he tiiijikiug such 
 w as her wish answered Louisa j 
 
 " To the sea." 
 
 Louisa ran on, but quickly returning, as she caught 
 the view of the open sea on leaving the copse, ex- 
 claimed in a tone of delight, 
 
 ** How very beautiful the sea looks this evening ! I 
 hope the tide is coming up that we may wateh it over 
 cur favourite stone, >Ioutague,"
 
 104 
 
 " No, it is just ebbina:," replied Montacno, as they 
 approached the sea-sliore ; and as the wind biQws off 
 shore, it will go down very fast." 
 
 " Where does the water go to when it leaves us," 
 asked Louisa ; " I sn;>pose to the people on the oppo- 
 site side, and it is high water with them, when we have 
 our fine dry sands ?" 
 
 " You are mistaken," replied Mrs. Newburgh ; " it 
 is not as you suppose; but I fear I sliould only puzzle 
 you, were I to attempt to explain to you, that the 
 cbbinu" and flowing of the tides are occasioned by the 
 influence of the sun and the moon on llie waters. Let 
 therefore thessc secondary causes of the constant amuse- 
 ment, which we derive from watching the receding and 
 returning of the sea, be deferred till you are a little 
 more advanced in the study of aslronomy: for the 
 present, my dear girl, let us be satisfied with admiring 
 that beautiful contrivance of Almighty wisdom, which 
 keeps the immense extent of the ocean in perpetual and 
 regular motion, and In that means prevents its injuring 
 the world, which it must do if it were ailo^^cd to be 
 always stagnant." 
 
 " I do love the sea," replied the lively girl, " there 
 is always something new to amuse one in it. I could
 
 105 
 
 almost wibh I was a boy, that I might go to sea vvilli 
 Moutagiie." 
 
 *^ You are a curious little girl, truly," replied INIrs. 
 Newburgh, putting her ann round her neck, and kindly 
 kissing her; tliis morning you were for turning antiqua- 
 rian ; no\A-, you are for putting on the sailor's jacket, 
 and to-morrow I suppose you will be very, very anxious 
 to turn something else." 
 
 *' Since you have taken this vast fancy for the sea," 
 said Montague archly ; " I wonder you do not fix. on 
 that subject for the extracts you talked of writing a 
 few weeks since Louisa. I shall soon expect some 
 amusement from you in that way, I assure you." 
 
 Louisa blushed and hung dow^n her head, conscious 
 that she did sometimes make resolutions, the execution 
 of which did not immediately follow. This was the 
 case at present ; for seeing the pleasure it atlbrded 
 Montague to select his accounts of naval engagements, 
 and the satisfaction a reference to them frequently 
 proved to her friend Mrs. Newburgh, she had requested 
 to be allowed to do the same : Mrs. Newburgh had 
 williugly given her consent to the plan ; but the little
 
 106 
 
 girl had been diverted from her intention, and had not 
 yet taken advantage of the permission. 
 
 " Well Louisa" said Mrs. Nevburgh, " what do you 
 think <if Montagues plan ? while he conti.es himself to 
 the woiks of art wnich iioat on the eatery element, 
 together with his naval engagements in making his 
 extracts, wiii yon take the range which nature uhords 
 in the bosom of the ocean as your subjects?" 
 
 ** Oh yes, dear Mrs. Newburgh," replied Louisa, 
 " and do you tell me from whui nooks to write r" 
 
 " Oh no," replied Mrs. Newburgh, " you must select 
 for yoniself, unless you can prevail on Montague to 
 assist you : however, for a beginning I w ill recommend 
 you to take Bishop Home s considerations on the art 
 of iiavigation. The subject is pcihaps more parti- 
 culuily adapted for Montague, but as 1 think it is so 
 generally applicable to a proper reliection on the won- 
 ders ot the sea, it cannot but be proper as a beginning 
 to your man use apt." 
 
 Montague readily promised his assistance to his 
 young friend, and Louisa thanked Mrs. Newburgh
 
 107 
 
 fo» the extract she promised to point out as a com- 
 mencement ; and in the eveainu^ whiie Montague 
 was enjiaiied in a similar manner, be^au lier new 
 employment.
 
 168 
 
 CHAP. xn. 
 
 O! with what art, my friend, what early care, 
 Should wisdom cultivate a plant so fair! 
 How should her eye the ripening mind revise, 
 And blast the buds of folly as they rise ! 
 How should her hand with industry restrain, 
 The thriving growth of passion's fruitful train, 
 Aspiring weeds, whose lofty arms would tow'r 
 With fatal shade o'er reason's tender flow'r! 
 
 LANGHORNE* 
 
 'jThE delightful months of the spring thus passed 
 speedily away, and the summer followed bringing in its 
 train all the natural beauties of ihe season, with the 
 satisfaction to Mrs. Newburgh of again enjoying the 
 soc'cly of her friend Mrs. Lenville ; to IMontague the 
 pleasure of shuing all his sports with "William and 
 Manners Lenviile, and to Louisa the delight of again 
 embracing, and of again sharing the embraces of her 
 doating father and mother. But what a change for 
 Mr. and Mrs. Lenville to witness in the character of 
 their little girl I Grown and improved in person and 
 tigure, she with the iirst glance called forth encreasing
 
 109 
 
 expressious of fondness from both her parents. But 
 when, i : the cuuise of the liist very few hours, they 
 observed the more wonderful change, which had been 
 wrought in her manners, the heart of Mrs. Lenville, 
 irresolute in action, but not insensible to feeling, ac- 
 knowledged the debt she owed her friend ; while even 
 Mr. Lenville couUl not but perceive the advantage, 
 and feel the comfort of the amendiU^nt. His child waa 
 still lovely, intelligent, and lively; but not overbearing 
 and petulant: she had still all the quickness of native 
 genius, and the rapid turn of thought, proceeding from 
 a lively imagination ; but the former never allowed her 
 to contradict her father in his assertions, nor the latter 
 tempt her rudely to interrupt him when he was speaking. 
 They were only tacit ihanks, however, which Mrs. 
 New burgh obtained from the father of her httle god- 
 daughter for the pains she had bestowed on her in- 
 struction. But these were quite suificient; for she had 
 instructed Louisa with the intention of doing her a 
 service, not acquiring merit to herself; and the conse- 
 quences were too evident not to convey a sensation of 
 comfort to her bosom. Her only fear now was from 
 the etiects of her father's renewed indulgence; but as 
 the child was so attached to her, that she never passed 
 a day without paying her a visit, and as Mi j. Lenville 
 had the good sense to encourage their frequency, she 
 
 VOL. I L
 
 no 
 
 hoped, more than she dreaded, from the probable event ; 
 and as she very soon gained the consent of Jlrs. Lenville 
 to allow Louisa to pass the next winter with her, she 
 ventured to hope, althouch she did not mention the 
 subject to Mr. I.enville, tliat she should give the same 
 attention to her again, which had been so much her 
 comfort before. 
 
 iMr. and i»Irs. Lenville wore equally struck with the 
 growth and iniprovement of Montague Newburgh, as 
 they were v.ith those of their own little girl. Indeed 
 they were not less vi.-iblc although in justice to Mon- 
 tague it must be allowed, that in hiin there had been 
 none of those failings to correct, wliicli had occasioned 
 some little care and circumspection in regard to Louisa ; 
 but tlie changes in him were both pleasing and striking. 
 TJis figure was increased in height and size, his coun- 
 tenance was more manly and healthful, and his eye 
 from the soft expression of the child was changing to 
 the brighter ariimation of the spirited boy. 
 
 William and Manners Lenville were of dispositions 
 very ditlerent from each other. A mildness of manner 
 unusually engaging characterized the former, wiili a 
 sweetness of disposition which rendered him a general 
 ;\nd deserved tavourile ; and this \^as accompanied
 
 Ill 
 
 uith a strength of intellect and firmness of mind, which 
 promised in him the maturity of every noble and 
 generous feeling. Manners, on the contrary, had no 
 steadiness, bnt was impetuous in the extreme; always 
 guided by the favourite feeling or passion of the 
 moment, and never hesitating to indulge any propensity 
 wliich promised a temporary gratification. As was 
 before observed, they were botli dtsigned for the army ; 
 yet William could not forbear wishing that some altera- 
 tion might take place in this arrangement. Although 
 he certainly did not want personal courage, he was far 
 from anticipating pleasure in the changing life of a 
 soldier ; but would rather have been prepared for 
 orders ; because his clear judgment and remarkable 
 decision of character particularly inclined him to prove 
 an ornament to that profession. 
 
 As Mr-. Newburgh with a watchful eye of discrimi. 
 nation quickly investigated the characters of the two 
 youths, w^iose introduction at home for the vacation 
 opened an opportunity tor a close intimacy with the 
 dear object of her own maternal fondness, the obser- 
 vations she made were such as to occasion a more than 
 usual attention to the tastes and pursuits of her son. 
 She had educated him with the best principles ; but 
 
 ghe was too well acquainted with human nature, not to 
 
 l2
 
 112 
 
 be aware that at the early age of eleven years, with a 
 quick fancy and liel- feelings, the heart is frequently 
 estranj:e.t, v nd the judgment L»lin(4ed by false appear- 
 ances. The ea^y manners and captivating spirits of 
 Manners LenviUe, trave him, with boys of his own age, 
 a deciiied superiority, i;nd excited on a first ac- 
 quaintance tl e admiration and adulation of most of his 
 companions; and if this did not continue, when they 
 discovejed the tyranny of his disposition, and his abso- 
 lute contcnpt b: th of the discipline of his superiors, 
 and the good opinion of themselves, they feared hie 
 ridicule, or dreaded his resentment too much to leave 
 his society. 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh not wishing to indulge a suspicious* 
 disposition in her son, was careful of giving her opinion 
 to Montague on the characters of his young com- 
 panions; but cautioning him generally in his diversions 
 with them not to allow his spirits to carry him beyond 
 propriet), exacted a promise from him never to join 
 them or any other friends, without mentioning to her 
 whither he was goinu, and with whom. Montague, 
 grat fui for his mother's constant study for his gratifi- 
 cation, willingly made the desired ]>romise; and his 
 word once pagsed, was too sacred to be broken.
 
 113 
 
 The residence of the youpg Lenvilles in the vicinity 
 of Mrs. Newburgh's cottage was a constant source of 
 amusement to her son, who had only wanted the ad- 
 dition of companions of his own age, to render him 
 completely happy. His diversions were now frequently 
 varied by their society, and the three lads, however 
 diflcrent in their dispositions, pursued their amuse- 
 ments for some time uninterrupted by any little difFex- 
 $nce or disagreement. 
 
 Ir^
 
 114 
 
 CHAP. XIII. 
 
 To be good is to be hai)py. 
 
 ROWE, 
 
 feoON after his arrival in the island, Mr. Lenville 
 purchased a boat which was for sale in the neighbour- 
 hood, and in this he frequently went on the water, 
 accompanied by his own family, and by Mrs. Newburgh 
 and her son, or by Mr. and Mrs. Carlton. Ke, how- 
 ever, himself understood very little of the management 
 of this little vessel, and therefore generally enijagcd 
 the services of the fisherman, Jack Lewis. Jack was 
 not always able to leave his own boat, and his own oc- 
 cupation, and at these times, Mr. Lenville, who was 
 never willing to have his wishes controlled, ventured 
 to sea without him, little aware that almost all the 
 accidents which arise from water excursions, proceed 
 from want of skill or knowledge in the persons directing 
 the management of the sails and rudder. Itvas on 
 one of these occasions that passing one morning by 
 Mrs. Ncwburgh's grounds, on his way to the water, 
 accompanied by his two sons and his little girl, that
 
 115 
 
 Mr. Lemille, perceiving Montague throngh the shrubs, 
 dispatched his sons to ins ite hun lo join the party. 
 
 " There is a delightful side wind round to the 
 Needles," said Manners, " it will be famous sailing this 
 morning, and we shall want you at the helm, Newburgh, 
 for we cannot have the man, and ue are none of us 
 very good pilots; will you go? Come on, our party 
 will be nothing Miihout jou." 
 
 " Do come with us IMontague," whispered his little 
 favourite, Louisa, ^ho had now entered the shrubbery, 
 and taken hold of his hand. 
 
 "William, who was a few paces behind, said nothing, 
 but his countenance expressed how mucli he wished for 
 so agreeable an addition to the party. 
 
 The sail to the Needles of itself, was sufficient t« 
 excite a glow of pleasure in the cheek of Montague : 
 the idea of being looked on as the pilot of the party, 
 gratified a conscious feeling of capability, and when 
 the entreaties of a group of friends, so warmly seconded 
 all these incitements to join the party, it cannot be 
 wondered that on the first impulse of the moment he 
 readily agreed to accompany them,^ and instantly put^
 
 116 
 
 i'nv^ the Horace he was studying in his pocket, was 
 turning to inform his mother whither he was going. 
 
 But the very first step towards the house brought to 
 his recollection that his mother was not at home. She 
 had left the cottage about an hour accompanied by 
 Barlow, and contrary to her usual custom, had not told 
 her son whither she was going, but merely that she 
 should be absent two or three hours. It was useless to 
 go in search of her, and Montague valued his word too 
 much, to hesitate in giving up tlie pleasure of joining 
 his friends. 
 
 Yet he felt severely disappointed as he returned to 
 them, and informed them it was out of his power to go 
 with them, not having recollected, when he first gave 
 kis assent, that his mother was from home. 
 
 " But what in the world has your mother's being 
 from home to do with your going on the water," hastily 
 enquired Manners, visibly angry at the disappointment^ 
 " why, cannot you go out man, without asking mamma's 
 leave," added he, contemptuously and unguardedly 
 alluding to the practice which he knew existed of 
 Montague's always mentioning to his mother whither 
 and with whom he went out. He had never till tl\|s'
 
 117 
 
 moment ventured any raillery on the subject, for as the 
 well known courage of Montague's character was proof 
 against any iroi.ical charge of mean-syiritedness, and 
 as lie was anxious to | reserve his good opinion, he had 
 always been guarded not to express, before his friend, 
 the contempt he himself felt for every species of 
 control. 
 
 Montague was both hurt and astonished at the con- 
 temptuous sneer, which atprared in the counteiiauce 
 of Manners Lenvi:le, but far from feeliug the shame 
 which his friend's spe^ eh was designed lo occasion, at 
 being subject to the wishes of his niolher, or tempted 
 to break his promi*;ed word, the irritable speech of 
 Manners reconciled him to his disappointiaent, and a 
 sensati n of honest resentment animated his counte- 
 nance, as he thus replied : 
 
 " I certainly never shall go out without her leave 
 Manners, for she has particularly requested I would 
 not, and I am surprised that you should wish me to do 
 so," added he, turning away from the i-ate of the 
 shrubbery, while he cast a look of reproof at his friend. 
 
 " Weil ycu may be ofTendod if you please;" rep. lied 
 Manners, with some warmth, " I do not care for the
 
 118 
 
 anger of a boy who has not spirit en<fnffh to break 
 tlsrough the confinement of his mother's ajjron string! 
 ■\Vhy, what a pretty fellow you will be by a;)d bye, 
 when you get on the quarter deck. Is maa to go with 
 yon pray to see you do not tumble over-board, when 
 the ship heaves? or is that boy of your's Peter Hopkins 
 always to guard your precious lifer" 
 
 Montairne had returned to listen to this speech of 
 Manners, uttered with all the confidence of resolute 
 defiance, and terminated by a burst of loud and con- 
 temptuous laughter. It was meant to shake the resolu- 
 tion and change the purpose of him to whom It was 
 addressed, for Manners Lenville h id seldom found any 
 to withstand the torrent of his ridicule. 
 
 But Montague had a spirit equally lofty with his own, 
 and as well calcuL.ted to resist ridicule as his was to 
 employ it. It mounied with the attack it uc.ived, 
 and, conscious of the superiority of his own fi clings to 
 those, which animated the countenance of his friend, 
 he quickly replied : 
 
 "If you knew my mother. Manners, you would not 
 do her .•'o much injustice^ as to doubt the courage of
 
 119 
 
 her son; and if I had known you, I never should have 
 Subjected myself to the insult you have just oft'ered 
 me." 
 
 Thus saying, he hastily tunied towards the house, 
 Mliile Manners hallowed after him in a provoking tone 
 of voice; " well done, master courage, get behind the 
 wall, and do not fear the euemy from without. Bravo, 
 bravissimo ! — come along William," added he to his 
 brother, who had been standing a silent auditor of the 
 conversation that had passed between the tvvo boys; 
 then tapping him smartly on the shoulder, " my father 
 will be waituig for us." 
 
 William whose eyes had followed Montague through 
 the shrubbery, while his heart felt all the approbation 
 of his conduct, which his tongue could not express, 
 immediately attended the summons of his brother. 
 But Louisa, whose eyes were swimming in tears at her 
 brotlicr 3Ianners"s rudeness to Montague, could not 
 make up lier mind to leave him, without ofiering tiie 
 compensation of her own good-humour to her f.ivourite. 
 She, therefore, darted through the gate of the shrub- 
 bery, and quickly coming up with Montague, took Jiold 
 of his arm and said she should slay with him, since he 
 couid not go with theai :
 
 120 
 
 " No, love, no," replied Montague, his countenance 
 changing into affectionate tenderness, for the con- 
 siderate attention of hi:> little friend ; " run after Mr. 
 Lenville, there is a gooil girl ; I have my lessons to 
 prepare for Mr. Carlton, and .vhall be very well amused. 
 " Run, run," added he cheerfully, " the bieeze freshens, 
 and your little vessel is just putting np her rnain-sail." 
 
 Lonisn, satisfied at seeing a smile again on the coun- 
 tenance of her friend, and really anxious to be on the 
 water, shook the hand of Montague, and kissing her 
 own as she turned out of sight, tripped lightly after 
 her brothers, who had just reached Mr. Lenville. 
 
 That gentleman immediately enquired of his sons 
 for their young friend Newburgh, and but too feelingly 
 knowing the inconvenience of taking oft' every restric- 
 tion from his own son, secretly applauded the motive 
 which prevented his joining the party ; but too much 
 under his dominion to niter his sentiments, he only 
 answered to Manners's declaration, that he would not 
 give a fig for such a spirit as Montague Newbujgh's, by 
 begging him to take his place at the helm. His son, 
 however, chose ratiicr to be employed in the manaue- 
 ment of the sails, and as his father made a point of 
 never disputing with him, Mr. Lenville took the tiller 
 himself.
 
 121 
 
 As soon as the party was set off, Montague althcngb 
 vexed at discovering iu his friend a disposition, which 
 he little suspected him of possessing, set himself quietly 
 to his various occupations. He prepared his lessons 
 for Mr. Carlton and for his mother, and then seating 
 himself in his own little room, where he could occa- 
 sionally with the assistance of the telescope follow his 
 friends with his eye, he amused himself with trans- 
 cribing the account of the victory, gained by the im- 
 Hiortal Nelson over the French tleet in the bay of 
 Aboukir. 
 
 vol.. I. M
 
 m 
 
 CHAP. XIV. 
 
 AVhen lo ! a sudden blast the vessel blew, 
 And to the surge consign'd the little crew. 
 
 rogerI. 
 
 !!^JIONTAGUE having finished his extract, again 
 lurncd his eye to the glass to see if the little boat, in 
 which the Lenvillcs liad gone out, was yet returned 
 into sight. He was anxious for its re-appearance, for 
 he was perfectly aware how little it was calculated, 
 under its present management, to stand any rough 
 weather, and he plainly perceived in looking over the 
 sea that the wind was likely to blow in squalls, one of 
 the greatest trials for such a little cockle-shell. 
 
 It was not long before he discovered the object of 
 his solicitude, in which as it approached he soon re- 
 cognised each individual on board ; and as the boat 
 appeared to labour in the sea, which was swelling 
 around her, his heart beat with alarm for the safety of 
 those she was bearing over the waves. A sudden puff 
 came, which threatened to upset the crazy bark : she 
 however stemmed it safely, and IMr. Lenville, aware of
 
 193 
 
 the threatened danger and conscious of his own vrant 
 of skill, loosened the main sheet vhich he held in his 
 hand, and motioned to his son AViiliara who sat next 
 him, to assist his brother in furling the sail, and then 
 take out the oars. William jumped up to execute his 
 father's orders, but Manners seeing that the sea was again 
 calm, and obstinately determined to keep up the sail in 
 spite of all opposition, caught the S'heet himself, and 
 hauled it even closer than it was before. Mr. Lenville 
 could not leave his station at the helm, or he would, 
 for the first time in his life, have contested the opinion 
 of his son : but all he could do, as he had no power 
 over the main-sail, was to take in the niizen. This he 
 did; but the canvass, which it carried, did not ali'ect 
 the boat sufficiently to lessen its danger. Another 
 squall, more violent than the last, came across the 
 water; it overfilled the sails with its power, and in a 
 moment the little boat was upset in the water. 
 
 How, in this moment, did Mr. Lenville bitterly feel 
 
 the resolute obstinacy of his son's disposition. But it 
 
 was no time for reflection ; he caught his little girl in 
 
 his arms, and clinging to the boat, which was yet 
 
 floating on the water, he raised his swimming eyes to 
 
 heaven. Manners could not swim, and would have 
 
 immediately sunk, but that the arms of his brother 
 
 M 2
 
 124 
 
 supported him, and they also clnnir to the boat, with 
 •whicli, in all human probability, they would in the 
 coiiise of a f»hovt time sink for ever. 
 
 But Providence had directed otherwise. Montacne 
 employed in watching the movements of the parly in 
 Mr. Lenville's boat, felt his heart sink as he witnessed 
 the dreadful catasti'ophe. The first moment of surprise 
 being over, h€ hesitated not on the part he should take 
 for their relief. He waited not the return of his mother 
 now to sanction his leaving the house, but quickly ran 
 down to the sea-shore, hoping 1o meet with one of the 
 neichbouring fishermen, who might immediately put off 
 to the relief of the party in distress. At the same 
 instant Peter Hopkins ran his boat on shore, having 
 just returned with fish from his daily occupation. He 
 was busily engaged in fastening his boat to the shore, 
 and saw neither the lucident which had happened at 
 sea, nor the approach of his young master, who came 
 running breathless towards him. 
 
 Montague immediately jumped into the boat, and 
 hastily directing Peter to untie the rope he was fast- 
 ening, piit off from the shore, and pointing to his 
 companion to take one oar, immediately began to pull 
 hard with the other.
 
 125 
 
 The lad, attached both by interest and affection to 
 his young master, hesitated not to comply with his 
 directions, tliongh he was at a loss to guess at the 
 agitation he saw in his countenance. In a few words 
 Montague made known to him the accident that had 
 happened, after which not a word more past, excepting 
 that Peter, fearful that the exertions he made would be 
 too much for his companion, begged that he might be 
 allowed to take both oars. 
 
 Montague, however, would not relinquish the one 
 he pulled, and the two lads continued, against wind 
 and tide, to make their way through the swelling 
 ■waves; while the best feelings of humanity united their 
 hearts and actuated their exertions. 
 
 The accident happened but a short distance from 
 
 the shore, but the tide ran so strongly against our young 
 
 rowers, that it was a quarter of an hour before they 
 
 ■were enabled to lend any assistance to the unfortunate 
 
 sufierers ; their exertions however were unabated, and 
 
 at length reaching the spot, they instantly dropped 
 
 their oars, and in a few moments had the heartfelt 
 
 satisfaction of seeing the whole party in safety around 
 
 tliem. Exiiausted by the danger and distress they had 
 
 encountered, and benumbed by the cold they suti'erei 
 
 21 3
 
 12G 
 
 from remaining so long exposed to the wet, the whole 
 party took their places with silence in the boat, and 
 were in a few minutes safely landed on tlie shore. 
 
 The intelligence of the danger in which Mr. Lenville's 
 party had been seen, with that of young Newburgli's 
 having put off a boat for their relief, had reached Mrs. 
 Lenville some time before their safe ariival, and she 
 had been anxiously pacing tiie shore with Mrs. New- 
 burgh, who returned home soon after the departure of 
 her son, while the servants of both families, with many 
 of the surrounding cottagers joined in watching and 
 wishing for the event. 
 
 It would be difficult to describe the feelings of IMrs 
 Lenville, thus rectiving into hor arms the objects of 
 her affection, after the danger to which they had been 
 exposed. She alternately embraced each individual 
 sharer of her alfection, and with the warmest ex- 
 pressions of gratitude thanked her young friend, who 
 by the blessing of Providence had been so instrumental 
 to the preservation of her family. In the mean time 
 Mrs. Newbnrgh, listening with delighted fondness to 
 the account of her son's exertions, pressed him tenderly 
 in her arms, while a sigh of tender regret for his father 
 was quickly followed by a glow of gratitude to the
 
 127 
 
 Power, who watched over the increasing virtues of 
 this dear pledge of her husband's love. 
 
 Nor was the cheerful alacrity, with which Peter 
 Hopkins strove with his young master, forgotten in the 
 interesting feelings of the moment, but his honest heart 
 received more satisfaction from the consideration of 
 having served his fellow creatures, than from all the 
 favours lavished on him by the family he had so ably 
 assisted to preserve.
 
 128 
 
 CHAP. XV. 
 
 -Must I surely die ? 
 
 Re robb'd at once of health, of streugth, of time. 
 Of youth's fair proniiso, and of pleasure's prime? 
 
 BIKS. H. MOOIili. 
 
 On airivinsj at Mr. Lenville's, every precantion that 
 care and tenderness could suggest was taken to avert 
 the consequences likely to arise from so long an ex- 
 posure to wet, and the anxiety of mind inseparable 
 from such a situation; and it was attended with the 
 desired success in every instance, but in that of the 
 unfortunate occasion of the accident. Although the 
 same plan was adopted with him, as had been used for 
 the rest of the party, he was seized with violent 
 shivering fits, which were followed by such an alarming 
 height of fever, that to the anxious eyes which sur- 
 rounded him he appeared to be in very great danger. 
 The best medical assistance that could be procured, 
 was instantly obtained, and his brother William, who 
 usually occupied another bed in the same room with 
 Manners, was removed into that of his sister, Mrs. 
 Newburgh having requested that from the smalluess of
 
 Ud 
 
 ibe cottajre, Louisa should reside with her daring the 
 illness of her brother. 
 
 Two whole days elapsed before Mr. Bolton, who 
 was the surgeon called in, would venture to pronounce 
 hLs patient out of danger; and during that time 
 Meniague Newburgh scarcely moved from the bed-side 
 of his friend. Far from feeling any remains of angcF 
 at the aflront he had received from him, he looked on 
 him. with increasing tenderness, and from his ex- 
 pressions of contrition at the obstinacy of his dis- 
 position, b<^tM'eeo the paroxysms of his delirium, he 
 endeavoured to soften and soothe his irritated feelings^ 
 while the delight he felt at the change in his sentiments 
 was only counterbalanced by the fear that he would 
 never live to give proofs that he fully saw the ill efi'ects 
 ©f nnrestraine . inclination. His fears, however, at the 
 end of the third day, with those of the anxious father 
 and mother, and no less anxious brother and sister of 
 his friend, were relieved ; when Mr. Bolton assured 
 the group, collected round the bed of his patient, that 
 no farther alarm need be felt, and that the extreme 
 debility remaining would gradually subside with care 
 and good nursing. 
 
 Being relieved by this information, and solicited by 
 hb mother to attend her home in the evening, Montague
 
 130 
 
 baxle adieu to his friend, for the fiist time since the 
 accident vvliich had reconciled them after the hrst 
 disagreement they had ever had. Manners pressed 
 with warmth the hand of Montague, telling him, if when 
 he v/as quite well he should ever be inclined to be 
 guilty of disobedience to his parents, or to express 
 contempt for their authority, to remind him of what 
 had passed during the last three days. Mouta^;ue 
 re[)lied, that he was sure he never should have occasion 
 to make such an allusion, and returning the pressure 
 of his friend's hand bade him a good night. The gra- 
 titude and admiration of both -Mr. and Mrs. Lenville 
 followed him from the house, the eyes of William bore 
 testimony to his silent feelings, while little Louisa who 
 took Mrs. Newburgh's hand, as Montague gave his 
 mother his arm, declared that she should always love 
 Montague as well as either of her brothers. 
 
 Then, always happy of an opportunity to catch a 
 merry thought she added, laughing through her tears ; 
 
 " I would have thanked you more heartily, though, 
 Montague, if you could but have saved me without 
 losing my string of coral ; for do you know that in 
 helping me into the boat, you caught hold ot them, and 
 the string burst, and they all went to the bottom."
 
 131 
 
 " T do remember it, now you menticn it," replied 
 Montague, " though I doubt if I ever shur.ld ha\e 
 thought of it again had you not. Weli, it is not of 
 much consequence ; they are only returned to their 
 ovn element ; and as you are now safe in yours, yoa 
 should not regret that they are equally fortunate with 
 yours«if." 
 
 " Ko\r do you mean, returned to their element ? D© 
 coral beads come out of the sear ' enquired Louisa. 
 
 *' ^7hy do you Louisa pretend," Avith good-humour 
 asked Montague, " to collect extracts on the natural 
 curiosities of the sea, and have not yet discovered that 
 the pretty ornament you wear round your neck is one 
 of them?" 
 
 " You arc always reminding me of my idleness," 
 replied Louisa, " but now I think it will be but civil to 
 give me some account of it." 
 
 " Very just, Louisa," said Mrs. New burgh. " It Avill 
 be a nice employment for the remaining part of the 
 evening, i\Iontugue, to seek some account of this beau- 
 tiful marine production for litr to insert in her book of 
 extracts."
 
 132 
 
 Montague agreed to the proposal with great alacrity, 
 and after studying, with the assistance of his mother, 
 the opinions of many ditierent naturalists on the sub- 
 ject, supplied his young friend with an account, with 
 which she became much interested as slie inserted itim 
 her manuscript. 
 
 When Louisa had finished the extract, she said ; 
 *' thank you for a very entertaining account, Mon ague; 
 but I cannot now understand how the coral is taken out 
 of the sea, since it is so firmly fastened to the bottom. * 
 
 " Go on picking these sea weeds then," repHcd 
 Montague, " which I am laying out for my mother'* 
 collection, and I will look for the manner in which it ii 
 obtained." 
 
 Louisa accepted the employment offered her, and 
 Montague read aloud the account of the Coral Fishery, 
 and when he closed the book, although it was still 
 tarly, the fatigue he had undergone in attending on hts 
 friend made him wish to retire t9 bed, and Mrs. New- 
 burgh very soon followed Louisa to her a^ artment. 
 
 Montague rose early the next morning and finding oB 
 visiting Mr. Lenville's that Manners was going on well.
 
 133 
 
 after breakfast resumed with Mr. Carlton the -studies 
 Avhichthe late accident had interrupted ; tlieu returning 
 'to liis mother, prosecuted his accustomed employments 
 with her. 
 
 As Montague closed his books, and was preparing to 
 return them to their shelves, his mother affectionately 
 tiiking his hand, thus addressed him : 
 
 " Our attention, my dear boy, has been so entirely 
 devoted to poor Manners Lenville for the last three 
 days, that I have not had an opportunity ot expres>ing 
 to you the comfort I have derived from your behaviour 
 daring the Mhole of the day on which he unfortunately 
 occasioned so much distress to his family. Perhaps 
 you may not be aware that I am not ignorant of the 
 manly firmness with which you declined joining Mr. 
 Lenville's water party. A friend who accidentally 
 heard your conversation repeated it to me, with ex- 
 pressions of pleasure at your character for probity, and 
 I felt a satisfaction in the rel. tion which I cannot 
 describe. Of the subsequent action, when, under the 
 blessing of Providence, yon were so accessary to the 
 preservation of our friends from the destruction that 
 threatened them, you know 1 had the indescribable 
 pleasure of being partly a witness, and I have only to 
 
 A OL. I. N
 
 134 
 
 6ay to you, my beloved INIontagne, that if you thus oon- 
 tiime to unite the steady perseverance in what is right, 
 wilh a spiriied wish of exerting every faculty for tlie 
 benefit of others, you will take tlie surest way of se- 
 curing the favour of Heaven, and subordinate to that, 
 will in the exhibition of your father's virtues, my child, 
 more com))letely heal tiic wound Ivhich his loss oc- 
 casioned to me, than any other secondai'y means that 
 could be employed." 
 
 Montague, delighted witli his mother's approbation 
 of his tonducl, tenderly kissed the hand which he held ; 
 while Mrs. Newburgh, endeavouring to shake off tlic 
 feeling of regret, which still arose at the remembrance 
 of her husband, cheerfully added : 
 
 " Now, have you no curiosity, Montague, to know 
 whither I went on the morning of the Lenville's acci- 
 dent ? I so seldom go out without taking you for my 
 beau that I think the circumstance must have occa- 
 sioned some surprise." 
 
 " To say the truth, my dear mother," replied Mon- 
 tague; " I have been rather curious to learn whither 
 you went on that and on one other morning, when you
 
 135 
 
 were from home attended only by Barlow : but I con- 
 cluded that you wished me not to kao'.v, and therefor* 
 made no enquiries." 
 
 *' Well, your curiosity shall be gratified this evening 
 on returning from Mr. Lenviile's," answered Mrs. 
 Newburgh;" when I hope to gratify you by explaining 
 to you the reason of my twice declining to take you as 
 my companion. At present I will not keep you any 
 longer from your friend, who I dare say is very desirous 
 of seeing you. Poor fellow! he has paid very dearly 
 for his inconsiderate folly, and his weak state will long 
 require the grateful and delicate attentions of friend- 
 ship." 
 
 " I shall always be ready to lend my assistance 
 towards lessening the tedium of his confinement," re- 
 plied Montague, dropping his mother's hand ; " and 
 will no longer delay going to him. Perhaps you will 
 see him in the course of the dayf 
 
 *' In the evening," replied Mrs. Newburgh ; " this 
 
 morning, as I hear a good account of him, I shall spend 
 
 with Louisa who is very desirous to proceed with her 
 
 drawing." 
 
 n2
 
 13(> 
 
 Montasrue then went to the sick-room of his friend, 
 whose spirits l)e found imu h de[)ressed : they revived, 
 however, with liis fri?ndiy attentions ; in the atternoon 
 he was able to sit up, and appear quite coufortable, 
 and in the evening Mrs. Newburgh paid her promised 
 Tisit at Mr. Lenvilie's,
 
 137 
 
 CHAP. XVT. 
 
 Congeniiil Hope, thy passion-kindling power, 
 How bright, how strouir, in youth's untroubled hour ! 
 On you proud height, v»ith Genius hand in hand, 
 I see thee light, and wave thy golden wand. 
 
 CA.MPBELI-. 
 
 JlX the evening as Mrs. Newburgh was returning with 
 her son and Louisa, she proposed a ,wulk to the 
 sea-shore. 
 
 " What a very pretty yacht!" eagerly exclaimed 
 Montague, on approaching the strand, as he saw riding 
 at anchor a vessel he had never observed before : "how 
 well she rides on the water ! Does she belong to any 
 gentleman in the neiglibourhood r" continued he to his 
 mother, who had taken no notice of his lirst obser- 
 vation. 
 
 " Yes, my dear boy," replied Mrs. Newburgh, her 
 animated countenance enlightened by the glow of pa- 
 rental fondness ; " she does belong to a gentleman in 
 
 the neighbourhood ; and I sincerely hope that it* 
 
 M 3
 
 138 
 
 possession will be a source of innocent gratification ; 
 in fact, to keep you no longer in suspense, my Mon- 
 tague, it was to procure for you, what I conceived 
 would be an aj^reeablc surprise, that I declined taking 
 you witli me when I was givivig directions about fitting 
 her up. Her rigsjing was only finished yesterday, and 
 Peter Hopkins with the two lioncst fishermen, I have 
 engaged to work on board of her uudir your directions, 
 have just now brought her from the anchorage she has 
 been at since she has been fitting out. Peter, I see, is 
 just coming oiY in the boat according to my directions, 
 and if you please, we will go on board." 
 
 *' Oh ! my dear mother," rejoined Montague, his 
 eyes sparkling with giateful pleasure; "how can I 
 ever thank you for all your kindness. My highest wish 
 i::ferior to that of serving in a king's ship, has always 
 been to posses^ a boat of my own ; and you have mad« 
 jme completely happy by obtaining for me this beautiful 
 yacht. We will go on board directly, if you are not 
 afraid of the evening air on the water." 
 
 " It is so mild this evening that I have no fears," 
 replied Mrs. Newburgh, following her son, whose eager 
 delight had carried him onwards to the boat which 
 Peter Hopkins, had just run on shore. He gave his
 
 139 
 
 Land to his mother, then to Louisa who skipped nimbly 
 into the boat, and in five minutes the party came n\) to 
 the object of Montague's great delight, and Mrs^ 
 Nevvburgh's generosity. 
 
 The young owner of the vessel was the first to toucli 
 the deck ; then receiving his mother on board with an 
 afi^ectionate embrace, and his young friend with a ki!*s, 
 gaily welcomed them to his little domain. The men, 
 whose services were engaged for his little vessel, 
 received substantial marks of his generous spirit, and 
 he proceeded to examine every part of his new 
 property. 
 
 " I shall call her " The Hope," said Montague^ as he 
 strutted with all the pride of a high spirited sailor, 
 backwards and forwards on the deck ; " for I sh.ill sail 
 in her in the Hope of being one day transferred to some 
 more glorious command than that of a pleasure yacht.' 
 
 Pleased with the suggestion of her son, Mrs. New- 
 burgh immediately gave directions to have " The Hope'- 
 painted at the stern of his vessel, and the figure he had 
 made use of, reminding her of the elegant compliment 
 paid to Commodore An>on, by the French admiral, 
 after the conquest of several of the enemy's ships in
 
 140 
 
 1747, she asked Montague if he remembered the in- 
 cident ? 
 
 " Perfectly vvell," replied Montague ; " and I only 
 wish that I may have a similar speech made to me on 
 some future occasion." 
 
 • 
 
 " Do let me know what the compliment was," said 
 Louisa, " far I have never heard it." 
 
 Montague ever anxious to oblige, and never weary 
 of a subject w hich engrossed so much of his interest, 
 seated himself on the hatchway, and repeated the 
 
 anecdote as follows : 
 
 In 1747, Anson being appointed to the command of 
 a squadron, had the good fortune to fall in with a 
 French fleet off Cape Fitnsterre, and notwithstanding a 
 spirited resistance on the part of the enemy, took six 
 men of war, and four of the Indiamen they were con- 
 voying. The elegant compliment which M. de la 
 Jonquiere, the French admiral, paid the victor on 
 presenting his sword deserves to be remembered. 
 Pointing to two of his ships, whose names gave all the 
 beauty and force to the expression, he said, " Monsieur, 
 V0U8 avez vaincu I'lnvincible ; et la Glorie vous suit."
 
 141 
 
 ** Thank yon, Montaarue," exclaimed the lively 
 Louisa, running up to the young sailor; " que vous 
 soyez toujours invincible; et que la gloiie vous suive 
 partouit." 
 
 " Bravo, Louisa," replied Montague; " why, I de- 
 clare you are quite heroic : and when iirst I hoist my 
 flag, I cerJaiiily shall call on you to twist the hlue 
 riubons round the staff," 
 
 " Well turned, upon my word, Louisa," said Mrs. 
 Newburgh, " and to me a delightful proof of im.pro^^c- 
 meut in the Freuch language under the alternate 
 instru tiou of your mamma and myself. It is now 
 time to return to the boat, I think, for the sun has set 
 some minutes, and a very thick mist is rising on the 
 water, so I will thank you to give your orders,' added 
 ihe smiliiig, and addressing her so.i. 
 
 Montague desired Peter to bring the boat up to the 
 side of the vessel, and the party returned to the 
 cottage. 
 
 " When shall we take our first sail," asked Montague, 
 as they were sitting at their tea, " not till poor Manners 
 is better 1 think, for I cannot spare time enough from
 
 142 
 
 him to give both to books and the water; and the 
 former must be attended to." 
 
 " How good you arc," eagerly exclaimed Louisa, 
 " always to be thinking of poor Manners, after Lis 
 having been so angry with you because you did not 
 chuse to go with us that day without Mrs. Newburgh's 
 leave." 
 
 Montague gently put his hand over the mouth of 
 Louisa, who immediately feeling that she had been 
 wrong in reverting to her brother's behaviour, was 
 instantly silenced. 
 
 *' It will take a day or two to have the alteration 
 made in the name," observed Mrs. Newbiirgh, for- 
 bearing to notice the incident which had passed 
 between her son and Louisa ; " by that time I hope 
 your friend will be a great deal better; and perhaps 
 before he is equal to more violent exercise, a sail in 
 your boat may be of great service to him." Then 
 seeing that Louisa's countenance bore the reiuains of 
 uneasiness, at having thoughtlessly commented on the 
 behaviour of Manners, she said : 
 
 " Well, Louisa, did you make the extract, yon talked 
 of, on the subject of the star-fish, of which we saw s» 
 many in the water a few evenings since?"
 
 143 
 
 " Oh yes," replied Louisa, brightening up as her 
 niiud received the iiupressiou of a new subject; " shall 
 I read it, Madam?" 
 
 " Do, my love, if you have finished your tea." 
 
 ff 
 Louisa took her manuscript from the book-staud and 
 
 read the extract alluded to. 
 
 Nothing more passed this evening on the subject of 
 sailing, and for the next few days Montague gave to his 
 friend Manners Lenville the whole of the time he could 
 spare from his daily occupations. He chatted and 
 read to him alternately, and did not fail to relate the 
 instance of his mother's generosity in purchasing for 
 him a yacht, and to express the pleasure he should 
 feel, when Manners might be able to accompany him on 
 board : he would take sails of any distance that the 
 weakness of his frame would allow, and begged him to 
 keep up his spirits that he might soon be able to enjoy 
 the water. 
 
 Poor IManners, however, had from the late event 
 imbibed so decided an aversion to the water, that he 
 shuddered when his friend mentioned the excursions he 
 heped they should have together ; and thoHgu he re-
 
 144 
 
 joiced at Montaj^ue's possession of a thing which j?;ave 
 him so much pleasure, his heart recoiled at the idea of 
 ever bearing him cojipany in his trips. 
 
 Montague, at first, rallied him on his fears, and then 
 broujjht before him the examj'le of Peter, the Czar of 
 Muscovy, who had conquered an aversion to the element 
 in question much more deeply rooted than his : but 
 finding that he only distres^-ed his friei.d by conversing 
 on the subject, he at length dropped it till he should be 
 stronger, and more able to attend to his reasonings.
 
 145 
 
 CHAP. XVII. 
 
 Blest be that hand divine, which gently laid 
 My heart at rest. 
 
 YOUNG. 
 
 ]^ EARLY a fortnight had now elapsed since the 
 accident, which had occasioned so much alarm in Mr. 
 Lenville's faiuily. On the first Sunday after it hap- 
 pened, Manners was in so dangerous a state, that none 
 of the family had attended the neighbouring church. 
 Mr:^. Newburgh and her son, deeply interested in the 
 event of his illness, and finding iheir company a con* 
 solation at Mr. Lenville's, had also omitted attendance 
 at divine worship. On the approach of the second, 
 Mrs. Newi)urgh perceiving that every appearance of 
 danger had subsided, and aware that such an idea 
 might not occur to her friends, ventured to suggest to 
 Mrs. LenviUe the propriety of returning public thanks 
 in the church for the preservation of her husband and 
 children. It was a duty which she conceived to De a 
 positive one, and in recommending its performance to 
 her friends, who she was conscious had but too little 
 consideration ob serious subjects, she conceived she 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 Ii8 
 
 was well employing the influence she possessed over 
 them. Mrs. Leuville, much afi'ected on Mrs. Ncw- 
 bnrgh's mentioning the subject, willingly gave her assent 
 to the proposal, while her husband, somewhat sci'tened 
 and awakened to reflection by the late occurrences, 
 did not make the objections Mrs. Newburgh dreaded 
 froui his hauj^hty and independent spirit: so true it i.=, 
 that the appearance of death shakes the most determi- 
 ned dcfiunce. 
 
 Manners was not sufficiently recovered to c.o ta 
 church, but he was well enoudi to be left to the care 
 of servants, and to allow the family to join in the 
 thanksgiving, which Mr. Cavltou very impressively 
 offered in tlseir names, to the pc^ter from whom they 
 had lately received so great a mercy. That gentleman, 
 aware of the iiiienticn of the family before the arrivat 
 of the day, had projjared a discourse suitable to the 
 occasion; and the cmphatrc manner in which he spoke 
 to the foelini-s of the conf;reg:rtion, as he commented 
 on the superintending eye and gracioos arrangements 
 of l^rovidencc, made a deep impression on all his- 
 heareis, but on none more so than on IMr. Lenvillo, 
 who with rivetlcd attention on the preacher, felt his 
 hiart warmed with that puiT j^low of piety, whicli 
 rai t ly gained admittance into liis bosunj : and his ap-
 
 147 
 
 pearance at divine service iu the afternoon vas a con- 
 viucing proof of the serious impression he bad received. 
 ]Mrs. Newburgh, very much interested in the opinions 
 cf a man, whose example was so likely to aflect tho«e 
 of a young and promising family, and whose laxity of 
 principle was frequently a stumbling-block in the way 
 of her friend Mrs. Xenville, did not fail to remark with 
 sensations of pleasure the inv.ard workinjcs of Jlr. 
 Lcnville's feelings. But she forbore venturing to r(- 
 mark on them, aware of his disposition. Ou conversing 
 however with Mrs. Lenville, who had been deeply 
 aflected during the morning service, and whose better 
 principles she was aware frequently difiered from thoso 
 of her husband, she could not withstand tlie inclination 
 she felt of observing on thj effect visible in the coun- 
 tenance of iNIr. Lenville during the morning, whou she 
 found that it had not been lost on his lady, whose 
 emutiou had been increased by observing that of her 
 husband. 
 
 IMrs. Newburgh passed the evening at Mr. Leuville's, 
 
 aud in as general and delicate a manner as she could 
 
 again introduced the subject of the morning contem- 
 
 jdations. She had heard from her son of the antipatl)y 
 
 Manners had imbibed to the water, since the accident 
 
 ^vhich had so nearly cost the lives of himself and his 
 
 o2
 
 148 
 
 dearest relations, and she wished if possible to snr- 
 monnt it. It was indeed not of the consequence to him 
 that it miglit be to many boys in their progress through 
 life, considering it only as an imredinient to his rise in 
 the world. For his situation in life was such, that 
 another profession might be substituted for one, which 
 must in all proba?)ility occasionally subject him to sea- 
 voyages. Bui she con(!eived such an impression, as 
 significant of a distrust in Providence, md m tlii> view 
 she thought every effort should be made to overcome 
 it : in her own example with regard to her son, she had 
 given convincing proof with what proper feelings she 
 witnessed those accidents incidental to the profession 
 of the sea, ever tracing in them the direction of 
 a wise Providence ; and while her views were not con- 
 fined to the chances of the fight, but extended to all 
 those casualties so frequently occuring on the watery 
 element, she was as anxious that a proper feeling on 
 the subject should intluence the conduct of those for 
 whom she felt a very lively interest. 
 
 The evening was remarkably fine : the sun which 
 was within a few degrees of the horizon, cast his 
 lengthening shadows on every objef^t of the surrounding 
 scenery, softly illuminated with his retiring rays, while 
 the luxuriant tints of purple and gold were tastefully
 
 149 
 
 ;u)d fancifully intermixed with the clear azure sky : a 
 gentle and soothing breeze played amongst the sur- 
 rounding f 'liage, a more brisk but steady wind agitated 
 the sea, and the gentle reflector of the sun's glowing 
 light waited but his departure to appear in all her 
 loveliness. 
 
 Mrs. Newbnrgb, who was sitting alone with Mannersj 
 while the rest of the family and Iier son were taking a 
 stroll in the neighbourhood, after silently adrairiiig the 
 beautiful scene around her for some minutes, invited 
 her young companion to approach the window, by 
 which she was sitting, and immediately rose to o^ev 
 him her arm. 
 
 Manners thanked her for her attention, but declining 
 any assistance, walked up to the window alone, saying 
 in a cheerful voice, " he felt so much stronger, that he 
 hoped he should soon leave the house again." 
 
 Then turning pale, as he approached the window 
 
 and caught a view of the water, he was retiring to his 
 
 chair, but Mrs. Newburah ojserving his emotion, and 
 
 fully aware of its occasion, took him gently by the 
 
 arm, and begged him to ooserve the beautiful ed'ect of 
 
 o3
 
 150 
 
 the rising moon on the water and on a passing sail at a 
 distance. 
 
 Manners did not resist Mrs. Newburgh's detention ; 
 but turning his eyes from the water, and shuddering 
 as he spoke, said " he believed he never again should 
 look with any degree of comfort on the element in 
 which he had so nearly found a grave." 
 
 " I can easily imagine," calmly replied Mrs. New- 
 burgh, while she insensibly drew the eyes of her young 
 friend towards the object of his abhorrence, " what 
 your feelings must be on reviewing the danger to which 
 you have been so recently exposed, aiul am not sur- 
 prised, that you should feel some uncomfortable sensa- 
 tions at the idea of being again subjected to a possibility 
 of its recurrence. But you have too much good sense, 
 I am sure, to allow this feeling to get so much the 
 dominion over you, as to make it degenerate into a 
 worse ihan womanish weakness; for a moment's reflec- 
 tion must convince you how unreasonable and childish 
 it would be, for every one, who, in his own person, or 
 in that of a relation, had sulTered uneasiness, or even 
 the severer trial of losses in connection with this 
 clement, to make a resolution never to venture on it 
 again, and in so doing, perhaps, not only ruin the pros-
 
 151 
 
 pccts his family may have been forming for bis 
 establishment in life, but also deprive himself of many 
 sources of pure and rational pleasure." 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh here made a short pause, and her 
 young friend replied, again turning his head from the 
 sea, with a convulsive shudder; " giving up the water 
 will not, I am sure, deprive me of any pleasure, for I 
 never could feel any, I am confident, in joining those 
 parties, where that was to be the amusement." 
 
 " Not with your present feelings certainly you could 
 not," replied Mrs. Newburgh, "and if you lived alone 
 in the world, and felt entirely independent of every 
 other creature, perhaps it would not be necessary for 
 you to endeavour to overcome the prejudice you have 
 imbibed : but as none of us are born to be solitary 
 beings, and as I know of nothing in the circle of a 
 large family more likely to produce uneasiness than 
 the violent prejudices of an individual, a consideration 
 for otiiers should prompt a desire to overcome this 
 unfortunate antipathy. Besides, my young soldier," 
 added Mrs. Newburgh, with some spirit, " supposing 
 you were to be ordered abroad on actual service, 
 would not your feelings of courage, do you think, 
 prevent your refusing to obey? And I believe yon
 
 152 
 
 •would find no General very willinff to accept, as aa 
 apcloiijy for your nou-acquiesceuce in his orders, that 
 you were fearful of crossing the water." 
 
 Manners had a great deal of natural courage, and 
 had acquired some degree of military ardour ; and the 
 idea suggested to him by Mrs. Newburgh's last iu- 
 sinuation made him hesitate before he replied ; but his 
 eye at the same moment catching another view of the 
 sea, a repetition of his shuddering recurred, and he at 
 length said : 
 
 " Other professions may be found, if it is necessary 
 I should follow any, tl;an such as may subject me to a 
 service, the antipathy to which I am convinced I 
 could never conquer," 
 
 "And your uncle?" — rejoined Mrs. Newburgh; 
 *' where would fly all the hopes he has formed of seeing 
 in the profession, he is himself so great an ornament to, 
 a young hero rising up who shall transmit all his well- 
 earned laurels to posterity ?" 
 
 " Oh ! there is my brother," again. replied Manners ; 
 " he has taken no dislike to the water, and therefore he 
 niust be ray uncle's representative."
 
 153 
 
 " Oh ! your brother," said Mrs. Newburgh shaking 
 her head, " your brother never will be the man your 
 uncle so fondly hopes to see in the person of one of his 
 nephews. Highly as I think of William and much as 
 I value the many promising virtues in his character, I 
 cannot but acknowledge that he has none of the shining 
 qualifications requisite in the formation of a military 
 leader. No, to you your uncle looks, believe me^ for 
 his hero ; and from you he expects all that pleasure and 
 gratification, it is natural he sliould feel in contem- 
 plating the military achievemei»ts of one so nearly and 
 dearly connected with him as you are." 
 
 " My uncle," replied Manners, " formed this plan for 
 me when 1 was as willing as he to comply with it; but 
 now that I have taken a dislike to the profession," 
 
 Here Manners paused, conscious that he had not 
 taken a dislike to t!ie profession, for his partiality to 
 the army still existed in all its warmth, and beginning 
 to feel ashamed that one unjustifiable prejudice should 
 threaten to blast all the hopes formed for his advance- 
 ment in life. He was aware that his fathei's means of 
 providing for him were very inferior to those of his 
 uncle, who was willing to take the entire charge upon 
 himself, and that in disobliging him, by refusing to
 
 154 
 
 follow the profession marked out for him, he mijjht 
 very justly forfeit his favour and protection. 
 
 Mrs. Newbnrgh saw the hesitation of her young 
 friend, and thinking it a jjood opportunity to improve 
 on the impression she had made, proceeded : 
 
 *' You must he aware, my youn"; friend, that my 
 j-easons for uri insj on you the necessity of your endea- 
 vouring to conquer t'nis unfortunate prejudice must be 
 entirely disinterested; and thai I cannol possibly have 
 any other motive for doIni» it, than that of feeiiuii a 
 great interest in your welfare. I have represented to 
 you every argument connected with your advancement 
 in life, and I have I fear, nearly, if not entirely faiU-d 
 in en leavouring to e.vcite your exertions. There is 
 one, however, remaining, of a dihereut tendency, which 
 I have reserved for a last r source, not on acct)unt of 
 its insignificance, but on tlie contrary, of its very last 
 iniiortance. I mean that of your dependauce on a 
 superior power, and of the doubt which your autijathy 
 to the water implies of his all-sufficiency to protect you 
 when exposed to the daujicrs of that elf^ment. But, do 
 you not suppose, he is equally watchful over the mariner 
 9S over the landsmau i Do you not thaik he can guidQ
 
 loo 
 
 yon as safely throucli the storm at sea, as throujrh the 
 numerous accidents to which you are liable on land? 
 Do you think the smallest shiT was ever wrecked with- 
 out his knowledj^e, or the meanest sailor ever sunk into 
 his watery grave without the permission of his Pro- 
 vidence r" 
 
 The feelings of Manners, softened by his recent in- 
 disposition, were not proof against tais last appeal 
 which Mrs. Newburj^h so anxiously addressed to them : 
 he felt convinced of the propriety of her arguments 
 and yieidiug to the dejection which the weakness of 
 his frame, and a succession of mournful events had 
 occasioned, he burst into tears, while his head sunk on 
 the shoulder of Mrs. New burgh. She led him back to 
 his chair, not being willing to fix his attention too long 
 on a subject, which obviously gave him so much pain. 
 He felt all her kindness, and pressing her hand to his 
 lips as she took her seat by hira, he asked how soon she 
 thought he should have sufficient strength to sit in a 
 boat. 
 
 She told him that it would require very little increase 
 of bodily strength to render him capable of the exertion, 
 and tliat if his resolution continued, and the following
 
 156 
 
 day should prove fine, Montague's boat could be ready 
 at any hour to take him any distance. 
 
 The rest of the party here returned from their walk 
 and soon after Mrs. Newburgh with her son and Louisa 
 took leave for the nisht.
 
 157 
 
 CHAP. XVIII. 
 
 The wise and active conquer difficulties 
 By daring to attempt them. 
 
 ROWE. 
 
 jlHE next morning, Montague, having heard from 
 his mother with much pleasure the effect which her 
 reasonings had on the mind of his friend Manners, rose 
 unusually early, and having made every necessary pre* 
 paration both for his mother and Mr. Carlton ran to 
 Mr. Lenville's to enquire for his friend, before his 
 mother had made her appearance in the breakfast- 
 parlour: he was not risen, but finding that he was 
 awake Montague tapped at his door, and on hearing 
 his friend's voice in reply, entered the apartment. 
 
 " You are early this morning," said Manners, ex- 
 tending his hand to him, " why, you cannot yet have 
 breakfasted V 
 
 " No," replied Montague, " but as I was so anxiooa 
 
 lo know if yott continued in your last night's resolution, 
 VOL. I. p'
 
 I5d 
 
 that I rose very early this morning ; and if yon think 
 this fine day will prove any inducement to you to make 
 a short excursion on the water, I will tell Peter, as I 
 return, to be ready at any hour you please." 
 
 Manners changed colour on the first mention of the 
 water, but quickly recovering himself, while his coun- 
 tenance assumed a regard of resolute earnestness, he 
 replied : 
 
 " Your mother is irresistible Montague; no one else 
 could have had the same influence over my stubborn 
 disposition, I am sure ; but it is impossible to withstand 
 the force of her arguments. I have dreamt of her all 
 night, aud though I still shudder when I think of the 
 attempt, yet I am determined to make one to conquer 
 this unreasonable, and as she represents it, this impious 
 prejudice." 
 
 Montague felt the full value of his mother's worth, 
 as his friend paid her this warm-hearted tribute, and 
 perceiving the eiVect she had produced on his, hitherto 
 ill-regulated, but generous temper, he secretly rejoiced 
 at an accident wiilch appeared likely to prove so sub- 
 stantially beneficial to him. He shook him heartily by 
 the hand, and promising his boat should be ready at
 
 159 
 
 twelve o'clock hastened to join Lis mother and Louisa 
 at breakfast. 
 
 The day proved as fine as could be wished for the 
 
 invalid to m^-ke his first short excursion on the water; 
 
 and his own family with Mrs. Newburgh and her son 
 
 accompanying him to ihe boat, he eutered it with a 
 
 palpitating heart, supported by the twa latter, who 
 
 taking tht^ir seats on each side of him, waved their 
 
 hands to the rest o" the party, who remained on shore, 
 
 for fear of overfatiguin^, by their numbers, the object 
 
 of their solicitude ; and the rowers, plying gently their 
 
 oars, carried the liitle bark safely along the shore. 
 
 1 here was scarcely any curl on the water, but just air 
 
 enough to moderate the uoon-tide beams of the sun ; 
 
 and though, for the first few minutes a feeling of horror 
 
 super^edt'd every other in the bieast of Manners, and 
 
 Mrs. NcwDurgh, who watchtd the tracsitions in his 
 
 countenance, feared he would sink under the sensation, 
 
 yet as he became accustomed to ihe calm scene around 
 
 him. he insensibly lost his apprehensions, and gathered 
 
 confidence from the silent, though feeling attentions of 
 
 his friend : his dread at length gave way to delight at 
 
 again enjoying the calm and serene face of nature, 
 
 from which he had been excluded during the last 
 
 fortnight, and to gratitude to the Power which ha4 
 
 p 2
 
 160 
 
 preserved hirti from a watery grave, and supported him 
 through the trial of a severe and dangerous iUness. 
 His heart, violent in all its emotions, mel'ed at the 
 reflections awakened in his bosom, and looking tenderly 
 at Mrs. Newburgh, who, but a few moments before 
 began almost to repent having prevailed on her young 
 friend in his present weak state to venture a trial, 
 which appeared too hard for him to encounter, he at 
 once relieved her apprehensions and his own feelings, 
 by bursting into tears. Montague was as much affected 
 as Manners, and the party for som; time proceeded in 
 silence : but at length. Manners, greatly relieved by 
 tears, and beciuning to feel the reviving iniluence of 
 the sea-air, found his spirits rising ; and long before 
 the expiration of the hour which Mrs. Newburgh con- 
 sidered would be sufficient for the first excursion, the 
 party engaged in cheerful conversation, and even 
 Manners regretted that the prow of the boat was so 
 quicKly put on shore. 
 
 Mrs. Lenville, "William, and Louisa waited to receive 
 the invalid, and hearing so good an account of him 
 during his row on the water, it was determined that the 
 whole party should accompany him on the morrow, and 
 that the excursion should take place in Montague's 
 decked vessel. Mrs. Newburgh and Montague ac-
 
 161 
 
 companied Manners to the gate that led to their 
 cottage; then leaving Louisa to spend the remainder 
 of the day with her brother, returned to their own 
 house, where they found a visitor they little expected. 
 
 p3
 
 162 
 
 CHAP. XIX. 
 
 Some chord in unison with what we hear 
 Is touched within us, and the heart replies. 
 
 COWPER. 
 
 A HE visitor, whose unexpected appearance at the 
 cottage, occasioned both surprise and pleasure to Mrs. 
 New burgh and her son, was no other then Lord Pen- 
 hurst, of whom since their retirement to the Is;le of 
 AVight no intelligence had been received either by 
 Montague or his mother. Not that Mrs. Newburgh 
 had failed in making every advance towards a recon- 
 ciliation with her uncle, it was in her power to do, 
 consistently with her determination never to yield to 
 his wishes in regard to her sou. For some little time 
 indeed, after quitting London, she refrained from 
 addressing him, knowing the extreme tenacity of his 
 opinions, and being aware that the many peculiarities 
 in his character did not admit of her shewing tlie 
 uneasiness she really felt at being so entirely estranged 
 from her only relation. She knew that the feelings of 
 Lord Penhurst were not at all delicate; his mind
 
 163 
 
 possessed much strength, but little refinement; and 
 accustomed from his peculiar situation and rank in life, 
 and from his bachelor habits to meet wiih very little 
 contradiction, he disliked every attempt at contesting 
 the opinions formed on his own judgment. All these 
 considerations actuated with Mrs. Newburgh not to be 
 in haste to address her uncle, after having so highly 
 Incensed him against her : but when she conceived that 
 resentment formed in the hurry of passion must have 
 had time to cool, and the powerful plea of natural 
 affection again chased the displeasure, which had been 
 BO warmly kindled in the bosom of her uncle, she had 
 ventured to address a letter to him couched in general 
 terms of aflectionate regard, avoiding the topic which 
 bad occasioned the dissension between them, and 
 inviting him in the kindest manner to spend some time 
 with her in her retreat Her letter, however, received 
 no answer. Yet, far from reip.aining satistieJ with one 
 attempt at regaining the cordiality of Lord Penhurst, 
 she wrote to him again at several different times in the 
 same strain of affection, and also caused Montague to 
 write two or three respectful letters to his uncle. But 
 all was of no avail. Lord Penhurst had, or fancied he 
 had, taken a violent dislike to his relations, who had 
 disappointed his ambitious views of seeing hi;; repre- 
 sentative hold a shining place iu the ministery of his
 
 164 
 
 country ; and he declared that he would take no move 
 notice of a boy, \\lio had rather be floundering about 
 upon the water, v/ith a chauct> of sinking to the bottoiu 
 this moment, and blown up by a cannon-ball the next, 
 than be gaining applause by some well-turned speech 
 at the bar, or a piece of florid eloquence in the senate. 
 His Lordship was infatuated; and \\hile his admiration 
 for AViliiam Pitt led him into an enthusiastic desire 
 that his nephew should tread in the steps of that 
 illustrious statesman, it occurred not to him that ihe 
 council would debate in vain, if there were not heroes 
 to direct her navy, and that Nelson was as great on 
 the quarter deck of the Victory, as Pitt was in the 
 chaiv of the house of commons. 
 
 Lord Penhurst was under the influence of these 
 opinions, when one morning at breakfast, while the 
 parliament was not sitting, and there was little public 
 news in the papers, his eye glancing over the mis- 
 cellaneous matter was attracted to the following 
 paragraph : 
 
 Caution to young gentlemen. 
 
 " A few days since, in the back of the Isle of Wight, 
 a very serious and fatal accident had nearly happened 
 to the family of W. Lenville, Esq. now residing in a
 
 165 
 
 cottage near Slianklin Chine. Mr. L. with his two 
 sous and his daughter weie sailing in a small boat 
 within a mile of the shore, when a sudden squall 
 threatened destruction to the whole party. It however 
 passed them, and Mr. L. requested his son, for there 
 was no waterman on board, to haul in the sail, in case 
 of a recurrence of the same nature, which from the 
 appearance of the atmosphere seemed very likely. 
 The young gentleman preferred having the sail up, 
 and unfortunately refusing to accede to his father's 
 wishes was the thoughtless occasion of the accident, 
 which almost instantly followed. A gust of wind, more 
 violent than the lirsl, quickly succeeded to it, and the 
 boat was instantly upset. The party were saved from 
 immediate death by clinging to the boat, which still 
 remained above water, but they must soon have sunk 
 with her to rise no more, had it not been for the 
 spirited exertions of two lads, who viewing the accident 
 from the shore, immediately put oflf in a boat which 
 happene ' to be drawn up on the strand, and who, after 
 pulling against wind and tide, had the satisfaction of 
 receiving'; on board the whole of INIr. Lenvilie's family. 
 We understand one of these youths to have been the 
 presumptive heir to the Penhurst Barony, and a son 
 of Captain Newburgh who fell so gloriously in the late 
 naval engagement; a boy of only eleven years of age.
 
 lOG 
 
 \\\\o ill this early indication of intiepidity and picsen-e 
 ot" mind does lionour to tlie memory of his father, und 
 gives an earnest of his future credit in the navy, fur 
 "which, we are told, he is designed." 
 
 Lord Penhurst in reading this paragraph couM not 
 help being moved, though he endeavoured to suppress 
 his feelings by every act in his power. He pushed the 
 paper from him; took the review which lay by him in 
 its place ; poured out another cup of tea ; rang the boll 
 to know vhy his toast was not brought; pushed av->ay 
 his footstool ; pulled his slippers up at the heel; and 
 tinally, taking off liis speciacles to discover the reasoa 
 why he could not distinguish even the largest letters of 
 the Ijritish Critic, wiped them with the comer of his 
 iiaplvin, put them on again, and with an cmphalic, 
 psh.iw! once more took up the newspaper, 'i'hcn, 
 having again read the paragraph, in which the intre- 
 pidity of his young nephew was so conspicuoissly 
 alluded to, he insensibly sunk into a truiu of reliecuon 
 on the conduct of his youthful relation. 
 
 ** The boy was certainly born to make some figure in 
 life ! and may it not be in the navy as well as in Uie 
 council-chamber? The boy was certainly born to be
 
 167 
 
 x»y heir ! and may he not do as mucli horiouv to I'lC 
 coronet in the navy, as in the council-chamber? ThtJ 
 boy was certainly born to be my nephew ! and may 
 he not be as much ray nej;hew in the navy, as in the 
 roxincil-chamber? Well, well then let him be in the 
 ravy, since I cannot help it. If he does but do honour 
 to the Barony of Penhurst, to be sure it does r^ot much 
 signify, whether the honour is won on water or on 
 paper.'* After this soliloquy, Lord Penhurst again 
 rang the bell, and telling the man to prepare for a 
 journey, immediately posted to Southampton, and the 
 next day found himself in the cottage of his niece, 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh, although she was ignorant of the 
 traiu of reasoning, to which she owed the present visit 
 of her uncle, and although hhe had been sensibly hurt 
 by the continuation of his unkindness towards her, was 
 so completely glad to receive Lord Penliurst under her 
 roof, that she immediately welcomed him with all the 
 cordiality of a friendship, which had sulTered no di- 
 minution. To say that the siglit of her uncle did not 
 awaken those tender feelings of regret, with w hich her 
 last interview with him were connected, would be 
 doing injustice to the affection of one of the tenderest 
 of wives; but Mrs. NcAvburgh endeavoured to restrain 
 her emotion, and in the satisfaction of the present
 
 16$ 
 
 'aiomeftt seemed to lose the painful impression of those 
 which were past. 
 
 If the first idea, which struck Montague on the sight 
 of his uncle, was one of indignation at the remembrance 
 of the insult he thought oftered to his father, in thfe 
 contempt with which his uncle had treated the diamond- 
 mounted dirk, it is hoped he will be forgiven for a 
 feeling which sprung from a high sense of his father's 
 honour, and a sacred veneration for his memory. It 
 subsided instantly in a reflection on the relation to 
 which he stood towards his uncle, and the respect due 
 to his superiority in years; and to Lord Penhurst's 
 salutation of, " what a fine fellow you are grown, Siri** 
 Montague heartily and afiectionately received the 
 hand otfered to him. 
 
 Indeed the change was sufficiently striking in the 
 figure of our young sailor, during the last year and a 
 half thit he had resided in the Isle of Wight; and it 
 was not at all astonishing that Lord Penhurst should 
 observe with some degree of pride, for that is the term 
 more properly to be employed, instead of aflfection, in 
 speaking of his Lordship, the ditierf.nce between a boy 
 with an interesting set of features indeed, but over- 
 shadowed with sadness, aud in a deep suit of mourning^
 
 169 
 
 and a high-spirited lad, whose countenance wore the 
 semblance of strong heailh and cheerfulness, habited in 
 a suit ot bine, made in the fashion of a sailor; courage 
 sparkling in his eye, truth marked on his forehead, and 
 the glow of lilial love mantling in his cheek. 
 
 The observations and manners of Lord Penluirst 
 were always definite. When he had formed his pre- 
 judiced opinions on the profession of his young nephew, 
 immediately after the death of his father, he had had no 
 scruples, even at the expense of delicacy and feeling, 
 in urging them on the observation of his niece ; and 
 now when they had utterly subsided, and the improved 
 appearance of his nephew had sealed the alteration ill 
 his sentiments the report of his bravery had excited ; 
 he was as little concerned in disguising what he felt on 
 the occasion ; but not being able thoroughly to under- 
 stand the sort of feeling, by which Montague at so very 
 early an age had fixed on the profession of his father, 
 he was determined to try him for a moment, and dis- 
 cover whether it was a sensation stronger than that of 
 a wish for splendour and rank. Therefoie, taking very 
 slight notice of the expressions of pleasure, which were 
 offered him on his arrival by both his relations, he 
 immediately alluded to the subject which had occa- 
 sioned his present trip, and tapping Montague on the 
 
 V\»L» I, Q
 
 no 
 
 shoulder said, " so, sir, you have begun your feats on 
 your favourite element, aheady, I find ; and you arc 
 determined to l^e a sailor, at last ; ■well, and they say that 
 you promise to make some show in the line you have 
 chosci). Now this appears all very extraordiuary to 
 me, and I really should like to hear your reasons for 
 having such a strange taste as to prefer a rusty anchor 
 to the glitter of a coronet; and I should like to know 
 if I got an act of parliament to prevent my title's 
 descending to you, whether you would then choose to 
 indulge in this wish of yours? Honestly now" con- 
 tinued Lord Penhurst, repeating tl-e tap on Motitague's 
 shoulder ; " come, tell me honestly ; what is your 
 choice, hey? your father's anchor, or your mother's 
 coronet ?" 
 
 From the countenance and address of Lord Penhurst, 
 when he first met his relations, every thing but dis- 
 satisfaction might have been traced ; therefore this 
 address would have been very surprising to any one, 
 not acquainted with his Lordship's real character: but 
 it was productive of no unpleasant feelings to Mrs. 
 Ncwburgh, who instantly sav^ that this was merely a 
 feint to discover the real sentiments of her sou, and 
 that his own were changed by some sudden whim into 
 approbation of his professional choice. Her secret
 
 171 
 
 jileasure was great on making this observation : for she 
 had always feared that the recommeucement of com- 
 munication with her uncle would prove one also of 
 family dissension. She was perfectly sadsQed to in- 
 dulge Lord Penburst's unusual facetiousuess with her 
 son, and looked on his counteiiuace to trace the eiiects 
 of his uncle's address. Montague, who reully thought 
 his uncle was in earnest, looked for a moment on his 
 mother, as if to express a hope that the resignation of 
 her inheritance would not be paying an ill coiaplimcnt 
 to her maternal fondtess, tl:en instantly anticipating 
 her wishes on the subject, and feeling his spirit rise at 
 the remenibrau -e of his father, t!ie niaiily boy with 
 much earnestness replied, " ray father's anchor, my 
 Lord." 
 
 Lord Penhurst again asked, " what, and refuse your 
 mother's inheritance ?' 
 
 Montague replied ; " yes, my Lord. My mother's 
 
 coronet, I think, would have formed a noble support 
 
 to the anchor of my father j but since it appears both 
 
 of theai cannot descend to their son ; my mother will, 
 
 I am sure, not only forgive, but approve my choice," 
 
 continued he, looking aiiectiouately at her, " if I prefer 
 
 Q -^
 
 172 
 
 that whicli is rendered so dear to both of us by the 
 remembrance of my father." 
 
 " Well spoke, younj; fiery," replied Lord Penhurst; 
 ** and you shall hive your anc-hor and your coronet 
 enibliizoiied to:j;ethor: for, as you hive got all your 
 mother's obsiiUacy, boy, it is a pity you should lose her 
 inheritance." 
 
 Montague, who now began to understand his nncle's 
 rery odd disposition, could scarcely help smiling at 
 this reriectiou on his mother, as he saw it was only in 
 joke, and was not in the least relented even by a change 
 of countenance in her. He to:d his uncle he hoped he 
 should never disgrace either his father or mother; then 
 observing that his Lordshi^'S dress would require some 
 change to make him comfortable before dinner, he 
 respectfully asked if he would not like Barlow to wait 
 •n him? 
 
 " My own fellow is somewhere about," answered 
 Lord Penhurst, '' and he comes most handily to me 
 when I shave. I should be afraid that your sador-mon 
 would forget I was not crossing the line, and would use 
 pilch instead of soap."
 
 173 
 
 " My sailors are better taught, uncle," gaily replied 
 Montague; " but your own mau shall be instantly 
 sought." 
 
 Lord Penhurst then retired to the apartraect which 
 •was to be prepared for his reception, and met his 
 nephew and niece at dinner at five o'clock. 
 
 The favourable opinion of his Lordsliip, in regard to 
 his nephew, did not again change. During the hour of 
 dinner, when engaging with him in conversation, he 
 felt all the pride of ancestry, on contemplating the 
 shining support likely to succeed to the ancient Barony 
 of Penhurst; and after dinner, feeling himself very 
 much at his ease, as indeed it was his custom to do, 
 into whatever company he went, after asking Montague 
 the same questions over and over again, and starting 
 up in the middle of a doze to ask the rogue why he did 
 not answer him, he, at length, fell into a sound sleep t» 
 dream of great naval commanders, instead of statesmen, 
 counsellors, and barristers. 
 
 Poor ]\Iontague ! he was little accustomed to sit more 
 than half an hour at his dinner; for his mother's tabl^ 
 being seldom frequented by any visitors, excepting the 
 two families ii? the neighbourhood, their repast was
 
 17^ 
 
 short, and she never wished to detain her son from a 
 more pleasing employment to a boy >.f his age, than 
 sitting tbruially over the bottles and glasses. Their 
 dessert, excepting when these few friends ccasionally 
 dined with them, was plucked by themselves in their 
 own garden, and when either the family of the Lenvilles 
 or of the Caritons increased the busy employment of 
 the meal, the young people were usually excused from 
 sitting as long as the elder branches of the party. But 
 in the present instance, the case was diiierent. Respect 
 for his uncle prevented Montague expressing a wish to 
 move from the room ; and though he felt all the natural 
 eagerness of youth to be absent; far from being im- 
 patient under confinement, he paid every possible 
 attention to his uncle, cheerlully answered all the 
 questions he asked and repeated, and not till his uncle 
 finally closed his eyes did he turn one imploring look 
 towards his mother. His mother met this look with a 
 smile, which shewed how much she would herself have 
 liked to have been relieved from her present situation, 
 at the same time waving her hand to her son, that he 
 might find his way gently into the garden. 
 
 Had Montague been aware that his uncle's aftenioon 
 nap was generally extended to two or three hours, he 
 might probably have been tempted to accept his
 
 175 
 
 mother's offer; but hoping that he should not be de- 
 tained much longer, and really never wishing fur any 
 enjoyment in which she could not participate, he 
 returned her smile, and remained quietly where he 
 Mas. 
 
 The sleep of his uncle, however, notwithstanding 
 these delicate precautions to prevent its being dis- 
 turbed, continued not without interruption : and with- 
 out taxing very seriously the patience of Montague, 
 at the end of the first hour, it must be confessed he 
 felt relieved when Louisa Lenville's little dog Prince, 
 frisked into the room through the unclosed window, 
 and after laying at the feet of Mrs. Newburgh his 
 mistress's little work-ba.sket which he held in his mouth, 
 flew to Montague, then again to ]Mrs. Newburgh, and 
 last of all, put up his fore feet, without ceremony, 
 on the knees of Lord Penhurst. Montague, though 
 amused at the first moment, on reilection was vexed 
 that his uncle should have been disturbed ; therefore 
 taking the little dog by the. collar, after he had b^^eu 
 repulsed by Lord Penhurst without a\Naking his Lord- 
 ship, he dragged him out of Ihe room, and beckoned to 
 Louisa whom he saw approaching the wintiow, to enter 
 softly. Loui^a's little basket was fuil of sLelis and 
 stones, which Peter Hopkins had been picking up for
 
 176 
 
 hoV on the shore ;' for the little {^irl, being employed is 
 niakin>i; a grotto in a shady part of Mrs. Newburgh's 
 garden, had desired him to endeavour to get her some ; 
 and the lad ever fond of obliging, having just met 
 Prince with the basket of his mistress, had filled it 
 with the best he had been able to find. 
 
 When Louisa, who approached as she was desired 
 on tip-toe, entered, her curiosity was immediately 
 excited to know who Lord Penhurst was, and in a 
 whisper she ventured to ask. Slie was immediately 
 acquuinted that it v.as Montague's uncle, which re- 
 doubled her anxiety to know more of the droll old 
 gentleman, and she could not forbear walking round 
 the room two or three times, that she might take the 
 present opportunity of surveying him unnoticed. 
 Mrs. Newburgh, however, fearful that Lord Penhurst 
 might be again disturbed beckoned Louisa towards 
 her, who taking IMrs. Newburgh's napkin emptied the 
 contents of her little basket on the table; and while 
 Montague assists liev in cleaning her shells in his water- 
 glass, and Lord Penhurst finishes his nap, my readers 
 I'erhnns may like to become acquainted with tlie little 
 dog which hiis not before been introduced to theii* 
 notice.
 
 177 
 
 CHAP. XX. 
 
 His faithful dog shall tell his joy to each, 
 With that mute eloquence which passes speech. 
 
 ROGERS, 
 
 Tj hen Montajroe Newburgh was not more than six 
 years of age, a very fine and favourite dosr of liis 
 father's, having been seized with a disease which w as 
 pronounced to be, if not incurable, at least likely to be 
 very painful, it w as determined to be tiie most merciful 
 way of treating him to put an end to his sufferings by 
 depriving him of life. Accordingly Captain Newburgh 
 gave orders to his servants to convey the unfortunate 
 animal to the river, and in as speedy a manner as pos- 
 sible terminate his existence. The man immediately 
 endeavoured to execute his master's orders, but the 
 dog could by no entreaties be persuaded to follow him 
 to the spot where the boat was to be taken, which was 
 to convey him to the middle of tne river. The other 
 servants tried to entice him, and the nursery-maid who 
 had been accustomed to attend on Montague, when the 
 dog followed them in their walks, had no doubt but
 
 178 
 
 that he would accompany her. Her attemj)ts, however, 
 were equally fruitless. The dog uoukl foilow uo one 
 but Master Newbur^h, and it was reported to Captain 
 Newburgh, that unless Master Newbur<ih went, it 
 would be impossible to execute his orders. The 
 captain knew the quickness of the child's feelings, and 
 was unwilling to put tliem to this trial; liowever, the 
 dog could by no artifice be teiiiuted to follow any one 
 cise, so poor Montague was, though unconsciously till 
 he arrived at the boat, obliged to lead his old and 
 constant coiiipanion to execution. On returning home 
 he was informed of the fate of his dog, and the reasons 
 being explained to him, which occasioned lam to he 
 put to a violent death, the child was at length, after 
 much sobbing and crying, pacified by the promise of 
 another dog. About the same time, a young naval 
 officer, calling on his father with a puppy of the rough 
 water-breed, oiiered the little animal to iMontague, 
 which his father allowed him to accept, and it soon 
 repaid him by its tricks and gambols for the loss of his 
 old favourite. Yet it was some lime before the little 
 creature, to whom his young master had given the 
 name of Prince was reconciled to his new abode. 
 During the first three months he was several times lost, 
 and once, from a singular coincidence of shape and 
 colour, another dog being accidentally found whea
 
 179 
 
 Prince was absent, he for some time nsurped the placft 
 of the origiual dog, and occasioned many joues in the 
 hovise : for some of the friends oi Captain Newbnrgb, 
 Avho were gooil-aatured enough to take an interest ia 
 so trifling an incident, for the sake of his child, pro- 
 nounced the doi, u! question to be really Princo, while 
 others gave inm tlie naiae of tiie Pretender. The 
 subject in disjnite was at length determined by the 
 young man who had given the dog to Monrague, who 
 pronounced it certainly not io bs his puppy, and the 
 animal was accordingly disposed of. Some weeks 
 passed after this, when Captain Newburgh, having 
 occasion to visit one of his late seamen who was dying 
 in a consumption in one of the remote alleys ia the 
 ci.y, at an adjoining house which was inhabited by a 
 cobbler and his wife recognised the little animal his 
 young friend had given to his son. He immediately 
 inquired of tlie woman how she came by the dog, when 
 she informed him that aoout a month <iuc€, her husband 
 being at work in his cellar in Bisho;'Sgate Street, his 
 attention was attracted to some carmen who were 
 amusing themselves by throwing the little animal 
 backwards and forwards for their diversion. They 
 continued their sport for some time, <ind at length the 
 object of tlieir wantonness was precipitated into the 
 very cellar where liie cobbler was prosecuting hl»
 
 180 
 
 employment. He instantly screened the little aniraat 
 from fill ilier injury, and at nit;ht, when he went Iiome, 
 carried him to his wife, who had taken care of him, 
 and fed him ever since. Captain Newburgh made the 
 cobbler's wife a handsome present for the caro she had 
 taken of the little animal, and it followed him home to 
 the great joy of his young master. From this moment 
 the dog became a general favourite through the house, 
 and being of that intelligent species which is easily 
 instructed in many little engaging tricks, he became 
 the geaerul source of amusement to both young and 
 old ; and when Louisa Lenville was introduced to the 
 acquaintance of tlie sportive Princo, she was so de- 
 lighted with his frolics and gambols, that Montague 
 with his mother's permission made her a present of his 
 little favourite. 
 
 Thus far in explanation of the little dog in question. — 
 AVe will now return to the party assembled round Mrs. 
 Newburgh's dining table, where Lord Penhurst, at 
 length rousing himself from his naj>, was greeted again 
 with the smiles of his niece and nephew. The addition 
 to the party was immediately discovered by his Lord- 
 sliip, and walking up to Louisa, while he took bold of 
 both her hands, he asked her, " whose little cherry- 
 cheeked damsel she wasr'
 
 181 
 
 " Our little friend is a daughter of Mr. Lenville," 
 replied Mrs. Newburgh, and living very near us; her 
 mother is kind enough to allow me the pleasure of 
 seeing her every day.'' 
 
 ** Lenville, Lenville," replied his Lordship, hesi- 
 tating as he dropped Louisa's hands, and took out his 
 snufT box, " why surely that's the name of the gen- 
 tleman" 
 
 " Yes, that's the name of the gentleman," eagerly 
 interrupted Louisa, " whom iMontague saved; he is my 
 father, sir ; and he, and my brothers, and I too, must 
 all have been drowned, but for" 
 
 " The goodness of Providence," added Montague, 
 at the same time, giving Louisa's little basket of shells 
 an overset, to divert the subject of conversation from 
 kimself. 
 
 " Are you fond of the water, uncle," enquired Mrs. 
 Newburgh; " the we^iher is so favourable at present 
 that perhaps you may like, during your stay with us, 
 to take a sail round the island; and Montague will be 
 delighted to see his yacht so employed," 
 
 VOL, I. R
 
 182 
 
 " Aye, pvay do, my Lord," added Montague; " let 
 me give orders this evening, and let us set sail to- 
 morrow. I am sure you will be pleased with the 
 excuisiou." 
 
 " Not quite so fast, thank you," replied Lord Pen- 
 hurst, "not quite so fast; to-day is Wednesday, and 
 Frid;;y evening I must be in London again; so if you 
 mean to take me round the island, and shew me ail the 
 curiosities in the mean-time, I must get ray young sailor 
 to blow up a treaiendous brisk breeze." 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh and Montague bolli felt and looked 
 disappointed at this declaration ; but iinding there was 
 «o chance of persuading Lord Penhurst to alter his 
 determination, they relinquished the attempt, and 
 Montague felt some satisfaction in receiving his uncle's 
 acquiescence to make use of his yacht in returning to 
 Southampton instead of hiring a vessel at Cowes. 
 ]Mrs. Newburgh wished the Lcnvilles to have accom- 
 panied her and her uncle on their sail, but Manners not 
 feeling sufficiently strong to venture lor so long a time 
 on the water, she declined pressing them to leave him. 
 The day proved as favourvible as could be wi.»hed. 
 Lord Penhurst, thorough'y in good humour, and satis- 
 lied with his nephew^ gr«.atly enjoyed tlie beautiful sail
 
 183 
 
 up the Southampton water, and as he took leaVe of the 
 mother aud son on their return to their retirement, a 
 tear of sensibility again dimned his eye. 
 
 " God bless you, Gorl bless you, both," said Lis 
 Lordship, as he hurried out of the boat, and stepped 
 into his carriage, which was waiting for him, " our next 
 separation will be shorter, I trust!" 
 
 " I trust it will," replied Mrs. Newburgh, affection- 
 ately putting her hand into her uncle's, as he leaned 
 out of the carriage. Montague jumped up on the lower 
 step, and again receiving a hearty shake from his uncle, 
 ga'<e his arm to his mother, and they returned to their 
 boat. 
 
 4 a
 
 184 
 
 CHAP. XXI. 
 
 These are the product 
 Of those ill mated marriages thou saw'st. 
 
 MILTON. 
 
 ,.jLhE last four-aiid-twenty hours appear like a 
 dream, motlier," said Montajrue, as he seated himself 
 by the side of Mrs. New burgh in the boat; '* wlio 
 would have thought yesferday at this time, that to-day 
 we should have seen my uncle, and that we should have 
 been so perfectly reconciled?" 
 
 " Thus it happens, my dear boy, daily ; nay hourly," 
 replied Mrs. Newburgh; " the events which appear to 
 us the least likely to happen, are frequently preparing 
 to burst upon us at the moment when we are most in- 
 clined to doubt the possibility of their occurrence ; 
 while as frequently those, which to our contracted 
 vision appear ahnost as positive as the laws of creation, 
 are prevented from ever taking place by an inex- 
 plicable, but doubtless, a wise and merciful dispensation 
 of Providence. I assure vou the visit of your uncle
 
 185 
 
 has been a jjreat consolation to me, and I feel very 
 grateful to the great disposer of events that this recon- 
 ciliation has taken place — I would not have a stranger, 
 mv enemv, Montague; much less him whom I am bound 
 to honour and respect by the ties of relation. I know 
 nothing more trying to the feelings than to fall un- 
 avoidably, or at least by a concurrence of events which 
 no humau foresight could prevent, under the dis- 
 pleasure of those whose opinion? w? highly value, and 
 foj whom we feel a large share of aff -ction ; and though 
 the singnlarity of your uncle's character prevents the 
 lull wciglrt of these reflections, yet there is a similarity, 
 sufficient to make me fully appreciate the value of the 
 present reconciliation." 
 
 Montague was wishing for such an opportunity as the 
 close of his mother's observatioLs presented, to enlpr 
 on the subject of his uncle's disposition, the eccentvi- 
 cilies of which had very much puzzled hiai^ and htt 
 ventured to say in reply to his mother : 
 
 " Has my uncle ever met with any severe mis- 
 fortunes, that he appears so different from other people, 
 and so unwilling to mix in society r" 
 
 " I am not g»^nerallv' willing," replied Mrs. New- 
 burgh, "to encourage the observatioqa of yoiiuij people 
 
 R 3
 
 186 
 
 on the peculiarities and foibles of their superiors in a;^?, 
 fearful of giving them a turn for discovering, in the 
 characters of those with whom they associate, any- 
 thing that may indulge ridicule, or nurture contempt ; 
 but I have too high an opinion of your good sense and 
 charitable disposition, ray dear boy, to decline the pre- 
 sent opportunity of gratifying the curiosity wluch I see 
 your uncle's singular manners have raised in you ; and 
 I am the more inclined to trust my observations to you 
 on the subject, because I think a moral may bo drawn 
 from his case, which, while it may be beneficial to you, 
 will, so far from lessening that respect you will I trust 
 always feel for your uncle, be rather efficacious in 
 softening your feelings towards him, and incline you, 
 on every occasion, to that delicate consideration for 
 his peculiar habits, which it is the duty, and ought to 
 be the pleasure of every youth to pay to those more 
 advanced in life : but wc are just coming along side 
 the yachl, we will resume this subject presently." 
 
 " We have a breeze rigkt. down liic rivjr," said 
 Montague, skipping nimbly into his little vessel ; then 
 assisting his mother to mount the ladder, he saw her 
 comfortably seated on the deck, and throv>ing himself 
 at her feet, while one of his arms rested on her knees, 
 his, dark, eyes lifted to those of his mother looked a
 
 187 
 
 request that she would proceed with the subject of her 
 uncle. 
 
 Mrs. Newbnrgh, pressing her hand affectionately on 
 her son's head, thus continued, 
 
 " From a fault of education, in the very earliest 
 years of liis life, sprii^gs all the uneasiness your uncle 
 has experienced in his progress through the world. 
 Your grandfather and himself were the only children 
 of their father, whose marriage wit'.i their mother, a 
 woman of singular beauty and accomplishments, but 
 professing a faith differing in the most essential points 
 from the purity of our church establishment, Avas tiie 
 ruin of his fauiily peace, his domestic union, and the 
 happiness of his younger son. 
 
 When they married, an agreement was made between 
 the parties, as is not unusual in such cases, that with 
 regard to the education of their children, the boys 
 should be brouiilit up in the Church of England, 
 agreeably to the opinions of their father, but that the 
 girls, in deference to those of their mother, should be 
 educated in the profession of her faith. A dangerous 
 error this, my child, and one, into which I pray God 
 you may never be seduced; for it is impossible to say
 
 188 
 
 what may be the consequences. Sunerior as may bp 
 the reasoninir faculties of man, and largely as he may 
 be endowcil with veso'ution and strength < f mind to 
 combat with difficulties, which require great exertion 
 of these endowments, vet the influence which the per- 
 suasions of female tenderness are likely to possess over 
 his heart is so great, that tot) much care cannot be 
 employed in forminji matrimonial connections. Mar- 
 riages between parties differing on so essential a point 
 as that of religion, are, in very many instances, pro- 
 ductive of unhappin(^ss, and although you are yet so 
 young, Montague, that many years must elapse before 
 you will feel the nece-^sity of circumspection on this 
 point; yet, my beloved boy, on every subject in which 
 your welfare both in this world and th'e nevt, is in- 
 terested, it is im, ossible to begin too early to give those 
 necessary cautions, which if withheld till a later period, 
 may perhaps be delivered in vain. Let me therefore 
 impress on you this, with the many other pieces of 
 advice I occasionally give you, at a time when you are- 
 so willing to listen and so open to conviction, that there 
 is one most essential consideration in the choice of a 
 wife, to which indeed rank, beauty, or accomplishments 
 may add new lustre, but for the absence of which they 
 never can atone. Her principles must have been 
 formetl on those ideas of Christianity which you hav^
 
 189 
 
 imbibed from your cradle, or in uniting yourself with 
 her, you will expose yonrseUto the risk of having your 
 own principles perverted, to the misery of seeing the 
 object of your tenderest aKections involved in errors of 
 the most important character, and will be preparing 
 for your children a source of endles* disquietude aud 
 dangerous con'ienlion." 
 
 The animation, with which Mrs. Newburgh spoke to 
 her sou on this subject, was increased by the recol- 
 lection of the in!luence she had once so judiciously 
 exercised over her hur.bauu, relative to this subject, 
 very soon after their marriage. Captain Newburgh^ 
 had always been exemplary in his moral conduct, and 
 in his communication with all ranks of society strictly 
 gentlemanly, and considerate to tne feelings of others. 
 But, though he scarcely ever omitted attending on 
 divine service, when he had an opportunity, and was 
 particularly careful that those depending on liim -honUl 
 be equally attentive to that duty, he had imbibed a 
 sort of generalizing view of relLgioa, which was the 
 more dangerous as being professed by a man of singular 
 conscientiousness. He had also from a thoughtlessness, 
 or an inattention, for which he could by no means be 
 excused, although too manj similar instances of omission 
 might be produced, never attended the Sacrament of.
 
 190 
 
 the Lord's Supper, nor sufficiently considered the iu- 
 dispensable obligation wliich ail ihe prclessloijs of 
 Christianity are under to observe it. In the former 
 instance, however, Mrs. Newuurgh within the first 
 year ot her marriage had the satisfaction of seeiii her 
 husband a warm and steady supporter of the Church 
 of England, and in the latter, before the buth of her 
 only and beloved child, she had had the comfort of 
 joining with him in connneuiorating the death and 
 sutierings of GUI Blessed "aviour. 
 
 Widi these reflections, no wonder the countenance of 
 Mrs. NeaOurgh wm kiiuaiaialed in enforcing on her 
 son the early practice of that steady principle and self- 
 command, sue was ^o weil persuaded was necessary in 
 liis progress through life; and while she thus emj.doyed 
 the moments which a tranquil sail atiorded for the 
 indulgence of conversatiOJi, she ddiuhred in oljserving 
 in the at^en ion of her son s coi.ntenaiice, not an 
 impatience which was longing to be reieasod from 
 confinement, but an interest which a^ked for a con- 
 tinuance. 
 
 Mrs. New'burgh pressed the hand of her son, as the 
 recollection of his father crossed her funcy^ and Iheu 
 continued :
 
 191 
 
 *^ But to return to your uncle : he and my father 
 nere the only chihlren my ciandfather ever had, and 
 my father, who was the elder of these, bcinjr horn six or 
 seven years bef re my uncle, was according to agree- 
 ment instructed in the true faith and doctrines of our 
 church, and happily for him an'l for me was at this age 
 removed from home, and placed with a clerjr^'man at 
 some distance for education, the London a»mosi here 
 not aj!:reein£r with his delicate coi'stituticn. About 
 this time, your uncle was born, and was also received 
 a m'jniber of our church ; but ultimately was instructed 
 in the principles of no relii2;ion whatever; for his father 
 and mother were unfortnnateiy from this time at 
 Tariauce on their own particular forms of Belief; the 
 former sometimes wavering from his churcli by a wish 
 of conforming to the opinions of she lattor, and the 
 latter unsettled and hesitating in her ov.n principles, 
 daily following the persuasions of some new and fiou- 
 risiiing sect. The con>equence was, that your uncle, 
 himself instiucted in the principles of no faith, and an 
 eye-witness to the contentions and disagieenienis of his 
 prircnts on the subject, took such an early disgust to all 
 relii^ion that it required a much more discriminating 
 and delicate attention than can be paid to an individual 
 in his progress through Eton-sch> ol, to correct the 
 erroneousuess of his opinions, and to remove the con-
 
 19-2 
 
 tempt he had imbibed for every oiie whom he conceived 
 to be more seriously inclined than others." 
 
 " In fact, the impressions of his early years have 
 never been rcijioved. Un^uided by that holy and pure 
 principle which can alone regnlate the heart and affec- 
 tions, he has lived a solitary being in the midst of 
 society, looking with contempt on many of his fellow- 
 creatures, with scorjjful pity on otliers, with disgust at 
 all, and with a bigoted confidence on his own pre- 
 conceived conclusions on men and manners. An 
 example, my child, to all parents, not only to avoid 
 giving their children wrong ideas of religion, but to 
 make it a first and prime object in their education, to 
 give them that firm and regular instruction in its proper 
 duties, as may make them, in w'.jatevcr station of life 
 they may be born, f\iilhful servants of Christ, as well 
 as useful members of society." 
 
 " In regard to your uncle, therefore, my dear boy," 
 continued Mrs. Newburgh, " while from his example 
 you learn to value and admire the purity of that church 
 iu which you have been from your earliest infancy 
 educated, and while you form yonr manners and re- 
 gulate your actions by its precepts, let your pity for 
 the errors of the man, mix with and soften your respect
 
 193 
 
 for your relation ; and never forp;et to mention Inm 
 particularly^ when you name him in your prayers." 
 
 The lively, tlic liigh-spirited Montague, merry with 
 the merriest of his conij anions, and courageous and 
 resolute beyond his years when called into action, was 
 equally gentle and affectionate when the occasion 
 seemed to require moderation and tendernes-. Though 
 destined for one of those two professions, which to the 
 minds of some unthinking people, represent almost an 
 impossihility of uniting religious principles with the 
 peculiar qualifications of the sailor and the soldier, the 
 unremitting pains which his parents had conscientiously 
 employed to correct this prevalent mistake in the 
 object of their conjugal affection, had been well ex- 
 pended; and Montague had learnt both to estimate 
 the value of the advantages he had himself enjoyed, 
 and to feel for those who had been unfortunately de- 
 prived of them. A tear of commiseration sparkled in 
 his eye, as his mother ceased speaking, and he said : 
 
 "Ah! my dear mother, if yon had ever been in the 
 habit af spending much time with my uncle how 
 different he might have been!" 
 
 " I have often wished," replied Mrs. Ncwburgh, 
 " that I couki have persnaded vour uncle to joia our 
 
 VOL I. s
 
 194 
 
 little circle for some time, knowing how frequently the 
 heart may be moved by the influence of example, when 
 the judgment will not be at the pains of exercising its 
 powers of reflection. But the same soit of feeling, 
 which made him unwilling to mix in general society, 
 rendered him also equally averse to associating with 
 his family, and I never have been able to persuade him 
 to make me a visit. On his arrival yesteiday, and 
 from the unusual satisfaction he evinced at being with 
 us, I immediately formed a hope that we should have 
 prevailed on him to spend some time with us, when 
 from an introduction to Mr. Carlton, together with the 
 obvious good effects produced by his example and 
 influence in our small neighbourhood, I had hoped 
 some beneficial consequences might have arisen. That 
 idea, however, has fled with the departure of your 
 uncle, and we must now look forward to some future 
 opportunity for the accomplishment of my wishes on 
 the subject." 
 
 The little vessel now swept round the point of land 
 which stretched into the sea near Calshot Castle, and 
 the sailors finding it necessary to tack, the conversation 
 was here interrupted. 
 
 " She has been only forty minutes bringing us down," 
 said Montague, looking at his watch j " another hour
 
 195 
 
 will take lis in sight of our little cottage. Not less 
 thongli, for we must tack all the way from this spot." 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh smiled at the precision of her son's 
 reckoning. Montague was riiht,aud in about an hour 
 from losing sight of Southampton, their vessel dropt her 
 anchor immediately opposite the Undercliff Cottage. 
 
 *' There are William and Louisa watching for us," 
 said Mrs. Newburgh, as they approached the shore in 
 the boat. 
 
 " But what can be the matter with Louisa?" asked 
 Montague. '' She looks quite melancholy, so unusual 
 for her." 
 
 Montague's observation was just; for on the ap- 
 proach of the young people to the boat to receive their 
 friends, Louisa, whose hand was immediately hung in 
 Ml!*. NewDurgh's arm, burst into tears. 
 
 " What has happened, my love," tenderly enquired 
 Mrs Newburgh. Your brother Manners 1 hope is not 
 ill again ?" 
 
 Louisa's sobs prevented her reply ; but William, who 
 
 had more command over his feelings, informed Mrs. 
 
 S2
 
 190 
 
 2<fewbnrgh that their father and mother had received 
 letters by that morning's post which had much dis- 
 tressed them ; iird tlioufrh tlieir contents \\>;ie not 
 particnlarly distlos'^d to thJ-ir chiidrt-n, they had been 
 inrormed that the snbject of tW:^m wonld orcasion \\te 
 immediate absence of theur father and mother from 
 Englitud. 
 
 At the repetition of this probable occurrence, Louisa 
 KCirewed her tear*, and Mrs. Newbnrgh tindina from 
 William that his mother had been wishi. g for her 
 return, that she might have tiie comfort other advice 
 on the occasion, she instantly went to the house of her 
 fi'iend, leaving Montague to assist William in pacifying 
 the distressed feelings of Louisa.
 
 197 
 
 CHAP. XXII. 
 
 Beware what earth calls happiDess ; beware 
 All joys, but joys that never can expire : 
 "Who builds on less than an immortal base, 
 Fond as he seems, condemns his joys to death. 
 
 \OVJiG, 
 
 A HE dispatches, which had produced such unpleasant 
 sensations in the family of Mr. Lenville, were relative 
 to some estates which he possessed in the island of 
 Jamaica in right of his wife, which having been so long 
 deprived of the presence of their proprietor had suf- 
 fered very considerably by the ill-management of the 
 overseer appointed to conduct them. For some years 
 the remittances annually received by Mr. Lenville had 
 been gradually lessening The efFect, however, was 
 attributed to the difference in value of West India 
 property in general, and Mr. Lenville, having no reason 
 to doubt either the ability or the honesty of those to 
 
 whom the management of the property was coimnitted, 
 
 6 3
 
 r98 
 
 had been satisfied with the reports made him, and had 
 never taken the trouble to make any enquiry on the 
 occasion. A deficiency, however, in the receipts from 
 his English estates in the present year, and the in- 
 creasing expenses of his own fashionable establishment, 
 during his residence in London, had made him look 
 ^vith some considerable share of anxiety towards his 
 foreign property, in a hope of its possible increase in 
 value, and of its making some amends for the defection 
 at home. V/hat must have been his distress on this> 
 occasion, then, when instead of the fuliilment of h.s 
 hopes, in the receipt of an ample remittance from his 
 overseer, he received a letter from a friend, whose es- 
 tates joined those of his wife, informing him that 
 without the immediate removal of the man who was at 
 present employed, whose extravagance and avarice 
 were equally prejudicial to the interests of his em- 
 ployer, and without the immediate presence of himself 
 on the spot, there was no hope of any thing but ruin to 
 the extensive property he possesL-ed. The intelligence, 
 was like a thunderbolt to Mr. Lenville, accustomed to 
 all the indulgencies and dissipation of his native 
 country; and was not less severely felt by his lady, 
 whose presence, from the peculiar construction of her 
 father's will, Avas necessary in case of any material 
 alteration taking place on her estates.
 
 When Mrs. Newbnrgli enterel the room where Mr, 
 and Mrs. Lenville were still sittiug with the dispatches 
 before them, which had occasioned them so much 
 niieasiness ; the former, who, since receiving the infor- 
 mation they contained, had felt the horrors of a prison 
 depending over him, from a numerous train of creditors 
 he was unable to satisfy, looked the picture of silent 
 despair ; while the high strain of spirits and overflowing 
 gaiety of his beautiful partner were suddenly absolved 
 in ihe feelings of maternal fondness, and the distressing 
 idea of either leaving her children, perhaps for years, 
 without a chance of seeing them ; or by taking them 
 abroad with her, depriving them of those advantages of 
 education, so peculiarly necessary at their age. Her 
 face was hidden in her handkerchief, and when she 
 raised it on the entrance of her friend, and rose to 
 receive the salutation of one, whose appearance was a 
 general harbinger of comfort, she burst into a fresh 
 torrent of grief, and sunk her head on the shoulder of 
 Mrs. Nevvburgh. 
 
 Mr?. Newburgli led her quietly to the sofa, and 
 seating herself by her side, received from Mr. Lenville 
 the letter wl;ich he silently oifered her. After perusing 
 its contents, which, though they occasioned some un- 
 easiness to Mrs. New burgh, gave her the informatioil
 
 200 
 
 ©n which she could ground her ofters of consohitiou, 
 she returned it to the hand of Mr. Lenville, who, r.ow 
 feeling the iibsclute insufficiency of tliose desultory 
 principles which had been his boast through a tide of 
 prosperity and independence, and utterly incapable of 
 using those exertions in the hour of adversity, which an 
 earlier conviction of a dependence on Providence, 
 would have dictated to his mind, almost shrunk from a 
 review of the circumstances, a calm reflection on which 
 miglit probably lead to a favourable result ; while 
 painfully feeling the inferiority of his own thoughtless 
 professions of independence, to the principle which had 
 supported a tender and delicate woman through one of 
 the greatest trials her sex is ever exposed to, he looked 
 with respect and veneration at Mrs. Newburgh, ex- 
 pecting from her superiority, both in principle and 
 judgment, that assistance in his present emergency, lie 
 had not the resolution to expect, from his own exertions, 
 or the friendly councils of his wife. 
 
 " My children, my children," exclaimed Mrs. Len- 
 ville, before Mrs. Nev.burgh had made any observation 
 on the letter just returned to Mr. Lenville; " what will 
 become of them ?" 
 
 " As to your children," tenderly replied Mrs. New- 
 burgh, " I entreat you to feel perfectly at ease. At
 
 201 
 
 tteir age, I am stire, you would not allow the selfisft 
 feelings of a motlier, to triuniph over those occasioned 
 by a lively wish for their future welfare ; and, in tliis 
 case, my dear Harriet, I trust you will feel confidence 
 enough in my friendship to believe, that, during your 
 absence from England, they will never want the atfec- 
 tioiiate attentions of one, who will supply, as far as 
 such a deprivation can be supplied, the place of a 
 mother to them for any time it may appear requisite 
 for you to be absent. 
 
 Mrs. Lenville pressed the hand of Mrs. Newburgh iu 
 return for this assurance, from which she derived a 
 consolation her agitated spirits would not allow her to 
 express ; but her immediate fears for the care of her 
 children removed, the piobability of her husband being 
 arrested before he could leave the country next pre- 
 sen ed its. If to her, with all its attendant horrors ; and 
 little accustomed to control the lively feelings which 
 occasionaliy agitated her frame, she exclaimed in a 
 tone of impassioned grief : " Oh '. should my hus- 
 band" but a convulsive throbbing in her throat 
 
 prevented the completion of a sentence, which sup- 
 posed for the object of her conjugal attachment the 
 coufinemeut and disgrace of a prison.
 
 5J02 
 
 Mr. Lenville had not yet spoken ; he had contimied 
 to look with some deajree of ho' e on the countenance 
 «f I\lrs. NewlHirgh, which a])pearcd deeply interested 
 in the distress of her friends, till the impassioned jirief 
 of his wife had attracted his attention towards her; lie 
 had then viewed Mrs. Lenville with a sort of cold de- 
 jection which had more of despair than tenderness in 
 it ; and when she made the exclamation which was 
 peculiarly addressed to him, he put his hand violently 
 against his forehead, and rising from his seat began 
 pacing up and down the room with hasty and unequal 
 steps. 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh felt much internal anguish: not so 
 immediately perhaps from the local distress of her 
 friends, for it appeared to her that with prompt and 
 decisive exertion the unfavourable prospect of their 
 afiairs might very speedily be reversed; bnt from tne 
 melancholy effects a change of fortune could so in- 
 stantly occasion on minds so ill regulated as those o( 
 ]Mr. and Mrs. Lenville. In \he ioi jnor, she trj.nbied 
 to observe more of the mute and horrid despair of tae 
 Iniidcl than the cheerful and humble resignation o: ihi 
 faithful Believer in a wise and superinte:uling Provi- 
 dence : in the latter, she saw the excess of ungovernable 
 j^assioUj instead of the submissive acquicsceuce of the
 
 203 
 
 Cliristian. Under this conviction slie saw it would b« 
 useless to excite exertion, witliout awakening a de- 
 pendeiice on the will of Heaven, and conceived that it 
 mould be an indefensible error to elevate with views of 
 moridiy prosperity the spirits, which were at one 
 moiueut tiuttered by an excess of teeling, and the next^ 
 depressed beyond the possiulity of hope. She ad\ anced 
 therefore towards Mr. Lenviile, and ofi'ering her hand 
 to hiiii v.ith much expression of concern in her coun- 
 tenance, she drew him geuily towards his wife. ?>lr. 
 Lenviile, softeiicd by the delicate tenderness of Mrs. 
 Kewburgh, made no resistance to her attempt of 
 leading him towards Turs. Lenviile, and pressed affec- 
 tionately the hand of his wife, which P.Irs. NewburgU 
 substituted for her own: a tear rolled down his cheek, 
 and the feeling of ihe husband, succeeding to the 
 indifierence of the sceptic, gave a promise of deeper 
 impressions on the heart. 
 
 Mrs. New burgh did not fail to take advantage of the 
 impression of the moment; but after a few seconds 
 jspeut in the indulgence of those pleasing emotions, 
 the scene before her excited, endeavoured to secure 
 the good effects of the feelings already awakened, by 
 leading her friends to that sober reflection and calm 
 reasoning, so necessary under the circumstances of the
 
 204 
 
 present case. She represented in as delicate and 
 tender a manner as possible the necessity of occasional 
 seriousness in the midst of the brightest scenes of life: 
 she added that no confidence of success, or feelings of 
 security could exempt the mind of man from an ac- 
 knowledged dependence on the will of his Creator. 
 
 The truth of these remarks was verified to Mr. and 
 Mrs. Lenville by the feelings they now experienced. 
 Her arguments were employed with such force and at 
 the same time with such tenderness, that while they 
 convinced, they calmed ; and while they excited feeling, 
 they moderated anxiety. 
 
 The impression, which Mr. Lenville had received at 
 the time of his public thanksgiving in the church, was 
 revived with greater sincerity on the present occasion; 
 while the thoughts of Mrs. Lenville, recurring to the 
 same circumstance, gave increased weight to the argu- 
 ments of her friend. Mrs. Newburgh, animated and 
 encouraged by the effect she saw produced, redoubled 
 her persuasion and had the satisfaction, at length, of 
 witnessing composure, where violence had been de- 
 picted, in the countenance of Mrs. Lenville, and in 
 that of her husband an animated resolution of exertion, 
 instead ef the forbidding traces of despair.
 
 SOd 
 
 This was the first point which Mr?. Xewbiirgli 
 wished to {srain, and on which perhaps depended the 
 event of the worldly prosperity of her friends. So 
 true it is, though the consideration is frequently dis- 
 regarded, that a sense of reiigicn, and a jirincij le of 
 dependance on a Supreme Being, are as beneficial in the 
 arrangement and welfare of our temporal concerns, as 
 they are indispensable in relation to our eternal weliare. 
 
 And tluis having esta])lished the foundation on which 
 every eliort for consolation should be laid, she pro- 
 ceeded to lead the conversation towards llic immediate 
 and active assistance the exigency of Mr. Lenviilc's 
 situation required. The first thing that appeared 
 desirable was to secure a retreat from the country, in 
 which, when the derangement of his af;airs abroad 
 should become known, it would be unsafe to remain, 
 and only prevent the benefit which would in all pro- 
 bability arise both to himself and his creditors by bis 
 appearance on his West Indian estates. 
 
 A fleet to that part of the world was shortly expected 
 to sail, and from Mrs. Newburgh's naval connections 
 she had no doubt of ensuring a passage in one of the 
 first ships, vhich, as it would pass the back of the 
 
 VOL. I. T , *
 
 206 
 
 island, precluded tUe necessity of Mr. and Mrs. Len* 
 
 viile's ItBiiviiig their present residence before the time 
 of sailing. 
 
 To forward all the necessary arrangements, a sum of 
 ready money was required, and Mrs. Newburgh on this 
 point also was prompt in her offers of assistance. Tliey 
 were readily and grateliillv accepted; and our amiable 
 widow, having used every judicious exertion to calm 
 the spirits and enliven the hopes of her iViends, left 
 them for the present to retiect quietly and calmly on 
 the conversation wiiich hhd been passing between them 
 and herself; and spending a few minutes with Manners, 
 whose weak nerves had sulfered considerably from the 
 shock of the morning, she returned to the young party 
 she had left walking on the sea-shore, determining to 
 visit the Lenvilles again in the evening.
 
 207 
 
 CHAP, xxiir. 
 
 Amidst applauding worlds, 
 And worlds celestial, is there found on earth, 
 A peevish, dissonant, rebellious string. 
 Which jars in the grand chorus, aud complains? 
 
 YOUNG. 
 
 lyJLRS. Newburgh found the voung people at her 
 house, whither they had retired scon after she left 
 them, and where they were impatiently expecting her. 
 arrival. 
 
 " 'VVlien will papa and mamma go?" exclaimed 
 Louisa with eagerness, as ISJrs. Newburgh entered, 
 while the tears again burst from her eyes. 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh took the little girl's hand, and beg- 
 ging her for the sake of her father an I mother to 
 restrain her emotion and speak as iiale as possiule on 
 the subject, she explained to her that the distress she 
 had witnessed in the m.orning was occasioned by the ill 
 
 t2
 
 20iJ 
 
 oonduct of the person hnr father had employed to 
 niariajre his property in the West Iidies, and tliut this 
 circumstance oblij;ed both him and her mother to 
 examine into the ailair in |iersoh-, that consequently 
 tlieir absence from Enjjland for a short time was 
 positively necessary ; but that the interval before their 
 return raijjlit not be lonjr; and that, let it extend to 
 whatever distance ol time it iniji^ht, her house should be 
 the home of her little friend and be always open to her 
 brothers during their vacations, liiis explanatiou 
 soothed and satisf;e<i both \Vitlium and Louisa; and 
 Mrs. Newburirh, thinking that their pres<'nce would be 
 a comfort to ]Manner«i and j.robably to tl'eir fatinr and 
 fnother, advised them to return hoiue, proniismg io^see 
 them again in the evening. 
 
 The event of the morning had given an nnconimoa 
 seriousness to the counteuaiice of iMrs Nev^burah; 
 and Montague, whose feelings were always alive to the 
 distresses of others had been so depressed by seeing 
 the grief of his friends W ilUaju ar,d Louisn, that, con- 
 trary to his uvual custom, ho had rot one morry thought 
 tor the dnncr-tabie, and the meal passed wltljout any' 
 exchange of conversation betvvet u him and his motlier. 
 He was puzzled also at the sudden necessity there 
 appeared for the absence of iMr, LenviUe, and accus-
 
 205 
 
 toraed to sbare those marks of his mothoi-'s confifloncc, 
 which his inviolable adherence to truth and scrupulous 
 sense of honour had frequently won from her, he 
 longed for the removal of the cloth, and the absence of 
 the servant, that she might have an opportunity of 
 giving him any farther information on the sui)ject, she 
 might think proper. Nor had tliis opportunity been 
 presented many minutes before Mrs. Newbur^h, who 
 never liked to pa?s over an occasion of deriving a 
 lesson for her son from the example of others, alluded 
 to the misfortune which was suspended over her 
 friends. 
 
 " But I always considered Mr. Lenville as a man of 
 great tortune, my dear mother; if so, as he does not 
 appear to live extravagantly, I am surprised that the 
 failure of his remittances from the West Indies should 
 be such a blew on him. Has he not large property in 
 England i" 
 
 " Mr. Lenville," replied Mrs. Newburgh, " like many 
 
 other gentlemen of fortune, has depended too much on 
 
 his apparently inexhaustible sources of wealth, and too 
 
 little considered the means by which these sources are 
 
 to be secured. I have too great reason to think that 
 
 he has drained his estates in England, till he has almost 
 
 T 3
 
 210 
 
 undermined their value ; while totally neglecting to pay 
 ^ny attention to those of his wife abroad, he has left 
 them to the care of an uuprincipied agetit. till he finds 
 himself on the brink of ruin. However, I see nothing 
 at all desperate in his worldly altairs. Although he 
 must be subject to much inconvenience for the next 
 few years in recovering' the losses to which he has been 
 subject from his own inattention and the ill conduct of 
 his agent, yet in the event I sliould think, provided he 
 acts with prudence and caution he will notsuftVr. The 
 chief cause of alarm at present is in case any of tiie 
 persons, to w horn he owes money, should hear of his in- 
 capacity to pay his d bts, and prevent his departure 
 from England; though 1 hope, if we are careful how 
 the subject is mentioned except amongst ourselves, as 
 there is likely to be so soon an opportunity of his going 
 abroad, there is no fear that this circumstance wiil oc- 
 cur. I am sure I need not caution you, Montague, to 
 avoid mentioning it, even among your young friends; 
 for rumour is so busy with her hundred tongues, that 
 sometimes it is impossible to be t;ufficiently on our 
 g^ard against her attacks." 
 
 " You may depend on my caution, I assure you, my 
 dear mother; but since you describe the distress of Mr. 
 ^hd Mrs. Leiiviile to be so great, and it appears to be
 
 211 
 
 so easily remedied, was it quite right," asked Montague, 
 in a hesitating voice, '' to suiler their emotions on the 
 occasion to be so violent, as they appear to have beei ? 
 William and Louisa gave me such a sad account of the 
 distress of their father and mother, that I expected to 
 hear a very difi'ereut occasion for grief than that you 
 Lave just now explained to me, the death proba- 
 bly of a very near and dear relation, or the total ruin of 
 their fortune. This is not as you bear misfortune, dear 
 mother,' added Montague, while as he uttered the last 
 woids, he looked atiectionaiely at her and pressed her 
 liaud. 
 
 A tear swam in the eyesot INIrs. Newburgh : " I have 
 always endeavoured Montague," replied she, "to bear 
 misfortune as a Christian j and in the many instances, in 
 which I have, no doubt, failed in this great duty, I trust 
 allowances will be made by the Power, who only 
 strikes in mercy and will not allow us to be tempted 
 above what we aie able to bear. I am not sorry that 
 you have made this remark on your friends, my dear 
 boy ; for in doing it, 1 trust that you evince the proper 
 sense you entertain, of a submissive acquiescence in the 
 events of life. It was this idea, much more than that 
 of their pe-un.ary embarassmeiits, which disturbed ine 
 in my visit to them this morning; and I wish that this,
 
 212 
 
 vrith many other examples you will meet with in society, 
 may prove to you the truth of those precepts on the 
 subject, whici: you learnt even with the first opening 
 of your reasoning faculties," 
 
 " If the young man forgets his God, the old one will 
 seldom find in him the staff of age ; if in the pride and 
 flush of health we omit to call on the name of Him, from 
 whom we possess the vigour of life, in the hour of sick- 
 ness what comfort can wc have in approaching his Ma- 
 jesty? And if in the full enjoyment of every species of 
 prosperity, the world and its pleasures afford, we neg- 
 lect to pause in the midst of our enjoyment, to acknow- 
 ledge the giver of all good gifts, with what heart can we 
 in the hour of adversity t^y for protection to divine 
 goodness ? In conversing with our friends this morning, 
 as I could not but observe the distressing state of their 
 feelings under their present misfortune, I ventured, 
 though with some caution, to impress the necessity of 
 practising those religious duties in every situation of 
 life, which from all are requisite to be observed. I 
 trust the efforts I made were not in vain : they both 
 appeared moved by the arguments I made use of, and 
 if the impression is a permanent one, this little visita- 
 tion may prove one of the greatest blessings it has 
 •pleased the Almighty to bestow on them. I left them
 
 much more comfortable than I found them, and I hope 
 \vhcn we visit them presently, their minds will be still 
 more composed." 
 
 " Shall we drink tea at Mr. Lenville's this evening," 
 asked .Montague ? 
 
 " Yes," reviled Mrs. Newbiir;*h , " and as there will 
 be many thinijs to arrange with them, which cannot be 
 too so(in thought of, we may as well go early ; are you 
 ready now f" 
 
 " Quite,'' replied Montague, jumping up and ringing 
 the bell. 
 
 Mrs. Newbnrgh soon rejoined her son, and they pro- 
 ceeded to Mr. Lenville's cottage.
 
 214 
 
 CHAP. XXIV. 
 
 Seek to be good, but aim not to be great: 
 A M'oman's noblest station is retreat ; 
 Her fairest virtues fly from public sight, 
 Domestic worth that shuns too strong a light. 
 
 LITTLETON. 
 
 ^jIjRS. Nevvburgh had the satisfaction of finding her 
 friends in as calm a state of mind as she could expect, 
 after the agitation into which they had been thrown in 
 the morning^; and in the course of a few days every 
 preparation was made, necessary for their safe departure 
 from England. The West India fleet, in which they 
 were to sail, was hourly expected, and Montague's 
 yacht was in readiness to convey them on beard. 
 
 When Mrs. Newburgh, to relieve the mind of IMrs. 
 Lenville, had given her promise of being her substitute 
 towards her children during her absence (rom Fnglaud, 
 she did it in the sincerity of a wish to be serviceable 
 both to theoti and their parents. Oa reflecting upon
 
 215 
 
 the importanre of the charge she had undertaken, she 
 did not repent of the promise she had made ; but, on the 
 contrciry, looked forward with niucli pleasure to the 
 task of ocing iiiecoiisfa-it and uninterrupted instructress 
 of her little favourite Louisa : Dnt, as she was perfectly 
 aware, how very widely uer own ideas of female edu- 
 cation ditfered from those of many mothers of the pre- 
 sent diiy, she was vviliing that Mrs. Lenville, before she 
 left her child under her management, should be aware 
 of the plan she should conceive herself bound to adopt 
 in the education of her daughter ; without her acqui- 
 escence in which, although her care of her in other 
 respects should be the same, her education must be 
 intrusted to another. 
 
 " In this age, my dear Harriet," said Mrs. Newburgli 
 to Mrs. Lenville, " in almost all seminaries of the higher 
 class, and in families where the education of girls is 
 intrusted to the superintendence of a governess, 
 accomplishments are not only the first things thought 
 of, but frequently studied to the exclusion of many 
 others of infinitely greater importance. Bui the plan 
 appears to me so erroneous, and indeed, I have seen so 
 many instances in which it has ultimately occasioned 
 consequences fatally connected with the happiness of 
 young people^ that I have always determined, should I
 
 :216 
 
 ever have any girls, to reverse the general practice oa 
 this point in regard to them. A daughter I never had, 
 and therefore the resoh.tlons formed on a consideration 
 of this subject have never been called into practice. 
 They are likely to be so now, however, in the self-ap- 
 pointed management of your little girl; but as lam 
 aware that there may be some points in which you may 
 not agree with me in this very important afTair, I thiiik 
 it is quite right, hcfoie you finally give her over to my 
 management, that yon should pcrl'ectly understand the 
 foiindation on which I mean to work, and that you fcol 
 qnite satisfied, you will experience no disapj ointment 
 on your return from the West Indies to fmd in your 
 liUle girl none of those accomplishments A\hich a father 
 and mother are apt to feel a pride in seeing displayeil 
 in their children, and which, in the general acceptation 
 of the world, arc considered absolutely necessary for 
 every genteel young woman to acquire." 
 
 When frst Mrs. Newburgh began speaking, Mrs. 
 Lenville telt so sincerely grateful to her for the readi- 
 ness, with which she undertook the caie of her little 
 girl, that to doubt of the means by which her kindness 
 was to be Ciisined to her child would have ap])eared an 
 injustice of.ered to her ftienJ, and si.e would have 
 prevented Mrs. Newburgh proceeding, by an assurance
 
 ^17 
 
 that she should be satisfied with whatever plan her 
 friend should thii:k proper to pursue ; but, when the 
 probab.iit} was represented of her finding: her lovely 
 girl deticicjnt in those accomplishments of the age, on 
 her returti home, she had looked on as so important, 
 which her husitand considered so essential, and in 
 which Mrs. Newburgh had commenced ijer instruction 
 during the last winter mouths, it must be confessed 
 Mrs. Lenville felt an uneasiness she could not avoid 
 expressing. She hesitated, as her friend looked up to 
 observe the effect of her last remark on her counte- 
 nance, and she at length said: 
 
 *' And are you really serious, my dear Louisa, when 
 you say that you object to my little girl being accom- 
 plished? Surely there can be no harm in her learning 
 music and drawing, and those other elegant acquire- 
 ments, without which girls in her situation of life are 
 scarcely thought tolerable?" 
 
 '' Certainly not," replied Mrs. Newburgh; " and you 
 have very much mistaken me, if you have drawn this 
 inference from wiiat 1 have said. If a girl has a taste 
 for music or any otiier accompiishment, and possesses 
 a talent, she will do well to improve, to as great an 
 extent as ciicumstances vili allow, provided it does' 
 
 V0L. I, o
 
 218 
 
 oot interfere with ditties and pursuits of higher mo-' 
 meut. But what I contend {or is this ; that there is 
 great impropriety in making artists and professors of 
 giris, in a situation of life in which they are elevated 
 ahovr the idea of making tiiese acqiiirenjents useful in 
 their laainteuance, instead of teaching them how to 
 fullil the various relalious of life, in vxhich Uiev may be 
 called on successively to act. I am convinced that 
 many a parent has missed the attentions of a daugliter, 
 lAfhose time has been half devoted to the study of the 
 piano forte or the harp; the ailectiou of a brother has 
 freqiicatly not only cooled, but been directed to un- 
 worthy o!)j(u'ts, from observing the preference of a 
 sister to follow wiih enthusiasai tlie study of any 
 favourite nothing, to giving him a portion of her tinie, 
 feeling an interest in his amusements, or joining him in 
 his walks or rides ; many a doating husband has been 
 disgusted at seeing tlie time whiih shoulil have been 
 given to him as the pledge of fondness, employed in 
 studying the compoun«ls of colours;, or rubbing their 
 brilliant tints upon the pallet; v.hde the ii.fant fie- 
 quently loses the nurse whicii nature has given h'^r, the 
 lisping boy the beueiU of early instiuction, and the 
 youth hft to fiUaw the dangerous course of his own 
 iiiclination>, for tiic sake of aiiording their thoughtless 
 jMid inconsiderate uiOlU'jr an opj oilunity of giving to
 
 21^ 
 
 her piano forte or her easel those moniGnts, which 
 should have been appropriated to the temporal and 
 eternal happiness of her offspring.'* 
 
 " In my opinion the education of the present day be- 
 gins where it sliouhl end ; the very foundation, on 
 nhich every species of instruction oftght to be laid, is 
 little thought of; while those glittering ornaments, 
 only valuable as they tend to the general beauty of 
 the vvhole, and to be considered rather as the pleasing 
 appendages of llie superstructure than constituent 
 parts of its original plan, injudiciously assume an im- 
 portance which their intrinsic merit cannot warraqt, 
 and usurp a greater portion of the invaluable blessing 
 of time, than is consistent with the many iraportant 
 duties which exist for its employment." 
 
 BIrs. Lenville looked tenderly at Mrs. Newburgh. 
 ** You are right," said she, and I yield to your better 
 judgment on this as on many other subjects, yet I hope 
 that should Louisa show any — -" 
 
 " Yon may depend on my repressing no talent I see 
 
 in your child," said Mrs. Newburgh, " for I never 
 
 would repress one in my own. But as in undertaking 
 
 the care of her education I mean to discharge the 
 
 u 2
 
 2-20 
 
 duties of the trust as conscientiously as I should strive 
 to do, were shr my daugljter, I considered tliat it w ould 
 be moic satisfactory to us both, that you shouhl know 
 what were my leading views on this subject, Hnd that 
 you should understand, that although I am wiiiwig to 
 give to every accomplishment its juo|>er ujerit in iUe 
 formation of the female character, 1 am far from sup- 
 posing any one acqiiireiiunt lanki-d under this s.en»jial 
 denomination, as necessary to form a woman completely 
 amiable and attractive. Farther than this, I consider 
 the appropriation of time to the acquisition of accom- 
 plishment, unless a decided taste is shewn towards its 
 attainment, to say the lightest of it, a gross error in 
 judgment, and where then- is a taste, to sacrifice more 
 to it than can be spared from more essential pursuits, 
 worse than error in princi^jle. In short, my dear 
 friend,' continued Mrs. Neu burgh, "the first step in 
 education must be lliat of forming the Christian, and 
 the English mother has no possible excuse for neg- 
 lecting to lay this foundation for the welfare of her 
 child. Whether the object of her maternal solicitude 
 be a boy or a girl, with whatever expectations born, or 
 for whatever profession designed, a moment's reiiection 
 must make it evident that there can be no doubt haw 
 to begin the important task of education. From the 
 monieut they are received iiito the bosom of our ex-
 
 221 
 
 .ceHcnt c^iablhliment, they have a clalru, even beyond 
 that of iiatnr'', on those from whom they receive their 
 birth ; and the highest temporal advancement, or the 
 greatest splendour of accomplisliments, cannot atone to 
 them for the :o-s of early religious principles." 
 
 " Flrets must be commanded, and armies headed ; 
 onr drawing-rooms must be ornamented with female 
 grace and elegance, but from the quarter-deck, from 
 the camp, or from the drawing-room, Avhy should the 
 Christian be excluded? With this principle in view, I 
 have always endeavoured to act : it has been the 
 foundation of the education I am giving my own boy, 
 and it must be the same, if I undertake its management, 
 on which that of your daughter shall rest." 
 
 Mis. Newburgh here ceasing, looked at her friend 
 for her answer, and received the hand that was offered 
 her with sincere delight. 
 
 " You cannot doubt my determination," said Mrs, 
 Lenville; " niake my Louisa as amiaule as yourself, 
 and I will forgive you, if she neither dances, plays, nor 
 draws." 
 
 Her emotion scarcely allowed her to utter these 
 words, when, leaving the room, she retired to her owdj 
 and ^Irs. Newburgh shortly after to her cottage.
 
 222 
 
 The morning after this conversation, at dawn part of 
 the West India tieet appeared, and the ship, on board 
 whicli the passage of Mr. and Mrs. Lcuville was taken, 
 came in sight about noon. The bagjsraf^e, which had 
 been previously ccnveyed on board the yacht, was 
 immediately foivvarded to its dentinal ion, when the 
 sailors reported to Mr. and Mrs. Lenville tliat it was 
 necessary they should sail immediately. 
 
 The parting as might be expected was affecting. 
 Mrs. Newburgh remained on shore with the young 
 people, who were from this time to look to her for 
 protection during the temporary absence of their pa- 
 rents ; while Montague accompanied his friends to the 
 Indiaman, and did not bid them adieu, till the signal 
 •was given for sailing. He then returned to his yacht, 
 and joined with his mother in relieving the agitated 
 feelings of their young friends.
 
 223 
 
 CHAP. XXV 
 
 Ke hearty waves 
 
 His last adieu, and loos'ning ev'i y sheet, 
 Resigns the speeding vessel to the wind. 
 
 THOMSON" 
 
 JlN a few days after the departure of Mr. and Mrs. 
 Lenville, their children recovered their spirits, and 
 the remainder of the boys' vacation passed a^vay 
 pleasantly and rapidly. Manners, v.hose weak frame 
 had sufi'ered from the late distress in his family, re- 
 covered his strength and activity under the watchful 
 eye of Mrs. ISewburgh, while daily excursions on the 
 ■water, both increased his health and confirmed the 
 removal of his fears connected with that element. 
 Montague's yacht was become such a favourite, that 
 the appearance of each setting sun and the opening 
 dawn of the following morning were eagerly watched 
 by all the young party in the hope of seeing them 
 prognosticate fair weather and prosperous breezes. 
 The party generally set sail about noon, and frequently 
 taking their provisions on board did not return home
 
 224 
 
 tiH the grey Uviliglit darkened the cliiFs on shore, and 
 the western sky was losing its last mellow tints. 
 
 AViicn Mr. Carlton could allow the time from his 
 regular parochial duties, he joined the merry group of 
 his young friends, and added to their enjoyment by 
 the good humour and gaiety, with which he joined iu 
 tlieir sprightiy conversation and chiidisli gambols. The. 
 lovely, but retiring Mrs. Carlton, in wiiom Mrs. New- 
 biiri;h on a closer intimacy found ail the requisites for 
 the formation of a rctined and sincere friendship, on 
 these occasions was her constant and enlightened com- 
 panion; while her little girl, whose daily improvements 
 were a source of constant amusement to the whole 
 circle, enjoyed the cooling breezes of the sea, and 
 sported alternately with every iuviividual in the happy 
 group, till she ficquently sunk exhausted to bleep on 
 the lap of her tender mother. 
 
 The painter might give his attention to many subjects 
 for the exercise of his pencil, ami might not always 
 find one more interesting than that before us : however, 
 these happy parties were not to last tor e\cr. Hours 
 of relaxation are necessary from all employment, but 
 they must be eonfmcd to stated and periodical times. 
 The vacation of William and Manners was drawing to
 
 295 
 
 its close, and Mrs. Newbyrgh vras anxions that her own 
 sou ana her new churte should aj'ply again to more 
 re^iiUi and coustaat empioyment. The morning of 
 Ihe lust CACursi:)!! arrived : ihe light clouds, which had 
 hnnsr over the uosom of ths ocean when the boys Irrst 
 left rheii bed-chambers, had vanis^hed: the mist v ach 
 skirted the Horizon had gradiraliy di-appeai'ed, and the 
 SHU, biir^tii;- troin the vapor.rs in which from it> rising 
 it isad brcn enveio'-ed, shed its lustre over the snr- 
 ro'.iuding sc»^ .ery. The party assembled at breakfast iu 
 ]Mi>. Newui.r^hs cottage hailed its appearance witii a 
 glow or pifkisure ani satisfaction, when Montajrue, in 
 the J.), of t'le mojient, hastily running to the window 
 begged L«»itisa to fetch him the telescope. Hh eye, 
 which vas always remai\>able for a distant and accurate 
 observatios', had descried a ship in fuH sail at a dis- 
 tauce, and it v^a> always cue of his amusements to 
 endea-onr discovering the size and freight of all the 
 ▼essfeis that j Lssed. 
 
 " She is a sioop of war, is not she ?" said Montague, 
 addressing Mr. Cariton, to whom he oltered the glass. 
 
 " I think she is a frigate," replied Mr. Carlton: " but 
 we *haii liave an ojiportu'iity ot a-fciiainiiig the point 
 wi'h some accuracy when we are on the water, for she 
 has just let down her anchor."
 
 226 
 
 " Indeed," exclaimed Montague, witli eagerness, and. 
 again taking the glass from Mr. Carlton; *' ah! and she. 
 is now pnttiug oft' licr ei::ht oared boat. Her captaia 
 must be some friend of my mother," continued he, 
 turning to Mrs. New burgh, and oliering her the glass. 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh looked for a few minutes, then 
 tottering as she returned to her sea , from tlie agitation 
 of renewed emotion, exclaimed, " it is our ki)id friend. 
 Admiral Courlcy." 
 
 Montague took liis mother's hand, and putting his 
 arm round her neck, affectionately kissed her cheek. 
 
 Mrs. Newbnrah w^as not unmindful of the attention 
 of licr son, and hiding on his shoulder the tear which 
 started from her eye, quickly recovered her c»>mposurc. 
 
 " Go, and receive our best friend," said she to Mon- 
 tague ; " run to the jsliorc, my chllil, for 1 ha\c no dojibt 
 biit tiiat he is leaving the ship with an intention of 
 paying us a visit." Then turning to Mr. and Mrs. 
 Carlton, she said; "Admiral Courley, the gentleman 
 we are speaking of, was the first i\ad most iutin;at© 
 friend of my husband."
 
 227 
 
 Montague d'ul not wait a secoiul request from his 
 iMOther to run to the sea- hore; and INIrs. Newlnugh's 
 short explanation to her friends was suxRcier.t to con- 
 vince them how interesting a visitor Admiral Courley 
 must prove. They would have retired before liis 
 arrival, but Mrs. Newburgh requested they would not, 
 sayinj; that she was sure Aduiital Courley would be very 
 happy to be introduced to any of her friends. 
 
 The naval veteran arrived on shore a few mir:U«^es 
 after his youni; friend reached the edge of the water, 
 and immediately recognizing the representative of his 
 ©wn Montague Newbtirgh, as he always called the late 
 captain, shook him Iieartily by the hand, and introduced 
 hiru to a young man who accompanied him from the 
 boat. 
 
 " The son of your old captain, Berkeley^'' said Ad- 
 miral Courley to the tine young naval oflicer, who stood 
 by his side. 
 
 " Captain Berkeley, my boy," added he to Mon- 
 tague. 
 
 " Oh ! I remember him," briskly replied Montagncj 
 and taking the Captain Berkeley's proffered hand j '' he
 
 228 
 
 llfbVc mft my little doj?, Prince ; bnt lie Was then, I 
 believe, only a midshipman, in my dear fatlieis ship." 
 
 " A few years have made some alteration in you 
 both," observed Admiral Courley, as lie took an arm of 
 each of his companions -, '* in yoti, Montague, from a 
 little helpless child, to a lad ci' Ntrength and spirit ; in 
 you, Berkeley, from the subordinate siLuation of a 
 midshipman, to the rank of a captain in his Majesty's 
 navy. Though there is some difference in your ajie, I 
 hope that will be no impediment to your be. no very 
 good friends. Captain Berkeley was a great favourite 
 of yoiir dear father, Montague." 
 
 " Quite sufficient reason to make me hope I shall be 
 one of his," replied Montague, turning towards Captain 
 Berkeley. 
 
 " If I were not otherwise disposed to like you, my 
 young friend," said Caj)tain Berkeley, " the idea of 
 your being a son of Captain Newburgh, would be quite 
 sufiicient to compel me to do so." 
 
 *' But we have not heard a word of your dear mother, 
 my boy," said Admiral Courley; "how are her spirits? 
 —tolerably composed r"
 
 229 
 
 ** Yonder she comes," replied Montaii^ue, ^' anxionS 
 to see yon, I know, sir; for I believe she has not 9. 
 friend on earth she values so highly." 
 
 " She is a woman of a thousand," replied his friend, 
 ** and you are a lucky fellow, my toy, to have such a 
 mother. My dear madam, I am rejoiced to see you,'' 
 coatiniiiid he to Mrs. Nowburth, who now joined 
 them ; " and congratulate you on the improved ap- 
 pearance of our young sailor." 
 
 " Mv dear Sir," replied Mrs. Newbnrgh, taking the 
 arm which the Admiral offered,'' nothing would hnvft 
 given me more pleasure than this visit, and T am de- 
 lighted you are inclined to tiiink so favourably of my 
 boy. He is every thln;if, I assure you, that my fondest 
 Ivishcs conld suggest, and I trust he aviII not be less dear 
 to yon, Sir, than to me, from his great resemblance to 
 my " 
 
 The word hn^^band was inarticulately pronounced, 
 
 bnt Admiral Courley supplied its place, and pressing 
 
 tiie hand of i)is lovely friend, anxious to check her 
 
 rising ennotion, turned back to Captain Berkeley who 
 
 was fullowiug with Montague, and presented him 14- 
 
 Mrs New burgh. 
 
 VOL. I. ^ X
 
 230 
 
 "** Forgive me, Berkeley, if I have been nule to yoii,'- 
 saitl he gaily to the captain; " but really thesii^ht of an 
 old friciitl makes i\ie forget every oiher consideration 
 than that I am a sailor." 
 
 Mrs. Newburjili received the younj^ man with much 
 pleasure as the friend of her late husband, and congra- 
 tulated him on his jiromotion. The party now arrived 
 at the cottage; and after a general introduction break- 
 fast was prepared for the two visitors. 
 
 Admiral Gourley now informed liis friends that 
 having just been appointed to take, the command of a 
 lleet on a forei.zn station he had determined to take a 
 I'ccp at them in passing the back of the island; for 
 which purpose he had hastened his period for sailing, 
 and having hoisted hisiiag on board Captain Berkeley's 
 ship, they had detcrr.iined to put oii' to the shore, and 
 invite Mrs. Nevvbnrgh and Montague to return on 
 board with them for a few hours. The additions he 
 found to the party at the cottage increased the wishes 
 of Admiral Courley to put his little scheme into efiect, 
 and us he saw the sparkling eyes and glowing cheeks 
 occasioned by the proposal he was making, he looked 
 i^t Mrs. Newburgh to learn if her consent might be 
 easily obtained. Her smile gave a willing approbatioii.
 
 931 
 
 ■and as tbe ship's boat was not considered large enoogh 
 to accommodate the party, Monragi:e vas made com- 
 pletely happy by the consent of his valued friend to 
 return to his ship on board his yacht. 
 
 The happy party set off vei7 soon affer breakfast, anci 
 long before their arrival at the ship. Admiral (.our ley 
 ^nas on terms of intimacy not only with young New- 
 fewrgh, whom he considered in the light of a son, but 
 ^so with his three young companions. 
 
 Admiral Conrley, in whatever society he appeared, 
 was the general favourite of the circle. He was at this 
 time nearly sixty years of age ; but the regularity and 
 temperance, by Avhich he had preserved a naturally 
 good eonstitutioB, took oft full ten years in his external 
 ap^iearance. Having from his well-known naval skill 
 been in constant empl&y from bis first entering his 
 profession, his features had acquired a hurdiicss, aiul 
 his conij.lcMion a darkened hue, the natural consequen- 
 ces of frequent changes of air and climate ; but the 
 constant smile of benevoiei-.e* and good-humour pre- 
 sented any unfavourable impression from these local 
 disadvantages. His efUication bad been well-princi- 
 pk'd, not refined ; rather t altuiateO to iniprove the 
 
 heart, than polish the manners ; yet, in his coinmunica;^ 
 
 X 2
 
 232 
 
 tion with men of his own profession, and with the 
 inferiors on board his ship, he had much of the bhint- 
 uess and natural humour so characteristic of the most 
 common liritish seaman, he wanted not mncli of the 
 politeness, certainly none of the feeling as character- 
 istic of the English naval officer. 
 
 The delight of the young people on arriving at the 
 sloop may be more easily imagined than expressed ; to 
 all of w horn, excepting Montague, the scene was per- 
 fectly new, but he had frequently been introduced to 
 such by his father, and the remembrance of the fond- 
 ness with which he had been accustomed to explain 
 every thing that appeared unintelligible to his young 
 capacity, before he was so versed in naval aliairs as he 
 was now, occasioned him more than once, as he per- 
 formed the same office to his younii, friends, to brush oft* 
 the tear which was starting from his eye. 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh felt a severe pang as she first enter- 
 ed the sloop, but quickly recovering her*e!f she entered 
 cheerfully into the amusements of the day, which passed 
 very agreeably, and much too rapidly for the wishes of 
 some of the party. At length, when the sun-set gun 
 was heard from the harbour of Portsmouth, Admiral 
 Lourley with some reluctance informed his friends that
 
 1m3 nnchov mu.A be weighed in the eonrse of Jjalfan 
 Sfoar. The young Lenvillcs, wlio had never soen tliiy 
 ccrcaiony, ajjpearinq anxioRs to st;iy till that tiniCy 
 tficir v.islies -vvcre comj^lied with; when takiirs: leave of 
 Admiral Couiley, Captain Berkeley, and the other 
 wfitcers of the shij^, the party left the sloop aud retuni:- 
 Gi{ iij the vacht to the shore. 
 
 '* He on the v.atch, my boy^" yaid the veteran td 
 JHorita.yuCja.s he shook bauds v»itli him at jnuiing; '* for 
 I :-h ill not leave vow idling liere niuch lonL;cr, if you 
 continue to run squares with the to^Nmast, i-.s you h<ive 
 doue since I last sav/ vou." 
 
 " I shall ;ilways he ready to attend your snr!-!iiinn55. 
 Sir," rephed ."\:ontai.;;ue, delighted as he looked forward 
 to tho day when he should join tlie friend of his father, 
 and e>Jtei: tkc profession to which he was so anxious to 
 belong. 
 
 " Mrs. Newhnrgh felt both the pride and the tendcr- 
 
 Bcss of a nioiher, vrhen she heard this reply of her son. 
 
 Mo..?»'i,:;e sav. her contending emotions, and taking her 
 
 ?iand with warmth pressed it to his lips. 
 
 X 3
 
 234 
 
 The shades of night hid the retiring sloop from tlic 
 €yes of those who watched her from tlie shore ; the 
 yacht was returned to her moorings; and the mother 
 and her son, having taken leave of their friends for the 
 Might, retired to rest under the blessing of Providence.
 
 235 
 
 CHAP. XXVI. 
 
 O thou, ^vhose glory fills th' aethereal throne^ 
 And all ye deathless po'wrs protect my sou ! 
 
 POPE S ILIAD. 
 
 J. HE time was now arrived when William and Man- 
 ners Lenville were to return to their academy. Mrs. 
 Newburgh gave them in charge to her servant Barlow, 
 to sec them safely to their destination, and taking an 
 affectionate leave of the youths she applied again to the 
 regular instruction of her remaining charges. 
 
 The winter was now setting in, and Montagne's yacht, 
 which had been so great a source of amusement during 
 the summer months, was drawn up upon the sands till 
 the return of the spring. The water excursions yielded 
 to long rambles on the shore, or over the neighbouring 
 cliffs and hills ; and when the snow fell, or the ground 
 was hardened by frost, additional sources of exercise 
 and amusement otiered themselves to the hardy and cou- 
 rageous ^Montague. Few boys of his age could stand 
 so firmly on his skates as he did, fevv could guide with
 
 236 
 
 more dexterous ability, the light sledge which he had 
 tonstrnctcd during the coutinuance of the IVostto con- 
 vey Louisa along the sand.«. The lads of the ncighhour- 
 ing luinilets would fiock towirds the shore to see this 
 little exhihition of iVJasttT Nevvburgh s, and Montague 
 was frequently «;ood-naturcd enoui h to allow some of 
 them to guide his little vehicle, while he took his place 
 in it. 
 
 Mrs. Newbnrgh, in directing the education of Louisa, 
 pursued the plan she luvd marked out in her con- 
 versation with Mrs. Leuville, making it her care to 
 build her hopes of happiness on the principles of that 
 pure Christianity, established in the Church of England, 
 With a naturally good disposition, the child was open 
 to every iuipressiou made by the hand of kindness, and 
 received all the instructions of Mrs. IScwburgh'with 
 frankness and docility. She gave her tlie Latin gram- 
 mar as the means of acquiring a correct knowledge of 
 language, purposins to continue or not her progress in 
 that tongue, as her inclination might point out: to tlio 
 study of history and geography, inseparably connected 
 in their views, she nuide her apply imme<Uately, and 
 exercised her extensive faculties by obliging her to 
 commit to memory pieces of poetry from those authors, 
 unexceptionable in style, and pure in moral principle, 
 fihe instantly decided on her never attempting music^
 
 287 
 
 for with a pleasing voice she had scarcely any car ; 
 and although she shewed an early taste for drawing, 
 she was cautious of encouraging it to a greater extent 
 than was couaisteut with pursuits of more importance. 
 
 By thns pleasingly varying their occupations, the 
 little families at the cottage under the cliff did not find 
 the winter months hang heavily. The Lenviiies, who 
 past their Christmas vacation at this retreat, joined 
 happily in all the employments and amusements of our 
 3?oung sailor, and the favourable accounts received 
 from the West Ind.es of their father and mother re- 
 moved every anxiety on their account. 
 
 The Lenviiies had returned to school after their 
 vacation about a week, when one very frosty day, after 
 a deeper fall of snow than usually happens so near the 
 sea, as Montague was placi;-g his sledge under the 
 cover prepared tor it, Louisa's little dog Prince frisking 
 towards him took hold of the end of his trowsers, and 
 endeavonred to draw him from the spot where he stood. 
 He considered that the dog was only wishing to engage 
 in one of his accustomed games of play, therefore 
 giving the little animal a smart rebuff he proceeded to 
 place his sledge under its covering, and was then 
 returning to the house.
 
 238 
 
 Tlie do^, however, contrary to his usual practice oT 
 ^euJiing to play whin he was corrected, continued liii 
 importunities, {>ulling violently by every ptTrt of Mon- 
 tapuc's dri'ss he could reach, and then running off a 
 ftnv paces returned airain to the att-:ck. Montague, at 
 Icnf^th, began to ,- aspect there vas something unusual 
 in the dog's manner, and tlioiigh it was getting dusk 
 and the snow was again beginning to fall, he resolved 
 to go and discover the reason of the dog's importunity. 
 Immediately as he turned to follow him, Prince showed 
 his joy at the determination by a variety of frisking 
 p;am{jols, ami bounding on before him very soon led him 
 to some distance from the house. 
 
 IMrs. Newburgh, who saw this little incident from 
 the win<!aw at whi.h she was standing, considered it 
 only as a trick of the dog's to entice Montague to a 
 game of pl.iy, and turned from the window as they 
 went out of sight, laid by her work, and tdd Louisa it 
 was time to die-,s for dinner. The little girl, v.ho was 
 busily emj)loyed in -arianging her d>jirs wardrobe, im- 
 mediately attended the summons, and was ready when 
 the (hnncr-bell rang to meet her friend in the dinin* 
 |)arioar.
 
 239 
 
 " "\nicre is jMaster Newburgli, JoIu! r" saiil Mr^.- 
 Jsovbiirgh to the scivant, as he stood j.ie[uicd to say 
 grace. 
 
 " I don't, know, mr.dam," rcplic/". Jol.n ; " I snp- 
 posjed lie was in bis own room, but I will step and see," 
 contimied he, as he went out ot the room. 
 
 " "Where can IMontn^risc be ?" said Louisa ; " he is 
 always so careful never to keep you waiting a nicmcut." 
 
 " I cannot conceive \vhcre he can be," replied i*Irs. 
 >>e\vburgh ; *' we saw hiiu go out with Prince, you 
 kr.oW; love ; but I have no doubt but that he is re- 
 turned. Is Mastei Nevvbargh coming, Jolin r' said she 
 to the servant, who entered the room again at the 
 monjcat. 
 
 ''• No, niadam," replied John ; " he is no where at 
 l:o!ne, nor any where about the house ; and it is quite 
 dark, and snows very hard." 
 
 Mrs. N'cwbnrgh fdt all the uneasiness that tlic kind 
 lieavted footn.an holccdy but calmly saying that she 
 !hiied say he would return in a lew niinntea, aiul 
 fearful of ei.hibiting any unreasonable fear at the idea
 
 240 
 
 of a boy of between eleven and twelve years old being 
 exposed to a little bad weatlicr, and the inconveuience 
 of returning home in the dark, she took her phiee at 
 the dinner table, and began to carve the dish before 
 her. 
 
 But her attempt to be comfortable was fruitless : 
 her son was so scrupulously punctual at all times, so 
 careful not to occasion her any alarm b^ extending his 
 absence from her a moment after he was expected at 
 home ; the vicinity of Shanklin Cliine, the sl.ppery 
 state of tlie roads, the darkness of the night, all ap- 
 peared to her imagination as probable occasions of 
 accident. Though she cut ilie piece of meat she had 
 put upon her plate, she sickened as she lifted it to her 
 mouth; while poor little Lojusa, who eagerly watehed 
 the turns of Mrs Newburg'u's countenance, burst inter 
 tcars^ as she saw it so impressed with alarm. 
 
 The footman again spoke : " had not we better g& 
 •ut with a lantern, madam?" 
 
 " Send Barlow hither," replied Mrs. Newbnrgh, 
 recovering her composurCj and again the mistress of 
 Her feelings.
 
 241 
 
 But Barlow was already gone accompanied by Pe(ef 
 Hopkins in seaicli of their yonnjr master, and as John 
 begged his mistress' permission to joi > in the search, 
 she excused his attendai.ce from the room, and the 
 dinner remained untonched on the table. 
 
 Three heavy hours pa«sed slowly away, and no in- 
 telligence arrived to Mrs New burgh eitlier of her son, 
 or of the servants whom she had sent in search of him; 
 during \\liich time it is impossible to describe the 
 agonized feelings which oppressed the bosom of the 
 widowed mother, alternately sinkin:: under the idea of 
 some dreadful accident having; happened to her child, 
 then a^ain supported under the apprehended affliction 
 by a full conHdeace in the goodness and providence of 
 God. Every lliiiig that could be, was done for his 
 discovery and safety; messengers had been dispatched 
 in every direction tlionghout the neighbourhood, but 
 no tidings were yet received from any quarter. 
 
 She hf^sitated many times v. hether she should join in 
 the search, or not; she wished to do it, but doubted 
 the ]>0S5ible use of takmg such a step : ovcicome, at 
 length, however by her anxiety, she could iiot prevail 
 with herself to remain longer in the house; therefore 
 taking her large boat-cloak to cover her from the cold, 
 
 VOL. I. Y
 
 242 
 
 »ml a l.inttrn to guide her throii^li the darkness, slic 
 prepared to go in scaich oi' her beloved boy. She lel't 
 the hotise and crossed tiie shrubbery; ^^hen, stojyping 
 a moment to listen to a quick and light t'uotstep, which 
 approached her from the shore, she received the object 
 of all her tenderness breathless m her asms. 
 
 The gate supported the mother, or she would have 
 fallen, overcome by the smUlen traiisition tVom grief to 
 joy ; and the son was so completely out of breath with 
 the exertion of running, that for some moments he 
 Could not speak. 
 
 " Oh! my dearest mother," at le.igth exclaimed the 
 affectionate boy; " i.otlung biit such an accident as 
 this could iiave iiiduced me to cause you so much un- 
 ea.5iiiess ; but when yon luar tiie occasion, i urn sure 
 you will not regret having sufi'ered for a few hours. 
 Ijut pray let us return to ihe house; you will take cold," 
 adiied lie tenderly, while he encircled her with his arm, 
 and led her back through the gate. 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh now found relief in tears, and 
 clasping her son's hai.d betv. een her own accompi.niod 
 him back to the house, silently breathing a prayer to 
 Heaven for the relief atlorded to her fears.
 
 243 
 
 " And where have yon hoen, my dear boy ?" said 
 Mrs. Newburgh, when iNIontagne had led her to the 
 sofa; " what has ha-)pened to jou?" 
 
 ** Nothing to me, dear niotlicr," replied 3Iont3gue, 
 " but you shall hear." 
 
 He then proceeded to inform her that, attracted by the 
 perseverinsf attempts of Prince to draw hioti out of the 
 shrubbery, he at kv,i2;th went with him, not supposing 
 hatt he would take bin far beyond th3 house : however 
 he proceeded farther and fa.ther, till it got so dark tiiat 
 he could scarcely <ee hss iiand before him. — He would 
 then have returned and endeavoured to find his way- 
 home, but the ddg set up such a piteous liowl when he 
 attempted to do so that ho was convinced tlnre was 
 some meaning irV his eiiorts to lead him on. He pro- 
 ceeded, therefore, till the dog stopping short licked his 
 hand and prevented his proceeding by takinjj hold of 
 the end of his trowsers with his teeth as he had done 
 beibre It was impossible to see what the o!>jcct was 
 by w'-iich it now appeared the attention of the doi» had 
 been attracted to this spot; but on groping on tha 
 sand, for they continued close to tlie sea-shore, he at 
 length found a man extended with his face upwards 
 and his arms folded across his breast. On putting hii$ 
 
 Y 2
 
 244 
 
 ear down Moutawue found that the unfortunate man 
 «tiH breathed, but the respiration was very faint, and 
 he was, to judge from the stiffness of his limbs, abso- 
 lutely dying from the severity of the cold. 
 
 Montague was at a loss for a moment how to proceed : 
 the poor fellow who lay at his feet miuht be suvtd if he 
 could gain assistance; but without, it was next to im- 
 possible any thing could be dor.e tor him. His own 
 strength was insufficient to move iiim from the ground, 
 much less to carry him towards any cottage, an;l as far 
 as he could judge from tlie time employed ii) comiui; to 
 the spot, it must have been two or three miles from hU 
 mother's cottage. 
 
 Montague was for a moment inclined to despond ; but 
 instantly recollecting the frequent admonitions of his 
 mother, lie sunk down on his knees and lUiploriJig ihe 
 assistance of Heaven proceeded to rnu tlie liands and 
 temples of his helpless aiid exiiausied fell w -creature; 
 Prince, the whole time running round and round, now 
 licking the cheeks of the man, then barking as if to cill 
 further assistance. The poor f '11 w seemed to revive 
 under the fiictiou whi. h '..outagne us' d ; but what 
 would have been the event, if the barking of the dog 
 had not attracted Mrs. NewburgU's servants to the spot.
 
 215 
 
 it wonld be impossible to say. As soon as they arrived 
 Montag«e gave h'S cliarjie over to their care, directiug 
 them to convey him as speedily as po^-sible to his 
 motiier's cottuce; then takinjj a lantern from one of 
 them ran hastily on before to relieve b\ his appearance 
 the an\ie(>, lie had no douL»t his mother was suffering 
 on his account. 
 
 Rlontagne liad scarcely finished the narration, v>hich 
 was so gratifyin^r to the feelings of the mother, when 
 Barlow entered the room to say that the oi)ject of his 
 young master's solicitude was safely arrived, and in a 
 few moments accordinc to Mrs. Newbr.r:;]i's orders he 
 was brought into the room by Peter Hopkins and the 
 footman. 
 
 When I\Iontagne had arrived at the snot where lay his 
 
 fellow creature in distress, the idea of the situation in 
 
 life he mi^^ht hold had not once occurred to him; nor 
 
 when he left las servants with directions to be as 
 
 expeditious as possible in transporting the sinking man 
 
 to the house of his mother, had he any curiosity to leaiu 
 
 whether or not he was in prosperous circumstances. 
 
 Hid he thougjit on the subject, in all probability he 
 
 would have concluded airainst the latter surmise, and 
 
 lave supposed that he was exercising his benevoknce 
 
 Y a
 
 246 
 
 to some sea-faring man, who was suffering from the 
 incleiii*^ncy of llie weailier, uv possibly to soaie hapless 
 Avandertr of more uticeriaiu destiny. Conseqi.ently, 
 he feit some little surpiise when Barlow, immediuttly 
 after informing him of the ariivai of the stranger, 
 added, " I can't think how he came in this state, sir j 
 for he certainly is a geutiemuu." 
 
 Mrs. New burgh and Montague both moved towards 
 the door on tlie entrance of ihiir servants witli the 
 *' gentleman,' as Banow had styled hi.n, and assisting 
 them to lay him on the sola pruceeded to unuutton a 
 large great coat which was folded over his bosom. The 
 truth of Barlow's leniarK was unmediaiely suosiant»ated 
 by the appearance of a ha..dhonie nuiiiaiy uniform, 
 while his person was iustanily ideniititd oy liitle 
 Louisa, who bursting into a |>assiondte iiood of tears 
 exclaimed, as she threw herself on her knees by the 
 sofa: 
 
 *' My uncle, my uncle !" 
 
 Mrs. Nevvburgh had never seen Colonel Manners, 
 the brother of Mrs. Lenville ; but the testimony of 
 the child was sufficient to convince her that he now lay 
 before her, and it may be easily imagined that i\x$
 
 247 
 
 circumstance of the stranger proving to be the brother 
 of her friend 'Ud not lessen her anxiety on his account. 
 She gently removed his little neice from his side, who 
 coniinued sobbing and crying out for her uncle ; then, 
 that every freedom to respiration might be given Avhich 
 the distressing state of the patient seemed to require, 
 she open -d his regimental coat, and discovered one 
 occasion of the faintness to proceed Irom loss of blood. 
 The bandages from an apparently recent wound were 
 removed, and the white waistcoat appeared to have 
 been dipped in the same dye as the scarlet coat. 
 
 Mr. Bolton, who had been sent for, did not arrive ; 
 and Mrs. Nevburghwas obliged to exert the little sur<- 
 gical skill she possessed to supply the place of a more 
 practised hand. This would have been a se^ ere triaV 
 for her, had she been aware how closely the wound be- 
 fore her resembled that, which had deprived her of her 
 husband. It was situated within an inch of t'lc vitul 
 parts: the other had been more fatally directed. Mrs. 
 Newburgh, in her alacrity to be of assistance when she 
 saw it was required, lost no time in forming painful 
 conjectures on drawing comparisons which might have 
 been groundless. She leplaced with the wished for 
 success the bandages to the parts from which they had 
 been torn ; and a gradual v, armth being restored to bis
 
 248 
 
 whole frame, the Colonel soon recovered sufficiently to 
 ni.ke so liC observations on the ffroup by which he was 
 surrounded. His little nicer, Avliose distress was by 
 this time somewhat moderated, a^ain crept towards her 
 uncie, who immedialoly recognizing her i^ave her a faint 
 embrace. 
 
 But Colonel Manncr"< still continued in so debilitated 
 a state ihisr, although lie w,is obviously interested to 
 learn to wlioui he wa:s inUob'ed ibr the attentions he 
 was recciviucT, h" had no stren'^th to make or answer 
 any inquiries Mrs. Newburjih, therefore, forbore 
 prf'RsInft hiiu into convcr^nt.on ; but addressing her 
 ma'.d licsired (h;ita i)od )ui;.!ii be immtdiatrly prepared 
 fbr tlic accouimodaiiou of Colonel Manners. 
 
 The Colonel drawinc; a deep sigh silently turned a 
 look ofj^riititudc on liis kiiul hostess; and when he was 
 iufo) mod that the bed was prepared for his rece|)tion 
 he t>rc.sea tlie haiui of A.rs. jSewbr.ra'u, then of her son, 
 and tenderiy kissing the cheek oi ins Kltle niece, was 
 led to Ills apartment uitliout uttering a word. Louisa's 
 tears lis.wed afresh; Moutaj;ne looked sad; and iNirs. 
 Nc\vburj»h be^an to be particuiaily uneasy at not 
 having had il in her power to obtain tlic advice of a
 
 249 
 
 surgeon for Colonel Manners, w hen Mr. Bolton entered 
 and with him Mr. Carlton. 
 
 " I have heard of the alarm you hav€ been in, my 
 <lear madara/'said Mr. Caritun as he eatereJ, and gave 
 his hand to jMrs. Newbujgh; "and am sorry to find 
 that althou2:h it has ceased for yoar son, you have still 
 reason to fetl it for another." 
 
 " Thank you for the kindness of this visit," replied 
 Mrs. Newbnrgh; " I assure you I am very uneasy on 
 account of the gentleman my son had the iiappincss to 
 assist this evening; and it is quite a relict to me to see 
 you. Perhaps, you will accompany Mr. Bolton up- 
 stairs?" 
 
 Mr Carlton gave his assent, and hearing from Mrs. 
 Nevvburgh the few particulars she knew relative to the 
 brother of her friend left the room with that jicntlcman. 
 
 Mr. Bolton, who united with professional skill a com- 
 passionate heart, proceeded with great Itndevnets to 
 examine the wound which had appeared so alarming to 
 Mrs Newburgh, and immediately pronouncing it to be 
 by no means dangerous, proceeded with some caution 
 to put a few questions respecting it to his patient.
 
 250 
 
 The Colonel lookinjj with a distressed air at the servant 
 who attended ou hini, hesitated iu giving an answer. 
 jMr. Carlton, observing thi-, gave a signal to Harlow to 
 retire, when Colonel Manners at length spoke: 
 
 " To which of you two gentlemen am I to express my 
 gratitude for the assistance ali'orded me by an amiable 
 woman, whom 1 imagine to be the v\if"e of one of you? 
 "Which of you has the happiness of being father to the 
 lad, to whose benevolence 1 find I am indebted for my 
 preservation from death ?" 
 
 IMr. Carlton, perceiving Colonel Manners's mistake, 
 replied that the lady under whose roof he now was, waS 
 nnccnnected with either him or Mr. Bolton, but by ac- 
 quaintiince or frieniiship, being the widow of a naval 
 olncci and residing with her son in the island. 
 
 "May I ask her name?' inquired Colonel Manners; 
 " for it was to the house of a lady of that dcscrijttiou 
 that I was prococdiniE, when, faint from the renewed 
 eiiusion of blood, i h^sl the management of my horse, 
 and the spirited beast alarmed at the falling snow, and 
 \,. rent of confinement ru>heu hastily forwards, and 
 threw me on the spot where I was discovered by tlie 
 generous son of your friend. Will you oblige me witb 
 her name?"
 
 251 
 
 '^Nevvburgb," replied Itlr. Carlton. 
 
 " My dear sir," eaperly exclaimed Culonel Manners j 
 *' will you let ine see lier immediately ? She is the most 
 intimate friend of my only sister, with whom I had 
 hoped to pass a short absence fiom military duties in 
 the renewal of those reciprocal atlections, a long resi- 
 dence abroad has interrupted, instead of which, on my 
 arrival on shore my ear is painjd by the recital of " 
 
 The emotion of Colonel Manners occasioning a sliort 
 pause, Mr. Bolton, who found that the subject on which 
 he was entering was of a domestic nature, caiuily beg- 
 ging his patient to keep himself as quiet as possible 
 during the night, witudrew, and reporting to Mrs. 
 Newburgh the wish that the gentleman had expressed 
 to see her tuok his leave tor the night. Mr. Carlton, 
 having been made acquainted with the situation of the 
 Lenvilles on their leaving England, did not retire when 
 Mrs. Newburgh entered the room, but supported by 
 his presence the agitated spirits botli of her and 
 Colonel Manners. 
 
 " I was endeavouring to find your house, my dear 
 madam,' said Colonel Manners, on accepting Mrs. 
 Nevvbnrgh's efiered hasd, " whea this uufortuHate
 
 252 
 
 acc'uJcnt happened ; and it was a merciful dispensation 
 of Providence that sent your son to mc, when I was 
 .sinking very fast under weakness and fatif^ue. My 
 sister, dearest madam," conlinned he with much earnest- 
 ness; "you, of whom l>er letters have so frequently 
 spoken as ti'O dearest friend of her heart, you can, 
 I trjist f;ive me some informa ion rospectinu lier. Her 
 little !!;'irl — did I not sec her with you just now — tell me 
 — where is her mother?" 
 
 Colcncl Manners was exhausted by the effort he had 
 made to speak to Mrs. Newburgh, >ii^hinjjj as he ceased : 
 his eye anxiously watched for Tue answer expected ou 
 a subject so interesting to him. Blrs. Newuurgh im- 
 mediately acquainted him with all the circumstances 
 of Mr. and IMrs, Lenviile's departure from Enuland, 
 softening as much as possible every incident likely ta 
 be painful, and not omKting the fa\ourab!e accounts 
 she had received, since their arrival in the West Indies. 
 
 It is impossible to descrilie the relief this communi- 
 cation proved to the feelings of Colonel Manners, who, 
 in return would have endeavoured to satisfy the curi- 
 osity he ('.oubted not inust be awakened to learn the 
 crcasion of his wound, and tiie general debility in 
 witieh he lay. But Mrs. Newburgh percei\ing the-
 
 ^53 
 
 great exertion it was to her patient to speak, begged, 
 he would defer his relation till the morning, and for the 
 present endeavonr to gain some rest. Colonel Manners 
 kindly thanked her foi her attention, and acquiesced in 
 this arrangement, as well as in that of not seeing his own 
 niece or Mrs. Newburgh's son on that evening, both of 
 whom he had before expressed a wish to have brought 
 into his room. 
 
 Mr. Carlton, whom Colonel Manners now found to 
 ~be the friend of Mrs. Nevvburgh, received an intimation 
 from him that he should be happy to see him in the 
 morning, with his thanks for the friendly atteution 
 which had brou^iht him to his bed-side. To Mrs. 
 Newburgh he expressed the warmth of sincere and 
 grateful Iriendship, and pressing the hands both of her 
 and Mr. Carlton, as they took leave for the ni^ht, he 
 endeavoured to compose himself to sleep, watched by 
 Barlow, whom Mrs. Newburgh had ordered to continue 
 all night in Colonel IManners's room. 
 
 On returning down stairs, Mrs. Newburgh enlivened 
 the }oung people with the favourable account she 
 brought of her patient, and the tea which was now 
 ordered, proved a very acceptable repast, the dinner 
 kaving been removed without being touched. Mr. 
 
 VOL. I. 2
 
 251 
 
 Carlton having taken his leave, the evening passctif 
 away more cheerfully than a few hours before it had 
 promised to do. During the lime wliich preceded 
 Lunisa's go'iui; to bed, her companions did all in their 
 power to relieve her fears on account of her uncle and 
 to divert her attention to other subjects; but as slie 
 retired early, the conversation of Mrs. Newbnrgh and 
 her son reverted to the events of the day. 
 
 " I never shall forget the sagacity of Prince, mamma," 
 said Montague ; " I am sure Louisa will never like to 
 part with him, now he has been so accessary to the 
 preservation of her uncle. How I should have re- 
 proached myself if I had not followed him, when he 
 took so much pains to attract my attention." 
 
 " The natural instinct of many dogs,'' replied Mrs. 
 Newburgh, " is truly wonderful ; and I believe there is 
 no spL'cies more largely endowed with the faculty in 
 question, than that to which our little dog belongs. 
 Ivj^inv a iifo has been preserved by the interferenre of 
 this friend of man; many an accident has been pre- 
 vei;tcd from producing ycrious corisecpiences, by the 
 sui[»rising readiiu^ss wiih which aniimls of this kind 
 huve been tlie means of procuring timely assistance ; 
 und ill Hio instance of C(donel Manners, I am fninly of
 
 255 
 
 opiuioD, that had he continued much longer in the 
 situation in which you found hini, his declining strcnsclh 
 would have reduced him to a state beyond the reach of 
 human assistance." 
 
 " How fortunate it was" remarked Montague, " that 
 Prince should have chanced to extend his rambles so 
 far. I should have been happy to have relieved any 
 one in so distressing a situation ; but what axleli^Jitful 
 retiection it is to find that we have been serviceable to 
 one so nearly connected with our dear Mrs. Lenville." 
 
 *' Delightful indeed ! my child,' replied Mrs. New- 
 burgh ; " and I am sure Mrs. Lenvilie's aflectionatc 
 heart v/ill more than acknowledge any little kindness 
 we may be able to shew her urother. As for you" 
 added she smiling, " I believe I must read you a daily 
 lesson on humility, or all the caresses she will bestow 
 on you will make you quite giddy with vanity; and 
 this would not assist you much in the duties of a 
 sailor." 
 
 " No, no, mother," replied Montague with some 
 
 warmth, " you taught me too early I hope to know the 
 
 great cause from which proceed all the accidents of 
 
 Jiifi, to place too great confidence in secondary agents." 
 
 z2
 
 256 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh placed her hand affectionately OA 
 her son's head, as she rose from her work-tabie to take 
 a book from its place ; then added, as she opened it 
 and laid it before her son : 
 
 " The merciful interference of Providence in di- 
 recting the preservation of Colonel Manners, reminds 
 me of an instance recorded by Johnson in his life of 
 Sir Francis Drake, in which his ship was saved by 
 Divine interposition when there appeared no possibility 
 of avoiding shipwreck. It is worthy of a place among 
 your extracts I think, and as it is some time since I 
 read it, you may, if you please, give it me before you 
 transcribe it." 
 
 Montague, wlio was a great admirer of the Doctor's 
 singularities, and frequently amused by his quaint and 
 laconic inferences, thanked his mother for the passage, 
 and immediately read it aloud, and as he concluded, 
 exclaimed with much eagerness, " what a miraculous 
 escape," 
 
 " Highly providential, my son," calmly replied Mrs. 
 Newburgh; " but I doubt of the propriety of i/our epithet 
 on the occasion. We are to acknowledge the merciful 
 interposition of Providence in any escape from ex«
 
 257 
 
 tiaordinary dangers; but we are not authorized either 
 to expect miracles or to give to these instances of 
 Divine goodness in our behalf a title we are not war- 
 ranted in ascribing to them. But are you not wishing 
 for bed ?" continued she, placing her work in her work-* 
 box ; '• I assure you I feel some fatigue after the 
 anxiety of the evening." 
 
 Montague was not sorry to take advantage of his 
 mother's hint; and Mrs. Newburgh, after hearing a 
 satisfactory account from the bed-chamber of Colonel 
 Manners, embraced her son who accompanied her up- 
 stairs ; and imprinting a kiss on the check of the 
 sleeping Louisa, retired to bed. 
 
 'z3
 
 258 
 
 CHAP. XXVIT. 
 
 He's truly valiant, that can wisely snfTer 
 
 The worst that man can breathe, and make his wrongs 
 
 His outsides ; to wear them, like his raiment, carelessly ; 
 
 And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart, 
 
 To bring it into danger. 
 
 SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 Jl/OUTSA slept soundly through the night; but waking 
 with the first dawn that appeared tlirough the window 
 curtains, she turned her thoughts towards her uncle, 
 and she did not wait the summons of Mrs. Newburgh to 
 leave her bed. She was dressed before her friend was 
 awake, when gently drawing aside the curtain of her 
 bed, and seeing that she was yet asleep, she sat down 
 in the chair by her bed-side, anxiously expecting the 
 moment when she might ask her permission to inquire 
 after her uncle. 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh did not sleep very soundly, and the 
 quick breathing of the little girl so near her pillow very 
 soon disturbed her slumbers. She put the curtain
 
 259 
 
 farther aside as she awoke, and seeing Louisa said, as 
 she extended her hand to her little friend : " are yoij 
 up, my love? I fear I have overslept myself.' 
 
 " It is not late," softly v\hispered Louisa, " and I am 
 sorry I disturbed you; but I ^vas wishing so much to 
 know how uncle Edward was. May I go and a«k 
 
 Franklin if she has heard; dear Mrs. Ncwhurghr"* 
 
 " Go, my love," replied Mrs. Newburgh, pleased at 
 the atlectionate concern she evinced for her relation, 
 "and come and tell me what you hear, for I am equally 
 anxious to receive a good account of your uncle." 
 
 Louisa kissed Mrs. Newburgh, and immediately 
 taking advantage of the permission given her crept 
 gently along the passage towards her uncle's room, and 
 at the door met Barlow coming out with a tea tray. 
 
 Louisa, still on tip-toe, rested her finger lightly ovs the 
 arm of the servant, and with all the earnestness of af- 
 fectionate solicitude pointed with the other hand to- 
 wards the room of her uncle, and looked with a glance 
 of inquiry to his face.
 
 260 
 
 *^ How is he?" vvliispored she, "is he awake? Has 
 he slept well? has he taken any breakfast ? Could I 
 not see him, Barlow?" 
 
 Colonel Manners heard the whisper of a young voice, 
 and calling back the servant asked, who was at the 
 door? Louisa heard the question, and while Barlow 
 re-entered the room, saying, " it is Miss Lenville, sir, 
 inquiring how you are ;" slie tripped after him, and 
 pressing under the arm of the servant said in a soft tone 
 of voice : " it is I, uncle Edward ; may I not come in 
 just for one moment, only for an instant?" continued 
 she, approaching the bed, and leaning anxiously for- 
 ward. 
 
 " Pray come, my sweet girl," tenderly replied her 
 uncle, delighted at the attention of his little niece; •' I 
 can speak to you to-day, for, I thank God! I am much 
 better, nearly recovered indeed under the care of your 
 kind friend, and with the assistance of a good night's 
 rest." With these words he put his arm round the neck 
 of the little giil, who pressed towards him, while a tear 
 started into the eye of the soldier who had stood un- 
 moved against the shock of hostile battalions, an^ 
 borne the brunt o! many a hard campaign.
 
 261 
 
 The praises of youth cannot be suspected of being 
 'adulterated by flattery, and the eulogies that flow from 
 a heart whose affections are yet unvitiated, can oniy be 
 the emanations of disinterested truth. The simplicity 
 and warmth with which Louisa, in the course of her 
 conversation with her uncle represented the amiable 
 features which distinguished the character of her friend 
 Mrs. Newburgh, and the good humour and obliging 
 disposition of Montague, spoke eloquently to the heart 
 of her uncle. He was prepared by the representations 
 of his sister for something uncommonly engaging in the 
 manners of her friend : the simple and unsophisticated 
 tribute paid to her virtues by his niece heightened the 
 interest with which he was inclined to receive her. 
 After having allowed Louisa to amuse him for nearly 
 half an hour with her lively chat, alternately on the 
 subjects of "poor dear papa and mammn, her brother 
 Manners, who,' as she described him, " was all fire and 
 bluster," aud her " brother William, who was meek and 
 gentle as a lamb ;" then again of" dear Mrs. Newburgh," 
 and " dear, dear, Montague," he told her with a good- 
 humoured smile, that he was sure she must have talked 
 herself into a good appetite, and desired her to return 
 to her friend with his kind compliments, adding that 
 he hoped she would oblige him, by paying him a visit in 
 the course of the morning.
 
 ^62 
 
 ** Oh ! not compliments, uncle," paily replied Louijsa, 
 
 -as she returned to his bed-side, from which >he had 
 
 taken a few steps; "not coiv.fliments to dear IMrs. 
 
 Newburgh; your very best love / should think, tor I 
 
 am sure she deserves love from us all." 
 
 " Ah ! but that would not be quite etiquette" replied 
 Colonel Manners, *' on so .^hort an ac quaictanco ; but 
 run alon.ff, my love, for I fear I have kept you too long 
 from her.'' 
 
 " May I not say love ?" again asked Louisa, still hang- 
 ing between the curtains. 
 
 " Away, away, little coaxer," again answered her 
 uncle; and Louisa jrently closing the curtains as she 
 said, " yes, it must be love," tripped down to the break- 
 fest-parlour. 
 
 The gay manners and sparkling eyes of the little girl 
 explained to Mrs. Newburgh whence she came, and 
 what news she brought of h«ruucie, and Mrs. Newburgh 
 was amused by the account she gaseof his message. 
 Wontauue fu. ly entered with his motiier into he feelmgs 
 ©f his lively tnend, and there was more want of appetito 
 than of mirth at the morning repast.
 
 283 
 
 Louisa conkl not eat aniouthful, the joy of seeing her 
 uncle had so completely disordered her spirits. She 
 continued to stir her niilk, as she said, fo cool it, long 
 after it was cold enough to be drunk at a draught; and 
 though she persevered in breaking into it twice the 
 quantity of bread she usually ate, she had not the incli- 
 naiion to put a piece into her mouth. 
 
 " I remember uncle Edward very well," said she, 
 still continuing her operations ou her bread and milk ; 
 " but he is not quite so handsome as he was three years 
 ago when he went abroad. liis face looks so dark now, 
 and he has not one bit of colour," added she, stroking 
 her own cheek as she spoke, and turning her eye, as its 
 lively expression changed to melancholy, on iNIontague, 
 who sat next her; " and he used to be what they called 
 such a rattle ; but now I think he looks very sad, though 
 he did laugh and look a little like himself, while I was 
 talking to him this morning, — Yet 1 did not think he 
 seemed merry from his heart." 
 
 As she finished speaking she dropped her head o» 
 Montagues shoulder, and burst into tears. 
 
 " Why, Louisa," exclaimed Montague, gently raising 
 her head ; " how quickly you change ! One instant up
 
 26i 
 
 in tlie skies, in the next endeavouring to creep into onC 
 X)f tlie deepest and most c;loouiy caverns you can find." 
 Louisa could not help smiling at his metaphor. *' Could 
 you really suppose," continued he '' that your uncle 
 ^vould be quite so handsome as \ on wished to-day, after 
 having seen how very ill he v»'as last night ? Do not be 
 alarmed ; he will satisfy all yojir pride again iii a day or 
 two, I dare say: and do take a little of this nice bread 
 and milk you have been so long mixing into a pudding ; 
 for if you begin the starving plan, you will lose your 
 beauty too." 
 
 As he spoke this with good-humoured archness, he 
 took up the sj)Oon with which she had been playing, 
 and lifted it to her mouth. Louisa, however, though 
 restored to cheerfulness by the playful raillery of Mon- 
 tague, felt no inclination to eat; but telling him, as she 
 smiled through her tears, that he had better preserve 
 the beauty of her dog with the moss in dispute. Prince 
 was sumujoncd and made a fine repast on the breakfast 
 of his mistress. 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh took little notice of the incident 
 which passed between the young people ; Louisa's 
 remark on tlie sadness to be traced in the features of 
 Colonel ManiTcrs, with her own reftectiou.s on the pro-
 
 26c 
 
 4>able occasion of liis wound, made her conceive tlicr^ 
 ifrere some niiplcasant circnmstances concerninfiit; and 
 she looked with a considerable portion of anxiety for 
 an expliination on the subject during the approaching 
 interview. 
 
 Before Mrs. Newbnrgh rose from the table, where 
 she sat reflecting on her new friend, INIr. Carlton 
 entered to inquire how the night had been passed, and 
 he was accompanied by his Tvife and little r»Iary. 
 
 The child immediately ran to the young people, 
 \irhose attention was good natnredly given to her, and 
 Mrs. Newbnrgh asked Mr. Carlton if he would ac- 
 company her to Colonel Manners's room. That gen- 
 tleman readily assented, and Mrs. Carlton, proposing 
 to take advantage of a tine clear morning to extend her 
 Walk alonij the sea-shore, Montagne and Louisa wil- 
 lingly accompanied her, while Mrs Newburgh and 
 3Ir. Carllon went to Colonel ^Manners's chamber. 
 
 Colonel Manners received his visitors with the air o{ 
 a man v.liose feelings acknowledged the attentions 
 ^hich had been shewn him, but whose delicacy pre-' 
 vented him saying much on the subject. He accepted 
 the liand that was ofi'ered him from either side of hi«: 
 
 VOL. I. 2 A
 
 266 
 
 hed> and after repeating the assurances of amendment 
 he had already sent by hig niece thus addressed Mrs, 
 New burgh: 
 
 " Although you have, my dear madam, so delicately 
 forbore to express any curiosity, as to the origin of the 
 wound, which but for the timely attentions afforded me 
 by yourself and your son, must have been attended with 
 fatal consequences. I cannot but suppose that you 
 must have formed a desire of knowing how it was 
 occasioned ; for yon must certainly be aware that in my 
 passage from the East Indies I can have been engaged 
 in no public service in which it could have been 
 received. In justice to your generous kindness, there- 
 fore, and in vindication of my ow n character, I must 
 inform you of its lamentable occasion, although I trust 
 you will add to the kindness, with which you have 
 already treated me, that of refraining to communicate 
 it beyond the limits of contidential friendship." 
 
 In saying this, Colonel Manners turned towards Mr. 
 Carlton, who imagining the last hint to be designed for 
 him, joined with IMrs. Newburgh in assuring the 
 Colonel that any communication he wished to make iu 
 confidence, he might feel satisfied should be kept with 
 scrupnloiis fidelity.
 
 ^67 
 
 Colonel Manners replied that he was perfectly satis^ 
 fi€d on the point, and then continued as follows : 
 
 " Some months have elapsed since I received letter? 
 from England, a circumstance occasioned by the fre- 
 quent removal of ray regiment and the orders finally 
 received from government to return home with the 
 greater part of the battalion. Though inured to 
 almost all climates from having been constantly en- 
 gaged in active service, from the first period of my 
 entering the army ; yet I own the East Indies to have 
 been particularly disagreeable to me, and I received 
 with great pleasure the summons from the War Office. 
 My regiment was soon embarked, and as I again 
 approached the shores of England, the idea of my 
 sister and her children every day increased the desire 
 I fplt to tread again on English ground. We had a 
 prosperous voyage, and on our landing being ordered 
 into garrison duty I determined, as soon as I saw my 
 men settled, to lake a journey to London, where at this 
 season of the year I imagined it most likely I should 
 find my sister. Two evenings before I proposed 
 setting ott for the metropolis, I dined in a large 
 company of officers, where the bottle being freely 
 circulated, many were very soon exalted to the highest 
 
 pitch of spirits and merriment. I was seated at table 
 
 2 a2
 
 268 
 
 betAveen one of my own officers, and a subaltorn of 
 another regiment who had once been an ensi^io in mine. 
 He spoke so thoughtlessly and familiarly on many 
 subjects, that had I been inclined, I could have found 
 many opportunities of appropiiatiog to myself insulting 
 remarks which might or mitiht not have been personally 
 aimed. However, very far from having any wi^h to 
 expose the young man, I pitied the degraded condition 
 into which he had iinmersetl himself by loo free an 
 indulgence in the pleasures of the table, and to his 
 long and unintelligible speeches gave answers as lav onic 
 as 1 possibly could. He however persisted in engaging 
 my attention, and at length turned the conversation to 
 my own sister, at whom without any ceremony or de- 
 licacy he aimed the grossest abuse ; declaring that her 
 extravagance had ruined her husband, and that she was 
 now, what she deserved to be, an outcast from the 
 country. I could not stand this attack; the tire I am 
 conscious mounted to my cheeks, and I told the young 
 man in a high tone of voice, that if he spoke a v\ord 
 more on the subject I should be compelled to take 
 notice of language, for which even his present state 
 of inebriety was no excuse." 
 
 ** The friends of the young man, fully aware of the 
 consequences of being engaged in a quarrel with a
 
 26d 
 
 superior officer, prevailed with him to make an apology, 
 which I instantly accepted, and I imagined the affair 
 at an end. Ho\vever, the unliappy and ill-advised 
 youth, after he left the party, being incited by the 
 representations of one of his companions to think that 
 lie had suffered a disgrace by the public apology I had 
 obliged him to make, which he could not but resent as 
 a man of honour and a gentleman, he forgot himself so 
 far as to send me on the following morning a challenge 
 to meet him, and give him the satisfaction he required 
 leaving to me the choice of time, place, and weapons." 
 
 " INIy mind was so completely engrossed by the un- 
 certain and vague reports I had heard of my sister, on 
 making inquiries of my other acquaintance respecting 
 her, that I had begun seriously to fear there was at 
 least some foundation for the indecent attacks made on 
 her the evening before, by the youth whose billet was 
 now presented to nie ; so that the hot-headed boy 
 whose rashness dictated it, scarcely shared a moment 
 of my attention.' 
 
 " I have my own ideas on duelling, perhaps not those 
 
 entertained by every colonel in the army, but such as 
 
 satisfy my own conscience, and I seek advice from no 
 
 other monitor. I wrote a short reply, in which I stated 
 
 that I risked not my own life nor sought that of another 
 2 A3
 
 270 
 
 unless when religion anthorizeil, or my king and 
 country required. If he wished to show his own couragCy 
 there doubth?ss wouhl be opportunities enougli pre- 
 sented him in the course of the war in which we aro 
 now engaged, and if he doubted mine, he was referred 
 for satisfaction on that point to fields in which I had 
 already fought, or he might follow me to whatever en- 
 gagement, in wiiich I should at a future opportunity 
 iiave the honour to fight in his Majesty's service." 
 
 " If in the midst of my concern for my sister, I gave 
 a thought as to the probable effect of this reply on the 
 young man to whom it was addressed, it was, that it 
 would be conclusive ; but the truth is, it past from my 
 mind as I dispatched it by the hands of my servant, and 
 I immediately prepared for my removal to this spot. 
 The accounts I had heard of Harriet, though confused 
 and contradictory, all concurred in this, that she had 
 left the country ; and I hoped that from you I should 
 learn the occasion, and wither she was gone. I hired 
 a boat at Portsmouth which carried me and ;ny horse 
 accross to Ryde, when having directed my servant to 
 return to Portsmouth, with orders to wait there till I 
 should either return, or send for him, I took a luncheon 
 at Hyde, and mounted my horse, I had not proceeded 
 a mile out of the town, when hearing the quick foot-
 
 271 
 
 steps of a horse behind me, I turned and perceived 
 ridins; speedily towards me the youth, from whom I had 
 received the challenge in the morning. His face was 
 distorted with passion, he swore, as he forced a pistol 
 into my hand and took from his pocket another, that 
 his injured honour should have the satisfaction he re- 
 quired!" 
 
 "Poor infatuated young man!" continued Colonel 
 Manners in a voice of compassion, " if he and many other 
 misjudging youths did but understand the meaning of 
 the word, honour, so freely used by all, so slightly un- 
 derstood by many, how frequently would the daily 
 chronicler of events be spared the detail of transacti- 
 ons at which its principles revolt; and the eye that 
 glances over the columns of intelligence be relieved 
 from resting on the relations of domestic outrage and 
 murder." 
 
 Colonol Manners here paused a moment : but his au- 
 ditors, d*^eply interested in his recital and entirely 
 coinciding with him in sentiment, oftered no remark on 
 what he had said. He judged from the intelligence of 
 their eyes, what were their feelings on the subject, and 
 very soon proceeded with his narration: 
 
 '' Tie pistol was in my hand, and my antagonist had 
 taken his post opposite to me in readmcis to fire, be-
 
 27-2 
 
 fore I at all recovered from the surprise occasioned by 
 this uuexpccted occurrence, but immediately as I re- 
 collected myself, compassion for the infuriated man 
 before me was the predominant feeling of my breast, 
 and advancing two or three paces towards him I would 
 have spoken : he would not listen to me, but receding 
 as I advanced continued to point his pistol towards me; 
 and when he was retired about a dozen yards, he ex- 
 claimed in a hurried and impatient voice, " now." 
 
 " Though I was determined to make no use of the 
 pistol I held in my hand against my antagonist, I con- 
 sidered myself equally justified in delending myself 
 from his attacks, and as he raised it against me with his 
 furious exclamation of" now," I would have turned my 
 horse from its level. But the animal refused to attend 
 to my check, and I waited the event with composure. 
 The aim of my opponent was well taken, but at the 
 moment that he drew the trigger, I threw the weapon I 
 held from me, and immediately sunk back on my horse." 
 
 " The sight I suppose at once cooled the passion and 
 reclaimed the senses of the rash boy, who had wounded 
 me; for on recovering from a fainting fit, which the 
 passing of the ball through me occasioned, I found him 
 hanging over me by the side of the road, in anguish that
 
 273 
 
 eaanot be described. My wound bled profusely; Ue 
 tore off his own cravat and mine to endeavour to staunch 
 the blood; and at length succeeded as far as we could 
 expect. At that time, I believed it to be dangerous; 
 but making a contrary representation to the poor fellow 
 for the relief of his agonized feelings, I urged him im- 
 mediately to fly, as the consequences must be fatal to 
 him, aggravated as were the circumstances, in case of 
 my death. He was now fully aware of his impious teme- 
 rity : the fiery temper which he had mistaken for cou- 
 rage had subsided, and he besought me not to ruin his 
 prospects for ever, I promised, and shall keep my 
 word. He is returned to his regiment, to the members 
 of which I shall never reveal a conduct which would 
 blast his fame, perhaps forever; and although for the 
 reasons above stated I have thought it right to acquaint 
 you with as much of this affair as I have done, it is not 
 necessary ever to you to mention the name of him, from 
 whom I received my wound. It will be advisable, I 
 suppose, to make the same statement to the gentleman 
 who attends me in capacity of surgeon, as I have made 
 to you ; but otherwise, there can be no necessity of 
 reporting even that I have a wound." 
 
 "I have now," contined Colonel Manners, faintly 
 smiling, " made you acquainted with the adventurous
 
 274 
 
 day T passed yesterday, as far as you were unacquaint- 
 ed with its occMnrcncPs; for as soon as the yonne; )nan 
 left me, T again, thongh with some difficulty mounted 
 my hortc, and proceeded till an accumulation of acci- 
 dents brought me into the situation I was found by your 
 amiable son. Under your instructions, my dear madam, 
 there is no fear that this noble lad will inbibe any ideas 
 at variance with good principles ; but if it is vour prac- 
 tice to inforce precept by example, the one in question 
 may not be useless, and I would not for a moment hesi- 
 tate to intrust a secret to your child." 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh expressed her thanks for this opinion 
 of her child by a smile of acknowledgment; and after 
 some farther conversation both on the subject of Colonel 
 Manners's narration and on others of more general im- 
 port, she proposed to Mr. Carlton to with raw. She 
 was fearful of tiring the invalid by remaining too long 
 with him, and as he appeared fatigued after the exerti- 
 ons he had be€;n making, Mrs. Newburgh asked him if 
 he had not better try to get a little more rest, lie was 
 of her opinion; and when she had adjusted his pillows 
 before she left him, she begged he would ring if he re- 
 quired any attendance, and bidding him adieu for tiie 
 present accompanied Mr. Carlton from his chamber.
 
 275 
 
 CHAP. XXVIII. 
 We must or imitate, or disapprove. 
 
 YOUNG. 
 
 On retiring from Colonel Manners^s room, Mrs. Now- 
 burgh and jNIr. Carlton met the objects of tlieir 
 tenderness returning from tiieir walk, \\hich they had 
 extended some way along the shore ; when, Montague 
 accompanying his friends home to lake his lessons with 
 Mr. Carlton, Louisa brought lier books, and laying 
 tiiem on the table by the side of Mrs. Newburgh took 
 her usual seat before them. She opened her writing 
 Uesk, aud laid her exercise-book before her, but for 
 some time sat without attempting to begin her task. 
 
 " My pens are all so bad, dear Mrs. Newburgh," at 
 length said the little girl, after turning them all over 
 again and again; " I cannot make one of them write/' 
 added slie, hesitating and looking at her friend. 
 
 ** Have you tried, love r" replied Mrs. Newburgh, 
 with a smile ; then extending her hand towards her,
 
 276 
 
 added as she unclasped her knife, " give them to rne^ 
 and I will soon remove that difficulty.'* 
 
 The pens were mended, Mrs. Newburgh a^^ain took 
 lip her work, but Louisa's exercise remained un- 
 touched. 
 
 " This is a vrry hard rule, I believe, dear Mrs* 
 Newburgh," again saiJ Louisa, sighing as she placed 
 the book on the table, after having fixed her eyes on it 
 for some minutes, without having seen a word that was 
 printed on its pages. 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh looking over the leaf, in which H 
 was obvious from its crumpled edges this very hard 
 rule was to be found, calmly answered that it was the 
 •same she had done yesterday, and again applied to her 
 needle. 
 
 " I cannot remember the English of this word," wa» 
 the next observation poor Louisa ventured to make 
 half inwardly, but loud enough to reach the ear of her 
 attentive instructress. 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh, turning her eyes aside for a moment 
 from hor work to the table, pushed the dictionary 
 towards her little pnpil. but made no remark.
 
 277 
 
 The leaves of the dictionary were next taken to her 
 played with, but Louisa's thoughts were very far from 
 accomplishing the end, its assistance was meant to 
 attain. At length she replaced it on the table, and 
 putting one hand into her pocket, while the other 
 rested on the arm of Mrs. Newburgh, she looked with 
 such an arch and expressive smile, that the attention of 
 her friend was again attracted towards her. 
 
 " Can you think," exclaimed she, encouraged by the 
 kind good humour with which Mrs. Newburgh met her 
 delighted glance ; *' can you possibly think what uncle 
 Edward gave me this morning?" and as she spoke she 
 pointed with the hand that was resting against Mrs. 
 Newburgh to her pocket, to which her eyes as quickly 
 turned. 
 
 *' Come, come, idle girl," replied Mrs. Newburgh, 
 her eye following with a smile the hand that had pene- 
 trated farther into the pocket ; " lessons first, and uncle 
 Edward and his presents afterwards." 
 
 Louisa, however, saw the indulgent smile which ac^ 
 corapanicd this remark, and considering it as a per- 
 mission to proceed she drew from her pocket a small 
 red morocco box, and unclasping the spring whick 
 
 VOL. I. 2 B
 
 278 
 
 Aistcned it, with sparkling eyes and a smile of delight, 
 exhibited a beautiful and elegantly set pearl uecklace. 
 
 " They are very beautiful," remarked Mrs. New- 
 bnrgh as she examined the pearls, while Louisa hung over 
 her shoulder; " but how came you not to shew them 
 to me before," added she, patting the dimpled clieck 
 which was laid against lier own : " your uncle I sup- 
 pose gave them to you this morning r" 
 
 " Ah ! dear iMrs. JCewburgh," replied the affectionate 
 little girl, placing the other arm round her friend ; 
 " how could I think about the pearls this morning, 
 when I could think of nothing but how delightful it was 
 to see uncle Edward so much better ? but how sad it 
 was," continued she, softening her voice ; " that he liad 
 lost all his fine heidthy colour. No, no, pearls are very, 
 very handsome, but I love uncle Edward belter than I 
 love pearls." 
 
 In saying this she pushed the necklace from her, and 
 hid her face in the bosom of Mrs. Newburgh. 
 
 INIrs. Newburgh kissed her with much tenderness, 
 while the satisfaction she derived from this littl»! 
 ^planation was so lively, that she could scarcely
 
 279 
 
 -refrain her emotion. She had felt a little uneasiness 
 on the first sight of the pe-irls, at the intense delight 
 manifested by her little girl on the poss, ssion of such 
 a treasure ; and remembei ing her mother' •» fondness 
 for dress and ornament, was induced to consider this 
 incident as an early indication of the same dangerous 
 taste in her child: she was now satisfied on the subject; 
 for she reflected that while the feelings of tenderness 
 and affection at the age of ten years were sufficient to 
 supercede the efiect.^ to be produced by the possession 
 of one of the handsomest necklaces it was possible to 
 procure, concern for her uncle, had for some hours 
 occasioned the total forgetfiduess of his present. 
 Therefore she felt iitrie alarm for the future, when the 
 stability of princi;>le of which she was laying the 
 foundation in her little charge, should unite with the 
 feelings of a naturally tender and affectionate heart. 
 She contemplated with pleasure the little incident that 
 had passed, and could almost have iisked forgiveness of 
 the little girl wliose sensations she had silently attri- 
 buted to vanity, while they really evmced a greater 
 indisposition to tiiat foible than is frequently found in 
 the young and inexperienced mind, conscious of far 
 less personal charms than hei little Louisa possessed. 
 She kissed the hands which were clasped round her 
 
 neck, and saying that nncle Edward must be answer- 
 si b 2
 
 280 
 
 able for the omissions of the morniuj^, asked the littlq. 
 girl if she knew any thin^' of the nature of pearls. 
 
 " Nothing, dear Mrs. Newburgh," briskly replied 
 Louisa, pushing aside her grammar and dictionary, 
 and drawing her gernian chair as close as she could to 
 her friend. *' Do tell me about them ; and if they 
 have any thing to do with the sea, 1 will wiite it, 
 amongst my manuscripts, und then I shall not have 
 been quite idie all ti e .noiijing i could not \Nrite a 
 word of Latin, but 1 could vvrae ab' ut the pearls^, 
 because uncie Ldward gave them to me." 
 
 Louisa now again took the discorded desk, laid the 
 newly mended pens oy hi-r side, fet«'hed her manuscript 
 from the book>stand, and waited Mrs, >ievv burgh's 
 reply. 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh wiio was of Louisa's opinion, that if 
 ahe wrote about the pearls she should not be quite idle 
 all the morning, and finding it not very practicable to 
 fix her mind to closer studies, while it was conJinually 
 reverting to the subject of her uu! le, told her with a 
 smile she must prepare tor double duty on the morrow; 
 then having excited her surprise by the ini'ormation that 
 pearls are sometimes to be found in oysters, and been
 
 281 
 
 amused with some of her simple remarks on the occasi^ 
 on, she searched amoiic: ber books, and pointed out to 
 her lively companion an account of the valuable sub- 
 stance in question. 
 
 Louisa immediately began making the extract, and 
 became so nmch interested in her employment, that she 
 shewed no impatience whatever in its progress. She 
 finished it neatly and rapidly, and as she was replacing 
 her book on the stand, Barlow entered the room, with 
 a message from Colonel Manners to ask if his niece 
 mieht be allowed to pay him another visit? Mrs. Nevr- 
 burgh accompanied her up stairs, and leaving her to 
 amuse her uncle returned to the drawing-room, where 
 Montague was just opening his books and waiting her 
 arrival. 
 
 "How have you left Colonel Manners?" was his first 
 question on seeing his mother, when Mrs. Ncwburgh 
 took advantage of the absence of Louisa and the per- 
 mission she had received from her guest, to acquaint 
 her son with the affair that led to the accident, the re- 
 sult of wjiich they had at first dreaded might prove 
 fatal. Montague heard with all the feeling aud concern 
 that might be expected, the sad influence of inebriety on 
 
 the passions, and the dreadful consequences likely to 
 2 B 3
 
 282 
 
 arise from erroneous ideas of iiononr. He was gratified 
 by the inl'onuationthat it was by the CouneN own re- 
 quest he was made the sharer in a secret which was not 
 to be communicated beyond the limits of their fireside ; 
 and while his courageous temper gave its tribute of ad- 
 miration to tlie oravery of the Colonel, and his heart 
 longed to become acquainted with one, whose valuable 
 life he had been accessary in preserving, his principle^ 
 revolted against the degraded character of the drunk- 
 ard, and the perverted and obstinate opinions of the 
 duellist. 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh was not at a loss to guess the train of 
 thought she had awakened in the mind of her son, and 
 always as anxious to nurse the growth of every virtuous 
 sentiment, as she was to repress one of an opposite ten- 
 dency, as she concluded the narration of this incident, 
 she thus addressed him : 
 
 " Had I looked through the army for two men, be- 
 tween whom I could have drawn a comparison, likely 
 to exhibit in its proper colours the distinction between 
 real and aft'ected bravery, I doubt whether 1 should 
 have found any in whom it is more conspicuous than in 
 the two thus thrown, as it were by accident, on our 
 notice. I could not have found two (.xamples in which
 
 283 
 
 are so strongly contrasted the vices of inebriety aiid 
 duelling with the virtues of temperance and inanlv for- 
 bearance. The latter of the vices I havejust mentioned 
 may be so generally traced to the former as its occasi- 
 on, and the former is even in the opinion of the world 
 so despicable, that one would almost wonder how either 
 of them exists; but that they do exist, a very little com- 
 munication with the world forbids us to doubt, and all 
 that we have to do, is to give a sigh of sympathy to 
 those who are so unhappy as to be betrayed into their 
 commission, and under the influence of our better 
 principles endeavour, my dear boy, to avoid them in 
 our own persons." 
 
 " In regard to the instance now before us, I cannot 
 refrain from pointing out to your notice, liow^ nobly 
 the character of Colonel Manners is raised by his con- 
 duct in the late affair, and how that of the inlatuated 
 youth sinks, who in the first instance despising the fa- 
 culty of reason with which he was endowed threw it 
 from him, and descended to the level of brutes in 
 understanding, and in the next could be so vanquished 
 b headstrong and unbridled passion, as not only to at- 
 tempt the life of the man he had offended, find whose 
 forbearance had pardoned the insult offered him ; but 
 hesitated not to urge a contest, which might have huv-
 
 281 
 
 ried him, surrounded as he was at the moment by mul» 
 tiplying sins, into the presence of hi* God." 
 
 " Considering the example of your father, my dear 
 boy," continued Mrs. Newburgh, with tenderness ; 
 ' and beyond tills, considering the principles in which 
 you are educated, I can hardly say I have much fear of 
 your falling into the commission of these insults on so- 
 ciety, and these provoking deviations from your duly. 
 But the heart is so deceitful, and the opinions of the 
 world so seductive, that I cannot give you too many 
 cautions in guarding against the hasty feelings of the 
 one, and the insinuating persuasions of the other." 
 
 When Mrs. Newburgh, in undertaking the education 
 of her son, formed tiie idea of avvakenin«r in his mind, 
 an abhorrence of those vices, which though not by any 
 means exclusively practised by naval and military men, 
 yet which in those profossious are frequently represented 
 in such deceitful and fascinating colours, as to be im- 
 posed on weak and frivoKus minds, not only as justifi- 
 able but as commendable, she was aware that her at^ 
 tempt would be by many persons looked on with deri- 
 sion, and by others treated with contempt ; for there 
 are not few, who thick that a lad, to be spirited, must
 
 285 
 
 be miselievious; to be courageous, must be rashj and to 
 be lively, must be pvofaue. 
 
 Her opinions, however, being well grounded, were 
 not to be shaken by any considerations of this sort, and 
 the welfare of her child was too dear to her, to allow 
 her to be in any degree influenced by the remarks 
 which might be made on her design by the unlhiiiking 
 and the uni)rincipled. Yet fully aware of the value of 
 the foundation on wiiich she built her hope of her son's 
 rectitude, she was not careless of those subordinate 
 assistances, the iufience of example proves, in inforcing 
 the weight of precept. And in this point she had been 
 particularly fortunate. As instances in proof of the 
 excellence of the instruction she gave, from the navy, 
 she could select for th<' observation of her son, not only 
 the character of his beloved father, but that of her 
 dceiiest frieod Admiral Courley,the i>romising and well- 
 prin;ipled Captain Berkeley, and many others with 
 Avhom she was on terms of intimacy ; and though her 
 coiinections in the army, as being more confined, did 
 not bring to her assistance so many models of the dis- 
 position she fondly hoped to see in her son, yet, as for 
 liis sake she was always scrupulous in the choice of her 
 society, she had known nmny, whose principles coin- 
 GiUed witli her own; and she now rejoiced in tU«
 
 286 
 
 opportunity of introducing to liim, in the charact«^r of 
 Colonel Manners, that correctness of principle, which 
 in performing the duties of the officer allowed him not 
 to forget he had been enlisted under the nanner of the 
 cross, before he was admitted into the armies of 
 England. These reflections led her to speak with 
 warmth of the satisfaction she felt in forming an ac- 
 quaintance with the bro.her of her friend, winle her 
 son, finding what was the opinion that his mother iiad 
 formed of her guest, found his wish increase of being 
 introduced to Colonel Manners. 
 
 Montague's lessons with his mother were not much 
 more attended to, than those of Louisa had been. 
 Their conversation on Colonel Manners occupied some 
 time, and they had not opened their books, when 
 Louisa peeping in and asking if Montague had not 
 almost finished, added ; " uncle Edward is so anxious 
 to see him, dear Mrs. Newburgh ; I have been telling 
 him all about him, and he says he is quite a hero, and 
 he wishes William and Manners may be just like him." 
 
 This summons delighted Montague who was wishing 
 to increase his acquaintance with a man, of vvhdm it 
 •was obvious his mother had formed so high an opinion; 
 yet he could have excused Louisa's information that
 
 287 
 
 stie had told her uncle all about him ; for desirons ar 
 he was of obtaining the good opinion of the colonel j 
 he could not bear the idea of po:?sessing it, through the 
 medium of the partial representation of his character, 
 he was conscious his little frit^nd could make. He 
 good humouredly told Louisa she should have found 
 some other subject than himself to amuse her uncle 
 with ; then addressing his mother, asked her permission 
 to visit Colonel Manners. Mrs. Newburgh willingly 
 gave it, and Montague followed the nimble Louisa to 
 her uncle's chamber. 
 
 " Not a word more about me, remember, Louisa," 
 softly whispered Montague, as he came up with his 
 young friend on the top of the stairs; " or I shall 
 quairsl with yon," added he, as he detained her from 
 hastening forwards. 
 
 " Oh ! no, you w ill not, I am sure," briskly replied 
 Louisa, as she laughed, and endeavoured to take her 
 hand away from Montague. 
 
 " But indeed I shall,'' again said Montague, still 
 detaining her, though she made a violent enbrt for the 
 recovery of her hand. " You do not know how un- 
 comfortable you make {ae, wheu you run ou, as yQU do^
 
 288 
 
 on the subject of any little incident I may have been 
 so fortunate as to have assisted in ; and I avIsIj you 
 would promise to say notliing more about me ; will you, 
 lover" added he, as he put his arm round her neck. 
 
 It was his left arm, Louisa, whose feelings like 
 
 llie waves of the sea, were always ebbing and flowing, 
 growing serious as she fancied Montague was really 
 di?:ploased with her, took the hand which hung over 
 her shoulder, and kissing the deep scar which her own 
 passion had occasioned, said, " she never wished to da 
 any thing that distressed him." 
 
 " I may trust you then," said he, as he in return 
 kissed her cheek, and sufiered her to proceed. Louisa 
 gave a nod of assent, and they entered the chamber of 
 Colonel Maimers. 
 
 Had that gentleman, from the representations made 
 to him, generally by his sister, and more particularly 
 by the faithful and attached Barlow, and the tender 
 and affectionate Louisa, formed a favourable opinion of 
 our young sailor, he did not ( nd it lessened when his 
 own ojsportunity of observation allowed him to Judge of 
 tlic correctness with which his character had been 
 dr«wn. 'J houijh not particularly acquainted with the
 
 289 
 
 late Captain Newburgh, he had been occasionally in his 
 company, and frequently enough to remark the striking 
 resemblance to be traced in the features of his sonj 
 and, Montague being unusually tall and manly in his 
 appearance, it was no wonder that Colonel Manners 
 should be greatly struck with the vigour and expression 
 of his person and countenance. He was, however, too 
 well bred to make any remarks on these adventitious 
 circumstances of birth; and he estimated the ciiaracter 
 of his yonng acquaintance too justly, to express all the 
 admiration he felt, as he saw in the open countenance 
 before him an attestation of those virtues, which had 
 been represented to him that he possessed. His silence 
 on these subjects, while it was a relief to the modesty 
 of Montague, increased the favourable opinion he had 
 formed of his new friend ; and the sincere and delicate 
 manner in which Colonel Manners ottered his acknow- 
 ledgments to his young friend for his share in the 
 assistance so timely administered to him on the pre- 
 ceding evening, increased the sentiment of respect and 
 esteem he already felt for him. 
 
 The co-existence of real feeling and immoderate 
 
 profession is so rare, that when we hear a torrent of 
 
 words rolling down upon us, we are a\,t to suspect^ 
 
 ^vhethe^ they flow from sincerity j while the mute 
 VOL. I. 2 c
 
 290 
 
 expression b &o eloquent, that it irresistibly penetrates 
 tp the heart. 
 
 Montague did not at this time remain long \vith his 
 new friend, being fearful of fatiguing him too much, 
 and he asked Louisa if she would accompany him down 
 stairs. The little girl, who saw her uncle looi^ed weary, 
 took the hint of her companion, and kissing her uncle, 
 asked if she might come again in the afternoon ? 
 Having gained his permission, she tripped merrily 
 away, and Montague giving his hand to his new friend,, 
 bade him adieu, and followed Louisa to take a ramble 
 on the sea-shore.
 
 •^91 
 
 CHAP. XXIX. 
 
 We'll form their minds with studious care, 
 ,To all that's manly, good and fair, 
 
 And train them for the skies. 
 
 COTTON. 
 
 Some days elapsed before Colonel Manners was suffi- 
 ciently recovered from the effects of his wound to join 
 the family in the drawing-room ; during which interval 
 he received under Mrs. Newbnrgh's care every atten- 
 tion likely to ensure his comfort, or expedite his 
 recovery. The attendance of Mr. Bolton was regular, 
 and his care unremitting ; while Mr. Carlton daily paid 
 his visit of friendship to a man, whose principle* so 
 highly adorned the profession he followed. 
 
 Colonel Manners's Ijorse, which had been so accessary 
 
 to the accident from which he was suftering, was 
 
 brought "^n the morning after the event to Mrs. New- 
 
 burgh's, by a countryman in the neighbourhood, and 
 2 c 2
 
 292 
 
 "was conveyed back to Portsmouth by his servant, who 
 had arrived at the cottage as soon as possible after 
 receiving Mr. Carlton's letter acquainting him with 
 what had happened to his master. At length the 
 invalid found himself equal to the exertion of joining 
 his friends down stairs : the joy which his appearance 
 exrited was general, and the few weeks that elapsed 
 before he completely recoveied his strength were 
 productive of genuine pleasure and satisfaction. 
 
 Colonel Manners was yet in the meridian of life, not 
 having attained his fortieth year. He was tall and 
 well proportioiicd in person, handsome and intelligent 
 in counlenance, elegant and impressive in manner. 
 As he quite recovered the strength he had lost from 
 his rocont accident, those high spirits returned which 
 according to Louisa's account had gained him the 
 ap*,ellation of a " rattle," and the lively girl had no 
 longer to regret the absence of that healthy hue, which 
 she had so feelingly regretted on first seeing him after 
 his arrival from the continent. Yet his mirth was 
 intirely innocent, his jocularity unmixed with profanft 
 or indecent allusions, and his wit such as could not 
 raise a blush on the cheek of the most delicate female. 
 He was the life of all around him, but he was so, 
 without occasioning uneasiness to any.
 
 293 
 
 It is not surprising then, that Colonel INIanuers be- 
 came a general favourite in the little circlp, into which 
 his introduction had been accompanied by circum- 
 stances, which rendered his present state of health and i 
 spirits so doubly pleasing. In him Mrs. Newbnrgh 
 found the agreeable and attentive companion ; Mon- 
 tague, the warm-hearted and generous friend; and little 
 Louisa, the tender and affectionate uncle ; and while he 
 liimself participated in the several feelings which were 
 entertained towards him, a sense of obligation, too 
 delicate to occasion much discussion, but far too 
 sensible not to be warmly cherished, increased the 
 esteem wilh which he looked on the mother and her 
 son. He thought of his sister, he looked at his niece, 
 and there his eye turned with admiration on Mrs, 
 Kewburgh. He reflected on the moment, when ex- 
 tended on the sea-sh'jre, with his hands clasped over 
 his bosom, and fainting from weakness and fatigue a 
 young and tender hand had been lifted to rub his 
 temrles, a soft and gentle breath had breathed on his 
 fainting lips, and a voice of compassion had directed 
 those who came to his assistance, *' not to lose a moment 
 lest the delay might prove fatal,' and he naturally 
 turned his e^e upon Mpntague with feelings ef i«torest 
 .oird affectioQ. 
 
 2 c 3
 
 294 
 
 But it was not in the drawing-room alone that pleasure 
 was givtn and received by Mrs. Newbur{;h's guest* 
 Grateful to the servants, whose attention during his 
 illness had appeared to proceed rather from affection 
 than interest, he treated them with that kindness and 
 aftability, which never fail to secure the affections of 
 those to whom they are directed ; and they felt the 
 increase of employment, occasioned by the addition of 
 the coloricl in the house, rather as a pleasure than a 
 trouble, if it gave them an opportunity of increasing 
 their attention to their mistress by paying it to her 
 guest. 
 
 There was also one more candidate for Colonel 
 Manner's favour, the little dog whose sagacity had first 
 directed Montague to the spot where he lay extended 
 on the sands. Prince, as if conscious of the benefit he 
 had conferred, made rep-eated efforts to gain his notice, 
 while he himself fully aware of the obligation he was 
 und'jr to the little animal, repaid him by frequent 
 caresses, and many a choice mouthful from his plate. 
 
 Nor was the pleasure, received and imparted by tlie 
 Visit of Colonel Manners at the Undercliff Cottage, 
 confined to the dwelling where he had tak^n up his 
 residence. The Carltons, not only a« being the friend*
 
 295 
 
 of Mrs. Xewbnrgb, bat from their own powers ot* 
 pleasing, became objects of interest to him. Tlie plea- 
 sure he received from their society was mutual, and 
 his time was nearly equally divided between the tv.o 
 dwellings, though in the company of the inhabitants of 
 both. The vicinity of the spot to Portsmouth, wlierc 
 his regiment was on duty, occasioned his coustaut 
 attendance with his men unnecessary, and though he 
 omitted not to give it when required, he embraced 
 every opportunity a relaxation from its duties oficreiL 
 to join his friends ia the Isle of .Wight. 
 
 Thus enlivened by the frequent returns of this 
 agreeable visitor to the little circle in the Cottages 
 under the Cliti', the second winter passed over tho 
 heads of the mother and son, and the returning sprin* 
 found the former restored to calm and regular cheer 
 fulness, and the latter improved in miad, invigorated 
 ia person, and couiirraed in principle. Engaged in the 
 constant exercise of those talents which had been given 
 her by the blessing of Providence, and ever alive to 
 the various duties her situation in life imposed on her^ 
 the painful impression of the severe loss she had sus- 
 tained in the death of a beloved husband had gradually 
 subsided into a pleasing veneration for his memory: ia 
 the active appropriation of time and attention to others
 
 296 
 
 ahe had lost the remembrance of her own personal 
 affliction; and wiien she reflect.-d on tlie bles-ing she 
 ^till possessed in an amiable and promisin{» child ; on 
 the advantage her exertions were likely to prove to 
 the affectionate little Louisa, on the pleasure she 
 derived from having it in her power to extend to the 
 sick, the needy, and orphan those various marks of her 
 benevolence which were likely to contribute to their 
 comfort, she saw so much reason for thankful acknow- 
 ledgment to the Giver of all good, thdt she felt 
 perfectly satisfied with her lot ; while as she reverted 
 to the time, when her mind was more agitated under 
 the affliction with which she had been visited, she 
 offered a prayer for the forgiveness of any instance of 
 impatience or repining distrust, the tenderness of her 
 disposition or her acute feelings might have occasioned. 
 
 With the earliest April primrose, and with the first 
 green blades that sprouted in the walks of the shrub- 
 bery, returned the birth-day of Montague, when he 
 entered into his thirteenth year. The eye of a stranger, 
 perhaps, might have added one or two more to his age ; 
 and the heart of the mother, on contemplating the 
 increasing stiiture of her child, was a proof to feelings 
 enly intelligible to maternal fondness. About a month 
 before this period, Mrs. Carlton bad pv.cscnted he»\
 
 297 
 
 husband with a son, and Colonel Manners, who being- 
 very fond of children had taken a great deal of notice 
 of the playful little Mary, on the arrival of the young 
 stranger, offered to stand godfvitber on his reception 
 into the church. His parents, pleased with the atten- 
 tion, in accepting the offer determined to return the 
 compliinent by giving their child the name of his god- 
 father. The day of the christening was fixed for 
 Montague's birth-day : Mrs. New burgh, who was always 
 pleased to extend the influence of private rejoicings to 
 the benefit of her poor neighbours, proposed making it 
 a day of festivity by giving them a plentiful meal of 
 beef and pudding, and distributing articles of clothing 
 among their children. She also fixed on this day for 
 the commencement of a little plan she had for some 
 time had in contemplation, for the benefit of her poor 
 neighbours, of selecting six of their children of both 
 sexes, to place the girls under the direction of a 
 mistress, and the boys under that of a master, who 
 might teach them to read and write while she herself 
 undertook to provide their clothes. The children 
 ■were all to be those of sea-faring men, and the boys, 
 whom she determined should be brought up to the 
 calling of their father, where to be instructed by their 
 master, who had been master of a trading vessel, in 
 any points relating to the sea, which might be useful in
 
 298 
 
 the progress of Oieir future emplojinont, whether as 
 fishermen, or in the Kitig's service. 
 
 For this purpose, Mrs Newbnrgh purchased a small 
 boat, which j«lie presented to the man whom she en- 
 gaged to instruct Ler younir sailors, JMid directed him 
 to exercise tlie lads daily, as their strength ^^houkl, 
 increase sufficiently to encounter the exercise, with tiie 
 management of the oars, and the u^e of the saiLs and 
 
 .rudder. She was perfectly satisfied of the irirciplea 
 of the man who was thus employed is h< r ag< nt in the 
 exercise of her benevolen-'e ; a^id, while iu tlie plan 
 she was layinpj down for the beneiit of hi-r poor nei:;h- 
 bours, she retiecJed with dilieht on the happiness she 
 should occasion to othors, she prepared to look with 
 no small degree of interest on hul<-, who probably as 
 they grew up mitiht return in faithful attachment to 
 her son those marks of kind .ess she was now goinc to 
 extend to them. So naUiral is the retiection, a r'.tiec- 
 tion that mi^'ht occasion ads of lifierality, one would 
 suppose, even in the s !ti>h, that frequently the cu; of 
 kindness ottered to teiiev^the distressed, is returned 
 to those who O'.er ir with an increase of |,lcasure and 
 advantage. Yet it ill lealil. he b .ieved, that the 
 latter observation can be h\ no means applicable to 
 
 'Mrs. Newburgh. If she allowed herself to cQuncct
 
 209 
 
 tire idea of the future interest of her son with th^ 
 objects of her own present benevolence, it was only a 
 secondary consideration ; and had she been convinced 
 that no benefit would accrne to him from her proposed 
 arranpement, it would have been insufficient to deter 
 her from the execution of her design. She acted on a 
 principle of benevolence, and that is a ]»rin iple which 
 cannot exist in purity where a seltish motive is the 
 gpring that actuates exertion. 
 
 The inhabitants of the two dwellings, in which pa- 
 rental fondness pointed with interest to the approaching 
 day of festivity, in one, as the happy moment which 
 was to enrol their infant in the list of the disciples of 
 Christ, and in the other to celebrate the twelfth anni- 
 versary of the birth of her only and beloved son, were 
 not the only individuals who anticipated its approach 
 with sensations of pleasure. The neighbourhood was 
 not populous, but all who resided within a mile of the 
 Cottage under the Cliff looked with eagerness to a day 
 of rest and rejoicing ; while those, whose children were 
 on its arrival to meet from their kind friend the bene- 
 volence it was her avowed design to extend towards 
 them, felt on the occasion all the delightful emotions 
 of the parent, iu the expected adv^otage of their 
 children.
 
 300 
 
 'riie middle of the month of April arrived : the 
 season wns unusnallr line, and but two days intervened 
 between the morning which was so eagerly anticipated 
 by the inhabitants of the UndercliflF. Colonel Manners, 
 >vho had been absent on duty, was returned to the 
 cottage to add the pleasure of his comj any to the 
 expected festivity, and Mrs Newbnrgh was on the 
 point of finishing the elegant christeniJig robe, she had 
 been preparing for the infant of her friends. 
 
 " Heigh-ho !" said Louisa, who was seated close t6 
 Mrs. Newburgh's work-table, as she took up the end of 
 the dress, and drew a deej) sigh. 
 
 Montague, employed in writing by her side^ looked 
 up good-humoured ly and asked, what ailed heri* her 
 nncle, whose eyes had been fixed on the gazette he 
 held in his hand, turned them across the table to tlie 
 face of " his little fanciful niece," as he frequently 
 caliel her; and her friend at her elbow, alarmed at so 
 unusual an exclamation from her lively charge, dropped 
 the needle she was on the point of threading, and 
 turned to ask " if she was not well?" 
 
 " Yes, very well," answered Louisa, sorrowful Ij''. 
 *^ but not quite happy."
 
 301 
 
 Mrs. Ne\A"burgh was alarmed ; and thinking that Her 
 little girl might have committed some fault, her con- 
 science would not allow her to conceal, drew her 
 towards her, and asked " what made her uncom- 
 fortable?" Colonel Manners, looking anxiously at his 
 niece, laid the newspaper on the table, and Moatague'3 
 pen rested ou the paper. 
 
 *' Poor William ! poor ]Manncrs !" was all that Louisa 
 could articulate ; and bursting into tears she hung 
 round the neck of her kind friend, 
 
 " And what of poor AVilliam, and poor Manners, my 
 sweet Louisa"? said Colonel Manners, rising from hi ■> 
 chair and approaching his niece, who continued sobbing 
 ou the bosom of Mrs. Newburgh." 
 
 Louisa heard her uncle approach, and as he bent 
 down to her, while she kept one hand round the neck 
 of her friend, clasped his arm with the other, and still 
 sobbing, said: " I wish they could be here the day 
 after to-morrow, they would so enjoy it; and I am sure 
 1 shall not be happy without them." 
 
 Colonel Manners, delighted with the affection of his 
 rdcce, drew her gently from the bosom of iNIr^,- 
 
 M)l.. I. 2 1)
 
 302 
 
 Xewbiirgh, and clasped her to his own ; while Mrs^ 
 Newburgh, no less pleased with her tenderness for her 
 brothers, could not help seeing in her quick and lively 
 emotions, enemies to her future peace if suffered to be 
 indulged on every trilling occasion without restraint. 
 She therefore took the present opportunity by gentle 
 appeals to her reason, of cautioning her against that 
 MJxcessive indulgence of feeling she so frequently 
 evinced. Colonel Manners aware of the justice of her 
 friend's remarks, disengaged her arjns from his neck 
 that she might give the greater attention to her in- 
 «tructions ; and Louisa soothed by tenderness and 
 TDonvinced by reason recovered her serenity, made up 
 her mind to be satisfied without the presence of her 
 brothers, and left the room to prepare for a ramble 
 before dinner. 
 
 Louisa was not the only one whose satisfaction on the 
 Approaching festivity was lessened by the idea that her 
 brothers would not be at home to enjoy it. Their 
 uncle, who was anxious to see them and had determined 
 to take a journey on purpose in the course of a few 
 days, had more than once hesitated within himself, if 
 it might be practicable to gain a short leave of absence 
 from their studies: it had occurred to Mrs. Newburgh 
 also, if it were proper to make such a request; and
 
 303 
 
 Montague had felt that the absence of his friends wa» 
 the only draw-back on the happiness to the enjoyment 
 of which he looked forward. 
 
 He did not resnme his pen as Lonisa left the room^ 
 but looking alternately at his mother and Colonel 
 Manners, endeavoured to trace in their countenances 
 the probable effect of a petition he was longing to make 
 on the >ubject. Colonel Manners read in the intelligent 
 eye of JMoutague what he was preparing to say, and 
 after hesitating a few moments, as he turned smilingly 
 from his young friend, he addressed Mrs. Newburgh. 
 
 " Might I for once do yon think, my dear madam, 
 ask a holiday for the boys? Perhaps on the con- 
 sideration of my being lately returned from abroad, I 
 might obtain leave of absence for them, provided their 
 spending a day or two here would not prove incon- 
 venient to you." 
 
 Mrs. Newbttrgh replied, that far from looking on it 
 
 as an inconvenience, it would give her great pleasure 
 
 to see her young friends ; and Montague briskly leaving 
 
 his seat thanked Colonel Manners for his interference, 
 
 with all the expression of grateful acknowledgment, 
 2 D 2
 
 Wlien the pfii'ty arrived in the breakfast-pailonr tl^ 
 CoUowing morning, Colonel Manners had crossed the 
 water some hours; and before the evening closed in, 
 he returned to the Uudercliff, delighted in the com- 
 pany ©f his two nephet\ Si
 
 305 
 
 CHAP. XXX. 
 
 Id the pure minil at those arabignons years, 
 
 Or vice, rank weed, first sti ikes her poisonous root ; 
 Or hapj»y virtue's opening bud appears, 
 By just degree, fair bloom of fairest fruit! 
 For, if on youth's untainted thought imprest. 
 The gen'rous purpose still shall warm the manly breast. 
 
 BISHOP LOWTU. 
 
 J. HE day at length arrived so anxiously anticipated. 
 
 To the great delight of all parties, who had fears of the 
 
 weather, from the changeable season of the year, it 
 
 was unusually fair and clear, and the air was so mild, 
 
 that it allowed the dinner, which was prtpared for the 
 
 neigiibouring poor, to be spread on the lawn in the 
 
 front of the house. iMrs. Newburgh appeared for the 
 
 first time without her weeds, and meeting her son as 
 
 she descended the staircase, in his new suit of blue, 
 
 she offered him the congratulations of the day, and 
 
 pressed him to her bosom while her eyes were filling 
 
 with tears. It was, however, but a momentary tribute 
 
 to conjugal affection : the tear, which fell on her ham\ 
 2 Ji3
 
 306 
 
 tVoin t!ie eye of her son, soothed the rising emotion, the 
 tenderness with which he returned her embrace hushed 
 the sigh that was labouring in her breast, and the smile 
 of cheerfulness was perfectly restored to hci counte- 
 nance by the time she entered the breakfast-parlour, 
 v.ith her arm entwined in that of him who was tlie 
 object of all her hope and tenderness. The spirits of 
 Montague were at their highest pitch; the transient 
 drop from his eye on the remembrance of his father had 
 heightened the expression of his countenance, and he 
 had never appeared more engaging to maternal 
 fondness. 
 
 If such -vvas the opinion of Mrs. Newburgh on her 
 son, the same was that of Colonel Manners on hers, as 
 .<*he received his salutations of the morning, and the 
 compliments of the day, on entering the room where 
 he was waiting to receive her. Th9ugh her mourning 
 was still deep, the change she had made was such as 
 rendered her elegant figure more strikingly lovely ; the 
 hair, which was again allowed to make its appearance 
 on her forehead and in which a natural cuil superseded 
 the assistance of art, increased the pleasing expression 
 of her countenance ; and the animated glow of mater- 
 nal fondness which succeeded to the momentary cloud 
 of sorrow, which had passed across her, as the change
 
 307 
 
 in her dress aHd the anniversary of her sou's birtlj 
 awakened the feelings of the wife, j^ave a livelier 
 expression to her eye, than could have been borroAved 
 from the artificial assistance of the mostlnxuriunt dyes. 
 She gave her hand to Colonel Manners Avith an air of 
 perfect sincerity and friendship ; and grateful for the 
 interest she read in his countenance as he received it 
 with warmth, said with inexpressible sweetness as she 
 withdrew it and placed that of her son in its stead : 
 *' may he ever be worthy of the regaid you shew him !" 
 
 Fully engrossed by the feelings of the mother, she 
 remarked not that in turning from Colonel Manners his 
 eye involuntarily followed her with a sigh. Colonel 
 Manners, however, immediately recovering himself, 
 received his young friend with warm expressions of 
 esteem and kindness, and his ov/u nephews then enter- 
 ing the room, followed by Louisa who was as merry as 
 the merriest songster of the grove, the congratulations 
 became general, and the movement passed totally 
 unnoticed. The servants now entered to join in the 
 usual morning sacrifice of prayer and thanksgiving, and 
 breakfast immediately followed. 
 
 Though Colonel Manners looked with an eye of 
 greater partiality on young Xewburgh, who undoubt*
 
 308 
 
 €(]Iy both in disposition and talent had greatly the 
 superiority over the Lenvilles, yet he saw much to 
 admire and much to love in both his nephews. Nor 
 Avas he long in discovering the decided inclination 
 expressed by William of becoming a clergyman ; he 
 was far from discouraging it, and he determined, 
 almost in his first interview with him, to persuade his 
 father and mother to alter the profession they had 
 designed him to follow. For the church he thought his 
 firmness of character and clearness of judgment par- 
 ticularly qualified him, and with this idea he turned 
 towards Mr. Carlton as a tutor, likely to advance him 
 in those studies which were necessary to be closely 
 followed, prior to his entering at the University. He 
 determined after the festivities of the present day to 
 write letters to the West Indies on the subject; and if 
 he should find the opinions of his sister and her husband 
 coincide with his own, he hoped he should have liltle 
 difficulty in persuading Mr. Carlton to undertake the 
 charge he designed to otfer him. 
 
 The two boys, equally pleased at seeing their uncle, 
 and at paying a visit to their kind friends under the 
 Clifi', were in high spirits on the present occasion. 
 Louisa's delight was scarcely to be expressed. Not 
 one spoonful of her bread and milk was introduced
 
 309 
 
 within her lips; her eye was perpetually wandering 
 iioru one dear object of her affection to another during 
 the whole of the morning meal, unable to discover 
 where it most felt the power of attraction; and when 
 Montague, who was her constant neighbour at break- 
 fast, rallied her as iie usually did, when he observed 
 that her appetite had fled before the liveliness of her 
 feeling, told her, " she paid him an odd compliment to 
 make choice of his birth-day, to recommence her system 
 of starving:" she answered with much expression, as 
 she placed her arm upon his shoulder : 
 
 " Ah! M«)ntague, I should soon be dead, I believe, 
 if your birth-day came very often ; for it makes me so 
 happy, I can never eat." 
 
 Montague kissed the hand which hung over his 
 shoulder, and telling Louisa good-humonredly, *' that 
 if his birJi-day was a fast to her, it was a feast to 
 Prince ;" called the little dog which was again bene- 
 fitted by the discarded meal of his mistress. 
 
 Very soon after breakfast, Mrs. Newburgh's party 
 went to Mr. Carlton's, where, as soon as mutual con- 
 gratulations on the arrival of the day had passed, they
 
 310 
 
 all proceeded to the church, which was sitiialed about 
 a mile tVom the spot. The other sponsor for the intVint, 
 besides Colonel Maimers and Mrs. Newburgh, w.is a 
 relation of Mrs. Carlton for whom, as it was not in his 
 own power to attend, Mr. Bolton kindly lent his 
 assistance. Mr. Carlton performed the ceremony of 
 baptism, the little Christian was numbered amon;» 
 Christ's flock by the name of Edward Manners, and 
 Mrs. Newburjjh, receiving the lovely babe from the 
 hands of his father, returned him with care and teu- 
 deiuess to the arms of liis delighted mother. 
 
 On returning from church, the young Christian being 
 consigned to the care of the nurse, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Carlton with their little girl, accompanied Mrs. New- 
 burgh's family home, where the servants were preparing 
 on tables placed before the house the dinner which was 
 to be given to the neighbouring cottagers. The num- 
 ber of men, women, and children, who assembled to 
 partake of Mrs. Newburghs bounty, and to celebrute 
 the birth-day of her son, were about fifty, among whom 
 were the six boys and girls who were from this day to 
 be educated and clothed at her expense. The dress of 
 the former was a sailor's jacket and trowsers, that of 
 the latter a short naval blue stutf jacket, with a pettii 
 ftoat of the same colour, white caps and aprons.
 
 311 
 
 The table prepared was sufficiently large for the 
 af 'ommodationof the whole party. After Mr. Carlton 
 had said grace, Mrs. Newbingh took her seat at the 
 head of it, Montague at the holtoni, and neither be( f, 
 pudding, nor ale were spared. Will Bowman, who was 
 always one of the first to share the bounties of Mrs. 
 Newburgli^ and who saw a boy and a girl of his own 
 habited in the dress, which among their own class, 
 gave them the envied title of madams children, was 
 the first to propose the health of young master, with 
 success to him in the navy. His friend Jack, warmly 
 seconded the motion, and the foaming tankard went 
 round the party, who heartily joined in the toast, after 
 tliey had first given it the sailor's approbation of three 
 cheers. 
 
 Montague in return for this honest fellow's attention, 
 lose with much good humour and atfability, and gave 
 " tlie seamen of England." The compliment was re- 
 ceived by the party with another hearty cheer, and 
 afier many a good draught had been thrown ofi to the 
 health of" madam/' " the young lady," " the new Lttle 
 young gentleman," " the colonel," and the rest of the 
 gentlemen and ladies, the party delighted with their 
 entertainment, returned to their cottages, where Mrs. 
 Newburgh vibiled them with the articles of clothing
 
 312 
 
 slie had prepared for their children, and where ht* 
 smile was ever received with grateful pleasure. 
 
 Would thoue, who complain of the unthankfulness 
 and ingratitude of the poor, act towards thrm in the 
 true spirit of charity, not confining themselves to the 
 practice of almsgiving, for that is only one branch of 
 this virtue, but in exercising every species of kindness 
 and good-will, they would find, generally speaking, 
 their opinions on the subject groundless and unsubstan- 
 tiated. 
 
 The feelings in the breast of a poor man are as acute 
 as those of the rich. If you throw ever so much money 
 to a family in distress, it will be received, but not 
 appreciated by the sufi'erers, if it appears to be un- 
 willingly or ungraciously given; bijt there are few, 
 very few instances, where the heart of pity sighs over 
 misery, the eye of compassion melts at distress, or the 
 hand of kindness lifts the mourner's head, without 
 meeting a due return of grateful acknowledgment, 
 even if accompanied with very small pecuniary assis- 
 tance. 
 
 During the time that Mrs. NeWbnrgh was paying her 
 charitable visits to her poor^eighbours, Colonel Man-
 
 318 
 
 ners and Mr. Carlton joined the tliree lads in taking a 
 long ramble in the neigliboiiring country, over which 
 the opening spring was daily spreading the renovated 
 beauties of the season. The young shoots were ap- 
 pearing on every tree and every shrub; the humble 
 daisy and the golden pilewort, which a few weeks since 
 had been hailed as the leaders of the flowery train, 
 were now forgotten in the delicacy of the pencilled 
 oxalis, in luxuriant tufts of yellow^ primroses-", and in 
 groups of violets whose fragrance attracted the pas- 
 sen:j:,er to their green retreat : while the swelling buds 
 of the delicate wood anesraone and the sweet-scented 
 hyacinth promised in the course of a few days a more 
 diversified treat to the liorist of nature. 
 
 The boys rambled far and Avide over every craggy 
 sleep and fiowery dell. Colonel Manners and Mr. 
 Carlton, mutually pleased in each other's society, con- 
 versed freely and pleasantly as they kept a more 
 definite course, till they unintentionally arrived at the 
 spot where Colonel Manners was lying, when discovered 
 by Montague. He stopped instinctively ag he ap- 
 proached the bunch of sea-weeds in which, as he had 
 fallen with much violence, was still imprinted the 
 pressure of his own figure ; and then after a moment's 
 
 reflection said to Mr. Carlton : 
 vol.. 1. 2 E
 
 314 
 
 '' ilow very few lads there are, mLo wotikl not be 
 spoilt by that scheme of" education Avhi<;h has been 
 adoj.ted for our young friend Montague New burgh, 
 INlr. Carlton ! and yet how wonderfully it has succeeded 
 in regard to him. I believe he only completes his 
 twellth year to-day, and yet how many noble virtues 
 arc already formed in him ! I own to you, that fre- 
 quently when I look at his manly and open countenance, 
 and trace in his actions the clearness of his judgment* 
 the uprightness of his heart, and the benevolence of his 
 disposition, I am absolutely astonished at a character 
 so prematurely amiable. When I reflect farther on 
 the high flow of spirits which accompanies every action, 
 and the courageous intiepidity with which he has 
 acquitted himself in moments when this feeling has 
 been put to a test, which many older than himself could 
 not have stood, I am at a loss to conceive how this 
 undaunted spirit has been preserved, under the sole 
 management of a woman ; and again, when I consider 
 the admiration which this boy attracts, the adulation, I 
 might almost say, be receives trom the dependants and 
 poor who surround him, I am again astonished at per- 
 ceiving, instead of the scU-sufl'iciency, or the vanity, 
 which might be expected to overwhelm the better 
 feelings of his heart, a greater deference to the opinions 
 oi" orhcrs than is frequently to be remarked in hoys ot"
 
 315 
 
 much more slender abilities ; greater affability of de- 
 portment to those around him, more submissive and 
 tender obedience to the slightest will of his mother." 
 
 The remembrance of the danger to which he had 
 been exposed, in the spot where he was now standing, 
 produced these reflections in Colonel Manners, ajul the 
 natural association of ideas between ihe motiier and the 
 son, occasioned a sigh more than once as he spoke. 
 Mr. Carlton, who was equally disposed to admire the 
 growing virtues of his young friend, heard his com- 
 panion with pleasure, and when he ceased speaking, 
 replied : 
 
 " Young Newburgh is certainly one of the most pro- 
 mising lads 1 know, and on a transient consideration of 
 the method that has been adopted for his education, it 
 may appear very surprising that he is so. But if we 
 look beyond the surface of the (subject before us, we 
 shall find still more rndted to admire, but less to sur- 
 prize us. For a moment, contemplate this lad or any 
 other of about four jears of age, in whom a kind 
 Providence had implanted the seeds of a virtuous 
 disposition, in whom are easily discovered quick intel- 
 lect, a feeling heart, and strong natural courage. The 
 
 boy daily grows in strength, his person houriv exhibits 
 2£2
 
 316 
 
 Jiacreasiug niaiks of comeliness atid vigour, and he, 
 promises to grow up a fine young man. Here is every 
 advantage that nature can possibly give: vvheiefore is 
 it then that frequently in a lud of fourteen you look in 
 vain for the maturer virtues of the child of four ? 
 Obviously for this reason : the heart of man is naturally 
 prone to evil, and if allowed to follow the dictates of 
 natural feeling will of necessity lead to mischief. The 
 very first consideration in many people, v. i'.h regard to 
 their children, is, that of turning the wholv direction of 
 their thoughts towards the profession for which they 
 are designed ; a very laudable secondary maxim, but 
 not the primary and efficient principle to which every 
 other should be subservient. The natural consequence 
 results : the boy grows up ; the quickness of his in- 
 tellect, as it unfolds, Awakens pride within him, anc^ 
 Jeads to numerous evils from without ; the heart, wiios©, 
 tenderness he indulges, sinks in luxury and effemi- 
 nacy', and his courage which is un -riuciplcd dege., 
 nerates into rashness, and terminates perhaps in 
 disgrace. A contrary method has been pursue! with 
 young Newburgh ; consequently there has tollow. d a 
 ♦ contrary result. He was nursed on the milk of Chris- 
 tianity; Christianity was the profession he was brought 
 up to follow; and to its principles he was taught to 
 iQok as the unerring guide of hi:j conduct. His amiable
 
 317 
 
 mother, it is true, worked on the best soil that htnuan 
 frailty is capable of affording to the hand of the cul- 
 tivator; but if there were more mothers like Mrs. 
 Newburgh, Colonel, there would be more sou5 like 
 Montugue." 
 
 The beating heart of Colonel Manners bore testimony 
 to the force of this last observation; but the appearance 
 of the three lads within a few paces where the gen- 
 tlemen stood prevented the discovery of his emotion by 
 Mr. Carlton. The dinner-hour was now approaching, 
 the boys joined them, and they returned homewards. 
 
 The dinner party assembled at Mr. Carlton's in 
 
 compliment to the new made Christian, where Mr. 
 
 Bolton, who had been absent on professional business 
 
 during the morning, again joined them. Mr. Bolton 
 
 was both an agreeable and a sensible man, and liaving 
 
 at first been introduced to the families under the Cliff, 
 
 by the assistance his medical skill enabled him to afford, 
 
 he continued his visits as productive of mutual pleasure 
 
 to himself and to those whom he visited. Mild and 
 
 gentlemanly in his manners, he was a favourite in every 
 
 sick room to which he was called ; easy and intelligent 
 
 in conversation, he was no less acceptable to the 
 
 domestic and social circle. 
 
 2 £3
 
 318 
 
 The day passed to the satisfaction of all parties;, and 
 the full melody of Mrs. Newbursh'* voice, the softer 
 notes of Mrs. Carlton, and the deep tones of Colonel 
 Manners's bass, joined with the piano forte and the 
 ■flute contributed to enliven and diversify the amuse- 
 ments of the evening. 
 
 This day of festive celebration over, Colonel Manners 
 would not intrude on the kindness of the gentleman 
 who had allowed his nephews to be absent a few days 
 from their acaderav, but on the next morning accom- 
 panied them back ; when having obtained Mr. Carlton's 
 consent to take charge of his elder nephew, supposing 
 his father and mother should approve of a change of 
 plan in regard to his future. destination, he wrote letters 
 to the West Indies on the subject. 
 
 The accounts lately received from Mr. and Mrs. 
 Lenville had been very satisfactory, and Mrs. New-, 
 burgh was much gratified by tracing in the letters of 
 her friend a gradual improvement in sentiment, and a 
 growing stability in principle. But it appeared that 
 the situation of Mr. Lenville's affairs was such, as to 
 afford reason to fear his absence from England would 
 Le of a much longer continuance than at first it was 
 hoped would be necessai-j i
 
 319 
 
 The visits of Colonel INIanners at INIrs. Newbiirgli's 
 continued for some weeks after the day of the anni- 
 versary of Montague's birth ; a day, on which it was 
 accidentally discovered to himself that he entertained 
 a sentiment for his lovely hostess, more tender than 
 that of the most intimate fri'^ndship. He grew uneasy 
 under its influence ; for although he found the increasing 
 attraction of charms, which made him more and more 
 unwilling to return at stated periods to his regiment, 
 yet he was aware, that gifted as Mrs. Newburgh was 
 with natural powers of engaging the afTections, yet that 
 the amiable points in her character were so magnified 
 by her peculiar situation, and the admiration excited in 
 beholding her was so inseparably connected with the 
 idea of her tender respect for the memory of her 
 husband, and the devotion of her time and talent to 
 the discharge of the duties of the mother, that he felt 
 it would be intruding on feelings too sacred, and too 
 praise-worthy, to attempt making any impression on a 
 heart, so amiably and so exemplarily devoted to its 
 iirst feelings of conjugal faith and tenderness. 
 
 Colonel Manuel's, therefore, continued silently to 
 admire, and silently to sutler; but however he could 
 command his actions, he could not completely hide his 
 feelings. They were at length obvious to the. eyes of
 
 8*20 
 
 Mrs. Newbiirgh, and her conduct towards her guest 
 immediately changed. She had too much feeling to 
 encourage attentions, the tender remembrance of her 
 luisband told her could only end in disappointment to 
 him who offered them ; and Colonel Manners had too 
 much sense to allow himself to be rejected. While he 
 regretted with painful sensations the hopelessness of 
 his attachment, he admired the principle which occa- 
 sioned his disappointment ; and though he had not 
 the resolution to refrain from visiting the cause of his 
 uneasiness, during the time his regiment remained at 
 Portsmouth, he received orders from the War Office, 
 which destined him to foreign and active service, as a 
 friendly interposition, to enforce a duty he was aware 
 ought to be performed. 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh secretly rejoiced at an event, which 
 she hoped would restore tranquillity to the mind of 
 Colonel Manners, whom she honoured as a man, and 
 loved as a brother, though she regretted the infatuation 
 which made her look with satisfaction on the absence 
 of him, whose society was so ecnerally pleasing, and 
 •whose residence under her roof had occasioned so 
 much gratification to the little caijcle in which she 
 muved*
 
 321 
 
 ** I have never seen a man, since my father, whom t 
 have admired and loved so much as Colonel Manners," 
 said Montague, as he sat down mournfjilly by his 
 mother, when Colonel Manners had bade them adieu 
 for the last time. 
 
 *' Nor have I," would Mrs. Newburgh have answered ; 
 but her emotion prevented her, and she retired to her 
 dressing-room to prepare for dinner.
 
 322 
 
 CHAP. XXXI. 
 
 He dies to me again, when talkVl of. 
 
 SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 jThERE was a cloud thrown over the little circle 
 under the Cliff by the departure of Colonel Manners, 
 ■which it required some weeks entirely to dissipate. 
 His cheerful disposition and pleasing manners had 
 lightened many a wintry hour, and increased the 
 pleasure with which the return of spring had been 
 welcomed. Yet time restored the accustomed serenity 
 of the group, the summer months passed smoothly 
 away, and the arrival of June brought William and 
 Manners from their academy, to which they were not 
 to return; the time proposed for their removal to 
 Sandhurst being nearly arrived, before which period 
 the consent of Mr. and Mrs. Lenville was received for 
 William to be placed under the care of Mr. Carlton. 
 
 The holidays of the boys passed pleasantly and 
 rapidly, and during their continuance, though Mrs. 
 Newburgh did not entirely excuse the attention of her
 
 323 
 
 pupils to their studies, they were occasionally remitted 
 to ^ive place to amusements in which William and 
 Manners might participate. 
 
 Montague's boat had been again prepared for his 
 summer excursions, and the same party who had 
 derived so much pleasure from its assistance during 
 the lagt, were equally gratified in the present season. 
 Not the slightest dislike to the elcinent, in winch he 
 bad so nearly lost liis life, remained in the mind of 
 Manners, and his self-conceit, having gradually sub- 
 sided siuce the accident in which its display had so 
 nearly proved fatal, he condescended now to receive 
 instruction from the sailors relative to the management 
 of the boat, and consequently gained some expertness 
 in the art. His attachment to his friend Montague was 
 truly fraternal, and while he couiempiated Mrs. New- 
 burgh with the afiection of a son, the peculiar circum- 
 stances under which this interest had been excited 
 occasioned a complete return of afiectionate regard 
 both from her and from her sou. 
 
 Nor was William deficient in the feelings with which 
 he met the unwearied attentions of his friends; his 
 heart bore testimony to the senjie he entertained of 
 them; and in a thousand little silent atteutions might
 
 32i 
 
 be traced the saniQ effects which in his brother weiJB 
 strongly visible in a more lively energy of expression. 
 Louisa was the delight of the whole group ; her spright- 
 liness and aiiection were only surpassed by her attention 
 and docility ; and if ever the warmth of her temper 
 was the least inclined to betray her into mome tary 
 impatience, the presence of Montague's hanil^ on which 
 the wound of the diik had left a very prominent scar, 
 would in an instant subdue the ri-iing emotion. 
 
 It need not be inquired if, surrounded by this party 
 of young pci'ple of whom sb.c saw herself the guardian, 
 our amiable widow was happy? She possessed the 
 secret of becoming so, a contented and tranquil mind : 
 and she looked on the three children of her friend, in 
 whose society and improvement she daily found so 
 much pleasure, as additional calls on her gratitude to 
 that Supreme Ijcing, who thus secured her own, by 
 giving licr the opportunity of being the spring of 
 happiness in others. 
 
 Tlie three lads, in whom was thus forming a friend- 
 ,«ihip which promised to be a source of mutual satisfaction 
 through life, frequently exleuded their rambles to a 
 great distance from home; and when time or circum- 
 fctances pvcvcnied the amufccmeut of sailing, Jbgy
 
 325 
 
 ■exercised themselves by rowing in an open boat within 
 a short distance of the '■hore. It was on one of these 
 occasions, that one d^y, as they ran their boat on shore, 
 a lad apparently about nine years of a5e, who was 
 walking on the sea-shore, ran towards them and took 
 hold of her bow in order to assist the party **ho were 
 landing. He had on a ragged sailor's j<4CKet, which 
 from its dimensions must have belonged to one tvice 
 his size ; his shoes were full of holes, and his stockings 
 were supplied by a i air of checked trowsers which 
 hung in rags round his heels. 
 
 The boy's countenance was animated, though of a 
 sickly hue; and as he with one hand ke-jt the b.)at 
 steady, with the other he resuectfully touched his 
 tattered hat. Montague, who was the first to leave the 
 boat, louked with some curiosity on tlie little ragged 
 fellow, who thus lent his unsolicited assisiance, and 
 supposing that he mu»t be acquainted wtth all the 
 cottagers' children in the ueighbourhooU, fplt a Wiaii to 
 enter into conversation with the lad. He therefore 
 said to him as he sprang from the boat, and observed 
 the boy make a bow, 
 
 *' What is your name, my man?" 
 
 *' Thomas Wake, please your honour." replied the 
 
 boy with great civility, again touching his hat, 
 \0L. I. 2 F
 
 326 
 
 " You do not live in this neighbourhood, do you ?" 
 asked Montague. 
 
 " No, your honour," replied the boy. 
 
 ** Where do your father and mother live?" inquired 
 Montague. 
 
 " Mother's dead, your honour, but father's only step- 
 ped up to the parson's after a stifficatc, and then we are 
 going back to Lunnen, sir." 
 
 " What is your father?' asked Montague. 
 
 " A sailor, sir, he was," answered the lad ; " but he 
 ant fit to serve no more, for he lost his leg about two 
 years ago, and 'twas such a bad job, he is but just come 
 out of the hospital." 
 
 " In what engagement did your father lose his leg?" 
 asked Montague with eagerness, remembering that it 
 was now two years since his father lost his life. 
 
 " I don't know, your honour, what engagement," 
 answered the boy ; " but 'twas along wi the brave 
 Captain Newburgh as he calls en; for he held the 
 captain when he fell."
 
 327 
 
 " with Captain Neubnrgh, with my father!" ex- 
 claimed (Montafiue, with feelinss of filial tenderness ; 
 *' did you say Cai)tain Newlu.Jih?" repeated he, as he 
 put his hand on the shoulder of the boy. 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered the boy, in a hesitating manner, 
 open-mouthed with a«!tonishnient at the effect he had 
 occ-isioned in giving this information; "father says 
 
 'twa , out it may nt be true you know, sir;" then 
 
 tnrning to Manners Lenville who stood by, he said in a 
 low voice, " I did not know the young gentleman was 
 th«^ captain's son, sir, or I could ha' held my tongue, 
 you know." 
 
 Montague was pleased with this mark of feeling in 
 the lad, whose observation made aside to Manners he 
 had heard, and recovering himself said: 
 
 " It is quite true, my man, that Captain Newburgh 
 fell about the time you mention ; but I am surprised at 
 accidentally meeting with any one who fought in the 
 same engagement with him, and I long to see your 
 faiiier, that 1 may hear more about it." 
 
 " There comes father, " exclaimed the 'ad, pointing 
 
 towards the copse, wuence the disabled seameu now- 
 2r2
 
 328 
 
 issued. Montague instantly hastened towards the poor 
 fellow, in whose hardy countenance was to be traced 
 the dauntless courage of a British seaman ; and was on 
 the point of addressing him, when the man exclaimed, 
 as he looked him hard in the face : 
 
 *' If you an't the son, or a near kin to my dear old 
 captain, I did not lose my leg a fighting along side of his 
 honour. Why, who'd a thought of popping upon ye 
 here like by accident, when I never knew any thing 
 about Ihe captain's having left a young fellow below 
 here?" 
 
 " Did you really fight in Captain Newburgh's ship ?" 
 asked Montague, delighted at a corroboration which 
 put tlie idea of imposture out of the question. 
 
 ** Yes, and I helped to carry him down, when that 
 unlucky bullet came and popped him off in such a 
 minute. But 'twas all over with en ; he never breathed 
 again. God bless your honour," continued the honest 
 seaman, '* and are you his son ? Why to be sure if evev 
 I see one boat so built after the fashion of another " 
 
 How long the man might have proceeded in this 
 strain would be difficult to determine, had not Montague*
 
 329 
 
 stopped him to ask if he could not serve him in any 
 way ; for he imagined from the appearance of tlie boy 
 that he must be in pecuniary distress, and for that 
 reason had been to Mr. Carlton's. 
 
 " God bless your honour,'* answered the man, cheer- 
 fully, " I dcn't want for nothing, thank God, except 
 this stifficate of the boy's baptis. Why I've met with 
 many a good friend since I got my wound. There's 
 young Captain Berkeley, a sort of child as one may say 
 of my old captain has got me a place at Greenwich, and 
 promised me one for Tom too; only they tell me I mnst 
 prove he was born, your honour," c('ntinued he, laugh- 
 ing ; " though I should ha' thought they could ha' told 
 that seeing him before them." 
 
 Montague smiled at this last remark, Manners abso- 
 lutely burst into a loud laugh, and the gravity of 
 "VViiiiam's countenance was disturbed. 
 
 The sailor saw their mirth, and being of a merry 
 heart he laughed too, and toid them it always made him 
 glad to see merry taces. 
 
 " And have you your certificate?" asked Montague r 
 
 " wbeie was vour son born, my friend ?" 
 
 2f 3
 
 330 
 
 " Wliy, he was born in a cottajre just nnder the hill 
 here, sir, but 1 have not got the slijfficutej for the gen- 
 tleman is not at home." 
 
 Montagne wishing to shew marks of attention to a 
 man who had been so near his father at the time when 
 he met his death, asked the sailor and his son to come 
 to his mother's and take some food, at the same time 
 saying that he knew Mr. and Mrs. Carlton were only 
 gone to Newport, and were expected home that day. 
 
 The man hesitated at first, saying, " Tom was not fit 
 to go in no where, he was so shabby ; but he meant to 
 get him a whole suit, when he got him back to Lunnen.'* 
 He then took out of the pocket of his jacket a five 
 pound note, and twisting it in his fingers, said : " look, 
 your honour, Madam Berkeley the young captain's 
 mother gave me this for the good captain's sake, as she 
 said, and Tom shall have the best jacket and trowsers 
 I can buy him when we get back ; but 'twould have 
 been off his back all this long journey." 
 
 Montague smiled at a piece of economy which is not 
 always a prominent feature in the character of a 
 British tar, and again pressing the man to take some 
 refreshment at his mother's, Thomas Wake and his boy
 
 331 
 
 followed the young gentleman towards the cottage, 
 Montasue going on before to speak to his mother, 
 knowing that her feelings wonld undergo a trial iu 
 seeing the man who had supported her husband iu bis 
 last moments. 
 
 With all the caution and tenderness, that appeared 
 necessary on the occasion, did oar young sailor relate 
 to his mother ll^e little incident which had passed 
 between himself and Thomas Wake on the sea-shore : 
 when returning to the spot, where he had left his friends 
 with the sailor, he conducted him with the lad to the 
 kitchen. His person was instantly recognised by Bar- 
 low, who having been sent to Flngland on account of 
 illness by his master some weeks previous to the en- 
 gagement which terminated his naval career, had no 
 opportunity of knowing what seamen were near him 
 •when he fell. He knew however that Wake was a man 
 who had been held in some esteem by the captaih and 
 that he had more than once received marks of his 
 favour. 
 
 This was an additional satisfaction to Mrs. NewburgU 
 and her son, who could not have a doubt but that Wake 
 was the man he represented himself to be. With the
 
 332 
 
 emotions, which might be expected on Ihns having the 
 last scene of her husband's life brought so immediately 
 before her, Mrs. Newbnrgh received the man, whose 
 arms had enclosed in the hour of death her beloved 
 husband. She told him she should be happy to serve 
 him in any way that lay in her power, and hoj)ed that 
 'till he should have an opportunity of purchasing a new 
 suit of clothes for his child he would accept of a suit of 
 her son's which he had out-grown. Whatever was the 
 pride of the elder Wake at the idea of having five 
 pounds in his pocket to buy a suit for Tom, the eyes of 
 the younger sparkled at this oiler; and Betty, whose 
 attachment to the Newbnrgh family was as great as 
 Barlow's, for she had nursed Montague from his cradle, 
 immediately flew to get the suit of clothes in question, 
 anxious to serve any body who had ever served " her 
 dear lost master." The other servants were equally 
 interested in the two lew inmates, for w!iom Mrs. 
 Newbnrgh ordered a bed for the night to be prepared; 
 and after Wake had recapitulated to the tender widow 
 and son of the captain every • ircumstance in detail 
 connected with the engagement in which he was 
 killed ; after awakening in the hearts of William and 
 Manner^ Lenville a deep interest for the suiiject of his 
 relation, and drawing streams of tears from the eyes of 
 Louisa J in the circle of the kitchen, whilst regaled with
 
 333 
 
 cold roast beef and foaming ale, the natural eloquence 
 of the honest tar was employed in relating again and 
 again to the servants every circumstance connected 
 with the fall of their J)eloved master.
 
 334 
 
 CHAP. XXXII. 
 
 " Where'er to this my little one 
 *' A deed of inerry thou hast done, 
 " Thou'st doiie it unto iue." 
 
 HEV. R. MANT. 
 
 ^^jTr. and Mrs. Carlton arrived so late in the evening 
 from Newport, that it u;is not in the power of Mrs. 
 Newburgh to make the appUcaticu to the former, she 
 had undertaken on the subject of the register of young 
 Wakes baptism ; but Montairue on returning from his 
 early walk with his friends before breakfast, called to 
 request that Mr. Carlton would give liim a copy of it. 
 That gentleman immediately 0|>tned the register, in 
 which he had no doubt that the name of the child 
 ■would be found, but after a diligent search within a 
 few years of the time when Wake said his child was 
 born, Montague was obliged to carry back tlie un- 
 welcome intelliyrence of the failure of his attenij)t to 
 gain the required document.
 
 335 
 
 Poor Wake was astonished at the information: " why 
 sure, your honour," said he to Alontague with much 
 earsiestness; *' Hannah could not have been off from 
 giving the little boat a name after she had launched her. 
 She always called him Tom when she sent me a scrap of 
 a letter about him ; but it pleased God to take her, sir, 
 before I came from sea." 
 
 " Where did yonr wife die?" inquired Mrs. New- 
 burgh, who was present at Montagues conversation 
 with Wake. 
 
 " 5be died here, madam, as they tell me, when the 
 boy was about four years old, and then her relations 
 came down and took him to Lunnen, where I don't 
 complain but they have taken very good care of him, 
 for they are kind hearted people. Poor Hannah! &h« 
 was too delicate like, ma'am, you see for a sailois wife, 
 and was very well to do in the worlJ, being the daugh- 
 ter of a grocer in the city ; but she loved me, and I 
 loved her; and her friends could not say any thing 
 against a British seaman, they said ; so we married. 
 But I was soon ordered oit to sea, and the first time 
 when I came back, soaiewhere about three years ago, 
 I found poor Hannah was dead, and my child was with 
 her relations. It had well uigh broke my heart, at
 
 S36 
 
 fii'st," continued the honest fellow, " to see my poop 
 cliild for the first time and think lie'd no mother left ; 
 but sonjehow I got over it, and being then sound and 
 having all my limbs I gave my prize money to my child 
 and shipped off again, for I felt like a fiah out of water 
 upon land, your honour. We wont talk any more of 
 what happened soon after, and how I lost my leg. It 
 pleased God in giving us victory to scatter many a limb 
 and stop many a precious breath " 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh tottered against her son, and would 
 have fallen had he not supported her. 
 
 Poor Wake, hurt at perceiving he had awakened 
 feelings by his bluntness, which he had meant to take 
 pains to spare, said to Montague, " God forgive me, sir, 
 for being such a blockhead!" 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh recovered herself, and looking kindly 
 at Wake assured him by her countenance that though 
 he had affected, he had not displeased her ; and Mon- 
 tague, to draw back the conversation to the subject of 
 Wake's certificate, said : 
 
 « 
 
 " Are you sure that your wife remained here after 
 you went to sea, and that your child was born here?"
 
 337 
 
 "Why, your honour," replied Wake, '' I can oniy 
 say, you know, what they tell me. I am sure I left her 
 here, lodging with one Joseph Masters and his wife; 
 but I asked at the cottage coming along, and another 
 lives there who knows nothing about Joe Masters.' 
 
 " We could discover whether his wife was buried 
 here, by applying to the register, could we not?*' asked 
 Montague of his mother. 
 
 " Certainly," replied ]Mrs. Newburgh ; " but as there 
 is no immediate hurry, Montague, we will go to 
 breakfast, if you please, before you return to Mr. 
 Carlton's." 
 
 Montague acceded, and after breakfast went again 
 to .search the parish register. The burial of Hannah, 
 wife ol Thomas Wake, seaman, was discovered without 
 difficulty, and so far it was a satisfaction to learn that in 
 all probability she had lived till the period of her death 
 in the spot where she had been left by her husband ; 
 but as the baptism of the child could not be discovered 
 in the same repository of parish events, there was strong 
 reason to believe the mother had omitted having the 
 ceremony performed. 
 
 VOL. I, 2 G
 
 338 
 
 Poor Wake said, " somehow he conld not think how 
 it was ; he must go up to Lunnen again, and a^k Han- 
 nah's relations about it." Mrs. NewDurgh thinking it 
 must be a great fatigue to him to take so long a journey 
 again, with a prospect of returning immediately, ad- 
 vised him to write to his friends and ofiered him in the 
 mean time an asylum in her house. Wake thanked her 
 heartily, and lost no time in making the proposed 
 inquiries of his wife's relations concerning the baptism 
 of his child; but all he heard in return was, that soon 
 after its birth they had been asked to come down and 
 stand sponsors ; but not being able to take the journey 
 they had supposed somebody el-e had undertaken the 
 otlice. They had riever heard that the child was 
 clinsletied, but they supposed he was; for when they 
 came down to take charge of him after his mother'* 
 death, they found that he had been used to be called 
 Tom, and they never inquired any farther. 
 
 From this account it appeared so probable that the 
 chdd never had been christened, that Mrs. Newburgh 
 strongly advised Wake to lose no time in repairing the 
 omission, and went herself to consult Mr. Carlton on 
 the subject. Ihat gentleman concurred with her in 
 the su|iposition that Wake's child had not been christ- 
 ened, and as the man had no tixed residence and the
 
 3S9 
 
 child according to appearances was bom in the parish 
 of which Mr. (Carlton had the care, he conceived that 
 there could be no place mtre proper than his church 
 for the pertormance of the ceremony. It was accord- 
 inoly fixed for the next sunday ; an I in the interval 
 Wiike hopped otf to Newport to make the purchase of 
 the new suit of bine for his boy, for which Madam 
 Berkeley had j»iven him the five pound note. Mon- 
 tague would jiladly have purchased the clothes as a 
 cbriitening pre-ent, but as Wake seemed to have set 
 his heart on doing so himself, he would not interfere 
 with his plan, but supplied him instead with a piece of 
 check for shirts and two pair of shoes and stockings. 
 
 " Tom's quite a tight little frigate, ant he now?" said 
 Wake to Burlow, as he turned the boy round and ad- 
 mired him, jUNt as they followed Mrs. Newburgh out of 
 the shrubbery in the way to church on sunday ^ " bless 
 me, what a little rigging does for a lad !'* 
 
 Barlow assented to the observation of honest Wake, 
 saying, " that all the craft that came into his mistress's 
 docks went out a pretty deal sounder and fitter for sea 
 than they came in,' and concluded by saying that Tom 
 was quite a smart fellow now. 
 2g2
 
 S40 
 
 Indeed there was a striking difference in the appear- 
 «nQe of the lad, since the time when he tirst attracted 
 Montague's attention, when in his ragged garments he 
 had civilly held the boat and assisted him to land : a 
 difference which might be marked by eyes less in- 
 terested than those of parental pride. The new suit of 
 blue fitted extremely well, the tight shoes and stockings 
 gave a creditable appearance, and a few days run in the 
 country, with the assistance of fresh native breezes, had 
 restored a healthy appearance to a countenance by no 
 means wanting in intelligence or expression. Mrs. 
 Newburgh herself could not help observing the effecta 
 that had been produced in the course of a few days by 
 a little decent clothing and salubrious air, and the boys 
 all concurred in admiring the revolution that had taken 
 place. 
 
 ** Why, I declare little Tom looks quite like a gen- 
 tleman to-day, Montague, does not he?' eagerly ex- 
 claimed Louisa, who, having been desired by Mrs. 
 Newburgh to return to her dressing-room for her 
 prayer-book, just now joined the party. She was half 
 breathless from running; but delighted at seeing how 
 nicely the little fellow looked as she passed him, and he, 
 as did his father, took off his hat and respectfully 
 bowed, she waited not to recover herself before she
 
 341 
 
 expressed her admiration. " Do look at him Manners, 
 do look at him William," continued she to her brothers, 
 without waiting Montague's answer, and turning her 
 head back at every two or three steps. 
 
 The boys could not help being amused ; but Montague 
 as he left Manners's arm on her approach to admit her 
 between himself and her brother, whispered that she 
 should not speak so loud, tor that perhaps Tom might 
 nut like to have his clothes remarked on. 
 
 " Ah! Montague," replied Louisa, looking with great 
 good humour at her young friend; then turning to her 
 brother who was on her. other side, she said, *' what a 
 dear good little Teiemachus I shall be one of these days, 
 shall I not Manners, since 1 have such an old steady 
 Mentor to look over me here." 
 
 " Ah! it is well you have Louisa," replied Manners, 
 " or you would sometimes be too much for some of us 
 I believe." 
 
 " And that is what I get by applying to yon, is it 
 
 jjilr. Maniieisr' said Louisa. " I shall not go any 
 
 farther," continued she, extending the hand that was 
 
 within Mauucrs's arm to William, who was walking 
 2 g3
 
 U2 
 
 beyond him; " yon will not give me np the reins I auk 
 sure, for you used to curb me, before I cared for any 
 body else." 
 
 " I could not curb you now, my sweet girl," replied 
 the tender William as he pressed his sister's hand. 
 
 " There, there," exclaimed Montague and Manners, 
 at the same moment; " even William says he could not 
 curb you now." 
 
 " Ah! but William meant," replied Louisa; William 
 did not mean " 
 
 " William meant, and William did not mean," re- 
 peated Manners good-humouredly; "what sort of logic 
 as this ?" 
 
 " Why, William meant that " 
 
 " William meant," said Montague, fancying that 
 Louisa was beginning to be a little uneasy, " that you 
 are so different now from what you used to be, that he 
 could not, that is, his feelings would not allow him to 
 cwb you."
 
 343 
 
 " There's my own good Montague," said Lonisa loot- 
 ing gratefully at her young friend, theii triumphantly, 
 though good-humouredly at Manners; " I thought yoa 
 would be my friend in need.'* 
 
 " Always your friend, my Louisa,*' replied Montague, 
 pressing the hand that was drawn within hbi arm. 
 
 ** It was not quite fair to spoil the joke," said Man- 
 ners laughing; but he likewise pressed the hand ofhi» 
 sister with atiection, and the party now coming within 
 sight of the church, silence ensued, and the thoujihts of" 
 the young people became fixed on more serious sub- 
 jects. 
 
 Mrs. Newburgh had listened to this little conver- 
 sation of her young charges, for she was leaning on the 
 other arm of her son ; but as was frequently the case, 
 when little sallies of good-humoured raillery were 
 passing between them, she had not offered any remarks. 
 It was not seldom that she derived amusement in this 
 way ; for the three boys who seemed to vie with each 
 other in their aftection for Louisa, every now and then^ 
 in their different styles of expression, and in perfect 
 good humour, threw out hints at the unwary eagerness,
 
 344 
 
 with which she seized any subject of novelty or drollery ; 
 and while Mrs. Newburgh marked the fondness with 
 which she was loved bv all three, she was gratified in 
 tracing the diiference of disposition exhibited even in 
 these little contentions. William on these occasions 
 Was Louisa's constant, though tacit advocate ; Manners, 
 though on consideration nothing could induce him to 
 hurt her feelings, was so fond of a joke that he would 
 sometimes push it to the very utmost before he stopped ; 
 but Montague, however he might first engage on the 
 side of raillery, felt that he had rather sustain than 
 make an attack, and not unfrequently went over to 
 espouse the cause of the besieged. But to return to 
 the christening. 
 
 As is often customary in country congregations, the 
 sacrament of baptism was administered in the middle 
 of the service, and from the novelty of the present sight 
 every eye was turned towards the font. Three of Mrs. 
 Ncwburgh's servant?, who willingly undertook the 
 office, answered for young Wake at the font. She had 
 made no ot^er to stand herself, as she wished to avoid 
 every thing which might appear like a design of 
 elevating the child above the station in which he was 
 born. In requesting her three st^rvants to take the 
 efiice, for whose characters she had a high esteem, she
 
 345 
 
 bad shewn the ^eat interest she took in the welfare of 
 the lad ; and though it was her wish to do every thing 
 in her power for the son of the man who bad supported 
 ber husband in his last moments, she was conscious that 
 it would be an erroneous sacrifice to feelin^r, to show 
 her attention in any way likely to awaken ideas, incon* 
 eistent with his situation in life. Thomas Wake was 
 perfectly satisfied with the manner in which Mrs. New- 
 burgh showed him marks of her kindness, and as soon 
 as the party returned from church thanked her with 
 all the warmth, so natural to men at his time of life. 
 He blessed the Providence that had led him to his dear 
 captain's lady, and only wished he bad not lost his leg 
 that he might chance to sail with the young gentleman 
 when he had got his anchors upon bis buttons. 
 
 Mrs. Newborgh told him that she thought it was 
 now time that he should rest from his services, and it 
 was a great satisfaction to her to think that he had 
 obtained so comfoi table a situation; and she asked him 
 what plan he meant to pursue for his boy, as there 
 would probably now be some difficulty in getting him 
 to Greenwich. 
 
 He said he must trust to Providence for that ; to be 
 sore if he had known any body to leave him with and
 
 46 
 
 madam would take him into her school, he could afford 
 to pay for the boy's board. 
 
 " If that is your wish," re'i lied Mrs. NewburjEjli ; " it 
 is settled from this moment. I have no doubt of 
 getting some cottager in the neighbourhood to lodge 
 him, and as for his board and clothing, Wake, leave 
 that to me ; I shall be glad to train up the son of the 
 man who " 
 
 *' God bless you, ma'am, and thank you," interrupted 
 Wake, while a tear rolled do\\n his sun-burnt chetk, 
 as he saw the rising emotion of Mrs. Newburgh ; " I 
 suppose it is time to go and drink your liealth, madam ;'* 
 and he hopped oif to the kitchen, where the dinner 
 was smoking on the table. 
 
 On the following morning Thomas Wake again left 
 the Island for London, having first been introduced to 
 Will Bowman and liis wife, under whose hosj iiuble 
 but lowly roof his child was placed by the recom- 
 mendation of Mrs. Newburgh. The honest sailor bore 
 with him the best wishes of the group he left beiiind 
 him^ while the mother and her son felt gratified at
 
 347 
 
 having had an opportunity of shewing attention and 
 klndiicss to the man, who in their absence, had assisted 
 in jierforuiing the last tender offices to the remains of 
 a beloved husband and afiectiouate father. 
 
 i2iT) OF VOLUME i. 
 
 E. SKELTON 6C CO. PKINTEKS, 
 
 22, H'.'j;h-street, Southampton,
 
 -v 
 
 f\ M 
 
 \y
 
 UNIVERSITY OP ILUNOIS-URBANA 
 
 3 0112 049781971