u* 
 
 
 l*^ 
 
 
 II B RARY 
 
 OF THE 
 UNIVERSITY 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 82.3 
 v.l 
 
 <* 
 
 <V 
 
ARTLESS TALES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
Siranan and Prdlojs, 
 Prmtera-Stuet, London, 
 
ARTLESS TALES 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS, IVES HURRY. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON; 
 
 PBmTEO ?OR tONOMAN, HURST, RPRI. ANOOil", 
 PATERNOSTER.ROV. 
 
8£b 
 
 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 Mr. Adcock. 
 
 Mrs. Aikin, Stoke Newington. 
 
 Mrs. C. Aikin, Broad Street Buildings. 
 
 Mifs Alexander, Beccles. 
 
 Mifs D'Anvers, Weftham. 
 
 Samuel Boddington, Efq. 2 Copies. 
 
 Mifs Boddington. 
 
 Mifs Barton. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Beynon, Yarmouth. 
 
 Mifs Beynon, Do. 
 
 Mrs. Bodley, Clapton. 
 
 Mifs Belfham, Hackney. 
 
 Samuel Browne, Efq. St. Mary Axe. 
 
 Mifs Bousfield, Old Jewry. 
 
 Mr. C. Bousfield, Do. 
 
 Mrs. W. Bousfield, Tooley Street. 
 
 Mr. I. Bousfield, Borough. 
 
 Mrs. Blundell, Holborn. 
 
 Mrs. Bateman, Bunhill Row. 
 
 Mrs. Batley, Clapham. 
 
 Mrs. Beddome, Do. 
 
 *3 
 
C vi ] 
 
 Mifs B. Beddome, Do. 
 
 A. Brough, Efq. Do. 
 
 Mrs. Brough. 
 
 Mrs. Barwell, Batterfea, 2 Copies. 
 
 Mrs. Buckle, Worling worth. 
 
 Mr. C. Buckle. 
 
 Mrs. Bates, Brunfwick Square. 
 
 Mr. Burkitt. 
 
 Mrs. Braddock, Clapton* 
 
 Mrs. Huntly Bacon. -^ 
 
 Mrs. Bradock. 
 
 Mrs. Booth, Liverpool. 
 
 J. Bell, Efq. Yarmouth. 
 
 Mifs Burrow, Weftham. 
 
 Mifs. C. Burrow, Do. 
 
 Rev. J. M. Burford, Stratford Grove. 
 
 Mr. J. Burford, Do. 
 
 Mrs. Bolinbrooke. 
 
 Duchefs Dowager of Chandos. 
 
 Mrs. Crump, Liverpool. 
 
 Mrs. Beauchamp Cooper. 
 
 Mrs. Cooper, 3 Copies. 
 
 R.B.Cooper, Efq. FerneyHill, Gloucefter, 2 Do. 
 
 W.H. Cooper, Efq. Shottifham. 
 
 Mifs Collignon. 
 
 Mifs Cuftins. 
 
 John Chriftie, Efq. Hackney. 
 
C vii 3 
 
 Mrs. Cobbold, Ipfwich. 
 
 Mrs. Crompton. 
 
 Mifs Crompton. 
 
 Mifs Corrie, Birmingham. 
 
 Rev. S. Corrie, Do. 
 
 Mr. J. W. Crompton, Do. 
 
 Mifs Currick, Clapham. 
 
 Rev. T. Charlefworth, Notts. 
 
 Mrs. Aftley Cooper. 
 
 Mrs. Crompton Eton, Liverpool. 
 
 Mifs Crompton, Do. 
 
 Mrs. T. Cocke. 
 
 Mifs Cline. 
 
 James Corfbie, Efq. 
 
 Mrs. Corfbie. 
 
 Mrs. Colliflbn, Gracechurch Street. 
 
 Mrs. Chuter, Homerton. 
 
 Mifs A. Cooper. 
 
 Mifs Carrington. 
 
 Mifs Davies. 
 
 Mr. G. Dyer, Clifford's Inn. 
 
 Mrs. Dewar. 
 
 Rev. John Dewhurft, Hackney. 
 
 Mrs. John Dyfon, 
 
 Mifs Dyfon. 
 
 Mifs D. Dyfon. 
 
 Mr. T. Dyfon. 
 
 a 4 
 
1 Yin j 
 Mil* Downward, Liverpool. 
 
 Mr. Defameaux,Spital Fields. 
 Mrs. Dacofta. 
 
 Mrs. Dawfon, HocklifF. 
 
 J. J. Evans, Efq, Old Bethlem, 2 Copies. 
 
 Mr. Elliott. 
 
 Mrs. Elliott. 
 
 Mifs Van Effen. 
 
 Mr, Errington, Yarmouth. 
 
 Mrs. Edgar, Mincing Lane, 
 
 Lady Feniu 
 
 Mrs. Flower, Hackney* 
 
 Mrs. Ford, Highbury Place. 
 
 Mifs Ferrier, 2 Copies. 
 
 Mrs. T. Fletcher, Liverpool. 
 
 Mrs. French, Do. 
 
 Rev. W. Field. 
 
 Mifs Fidd, Clapton. 
 
 Capt. C. Forftcr. 
 
 J. Fifher, Efq. 
 
 Richard Flower, Efq. Hertford. 
 
 J. Fellowes, Efq. 
 
 James Fifher, Efq. 
 
 Mifs. C. Fifher. 
 
 Mrs. Favell, Grove Hill. 
 
 Mrs. J. Fowler. 
 
 Mrs. T. Fowler. 
 
[ ix ] 
 Mifs L. Fifher. 
 
 Thomas Green, Efq. % Copies. 
 Mrs. Goodeve, 6 Copies. 
 Mrs. Guillebaud. 
 Mr. Guillebaud, Sen. Clapham. 
 Mifs Gutteridge, Denmark Hill. 
 Mrs. Gregory, Weftham. 
 Mr. T. Gent. 
 I. Gurney, Efq. 
 
 Lady Henniker. 
 
 Major Harrifon, Copford Hall. 
 
 Mrs. Harrifon, Do. 
 
 Mifs Harrifon. 
 
 Mifs M. A. Harrifon. 
 
 Mifs Eliza Harrifon. 
 
 Mifs Jane Hurry. 
 
 Mrs. W. Hurry. 
 
 Mrs. E. Hurry, 2 Copies. 
 
 T. Hurry, Efq. 
 
 Mrs. A. Hurry. 
 
 Mr. James Hurry, Yarmouth. 
 
 Mrs. Hicks, Old Ford. 
 
 Mrs. Hooper. 
 
 Mr. Hammond, Liverpool. ' 
 
 Mrs. Horfman. 
 
 Mrs, Harding. 
 
 Mrs. Hurry, Liverpool. 
 
r * a 
 
 Mifs Hurry, Do. 
 
 Mifs I. Hurry. 
 
 Mifs A. Hurry. 
 
 Mifs. E. Hurry. 
 
 Mrs. Hammond, Liverpool. 
 
 G. Hammond, Efq. Do. 
 
 Mrs. Holt, Do. 
 
 Mrs. Hufband, South Lambeth. 
 
 Mifs Hancock. 
 
 Mrs. Hunt. 
 
 Mifs Hunt. 
 
 Mifs Maria Hunt. 
 
 Dr. Hufley. 
 
 Jofeph Howell, Efq. 
 
 Richard Hewitt, Efq. 
 
 Rev. T. Harrifon. 
 
 Rev. H. Harrifon. 
 
 Mrs. Hippius. 
 
 Mrs. T. Heath. 
 
 Mifs Heath. 
 
 Rev. P. Houghton. 
 
 Rev. Theophilus Houlbrook, Liverpool 
 
 Rees Jones, Efq. Liverpool. 
 Mrs. Mac Iver, Do. 2 Copies. 
 Mrs. T. Ives, 3 Copies. 
 Mr. Jones, 2 Copies. 
 Mrs. W. Iflington. 
 
Mifs Jervis. 
 
 J. Jervis, Efq. 
 
 Mrs. Jervis. 
 
 Mifs Johnfton. 
 
 Thomas Jervis, Efq. 3 Copies. 
 
 W. Jacob, Efq. Dartmouth Street, 68 Copies 
 
 Mrs. Jacob. 
 
 Mifs Jacob. 
 
 T. Jacob, Efq. 
 
 Mrs. T. Jacob. 
 
 James Jacob, Efq. 
 
 James Jenner, Efq. 
 
 Mr. W. Jones. 
 
 Knight, Efq. Clapton. 
 
 Mrs. Keeling. 
 
 D. Lifter, Efq. Hackney. 
 
 Mifs Lewin, Do. 
 
 Mrs. R. Lewin, Jun. Liverpool. 
 
 Mr. Alderman Lea, Old Jewry. 
 
 Mrs. Lea, Do. 
 
 Mifs Lea, Do. 
 
 Mifs Jemima Lea, Do. 
 
 Mrs. Lewin, Hackney. 
 
 Mr. Lewin, Do. 
 
 Mrs. Lance. 
 
 Mrs. J. Lawford. 
 
 G. Lewis, Efq. 
 
 Mr. J. Lafh 
 
A Lady. 
 A Lady. 
 
 A. Maitland, Efq. a Copies. 
 
 Mrs. Morrell, Liverpool. 
 
 Mr*. B. Malkin, Hackney, 2 Copies. 
 
 Mrs. Morgan, 6 Do. 
 
 Mifs Mitchell. 
 
 Rev. Mr. Maurice, 6 Copies. 
 
 T. Martyn, Efq. Liverpool. 
 
 Mrs. Meyer, Hackney. 
 
 E. L. Macmurdo, Efq. Clapton. 
 
 Mrs. Macmurdo. 
 
 T. Mullett, Efq. Broad Street Buildings, 3 Copies* 
 
 Mrs. Martin, Overbury. 
 
 Mrs. Macbland, Clapham. 
 
 Mifs Martins, Iflington, 
 
 R. Mar (ton, Efq. 
 
 Mifs S. Mitchell. 
 
 Mifs Mitchell. 
 
 W. Manning, Efq. 
 
 Mrs. Martin. 
 
 Mifs Nunes, Hackney. 
 
 Mifs Norfor. 
 
 T. Northmore, Efq. Devonfhire Street. 
 
 Mrs. North. 
 
 Mifs Neale. 
 
 Mifs R. Neale. 
 
 Mr. James Norton. 
 
Mrs. Le Noir, 6 Copies. 
 
 Mrs. Opie. 
 
 Mr. S. Palmer, Jun. Hackney. 
 
 Mifs Phelps, Durlley, Glocefterfhire. 
 
 Mrs. T. Palmer. 
 
 Mrs. Parker, Warwick. ' 
 
 Mrs. Parker, South Lambeth. 
 
 Mrs. Paget, Yarmouth. 
 
 T. W. Phineas, Efq. 
 
 Mrs. Pomeroy, Hackney. 
 
 Mrs. T. Preflon. 
 
 T. Penrice, Efq. 2 Copies. 
 
 N. Palmer, Efq. 
 
 Mrs. N. Palmer. 
 
 J. D. Palmer, Efq. 
 
 Mrs. Palgrave. 
 
 Mr. S. Pitchford. 
 
 Mrs. H. Piper, Norton. 
 
 Edward Pickard, Efq. Homerton, 2 Copies. 
 
 Mrs. Pickbourn, Hackney. 
 
 Dr. Pett, Clapton. 
 
 W. R. Rahbone, Efq. Liverpool. 
 
 Mrs. Rigby. 
 
 Admiral Ruflell. 
 
 J. T. Rutt, Efq. Clapton. 
 
 Mr. Ravenhill, Clapham. 
 
C *iv 3 
 
 T. G. Ridout, Efq. 
 Mifs Riches. 
 Mr. I. W. Roberts. 
 A. S. Richards, Efq. 
 Mrs. Reeve, RulFel Square. 
 
 Mrs. Spurgeon. 
 
 Mrs. W. Steward. 
 
 Mrs. T. Steward. 
 
 A. H. Steward, Efq. 
 
 Mrs. Smith, Norwich. 
 
 Mrs. Squires. 
 
 Mrs. Stevens, Hackney. 
 
 Mrs. Smith, Hackney. 
 
 Hobbes Scott, Efq, Serjeants' Inn* 
 
 Mrs, T. O. Stock, Brunfwick Square.- 
 
 Mifs Smith, Houndfditch. 
 
 Mrs. W. Samler, Clapham. 
 
 Mrs. Stamforth, Do. 
 
 Mrs. Saville. 
 
 Mr. Shore. 
 
 Mr. S. Shore. 
 
 T. Swaine, Efq. 
 
 Mifs Swaine. 
 
 V. Stukey, Efq. 
 
 W. Stevens, Efq. 
 
 Robert Sparrow, Efq. 
 
 Samuel Sparke, Efq. 
 
 Mrs. Smith, Bury. 
 
[ *v 3 
 
 Mifs Steward. 
 
 Mrs. Steward. 
 
 S. Steward, Efq. 
 
 Mr. W. Seaman. 
 
 Mrs. Shelly. 
 
 Robert Storks, Efq Jun. Doughty Street. 
 
 Mr. S. Stevenfon. 
 
 Mrs. Sangfter, Newington Green. 
 
 Mrs. Salkeld, Homerton. 
 
 Mrs. W. Sutton, Liverpool. 
 
 W. Smith, Efq. M. P. 2 Copies. 
 
 W. Sate, Efq. 
 
 W. Sharp, Efq. 
 
 Richard Sharp, Efq. M.P. 
 
 Mr, C. D. Tolme. 
 
 W. Taylor, Efq. Jun. Norwich, 3 Copies. 
 
 Mifs Tottin. 
 
 Mrs. D. Turner. 
 
 Mr. S. Thompfon, St. Mary Axe. 
 
 Mifs Turner, Newington Green. 
 
 Mifs M. Thurtill. 
 
 W. Taylor, Efq. Yarmouth. 
 
 Dawfon Turner, Efq. 2 Copies. 
 
 Mr. J. Thompfon. 
 
 Mrs. Meadowes Taylor. 
 
 John Towgood, Efq. 
 
 Jofeph Toulmin, Efq. Hackney, 3 Copies. 
 
 A. Upfcher, Efq. 
 
[ xvi 3 
 
 J. Wallington, Efq. Peer's Court, Gloucefter. 
 
 Mrs. Wilfon. 
 
 Mrs. Wickfleed. 
 
 Mrs. Wefton. 
 
 Samuel Wakefield, Efq. 
 
 Mr. S. Wilfon, Wood Street. 
 
 Mr. S. Wilfon, Goldfmith Street. 
 
 Mrs. T. Wilfon, Artillery Place. 
 
 Mrs. Wilfon, Highbury Place. 
 
 Mrs. J. Wilfon, Highbury Hill. 
 
 Mrs. Webfter. 
 
 Mrs. Wilkinfon. 
 
 Mrs. Weynworth, Batterfea. 
 
 Mr. W. Wilfon, Milk Street. 
 
 Mrs. Ware. 
 
 Mrs. Wakefield, Hackney. 
 
 Mifs Wakefield, 2 Copies, Do. 
 
 Richard Watts, Efq. 
 
 Mrs. Wright. 
 
 Mr. R. Ward. 
 
 Mr. Walter. 
 
 Mrs. W. Watfon, Homerton. 
 
 Mrs. Wilfon, Do. 
 
 Mrs. Willis, Do. 
 
 Mrs. Young, Hackney 
 
 Mr.S.H.Yallop. 
 
 Rev. John Yates, Liverpool. 
 
 12 ART- 
 
ARTLESS TALES. 
 
 BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 
 
 Jenny Downer was the only child ot 
 poor parents. Her mother had once been 
 a fervant in a gentleman's family, and mar- 
 ried the butler. 
 
 Accuftomed to a plentiful table, and 
 every indulgence enjoyed by the fervants of 
 a rich family, they were ill prepared for the 
 hardfhips of poverty. In the luxurious eafe 
 in which they had long lived, and in which 
 they confidered every reftraint which eco- 
 nomy might fugged, as an infringement 
 on their rights, and a fpecies of meannefs, 
 they had never confidered the efforts which 
 muft be exerted to procure by induftry 
 alone, the neceflaries of life : hence they 
 foon experienced wants, which made them 
 
 vol. i. b figh 
 
2 BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 
 
 figh for the luxuries they had quitted. To 
 add to their difficulties, a poor helplefs 
 babe looked up to them for fupport. The 
 mother, much fonder of her gauzes and 
 ribbands, than anxious for the decent 
 cloathing of her child, fpent every thing (he 
 could fpare in adorning her perfon ; and 
 the father, weary of a home where only 
 poverty and complaints aflailed him, fel- 
 dom quitted the public houfe, but when 
 driven out for want of credit. From thefe 
 dreadful habits, nothing but ruin could 
 enfue; — and it came as might be expected. 
 The landlord feized their little furniture, 
 and turned the woman and her babe out of 
 doors in the middle of a fevere winter : the 
 man having previoufly abfconded, found 
 fecurity from a gaol by inlifling as a fol- 
 dier. — As all regard for his wife had ceafed 
 a few months after his marriage, he felt 
 little compunction in abandoning her, and 
 her poor neglected child, to the care of the 
 parifh, or the afliftance of cafual charity ; 
 and his regiment being deftined to ferve in 
 the Eaft Indies, he quitted England with- 
 
 out 
 
BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. $ 
 
 out bidding her farewel. The firft account 
 fhe received of him was his arrival in India; 
 the next, that he had fallen before the walls 
 of Seringapatam. 
 
 Though her circumftances were not 
 worfe for this event, fhe made it a pretence 
 for calling upon the afliftance of the chari- 
 table; and when, by frequent demands 
 this fource was exhaufted, me found fhelter 
 in the miferabfe cottage of a widowed mo- 
 ther. Here, too indolent to work, though 
 too poor to fubfift without it, (he foon fell 
 a victim to difeafe and want, and ended her 
 days unpitied, and unlamented. Her child 
 was, at the time, about four years old, 
 and the grandmother, upon whofe care fhe 
 was wholly thrown, though unwilling to 
 fend her to the workhoufe, was little able 
 to bear fuch an addition to her family. 
 Old age, and increafing infirmities, render- 
 ed almoft unavailing the efforts of induftry, 
 and made her own lot fo precarious, that 
 her fcanty morfel was ill divided with an« 
 other. Her clay-built hovel was fituated on 
 the (kilts of a common, from which fhe 
 fupplied her felf with fuel, and in fununer fed 
 b % her 
 
4 BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 
 
 her cow and pig. Her character, though 
 ftern, was refpectable amongft the few in- 
 dividuals who lived near her. She had 
 reared a numerous family without any af- 
 fiftance from the parifh ; but the extreme 
 poverty in which fhe lived, and the unre- 
 mitted induftry which (lie had been obliged 
 to exert, had foured her temper, and given 
 a feverity to her manners, which made her, 
 though refpected, feared. 
 
 Her integrity was unimpeached, and her 
 benevolence was often experienced ; for 
 little as fhe had to fpare, that little was at the 
 call of ficknefs or diftrefs ; but the rough 
 manner in which her bounty was difpenfed, 
 and the harfh farcafms which followed im- 
 prudence, made her afliftance feldom afked, 
 and her fociety never fought. 
 
 She loved Jenny, though (he treated her 
 with no indulgence, and always fpoke of 
 the conduct of her parents with undiminifh- 
 ed rancour — and as if fhe feemed to think 
 the poor child mud neceflarily inherit their 
 vices. At fuch moments Jenny was terrified 
 by her frowns, and would creep into a cor- 
 ner tc hide her tears. She had, indeed, 
 
 from 
 
BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 5 
 
 from her infancy been accuftomed to hard- 
 fhip ; (lie had fuffered from hunger, from 
 cold, from ficknefs ; and the voice of kind- 
 nefs had never met her ears : but in the 
 hard fchool of adveriity (he had learned 
 many ufeful lefibns ; (lie was patient of 
 fuffering, and unremitting in her wifh to 
 pleafe. Her temper was gentle, concilia* 
 ting and affectionate $ and a word, a look 
 of approbation, called forth all the grati- 
 tude of her heart. As fhe increafed in 
 years, fhe began to make herfelf ufeful to 
 her grandmother, whilft her implicit obedi- 
 ence to every command, and her ready 
 efforts to lighten the burden of years, could 
 not fail to foften even the harfh temper of 
 querulous age. .She arofe with the earlieft 
 dawn of morning, and patient of toil, con- 
 tinued at her work till night fummoned her 
 to reft. The earnings of her labours were 
 all carried to her grandmother, and joy- 
 fully offered as a fmall tribute of gratitude. 
 Good conduct rarely fails to fecure the 
 favour of the virtuous and difcerning; 
 and by fuch, Jenny was fo much efteemed, 
 B 3 that 
 
€ JBENEVOLKNCE REWARDED. 
 
 that fhe feldom wanted employment. Her 
 labour, indeed, was hard ; her fare fcanty ; 
 but fhe complained not of thefe, if the fruits 
 of her induftry fupplied the wants of her 
 grandmother, or drew from her one ap- 
 proving fmile. 
 
 Among the few indulgencies fhe pofTefied, 
 was learning to read ; and when her daily 
 tafk was finifhed, her grandmother, who 
 was able to teach her, obferving the eager- 
 nefs with which (he fought, and the readi- 
 nefs with which fhe acquired inflruclion, 
 readily devoted to her, her leifure hours. 
 Their library confifted only of a bible, a 
 prayer book, and fome detached pages of 
 the economy of human life ; but thefe were 
 a fund inexhauftible to Jenny, whofe pro- 
 ficiency foon unabled her to read them 
 with great pleafure. 
 
 'Thus conftantly, and ufefully employed^ 
 her time paffed with a degree of content- 
 ment often unknown to the children of af- 
 fluence; fhe had nothing to fear but her in- 
 capability of fupporting her grandmother, 
 and little to wifh, but her reftoration to 
 
 health. 
 
BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 7 
 
 health. This wifh, however, was not like- 
 ly to be gratified — the old woman was now 
 eighty-eight, and her growing infirmities, 
 together with the decay of her faculties, 
 made her wholly incapable of contributing 
 to her own fupport. It was neceflary for 
 Jenny to work even harder than (he had 
 heretofore done, as upon her devolved the 
 whole tafk of attendance and fupport. 
 " God will affift me ? faid (he, as (he re- 
 turned home, tired and exhaufted, with one 
 folitary fixpence in her pocket, and a bun- 
 dle of flicks upon her head; " God will 
 affift me, and give a bleffing to my labours. 
 Though we are poor, and have few earthly 
 friends, he will be our protector, and will 
 look down upon us with an eye of compai- 
 fion. In his fight we are as the rich, and 
 whilft we deferve, (hall equally find his 
 favour.'* The confidence (he had in this 
 belief cheared her in many a dreary mo- 
 ment, and gave a zeal to her efforts, which 
 fecured their fuccefs. 
 
 To the poor and friend lefs, religion is in- 
 deed a foother, a fupport, a hope ! Ac- 
 b 4 quainted 
 
3 BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 
 
 quainted with few earthly pleafures, their 
 views and wifhes are not diverted by the 
 tranfitory enjoyments of this life— they 
 know no tempting delights, no delufive re- 
 finements, and hence, when piety takes pof- 
 feilion of the mind, it is cherifhed with a 
 fteadinefs unknown to the wealthy and 
 profperous. In this world Jenny faw little 
 to promife her happinefs ; in another (he 
 had been taught to look for every good ; 
 and this belief, as it was her llimulus to 
 virtue, was a reward for all her toils and 
 labours. 
 
 Winter was now approaching, and fhe 
 worked with more than ufual affiduity to 
 procure afum which (he intended to appro- 
 priate to a particular purpofe. — The fum 
 was procured— the purpofe anfwered— and 
 her grandmother, covered with a blanket, 
 which imparted comfortable warmth to 
 her almoft benumbed limbs. 
 
 Amidft the pleafure which the upright 
 mind of Jenny experienced, in adminifter- 
 ing to the wants of her aged parent, there 
 was one alloy, which threw a (hade over 
 
 her 
 
BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 9 
 
 her happieft moments. The faculties of the 
 old woman were as much impaired as her 
 conftitution, and (he would frequently com- 
 plain in the bittereft terms of the neglect fhe 
 endured, and the cruelties fhe experienced. 
 At fuch times Jenny was obliged to fum- 
 mon all her fortitude to check the tears 
 which would involuntarily ftart into her 
 eyes ; when (he felt what felf-denial fhe 
 praclifed to enable her to fatisfy the wants 
 of imbecility and age* 
 
 She had one day been late at her work, 
 and found on returning home, her grand- 
 mother much worfe than ufual. 
 
 Hoping that a little warm broth would 
 relieve her, fhe immediately began making 
 fome with a piece of meat fhe had purchafed. 
 As fhe leaned over the fire, attending her 
 cookery, fhe was fuddenly aroufed by the 
 found of voices, apparently very near ; and 
 from their tones, in high difpute. The 
 remote fituation of the cottage made this 
 circumftance uncommon, as few paffed but 
 the adjoining cottagers. She was a good 
 deal furprized, and fomewhat frightened, 
 b 5 and 
 
JO BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 
 
 and fufpending her employment ; liftened 
 very attentively —but the founds ceafed — and 
 though (he watched fome time, fhe heard 
 them no more. The village clock (truck 
 twelve before fhe had finifhed her bufinefs, 
 and having given her grandmother her 
 fupper, and watched her falling afleep, (he 
 determined to fit in the wicker chair, in- 
 ftead of retiring to her mattrefs, as in cafe 
 of her grandmother's being worfe, fhe fhouid 
 be fooner able to attend her. She laid more 
 fuel on the fire, and drawing her chair to 
 the hearth, took her bible to read ; — but 
 her day's work had been laborious, and in- 
 fenfibly fhe leaned back in the chair, and 
 fell into a profound fleep. This would, 
 mod probably, have continued till morn- 
 ing, had fhe not been aroufed by a noife 
 fo loud and unaccountable, that fhe darted 
 up, thinking fomething had happened to 
 her grandmother. She flew inftantly to 
 the couch, but found her afleep, undif- 
 turbed by what had interrupted her lighter 
 fiumbers. She flood ftill a few moments 
 to liften \ but as every thing was frlent, fhe 
 6 concluded 
 
BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. II 
 
 concluded fhe muft have been in a dream, 
 and was returning to her chair, when a 
 faint groan ftartled her. She haftily (truck 
 a light, and looked around with a counte- 
 nance of terrified enquiry. Another groan 
 founded > and fhe was now convinced it 
 muft be fome one on the outfide of the 
 cottage. Her flrft imprellion had been that 
 of terror ; but this was fucceeded by an 
 impuife of humanity ; fhe could not doubt 
 but it was fome one in diftrefs ; and this 
 feeling revived her courage, and made her 
 eager to offer afMance. She put the can- 
 dle upon the table, for it was a flormy 
 night, and advancing to the door, drew 
 back the little bolt. She did this with 
 fome degree of caution, perhaps of fear ; 
 but in an inftant the door was forced upon 
 her with a violence which almoft threw her 
 down, and before me had time to make 
 any enquiry, fome one fell at her feet : an 
 involuntary fcream burft from her as fhe 
 flatted back, but fhe faw in a moment, 
 the perfon was covered with blood, and as 
 he neither fpoke or moved, fhe fuppofed 
 b G him 
 
12 BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 
 
 him dead. " What would be proper, what 
 ought fhe to do ?" She bent towards him, 
 and found he breathed. This revived her 
 hopes; — yet her terror was extreme, left 
 frqm ignorance of what fhe ought to admi- 
 nifter, (he fhould fuffer him to perifh. The 
 inclemency of the weather made it impofli- 
 ble for her to afk affiftance of the diflant 
 cottagers •> — the night was dark, — the rain 
 fell in torrents, and the wind, as it whittled 
 through the leaflefs trees, feerned to utter 
 only groans of anguifh. She dragged the 
 ftranger from the door, which fhe again 
 clofed ; and warming, as expeditioufly as 
 poffible, fome of the broth fhe had made for 
 her grandmother, fhe held a cup of it to 
 his lips. She had the pleafure to fee 
 him fwallow, and feem revived by it ; fhe 
 wiihed, if poffible, to ftaunch the wound, 
 which was in his arm, and which flill bled 
 profufely. It was not without great dih> 
 culty fhe opened the fleeve of his coat, and 
 then applying fuch ftyptics, as village phar- 
 macy had taught her, fhe bound it up 
 with fome rags which had been given her 
 7 for 
 
BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 13 
 
 for her grandmother. The ftranger had 
 not yet opened his eyes, but (he thought 
 he feemed reviving, and fhe watched with 
 trembling anxiety every fymptom to be 
 affured of this. She gave him fome more 
 broth, and would gladly have removed 
 him to her own mattrefs, which fhe now 
 rejoiced fhe had not occupied ; but her ut- 
 moft efforts were infufficient to lift him to 
 it. After fome time he opened his eyes, 
 and looked feebly around. Delighted at 
 this, (he enquired if he could aflifl himfelf 
 to reach the bed ? He looked at it — fighed 
 —and almoft inftantly clofed his eyes. 
 <c Poor creature," faid fhe, tears trickling 
 down her cheeks, " he feels, he is not 
 able." The flranger, however, who, though 
 feeble from lofs of blood, was not other- 
 wife materially hurt, foon after made figns 
 to her, that he wifhed to reach the bed, and, 
 affifted by her, he effected it. Exhaufted 
 by this effort, he was again fainting, when 
 fhe recollected fhe had fome cordial drops > 
 which had been given her for her grand, 
 mother $ fome of thefe fhe gave him, and 
 
 had 
 
14 BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 
 
 had foon after the pleafure to fee him fall 
 into a fleep, which fhe hoped would be fa- 
 lutary, though it feemed perturbed. The 
 fhades of night yet veiled the iky ; but Jenny 
 could fleep no more ; and fitting down by 
 the fire, ruminated on the ftrange circum- 
 jftance which had happened. She could not 
 doubt but the perfon who was her inmate, 
 had been wounded and robbed by fome 
 villains, who had made their efcape, fa- 
 voured by the darknefs of the night. A 
 fudden terror feized her, left they fhould re- 
 turn and enter the cottage ; but a mo- 
 ment's reflection diflipated this fear. She 
 had nothing to tempt cupidity, and it was 
 much more likely they were eager to make 
 their efcape, than by farther acts of vio- 
 lence to outrage that juftice which already 
 they had offended. Calmed by this idea, 
 fhe palTed the reft of the night in watching 
 her two invalids, and adminiftering to them 
 all the relief which was in her power. 
 
 Her grandmother waked only twice, 
 and then looking around her in a vacant 
 manner, feemed infenfible that any thing 
 
 more 
 
BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 15 
 
 more than common had happened. She 
 took fome broth, and anfwering Jenny's 
 enquiry, "how fhe found' herfelf?" by 
 faying, " fhe was very bad," fhe foon funk 
 into that drowfinefs which had for fome 
 time appeared to abforb her faculties. 
 
 The ftranger alfo flept fome hours, and 
 when he awoke, feemed better ; his coun- 
 tenance, indeed, retained its ghaflly expref- 
 fion, but this Jenny rightly confidered 
 might be attributed to the quantity of 
 blood he had loft. He feemed fcarcely able 
 to fpeak, and fo feeble were his tones, fhe 
 could with difficulty understand them. She 
 grieved that fhe had nothing to give him 
 which fuch a fituation required ; but fhe 
 1 efolved, as foon as the morning dawned, to 
 haften to the village, and purchafe fuch 
 neceffaries as might be mod acceptable. 
 In the mean time, what fhe had fhe of- 
 fered, and the ftranger, though he declined 
 taking any thing, regarded her with expref- 
 five, though filent gratitude. At length 
 the morning dawned ; the thick, porten- 
 tous clouds, which had made the night fo 
 
 dark^ 
 
l6 BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 
 
 dark, difperfed ; the fun broke through 
 them, and fhone upon the diftant hills. Her 
 invalids were both afleep, and fhe haflened 
 to the village. On her way fhe pafled Dame 
 Mallet's cottage, and (he determined to afk 
 her advice refpecling the ftranger's arm. 
 Dame Mallet, was the village doclrefs, and 
 fo high was her reputation, that few of her 
 neighbours applied for other advice, Jenny, 
 therefore, in requefting fomething to drefs 
 the wound, refoived to beg her to look 
 at it. The old woman was but juft rifen, 
 and when (he heard the circumftances of 
 the night, fhe refufed to attend, and blam- 
 ed the poor girl very harfhfy for what fhe 
 had done ; faying, " there was little doubt 
 but this was fome robber, who, for once 
 had met with his defert, and who, mod 
 probably, would take the firft opportunity 
 to make his efcape ; though not till he had 
 murdered both Jenny and her grandmo- 
 ther, left they mould give evidence againfl: 
 him." Thefe were opinions Jenny would 
 not adopt ; fhe faid, " fhe could not repent 
 what fhe had donej and if the perfon 
 
 proved 
 
BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 17 
 
 proved unworthy it was his fault, not 
 her's. 
 
 " Ah ! to be fure ;" replied the old dame, 
 cc you mud go on giving, and giving, and 
 giving till you have nothing left, and then, 
 I wonder who'll give you." 
 
 " That kind Being," anfwered Jenny, 
 " who has hitherto preferved us. I know 
 what it is to be poor and friendlefs, and, 
 therefore, I can feel for another." 
 
 Dame Mallet ridiculed thefe notion? ; 
 me faid, " the only proper thing, when the 
 man bounced upon her, was to have puihed 
 him out again. He would foon have found 
 it advifable to exert himfelf, and for the 
 matter of that, fuch gentry were feldom 
 much hurt.'' 
 
 Jenny was vexed by thefe cruel fuggef- 
 tions, but as her only wi(h was to relieve 
 the ftranger, and me had an high opinion 
 of the dame's fkill, (he endeavoured to foft- 
 en her into compliance, and at length, fo 
 far fucceeded, that, though very ungratiouf- 
 ly, fiie promifed, if Jenny would call her, 
 
 at 
 
I 8 BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 
 
 at her return, fhe would accompany her: 
 Hie did fo — and they proceeded together. 
 
 When they entered the cottage, the dame 
 went up to the mattrefs of the ftranger ; 
 he was afleep ; an old coverlid was thrown 
 over him, and his face v/as (haded by dark 
 hair. She regarded htm a few minutes in 
 filence, and then with uplifted hands, and 
 a countenance of horror, fhe dragged Jenny 
 haftily to the other end of the cottage : " I 
 am right," faid fhe, in a low tone; "I 
 knew I was right; this is Tome rogue who 
 will come to the gallows. Either my eyes 
 deceive me, or I faw him lad Tizes at the 
 bar, and the judge ordered him to be tranf- 
 ported. Ah, you'll get yourfelf into a fine 
 fcrape ; I fhould not wonder if you were 
 tranfported next, for harbouring him. 
 
 At this moment the ftranger awoke ; he 
 perceived Jenny, and fpoke to her, fhe was 
 delighted at tfcis proof of his convalefcence ; 
 for he had before only made figns. He 
 afked her if fhe could porcure him a perfon 
 to carry a letter for him ? She replied, 
 
 " fhe 
 
BENEVOLENCE REWARDED, 19 
 
 " (he doubted not but fhe could." He 
 then complained of his arm, faying it was 
 very ft iff. 
 
 Jenny begged the dame to look at it ; 
 but fhe drew back with an air of import- 
 ance, and replied in an ungracious tone, 
 " indeed fhe was not ufed to wait upon 
 fuch folks, nor mould fhe ; fhe had always 
 lived honeftly, and (he hoped fhe fhould 
 diefo." 
 
 The flranger, though before he had 
 hardly noticed her, evidently heard thefe 
 words, as he regarded her with filent afto- 
 nifhment. He tried to raife himfelf ; Jenny 
 gave him her ready afMance ; and as he 
 fat up in the bed, (he perceived, for the 
 firft time, that he had a gold laced coat, 
 and a waiftcoat very richly embroidered. It 
 appeared that Dame Mallet had feen thefe 
 alfo ; for almofl immediately her tone 
 changed, and fhe was eager to offer that af- 
 fiftance, which before fhe had refufed. 
 " She would fee the wound, fhe would 
 drefs it ; it was no trouble 5 and fhe was not 
 
 one 
 
20 BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 
 
 one of thofe hard-hearted beings who could 
 turn their backs upon people in diftrefs." 
 
 Jenny, to whom this appearance of 
 opulence would have made no difference 
 in her wifh to affift a fellow creature, was 
 at a lofs to account for fo fudden a change ; 
 but fhe was very glad to avail herfelf of it, 
 and with pleafure heard that the wound 
 was not of that magnitude fhe had feared. 
 A plaifter was applied to it, and afcer it was 
 bound up, the ftranger exprefied a wifh to 
 rife, and was foon feated in the wicker 
 chair. 
 
 He then repeated his wifh that fome one 
 might be procured to carry a letter for him 
 to Colonel Marlow's. 
 
 " To Col. Marlow!" exclaimed the 
 dame ; " why, you don't mean him as lives 
 at the park, as you turn into the high 
 road ?" 
 
 " Yes, I do," replied the ftranger. 
 
 " Why then, my Tommy fhall certainly 
 go ; there is not a poor body, far nor near, 
 might not be proud to do any thing for 
 
 fuch 
 
BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 21 
 
 fuch a gentleman as he; Well would it be 
 for every one, if all the rich were like him. 
 They fay it's a pleafure to fpeak to him, he 
 is fo civil ; and though I never faw him, 
 I've heard he's a fine portly gentleman ; and 
 well he may be ; for as I often fay, hand- 
 fome is that handfome does. 
 
 " Can your fon go immediately ?" afked 
 the ftranger. 
 
 " Oh ! yes, direclly \ that is, as foon as 
 he's faddled Dobbin ; and I'll fet off this 
 moment, and come back with him." 
 
 The ftranger then afked for a pen, ink, 
 and paper. The cottage afforded none ; but 
 the dame promifed to bring them with her. 
 She then departed ; and Jenny bufied her- 
 felf with her grandmother, who had been 
 fome time awake, and with all the fretful- 
 nefs of fecond childhood, complained bitter- 
 ly of the evils fhe endured ; faid fhe had 
 been two days without food, and fhe be- 
 lieved Jenny wanted to ftarve her. The 
 poor girl endeavoured to foothe and com- 
 fort her, and with the mofl unwearied good 
 nature attended to all her complaints. She 
 
 then 
 
12 BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 
 
 then gave her a plentiful breakfaft, and ad- 
 juring her couch, fhe fell afleep. 
 
 As Jenny could not go out to work, (he 
 took her fpinning wheel, and fitting down, 
 employed herfelf at it. She obferved that 
 her guefl: watched her mod attentively, 
 and abafhed by his fcrutinizing looks, fhe 
 fcarcely dared to look up. After fome 
 time, he faid to her, " what did that old 
 dame mean by the fpeech fhe made about 
 me ? Did fhe take me for, a robber ?" 
 Jenny looked confufed. 
 
 " To what," continued he, cc was it 
 owing, that fhe, fo fuddenly offered her fer- 
 vices, after having fo uncivilly refufed 
 them?" 
 
 <6 That, indeed, Sir, I do not know; but 
 though flie has fometimes an odd manner 
 of fpeaking, I don't think fhe means any 
 harm." 
 
 " Perhaps not," replied the flranger, 
 fmiling ; " though in the prefent inftance 
 I cannot flatter myfelf that fhe meant any 
 good. But how comes it that you have not 
 imbibed her fears ?" 
 
 " As 
 
BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 23 
 
 " As you were in fo much diftrefs, Sir, 
 I only thought how I could aflift you ; any 
 thing c\[q did not come into my head." 
 
 The (hanger fmiled gratefully ; " and 
 yet, perhaps," continued he, " you ran 
 fome rifk in taking me into your cottage." 
 
 " I do not think I could have done any 
 otherwife," faid Jenny ; " I fiiould never 
 have forgiven myfelf, if whilft I had been 
 confidering whether or not you were wor- 
 thy, you had perifhed either from cold or 
 lofs of blood." 
 
 " And from whom," afked he, " did 
 you learn thefe principles ? not from the 
 furly old woman, who lies in that bed ?" 
 
 Jenny replied, " fhe was indebted to her 
 grandmother for a very great deal ; indeed, 
 for almoft every thing." She then related 
 the little hiftory of her life, and concluded 
 by faying, " that though her grandmother 
 had lately loft her faculties, and was be- 
 come dinatisfied and petulent ; yet, in her 
 better days, fhe was a. woman of a good un- 
 derftanding, and ftrict principles, and had 
 
 fo 
 
24 BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 
 
 fo well conduced herfelf though a long life, 
 as to be generally refpetted." 
 
 u And you intend,'* afked the ftranger, 
 " to devote the reft of your life to her ? 
 furely it would be better if you were to let 
 her go to the workhoufe, and try yourfelf 
 to get a fervice in fome refpe&able family. 
 You can never be able wholly to main- 
 tain her." 
 
 " I will, at lead, try, " anfwered Jenny, 
 in a tone of fome refentmenr, for the 
 fpeech of the ftranger had by no means 
 raifed him in her opinion, " and I do not 
 fear fucceeding : God has hitherto given 
 fuccefs to my endeavours, and I hope he 
 will not defert me ; though, I am fure, I 
 fhould not deferve his blefling, if I could 
 abandon an aged parent juft finking into 
 the grave." 
 
 The ftranger, without feeming to notice 
 the manner in which (he fpoke, faid " I 
 think I could recommend you to an excel- 
 lent fituation, if you will confent to leave 
 your grandmother." 
 
 "No, 
 
BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 25 
 
 " No, Sir, that I will never do. I am, 
 indeed, obliged to work very hard, and 
 fare very ill to fupport her ; but, in doing 
 my duty I have a fatisfaction, which I could 
 never have if I abandoned her, even though 
 I worked lefs, and lived much better. An 
 old perfon like her, gives a great deal of 
 trouble, and though I am not tired of ir, 
 (hangers would be ; and I could never bear 
 the thought when I fat down to a good din- 
 ner, that fhe, perhaps, wanted a morfel of 
 bread." 
 
 t€ But you fee (he does not thank you for 
 your kindnefs, fhe repays it all with grum- 
 bling and murmurs." 
 
 " That, Sir, is difeafe. Befides, if I do my 
 duty, I have my reward, even though (he 
 does not thank me." 
 
 cc Well, well, reflect upon my offer ; 
 and I think after a little confideration, you 
 will accept it." 
 
 " No, Sir, never, and I do not think it 
 looks well of you to try to perfuade me to 
 do fo. You are, mod likely, better inftrucT> 
 ed than 1 have been, and therefore (hould 
 
 vol. i. c endea- 
 
t6 BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 
 
 endeavour to improve the ignorant, not cor- 
 rupt them." 
 
 A (mile parTed over the ftranger's coun- 
 tenance : Jenny obferved it, and felt very 
 angry with him; and half her companion was 
 effaced by the fentiments he had expreffed. 
 Yet, upon refle&ion, fhe thought that 
 though he had miftaken the means, he 
 could only wifh to ferve her, and for this 
 flie felt grateful. 
 
 It was not long before Dame Mallet re* 
 turned, accompanied by her fon, and bring- 
 ing pen, ink, and paper. 
 
 u Here, Sir," faid fhe, going familiarly 
 lip to the ftranger, " here's my Tommy, 
 and I'll make bold to fay a fmarter lad you 
 have never employed ; Sir, he was feventeen 
 laflEafter, end Sir,be's as tall as a May-pole," 
 
 Tommy advanced in an ereft pofture to 
 authenticate his mother's praife 5 and giv* 
 ing a fcrape with his foot which he meant for 
 a bow," Yes, your honour," faid he, " here I 
 am ready to run athoufand miles to ferve you. 
 
 " I only wifli you to ride thirteen," faid 
 the* ftranger. He then took a pen, and 
 
 wrot« 
 
BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 27 
 
 wrote a letter, and whilft he was em- 
 ployed about it, Dame Mallet took Jenny 
 afide to afk her if fhe had feen any thing to 
 " let her into the light of her guefl.." 
 
 Jenny faid, " fhe had not ; but fhe dared to 
 fay he had been robbed, as he told her he 
 had no money/' The countenance of the 
 dame fell at this information ; fhe feemed 
 to regret having offered the fervice of her 
 fon, cc I'll be bound," faid fhe, " he will 
 get nothing for his trouble ; my firft con- 
 jecture was right ; however, if the worfi: 
 comes to the worft, I'll apply to Colonel 
 Marlow, and I'll be bound he'll fee me 
 righted. 5 ' 
 
 Having fealed, and directed his letter, 
 the ftranger gave it to Tommy, and de- 
 fired him to be as expeditious as poflible. 
 Tommy promifed he would, and immedi- 
 ately fet off, not attending to his mother, 
 who called after him as loud as fhe could, 
 * Tommy, Tommy* hold Dobbin up, or 
 you'll be fhot over his head, as you were a 
 few days fmce. Poor fellow !" continued 
 &e, returning to the cottage, " I'm fure 
 c 2 fuck 
 
28 BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 
 
 fuch another efcape nobody ever had; but 
 thefe young creatures are fo hoity toity, 
 there's no making 'em liflen to advice, 
 now he'll go galloping till he and Dobbin 
 come down together, and if they are both 
 killed, I wonder who'll pick them up. 
 
 The ftranger fmiled, and Jenny con- 
 tinued her fpinning. Dame Mallet walked 
 up to the couch, and feeing the old woman 
 was awake, afked her how fhe did ? 
 
 " Very poorly," fhe anfwered, " fhe 
 thought fhe fhould not continue long." 
 
 " Pho, pho," cried the dame ; <c don't 
 talk fo N ; you'll live this many a day, and 
 get upon your legs again." - 
 
 The old woman fhook her head, Jenny 
 fufpended her fpinning ; fhe had not heard 
 her grandmother fo rational for many 
 weeks, and fhe inquired " if fhe would like 
 a little broth, or a cup of tea." 
 
 " Neither," fhe faid, " fhe had a great 
 deal of pain, which tool^ away her appetite." 
 
 Jenny had been advifed to give her a few 
 drops of laudanum for this accefs of pain, 
 of which fhe had lately frequently complain- 
 ed j 
 
EENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 29 
 
 ed ; thefe ufually relieved her ; and fhe 
 now told them into a fpoon. As fhe held 
 it to her mouth, (he faid, u Thank you, 
 my dear girl ; God reward you for all your 
 kindnefs !" She then clofed her eyes to 
 fleep ; and Dame Mallet took her leave, 
 faying (lie was fure Tommy would be expe- 
 ditious. 
 
 Jenny continued her work the remainder 
 of the morning, from time to time attend- 
 ing her grandmother, who feemed more 
 than ufually reftlefs. She complained of 
 pain, and of being very cold. 
 
 About noon Jenny inquired of the 
 ftranger if he did not think he could eat 
 fomething, as fhe was fure he mud be faint 
 for want of food. He faid he was ; but 
 added, " I have no money, neither, I fup- 
 pofe, have you ; and I doubt our credit 
 united will not fatisfy the people of the 
 village." 
 
 Jenny produced a piece of flannel from an 
 
 old chefl of drawers. " Here," faid fhe, 
 
 taking out a milling, <c is what I call my 
 
 bank \ and though I never go to it but upon 
 
 c 3 great 
 
JO BENEVOLENCE REWARDED*- 
 
 great occafions, I have always fomething 
 for them." She had fcarcely finifhed 
 fpeaking, when the found of wheels attraft- 
 ed her attention ; fhe expreffed much fur- 
 prize at it, but the Granger rifing, haflened 
 with all the fpeed his feeble flate would 
 allow, to open the cottage door. A pod 
 chaife and four flopped at it, from which, 
 almoft iftftantly alighted a young lady, who 
 throwing herfelf into his arms,, burft into a 
 convulfive agony of tears. 
 
 <c Weep not now, my child ;" cried he, 
 C( I am fafe ; prefer ved by the bounty of 
 heaven, and the humanity of this good 
 
 girl." 
 
 Jenny, in fome confufion, dropped a mo- 
 deft curtfey, and was retiring to a diftant part 
 of the room, but the ftranger flopped her, 
 " come forward," faid he, cc and tafle the 
 rewards of virtue. Though as a poor and 
 defolate ftranger you relieved me, I will 
 reward you as a rich and powerful protest- 
 or. When I was fick and fainting, you 
 relieved *ne by your care ; when I told you 
 I was poor, and could not pay you, your 
 
 bounty 
 
BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 3? 
 
 bounty increafed ; — but you have even a 
 nobler triumph. In order to difcover 
 whether you were really as excellent as you 
 appeared, I tempted you, by an offer the moi£ 
 flattering, to forfake your duty, and abandon 
 your aged parent. You treated my offer 
 with the difdain it merited, and you proved 
 that, however low your ftation, your fenti- 
 ments and conduct would do honour to 
 the mod exalted. Have no further con^ 
 cern about providing for your grandmother; 
 here is your banker. This young lady will 
 rejoice in paying you tenfold what you have 
 done for her father. 
 
 Mifs Marlow, whiift tears of gratitude 
 trickled down her lovely face, allured Jenny 
 her father had only half expreiTed what (he 
 felt. 
 
 " We will return," continued he, " in 
 a few days, and fix fome plan for your 
 future eftablifhment. In the mean tim«, 
 banifh every care from your mind, and 
 be allured fuch virtue as your's cannot fail 
 of reward." 
 
 The aftonifhment of Jenny almoft robbed 
 C3. her 
 
32 BENLVOLENCE REWARDED, 
 
 her of every faculty ; (he attempted to fpeak 
 — fhe hefitated — and overpowered by feel- 
 ings of furprize and joy, (he burfl into 
 tears. 
 
 Language the moft foothing, and pro- 
 mifes the mod munificent, at length roufed 
 her to make an effort to overcome her emo- 
 tions, and to aflure the colonel and his 
 daughter, that ill as fhe expreffed herfelf, 
 fhe was not infenfible to their goodnefs. 
 
 They did not flay much longer, but be- 
 fore her departure, Mifs Marlow gave Jenny 
 a purfe, and defired her to procure every 
 comfort both for herfelf and her grand- 
 mother. She alfo added, that the family 
 apothecary fhould attend the old woman, 
 and fee if any thing could be done to relieve 
 her. 
 
 Whilft fhe was thus exprefling the bene- 
 volent feelings of her heart, her father re- 
 garded her with all the delight of parental 
 fondnefs ; — proud of hervirtues, exulting in 
 her excellencies. At length they drove from 
 the door. 
 
 All that had paffed, had been fo rapid, 
 
 and 
 
BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 33 
 
 and fo furprizing, that it feemed to Jenny 
 like a dream, and fhe fat down with the 
 purfe ftill in her hand, endeavouring to 
 
 collect her fcattered thoughts almoft 
 
 doubting whether what fhe had witneffed, 
 was a reality. The more fhe refle&ed upon 
 it, the greater was her aftonifhment. That 
 fhe, who feemed to belong to nobody, for 
 whom no one was interefted — who was ob- 
 liged to labour before fhe could procure the 
 morfel which fatisfied her hunger — that (he 
 fnould have been able to fuccour the rich, 
 and find fuch a munificent return, excited 
 not more her wonder, than her delight. 
 
 Her grandmother had again fallen afleep; 
 fhe determined to expend fome part of what 
 fhe had fo bountifully received, in pur- 
 chafing fome of thofe comforts, fo welcome 
 to age, and weaknefs. She haftened to the 
 village, and made her purchafes. When 
 fhe returned me made fome comfortable 
 broth, and gave her grandmother a bafin of 
 it. She faid it was very excellent j fhe 
 thought fhe had never tafted any fo good. 
 Dame Mallet foon after returned to in- 
 c 5 quire 
 
34 BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 
 
 {juire for her patient. She was told all that 
 had palled, and was not a little angry that 
 nothing had been left for her. " To be 
 fure Tommy had brought her two guineas ; 
 but what was that for fuch a great man as 
 Colonel Marlow. Certainly if fhe had 
 known who it was, fhe would not have 
 quitted him a moment — but fonre people 
 were always in luck's way ; for her part, (he 
 had always been a minute too late all her 
 life." 
 
 She then proceeded to tell Jenny that 
 Colonel, Marlow was a rich nabob, who 
 had loft his wife two years after his mar- 
 riage. She left him an only daughter 5 of 
 whom he was fo fond, that fhe had accom- 
 panied him in an Eaftern expedition, and 
 been the conftant companion of all his tra- 
 vels. She further added, from the inform- 
 ation of her fon Tommy, who had been 
 told by the fervants, that the colonel had 
 been to Canterbury on fome particular 
 bufmefs, attended only by one groom. 
 There were alfo other circumfiances which 
 fee did not know? but which we will nar- 
 rate 
 
BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 2>S 
 
 rate for the benefit of our readers. This 
 man had not been long in the family, 
 but had been treated very kindly during a 
 dangerous illnefs ; yet this kindnefs had 
 excited no gratitude in a nature which feem- 
 ed alone fufceptible of evil. He formed a 
 defign to rob his matter, to which he ap- 
 peared to have been inftigated by the idea 
 that the colonel had received a large fum ; 
 which, indeed, had been the original mo- 
 tive of his journey ; but from fome circum- 
 fiances was deferred. This was unknown 
 to the man, and foon after they entered the 
 wood, he made his attack. The fear of 
 difcovery rendered him defperate ; but the 
 colonel was a foldier, unaccuflomed to 
 yield. He knocked the aiTaflin down, and 
 endeavoured to fecure him; but in this 
 he did not fucceed. He then endeavoured 
 to reach the common, which he knew was 
 at the extremity of the wood, and where a 
 few fcattered cottages promifed him fome 
 afliftance \ but the night was extremely 
 dark ; and he was not well acquainted with 
 c 6 his 
 
3$ BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 
 
 his route. After riding fome time, he dif- 
 covered that inftead of advancing, he was 
 getting further into the wood, and he turn- 
 ed in hopes of extricating himfelf. Soon 
 after he reached the cottage, and was 
 alighting to inquire his way, when the 
 wretch who had before attacked, feized 
 Kim with fuch violence, as wholly to throw 
 him off his guard. He received a blow, 
 which robbed him of his fenfes, belide a 
 fevere wound in his arm. The afTaflin then 
 -took his purfe and watch, and made a pre- 
 cipitate retreat. 
 
 The colonel lay fenfelefs till relieved by 
 Jenny, and but for her kindnefs, would, molt 
 probably, have perifhed before the morn- 
 ing, either from the inclemency of the 
 weather, or lofs of blood. 
 
 Dame Mallet having narrated all fhe 
 knew, refumed her complaints, and bitter- 
 ly lamented cc that every one was better off 
 than herfelf." Her envious repinings feem- 
 ed to Jenny fo unjuft, that fhe felt no com- 
 panion for them, and fecretly rejoiced when 
 7 the 
 
BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 37 
 
 the dame took her leave, to relate elfe- 
 where her misfortunes and difappointments. 
 The next morning a gentleman arrived, 
 who faid he had been fent by Colonel Mar- 
 low to attend the old woman ; but rinding 
 her complaints only thofe of extreme age, he 
 left fuch medicines as would mitigate her 
 pains ; and told Jenny he thought nature 
 was almoft exhaufted. The poor girl 
 heard this with unaffected anguifh, and 
 after the ftranger was gone, gave all 
 her time, and all her thoughts, to the com- 
 fort, and relief of her fuffering parent. 
 
 Though fhe was fatigued for want of 
 fleep, fhe would only reft in the chair, 
 as her grandmother appeared fo much 
 worfe. 
 
 She rejoiced in having done fo, when 
 towards midnight her fufferings increafed, 
 and fhe faid fhe thought fhe was dying. 
 Jenny in terror, not to be defcribed, ad- 
 miniftered fome of the medicine; but with- 
 out effe£l. Cold fhivering fucceeded agno^ 
 nizing pains, and betokened, as Jenny 
 feared, approaching diflblution. Alone, 
 
 terri- 
 
38 BENEVOLENCE REWARDED, 
 
 terrified at what might be the even*, dread- 
 ing left fhe mould omit any thing which 
 ought to be done, fhe pafled a wretched 
 night. Tears of filial anguifh bedewed her 
 cheeks. At length morning dawned ; the 
 poor invalid had fallen into an uneafy 
 flumber, and Jenny ran, with all the ex- 
 pedition (he could ufe, to entreat Dame 
 Mallet to come to her. They return- 
 ed together : the dame was much furprized 
 at the change which had taken place* and 
 faid i ( the poor foul was going very faft/' 
 Though Jenny had been led to expect 
 her diffolution, (he could not hear it fpoken 
 of unmoved, and fhe flattered herfelf it was 
 yet diftant, when foon after her grand* 
 mother funk into a tranquil fleep. This 
 continued fome hours j— on awaking fhe 
 looked around, and perceiving Jenny, faid 
 in a faint voice, " come to me, my child* 
 and let me blefs you before I die/* Scarce- 
 ly was the fentence finifhed, when fhe fell 
 back on her pillow, her lips quivered, her 
 eyes clofed, and in a few minutes fhe 
 breathed no more. Jenny regarded her 
 
 with 
 
BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 39 
 
 with terrified attention, and a degree of 
 horror which almofl fufpended her breath ; 
 but Dame Mallet, more accuftomed to fuch 
 fcenes, exclaimed, u Well, poor foal ! at 
 lad fhe is gone ; fhe lived to a good old 
 age j and if it had not been for an induf- 
 trious grandchild, me might have died in 
 a workhoufe." This fpeech drew from 
 Jenny an agony of tears ; — though fhe had 
 been prepared for her death, and her in- 
 creafing infirmities made life hardly defirable, 
 yet, when the moment of feparation arrived, 
 every other feeling was loft in regret, in 
 terror, in anguifh ! 
 
 Recollected virtues, which before had been 
 jcarcely thought of, feemed to revive with 
 double force from the afhes of mortality- 
 unnumbered kindneffes, once little efti- 
 mated, or attributed to fome fmifler motive, 
 now called forth gratitude, efteem, and 
 love ! The harfhnefs of a character, which, 
 at times, had made the forrow of Jenny's 
 life, was now, by the hand of death, foft- 
 ened into tints of lefs aufterity, and the 
 temper which was once fevere, and difficult 
 
 to 
 
40 BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 
 
 to pleafe, was only remembered as exacting 
 unerring rectitude. 
 
 This view, which death called forth of 
 the virtues and conduct of a deceafed rela- 
 tive, is fo general, that in Jenny, whofe 
 heart was naturally kind, and little difpofed 
 to retain unpleafant recollections, it can 
 excite no wonder. 
 
 As (he performed the lafl duties of hu- 
 manity, tears trickled down her cheeks ; — 
 Yet her forrow, though deep, was not of 
 that felfifh kind, which difabled her from 
 exertions the moment required. She was 
 mofl anxious nothing fhould be omitted 
 which could teftify her refpect for the de- 
 ceafed. She was no longer obliged to con- 
 fult only economy, and though fhe was 
 careful to avoid the oppofite extreme, (he 
 determined the bounty which had been 
 lavifhed on her fhould not all flow in 
 the narrow channel of felfifli gratifica- 
 tion. She ordered a decent coffin, and 
 in plain, but refpectable mourning, attend- 
 ed the corpfe to the village church, where 
 
 it was interred. 
 
 The 
 
BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 41 
 
 The colonel had not yet made his pro- 
 mifed vifit, but fhe had a purfe well fup- 
 plied, which, with her habits of eco- 
 nomy, would have been fufficient for half 
 her life. 
 
 During the active fcenes in which fhe had 
 been engaged, fhe had no time to think 
 of herfelf ; it was now only, when no more 
 exertions were to be made, no more pain- 
 ful duties to be performed, that fhe fat 
 down to ruminate on her own plans. 
 Though the bounty and liberal promifes of 
 the colonel, had removed from her all 
 dread of want, yet living quite alone was fo 
 dreary, that fhe thought if fhe could pro- 
 cure a fervice in fome refpectable family, fhe 
 mould be far happier than in her prefent 
 circumftances, even though want was re- 
 moved from her. After the kindnefs fhe 
 had experienced, fhe was unwilling to do 
 any thing without the concurrence of the 
 colonel and his daughter j fhe, therefore, 
 determined to make no change till fhe had 
 feen them. 
 
 A fevr 
 
42 BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 
 
 A few days only elapfed, before theft 
 kind friends made their promifed vifit. 
 Jenny was employed at her fpinning wheel 
 when the carriage flopped j they alighted,, 
 and the colonel addreffing her with th.e 
 nioft unaffected kindnefs, faid, " I am 
 afraid you thought we had forgotten you ; 
 but we were arranging matters to fix you 
 permanently with us. My daughter wifhes 
 to have you as her attendant, and I am fare 
 her kindnefs will leave you nothing to defire. 
 I heard of the death of your grandmother, 
 and the propriety with which you conducted 
 yourfelf, and I doubt not but you will be 
 equally praife worthy in every fituation of 
 life. A perfon will be here the day after 
 to-morrow with a cart to take you to 
 Brooklands ; in the mean time purchafe 
 for yourfelf every thing which you think 
 you fhall want ; remember I am your 
 banker ; and the humane preferver of 
 my life need not fear exhaufting my 
 bounty. 
 
 The feelings of Jenny were all that the 
 
 warmed 
 
BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 43 
 
 warmed gratitude could infpire ; yet the 
 variety of emotions to which this kind 
 fpeech gave rife, almoft robbed her of the 
 power of exprefling them. To be at once 
 raifed from the hard lot fhe had fo long 
 endured, where the mod unwearied dili- 
 gence, the mo ft unremitting indufhy, barely 
 kept her from ftarving ; to have friends 
 able and willing to ferve her, was a charge 
 fo fiM§d«n and delightful, that her heart 
 could dwell on no other. Fearful that her 
 embarraiiment might be attributed to a 
 wrong motive, fhe allured her benefactors 
 that ill as me expreffed it, fhe was fully 
 fenfible of all their kindnefs, and to defeive it 
 mould be the unceafing endeavour of her life. 
 Both the colonel and his daughter allured 
 her they doubted not her gratitude or her 
 merit ; nor were proreflations neceffary to 
 convince them fhe felt more than fhe ex- 
 preffed. The colonel afked her if fhe 
 knew any poor family to whom the 
 furniture of her cottage would be ac- 
 ceptable ? She faid there was an induf- 
 
 trious 
 
44 BENEVOLENCE REWARDED, 
 
 rious woman who had often been very 
 kind to her, and who would be very thank- 
 ful for it. 
 
 This, and other affairs, being arranged, 
 the colonel and his daughter took their 
 leave, telling her the cart would be with 
 her at the time appointed. She allured 
 them {he would be in readinefs, and when 
 they were gone, began with a light heart 
 to make her little arrangements. The prof- 
 peels {he had before her were the moft flau 
 tering, and fuch, indeed, as no expect- 
 ation, however fanguine, could have form- 
 ed. Nurfed in the rugged lap of adver- 
 fity, flie was a ftranger not only to every 
 indulgence, but to every conlfort ; the 
 rectitude of her mind, and her excellent 
 underftanding, had taught her to be con- 
 tent with the difpenfations of Providence ; 
 to be chearful in poverty, unmurmuring in 
 want. Nor did profperity, that rock fo 
 fatal to many, rob her of the excellencies 
 acquired by fufFering. 
 
 Grateful for the blefllngs bellowed upon 
 
 her, 
 
BENEVOLENCE REWARDED. 45 
 
 her, fhe conduced herfelf through a long 
 life, with fuch undeviating re&itude, as 
 fecured her not only the encreafed re- 
 gard of her benefa&ors, but the approba- 
 tion of that Being, whofe favour is peace, 
 and whofe blefling is happinefs. 
 
( 47 ) 
 
 FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 Mr. Hammond had once been a merchant 
 of high refpeclability, and opulent circum- 
 stances ; but having engaged in fome fpecu- 
 lations, from which he expelled to derive 
 immenfe wealth, he was fuddenly, by the 
 failure of his fchemes, reduced to worfe than 
 poverty. His reputation was blemifhed; 
 his credit deftroyed ; his hopes annihilated ; 
 and his profpecls for ever clouded. 
 
 His town, and country houfe, his car- 
 riages, his furniture, and every appendage 
 to wealth, were difpofed of for the benefit 
 of his creditors ;— in the deepen: anguifh he 
 retired, with hia wife and fon, to the houfe 
 of a friend who offered him a temporary 
 afylum; from whence he removed to a 
 fmall cottage, where he lived in repining 
 poverty till the death of a relation enabled 
 him to return to bufinefs. 
 
 His only fon, was at this period about 
 10 four 
 
48 FALSE INDULGENCE* 
 
 four years old ; he was the darling of both 
 his parents, and cherifhed by them with 
 fuch lavifh fondnefs, that already his un- 
 governed paflions fubmitted to no controul. 
 To pleafe him was the fedulous care of 
 everyone of the family, and his own power 
 was one of the earlieft: leflbns he learned. 
 It was in vain that a friend of Mr. Ham- 
 mond, expostulated on this improper treat- 
 ment, and predi&ed from it the mod fatal 
 confequences. Blinded by injudicious af- 
 fection, they would not Men to the cold 
 arguments of reafon, but declared that their 
 darling was only like other children of viva- 
 city, and that to curb him would be to ruin 
 his temper, and to deftroy that independent 
 fpirit upon which the greateft characters 
 were formed. Mrs. Hammond, even more 
 injudicious than her hufband, was not only 
 angry that any one mould prefume to dic- 
 tate to her in the treatment of her fon 5 
 but, as arguments are feldom wanted to 
 juftify inclination, fhe adduced fo many 
 proofs of the excellence of leaving children 
 wholly without reftraint, that Mr. Carlton, 
 
 gla4 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. 49 
 
 glad to efcape from her vehemence and 
 verbofity, dropped the fubject ; and though 
 as a friend he regretted the evils, which he 
 thought, he faw approaching, he regretted 
 them in filence. 
 
 Reared in fuch habits, it is little to be 
 wondered at thaf the child grew up the 
 tyrant of the family, that his will became a 
 law ; and that in proportion as he was more 
 feufible of his power, he was more unreafon- 
 able in its ufe. There were times, when 
 Mr. Hammond lamented the ungovernable 
 temper of his fon, and dreaded left the pre- 
 dictions of his friend ihould be verified. 
 He even talked of adopting methods mod 
 likely to produce reformation, but he was 
 fo vehemently oppofed by his wife, that 
 partly from the habit of yielding to her 
 wifnes, and partly from the incapability of 
 exertion, which declining health had for 
 fome months increafed, he gave up his 
 laudable intentions. Mrs. Hammond would 
 frequently declare, in anfwer to hisreprefenta- 
 tions that he was as ridiculous as Mr. Carlton. 
 * Becaufe the dear boy was full of fpirit, 
 
 vol. i, d and 
 
50 FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 and loved a little play, becaufe he did not 
 fubmit to reafons he could not underftand, 
 was that a proof that there was any thing 
 wrong in his difpofition ? He was not 
 like many dolts of children who do as 
 they are bid, right or wrong ; his mind 
 would not fubmit to fuch trammels : con- 
 vince his underflanding, and you might 
 be fure of his obedience." 
 
 About this time his maternal uncle died, 
 and bequeathed him ten thoufand pounds. 
 This added to his importance even in the 
 eyes of his parents, particularly of his mo- 
 ther ; who now thought fhe had an un- 
 anfwerable plea to filence every propofal of 
 fending him to fchool. " He was not to 
 be a hireling drudge, and therefore it was 
 ridiculous to torment him with learning ; 
 he was to poflefs an independent fortune, 
 and therefore his life ought to be pleafant." 
 Such were the maxims fhe conftantly held 
 forth, and as was to be expe&ed, her fon 
 imbibed them. 
 
 The knowledge of the fortune he was to 
 
 poflefs, was by this means communicated 
 
 4 to 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE, 51 
 
 to him; and forming his ideas of wealth from 
 the importance attached to his pofTeflions, 
 he thought himfelf fo much above other 
 boys, that he condefcended to afibciate 
 with very few. The fon of one of the fer- 
 vants was occafionally fent for to amufe 
 him, buc his capricious, and unyielding 
 temper made this fo difficult, that the poor 
 boy, though he endured patiently, pinches 
 and blows, was commonly fent away in dif- 
 grace. Mrs. Hammond could readily be- 
 lieve every one wrong but her fon, and was 
 convinced that if he was not amufed, it was 
 the fault of thofe who endeavoured to enter- 
 tain him. He had attained his tenth year, 
 when his father was feized with an epidemic 
 diftemper, which after a fhort illnefs carried 
 him to the grave. The property he left 
 was not great, and was wholly bequeathed to 
 his wife. During the fhort time he lay on 
 a fick bed, he feemed fenfible of the errors 
 he had committed, and fending for Mr. 
 Carlton, whole former advice, though he 
 had not followed, he refpected, he be- 
 d 2 queathed 
 
 UNIVERSITY Of 
 
 ILLINOIS LIBRARY 
 
54 FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 queatbed his fon to his guardianlhip, with a 
 requelt that he would purfue fuch methods 
 as he thought would be mod efficacious. 
 " I am afraid," faid he, " I have ill dis- 
 charged the duties of a parent, but I hope 
 the evil is not yet irremediable. Alas ! I 
 have miftaken the indulgence of my 
 own feelings for true affection, and too 
 late remember, that before the harvefl: is 
 gathered, the ground mud be tilled, the 
 feed fown, and the weeds extracted ; i 
 have expected to reap, though the blight 
 had ruined my corn, and the mildew hung 
 heavy upon its early (hoots." In a few hours 
 he expired. 
 
 The firft a£t of Mr. Carlton's power was 
 to place his charge at a large feminary at 
 Hackney. It was in vain his mother op- 
 pofed, wept, and complained. Mr. Carlton 
 acted by a power (he could not controul, 
 and he was the more peremptory, as he 
 faid the boy had been brought up in fuch 
 ignorance, not only of what was ornamen- 
 tal, but of what was ufeful, that he would 
 
 hereafter 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. 53 
 
 hereafter be betrayed into a thoufand vices, 
 from mere idlenefs, and want of knowing 
 how to employ his time. 
 
 With watery eyes and ill-boding fears, he* 
 accompanied his guardian to the fchool. 
 Here a fcene very different to any he had 
 before experienced, prefented itfelf; and he 
 foon felt all the mortification of the change. 
 
 Inftead of commanding every one, paf- 
 fing his time in idlenefs, and being gratified 
 in every wifh \ he was himfelf commanded 
 by almofl every boy in the fchool ; he was 
 obliged to apply to fludy, to learn, with the 
 mod laborious efforts, the fimplefl rudi- 
 ments, familiar to boys half his age, and 
 was retrained by rules he dared not in- 
 fringe. His ignorance made him the 
 wonder and ridicule of the boys, and the 
 torment of the matters. His difpofition 
 was not fuch as to make amends for the 
 flownefs of his capacity, nor his induflry 
 of that perfevering kind, which fo often over- 
 takes the quicker fleps of genius. Punilh- 
 ment followed punifhment, till hardly a day 
 paused without his receiving fome marks of 
 d 3 dif- 
 
54 FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 difgrace. — Yet dill his tafks were neglected, 
 his leflbns unlearned, and his face clowded 
 by continual tears. His temper, always un- 
 pleafant, was now more fo than ever, and 
 the only gratification he felt, was in affocia- 
 ting with boys as idle and ill-difpofed as 
 himfelf. 
 
 Two months pafTed thus, when one 
 morning, to his extreme joy, his mother was 
 announced. He flew to her, and recapi- 
 tulated all he endured. She wept at the 
 account, and afTured him he fhould not 
 be continued at the fchool. " She would 
 go that morning to Mr. Carlton, and in- 
 fill upon fome change." This information 
 imparted a degree of pleafure which her 
 fon had not experienced fince he quitted 
 her. In the hope that his forrows would 
 foon be ended, his cheerfulnefs returned, 
 and he enjoyed the feaft of dainties which fhe 
 had brought, with the unreftrained appetite 
 of a glutton. She promifed, in order to 
 alleviate* his fufferings, to fend a fervant 
 every week to the adjacent fhop, with a 
 frefh fupply. He begged her to be care- 
 ful 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. $$ 
 
 fill that they were well packed, for fear 
 any body fhould fee what they were. She 
 affured him fhe would, and after flaying 
 nearly two hours, took her leave, intending 
 immediately to go to Mr. Carlton. She 
 proceeded thither, but he was not at home, 
 nor could the fervants inform her when he 
 would be. Irritated by this delay, fhe wrote 
 an angry letter, in which fhe upbraided him 
 with cruelty in having placed her fon where 
 he was expofed to the mod unkind treat- 
 ment, wlrere he was thwarted in every wifh, 
 and denied the common comforts, which 
 other children enjoyed. " His dear father," 
 fhe faid, " little thought what he did, when 
 he committed his darling to fuch care, 
 and nothing but a removal from the hated 
 fchool, could give her mind that repofe, 
 without which fhe fhould foon be in the 
 grave of her lamented hufband. ,> 
 
 The next day fhe received a cold and 
 formal anfwer ; " Mr. Carlton was very 
 forry fhe was fo much prejudiced. If her 
 fon was not happy, it was from his own dif- 
 pofitionj if all indulgence was denied, it 
 d 4 was 
 
56 FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 was to be attributed to his not deferving if, 
 and refitting every endeavour to forward 
 his improvement. The change fhe talked 
 of could not take place ; the mailer of the 
 fchooi was well known to be a man of in- 
 tegrity and honour, beloved by the gene- 
 rality of his fcholars, and indulgent when- 
 ever merit claimed his notice ; it was there- 
 fore to be hoped her good fenfe, and her 
 maternal fondnefs, would induce her to pro- 
 mote, rather than impede a plan which was 
 the only one that could fnatch her fon from 
 ruin." 
 
 This letter produced the moft bitter la- 
 mentation. " Her dear, unhappy child, 
 would die a martyr to cruelty and neglect ; 
 and Mr. Carlton, me was fure, had no wifli 
 but to break her heart." 
 
 In the mean time her fon found fome con- 
 folation in his (lore of confectionary, which 
 fecretly, and with as much expedition as pof- 
 fible, he conveyed to his box. To this he 
 reforted, whenever he could Ileal to it, un- 
 feen ; for he was not of a difpofition to di- 
 vide it with his companions, not, even with 
 
 thofe 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. Z.J . 
 
 thofe whom he termed his favourites. He 
 had alfo now an ample fupply of pocket 
 money, and in the hope that he mould be 
 foon reftored to the indulgences of home, 
 he fubmitted to prefent evils with more 
 fortitude. He communicated his hopes to his 
 favourite companions, and faid cC he wifhed 
 before he went away, he could play the 
 matter fome trick, for he hated him more 
 than any body he had ever known, except 
 Mr. Carlton." This propofal produced 
 deliberations on the poiTibility of what 
 might be done,, but James declared he 
 would attempt nothing, till the day w 7 as 
 fixed for his departure, as he mould elfe be 
 expofed to fuch punifhments, as he was de- 
 termined to fubmit to no more. 
 
 Mrs. Hammond true to her promife, fent 
 a fervant every week with the fecret ban- 
 quet, which her fon always found fome op- 
 portunity to flip out alone to receive. He 
 declined having any confidant, as he knew 
 it would expofe him to the necelTity of giv- 
 ing fome away. It was in one of thefe 
 clandeftine excurfions, that running without 
 d 5 heed- 
 
58 FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 heeding whither he went, he (tumbled aver 
 a gentleman's cane> who was talking to fome 
 one in the path. The night was dark, and 
 the bell had fummoned the boys to bed. 
 The perfon kindly lifted him up, and in* 
 quired if he was hurt. He made 1 no 
 anfwer — terror kept him filent— for he in- 
 flantly recognized the voice of his mafter ; 
 who, imagining from his filence that he was 
 hurt, took him to a lamp which glimmered 
 at a little diftance. Here he inftantly dif- 
 covered his truant pupil ; he demanded in 
 an angry tone why he was out, when he 
 knew it was contrary to the rules of the 
 fchool, and fubje&ed him to a fevere pu- 
 nifhment ? He made no anfwer — and was 
 at length taken to the houfe, where fuch of 
 the boys, as were not in bed were fummoned, 
 and interrogated as to their knowledge of the 
 culprit's fally. They all declared ignorance* 
 He was then exhorted to confefs the truth, 
 and on this condition promifed a remiflion 
 of puniftiment. He hefitated a longtime, 
 till the matter's patience was quite ex- 
 baufledj at length he ftammered, "that 
 
 having 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. $g 
 
 having a bad cold, which prevented his 
 fleeping, he was going to the fhop to buy 
 liquorice. " The matter looked incredulous, 
 but defired him to go to bed. 
 
 Relieved from his terrors, he congratu- 
 lated himfelf on the deceit, which he ima- 
 gined he had fo fuccefsfully pra&ifed ; and 
 regretted only the prefent lofs of his trea- 
 fure, which, however, he hoped would be 
 taken care of. With this folace he went 
 to bed, and in the morning repaired at the 
 ufual hour to the fchool-room 5 but what 
 was his confufion to fee, fpread upon a 
 table, the fubjeft of all his anxiety, and of 
 
 all his fecret enjoyment. 
 
 The matter, who was feated at the upper 
 end of the room, watched his countenance 
 
 from the moment he entered, and with a 
 
 voice, in which difdain and anger were 
 
 mingled, called him up. 
 
 He obeyed — for thefe were tones he durft 
 
 not difpute. 
 
 " This," faid the matter, pointing to the 
 
 table, " was to have been the remedy for 
 
 your cold, and this, I find, is a cure you 
 d 6 every 
 
6& FALSE INDULGENCE* 
 
 every week receive. That you are fond of 
 fuch things I can eafily believe, and I only 
 wifh they had been fent in a lefs clandeftine 
 manner. My motive for thus fummoning 
 you is to inquire why you dared go out con- 
 trary to my pofitive orders after dark ; and 
 why,when in that you were detected, you had 
 the wickednefs, and audacity to tell me a 
 lie, even though you were bribed to fpeak 
 the truth, by a promife of efcaping punifh- 
 ment." 
 
 The terrified culprit made no anfwer ; 
 it was in vain he endeavoured to think 
 of fome plaufible excufe ; none offered 
 — and he flood trembling, and terrified, 
 till he was commanded, in a more pe- 
 remptory tone to fpeak. He then blub- 
 bered out, " he thought if he told what he 
 was going to fetch, every thing would be 
 taken from him/' 
 
 cc And with whom do you fhare this 
 weekly fupply ?" again intorrogated the 
 matter. 
 
 To this no reply was made. Every boy 
 in the fchool was afkedif he had ever re- 
 ceived 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. 6\ 
 
 ceived any. The general anfwer was 
 
 no." 
 
 " Poor, mean fpirited being" continued 
 the matter ; " loft to every generous, every 
 worthy feeling 1 You are too contemptible 
 to afifociate with boys, who, I hope in gene- 
 ral, have no fuch propenfities. The punifh- 
 rnent you have merited, you -fhall, undoubt- 
 edly receive — to fave you from it, were only 
 to expofe you to future crimes — you have a 
 mind which is fufceptible of no generous 
 feeling, and to the contemptible difeipline of 
 the rod I therefore commit you.'* 
 
 The fentence was immediately executed, 
 though if tears, and promifes of amendment 
 could have averted it, it would not now have 
 been inflicted : but thefe were addreffed 
 to one, who though indulgent to contri- 
 tion, was inflexible to vice. 
 
 So public was his difgrace y and fo noto- 
 rious his character, that even the few. who 
 had before aflbciated with him, fhunned 
 him 5 and he was left to pafs his time in 
 contemptuous neglect. Yet what dwelt 
 mod heavily on his mind, was the lofs of his 
 
 dainties, 
 
62 FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 dainties, for thefe had not been return- 
 ed to him, but had been given to the 
 boy, who was ufually employed to clean 
 fhoes. 
 
 The more he reflected on his fituation, 
 the more miferable it appeared, and he de- 
 termined, as he could not write to tell his 
 mother what he endured, that he would 
 take fome opportunity of quitting the 
 fchool, and returning home where, he 
 knew he fhould be received with the moft 
 unbounded fondnefs. The more he re- 
 flected on this fcheme, the more allur- 
 ing it became ; and one evening, after a 
 day palfed in learning tafks which had been 
 long neglected, and for which he had been 
 repeatedly punifhed, he determined to put 
 his fcheme in execution. He thought no 
 time fo fafe as after the boys were in bed ; 
 as the fear of meeting any one in the day, 
 and being forced back, deterred him from 
 venturing then, which he would otherwife 
 have much preferred, but he trufted he 
 mould meet a coach, and then, he thought 
 all his difficulties would be over. He wait- 
 ed 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. 63 
 
 ed with impatience the time of going to 
 bed, and fcarcely was his companion afieep, 
 when he arofe, and dreffed himfelf; but 
 thinking he heard footfteps in the paflage, 
 he glided quickly under the bed-cloaths. 
 Some minutes elapfed before the founds 
 ceafedj at length he ventured from his 
 room ; and having defcended to the hall, 
 he was haftily crofling it, when a fervant 
 pafied from the kitchen. Fear now almoft 
 robbedhimof breath ; hecrouched under the 
 bannifters, thinking his difcovery inevita- 
 ble ; but the man, who appeared in hafte, 
 had not obferved him. 
 
 As foon as he was a little recovered, he 
 emerged from his hiding place, and foftly 
 opening the door, flew out as fad as his 
 trembling feet would convey him. He 
 (lopped not till he had run nearly a mile, 
 and then, flackening his pace to recover 
 breath, firft recollected he had in his hade 
 come out without a hat. The night was 
 cold, and he was glad to fubftitute a pocket 
 handkerchief in its ftead. He continued 
 
 his 
 
&4 FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 his way with as much fpeed as he could ex- 
 ert, vainly liflening for the found of wheels ; 
 as he had flattered himfelf he (hould meet a 
 flage which would convey him to the back of 
 the Exchange. Difappointed in this hope, 
 he crofled into Birdcage-walk, intending to 
 pafs from thence into Norton Falgate, but 
 in Spital Fields he took a wrong turn, and 
 after wandering about an hour, difcovered 
 he had miftaken his way. 
 
 His refolution, and prefence of mind 
 were not fuch as to fupport him in any 
 emergency, and as he had not in his eager- 
 nefs to quit the fchool, calculated the pollible 
 evils he might encounter, he was now terri- 
 fied beyond meafure j and inftead of inquir- 
 ing his way, fat down on the threfhold of a 
 door, and wept bitterly. -He was tired, 
 cold, and very fleepy, and now for the firft 
 time wiilied himfelf in the bed he had for- 
 faken ; for his fear of parTmg the night in 
 the flreets was more dreadful than even the 
 frowns of his mafler. A woman who pafled 
 obferving him, aiked what was the matter 
 with him. 
 
 He 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. 65 
 
 He faid he had loft his way 5 and en- 
 treated her to take him to Henrietta ftreet, 
 Covent Garden. 
 
 " Why, child," faid (he, "you are a good 
 two miles from thence ; but what do you 
 mean by fitting crying here ? Why don't 
 you take that turning which leads into 
 Bifhopfgate-ftreet, and make hade home ? 
 you have got good cloaths on your back, 
 and I dare fay you belong to fomebody, 
 who don't approve of your being out at 
 this hour. Why it is alrnoft eleven ; I'll 
 be bound the watch will have you foon." 
 
 Roufed by this fuggeftion,.and terrified 
 by its probability, he proceeded crying, and 
 fobbing at every ftep; The dread of the 
 watchman was fo great, that at every found 
 of their voices, he crept into the firft alley 
 that offered. After-many turnings, and many 
 miftakes, he at length reached Bifhopfgate- 
 ftreet; but fo much time had he loft, that 
 the clock (truck twelve as he pnfied the 
 church. He was now fo tired and lleepy 
 that he could proceed no further; a nd o 
 add to his diftrefs, it began to rain very 
 
 violently* 
 
66 FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 violently. He again fitt down on a thres- 
 hold, and leaning his head on his hands, 
 in a few minutes fell afleep. How long he 
 continued here he could not tell, when he 
 was fuddenly awakened by one of the ob- 
 jects of his terror. Lookingly wildly 
 around, he perceived he was in the hands of 
 a watchman, and the dread this infpired 
 was greater than any he had ever known. 
 Almofl frantic, he fell on his knees exclaim- 
 ing, u Oh, Sir, for heaven's fake, Sir, do 
 not take me ! I have loft my way, Sir, I 
 will give you all my money, but pray do 
 not take me ! Oh what fhall I do, what 
 
 (haii i do m 
 
 The watchman, (truck by his manner, 
 told him not to be frightened ; he fhould go 
 with him to the watch-houfe, and in the 
 morning he would conduct him home. The 
 found of the watch-houfe increafed his 
 terrors— he could not fpeak — even to dif- 
 pute the orders, which in obeying, almofl 
 transfixed him with horror — he arofe — de- 
 termined to make his efcape the firft op- 
 portunity. This he was foon able to do ; 
 
 for 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. 6j 
 
 for prompted by fear, he was like a lap- 
 wing in comparifon of his old, and feeble 
 companion. The latter, turning fuddenly 
 into an alley, James feized the moment to 
 elude his obfervation, and flopped not till 
 till he reached the Poultry. He was then 
 obliged to remit his exertions from excef- 
 five fatigue* but he determined to (top no 
 more, left he fhould again be made a pri- 
 foner. Slowly, and with dejected fteps, he 
 purfued his way ; the perils he had already 
 encountered, had damped the fpirit with 
 which he began his peregrination. His 
 cloaths were wet, he was faint for want of 
 fleep, his limbs were fo ftiffhe could hardly 
 move, and he more than once thought he 
 mud lie down in the ftreet, from inability 
 to proceed further. Notwithftanding his 
 refolution to the contrary, he was often 
 obliged to ftop, and the morning began to 
 dawn before he reached the Strand. He 
 thought now, his afflictions were ended $ 
 as his mother, he was fure, would receive: 
 him with the greatefl kindnefs, and make 
 him amends for every fuffering. He was 
 
 haftiiy 
 
6$ FALSE INDULGENCE* 
 
 hafiily croffing into Catherine-ftreet, when 
 a man purfued by a bailiff, and the cry of 
 66 flop thief," knocked againft him with 
 fuch violence, as darned him to the ground. 
 The crowd, who even at this early hour 
 were collecting, fucceffively pafled over 
 him, and when he had power to attempt 
 railing himfelf, he could only crawl to the 
 footpath, and fit down. He was covered 
 with blood and dirt ; and befide the pain of 
 the bruifes which he had received, a fudden 
 dizzinefs feized him — he refled his head 
 againft a door, and but for the reviving in- 
 fluence of the air would have fainted away. 
 He fighed bitterly, and began weeping. A 
 poor chimney fweeper who was pafTmg, look- 
 ed at him, and enquired in a voice of kind- 
 nefs, what was the matter ? He recounted 
 what had happened, and faid where he lived, 
 wifhing mod earneftly, that he was at home. 
 " Why fure," exclaimed the boy, in a 
 tone of incredulous amazement, " you 
 ben't Mailer Hammond ?"— " And how 
 ihould you know me, if I am?" afked James, 
 a As for the matter o' that, I've had reafon 
 
 enough 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. 69 
 
 enough to know you in every bone of my 
 fkin, when I ufed to play with you, when 
 you was a little boy. Why don't you remem- 
 ber Sally, that ufed to live with you ? 
 Why I'm her boy." 
 
 " Are you/' replied his quondam com- 
 panion ; who inflantly recollected him, and 
 all the injuries he had borne ; and now 
 concluded he would not only refufe every 
 affi fiance, but rejoice at the prefent fcene of 
 diftrefs. The little chimney fweeper, had, 
 however, a better heart, and inflantly an- 
 fwered to the querulous complaint, " I fup- 
 pofe you won't help me home." — " Yes, 
 that I will ; for I'm main forry to fee you 
 in fuch a plight, and I'm fure it would go 
 nigh to break madam's heart if fhe fe'ed 
 you too." 
 
 He then offered his arm, which James 
 thankfully accepted ; though only a few 
 hours before he would have thought it the 
 greateft degradation — at length he reached 
 home. No one was up, and they flood a 
 confiderable time knocking at the door, 
 
 when. 
 
70 FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 when, at length, the cook appeared. Not 
 believing it poflible fuch a miferable object 
 fhould be her young matter, fhe at firft re- 
 fufed him admittance, imagining it was 
 fome impudent trick, to difturb her at 
 that early hour ; fhe therefore, in no very 
 gentle tone, ordered them to be gone ; 
 but when ihe was convinced of her miftake, 
 fhe drefled herfelf with the utmoft expedi- 
 tion, and haftening down flairs, let the 
 wanderer in, with many exclamations of 
 wonder at the plight in which fhe few him. 
 He begged her, impatiently, to call his 
 mother ; fhe did fo — and in terror, and 
 amazement, foreboding fome evil, this 
 infatuated parent flew to him ; and when 
 fhe heard an account of what he had 
 endured, fhe wept at the recital, and com- 
 mended him for what he had done, de- 
 claring he had fhewn a proper fpirit. She 
 allured him he fhould return no more to 
 fchool, let Mr. Carlton fay what he would. 
 She then put him to bed, and gave him 
 fome white wine whey. He foon fell 
 
 afleep, 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. 7 1 
 
 afleep, and awoke not till late in the after- 
 noon. He was then too unwell to rife, not 
 only from the pain of his bruifes, but from 
 a violent cold, which had fiifFened his joints, 
 and made him incapable of moving without 
 great anguifh. His mother was fittingbyhim, 
 when a fervant informed her Mr. Carlton was 
 below. She went immediately to him, and 
 received him with the utmoft coldnefs. He 
 feemed but little to heed this, and addreffing 
 her with a ferious air, faid, when cc Madam, I 
 confented to become the guardian of your 
 fon, it was in the hope that I might be able to 
 refcue him from the evils, into which from 
 exceflive indulgence, he feemed finking, but 
 I fear my interference has arrived too late, 
 and I have to regret that all I planned for 
 his future welfare, muft end only in wifhes. 
 His conduct at the feminary where I placed 
 him has been fuch as to difgrace both him- 
 felf and his connections. Alarmed at his 
 abfence, the matter has been with me to 
 inquire after him, and he declares that he 
 would not again receive him, for any emo- 
 lument which could be offered. 
 
 "I am 
 
?2 FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 "I am very glad of it," --replied Mrs. 
 Hammond, angrily; " for on no consider- 
 ation fhould he. go. He has been treated in 
 a way which no boy of any fpirit could 
 bear, and I am feriouily rejoiced he efcaped 
 from it." 
 
 " I grieve," replied Mr. Carlton, " to 
 offend you ; yet hear me patiently, and be 
 affured I fpeak prophetically. The propen- 
 fities of your fon are fuch, that if you will 
 not concur with his real friends, in endea- 
 vouring to eradicate them, mod bitterly 
 will you, hereafter, rue your conduct On 
 a mind fuch as his, kindnefs makes no 
 longer any imprefTion, than whilfr it con- 
 tributes to his perfonal eafe ; and fhould he 
 ever be fenfible of the early advantages he 
 has loft, he will be the fir ft to reproach you 
 w r ith depriving him of them.' 5 
 
 " Indeed, Sir," exclaimed Mrs. Ham- 
 mond, indignantly, " if you have fo bad an 
 opinion of my fon, it is a pity you troubled 
 yourfelf either with him, or his affairs ; 
 but he has one parent left, and whilfl fhe 
 furvives, he will never want a friend.' ' 
 
 «He 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. y$ 
 
 "- He never will want one, Madam," 
 replied Mr. Carlton, <f in all the better part 
 of mankind, if his own conduct is what it 
 ought to be ; but you very much deceive 
 yourfelf if you fuppofe the pofletTion of a 
 few thoufands can fuppiy the want of a 
 good heart, or a cultivated mind. I am 
 very forry our opinions in this important 
 affair are fo different, becaufe much evil to 
 your fon muft be the confequence. From 
 ignorance he will fink to idlenefs, from 
 idlenefs to vice, and when no longer able 
 to guide him, you will wifti you had taken 
 the advice which you now defpife." 
 
 So faying he quitted the houfe, followed 
 by a fecret prayer that he might never again 
 enter it. 
 
 Several weeks palled before James was 
 perfectly recovered, and in the fear of being 
 again fent to fchool, he endeavoured to 
 protract his illnefs. 
 
 At length he could no longer make evei* 
 a pretence of indifpofition, and Mr. Carl- 
 ton was urgent for his being fent from 
 home. He propofed a fchool in the neight 
 
 vol. i. m bouphood 
 
74 FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 bourhood of Chelmsford, which, he faid, 
 had long preferved a high reputation, both 
 for the character of the matter, and the ex- 
 cellence of the fcholars it had produced. 
 Mrs. Hammond objected to the diftance, 
 and faid it was very hard her only child 
 might not be permitted to (lay at home. 
 She could then have an eye to his improve- 
 ment, and fee that his talks were learned 
 without all the mifery which had attended 
 his refidence at Hackney. She knew a 
 very good fehool near Bedford-fquare, and 
 that would be much more proper than 
 fending a child to fuch a diftance, who had 
 always been accuftomed to be treated ten- 
 derly, and could not bear the deprivation of 
 a boarding fchook 
 
 To this his guardian would not confent ; 
 yet weary of exertions which were not merely 
 ufelefs, but confidered as impertinent, or 
 unkind, he fuffered her to choofe a feminary 
 at a fhort diftance from the metropolis. 
 There her fon was fent, with ftric~t orders 
 that no feverity fhould be ufed towards 
 him. 
 
 The 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. J$ 
 
 The matter, indeed, was fuch an one as 
 might have been expected from her choice ; 
 an ignorant pedagogue, whofe large houfe 
 and extenfive play ground, with his plau- 
 fible and fawning addrefs, had gained 
 him the favour of the credulous, and the 
 praife of the ignorant. His pretentions to 
 learning were not lefs arrogant than un- 
 founded, and could deceive only the unde- 
 fcerning and illiterate. His new pupil was 
 foon diftinguifhed as a favourite j which 
 he owed neither to intrinfic merit, nor to a 
 fond mother's recommendation, but to the 
 report of his fortune, which had preceded 
 his arrival. 
 
 In confequence of this, he found his fitu- 
 ation very different to what it had formerly 
 been. He was often invited to take his 
 tea in the parlour, or to accompany Mrs. 
 Syntax in an afternoon vifit. His tafks 
 might be neglected with impunity, or his 
 exercifes performed, for a trifling douceur, 
 by fome other boy. If thefe were well 
 done, he received the praife; if ill, they 
 were paffed over in filence. 
 
 e 2 Mr. 
 
f ]6 FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 Mr. Carlton, who once vifited him, faw 
 with indignant regret how little his advice 
 had been attended to, and hopelefs of all 
 reformation, he lamented having accepted 
 the office of guardian, where he was per- 
 mitted to do fo little for the good of his 
 charge. , 
 
 Mrs. Hammond, who in her choice 
 of this feminary, thought fhe had dif- 
 played great judgment, fuffered her fon to 
 continue at it till he had completed his feven- 
 teenth year. She then propofed his returning 
 home, convinced he was as learned as it 
 was neceflary for a gentleman to be. Nor 
 was her pride in his abilities greater than 
 the pleafure fhe derived from his exterior 
 attractions. Here, indeed, fhe was not the 
 dupe of blind affection. — Nature had been 
 favourable to him in an uncommon degree, 
 and had the qualities of his mind kept pace 
 with the improvement of his perfon, he 
 might have claimed the efleem and admira- 
 tion of all who knew him. He was tall and 
 well proportioned; his features were re- 
 gular, his eyes large, penetrating, and of 
 
 the 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. JJ 
 
 the fined hazle ; his complexion was fair, 
 but not to effeminacy ; and his hair, which 
 was of a dark chefnut colour, and which 
 had not yet fubmitted to the torturing 
 hand of art, flowed in natural ringlets 
 on his forehead. His addrefs, when he 
 chofe it, was affable, and infinuating, 
 though at will he could change it, for one 
 four, and unconciliating. Yet with all 
 thefe exterior advantages, he could but 
 partially conceal an ignorant and felfifh 
 mind; — a heart unformed to virtue, — in- 
 clinations devoted to every difgraceful pur- 
 fuit. As feveral of his companions had, 
 on quitting fchool, entered the army, and 
 as his fortune, he thought, was not fuffi- 
 cient without fome addition, he deter- 
 mined on becoming a foldier alfo. He 
 had alfo another motive — He thought 
 the drefs more becoming than any other j 
 —it was the drefs of a gentleman, and 
 would gain him admittance to all gen- 
 teel fociety ; it would moreover fecure the 
 favour of the ladies, and he already con- 
 fidered this a very important point. As his 
 e 3 wifhes 
 
78 FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 wifhes were fufficient to fecure the con- 
 currence of his mother, he thought it not 
 neceflary to ccnfult Mr. Carlton ; towards 
 whom he had long cherifhed the mod 
 illiberal hatred, and whom he was gra- 
 tified to flight; but Mr. Carlton heard 
 of his intention, and fully aware 
 how ill qualified he was for the pro- 
 feffion/ he ventured to make fome repre- 
 fen rations, intended to fhew that the life of 
 a foldier was by no means a life of eafe and 
 pleafure. " A man," faid Mr. Carlton, 
 " who enters the army, to do his duty, 
 mud prepare his mind for every depriva- 
 tion ; for the hardfliips which in a&ual 
 fervice mud be endured* the comforts which 
 mud be relinquifhed ;— • -the courage, which 
 upon all emergencies mud be unfhaken ; — 
 and which, in the the midd of youth and 
 vigour, can contemplate death without 
 diAnay." 
 
 To this jud reprefentation, little anfwer 
 was returned. The young man thought 
 he knew better ; " in the ranks, indeed, 
 all this might be neceflary, but a gentle- 
 man 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE, 79 
 
 man would be differently treated every 
 where." 
 
 Mr. Carlton fhook his head, but was 
 filent. A pair of colours were purchafed, 
 and the young enfign followed his regiment 
 on a recruiting party, to a provincial town. 
 Here, during a period of continued idlenefs, 
 with no refources in himfelf, he became the 
 afibciate of the diflipated, and the prey of 
 the needy. His allowance from his guar- 
 dian was equal, as a minor, to what he had 
 a right to expect : but, unufed to regulate 
 his expences, or to refufe himfelf any in- 
 dulgence which the whim of the moment 
 fuggefled, he foon became involved in 
 debt. 
 
 In his difficulties he fcrupled not to ap- 
 ply to his mother, though his allowance 
 far exceeded her income ; indifferent to 
 herfelf, when his gratification was to be 
 procured, fhe remitted to him all fhe could 
 command ; this fell far fhort of his expec- 
 tations, and he commiffioned her to apply 
 to Mr. Carlton, and beg him to increafe 
 the fum allowed. Always eager to pleafe 
 e 4 him, 
 
8o FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 him, fhe haftened to the houfe of his guar- 
 dian, but (he was coldly received, and 
 wholly difappointed in her embafly. Mr* 
 Carlton faid " he was well informed of 
 the life her fon led, and though no more 
 than he dreaded, it mud ultimately conduct 
 him to that ruin, which had been long pre- 
 dicted. His allowance was liberal ; fupe- 
 rior to that of mod of his companions ; yet 
 theirs fufficed. I am acquainted, " faid 
 Mr. Carlton, " with the captain of the 
 regiment j he has nothing but his pay ; 
 yet he contrives to fpare from it, what is a 
 very comfortable fupply to a widowed mo- 
 ther ; and I am convinced, fooner than take 
 from her a farthing, he would ftarve at the 
 head of his regiment." 
 
 Mrs. Hammond was by no means infen- 
 fible to the reproof contained in this fpeech, 
 me warmly defended her fon, faid what he 
 had from her (he was fure he would repay 
 tenfold ; (he then renewed her fuit, but 
 finding Mr. Carlton inflexible, fhe departed 
 with many bitter regrets that a more ac- 
 commodating guardian had not been chofen. 
 
 She 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. 8 I 
 
 She wrote an account of her ill fuccefs to 
 her fon, entreating him to fupport his fpirits 
 under it, and alluring him as foon as her 
 own money became due (he would remit it. 
 Indifferent from what fource he was fup- 
 plieJ, fo long as his extravagance could 
 be gratified, he felt little compunction in 
 taking from a widowed parent what was bare- 
 ly lufficient for her own expences. He was 
 now involved in a courfe of folly and vice, 
 from which he feemed to have no wi(h to 
 extricate himfelf ; and more devoted to plea- 
 fure, as it became more ruinous, he was the 
 profefTed votary of every licentious purfuit. 
 
 As his difficulties increafed, his com- 
 plaints again ft Mr. Carlton were more vio- 
 lent. — His companions frequently heard 
 thefe invectives, and one of the moft diflfo- 
 lute formed his plans upon them. He 
 propofed, as a very great favour, " to intro- 
 duce him to a fet of merry fellows, at 
 whofe command forrune poifed her fcales, 
 and bellowed her gifts on her favourites, 
 with a liberality which made all other fup- 
 plies contemptible." This was heard, at 
 e 5 firfly 
 
82 FALSE INDULGENCE* 
 
 firft, with incredulity, but proofs being 
 adduced, nothing could exceed the impa- 
 tience of the new difciple to become one of 
 this honourable corps. Money he found 
 more neceflary than ever ; his landlady was 
 become troublefome, his laundrefs wifhed 
 to be paid, and his taylor was importunate. 
 One unpleafant delay retarded the moment 
 of expected triumph. It was neceflary to 
 wait for his mother's remittance, as none 
 were admitted who had not fome flake to 
 offer. This at length arrived, and he claim- 
 ed the performance of his friend's promife. 
 Fortune at firft fmiled upon him, or rather 
 his companions chofe fhe fhould. Intoxi- 
 cated by fuccefs, he now thought all eco- 
 nomy fuperfluous — he was pofTefled of 
 a fund upon which he might at all times 
 draw. 
 
 He lived in a more expenfive ftile, hired 
 another groom, added a fecond horfe to his 
 carriage, gave balls to the ladies, and din- 
 ners to the gentlemen. From this dream 
 of folly, and vice, he was roufed by the cla- 
 mours of his creditors ^ they had fo long 
 
 been 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. S$ 
 
 been deluded by promifes, that they now 
 refolved to procure fomething more fub- 
 flantial. They aflailed him with fuch per- 
 fevering vigilance, that he feldom went out 
 but he was encountered by a dun, or (laid 
 at home but to hear of their demands. 
 Enraged at being tormented by thofe whom 
 he held in fuch contempt, he told them 
 c * they might feek their money where they 
 could ; he was only a minor, and could not . 
 be obliged to pay, and fince they had 
 adopted fuch conduct he never would ; he 
 was determined to punifh their infolence, 
 and let them know what it was to infult a 
 gentleman." This was conduct little ex- 
 pected ; as they confidered him as thought- 
 lefs as he was extravagant, and that he 
 would be as ready, when able, to pay, as he 
 had been to run in debt. 
 
 Convinced of the illegality of their 
 claims, and too late aware that they had 
 nothing to expect from the honour of their 
 debtor, they changed their tone, and repre- 
 fented the injury which they mufl fuftain, 
 the wants of their families, and the eager- 
 e 6 nefs 
 
84 FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 nefs with which they had endeavoured to 
 give fatisfa&ion, in what they had fupplied 
 him with. Inflead of being moved by thefe 
 juft reprefentations, he was more infoient, 
 as they were more humble, and treated 
 their efforts to obtain redrefs as a fpecies of 
 effrontry, which demanded chaftifement. 
 
 At length the wifhed-for period arrived 
 —He entered his twenty-firft year. — He 
 gave a fumptuous entertainment to his 
 friends, and with joy clofed every account 
 with Mr. Carlton, whofe admonitions, and 
 reproofs had long been rnoft irkfome j 
 fuch was, however, the prudence with which 
 his fortune had been managed, that during 
 his minority the original fum had been al- 
 moft doubled. — Yet to him, into whofe 
 hands it now paffed, it was far other than 
 a bleiTmg 
 
 Profufe, without generofity ; prodigal 
 of pleafure, without a wifh of imparting it ; 
 his expences flowed in the fingle channel of 
 felfifh indulgence. In the midft of his en- 
 joyment he thought not of his mother ; nor 
 of all his profufe expences, did one fmall 
 
 fum 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. 85 
 
 fum extend to her. She was grieved and 
 mortified, more fo tban (he would ?> .know- 
 ledge even to herfelf ; but (he failed not to 
 feek for excufes in the buttle and employ- 
 ment of fuch a moment. - 
 
 After having been removed to different 
 parts of the kingdom, the regiment was 
 ordered upon duty at the palace. He 
 frequently faw his mother, who^ forgetting 
 the neglect with which fhe had been treated, 
 received him with rapturous delight, and 
 expreflions of the fondeft maternal joy. 
 
 He was now the profeiTed man of 
 fafnion ; his carriage, his liverie?, his per- 
 ion, his language were all adapted to 
 the reigning mode ; and though thefe, 
 even to his mother, were often abfurd, fhe 
 qualified them by the idea that he mufl be 
 like other gentlemen. Her utmofl wi(h 
 was gratified by his martial appearance, his 
 titled acquaintance, and the tafte and fhew 
 of his carriage. Only at a diftance, how- 
 ever, could (he admire this, for fuch was 
 his pride, and ingratitude, he blufhed to 
 acknowledge her as his parent to his proud 
 
 ac- 
 
86 FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 acquaintances ; and never vifited her but 
 when fecure of not being feen. His lodg- 
 ings were in Pall-mall, and even before his 
 fervants, he liked not fhe mould appear. — 
 Yet he was the conftant fubject of her con- 
 verfation, her criterion of excellence, and 
 the ftandard by which fhe meafured all 
 other perfe&ion. The firfl alloy her plea- 
 Aire received, was by the information of 
 the regiment being ordered on foreign fer- 
 viee* This was as little agreeable to her 
 fon, though he endeavoured to conceal his 
 chagrin under bluftering preparations for 
 his departure. He grieved to relinquish 
 the pleafures, and amufements of London, 
 for the inconveniences of a camp, the dan- 
 gers of actual fervice, and the ills of an un- 
 healthy climate ; and could he have ex- 
 changed with any other corps, he would 
 gladly have done it, even though he muft 
 have braved the ridicule of his companions, 
 and the charge of cowardice. 
 
 The officers of the corps confifted chiefly 
 of young men of high birth, but fmall for- 
 tune ; eager to fignaiize themfelves in the 
 4 field 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. 87 
 
 field of glory, and defirous of promo'ion on 
 the honourable claim of merit. S ) different 
 were their feelings to thofe of their pufilla- 
 nimous companion, that whilfl he was re- 
 joicing in every delay, they were impatient 
 for the moment of departure. 
 
 At length the tranfports were ready, and 
 the troops ordered to embark. With a heavy 
 heart Mr. Hammond quitted London, and 
 now firft repented having engaged in a 
 profeffion, where pleafure was by no means 
 without alby. In idea he faw the enemy 
 advancing, heard the roar of their cannon, 
 faw their bayonets pointed at him, beheld 
 his companions fall around, and difeafe and 
 depiivation reigning throughout the camp. 
 He fhudde; ed, and looked with bitter regret 
 towards the receding mores of his native 
 ifland. During the paflage, which was long 
 and dangerous, he fuffered much from fea- 
 ficknefs ; his impatience, ill humour, and 
 complaints, made him fo difgufting to his 
 gayer companions, that they foon abfented 
 themfelves wholly from his cabin. Soli- 
 tude was of all things mod dreadful to him, 
 
 and 
 
88 false indulgence; 
 
 and his own fociety the moft irkfome. 
 Heavily paffed the hours unmarked by dif- 
 fipation, or devoid of thofe arnufements, 
 which could alone, he thought 3 give a zed 
 to life. At length the wifhed-for period 
 for difembarkation arrived, and he once 
 more breathed the air of freedom. Health 
 feemed wafted on the breeze, and he flat- 
 tered hknfelf his fituation would be more 
 agreeable than he had dared to hope. In 
 the firft moments of emancipation, he gave 
 a loofe to thofe propensities which had 
 been fo long and fo painfully retrained ; 
 but he foon found that he could not here, 
 as in London, devote his days to diffipa- 
 tion, his nights to the gaming table. He 
 was under the eye of a commander, who 
 exacted not only the ftricteft difcipline, 
 but the moft examplary conduct. Gene- 
 ral Armftrong was a veteran in the fervice, 
 and brooked not the fmalleft failure of 
 duty. Brave, generous, a ftranger to all 
 perfonal indigencies, the glory of his 
 country was his firft: boaft, and its hon- 
 our, the cherifhed pride of his heart. He 
 
 re- 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. 89 
 
 required from his officers the mod patriotic 
 ardour ; and wholly reverfed the fyftem 
 Mr. Hammond had adopted ; he allowed 
 for failings in the common men, which he 
 thought deferving the higheft cenfure in 
 their fuperiors. He was not long ignorant 
 of the character of the enfign, and he de- 
 termined to overlook in him no failure of 
 duty. Yet fo far was his vigilance eluded, 
 (for the vicious foon find the means of in- 
 dulging bad propenfities) that Mr. Ham- 
 mond had not long been in Egypt, before 
 he found a fet of aflbciates, with whom he 
 renewed his bacchanalian revels, though 
 under a reftraint, which he had never be- 
 fore found neceQary. Confcious how little 
 his conduct would bear the fcrutinizing eye 
 of the general, he avoided with the utmoft 
 vigilance all intercourfe which his duty as a 
 foldier did not exact. Devoid of merit 
 himfelf, he was incapable of appreciating 
 it in others ; and made thofe principles the 
 conftant theme of his ridicule, which would 
 neither tolerate folly or vice. 
 
 He had been fpending an evening with 
 
 his 
 
OO FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 his ufual afTociates, amongft whom gaming 
 was introduced— foured by ill luck, and 
 tortured by the belief of having been 
 the dupe of greater knaves than himfelf, 
 he was reeling to his quarters with an 
 aching head, when the drum beat to 
 arms. All was inftant buftle and prepa- 
 ration, and the officers anfwered the fum- 
 mons with alacrity. Not fo Mr. Ham- 
 mond — though much intoxicated, fear 
 feemed to fober him ; he ran precipitately 
 forward, with the inftinctive defign of hiding 
 himfelf from the dreaded call, One of his 
 companions met him, and enquired the 
 caufe of his agitation. He could not an- 
 fwer — his whole frame trembled — his ton- 
 gue refufed its office, and clafping his 
 hands in an agony, whilfl unmanly tears 
 bedewed his cheeks, he ran precipitately 
 into the firft (helter which offered. He 
 was foon after fummoned to his pod ; but 
 not till the third command had been irTued, 
 and enforced with the moft ignominious 
 threat, did he dare join the fearlefs troops. 
 The order was given inftantly to pre- 
 pare 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. 91 
 
 pare for battle ; the enemy had gained by 
 fecret marches, and was now at a very little 
 diftance. 
 
 The certainty of this completed the ter- 
 rors of cowardice ; and neither the taunts, 
 nor farcafms of his companions, had any 
 effect. A difcharge of artillery was heard, 
 and his agony increafed. The march be- 
 gan — morning dawned — and the enemy 
 appeared in fight. This feemed a moment 
 of annihilation to the pufillanimous Ham- 
 mond ; he dared not lift up his eyes in hor- 
 ror of the objects he mould fee, and think- 
 ing the plea of illnefs was his only refuge j 
 he declared he was fo much indifpofed, he 
 could not (land. His conduct was foon 
 reported to the general, who advanced to 
 the head of the battalion, and with an in- 
 dignant countenance told him, if he could 
 not better conceal his daftardly fears, he 
 would do well to quit the ranks, as he was 
 an object of contempt and derifion to all 
 his companions. Roufed by this fpeech to 
 fome fenfe of fliame, he endeavoured to 
 fhake off the feelings which appalled him, 
 
 and 
 
92 FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 and to gain from the undaunted counte- 
 nances and impetuous courage of his com- 
 rades, fome degree of compofure. But 
 the effort was vain ! Self* the object of all 
 his cares, was flill predominant, and he 
 would have thought the falvation of a king- 
 dom dearly purchafed, if his life muft have 
 been the facrifice. The more he con- 
 templated his danger, the more certain it 
 appeared, till the dread of fuffering, and of 
 death, conquering every other feeling, 
 when the ranks were formed, and every 
 one commanded to iland firm to his pod, 
 he uttered a deep groan, and fell fenfelefs on 
 the earth. 
 
 Some of the foldiers were immediately 
 ordered to remove him to a little diftance, 
 and there leave him. He continued fome 
 time infenfible — and when he recovered, 
 his ears were appalled by all the din of 
 war. He crept into a fmall cavity, which 
 a neighbouring hill afforded, and there lay 
 panting with terror many hours. 
 
 The battle was long, and bloody, for 
 both fides fought with valour ; victory at 
 
 length 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. 93 
 
 length fmiled on the banners of the Englifh ; 
 the enemy founded a retreat, and the con- 
 querors returned in triumph to their camp. 
 
 Mr. Hammond was difcovered by fome 
 of his own foldiers, and conducted, by 
 order of the general, to confinement, till 
 he mould be tried by a court martial. His 
 behaviour had been fo notorious, and fo 
 contemptible, that not one of his affociates 
 would acknowledge his acquaintance ; and 
 he was left in folitude to his own reflec- 
 tions. 
 
 Thefe pointed out to him nothing that 
 was confolatory, for however vice had 
 blunted his feelings, he could not be infen- 
 fible to the difgraceful circumflances under 
 which he laboured. He deprecated the 
 hour when he firft chofe the profeflion of a 
 foldier, and would willingly have relinquifh- 
 ed all he held dear, to be fafe in England, 
 free from the feelings which now oppreffed 
 him. 
 
 Three days he pafTed thus ; on the 
 fourth he was carried before his judges, 
 
 and 
 
94 FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 and after a fliort trial, in which he had no- 
 thing to fay in his defence, he was ignomini- 
 oufly broke for cowardice, and expelled the 
 army for ever. 
 
 After fuch a fentence it was fcarcely pof- 
 fible for him to appear, and he feized with 
 avidity the earlieft opportunity of a vefTel 
 failing for England, to quit a fpot which 
 had been fo unpropitious to him. Yet 
 inftead of amending from what he had fuf- 
 fered, or obliterating the marks of difgrace, 
 by forfaking his vices, he was alone eager 
 to efcape from thofe reproaches which his 
 confcience but too frequently made. With 
 unceafmg avidity he fought his old com- 
 panions, and plunged deeper in vice and 
 difgrace. His heart, hardened by guilt, 
 feerned invulnerable to every better feeling, 
 and even the confcience which had feebly 
 warned him, now ilumbered amidft the 
 benumbing influence cf vice and de- 
 pravity. 
 
 His mother, who was immediately in- 
 formed of his return to England, was cruel- 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. 95 
 
 ly mortified at his conduct, a report of 
 which had preceded his arrival ; yet fhe 
 had fuffered fo much from fears for his 
 fafety, that however damped by the ftigma 
 on his character, her heart acknowledged 
 its joy at his return. 
 
 He had not been long in England, be- 
 fore he was embarrafled by pecuniary dif- 
 ficulties ; his fortune, which he had wafted 
 with the moft lavifh prodigality, no longer 
 enabled him to vie with every competitor. 
 He had fpent thoufand after thoufand, till 
 now only a few hundreds remainded. He 
 was not infenftble to the mortifications his 
 thoughtless folly expofed him to, and his 
 only means of drowning reflection was in 
 midnight intoxication, or delufive efforts 
 for recovering loft affluence at the gam- 
 ing table. But thefe only plunged him 
 deeper in mifery ; his health was impaired, 
 the fmall remnant of his fortune exhaufted, 
 and his ruin more inevitable. 
 
 One night flufhed with an uncommon 
 run of luck, he ftaked all he had won, in 
 
 the 
 
96 ' FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 the hope of doubling it ; he was unfuccefs- 
 fuJ, and couid throw no more. 
 
 The fiery paflions of his nature, inflamed 
 by the wine which he had previoufly 
 drank, now burft forth, and he uttered 
 curfes and imprecations, (hocking even 
 to ears accuftomed to vice. He burfl 
 from the room, and ran through feveral 
 ftreets with a velocity, which defied all pur- 
 fuit. At length, feeing the door of a tavern 
 open,, he entered, and calling for wine, 
 fwallowed glafs after glafs till he fell infen- 
 fible under the table. He was dragged by 
 one of the waiters to bed, and the next 
 morning awoke to the horrors he had vain- 
 ly endeavoured to efcape the evening before. 
 He paid, with the little cam which he 
 poflefTed, for the wine he had drank j and 
 not knowing where elfe to proceed, he 
 returned to his mother. Her watchful 
 fondnefs, which even neglect had not di- 
 minifhed, foon difcovered in his counte- 
 nance fomething amifs. She enquired the 
 caufe with unaffected folicitude, but was 
 anfwered by a churlifh requeft that me 
 3 would 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. QJ 
 
 would not trouble herfelf with what did not 
 concern her. This anfwer did not difpe! 
 her anxiety, and fhe too foon learned what 
 was his real fituation. In the firft moment 
 ofanguifh, her furTerings were unmitigabie. 
 Deluded by the weaknefs which made fo 
 ftriking a part of her character, fhe had 
 never fuppofed it poftible he could materially 
 err. Even the vices which had fo long 
 diflinguifhed him, fhe gloried over with the 
 excufe of youth, high fpirits, and want of 
 experience ; and fo far was (he from tra- 
 cing confequences in their caufe, that it had 
 never occurred to her, vice is progreilive, 
 and that he who becomes the monfter of 
 fociety, once ftarted at the crimes he now 
 fearlefsly commits. When fhe heard that 
 his fortune was gone, and faw that his 
 health was ruined ; in the firft moment 
 of anguilh, fhe deprecated the hour in 
 which (he bore him. He heard her lamen- 
 tations with ill humour, and told her if 
 fire had no better confolation to give him 
 
 fhe would do well to be filent. She 
 
 vol. i. f was 
 
98 FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 was filent — for agony prevented her 
 fpeaking. 
 
 As he had never thought it neceffary to 
 be pun&ual in paying his tradefmen, the 
 knowledge of his ruined fortune, which 
 was foon fpread abroad, brought upon him 
 many claimants. Thefe becoming more ur- 
 gent, as his means of fatisfying them de- 
 creafed, he was threatened with an arrefl. 
 He endeavoured to foften their refentment 
 by promifes of fpeedy payment, and allured 
 them in the courfe of a few days he mould 
 receive a fum more than fufficient for the 
 payment of every demand. In the hope of 
 his punctuality, they quitted him, but told 
 him if he failed at the time appointed, they 
 would wait no longer, 
 
 Glad to be rid of them upon any terms, 
 he allured them in the mod foiemn manner 
 they fhould be paid, and then feeking his 
 mother, he requeued her to affift him. She 
 declared her utter inability, as (lie had 
 formerly borrowed for him fo much, under 
 the idea that he would repay her when 
 
 he 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. 0/$ 
 
 he eame of age, that fhe had been obliged 
 to live very pariimonioufly ever fmce, to* 
 difcharge the debt. 
 
 Not unmindful of the reproach contain- 
 ed in this fpeech, he anfwered with more 
 than ufual morofenefs, " to be fure you 
 have chofen a good time to tell me this, 
 when you know I have nothing. Could 
 you not have afked me, when I had money ? 
 but this is always the way with you $** and 
 without any further ceremony he quitted 
 the houfe, and fauntered into Bond-ftreet* 
 This was his ufual morning lounge, but 
 not now did he traverfe it with the gay 
 thoughtleflhefs which once made apart of his 
 character. Dread and anticipated want em- 
 bittered his mind, made him afraid of being 
 abroad, left he mould meet a creditor, and 
 dread home left: it mould be affailed by 
 bailiffs. Yet fo far was he from feeling any 
 compunction, that he blamed his mother 
 as the fource of all his calamities ; "why did 
 ihe not relieve him, and why had me taught 
 him to think he might do every thing with 
 impunity r" Appreciating her conduct not 
 f 2 by 
 
'TOO FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 by its caufe, but its effects, he nourifhed in 
 his bofom towards her a rancour the mod 
 unnatural, and declared, " Had fhe taught 
 him better, he mould not now have been 
 the wretch he was ; he might have pofleffed 
 his fortune, and enjoyed his independence, 
 but (he was a fool, and fo were all women." 
 Abforbed in thefe dreadful reflections, and 
 agitated by thefe cruel reproaches, he ob- 
 ierved not that he was an object of atten- 
 tion to thofe who parted him ; nor had an 
 idea that the anguifh of his mind was pic- 
 tured but too legibly on his countenance. 
 The idle and unfeeling obferved him with 
 wonder or ridicule, but the more humane 
 lamented that one fo young mould be the 
 prey of fuch evident mifery. Roufed at 
 length from his lethargy, by the audible 
 whifpers of fome, and the geftures and 
 grimaces of others, he haflened to his lodg- 
 ings, and was informed by his fervant, that 
 his mother had been to fpeak to him, and 
 wifhed to fee h«m upon particular bufinefs. 
 " Perhaps," faid he to himfelf, " the old 
 woman relents j perhaps fhe has found fome 
 
 fnug 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. I0f 
 
 ihug money which will jufl fuit me ; as to 
 her talking of being embarraffed, how 
 fhould that be ? what has me to fpend 
 any thing about ?" 
 
 So faying he returned to Henrietia-ftreet. 
 He found her weeping from the remem- 
 brance of his parting fpeech ; for he had 
 told her, if fhe did not aiTitl him he mould 
 foon be in a gaol. He chid her for remem- 
 bering fuch nonfenfe, and afked whether 
 fhe had thought of fome means of relieving 
 him V f 
 
 " She told him that was impoflible; as fhe 
 had nothing but her annuity, the whole of 
 which would be incompetent to difcharge 
 his debts." 
 
 " Then what/' faid he, in a paflion, 
 " did you fend to me for ? Could you not 
 have let me blow out my brains in peace, 
 for you may be affured I will never outlive 
 an arreft ! Did I not tell you before, thefe 
 fellows mud be paid ? it is not very likely 
 they will wait ; and indeed, when I meet 
 with fuch condutl from a relation, I have 
 f 3 no 
 
TO 2 3" A L'S E INDUJLG-ENCE. 
 
 mo right to expect kindnefs from a 
 Granger/* 
 
 64 And do you accufe me with want of 
 affection," faid (he in a tone of bitter re- 
 gret, " Oh ! that you had nothing elfe to 
 reproach me with !" 
 
 " I do reproach you with that, very 
 jufily. Have you not the power of reliev- 
 ing me, and do you not withhold it ?" 
 
 " And if I rob myfelf of all, who will 
 help me when eld age comes upon me; 
 and I want the comforts I have always been 
 ufed to ?" 
 
 c6 Fho, pho! don't talk in that manner $ 
 you'll want no comforts. Have you not 
 me?" 
 
 tc Indeed I have/ 9 faid me, and me 
 flghed bitterly. 
 
 " Well," continued he, without heeding 
 her anguifh, " will you help me ? never 
 think of the future; to*- morrow is always 
 bed left to itfelf; you'll never be happy 
 if you go on plaguing yourfelf about what 
 h to comer" 
 
 Again 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. 103 
 
 Again me fighed but made no anfwer. 
 He demanded of her what fae would do ? 
 
 " I can do nothing," continued me, 
 i( without I part with my furniture, and 
 every thing in my power to difpofe of i all 
 elfe you had long ago." 
 
 " Very well;'' faid he, cc don't repeat 
 that any more, for I think 1 have heard ic 
 about a thoufand times. If you will not 
 aflift me, you will, mod probably, hear 
 of me where I mentioned/' He then hur- 
 ried out of the houfe, without attending to 
 her anfwer. 
 
 Hardly had he pafled through Covent 
 Garden, when he obferved two ill looking 
 men follow him. He felt uneafy, and 
 quickened his pace ; they did the fame— 
 and on his eroding to enter a coffee-houfe, 
 in order to avoid them, one of them laid 
 hold of him. He demanded in a peremp- 
 tory tone what they wanted ? 
 
 " Take the trouble, fir, to be a little 
 civ'I •" faid one of them. c; We have an 
 arreft againil you, at the fuit of Mr. Alder- 
 man Buckram.'' 
 
 f 4 « For 
 
104 FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 " For how much ?" 
 
 " One hundred and ninety pounds fix 
 fhillings and threepence. 5 ' 
 
 Mr. Hammond looked aghaft: ; refinance, 
 be knew was fruitlefs, and having no means 
 of payment, in gloomy defpondence, he 
 fuffered himfelf to be carried to prifon. 
 After the firft emotions of terror were fub- 
 fided, he determined to fend to his mother, 
 hoping that when me faw him in pri- 
 fon, fhe would think no facrifice too great 
 to releafe him. Neither gratitude or ten- 
 dernefs ever made a part of his character, or 
 he could not, without compunction, have 
 thought of robbing a widowed mother of 
 the fole fupport of declining life. 
 
 Terrified at his meffage, ihe flattened to 
 him ; and as he had predicted, was not 
 proof againft his promifes and tears ; but 
 confented to procure his releafe, though at 
 the facrifice of all fhe poffeffed. " But, 
 remember," faid fhe, <c when you have 
 had this, I can do no more ; for the next 
 facrifice would rob me of the means of 
 fubfiftence ; and at my time of life, it would 
 
 be 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. 1C$ 
 
 be hard to want." The recollection of all 
 fhe had hoped from him, of the bitter dis- 
 appointment fhe endured, and of his pre- 
 fent difgraceful fituation, was too much for 
 her, and burfling into agonizing tears* 
 fhe fat with her face covered with her 
 hands, in a ftate of fufFering too great 
 for fpeech., 
 
 Supprefling the ready reproach which 
 was rifing to his lips, he endeavoured to 
 confole her, and afTumed a cheerfulnefs he 
 did not fcdy in order to reconcile her to 
 the facriflce fhe was making. He promifed,. 
 in future, to be wholly guided by her, to^ 
 live with her, and to make amends for ail- 
 that (he had endured. 
 
 Thefe were promifes mod grateful to* 
 her, and, if kept, would fully recompence 
 her for every facriflce. She returned in 
 the hackney coach which had brought her 3 . 
 and in a few hours fettled every demand of 
 Mr. Buckram. She then haftened to the 
 prifon, and with a fmiling face told her fon 
 he was at liberty. The charges of the 
 jailor, &c. were paid, and they were de- 
 parting, when, juft as they were ftepping 
 ' f 5 intc> 
 
Io6 FALSE 'INDULGENCE. 
 
 into the coach, the bailiff who had before 
 ferved the arreft, produced another, for 
 more than five times the mm. The unfor- 
 tunate parent was petrified ;•— all her new- 
 raifed hopes vanifhed in an inflant ; — fhe fell 
 infenfible on the earth, and it was many 
 hours before (he recovered to a fenfe of her 
 mifery. When {he did, inftead of the 
 tendernefs (he might have expected, me 
 heard nothing but the bittereft reproaches, 
 becaufe me was not able to difcharge every 
 bill, and was even required to part with her 
 annuity, which was now all that remained. 
 This fhe refufed with a fteadinefs, which had 
 it been earlier exerted, might have been 
 beneficial to both; itnowonly drew uponher 
 the keened cenfures and declarations that 
 had me earlier taught him his duty, 
 he mould never have been allured to the 
 fcenes of vice which had proved his ruin. 
 All that fhe had before endured was nothing 
 to this reproach*-- it pierced her heart — it 
 feemed even to flop the blood which warmed 
 it. She wrung her hands, uttered the bit- 
 tereil lamentations, and appealed to her un- 
 grateful fon whether her whole life had not 
 % been 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE, I07 
 
 been a facrifice to his happinefs, and in a mo- 
 •ment of ungoverned phrenzy, called down 
 curfes on filial ingratitude. 
 
 He hee led not her anguifh, or her com- 
 plaints — he was alone fenfible of thofe 
 perfonal deprivations, which he thought 
 awaited him, and with a cruelty almofl 
 unparalled, he told her if (he would do no- 
 thing for him, if fhe could fit down, and 
 enjoy a fuperfluity whiift he was flarving in 
 a gaol, fhe had better go, as her prefence 
 only increafed his diflrefs. She did go 
 though hardly able to fupport herfelf to the 
 coach ; and retired to her folitary home, to 
 weep and lament. Several days puffed thus y 
 when fhe received from the ungrateful ob- 
 ject of her folicitude, who well knew how to 
 work upon her feelings, a letter couched in 
 the mod penitential terms ; representing 
 the miferies of his confinement, the dread- 
 ful profpecl before him, and concluding 
 with an aflurance that were he but once 
 free, he would forfake every folly, would 
 be to her the fon fhe thought (he had loft* 
 would live with her, work for her> and 
 f 6 • con* 
 
loS FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 convince her he was not the worthlefs be* 
 ing (he thought him. This letter was ex- 
 actly calculated to (hake the refolution me 
 had formed, and which was only powerful, 
 whilft fupported by her anger; (he read 
 the letter feverai times, and with" revived 
 feelings of tendernefs. Whilfl her fon was 
 in his prefent deplorable e ire urn (lances, (he 
 could enjoy nothing, however affluent her 
 lot ; with him, in the mod remote corner of 
 the world,, (lie knew (he could happy, were 
 he but induced to forfake his vices. " And 
 why mould he not forfake them; other 
 young men had erred, and afterwards had 
 turned out very excellent characters — and fo 
 would he — he had fuffered for his foll'es* 
 and it was not likely he would again plunge 
 into them." Thus me argued, and thus< 
 me believed — and though in a moment of 
 cool reflection, a dread of what (he might be 
 expofed to, when deprived of all fupport r 
 ftole acrofs her mind, (he haftily banimed 
 the fuggeftion, endeavouring to perfuade 
 herfelf, that the fon for whom (he had done 
 & much would never fufFer her to pine 
 
 in- 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. I09 
 
 in want of what fhe had expended for him, 
 Strengthening this belief by recollections, 
 of what fhe thought his early promife, fhe 
 at length determined to make one great 
 effort to aflifl him ; and gave up, with more 
 readinefs than the worth leffnefs of the ob- 
 ject deferved, all that remained to her of 
 independence j — by this means he was libe- 
 rated. 
 
 She hired a fmall lodging not far from 
 her former, abode, and to this fhe retired, 
 accompanied by her fon, and foothed by 
 the hope that he would folace her for all 
 fhe had relinquifhed. 
 
 For a few weeks (he was gratified — but 
 the delufion was foon over. When danger 
 and imprifonment no longer threatened, 
 penitence and promifes were forgotten. A 
 life of retirement little fuited the vicious 
 habits of one, who had, for fo many years, 
 lived in conftant diflipation. He returned 
 to his old aiTociates, and as far as he was 
 able, to his old habits. He found means of 
 being again admitted to the gaming table, 
 and though he only acted a fubordinate 
 
 character, 
 
110 ffALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 character, it was not, therefore, lefs nefa- 
 rious. When his wretched mother faw 
 him, it was only to behold him funk to the 
 loweft infamy 5 to hear frefh demands for 
 money, and bitter complaints that me had 
 none to beftow. She now, too late, faw the 
 feeble bafis on which fhe had hoped his 
 reformation; and with bitternefs felt, that 
 he was indeed the monfter of wickednefs, 
 which it had once been predicted he would 
 become. Heart-broken, and robbed in de- 
 clining life of the comforts (he had always 
 been ufed to, fhe did not long drag on her 
 miferabie exiftence \ and on her death-bed, 
 too late lamented that weak fondnefs which 
 had been the early bafis of her fon's ruin. 
 
 The (hock, which the firfl intimation of 
 her death caufed, was foon forgotten by 
 one who believed in fpite of her affurances 
 to the contrary, that fhe had fomething 
 considerable to leave. The grief which this 
 difappointment caufed was far fuperior to 
 every other ; and this was increafed, as 
 debts began again to multiply, and he had 
 nothing with which to difcharge them. He 
 
 was 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE-. II! 
 
 was now funk in the lowed (late of vice ; 
 his companions were the moil abandoned, 
 and the moft profligate outcafts of fociety \ 
 whomnonebut thofe v/hohad thrown off even 
 the femblance of virtue, could pafs their time 
 with. His appearance was as deplorable 
 as his circumftances ; fome time had elapf- 
 ed, fince the care of his perfon was his 
 firfl: concern ; that perfon, which nature 
 had endowed with mere than common 
 attractions, but of which not a trace now 
 remained. His countenance was pallid, his 
 eyes funk, his frame debilitated; and 
 though yet in early youth, his health was 
 dedroyed. Riot and irregularity had 
 brought on a premature old age. 
 
 He was foon in the cuflody of bailiffs, and 
 languifhed nearly two years in confinement — 
 at length, by the connivance of a fervanr, 
 he was enabled to make his efcape. 
 
 The evening had clofed when he turned 
 his back on the dark walls of his prifon ; 
 and with a fpeed which feemed to defy 
 purfuit, he ran along, in hopes of quitting 
 
 the 
 
112 FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 the metropolis, before his abfence mould be 
 difcoverecL 
 
 It was fo long fince he had breathed the 
 free air, fo long fince he had taken any ex- 
 ercife beyond the precin&s of his narrow 
 cell, that he found himfelf very unequal to 
 the fpeed he wifhed to exert. He looked 
 around with eager gaze for fome place of 
 fafety, but none offered. He feemed alone 
 in the wide world — every finger, he believed, 
 pointed at him— every being, he thought,. 
 his declared enemy. Thebofom which had 
 once beat only for him, the affection which 
 had once no other object, was now cold 
 in the mouldering grave. A pang of bitter 
 reproach pierced his foul — he endeavoured 
 to drive it away ; but it Hill clung to him,, 
 ftill reprefented the injured parent who had 
 {acrificed all for him. 
 
 At length he faw himfelf without the. 
 precincts of the metropolis, and inhaled a 
 purer air. He continued his fpeed till the 
 dawn of morning, when he quitted the 
 high road, and after fomefearch difcovered 
 
 a retired 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. I1J 
 
 a retired flied, in which he refolved to con- 
 ceal himfelf till night again offered her fe- 
 curity. He foon fell afleep, and awoke not 
 till late in the afternoon. He now began to 
 feel the cravings of hunger, but he had 
 nothing to fatisfy his appetite. He looked 
 around, but could fee no fign of habitation, 
 and was at length obliged to make his 
 meal of a few berries which the furround- 
 ing hedges afforded — a brook fupplied him 
 better with drink — but not till the next 
 day did he procure any other fuftenance. 
 It was then at a lonely houfe, he ventured 
 to afk relief ; an old man flood at the door, 
 who looked earneftly at him, and giving 
 him half a loaf, " I ought, perhaps,'* faid 
 he, " not to relieve, but commit you to the 
 hands of juftice. I faw this day an adver- 
 tifement defcribing your perfon, and offer- 
 ing a reward for your apprehennon ; your 
 figure is too remarkable not to be inftantly 
 recognized. What but vice could have 
 brought you to fuch degradation ? go your 
 ways, and remember you may be difcovered 
 by thofe who will be more eager than 
 
 myfelf 
 
124 FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 myfelf to return you to forrow, and a 
 gaol." 
 
 Struck by thefe words, the miferable fu- 
 gitive again betook himfelf to rlight, in the 
 midft of a fpeech which the ftranger was 
 addreffing to him. With feelings known 
 only to the guilty, he purfued his weary 
 way, wkhout once daring to (lop. His 
 mind involuntarily reverted to his early 
 years, when parental fondnefs watched over 
 him, and when the evils he now endured 
 feemed impoflible to overwhelm him — the 
 comfortable home, the affectionate parent, 
 the means of independence were aU gone ! 
 loft by his own folly or wickednefs. De- 
 ftra&ion was in the thought — his paflions 
 always vehement and ungoverned, now rofe 
 almoft to madnefs in the bitternefs of teif- 
 upbraidingc He lamented that he had 
 ever been born, and defperately refolved 
 on fome means to extricate him from his 
 mifery. He pafied a week in this deplo- 
 rable manner, receiving no other food than 
 the fcanty morfel of cafual charity. The 
 weakness of difeafe was now ftealing upon 
 
 him i 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. II5 
 
 him ; racking pains tortured every joint- 
 faint ficknefs overpowered him — his head 
 was dizzy, his right failed him ; an oppref- 
 five weight feenied to fuipend his breath, 
 and his trembling knees refufed to fupport 
 him. He funk down under a hedge, and 
 loft", for fome time, all fenfe of fuifering in 
 encreafmg infenfibility. He knew not how 
 long he remained in thisfituation, when, on 
 opening his eyes, with an imperfect recol- 
 lection of what he had endured, he ob- 
 ferved a gentleman, attended by two fer- 
 vants, who was attentively regarding him; 
 The firanger inquired what was the matter 
 with him ? Ill as he was the fear of detec- 
 tion dill animated his mind, and at firlt he 
 made no reply. A repetition of the quef- 
 tion, in the miidefl tone, at length banifhed 
 his fears, and he gave fudi and account of 
 himfelf, as failed not to awaken companion 
 in a heart always alive to the dictates of 
 humanity. He was immediately taken to 
 a neighbouring cottage, and put to bed. 
 Here he was attended, during a long and 
 dangerous illnefs,with unwearied attention; 
 
 and 
 
Il6 FALSE INDULGENCE* 
 
 and when he recovered, as he had evident- 
 ly no means of maintaining himfelf, the 
 gentleman offered to take him into his fer- 
 vice, as he was at that time in want of a 
 groom. The propofal was readily ac- 
 cepted, for nothing more eligible offered, 
 and it was preferable to want or imprison- 
 ment — but here, too indolent for labour^ 
 too depraved to fettle into habits of virtue, 
 he pined for thofe pleafures, which, though 
 they had been fo fatal, were (till but too 
 attractive : the kindnefs he had experienced 
 had awakened no gratitude in him, and in 
 bitter, though filent murmurs, at the de- 
 gradation, which, as a fervant, he endured, 
 he pafled feveral months. By degrees the 
 compunction which illnefs and terror had 
 awakened, wore away, and yielding, but too 
 readily, to the fuggeftion of guilt, he 
 formed the infamous defign of robbing his 
 benefactor. Money, he thought, was all 
 that was wanted to reftore him to eafe and 
 pleafure ; and he trufled he could fo dexte- 
 roufly commit the theft as to have no fear 
 of detection j at any rate he could quit the 
 
 kingdom, 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. 11/ 
 
 kingdom, and one place was as good as an- 
 other where pleafure and diffipation were 
 to be found. 
 
 Such were the dreadful intentions he al- 
 ready harboured, and thofe who fuffer 
 themfelves to contemplate a guilty action, 
 are not far from perpetrating it. He 
 received one morning orders to attend his 
 mafter to Canterbury ; the other groom 
 was unwell, and the colonel was too kind 
 a mafter, to urge his going out under fuch 
 circumftances. He faid he would take only 
 Joe, which was the name Hammond was 
 known by. 
 
 As he was (landing by the kitchen fire, 
 waiting for orders to take the horfes round, 
 one of the fervants faid his mailer was go- 
 ing to receive his rents, and would mod 
 probably be out two or three days. This was 
 heard with fecret exultation by Hammond, 
 who thought this golden opportunity not 
 to be loft. It was late before they left the 
 town, and they had not travelled far, 
 when a tempeftuous night determined the 
 o colonel 
 
I I 8 FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 colonel to feek the earlieft fhelter. The 
 road lay through a wood but little fre- 
 quented ; and the abandoned Hammond 
 waited with impatience till he arrived at a 
 fpot convenient for his purpofe. He then 
 made his attack, as has been defcribed ; his 
 firft efforts were unfuccefsful — not fo the 
 fecond. Having gained what he thought 
 his booty, he put fpurs to his horfe, and 
 flopped not for feveral miles, even to ex- 
 amine his treafure. When he did, he 
 found to his aftonifhment and difappoint- 
 ment, the purfe contained only five guineas, 
 fome filver, and two or three ancient me- 
 dals, of little intrinfic value. 
 
 And had he for this rifqued his life, hislafl 
 hopeof fafety? — he curfed his folly, the ier- 
 vant's information, and his own credulity. If 
 before he dreaded purfuit, when he had 
 only imprifonment to fear, what mult be 
 his prefent terror, when an ignominious 
 death muft follow detection. 
 
 The night was not yet paffed, but before 
 morning he might be difcovered. The 
 
 horfe 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE, II9 
 
 horfe he thought would betray him— he 
 difmounted, and taking off the bridle and 
 faddle, which he buried in a ditch, he turn- 
 ed the animai loofe. He then fought the 
 moft unfrequented paths, hoping to reach 
 the fea-ihore, and embark in fome veffel 
 before his crime mould be known. 
 
 As he was little acquainted with the 
 country, he wandered nearly three days 
 before he difcovered his wifhedfor object. 
 As foon as he did, he thought himfetf fafe, 
 and endeavoured to banifh the terrors 
 which hung upon his mind. In this he 
 could not fucceed. The crimes he had 
 committed arofe to his imagination, and the 
 lafl, in all its enormities, flood foremofl in 
 the group. 
 
 He immediately hired himfelf on board 
 a fmall veffel, which was to fail the next 
 morning to the French coafl. This was 
 exactly what he wifhed, and he rejoiced in 
 what he termed a dawn of be-ter fortune. 
 He refoived to go immediately on board, 
 and was ftepping into the boat, which was 
 $0 convey him to the veffel, when two 
 
 men, 
 
120 FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 men, of no very pleafing afpeeT:, laid 
 hold of him, and claimed him as their 
 prifoner. Struck with fecret horror, lie 
 endeavoured to elude their grafp ; — for 
 fome time he fucceeded ; but they were 
 accuflomed to refiftance, and prepared to 
 difappoint it. Again they feized him — 
 ft ill he exerted every effort to loofen hkn- 
 felf from their hold, and with a refolution, 
 worthy a better caufe, for many minutes 
 maintained a fuperiority — but the officers of 
 juftice no fooner declared why they appre- 
 hended him, than the very failors attacked 
 him. Weakened by blows, and fubdued 
 by inequality to fnumbers, he was at lad 
 obliged to yield — to fubmit to be hand- 
 cuffed — to bear every indignity which 
 outraged juftice in fuch hands could 
 inflidt. 
 
 Though the day was far advanced, they 
 infifted up on his immediately proceeding to 
 the county gaol. This was eight miles dif- 
 tant. Tired, faint with lofs of blood, he 
 repeatedly entreated to fit down, only for 
 a few minutes ; but he was refufed the 
 
 fmalleft 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. I2L 
 
 fmalleft: indulgence, and defired to exert 
 himfelf for the laft time, as he would not 
 have much more walking. 
 
 It was in vain that his pallid countenance 
 pleaded for humanity; even a glafs of 
 water was refufed, and he was obliged to 
 exert himfelf till they reached the end of 
 their journey. Late as it was, the report 
 that a man was apprehended for murder, 
 foon fpread through the place. A mob 
 immediately collected around him ; as he 
 pa{Ted through the market-place, he was 
 pelted with flones and dirt, and in this 
 miferable condition, an object of univerfal 
 contempt and indignation, he reached the 
 gaol. The heavy doors creaked on their 
 hinges to admit him ; the found as it 
 ran in long and melancholy echoes made 
 him tremble. He fhrunk back, but 
 was driven forward by the ftafF of an 
 officer. His crime was declared to the 
 jailor with every taunt, and every aggrava- 
 tion of which the moil hardened natures 
 were capable, and the punifhment which 
 awaited him fpoken of with exultation. 
 vol. i. g He 
 
122 FALSEINDULGENCE. 
 
 He could make no anfwer — his boforn 
 feemed harrowed by defpair—- his lips fealed 
 by the anguifh of his mind. 
 
 The fcene around him was not calcu- 
 lated to calm even the bread of innocence, 
 ■what then mull: it have been to the victim 
 of guilt ? chains rattled in long echoes 
 through the dark paflages ; and noifes, 
 fcarcely human, feem to rife from fubter- 
 raneous cells. 
 
 He was conduced to one of thefe, and 
 loaded with irons. He threw himfelf on 
 his draw with an effort of defpair, and a 
 feeling of fuch extreme mifery as guilt only 
 could experience. Though weary and ex- 
 hau(ied,*ileep vifited not his eye-lids — the 
 upbraidings of a confcience loaded with 
 crimes, left him not a moment of peace. 
 No way could he turn to find any confola- 
 tion y — if he looked back, all was horrible ; 
 if he looked forward, all was terrific. In 
 this deplorable fituation, no voice but that 
 of a fuily keeper, who twice a-day brought 
 him his portion of bread and water, met his 
 ear— no light regaled his eye, no refrefhing 
 
 breeze 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. 12] 
 
 breeze poured health into his veins. Heavy 
 chains galled his already mangled limbs, 
 and the cold damps which trickled down 
 the walls of his prifon, added to the rigours 
 of winter. In a fituation fuch as this, what 
 muft have been the aggravation which 
 guilt prefented ? if innocence has fhrunk 
 appalled from it, if the pictured horrors of 
 imprifonment, of want, of neglect, have 
 harrowed the bofom of virtue, what muft 
 they have been to the wretch loaded with 
 crimes ? 
 
 Every prefent horror was aggravated by 
 the confcioufnefs of what his fituation mighc 
 have been — his mind reverted to his early 
 days, when want and hardmip never reached 
 him. Subdued by fuffering he wept at the 
 recollection ; and now, for the firft time, 
 acknowledged that his guilt had brought 
 every mifery upon him. He lamented the 
 fatal indulgence of his parents, who had 
 never taught him to put any curb upon 
 his inclination, however vicious ; but had 
 rather encouraged him to believe that 
 whatever he did, muft be right. Whilfl 
 g 2 thus 
 
124 FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 thus convicl ion flruck his heart, his bodily 
 fufferings hourly increased. The blows he 
 had received, had fome of them been very 
 fevere, and one .on his fide gave him fuch 
 excruciating pain, that it brought on a high 
 fever : rheumatic pains, occafioned by the 
 dampnefs of the cell, added to his fufferings. 
 He would gladly have ftretched himfelf on 
 the cold earth, but his fetters obliged him 
 to remain in one pofture. In this fituation 
 he had fufficient time for reflection : — but 
 reflection came to him in its bittereft form. 
 He recollected his poor mother, plundered 
 of ail which could foften declining life, 
 treated with fcorn, and ingratitude, and 
 abandoned on her death- bed. His own 
 feelings taught him how dreadful it was to 
 languish in illnefs without affiftance, to 
 need fupport, and to look for it in vain. 
 G adly would he have remembered one vir- 
 tuous action to med fome little foiace on 
 a bofom deprived of every other — but none 
 could he recollect. Religion, the great 
 oother of all diftrefs, the great fupporter 
 'm every affli&ion, was a ftranger to his 
 
 mind; 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. 1 25 
 
 mind ; he had often, in his gayer moments, 
 made her his feoff, and ridiculed the idea 
 that virtue was the only guide to happinefs. 
 
 Day fucceeded day in this deplorable 
 manner, when the keeper, obferving he did 
 not eat his bread, and hearing his difmal 
 moans, afrted what was the matter with him. 
 He anfwered he was very ill, and begged 
 to have fome advice ; the man, accuftomed 
 to fuch fcenes, and hardened by a conftant 
 view of mifery, told him " the judge would 
 favour him with his advice, but he mud 
 wait a day or two j" faying this he clofed 
 the door. 
 
 Again left to himfelf, his imagination 
 wandered in fcenes of horror: — the execu- 
 tioner, and death, were ever before him. 
 
 He had heard of a future (late, but was 
 he prepared for it : was he fit to enter into 
 the prefence of a judge, " who looked not 
 upon iniquity ?" " Oh/' cried he, in a fer- 
 vid tone, " that I had better learned my 
 duty to that God, whom I have daily offend- 
 ed. Oh, that my parents had taught me 
 to look up to him for fupport, and pro- 
 c x teftion, 
 
126 FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 te&ion, inflead of leading me to fuppofe I 
 wanted no help ! Oh, fatal prefumption ! 
 dreadful felf- deceit! where muft I look 
 for fupport in my lafl moments, where for 
 that fuccour, which mould uphold me in 
 the crifis of my fate ? 
 
 The moil fatal defpondence feized 
 him ; his iilnefs increafed ; L but no voice 
 whifpered confolation, no hope broke upon 
 his gloom ! 
 
 At length the door of his cell opened — 
 he looked up expecting the keeper : but 
 what was his furprife to fee a gentleman of 
 a mod benign afpect, who addrefTed him In 
 the kindeft terms. " He came," he faid, 
 si having heard of thefituation of the pri- 
 foner, to offer him fuch confolation, and 
 advice, as might conduce to foften the 
 mifery he endured." 
 
 The unhappy culprit bowed, and anfwer- 
 cd with a feeble voice, " he feared that 
 was very little ; yet he was fo ill, that if he 
 could have a bed, and be fufficiently re- 
 lieved from his chains to lie down, it was 
 
 all he afked." 
 
 The 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE.. 12J 
 
 The ftrarrger anfwered, " he feared he 
 had not intereft to procure fo much, he 
 was himfelf a prifoner, and had little more 
 to beftow than what he had offered." 
 
 Hammond was fileri't — ficknefs bore 
 down his fpirits — defpair enervated his foul. 
 Unarmed with refolution to fupport trie 
 one, and with that internal fupport, which 
 can alone refifl the other, he exhibited the 
 mod dreadful picture of degraded hu- 
 manity. 
 
 The ftranger regarded him with unaf- 
 fected pity, and endeavoured to draw him 
 into converfation. He fpoke of future 
 hopes, the pardon which awaited the peni- 
 tent ; the fubmiiTion to punifhment, in- 
 curred by crimes, which whifft it foftens 
 the bitter pang of death, mews the culprit 
 not unworthy forgivenefs. Long he talked, 
 and long in vain. Yet on the morrow he 
 returned his vifit — the next was to be the 
 day of trial. 
 
 He found the prifoner in almofi: the fame 
 
 pofkire, — but evidently much worfej — his 
 
 g 4 fever 
 
128 FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 fever was higher, his pains more excruciating. 
 He burft into tears at fight of his vifitor, 
 and as foon as ne could fpeak, thanked him 
 for his benevolence. He faid, " he had 
 reflected on the difcourfe of the preceding 
 day, and hoped he had profited from it." 
 He added, " his mind bowed down by 
 guilt, and his body by difeafe, he had but 
 too readily yielded to defpair; but fome 
 hours of folitary reflection, had brought 
 him to a better (late of mind, and he hoped, 
 in fome meafure prepared him, for the aw- 
 ful change which was about to take place. 
 Young as I am," faid he, " I have run a 
 long career of vice, and now I fink its 
 victim. I was born to fortune, bleffed with 
 kind friends; — but the one I wafted, the 
 other defpifed, and brought a fond mother, 
 who almoft idolized me, to a forro wing and 
 untimely grave. For me, therefore, there is 
 little hope, but that little I gladly admit." 
 
 Rejoiced to fee him in fo much a calmer 
 ftate, the worthy Mr. Bennet poured into 
 his mind the balmy confolations of religion; 
 
 he 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. 1 29 
 
 he read to him, prayed with him, and left 
 him not till the evening, when he procured 
 a furgeon to attend him. The gentleman 
 faid he was very ill ; much too ill to be in 
 his prefent circumftances, and gave himfome 
 medicine which he thought would a little 
 relieve him. Left again alone, the unfor- 
 tunate being tried to take fome repofe— • 
 it was many nights fince he had clofed his 
 eyes, or fteeped his fenfes in forgetfulnefs. 
 — But the foothing power vififted not his 
 cell, nor gave one moment's oblivion to his 
 fuflerings. About midnight he was feized 
 with a fudden dizzinefs, which for a few 
 minutes, feemed to rob him of his fenfes* 
 He had before fat on the flour fupporting 
 his head againft the wall ; but he now 
 could fit no longer. The heavy rattling of 
 his chains, as he fell, ran in long echoes 
 through the dreary vaults, and roufed him 
 from his torpor. He endeavoured to rife, 
 but was unable— his limbs were convulfed, 
 his breath interrupted. He thought him- 
 felf dying, and the mod dreadful fears took 
 g 5 po£- 
 
IjO FALSE INDULGENCE. 
 
 poffeflion of his mind. As foon as he could 
 fpeak, he exclaimed, " Oh, my God ! 
 fpare me, fpare me, yet a little while ; how 
 dare I enter thy prefence weighed down by 
 guilt ! Oh, look upon thy penitent, thy 
 fuffering creature, and cheer his prifon with 
 one ray of hope V 9 
 
 Again the dizzinefs returned, the con- 
 vulfions increafed; he flruggled for breath; 
 — but animation was fufpended ; — he would 
 have prayed,; but could not articulate a 
 word, and he continued in this (late nearly 
 two hours : — he then fell into afhort fleep. 
 
 When he awoke, he found himfelf free 
 from pain, but fo weak he could not rife. 
 He endeavoured to change his pofture — 
 but of that too he was incapable. Com- 
 pofing himfeif as well as he could, he ad- 
 dreffed, with fervent contrition the only 
 Being who witneffed his fufFerings, the only 
 Being who could relieve them. He prayed 
 not in vain ; his mind became calmer, his 
 hopes were (lengthened ; " Oh, my God !" 
 &ud he, " look down upon me; 1 alk not 
 
 for 
 
FALSE INDULGENCE. 131 
 
 for lengthened life, but foften to me the 
 horrors of death i increafe my fortitude, 
 mitigate my pains !" 
 
 Scarcely had he uttered this fnort prayer, 
 when his fenfes again forfook him. And 
 when the keeper entered in the morning to 
 convey him to the court, he found him ex- 
 tended on the ground without fenfe, and 
 apparently breathing his lad. The furgeon 
 was immediately called, but he could af- 
 ford no relief. Mr. Bennet went, felf- 
 
 invited ; nor did he quit the cell till noon, 
 when death clofed the dreadful fcene. 
 
 Thus perifhed in the prime of life, in 
 the gloomy cell of a prifon, one, who 
 but for his vices, might have tailed every 
 •earthly enjoyment. Fortune, friends, and 
 health, were all his own ; but, never 
 taught to curb his paflions, they at length, 
 conducted him to that extreme of mifery 
 and vice, which not only made every pof- 
 feflion unavailing, but led to fuch fcenes of 
 horror and iniquity, as could only terminate 
 in bitternefs, difgrace and mifery, 
 g 6 
 
( '33 ) 
 
 ARTLESS TALES 
 
 FOB. 
 
 YOUNG PEOPLE. 4 
 
 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 Louise, Antoinette de Belcour, was the 
 only child of a French nobleman, who had, 
 early in life, married an amiable and ac- 
 complished woman. 
 
 High birth, and a large fortune, though 
 they made the example of the comtefie 
 more difTufive, and her means of doing 
 good more extenfive, borrowed that luflre 
 from her intrinfic worth, which, but too 
 often, they are fuppofed to give. 
 
 Many years pafled after her marriage be- 
 fore fhe was bleffed with a family ; one 
 
 only child lived beyond the age of two 
 years $ — that child was Louife. 
 
 Under 
 
134 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 Under fuch circumftances it may eafily 
 be imagined her parents felt for her a more 
 than common degree of regard. She was 
 their pride, their joy ; the idol of their 
 fondeft wifhes, the object of their proudeft 
 . hopes. 
 
 Their fondnefs, however, though unde- 
 vided, was not, therefore, indifcriminate : 
 a defire to promote the real welfare of its 
 object was the leading principle of their af- 
 fection, and impelled and guided every action. 
 
 As foon as Louife was at an age to re- 
 ceive inftru&ion, the beft matters were pro- 
 cured for her ; and her docile mind, open 
 to improvement, repaid their care by a 
 rapid proficiency. 
 
 Though living in the vortex of a court, 
 at that time famed for its licentious man- 
 ners, the comte and comtefle de Belcour 
 were fond of domeftic pleafures, and de- 
 voted to them the greateft part of their 
 time: — in the instruction of their child, 
 they took alfo a large (hare. 
 
 Born, as fhe appeared to be, to every 
 •thing- which makes life defirable, gifted by 
 
 nature 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 1 35 
 
 nature with an attractive peifon j endowed 
 with a mind of more than common capa- 
 city, with a heart of more than common 
 excellence, lifted by rank to that elevation 
 which is the envy of fo many, and pofi^rTed 
 of that wealth which feems the promife of 
 human happinefs, me appeared rather an 
 object of chofen felicity, than a being born 
 to ihare the common viciffitudes of life. 
 
 In order to ftrengthen her frame, fhe 
 was early inured to exercife, and to thofe 
 hbours which are ufuaily thought too ro- 
 bud for female delicacy. By this means, a 
 conftitution naturally feeble, acquired a de- 
 gree of ftrength, which otherwife it might 
 never have pofTefled. Nor, whilft thus at- 
 tentive to adorn her mind, to add vigour 
 to her frame, was the cultivation of the 
 heart forgotten : — fhe was taught to confi- 
 der the gifts of fortune as a truft committed 
 to her care, for which fhe muft one day be 
 accountable to Him who had beftowed 
 them. ImprefTed with thefe feelings, the 
 poor and unfortunate foon found in her 
 sl benefa&refs and friend. 
 
 In 
 
I36 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE, 
 
 In a demefne fo extenfive as that of the 
 comte, objects of charity were never want- 
 ed j and in the populous ftreets of Paris, 
 there were even more claimants. 
 
 Thus palTed her infancy, and early 
 youth,' in the enjoyment of even chofen 
 felicity; nor did it appear probable that any 
 circumftance mould occur to make her 
 future life lefs profperous. 
 
 She had attained her fourteenth year, 
 when her happinefs received its firft check, 
 by the forrows which affected her parents 
 and country. 
 
 The early fymptoms of national commo- 
 tion began to fpread ; and the Comte de 
 Belcour, a foldier, a Itrict difciplinanan, and 
 perfonally attached to the king, beheld with 
 horror the infults offered to royalty. 
 
 He quitted Verfeilles with fome chofen 
 friends, in hopes of being able to ferve that 
 caufe he thought a jult one. This fepa. 
 ration threw a gloom over the whole fa- 
 mily; Madame confidered it as a fatal blow 
 to domeftic felicity, and Louife regretted it 
 with all the poignancy of a firft forrow. 
 
 Several 
 
TH£ VICISSITUDES OF LIFE* 137 
 
 Several months elapfed — the comte was 
 flil! abfent : the national feuds increafed, 
 and Verfeilles became a fcene of terror, in- 
 juftice, and cruelty. 
 
 Madame de Belcour, whofe employments 
 at court made her more than commonly ob- 
 noxious to the people, fighed in vain for 
 the quiet of a country retirement. 
 
 Mental fuffering at length produced 
 bodily difeafe, and on the plea of ill health, 
 fhe obtained leave of her royal mirtrefs to 
 quit the vicinity of Paris. She prepared 
 with alacrity, to hide herfelf in the quiet 
 retirement fhe hoped to find at an eftate 
 in Provence. The chateau de Belcour was 
 too near Paris, and too fuperb for tranquil- 
 lity at a time, when to poflfefs more than 
 common affluence, was to be the object of 
 more than common rancGur. In a plain 
 equipage, and attended only by a few of 
 her numerous domeftics, the comteile left 
 her fplendid hotel — (he left it with mingled 
 feelings of regret and thankfulnefs ; and a 
 melancholy foreboding that (he mould vifit 
 it no more. 
 
 Louife 
 
I38 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE, 
 
 Louife ufed every effort to revive and fup- 
 port the drooping fpirits of her mother, and 
 l n this dutiful effort forgot her own forrow. 
 She talked with all the ardour of youthful 
 hope, of more tranquil days — of the happy- 
 moment which would reftore the comte to 
 them, and peace to their country. 
 
 The journey was long, and melancholy : 
 not fuch as Louife had been heretofore ufed 
 to make, when in the vicinity of Belcour 
 every face greeted their arrival, and every 
 voice bade them welcome. Even the few 
 attendants who were now with them, but 
 too often fubje&ed them to infults from the 
 capricious mob, who, but a few months 
 before, would have confidered them as 
 claims to refpecL 
 
 At length they entered Provence — it was 
 many years fince Madame had vifited the 
 chateau, and fhe found it in a very defolate 
 date. The man and woman to whofe care 
 it had been committed, had attended to little 
 more than keeping one room habitable for 
 themfelves. The apartments were filled 
 with marly furniture falling to decay, and 
 
 covered 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 139 
 
 covered with dud and cobwebs. Many of 
 the cafements were difmantled of glafs, and 
 round them creeping fhrubs had beenfuffer- 
 ed to twine till the light was hardly admif- 
 fible. The garden was equally in want 
 of improvement and repair: — the high 
 grafs covered the walks, wild flowers reared 
 their flaunting heads, and the fhrubs which 
 had been cut in a thoufand fantaftic forms, 
 fpread their huge branches over half the 
 demefne. 
 
 Madame de Belcour fighed, as fhe fur-. 
 veyed this fcene of fallen grandeur, and 
 thought it affimulated but too well with her 
 own circumilances ; a tear of heartfelt 
 anguifh filled her eye, and all the philofo- 
 phy fhe believed fhe pofTefTed, was unequal 
 to fupport her in this moment of bitter - 
 nefs. 
 
 AccuRomed from her birth to the highed 
 fplendour, to have every want fupplied, 
 and every wifh indulged, to fee all that 
 wealth could purchafe courting her accep- 
 tance, and all that plea-fare could offer 
 ready to enliven her hours, fhe was ill pre- 
 pared 
 
140 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE, 
 
 pared for the fcenes of defolation, and 
 mifery, which feemed to await her. 
 
 Calamity has prophetically been de- 
 nounced the lot of mortals ; no exaltation 
 is fecure from its arrows, no excellence ex- 
 empt from its envenomed dart. When the 
 poor and defolate are fmitten, they think 
 themfelves the moft miferable of mankind ; 
 but they know not how much more heavily 
 calamity falls where the mind is enfeebled 
 by long-enjoyed luxuries — where every 
 feeling is made keener by refinement — and 
 every fenfe awakened by recollected pfea* 
 fures. 
 
 Madame de Belcour felt all the mifery of 
 her prefent lot -, but (he felt it doubled by 
 the recollection of what fhe had loft — by 
 the multiplied evils which her imagination 
 prefented. A thoufand pleafures, which in 
 poffeffion fhe had little eftimated, in lofing 
 fhe learnt to value* 
 
 Louife felt her own forrows doubled by 
 thofe of her mother ; fo acutely, indeed, 
 did thefe preponderate, that, forgetting 
 every felfifh regret, all her thoughts, and 
 
 all 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 141 
 
 all her time, was given to the alleviation 
 of her beloved parent. 
 
 As foon as their firft little arrangements 
 were completed, (he employed herfelf in 
 making the apartments more commodious; 
 and with the afliftance of the fervants, the 
 mafly furniture was better difpofed, and 
 light admitred at the cr.fements. The 
 fragment bloffbms of the orange, contracted 
 with the darker tints of the myrtle, alone 
 ornamented the windows ; except where a 
 creeping woodbine found kfelf admittance, 
 and threw its fragrance around. 
 
 The garden was alfo improved by her di- 
 rections ; the walks were cleared, the luxu- 
 riance of the ihrubs was curtailed; the 
 vivid beams of the fun were admitred, and 
 the varied fcenery, of the furrounding land- 
 fcape delighted the eye. 
 
 " This is a fvveet fpot," faid Louife, 
 as (he pointed to the aidant fpire, tow'ring 
 above the trees and proudly fmiling on the 
 village below; " this is, indeed, an en- 
 chanting place, and another fpring, when 
 we have improved the garden, and my dear 
 
 father 
 
142 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 father is returned, it will be as delightful, 
 though not as gay as Belcour." 
 
 Madame ilghed, in hopelefs defpondenee. 
 . — She beheld, indeed, with parental delight 
 thefe efforts of her child to pleafe her — but 
 they were powerlefs to foothe the anguifh 
 of forrow — or the keen pangs of aggravated 
 regret.-— The comte was flill abfent, and it 
 was iome time fince he had written —the 
 mod impenetrable myftery hung over his 
 fate. The powers of Europe were arming 
 againd France, and Madame had every 
 reafon to fear at fuch a moment her huf- 
 band was not inactive. She knew too well 
 his ideas of what he thought was due to 
 his fovereign, and his refentment of infulted 
 authority, tofuppofehe wouldlofeany oppor- 
 tunity of drawing his fword in a caufe fo 
 near his heart. Yet fuch principles as he 
 entertained were held up to public oppro- 
 brium, and her active fears told her he 
 mud inevitably be their victim. 
 
 To know the word which can befal us 
 
 we often think would lighten the burden of 
 
 calamity — but fuch knowledge is wifely 
 
 2 with* 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 143 
 
 withheld. — Madame thought every thing 
 was to be borne but fufpenie and dread. — 
 Month fucceeded month, and no tidings 
 arrived from the comte — to add to her 
 fufierings, me experienced a want hitherto 
 unknown. Her replenished purfe, always 
 at the command of indigence or misfor- 
 tune, had of late found but too many 
 claimants \ yet whilft a livre remained, (he 
 could not be deaf to entreaty. 
 
 The valet de place, who attended her 
 from Paris, told her in the mod refpeclful 
 terms, he could no longer provide for the 
 wants of the houfe, without fome fupply. 
 
 Madame wrote to the banker at Paris, he 
 declared every fum had been drawn from 
 his hands, and it was not his in power to 
 make any farther advances. 
 
 This anfwer was the fource of frefh un- 
 eafinefs. Unufed to make any arrange* 
 ments in fuch matters, fhe gave herfelf up 
 to hopelefs defpair, till the valet, who had 
 been many years a fervant in the family, 
 propofed returning to Paris, and difpofmg 
 of the family plate ; alfo of trying if fome- 
 
 thing 
 
J44 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIF2. 
 
 thing might not be procured from the 
 tenants at Belcour. 
 
 This plan met with the moft cordial ap- 
 probation, and Dien prepared for his jour- 
 ney, promifing to conduct himfelf with 
 all the circumfpedion the prefent emer- 
 gency required. 
 
 His undertaking was indeed a dangerous 
 one. — Paris was become a fcene of terror 
 and bloodfhed, which made its more peaceful 
 citizens tremble at every connection with 
 nobility, and fee their own condemnation 
 in even humane efforts to relieve the bur- 
 den of opprefTion. 
 
 Louife, in the mean time, was not inac- 
 tive ; fhe had employed her pencil in orna- 
 menting the apartments, till every object 
 wore a gayer appearance : her firft wifh 
 was to divert the gloom of her mother's 
 mind ; and to this end, when fhe faw the 
 langour of forrow dealing upon her, fhe 
 would take her lute, play the moft favorite 
 airs, and accompany them with a voice full 
 of harmony. Though by no means infenfible 
 to the deprivations fhe endured, to the 
 10 greater 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. I45 
 
 greater calamities which feemed to threaten 
 her, her face was dreffed in conflant fmiles, 
 when with her mother, and if an un- 
 bidden tear fometimes Hole down her 
 cheek, as loft happinefs prefented itfelf in 
 fad perfpective, fhe haftened to her own 
 room to vent in folitude that anguifh (lie 
 could not fupprefs, and to endeavour* to 
 fupprefs thofe feelings but too keenly 
 fenfitive. 
 
 The lafl accounts from Paris had been 
 filled with the moft melancholy intelligence. 
 The parents, and relations of many of her 
 young friends, had either been the facrifice 
 of popular fury, or had been condemned 
 to the lingering tortures of a prifon. She 
 trembled for the fafety of fuch «s remained, 
 and thought, whilft fhe read the denunciation 
 of popular fury, fhe forefaw the inevitable 
 deftrudion of her father, who, difdaining to 
 temporize, where he thought he was right, 
 v/ould yield neither to the phrenzy of the 
 moment, nor the conciliating efforts of 
 mildnefs and forbearance. 
 
 Though thefe dreads, and thefe forrows 
 vol. 1. h prefled 
 
I,|6 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 prefled heavily on her bofom, they clouded 
 not her countenance. — Madame faw her al- 
 ways cheerful, always difpofed to communi- 
 cate pleafure, and not unfrequently envied 
 that placidity which {he thought the peculiar 
 privilege of youth, and unbroken fpirits. 
 Buried in her own defpondence and regret, 
 iflie faw not how frequently fecret grief 
 chafed the aflumed fmile, nor heard the 
 half-fupprefled figh called forth by conftant 
 deprivations. Louife, fhe believed, com- 
 paratively happy, for Louife drew, fung, 
 and paffed her time as (he ufed to do in the 
 envied hours of unclouded felicity. 
 
 It was now, indeed, Louife found the 
 value of thofe acquirements fhe had been 
 early taught, and which were all that re- 
 mained of the fplendid gifts of fortune — 
 but thefe were refources which gave wings 
 to many heavy hours, and diffufed a tempo- 
 rary ferenity over fcenes the mod gloomy. 
 After much anxious expectation, Dien 
 returned ; but he brought only a fmali 
 part of the hoped-for fupply. He found 
 the ^hbtel ftripped of every veftige 
 
 of 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. I4.7 
 
 of former grandeur, and advertised for 
 fale. 
 
 At Belcour he had better fuccefs, but 
 more imminent dangers awaited him. The 
 fcrutinizing eye of the intendant watched 
 his every movement, and had it not been 
 for the gardener of the chateau, he dared 
 not have removed any of its pofleflions. 
 
 Of the tenants belonging to the domain, 
 one only paid the arrears due ; the reft 
 tither faid they were unable, or fearful of 
 offending the municipal authority, refufed 
 to give the profits of their labours to a ci- 
 devant comtefle. 
 
 This information failed not to increafe 
 - the diftrefs of Madame, who having hitherto 
 known poverty only by name, faw in it 
 every thing that was dreadful. 
 
 Small as was her prefent eflablifhment, it 
 was abfolutely neceflfary to reduce it ; as 
 without means of fupport, without hopes 
 of any future fupply, fhe could not recon- 
 cile it to her confeience, to make thofe the 
 partakers of her hopelef3 poverty, who 
 h 2 had 
 
I48 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 had been ufed to derive from her only 
 plenty and happinefs. 
 
 As foon as her determination upon this 
 painful fubject was fixed, (he affembled her 
 domeftics, and with a heavy heart an- 
 nounced the neceffity of difmiiTmg them. 
 They heard her with unaffected for row, for 
 they had been long in her fervice, were per- 
 fonally attached to her, and had ever found 
 in her a kind and liberal miftrefs. Each 
 made an offer of their voluntary fervice, and 
 eagerly requefted to be permitted to flay. 
 
 Madame was much affected by this proof 
 of their attachment, and told them with the 
 deeped anguifh, the power of retaining 
 them was no longer her's. - Dien and 
 Augufline, as they had lived with her from 
 her childhood, fhe intended mould remain ; 
 but even them fhe might be obliged, at 
 length, to difmifs. 
 
 The melancholy, but determined manner 
 in which fhe avowed her intentions, pre- 
 vented all farther felicitation, and the 
 chateau was fodn deferted by every domef- 
 tic but the two before mentioned. 
 
 4 This 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. I49 
 
 This affair arranged, Madame, whofe 
 thoughts were ever reverting to the 
 paft, or to melancholy forebodings of the 
 future, abandoned herfelf to fettled for- 
 row. 
 
 Till within a few months, her life had 
 been one even tenor of unclouded prof- 
 perity ; no difappointment had taught her 
 the necefiity of fortitude, no fevere depriva- 
 tion had fhewed her the excellence of fub- 
 miffion. She had heard of forrow, me had 
 read of tales of diftrefs ; the complaints of 
 the fufferer, the petitions of the needy, had 
 never been unregarded by her ; but in re - 
 lieving them to the utmofl of her power 
 ihe thought (he had difcharged every duty. 
 A comparifon between her own lot, and 
 that of others, had fometimes ftolen acrofs 
 her mind, but the impreffion was flight, 
 and little falutary. It had never occurred 
 to her, that in the ever-changing round of 
 human events, fome circumftance might 
 happen, even to her, to call for fortitude, 
 patience, and exertion, to teach her that 
 the arrows of adverfity fly with every 
 wind, and often ftrike the peaceful bofom 
 h 3 of 
 
I50 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 of unchequered happinefs — that he, who 
 to- day compaflionates his neighbour, may 
 to-morrow weep for himfelf. It has been 
 faid, that in this world a life of unchanging 
 felicity is inimical to virtue ; that the 
 powers of the mind call for exertion, and 
 for that exertion which calamity only 
 produces. Madame de Beicour had not in 
 profperity deteriorated from the excellence 
 of her chara£ter ; — (he was incapable of 
 a difhonourable a&ion, fhe could not in 
 the pride of fuperiority trample on thofe 
 whom fhe thought beneath her, nor could 
 fhe behold unmoved the miferies from 
 which fhe thought herfelf exempt. 
 
 But here her virtues ceafed— of that 
 flrength of mind which is armed againft 
 the trials of life, which in adverfity is re- 
 figned, in deprivation unmurmuring, which, 
 when robbed of property, of friends, can 
 look around with the calm eye of refigna- 
 tion, and fay, " I have yet Tome good left, I 
 have yet much to be thankful for, though 
 He who gave has taken away," of fuch 
 fortitude fhe had no idea. 
 
 Had fhe been allured that a bad action 
 
 would 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. IJi 
 
 would have reftored her all her priftine 
 happinefs, ihe would not, even for fuch an 
 acquifition, have committed it ; — but to 
 pafs her days in tears, in lamentations, in 
 bitter regret for what was loft, in horror 
 of what was to come, was more than fhe 
 was able to fupport ; fhe bowed beneath 
 the heavy burden, and would gladly have 
 laid her down to rife no more. 
 
 In vain Louife exerted all her powers, 
 called forth every effort to pleafe, and 
 amufe; — her affumed cheerfulnefs failed 
 of effect, and though received with affection, 
 was anfwered with tears. 
 
 With afliduous care fhe exerted herfelf 
 in a thoufand little domeftic offices, the 
 performance of which, fhe knew was ne- 
 ceffary to her mother's comfort; — her 
 room was every morning decked with freili 
 flowers, and her table fupplied with thofe 
 viands fhe bed loved. 
 
 Grateful as this- conduct undoubtedly 
 
 was to a parental heart, it failed to diflipate 
 
 Sorrow j — forrow which feemed to receive 
 
 h 4 its 
 
J 52 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 its laft increafe by information that the 
 count had been ilain in a battle fought be- 
 tween the confederate powers, and the 
 republicans. 
 
 Beneath this blow, as heavy as it was 
 irremediable, both Madame and Louife 
 feemed to fink. The grief of the former 
 was fo violent, that in a few days it reduced 
 her to the brink of the grave — her fenfes 
 forfook her 5 a fever feized her brain. Such 
 a call as this on the exertions of Louife, 
 was not made in vain ; {he fhook off the 
 enervating grief which had begun to fub- 
 due her powers, and giving to her fuffering 
 parent every thought, and every wifh, (he 
 was active only for her recovery. 
 
 She fent immediately for the beft medical 
 afliflance the country afforded, administered 
 herfelf every medicine, and watched, with 
 unwearied folicitude its defired effect. 
 
 Days, weeks paffed, but little change ap- 
 peared. During the long and dreary hours 
 fhe thus neceffarily fpent in watching, her 
 thoughts would fometimes involuntarily 
 
 turn 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 153 
 
 turn to her own defolate fituation. From 
 the enjoyment of every comfort, and 
 every luxury, from the tendernefs of de- 
 lighted parents, and the fmile of ap- 
 proving friends, fhe faw herfelf aban- 
 doned to poverty, deprived by death of 
 one parent, dreading the hourly dirToIu- 
 tion of the other, and in folitude and for- 
 row, obliged to fcreen herfelf from thofe 
 enemies, which her late elevation had un- 
 jufily procured her. 
 
 There were moments in which all her ac- 
 quired fortitude forfook her, when fhe gave 
 free vent to her tears, and mourned the 
 fatal exaltation which had expofed her to 
 fuch evils. 
 
 " How little," faid fhe, « do thofe 
 know what they wi(h, who figh for rank 
 and wealth ! Had my father been a cot- 
 tager, he might now have been happy ;— - 
 the dorms of the revolution had pafTed 
 harmlefs over our heads, and too low for 
 envy, we had never known perfec- 
 tion." 
 
 Thefe gloomy, and defpcnding thoughts, 
 h 5 were 
 
154 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 were but too often the companions of 
 Louife. 
 
 It was long before Madame fhewed any 
 fymptoms of convalefcence, and even then 
 her recovery was fo flow, it was fcarcely per- 
 ceptible. The fir ft object fhe noticed after her 
 return to reafon, was her beloved daughter, 
 whom fhe folded to her bofom in a trans- 
 port of maternal tendernefs. She would 
 have fpoken, but her phyfician profcribed 
 all converfation. When, however, this 
 prohibition ceafed, fhe appeared much more 
 compofed, and feemed to have attained 
 that fortitude fo neceffary in her fituation. 
 She faid, " fhe feared fhe had been a mur- 
 murer at the difpenfations of Providence, 
 and had not fufficiently remembered that 
 life and death, profperity and adverfity, are 
 in his hands, who withdraws, or difpenfes 
 them as feems bed to his unerring wifdom." 
 
 Delighted to fee her mother thus tran- 
 quil, Louife liflened eagerly to a difcourfe, 
 which foothed her own mind, and was 
 balm to the wounds which had been fo 
 deeply probed. 
 
 As 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 1 55 
 
 As foon as Madame was fufficiently re- 
 covered to be able to take her fhare of em- 
 ployment, fhe faid it was abfolutely necef- 
 fary they mould think of fome means of 
 fupport \ fhe was aware that her long 111— 
 nefs mud have exhaufted their finances, 
 and they could hope for no farther fupply 
 but from their induftry. 
 
 To this propofal Louife agreed with ala- 
 crity ; and immediately occupied herfelf in 
 drawing, and works of fancy. — It was pro- 
 pofed that Dien mould fell them at the ad- 
 jacent town, or in fome of the neighbour- 
 ing diftri&s. 
 
 There is no fituation, however deplora- 
 ble, which may not be illumined by the 
 cheering rays of virtuous exertion. 
 
 Thofe who are determined to refill: the 
 enfeebling powers of forrow, take from 
 adverfity half its fling. There are fituations 
 in life, there are calamities, which, for a 
 time, weigh down all before them ; but 
 when their firft poignancy is paft, and rea- 
 fon and religion lend their aid, then is the 
 h 6 moment 
 
J$6 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 moment when their power is blunted — 
 then is the triumph of that virtue, which 
 never fails to reward its poiTeffor. 
 
 In condant, and ufeful occupations, the 
 winter paffed away, — They had one even- 
 ing fat up later than ufual, to finifh fome 
 work. — Dien and Auguftine were gone to 
 bed.— The converfation which had en- 
 groffed them was fufpended, when the found 
 of footfleps near the chateau a was diftin&Iy 
 heard. 
 
 Louife looked terrified — Madame was 
 much alarmed — for it was at a time when 
 domiciliary vifits were frequent, and almoft 
 always followed by the mod fatal confe- 
 quences. The fame idea occurred to both — 
 they doubted not but their retreat had been 
 difcovered, and their being ci-devant noblefle, 
 was fufficient condemnation. The terrors 
 of Madame increafed every moment. — The 
 blocd forfook her cheeks, her bofom throb- 
 bed with convulfive emotion — fhe fcarcefy 
 breathed from terror, and her countenance 
 exhibited, but too truly, the feelings of her 
 
 heart. 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 1 57 
 
 heart. She drew near to her daughter, and 
 throwing her arms around her, faintly faid, 
 " we will perifh together." — 
 
 Louife could not fpeak, but me fuffered 
 little lefs than her mother — they liftened in 
 agonized filence — the footfteps approached 
 ~ a door moved flowly upon its hinges — 
 Louife clung to her mother, who held her 
 with a firmer grafp — in another moment a 
 foot was heard, coming up the parlage 
 which led to the faloon; — Madame fixed 
 her eyes wildly on the door— it opened-— 
 a form entered, pale, emaciated — clothed in 
 the moft wretched attire, and apparently 
 bent by poverty and difeafe— — it furveyed 
 the apartment and its inhabitants but a mo- 
 ment ;— and then, with a fwiftnefs fcarcely 
 mortal, fkimmed acrofs the room, and 
 clafped Madame and her daughter in its 
 arms it was the count ! For fome mo- 
 ments all was filence — till Madame uttering 
 an hyfteric fcream, burft into an agony of 
 tears ; thefe relieved her agitated bofom ;— 
 Louife wept alfo with mingled fenfations 
 
 of 
 
I58 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 of furprize andjoy. At length the voice of the 
 count, endeavouring to foothe them, reftored 
 them to recolle&ion, and compofure, and 
 mutual congratulations took place of the bur ft 
 of apprehenfion, terror, and aftonifhment. 
 
 The count informed them that as foon 
 as he quitted Paris, he enlifted in the corps 
 of emigrants; he fought at the battle of 
 Jemappe — and had fince been in Flanders ; 
 but defeat followed wherever his party ap- 
 peared ; for jealoufy, and indecifion per- 
 vaded their councils, and want of unani* 
 mity their actions. — The powers in alii* 
 ance, had each their feparate views, and 
 feparate interefts, and though their oftenfible 
 motive was to re- inflate the Bourbon 
 family, it was but too evident finifter feeU 
 ings governed them. To complete the mi- 
 fery of the emigrants, and make the con- 
 queft of their enemies more certain, thofe 
 vices, which had difgraced a court, and 
 roufed the energies of an opprefled peo- 
 ple, flill diftinguifhed the leaders of the 
 party. — Sums which generous loyalty had 
 
 faved 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 159 
 
 raved from the hard gripe of oppreffion, and 
 offered as a willing donation, were but too 
 frequently fquandered in licentious plea- 
 fures, or given to adorn a miftrefs, or gra- 
 tify a courtizan. 
 
 Difpirited by conftant lodes, the corps 
 at length feparated ;— feparated to encoun- 
 ter almoft every evil which human nature 
 can endure. The count had fince been a 
 miferable fugitive ; — without money, with- 
 out friends, without a fhelter ; frequently in 
 want of food, and his bofom filled with 
 dread of what his wife and daughter might 
 be expofed to. In the afiurance that the 
 change which calamity had made in his per- 
 fon, would prevent his being recognized, 
 he ventured to Paris. He there learnt his 
 family was retired to Provence — he follow- 
 ed them by a flow and tedious route ; and 
 more than once relinquifhed the hope of 
 ever feeing them again. A fever, the con- 
 fequence of fatigue and anxiety, feized him 
 on the road, and but for the humanity of a 
 peafant, he muft have perifhed unfheltered. 
 Illnefs left him ftill more debilitated, and in 
 7 propor- 
 
1 6*0 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 proportion, he found it more difficult to 
 travel. At length he reached the dear 
 fpot which contained all that was now left 
 him ; but fearful of difcovery, he lingered 
 about the grounds till night advanced ; 
 even then he knew not whether his teme- 
 rity might not expofe him to danger ; but 
 unable longer to deprive himfelf of the 
 fight of thofe dear objects, whofe image 
 had folaced his hours of bittereft fuffering, 
 he ventured to the chateau, and entered as 
 has before been defcribed. 
 
 This was not a recital which could be 
 heard without anguifh, both Madame and 
 Louife wept bitterly ; even their joy at fo 
 unexpected a meeting, was embittered by 
 the recollection of what had been previ- 
 oufly endured. 
 
 The remainder of the night was fpent in 
 forming plans for the future. — Monfieur 
 obferved that as his life was now forfeited 
 by the active part which he had taken againft 
 the republic, it would be necefTary to quit 
 France as fpeedily as poffible. In the mean 
 time he muft keep himfelf concealed, as the 
 
 vigi- 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. l6l 
 
 vigilance of government never flumbered, 
 where it was poflible to detect an unfortu- 
 nate nobleman. 
 
 How to provide money to convey them 
 to fome more friendly country, was a dif- 
 ficulty of fuch magnitude, as feemed infur- 
 mountable. Their united efforts of indus- 
 try could procure but little, and even that 
 little would amafs fo flowly, that all the 
 danger it was intended to obviate might 
 burft over them, whilft they were employed 
 in its prevention. They retired to one of 
 the more private apartments, as, though it 
 was impoffible to conceal from Dien and 
 Auguftine their matter's return, it was de- 
 termined the difcovery mould not be made, 
 without fome precautions. 
 
 Thefe faithful domeflics were overjoyed 
 at the fight of one fo much refpecled, and 
 readily concurred in every thing which was 
 deemed neceffary for his fafety. 
 
 Had not fears for the future troubled 
 their breads, this little family would now 
 have tafted fome degree of repofe, for 
 
 though 
 
162 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 though they had no better profpect of efcap- 
 ing from France, than by the tardy efforts 
 of induftry, yet in each other's fociety their 
 forrows feemed lightened, and, in conftant 
 occupation, at times forgotten. 
 
 The day was devoted by Madame and 
 Louife, to their works and drawing, and the 
 count, who excelled in the latter, added 
 his labour. In the evening, when no fears 
 of difcovery tormented them, they ad- 
 journed to the faloon, and enjoyed the fweet 
 intercourfe of affection, and tendernefs. 
 
 Thus paffed three months — their mutual 
 labours fupplying them with many little 
 neceffaries, and even enabling them to fpare 
 fomething for the fund which was to convey 
 them to a more peaceful country* 
 
 From the extenfive gardens of the cha- 
 teau their frugal table was chiefly fupplied, 
 and endeavouring to fupprefs melancholy 
 retro fpeclions, or fad anticipations, they tailed 
 more happinefs than they had dared ta 
 hope. 
 
 Such was the calm tenor of their lives,, 
 
 when* 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. l6j 
 
 when, one evening as they were fitting to- 
 gether, they heard an unufual buftle in the 
 kitchen, and prefently diftinguifhed the 
 voice of Dien loudly exclaiming, " gentle- 
 men, you fhall certainly go where you 
 pleafe, but the perfon you defcribe is not 
 here." 
 
 Terror inftantly feized the little party — 
 footfteps advanced — Madame and Louife 
 had only a moment to exhort the count, 
 with agonized earneftnefs, to quit the room 
 by an oppofite door, as there was little 
 doubt he was the object of the {hangers' 
 fearch. 
 
 He hefitated a moment, impelled by the 
 defire of flopping to protect his wife, and 
 child— almoft inftantly the folding doors 
 of the faloon were thrown open, and three 
 ill-looking men entered. 
 
 They feated themfelves familiarly, and 
 one of them demanded cc where was the 
 count ? as he, or fome other ariftocrat, 
 for, whofe head the guillotine waited, was 
 known to be concealed at the chateau. ,, 
 
 The agony of Madame, had almoft be- 
 trayed 
 
164 THE VISCISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 trayed the fatal truth ; fhe was but too 
 fenfible of the inference which would be 
 drawn from her emotions, and Hooping 
 as if for fomething fhe had dropped, 
 but in reality to recover an appearance of 
 compofure, " Gentlemen/' faid fhe, " it 
 is well known my daughter and I live here 
 in the greateft retirement, on the fruits of 
 our induftry, and meddle not with the af- 
 fairs of the republic — every part of the cha- 
 teau is open to your fcrutinv." 
 
 Here fhe paufed— in dreadful perturba- 
 tion.— No anfwer was made but by a figni- 
 ficant look from the flrangers, and their 
 rifing, and quitting the room. 
 
 They were no fooner gone than Louife 
 advanced towards her mother, but neither 
 dared to fpeak, and they remained almoft 
 motionlefs in an agony of terror. The dif- 
 covery of the count feemed inevitable, and 
 his difcovery was but the prelude to his 
 death. Almoft an hour paffed in this 
 dreadful fufpenfe, when the commiflioners 
 returned, and with a ferocity they feemed 
 not even to wifh difguifed — told Madame 
 
 that 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 165 
 
 that though the traitor had efcaped, fhe 
 fhould anfwer at the bar of the tribunal for 
 the (hare ftie had in his concealment. 
 
 They then put feais on every apartment, 
 and quitted the chateau. 
 
 It was not till the loud grating of the 
 doors announced their departure, that ma- 
 dame ventured to fpeak. She then in- 
 dulged her feelings in an agony of tears, 
 and lamentations. Louife wept alfo. 
 
 " We muft fly, my child/' faid the un- 
 happy mother, " for in flight is our only- 
 chance of fafety — though where to find a 
 place of fecurity, I know not. Heaven be 
 praifed, however, that your father has, for 
 theprefent, efcaped. ,, 
 
 Louife, wiping her eyes, and joining in 
 thankfulnefs, for his deliverance, acquiefced, 
 with the greateit readinefs, in whatever her 
 mother propofed, urging only that no time 
 might be loft. 
 
 Dien and Auguftine were fummoned, and 
 it was refolved they mould depart immediate 
 ly ;. as the delay of a few hours might make 
 their efcape impracticable. They were, how. 
 
 ever 
 
\66 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 ever, eager firft to afcertain whether the 
 count was really gone, and every apartment, 
 every avenue was fearched — but no trace 
 remained of him. 
 
 As it was abfolntely neceflary to difguife, 
 as much as poflible, their appearance, Ma- 
 dame and Louife, clothed themfelves in the 
 meaneft attire, — the former took a bafket 
 of artificial flowers which fhe propofed to 
 fell, and the latter with her lute hoped to 
 intereft the charity of thofe fhe might ad- 
 drefs. 
 
 Auguftine followed with Dien, who had 
 his violin ; and thus accoutred they thought 
 they might pafs for Savoyards, travelling to 
 their native country. 
 
 They had no time for regrets, not one 
 moment to give to the bitter recollections 
 which their prefent circumftances might well 
 awaken. 
 
 They quitted the chateau with hafly 
 fteps ; — the night was calm and beautiful— 
 fcarcely a breath pafled on the flili air ; 
 and the plaintive ftrains of the nightingale 
 from the adjacent wood, fwelled in full 
 
 harmony, 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 167 
 
 harmony, uninterrupted by any thing but 
 the deep fighs of the wretched fugitives. 
 " Where was the comte, where could he 
 have efcaped ? — was it poffible he fhould re- 
 turn to the chateau, and finding them gone, 
 without knowing whither, commit fome 
 act of defperation, in the dread that they 
 were arraigned as culprits, and carried be» 
 fore the fatal tribunal. " Agitated by thefe 
 fears, Madame almoft repented having 
 quitted the chateau, in the belief that in 
 feeking her own fafety, {he had endangered 
 that of her dearer felf. 
 
 Louife endeavoured to convince her thefe 
 fears were goundlefs — the count knew too 
 well the character of the prefent rulers of 
 France, not to feek his fafety in imme- 
 diate flight ; more efpecially as he knew 
 his prefence would endanger, the lives of 
 thofe mod dear to him. But half con- 
 vinced by thefe reprefentations, Madame 
 travelled on in mournful filence ; the moon 
 was now rifen from behind the neighbour- 
 ing hills, and fhed its rays on the dark tur- 
 rets of the chateau. Louife furveyed them 
 
 as 
 
l68 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 as they rofe in defolate grandeur over the 
 furrounding fcenery, and proudly o'er- 
 topping the valley, in which the hamlet 
 was placed, feemed to nod in falling great- 
 nefs over the humbler fcenes, which once 
 regarded them with envy. Such, " thought 
 Louife," is our fituation ! like yon decay- 
 ing fabric, our day of fplendour is gone, 
 and the beings who once regarded us with 
 awe and veneration, now behold us with 
 pity or contempt. They travelled thus feve- 
 ral hours ; when Madame, unufed to expo- 
 fure in the night air, was feized with a chill 
 faintnefs, and but for the fupport of her 
 daughter and Auguftine, would have 
 fallen. 
 
 Louife endeavoured to reanimate her, by 
 the mod foothing accents ; but the fatigue 
 ilie had endured, added to her recent ter- 
 rors, were too much for her enfeebled 
 frame. She now bitterly felt the effe&s 
 of long years of indulgence, — (he had 
 never been accuftomed to exercife, and be- 
 yond the gardens of Belcour, or the fafhion- 
 able walks of Paris, fhe had never moved 
 
 but 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 169 
 
 but in a carriage. Since her refidence in 
 Provence, (he had not quitted the chateau, 
 and it was only now {he learned of how 
 little fhe was capable. 
 
 The whole party was feized with con- 
 fternation, as the confequences of delay 
 might be moll fatal. — Louife offered every 
 affiftance which tendernefs could fugged ; 
 Dien reprefented the danger of their fitua- 
 tion, and that to flop now was to expofe 
 themfelves to certain deftruction. 
 
 Auguftine had, fortunately, a fmall phial 
 of liqueur in her pocket, and a portion of 
 it being administered, revived the har- 
 raffed fpirits and enfeebled frame of Ma- 
 dame ; (he made an effort to rife, and la- 
 menting bitterly the weaknefs which over- 
 powered her, declared (he would make 
 every exertion in her power, but (he feared 
 (he was incapable of much ; — fhe then took 
 an arm of her daughter, and of Auguftine, 
 and thus fupported, (lowly continued her 
 route. 
 
 Dien, who was fufEciently acquainted 
 with the road to ferve as a guide, declared 
 
 vol. l« 1 it 
 
I?0 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE, 
 
 it was abfolutely neceflary they fhouid pro- 
 ceed with more expedition, at leaft till they 
 advanced a few miles farther. 
 
 Louife, anxious only for her mother, 
 begged (he might not be importuned, and 
 afked if there was not fome place near, to 
 which they might fafely retire for a few 
 hours ? 
 
 " What here ? Mam'felle ! that is im- 
 poflible - 9 if we do not advance to Barjols 
 before morning, I (hall have no hope of our 
 efcape. I have a relation, a coufin, with 
 whom you and Madame may, perhaps, like 
 to flop a day or two — though, if I might 
 adyife, 1 would make no flop any where, 
 till we have fafely pafled the frontiers." 
 
 <c But my mother 1" faid Louife, regard- 
 ing her with tendernefs and forrow, " you 
 fee how incapable flie is of exertion." 
 
 " True, Mam'felle; but fpeed is our 
 only hope ; the commiffioners declared, as 
 I fhut the gates after them, that they would 
 return with the earlieft dawn of morning." 
 
 Madame, who had attended to this con- 
 vention, afked how far it was to the cot- 
 tage, 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 17I 
 
 tage, where the coufin of Dien lived, and 
 whether a cheap conveyance could not 
 fafely be procured ? 
 
 Dien (hook his head. 
 
 " Alas I" faid fhe, " I am lefs able than 
 I fuppofed, to bear my reverfe of fortune. 
 I have already walked farther, than I 
 ever remember to have done at any 
 period of my life ; and I am convinced no 
 effort will enable me to proceed much far- 
 ther. I already forefee the fatal confe- 
 quences of my weaknefs— my want of 
 ftrength will endanger the fafety of every 
 
 one." 
 
 Scarcely had fhe finifhed fpeaking, when 
 they heard the found of wheels — and pre- 
 fently a fmali cart, with one perfon in it 
 came in fight. The decent appearance of 
 the man feemed to invite confidence, and 
 without further deliberation, Madame de- 
 fired Dien to flop him ; and advancing to 
 the cart, fhe faid, " Friend, I am very tired, 
 if you would allow me a feat with you for 
 a few miles, though I am too poor to pay 
 you, I fliould be fmcerely obliged to you." 
 i 2 The 
 
172 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 The man regarded her earneftly, and 
 then faid, " (he was welcome if (he liked to 
 ride with him, but as his horfe was tired, 
 he could take in no more, and he had flill 
 fix miles before he mould reach the fnd of 
 his journey. 
 
 It was great fatisfadtion to find that this 
 journey terminated at Barjols. She had 
 only time to clafp her daughter in a fond 
 embrace, to alk of Dien the name of his 
 coufin, and to promife to meet him, when 
 the cart drove off. She fixed her eyes on 
 .Louife with a look of tendernefs and ma- 
 ternal anxiety which no words can de- 
 fcribe, nor did fhe remove them, till diftance 
 veiled this dear object from her view. 
 
 " Thank heaven !" faid Louife, u my 
 dear mother is in fafety." 
 
 " I wifh fhe may be, Mam'felle," faid 
 Dien, " but thefe are times when it is hard 
 to trull: any one, and the man looked at us 
 in a way I did not like.'* 
 
 " Ah ! why," faid Louife, " did you 
 not fay fo before ?" 
 
 " I had no time, Mam'felle, and befides 
 
 I may 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 173 
 
 I may not be right ; he may be a very 
 honed man." 
 
 This fuggeftion, however, filled Louife 
 with terror, and fhe could think of nothing 
 
 but the probable danger of her mother, • 
 
 They purfued their journey ; morning was 
 beginning to dawn, and foon difpelled from 
 the fey every darker tint. Their road lay 
 acrofs adjacent hills, from the top of which 
 they could diftinguifn the chateau, towering 
 above the furrounding trees. The fun rofe 
 with uncommon fplendour, and its firft 
 rays fell on the woods, which (kirted the 
 ancient domain. 
 
 " Ah !" faid Dien, " who would have 
 thought when my dear Lady married, with 
 all that eftate, and a large fortune befides, 
 fhe would have been obliged to wander 
 about without fixpence, and to ride with a 
 common higgler r" 
 
 " Or that Mam'felle," continued Au- 
 guftine, " a rich heirefs, the daughter of a 
 nobleman, a cordon rouge, a chevalier of 
 St. Louis, an officer of the King's guards, 
 and of one of the nobleft houfes in France, 
 * 3 mould 
 
174 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 fhould be without a home ? Oh that we 
 were as we ufed to be at dear Verfeilles, 
 or tripping it along the Boulevards ! Thofe 
 were happy days, fucfy days as I doubt will 
 never return !" 
 
 " Thefe changes/ ' replied Louife, wip- 
 ing the tears from her fwimming eyes, 
 <c are indeed deplorable ; but for myfelf, I 
 could fubmit to them with refignation were 
 it not for my dear parents. I am young, 
 and have been always accuftomed, even in 
 my days of profperity, to wait upon myfelf, 
 «Txi tC CXCrt thefc powers which Providence 
 has given me : but with my dear mother it 
 js very different. Sorrow has impaired her 
 health, and I fear (he will fink before we 
 reach a place of fafety." 
 
 The converfation was here interrupted 
 by the appearance of two men on horfeback ? 
 who were approaching them at full fpeed. 
 Alarm feized the little party, and defend- 
 ing the hill with the mod affrighted fteps, 
 they entered a neighbouring wood, and 
 flopped not till they arrived at a fpot era- 
 bofomed with trees. For fome time they 
 10 ventured 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 175 
 
 ventured not to fpeak — fcarcely to breathe — 
 (o entirely were they ahforbed by terror, 
 At length Dien faid, M I am partly certain 
 thofe are the commiiiioners ; I know citizen 
 Bertrand always rides a white horfe, and 
 I will anfwer for his not letting a viclim 
 efcape, Robefpierre could not defire a more 
 blood-thirfty viDian." 
 
 €t Alas l" cried Louife, every feature 
 agonized, and her heart beating almofi: 
 convulfively, " rriy dear, dear mother I 
 how will fhe efcape V y 
 
 " The Holy Virgin, I hope, will protect 
 her Mam'felle/' replied Dien, " if the man 
 is honed fhe is with I have no fears; if he 
 
 is a rogue but let us hope for the 
 
 bed." 
 
 The dread and grief of Louife," now in- 
 creafed to agony ; and her companions 
 found it necefiary to ufe their utmoft en- 
 deavours to foothe her. 
 
 They were all too timid to venture again 
 
 by the road ; Dien knew a way through the 
 
 wood, which, though longer, would conduct 
 
 1 4 them 
 
Ij6 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFf. 
 
 them to Barjols. This they purfued — 
 fatigue, and every other feeling in which 
 felf was concerned, was loft in apprehen- 
 fions of Madame's fafety. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon before they 
 reached the environs of Barjols, and the 
 cautious Dien wifhed not to enter the 
 place, till the lhades of evening offered their 
 fecurity. 
 
 Louife waited with the mod agonized 
 impatience, and at length her tears, and en- 
 treaties overcame the prudence of Dien ; 
 and to oblige her he proceeded to his cou- 
 fm's houfe. Their firft enquiry was for 
 Madame, but fhe had not been there, nor 
 fent any meffage. 
 
 Dien could not conceal his uneafinefs, 
 and Louife, was in agonies. She requefted 
 him to go with her that they might endea- 
 vour to trace the cart. This, he faid, 
 would be expofing both himfeif and Ma- 
 dame to certain deftruclion. He wifhed 
 to wait till the morning ; fome thing might 
 have detained the man on the road, or 
 
 Madame 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. IJJ 
 
 Madame might have quitted him, in which 
 cafe, as fhe mud purfue her journey on foot, 
 fhe would neceffarily be longer. 
 
 This fuggeftion, though poffible, al- 
 layed not the fears of Louife ; for her mo- 
 ther had already proved how ill able fhe 
 was to proceed in that manner. 
 
 Tired and opprefled, as was the ill-fated 
 girl, no perfuafion could induce her to go 
 to bed ; me fate, during the whole of this 
 long and dreadful night, watching every 
 found, fuggefting every poffible caufe which 
 could have occafioned detention, and but 
 too frequently dwelling with horror on the 
 dread of the commiffioners, whofe idea was 
 followed by that of fuffering and death. 
 
 At length morning, though flowly, 
 dawned, but it brought no fatisfa&ion, and 
 Dien went out in hopes of difcovering fome 
 traces which might lead him to his mif- 
 trefs. It was noon before he returned, and 
 the vifible marks of grief and confterna* 
 tion which were imprinted on his counte- 
 nance, flopped for a moment the enquiries 
 i 5 of 
 
17$ THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 of Louife — but only a moment could even 
 horror fufpend them. 
 
 " I am fure," fhe cried, " you have 
 heard fome bad news ; tell me this moment, 
 tell me all, tell me the worft, rather than 
 let me endure this dreadful fufpenfe. Where, 
 Oh where is my mother ?" 
 
 Dien brufhed the back of his hand acrofs 
 
 his eyes, " Oh Mam'felle," faid he, 
 
 <c now you muft exert your fortitude. 
 The commiffioners overtook the cart, they 
 knew Madame, and fhe is in confinement. 5 * 
 
 " Oh let me, then, fly to her," exclaimed 
 Louife, c< wherever fhe is, I ought to be. 
 Dear unfortunate parent ! for what are you 
 referved ? Why did I pray for Kfe, when 
 the hand of ficknefs threatened you ? you 
 had then funk into a peaceful grave, and 
 this calamity had been fpared." 
 > " I fear Mam'felle," faid Dien> " you 
 will not gain admiflion to the prifon." 
 
 H The prifon?" echoed Louife, ftruck 
 with involuntary horror, * and is fhe in 
 prifon VI 
 
 * The 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 179 
 
 <f The commiflioners are fo drift," con- 
 tinued Dien, <f that I fear you will not 
 only be refufed a fight of Madame, but 
 perhaps your own fafety may be endan- 
 gered." 
 
 " To my own fafety," replied Louife, 
 mournfully, " I am indifferent ; alas ! what 
 more have I to fear ! Conduct me, there- 
 fore, inftantly to the place, and let not my 
 mother have the aggravated affliction of 
 fuppofing I can neglect her." 
 
 Auguftine, who wept for the fate of her 
 miftrefs, intreated to go alfo, but Dien abfo- 
 lutely refufed ; and unwillingly accom- 
 panied his young lady. 
 
 They had fome diftance to walk before 
 they reached the prifon ; — at length Dien 
 pointed to a heavy, black building, which he 
 faid was it. 
 
 cc And is it there," faid Louife, " my 
 dear mother is confined l'f 
 
 " It is Mam'felle." 
 
 Louife (topped a few minutes, to fupprefs 
 her agony — and then begged Dien to 
 knock at the door. 
 
 1 6 The 
 
l8o THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 The found was echoed by diftant vaults, 
 recently filled with weeping inhabitants. It 
 was fome time before any one anfwered : 
 the door was at length opened by a man 
 whofe dirty, miferable appearance ftruck 
 Louife with new terror. She drew invo- 
 luntarily back j— but the motive of her 
 vifit immediately recurring to her, fhe re^ 
 quefted to fee the prifoner lately arrived : — " 
 at the fame time defcribing Madame. 
 
 " I know her," faid the man ; " but I 
 have no orders to admit you, and I can do 
 nothing without." 
 
 " Oh ! for pity's fake, let me fee her," 
 cried Louife, clafping her hands with ago- 
 nizing earneftnefs, and fixing her eyes on the 
 man's face* cc if in affliction you ever hope 
 to be confoled by a child of your own, do 
 not refufe me !" 
 
 " Citoyenne," replied, the man* drawing 
 back, " I have no orders, and as I before told 
 you, you muft not enter. There are not 
 anally fo very defirous of coming here." 
 
 " Qh !" continued Louife, advancing* 
 and catching hold of him, as he was about 
 
 to 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIPS. l3l 
 
 to clofe the door, " but it is to fee a parent* 
 I entreat, it is to confole a dear mother 
 who has no other confolation. Oh, in 
 mercy liften to me, and Heaven will fuc- 
 cour you in your hour of diftrefs. Oh ! i 
 will kneel to you, I will biefs you, — grant 
 only my petition !* J 
 
 < c And if citizen Colbert mould know 
 t, what will become of you ? you will be 
 made a prifoner too, and perhaps carried to 
 the guillotine. M 
 
 " I do not fear that — I am even indif- 
 ferent about it J* 
 
 " But who is this man V 9 faid the jailor, 
 pointing to Dien, " he, I fuppofe, does not 
 wifti to come V* 
 
 Dien anfwered in the negative, and faid, 
 " he only came to fhew Mam'felle the 
 way." 
 
 The jailor flill hefitated, and dwelt upon 
 the rifle he ran, if he fuffered her to fee her 
 mother ; but at length weary of her impor- 
 tunity, or actuated by fome better motive, 
 he bade her enter. She did fo— and tak- 
 ing 
 
l82 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 ing a melancholy leave of Dien, the gloomy 
 doors were clofed upon her. 
 
 Whilft the man fattened the bars, (he 
 had leifure to furvey the place- h was 
 lighted by one fmall lamp which hung% 
 againft the wall, and fcarcely threw a beam 
 on the dark receffes loft in di fiance. 
 
 As me flood, a chillnefs feized her ; — 
 the walls dripped unwholefome dews and 
 it feemed as if frefh air was never permitted 
 to enter. 
 
 " He bien, citoyenne !" faid the man, 
 when he had finifhed ; c ! now follow me ; 
 but," added he, lowering his voice, Cf be 
 guarded and prudent, or my head may 
 anfwer for this." 
 
 He then made a motion for filence, and 
 lighting a lamp, which he carried in his 
 hand, led the way. She followed him 
 through long paffages on each fide of which 
 were cells, whofe forrowing inmates were, 
 many of them uttering loud lamentations ; 
 —her fympathizing bofom refponded their 
 it fferings. 
 She descended a flight of narrow fteps, 
 
 at 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. l8j 
 
 at the bottom of which her conductor open- 
 ed a door, and bade her enter. The door 
 was immediately clofed, and fhe found her- 
 felf in a difmal cell, over which one fmali 
 lamp cad a feeble ray. She faw in a diftant 
 corner a perfon fitting on a mattrefs — fhe 
 rufhed towards her, and in a moment was 
 in the arms of her mother. 
 
 " My beloved child !" cried (he, darting 
 up, " is it you ? but why are you here ? 
 why have you entered this abode of 
 mifery ?" 
 
 " Ah my dear mother," cried Louife, 
 burfting into tears of agony, and wringing 
 her hands with frantic emotion, " why, 
 are you here? this is no place for 
 you. Oh ! monfters of cruelty and wicked- 
 nefs !" 
 
 Madame fighed, and then faid, " I have 
 now only to refign myfelf to my fate ; that 
 fate is inevitable. — May I be bleffed with 
 fortitude to fupport it ! Weep not, my 
 Louife ; death lofes half its terrors, where 
 no guilt poifons its fling. In times like 
 
 thefe. 
 
I-8'4 THE VICISSITUDES O? LIFE.- 
 
 thefe, much individual mifery is endured ; 
 let us hope fome future good will refult 
 from it ! The monfter, who at prefent, 
 wields the fword of authority ,is the fcourge 
 of our devoted country, but fome worthier 
 being may fucceed him, and flop the effu- 
 fion of blood and mifery." 
 
 Louife could only weep — and finking on 
 the bed, gave vent to the long-fuppreffed 
 agony of her fouL 
 
 " My dear, dear child," faid Madame, 
 her own voice faultering, " give not way 
 to thefe emotions,- you injure yourfelf, you 
 dedroy me. Let us both remember the 
 events of life are not left to chance ; and 
 that though we appear to fuffer by human 
 wickednefs, we may be affured the arm of 
 tyranny would be powerlefs, and the voice 
 of oppreffion feeble, if a higher beheft did 
 not delegate the means, to anfwer fome 
 important end* The changes in our lot 
 have been very dreadful, but it is our duty 
 to fubmir, and to learn in adverfity thofe 
 leffons, which profperity feldom teaches." 
 
 >3 " Oh 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 1 85 
 
 " Oh my father," exclaimed Louife, 
 " where now are you I" 
 
 " Eicaped, I hope," replied Madame, 
 w to another country. Think, my love, 
 how much more we fhouldTufFer were he 
 alfo with us. Providence will, I truft, fpare 
 you one parent, with whom the remainder 
 of your days will be palled in tranquillity. 
 But where is my poor Auguftine and Dien ? 
 How did you learn my imprifonment, and 
 gain admiffion here ?'* 
 
 Louife related what had befallen her, and 
 begged, in return, an account of all that her 
 mother had to relate. 
 
 <c We had not proceeded more than a 
 mile/ 1 faid (he, " when two men rode 
 up to us ; one of them I inftantly recog- 
 nized to belong to the party who had been 
 at the chateau the evening before. He alfo 
 knew me, and claimed me as his pri- 
 foner ; at the fame time commanding the 
 driver of the cart to follow him. We ar- 
 rived here in about two hours, and during 
 my melancholy ride, I had leifure to refiecT: 
 on my inevitable fate. I endeavoured, to 
 
 reafon 
 
l86 THE VICISSITDBES OF LIFE. 
 
 reafon my mind into the calm (late which 
 is fo neceffary ; which is due to my 
 former elevation, to my hopes in religion, 
 my belief in futurity. Let us teach ihofe 
 monfters who reproach us with having dif- 
 graced our rank with every crime, and be- 
 caufe we were born to titles, fay that we were 
 born to vice, that at lead we know how to 
 refign with dignity, what oppreffion will 
 not fuffer us to hold. To bid a long adieu 
 to the deareft connections of our hearts, to 
 contemplate the lad hours of Hfe ; not footh- 
 ed by the tendernefs of furrounding friends, 
 nor the fond attentions of inalienable re- 
 gard, but expofed to the feoffs of an igno- 
 rant multitude, to every aggravation which 
 cruelty can devife, is I own a hard tFial ; 
 but it is one I will exert myfelf to endure : 
 —that no after reproach may mix with the 
 regrets, with which my ..„ memory will I 
 know be cherifhed.' 1 
 
 Louife could not fpeak — the bitterefl 
 tears fhe had ever fhed, trickled down her 
 cheeks ; Madame kifled them away, and 
 refumed her difcourfe* a Think not, my 
 
 fwees 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 1%J 
 
 fweet child, my labours will be unaided, Qr 
 my exertions ineffectual. The eye of Om- 
 nipotence is over us — its foul-reviving 
 beam will illuminate our dungeon, will dif- 
 pel every doubt, ftrengthen every hope* 
 Through the dark villa of death, religion 
 fheds a ray which illuminates the gloom, and 
 throws its fplendour on endlefs eternity. 
 But why, my Louife, thofe tears ? I in- 
 treat you to be compofed — it will be the 
 fweeteft folace I can receive to know you 
 are refigned to my fate." 
 
 ," Oh never," cried Louife, * I never 
 can be refigned to it ; I muft forget all 
 which is dear in life, all which folaced my 
 bittereft moments, before I can part with 
 fo beloved a parent, without feeling my own 
 heart torn afunder." 
 
 " Say not fo, my child, I hope you will 
 think otherwife ;" as (he faid this, un- 
 bidden tears rolled down her cheeks, but 
 eager to prevent her daughter's feeing 
 them (he refumed her narrative. " The 
 commilTioner, when he beheld my eyes fur- 
 
 fufed 
 
l8§ THE VICISSITUDES OF LfFE, 
 
 fufed in tears, infuked me with taunts, and 
 that was, perhaps, one of the bittereft mo- 
 ments to which my fallen fortune has ex- 
 pofed me. I was given, on my arrival 
 here, to the keeper of the prifon, with a 
 ftricl: charge to guard me vigilantly as I was 
 a ci-devant comteflfe, and might, perhaps, 
 find means to efcape, The jailor anfwered 
 with promifes of obedience, but I thought F 
 difcovered through a rough exterior, marks of 
 humanity and pity. I was not wrong in my 
 conjecture ; his fuhfequent behaviour ha& 
 convinced me, that though faithful to what 
 he thinks his duty, he conducts himfelf to? 
 his unhappy prifoners with tendernefs, and 
 fympathy \ and allows them every indul- 
 gence in his limited power. This ought to 
 be a great confolation to us. — I might 
 have been committed to thofe who would 
 have made every mifery double by the 
 cruel exercife of unlimited power, and 
 by the certainty that in aggravating the 
 fufferings of an ariftocrat, they were fecu- 
 ting applaufe." 
 
 Madame, 
 
THE ViCISSITUDES OF LIFE. 189 
 
 Madame, who faw, with bitternefs, the 
 unfuppreffed emotions of Louife, endea- 
 voured by the tendered Toothings, the 
 flrongeft reafons to induce her to re/train 
 her anguifh— and Louife, who in the fir ft 
 bitter moment of meeting, had thought of 
 nothing but the horror of loling her, was 
 neither fo felfifh, nor fo weak as to be long 
 infenfible to the claims yet made upon her 
 fortitude. No efforts of philofophy could 
 fubdue her grief, but the idea of aggra- 
 vating that of her mother induced her to 
 conceal it. The day patted in melancholy 
 retrofpections, in advice given to Louife for 
 her future conduct, and in exhortations 
 that (he would endeavour to fupport her 
 fpirits. 
 
 At length they took a mournful leave : 
 Louife, however unwillingly, was obliged to 
 quit the prifon, though folaced by the pro- 
 mife of the jailor that (he fhould have early 
 admiflion in the morning ; — of this pro- 
 mife fhe availed herfelf as foon as it was 
 light, and found Madame juft rifen from 
 her miferable bed. She faid, fhe had en- 
 joyed 
 
£90 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 joyed fome hours of tranquil repofe. 
 Louife fhook her head and ilghed. 
 
 " You think it then, my love, impoffible 
 to fleep tranquilly in a prifon ; believe me, 
 the reviving power will vifit the pillow, 
 where innocence lays its weary frame. It is 
 in moments like thefe, that virtue feels her 
 fuperiority. Think you that our perfecu- 
 tors are as free from reproach, as we ? or 
 that the monfter fullied with crimes, up- 
 braided by every eye he meets, by every 
 found he hears, in his gorgeous palace en- 
 joys the tranquillity, which we find in a 
 prifon ? The mind which is rellgned to the 
 events of life, which fees the hand of Pro- 
 vidence in every difpenfation, however myf- 
 terious, and in every event, however ad» 
 verfe, will lean for fupport on that rock, 
 which has been the ftaff of ages — will rely 
 on that faith which has never tottered, and 
 truft in thofe promifes, which have never 
 been broken. Let it not furprife you, my 
 child, to fee me thus refigned to death ; I, 
 who was once fo anxious for life, — fo folici- 
 tous about its comforts— fo bitterly afflitted at 
 
 heir 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 191 
 
 their lofs. Suffering has taught me — what 
 tardily 1 have learned — fubmiffion to the 
 divine will-— faith in its promifes — reliance 
 on its fupport. Does my Louifa think 
 aught but the certainty that I confign her 
 to the protection of a Heavenly parent, 
 could take from the poignant fting of bid- 
 ding her an eternal adieu ? — Oh no, my 
 child, nothing lefs could uphold me. My 
 fate is nowcertain — I had before fomethingto 
 be anxious, fomething to ftruggle for — now 
 all is aflured— -fufpenfe, and dread, and 
 earthly hope, are all over— one only prof- 
 peel: lies before me." 
 
 In converfation fuch as this, the melan- 
 choly days paiTed. On the fifth morning, 
 Madame was abfent when Louife arrived. 
 Shortly after (he returned. 
 
 The dignity of fortitude fate on her 
 brow— refignation fmiled on that counte- 
 nance where forrow had fcattered untimely 
 wrinkles. She evaded the enquiry of her 
 daughter, <c where had me been?" by 
 converfing of the comte, and expreffing her 
 hopes that he had effected his efcape from 
 
 France. 
 
I92 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 France. She gave to Louife many general 
 directions for her future conduct, and ex- 
 prerTed a wifti that (he would employ her 
 talents in procuring a creditable mainte- 
 nance and board, for the prefent, with the 
 coufin of Dien, till better times fhould either 
 reftore her fome of her patrimony, or allow 
 thofe friends to return to France, on whofe 
 kind protection Ihe might fafely rely. 
 
 " Ah ! my beloved mother, 5 ' cried 
 Louife, burfling into tears, and throwing her 
 arms around her neck, " whither does 
 this advice tend? You have, I am fure 
 you have, been before the tribunal and the 
 worft is determined." 
 
 " And if it is," continued Madame, en- 
 deavouring to fpeak with compofure, u is 
 it not what we have fome days expected ? 
 Oh ! my child ! where is the refolution I 
 fondly hoped you would exert? Why 
 mourn thus for what is inevitable. Forget 
 the circumftances of my death, and what is 
 there in it, which mould thus overpower 
 you ? In the common courfe of nature you 
 mult expect to outlive me, and my late ill- 
 
 nefs 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 1 93 
 
 nefs ought to have prepared you for fuch 
 an event. Let us then fpend the time 
 which yet remains to us, in more pleafing 
 and ufeful difcourfe, than in vain exhorta- 
 tions and unavailing grief." 
 
 " Oh ! I fee, I fee," cried Louife, W that 
 all is determined ; the dreadful fentence is 
 pronounced, and you are to be torn from 
 me — but they (hall not part us-^-I will cling 
 to you — I will die with you— my blood 
 fhall mix with yours, and my laft ftruggle 
 {hall be to part no more !" 
 
 " Louife," exclaimed Madame, wiping 
 her eyes, and afiuming a reproachful tone, 
 " is your father nothing ? has he no claim 
 upon you, that you could thus leave his 
 mifery unfolaced, and his age t childlefs ? 
 Where is the fondnefs you once profeffed 
 for him, where thofe dutiful attentions, 
 which even in profperity made his greateft 
 pleafure? Who, on earth, has he but 
 you ? Yet you would forfake him, and 
 ru(h on death to efcape prefent anguifh." 
 
 " Oh no," replied Louife, " I would 
 not — pardon, my beloved mother, the feel- 
 
 vol. 1. k ings 
 
194 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 kigs which now overpower me ; and which 
 made me, for a time, forget all elfe — but I 
 will not difgrace either his, or your affe&ion. 
 I will be all you wifh me — I will endeavour 
 to pour balm into his wounded mind, and 
 heal thofe bitter pangs he will endure, when 
 he hears of your fate." 
 
 " To my fate, however, fevere he will be re- 
 signed, when he reflects that what he de- 
 plores isthe difpenfation of Eternal Wifdom — 
 fent, perhaps, to wean me from a world to 
 which I might have been too much attach- 
 ed. Poffeifed of every gift of fortune, 
 courted by thofe around me, raifed, by my 
 rank, above the greater part of mankind, I 
 might, perhaps, have forgotten I was mor- 
 tal — might have ceafed to remember the 
 bountiful Providence, who, in giving me 
 o much, had left me nothing more to 
 
 alk." 
 
 Madame had fcarcely finifhed fpeaking 
 
 when the jailor entered, with a countenance, 
 in which companion was mingled with 
 grief. He told her it was time ihe mould 
 come. 
 
 " I will 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIF?. 1^5 
 
 cc I will be with you," faid fhe, " im- 
 mediately." Then rifing with an effort 
 which feemed to dread delay, (he threw her 
 arms round her daughter — clafped her in an 
 agonized embrace — brufhed the quick-fall- 
 ing tears from her eyes — half fuppreffed a 
 groan which feemed to convulfe her foul, 
 and exclaiming, " we fhall meet again/' 
 rufhed from the cell. 
 
 The fuddennefs of the acT;, and the con- 
 flernation of Louife, fixed her a few mo- 
 ments to her feat ; but fuddenly recollect- 
 ing herfelf, fhe ftarted up, and with fren- 
 zied hafte rufhed into the paffage, fcream- 
 ing, cc my mother, oh my mother, you 
 fhall not go without me." She fprung for- 
 ward, fcarcely feeling the ground — though 
 the darknefs of the place made it dHScult 
 for her to pioceed ; but fhe heard diftant 
 footfleps, and all her efforts were to over- 
 take them. The agony of her mind in- 
 creafed with her fpeed; — fhe had nearly 
 reached that part of the prifon, in which a 
 lamp was burning, when the heavy clofing 
 of the gteat doors met her ear. In a mo- 
 k 2 ment 
 
IX)5 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 ment the truth burfl upon her mind — fhe 
 uttered a dreadful fcream, and fell fenfelefs 
 on the floor. 
 
 Almoft inftantly the humane jailor, fol- 
 lowed by his wife and daughter, came to 
 her afliftance, and conveyed her to a decent 
 room, where every effort was ufed to re- 
 ftore her — but long without effect. At 
 length fhe opened her eyes, and, looking 
 wildly round, demanded her mother. 
 
 The woman endeavoured, in the kindefl 
 manner, to foothe and confole her. 
 
 In the midft of their humane cares, a 
 perfon entered, whofe appearance occa- 
 fioned general confirmation. He regarded 
 Louife with a look of flern authority, and 
 angrily demanded why me made fo much 
 noife ? 
 
 On being informed the caufe of her 
 grief, he chid her in the harfhefl terms, and 
 told her "fheought at her to rejoice that the 
 republic had loft an enemy." Overpowered 
 by the bittereft anguifh, and confidering 
 this man as one who had been acceffary to 
 the death of her mother, fhe upbraided him 
 
 in 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. igj 
 
 in the londefl manner— me called him Cf a 
 murderer," and afked how he could expect 
 that caufe mould fucceed, which was ce- 
 mented by blood ? 
 
 This was language not to be uttered with 
 impunity ; fhe was ordered by the enraged 
 comrniflioner to be inftantly confined, and 
 guarded till fhe mould anfwer at the bar 
 of the tribunal for daring to infult a repre- 
 fentative of the nation. She was conducted 
 to the cell, which had been fo lately occu- 
 pied by her mother ; and remained there 
 five melancholy weeks — with no fociety, 
 but her own thoughts — no employment, 
 but mournful retrofpe&ions. She ufed to 
 fit hours, and retrace the days fhe had paifed 
 in the fame place with her mother ; recol- 
 lect the expreflions of her countenance- 
 call to mind the found of her voice, fee her 
 ftruggling with forrow, and meeting death 
 with dignified refolution, till imagination 
 realized the work of memory, and fhe con- 
 templated no longer an ideal, but an em- 
 bodied, form. 
 
 k 3 From 
 
198 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE, 
 
 From this dangerous lethargy of forrow, 
 1he was firft aroufed by the recolle&ion of 
 thofe precepts her fainted parent had incul- 
 cated. Amongft the firft of thefewas exer- 
 tion; and painful as was the effort to (hake off 
 the torpor ofafflictibn, (he applied to the jailor 
 to procure her materials, and refumed her 
 drawings, and works of fancy. Thefe 
 were fold to confiderable profit, and thus, 
 not only her time but her thoughts were 
 occupied, and fhe was enabled to impart to 
 her fellow fufferers many comforts of which 
 they flood in need. 
 
 A change at length took place in the 
 affairs of the republic. — The monfter Ro- 
 befpierre was hknfelf conducted to that fcaf- 
 fold wheTe he had caufed fo many victims to 
 be immolated. The reign of terror over, a 
 milder and more equitable ad minift ration 
 fucceeded. 
 
 Louife, though flill a prifoner, was no 
 longer confined to her cell; — fhe was allow- 
 ed to pafs as much of her time as fhe 
 pleafed ia the apartment of the jailor. She 
 
 found 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 1$$ 
 
 found his wife and daughter companionate 
 and amiable, and though they had, hereto- 
 fore, thought it right to conceal their feel- 
 ings, they now gave them free indulgence. 
 Every prifoner bleffed their humanity, and 
 feemed as if tranfported by the death of 
 Robefpierre, from the depth of mifery to 
 the fweet dawnings of hope- 
 
 Amongft the inhabitants of the prifon, 
 with whom Louife now afiociated, was an 
 Englifh lady of high rank. She was a 
 widow, who, in a voyage to Lifbon with an 
 only fon, where he had been ordered for 
 the recovery of his health, had been cap- 
 tured by a French privateer. The terror 
 which the engagement occafioned, the dread 
 of what he might be expofed to in a hof- 
 tile country, whofe name at that time 
 infpired terror and difmay, was too much 
 for the fhattered frame of the invalid, and 
 he furvived the fhock, and the fatigue of 
 removal, only a few days. His unhappy 
 mother, thus bereaved of the prop which 
 had made life defirable, was indifferent to 
 her own fate j and entered the prifon with an 
 k 4 apathy 
 
106 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE, 
 
 apathy which (hewed how little fhe was 
 fenfible of the horrors which furrounded 
 her. Since the remiffion of feverity, fhe, 
 as well as the other prifoners, had met in 
 one common room. Here fhe faw much of 
 Louife— and though dead to the pleafures 
 of the world, fhe had yet a heart to appre- 
 ciate merit. She foon learned the hiftory 
 of the unfortunate girl, whofe filial forrow, 
 which yet marked every feature, endeared 
 her to the wounded bofom of lady May- 
 nard. The fympathy of noble fouls united 
 them, and the fimilarity of their griefs, the 
 one mourning a parent, the other a child, 
 was a fiill ftronger tie. cc Yes/' faid Lady 
 Maynard, as fhe returned to her cell, after 
 witneffing the liberal diftribution Louife had 
 made of the fruits of her induftry, " fhe 
 fhall be to me the child I have loft, and I 
 will endeavour to iupply to her the parent 
 fhe mourns." 
 
 From this time the forrows of Louife 
 were mitigated. — She was no longer friend- 
 lefs, no longer a defolate orphan without 
 any ray of hope. Releafed from the per- 
 petual 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 201 
 
 petual terrors, which had at times threatened 
 to undermine reafon, (he gave all her time 
 to the amufement of her benefactrefs ; — 
 fhe read, played, and fung to her, and 
 proved every hour that fhe was worthy the 
 kindnefs, fo uniformly fhewed. She now 
 ventured to indulge the hope of again fee- 
 ing her father ; of being re-united to him, 
 and pafling the remainder of her days with 
 him in peaceful retirement. She became 
 daily more and more attached to Lady 
 Maynard, and the attachment was mutually 
 encreafing. Her ladyfhip propofed, if a 
 paftport could be obtained, to take Louife 
 to England. This propofal was heard v/ith 
 the mod unfeigned pleafure — in France fhe 
 had now little to hope; and inEngland it was 
 poflible fhe might find her father — at that 
 time England was the afylum of the unfor- 
 tunate ; where alone they were certain of 
 protection, of fupport, offympathy. 
 
 Much folicitation and great interefl were 
 
 neceffary to obtain her liberation ; but when 
 
 this was effected, fhe quitted, with eagerneis, 
 
 k 5 the 
 
JLC2 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 the gloomy walls of a prifon, where fhe 
 had paffcd fo many hours of forrow. 
 
 Thefirft ufe fhe made of her freedom, was 
 to feek Dien and Auguftine, who were (till 
 at Barjols. 
 
 They congratulated her on her almoft 
 miraculous efcape, but wept when they 
 fpoke of Madame, whom Dien had feen 
 conducted to the fcaffold. He faid fhe fup- 
 ported herfelf in the laft awful moment with 
 unfliaken fortitude, and even tried to raife 
 the fpirits of two unhappy victims, who were 
 her fellow-fufferers. 
 
 Louife heard this eulogium on her 
 fainted parent with feelings of mingled 
 admiration and bitternefs ; and when Dien 
 faw how much fhe was afflicted, he re- 
 gretted having mentioned any thing of the 
 affair. 
 
 She vifited thefe two faithful domeflics 
 again before her departure, and took the 
 moft affectionate leave of them. She foon 
 after embarked for England, whither fhe 
 had a fhort and profperous voyage. 
 With heart-felt fatisfa&ion fhe found her- 
 felf 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 203 
 
 felf in a country where the terrors of pro- 
 fcription no longer hung over her. 
 
 After the buttle of their firft arrival was 
 over, and the novelty of her fituation had 
 ceafed to occupy her, fhe reflected on her 
 profpects, and ftation in life. She knew it 
 was building her hopes on a chimera to in* 
 dulge the idea of gaining her patrimonial 
 inheritance, and every feeling of her heart 
 recoiled from the thought of living in proud 
 idlenefs on the bounty of a generous 
 ftranger. — The accomplishments, which the 
 liberality of her parents had enabled her fo 
 fully to acquire, (he determined now to 
 make her means of fupport \ and fhe took 
 the firft opportunity of converfing with 
 Lady Maynard on the fubjecl:. Her lady- 
 fhip did not fecond this plan with the ar- 
 dour which Louife expected, - 
 
 " My dear child/' faid fhe, « I refpecl 
 your motives, but their execution is now 
 unneceflary.. When I folicited you to be- 
 come my inmate,it was in the fixed intention 
 of confidering you as my daughter; feel 
 yourfelf fo in the fulled fenfe of the word, 
 k 6 and 
 
;204 THE' VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 and be allured you more than repay any 
 little obligation you may fancy you have 
 received, by fupplying to my widowed 
 heart that fon of whom I have been fo 
 cruelly deprived. To you, I know it has 
 often appeared a very dreadful calamity to 
 be robbed of your fortune, but, alas! I 
 could tell you that fortune alone has little 
 power to impart happinefs. Mine is large 
 — -I have no connections who have any claim 
 upon me ; — Do you then give it that 
 value which it wants, by fharing it with me. 
 Be not felicitous about your future welfare 
 — I will be mindful of that — to fecure it 
 is the firrt and almofl only wifh of my 
 heart." 
 
 The grateful, the penetrated Louife 
 could only thjow her arms .around her 
 benefactrefs, and aflure her, her bounty 
 fnould never be abufed. 
 
 After fuch conduct me could not, without 
 feeming to doubt the promifes of her lady- 
 fhip, think any more of her former plan. 
 Protected by the liberality, and foothed by 
 the kindnefs, of her friend, (he now en- 
 joyed 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 205 
 
 joyed a degree of felicity fhe once thought 
 fhe could never know — but this felicity was 
 human, and it was, therefore, not without 
 alloy. Sad regrets for her mother, and 
 deeper folicitudes for her father, but too 
 often clouded that bofom, which every 
 effort of Lady Maynard was calculated 
 to make happy. 
 
 Louife, however, though her feeling was 
 firong, took care they fhould not be obtru- 
 five. She concealed them as much as pof- 
 fible, and endeavoured to repay the kind- 
 nefs of her friend by a conftant appear- 
 ance of cheerfulnefs. 
 
 Thus palled feveral months. — Lpuife 
 omitted no opportunity of enquiring, among 
 the numerous emigrants with whom London 
 abounded, ibme information of her father 
 — but without fuccefs. Fearing he was loft 
 to her for ever, fhe thought could (he be 
 fatisfied of his fate it would be fome allevia- 
 tion of her anguifh. 
 
 She was one morning returning alone 
 from an airing, her ladyfhip having flopped 
 at the houfe of a friend, when, in driving 
 
 through 
 
206 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 through Oxford-ftreet, fhe recolletted fhe 
 wanted fome crayons. She pulled the check 
 firing, and defired the coachman to drive to 
 an adjoining fhop. He did fo — and alight- 
 ing, fhe went to make her purchafes. 
 She had finiflied thefe, when the woman, 
 who feemed (truck by her foreign accent, 
 afked her if fhe was a French woman ? 
 
 She anfwered in the affirmative. 
 
 « Why Mifs, or Mamzelle I believe you 
 call yourfelves, my reafon for afking if you 
 are French is this ; I have got a poor 
 creature of an Emmygrin, as lodges in my 
 upper ftory, who came here a few days 
 fince. 
 
 " He can't fpeak a bit of Englifh, and 
 what's worfe, he is very ill. By his manner, 
 he don't feem to me to have any money ; 
 however that's no great wonder — for you 
 don't find much of that out of Old England 
 — which, as I often ufed to fay to my poor 
 hufband, is the only place for a full purfe. 
 I looked at him this morning, as I came 
 pad his door* and I verily believe he has 
 got the fmall pox j and if he has this hot wea- 
 ther, 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. ZOj 
 
 ther, its odds, but it goes hard with him — 
 and then my lodgings, may hap, won't let 
 this twelve-month ; for nobody would like 
 to come after infection, as I may fay." 
 
 Louife, who had liftened with much per- 
 turbation to this narrative, and whofe feel- 
 ings in every mention of a (hanger recur- 
 red to her father, now requefted to go up 
 flairs. 
 
 The woman readily complied ; faying it 
 would take a great deal of anxiety off her 
 mind to have fome one who knew the poor 
 creature, and who would pay for what he 
 had j as it would be very hard upon her, 
 who was a widow, to have a ftranger come 
 to her to die, and leave her to pay the 
 cofts. 
 
 They afcended a miferable ftaircafe, to a 
 more miferable garret, where, on a mattrefs, 
 lay a poor creature in great apparent agony. 
 His face was red, and fo much fwollen that 
 his eyes were hardly vifible : his lips were 
 parched and black, and the reftleflhefs of 
 his frame befpoke a high degree of fever. 
 
 Louife 
 
208 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 Louife went to the bed, and regarded 
 him with trembling curiofity ;«— but fhe was 
 foon convinced it was not her father — (he, 
 in vain, endeavoured to trace in the features 
 any refemblance. 
 
 The fufferer had not yet cad his melan- 
 choly eyes upon her, but lay, moaning, re- 
 gardlefs of every furrounding object. Louife 
 addreifed him in accents the mod fympa- 
 thizing, and afked if fhe could be of any 
 fervice to him. 
 
 No fooner did her voice reach his ear, 
 than he turned round, and with a faint, 
 convulfive effort, cried, " Oh my child t" 
 
 He would have extended his arms to em« 
 brace her, but was not able, and fell back 
 on his pillow. 
 
 Aftonifhed, terrified, agonized, Louife 
 clafped him in her arms, crying, a Oh my 
 father I do I find you thus ?" 
 
 Her feelings were indeed mo ft poignant 
 • — after fuch long anxiety, fuch dread on 
 his account, to difcover him only to lofehim. 
 This feemed one of the bitterefl: moments 
 
 of 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 200, 
 
 of her eventful life, — yet it was not a mo- 
 ment to dwell on her own peculiar fufFer- 
 ings — it was rather a call upon her to exert 
 all her powers to adminifter relief to her 
 fuffering parent. — Whether the furprife of 
 recognizing her had been too much for his 
 enfeebled frame, or whether the agony of 
 fuffering robbed him of fenfe, he feemed 
 neither to hear or fee her. In terror left 
 he mould be really dead, fhe intreated the 
 woman, with the inoft impaffioned energy, 
 to fend inftantly for fome affiftance. 
 
 Yes, Mamzelle, I will $ but tell me fir ft 
 who is to pay me. 
 
 cc I will," cried the agonized girl, " take 
 my purfe, take every thing I have, only let 
 my father be fuccoured !" 
 
 The woman, with great alacrity, received 
 the purfe, and quitted the room. 
 
 The Count, almofl: immediately recover- 
 ing from the ftate into which joy and fur- 
 prife had thrown him, faid in a voice hard- 
 ly intelligible, ct Oh my beloved child ! is 
 it once more given me to embrace thee." 
 
 Louife could not anfwer— fhe could only 
 
 weep, 
 
210 THE VICISSITUDES OF LTFE. 
 
 weep, and imprint the fondeft kiffes on the 
 burning hand which lay extended on the 
 counterpane. 
 
 She waited, with the utmoft impatience, 
 the return of the woman, who at length 
 came, followed by an apothecary. Louife, 
 pointing to the fick bed, was unable to 
 fpeak, but the ftranger underftood her. He 
 obferved the patient fome minutes, and 
 then faid he was very ill, nor would he be 
 better till the eruption was thrown out, as 
 his diforder was undoubtedly the fmall 
 pox. 
 
 Louife heard this with inexpreffible ter- 
 ror, and afked if nothing could be done to 
 alleviate the violence of the diforder ? 
 
 The ftranger replied, " certainly much 
 could be done, and he would go immediate- 
 ly for fome proper medicines." 
 
 When he was gone, Louife enquired of 
 the woman, if fhe had not a better room, to 
 which her father might be immediately con- 
 veyed. 
 
 a Why yes, Mamzelle, I has ; but the 
 terms are higher, and fuch a diforder as this 
 
 in 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE, 211 
 
 in my houfe might ruin the reputation of 
 it." 
 
 " In regard to being paid," faid Louife, 
 cc have no fear ; I have friends both able 
 and willing to defray every expence ; and 
 you furely would not have the inhumanity 
 to oblige a perfon in this ftate to feek for 
 another dwelling." 
 
 " Why Mamzelle, if I'm fure of bemg 
 paid, its another matter, and your papa fhall 
 want for nothing here." 
 
 Louife urged her to be expeditious in 
 preparing the room, and in the courfe of 
 an hour, the Count was removed into a 
 better bed, where clean linen, and every 
 comfort his unhappy ftate admitted, was 
 provided by his daughter. 
 
 She then fent the carriage back to Lady 
 Maynard, to inform her of the affair, and 
 to requeft her to procure a nurfe and the 
 bed medical advice. 
 
 Her ladyfhip, with her wonted humanity, 
 fent her houfekeeper for a careful perfon 
 whom me knew, while fhe haftened to 
 
 Louife ; 
 
212 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 Louife ; — In her way fhe called upon Dr. 
 Arnotr, to whofe (kill and care fhe knew 
 {he could fafely trufL 
 
 When he faw the patient, he gave imme- 
 diate orders that the room fhould be kept 
 cool, for the diforder was of the mod viru- 
 lent fort. He enquired if Loui r e had had 
 it ? and, upon her anfwering in the negative, 
 urged the impropriety of her being in the 
 room. Lady Maynard alfo remonftrated, 
 but Louife would be deterred by no per- 
 fonal fears from attending her father. She 
 faid, " he had more than common claims 
 upon her ; he was among Grangers, in a 
 foreign land, with th<2 language of which 
 he was unacquainted. If fhe could admi- 
 nifter to his comfort fhe ought to do it, and 
 fhe fhould think any evil, fo encountered, 
 light in comparifon of the pleafure fhe 
 might impart. 
 
 The woman of the houfe, who had feen 
 her ladyfhip's equipage, and heard her ad- 
 dreffed by her title, was now fo extremely 
 civil, that fhe would fuffer no one to fetch 
 
 what 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 1 1 3 
 
 what was wanted, but herfelf ; and till the 
 arrival of the nurfe, entreated to be allowed 
 to wait on the Count. - 
 
 In the mean time, every unfavourable 
 fymptom encreafed — the fever became fo 
 high that the Count was quite delirious, and 
 was with difficulty kept in bed. 
 
 Louife, though familiar with almoft every 
 forrow, and prepared, as me fancied, for 
 every new calamity, found her fpirits un- 
 able to fupport her in the prefent trying cir- 
 cumftances. 
 
 Her father no longer knows her — he lay 
 in a violent delirium ; yet, amidft the inco- 
 herence of phrenzy, every thought, every 
 wifh, was in France. He cried in forrow- 
 ful accents, M Oh my wife, my dear wife ! 
 muft I never fee you more ? Oh Belcour, 
 muft I never again vifit thee ? Scene of 
 early joys ! — fpot, where once my happinefs 
 knew no alloy 1" 
 
 Tears trickled down the cheeks of 
 Louife ; (lie took the burning hand of her 
 father, and preiTed it with the fondeft affec- 
 tion — but the preiTure was not returned. 
 
 Pre- 
 
214 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 Prefently after, he fpoke of his wife. "Sweet 
 excellence V faid he, ** waft thou, indeed, 
 mangled by the ruffian hand of the execu- 
 tioner ; and for the crime of having refcued 
 thy hufband ? but I will avenge thy caufe.'* 
 —He was then flarting from the bed, and 
 but for the timely prevention of the nurfe, 
 would have effected his purpofe. 
 
 Lady Maynard, who only quitted Louife 
 to fleep, was, at this trying moment, all 
 that the fondeft parent could have fhewn 
 herfelf. She chearedher with hopes, (he footh- 
 ed her with affection, and reprefented to 
 her the neceflity there was for exertion. 
 
 " If you fuffer yourfelf," faid (he, ■ to 
 droop, what will recovered health be to 
 your father ? you mud be his only folace, 
 as you are his only earthly tie." 
 
 This was an appeal not made in vain — 
 and Louife endeavoured to (hake off the ener- 
 vating forrow which threatened to abforb 
 her faculties— but it was not when (he 
 looked at her father, (he couid make this 
 exertion — at fuch moments (he believed, 
 that all efforts for him would be fruitlefs. 
 
 Tht 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 21$ 
 
 The eruption was now apparent — and 
 it confirmed their word fears. The Count 
 appeared infenfible of his fufferings, and 
 this was the only confolation his afflicted 
 child could tafte. Lady Maynard in vain 
 endeavoured to perfuade her to return to 
 St, James'-fquare, or to take a few hours of 
 repofe. Every appearance was fo alarm- 
 ing, that till fome change took place, fhe 
 could not perfuade herfelf to leave the apart- 
 ment. 
 
 Heavily pafled thofe hours, which, to the 
 happy, fly with fuch rapidity. Day fuc- 
 ceeded day, but brought only an encreafe of 
 fuffering ; and, in a (hort time, the Count 
 was in fuch a (late, as made his difTolution 
 not only every moment expected, but almofl: 
 defired. 
 
 The diforder, which was of the confluent 
 kind, had not only deformed his features, but 
 fwelled his head to a mod enormous fize. 
 He feemed almofl fufFocated,and a frightful 
 blacknefs was fpread over fuch parts of his 
 (kin, as were (till vifible. Deep groans 
 frequently burft from him, and thefe were 
 
 the 
 
2l6 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 the only fymptoms of his fenfibility of fuf- 
 fering. Louife who had hitherto watched 
 with the mod unwearied afliduity, now felt 
 herfelfno longer able — the langour of dif- 
 eafe was dealing upon her, and in anfwer to 
 her ladyfhip's earned entreaty that fhe 
 would lie down, fhe confented to do fo in a 
 fmall adjoining apartment. 
 
 Though fhe had not been in bed for 
 many nights, fhe was unable to deep ; her 
 temples throbbed violently — her tongue was 
 parched — her limbs were racked with pain 
 —and a high degree of fever ran through 
 every vein. When Dr. Arnott arrived he 
 declared fhe had taken the infection, and 
 all that fkill could fugged, or tendernefs 
 impart, to mitigate the rage of this dreadful 
 diforder, was adminidered. 
 
 Louife, though differing from extreme 
 bodily pain, was not infenfible to the kind- 
 nefs of her ladyfhip, and as die preffed her 
 hand with grateful fondnefs to her lips, 
 fhe dlently prayed that her benevolence 
 might be rewarded by Him, to- whom it was 
 not unknown— for herfelf, fhe had little to 
 
 regret 
 ii 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. t\J 
 
 regret in life, and (he thought from what 
 fhe had feen of her father's fufferings, it 
 was impoflible (he (hould furvive him, — 
 to live and return the kindnefs of her be- 
 loved patronefs, had once been her firft 
 wi(h, but the languor of fuffering, as it 
 pervaded her frame, feemed to extend td 
 her mind, and weaken thofe ties which had 
 once bound her fo ftrongly to her lady- 
 fhip. 
 
 Much as (he regretted quitting her fa- 
 ther, before the lad awful crifis arrived, 
 fhe found herfelf wholly unequal to the 
 tafk of attending him. Her repeated en- 
 quiries, her fervent prayers for his peace- 
 ful exit, (hewed that not even her own fuf- 
 ferings could obliterate from her mind thofe 
 which he endured. She was informed that 
 he Mill breathed, but lay without fenfe, and 
 in almoft the fame ftate as (lie had left him. 
 
 How lengthened, how dreadful were his 
 fufferings ! 
 
 M Father of mercies !" (he faintly arti- 
 culated, " look with compafiion upon him I 
 
 vol, i. l mitigate 
 
2l8 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 mitigate his pains, folace his wounded mind, 
 and take him to peace, and to thyfelf." 
 
 Having concluded this heartfelt prayer, 
 {he laid her throbbing temples upon her 
 pillow, and tried to compofe herfelf — but 
 tnis was not to be done by effort. Her fe- 
 ver every hour encreafed, and very foon 
 her ideas became confufed, — her recollec- 
 tion was bewildered, — excruciating pains 
 feized her, and all the fenfe which remain- 
 ed to her, was the fenfe of fullering. 
 
 Her kind maternal friend, who, with un- 
 wearied tendernefs and folicitude, had been 
 her conftant companion during her fathers 
 illnefs, now devoted himfelf wholly to her. 
 At length the eruption appeared, but it 
 wore not the fame dreadful afpeft as did 
 that of the Count ; and Dr. Amott de- 
 clared, there was every reafon to hope a 
 more favorable iflue. 
 
 In the mean lime, contrary to all ex- 
 pectation, the Count furvived the crifis of 
 his diforder — the fever abated, and hopes 
 were entertained of his recovery— but in 
 
 prd- 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 210, 
 
 proportion to the violence of his diforder, 
 was the tendernefs of his amendment ; and 
 before he was able to fit up, Louife was in 
 a ftate of rapid convalefcence. Her youth 
 and excellent conflitution combated the 
 malignancy of the difeafe, and at the end 
 of three weeks fhe was able to attend her 
 flill fuffering parent. 
 
 Her joy and aftonifhment, when firfl 
 informed of his exiftence, are hardly to be 
 defcribed. She bleffed that Providence who 
 had thus miraculoufly interpofed to fnatch 
 him from the jaws of death, and prayed 
 that a life, fo preferved, might be deftined 
 to tafte of greater felicity than had long 
 been its doom. 
 
 He had been informed of her illnefs, in 
 anfwer to his urgent defire to fee her, and 
 when her recovery permitted her again to 
 attend him, he received her with the pu- 
 reft delight. He was too weak 10 ex^rcfs 
 his feelings, but he exten fed hU arms ro 
 receive her, and prefled her rapture uflj to 
 his bofom. , 
 
 It was now fhe firft heard there was every 
 l 2 re; i 
 
2 20 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE, 
 
 reafon to fear that the Count, with recovered 
 health, would no more recover his fight. 
 The effects of the diforder had fallen upon 
 his eyes, and Dr. Amott had no hope of 
 faving him from total blindnefs. He 
 mentioned this himfelf, and faid it was the 
 more to be regretted, as it was neceflary 
 he mould contribute to his fupport. 
 
 Louife begged hi in not to think on that 
 fubject, as fhe was both able and willing 
 to work for him ; fhe alfo added, fuch was 
 the munificence of Lady Maynard, fhe be- 
 lieved all thought on that fuhjecl: was fu- 
 perfluous. The Count, when informed 
 of what this benevolent lady had done for 
 his daughter, thanked her with all the 
 warmth of parental gratitude ; but a heart, 
 like hers, was more gratified by the adt, 
 than by the praifss, which followed it ; and 
 fhe told the Count, in aniwer to his reite- 
 rated thanks, that all obligation was hers, 
 as the pieafure he had derived from 
 the lociety of Louife exceeded any fhe could 
 impart* 
 
 When the Count was able to bear a re- 
 moval. 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 2 21 
 
 moval, fhe infilled upon his making her 
 houfe his home ; at leaft till he had thought 
 of fome more eligible place. 
 
 Here the unwearied attention, the fond 
 folicituue of his daughter, relieved his mind 
 from that weight of affliction, which had 
 fo long opprefTed it, and took, even from 
 the misfortune of blindnefs, half its de- 
 privations. She now folicited him to in- 
 form her of all which had happened fmce 
 they parted, and how he had learned the 
 dreadful cataftrophe of her mother's death ;, 
 for that he did know it, even the inco- 
 herent ramblings of delirium had but too 
 plainly evinced. 
 
 He informed her that when he quitted 
 the room on the entrance of the commif- 
 fioners, he had liftened a few minutes to 
 their difcourfe, and being thus informed 
 of the purport of their vifit x he determined 
 immediately to quit the Chateau, as his 
 refidence with his family not only expofed 
 himfelf but them to ruin. In this belief,, 
 though his bofom throbbed with anguifli 
 at the idea of leaving them without a pro- 
 l 3 tedor, 
 
222 THE VICISSITUDES OP LIfS. 
 
 teclor, he crofled the garden with the ut- 
 moft expedition, and directed his courfe 
 fouthwards, in hopes, by reaching the fhores 
 of the Mediterranean, to efcape to fome 
 other kingdom. 
 
 " For many days," faid he, <( I conti- 
 nued a laborious route, with no other fuf- 
 tenance than what I picked from the woods, 
 or drew from a friendly brook : but hun- 
 ger and fatigue were what I had been long 
 ufed to, and I had learned to fupport them. 
 That, which alone opprefled my foul and 
 funk me to defpair, was the dread of what 
 you and your dear mother might fufTer ; 
 and I mourned the fatal hour in which I 
 had returned to you, perhaps to overwhelm 
 you with calamity. Alas ! much as I then 
 dreaded, I did not fuppofe the horrible 
 truth ; — had I— every perfonal evil I had 
 difregarded — but frequently, when I re- 
 prefented to my-felf the cowardice of leaving 
 you, the idea that you would in your cir- 
 €umflances be fafer without me, deterred 
 me from returning. In thefe heart break- 
 ing conflicts, I travelled gloomily, defpond- 
 
 in g Iv > 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE* 223 
 
 ingly, till I faw at a diftance the blue wa- 
 ters of the Mediterranean^ Oil ! how did 
 I figfr for your company, — how wifh that 
 you could have been the companions of 
 my flight 1 Had they been with me, 
 faid I, here we might have found ferenity* 
 here we mould have tafted peace. Happy 
 in each other, we would not have mourned 
 the deprivation of fortune, nor fighed for 
 that which thoufands have pofiefied without 
 enjoying. 
 
 f? In the fmall hut of a fifherman, I found 
 temporary repofe j his humanity pitied my 
 vifible fuffering, and he frankly offered 
 me what his fimple board fupplied. In my 
 days of profperity I had, as you well know, 
 devoted much of my time to fifhing, and 
 I now aflifted my benefactor in his occu- 
 pation. Employment did more for me 
 than all the efforts of philofophy j and in 
 this humble fociety I might have tailed 
 fomething like repofe, had not one fatal 
 blow for ever robbed me of peace. The 
 wife of the fifherman, who frequently went 
 to the neighbouring town to pur- 
 l 4 chafe 
 
2 24 THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 ehafe neceflfaries, returned one evening 
 later than ufual j fome of her little arti- 
 cles were wrapped in an old newfpaper, 
 and eager to obtain fome information 
 of the ftate of our devoted nation, I re- 
 queued of her the fragment. She rea- 
 dily gave it me — I perufed it with feel- 
 ings of patriotic indignation, and was 
 returning it to her, when in one corner I 
 perceived what I had before overlooked*— 
 -a lift of unhappy beings who had fallen fa- 
 crifices to the guillotine. I read their 
 names with horror, and a thrilling fort of 
 curiofity ; — but Oh, my Louife ! what 
 were my feelings to trace that of Marie 
 Louife de Belcour? A fudden mift be- 
 dimmed my eyes — horror feemed to freeze 
 every palpitating vein ;— unable to fpeak, I 
 uttered a deep groan, and fell fenfelefs on 
 the floor. I continued long in this fitua- 
 tion ; when I recovered I found myfelf in 
 bed, and my kind hoft and hoftefs (landing by 
 me. The latter gave me a glafs of liqueur, 
 which fhe held in her hand, and which fhe 
 requefted me to drink. I complied, and 
 
 J*** found 
 
TrfE VICISSITUDES OP LIFI. 225 
 
 found myfelf revived — but to what 
 did I recover ? — To know that the dear 
 partner of my heart was for ever tor.; from 
 me, and that to her fatal affection for me, 
 fhe owed her death ! Deprived of life by 
 the bloody hand of the executioner with- 
 out the decent formalities which are due 
 to the lowed of mankind. She, who was 
 born to fplendour, educated in its indi- 
 gencies, fheltered by affeclion from every 
 inconvenience, and taught by refinement 
 to feel with double anguifh every indignity. 
 I begged to be left done — and (hutting my- 
 felf in my little apartments, gave free vent 
 to my anguim. It was then only I was truly 
 miferable, for it was then only I was be- 
 reaved of all hope. Lofs of fortune, ba- 
 nifhment from the deareft ties of life, want, 
 and hardinip, I had endeavoured to fup- 
 port ; but this lad ftroke baffled every ef- 
 fort of fortitude. My beloved wife mur- 
 dered, where was my daughter? to what 
 evils might not fhe be expofed ?— perhaps to 
 worfe than death. With what bitter up- 
 braidings did I lament having quitted :.hq 
 Chateau ? Had I flayed, I might perhaps, 
 
 have 
 
226 THE VICISSITUDES OP LITE* 
 
 have been the only victim. Whilft this 
 thought filed my mind, I determined to 
 return to Provence, but my hoft, who in- 
 terefted himfelf much in my affairs, urged 
 me fo ftrongly to retinquifh this fcheme, 
 and reprefented the certain ruin it was to 
 myfelf, without the poflibility of doing you 
 any good, that my refutation began to 
 waver; yet, to fnatch you, my Louife y 
 from fuffering, what had I not attempted ? 
 Many a weary hour I lay revolving, on 
 my pillow, various plans, all alas ! imprac- 
 ticable, as my means were not only fo 
 limited, but my life forfeit. 
 
 We had been one day timing from the 
 dl$s of morning* and had taken nothing j 
 my hoft propofed to go farther out to 
 fea ; I made no objection, and we pro- 
 ceeded about a league, when fo thick a fog 
 arofe, that we loft all traces of land. Night 
 approached whilft we were in this alarming 
 fituation, and my hoftj who was naturally 
 timid, was extremely terrified. I endea- 
 voured to fupport his fpirits, and to cheer 
 him with the idea that we mould be able to 
 
 return 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 227 
 
 return in the morning, — but he was certain 
 of the contrary, and bewailed himfelf in 
 the mod pitious manner. The night paffed 
 flowly away, and when the morning beam- 
 ed, and the rifmg fun fwept away the mid, 
 we could perceive no trace of land. The 
 grief of my companion became more un- 
 governable y — he wrung his hands, threw 
 himfelf down in the boat, and feemed fran- 
 tic. Faint for want of provifions, the 
 fmall Mock we had with us having been 
 exhaufted the eveningbefore,hebelieved him- 
 felf dying, and called on heaven to protect 
 his wife and children. 
 
 At length a diftant fail appeared — it ap- 
 proached—we hailed it, and had the plea- 
 fure to fee that our fignal was aniwered. 
 It was an Englifh merchantman, who took 
 us immediately on board ; — fortunately the 
 captain under flood French ; and on my telling 
 him the little hiftory of my friend, his 
 boat was Teftored, and he put in the track 
 which he knew. He haftened homewards, 
 and I truft reached his family in fafety. 1 
 took leave of him, glad of the opportunity 
 
 of 
 
22& TH£ VICISSITUDES OF LIFHr 
 
 of reaching a land which had long been 
 the object of my earneft defires ; and had 
 I, my child, been aflured of your fafety, I 
 fhould have thought this one of the moil 
 fortunate events of my life-. 
 
 We reached England after a pleafant 
 voyage, and the captain who was coming 
 to London, offered to take me with him. 
 This I gladly accepted, but had not long 
 arrived when I found myfelf unwell ; — my 
 illnefs hourly enereafed, and what might have 
 been the event, had I been much longer the 
 abandoned object you found me, I know 
 not, — you were happily reftored to me, 
 and brought me every comfort. What had 
 been the prelervation of life, without you> 
 to chear its downward path ? What my 
 efcape from cruelty and oppref&on, if 
 you had been Hill deftined to feel their 
 force ?" 
 
 Here the count ceafed, and his daugh* 
 ter, who had not been able to reftrain her 
 tears during this, narrative, tenderly em- 
 braced him. 
 
 Time, the foother of all calamities, 
 
 poured 
 
THE VICISSITUDES OF JLIFE. 21$ 
 
 poured balm into the wounded mind of the 
 count de Belcour ; whilft his daughter, in 
 the rewards of filial piety, tailed that fe- 
 renity, which no fortuitous circumftances 
 of this world can beftow; and no cala- 
 mity, however fevere, take away. 
 
 In the unchanging bounty, and in- 
 creafing regard of Lady Maynard, (he 
 found that pecuniary affi fiance, which en- 
 abled her to beftow thofe comforts on her 
 father, which his melancholy fituation fo 
 peculiarly required, and which the utmofl ef- 
 forts of her induftry alone could but very 
 partially have procured. 
 
 As foon as peace was concluded with 
 England, they ventured again to France ; 
 where early habits and long aflociations, 
 had endeared to them their native land. 
 Lady Maynard returned with them, in- 
 tending to pa r s half the year in France, and 
 the remainder in England. 
 
 Or ah his vaft pofTeffions the count re- 
 covered none but the old Chateau in Pro- 
 vence; tmther he retired with his daugk- 
 ttr, and tkey were foon joined by Dion 
 6 and 
 
230 THS VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 
 
 and Auguftine, who, hearing of their ar- 
 rival, haftened to them. 
 
 As the demefne, though falling to decay, 
 was large, the count difpofed of part of it, 
 and lived with his daughter upon the re- 
 mainder. Here, in retirement, in virtue, 
 in content, paffed their blamelefs lives. 
 They had fuffered too dreadfully, ever to 
 regain their wonted cheerfulnefs, but 
 that ferenity, which is the recompence 
 of virtue, gilded every hour, and prepared 
 them for that perfect blifs, which is only 
 found in a better world. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 Strahan and Preftotij 
 lYinters-Streetj London. 
 
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
 3 0112 084213807 
 
 
 
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 liii 
 
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