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 M A Pt I A, 
 
 A DOMESTIC TALE, 
 
 DEDICATED BY PERMISSION 
 TO HER ROYAL HIGHNESS 
 
 TIE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE OF SAXE-COBURG. 
 
 3y CATHERINE ST. GEORGE. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES, 
 VOL. I. 
 
 Hontion: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY J. PORTER, BOOKSELLER TO HER 
 
 ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTEj 
 
 81, PALL MALL. 
 
 1817.
 
 Printed by R. and A. Tuyior, Shoe Lane, London.
 
 3- . 
 
 i 
 
 ^23 
 
 DEDICATION 
 
 TO HER ROYAL HIGHNESS 
 
 THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE 
 OF SAXE-COBURG. 
 
 ^, M2DAM, 
 
 '^ An explanation appears to he necessary 
 for my presumption^ in offering to the eye 
 of Royalty^ so plain^ unvarnished a story, 
 
 %as the following " Domestic TaleT 
 
 'i^ . Permit me. Madam, candidly to acknotV' 
 ledge that I penned the present production 
 under a cloud of adversity, with the hope 
 
 ^ VOL. I. b
 
 Vt DEDICATION. 
 
 of contributing thereby towards the sup- 
 port of a numerous family ; and I chose 
 for my subject the memoirs of a person 
 with whom I had been well acquainted^ 
 from a persuasion that her conduct, under 
 various trials, would prove that a strict 
 adherence to religious principles has al- 
 IV ays, sooner or later, its due influence 
 vpon the human heai-t. 
 
 After repeated disappointments in my 
 endeavours to dispose of the ivork, I was 
 convinced that without patronage I should 
 never attain my object. At this period I 
 was i?i London, The domestic virtues of 
 the Princess of Saxe-Coburg ivere the 
 general theme ; and it occurred to me that 
 She, whose high rank made her the most 
 conspicuous of her sew, yet whose rectitt$de 
 of conduct led her to shun the voice of
 
 DEDICATION. Vll 
 
 adulation, and with her exalted consort 
 to practise in retir&nient all the socud 
 vb^ues, tvas of all j)ersons the most likely 
 to assist the friendless ! The energy of 
 a parent urged me to make the trial; — ^ 
 the beneficence of Your Royal Highness 
 induced you. Madam, to grant ine your 
 gracious protection, 
 
 I shall always consider that day as the 
 most gratifying of my life, luhen Your 
 Royal Highness taught me, that a favour 
 may he rendered valuable beyond calcula- 
 *io7i by the manner in which it is conferred. 
 
 That Your Royal Highness may for a 
 long series of years be the object of love 
 and respect to your own and to surround- 
 ing nations ; and that luith your exalted 
 i^onsort Your Royal Highness may continue 
 b 3
 
 Mil DEDICATION-. 
 
 a bright example of conjugal feUcihj, and 
 enjoy the blessing of health, and every other. 
 temporal happiness, shall be the constant 
 •prayer of 
 
 Madam, 
 
 Yo/fr Royal Highnesses 
 JSIost gratefdly devoted 
 and obedient humble servant. 
 
 C2LTHER12SE St. GeORVE. 
 
 Douglas, Lie of Manj
 
 LIST 
 
 OF 
 
 SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 Tier Royal Highness the Princess Charlotte of 
 
 Saxe-Coijurg. 
 His Serene Highness the Prince of Saxe-Cg- 
 
 EURG. 
 
 His Royal Highness the Duke of York. 
 
 Her Royal Highness the Duchess of York, 
 
 His Royal Highness the Duke of Cumberland^ 
 3 copies. 
 
 Her Royal Highness the Duchess of Cumber- 
 land, 6 copies. 
 
 His Royal Highness the Duke of Sussex, 3 co- 
 pies, 
 
 \i'he Most Noble His Grace the Duke of At hoi. 
 The Most Noble Her Grace the Duchess of Athol. 
 William Amherst^ Esq, 
 Mrs. Amherst. 
 Honourable Miss Arundel, 
 b 3
 
 ^ ILIST OI 
 
 Mrs. Baddeley. 
 
 Miss Badger. 
 
 Walter Balfour, Esq, 
 
 Mr. Baron. 
 
 Mr. Baugh, 6 copies. 
 
 Mrs. Bennett. 
 
 Miss Bemiett. 
 
 Madame de Berg, 2 copie?. 
 
 Mr. Bird. 
 
 Miss Blakemor^. 
 
 Mrs. Borougb. 
 
 Honourable Mrs. Bovvater, 2 copies^ 
 
 John Bower, Esq. 
 
 Miss Bridson. 
 
 Mr. William Buckle. 
 
 Mrs. Callow.. 
 
 Miss Callow. 
 
 Mrs. CampbelL 
 
 Miss Clarke. 
 
 Mr. Cliff. 
 
 T. Jukes Collier^ Esq. 
 
 Mr. Corlet. 
 
 Mrs. Corlet. 
 
 Mr. H. Corlet. 
 
 Richard Henry Cox, Esq^ 
 
 Mrs. Richard Henry Cqk. 
 
 Miss H. Cox.
 
 SUBSCRIBERS. 3CI 
 
 R. Kilby Cox, Esq. 8 copies. 
 
 Samuel Cox, Esq. 2 copies. 
 
 R. Kilby Cox, jun. Esq. 
 
 Miss Corf. 
 
 Mrs. Corsier, 2 copies. 
 
 John Cotes, Esq. 
 
 Right Honourable Lady Maria Cotes. 
 
 Miss Cotes. 
 
 Miss C. Cotes. 
 
 Miss Crawford. 
 
 Miss Curphy. 
 
 Mrs. Cuynoni, 
 
 Honourable C. Dobeler. 
 
 Honourable Lord Dormer. 
 
 Mrs. Dorset. 
 
 Mrs. Drinkwater. 
 
 G. Drummond, Esq. 
 
 Right Honourable Lady A. Sophia DrummGiid. 
 
 J. Drummond, Esq. 
 
 Right Honourable Lady Mary Drummond, 
 
 Charles Drummond, Esq. 
 
 Mrs. C. Drummond. 
 
 Edward Dymock, Esq. 
 
 His Excellency Prince Esterhazt, 3 copies. 
 
 The Princess Esterhazy, 3 copies. 
 
 Mrs. Edgworth. 
 
 Mrs. Johnson Edenzor*
 
 ^11 LIST OF 
 
 Samuel Fallows^ Esq. 
 
 Mrs. Faragher. 
 
 Reverend Richard Farrer. 
 
 Mrs. Fletcher. 
 
 Mrs. Forbes. 
 
 Friend. 
 
 Friend. 
 
 Mrs. Gandolfi. 
 Mrs. Gardiner, 
 Mr. Garrett. 
 Mrs. Gaskell. 
 Mrs. Gawne. 
 Lady Gerrard. 
 Mrs. Geneste. 
 Miss Goodwin. 
 Miss Graham. 
 Mrs. Green. 
 Mrs. Gregson, 
 Miss Gregsons. 
 Mrs. Murrahl Griffitho 
 Reverend Mr. Harling. 
 Mr. T. Harrison. 
 Miss Hastings. 
 Mrs. Hawkins. 
 Miss Hay. 
 
 Mr. J. H. Hindmarsk. 
 ^Miss Horton.
 
 SUBSCRIBERS. Xlii 
 
 Mrs. Hotclikin. 
 i\Ir. Hoxtall. 
 Colonel Hulton. 
 John Hunt, Esq, 
 
 iMr. T. James. 
 Mrs. Jefferson. 
 Lady Johnston. 
 Mrs. Jones. 
 INIrs. Jones. 
 
 xMiss Killy. 
 J. Kerkland, Esq. 
 Miss Kissack. 
 Mrs. Kynaston. 
 
 Mr. Lascelles. 
 
 Sir H. Lawson^ Bart. 2 copiesj 
 
 Lady Lawson^ 2 copies. 
 
 Dowager Lady Lawson. 
 
 Mrs. Leeke. 
 
 Miss Lesher. 
 
 Miss M. A. Lesher. 
 
 Douglas Library. 
 
 Mrs. Lincoln. 
 
 Mrs. R. M. Lloyd. 
 
 Mrs. Logic. 
 
 Mr. Looney. 
 
 Mr. E. Lynah. 
 
 Mrs. Bwllever I^ytton.
 
 ^IV LIST OF 
 
 Mrs. MacCarthy. 
 
 ]Mrs. MacHutchin. 
 
 L. L. MacWhannell^ Esq. 
 
 Mr. Mdddocks, 8 copies* 
 
 Mr. Marshall. 
 
 Mrs. W. H. Maunsell. 
 
 W. F. Maijor, Esq. 
 
 Lewis Menlove, Esq. 
 
 Reverend Mr. Miford. 
 
 The Honourable Lord Charles Murray* 
 
 Honourable Lady Henry Murry. 
 
 Right Honourable Lady Sarah Mui-ray* 
 
 Cosrnas Nevill, Esq. 
 Mrs. Nevill. 
 Charles Nevill^ Esq. 
 W,. Neville, Esq. 
 
 Miss Oates. 
 
 Mr. Painter. 
 
 Lady Palnner, 
 
 T. N. Parker, Esq, 
 
 Mrs. Parsons. 
 
 Mrs. Pearkes. 
 
 Mrs. .John Philips. 
 
 Right Honourable Countess of Portsmouth* 
 
 Mr. Poole. 
 
 Lieutenant General Porter. 
 
 J\Ir. Povev.
 
 SUBSCRIBERS. XV 
 
 ]\Irs. Powel. 
 John Pugh, Esq. 
 
 Captain Quilliam, R. N. 
 
 Mr. E. Ralph. 
 
 Miss Ray. 
 
 Henry Reed, Esq. 
 
 Mrs. Van Williamsdorf Richards, 
 
 Mr. Roach. 
 
 Mrs. Roby. 
 
 The Right Honourable the Earl of Shrewsbury, 2 
 
 copies. 
 The Right Honourable the Countess of Shrewsbury. 
 The Right Honourable Lady Anne CuUen Smith. 
 Thomas Smith, Esq, 
 Miss Smith. 
 Reverend H. Shield. 
 Honourable Lord Sondes. 
 Mrs. Spitall. 
 Lady Stanley. 
 Charles Standish, Esq, 
 Mrs. Strickland Standish. 
 C, L. Stanford, Esq. 
 Mrs. Stapleton. 
 Reverend J. H. Stapleton, 
 Mrs. T. Stapleton. 
 Mrs. Taggart. 
 Thomas Taunton, Esq.
 
 Xvi LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 Mrs. Taunton. 
 Mr. Terry, 2 copies. 
 Lady Throckmorton. 
 S. D. Totton, Esq. 
 Peregrine Towneley, Esq. 
 Mrs. Towneley. 
 Miss Towneley. 
 Mrs. Trotter. 
 
 F. Fortescue Turvile, Esq. 2 copies. 
 
 G. Fortescue Turvile, Esq, 
 C. Turvile, Esq. 
 
 Major Vaughan. 
 Mrs. Vaughan. 
 Mr. Venables. 
 
 John Wade, Esq. 
 
 Mrs. Walker. 
 
 Mrs. John Webbe Weston. 
 
 Mrs. Wild. 
 
 Mr. Wilson. 
 
 Mrs. Wood. 
 
 Mrs. Woodmas. 
 
 Miss Ycunr.
 
 M A Pi I A. 
 
 LETTER L 
 
 FROM MRS. FISHER TO THE HONOURABLE 
 MRS. HUNTER, 
 
 DEAR MADAM, 
 
 London, Shane Slreet, July, 
 
 When I had the honour of calling yester- 
 day to take my leave, you kindly bade me 
 write at every town where I could conve- 
 niently stop. You see how agreeable was 
 your command, by my eagerness to fulfil it 
 even before I leave London. To-morrow 
 morning, at half after six, I am to mount 
 the stage-coach to go in quest of a future 
 home ; and I am now seated to inform you 
 in what part of the world I purpose seeking 
 one. It was my intention yesterday to have 
 acquainted you, dearest madam, witli the 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 L MARIA. 
 
 whole arrangement; but when in 3^our pre- 
 sence I felt it impossible, from an idea that 
 my plan would not meet your approbation ; 
 and a favourite scheme being once deter- 
 mined upon, it is natural to avoid arguments 
 against it. I have on a former occasion 
 acted contrary to your advice, and repented 
 of so doing — how then could I tell you I 
 was about looking for a house in the Isle of 
 Man ? a place the very name of which carries 
 a stigma with it ; and which stigma I am told 
 it is in the contemplation of the Manks legis- 
 lature to remove=^. You must recollect our 
 
 old schoolmate Mrs, B ; she is there, 
 
 and I am sure from no other cause than that 
 of poverty. She writes me word that seve- 
 ral other families are there also on the same 
 
 * When this work was begun, the change was only 
 spoken of J it has since been effected. The natives 
 of the island, disgusted with the immorality of those 
 persons whose thoughtless and. dishonest conduct had 
 drawn upon them the indignation of their countrymen, 
 resolved no longer to live under the disgrace such cha- 
 racters entailed upon them, and obtained a removal of 
 the evil about the end of the year 1814.
 
 MARIA. 
 
 ciccouiit; and that a small house may be 
 had in the conntiy exceedingly cheap — that 
 provisions are plentiful— and the face of the 
 island roniantic and healthful. 
 
 We now partly know the extent of our 
 loss by the late unexpected failure, as we 
 are to receive only a dividend of six shillings 
 and sixpence in the pound: had the firm 
 continued good four months longer, our mo- 
 ney would har^^ been secured in the funds ; 
 --4)ut it has- been our misfortune to suffer, 
 and it is no alleviation of our misery to know 
 that many suffer with us. 
 
 Our future prospect, then, is at best two 
 hundred pounds per annum: — ^^and where 
 in England can we live respectably upon 
 that ? Small fortunes are oppressed by taxes 
 which affect the necessaries of life as well as 
 the luxuries : where the latter only are taxed, 
 people tax themselves. But it is to no use 
 that the discontented find fault vdth the de- 
 crees of the legislature, which, no doubt, 
 acts for the best; yet, self-interest will ob- 
 b2
 
 4 ' MARIA. 
 
 ject to that which mihtates against itself. — 
 However, to return to the subject of my let- 
 ter ; Mrs. B , to whom I had com- 
 municated our misfortune, invited me, or 
 rather both of us, to Douglas : but the dear 
 children cannot be left; and Mr. Fisher 
 thought, as my spirits are naturally good, that 
 I was the most fit person for the journey, 
 which I dare say may occasion me to be 
 absent at least three weeks, as I intend stop- 
 ping a day or two on the road to try my in- 
 fluence with Lady B . You know her 
 
 riches, and her power ; I used to think my- 
 self a favourite. Could I obtain from her 
 the loan of one hundred pounds to settle 
 our family on the other side of the water, 
 it would make me quite happy; and, by 
 allowing me a little time, I should be able to 
 repay it. I mean to educate my girls my- 
 self; and perhaps we may find out a means 
 to increase our little store. Be that as it 
 may, I had rather eat dry bread among 
 strangers, than expose my scanty income
 
 MARIA* a 
 
 to the animadversions of my old neighbour- 
 hood: and I beheve Mr. Fisher, in this 
 respect, thinks as I do. 
 
 So well, dear madam, do I know your 
 benevolent heart, that I scarcely need re- 
 quest that you will honour my children by 
 occasionally calling upon them during my 
 absence, which, I promise you, shall not be 
 one day longer than is necessary. Poor 
 Ann will remain with the family till my re- 
 turn — then I shall be obliged to part with 
 the faithful creature ; — that will be a trial ! 
 but it is one of the many I must submit to. 
 
 Adieu, dearest madam! Weigh in the 
 scale of friendship the advantages of my 
 present plan : do not imagine it the off- 
 spring of caprice — I am convinced of its 
 utility; and trust, as my friend, you will 
 think the same. 
 
 With ardent wishes for your safety till 
 my return, I remain, dear madam, your 
 much attached arvd obliged friend and ser- 
 vant, 
 
 Maria Fisher,
 
 § MARIA 
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 FROM THE SAME TO THE HONOURABLE 
 MRS. HUNTER. 
 
 As I told you, dear madam, I left Sloane- 
 street yesterday morning, and took my place 
 no further than to this town, wishing much 
 to stop a day or two for the opportunity of 
 
 seeing Lady B- . ^\lien I quitted my 
 
 liouse, it was mth a sorrowful heart aiid a 
 light pocket. Your god-daughter Frances, 
 5,8 eldest, claimed the privilege of attend- 
 ing me to Cliaring-cross ; Ann accompa- 
 nied us, to carry my small portmanteau and 
 work-bag, containing such necessaries as I 
 might have occasion for upon the road; 
 these formed the whole of my luggage. On 
 arriving at the Golden Cross I was glad to 
 frnd the horses ready to start; and enter- 
 ed the ofhce to pay for an outside place ? 
 for, as we had only seven guineas in 
 the house, I thought I covdd not do less 
 than leave two; not doubting but I should
 
 MARIA. 7 
 
 meet with assistance from my friend. Two 
 well-dressed and genteel-looking men, who 
 were in the ofhce waiting for the same coach, 
 observed, *' Though the morning was fine, 
 I should find it very unpleasant on the out- 
 side, since the day was likely to prove 
 showery." I replied that " I had an um- 
 brella;" and finding my eyes fill with tears 
 at what I deemed a degradation, I kissed 
 my dear Frances, recommending her father 
 a«d family to her care ; for though so young, 
 she is remarkably thoughtful : and request- 
 ing Ann's best attentions to all, I began 
 the task of mounting; which, to me, 
 was most distressing, and I performed it 
 so awkwardly as showed I had not been 
 used to the exercise. The driver placed 
 his great-coat so as to make me a comfort- 
 able seat beside him, and told me *' not to 
 be fearful, for I was as safe there as I could 
 possibly be in my own house." Then stamp- 
 ing with his feet against the footboard, the 
 horses acknowledged the signal by instant 
 obedience: and I opened my umbrella,
 
 MARIA. 
 
 which I held low over my head to conceal 
 my countenance. The coachman, suppo- 
 sing I held it in my hand not to lose it, 
 took it with the hest intention from me, and 
 placed it behind his back. Tlius deprived 
 of my shade I took out my pocket-handker-* 
 chief, and, as well as I could, hid part of 
 my face. 
 
 On reachingSt. Alban s, I found the coach 
 would stop twenty minutes. At first I de- 
 clined getting down, from a dread of the 
 ceremony of re-moimting; but finding my- 
 self the only person sitting on the top, I 
 ventured to descend, and followed the others 
 into the house. Here I was again at a loss, 
 thinking as an outside passenger I ought to 
 go into the kitchen; but on peeping into it 
 
 1 perceived such a motley group that I pre- 
 ferred walking in the passage, till one of the 
 gentlemen I had seen in the coach-ofhce 
 passed by and inquired " whether I would 
 take breakfast ?" I said, '* A cup of tea would 
 be very comfortable:" upon which he show- 
 ed me into the parlour, where the other
 
 MARIA. y 
 
 passengers were sitting — his companion, 
 and an elegant-looking young lady, attend- 
 ed by a female, I supposed her servant from 
 the distance at which she sat. A chair was 
 presented me, which I thankfully accepted ; 
 and drawing it near to the table, the lady 
 pushed hers rather back, saying, " I do not 
 remember seeing you, madam, in the coach ; 
 I suppose we are to take you in here ?" 
 " No, madam," I replied, " I came from 
 London; but I sat on the outside." **Othen," 
 says she, " do you breakfast with us ?'' '* If 
 you have no objection," I replied. Upon 
 which the elder of the two gentlemen remark- 
 ed, that " it was as fashionable for ladies to 
 go on the out as in the inside of a coach : and 
 with respect to choice of society," continued 
 he, ** manners constitute the only general 
 criterion of distinction, when further know- 
 ledge is impracticable." The lady said she 
 **had not meant to draw any comparison." 
 We then proceeded very amicably to our 
 breakfast : but before I had finished my second 
 cup, two shillings and threepence were de- 
 H 5
 
 10 MARIA. 
 
 manded of each; and I regi'etted having aU 
 lowed myself this indulgence, resolving to 
 spare it the next day, by putting some bis- 
 cuits in my pocket, and making a dinner 
 suffice. I was the first to quit the parlour, 
 hoping by this means to get up unperceived : 
 but the two gentlemen followed, saying '* It 
 was theii' intention to ride outside, and I 
 was welcome to the place of one of them ;" 
 which civility I cheerfully accepted. The 
 young lady and her servant had seated them- 
 selves . After informing them of the reason 
 of my coming inside I remained silent, though 
 not idle ; as I was engaged in tr}dng to de- 
 lineate in my mind's eye the features of the 
 face now opposite to me. Never had I before 
 seen a countenance so truly prepossessing! 
 it indicated, as my little stock of knowledge 
 informed me, a liberal mind, a good heart, 
 and a benevolent disposition. With these 
 qualities, I was rather puzzled at the manner 
 in which she had first addressed me . ' * There 
 is something," I mentally exclaimed, *^ so 
 peculiarly soft and gentle in her look, I could
 
 MARIA. 11 
 
 not have supposed her capable of a harsh 
 expression." And I was endeavouring to 
 excuse her manner to myself, when she in- 
 terrupted my meditation by commencing 
 the following dialogue. 
 
 " I hope, madam, I did not offend you 
 this morning ; for indeed I had no inten- 
 tion to do so." 
 
 " Your politeness now, madam, con- 
 vinces me you had not." 
 
 , ** No, really," continued the young lady ; 
 *' this is the first time that I have entered 
 a public coach, and I had formed a notion 
 that only poor people went on the outside, 
 who could not afford to pay the inside fare." 
 
 ** And, my dear young lady, give me 
 leave to ask. Are you ignorant that many 
 worthy, well-informed, and well-educated 
 persons are reduced to poverty through 
 unforeseen^ and, often, unmerited misfor- 
 tunes ?'' 
 
 ** I have seen but little of the world," 
 replied the lady; " and living in luxury has, 
 I fear, made me thoughtless of others."
 
 12 MARIA. 
 
 ** Believe me sincere when I express 
 my earnest wish that you may ever enjoy 
 your present happy lot." 
 
 A-deep sigh from the stranger told me 
 she was not happy ; and seeing my tears 
 flow — for I could not restrain them — she 
 drew from her work-bag an elegant purse ; 
 and taking from it ten guineas, presented 
 them to me with the most gracious bene- 
 volent countenance, saying, " If this trifle 
 can make your journey more comfortable, 
 do me the favour to accept it : I shall not 
 miss it." 
 
 " Madam," I answered, '' I honour the 
 principle which urges your kind offer, and 
 I will accept it, if you will favour me with 
 your address : for though at this moment 
 I am almost in want, I hope a time will 
 come when I may have it in my power to 
 repay this unexpected generosity. — Do you 
 reside in London .^" 
 
 "I have a house there ; and a beautiful 
 cottage within half a mile of this spot, and 
 to which I am now going — ^Jane," said the
 
 MARIA. 1,*^ 
 
 lady, ^^ you may get out and walk ; ask the 
 driver to set you down.** 
 
 Jane applied to him : he answered her 
 in the affirmative : and the man having 
 opened her the door, she w^as soon in the 
 road. I embraced the moment of the ser« 
 vant's absence to say, *' My home is m 
 London ; I live in Sloane-street." 
 
 " The \ery one in which I live !" replied 
 the stranger : " but I dare not disclose my 
 name, lest I should lose your esteem ; — and 
 there is something in your countenance," 
 continued she, " which makes me wish 
 that 7/ou, of all women, should think welV 
 of me." 
 
 " Be assured, young lady, I cannot think 
 otherwise than well of one by nature so hu- 
 mane ! I shall recollect your features with, 
 love and gratitude : and if, from any cause 
 unknown to me, you do not wash that I 
 should know you further, pray let me have 
 some direction by which I may return this 
 money, or at least express my thanks should 
 I not be able to repay the obligation."
 
 14 MARIA. 
 
 The stranger again opened her work-bag ; 
 and taking her handkerchief out appHed it 
 to conceal her face, whilst she said, " I am 
 the friend of the young Earl of U — : I 
 have lived with him nearly three years, and 
 during that period have enjoyed every com- 
 fort that an unacknowledged wife could ex- 
 perience. — You will despise me now ; but 
 let my youth, when I quitted school to at- 
 tach myself to the Earl, plead for me ! — ^To 
 speak truly of my situation, it is such as 
 makes me appear what I am not." 
 
 *' Every thing in my mind pleads for 
 yovT," I replied ; " above all, the goodness 
 of your heart ; the susceptibility of which 
 perhaps induced you to this step. I was 
 well acquainted, in the early part of my life, 
 with the earl's late father. But, my dear 
 young lady, how happened it, that one so 
 accomplished as you seem to be, and I 
 must suppose of respectable connexions, 
 has fallen into this error .'^ — So interested 
 do I feel for you, that I shall be unhappy 
 till I hear you are in possession of the
 
 MAEIA. W 
 
 world's esteem — I am sure your mind is 
 virtuous." 
 
 ** You only do me justice in supposing 
 that," replied the stranger. '' I would give 
 the whole I am worth I had never seen 
 Lord U — ; yet when I do see him, I love 
 him so entirely, all but himself is forgotten ! 
 —But give me your direction — I greatly 
 want a friend to advise me ; if you permit 
 me, I will wTite to you. This is my cottage ; 
 I will get out here, because, to speak sin- 
 cerely, I wish to sui-prise my Lord : he has 
 sent his chariot regularly for me every Fri- 
 day evening till last night — it did not come, 
 and I resolved not to wait longer, but in- 
 vestigate the cause. He cannot, I think, 
 be unfaithful ! — should that indeed prove 
 the case, I will instantly quit him for ever I 
 — then indeed I shall need a friend !" 
 
 I had only time to wTite my address in 
 Sloane-street, and to express a wdsh she 
 would fly thither should she want a home. 
 On reflecting how weak is resolution v/hen 
 combated with passion; above all, with
 
 16 Maria. 
 
 inclination ; I have little hope of agai» 
 beholding the lovely girl. The only parti 
 learnt of her name was from her pocket- 
 handkerchief, which I observed was mark- 
 ed Maria. 
 
 Nothing more happened worth relating : 
 — the gentlemen continued on the outside 
 till evening; then came in, and requested 
 me to remain, which I did ; and, while they^ 
 slept, amused myself with thinking of my 
 fair companion, and of the arguments I 
 should use in our correspondence to draw 
 her soul to virtue. I thought with pleasure 
 of the words unaeknoidedged ivife, and ap- 
 pearing ivhat she was not. I wished to think 
 Maria really a wife; but the knowledge that 
 the Earl had married Lady Sarah forbade 
 my entertaining that hope. About five this 
 afternoon we arrived in the inn-yard : it is 
 now eleven; and as I mean to rise early, I 
 will wish you, dearest madam, and all your 
 inmates a tranquil night. 
 
 Yours truly and respectfully, 
 
 Maria Fisher..
 
 MARIA. IT 
 
 LETTER III. 
 
 FROM THE SAME (iX CONTINUATION.) 
 
 This morning, as I purposed, I got up 
 early ; and after well brushing my habit,, 
 and prapng more fervently than usual, I 
 commenced my walk, having first ordered 
 something to be got ready by four, saying 
 ** I should breakfast with a friend in the 
 neighbourhood." It was a beautiful morn- 
 ing; and when I left the town I step- 
 ped to a cottage which stood near the road, 
 by way of passing the time, that I might 
 not present myself at the hall till a sea- 
 sonable hour. The good woman had not 
 long risen ; she was the widow of a labourer, 
 and four half-starved -looking children were 
 playing about the door, whilst the eldest, 
 a boy, was blo\^ing tlie fire to hasten tlie- 
 boiling of the kettle. — *' Good w^oman," 
 said I, " will this road to the right take me 
 to Lord B % r
 
 iS MARIA. 
 
 " Yes, my lady," she replied ; *' but itV 
 four good miles — sure you don't mean to 
 walk so far ?" 
 
 *' I intend it," said I ; " I have set out 
 thus early on purpose to be there for break- 
 fast." 
 
 '* Well-a-day T replied the woman ; '^ you 
 had better rest here awhile; Mrs. Lewis 
 the housekeeper does not breakfast till nine, 
 and to be sure my Lord and my Lady must 
 be long after her. We shall know when 
 it 'is eight — -for Tom, the stable-boy, rides 
 by eveiy morning at eight, for the letters 
 and hot rolls. I'll set a chair for you, my 
 Lady, near the door." And she wiped one, 
 whicli I instantly accepted : and Alar tha (for 
 that I found to be her name) continued her 
 preparations. She put in her morsel of tea, 
 and spread her bread and butter ; which 
 done, "If it would not be too bold," said 
 the good-hearted creature, " I would ask 
 your Ladyship to taste a bit ; for though the 
 bread's brown, it's veiy sweet: wlien my
 
 MARIA. 19 
 
 poor Richard was alive we had whiter ; but 
 it has pleased God to take him from me, 
 and I must be content with this." 
 
 I felt very glad to partake of her bread and 
 butter ; but really I could not manage her 
 tea — there was no milk in it, and it w^ould 
 have been a sin to have robbed the sugar- 
 cup, which contained very little " Your 
 bread is indeed very sweet and good," I 
 observed ; "but would it not be cheaper, and 
 much more substantial food, for you to 
 make milk-porridge ?" 
 
 -** O madam ! nobody takes any thing 
 but tea !" 
 
 *'It is true that tea is become very general, 
 even among the poor : I have often wondered 
 it should . Now, in your family for example — 
 I dare say, twopennyworth of milk and one 
 of oatmeal, with a little water, well boiled, 
 would breakfast you all : your bread would 
 be saved, and every one would feel better 
 satisfied." 
 
 Martha acknowledged '' it might be so," 
 but did not promise to try the. experiment.
 
 20 MARIA. 
 
 We continued talking till Tom had passed 
 on his return. I then arose from my seat^ 
 and giving sixpence, wished Martha her 
 Ileal th and a good morning. At the mo- 
 ment I was putting my hand into my pocket 
 I saw a smile on the countenance of -my' 
 hostess, which certainly did not increase at 
 receiving only sixpence : I fancy she thought 
 it a very trivial offer from a visitant to the 
 Hall. I felt ashamed, myself, but knew I 
 ought not to add more ; recollecting that, 
 '' in some, 'tis charity to give ; in others, 
 merit to forbear." 
 
 I proceeded along the road till I reached 
 the plantation : there I was enchanted with 
 the various notes of the feathered choir ; my 
 soul felt in unison ; every thing w^re the 
 appearance of pleasure : the whole face of 
 nature seemed to smile, and say, '' God 
 created all things to be happy," — I loitered 
 along, forgetting awhile the object of my 
 errand, for all within breathed joy. When 
 I entered the park, the grand and massy pile 
 appeared through an aveiiue of stately oaks*.
 
 MARIA. 21 
 
 Its magnificence inspired me with a degree 
 of reverence for its owners, and I began to 
 consider the contents of a letter I had then 
 in my pocket, and which I meant to send 
 
 by a servant to apprize Lady B of my 
 
 visit, as also to acquaint her ladyship with 
 my request, which was — to crave the loan of 
 a sum of money to enable me to settle 
 my family : it also informed her ladyship, 
 that whatever she could conveniently spare 
 should be thankfully returned in the course 
 of twelve months. All at once I was asto- 
 nished to find myself within only a quarter 
 of a mile of the mansion ; — hope and fear 
 alternately possessed my mind. I slackened 
 my pace, to give leisure for consideration : 
 — I almost resolved to turn back : still I 
 went forward : but suddenly a thought more 
 perplexing than all the rest occurred — to 
 which door should I go ? To knock at the 
 grand entrance seemed improper, since I 
 
 could not call myself Lady B 's visitor ; 
 
 for it was possible her ladyship would be 
 denied when she knew my errand : — to the
 
 22 MARIA. 
 
 kitchen door I could not go, on my own 
 account ; neither ought I, from respect to 
 
 Lady B , whose associate I had once 
 
 been : — so I determined to walk along the 
 back part of the house. Here I could only 
 perceive oiie large door ; a beggar was stand- 
 ing at it. Not to appear in his company, 
 I passed him, and proceeded through a long 
 passage which brought me into a hall in 
 which w^ere many doors. With a trembling 
 hand I tapped at one : it was opened by the 
 man-cook. " Pray is the housekeeper with- 
 in ?'' I asked. To which he answered, 
 *' She is in her own room." 
 
 '' Will you do me the favour to show me 
 which it is ?'' He did : and I found myself 
 standing before a fat good-humoured-look- 
 ing woman, to whom I thus addressed 
 myself: 
 
 " I beg your pardon, ma'am, for troubling 
 you; but here is a letter I much wish 
 
 should be given to Lady B . Would yoii 
 
 do me the favour to send it to her ladyship .^" 
 
 Mrs, Lewis offered me a chair ; then rang
 
 MARIA. 23 
 
 the bell, saying to the person who answered 
 it "Ask Mr. Steel to come here a moment. 
 It is my Lady's footman," said Mrs. Lewis, 
 " and he will take up the letter." As she 
 spoke he entered. " Pray, Mr. Steel, be 
 so good as take up this letter to my 
 Lady: this stranger has walked from S. 
 this morning, and seems desirous of see- 
 ing her." The footman went out for a 
 moment, then returned with a small salver, 
 on which I placed my letter, saying, " Be 
 so good as present my respects to your Lady, 
 and if convenient, I should be happy to see 
 her ladyship a few minutes." He bowed^ 
 asking, "What name shall I tell my Lady .^' 
 
 " The letter will inform Lady B who 
 
 I am," I replied; and my heart palpitated, 
 as I felt the worst was over. 
 
 Mrs. Lewis began to stir the fire, " ho- 
 ping I was warm.'^" "Indeed I am very 
 warm," said I: " the roads are dirty, audit 
 is-a long walk from S." 
 
 "So it is," replied the housekeeper^ — 
 then considering a little she looked at me^
 
 24 MARIA. 
 
 saying, **I dare say you are acquainted with 
 my Lady?" 
 
 ** I have seen her ladyship," said I, **and 
 am very anxious to see her to-day." 
 
 " I dare say my Lady is well acquainted 
 with your family?" continued she. 
 
 '* I am the only one of my family who 
 
 ever spoke to Lady B ," was my answer. 
 
 " Oh!" said Mrs. Lewis, with a look that 
 implied ** I should like to know who you 
 are." — Could our situations have been ex- 
 changed, it is likely I might have been 
 equally inquisitive. A watch which hung 
 over the chimney piece, told me I had sat 
 there one whole hour. * 'Surely," thought I, 
 
 "Lady B is counting what money she 
 
 can spare;" and as often as I heard a foot- 
 step I cast my eye towards the door with 
 anxious expectation. Another half -hour 
 had passed when it opened, and Mr. Steel 
 appeared with a note, and "his Lady's 
 compliments, requesting I would take some 
 refreshment." For a few minutes I was too 
 much agitated to speak. The note was not
 
 MARIA. 25 
 
 thick; as I opened it, disappointment chilled 
 my blood; it contained these few words: 
 
 ■ "Lady B 's compliments to Mrs. 
 
 Fisher, is extremely sorry for her, embar- 
 rassments, but it is not convenient to com- 
 ply with Mrs. Fisher's request." 
 
 In vain did I summon all my pride; my 
 feelings were most powerful, and I burst 
 into tears, as Mrs. Lewis opened the door 
 to admit three footmen with trays contain- 
 ing brown and white soups in silver basins 
 and covers ; cold meat, jelly, cakes, and a 
 variety of wine. I found it necessary to 
 take something to enable me to quit the 
 house; so fixed on the brown soup, which 
 was strong, and assisted much in banishing 
 the unwelcome tears. Mrs. Lewis perceiv- 
 ed my distress, and recommended a glass 
 of madeira, which I took. ^Vhen I drank 
 her health, I expressed myself soriy for the 
 trouble I had occasioned; to which she 
 kindly replied, " she wished her Lady had 
 seen me; for then," she added, ** I am sure 
 you would have been relieve i." 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 26 MARIA. 
 
 This was more than I could bear; and 
 my heart swelling with pride, I began to 
 assure Mrs. Lewis, "I did not come to 
 heg ;" — »that, " though I was in trouble at 
 the present moment, my family was highly 
 respectable." 
 
 The good woman seemed hurt she had 
 given me pain, and said every thing she 
 could to convince me she had not meant it. 
 I arose to depart, and Mrs. Lewis kindly 
 accompanied me a good distance ; when 
 she wished me a pleasant walk back. I told 
 her I should ever remember her civility, and 
 we parted. 
 
 As soon as I had lost sight of the house- 
 keeper, I seated m}'self under one of the 
 spreading oaks, and relieved my oppressed 
 feelings with a hearty fit of crying. I could 
 still see the stately mansion: here I re- 
 perused the letter, then exclaimed **0! 
 lady B ! could you and I exchange situ- 
 ations, how differently should I have acted ! 
 at least so I think at present; — but, libe- 
 rality of sentiment and the power to be gene-
 
 MARIA. 27 
 
 rotis rarely unite in one breast. Strange 
 are the decrees of Providence ! which opens 
 the hearts of the poor, and closes those of 
 the rich." 
 
 ** Well," thought I, " I will hasten to the 
 inn, take a place on the outside of tomor- 
 row's coach, and proceed as quickly as pos- 
 sible ; since now I must depend on the suc- 
 cess of my own exertions." Then rising I 
 pursued my walk; but could not leave oif 
 thinking, till finding I was near the town, 
 I once more sat down on the road-side to 
 rally my spirits, and to bathe my eyes from 
 a little brook to take off their redness. The 
 endeavour to exertion generally produces 
 the effect : I arose from my turf seat tolera- 
 bly resigned; I considered that my former 
 
 acquaintance with Lady B was merely 
 
 the having been her school-mate, that only 
 for a short time, and that I had no right to 
 have built expectation on so slight a cir- 
 cumstance. In this manner I reasoned 
 with myself till I reached the inn; when 
 my hostess informed me she had retarded 
 c2
 
 28 MARIA. 
 
 my dinner till five, when she had given me 
 up, supposing that I -had dined with my 
 friend. I told her she thought rightly ; and 
 said I wished to go next day to Chester. She 
 said a coach would set out for Chester at 
 eight in the morning ; that it was only the 
 distance of forty-one miles, and that I should 
 be early enough to cross the water to Liver- 
 pool the same night, provided I wished it. 
 Glad of this intelligence, I took an outside 
 place; saying, I preferred the outside in 
 summer : for I had observed, in all stations 
 of life, that to be treated with attention one 
 must not acknowledge the doing any action 
 from poverty, though it really be the cause. 
 After taking a walk through the town, which 
 is small (though a great thoroughfare, and 
 well accommodated with inns), I took a slice 
 of cold meat, and retired to bed; ejaculated 
 a prayer for the benevolent Maria, and slept 
 soundly till called by a servant at seven 
 o'clock ; so that I had only time to take a 
 hasty breakfast, and resume my station by 
 the side of the coachman.
 
 MARIA. 29 
 
 No sooner were we out of town than a 
 young gentleman followed, calling '' Coach ee, 
 stop, coachee." He was a thin genteel -look- 
 ing person, and his slender figure seemed 
 nearly sinking under the weight of an im- 
 mensely heavy great-coat. The coachman 
 answered his salutation by drawing in his 
 horses, and giving up the reins; saying, 
 '* Your honour had better keep a close eye 
 upon Proxy, or she'll cut some d — d capers." 
 
 ** Like that, coachee — keep her tiglit — 
 whip's the word. See, coachee, this a 
 snug coat, made at Howell's — only cost fif- 
 teen pounds :'* and flourishing the whip, off 
 he set at fall speed. — On seeing us about 
 to descend a steep hill, I said ** Sir, had 
 not you better let the coachman resume 
 his seat, lest the horses should take fright ?'' 
 '* Never fear the horses — like to see blood 
 — no one fears bang-up Sinclair^ I drive this 
 coach six days out of seven." 
 
 Contrary to my expectation, we reached 
 the bottom of the hill in safety. Here was 
 a public: house, and I was not a little sur-
 
 so MARIA. 
 
 priced to see the coachman fetch a bottle 
 of brandy from it, and some milk, and 
 mixing a strong potion, he first drank 
 himself, then offered it to the Baronet with 
 the familiarity of an equal ; and thus they 
 passed the cup between them, till it was 
 emptied. We had nov/ a hill to ascend ; 
 all the inside passengers had got out to 
 walk, and being fearful of an overturn I got 
 down also. In the course of our walk I 
 entered into conversation with the other 
 passengers ; one of whom was an honest- 
 looking farmer returning with his rib intd 
 Lancashire from a visit they had made to 
 sOrii'e London relations ; the third was a 
 young person, who also was returning into 
 the country. When we had ascended and 
 descended the hill, each person prepared to 
 resume their Seat, when the farmer said to 
 me, " In troth, mistress, you would be safer 
 inside than out ; and if you'll take m.y ad- 
 vice come in here with us/' '* By G — d, 
 madam, and it's my advice too," said the 
 Baronet, ** to get a snug birth when you
 
 MARIA. 31 
 
 can — so hop in." Tlien, turning to the 
 coachman, he said, in a half whisper loud 
 enough for all to hear, ** These old women 
 make such a d — d bawling out I hate to be 
 near them." This witticism created a loud 
 laugh, and I very gladly got within the 
 coach. Before w^e had finished that stage, 
 " Pray, mistress," said the farmer, '' did 
 you ever hear of a person living without 
 eating .^" ** I have been told of one," I re- 
 plied ; ** and I have seen several who have 
 visited her, but I never had an opportunity 
 of seeing her myself." ** Then, if you 
 please, we will see her today," said the good 
 man ; ** me and my wife intends going to 
 look at her ; they say she lives in the next 
 town we stop at ; and the driver told me 
 we should stay there twenty minutes." 
 
 It was agreed to go ; and the intervening 
 time was spent in debating what ought to 
 be given her. ** I thinks, wife," said thfe 
 farmer, " sixpence for you and me is enough; 
 if it be true as she does not eat, why you 
 know she cannot want much to keep her —
 
 32 MARIA. 
 
 But what does these other ladies think to 
 give ?" ** I'll give a shilling," said the 
 young lass, for I seed all the sights in Lon- 
 don, and somebody always paid a shilling 
 for me." ** For my part," said I, " I must 
 be guided by circumstances : it is not in 
 my pov/er to be generous, but I will will- 
 ingly give my mite, and do as you do." — " 
 ** Tliat's fair," rejoined the farmer : and 
 we were silent till we entered the town of 
 
 . . Oil inquiring for the poor woman's 
 
 house, a neighbour stepped forward who of- 
 fered to show it us. As we walked along, 
 >he told us of the manner in which the in- 
 valid had lost her appetite; and said she 
 had been three years without swallowing 
 any Sustenance ; only had her lips wet with 
 a feather which had been dipped in water. 
 Upon our entering the cottage, a young 
 girl,' the woman's daughter, showed us- up 
 stairs into a chamber where her mother 
 was sitting up in bed reading. On seeing 
 us she laid aside her book :. every thing 
 had the appearance of being very ncal
 
 MARIA. 33 
 
 and clean ; she had on a mob-cap, and her 
 face looked veiy well, and not thm; but 
 her hands and arms seemed like dried bones 
 covered with skin ; her ribs looked trans- 
 parent, and the lower part of her stomach 
 and back seemed as though by the slightest 
 pressure they might be squeezed together. 
 We had little time for conversing with her : 
 — she looked cheerful ; we left our mite, 
 and hastened to the coach, each wondering 
 at this extraordinary circumstance, half-be- 
 lieving, half-doubting, the possibility of 
 what we had seen and heard. Nothing 
 remarkable occurred for the next six miles : 
 but I am sorry to relate a terrible accident 
 that happened during the last mile of that 
 stage. The coach had mounted the hill ; 
 and as it was going along the road, where 
 you must recollect the declivity, one of the 
 horses took fright : oiu* random driver was 
 off his guard, and in a moment the horses 
 ran dovm the decli\ ity. All this happened 
 so suddenly, that we were no sooner aware 
 we were going wrong, than we experienced 
 c5
 
 S4 MARIA. 
 
 & dreadful shock by being thrown against 
 each other at the bottom of the coach, with 
 both the side doors open. We all got out, 
 much bruised, but without any material in- 
 jury ; and immediately our attention rested 
 on the outside passengers. One, a sea- 
 faring man, who it seemed had been to see 
 his mother, and was returning to his vessel, 
 it is thought was asleep when the horses 
 ^vent over the fence : however, he was 
 thrown from off the top with gi*eat violence, 
 and his head having pitched on a small 
 stake, he was dead when lifted up. A wo- 
 man also had her arm broken. — The sight 
 of these sufferers made me insensible to my 
 own bruises. — Never, I think, was a more 
 dreadful spectacle. The coachman propo- 
 sed going forward to procure a chaise. The 
 Baronet was only slightly hurt : I was 
 sorry he came off so easily, as I never before 
 had seen any person act so unfeelingly, as 
 he walked on with the coachman. I had 
 heard him say, ** It's cursed lucky the 
 farmer did not break his neck ; six fat oxen
 
 Maria. S5 
 
 ^vould not have pacified dame ; — you must 
 talk yonder woman over, coachee ; I'll pay 
 the doctor and give her five guineas ; with 
 that she'll think herself d — d well off. As for 
 Jack tar, I have saved a bullet the trouble 
 of blowing him up. Here, coachee, take 
 these five guineas to get Jack a box ; I'll go 
 ask Tom Careless to read an Amen over the 
 poor devil — that every thing may be done 
 decently, you know." 
 
 This conversation passed during the few 
 minutes we were examining the woman's 
 arm. Reallv my blood chilled at hearing 
 tlie thoughtless creature. They walked 
 forward, and in the course of three quarters 
 of an hour a chaise came : the poor dead 
 sailor was laid along the bottom of it ; and 
 as the farmer's vAie expressed great horror 
 at riding with a corpse, I went in v/ith the 
 wounded woman, whose arm I rested and 
 supported as well as I could. She had an 
 old cloth pelisse, which I cut open to the 
 shoulder. This person was a native of 
 Liverpool, and had been at Birmingham to
 
 36 MARIA. 
 
 see her son a tailor, who had married 
 there. She told me she was a widow, had 
 five other children, and got her living by 
 making pigs puddings and dressing cow- 
 lieel ; and lived in a cellar in Dale-street. 
 I advised her to remain in Chester till she 
 should l)e well enough to travel ; and said 
 that I would call and inform her family of the 
 accident. On getting to Chester, I found 
 I was just in time for a coach then setting 
 out for Liverpool. Being desirous of going 
 forward as soon as possible, I put myself 
 into it, and arrived at Woodside by eight ; 
 whence I crossed the water here in twenty 
 minutes. As soon as I landed on the quay, 
 I inquired for an inn : several were recom- 
 mended in a breath by the by-standers. 
 Not knowing how to choose, I entered the 
 first I passed, which happened to be a very 
 comfortable house in Water-street. — I have 
 had a bason of gruel ; but though tired and 
 stiff, I felt I could not compose myself to 
 sleep, so have spent two hours in scribbling 
 to you. I will now try to forget my aching
 
 MARIA. 37 
 
 bones and the dismal scene I have witness- 
 ed to-day. I was particularly affected with 
 the fate of the poor sailor, from the idea 
 that it might have been my own lot. 
 
 I have been directed to inquire at the 
 Manks packet-house for a vessel to that 
 island, I will ask to-morrow. 
 
 Adieu, dearest madam ! I envy you the 
 comforts of quietness : — ^that envy is an 
 ugly word, I wrote it most unthinkingly : I 
 only wish to taste the luxury ; but could not 
 enjoy one degree of it taken from you. It 
 is my constant prayer that Heaven may in- 
 crease ever}' blessing to you and yours. I 
 remain most truly your obliged 
 
 Maria Fisher.
 
 38 MARIA. 
 
 LETTER IV. 
 
 FROM MRS. FISHER TO THE HONOURABLE 
 MRS. HUNTER. 
 
 DEAR MADAM, 
 
 Douglas. 
 
 I BELIEVE my last letter left me in search 
 of a conveyance to this singular and pretty 
 spot. I was obliged to wait three days in 
 Liverpool for a fair wind; and as I had no 
 home but an inn, it ill suited my pocket. 
 However, I contrived to dine each day for 
 eleven pence. This was the way I managed. 
 As soon as I had breakfasted, I informed 
 my hostess that I should dine abroad; so 
 I worked at my needle till two; then left 
 the inn, and walked till three ; when I call- 
 ed at a shop in Castle-street, where I had 
 a plate of cold meat in a retired room, and 
 a bottle of spruce beer, for eleven pence : 
 after that I strolled up to Everton, and by 
 nine returned to my lonely room, where I 
 had a slight supper and retired to bed. At
 
 MARIA. 39 
 
 nine o'clock on the fourth morning I got 
 on board the Duchess, a trading vessel 
 which takes passengers between this and 
 Liverpool: finding myself alone among a 
 number of strangers, I went into bed, where 
 I had only been a very short time when I 
 became exceedingly sick. — ^The captain was 
 very attentive to us all ; his name is Quayle, 
 he is a very respectable man in his situation, 
 and conducted himself with great propriety 
 and gentleness of manner. We made the 
 passage in thirteen hours ; and I can assure 
 you that the pier where we landed displayed 
 such a show of fashionable well-dressed 
 people, that really they reminded me of the 
 Park, if we may compare small things with 
 great ones ; — ^whether it was the fineness of 
 the evening, or what was the inducement, 
 I cannot tell ; but I assure you the coiip-d'oeil 
 surprised and pleased me. Tlie expense 
 of the passage was ten shillings and six- 
 pence; with one shilling to the cabin-boy, 
 which I am sure he well deserved from me, 
 for services that shall be nameless. — Among
 
 40 MARIA. 
 
 the walkers I met Mrs. B . She 
 
 looked rather more surprised than pleased, 
 and I felt mortified at her manner : but seem- 
 ing to recollect herself she said, " Wliere is 
 your luggage ?" I told her it was in a small 
 compass, being come merely to spend a few 
 days. Tlien saying her servant should fetch 
 it from the vessel, she hurried me off the 
 pier to her ovm house. Tliere I was asto- 
 nished to see very little furniture, and the 
 things rather in confusion ; and I was al- 
 most startled when, inquiring for Mr. B , 
 
 his lady said he was gone to spend a few 
 days in the country. " A-propos^"* said I, 
 '' in what part of the island do you think I 
 had better seek a house .^ You know that is 
 the purport of my journey, and I must be 
 as expeditious as possible." 
 
 ** Why, to tell you the truth," replied my 
 friend, ** I can scarcely advise you to fix 
 yourselves here : we do not intend to remain 
 much longer in the place; the society is 
 disgraceful, with respect to the strangers, 
 and you can have no other \ for the Manks
 
 MARIA. 41 
 
 people will not notice you, unless you get 
 into their debt, and then they will arrest 
 you for so small a sum as three shillings* !" 
 
 — '* As to society, my dear Mrs. B , our 
 
 circumstances will not allow us to partake 
 of much out of our own family. If Air. 
 Fisher can occasionally make up a rubber 
 at whist, I do not wish to visit on a larger 
 scale; I shall have enough to do at home." 
 Tlie appearance of a servant with the tray 
 put an end to any further conversation that 
 night. I partook of a fine roasted crab, and 
 some poached eggs ; for which many unneces- 
 sary apologies were made : — I thought them 
 excellent ; and when we had drunk a little 
 warm brandy and water we retired to bed. 
 The next morning at breakfast it was 
 determined that we should spend that day 
 
 * The author has had opportunities, during a long 
 residence in the island, of observing, that these are 
 the ordinary sentiments of dissatisfied people whom 
 extravagance bcought to the spot; and who, still in* 
 dulging their love of dissipation, in place of retrieving 
 their circumstances, draw upon themselves fresh dif- 
 ficulties ; and then blame the Manks for puttiDg a stop 
 to their tlioughtless career.
 
 42 MARIA. 
 
 in making inquiries among Mrs. B \ 
 
 friends. But before we could prepare our- 
 selves to go out, a lady called, who invited 
 
 Mrs. B to spend that evening " to 
 
 play a rubber, and eat a herring." My 
 friend replied, that I had come to stop 
 only a few days — ** That was what induced 
 me to come here so early," said the ladvy 
 "that I might be the first to solicit the 
 pleasure of Mrs. Fisher's company." We 
 gladly accepted her invitation, when an- 
 other lady, the wife of a liquor-merchant, 
 entered the room. As soon as the cere* 
 mony of introduction was over, the first 
 visitor mentioned that she expected the 
 pleasure of our company in the evening, and 
 hoped also for that of her and her good 
 gentleman the merchant. To which Mrs. 
 
 L answered, *' I will only promise for 
 
 myself." The first visitor, with a polite 
 vivacity of manner, requested we would be 
 early; and, wishing us all a good morning, 
 said '*she she would go in search of re- 
 cruits." — Scarcely had she got out of hear- 
 ing than Mrs. L- exclaimed, *' Would
 
 MARIA. 43 
 
 you think that is a bride ? married only ten 
 days ago, to a gentleman under seven-and- 
 twenty; and she has eight or nine sweet 
 children; she has five girls at home — poor 
 things! my heart aches for them. I am 
 told the two eldest cried all the day of the 
 marriage." 
 
 ** Indeed then," said Mrs. B , " you 
 
 were misinformed; for Mrs. W , who 
 
 was present, assured me, they all spent a 
 very pleasant and cheerful day." 
 
 ** It was outside show then," said Mrs. 
 L ; "for it is impossible they could like 
 it. I do wonder at widows making second 
 marriages 1" 
 
 " I am cured of wondering," said Mrs. 
 B , "since I have resided in this island." 
 
 -** Indeed one sees strange things every 
 
 day," observed Mrs. L : " but that 
 
 wedding was one of the oddest ! Tliere is 
 something very singular in their coming 
 here ; most people think they lived together 
 before in England, but I always contradict 
 that report." 
 
 " I believe you may do 50 safely," re-
 
 44 MARIA. 
 
 plied my friend ; " for though I never saw 
 Mrs. Stewart before I met her here, I am 
 acquainted with those who did ; and she 
 was ahvays well spoken of." 
 
 " I declare I have outstayed my time," 
 
 interrupted Mrs. L , ** I have twenty 
 
 places to call at. I go out so seldom, that 
 I affront half my friends." So saying, she 
 left us, and we commenced our walk. 
 " Now," observed Mrs. B , '' our ma- 
 king inquiries this morning will be useless ; 
 for I know that we shall meet all the par- 
 ties in the evening whose advice I meant 
 to ask ; so we will take a walk on our most 
 fashionable promenade." 
 
 I was delighted with the view from the 
 pier ; — the open sea to a Londoner is a new 
 and pleasing prospect; and the rocks on 
 the coast add much to the majesty of the 
 scene, though I am told they often occasion 
 accidents in stormy weather. To the left is 
 Castle Mona, a handsome building belong- 
 ing to the Duke of Athol ; it lies low, which 
 I think must make it damp ; but suppose the 
 site was chosen as best protecting it from the
 
 MARIA. 45 
 
 winds. — ^To the right is Fort Ann, the 
 property of Mrs. AMialey; — in summer it 
 must be a sweet retreat, but in winter I am 
 told it is much annoyed by the water from 
 the hills above it. Here we spent two 
 hours very pleasantly. The Manks fleet 
 (hundreds of vessels in search of herrings) 
 skirted the horizon ; and all together form-' 
 ed one of the busiest scenes I had ever 
 \vitnessed. I had intended not to close 
 this letter till to-morrow ; but finding the 
 mail is to go to night, I am obliged, maJgre 
 my wish, to send you this without any satis - 
 factoiy intelligence respecting the object of 
 my journey. Will you, dear madam, do 
 me the favour to inform Mr. Fisher I will 
 write to him next week ? as I find the pac- 
 ket goes only once in eight days : in that 
 time, I dare promise that I shall be able to 
 speak of my return. I have the honour to 
 remain, dear madam, your grateful friend, 
 
 Maria Fisher.
 
 46 MARIA. 
 
 LETTER V. 
 
 FROM MRS. FISHER TO MR. FISHER. 
 
 Douglas, 
 You know, dear Frederic, you desired me 
 to write when I had any thing to the pur- 
 pose to speak of ; now I think the business 
 I came upon must give me a right to ad- 
 dress you ; as I have now been here eight 
 days, and have seen the whole of the island* 
 Some things I like much ; for example, the 
 air is salubrious ; and with regard to heat, 
 it is here much as it is in England : the 
 country is extremely rocky, and therefore 
 romantic ; — not indeed in the eyes of those 
 who require wood and water — of the former 
 there is very little ; but of the latter, plen- 
 ty ; as besides the sea, the hills abound 
 with springs clear as crystal. But in my 
 mind, the idea which has universally obtain- 
 ed the name of romantic arises most from 
 the varieties of nature. . But I will argue 
 this point with Mrs. B , and speak to
 
 MARIA. 47 
 
 you of the price of necessaries. Butcher's 
 meat and coals are the dearest articles, 
 though nothing equal to what we pay for 
 them in London ; the best meat here is 
 bought at from sixpence to eightpence per 
 pound — coals at the present time are twenty- 
 seven shillings the ton ; which here weighs 
 twenty-seven hundred weight r^—in the win- 
 ter I believe they are higher. Fish so 
 cheap and plentiful, that the town smells of 
 it. I, who thought I could never be tired 
 of fish, am so already. Wines, spirits, 
 and some groceries, are not much more 
 than half the price we give for them in 
 England : wearing apparel is dear in gene- 
 ral. And now, for house-rent ; — the one 
 I am sitting in is sufficiently large for our 
 family, and pays forty pounds per annum. 
 The day after my arrival I accompanied 
 
 ^Irs. B to take tea at a friend of 
 
 hers, where we met a pleasant party : the 
 house seemed large, and had a good garden 
 attached, the rent sixty gumeas, which sur- 
 prised me greatly ; because from the price
 
 48 MARIA. 
 
 of other things I had not supposed there 
 had been one worth that sum^. I find 
 they are considerably lower in every other 
 town than this, and that in the comitry a 
 y house may be had for a very small rent in- 
 deed. However, as I would not wish you 
 to become an exile, if we fix in the island, 
 Douglas must be the spot ; it is the Lon- 
 don of the place. With respect to society, 
 I find it is difficult to select a few good 
 members of it ; the people here form a 
 heterogeneous multitude, among which is 
 a great diversity of talents and characters ; 
 they being mostly extravagant dissipated 
 persons, of broken-down fortunes ; and se- 
 veral of talents and genius, but of the worst 
 kind ; of whom it will be most civil in me 
 to be silent. And I am sorry to say that 
 amongst the horde there are not a few of 
 notorious character, whose first motive in 
 
 * A house which at that time let for forty is now let 
 at twenty-live pounds annual rent — this reduction is 
 m consequence of the late Act, and the few strangers 
 liow resident in the island.
 
 MARIA. 49 
 
 coming here was to escape the punishment 
 of dishonesty which they had deserved in 
 their own comit-ry. 
 
 I went one evening with Mrs. B — to a 
 
 party : it was a very pleasant one ; and I 
 am sure composed of as good people as we 
 meet with elsewhere. Tlie host and hostess, 
 — though ill-assorted in point of age, the 
 gentleman being a good deal the younger, 
 — pleased me mxuch : they were newly mar- 
 ried ; and when I was told the lady had 
 nine children, I secretly accused her of be- 
 ing a bad mother ; but when I beheld the 
 fondness and respect of those children to- 
 wards her, and saw her engaging and lively 
 manner, I thought her an affectionate pa- 
 rent and an agreeable woman. The mer- 
 chant and the lady whom I had met in the 
 morning were there : — you would like him 
 much ; he is one of your sensible men ; 
 and on the strength of my lessons from La- 
 vater, I pronounced him a good man. His 
 lady, too, pleased me better \ for I found she 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 MARIA. 
 
 spoke more from want of tliouglit tkalt 
 from thinking amiss. Two very gentleman- 
 like old men from Manchester were of the 
 party : I find they are well connected. One 
 swore at the cards, even more than you do, 
 and in your genteel way ; but there seemed 
 so much goodness about him, that I longed 
 to know him better. Being a stranger on 
 the look-out, they gave me a d^al of infor* 
 mation : — they represented the natives as 
 civil when well treated ; but that they acted 
 most reservedly and cautiously with stran- 
 gers, by whom they had often been imposed 
 upon ; and that if we take a house, half a 
 year's rent would be required in advance. 
 Their laws, too, were stated to be singular, 
 and much in their own favour. Our host 
 spoke highly in favour of the Manks people ; 
 said he had found himself treated with great 
 confidence and civility wherever he had ex- 
 pended any money ; and that in his coun- 
 try walks he had often experienced hospi- 
 tality, and in many instances friendship,
 
 MARIA. 1 
 
 from the inhabitants. An excursion xv».% 
 planned for going round the island, in which 
 I made one. We did not extend our tour 
 as far as the Calf, because my object was 
 to see the tomis, of which there are four. 
 Castletown was the first we visited : on the 
 road thither we saw several pleasant and 
 some very good houses ; — one in particular 
 upon the right on leaving Douglas, called 
 the Nunner\', belonging to Major Taubman ; 
 this was beautified with woody plantations, 
 and had good walled gardens. We passed 
 a pretty small village, Ballasalla, in which 
 were the remains of an abbey that I should 
 have liked to explore ; but as no other per- 
 son expressed a wish to that effect, I sup- 
 pressed mine. By twelve we reached the 
 to\Mi, which looks clean and pretty well 
 built: this is the seat of Government. 
 Mr. Smelt the Lieutenant-governor resides 
 here. Tlie ^castle seems a fine old building; 
 but I had heard it spoken of in such terms 
 of horror (it being the place where all 
 debtors are confined) 'that I felt no uiclinatiou 

 
 fe^ 
 
 MARIA 
 
 to see the inside of it=^. After dinner we 
 proceeded to Peel. Here also is a fine 
 castle, that was battered down in Croniwell's 
 'time, of which there are still considerable 
 ■I'emains. The streets in Peel are narrow, 
 and the whole town has a dull appearance. 
 But as a proof that local sittiation is no 
 hindrance to social enjoyment, we spent a 
 most cheerful evening at the house of Mr. 
 
 W , a friend of Mr. Stewart, ^vho met 
 
 us on our return from viewing the ruins, 
 and insisted that we should accompany him 
 
 home, where Mrs. W welcomed me 
 
 with the cordiality of an old acquaintance. 
 This amiable family kept us with music 
 and conversation till a late hour, and we 
 left them with a full conviction that th^ 
 would have found means to exercise hospi- 
 tality in a barren desert, since I had never 
 witnessed such genuine warmth of heart as 
 appeared in Mr. and Mrs. W . We 
 
 * The castle has been greatly beautified, and has un- 
 dergone many improvements for the convenience and 
 comfort of the debtors.
 
 MARIA. 53. 
 
 had well aired beds and comfortable accom- 
 modations at Air. Long's hotel, where we 
 staid the night. Tlie following morning 
 we took a ramble along the shore, which is 
 here diversilied with majestic rocks. At a 
 distance of two miles from the town is a 
 spot peculiar for beautiful shells anda variety 
 of curious pebbles ; — of the latter some very 
 valuable ones have been found. Upon the 
 whole I quitted Peel w^ith regret, and pro- 
 ceeded to Ramsey, which place we reached 
 for dinner. Here the fields wore a beauti- 
 ful green, and the country exhibited a more 
 English appearance than I had before seen* 
 The town is small, and fronts a fine open bay. 
 Tlie necessaries of life I found to be more 
 reasomible throughout the northern part of 
 the island than in Douglas ; house-rent 
 lower, and the societv less numerous and 
 more select ; — altogether I was greatly 
 ple^ised with this part; but still think, should 
 we fix ourselves in this island, Douglas 
 must be the place. We returned to it to- 
 day, and I have employed myself ever
 
 54 MARIA, 
 
 since in writing ; intending to send my 
 letter to Liverpool by a vessel which is to 
 sail with to-night's tide. — ^This is Wednesday 
 and the mail not yet come in, though it 
 was expected yesterday : the wind is con- 
 trary', which I find is often the case ; but 
 at tliis season of the year it is not likely to 
 remain long so; I hope to hear a good ac- 
 count of you when the packet comes. I 
 purpose returning by A\Tiitehaven, that I 
 may give you some particulars of Cumber- 
 land, which I am told is also a cheap coun- 
 ty. Give my love to the girls, I trust they 
 are all you wish them. Believe me, dear 
 Mr. Fisher, your dutiful and affectionate 
 ^vife, 
 
 Maria Fisher,
 
 MARIA.. 0»> 
 
 LETTER VI. 
 
 FROM MR. FISHER TO MRS. FISHER. 
 
 London f Shane Street, 
 I DESIRE, iMaria, that you will return with 
 tlie packet which takes this letter. I have 
 seen Doctor Ford. He tells me, Douglas ten 
 years ago w^as such a horrid hole he could 
 not stay longer than one month in it. I 
 suppose it has grown worse, like every 
 other place. — ^But for your romantic non- 
 sense, the island had been unthought-of by 
 me. I shall feel ashamed that you should 
 even have been there. However, make 
 haste to your family, v/here you are much 
 wanted. 
 
 Frederic Fisher.
 
 50 MARIA. 
 
 LETTER VII. 
 
 THE HONOURABLE MRS. HUNTER TO ' 
 MRS. FISHER. 
 
 London Grosvenor Square. 
 It is with a strong conviction that my dear 
 Maria is well acquainted I would not utter 
 any thing but what pure friendship dictates, 
 that I presume to reproach her for suffering 
 the goodness of her heart to mislead her 
 head : — no other motive could surely have 
 induced you, my friend, to give an invita- 
 tion to a person in the unfortunate Maria's 
 situation — in your absence too !* but she is 
 now with me, as I will tell you. 
 
 According to your request, and indeed as 
 much to gratify myself, I have been every 
 morning to Sloane-street ; and always found 
 the dear girls had purposely hastened to 
 complete their domestic arrangements, that 
 they might give me their company during 
 my stay, which generally lasted two hours :
 
 MARIA. 5Z 
 
 and really the time passed so pleasantly that 
 I always wished it had been convenient to 
 the young ones that I should have remain^ 
 ed longer. Fanny was usually employed in 
 reading the Morning Post to her father : on 
 my entrance, the paper, was laid down and 
 the work taken up — they have almost finish- 
 ed the quilt — I had nearly trespassed on 
 their secret unthinkingly — in short, I must 
 only say, you will be surprised at their in- 
 dustry. Above all things, I have been der 
 lighted with their attention to Mr. Fisher; 
 — and I am sure you will be equally pleased 
 to hear that his manner to them is less 
 harsh than when you are at home : this is a 
 consideration that I know you will feel 
 grateful for. On Thursday last, during 
 my stay, a knock at the door announced a 
 visitor. We guessed it to be Mrs. Blount, 
 when Ann came up to her master, telling 
 him a young lady had inquired for her mis- 
 tress ; and, upon her saying she was absent, 
 had asked to have the honour of speaking 
 to liim. ** If she wants me she may come 
 
 D
 
 58 MARIA. 
 
 to me," replied Mr. Fisher. In a few mi- 
 nutes the door opened, and a pretty inter- 
 esting young person entered. At seeing 
 company, a blush bespread her cheek — we 
 had risen to receive her ; Fanny reached a 
 chair, and placing it by her father said, in 
 the most pleasing manner, " This, madam> 
 is my papa." The young lady curtsied 
 her acknowledgement, and Mr. Fisher began 
 the dialogue by saying, " To what cause,, 
 madam, am I indebted for this visit ?'' 
 
 " To wretchedness, sir," was the answer. 
 Your good man looked at his visitor with 
 astonishment : she continued, ' * I find Mrs ^ 
 Fisher has not informed you, sir, of her kind- 
 ness to me — she told me, should I meet with 
 any difficulty, to come ,to her : I am now 
 much distressed, not for money, I have 
 enough of that — but for some retired lodg- 
 ing, where I may remain unknown — can 
 you, sir, recommend me any where for a 
 lew days .^" " Indeed, madam," replied Mr. 
 Fisher, *' I am ignorant what lodgings are 
 proper for young ladies i but I am sure of
 
 MARIA. ^ 
 
 this, that London is unfit for you, if you 
 are a stranger." The kind-hearted Emma 
 whispered me, "Pray ask papa to let us make 
 up the blue bed." I hushed Emma to sileitce; 
 for at the moment it occurred to me, that 
 this lady had been your travelling compa- 
 nion, whom you had mentioned in your 
 letter ; and seeing she appeared a good deal 
 flurried, I said to Mr. I'isher, " Sir, my 
 time has fully expired ; the chariot has 
 waited these ten minutes,; so, if you please, 
 I will request this young lady to take an 
 airing with me ; — it will do her spirits good, 
 and I will endeavour to supply Mrs. Fisher's 
 place by giving the best advice in my power." 
 '" Thanks, dearest lady, for your kindness," 
 said the stranger ; and wishing a good morn- 
 ing to the family in Sloane street we took 
 our leave ; not without some speaking looks 
 from Emma, (you must take care of that 
 child, or her susceptibility will injure her 
 frame, and hereafter endanger her conduct ! 
 -*— Pardon me, you -are my sister in affection^
 
 60 MARIA. 
 
 and I feel for you as such.) During our 
 short ride, Maria (for she informed me 
 how you had met on your road out of Lon- 
 don) displayed a mind ill at ease ; but, \A'hen 
 she spoke her sentiments, evinced such a 
 noble and really pious disposition, that be- 
 fore I reached my own door I had deter- 
 mined to protect her, and said every thing I 
 thought likely to calm her agitated spirits. 
 '* I will give you apartments in my house,'* 
 said I to her ; '* but it will be necessary that 
 you should remain retired in them, for your 
 own comfort, and for my peace. I will* 
 spend all my leisure hours with you ; you 
 shall have books and work. Love is a strong 
 passion ; I have felt it, and know it is to be 
 conquered by employment ; in time, repent^ 
 ance will again give you a place in society. 
 I will appoint a servant to attend you; all 
 I require of you is, that you will be secret 
 as to your real situation." Her answer struck 
 me as singular : — " Madam," replied the 
 stranger, ** I accept your offer with grati-
 
 MARIA. 6\ 
 
 tude ; what grieves me most at the present 
 moment is, that my situation does not 
 permit me to speak tfif/i/ of myself." I 
 assured her I would never trouble her 
 \dth unnecessary questions. — We had now 
 reached my house ; where, after remaining 
 for some time in close conversation in 
 the drawing-room, we separated ; — she re- 
 tired to her apartment; and I, to dress for 
 dinner. — I have confided my visitor to 
 my trusty servant Charlotte; she has 
 been always devoted to me, and, as I 
 have ever found that when there is a my- 
 stery to be observed it is best not to hint 
 that there exists a secret, I merely told 
 Charlotte, that I should place under her care 
 a young person whose present stateof health 
 rendered her unable to bear the fatigue of 
 society. 
 
 I could see but little of my guest yester- 
 day, being engaged to dine at Chelsea : to- 
 day I am obliged to write, according to your 
 order of putting my letter into the post-
 
 62 MARIA. 
 
 office on a Saturday. We long for your 
 return, in which, next to your own family, 
 no one will participate more gladly than 
 your sincere friend 
 
 Frances Hunter. 
 
 I trust my readers will not deem the appear- 
 ance of the author an improper intrusion, 
 and that they will pardon me for relating 
 and explaining such incidents as are neces- 
 sary^ to be known, and which the correspond- 
 ents have not time to relate. 
 
 During Mrs. Fisher's visit to the Isle of 
 Man, a party agreed to accompany her in 
 making the tour of the island; but from 
 some inconvenience which they had met 
 with on the road, they merely visited Castle- 
 town, and returned to Douglas to set down 
 the ladies who had declined going any fur- 
 ther. The party were dining at Mr» Stew-
 
 MARIA. 63 
 
 art's, when Mr. S. proposed (as he then had 
 a gentleman with him on a visit) going to 
 see the Calf. Mr. B offered to accom- 
 pany him ; as also Mr. J , from whose 
 
 society they expected fnuch additional infor* 
 mation, he having lately published an ac- 
 count of the island. The host politely, and 
 with all that good humour which generally 
 attends the first month after marriage, re- 
 quested the ladies would spend the two days 
 of their absence with Mrs. Stew^art; which 
 request was so earnestly seconded by three 
 
 very amiable daughters of Mrs. S , who 
 
 declared *' their mamma woidd otherwise 
 
 be quite lost," that Mrs. Smith, Mrs. B — •, 
 
 Mrs. Fisher, and Mrs. L promised to 
 
 breakfast the following morning with Mrs» 
 Stewart at seven o'clock, to see the gentle-* 
 men off; after which the ladies were to 
 walk to a rock by Fort Ann, there take 
 some refreshm.ent, and return in the cool of 
 the evening. Accordingly the party was 
 punctual at the appointed hour. — It was a 
 delightful morning, the weather promised
 
 64 MARIA. 
 
 every indulgence ; and after a hearty break- 
 fast of tea, eggs, and red herrings, the gen- 
 tlemen mounted their horses, and the ladies 
 commenced their walk. It was nine o'clock 
 when they reached a hook in the rock under 
 Fort Ann — the general exclamation now 
 was, *' How shall we amuse ourselves ?"> 
 Mrs. Stewart's daughters said, "Let us 
 
 bathe." Mrs. L— , with rather more of 
 
 sarcasm than good nature, replied, (look? 
 ing at^Vlrs .Ste^vart ) ' ' We married ladies may 
 not all be in a bathmg situation — as I be- 
 lieve it to be dangerous to man)' when in 
 
 the family way." ' ' Well," said Mrs . B- , 
 
 ** I am safe, so I will bathe with the girls." 
 "And those who do not choose that employ- 
 ment," said Mrs. Stewart, " can walk with 
 me on the shore and seek shells ; for though 
 I am safe, as Mrs. B expresses it, ba- 
 thing never agreed with me." — Then leaving 
 the bathers to themselves, the rest found 
 an amusement in picking up all they could 
 find that was curious. About eleven, 
 bfithers and walkers had returned to the
 
 MARIA. 65 
 
 nook ; where they 'partook of the fare they 
 had brought with them. That over, again 
 the question was argued, *' How shall we 
 divert ourselves ?" " Suppose," said one, 
 " we each sing a song, or tell a story." " We 
 will," was the general answer; " and I 
 
 think," added Mrs. L , " the youngest 
 
 had better begin ; that will be the way to 
 save thebest for the last." "Indeed, mamma," 
 observed Emily, "it is hard upon me, for 
 I can tell nothing but what I have read in 
 books." — "And I am sure," replied the mo- 
 ther, "you have read and learned many good 
 things ; }'ou know I had not leisurtrto hear 
 you repeat the account of Louis the Sixteenth, 
 which you promised to get by heart ; so let 
 me have it now ; and vour sisters will assist 
 you when you are tired, or at a loss."-— 
 "Well, mamma, I will give it you in the 
 words of the princess who writes the account 
 to the Due d'Angouleme, since become her 
 husband." 
 
 " It was in the seventh month of our
 
 66 MARIA. 
 
 confinement in the Tower that my aunt the 
 Princess Elizabeth received the following 
 note. 
 
 Avte from an unknown friend to the 
 Princess Elizabeth. 
 
 ** Prepare the Queen for the trial she 
 must shortly undergo ; they are about to 
 take from her her son, for the pupose of 
 educating him according to the present 
 laws : there is nothing to apprehend re- 
 specting the child's safety, since he is ne- 
 cessary to the faction. I humbly advise 
 that ye meet the fury of your enemies with 
 no other weapons than those of prudence 
 and fortitude.'* 
 
 " My aunt burst into tears, whilst per- 
 using this fatal paper ; which the Queen 
 perceiving, requested to know the contents. 
 At first my aunt refused — " If it be a decree 
 against me," said my mother, " I am pre- 
 pared." 
 
 ' It is not, dear sister.' 
 
 * What then is it ? perhaps an order for 
 our separation ! '
 
 MARIA. ^7 
 
 ' No, I and my niece shall remain 
 with you.' 
 
 * Good God! then it must be my son 
 whom they dare to ask of me !' And the 
 Queen fell lifeless on the floor, 
 
 *' With a great deal of difficulty we reca- 
 vered her to a sense of feeling, and her eyes 
 sought her son. 
 
 * Where is my boy ?' said the Queen in 
 a voice of agony. ' Have they taken him 
 from these arms ? "Where is he ?' 
 
 '* The child was asleep in the bed pre- 
 pared for him in his mother's room. Thi- 
 ther she went, and taking him up pressed 
 him to her heart — saying ' O my son ! I 
 am going to part with thee V Her voice 
 awoke the child ; and quickly raising his 
 head, * No, no, dearest mother ! I will 
 never quit thee !' and he reached his arms 
 about her neck. My mother placed him 
 on her knee, and began to kiss him. I threw 
 myself at her feet, and held her hand which 
 I wetted with my tears ; while my aunt endea- 
 voured to repress the grief with which
 
 68 MARIA. 
 
 she felt affected. — * W\mt is it they want 
 with my son ?' my mother again asked r 
 * His father left him to my care — Is it not 
 enough that they have deprived him of one 
 parent ? Surely they might have allowed us 
 together to have wept his loss ! ^¥hat have 
 they to fear ? Their watchful vigilance has 
 
 rendered escape impossible- Alas ! the)^ 
 
 suspect that I may relate to my son his 
 former splendour^ and thus sow in his heart 
 the seed of revenge ! — ^Too well they know 
 this would be useless ! No, they seek his 
 death ! — they seek mine I' 
 
 "My brother akrmed caressed the Queen, 
 whilst my aunt vainly tried to calm her agi- 
 tated frame. It is only a few whose know- 
 ledge of human nature entitles them to de- 
 scribe the feelings of a mother parting 
 from her child ! a property, of which no 
 law can deprive her, without a crying injus- 
 tice ; from the noble lion to the tin^iid mouse, 
 each mother clings to her offspring with 
 equal energy — would exhaust her strength 
 in its defence, and rather lose her life than
 
 MARIA. 69 
 
 ■giA'e up the charge. This i« the common 
 instinct of nature ; else, what would become 
 of the feeble infant, did it not find support 
 in its mother through the various sufferings 
 of childhood ? But think how such a sepa- 
 ration may be aggravated by circumstances ! 
 Every thing united to render my mother's 
 case most pitiable : — the king, her husband, 
 dead — herself a prisoner— out of the reach 
 of knowing the fate of her son — and certain 
 that, should the monsters who dared to com- 
 init the outrage think it favourable to their 
 interest to preserve the boy's life, they 
 would extinguish those honourable princi- 
 ^ples that were now forming in his innocent 
 heart; by wickedly misrepresenting all her 
 actions, they would obliterate his natural 
 feelings for his mother; for her, who would 
 most willingly have sacrificed her life for 
 the happiness of her child. They would 
 calumniate the sacred name of his father, 
 and preserve his existence only to render 
 him umvorthy of his country's love ! * Per- 
 haps they will suffer liim to live,' -exclaimed
 
 70 MARIA% 
 
 the Queen, * that he may ser/e as the shn- 
 dow of a king, through whom they mean to 
 govern ; and, when they shall have assumed 
 to themselves full power, will not hesitate 
 to sacrifice him, as a useless tool to prcr 
 vent its becoming dangerous. O my son ! 
 why did I give thee life to see thee covered 
 with ignominy ? or murdered by a fanatic 
 crew ? Better had it been that I had stifled 
 thee in my womb ! or that I had died before 
 I gave thee birth ! Think not I will bear 
 this separation ; my life is hateful, and I 
 will resign it ^My son, wilt thou remem- 
 ber me ?' • 
 
 " The child answered his mother with 
 fond endearments ; and the Queen, ex- 
 hausted with fatigue and sorrow, sunk 
 into a slumber — the dear boy slept on her 
 bosom 
 
 *' My aunt and I passed the night by my 
 mother's bed. Her sleep was disturbed ; 
 violent agitations often awoke her; and 
 daylight appeared, without her having had 
 more refreshment than those short intervals
 
 MARIA. n 
 
 of rest, which wearied nature forced upon 
 her. 
 
 ** The Queen now ordered me to read to 
 my brother the letter which his father had 
 written for him ; impressing upon his mind, 
 that he should notice, and fulfill, every in- 
 junction therein contained. She then dress- 
 ed him herself, as she had been in the ha- 
 bit of doing from the day good Crilba left 
 us; every part of my brother's garments 
 was wet with my mother's tears — ^while she 
 repeated ' Poor dear ! who will next per- 
 form this office ? — ^who shall comb thy hair, 
 and form sweet ringlets on thy lovely fore- 
 head ?' Tlien cutting off a lock, she inclosed 
 it with one v.iiich my father had sent to her 
 only a few hours before he quitted this 
 world of sorrow. ' "Who, dearest boy, will ren- 
 der to thee those attentions which are ne- 
 cessary to cleanliness ? Some mercenary 
 hands, — cruel ones, perhaps, — ^whouill deem 
 it a trouble ! Do thou, my dearest child ! 
 sc»ften their hard hearts by thy engaging 
 smile ! I — but never, dea^ boy ! commit an
 
 2 MARIA. 
 
 action of which thou mayst be ashamed. 
 Remember that thou must not, to presen'e 
 thy Hfe, sacrifice those principles of honour 
 which thou didst receive with thy Hfe's 
 blood I — ^Think that thy father sees thee ! 
 that he beholds thy every action from his seat 
 in heaven ! Think, also, thy mother yet 
 lives ! and that thou wouldst cause her the 
 most dreadful of all deaths, were she to 
 
 learn thou hadst disobeyed her ! ' 
 
 *' 3\Iy brother promised to observe all 
 tlie Queen had told him. Scarcely was he 
 finished dressing, when the magistrates en- 
 tered cur apartment, and read the order 
 which invested them with authority to take 
 my brother. In what V; ords, my best be- 
 loved, shall I describe that tiying moment ! 
 It brings to my memoiy that fatal hour 
 when I beheld my mother for the last time 
 myself. She assumed a fortitude surpassing 
 nature's effort, to suppress the agony with 
 which her bosom heaved ; and received 
 the delegates of the people with dignity, 
 but without haughtiness. No longer the
 
 MARIA, 73 
 
 the enruged queen, she appeared the tender 
 parent, fearful of irritating those who hence- 
 forth were to be theguardians of her treasure. 
 Stifling her sobs, she recommended him to 
 their care in the kindest terms. 
 
 " My brother ran into the arms of my 
 aunt, then into mine ; my mother took 
 him once more to herself, covered his face 
 with kisses, — and, without waiting a repe- 
 tition of the order which was to sever the 
 fibres of her hearty placed her son between 
 the magistrates in perfect silence. They 
 walked out, followed by my brother. The 
 queen was seated: she watched with her 
 eyes till he had passed the door the child 
 she was never more to see. Scarcely was 
 that closed, than she fell from her chair, 
 and remained on the floor without the 
 least sign of life." 
 
 The next sister now took up the narra- 
 tive in the following words : — 
 
 *' The young King, on quitting the pro- 
 tection of his mother, was conveyed into 
 the chamber where his august father had 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 MARIA. 
 
 spent the last of his days. Here he was 
 styled the ivhelp of the Temple^ the queen 
 being publicly called the Austrian ivolf. In 
 this place he was attended by a monster 
 named Simon, formerly a shoemaker ; by 
 habit a drunkard, and an abandoned mis- 
 creant. One day the prince narrowly es- 
 caped the loss of his eye, from a plate 
 thrown at him by this brute, who was wait- 
 ing on him at table. Simon often beat 
 him unmercifully : once, in an excess of 
 passion, he took up an iron, with which he 
 threatened the prince's destruction. * Ca- 
 pet,' said this brute another time, * should 
 these Vendeans obtain thy liberty, what 
 wouldst thou do T * I would pardon you,' 
 replied the young king. After a few months 
 Simon was removed from the Temple, and 
 Louis the Seventeenth remained alone, 
 without change of linen or clothes, depri- 
 ved of every attention necessary at his age : 
 his bed was never made ; neither the sheets 
 changed, nor the room swept : — each night 
 and morning, was thrown rather than given
 
 MARIA, /O 
 
 to him some gross kind of food ; and, 
 under pretence of assuring themselves of 
 the young prisoner's existence, they called 
 at his door nearly eveiy hour, ' Capet, Ca- 
 pet, art thou there ?' The child awoke in 
 agitation, and rising in his bed replied, 
 * Here I am, what do you want ?' * Go to bed 
 again,' the Cerberi would say. — Such was the 
 unhappy situation of Louis the Seventeenth 
 till the autumn of 1794, when the death of 
 the t}Tant Robespierre once more changed 
 the government of France ; and the King 
 was committed to the care of M. L'Aurent, 
 and after hhn of Messieurs Gomin and 
 L' Agnes. But the efforts of these gentlemen 
 were of no avail ; the young king's con- 
 stitution had been undermined by the treat- 
 ment he had received ; he was even too ill 
 to be removed. At this time the humanity 
 of the Senate allowed to Madame Royale the 
 societ}^ of Madame de Chaterene. Through 
 the means of this amiable friend the prin- 
 cess obtained an inter\'iew with her brother, 
 the day previous to his dissolution. — She 
 e2
 
 76 MARIA. 
 
 thus describes her visit in a letter to the 
 Due d'Angouleme : — 
 
 *' ' \Vhatever had been my ideas respect- 
 ing my brother's situation, they fell infi- 
 nitely short of the miserable state in which 
 I found him. On entering the room, I was 
 informed it was the same which had con- 
 tained my father. I will not try to express 
 to thee my feelings at finding myself in that 
 chamber ! they were painfully acute at the 
 recollection of past events. These gave way 
 to sensations still more dreadful, on ap- 
 proaching the bed where lay my unfortunate 
 brother, without one trace of his former 
 features, except his beautiful eyes, once so 
 like his mother's, and to which a burning 
 fever still gave a gleam of animation. His 
 cheeks were sunk, his lips discoloured ; and 
 the frightful leanness of his body gave an 
 idea of bones covered with a hard dry skin; 
 he breathed with difficulty, and the shrieks 
 he ocqasionally uttered from excess of pain 
 made him a heart-rending object to all who 
 were capable of feeling. What then nmst it
 
 MARIA. n 
 
 have been for a sister ! I threw myself 
 
 on the bed, and with anguish pressed him 
 in my arms : he seemed aUve to the kind- 
 ness of the act, but ignorant of my person ; 
 he moved liis dying Hps upon my cheek ; 
 a few tears were perceivable on his face, 
 whilst he faintly whispered the name of 
 * Mother.' Whether his bewildered thoughts 
 made him mistake me for her who had 
 given him life, or that he liad been in the 
 habit of giving this name to the person who 
 had latterly used every effort to assist him, 
 I do not know. 
 
 ** * The young king was at this period 
 attended as he would have been in happier 
 times : two able physicians remained con- 
 stantly in his room, and vainly employed , 
 every effort of their skill to restore his ex- 
 hausted frame, which had been worn down 
 by the cruelties of those appointed by Ro- 
 bespierre to take the charge of him. 
 
 ** * I remained by my brother's bed.du- . 
 ring the best part of the night: his beating 
 head rested on my bosom, and from his
 
 78 MARIA. 
 
 attendants I eagerly seized the cup, that I 
 might enjoy the pleasure of allaying his 
 thirst. From the moment I held him he 
 seemed insensible to every thing; not an-, 
 other complaint was heard: but about four 
 in the morning he ceased to swallow — his 
 breast swelled — his eyes became dim — his 
 extremities were chilled with the damp of 
 death — and convulsive movements told the 
 approach of that agony which preceded the 
 awful moment of dissolution. After two 
 more hours of acute suffering, the wheels of 
 
 the great engine stopped and in his 
 
 tenth year he died of old age ! the 8th of 
 June 1795. The young king was buried 
 in the church-yard of St. Marguerite, Fau- 
 bourg St. Antoine, — attended by a few per- 
 sons to his grave.' " 
 
 The party in the rock discussed the suf- 
 ferings of Louis the Seventeenth according 
 to their several feelings ; each lamenting 
 that one so young should have been doom- 
 ed to such a miserable life. 
 
 Airs. Smith was reminded it was next
 
 KARIA. 79 
 
 her turn to favour them with something. 
 She replied, " I must try to dissipate the 
 melancholy our last subject has left upon 
 our minds, by a song ;" and she began that, 
 sweet melody *' Hush, every breeze." Her 
 voice is powerful, yet sweet ; the scenery 
 around was favourable to harmony, and 
 we were all delighted. 
 
 Mrs. B— — sat next; and, declaring 
 she had not any voice to sing, she told her 
 story in the following words : — 
 
 ** I have just finished reading the history 
 
 of the duchess of C , with which you 
 
 are all doubtless acquainted. I lately met 
 with an instance in London of a similar 
 nature. A gentleman, whom I shall only 
 call by his Christian name, Charles, a part- 
 ner in a respectable house in London, and 
 who occasionally travels during the summer 
 
 months, is intimate with Mr. B , and 
 
 has been, during the last ten years, in the 
 habit of dining with us whenever business 
 brought him to our little town : he is re- 
 markably pleasant, full of anecdote, and
 
 80 MARIA. 
 
 seems naturally of a cheerful temper. But 
 I have often observed he w^s subject to fre- 
 quent absence of mmd ; and remarked to 
 
 jSIr. B -, 'Though Charles is pleasant, 
 
 I am sure he is not happy.' * I am of your 
 opinion/ said Mr J3 , ' and to-day in con- 
 versation I happened to say to him, * I sup- 
 pose, Charles, you are a married man ?* 
 his reply struck me. He answered, ' I once 
 was so happy V And directly he seemed so 
 lost in thought that I repented having named 
 the subject.' 
 
 " In these occasional visits which Charles 
 made us, on going away he would always 
 
 stay to Mr. B , ^ Should you ever come 
 
 to London, remember you will be expected' 
 to dine in Warwick-street ; — I don't see for- 
 mal company, but I have always a hot dish 
 at four.' 
 
 *' Last year, you know, we were in Lon» 
 
 don ; and one morning Mr. B told me, 
 
 that after he had seen a person he was to 
 meet at Drummond's he would take pot- 
 luck in Warwick -street. Now it so fell out.
 
 MARIA. 81 
 
 tliat, instead of the person meeting hxim, as 
 he had appointed, at one, he waited at Drum- 
 niond's till three ; and it had struck four 
 
 when Mr. B reached Warwick-street. 
 
 The door was opened by Charles himself, 
 who for a moment looked grave, so. that 
 Mr. B — 7— thought himself unwelcome, 
 and was about to return, when a smile 
 illumined his friend's countenance, and he 
 
 drew Mr. B into the hall, saying How 
 
 happy he felt to see him; and took him 
 to the parlour — w^hispering as he enter- 
 ed it, * You will excuse all you see there.' 
 Supposing Charles alluded to the badness 
 of his dinner, Mr. B — ■ — was ^assuring him 
 *the pleasure of spending an hour in his 
 company w^as the sole purport of his visit ;' 
 when he had entered the room, and found 
 himself struck, nay shocked, with the lean 
 skeleton of a woman sitting at the bottom 
 of the table : — from her extreme leanness her 
 figure seemed uncommonly tall; she wore 
 a black stuff gown, a black cap close to her 
 face; and the death-like whiteness of her 
 skin gave to her the appearance of an inha* 
 e5
 
 82 MARIA. 
 
 bitant of the other world. Seeing: Mr. 
 
 B 's attention was riveted on this object, 
 
 Charles whispered, *This is an unfortunate 
 maniac; she is perfectly harmless.' Upon 
 
 which Mr. B drew his chair to the 
 
 table. The lady did not speak ; neither did 
 j-he seem inclined to eat any thing, till, 
 urged by Charles, she swallowed a little of 
 what she had upon her plate. As soon as the 
 cloth was removed, the servant brought a 
 strange-looking cup, into which her master 
 poured one glass of Port wine. The ser- 
 vant presented it to the lady, saying, * Re- 
 
 member r She took it ; and Air. B • 
 
 says, as she lifted the beverage to her lips 
 she raised her eyes towards him, with such 
 a look of anguish, accompanied by such a 
 deep and affecting sigh — yet with more the 
 look of resigned affliction than the wildness 
 
 of insanity — that Mr. B felt tempted 
 
 to address her. But before he could arrange 
 his thoughts she arose, and leaning on the 
 servant's arm went through a door into an 
 adjoining room that seemed totally dark. 
 The door was bolted by the servant on the
 
 MARIA. 83 
 
 inner side, and the lady appeared no more. 
 Immediately after this circumstance Charles 
 reached two tumblers from the sideboard, 
 and filled them with ^ladeira ; as though he 
 needed false spirits to entertain his guest. 
 
 Mr. B has no objection to his glass ; 
 
 and, urged by his friend's example, they 
 finished the fourth bottle. Charles abruptly 
 asked Mr, B his opinion of women. — 
 
 * I judge them by my wife,' was his answer, 
 
 * and I love the dear creatures !' 
 
 " * I detest them !' rejoined Charles :* they 
 are false ! all false as hell ! Once, I thought 
 as you do ; — then I did not know them — 
 execrable hypocrites! deceitful syrens T And 
 his passion rose to such vehemence that 
 
 Mr. B took his hand, saying, ' My dear 
 
 friend, calm yourself: — perhaps some one 
 unfortunate person has made you mistrust 
 the sex; — come come, discard all dismal 
 thoughts- — Suppose we go to the Theatre ?' 
 
 * Pardon me,' replied Charles ; ' you are the 
 only stranger who has dined in this room 
 for the space of four years. I want a friend;
 
 M MARIA. 
 
 aiid, if you would not think the worse of 
 me, would confide in you. But, when you 
 know my story, you will say I have been 
 lenient. .. . . .That person you saw at my table 
 
 was once my wife V 
 
 : f'i^ *^Could she then cease to be so ?' asked 
 
 Mr. B . 
 
 ^* ' Yes,' replied Charles ; ' the bond is dis- 
 solved by the laws of God and man . Listen, 
 while in few words I speak the misery of 
 my fate. The woman you saw is a native of 
 Exeter, and was the only child of a doting 
 father: — from his hand I received her, with 
 these words ; * Charles, I here give you up 
 the darling of my heart; she has been for 
 eighteen years the unceasing object of my 
 care and love! — I have reared her tenderly; 
 — she is pure as innocence ; — she loves you ; 
 — let no cold neglect chill her affection, but 
 protect and guard her as you value the bless- 
 ing of Heaven !' — I received the hand thus 
 tendered with thankfulness ; — for I loved her ! 
 Our first two months passed in comfort : 
 but when the time for making my annual
 
 MARIA. 83 
 
 journey arrived, she fretted at the thought of 
 my absence. Accustomed from childhood 
 to experience her father's exertions to please, 
 she expected attentions incompatible with 
 my business, and to which my education had 
 rendered my heart a stranger: — she grew 
 discontented ; so did /. — ^Then it was that a 
 viper in the shape of a man, who had been 
 my partner in trade for &om.e years and in 
 whom I bad placed the highest confidence, 
 wound himself into her favour ; and before 
 I was even suspicious of any misconduct, I 
 was con\'inced of my wife's guilt and my 
 own disgrace ! — for, returning one night 
 unexpectedly to my house, I ascended my 
 chamber ; and there witnessed a sight — 
 the recollection of which harrows up my 
 soul ! — Fired with the spirit of revenge, I took 
 down my pistols ; and loading them, insist- 
 ed upon instant satisfaction. The wretch 
 took the pistol : We placed ourselves in an 
 attitude to fire. — ^My antagonist did not 
 raise his arm, but kept his weapon bent 
 towards the floor ; whilst the ball of mine
 
 86 MARIA. 
 
 entered his stomach, and in a few minutes 
 after he expired! I surrendered myself to 
 the laws of my country. In a few days my 
 trial came on ; w^hen, in consequence of a 
 clear statement of the circumstances, the 
 fact I had committed was justly esteemed 
 manslaughter. — My first action after regain- 
 ing my liberty was to employ a resurrection- 
 man to procure me the body of him who 
 had been the destroyer of my peace : and of 
 his scull I made the cup you saw, to remind 
 his paramour of her guilt. To punish her, 
 I make a prison of my house ; and for the 
 last four years no person has entered this 
 dwelling but myself and the servant. AMien 
 I wish to see a friend, I appoint a coffee- 
 house for our meeting. Had I known of 
 your being in town, I should have sought 
 your company in the same way: but now 
 tliat you are acquainted with my sad situa- 
 tion, I shall at all times be happy to see and 
 to receive you.' 
 
 * * Mr . B remarked to his friend, * that 
 
 the lady seemed really penitent; and he
 
 MARIA. 87 
 
 thought, after so long a period, her punish- 
 ment might be somewhat mitigated/ 
 
 " * Never '/ said Charles ; ' the longest life 
 cannot atone for such depraved perfidy : 
 never will I exchange words with her — never 
 shall the light penetrate her chamber ! 
 Tlie only lenity my justice will allow me to 
 show her is, the indulgence of taking her 
 meals in this room.' 
 
 '' Mr. B tried all in his power to 
 
 influence Charles : but finding it only served 
 to irritate an injured and a naturally re- 
 vengeful disposition, he dropped the subject, 
 and has never since thought it prudent to 
 resume it.'' 
 
 The tale concluded, the ladies began their 
 comments. The three young ones were 
 anxious Charles should receive his wife again : 
 for, though well-informed and secretly con- 
 demning guilty actions, they deemed it just 
 that punishment, received with resignation 
 and a thorough compunction of heart, should 
 restore the sufferer to a place in society. 
 The other ladies observed, ** that want of
 
 88 MARIA. 
 
 sentiment in Charles had rendered him 
 careless of his wife, and had thus laid her 
 heart open to the attentions of another." 
 
 At present I am unacquainted with the 
 secret springs that occasioned this fatal ca- 
 tastrophe : but, as I often visit London, 
 should I be able to collect further parti- 
 culars, I shall not fail to relate them in the 
 course of my book. 
 
 A short time spent in conversation 
 brought it to the hour of returning home. 
 Mrs. Stewart having requested her male 
 visitors to be charitable, they had under- 
 stood her meaning ; for the ladies had only 
 time to adjust themselves, when their friends 
 the two Manchester gentlemen, with two 
 others, joined them. Tea over, they formed 
 two tables at whist, at which they amused 
 themselves till a late hour. 
 
 It was ten the next morning when the 
 ladies were seated round Mrs. Stewart's 
 breakfast-table ; the weather still fine, they 
 spoke with pleasure of repeating their walk. 
 The hostess informed her daughters, that
 
 MARIA. 89 
 
 as the gentlemen would most lilvely return 
 that evening to a late dinner, it would be 
 necessary for one of them to remain at home 
 for the purpose of attending the household 
 concerns. No one spoke ; but presently 
 the second arose, and whispered something 
 in her mother's ear which brought tears into 
 her eyes . Mrs . Smith observing this , * * hoped 
 nothing unpleasant had occurred ?" Mrs. 
 Stewart answered the kind inquiry by say- 
 ing, '' It was joy I felt at that moment ; 
 though the thing itself be tri\'ial, it proves 
 my daughter capable of self-denial, which I 
 ever regard as a virtue. She desired to re- 
 main at home; and as I knew she did so 
 with a \iew tliat her sisters should have 
 pleasure, it gave me a sensation of delight 
 which makes me exult as a parent." 
 
 The kind-hearted girl assisted the ladies 
 with their hats ; and, as she watched their 
 steps, felt herself amply repaid in her o^\ti 
 consciousness and the approbation of her 
 ptirent. 
 
 No sooner had the party reached the fa-
 
 1)0 Maria. 
 
 voiired nook, than they seated themselves 
 upon the stones, and resigned all thought 
 of bathing for the pleasure of hearing a 
 
 tale; and reminding Mrs. L it wa& 
 
 her turn, she began excusing herself by 
 saying that, having been brought up in the 
 island she was acquainted with but few 
 subjects, never till lately having mixed 
 much in society. ** As to our national stories 
 of ghosts and fairies," said she, ** I deem them 
 ridiculous." 
 
 " Tell us about the Alanks," was the 
 universal request. 
 
 ** Though I am not yet forty," continu- 
 ed Mrs. L , I recollect that in my 
 
 younger days there were not more than four 
 strangers in Douglas. Their gradual in- 
 crease since that period has occasioned 
 every article of life to be three times the 
 price it formerly was : yet we know their 
 residence amongst us to be productive of 
 numerous and great advantages ; — the only 
 reason why we do not enter more generally 
 into their parties is owing to the necessity
 
 MARIA. 91 
 
 we feel to be cautious, in consequence of 
 our having been often and cruelly deceived. 
 I have known several persons who have 
 come here with eveiy appearance of respec- 
 tability — ^have taken a house — furnisiied it 
 — paid for every thing the first half-year — 
 and when by this conduct they had esta- 
 blished their credit, they have incurred 
 debts to the amount of many hundred 
 pounds ; and then, through some disguise 
 or an assumed name, have procured a pass- 
 port and quitted the island. Among those 
 we now see on the pier are very few whose 
 principles render them fit for honest so- 
 ciety. — The little fellow whose appearance 
 more resembles a monkey than a man does 
 not want good sense, and is of one of the 
 most respectable lamilies in Ireland : — ^his 
 being married has not prevented his paying 
 his devoirs to a young lady, but I presume 
 lie does not mean to carry the joke so far 
 as a second marriage. — That genteel well- 
 looking man is also of a good family iu 
 England : he possesses genius, talent, and
 
 92 MARIA. 
 
 taste ; yet from an eccentric thoughtless- 
 ness of disposition no specific sum can sup- 
 ply his numerous wants. — The little person 
 hehind him has been a merchant, and has 
 failed three times : his disposition would 
 disgrace any profession, his honour having 
 been sullied by more mean actions than any 
 person I am acquainted with ; and though 
 lie now subsists on the income reserved for 
 his wife out of her own property, he has 
 nearly exhausted his frame by habits of 
 debauchery." 
 
 ** Really," interrupted Mrs. Smith, " this 
 place seems by your account to be worse 
 than Botany-Bay." 
 
 ** Indeed," replied Mrs. L , "it is 
 
 so far worse, that the people who go to Bo- 
 tany-Bay are obliged to employ themselves 
 in some kind of work, whereas those who 
 come here are free from all restraint ; and 
 from the frequency of bad example every 
 vice is indulged, I may say encouraged. 
 
 — ^But," continued Mrs. L , ** I would 
 
 by no means have it understood, from
 
 MARIA. 93 
 
 what I have just now said, that the Manks 
 people entertain a decided prejudice against 
 strangers in general, — I merely wish to con- 
 vince you of the reason of our cautious be- 
 haviour towards them. Within my narrow 
 circle of acquaintance, in addition to the 
 present company, I visit five other families 
 whose only motives for fixing themselves 
 here I know to have arisen in the smallness 
 of their incomes, which did not allow them 
 to maintain a respectable appearance in 
 England. The two Manchester gentlemen 
 we meet so often are worthy characters : — 
 they left their own country with credit, and 
 have supported it here to a nicety ; — were the 
 generality of strangers like these, our man- 
 ners would improve with our property." 
 
 Mrs. L here ceased speaking: and 
 
 it being now twelve o'clock, the ladies so- 
 licited Mrs. Stevv^art to commence her story. 
 " I know not," says she, '' what subject to 
 choose ; for, having spent my younger years 
 in a convent, I never knew so much of life
 
 94 MARIA. 
 
 as since I have resided here ; and fear my 
 budget contains nothing to amuse." 
 
 " Oh, tell us about the convent — we 
 should like to know what kind of people 
 nuns are, from you who have lived with 
 them." 
 
 " They are very different from u^hat the 
 generality of books represent them," re- 
 plied Mrs. Stewart: — " But where shall I 
 begin ? Do you wish to know how they 
 pass their time ? — It is so filled up by the 
 exercises of devotion, the instruction of 
 youth, and needlework, that very little is 
 spared for recreation, and none for ennmy 
 
 ** Did you ever see a nun take the veil ?" 
 asked Mrs. B. '^^ 
 
 '* Several," replied Mrs. Stewart, *' in 
 my own convent of Austin nuns at Paris, 
 and in many other houses." 
 
 ** Pray relate to us the ceremony," the 
 Jadies requested. 
 
 * ' Most willingly," replied Mrs . Ste\\^rt . — 
 ** You must know that every female is al-
 
 MARIA. 95 
 
 lowed one year and one day for her novi- 
 ciate. Prior to that a ceremony is 
 performed in the presence only of the 
 community. The female intending to 
 become a nun is put to the vote, in a chap- 
 ter of the whole sisterhood, each member 
 having received a white and a black bean. 
 If any black beans are found in the box, no 
 inquiiy is made who put them, but the can- 
 didate quits the house. If they are all white 
 ones, she enters the choir with the nuns, 
 who proceed to say vespers ; the chapter 
 having been summoned a quarter before 
 three (the vesper hour). At the end of 
 Complin the abbess quits her seat for the 
 middle of the choir, where the young per- 
 son meeting her kneels, and requests * to 
 be admitted a member of that community.' 
 The superior opens a book, from which she 
 reads the rules of their order, and finishes 
 vAth. these comfortless words : — * A\Tien 
 you would wish to sleep, you must watch ; 
 when you would work, you must pray ; 
 when you would eat, you must fast ; and
 
 96 MARIA. 
 
 when you wish to talk, you nuist be silent/ 
 Then adding much in favour of penance and 
 mortification, the abbess thus concludes : 
 * If you will truly observe these rules, ac- 
 cept this book and this roll of bread, as an 
 earnest that henceforward you will share 
 our spirituals and our temporals.' 
 
 *' Tlie postulant e (as she is then called) 
 takes the book and the loaf; her dress is 
 altered for a black robe, a kerchief, and 
 white veils ; and whilst she salutes each of 
 the nuns, Te Deum is chanted; after which 
 every one leaves the churchy and the re- 
 mainder of the evening is considered a 
 recreation. 
 
 *' The postulante now applies herself to 
 Latin, and to learn the rules of the order : 
 —it is her business to ring the bell at 
 four in the morning to summon the nuns 
 to matins, and to clean the work-room. 
 As soon as convenient after the space of six 
 weeks a day is fixed for her entering her 
 noviciate ; a second chapter having been 
 previously called to try the candidate again
 
 MARIA. 97 
 
 by vote : — presuming her conduct to have 
 been such as to ensure her the favour of the 
 sisterhood, a day is fixed, and printed no- 
 tices are posted to give information, that 
 ' at ten in the morning (naming a day) a 
 lady (naming her) is to take the veil.* Ac- 
 cordingly, eight days before the one men- 
 tioned, the postulaate enters into her re- 
 treat ; — that is, she spends that time whol- 
 ly secluded in her cell ; except that she 
 walks in the garden for the space of one 
 hour during each day, at which time she 
 enjoys the society of one of the community, 
 the rest she passes in silence; spending 
 those eight days in meditation and prayer ; 
 making a general confession of the sins of 
 her whole life, and in the most solemn pre- 
 paration for quitting the world. 
 
 '* On the appointed day she is hand- 
 somely dressed, generally wearing the dia- 
 monds of some distinguished personage, 
 and repairs to the middle of the choir, 
 where she kneels on a velvet cushion du- 
 ring high mass ; after which, the curtain 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 MARIA. 
 
 which ahvays hangs before the grate is un- 
 drawn ; the grate is then unlocked, and 
 the postulante proceeds towards the high 
 altar, preceded by two young ladies y/ho 
 strew flowers in her path, and two others 
 carrying large lighted candles. A fifth 
 follows her with a basket containing her 
 habit, &c. whilst a lady superbly dressed 
 walks by her side, for the purpose of giving 
 her away. Arrived before the altar, the 
 high-priest addresses her in Latin with 
 * Daughter, what is thy request ?' She an- 
 swers, ' To be a member of this worthy 
 community.' He bids her rise : she seats 
 herself upon a stool before the altar ; her 
 attendants sit behind her, and there hear a 
 sermon adapted to the occasion, in which 
 the preacher displays in glowing colours 
 the difficulties, the merits and the rewards, 
 of a monastic life. The sermon ended, 
 the lady takes the postulante's hand and 
 presents it to the high-priest : he leads her 
 back to the grate, when he places her hand 
 within that of the abbess who meets her
 
 MARIA. 99 
 
 there, at the same time mentioning her re- 
 quest. As she proceeds up the aisle, flow- 
 ers are again strewed in her path ; two 
 acolytes perfume her with frankincense, 
 her attendants following. The abbess re- 
 ceives the postulante ; on which the latter 
 takes her nosegay from her breast, and, turn- 
 ing towards the people, throws it upon the 
 ground, saying, ' Thus I renounce ye, vain 
 world ! and ail your pomps and vanities, for 
 ever.' Instantly she enters the choir; the grate 
 is locked; and the abbess having cut from her 
 left temple a lock of hair, the postu- 
 lante quits the choir. A gi'and piece of 
 music is performed : at its conclusion she 
 re-enters, clothed in a habit of gray cloth, 
 her hair flowing on her shoulders ; and in 
 this dress of a Magdalen she prostrates 
 herself on a velvet cushion during the 
 chanting of the Litany ; which finished, the 
 abbess puts upon her a petticoat of fine 
 white cloth, over that a rochet of cambiic, 
 with veils of the same ; and placing a crown 
 of v.'hite roses upon her head, presents licr
 
 100 
 
 MARIA 
 
 to the community : — a grand Te Dcum is 
 performed. And thus ends a ceremony 
 which is every way calculated to inspire 
 the youthful mind with a degree of enthu- 
 siastic ardour that remains for some time 
 afterwards. 
 
 ** The novice (as the candidate is now 
 called) continues her probation during one 
 year and a day ; she is then again voted 
 for ; and being received, notices are again 
 posted, * that on a certain day such a 
 person (naming her) will make her reli- 
 gious profession :' and she enters into a se-. 
 cond retreat of eight days. On the morn- 
 ing of the appointed day the novice once 
 more kneels in the middle of the choir 
 during mass ; and at the Communion she 
 receives the sacrament. Ma^s finished, 
 the high priest (attended by a deacon, sub- 
 deacon, and acolytes) comes to the grate, 
 holding the chalice, which contains the 
 host, over the head of the novice ; whilst 
 she, from a printed paper, pronounces her 
 vows in the following words : ' I, sister'
 
 MARIA. 101 
 
 (mentioning the name she h?.s taken in re- 
 ligion — say Mary) — ' I, sister Mary, in the 
 sight of Ahnighty God, in the sight of the 
 Virgin Mary, of all the angels and saints, 
 of you, holy father, of this worthy commu- 
 nity and of the congregation here present, 
 do promise to keep faithfully the vows of 
 chastit}% poverty, obedience and inclosure, 
 according to the rules of the order of this 
 community/ Then rising, she presents 
 the paper to the abbess, who on receiving 
 it says — * Observe, daughter ! that, accord- 
 ing as you keep these vows, they will ap- 
 pear for or against you at the day of judge- 
 ment.' Tiie abbess then puts a ring on 
 the nun's finger, which has this device 
 J. H. S. and tells her to be faithful to 
 Christ her spouse. The white veils are 
 changed for black ones ; a crown of red 
 roses is placed upon her head, and the ce- 
 remony finishes with a solemn 7'e Deiim.'* 
 ** Did they really never try to make you 
 a nun ?'' asked Mrs. Smith. — " Never," 
 replied Mrs. Stewart ; ** I have been in se-
 
 102 NfARIA. 
 
 veral convents, and never knew compulsion 
 nsed. Indeed I never heard but of one 
 person who was intended from childhood 
 to be a nun ; and I am ignorant whether 
 she became one or not — It was an extraor- 
 dinary circumstance." — ^*' Can you tell it 
 us ?" asked Mrs. Fisher. " Certainly," 
 said Mrs. Stewart. 
 
 "It is now better than twenty years 
 smce I left school. Five yeiu's before I 
 quitted the com-ent, a persoi\ appeared at 
 it with a sweet child only two years old ; 
 — we were told that the little creature's pa- 
 rents had narrowly escaped being lost in a 
 storm at sea, and that its mother had. made 
 a vow, should they be saved, to consecrate 
 the child to the Virgin IMary. By a won- 
 derful interposition of Providence, they were 
 saved. The ni^ns cherished the infantas 
 the peculiar care oi Heaven :— ^it was always 
 clothed in white, in honour of the Virgin 
 Mary ; indeed so particularly was that prder 
 observed, that we should have deemed it sa- 
 crilege to liave put the lea.st bit of coloured
 
 MARIA. 103 
 
 ribbon about her. In each of my letters 
 from the convent, the ^l^tues and gentle 
 manners of Maria were always mentioned. 
 I had an aunt who was a nun in that house : 
 she is dead ; and it is now six years since 
 I have received any news from Paris." 
 
 Mrs. Stewart, who sat rather more for- 
 ward than the others, thought she heard a 
 deep sigh ; and looking back perceived 
 Mrs. Fisher in the act of sinking to the 
 ground in a swoon. A thing so sudden, 
 in the open air too, greatly alarmed and 
 astonished the ladies. One searched her 
 pocket for salts ; another threw some water 
 in Mrs . Fisher's face ; whilst the young 
 ones loosened her dress. These united ex- 
 ertions in a short time so far recovered 
 Mrs. Fisher as to enable her to walk to 
 Mrs. Stewart's house, though not without 
 assistance, for she was really very ill : — the 
 colour had entirely fled her cheeks ; and 
 when in the house she requested her hostess 
 would permit her lying upon the bed awhile. 
 ^Viien Mrs. Stewart showed Mrs. Fisher
 
 104 MARIA. 
 
 to her own chamber, the latter said, ** I am 
 distressed to give you all this trouble — I 
 do not know what ails me — I believe your 
 story affected me ; for, to say the truth, a 
 very intimate friend of mine did send a 
 child to a convent ; and when you were de- 
 scribing the Maria you spoke of, it struck 
 me it might be the same person ; and 
 knowing my friend's anxiety, I hope when 
 you have leisure you will tell me what you 
 have heard of her." 
 
 '' Indeed, dear madam," replied Mrs. 
 Stevvart, " I would willingly give you all the 
 information in my power ; but that amounts 
 to very little. I never heard her called by 
 any other name than Maria. You shall 
 
 see her signature," continued Mrs. S , 
 
 as she unlocked a small drawer, from which 
 she took a paper. " This letter is from her; 
 it is one she had the goodness to write to 
 me during my aunt's illness." 
 
 Mrs. Fisher reached out her hand for the 
 letter, at the same time turned her head 
 the other way ; which Mrs. Stewart obser\ -
 
 MARIA. 105 
 
 ing, she supposed her friend to be sleepy, 
 and wishing her better when she should 
 awake, went to entertain her guests below. 
 
 On opening the parlour door Mrs. Stew- 
 art heard distinctly the name of Fisher, and 
 perceived the ladies had been racking theiF 
 brains to find out what it was that had so 
 suddenly affected her. "Perhaps," said 
 
 Mrs. L , " she has some relatives abroad 
 
 who may have suffered in the Revolution." 
 ** Possibly,*' Mrs. Stewart replied ; "but I 
 think it more probable that sitting so long 
 on the damp ground has given her cold ; — it 
 was very imprudent of us all ; and as she 
 is not the youngest, she is very likely to suffer 
 severely from it." ** Ten to one," said Mrs. 
 
 B , "but she may have the rheumatism 
 
 as long as she lives." — "Indeed she may,** 
 
 said Mrs. L ; " I dare say she is more 
 
 than fifty r 
 
 "I do not know," said Mrs. Stewart; 
 ** but I think not : for I have always ob- 
 served Londoners look old sooner than other 
 people. Indeed I never gave her age a 
 f5
 
 106 MARIA. 
 
 thought: she seems sensible, and perfectly 
 well behaved." — *' She has seen a great deal 
 of life, and is highly connected," said Mrs. 
 
 B : "but could you behold her in her 
 
 own house you would be delighted with her 
 conduct. I never witnessed so good a wife ; 
 she is absolutely too good ; she would spoil 
 any man : her husband's look is to her a law 
 — and he, such a morose being ! vou would 
 pity her could you see them together." 
 
 " Has Mrs. Fisher any children .^" inquir- 
 ed Mrs. Smith. 
 
 "Two amiable daughters, Frances and 
 
 Emma," answered Mrs. B . " She had 
 
 not any by her former husband : Mr. B 
 
 knew him very well ; his name was Clark ; 
 he was a strange, odd-tempered man, and 
 very unlike her in his disposition. He died 
 suddenly, in consequence of over-heating 
 himself and then drinking two bottles of 
 cider, which brought on a complaint in the 
 bowels that carried him off in less than a 
 week." 
 
 A little before five o'clock the gentlemen
 
 MARIA. 107 
 
 returned from their tour ; and expressed 
 themselves very glad to hear dinner wasnear- 
 ly ready — declaring, they had had nothing 
 good but wine since they set out ; and the 
 burthen of their story was, that there was 
 nothing eatable out of Douglas. But this 
 was an observation made at random, there 
 being every comfort throughout the island : 
 — as to luxuries, they are only to be met 
 with in Douglas. 
 
 Wliilst the cloth was laying on the table 
 the gentlemen went to the post-office, and 
 Mrs. Stewart to see the invalid. She was 
 better, and accompanied her hostess down 
 stairs, though it was evident she exerted 
 herself very much to do so. On her plate 
 she found two letters which Mr. Stewart 
 had brought her ; one was from her husband, 
 the contents of which made her instantly 
 determine to return with the mail. Though 
 told it would sail so early as the second 
 night, and feeling a strong inclination to 
 be better acquainted with Mrs. Stewart; — 
 yet nothing could prevent her complying
 
 108 MARIA. 
 
 with the wish of Mr. Fisher. She did sail 
 with the packet on the Friday night, having 
 first told Mrs. Stewart she must not be sur- 
 prised at seeing her hand-uTiting; to which 
 the latter replied, by assuring her it would 
 be a welcome sight. 
 
 These two ladies had conceived a lasting 
 regard for each other. Mrs. Stewart having 
 met with many disappointments among her 
 old friends, and having few acquaintance in 
 the island, was pleased to meet with a fe- 
 male whose mind she fancied to be congenial 
 to her own;— whilst Mrs. Fisher absolutely 
 felt that the happiness of her future exist- 
 ence depended upon her new acquaintance. 
 So feeling, it can be no wonder that one of 
 the first letters Mrs. Fisher wrote after her 
 return to London was addressed to her new 
 friend.
 
 MARIA. 109 
 
 LETTER VIII. 
 
 s^ROM MRS. FISHER TO MRS. STEWART, 
 
 Sloane street, Septemler. 
 DEAR MADAM, 
 
 Three weeks have nearly passed since I 
 left your little island, and which indeed I 
 quitted with regret. The civilities I received 
 in it will make me think of it with pleasure 
 and gratitude. I had a delightful passage, 
 only seven hours, and the weather so fine 
 I remained all that time on deck — we landed 
 about six on Saturday morning. 
 
 Whitehaven is a dirty-looking town, but 
 much larger than I expected to see it. Not 
 liking the idea of crossing the sands, I took 
 my place on the coach to Penrith. The road 
 is circuitous, hilly, and would be wearisome 
 but for the variety of the prospect, which 
 at this season I think particularly beautifuL 
 The tinge of autumn had already begun to 
 change the colour of the foliage — Nothing
 
 110 MARIA. 
 
 to me is more gratifying than a contempla- 
 tion of the beauteous variety of Nature ! 
 I have always found, when my mind has 
 been ruffled by accidents and crosses, which 
 I have frequently met with, that if I had it 
 in my power to walk out in the country, it 
 operated more toward soothing my feelings 
 than all the reasoning of philosophy : — a 
 view of Nature's works expands and informs 
 the mind of a rational thinking being — But 
 whither is my pen leading me ? from my 
 fireside in London to the meandering brook 
 and peaceful dell — Return, wandering ima- 
 gination, and be henceforth steady. The ex- 
 pense of travelling this road far exceeded 
 what I had supposed ; the inside fare to 
 London being no less than six pounds 
 three shillings. What adds much is the 
 frequent change of coachmen. I am sur- 
 prised this expense is not better regulated 
 in England : their demand is so frequent, 
 and their insolence if refused so great, that 
 this part of accommodation calls for general 
 amendment.
 
 MARIA. Ill 
 
 On my road home I did not meet with 
 any extraordinar}^ incidents ; only the com- 
 mon occurrences of a stage-coach — a very 
 talkative young lady, who spoke more of 
 her family in one hour than a person would 
 learn by ten years residence in its vicinity. 
 I have been many times surprised that peo- 
 ple shouldbe so communicative to strangers. 
 Often have I pitied a young female, when 
 I have noticed a dashing man, seeing the 
 openness of her disposition, ask her many 
 impertinent questions, for the mere purpose 
 of amusing himself with her innocent but 
 ill-placed frankness. From my own obser- 
 vations; I have resolved never to suffer my 
 daughters to enter a public vehicle without 
 some prudent companion. 
 
 I found all well at home, and very grate- 
 ful for the kind manner in which you and 
 your friends entertained me in Douglas : 
 — they long to see you. From my last hour's 
 conversation with you, I feel particularly sorry 
 that there is no prospect of our meeting soon :
 
 112 MARIA. 
 
 fori found Mr. Fisher so unjustly prejudiced 
 against the island, that all I could say was 
 answered by him with " Yours is romantic 
 nonsense — the people flattered you — sure 
 
 way to gain a woman. Doctor H 
 
 told me he could not have lived one v/eelt 
 longer in the disgraceful spot !" — Then say- 
 ing " he would sooner go to the desert part 
 of Siberia," he concludes the subject with 
 '* It is most probable that we shall fix in 
 some retired part of Wales." 
 
 Can I be of any service to you, dear ma- 
 dam, in this metropolis ? If there is any 
 thing in wliich I can serve you, consider me 
 as an old acquaintance. Perhaps I am of 
 a romantic disposition, for I generally form* 
 my opinion at first sight ; and from the hour 
 
 I beheld you at Mrs. B 's a something 
 
 drew my heart imperceptibly towards you ; 
 I feel an inclination to confide in you more 
 than in any other person. How can I ac- 
 count for this ? I cannot — the idea arises 
 from nature, and I like to indulge it : — in so
 
 MARIA. 113 
 
 doing, I hope you will not think me trouble- 
 some. I have long wanted and wished for 
 a friend; and trust you will pardon this step 
 to make one of you. 
 
 It strikes me at this moment, that should 
 Mr. Stewart be in the habit of reading your 
 letters he will think me one of those com- 
 mon characters, *'a romantic female." — 
 Tell him I am forty years of age, therefore 
 have passed the season when chimeras fill 
 the brain — Tell him that I am an enthu- 
 siast, but not a mad one. 
 
 The iady of whom I spoke to you con- 
 cerning Maria has been to see me : she 
 has not heard of or from her daughter for 
 the last five years ; and is so anxious respect- 
 ing her that it is the subject of her thoughts 
 day and night. — Would you favour her by 
 inclosing the letter I saw for her perusal, that 
 she may see whether it be her daughter's 
 wTiting ? Should it prove the latter, she 
 will herself explain to you the manner and 
 time of the child's going abroad, and wdll 
 esteem herself the most fortunate of beings
 
 1 14 MARIA. 
 
 to feel assured of her safety. Pray make 
 my grateful respects to Mr. Stewart, and 
 remember me to your amiable daughters — 
 my girls long to know them ; and assure 
 those of your acquaintance who were so 
 obliging as to notice me, that I shall never 
 forget their kindness. With a wish to 
 hear from you, I remain, dear madam, your 
 friend and servant, 
 
 Maria Fisher.
 
 MARIA* 115 
 
 LETTER IX. 
 
 MR^. STEWART TO MRS. FISHER. 
 
 Douglas, Septemler, 
 You may judge, dear madam, how pleas- 
 ing was the receipt of your letter, by my 
 haste to answer it. We all rejoiced at your 
 safe journey, and think you an excellent tra- 
 veller : — ^}'ou do not complain of sickness, 
 bad inns, or bad usage of any kind. Well, 
 I must own I never had occasion to com- 
 plain either, and I have been a wanderer. 
 "When people are disposed to be pleased, 
 they in general will be so. 
 
 Mr. Stewart did see your letter, and 
 made a remark upon it — one in which I 
 joined ; but I will not repeat it, lest you 
 should suspect me of flatten-. I always 
 show my letters to him ; for I think it a bar 
 to confidence between married persons not 
 to do so. Should you write to me on any 
 subject which may require secrecy, it will 
 only be necessar)' to signify it in the first
 
 116 MARIA. 
 
 line, and I promise you he mil not be 
 curious. 
 
 I agree with you, that there exists an 
 astonishing power in sympathy, As a 
 proof of it, before I received your favour I 
 had heen saying to my daughter Maiy, that 
 I was impatient to receive your promised 
 letter ; for I felt there was a congenialit)' of 
 sentiment between us, which gave birth to a 
 hope that our acquaintance, which had be- 
 gun so unexpectedly, might continue for 
 the remainder of our lives. 
 
 I am glad I mentioned to you the name 
 of Maria. I have often wished to know whe* 
 ther she had become a nun or not. I think 
 not, because a female cannot be professed 
 before she istwo-and-twenty ; and supposing 
 her to be only two years old when she was 
 brought to the convent, she must now be 
 about that age. My aunt has now been* 
 dead six years : I had an account of her pa- 
 tient sufferings, and since that period have 
 not received a line from Paris, though I 
 hav€ written repeatedly. I have learned
 
 MARIA, 117 
 
 from a former schoolfellow, that the nuns 
 had once actually quitted their convent, and 
 that after doing so an order had arrived 
 from Buonaparte, that they should repos- 
 sess themselves of their old habitation, 
 which you may be sure they were glad to 
 do. This act seems to have proceeded 
 from a wish to gain popularity, which at 
 that moment (the period when Buonaparte 
 was coming back from Egypt) was of the 
 utmost importance to the general. Whe- 
 ther the whole of the community returned, 
 
 I do not know. LadyB , from whom I 
 
 heard it, knew the circumstance but imper- 
 fectly, I will mclose the letter ^vritten by 
 Maria, and sincerely hope it may prove a 
 source of satisfaction to your friend. 
 
 Mr. Stewart bids me say, he wishes your 
 journey had concluded more favourably to 
 us, by inducing your family to settle amongst 
 us. But we are not surprised at the pre- 
 judice of Mr. Fisher — it is a general one — 
 and, I am sorry to say, with truer founda- 
 tion than most prejudices. Yet you know
 
 118 MARIA. 
 
 exceptions are to be made and allowed 
 upon every subject. From tbe treatment 
 we have experienced here, I can with truth 
 assert, it is the strangers who have visited 
 the island that have drawn a stigma upon 
 it : the natives are naturally well disposed, 
 and kindly considerate where they see the 
 smallest pretension to merit. I think some 
 more years must pass before ive can return 
 to England ; perhaps not at all in my day ! 
 Be that as it may, I feel I can be happy 
 here, or elsewhere. I have many sources 
 of pleasure within my own family. To be 
 sure, I have my hours of sorrow and regret. 
 I wish for the presence of absent friends, — 
 perhaps with more earnestness on account 
 of the impossibility of seeing them ; — and I 
 own I do also pine at times for the comforts 
 I formerly enjoyed, and which I have now 
 lost: but this feeling is meliorated from 
 the reflection that no former acquaintance 
 sees the change. — Pardon, dear madam, 
 my falling into so liome a subject. You see 
 that I aheady experience a friendship to-
 
 MARIA. Ill) 
 
 wards you, and have voluntarily opened 
 that corner of my heart where the most in- 
 teresting actions of my life are registered, 
 and find that I could willingly admit you into 
 all its intricacies — not without myself as 
 guide to plead for every error. But this 
 is a curious theme; I had better quit it, lest 
 I get into a lab}Tinth that may require 
 more time than my paper will allow, to 
 get me fairly out again. Tlianks for your 
 kind offer, we think of troubling you with 
 a few commissions shortly : — in the mean 
 time, we hope to hear from you. — ^My fa- 
 mily unite in best wishes, and an assurance 
 from the younger part, that before your 
 letter arrived it had been determined in 
 council, that when any one of the family 
 should find themselves within a short di- 
 stance of your residence, they should hasten 
 to it as to that of a friend. With a wish 
 that this may meet with a reciprocal sen- 
 timent, I remain, dear madam, your ob* 
 Iiged friend and humble servant, 
 
 Eliza Stewart.
 
 120 MAKIA. 
 
 LETTER X. 
 
 FROM THE HONOURABLE MRS. HUNTER TO 
 MRS. STEWART. 
 
 Grosvenor Square j Octoler, 
 MADAM, 
 
 I SHOULD feel at a loss to apologize for In- 
 truding a letter upon you ; but from what 
 my friend Mrs. Fisher has told me, I have 
 reason to think you will forgive the trouble, 
 when it has the good of a fellow-creature 
 for its object. On this surmise I will pro- 
 ceed to inform you, madam, of the motive 
 which has induced me to address you. 
 
 I have at this time in my house a young 
 female for whom I feel the strongest inv 
 terest, but whom it is not in my power to 
 countenance publicly; and I wish to procure 
 for her a residence in some respectable fa- 
 riiily, where she may remain unknown, and 
 I trust be reclaimed from vicious habits, 
 into which I grieve so say she has suffered
 
 MARIA. 121 
 
 herself to be deluded. Since Mrs. Fisher's 
 return, we have both talked the subject 
 over ; and it appears to us that she would 
 have a great probability of remaining con- 
 cealed in the Isle of Man. 
 
 Believe me, dearest madam, I have not 
 a wish that you should engage a residence 
 for her : I would by no means ask your 
 protection of a person whom I cannot 
 countenance myself. My request will ex- 
 tend no further than to ask if you can 
 point out a respectable house in your town 
 where she might lodge and board ; and by 
 obliging me with the direction, I would ap- 
 ply by letter, and ask no further notice of 
 her from you, than that you would occa- 
 sionally inquire into her conduct. I \nsh 
 to be made acquainted with her behaviour, 
 which might be easily known, by your say- 
 ing the truth— that you have some know- 
 ledge of her friends, for whose sake you feel 
 an interest in her concerns. And that you, 
 madam, may not be led through complai- 
 sance to Mrs. Fisher, or to me her friend, 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 MARIA. 
 
 to act unbecoming your own dignit)% I 
 will disclose to you her real situation. 
 She was the mistress of the gay and 
 
 thoughtless young Earl U , under whose 
 
 protection (as it is termed) she has lived 
 three years. Last July she quitted him, with a 
 resolution to spend the remainder of here life 
 in penance and mortification : but she is 
 only twenty years of age, is lovely in person, 
 and possessed of various accomplishments. 
 I tremble for her whilst she inhabits this 
 metropolis, and shall not feel happy till I 
 know her to be in a place of greater secu- 
 rity. I cannot say to a certainty what her 
 property may be, never having questioned 
 the lady on that subject ; but you may rely 
 on its amounting to one hundred pounds 
 per annum. Whatever her own income is, 
 I will extend it to that sum ; on which, I 
 think, a single person may live very com- 
 fortably. You will render me an essential 
 servdce, madam, by answering this as soon 
 as you can conveniently. If you can point 
 out a situation, and give me the direction.
 
 MARIA. 123 
 
 I mil write iiiunediately ; after whfch I will 
 send a servant over with Miss Providence. 
 The singularity of the name will doubtless 
 strike you, as it at first did me ; but th^ 
 lady has passed most of her time in a con- 
 vent, from which I guess she may be of 
 French extraction, and suppose her name Id 
 be Zta Providence, not an uncommon OYie 
 in France, and which in England would na- 
 turally be called Providence. 
 
 I will not enter further into this subject 
 at present : for, to say the truth, I know 
 but little of my visitor. She appears to be 
 of an open disposition ; yet there seems a 
 certain something that preys upon her 
 mind, and renders her absent to her own 
 actions ; — for her sake I wish she were more 
 explicit : there is an elegance in her man- 
 ner, and a piety throughout her conduct, 
 which, did I not know the earl to be mar- 
 ried to Lady Sarah, would rather have 
 made me suppose her his wife than his 
 mistress. What pity, that a person so 
 g2
 
 124 MARIA. 
 
 gifted to be virtuous should have proved 
 so frail ! 
 
 Wlien I have had the honour of your 
 answer, madam, I will consult Miss Provi- 
 dence; and after we shall have arranged 
 matters between ourselves, will again do 
 myself the pleasure of writing to conclude 
 the business. 
 
 You will oblige me, madam, by making 
 my best respects to Mr. Stewart and to 
 your amiable daughters. I have the ho- 
 nour to subscribe myself, madam, your 
 obedient and humble servant, 
 
 Mary Hunter.
 
 MAPvTA. 125 
 
 LETTEE XI. 
 
 MRS. FISHER TO MRS. STEWART. 
 
 Sloane S/reet 
 
 Thanks, dearest madam, for your kind and 
 friendly epistle. On the receipt of it I re- 
 paired to my friend whose anxiety had been 
 so roused by hearing of Maria: but the 
 letter which you kindly inclosed did not 
 lull her apprehensions. 'Die only one she 
 had received from her daughter was written 
 at a very early age, and signed ** Marie I^a 
 Providence." The similitude of the name 
 made us at first suppose that we saw a 
 likeness in the writing of every word ; but 
 when we reasoned upon the matter, thexe 
 seemed a strong improbability that her 
 daughter, whom she supposes to have re- 
 mained with the nuns, should be found in a 
 person that had just quitted the society of 
 a dissipated nobleman. So, after discussing 
 the ^jubject pro and cD<fi, we drew this coa^
 
 126 MARIA. 
 
 elusion — ^Tliat the object of my friend's 
 anxiety must be among the emigrant nuns 
 who have sought refuge in this country ; 
 and that the circumstance of a similarity in 
 the names of the two ladies is one of those 
 incidents one deems extraordinary when it 
 happens to interest oneself. I will not, 
 therefore, dear madam, trouble you more 
 with this subject at present. I presume 
 that in a very short time Miss Providence 
 will ^isit your island, as Mrs. Hunter in- 
 formed me she had written to you, and the 
 ir\ibject of her letter. 
 
 ' Mrs. Hunter is an excellent woman ; she 
 does good from principle. Do notiihink I 
 mean to lower her in your opinion, when I 
 say more from principle* than feeling. 1 
 liave known her' above thirty years, during 
 whidi period I have studied her well ; and 
 f*an assure you that I never knew her to 
 doinmit an action that could be termed im- 
 proper. I respect Mrs. H- more than 
 
 1 do any other human being. I have ex- 
 perienced her friendship upon all occasions ;
 
 MARIA. 127 
 
 yet at this moment my heart tells me I ad- 
 mire more than I love her, which sentiment 
 arises in me from the knowledge of her per- 
 fections. As it is not improbable that you 
 may see her, I will give you the outline of 
 her life. — She was niece to the late Lord 
 
 S , is othervrise nobly connected, and 
 
 feels an innate pride that her ancestry have 
 lived unmixed with plebeian blood to the 
 present day. As Mrs. Hunter's figure is 
 elegant, her manners polished, and her ac- 
 complishments many, she had numerous 
 suitors in her youth : her heart felt a strong 
 preference for the late Mr. P , aii ac- 
 complished and deserving man, possessing 
 a handsome person and manners truly en- 
 gaging. He loved Miss Morton (as she was 
 then called), sincerely loved her ; and hhe 
 was equally attached to him : but he had 
 no claim on which he could hope to obtam 
 a title ; and, what was worse, his estate of 
 one thousand a year had been left him by 
 an uncle who had acquired it in. trade: — ■ 
 this was a blot for which no good qualities
 
 128 MARIA. 
 
 could compensate in Miss Morton's idea ; 
 so after struggling during three years 
 r^gainst a virtuous inclination, she conquer- 
 ed her feelings, and resigned her own hap- 
 piness and the man she loved for the ho- 
 nourable Mr. Hunter, brother to Lord 
 
 B , whose temper was so tyrannical, that 
 
 during her intercourse with him she never 
 experienced one day's comfort. Poor Mr. 
 P entered into an Irish regriment then 
 
 o 
 
 going on foreign service, where he sought 
 and found an honourable death in the 
 cause of his country. 
 
 Mrs. Hunter, after spending ten years 
 in vainly trying to please a man who could 
 not be pleased, was released by his death 
 from her galHng fetters, and wisely deter- 
 mined never to repeat the marriage vow. 
 But the violence Mrs. Hunter had exercised 
 towards herself has made her rigorous to 
 others : nor does she think a female deserves 
 the smallest indulgence who deviates the 
 least tittle from her duty. 
 
 The post-man's bell surprises me; it
 
 MARIA. 129 
 
 says " It is six o'clock." I have only 
 time to request my kind respects to Mr. 
 Stewart, and love to the young ladies ; and 
 beg you, dear madam, to believe me your 
 truly obliged friend and servant, 
 
 Maria Fisher. 
 
 G 5
 
 130 MARIA. 
 
 LETTER XII. 
 
 MRS. STEWART TO THE HONOVRABLE 
 MRS. HUNTER. 
 
 Doiiglas. 
 
 Madam, 
 
 I AM sorry you should think an apology 
 necessary foi* writing. Believe me, I feel 
 honoured that any circumstance should have 
 procured me the favour of hearing from you. 
 — ^I think, madam, I have executed your 
 commission in a way that will please you. I 
 have found a family who possess every re- 
 quisite to make a residence in it eligible, 
 but one — they are poor ; and thatVill be 
 removed by the lady in question having so 
 handsome an income that it will prevent 
 her feeling any wants ; for I assure you, 
 madam, that an individual in this island 
 with one hundred pounds per annum is 
 tliought to be rich : and provided the family 
 I allude to obtain heik for a resident^ such a
 
 MARIA, 131 
 
 person would be exceedingly useful to them. 
 I will try to explain the circumstance. Tlie 
 lady, who is a widow, and her four daughters 
 came here from England eight months ago 
 — they are called Medcalf ; but I have rea- 
 son to think that is not^theif name, because 
 a gentleman of my acquaintance knew them 
 when they resided in England, when they 
 were known by another. Mrs. Aiedcalf had 
 no doubt a good reason for this change. 
 Her husband was a merchant at Liverpool, 
 who being of a speculative mind ventured 
 too largely, and he became a bankrupt in 
 consequence of repeated losses : — the whole 
 of the property was sold. An annuity of 
 fifty pounds, which had been settled on Mrs. 
 Medcalf, was all that remained. But the 
 most shocking part of the business was, that 
 the unfortunate man put an end to his exist- 
 ence ! — ^which latter circumstance was most 
 likely the reason that the widow changed 
 her name. She with her daughters retired 
 to this spot, bringing ^\ith them what fur- 
 niture their friends had kindly bought iia
 
 132 MARIA. 
 
 for their use from their own sale. By tlie 
 advice of the gentleman above alluded to, 
 they took a small house, intending to let their 
 two best rooms when they should meet 
 with a female disposed to live with them. 
 At the time I called, every thing looked 
 exceedingly neat, and I was struck with the 
 polite and pleasant manners of the whole 
 family. Three of the young ladies were 
 employed at a piece of elegant needle-work, 
 the fourth I understood was busy in house- 
 hold concerns ; for, as they do not keep any 
 servant, they do the work alternately. Mrs . 
 Medcalf spoke with much frankness of her 
 situation, and said they felt very happy to 
 be able to increase their income by the use 
 of the needle ; and as her daughters had 
 acquired some accomplishments, they took 
 every opportunity of turning their talents 
 to advantage. They all looked pleased at 
 my mention of a young lady to board and 
 lodge with them, and all united in saying 
 they would endeavour to make a residence 
 with them comfortable.
 
 MARIA. 13^ 
 
 Any further commission that you, madam, 
 may think proper to honour me with, I shall 
 execute with equal pleasure. Should you 
 wish to write to Mrs. ^.ledcalf, you need only 
 direct to her at the Post-office, Douglas, 
 Isle of Man. 
 
 Mr. Stewart and family beg to unite with 
 me in presenting their respects. I have 
 the honour to remain, madam, your obedi- 
 ent and humble servant, 
 
 Eliza Stewart.
 
 J34 MARIA. 
 
 LETTER XIII. 
 
 THE HONOURABLE MRS. HUNTER TO 
 MRS. STUART. 
 
 Grosvenor Square, 
 
 I FEEL very sensible, dear madam, of your 
 goodness in iiaving troubled yourself so 
 much on my account ; and am quite de- 
 lighted with the thoughts of Miss Provi- 
 dence having an opportunity of fixing her- 
 self in such a family as you have described 
 Mrs. Medcalfs. She is much pleased; and 
 we purpose leaving London next Thursday 
 week, so that we may meet the mail at 
 WTiitehaven and accompany it to the island. 
 You will perhaps v/onder at the expression 
 ivCy but I do really mean to go with Miss 
 Providence, for which I have two reasons 
 that I am about to explain : First, upon read- 
 ing your polite and truly kind epistle, I felt 
 that every thing was in favour of Miss P —
 
 MARIA. 135 
 
 going: at the same time, it occurred tome 
 that Mrs. Medcalf ought to be informed of 
 the exact situation of the person she was 
 about to admit into her family, which I 
 should find difficult to express by writing. 
 The only circumstance which gave rise to 
 the supposition that this lady had been the 
 
 mistress of Lord U was her expressions 
 
 on first meeting with Mrs. Fisher: — her 
 conduct strongly pleads there must be some 
 great mistake. I never was a willing en- 
 courager of vice ; nor would I knowingly 
 become so: but reason tells me Maria is 
 innocent — Hypocrisy may deceive in assum- 
 ing the appearance of some particular virtue, 
 but the practice of an undeviating habitual 
 piety can only be the result of principle. On 
 mentioning these thoughts to Mrs. Fisher, 
 she represented that writing, (as I then spoke 
 of doing) might prejudice Mrs. Medcalf; — 
 that if Miss Providence went alone she 
 would have no friend, no advocate, but 
 must wait till time and her own good con- 
 duct should gain their esteem; — that first
 
 136 MARIA. 
 
 impressions were often difficult to be era- 
 dicated. In short, she reasoned with so 
 much warmth, that she convinced me that 
 as I was a free agent, and of course not obhged 
 to keep any one particular road, it would 
 be spending my time in a charitable kind 
 of manner to accompany Maria myself. — 
 Secondly, Mr. Fisher, who always thinks 
 " women should stay at home," for once 
 departed from his general rule, and advised 
 the journey so strongly that indeed I feel I 
 must be right in taking it. Therefore this 
 is to ask the further goodness of you to ac- 
 quaint Mrs. Medcalf when she may expect 
 her lodger. — I purpose coming back by the 
 return of the same vessel, provided I feel 
 well enough. It will give me additional 
 pleasure that I shall have the honour of see- 
 ing you and your family, of which Mrs. 
 Fisher has given me so pleasing a descrip- 
 tion. 
 
 With best respects, I remain, madam, 
 your very humble servant, 
 
 Mary Hunter.
 
 MARIA. 137 
 
 Whilst these letters were passing, Mrs. 
 Fisher was a constant visitor at Mrs. Hun- 
 ter's : — there she sought every opportunity 
 of seeing Maria. For that purpose she of- 
 ten called during those hours she knew Mrs. 
 Hunter usually spent in visiting her acquaint- 
 ance ; and she always proceeded to Maria's 
 own room, for the purpose of enjoying un- 
 interrupted conversation. In consequence 
 of Mr. Fisher being severely indisposed, 
 Mrs. F. had omitted these visits for the last 
 few days : and as she had not informed 
 Maria of the cause of her absence, she, 
 from the feelings which the unhappy are 
 apt to indulge, imagined the omission to 
 have arisen on the part of Mrs. Fisher from 
 a wish to relinquish the acquaintance of her 
 erring friend. Therefore at one o'clock on 
 the following day, instead of listening in 
 anxious expectation for the knock that 
 usually announced her visitor, Maria sat 
 down to peruse over her old letters. She 
 was in the act of reading one, wlien the wel-
 
 138 MARIA. 
 
 come sound was heard ; and she hastened to 
 gather her letters into the box and to wipe 
 a tear from her cheek, when Mrs. Fisher 
 entered the room. Maria, in her hurry 
 to put away the letters, had left out an arti- 
 cle of linen, which Mrs. F. happening 
 to turn her eye upon, exclaimed, "My dear 
 young lady! are.you the owner of the child's 
 robe which I perceive by that box .^" " Ma- 
 dam," replied Miss Providence, **I have 
 but one secrete — it regards that robe. You 
 have treated me kindly from the moment I 
 first beheld you— the greatest part of my 
 future happiness seems to depend upon you ; 
 -—then let me request, madam, that you will 
 avoid any questions on this subject. Per- 
 haps, were you acquainted with every cir- 
 cumstance, I might lose that friendship now 
 to me so valuable !" 
 
 " Permit me," said Mrs. Fisher, *' to 
 ask you only one question : — if it be your 
 wishj I will never again meution this mat- 
 ti^—^Will you answer me ?"
 
 MARIA, 139 
 
 ** I will, dearest madam," replied Maria, 
 ''on your own condition — that this subject 
 shall never be renewed between us." 
 
 " Agreed. — Did you ever see your mo- 
 ther ? — and is she living ?" 
 
 " You have indeed put a query I hardly 
 know how to answer. — ^At the time I saw 
 my mother I was little more than two years 
 old; of course cannot be said to have seen 
 her ; because memory is not supposed to 
 trace ideas from so early a period. Mine 
 must have been the tenderest, the best of 
 mothers, since her kindness so stamped her 
 image upon my mind, that from that time 
 I have never ceased to think of her : and so 
 justly does my heart delineate her, that I am 
 sure were I now to behold her I should in- 
 stantly recognise the features my mind has 
 so often dwelt upon. But, alas! this is im- 
 possible ; for doubtless my mother is dead ! 
 You are the first, the only person, whom I 
 ever supposed to be in the least like her.— 
 But, dearest madam, let us close this con- 
 versation ; — allow me to love you : — that
 
 140 MARIA. 
 
 fancied likeness first endeared you to me — 
 Since, your own affectionate treatment of 
 one who must appear to you so unworthy, 
 has added gratitude to affection. I look up 
 to you as my best friend, because your in- 
 dulgence allows me to speak my thoughts ; 
 and I feel that a continuance of this kind- 
 ness is necessary to my existence." 
 
 Here both ladies were much affected : and 
 as Mrs. Fisher was aware of her own agi- 
 tated appearance, she hastened to quit the 
 house before Mrs. Hunter's return:— so 
 promising to see her friend again as soon 
 as possible, she bade Maria an affectionate 
 adieu. 
 
 On Mrs. Fisher's return home she found 
 that her husband had gone to lie down, as 
 he felt an attack of his old complaint was 
 threatening him. She hastened to his 
 chamber, and in a soothing manner en- 
 deavoured to make Mr. Fisher forget his 
 pain, by conversing on the most cheerful 
 subjects, though her own feelings were far 
 from being in unison with her words . After
 
 MARIA. 141 
 
 talking a considerable time, and receiving 
 only for answer, " Is that all?" or a la- 
 conic *' Pshaw !" she went down to prepare 
 what she knew to be most agreeable to his 
 taste ; and returning with the cup herself, 
 was happy to hear him acknowledge that 
 he relished it. She then ventured to say, 
 *' Mr. Fisher, you have often promised to 
 show^ me the copy of the letter which accom- 
 panied our Maria to the convent ; — suppose 
 you favour me with a siglit of it now ?'' 
 
 " A\Tiat has brought that foolish thought 
 into your head ?'' replied her husband:^ — 
 *' some romantic whim or other." 
 
 " Nothing of the kihd, I assure you," 
 said Mrs. Fisher; ** for I never was more 
 free from such notions than I am at this mo- 
 ment ; — but you know I always had a great 
 wish to see it, and you have put me off so 
 often ! " 
 
 '* Then, Mrs. Fisher," replied the surly 
 husband, " I shall only put you off once 
 more .... till I am dead ; — for whilst I live
 
 142 MARIA. 
 
 I do not choose to be teased on that sub- 
 ject." 
 
 ^' Heaven grant that your death may be 
 at a very distant period!" exclaimed Mrs. 
 Fisher. ** BeHeve me, my dear, I never saw 
 you look better than you do at present : 
 these attacks of the gout are certainly very 
 painful ; but I hope they do, and will, pre- 
 serve you long from any other disorder." 
 
 ** I am not obliged to you, Mrs. Fisher, 
 for your kindness in thinking me so well off 
 with this infernal gout ; and I cannot help 
 ^vishing you had it, madam, * to keep off 
 other complaints,' as you think so mightily 
 well of it." 
 
 Mrs. Fisher sighed ; begged her hus- 
 band *' to believe that nothing was further 
 from her heart than a desire to see him 
 suffer :" — to which he repUed, 
 
 " I think if you would cease your clack 
 I might sleep a little." 
 
 It was Monday when Mr. Fisher felt an 
 tattack of the gout ; and having often expe-
 
 MARIA. 143 
 
 rleiiced it, he expected it would have gone 
 off in the usual manner. In this he was 
 disappointed ; for on the following Thurs- 
 day his head was so badly affected that he 
 was alarmingly delirious. His wife never 
 quitted his bed-side. On Friday she sent 
 her daughter Frances with letters to Mrs. 
 Hunter, containing her kind wishes to 
 Mrs. H. and expressing her attachment to 
 Maria; with an assurance that nothing but 
 Mr. Fisher's illness should have prevented 
 her personal adieus to her favourite ; — con^ 
 eluding with an earnest request to hear 
 from her as soon as she should find herself 
 settled. 
 
 As Mrs. Fisher watched by the sick-bed, 
 it occurred to her that this was the time, 
 and perhaps the only opportunity she should 
 ever have of reading the copy of that letter, 
 the contents of which she was so anxious to 
 learn. '' This very evening Maria is to quit 
 England," said Mrs. Fisher to herself : ''were 
 It possible for me to feel certain respecting 
 her origin, I should be happy : — hay, should
 
 144 MARIA. 
 
 it be as I think, she also would be happy." 
 The latter argument quieted eveiy scruple, 
 and she resolved to open her husband's bu- 
 reau. "It is my husband's," she conti- 
 nued to herself; " I do not want to pr}' 
 into those actions he may choose to con- 
 ceal ; I will not open any letter without 
 having reason for thinking it the one I am 
 in search of- My heart is miserable ; I can 
 no longer exist with this weight of suspense ; 
 I cannot even perform my duty toward 
 thee!'' The last idea determined her ; and 
 looking at her husband as she ejaculated 
 the sentence, and seeing him inclined to 
 doze, she took the key from his pocket and 
 gently opened the desk. She drew out the 
 small drawer where she knew he kept his 
 letters ; then, bolting the door, which she 
 usually did when Mr. Fisher seemed in- 
 clined to sleep, in order to prevent his being 
 disturbed, she removed her chair nearer to 
 the fire, and began her employment. The 
 letters were tied up in small parcels, and 
 ticketed. Many she hastily put down again ;
 
 MARIA. 145 
 
 but at last she met with a small packet, with 
 this label, "The concerns of a friend : — ^To 
 be burnt unopened, as my executor values 
 the request of a dying man." Mrs. Fisher 
 saw that the papers in this parcel had no 
 directions : she was at a loss which of them 
 to open, terrified lest she should involunta- 
 rily become the mistress of a secret she was 
 never intended to know. She sat with the 
 packet on her knee, till a recollection of 
 IVIr. Fisher's state made her sensible there 
 was no time to deliberate. ** Doubtless," 
 she reasoned, " this paper contains the 
 \^dshed-for copy ; and, as Mr. Fisher has 
 always refused to let me see it, should he 
 die I am certain never to obtain it, since 
 his executor will fulfil his desire in burning 
 the parcel." The act now seemed justifiable, 
 and she pulled out one of the papers. ^Vbat 
 was her astonishment to find that the writer 
 of it was a lady whom she had often enter- 
 tained at her house ! that it acknowledged 
 the receiving of one hundred pounds ; and 
 
 VOL. I, H
 
 146 MARIA. 
 
 also informed him of the heahh and well- 
 doing of his son, of whom, in the next line, 
 she styled herself the happy mother T'' 
 
 For this time all further search was at an 
 end. The feelings of Mrs. Fisher were 
 roused ; it was with difficulty she could 
 now replace the letter, the parcel, and the 
 drawer, which she hastened to be rid of ; 
 and locking the desk, she put the key in 
 its place ; then sat down to collect her scat- 
 tered thoughts, and to summon reason to 
 her aid. 
 
 I will not pretend to delineate her sen- 
 timents. A cool disinterested person is 
 unable to describe feelings which cannot at 
 the moment be distinguished even by the 
 owner. Mrs. Fisher did not love her hus- 
 band at this period ; but she thought of the 
 time when she had loved him passionately. 
 ** My heart," said she, '' would have always 
 so loved him, but for the variety of wretch- 
 edness he has at different periods caused me 
 to suffer, and .which h^s alienated my affec- 
 tions."
 
 MARIA. 147 
 
 Mr. Fisher now called: ?.nd so well had 
 his wife regulated her wandering thoughts, 
 that she approached his bed with a com- 
 placent look ; and when he said that his 
 stomach felt affected, she was really sorry^ 
 and chasing every selfish thought, hastened 
 to procure him more assistance. He conti- 
 nued ill for several days, and was delirious 
 every successive evening. On the third 
 from that I mentioned, Mrs. Fisher had so 
 well resigned her mind to circumstances, 
 that she felt equal to renew her search for 
 the letter. At the moment she again de- 
 termined on the trial, not one particle of 
 curiosity actuated her ; on the contrary, she 
 resolved to avoid reading any paper she 
 might find written in the same hand as that 
 of the preceding evening. Accordingly, she 
 obtained the key in the manner she had 
 done before, and once more had the fatal 
 parcel on her lap. Three papers had she 
 drawn from it, all in the hand of the former 
 evening : these she instantly reclosed, true 
 to her resolves ; — for she hadbeen often tried, 
 h2
 
 148 MARIA. 
 
 and disappointments create fortitude. At 
 the fifth essay she opened one where she 
 read, " Copy of a letter with M, in the 
 year 1778." The time agreed ; and Mrs. 
 Fisher s feehngs became so agitated, that 
 she found it would be best to put the rest 
 all away, and trust to the morrow for re- 
 placing this. It was well she did so 5 for 
 the desk had not been closed five minutes 
 when her husband grew so violently ill that 
 she was obliged to hurry the letter into her 
 pocket, and to send in haste for the physi- 
 cian. 
 
 On Doctor Charters' entrance he pro- 
 nounced that Mr. Fisher's disorder was gain- 
 ing upon him past the reach of medicine, 
 and advised Mrs. Fisher to get her husband 
 to settle any worldly business he might 
 have to do. She candidly informed the 
 doctor that this was a subject she could not 
 mention to her husband : ** He would only 
 suppose my motive in so doing to be an 
 interested one," said Mrs. Fisher ; *' be- 
 cause I know that he has not made a wilL
 
 MARIA. 14P 
 
 On account of my children," continued the 
 lady, " and not on my own, I wish some 
 friend to inform him of his danger, knowin^^ 
 that his spiritual as well as his worldly con- 
 cerns are in an unsettled state. I think," 
 she added, " I will get our good clergj-man 
 to mention the subject to him ; for although 
 Mr. Fisher has never been a clnu'ch-goer, 1 
 know that he respects the man : — I'll send for 
 him instantly." And that moment she in- 
 structed her daughter Frances to step to Mr. 
 Dorset's house. She did so; and having the 
 good fortune to lind the reverend divine at 
 home, he was by Mr. Fisher's bed-side in 
 less than an hour after the physician had 
 quitted it. 
 
 ** My dear sir," said Mr. Dorset^ *' I was 
 sorry to hear but a bad account of you to- 
 day." 
 
 *' Indeed," said Mr. Fisher, " this is 
 the worst attack I have ever felt ; but Dr. 
 Charters does not seem to think me in any 
 danger." 
 
 '* Notwithstanding the doctor's silence, a
 
 150 MARIA. 
 
 man with your sen^e must know that violent 
 diseases ahvays endanger tlie hody ; and 
 tliough I do not wish to alarm you, yet, as 
 xi friend, I will he honest in saying that I 
 would advise you to be prepared for the 
 worst ; — But why should I say the worst ? 
 when to leave this world is to exchange a 
 scene of toil and care, to enter the abode 
 of rest and pleasure !" 
 
 ** Stop,'' said Mr. Fisher ; '* you are now 
 speaking only of the good ; — what prospect 
 would you hold out to him who has suffered 
 his passions to mislead him throughout his 
 life.^" 
 
 ** Sir,"' replied the divine, *' there is not 
 a saint in heaven who has not felt the effect 
 of passions. From the existence of them 
 our trials arise ; — where is the person who 
 has not been misled at times ? but when 
 conviction has satisfied the erring mind that 
 it was wrong, — from the moment inspiration 
 breathes that thought, the heart amends; 
 the work of conversion is begun, and the 
 blessing of God, which is ever ready to pour
 
 MARIA. lol 
 
 itself abundantly on his favourite man, udll 
 mature the endeavours of frail nature, and 
 perse^-erance will crown the whole." 
 
 ** niis, my kind friend," returned Mr. 
 Fisher, *' is not the v/ork of a few hours 
 only." 
 
 *' ITie heart can give no more than ff//," 
 replied Mr. Dorset; ** nor does Infinite Wis- 
 dom require more. Should your Creator 
 spare you many years, I trust that you \^ill 
 be steady in his ser\dce ; but should he think 
 proper to call you hence in a few hours, I 
 doubt not the sincerity of your intentions 
 will be accepted ; and that deeds resolved, 
 though unperformed, will obtain a reward 
 in the sight of Him who knows every move- 
 ment of the human heart." 
 
 " You are really a comforter," said Mr. 
 Fisher ; " and I wish we had been earlier 
 and better acquainted. Many things, Mr. 
 Dorset, weigh heav}^ on my soul ; and I am 
 now scarcely fit to do any thing. I wish, too, 
 that I had made my \y\\\ whilst I was in 
 health."
 
 152 MARIA. 
 
 *' That will be more easily done than you 
 imagine," said Mr. Dorset; " will you allow 
 iile to send your lawyer to you ? ^Vhen that 
 business is over, you will be better able to 
 collect your thoughts ; — when worldly mat- 
 ters are settled to the best of your abiIitA% 
 your soul will have fewer hindrances in its 
 lieavenly intercourse." Then kindly taking 
 ]\Ir. Fisher*s hand, the divine told him he 
 would call again in the evening ; and re- 
 quested him to be as composed as possible. 
 '* A will may be made," said he, " in few 
 words, and there will be less room for quib- 
 bles of law." 
 
 Mr. Dorset stopped a few minutes only, 
 to inform ^Irs. Fisher of the happy dispo- 
 sition of her husband, and left her to exe- 
 cute his commission with the attorney. As 
 soon as lie w^as gone, Mrs. Fisher endea- 
 voured to arrange her ideas into some kind 
 of order ; and so far conquered the confused 
 state of her mind, as to determine on hav- 
 ing some conversation mth Mr. Fisher : — 
 so taking a medicine in her hand it was time
 
 MARIAo 153 
 
 ke should have, she was directly at his bed- 
 side. 
 
 *' I am grieved, dear sir," said she,, "to 
 find there is any idea of danger." 
 
 " Considering the grief you express, ma- 
 dam," replied the invalid, ** your counte- 
 nance does not agree with your heart." 
 
 Never till this moment was Mrs Fisher 
 aware that her thoughts had not been on her 
 husband so much as on her children; and 
 her feelings acknowledged his reproach was 
 just. But in her accustomed tone she re- 
 replied, "You cannot, Mr. Fisher, doubt 
 my prayers and wishes for your recovery — 
 during more than twenty years my heart has 
 been devoted to you ! Never, during that 
 period, has it wandered from its object ; — 
 you must yourself allow that I have been 
 true to your interest, and faithful to my 
 marriage vow." 
 
 "I believe you, Maria," replied Mr. 
 Fisher. " But to what purpose this conver- 
 sation ?" 
 
 Mrs. Fisher, encouraged by his 'calling 
 h5
 
 154 Maria. 
 
 her Maria, knelt by the bexi-side ; and ta- 
 king her husband's hand a tear fell upon it, 
 whilst she said, " I have a favour to ask : — 
 Think of the time, Frederic, when I used 
 to be your kind, your dear Maria ! remem- 
 ber our first-born ! let us atone, as much as 
 possible, for the injury we did her in con- 
 cealing our marriage, and, in consequence, 
 concealing her birth from the v/orld. Be 
 assured, that wherever she is, she suffers 
 from our neglect of her : — Do leave her a 
 portion — if not equal to the others, a some-^ 
 thing : I would be satisfied to depend on my 
 children for my future subsistence, should 
 I outlive you ; but in mercy to us both, 
 the authors of her sufferings ! (for my heart 
 tells me she suffers) give her not cause to 
 curse us, by leaving her solely dependent on 
 this var}dng world." A foot on the stairs 
 prevented Mrs. Fisher urging the matter 
 further. She rose as Mr. Althorpe the at- 
 torney entered the room : then, aware of the 
 exertion her husband had made and still 
 had to undergo, she forced him to swallow
 
 MARIA. 155 
 
 a glass of vviiie, and withdrew ; secretly ini- 
 ploring the divine assistance, that her hus- 
 band might act with integrity. 
 
 As soon as Mr. Fisher found his wife 
 had left him, he desired Mr. Althorpe to 
 sit near him ; and saying there was paper 
 and ink on the table, desired he would take 
 down the heads of his will. Tlien collect- 
 ing himself a few minutes, he proceeded as 
 follows : 
 
 ** After the usual commencement of pro- 
 viding for my just debts, funeral expenses, 
 and so forth, I give to my wife, :\Iaria Fisher, 
 an annuity of one hundred pounds, to 1)6 
 paid to her in half-yearly pajTnents out of 
 my stock in the five-per-cents. I also give 
 to my said wife the sum of one hundred 
 pounds, to be disposed of as she knows is 
 my intention : with this only injunction — 
 that she reside in the small house in Sloane- 
 street, which I also give to her for her life. 
 But she must forfeit that, the hundred 
 pounds, and her annuity, if she absent her-
 
 15^ MARIA. 
 
 self from London during the space of ten 
 whole days." 
 
 Here Mr. Althorpe observed, *' Might it 
 
 not be possible that Mrs, Fisher's children 
 
 may settle at a distance from the metropo- 
 
 . lis ? and would it not then be hard if she 
 
 could not go to visit them ?'' 
 
 Mr. Fisher interrupted the attorney by 
 telling him, " Sir, I sent for you to wiite 
 my will, I wish to indite it myself." 
 
 * < I stand corrected," replied the attorney, 
 " and am ready to proceed." 
 
 " I have nothing more that is very par- 
 ticular to add," said Air. Fisher; " only to 
 divide the remainder of my property, whe- 
 ther money or chattels, between my two 
 daughters Frances and Emma, share and 
 share alike. Mr. Worthing and Mr. Norr 
 man will be my executors : to them and to 
 Mrs. Hunter I leave each five guineas for a 
 ring; — this is all. And now, sir, I must 
 beg you will write it immediately. How 
 soon may I expect you .^"
 
 MARIA. 157 
 
 " Within three hours," repUed Mr. Al- 
 tiiorpe ; *' I willinstantl}' go and draw itmy- 
 si'if." So saying, he quitted the apartment. 
 
 Mrs. Fisher, as soon as she found Mr. 
 Althorpe was gone, hastened to her hus- 
 band's room. She found him looking much 
 worse than the last time she had been there; 
 mdeed, Mr. Fisher at the moment of his 
 wife's entrance appeared almost exhausted ; 
 however, he roused himself to say, '' Maria, 
 I have complied with your request so far as 
 to leave one hundred pounds at your own 
 disposal. I know that sum does not equal 
 your wishes, but I have no notion of feed- 
 ing a set of canting hypocrites; as you 
 know, should our child be living, it will 
 not be herself, but the community, that 
 ^ould benefit by the money. Another 
 tiling I have mentioned is this : I have 
 mrrde it a condition in my will, that you do 
 not absent yourself above ten days from- 
 L/ondon. This is kindly meant : — from a 
 knowledge of your romantic disposition, I 
 thought it not improbable that, after my
 
 158 MARIA. 
 
 death, you might take a fancy to\isit France, 
 in order to seek our child ; and as this 
 would be highly improper, I thought it but 
 kind to prevent your acting so foolishly. — 
 And now, Maria," extending his feverish 
 hand towards her, ** God bless you ! I feel 
 myself very languid, and believe that death 
 is fast approaching. When I am gone, try 
 to think favourably of my actions : — tell my 
 children I bless them. If I could sleep, it 
 might recover me a little." 
 
 Mrs. Fisher pressed his hand fervently; 
 her heart was melted ; — at that moment she 
 felt how ardently she had once loved him. 
 She prevailed upon him to swallow a glass 
 of wine, and told him she would sit still 
 whilst he slept. But in fact she employed 
 lierseif better : — she knelt behind the cur- 
 tain of his bed, and there prayed in the 
 most earnest manner that Almighty God 
 would pour his divine spirit into the heart of 
 her husband ; that he might see the errors 
 uf his past life, and purify himself by sar- 
 rovv', and resolutions of amendment. At
 
 MARIA. 159 
 
 tliat period she thought not of the will, nor 
 of any other worldly matter, her whole 
 mind being occupied with considering in 
 what words she could, when her husband 
 should awake, impress on his mind the ne- 
 cessity of making a religious end. " How," 
 said she to herself, ** shall I do this ? He 
 has treated religious subjects with indiffe- 
 rence all his life long ! He had neither pro- 
 per precepts nor example set before him in 
 his youth — May God in his mercy compas- 
 sionate his ignorance ! and, in considera- 
 tion of that, be more indulgent to his er- 
 rors !" 
 
 During these meditations, Frances and 
 Emma had been twenty times at the door, 
 to listen if they could hear their father. 
 They were alarmed at the long silence in 
 his chamber. Nothing disturbed his slum- 
 ber, nor the pious meditations oi Mrs. 
 I'isher, till the la\vyer himself tapped at the 
 room door with the will, accompanied by 
 Doctor Charters and tlie Rev. Mr. Dorset, 
 whom he had brought with him to witness
 
 [6X) MARIA. 
 
 it. The noise these gentlemen made on 
 the stairs awoke the invalid. ^■\nien Doc- 
 tor Charters heard the length of time Mr. 
 Fisher had slept, he shook his head, and 
 whispered Mr. Aithorpe, " I fear he will 
 be unable to sign : this stupor indicates a 
 diminution of the reasoning faculties ; his 
 end will be free from pain ; nature is worn 
 to the last, and it is much to be feared he 
 will not be capable of wi'iting." 
 
 They were all agreeably surprised, on ap- 
 proaching the bed, to hear Mr. Fisher ask 
 ** whether Mr. Aithorpe had brought the 
 
 will r 
 
 The lawyer answered, ** Yes :" and pro- 
 posed the reading it to Mr. Fisher. 
 
 ** No," exclaimed the latter, " that will 
 be unnecessary, if you give your v/ord that 
 you wrote ail I told you, and nothing more." 
 
 ** Your own words to the letter, as a man 
 of honour," answered Mr. Aithorpe. On 
 which the invalid was raised in his bed; and 
 taking the pen, he found his hand so unsteady 
 tiiat he requested Dr. Charters to guide his
 
 MARIA. 16^1 
 
 fingers, which the physician did. It was 
 then executed by the other gentlemen ; all 
 sensible of Mr. Fisher being perfectly sane 
 of mind. 
 
 The invalid lay down again ; but upon 
 the doctor trying to put a liquid into his 
 mouth, he found he could not swallow it. 
 Upon which Mr. Dorset proposed to Mr^. 
 Fisher that she should go below to her 
 daughters. She did so. The clergyman 
 returned to the sick-room ; and in about 
 twenty minutes after, took upon himself 
 the melancholy task of informing Mrs. 
 Fisher that her husband had breathed his 
 last. 
 
 " I wish it had pleased God that he had 
 had time to have profited by your spiritual 
 assistance," said Mrs. Fisher; *' but I hope 
 his last thoughts were on his Maker." 
 
 *' I said a prayer," answered Mr. Dor- 
 set ; ** and by his looks I am sure he join- 
 ed me. We must remember that his 
 soul is in the hands of a merciful as well 
 as a just Judge," added he. *' But each
 
 162 MARIA. 
 
 day's experience convinces me that a good 
 life is the only sure preparation for a happy 
 death." 
 
 Mrs. Fisher said, '^ I should like, sir, to 
 spend half an hour alone ; and then should 
 be obliged if you would call in and advise 
 me on the melancholy but necessary steps 
 I must next pursue." 
 
 END or THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 Printed by R. and A, Taylor, Shoe Lane, London.
 
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