THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY From the collection of Julius Doerner, Chicago Purchased, 1918. S£8 E.-f 57 f I FANCY'S WREATH. fyc. S;c. n ] Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2016 https://archive.org/details/fancyswreathbeinOOelli m imm Of iii. % i led hv the hand of Time, and accompanied by Fancy • FANCY’S WREATH; BEING A COLLECTION OF £Drt0«tal iFafcleg mtU Allegorical Unless, PROSE AND VERSE, FOR THE INSTRUCTION AND AMUSEMENT or YOUTH. By Miss ELLIOT. LONDON : Printed ly T. BENS LEY, Bolt Court, FOR WHITE, COCHRANE, AND CO. FLEET STREET. v 1812 . 8a 8 E LSTf PREFACE. tion at once so entertaining and instructive, o ro or which is so well calculated to captivate c/;~- gorical narrative. It may be said, indeed, to occupy the intermediate rank between the vi- vacity of Poetry, and the languor of Prose: to convey all the instruction of the essayist, under the fascinating charms of the poet. the attention, and enlarge the mind, as alle- Fable too we find nearly allied to allegory; VI pursuing the same path, with the same ob- ject in view. The writings of JEsop, however apparently frivolous and infantine, were per- haps as universally beneficial to mankind, in exhibiting, under the disguise of amusement, the prevailing vices of the world, and the insi- dious treacheries of the human heart, as any of the most elaborate treatises of the sages of anti- quity. History furnishes us with instances of the striking effect that a well-applied fable is capable of producing, and has shewn us, that it will sometimes carry conviction to minds in- sensible to the force either of persuasion or argument. To embellish moral and religious truths with the flowery ornaments of fiction, and to employ the inventive powers to give a new and more attractive aspect to those salu- tary lessons, which, although they can never cease to be beneficial, may yet become vii Wearisome, lias been a task to which the most celebrated authors of all ages have devoted their attention. The works of our best pe- riodical writers have been enlivened and adorned by allegories and many other ficti- tious tales; and if we pursue our researches still higher, we may trace a sanction for this species of composition even in the sacred pages of the holy Scriptures. From this di- vine model moralists have been taught the efficacy of clothing their precepts in the garb of fable, and tempering their admonitions to the taste and feelings of human nature. The world abounds therefore with every variety that prolific fancy bestows, and liberal is the in- tellectual feast that offers itself for the grati- fication of a cultivated understanding. Amidst this literary profusion, however, scanty is the portion of allegorical writings peculiarly adapt- via ed to Children : although compositions of this kind are constantly placed in their hands, so few are suited to their comprehension, that it is to be doubted whether they are not too often satisfied with skimming the surface, without searching deep enough to discover the moral of the piece : yet surely at this season of life to stamp the wholesome lessons of wisdom un- resisted upon the tablet of the memory, by captivating the attention, is particularly desirable. In Allegory, truth conceals her- self beneath the veil of fiction, and thus disguised finds a readier entrance into the hearts of youth, whose volatile feelings and wavering affections are scared by the severity of her countenance, and awed by the solem- nity of her aspect, when unadorned she pre- sents herself before them. From this idea, the author of this little IX volume has been encouraged to present it to the juvenile world : the hope that has animated her humble endeavours and the object she has steadily kept in view having been to provide -for their leisure hours, amusement not desti- tute of improvement ; and to twine for the lovely brow of youth, a WREATH from the garden of FANCY. ■ CONTENTS. Page The Wise Shepherd 1 Youth and Age, an allegory 33 Eglantine’s Dream 43 The two Goblets 52 Pen, Ink, and Paper, a Fable 56 The Months 62 To the Tulip /I To the Rose 7 2 To the Violet 73 To the Primrose 75 To the Geranium 76 An Evening Hymn 78 Morning and Evening, or the Shepherd’s dispute 82 Joy, Sorrow, and Content 88 Scene the First gg Second 102 • Third 106 xif Page* The Needle, and the Pin, a Fable 109 Nature and Art, a Fable . 115 The Magic Casket 124 An Enigmatical Letter to Laura 141 Time and Fancy * 155 FANCY’S WREATH. THE WISE SHEPHERD. In a very remote island there once lived a Shepherd, whose retired, but industrious life, was spent in an active performance of the duties of his station. His humble dwelling stood at the foot of a rock, which sheltered it from northern winds, and trees of the most luxuriant growth screened it from the heat of the noon-day sun. His frugal meals were composed of wild fruits and roots, and a spring which issued from the rock supplied him with water bright as crystal. He was healthy , because B 2 he was always temperate and industrious, and he was happy, because he had no immoderate wishes. “ His hours in cheerful labour flew, “ Nor envy, nor ambition knew.’* But though his education had been as simple and humble as his situation in life, and (though perfectly unlettered, and unacquainted with art or science) he had yet acquired from experience, such a knowledge of the properties of the vegetable world, he so well knew all the various qualities of herbs and roots, and flowers, that he was enabled to afford relief to many of the maladies and diseases of his fellow- creatures. — This was to his benevolent mind a source of such satisfaction, that he applied himself to the pursuit with increased eagerness, till at length, among the simple and unenlightened inhabitants of 3 the island, he was reckoned “ wonder ous wise/* and resorted to for advice upon all occasions. By degrees his fame extended even beyond its limits, and he was spoken of in other countries as the wise Shepherd, who had a cure for all complaints, and a charm for every disease, whether of the body or mind. — A very rich, but very unhappy man, whose youth had been spent in the gratification of every appetite, and the indulgence of every wayward wish, whose body was enfeebled by luxury and idleness, and whose mind was debased by selfish passions, hav- ing in vain had recourse to every remedy that the learned of all countries could devise, having ran- sacked all quarters of the globe, to procure amuse- ments and luxuries, which neither gave relief nor amusement, was, in the prime of his manhood, re- duced to a state of complete despondency, and dead 4 to every pleasure, when intelligence was brought him, that in an obscure and remote island, there existed a wise man with power to restore health both to the body and mind. But that, as no en- treaties or bribes would persuade him to leave his retirement, it would be necessary (if he wished to receive from him such inestimable benefits) that he should himself make application for them, and visit in person the Shepherd’s hut. The person who brought him this intelligence hardly hoped it would be of service to his sick friend, who, as he lay in languid dejection stretched upon his downy couch, seemed ill able to undertake so long and hazardous a voyage, or to put up with the reception he would probably meet with at the end of it in the cottage of the Shepherd. The prospect however of health and happiness, in exchange for melancholy and 5 disease, was too alluring to be easily relinquished, and, animated by the very idea, he immediately de- termined to undertake it, and instantly gave orders for the necessaiy preparations. No expense was to be spared in contrivances to render his journey as easy as possible to him, and all sorts of artificers were employed to erect the most commodious vehicles, couches, litters, sedan chairs, &c. A numerous re- tinue was to accompany him, enormous stores of provision were to be carried 5 persons of different trades were to follow him, to be ready at all times to supply every real, or imaginary want ; and, in addition to all these, he determined to carry with him a considerable proportion of his immense pro- perty, in order to impress the poor man he was going to visit with a high idea of his importance, and of the extent of the reward he was likely to re- 6 ceive if he could succeed in restoring him to health. For this purpose he commanded that a large silver chest should be filled entirely with silver, and car- ried by slaves in the most magnificent dresses 3 that another chest, composed of solid gold, and filled with the most beautiful specimens of that precious metal, should be carried on the back of a camel, and attended by double the number of slaves 3 and, lastly, that a vase of the most exquisite workmanship, studded with precious stones, containing the most costly jewels and ornaments imaginable, should be conveyed in a magnificent car, erected for the pur- pose. Every thing being in readiness for his departure, the cavalcade assembled early in the morning, and formed a line which extended through the whole of his spacious grounds. He was himself superbly drest, and carried on a sort of palanquin, with a golden ca- 7 nopy over his head . The procession moved forwards, and by short stages performed the inland part of their journey. When they reached the coast, a fleet was in readiness to receive them, and the whole retinue was speedily embarked. They arrived in due time at the island, and were easily directed towards the desired dwelling. The Shepherd was seated under a tree, engaged in the preparation of sim- ples whilst tending his flock. On raising his eyes he beheld the long cavalcade approaching, and arose to meet them. After a short interview, in which the Nobleman made known to him the purport of his visit, f Sir,’ said the Shepherd, * your case is a difficult one, but, nevertheless, I will willingly undertake it, provided you will consent to certain conditions I shall require of you.’ * Name them, (replied the Nobleman ;) ' give me but health, and 8 name your conditions. My fortune is, as you may perceive, not very inconsiderable 3 my power is extensive, and my inclination to reward you, should you succeed, I promise you will not be small.’ f I am not content with promises,’ said the Shepherd. r Well, (replied the Nobleman, somewhat impa- tiently,) what agreement shall we enter into? I have a chest filled with silver, sufficient to secure to you a life of affluence.’ — The Shepherd shook his head. — * Will not that satisfy you? (continued he ;) f well, then, take, (what must surely exceed the most ex- travagant desires thy heart can ever have formed) take, (said he, with a sigh,) my magnificent chest of gold.’ ‘ Your chest of gold,’ (replied the Shepherd,) however valuable you may esteem it, is to me as nothing.’ € Nothing ! (replied the asto- nished Nobleman, who, from the simplicity of 9 the Shepherd’s life, little expected to find such exor- bitant ideas;) How! can it be possible that you should desire a higher reward ? and what pleasures, (cried he somewhat contemptuously) can you aspire to, that it will be insufficient to procure ? I thought to have found thee a man of moderate desires, who would have received my favours with the humblest gratitude.’ ‘ Nevertheless, (replied the Shepherd calmly,) the rewards I hope for are higher rewards, and the pleasures I desire, thy gold is insuffi- cient to procure.’ c Thy avarice be thy punishment then, (said the Nobleman ;) I see thy aim ; how libe- ral soever my offer, thou art not content, whilst any thing more valuable remains to be won. My gold and silver is despised, because thou knowest my jewels are of superior value ; but know, that I would as soon resign my life as part with these. To lose them would 10 be to lose all the delight of my past, and the hope of my future days. — Thy covetousness, therefore, in seeking a prize so much above thy deserts, has robbed thee of all ; for either thou must accept my gold, or see me instantly depart.’ f I will not accept thy gold, (said the Shepherd,) therefore farewell.’ f Fare- well ! (said the Nobleman, trembling with rageat the composure of the poor man, and his feeble frame al- most overpowered, at the disappointment of his hopes. ) * And can you possibly have the cruelty to suffer me to return, without exerting your power to restore me to health ? Can you withhold from me the blessings you have it in your power to bestow, and suffer me to tread back the weary journey I have performed to no purpose ?’ f Comply with my conditions, (said the Shepherd*) and you shall return with health and joy. Your wasted frame shall exult in the strength and vi- 11 gour of manhood, your spirits shall glow with the vi- vacity of youth.* 'Cruel, but irresistible man, (cried the Nobleman, subdued by the idea), take then thy heart’s desire, take my precious jewels, and be satis- fied.’ 'No (replied the Shepherd,) I ask only my own conditions ; what those conditions are, you have not yet heard.’ The Nobleman, confounded, and at a loss what to think or what to say, remained silent, and the Shepherd proceeded. ' I leave it, sir, entirely to yourself, to determine what reward you shall think me entitled to. All that I require of you is, that you will give me leave, for one night, to change places with you. That you will allow me to rest in the magnificent tent you now repose in, that you will intrust me for that time with complete authority over all your attendants, and resigning for the twelve hours all superintendance and direction 12 of them to me y you will condescend to take up your abode in my humble cottage.’ The Nobleman, though shuddering at the thoughts of the misera- ble night he should pass, was yet so delighted to find that his hopes might be satisfied without the for- feiture of his jewels, that he immediately consented 3 and assembling his whole retinue, he gave orders that from the setting to the rising of the sun, they should look upon the Shepherd as their lord and mas- ter, and pay to him, and him only, the obedience usually bestowed upon himself. Night now came on apace 3 and the Shepherd’s first care, after having penned his fold, was to conduct his noble guest to the humble roof that was to shelter him. With hospitable care he trimmed his hearth, and placed before him the daintiest fare his cottage afforded. He waited upon him himself with the greatest assi- 13 duity^ nor left him till he saw him stretched upon the humble couch where he was to remain till morning j then,, without loss of time, he hastened to the spot where lay encamped his splendid re- tinue, and all his valuable possessions. — He imme- diately called together all his attendants, and exert- ing his new authority, he commanded them to set about, with the utmost expedition, to dig a Pit : this work he ordered them to continue all night long ; and so intent was he on the completion, that he not only superintended, but himself assisted in their la- bours. The night was half spent, and they had dug to a very considerable depth, when he called out to them to cease, and employ themselves in another way . — c Bring, (said he), to the brink of this pit, the chests of gold and silver, and the vase of jewels, belonging to your lord and master. The attend- 14 ants hesitated to comply with this extraordinary command j but upon the Shepherd’s repeating it, they recollected they had no right to do so, but were bound to implicit obedience 3 they therefore brought with all speed the valuable possessions, together with the keys that secured them, and awaited the further orders of the Shepherd 3 who no sooner saw them in his power, than grasping first the vase of jewels, and lifting it in his arms, he precipitated it down to the very bottom of the pit. The surrounding attendants uttered a cry of asto- nishment, and looked with horror upon the Shepherd, as the betrayer of their master. But he speedily in- terrupted them, by ordering them to proceed with all dispatch, and throw in all the earth they had been so diligent in digging up. They ail returned to their work, and in a short time the precious vase was com- 15 pletely buried in the ground. When the pit was about half filled up, the Shepherd, unlocking the chest of gold, took out the valuable ornaments it contained, and as the labourers continued to throw in earth, he threw in occasionally, one by one, the goblets, the caskets, the vases, and at last the chest itself Soon after this was done, he proceeded to open the silver chest, which he disposed of in the same man- ner, throwing in the chest, and all it contained, save one goblet, which he held in his hand. The well was by this time nearly filled, and as soon as it was quite so, and the ground levelled, he threw this last remaining goblet carelessly on the top, and ordered it to be left there. ‘ And now, (said he,) c I see the morning dawn, and must hasten to give you my last command hasten then to quit this island with all possible speed j embark yourselves. 16 your tents, and every remaining possession of your master’s; let not a single trace be left; the wind is favourable, set sail without delay, before the sun is risen : I charge you to be gone.’ The Steward, who was the chief of the attendants, now began to remonstrate, and to say, that rather than leave his master without again beholding him, he would break through the commands he had last received from him, and resist the unwarrantable orders of the Shepherd. Hearing this, the Shepherd took him . aside, and having spent a few minutes in private conversation with him, the Steward returned, and telling his companions he was now perfectly con- vinced of the propriety of their departure, desired them to make immediate preparations for it; and ere the sun arose, the vessels that brought the Nobleman to the island, were quickly sailing from 17 it, bearing every individual of his retinue, and leav- ing him all unconscious, asleep in the Shepherd’s hut. He had passed an uneasy night, his slumbers were dis- turbed and restless, and as soon as the Shepherd en- tered the cottage he awoke, and impatiently prepared to quit it. The Shepherd allowed him to depart, and quietly returned to the care of his flock. The asto- nishment, the rage, the despair of the Nobleman, on discovering the treachery of the Shepherd, are not to be described ; he looked around the spot where lately had stood his tents, his followers, his trea- sures/and saw only a barren field. He turned his eyes towards the sea, and beheld his vessels in full sail. He called aloud, he waved his hands, and tossed his arms distractedly, in order to induce them to return, but all in vain ; his signals were unper- ceived or unheeded, and the little fleet pursued c 18 their destined course. The Nobleman turned front the horrid sight, intending to go and seize upon the person of the perfidious Shepherd. But, over- come with the misery of his situation, he fell upon the ground in a state of insensibility. When h£ re- covered, he found himself again in the Shepherd’s cottage, who was attending him with the utmost care, and using every effort to restore him. He saw two other peasants, who seemed to be watching him with anxiety. c See/ said one of them, r he is coming to life again.’ c How wonderful !’ said another ; * what marvellous skill ! He was a dead man, sure enough, when we picked him up, but I knew if we could get him to the wise Shepherd, he would soon charm the life into him.’ * Where did you find him ?’ said the Shepherd. c Villain !* cried the Nobleman. The Peasants started at the 19 sound of his voice. f Poor man,’ said they; ' he has found his tongue, but not his senses ; he calls the man who saves his life a villain.’ * He is a villain, a base, a wretched villain,’ returned the Nobleman $ * give me back,’ cried he, seizing him with all his strength, * give me back the posses- sions of which you have robbed me 5 restore me my numerous attendants, fetch back my gold , my sil- ver , my jewels, my tents , my carriages , my retinue, or dread the punishment of thy crimes.’ * Poor wretch, he is quite mad,’ said they. * We must keep him quiet,’ said the Shepherd, with the tone of compassion, * for you see he is exhausted with the exertion' only of speaking.’ This was indeed the case, and the Shepherd hastened to administer a composing draught, and then with the gentlest care he laid the poor Nobleman on the best couch his 20 cottage afforded. Here, in a state of the most gloomy despondency, he lay for several days, seem- ingly unconscious of all that was passing around him. At length, his health being in a degree im- proved by the skill and attention of the Shepherd, he arose from his bed, and took a solitary stroll to- wards the sea-shore, with the faint hope of seeing some vessel by which he might obtain a release from his present miserable condition. He looked, how- ever, in vain, and returned disappointed to the hut. Unwilling to resign a hope, which seemed to be the only one that remained to him, he repaired each day to the sea-shore, and remained wandering about as long as his strength would permit him. One day as lie was as usual returning from his solitary search, his eye was attracted by the sight of something glit- tering on the ground, and clearing it from the rubbish 21 that surrounded it, perceived with surprize that it was one of his own magnificent silver goblets. Delighted at the discovery, he turned his eyes on every side, in hopes of perceiving some other parts of his lost treasure j nothing further however appeared, and he was entirely at a loss to account for this single piece of silver being suffered to lie upon the earth . At last it occurred to him, that it was probable the treacherous Shepherd might have secreted the trea- sures he had so ardently coveted, and that if he could examine the ground, he might discover their hiding place. Looking anxiously around him, he saw a spade ( and a pick-axe lying close to the spot where he had found the goblet. He immediately went to work with all the little strength he was master of, and exerting himself to the utmost, he dug for a short space of time 3 but, unused to the 22 smallest fatigue, he was soon overcome with the toil, and was on the point of throwing aside the tools in despair, when he thought he felt his spade strike against something hard. This encouraged him to make another effort, and in a few moments he clearly ascertained that it was in reality nothing less than his silver chest. Overjoyed at the discovery, he -would now have proceeded with his work, but, alas! his strength was quite exhausted, and his trembling limbs could hardly support him from sinking to the earth. He was fully convinced, however, that he had now discovered the place that contained those riches of which he thought himself for ever deprived. Could he but get them once more into his possession, he had no doubt of be- ing able by their means to effect his escape from the island 5 but how was this to be done ! He had now 23 no one whom he could command, and was himself too feeble for such a laborious task. All the little strength, however, that he did possess he deter- mined to devote to this purpose, and animated with renewed hope, though worn out with fatigue of body, he returned to the cabin and laid himself down to rest. His sleep this night was sound and undisturbed , visions of returning happiness presented themselves to his fancy : he awoke in the morning refreshed „ and invigorated, and returned with new ardor to his work. Full of hope and expectation, he exerted himself to tire utmost, and before the day was over had made some progress, and cleared away part of tire earth wherein the chest was buried 5 but it was not till after many days’ labour (during which time the united effects of exercise, temperate meals, and 24 early hours, had materially added to his health and strength) that he was enabled to effect his purpose. After repeated trials however he at last succeeded, and in an extacy of delight he dragged forth his magni- ficent silver chest from the ground. Fully convinced that he had now discovered the wicked schemes of the Shepherd, and delighted to think that by perse - verance he should probably recover the whole of his lost property, he determined to devote all his time to this one object, and being for the present over- powered with fatigue, he resolved to return with the first dawn of morning to his work. Before he re- turned homewards for the night, however, he took infinite pains to conceal his new found treasure, by covering it with branches of trees, dreading nothing so much as the Shepherd’s discovery of his plan 5 of 25 which he doubted not his own destruction would be the consequence. A large part of each day was now cheerfully spent by the Nobleman in active exercise in the open air. He was no longer a desponding languid being without interest or pursuit 5 he had a powerful mo- tive for exertion 5 something to hope, something to look forward to : his health returned, his strength improved. The humble fare, from which he had % so lately turned with disgust, now satisfied the keen- ness of his appetite, and on his humble couch he passed the night in sleep the soundest and most re- freshing. Wishing, as much as possible, to escape the observation of the Shepherd, he spent no more time in his society than he could possibly avoid; and indeed the poor man seemed well content to leave him to himself, being fully taken up with his own affairs. He appeared to take no further notice of his guest than the laws of hospitality commanded. Often, indeed, when the Nobleman beheld him administering to the diseases of his neighbours, and Upon all occasions indefatigable in the cause of hu- manity, he would reflect with astonishment on the strangeness and inconsistency of his character. In this conduct towards himself he had been an art- ful designing villain, capable of planning and execut- ing the ruin of a man who had in no way provoked t or injured him, but who had entrusted himself to his care. To others, seemingly to all others, he was the minister of health, of ease, and comfort. His dwelling was constantly resorted to by the sick and wretched, whom he detained under his roof till by his skill they were restored to health and ease 27 On such occasions the Nobleman, who had now known what it was to suffer, and “ from his own had learnt to melt at others woe,” would secretly be- stow a small portion of his recovered riches on those whose poverty excited his compassion ; and in their ardent prayers and thanks experienced a joy and satis- faction, of which he had before had no idea. In this manner time passed rapidly away. By the most regular and unceasing labour he had dug up from the ground the whole of his lost treasures, save only his casket of jewels. For days and days he still laboured unrewarded, still however he persevered, amusing himself with the hope that he should at last obtain his desire, and in the mean time forming plans for his escape, which he had no doubt he should be able to effect when possessed of such consequence as his riches would give him. Oftentimes would he 28 cast a longing melancholy look towards the sea* where sometimes a distant sail was discovered. ' Alas!’ would he exclaim, € may but the winds conduct thee hither ! could I but see those vessels that bore me to this fatal .‘sland! could I but once more re- turn to my native country ! never again would I be tempted to quit it, or trust my peace and happi- ness to a stranger.’ Still however was he doomed to continue his solitary labours, when having now for several weeks continued to dig still deeper into the ground, without discovering his casket, he set out one morning, determined, that if his toil that day should prove equally unsuccessful he w r ould abandon the hope altogether. But before he let himself down by the rope ladder which he had contrived for the purpose, he looked as usual towards the sea, and discerned at a distance several specks, which seemed 29 like the distant sails of shpis, but which the mist of the morning (for the sun was scarcely risen) ren- dered very indistinct. With a hopeless sigh he turned aside his longing eyes, and descending into the earth, began his work. In the mean time the vessels, which were in fact no others than the very same that the Nobleman so earnestly longed to see, were wafted by a favourable breeze with rapidity to- wards the island. Impatient to know the fate of their beloved master, though scarcely hoping to find him alive, the attendants hastened to land, and brought on shore with them the litter on which he had before reclined, and all the same preparations for his accommodation that had attended him on his arrival. The shades of evening were drawing on by the time they had disembarked. As soon, however, as the tents were pitched, the camels unloaded. 30 and the provisions secured, they proceeded to the Shepherd’s hut. But the Shepherd was penning his fold, and they found his habitation deserted. They saw however the magnificent robes with which their master was clothed when last they be- held him, lying torn and disfigured on the floor. Feeling their apprehensions for his safety increase, they determined to proceed in search of him, and going first to the spot where in so unaccountable a manner they had passed the last night of their stay in the island, they approached the brink of the pit where the treasures of their master were deposited ; when suddenly a man leaped from the earth, ex- claiming with^ the most enthusiastic delight, “ I have found it! 1 have found it /” He wore the dress of a peasant ; in one hand he carried a pick- axe and shovel, and in the other the well-remem- 31 bered casket of jewels. His form was robust and muscular, his countenance glowed with health, and his eye sparkled with animation and delight. Could this be their master,, thus altered, thus habited, thus employed ? Could even his own friends and at- tendants recognise the man who a few months be- fore they had seen bowed to the earth with languor and infirmity? Impossible ! Concluding he was some accomplice who shared with the Shepherd in his wicked plunder, and determined not to suffer him to escape, they were going to seize him, when staring with wild amazement and surprize, he dropped from his grasp the pick-axe and the shovel, and ex- claiming, ‘ Welcome! welcome! my dear friends !’ he rushed towards them, and in the extravagance of his joy, embraced them again and again. f Am I awake ?’ continued he 5 * do my senses deceive me? or is the past only a dream ? Do I indeed behold again that sight for which my soul so long has pined? Am I, who believed myself a deserted friendless being, again surrounded by my own domestics? do I see my tents, my horses, my camels,’ said he, look- ing eagerly around him, 'standing in the order that I last beheld them ? Speak to me, tell me this is true, and I am the happiest of men.’ His attend- ants, who now heard the voice, and began to retrace the well-known features of their beloved master, convinced him of the reality of the passing scene, by the ardour with which they returned his greeting. Before he would suffer however any further conver- sation to pass between them, he charged them with- out delay to seek out the author of all his suffer- ings 3 to secure the person of the Shepherd, that his treachery and crimes might meet their just reward. 25 Accordingly, a party well armed set out for this purpose, and returned in a short space of time, accompanied by the poor Shepherd, who without any seeming reluctance, and with an air the most composed and undaunted, walked beside them. “ Now,” said the Merchant, with a smile of exulta- tion, “ now is thy career of wickedness at an end 5 and I have the satisfaction of seeing in my power, that being who, whilst I was in his , employed it to reduce me to the lowest depth of despair. What punish- ment,” said he, addressing himself to the Shep- herd, what punishment dost thou expect I shall in- flict on thee?” “ I cannot answer thee,” returned the Shepherd, “ till thou hast informed me of what crime I am accused.” “ Of treachery, the basest trea- chery,” said the Nobleman. e< Sir,” said the Shep- herd, ff thougm’es/ me authority over thy servants.” — * c *2 6 “ And thou didst use it/* retorted the Nobleman, “ to compel them to desert me.” “ I used no compul- sion,” returned the Shepherd ; “ thy Steward readily consented to leave thee, and persuaded the rest to do so.” Master,” exclaimed the Ste^ ward, c - when I hesitated to obey him, he spoke to me in confidence, and told me if I did wish thee well, I should immediately depart into a distant country, where grew a tree, the leaves of which are powerful specifics in a case like thine 5 that I must take with me the whole of thy retinue, for that, as the country was inhabited by savages, I should require their protection to insure my success. He then gave me a map, that was to direct my course ; and promising that on my return, which he said would take place at the end of some months, I should be rewarded with the sight of thy returning health and strength. I agreed to set out immediately, receiv- ing from him repeated promises, that he would in the mean time protect and guard you with the utmost care. Before I departed he placed in my hands a small packet which he said would be of use to me, but which I was not to open till I arrived in the country. At the end of a tedious voyage of three months, we landed on the shore he had described, and began to search for this health-bestowing tree. After the most diligent search, however, being un- able to discern it, I recollected my packet. I opened it, and found it to contain only an order for our immediate return. Concluding, by this, the whole scheme to have been a mere contrivance to send us out of the way, we now bitterly repented, having been persuaded to leave you, and determined with all speed to re- turn/’ “ Allow me,” (said the Shepherd, address- *23 ing himself to the Nobleman,) “ to speak. Sir,” said he, “ thou earnest to me a wretched miserable being, worn with infirmity and disease, possessing immense riches, but dead to enjoyment, either of mind or body ; I beheld, I pitied, and resolved to spare no pains in order to relieve thee. I saw that thine was no common case ; and that the simple remedies I possest, would be to thee of no avail. I saw that it would be necessary to deprive thee of thy wealth and thy attendants, before I could hope to produce the desired effects. For this purpose, I buried thy riches, and devised a scheme, which should employ thy followeis for the- time, which I hoped would be sufficient for thy cure to be per- formed in, promising them at their return the sight of thy recovery. My plan was a desperate one, but I determined to pursue it with vigour; I have *29 patiently submitted to all the undeserved abuse thy anger prompted. Thou hast dwelt in my cot- tage, fed at my board, slept on my couch, and shared the best of every thing I had. Though seem- ing to take no heed of thee, thou hast been my constant care, by night and by day. With delight have I observed thee promoting the execution of my design, by labouring for the recovery of thy treasure, and carefully have I guarded that which thou didst suppose concealed from all but thyself. At length my labours being crowned with success, beholding the promise I had made to thee faithfully fulfilled, having restored health to thy body, and vigour to thy mind j and, having taught thee to know the de- lights of benevolence, and the true value of riches $ I behold with satisfaction the arrival of thy followers, and anticipate with pleasure thy joyful return to the *30 country thou so long hast quitted. Such has been my conduct; my punishment I leave to your deci- sion.”