CHAP. I.

RICHARD the Grandfather of our Hero, was ennobled by James the Firſt. He married a lovely Girl of the ancient Family of the Goodalls in the County of Surry, and, at Seven Years Diſ⯑tance had two Sons, Richard and Henry; [32]but dying early, in the Reign of Charles the Firſt, he bequeathed £12000 to his youngeſt, and near £20000 annual In⯑come to his eldeſt Son; not in any perſo⯑nal Preference to his Brother, but as one who was to ſupport the Name and Ho⯑nours of the Family. He appointed his Brother in Law Executor and Guardian, who, educating the Children agreeable to their different Fortunes and Proſpects in Life, in about Seven Years after the Death of their Father, ſent Richard with a Tutor to take the Tour of Europe, and bound Henry Apprentice to a conſiderable London Merchant.

During the Travels of the One and the Apprenticeſhip of the Other, the Troubles happened, and Cromwell aſſum'd the Re⯑gency; before the Fortune of the More⯑lands could be forfeited or endangered, by ſiding with the Crown or the Common⯑wealth.

Richard return'd to England a ſhort time before the Reſtoration; and being too gay and too diſſolute for the Plodding and Hy⯑pocricy of Cromwell and his Fanaticks, he withdrew to the Manſion Houſe of his Forefathers.

On his Landing he had inquired for his Brother Henry; but hearing that he was [33]lately married, and wholely abſorbed in Matters of Merchandiſe, as he had the ut⯑moſt Contempt for all Cits and Traders, he took no further Notice of him.

In the Country, he amuſed himſelf with his Bottle, Hounds, Hawks, Race Horſes, &c. and in debauching the Perſons of the neighbouring Wenches, and corrupting the Morals of the Neighbouring Squires. But, on the Reſtoration of his Majeſty, of pleaſurable Memory, he haſtened to Court, where he rolled away and ſhone as in his native Sphere. He was always of the Party of the King, Rocheſter, &c. where Virtue was laughed out of Countenance, and where all Manner of Diſſoluteneſs became amiable and recommendable by the Burſts of Merriment and Zeſt of Wit. But toward the latter End of this droll Reign, Earl Richard, being advanced in Age, and being ſtill older in Conſtitution than Years, began to think of providing an Heir to his Eſtate; and, as he had ta⯑ken vaſt Pains to impair it, he married a Citizen's Daughter who wanted a Title, and with her got a Portion of one hundred thouſand Pounds, which was equally want⯑ing on his Part.

With his Lady he, again, retreated to the Country, where, in leſs than a Year, [34]ſhe made him the exulting Father of a fine Boy; whom he called Richard.

Richard, ſpeedily, became the ſole Cen⯑tre of all his Mother's Solicitudes and Af⯑fections. And though, within the Space of the two ſucceeding Years, ſhe was deliver⯑ed of a ſecond Boy, yet, as his infant Aſ⯑pect was leſs promiſing and more unform⯑ed than his Brother's, ſhe ſent him forth to be nurſed by the robuſt Wife of a neighbouring Farmer, where, for the Space of upward of four Years, he was honoured with no Token from Father or Mother, ſave ſome caſual Meſſages, to know from time to time if the Child was in Health.

This Boy was called Henry, after his Uncle by the Father's Side. The Earl had lately ſent, to London, to make Enquiry after his Brother, but could learn no Manner of Tidings concerning him.

Mean while, the Education of the two Children was extremely contraſted. Ri⯑chard, who was already entitled my little Lord, was not permitted to breathe the Rudeneſs of the Wind. On his lighteſt Indiſpoſition the whole Houſe was in Alarms; his Paſſions had full Scope in all their infant Irregularities; his Genius was put into a Hot Bed, by the Warmth of [35]Applauſes given to every Flight of his opening Fancy; and the whole Family con⯑ſpired, from the Higheſt to the Loweſt, to the Ruin of promiſing Talents and a be⯑nevolent Heart.

Young Harry, on the other Hand, had every Member as well as Feature expoſed to all Weathers, would run about, Mo⯑ther-naked for near an Hour, in a froſty Morning; was neither phyſicked into De⯑licacy, nor flattered into Pride; ſcarce felt the Convenience, and, much leſs under⯑ſtood the Vanity of Clothing; and was daily occupied, in playing and wreſtling with the Pigs and two mungril Spaniels on the Dunghil; or in kiſſing, ſcratching, or boxing with the Children of the Village.

When Harry had paſſed his fifth Year, his Father, on a feſtival Day, humbly pro⯑poſed to ſend for him to his Nurſes, in or⯑der to obſerve how the Boy might turn out, and my Lady, in a Fit of good Humour, aſſented. Nurſe, accordingly, deck'd him out in his holiday Petticoats, and walked with our Hero to the great Houſe, as they called it.

A brilliant Concourſe of the neighbour⯑ing Gentry were met in a vaſt Parlour, [36]that appeared to be executed after the Model of Weſtminſter Hall.

There was Sir Chriſtopher Cloudy, who knew much but ſaid nothing; with his very converſable Lady, who ſcarce knew by halves, but ſpoke by wholeſale. In the ſame Range was Sir Standiſh Stately, who in all Companies held the firſt Place, in his own Eſteem. Next to him ſat Lady Childiſh; it was at leaſt thirty Years ſince thoſe Follies might have become her which appeared ſo very ridiculous at the Age of fifty-five. By her Side were the two Stiltons, a blind Man would ſwear that the One was a Clown, and the Other a Gentleman, by the Tones of their Voices. Next to theſe were two Pair of very ill mated Turtles; Mr. Gentle, who ſacrificed his fine Senſe and affluent Fortune to the Vanity and bad Temper of a ſilly and tur⯑bulent Wife; and Squire Sulky, a brutal Fool, who tyranized over the moſt ſenſi⯑ble and moſt amiable of her Sex.

On the oppoſite Side was Lord Prim, who evidently labour'd hard to be eaſy in Converſation; and next to him was Lord Flippant who ſpoke Nonſenſe with great fa⯑cility. By his Side ſat the fair but de⯑jected Miſs Willow, ſhe had lately diſco⯑vered what a Misfortune it was to be born to Wit, Beauty, and Affluence, the three [37]capital Qualifications that lead the Sex to Calamity. Next to her was Colonel Jolly, with a Heart ever tuned to Merriment and Lungs to Laughter; had he known how to time his Fits, the Laugh might have grown catching. Below him was ſeated Mrs. Mirror a Widow Lady, induſtriouſly ac⯑compliſhed in the Faults of People of Faſhion. And below her ſat the beloved and reſpected Mr. Meekly, who always ſought to hide behind the Merits of the Company. Next to him was Major Settle, no one ſpoke with more Importance on things of no Signification. And beſide him ſat Miſs Lovely, who looked Sentiment, and, while ſhe was ſilent, inſpired others with Senſe and Virtue.

Theſe were the principal Characters. The Reſt could not be ſaid to be of any Character at all. The Cloth had been lately removed, and a Hoſt of Glaſſes and Decanters glow'd on the Table, when in comes young Harry eſcorted by his Nurſe.

All the Eyes of the Company were, in⯑ſtantly, drawn upon him, but he advanc⯑ed, with a vacant and unobſerving Phi⯑ſiognimy, and thought no higher of the Aſſembly than as of ſo many Peaſants at a Country Wake.

[38] Dicky, my Dear, ſays my Lady, go and welcome your Brother, whereat Dick went up, took Harry by the Hand, and kiſſed him with much Affection. Harry there⯑upon having eyed his Brother, I don't know You, ſaid he, bluntly, but, at the ſame time held up his little Mouth to kiſs him again.

Dick, ſays my Lady, put your laced Hat upon Harry, till we ſee how it becomes him, which he immediately did; but Harry, feeling an unuſual Incumbrance on his Head, took off the Hat, and having for ſome time looked contemptuouſly at it, he caſt it from him with a ſudden and agile Jerk, as he uſed to caſt flat Stones, in order to make Ducks and Drakes in the Mill Pond. The Hat took the Glaſl⯑es and Decanters in full Carrier, ſmaſh go the Glaſſes, abroad pours the Wine on circling Laces, Dreſden Aprons, ſilver'd Silks, and rich Brocades; female Screams fill the Parlour, the Rout is equal to the Uproar, and it was long ere moſt of them could be compoſed to their Places.

In the mean while, Harry took no kind of Intereſt in their Outcries or Diſtreſſes, but ſpying a large Spaniſh Pointer that, juſt then came from under the Table, he ſprung at him like Lightning, ſeized him [39]by the Collar, and vaulted on his Back with inconceivable Agility. The Dog, wholly diſconcerted by ſo unacuſtomed a Burden, capered and plunged about in a violent Manner, but Harry was a better Horſeman than to be ſo eaſily diſmounted; whereon the Dog grew outragious, and ruſhing into a Group of little Miſſes and Maſters, the Children of the Viſitants, he overthrew them like Ninepins; thence proceeding, with equal Rapidity, between the Legs of Mrs. Dowdy, a very fat and el⯑derly Lady, ſhe inſtantly fell backward with a violent Shriek, and, in her Fall, unfortunately overthrew Frank the Fox⯑hunter, who overthrew Andrew the An⯑gler, who overthrew Bob the Beau, who cloſed the Cataſtrophe.

Our Hero, mean Time, was happily diſmounted by the intercepting Petticoats, and fairly laid, without Damage, in the fallen Lady's Lap. From thence he aroſe at his Leiſure, and ſtrolled about the Room, with as unconcerned an Aſpect as if nothing had happen'd amiſs, and as tho' he had neither Act nor Part in this fright⯑ful Diſcomfiture.

When Matters were once more, in ſome Meaſure ſet to Rights, my Heavens! ex⯑claimed my Lady, I ſhall faint, the Boy is poſitively an Ideot, he has no Appre⯑henſion [40]Conception of Perſons or Things. Come hither, Sirrah, ſhe cried with an an⯑gry Tone; but, inſtead of complying, Harry caſt on her a Look of Reſentment and ſidled over toward his Nurſe. Dicky, my Dear, ſaid my Lady, go and pretend to beat his Foſter Mother, that we may try if the Child has any kind of Ideas. Here, her Ladyſhip, by ill Fortune, was as much unadviſed, as her Favourite was unhappy in the Execution of her Orders, for while Dick ſtruck at the Nurſe with a counterfeited Paſſion, Harry, inſtantly, reddened, and gave his Brother ſuch a ſudden. Paſh in the Face, that his Noſe and Mouth guſhed out with Blood. Dick ſet up the Roar, my Lady ſcreamed out, and riſing and running at Harry with all imaginable Fury, ſhe caught him up, as a Falcon would truſs a Robin; turned over his Petticoats, and chaſtiſed him with all the Violence of which her Delicacy was capable. Our Hero, however, neither ut⯑tered Cry or Tear, but, being ſet down, he turned round on the Company an Eye of Indignation, then cried, come away, Mammy, and iſſued from the Aſſembly.

Harry had ſcarce made his Exit when his Mother exclaimed after him, Ay, ay, take him away Nurſe, take him away, the little Devil, and never let me ſee his Face more.

[41] I ſhall not detain my Readers with a tedious Detail of the many and differing Opinions that the remaining Company ex⯑preſſed with regard to our Hero; let it ſuffice to obſerve that they generally a⯑greed that, tho' the Boy did not appear to be endowed by Nature, with a ſingle Faculty of the Animal rationale, he might, nevertheleſs, be rendered capable in Time, of many Places of very honourable and lucrative Employment.

Mr. Meekly, alone, though ſo gentle and complying at other Times, now pre⯑ſumed to diſſent from the Senſe of the Com⯑pany. I rather hold, ſaid he, that this In⯑fant is the Promiſe of the greateſt Philoſo⯑pher and Hero that our Age is likely to produce. By refuſing his Reſpect to thoſe ſuperficial Diſtinctions, which Faſhion has inadequately ſubſtituted as Expreſſions of human Greatneſs, he approves himſelf the Philoſopher; and, by the Quickneſs of his Feelings for injured Innocence, and his Boldneſs in defending thoſe to whom his Heart is attached, he approves himſelf at once the Hero and the Man.

Harry had now remained ſix Months more with his Nurſe, engaged in his cuſ⯑tomary Exerciſes and Occupations. He was already, by his Courage, his Strength, [42]and Action, become tremendous to all the little Boys of the Village, they had all Things to fear from his ſudden Reſent⯑ment, but, nothing from his Memory or Recollection of a Wrong, and this alſo was imputed to his native Stupidity. The two mungril Dogs were his inſe⯑parable Play-fellows, they were all tied together in the ſtricteſt Bonds of Friend⯑ſhip, and careſſed each other with the moſt warm and unfeigned Affection.

On a Summer's Day as he ſtrolled forth with theſe his faithful Attendants, and rambled into a Park whoſe Gate he ſaw open, he perceived in a little Copſe that bordered on a Fiſhpond, a Stranger ſeated on a Bench of Turf. Harry drew near with his uſual Intrepidity, till he ob⯑ſerved that the Man had a reverend Beard that ſpread over his Breaſt, that he held ſomething in his Hand on which he gazed with a fixed Attention, and that the Tears rolled down his Cheeks, without ceaſing, and in Silence, except the half ſuppreſs'd Sobs that often broke from his Boſom. Harry ſtood, awhile, immoveable, his lit⯑tle Heart was affected, he approached the old Man with a gentle Reverence, and looking up in his Face, and ſeating him⯑ſelf by his Side, the Muſcles of his Infant Aſpect began to relax, and he wept and ſob'd as faſt as his Companion.

[43] Friend.—Pray, who is this ancient Stranger? I have a great Curioſity to know. Is he neceſſary to your Story, is he to have any future Connection with the Child? How came he by the long Beard? Beards were not the Faſhion in thoſe Days. There muſt be ſome extraordinary Reaſon for it, if there is any Reaſon at all. Is his Story long, do you begin up⯑on it directly? It is a great fault in Au⯑thors to hold their Readers in Suſpence; our Curioſity grows languid; twenty to one it is vaniſhed, before you begin to give it any Kind of Satisfaction. Who in the World is he, what Buſineſs has he here?

Author.—Sir, you ſee he is a Stranger; I have mentioned him as ſuch. If he chuſes to continue ſo, for ſome Time lon⯑ger, I know of no right that I have to diſcover him. Perhaps I am the only Perſon breathing whom he has entruſted with the Secret of his Affairs; I am upon Honour not to betray him; you muſt par⯑don me—pray proceeed.

CHAP. II.

THE old Gentleman turned and gaz⯑ed at the Child, as on ſome ſudden Apparition. His Tears ſtopped. He re⯑turned the Picture, which he held, into his Boſom. And, lifting up his Eyes, Great Power, he cried, is this the One, of all the World, who has any Feelings for me? Is it this Babe, this Suckling, whom thou haſt ſent, to be a Partaker in my Grieſs, and the Sharer of my Afflicti⯑ons? Welcome, then, my little Friend, ſaid he, tenderly turning and careſſing the Child, I will live the longer for thy Sake, and endeavour to repay the Tears thou haſt ſhed in my Behalf.

The Language of true Love is under⯑ſtood by all Creatures, and was that of which Harry had, almoſt, the only Per⯑ception. He returned his Friend's Careſſes with unaffected Ardour, and no Two could be more highly gratified in the En⯑dearments of each Other.

What is your Name, my Dear? ſaid the old Gentleman. Harry Clinton, Sir. Harry Clinton! repeated the Old Man, and ſtarted. And pray who is your Fa⯑ther? the Child, then looking tenderly at [45]him, replied; I'll have you for a Father, if you pleaſe, Sir. The Stranger, then caught him up in his Arms, and paſſio⯑nately exclaim'd, You ſhall, you ſhall, my Darling, for the tendereſt of Fathers, ne⯑ver to be torn aſunder, till Death ſhall part us.

Then aſking him where he lived, and Harry pointing to the Town before them, they both got up and went towards it. Our Hero was now again all Glee, all Action; he ſprung from and to his Friend, and play'd and gambol'd about him, like a young Spaniel in a Morning, juſt loos'd from his Chain, and admitted to accompany his Maſter to the Field. As his two Dogs friſked about him, he would now mount upon One, then bound upon t'other, and each pranced and pa⯑raded under him as delighted with the Burden. The old Gentleman beheld all with a Pleaſure that had long been a Stran⯑ger to his Breaſt, and ſhared in the Joys of his young Aſſociate.

Being arrived near the Farm Houſe, Nurſe, who ſtood at the Door, ſaw them approaching, and cried out, Gaffer, Gaffer, here comes our Harry with the dumb Gentleman. When they were come up. Good People, ſays the Stranger, is this your Child! no, no, Sir, anſwered the [46]Nurſe, we are but his Foſterers. And, pray, who is his Father? He is ſecond Son, Sir, to the Earl of Moreland. The Earl of Moreland! you amaze me greatly, is this all the Notice and Care they take of ſuch a Treaſure? Sir, replied the Nurſe, they never ſent for him but once; they don't mind him, they take him for a Fool. For a Fool? cried he, and ſhook his Head in Token of Diſſent. I am ſure he has the wiſeſt of all human Hearts. I wiſh it may beſo, Sir, ſaid the Nurſe, but he behav⯑ed very ſadly, ſome Time ago, at the great Houſe. She then made a Recital of all our young Hero's Adventures in the Manſion-Parlour; whereat the old Gen⯑tleman inwardly chuckled, and, for the firſt Time, of ſome Years, permitted his Features to relax into a Smile of Chear⯑fulneſs.

Nurſe, ſaid he, every Thing that I hear and ſee of this Child ſerves the more to endear and bind me to him. Pray, be ſo good as to accompany us to my Houſe, we will try to equip him better both as to Perſon and Underſtanding.

As this Stranger's Seat made Part of the Village, they were ſoon there. He firſt whiſpered his old Domeſtic, who, then, looked upon the Child with Surpriſe and Pleaſure. The Footman was next ſent to [47]bring the Taylor, and ſome light Stuffs from the Town Shop. Matters being thus diſ⯑patched, with reſpect to our Hero's firſt Coat and Britches, Nurſe was kept to Dinner; and after this Gentleman had entertained his young Gueſt with a Variety of little Tricks, childiſh Plays, and other-Fooleries; toward Evening, he diſmiſſed him and his Nurſe, with a Requeſt that ſhe would ſend him every Day, and a Promiſe that he ſhould be returned every Night if ſhe deſired it.

Harry, being thus furniſhed with the external Tokens of a Man Child, having been born into the World, became an in⯑ſeparable Friend and Play-fellow to his Patron. At Times of Relaxation, the old Gentleman, with the moſt winning and inſinuating Addreſs, endeavoured to open his Mind and cultivate his Morals, by a thouſand little Fables, ſuch as of bold Sparrows, and naughty Kids, that were carried away by the Hawk, or devoured by the Wolf, and of good Robbins, and innocent Lambs, that the very Hawks and Wolves, themſelves, were fond of. For he never propoſed any Encouragement or Re⯑ward to the Heart of our Hero, ſave that of the Love and Approbation of Others. At the Times of ſuch Inſtruction, Harry, who knew no other Dependence, and beheld his Patron as his Father and as his God, would hang upon his Knee, look up to his [48]Face, delighted, and greedily imbibe the Sweetneſs of thoſe Leſſons whoſe Impreſſi⯑ons neither Age, nor any Occurrence, could ever after eraſe; ſo prevalent are the Dictates of Lips that are beloved.

At other Times, the Stranger would enter, with our Hero, into all his little Frolicks and childiſh Vagaries, would run and wreſtle with him, ride the Rods, roll down the Slope, and never felt ſuch ſweet Senſations and inward Delight, as when he was engaged in ſuch Recreations.

There was a Cock at Harry's Nurſes, the Lord of the Dunghill, between whom and our Hero a very particular Intimacy and Friendſhip had been contracted. Harry's Hand was his daily Caterer; and Dick, for the Cock was ſo called, would hop into the Child's Lap and pick his Cloaths, and rub his Feathers againſt him, and court Harry to tickle and ſtroak and play with him.

Upon a Shrove-Tueſday, while Harry was on his Road, from his Patron's, in⯑tending a ſhort Viſit to his Nurſe and Foſ⯑ter Father, a Lad came to their Door and offer'd Gaffer a double Price for Dick; the Bargain was quickly made, the Lad bore off his Prize in Triumph, and Gaffer with⯑drew to the manuring of a back Field. Juſt at that Criſis Harry came up, and [49]enquired of the Maid for his Daddy and Mammy, but was anſwered that neither of them was within. He then aſked after his favourite Cock, but was told that his Daddy had, that Minute, ſold him to yonder Man who was almoſt out of Sight.

Away ſprung our Hero, like an Arrow from a Bow, and held the Man in View till he ſaw him enter a great Croud, at the upper end of the Street. Up he comes, at laſt, quite out of Breath, and making way through the Aſſembly, per⯑ceived his Cock, at ſome Diſtance, tied to a ſhort Stake, and a Lad preparing to throw at him with a Stick. Forward he ruſhed, again, and ſtopped reſolutely be⯑fore his Bird, to ward the Blow with his own Perſon, at the Inſtant that the Stick had taken its Flight, and that all the Peo⯑ple cry'd out, hold! hold! One End of the Stick took Harry in the left Shoulder, and bruiſed him ſorely; but, not regarding that, he inſtantly ſtooped, delivered his captive Favourite, whipt him under his Arm, caught up the Stick, flouriſh'd it, as in Defiance of all Opponents, made Homeward thro' the Croud, and was fol⯑lowed by the Acclamations of the whole Aſſemby.

The old Gentleman was ſtanding before his Court Door when his Favourite arriv⯑ed, [50]all in a Sweat; what's the Matter, my Dear, ſays he, what made you put your⯑ſelf into ſuch a Heat? what Cock is that you have under your Arm? In anſwer to theſe ſeveral Queſtions Harry ingenuouſly confeſſed the whole Affair. And, when his Patron with ſome Warmth, cried, why, my Love, did you venture your Life for a ſilly Cock? why did I? repeated the Child, why Sir, becauſe he loved me. The Stranger, then, ſtepping back and gazing upon him with Eyes of tender Admirati⯑on; may Heaven for ever bleſs thee, my little Angel, he exclaimed, and continue to utter from thy Lips the Sentiments that it Inſpires. Then, catching him up in his Arms, he bathed him with his Tears, and almoſt, ſtifled him with his Careſſes.

In a few Days, our Hero was again reſtored, by frequent Fomentations, to the Uſe of his Arm; and his Dada, as he called him, and he returned to their old Recreations.

As Harry's Ideas began to open and expand, he grew ambitious of greater Power and Knowledge. He wiſhed for the Strength of that Bull, and for the Swiftneſs of yonder Horſe. And, on the Cloſe of a ſolemn and ſerene Summer's Evening, while he and his Patron walked [51]in the Garden, he wiſhed for Wings that he might fly up and ſee what the Sky, and the Stars, and the riſing Moon were made of.

In order to reform this Inordinacy of his Deſires, his Patron addreſſed him in the following Manner.

I will tell you a Story, my Harry. On the other Side of yonder Hill there runs a mighty clear River, and in that River, on a Time, there lived three ſilver Trouts, the prettieſt little Fiſhes that any one ever ſaw. Now God took a great liking and love to theſe pretty ſilver Trouts, and he let them want for nothing that ſuch little Fiſhes could have occaſion for. But two of them grew ſad and diſcontented; and the One wiſhed for this Thing, and the Other wiſhed for that Thing, and neither of them could take Pleaſure in any Thing that they had, becauſe they were always longing for ſomething that they had not.

Now, Harry, you muſt know that all this was very naughty in thoſe two little Trouts; for God had been exceedingly kind to them; he had given them every Thing that was fitteſt for them; and he never grudged them any Thing that was for their Good; but inſtead of thanking him for all his Care and his Kindneſs, they [52]blamed him, in their own Minds, for re⯑fuſing them any Thing that their ſilly Fancies were ſet upon. In ſhort there was no End of their wiſhing, and longing, and quarrelling, in their Hearts, for this Thing and t'other.

At laſt, God was ſo provoked, that he reſolved to puniſh their Naughtineſs by granting their Deſires, and to make the Folly of thoſe two little ſtubborn Trouts an Example to all the fooliſh Fiſh in the whole World.

For this Purpoſe, he called out to the three little ſilver Trouts, and told them they ſhould have whatever they wiſhed for.

Now, the Eldeſt of theſe Trouts was a very proud little Fiſh, and wanted, for⯑ſooth, to be ſet up above all other little Fiſhes. May it pleaſe your Greatneſs, ſays he, I muſt be free to tell you that I do not, at all, like the Way in which you have placed me. Here you have put me into a poor, narrow, and troubleſome Ri⯑ver, where I am ſtraitened on the right Side, and ſtraitened on the left Side and can neither get down into the Ground, nor up into the Air, nor go where, nor do any one Thing I have a mind to. I am not ſo blind, for all, but that I can ſee, well [53]enough, how mighty kind and bountiful you can be to Others. There are your favourite little Birds, who fly this Way and that Way, and mount up to the very Heavens; and do whatever they pleaſe, and have every Thing at Command, be⯑cauſe you have given them Wings. Give me ſuch Wings, alſo, as you have given to them, and then I will have ſomething for which I ought to thank you.

No ſooner aſk than have. He felt the Wings he wiſhed for growing from either Side, and, in a Minute, he ſpread them abroad, and roſe out of the Water. At firſt he felt a wonderful Pleaſure in finding himſelf able to fly. He mounted high in⯑to the Air, above the very Clouds, and he looked down with Scorn on all the Fiſhes in the World.

He now reſolved to travel, and to take his Diverſion far and wide. He flew over Rivers, and Meadows, and Woods, and Mountains; till, growing faint with Hun⯑ger and Thirſt, his Wings began to fail him, and he thought it beſt to come down to get ſome Refreſhment.

The little Fool did not conſider that he was now in a ſtrange Country, and many a Mile from the ſweet River, where he was born and bred, and had received all [54]his Nouriſhment. So, when he came down, he happened to alight among dry Sands and Rocks, where there was not a Bit to eat, nor a Drop of Water to drink; and ſo there he lay faint and tired, and unable to riſe, gaſping, and fluttering, and beating himſelf againſt the Stones, till at length he died in great Pain and Miſery.

Now, the ſecond ſilver Trout, though he was not ſo high minded as the firſt little proud Trout, yet he did not want for Conceit enough, and he was moreover a narrow hearted and very ſelfiſh little Trout, and, provided he himſelf was ſnug and ſafe, he did not care what became of all the Fiſhes in the World. So he ſays to God:

May it pleaſe your Honour. I don't wiſh, not I, for Wings to fly out of the Water, and to ramble into ſtrange Places, where I don't know what may become of me. I lived contented and happy enough, till the other Day, when, as I got under a cool Bank from the Heat of the Sun, I ſaw a great Rope coming down into the Water, and it faſtened itſelf, I don't know how, about the Gills of a little Fiſh that was baſking beſide me, and he was lifted out of the Water, ſtruggling and working in great Pain, till he was carried, I know not where, quite out of my Sight. So, I [55]thought in my own Mind, that this Evil, ſome Time or other, may happen to my⯑ſelf, and my Heart trembled within me, and I have been very ſad and diſcontented ever ſince. Now, all I deſire of you, is, that you would tell me the Meaning of this, and of all the other Dangers to which you have ſubjected us poor little mortal Fiſhes; for then I ſhall have Senſe enough to take care of my own Safety, and I am very well able to provide for my own Liv⯑ing, I warrant you.

No ſooner ſaid than done. God imme⯑diately opened his Underſtanding; and he knew the Nature and Meaning of Snares, Nets, Hooks, and Lines, and of all the Dangers to which ſuch little Trouts could be liable.

At firſt he greatly rejoiced in this his Knowledge; and he ſaid to himſelf, now ſurely I ſhall be the happieſt of all Fiſhes; for, as I underſtand and am forewarned of every Miſchief that can come near me, I'm ſure I love myſelf too well not to keep out of Harm's way.

From this Time forward, he took Care not to go into any deep Holes, for fear that a Pike, or ſome other huge Fiſh might be there, who would make nothing of ſwallowing him up at one Gulph. He [56]alſo kept away from the ſhallow Places, eſpecially in hot Weather, left the Sun ſhould dry them up and not leave him Water enough to ſwim in. When he ſaw the Shadow of a Cloud coming and mov⯑ing upon the River, a ha! ſaid he to him⯑ſelf, here are the Fiſhermen with their Nets, and immediately he got on one Side and ſkulked under the Banks, where he kept trembling in his Skin, till the Cloud was paſt. Again when he ſaw a Fly ſkimming on the Water, or a Worm coming down the Stream, he did not dare to bite, however hungry he might be; no no, ſaid he to them, my honeſt Friends, I am not ſuch a Fool as that comes to neither; go your ways and tempt thoſe who know no better, who are not aware that you may ſerve as Baits to ſome trea⯑cherous Hook, that lies hid for the De⯑ſtruction of thoſe ignorant and ſilly Trouts that are not on their Guard.

Thus, this over careful Trout kept himſelf in continual Frights and Alarms, and could neither eat, nor drink, nor ſleep in Peace, leſt ſome Miſchief ſhould be at Hand, or that he might be taken napping. He daily grew poorer, and poorer, and ſadder, and ſadder, for he pined away with Hunger, and ſigh'd him⯑ſelf to Skin and Bone; till, waſted almoſt to nothing with Care and Melancholy, he [57]at laſt died, for fear of dying, the moſt miſerable of all Deaths.

Now, when God came to the youngeſt ſilver Trout, and aſked him what he wiſhed for. Alas (ſaid this darling little Trout) you know, may it pleaſe your Worſhip, that I am but a very fooliſh and good for nothing little Fiſh; and I don't know, not I, what is good for me or what is bad for me; and I wonder how I came to be worth bringing into the World, or what you could ſee in me to take any thought about me. But, if I muſt wiſh for ſomething, it is that you would do with me whatſoever you think beſt; and that I ſhould be pleaſed to live, or die, even juſt as you would have me.

Now, as ſoon as this precious Trout made this Prayer in his good and his humble little Heart, God took ſuch a Liking and a Love to him, as the like was never known. And God found it in his own Heart, that he could not but take great Care of this ſweet little Trout, who had truſted himſelf ſo wholely to his Love and good Pleaſure, and God went where⯑ſoever he went, and was always with him and about him, and was to him as a Fa⯑ther and Friend and Companion; and he put Contentment into his Mind and Joy [58]into his Heart; and ſo this little Trout ſlept always in Peace, and wakened in Gladneſs; and whether he was full or hungry, or whatever happened to him, he was ſtill pleas'd and thankful; and he was the happieſt of all Fiſhes that ever ſwam in any Water.

Harry at the Cloſe of this Fable, looked down and grew thoughtful, and his Pa⯑tron left him to himſelf to ruminate on what he had heard Now, Harry had often heard talk of God, and had ſome general though confuſed Notions of his Power.

The next Day, he requeſted his Patron to repeat the Story of the Three little ſil⯑ver Trouts. When he had ended, Dada, ſays Harry, I believe I begin to gueſs a little at what you mean. You wouldn't have me wiſh for any Thing, but leave every Thing to God; and, if I thought that God loved me, half as well as you love, me, I would leave every Thing to him⯑ſelf, like the good little Trout. He does, my Harry, he loves you a thouſand Times better than I love you, nay a thouſand Times better than you love yourſelf. God is all Love; it is he who made every Thing, and he loves every Thing that he has made. Ay, but Dada, I can't, for the Heart of me help pitying the two poor [59]little naughty Trouts. If God loves every Thing, why did he make any Thing to dye? You begin to think too deeply, Harry; we will ſpeak more of theſe Matters ano⯑ther Time. For the preſent, let it ſuffice to know that, as he can kill, he can alſo make alive, again, at his own Pleaſure.

Harry had now remained about twelve Months with his Patron, when it was in⯑timated to the Earl and his Lady that the dumb Man had taken a Fancy to their Child, and, that he was almoſt conſtantly, reſident at his Houſe. Alarmed at this News, and apprehending that this Man might be ſome Impoſtor or Kidnapper, they, once more, ſent Orders to the Nurſe to bring the Boy home.

Nurſe run in a Hurry to the Stranger's, and, having informed him of the Neceſſity ſhe was under to take away the Child, many mutual Tears were ſhed at Parting; but Harry was the ſooner pacified when Nurſe told him that it was but for a ſhort Viſit, as before.

When they came to the Caſtle, there was no Company in the Parlour, but the Earl and his Lady, with Lord Richard and ſome other Maſters of Quality, about his Age and Size. Harry, however looked about with a Brow of Diſguſt; and, when [60]my Lady deſired him to come and kiſs her, maybe you'll whip me, he anſwer'd ſullenly; No, ſhe replied, if you don't ſtrike your Brother Dicky any more. I won't beat him, ſays Harry, if he won't beat Mammy. Come then and kiſs me, my Dear, ſaid my Lady, whereon Harry advanced with a ſlow Caution, and held up his little Mouth to receive her Salute. He was then kiſs'd by his Father, his Brother, and the little Maſters, and all Things promiſed future Reconcilement and Amity.

A Number of glittering Toys were then preſented to Harry on all Sides; he receiv⯑ed them, indeed, in good Part, but laid them all aſide again as Things of whoſe Uſe he yet was not wiſe enough to be ap⯑prehenſive.

Is it not too early for your Hero to ſhew a Contempt of Toys?

My Lady, as you will ſee, im⯑puted it to his Folly, not to his Philoſophy.

But Children have a natural Fond⯑neſs for fine Things.

How ſo, is there a natural Value in them?

No. But—

Education, indeed, has made the Fondneſs next to natural. The Coral and Bells, teach Infants, on the Breaſt, to be delighted with Sound and Glitter. Has the Child of an Inhabitant of Monomotapa a natural Fondneſs for Garbage?

I think not.

But, when he is inſtructed to prize them, and ſees that it is the Faſhion to be adorned with ſuch Things, he prefers them to the Gliſter of Gold and Pearl. Tell me, was it the Folly, or Philoſophy, of the Cock in the Fable, that ſpurned the Diamond and wiſhed for the Barley Corn?

The Moral ſays it was his Folly, that did not know how to make a right Eſtimate of Things.

A wiſer Moral would ſay it was his Philoſophy, that did know how to make a right Eſtimate of Things; for, of what Uſe could the Diamond be to the Cock? In the Age of Acorns, antecedent to Ceres and the royal Ploughman Tripto⯑lemus, a ſingle Barley Corn had been of more Value, to Mankind, than all the [62]Diamonds that glowed in the Mines of India.

You ſee, however, that Age, Re⯑flection, and Philoſophy can hardly wean People from their early Fondneſs for Shew.

I ſee, on the contrary, that the old⯑er they grow, and the wiſer they think themſelves, the more they become attach⯑ed to Trifles. What would you think of a ſage Miniſter of State, who ſhould make it the utmoſt Height of his Wiſhes and Ambition to be mounted on a Hobby⯑horſe?

You can't be ſerious, for the Soul of you.

It has been ſeriouſly, and truly, and literally the Fact. For, Haman being aſked, by the greateſt Monarch upon Earth, what ſhould be done moſt deſirable for the Man whom the King delighted to Honour? He anſwered (in the Perſuaſion that he himſelf was the Perſon) Let the royal Apparel be brought and let him be ar⯑rayed therewith, and let him be put upon the Horſe that the King uſeth to ride, and let him be brought through the Street, and have it proclaimed before him, thus ſhall it be done to the Man whom the King delighteth to Ho⯑nour. What ſhall we ſay here? could the [63]ſage and ambitious Haman think of no⯑thing better than what would have ſuited the requeſt of a Child of five Years old? Or was it that the Emperor of Aſia, or this World itſelf, had nothing more valu⯑able to beſtow than a fine Coat and a Hobbyhorſe?

How many Volumes do you expect this Work will contain?

Sir, a Book may be compared to the Life of your Neighbour. If it be good, it cannot laſt too long; if bad, you cannot get rid of it too early.

But, how long, I ſay, do you pro⯑poſe to make your Story?

My good Friend, the Reader may make it as ſhort as he pleaſes.

CHAP. III.

MY Lady piqued thereat, told the Earl that ſhe reſolved, once more to prove the Wits of the Youngſter in Britches; and whiſpering to Dicky, he im⯑mediately went out and took with him his Companions. Soon after, Dick returns without his Shoes, but with a pitiful Face, and cries, Brother Harry honey, I want a Pair of Shoes ſadly, will you give me Your's? Yes, I will, ſaid Harry, and in⯑ſtantly ſtrips and preſents them to him. Then entered another Boy and demanded his Stockings, in the like petitioning man⯑ner; another beg'd his Hat, another his Coat, another his Waiſtcoat, all of which he beſtow'd without Heſitation. But, when the laſt Boy came in and petitioned for his Shirt; no, I won't, ſaid Harry, a little moody, I want a Shirt myſelf. My Lady then exclaimed, upon my Conſcience, there is but the Thickneſs of a bit of Linen be⯑tween this Child and a down right Fool. But my Lord roſe up, took Harry in his Arms, and having tenderly embraced him, God bleſs thee, my Boy, he cried, and make thee an Honour to old England.

Dinner, ſoon after, was ordered up, and Harry permitted his Nurſe to retire peace⯑ably [65]to the Kitchen, during the Interval, as he and all the Maſters were then on Terms of Amity.

My Lady placed Harry, next herſelf, at Table, but no Peer ever payed ſuch a Price at Pontac's, as our diſtreſſed Hero did that Day for his Ordinary. For he muſt ſit up juſt ſo, and hold his Knife and Fork juſt ſo, and cut his Meat, and open his Mouth, and ſwallow his Victuals juſt ſo and ſo and ſo. And then, between every two Words, there was to be ſo many my Lords and my Ladies, and I thank you Sir, and I thank you Madam, and Maſter this and Maſter that, that poor Harry, no longer able to contain himſelf, cried, I wiſh I was with my Mammy in the Kitchen.

After Dinner the Children were ſet to Queſtions and Commands. But here, our Hero was beaten hollow, as he was after⯑ward, at Draw Glove and Shuffle the Slip⯑per. They next came to Hot Cockles, and Harry, being firſt down, had his left Hand well warm'd for near a Quarter of an Hour, till, more by good Luck than any good Policy, he fix'd upon a delicate little Gentleman, the Son and Heir of Lord and Lady Toilet, who lay down, ac⯑cordingly; when Harry, endeavouring to [66]ſum all the Favours he had received in one Payment, gave Maſter ſuch a Whirrick, that his Cries inſtantly ſounded the ne plus ultra to ſuch kind of Diverſions. But Har⯑ry being chidden for his Rudeneſs and ob⯑liged to aſk Pardon, all was ſoon whole again.

Now, throughout theſe ſeveral Amuſe⯑ments, though this Group of little Qua⯑lity, behaved themſelves with great good Manners towards our Hero, yet, as my Lady's Judgment of his Intellects became current thro' the Country, and that all took him to be little removed from a Natural; theſe ſmall Gentry, alſo, held him in the loweſt Contempt, and gave themſelves ſecret Credit for the Decency of their Con⯑duct in his Behalf.

Two or three of them, however, having maliciouſly contrived to ſet him in a ridi⯑culous Light, prevailed upon his Brother to join in the Plot. They, accordingly, propoſed a Play, wherein, Harry was en⯑joined to ſtand in the Centre, for ſo many Minutes, without Motion or Reſentment let his Companions do what they would about him.

Our Hero, conſequently, fixed himſelf to a Poſture and Countenance altogether determined. The Attack inſtantly began. [67]Some grinned, ſome pointed, ſome jeered and flouted at him, ſome twitched him by the Hair, ſome pinched him by the Breech, one tweaked him by the Noſe, and another ſpirted Water full in his Face; but Harry bore all with the Firmneſs and Reſignation of a Stoic Philoſopher; till my Lady, quite impatient, cried out, did you ever ſee the like; ſuch a Stock of a Child, ſuch a Statue? why, he has no kind of Feeling, either of Body or Mind.

While ſhe was pronouncing theſe Words, young Skinker, eldeſt Son to a wealthy 'Squire, a chubbed unlucky Boy, about the Age of Lord Richard, put one Hand within the other and deſired Harry to ſtrike thereon, which he did accordingly; but, feeling unuſual Smart, and fired at the Treachery that he, juſtly, conceived was in the Caſe, Harry gave him ſuch a ſudden Fiſt in the Temple as drove him ſtag⯑gering backward, ſeveral Steps. Skinker, wholly enraged, and conſcious of ſuperior Strength, immediately returned, and with all his Might, gave Harry a Stroke on the Head, which Compliment he returned by a Punch in the Eye as rapid as Lightning. All the Boys ſtood aloof, and amazed at the Combat. My Lady, vehemently cried out to part them. But my Lord roſe and, peremptorily, commanded fair Play. Mean while, young Skinker, wholly deſperate to [68]be foiled by one ſo much his Inferior in Strength and Underſtanding, flew on Har⯑ry like a Fury and faſtened the Nails of both his Hands in his Face, from which Gripe our Hero as quickly diſengaged him⯑ſelf, by darting his Head into the Noſe and Mouth of his Adverſary, who was in⯑ſtantly covered with Blood, though his Paſſion would not permit him to attend to the Pain; for, exerting his laſt Effort, he cloſed in on our little Champion, and de⯑termined, at once, to finiſh the Combat, by lifting and daſhing him againſt the Ground; but Harry finding himſelf going, nimbly put one Foot behind and hit Skinker in the Ham, and, at the ſame time puſh⯑ing forward, with all his Force, prone fell the unfortunate Skinker precipitated by the double Weight of himſelf and his Antago⯑niſt, and his Head rebounded againſt the Floor, while up ſprung Harry, and with a riſing Dunt in the Stomach, put a Period to the Fray.

All diſmay'd, and, wholly diſcomforted, Skinker flowly aroſe, and began to puke and cry moſt piteouſly. His Companions then gathered about him, and, compaſſion⯑ating his Plight, turned an Eye of Indigna⯑tion upon the Victor; all promiſcuouſly exclaimed, O fie, Maſter Harry, I'm quite aſhamed, Maſter Harry, you gave the firſt [69]Blow; it was you that gave the firſt Blow, Maſter Harry; to all which Reproaches Harry, ſurlily, replied, if I gave firſt Blow he gave firſt Hurt.

Come, come, ſaid my Lord, there muſt be ſomething more in this Affair than we are, yet, acquainted with. Come hither Maſter Skinker, tell me the Truth, my Dear, what was it you did to Harry that provoked him to ſtrike you? Indeed, Sir, ſaid Skinker, I did not intend to Hurt him ſo much. When I gave him one Hand to ſtrike, I held a Pin, within ſide in the other, but the Pin run up further than I thought for. Go, go, ſaid my Lord, you deſerve what you have got. You are an ill-hearted Boy, and ſhall not come here to play any more.

My Lady then called Harry, deſired to look at his Hand, and found the Palm co⯑vered with Blood. This ſhe waſhed away, and, having found the Wound, ſhe put a ſmall bit of Black ſticking Silk to the Orifice, and Harry inſtantly held himſelf as ſound a Man as ever.

It was then that, inſtead of exulting or crowing over his Adverſary, he began to relax into Melancholy and Dejection, and ſideling over toward Skinker, and, looking wiſtfully in his Face, if, ſaid Harry, with [70]a trembling Lip, if you will Kiſs and Friends with me, I'll never beat you any more. To this Overture Skinker was, with a ſullen Reluctance, perſuaded by his Com⯑panions. And, from that Moment, the Victor began to gain Ground in the Heart and good Graces both of Father and Mo⯑ther.

Night now approached, the Candles were lighted up, and the Children took a ſhort and ſlight Repaſt. Maſter Dicky then, privately whiſpering to his Mamma, deſired her not to be frighted at what ſhe might ſee, and immediately withdrew. In a ſhort Time he return'd, and gathering all his little Companions into a Group, in the Centre of the Parlour, held them a while in Chat. When, O tremendous! a back Door flew open, and, in glided a moſt terrifying and horrible Apparition; the Body and Limbs, from the Neck down⯑wards, were all wrapt in a winding Sheet; and the Head, tho' Fear could not attend to its Form, appeared wholly illuminated with Flames that glared thro' the Eyes, Mouth and Noſtrils.

At Sight hereof, Maſter Dicky, appear⯑ing the firſt to be frighted, ſcreamed out, and ran behind his Mamma's Chair, as it were for Protection; the Pannick grew [71]inſtantly contagious, and all this Hoſt of little Gentry, who were, thereafter, to form our Senates, and to lead our Armies, ran, ſhrieking and ſhivering, to hide them⯑ſelves in Holes and to tremble in Corners.

Our Hero, alone, ſtood undaunted, tho' concerned; and, like an Aſtronomer who, with equal Dread and Attention, contem⯑plates ſome ſudden Phenomenon in the Heavens, which he apprehends to be ſent as an Enſign or Forerunner to the fall of mighty States, or diſpeopling of Nations, ſo Harry with bent and apprehenſive Brows, beheld and conſidered the approaching Spectre.

He had never heard nor formed any Idea of Ghoſts of Hobgoblins, he there⯑fore ſtood to deliberate what he had to fear from it. It ſtill advanced upon him, nor had he yet budged. When his Bro⯑ther cried out, from behind my Lady's Chair, beat it, Harry, beat it. On the in⯑ſtant, Harry flew back to the Corner, next the Hall, and catching up his Staff, the Trophy of Shrove Tueſday, he return'd upon the Spectre, and, aiming a noble Blow at the illuminated Sconce, he, at once, ſmaſh'd the outward Lantern; drove the Candle, Flame and all, into the Mouth of him who held it; and open'd his upper [72]Lip from the Noſe to the Teeth. Out ſpouted the Blood as from a Spiggot. The Ghoſt clapped all the Hands that he had to his Mouth, and ſlunk away to ſhew to his Friends in the Kitchen, how he had been baffled and mauled by an Infant of ſeven Summers.

Heav'n preſerve us, cried my Lady, we ſhall have nothing but Broils and Bloodſhed in the Houſe while this Child is among us. Indeed, my Dear, replied the Earl, if there was any Thing more than mere Ac⯑cident in this Buſineſs, it was the Fault of your Favourite Dicky, who deſired the Boy to ſtrike.

By this Time, the little Gentry came, all from their lurking Holes, though yet pale and unaſſured. And, whatever Contempt they might have for the Intel⯑lects of Harry, they had, now, a very ſin⯑cere Veneration for his Proweſs.

Bed Time now approaching, and all being again ſettled. Harry, ſays my Lord, you have been a very good Boy, to Day, and have joined with your Companions in all their little Plays. Now, if you have any Plays to ſhew them I am ſure they will have the good Manners to do as you de⯑ſire. What ſay you Harry, have you any Play to ſhew them? Yes, Sir, ſaid Harry, [73]I have a many of them; there's firſt, Leap Frog, and Thruſh a Thruſh. To it, then, Harry, ſays my Lord, and pray, all you little Gentlemen, do you obſerve his Directions.

No ſooner ſaid than done. Harry took his Companions, One by One, and, cauſ⯑ing them to ſtoop, with their Heads to⯑ward the Ground in a long Line, and at certain Diſtances each before t'other, he returned to the Tail, and taking the Ad⯑vantage of a ſhort Run to quicken his Motion, he laid his Hands on the Rump of the Hindmoſt, and vaulting lightly over him, he, with amazing Rapidity, flew a⯑long the whole Line, clearing a Man, at ev'ry Motion, till he alighted before the Foremoſt, and down he popt in the Poſ⯑ture of thoſe behind.

My Lady, in utter Aſtoniſhment, lift⯑ing up her Hands and Eyes, exclaim'd, O the fine Creature, O the graceful Crea⯑ture! if there was but a Mind to match that Body, there would not be ſuch ano⯑ther Boy in the Univerſe.

Lord Richard, being now hindmoſt, was the next who adventured, and, with Acti⯑on enough, clear'd his two firſt Men; but then having loſt the Advantage of his Run, and, his Foreman being of more [74]than ordinary Size; he firſt ſtuck upon his Rump, and, pitching thence, broke his Forehead againſt the Floor. He got up however with a pleaſant Countenance, and, running along ſide the Line, ſet him⯑ſelf in his former Poſture before his Bro⯑ther. The Hindmoſt then, and then the next, and the next, and ſo onward, took their Turns, in Succeſſion, without any better Succeſs. The one bruiſed his Shoul⯑der, another ſprained his Finger, another bumpt his Head, another broke his Noſe, &c. &c. So that, in leſs than five Minutes, my Lady had got an Hoſpital of her own, though not altogether conſiſting of Incu⯑rables.

Now, Spirits, and Vinegar, brown Pa⯑per, black Plaiſter, &c. were called for in a Hurry, and, the ſeveral Stupes and Dreſſ⯑ings being ſkilfully applied, the Children were ordered to their reſpective Beds, and Nurſe was prevailed upon to continue with Harry, till he ſhou'd be reconciled to his new Friends and Aſſociates.

Now Harry was become a Favourite, eſ⯑pecially among the Servants who, in a manner; adored him, ſince the Adventure of the Box and the Hobgoblin.

Hobgoblin. — In good Time — Nothing amazes me, ſo much, as the ter⯑rifying Apprehenſions that the World, from the Beginning, has univerſally enter⯑tained of Ghoſts and Spectres.

Do you fear them?

No — I can't ſay — not much — ſomething of this formerly. I ſhould not like, even now, to lie alone, in a remote Chamber of a ruinous Caſtle ſaid to be haunted, and have my Curtains, at Mid⯑night, opened ſuddenly upon me by a Death's-head and Bloody-bones. All Non⯑ſenſe, I know it; the early Prejudices of a daſtardly Fancy — I fear, while I am convinced there is nothing to be feared. — Do you think there is any ſuch Thing in Nature as a Spirit?

I know not that there is any ſuch Thing, in Nature, as Matter.

Not know there is any ſuch Thing as Matter? — You love to puzzle — to throw lets into the Road of common Senſe. — What elſe do you know? from what elſe can you form any kind of Idea?

The Room is warm enough, more Heat is needleſs. — I know that Thoughts and Conceptions are raiſed in my Mind; but, how they are raiſed, or that they are adequate Images of Things ſuppoſed to be repreſented, I know not. What if this Something, or this Nothing, called Matter, ſhould be a Shadow, a Vacuum, in re⯑ſpect of Spirit, wholely reſiſtleſs to it and pervadeable by it? Or, what if it be no other than a various Manifeſtation of the ſeveral good and evil Qualities of Spirit? If one infinite Spirit, as is ſaid, fills the Univerſe, all other Exiſtence muſt be but as the Space wherein he eſſentially abides and exiſts; indeed, they could not be pro⯑duced, or continued for a Moment, but by his exiſting omnipotently, indiviſibly, entirely, in and throughout every Part.

This is new, very new — but I will not batter my Brains againſt your Caſtle. — According to your Theſis, when a Man is apprehenſive of a Spirit or Spectre, it is not of Shadows but of Subſtances that he is afraid.

Certainly; his principal Apprehen⯑ſion ariſes from his believing it more ſuffi⯑cient, more powerful, and more formida⯑ble than himſelf.

Excuſe me, there are more tremen⯑dous Reaſons. On the Suppoſition of an Engagement, thoſe Sort of inviſible Gen⯑try have many Advantages over us. They give a Man no manner of fair Play. They have you here, and have you there, and your beſt Watch and Ward is no better than fencing againſt an inviſible Flail. — But, ſeriouſly, do you think we have any innate Fears of theſe Matters?

All our Fears ariſe from the Senſe of our own Weakneſs, and of the Power and Inclination that Others may have to hurt us.

If our Horrour of Apparitions is not innate, how comes it to paſs, that Soldiers, that general Officers, who dare all other Danger, that Heroes who, like Brutus, have given Death to themſelves, or who have been led to Execution without a chang⯑ing Cheek, have yet dreaded to lie alone, or to be left in the dark?

We all ſee that a Spirit has vaſt Pow⯑er. Nothing elſe in Truth can have any Power at all. We perceive, by ourſelves and others, with what Eaſe it can act upon what we call Matter; how it moves, how it lifts it. Perhaps, were our Spirits detach⯑ed from this diſtempered Priſon, to which [78]the Degeneracy of our fallen Nature has confined them, they might more eaſily whirl a Mountain through the Atmoſphere, than they can now caſt a Pebble into the Air. The Conſideration of this Power, when joined to Malevolence, as is generally the Caſe, becomes very tremendous. The Stories told by Nurſes and Goſſips about a Winter's Fire, when the young Auditors crouch cloſer and cloſer together, and dare not look about for fear of what may be behind them, leave Impreſſions that no ſubſequent Reaſon or Religion can efface. The Ideas of an Apparition, on theſe Oc⯑caſions, are connected with all the Horrours, of which infant Imaginations can be ſuſ⯑ceptible; Fangs, Horns, a threatning Mien, ſaucer Eyes, a flaming Breath, and a deadly Aſpect. When Children are told of Fairies, who carry off People to dwell with them under Ground, and of evil Spirits who ſnatch away Soul and Body, together, to be their Aſſociates in Regions of Darkneſs, and Woe, the Fear of ſuch Evils greatly ſurpaſſes thoſe of Death, as it weds Miſery to Exiſtence beyond the Grave. — On the contrary Side. Had Spirits been originally repreſented to In⯑fants as Beings of an amiable Appearance, and as Guardians benevolent and beneficent to Man; had they further deigned to viſit us under ſuch Repreſentations, and, had we experienced the Advantage of their In⯑ſtructions [79]and good Offices, we ſhould have met them with Tranſport, and have parted with Regret.

I obſerve that, as our female Anti⯑quarians drop off, our Faith in Spectres perceptibly decays. We have not the fif⯑tieth Story either propagated or believed, that was credited as Goſpel when I was a Boy. What think you, is it for, or againſt Religion, that ſuch Fables ſhould get foot⯑ing among Mankind?

I never could think it for the In⯑tereſt of Religion that the Providence of God ſhould be elbowed, as it were, quite out of the World by a Syſtem of Daemo⯑niſm. On the other Hand, I take the Devil to be a Perſonage of much more Prudence than to frighten his Favourites from him by aſſuming ſuch horrid and diſ⯑guſtful Appearances. He rather chuſes to lurk behind Temptation, in the Allure⯑ment of Beauty, the Deceitfulneſs of Smiles, the Glozing of Compliments, in Revel and Banquetting, in Titles and Honours, in the Glitter of Ornament, and in the Pomp of State. When God ſends his Spirits on Meſſages to Man, there is a Meaning of Importance in the Errand. Such was that of his Angel to Manoah for the Delivery of a People; and to Zacharias [80]and the bleſſed Virgin for the Redemption of Humankind. But, when the Devil is ſaid to ſend his Emiſſaries throughout the Earth, on what Errands does this Arch-Politician employ them? Even ſuch as could ſuit no other than a Dunce or a Driveller. I never yet heard of one of theſe Miſſions that could be conſtrued to any Intention of Cunning or common Senſe. I therefore hold the Legends of his ghoſtly Viſitation to be altogether apocryphal.

Every Man of common Senſe muſt be of the ſame Opinion. And yet, have you known any Perſon wholely free from ſuch Prejudices, who made no Diſtinction, on this fantaſtical Article, between Dark⯑neſs and Mid-Day, between a lonely Char⯑nel Houſe and a full Aſſembly?

I have; but they were Men of ex⯑ceeding ſtrong Nerves; as alſo of exceed⯑ingly clear or exceedingly callous Conſcien⯑ces, which, coming from oppoſite Points, equally met for the ſame Purpoſe on this Occaſion.

Two Travellers, the One a Man of Pie⯑ty, the Other a Profligate, met at a Coun⯑try Inn juſt as Night came upom them. It was Halontide-Eve, the Seaſon, in thoſe Days, wherein the Devils were ſaid to keep high Carnival, and when all the Inhabitants [81]of the viſionary Regions were ſuppoſed to revel and range throughout the Earth at Pleaſure.

For want of better Company our Tra⯑vellers made up an Acquaintance, and further cemented it by a Jugg of good Li⯑quor. The Night was dark. The Girls of the Houſe had new waſh'd their Smocks, to be hung to the Fire, and turn'd by the ghoſtly Reſemblances of their Sweethearts; and the Converſation, in the Kitchen, ran on many an authentic Narrative of Spectres, and, particularly, on the Man in Gibbets who hung by the Road, and who was re⯑ported, between Twelve and One at Mid⯑night, to deſcend from the Gallows, and take juſt three turns about the old Barn.

Do you believe any of this droll Stuff, ſaid the Profligate. I know not what to think, anſwered his pious Companion, I find all the World in the ſame Story, and yet, as the ſaying is, I never ſaw any Thing more frightful than myſelf. As for my Share, ſaid the Profligate, I think I ſhouldn't fear the great Devil himſelf; and indeed I ſhould be glad to have a little Chat with the old Gentleman. Stout as you are, rejoined his Companion, I will lay you a Bett of five Crowns that you dare not warm a Porringer of Broth, and [82]go, and offer it, without there, to the Man in Gibbets, I will depend on your Honour for Performance of Articles. 'Tis done, cried the other; the Betts were produced, and reſpectively depoſited in the Hands of my Landlady.

Our pious Traveller, who now began to be alarmed for his Wager, ſtole ſlily out, while his Companion was buſied in heating the Broth. He made up to the Place where the deceaſed Malefactor was taking the freſh Air. The Gallows was low, and, by the Advantage of a Bank behind and his own Agility, he leaped up and faſtened his Arms about the Shoulders of the Corpſe, ſo that they both appeared but as one Body.

He had juſt fixed himſelf to his Mind, when, up comes his Companion with the Porringer and a Stool. He directly mount⯑ed the Stool, and, reaching up a ſpoonful of Broth to the Mouth of the Dead, with a firm and bold Voice he cried, Sup Man! why don't you Sup?

Scarce had theſe Words been uttered, when, fearful to hear! with a Tone deep as Hell and diſmal as the Grave, the Man in Gibbets replied—It i—is too ho—ot. And damn you, why don't you blow it then? rejoined the other.

My Nerves will not admit of this for Fact. The Tale indeed is good, though ſuch an Inſtance of Intrepidity in any Mor⯑tal may be diſputable. But, ſhall we ne⯑ver return to our Story again?

It matters not how far we travel from it, ſince the Magic of a Wiſh can bring us back in a twinkling.

CHAP. IV.

RUFFLED Linen, laced Hat, Silk Stockings, &c. had now been order⯑ed, for Harry, with a new Suit of Cloaths, trim'd like thoſe of your Beau-Inſects, vul⯑garly called Butterflies. They were tried on, in the Preſence of his Parents, and highly approved by all, except Harry him⯑ſelf, who ſeemed, by his Fidgettings, to be ſomewhat diſguſted at this new Kind of Incumbrance. Harry, ſays my Lord, puts me in mind of the Son of Jeſſe in the Ar⯑mour of Saul, he has not yet proved them. Well Harry, how do you like yourſelf? I don't know, not I, ſays Harry. But, Papa, can you tell me what theſe Things are for? In truth Harry, you poſe me. Won't People love me better, Sir? not a whit indeed Harry, replied my Lord. L—d help that little Fool's Head of thine, interpoſed my Lady, if People won't love thee, they'll reſpect thee the more. Fool's Head! repeated my Lord, upon my Soul, the Child has more Senſe than Half our Nobility.

Harry had been, now, near a Month with his Parents, and, as his Nurſe had not yet parted, he was tolerably amenable to Quality Government. However, he [85]pined in the Abſence of his Dada, as he called him, and daily importuned my Lord and Lady to be permitted to go and ſee him. For, as Harry's Heart told him that his bearded Dada loved him better than all the World, ſo Harry loved him better than three Worlds; for, he was ever deſirous of going three Times as far, in Affection and good Offices, as any one went for him.

At length, he obtained Conſent, and was conducted, by his Nurſe, in all his Finery, on a Viſit to this dear Dada.

Their meeting was accompanied by Tears of Joy on both Sides; when the old Gentleman, ſtruck with Concern at the Garb in which he ſaw his Darling, cried out, and who, my Dear, put this Fool's Coat upon my Child? Fool's Coat, Sir, ſays Harry; yes, my Love, it is worſe than all that; they were very naughty Doctors who have endeavoured to poiſon my Boy. There is not a Bit, of all this Lace and Ruffling, that is not full of rank Poiſons. I will tell you a Story my Harry.

There was, once upon a Time, a very good and a very clever Boy called Hercules. As he grew up, beſide his Prayers and his Book, he was taught to run, and leap; to ride, wreſtle, and cudgel; and tho' he was able to beat all [86]the Boys in the Pariſh, he never uſed to hurt or quarrel with any of them. He did not matter Cold, nor Hunger, nor what he eat, nor what he drank; nor how, nor where he lay; and he went always dreſſed in the Skin of a wild Beaſt, that could bear all Winds and Weathers, and that he could put on or off at Pleaſure, for he knew that his Dreſs was no Part of himſelf, and could neither add to him, nor take away any Thing from him.

When this brave Boy came to Man's Eſtate, he went about the World, doing Good in all Places; helping the Weak, and feeding the Hungry, and cloathing the Naked, and comforting thoſe that cried, and beating all thoſe that did Hurt or Wrong to others; and all good People loved him with their whole Hearts, and all naughty People feared him terribly.

But, O ſad and diſmal! a Lady, whom he had ſaved from great Hurt and Shame, made him a Preſent of a new Coat, which was called a Shirt, in thoſe Days, as they wore it next the Skin. And now, my Harry, take Notice. The Lady had co⯑vered this Coat, all over, with Laces, and with Rufflings, and with Beads of Glaſs, and ſuch other Fooleries; ſo that poor Hercules, looked juſt as fine, as you do now. And he turned him to this Side, [87]and he turned him to that Side, and he began to think more and better of himſelf, becauſe he had got this Fool's Coat upon him. And the Poiſon of it entered into his Body and into his Mind, and brought Weakneſs and Diſtempers upon the one and the other. And he grew ſo fond of it that he could not bear to have it put off. For he thought that, to part with it, would be to part with his Fleſh from his Bones. Neither would he venture out in the Rain, any more; nor box nor wreſtle with any Body, for fear of ſpoiling his fine Coat. So that in Time, he loſt the Love and the Praiſes of every Body; and all People ſcorned him, and pointed at him for a Fool and a Coxcomb, as he went by.

For ſome Time, after the old Gentle⯑man had finiſhed his Story, the Child con⯑tinued to gaze up at him, with fixed Eyes and open Mouth, as fearful of loſing any Syllable that he might utter. 'Till, recollecting himſelf, he cried out, O, this is a very ſad Caſe, indeed; I wiſh my Coat was burnt, ſo I do, but, don't fear for me Dada. Why, how then Harry? replied his Patron. Why, I may find a Trick for all this, Dada, I warrant, you never ſee me in this ugly Coat again.

[88] After this and ſome other Inſtructions and mutual Endearments, Nurſe preſs'd to be gone; and theſe two fond Friends were compelled to ſunder, with a Promiſe, on Harry's Part, of a ſpeedy Return.

For ſome Time after his Arrival at the Manſion Houſe, Harry appeared thought⯑ful, and greatly dejected, which they aſ⯑cribed to his parting with his old Friend; but Harry had Schemes in his Head that they were little able to fathom or gueſs at. Having peeped about, for ſome Time, he found a Knife, in a Window, which he inſtantly ſeized upon, and then, ſtole up with all poſſible Privacy, to his Apart⯑ment.

There he ſtript himſelf, in a Hurry, and, falling as quickly to work, began to cut and rip and rend away the Lacings of his Suit, without ſparing Cloth or Seam. While he was, thus, in the Heat and very Middle of his Buſineſs, he heard himſelf, repeatedly called on the Stairs, and hurry⯑ing on his Cloaths, to obey the Summons, he ran down to the Parlour with Half the Trimmings hanging in Geometry, Frit⯑ters, and Tatters about him.

The droll, and very extraordinary Fi⯑gure that he cut, ſtruck all the Company [89]into utter Amazement. Having gazed on him, for ſome Time, in a kind of ſilent Stupor. Why Harry, cries my Lady, what's all this for? who abuſed you, my Child, who put you in this Pickle? come hither and tell me, who ſpoiled your Cloaths? I did, Madam. You did, Sirrah, cried my Lady, giving him a Shake, and how dare you ſpoil them? why, becauſe they wanted to ſpoil me, ſaid Harry. And who told you they would ſpoil you, Sir⯑rah? I won't tell, ſaid Harry. I'll lay a Wager, cried my Lady, it was that old Rogue with the Beard; but I'll have him whipt for a Fool and a Knave out of the Pariſh. Pray, my Dear, be patient a little, ſaid his Lordſhip. Come here, Harry, and tell me the Truth, ſtoutly; and no Harm ſhall happen to you or your Dada with the Beard. Come, ſpeak, what Fault did he find with your Cloaths? Why, Sir, he ſaid, as how they would poiſon me. Poiſon you, my Dear; pray how was that? Why, Sir, he told me as how there was a little Maſter, call'd Herclus, and as how he was a mighty good Boy, and was cold and hungry, and almoſt naked, and did not matter, ſo as how he could do Good to every Body; and as how every Body loved him with all their Heart. And then, he told me, as how he got a mighty fine Coat, and looked here, and looked there, [90]and minded nothing but his Coat; and as how his Coat poiſon'd him, and would not let him do any more Good, and as how all the Boys then hated him, and piſs'd upon him, Sir — and as how — I believe, that's all, Sir —

Here, my Lord and Lady took ſuch a Chink of Laughing, that it was ſome Time before they could recover; while Harry looked abaſhed and diſconcerted. But my Lord, recollecting himſelf, took the Child on his Knee, and, warmly preſſing him to his Boſom, I muſt tell you, my Harry, ſaid he, as how you are a mighty good Boy, and as how your Dada with a Beard is a mighty good Dada, and has told you all that is right and true. And, that I will go, myſelf, one of theſe Days, and thank him in Perſon. Thank you, Sir, ſays Harry.

Well, Harry, ſaid my Lord, I promiſe that no one ſhall poiſon you any more, with my Conſent. Whereupon another new Suit was immediately appointed, of a Kind that ſhould fear no Weather, nor, in caſe of Dirt or Damage, draw upon Harry the Reſentment or Admonitions of his Mama.

Juſt as Dinner was ſerved up, Mr. Meekly entered and took his Seat. He [91]came in order to conciliate a late Difference between the Earl and Sir Standiſh Stately; and in this he found no manner of Diffi⯑culty, as my Lord was, by Nature, of a kindly Diſpoſition, and required no more than a firſt Advance to be reconciled to any Man.

During the Entertainment, Harry kept his Eyes fixed on Mr. Meekly; and, as ſoon as the Cloth was off, he roſe, went over to him, looked fondly in his Face, and took hold of his Hand with the Familiarity of an old Acquaintance.

Mr. Meekly, ſaid my Lord, my Son Harry pays you a very particular and very deſerved Compliment; he puts me in mind of that Sort of Inſtinct, by which a ſtrange Dog is always ſure to diſcover, and to ap⯑ply to the moſt benevolent Perſon at Ta⯑ble. Indeed, my Lord, ſaid Mr. Meekly, (careſſing the Child) I know not, whether by Inſtinct, or by what other name to call my own Feelings; but certain it is that, the firſt Moment I ſaw him, in his little peaſant Petticoats, I found my Heart ſtrongly affected toward him.

In a ſhort Time my Lady retired, with the Children, and left the Earl and Mr. Meekly over a temperate Bottle. Mr. Meekly, ſaid my Lord, (taking him cor⯑dially [92]by the Hand) I rejoice at the Advan⯑tage of our late Acquaintance, or rather I repine that it was not earlier. I am great⯑ly intereſted, Sir, in aſking you a few Queſtions, if I thought I might do it with⯑out Offence. Are you any way ſtraitened in your Circumſtances? — No, my Lord, — But, would you not wiſh them more affluent, would you not wiſh that your Power of doing Good were more extenſive, more anſwerable to the Benevolence of your own Inclinations? — I cannot ſay that I would, my Lord. I have upward of ſeven Hundred a Year clear Income; and that is fourteen Times more than I have Occaſion to expend. — It would be indelicate, re⯑plied the Earl, very indelicate to own that I am ſorry for your Proſperity; and yet I feel that I ſhould have been happy in your Diſtreſs, in the Power it would have given me to ſerve, to oblige you. I want a Friend, I want juſt ſuch a Friend as Mr. Meekly, and I know of no Price at which I would not gladly purchaſe him. — My Lord, I am yours, freely, affectionately yours, with⯑out Fee or Condition. Sir, rejoined my Lord, as I find that I cannot make out a Title to your particular Attachment, I am content to be taken into the general Circle of your Benevolence.

The World, Mr. Meekly, think me the happieſt of Men; bleſs'd in my Family, [93]in my Friends; with Health, Honours, Affluence; with the Power of gratifying every Wiſh that human Fancy can form! but alas! my Senſations are very far from affirming their Judgment of theſe Matters; and I will deſerve your Advice, your Con⯑ſolation, if you can afford it, by unboſom⯑ing myſelf to you without reſerve.

When I reflect on my paſt Life, I look on many Parts of it with Repentance, and on the Whole with Regret. Not that I wiſh the return of Pleaſures that I now de⯑ſpiſe, or of Years ſpent in a Manner that Virtue and common Senſe muſt equally diſapprove? but I am arrived at my Even⯑ing of Life, like a Sportſman who, having been in purſuit of Game all the Day, re⯑turns homeward, ſorrowful, ſatigued, and diſappointed. With every Advantage that could gratify either my Vanity or my Ap⯑petites, I cannot affirm that I ever taſted of true Enjoyment; and I now well per⯑ceive that I was kept from being miſerable, merely by Amuſement and Diſſipation.

As I had the Misfortune to be born to Title and a vaſt Eſtate, all People reſpect⯑ed, in me, the Poſſeſſion of thoſe Objects which they themſelves were in purſuit of. I was conſequently beſet with Sycophants and Deceivers of all Sorts, and thereby, trained from my Infancy, to unavoidable [94]Prejudices, Errors, and falſe Eſtimates of every Thing. I was not naturally ill-diſ⯑poſed, but I was perpetually ſeduced from all my better Tendencies.

Both my Parents died, before I arrived at thoſe Years wherein our Laws allow of any Title to Diſcretion. I had but the one Brother, O that dear Brother, how many Sighs he has coſt me! I was older than him by about ſeven Years, and this diſ⯑parity of our Age, together with the ele⯑vating Notion of my Birthright, gave me the authoritative Airs of a Father, without a Father's Tenderneſs toward him. This mutually prevented that Cordiality, that Sympathy, as I may ſay, by which Bro⯑thers ſhould be cemented during their Mi⯑nority. And, when our Guardian, as I then judged, had ſo far betrayed his Truſt, as to bind my Brother apprentice to a Trader, and thereby to deprive him of all Title to Gentility. I looked upon him as a Branch cut off from the Family-Tree, and, as my Thoughts about him were accom⯑panied by Coldneſs or Diſguſt, I forbore to make any Enquiry concerning him.

I am apt to think, however, that he was not equally unnatural on his Part; but, hearing of the diſſolute Life I led on my return from Travel, he might juſtly deem [95]me unworthy of his Acquaintance or No⯑tice.

During the Time of my Intimacy with his late Majeſty and the Miniſters of his Pleaſures and Policy, a Servant brought me Word that a Gentleman, attended by a Number of the principal Citizens, waited for me in my Ante-chamber; whereupon I gave Orders for their immediate Intro⯑duction.

On their Entrance, I was awfully ſtruck with the Preſence of their Principal, with the Elegance of his Figure, the Noble⯑neſs of his Aſpect, and Eaſe of his Ad⯑dreſs, and I felt myſelf drawn to him by a ſudden Kind of inſtinctive Attachment.

My Lord, ſays he, we come to wait upon you in the Name of the very reſpect⯑able Body of the Citizens of London; ſome Infringements have been lately made on their City-Charter, and their firſt Applica⯑tion is to your Lordſhip, as they wiſh, above all others, to be obliged to you for their Redreſs.

They have been very diſcreet, ſaid I, in their choice of an Advocate. Their De⯑mands muſt be exorbitant, if they fail of Succeſs while you are their Solicitor.

[96] This Paper, proceeded he, contains a clear Detail of their Rights and the En⯑croachments that have been made there⯑on. They are ſenſible of your Lordſhip's Intereſt with his Majeſty and the Miniſ⯑try, and they humbly petition for your Fa⯑vour and happy Influence in their Behalf.

Without Papers, I replied, or any In⯑ducement ſave that of your own Requeſt, let me but know what I am to do, and I ſhall think myſelf truely honoured and obliged by your Commands.

My Lord, he rejoined, I do not wiſh to betray you into any miſtaken or unmerited Complaiſance. I am but a Trader, a Citi⯑zen of the lower Order.

I now felt myſelf bluſh with Shame and Diſappointment; I reſented my being de⯑ceived by the Dignity of his Appearance; and I was more particularly piqued by the ſarcaſtical kind of Smile with which he cloſed his Declaration. All confuſed, I looked down, and pretended to caſt my Eye over the Paper, in order to gain Time for Recollection. Having, at Intervals, muttered a few Words, ſuch as Charters, Grants, Privileges, Immunities, and ſo forth. I am not, ſaid I, an Enemy to the lower Ranks of Men; poor People muſt [97]live, and their Service, as well as Subor⯑dination is neceſſary to Society; but I con⯑feſs I was always fond of thoſe ſumptuary Laws that confined the Degrees of Men to their reſpective Departments, and pre⯑vented Mechanics from confounding them⯑ſelves with Gentlemen.

My Lord, ſays he, with the moſt eaſy and provoking Unconcern, when you ſhall be pleaſed to look down from the Superi⯑ority of your Station, and to conſider Things and Perſons according to their Me⯑rits, you will not deſpiſe Some, merely for being of uſe to Others. The Wealth, Proſperity, and Importance of all this World is founded and erected on three living Pillars, the TILLER of the Ground, the MANUFACTURER and the MERCHANT. Of theſe, the Tiller is ſuppoſed to be the leaſt reſpectable, as he requires the leaſt of Genius, Invention, or Addreſs; and yet the Plowman Tripto⯑lemus was worſhipped as a God; and the Plowman Cincinnatus is ſtill held in as high Eſteem as any Peer of any Realm, ſave that of Great-Britain.

I have known, ſaid I, a Mob of ſuch Gods and Dictators ſomewhat dangerous at Times. I muſt be free to tell you, Miſ⯑ter, that Matters are much changed ſince Princeſſes kept Sheep, and the Sons of [98]Kings were Cow-herds. The Ranks and Orders of Men are now appointed and known, and one Department muſt not preſume to break in upon the other. My Baker, Barber, Brewer, Butcher, Hatter, Hoſier, and Taylor, are, unqueſtionably, of Uſe, though I have not the Honour of being acquainted with one of them. And, hitherto, I have deemed it ſufficient to ſend my Servants to entertain and pay them their Bills, without admitting them to a Tete a Tete, as at preſent.

He now rejoined, with a little Warmth. My Lord, we pardon your Indelicacy, in conſideration of your Error. The venera⯑ble Body, now preſent, might be admitted to a Tete a Tete with the firſt Eſtate of this Kingdom, without any Condeſcenſion on the Part of Majeſty. And, would you allow yourſelf to be duely informed, I ſhould ſoon make you ſenſible that we have actually done you the Honour which we intended by this Viſit.

Permit me to repeat that the Wealth, Proſperity, and Importance of every Thing upon Earth ariſes from the TILLER, the MANUFACTURER and the MERCHANT; and that, as nothing is truely eſtimable, ſave in Proportion to its utility, theſe are, conſequently, very [99]far from being contemptible Characters. The Tiller ſupplies the Manufacturer, the Manufacturer ſupplies the Merchant, and the Merchant ſupplies the World with all its Wealth. It is thus that Induſtry is promoted, Arts invented and improved, Commerce extended, Superfluities mutually vended, Wants mutually ſupplied, that each Man becomes a uſeful Member of Society, that Societies become further of Advantage to each other, and that States are enabled to pay and dignify their upper Servants with Titles, rich Revenues, Prin⯑cipalities and Crowns.

The Merchant, above all, is extenſive, conſiderable, and reſpectable by his Occu⯑pation. It is he who furniſhes every Com⯑fort, Convenience, and Elegance of Life; who carries off every Redundance, who fills up every Want; who ties Country to Country, and Clime to Clime, and brings the remoteſt Regions to Neighbourhood and Converſe; who makes Man to be li⯑terally the Lord of the Creation, and gives him an Intereſt in whatever is done upon Earth; who furniſhes to each the Product of all Lands, and the Labours of all Nati⯑ons; and thus knits into one Family and weaves into one Web the Affinity and Brotherhood of all Mankind.

[100] I have no Quarrel, I cried, to the high and mighty my Lords the Merchants, if each could be humbly content with the Profits of his Profeſſion, without forming themſelves into Companies, excluſive of their Brethren, our itinerant Merchants and Pedlars. I confeſs myſelf an Enemy to the Monopolies of your charter'd Com⯑panies and City Corporations; and I can perceive no evil Conſequence, to the Pub⯑lic or the State, if all ſuch Aſſociations were this Inſtant diſſolved.

Permit me, he mildly replied, once for all, to ſet your Lordſhip right in this Mat⯑ter. I am ſenſible that the Gentlemen of large landed Properties are apt to look up⯑on themſelves as the Pillars of the State, and to conſider their Intereſts and the In⯑tereſts of the Nation, as very little behol⯑den or dependent on Trade; though the Fact is, that thoſe very Gentlemen would loſe nine Parts in ten of their yearly Re⯑turns, and the Nation nine Tenths of her yearly Revenues, if Induſtry and the Arts, (promoted as I ſaid by Commerce) did not raiſe the Products of Lands to tenfold their natural Value. The Manufacturer, on the other Hand, depends on the landed Intereſt for nothing ſave the material of his Craft; and the Merchant is wholely in⯑dependent of all Lands, or rather he is the [101]general Patron thereof. I muſt further obſerve, to your Lordſhip, that this bene⯑ficent Profeſſion is by no means confined to Individuals, as you would have it. Large Societies of Men, nay mighty Nations may and have been Merchants. When Socie⯑ties incorporate, for ſuch a worthy Pur⯑poſe, they are formed as a Foetus within the Womb of the Mother, a Conſtitution within the general State or Conſtitution; their particular Laws and Regulations ought, always, to be conformable to thoſe of the National Syſtem; and, in that Caſe, ſuch Corporations greatly conduce to the Peace and good Order of Cities and large Towns, and to the general Power and Proſperity of the Nation.

A Nation that is a Merchant has no need of an Extent of Lands, as it can de⯑rive to itſelf Subſiſtance from all Parts of the Globe. Tyre was ſituated in a ſmall Iſland on the Coaſt of Phaenicia, and yet that ſingle City contained the moſt flou⯑riſhing, opulent, and powerful Nation in the Univerſe; a Nation that long with⯑ſtood the united Forces of the three firſt Monarchies, brought againſt her by Nebu⯑chadnezar and Alexander the Great.

The ſeven united Provinces do not con⯑tain Lands ſufficient for the Subſiſtance of one Third of their Inhabitants; but they [102]are a Nation of Merchants; the World furniſhes them with an Abundance of all good Things; by Commerce they have arrived at Empire; they have aſſumed to themſelves the Principality of the Ocean; and, by being Lords of the Ocean, are in a Meaſure become the Proprietors of all Lands.

Should England ever open her Eyes to her own Intereſts, ſhe will follow the ſame proſperous and ennobling Profeſſion; ſhe will conform to the Conſequences of her Si⯑tuation. She will ſee that, without a Naval Pre-eminence, ſhe cannot be ſafe; and, without Trade, that her Naval Power cannot be ſupported. Her Glory will alſo flow from this ſure Source of her Intereſts, and a Sail-yard will become the higheſt Scepter of her Dignity. She will then find that a ſingle Triumph of her Flag will be more available, for her Proſperity, than the Conqueſt of the four Continents; that her Pre-eminence, by Sea, will carry and diffuſe her Influence over all Lands; and, that univerſal Influence is univerſal Dominion.

Avarice, my Lord, may pile; Robbery may plunder; new Mines may be opened; hidden Treaſures may be diſcovered; Gameſters may win Caſh; Conquerors [103]may win Kingdoms; but all ſuch Means of acquiring Riches are tranſient and de⯑terminable. While Induſtry and Com⯑merce are the natural, the living, the ne⯑ver failing Fountains, from whence the Wealth of this World can alone be taught to flow.

And can you, cried I, have the Effronte⯑ry, to inſinuate a Preference, of yourſelf and your fellow Cits, to our Britiſh No⯑bles and Princes, who derive their Powers and Dignities from the ſtedfaſt Extent of their landed Poſſeſſions? Was it by Barter and Bargain that our Edwards and Henrys atchiev'd their Conqueſts on the Conti⯑nent? or was it by Pedlars and Mechanics, think you, that the Fields of Creſſi, of Poictiers, and Agincourt are render'd im⯑mortal? Go, I continued, ſeek elſewhere for Redreſs of your inſignificant Grievances; we give little to ſturdy Beggars, but no⯑thing to ſaucy Rivals.

Wholely kindled by this Invective, he caſt on me a fierce and menacing Re⯑gard; and, with a ſevere Accent, and a ſide Glance that ſhot Fire; when Courti⯑ers (ſays he) acquire Common-Senſe, and that Lords ſhall have learn'd to behave themſelves like Gentlemen, I may do ſuch a one the Honour to acknowledge him for a Brother.

[104] Your Brother! exclaimed Mr. Meekly, your Brother, my Lord?—Yes, Mr. Meekly, my Brother, my amiable, my ve⯑ry amiable and honourable Brother, in⯑deed. But, turning contemptuouſly from me, he inſtantly departed with his attend⯑ing Citizens.

I ought to have followed, I ought to have ſtaid him. I ſhould have fallen up⯑on his Neck. With my Tears and Car⯑reſſes I ſhould have wrung a Pardon from him, and not have ſuffer'd him to leave me till by my Submiſſons I had obtained full Forgiveneſs. This, indeed, was my firſt Emotion. But the Recollection of my long and unnatural Neglect, my utter Diſ⯑regard of his Perſon and Concerns, now aggravated by my late Inſults, perſuaded me that a Reconciliation, on his Part, was impoſſible.

I remained diſconcerted, and greatly diſturbed I felt with what Pride and Tranſport I ſhould now have acknowledg⯑ed, have courted, have claſped this Bro⯑ther to my Boſom; but my Fancy repre⯑ſented him as Ice in my Arms, as ſhrink⯑ing and turning from me with Diſguſt and Diſdain. At Times, I formed a hundred Schemes toward recovering his Affections; but again, rejecting theſe as ineffectual, [105]I endeavoured to conſole myſelf for his Loſs, by conſidering his late Demeanour as exceeding faulty, and expreſſive of a Diſ⯑poſition inſufferably proud and overbear⯑ing. My Heart, indeed, acknowledged how very lovely he was in his Perſon; but the Superiority of his Talents, and the Re⯑finement of his Manners, gave him a Diſ⯑tinction that was not altogether ſo grateful.

All Day I kept my Apartment, in Diſ⯑pleaſure, at my Brother, myſelf, and the World. The next Morning I was in⯑formed that, the Moment he left me, he went to the Miniſter, who engaged, at his Inſtance, to have every Grievance that he complained of redreſſed to their extent. That the Miniſter had, afterwards, intro⯑duced him to his Majeſty in full Levee, that the King held him in long and fami⯑liar Converſation, and that all the Court was profuſe of their Admiration and Praiſes of Mr. Clinton.

This, alſo, was freſh Matter of Tri⯑umph to him, and Mortification to me. It was now evident that my Brother's Ap⯑plication to me was intended, merely, to do me peculiar Honour; and, in Return, ſaid I to myſelf, I have endeavoured to cover him with Confuſion and Diſgrace. Yet, when I underſtood that he had diſ⯑dained to mention me as his Brother, or [106]of his Blood; I alſo ſcorned to derive Luſtre from any Claim of Affinity with him; and I further felt that I could not forgive him the Reproaches which he con⯑ſtrained me to give myſelf in his behalf.

From that Time, I took great Pains to diſſipate or ſuppreſs thoſe uneaſy Senſati⯑ons which the Remembrance of him gave me. But, after I had married and retired from the Glare and Buſtle of the World; and, more particularly, on the Birth of my firſt Child, when my Heart had en⯑tered into a new Sphere of domeſtic Feel⯑ings, this dear Brother returned with double Weight upon my Mind. Yet his Idea was no longer accompanied by Envy or Reſentment, but by an affectionate and ſweet, though paining, Remorſe.

I wrote him a Letter full of penitential Submiſſions, and of tender and atoning Prayers for Pardon and Reconcilement. But, alas, my Meſſenger returned with Tidings that, ſome Years paſt, he had withdrawn from Trade, had retired to France or Holland, had dropt all Correſ⯑pondence, and that no one in England knew whether he was dead or alive.

Ah, my Brother, my dear Brother! (I would often repeat to myſelf) has any Re⯑verſe [107]of Fortune happened to you, my Brother? Perhaps ſome domeſtic Calami⯑ty; ſome heavy Diſtreſs, no doubt! and no Brother at Hand to conſole or ſhare your Afflictions. Return to me, divide my Heart, divide my Fortune with me and mine! Alas, Wretch that I am, you know not yet that you have a Brother, one deſerving of that Name. You know not that this Boſom of Flint is now huma⯑nized, and melted down in the Fervour of Affection toward you. You hate me, you deſpiſe me, my amiable Brother! How, how ſhall I make you ſenſible that my Heart is full of your Image, of Eſteem, of tendereſt Love for my lovely Harry Clinton?

I, again, ſent other Meſſengers in ſearch of Intelligence, I procured Letters to the Bankers and Merchants of principal Note abroad; but all my Solicitudes and Enqui⯑ries were equally fruitleſs.

The Grief, that this occaſioned, firſt taught me to reflect, and caſt a Shade over the Luſtre of every Object about me. The World no more appeared as that World which, formerly, had held out Happineſs to either Hand. I no longer beheld it thro' the Perſpectives of Curioſi⯑ty or youthful Deſire; I had worn out all its Gayeties; I had exhauſted all its De⯑lights, [108]for me it had nothing more to pro⯑miſe, or beſtow; and yet I ſaw no better Proſpect, no other Reſource.

Should I turn to Religion, a little Ob⯑ſervation taught me that the Devotees, themſelves, were warm in purſuit of Ob⯑jects, of which I was tired; that they were ſtill ſubject to the Paſſions and Deſires of the World; and were no way to be diſ⯑tinguiſhed from other Men, ſave by an un⯑ſociable Reſerve, or gloomy Caſt of Coun⯑tenance.

May I venture to confeſs to you, Mr. Meekly, that, at Times of my Deſpon⯑dence, I dared to call the Juſtice and Wiſ⯑dom of Omnipotence into queſtion. Take this World, (ſaid I to myſelf) conſider it as it ſeems to ſtand, independent of any other, and no one living can aſſign a ſin⯑gle End, or Purpoſe, for which it could be made. Men are even as their Fellow-Inſects; they riſe to Life, exert their Lineaments, and flutter abroad during the Summer of their little Seaſon; then droop, die away, and are ſucceeded, and ſucceed⯑ed in an inſignificant Rotation. Even the firmeſt human Eſtabliſhments, the beſt labour'd Syſtems of Policy, can ſcarce boaſt a nobler Fate, or a longer Duration; the mightieſt States and Nations periſh, like Individuals; in one Leaf we read their [109]Hiſtory, we admire their Achievements, we are intereſted in their Succeſſes, but, proceed to the next, and no more than a Name is left; the Ninevehs and Babylons of Aſia are fallen, the Sparta and Athens of Greece are no more; and the Monuments that promiſed to endure to Eternity, are eraſed like the Mount of Sand which, Yeſterday, the Children caſt up on the Shore.

When I behold this ſtupendous Expanſe, ſo ſumptuouſly furniſhed with a Profuſion of Planets, and Luminaries, revolving in appointed Courſes, and diverſifying the Seaſons; I ſee a Work that is altogether worthy of a God. Again, when I deſcend to Earth, and look abroad upon the infi⯑nite Productions of Nature, upon Proviſi⯑ons ſo amply anſwering to the Wants of every living Being, and on Objects and Organs ſo finely fitted to each other, I trace a complicated Maze of Wiſdom, Bounty, and Benevolence. But, when I ſee all theſe Beauties and Benefits counter⯑acted by ſome adverſe and deſtructive Principle; when the Heavens gather their Clouds and roll their Thunders above, and the Earth begins to quake and open beneath us; when the Air, that ſeemed ſo late to be the Breath and Balm of Life, grows pregnant with a Variety of Peſts, Plagues and Poiſons; when Life itſelf is [110]found to be no other than the Store-houſe or Habitation of Death, and that all vege⯑table and animal Syſtems include within their Frame, the Principles of inevitable Diſtemper and Diſſolution: When additi⯑onal to all theſe natural Miſchiefs, I con⯑ſider the Extent and Empire of moral Evil upon Earth; when I behold the wretched periſhable ſhort lived Animal, called Man, for the Value of ſome Matter of Property as tranſient as himſelf, induſ⯑trious and ſtudious of the Deſtruction of his Species; when, not content with the Evils that Nature has entailed upon him, Man exerts all his Talents for multiplying and ſpeeding the Means of Perdition to Man; when I ſee half the World employ⯑ed in puſhing the other Half from the Verge of Exiſtence, and then dropping af⯑ter in an endleſs Succeſſion of Malevolence and Miſery; I cannot poſſibly reconcile ſuch Contraſts and Contradictions to the Agency, or even Permiſſion, of the one over ruling Principle of Goodneſs called GOD.

Could not Omniſcience foreſee ſuch Conſequences, at Creation? Unqueſtiona⯑bly, ſaid Mr. Meekly.

Might he not have ordered Matters ſo, as to have prevented the Poſſibility of any [111]Degree of natural or moral Evil in his Univerſe?—I think he might, my Lord.—Why did he not, then, pre⯑vent them? to what End could he permit ſuch multiplied Malevolence and Miſery among his Creatures?—For Ends, cer⯑tainly my Lord, infinitely worthy both of his Wiſdom and his Goodneſs.—I am deſirous it ſhould be ſo; but cannot con⯑ceive, cannot reach the Way or Means of compaſſing ſuch an Intention.

Can you not ſuppoſe, ſaid Mr. Meekly, that Evil may be admitted for accompliſh⯑ing the greater and more abundant Good? May not partial and temporary Malevolence and Miſery be finally produc⯑tive of univerſal, durable, and unchangea⯑ble Beatitude? May not the Univerſe, even now, be in the Pangs of Travail, of Labour for ſuch a Birth, ſuch a bleſſed Conſummation?

It were, rejoined the Earl, as our Shake⯑ſpear ſays, it were indeed a Conſummati⯑on devoutly to be wiſhed. But, might not Omnipotence have brought about a Conſummation equally good, without any Intervention of preceding Evil?—Had that been poſſible, my Lord, it would un⯑queſtionably have been effected. But if certain Relations ariſe between God and his Creatures, and between Man and Man [112]which could not ariſe ſave on the previous Suppoſition of Evil, without which, in⯑deed, neither the Attributes of God him⯑ſelf, nor the Inſufficiency, Dependance, or Obligation of the Creature could have been duely diſcoverable throughout Eternity, then temporary Evil becomes indiſpenſably neceſſary to the Conſequence and Con⯑ſummation of the greateſt Good.

Your Notion, exclaimed the Earl, is great, amazing, truely glorious, and eve⯑ry Way worthy of a God who, in ſuch a Caſe, would be infinitely worthy of all Worſhip! Is this the Reaſon, Mr. Meekly, that what we all ſo earneſtly ſeek for is no where to be found, that no Portion or Taſte of Happineſs is to be had upon Earth?

I do not ſay ſo, my Lord; I think that a Man, even on Earth, may be occaſion⯑ally, nay durably, and exceedingly happy.

What, happy? durably, exceedingly happy? repeated the Earl. I was told that the Experience of Ages, that Philoſophy and even Divinity had agreed with Solomon in this, that all upon Earth was Vanity and Vexation of Spirit. If any may enjoy Happineſs, on this Side of the great Con⯑ſummation that you ſpeak of, I am per⯑ſuaded, Mr. Meekly, that you yourſelf are [113]the Man. Your Lips indeed ſay nothing of the Matter, but neither your Eyes nor your Aſpect can reſtrain the Expreſſion of ſome extraordinary Peace that abides within. O, ſay then, my dear, my eſtimable Friend, whence, how, by what Means may a Man arrive at Happineſs?—By getting out of himſelf, my Lord.

Out of himſelf, Mr. Meekly! you aſto⯑niſh me greatly. A Contradiction in Terms, unnatural, impoſſible!—God, himſelf, my Lord, cannot make a Man Happy in any other Way, either here, or hereafter.

It is, ſaid the Earl, an eſtabliſhed Maxim among all thinking Men, whether Divines or Philoſophers, that SELF-LOVE is the Motive to all human Actions. Virtue forbid! exclaim'd Mr. Meekly; all Actions are juſtly held, good or evil, baſe or ho⯑nourable, deteſtable or amiable, merely according to their Motives. But, if the Motive is the ſame to all, there is an End, at once, to the Poſſibility of Virtue; the Cruel and the Kind, the Faithful and the Perfidious, the Proſtitute and the Patriot are confounded together.

Do not all Men, return'd the Earl, act agreeable to their own Propenſities and Inclinations? do they not Act ſo or ſo, [114]merely becauſe it pleaſes them ſo to act? and is not this Pleaſure the ſame Motive in all?—By no Means, my Lord, it never was nor can be the Motive in any. We muſt go a Queſtion deeper, to diſco⯑ver the ſecret Principle or Spring of Acti⯑on. One Man is pleaſed to do Good, ano⯑ther is pleaſed to do Evil; now, whence is it that each is pleaſed with Purpoſes in their Nature ſo oppoſite and irreconcila⯑ble? Becauſe, my Lord, that the Propen⯑ſities or Motives to Action, in each, are as oppoſite and irreconcilable as the Acti⯑ons themſelves; the one is prompted and therefore pleaſed with his Purpoſe of doing Evil to others, through ſome baſe Proſpect of Intereſt redounding to himſelf; the other is prompted and ſpurred, and there⯑fore pleaſed with his Purpoſe of endan⯑gering his Perſon or ſuffering in his For⯑tune, through the benevolent Proſpect of the Good that ſhall thereby redound to Others.

Pleaſure is, itſelf, an Effect, and cannot be the Cauſe, or Pinciple, or Motive to any Thing; it is an agreeable Senſation that ariſes, in any Animal, on its meeting or contemplating an Object that is ſuited to its Nature. As far as the Nature of ſuch an Animal is evil, evil Objects can alone affect it with Pleaſure; as far as the Nature of ſuch an Animal is good, the [115]Objects muſt be good whereby its Pleaſures are excited.

When Damon was ſentenced, by Dionyſius of Syracuſe, to die on ſuch a Day; he pray'd Permiſſion, in the Interim, to re⯑tire to his own Country, to ſet the Affairs of his diſconſolate Family in order. This the Tyrant intended moſt peremptorily to refuſe, by granting it, as he conceived, on the impoſſible Conditions of his procuring ſome one to remain, as Hoſtage for his Return, under equal Forfeiture of Life. Pythias heard the Conditions, and did not wait for an Application on the Part of Damon, he inſtantly offer'd himſelf to Du⯑rance in the Place of his Friend, and Da⯑mon was accordingly ſet at Liberty.

The King and all his Courtiers were aſ⯑toniſhed at this Action, as they could not account for it on any allowed Principles. Self-Intereſt, in their Judgment, was the ſole Mover of human Affairs; and they looked on Virtue, Friendſhip, Benevo⯑lence, Love of Country, and the like, as Terms invented by the Wiſe to impoſe upon the Weak. They, therefore, im⯑puted this Act of Pythias to the Extrava⯑gance of his Folly, to the Defect of Head, merely, and no way to any Virtue or good Quality of Heart.

[116] When the Day of the deſtined Executi⯑on drew near, the Tyrant had the Curio⯑ſity to viſit Pythias in his Dungeon. Hav⯑ing reproached him for the romantic Stu⯑pidity of his Conduct, and rallied him, ſome Time, on his Madneſs in preſuming that Damon, by his Return, would prove as great a Fool as himſelf; my Lord, ſaid Pythias, with a firm Voice and noble Aſ⯑pect, I would it were poſſible that I might ſuffer a thouſand Deaths, rather than my Friend ſhould fail in any Article of his Honour. He cannot fail therein, my Lord. I am as confident of his Virtue as I am of my own Exiſtence. But, I pray, I beſeech the Gods to preſerve the Life and Integrity of my Damon together. Oppoſe him, ye Winds! prevent the Ea⯑gerneſs and Impatience of his honourable Endeavours! and ſuffer him not to arrive till, by my Death, I have redeemed a Life, a thouſand Times of more Conſe⯑quence, more Eſtimation, than my own, more eſtimable to his lovely Wife, to his precious little Innocents, to his Friends, to his Country. O, leave me not to die the worſt of Deaths in my Damon!

Dionyſius was confounded and awed by the Dignity of theſe Sentiments, and by the Manner, (ſtill more ſentimental) in which they were uttered; he felt his Heart [117]ſtruck by a ſlight Senſe of invading Truth, but it ſerved rather to perplex than to un⯑deceive him. He heſitated, he would have ſpoken, but he looked down, and retired in Silence.

The fatal Day arrived. Pythias was brought forth, and walked, amidſt the Guard, with a ſerious but ſatisfied Air, to the Place of Execution.

Dionyſius was already there. He was exalted on a moving Throne that was drawn by ſix white Horſes, and ſat pen⯑ſive and attentive to the Demeanour of the Priſoner.

Pythias came. He vaulted lighty on the Scaffold; and, beholding for ſome Time the Apparatus of his Death, he turned with a pleaſed Countenance and addreſſed the Aſſembly.

My Prayers are hear'd, he cried, the Gods are propitious! You know, my Friends, that the Winds have been con⯑trary till Yeſterday. Damon could not come, he could not conquer Impoſſibili⯑ties; he will be here To-morrow, and the Blood which is ſhed to Day ſhall have ranſomed the Life of my Friend. O, could I eraſe, from your Boſoms, every Doubt, every mean Suſpicion of the Ho⯑nour [118]of the Man, for whom I am about to ſuffer; I ſhould go to my Death, even as I would to my Bridal. Be it ſufficient, in the mean Time, that my Friend will be found noble, that his Truth is unim⯑peachable, that he will ſpeedily approve it, that he is now on his Way, hurrying on, accuſing himſelf, the adverſe Elements, and the Gods. But I haſte to prevent his Speed; Executioner, to your Office!

As he pronounced the laſt Words, a Buzz began to ariſe among the remoteſt of the People. A diſtant Voice was heard. The Croud caught the Words; and, ſtop, ſtop the Execution! was repeated by the whole Aſſembly.

A Man came at full Speed. The Throng gave way to his Approach. He was mounted on a Steed of Foam. In an Inſtant he was off his Horſe, on the Scaf⯑fold, and held Pythias ſtraitly embraced.

You are ſafe, he cried, you are ſafe, my Friend, my Beloved, the Gods be praiſed, you are ſafe! I now have nothing but Death to ſuffer, and I am delivered from the Anguiſh of thoſe Reproaches which I gave myſelf, for having endan⯑gered a Life ſo much dearer than my own.

[119] Pale, cold, and half Speechleſs in the Arms of his Damon, Pythias replied in broken Accents,—Fatal Haſte!—cruel Impatience!—what envious Powers have wrought Impoſſibilities in your Favour?—But, I will not be wholely diſappointed—Since I cannot die to ſave, I will not ſurvive you.

Dionyſius heard, beheld, and conſidered all with Aſtoniſhment. His Heart was touch'd. His Eyes were opened; and he could no longer refuſe his aſſent to Truths ſo inconteſtably approved by their Facts.

He deſcended from his Throne. He aſcended the Scaffold. Live, live ye in⯑comparable Pair! he exclaimed. Ye have borne unqueſtionable Teſtimony to the Ex⯑iſtence of Virtue, and that Virtue equally evinces the Certainty of the Exiſtence of a God to reward it. Live happy, live re⯑nowned! and, O, form me by your Pre⯑cepts, as ye have invited me by your Ex⯑ample, to be worthy of the Participation of ſo ſacred a Friendſhip.

YOU bring your Arguments quite home, Mr. Meekly, ſaid the Earl; the Underſtand⯑ing cannot reject what the Heart ſo ſenſi⯑bly feels. My Soul deeply acknowledges the Exiſtence of Virtue, with its eſſential [120]and inherent Difference from Vice, and this Difference, I acknowledge, muſt as ne⯑ceſſarily be founded in the Difference of the Principles from whence they proceed; but, what thoſe Principles are I know not; and I am equally a Stranger to what you intend by a Man's getting out of him⯑ſelf in order to Happineſs. What am I to underſtand by the Term SELF, Mr. Meekly.

Every Particle of Matter, my Lord, has a SELF or diſtinct Identity, inaſmuch as it cannot be any other Particle of Matter. Now, while it continues in this its State of SELFISHNESS or abſolute Diſtinc⯑tion, it is utterly uſeleſs and inſignificant, and is to the Univerſe as tho' it were not. It has however a Principle of Attraction (analogous or anſwerable to Deſire in Mind) whereby it endeavours to derive to itſelf the Powers and Advantages of all other Portions of Matter. But when the DI⯑VINE INTELLIGENCE hath harmo⯑nized certain Quantities of ſuch diſtinct Particles into certain animal or vegetable Syſtems, this Principle of Attraction in each is overcome, for each becomes at⯑tracted and drawn as it were from SELF, each yields up its Powers to the Benefit of the Whole, and then, and then only, be⯑comes capable and productive of Shape, [121]Colouring, Beauty, Flowers, Fragrance, and Fruits.

Be pleaſed now to obſerve, my Lord, that this Operation in Matter is no other than a Manifeſtation of the like Proceſs in Mind; and that no Soul was ever capable of any Degree of Virtue or Happineſs ſave ſo far as it is drawn away, in its Affecti⯑ons, from SELF; ſave ſo far as it is en⯑gaged in wiſhing, contriving, endeavour⯑ing, promoting, and rejoicing in the Wel⯑fare and Happineſs of others.

It is therefore that the Kingdom of Heaven is moſt aptly, and moſt beautiful⯑ly, compared to a Tree bearing Fruit and diffuſing Odours, whoſe Root is the PRINCIPLE of infinite Benevolence, and whoſe Braches are the bleſſed Mem⯑bers, receiving conſummate Beatitude from the Act of Communication.

I think, indeed, ſaid the Earl, that I can form ſome Sort of a Notion of ſuch a Society in Heaven. But it would poſe you, Mr. Meekly, to exemplify your Poſi⯑tion from any Body of Men that ever were upon Earth.

Pray pardon me, my Lord, the States of Sparta and Rome, derived their Luſtre and Power, their whole Preeminence and [122]Praiſe, from this Principle of Communication, which, in them, was called Love of Country. But this beatifying Principle was ſtill more eminently inſtanced in the Society of the Church of Jeruſalem, who had all Things in common; who imparted their Poſſeſſions to all Men, as every Man had need; and, thence, did eat their common Bread with Gladneſs and Singleneſs of Heart, praiſing God, and having Favour with all People.

You ſay, my Lord, that you can form a Notion of ſome ſuch Excellence in Hea⯑ven; but I can form no Notion of any Ex⯑cellence more admirable, in Heaven itſelf, than when a Man, in his preſent State of frail and depraved Nature, overbears his perſonal Fears of Pain and Mortality, and yields up his Body to aſſured Perdition, for public Good, or for the ſake of thoſe whom it delighteth him to preſerve.

I ſhall paſs over the Inſtances of the Roman Regulus and the Decii, as alſo that of Leonidas and his three Hundred Spartans who devoted their Lives for the Liberties of Greece; was that Candidate leſs a Hero who, being rejected from being one of theſe Self-devoted, exclaimed, the Gods be praiſed that there are three Hundred, in Sparta, better Men than myſelf! But, I come nearer our own Times and our [123]own Nation, to exemplify this Diſregard of SELF, the vital Source and Principle of every Virtue, in ſix Mechanics or Craftſ⯑men of the City of Calais.

Edward the Third, after the Battle of Creſſy, laid Siege to Calais. He had forti⯑fied his Camp in ſo impregnable a Manner, that all the Efforts of France proved in⯑effectual to raiſe the Siege, or throw Suc⯑cours into the City. The Citizens howe⯑ver, under the Conduct of Count Vienne their gallant Governour, made an admira⯑ble Defence. Day after Day the Engliſh effected many a Breach which they repeat⯑edly expected to ſtorm by Morning; but, when Morning appeared, they wonder'd to behold new Ramparts raiſed, nightly erected out of the Ruins which the Day had made.

France had now put the Sickle into her ſecond Harveſt ſince Edward with his victorious Army ſat down before the Town. The Eyes of all Europe were in⯑tent on the Iſſue. The Engliſh made their Approaches and Attacks without Remiſſi⯑on; but the Citizens were as obſtinate in repelling all their Efforts.

At length, Famine did more for Edward than Arms. After the Citizens had de⯑voured [124]the lean Carcaſſes of their ſtarved Cattle, they tore up old Foundations and Rubbiſh in ſearch of Vermin. They fed on boiled Leather and the Weeds of ex⯑hauſted Gardens, and a Morſel of damag⯑ed Corn was accounted Matter of Luxury.

In this Extremity they reſolved to at⯑tempt the Enemy's Camp. They boldly ſallied forth; the Engliſh joined Battle; and, after a long and deſperate Engage⯑ment, Count Vienne was taken Priſoner; and the Citizens, who ſurvived the Slaugh⯑ter, retired within their Gates.

On the Captivity of the Governour, the Command devolved upon Euſtace Saint Pierre, the Mayor of the Town, a Man of mean Birth but of exalted Virtue.

Euſtace now found himſelf under the ne⯑ceſſity of capitulating and offered to deli⯑ver, to Edward, the City, with all the Poſſeſſions and Wealth of the Inhabitants, provided he permitted them to depart with Life and Liberty.

As Edward had long ſince expected to aſcend the Throne of France, he was exaſ⯑perated, to the laſt Degree, againſt theſe People, whoſe ſole Valour had defeated his warmeſt Hopes; he therefore determined to take an exemplary Revenge, though [125]he wiſhed to avoid the Imputation of Cruely. He anſwered, by Sir Walter Mauny, that they all deſerved capital Pu⯑niſhment as obſtinate Traitors to him, their true, and natural Sovereign. That, however, in his wonted Clemency, he con⯑ſented to pardon the Bulk of the Plebei⯑ans, provided they would deliver up to him ſix of their principal Citizens, with Halters about their Necks, as Victims of due Atonement for that Spirit of Rebellion with which they had enflamed the vulgar Herd.

All the Remains of this deſolate City were convened in the great Square, and, like Men arraign'd at a Tribunal from whence there was no Appeal, expected with beat⯑ing Hearts the Sentence of their Con⯑queror.

When Sir Walter had declared his Meſ⯑age, Conſternation and pale Diſmay was impreſſed on every Face. Each looked upon Death as his own inevitable Lot; for, how ſhould they deſire to be ſaved at the Price propoſed? whom had they to deliver ſave Parents, Brothers, Kindred, or valiant Neighbours who had ſo often expoſed their Lives in their Defence? To a long and dead Silence deep Sighs and Groans ſucceeded; till Euſtace St. Pierre, [126]getting up to a little Eminence, thus ad⯑dreſſed the Aſſembly.

He ſpoke—but a univerſal Silence enſued. Each Man looked around for the Example of that Virtue and Magnanimity, in others, which all wiſhed to approve in themſelves, though they wanted the Reſo⯑lution.

At length Saint Pierre reſumed—‘It had been baſe in me, my fellow Citi⯑zens to propoſe any Matter of Damage, to others, which I myſelf had not been willing to undergo in my own Perſon. [128]But I held it ungenerous to deprive any Man of that Preference and Eſtimation which might attend a firſt Offer, on ſo ſignal an Occaſion. For I doubt not but there are many here as ready, nay more zealous of this Martyrdom than I can be, however Modeſty and the Fear of imputed Oſtentation may withold them from being foremoſt in exhibiting their Merits.’

‘Indeed, the Station, to which the Captivity of Lord Vienne has unhappily raiſed me, imparts a Right to be the firſt in giving my Life for your Sakes. I give it freely, I give it chearfully; who comes next?’

Your Son! exclaimed a Youth, not yet come to Maturity. — ‘Ah my Child! cried Saint Pierre, I am, then, twice ſacrificed. — But, no — I have rather begotten thee a ſecond Time. — Thy Years are few but full, my Son; the Victim of Virtue has reached the utmoſt Purpoſe and Goal of Mortality. Who next, my Friends? — This is the Hour of Heroes.’ — Your Kinſman, cried John D'Aire! your Kinſman, cried James Wiſſant! your Kinſman, cried Peter Wiſſant! — Ah, exclaimed Sir Walter Mauny, burſting into Tears, why was I not a Citizen of Calais?

[129] The ſixth Victim was ſtill wanting, but was quickly ſupplied, by Lot, from Num⯑bers who were now emulous of ſo ennobling an Example.

The Keys of the City were then deli⯑vered to Sir Walter. He took the ſix Priſoners into his Cuſtody. He ordered the Gates to be opened, and gave Charge to his Attendants to conduct the remaining Citizens, with their Families, through the Camp of the Engliſh.

Before they departed, however, they de⯑ſired Permiſſion to take their laſt Adieu of their Deliverers — What a Parting, what a Scene! They crouded with their Wives and Children about Saint Pierre and his fellow Priſoners. They embraced, they clung around, they fell proſtrate before them. They groaned, they wept aloud; and the joint Clamour of their Mourning paſſed the Gates of the City and was heard throughout the Camp.

The Engliſh, by this Time, were ap⯑priſed of what paſſed within Calais. They heard the Voice of Lamentation, and their Souls were touched with Compaſſion. Each of the Soldiers prepared a Portion of their own Victuals to welcome and enter⯑tain the half famiſhed Inhabitants; and [130]they loaded them with as much as their preſent Weakneſs was able to bear, in or⯑der to ſupply them with Suſtenance by the Way.

At length, Saint Pierre and his fellow Victims appeared under the conduct of Sir Walter and a Guard. All the Tents of the Engliſh were inſtantly emptied. The Soldiers poured from all Parts, and arrang⯑ed themſelves on each Side, to behold, to contemplate, to admire this little Band of Patriots as they paſſed. They bowed down to them on all Sides. They mur⯑mured their applauſe of that Virtue which they could not but revere, even in Ene⯑mies. And they regarded thoſe Ropes, which they had voluntarily aſſumed about their Necks, as Enſigns of greater Dignity than that of the Britiſh Garter.

As ſoon as they had reached the Pre⯑ſence, Mauny! ſays the Monarch, are theſe the principal Inhabitants of Calais? They are, ſays Mauny, they are not only the principal Men of Calais, they are the prin⯑cipal Men of France, my Lord, if Virtue has any Share in the Act of ennobling. Were they delivered peaceably, ſays Ed⯑ward; was there no Reſiſtance, no Com⯑motion among the People? Not in the leaſt, my Lord; the People would all have periſhed, rather than have delivered the [131]leaſt of theſe to your Majeſty. They are Self-delivered, Self-devoted, and come to offer up their ineſtimable Heads as an am⯑ple Equivalent for the Ranſom of Thou⯑ſands.

Edward was ſecretly piqued at this Re⯑ply of Sir Walter, but, he knew the Privi⯑lege of a Britiſh Subject, and ſuppreſſed his Reſentment. Experience, ſays he hath ever ſhewn that Lenity only ſerves to in⯑vite People to new Crimes. Severity, at Times, is indiſpenſably neceſſary to deter Subjects into Submiſſion by Puniſhment and Example. Go, he cried to an Officer, lead theſe Men to Execution. Your Re⯑bellion, continued he, addreſſing himſelf to Saint Pierre, your Rebellion againſt me, the natural Heir of your Crown, is highly aggravated by your preſent Preſumption and Affront of my Power.—We have nothing to aſk of your Majeſty, ſaid Euſ⯑tace, ſave what you cannot refuſe us.—What is that?—Your Eſteem, my Lord, ſaid Euſtace, and went out with his Companions.

At this Inſtant, a Sound of Triumph was hear'd throughout the Camp. The Queen had juſt arrived, with a powerful Rein⯑forcement of thoſe gallant Soldiers, at the Head of whom ſhe had conquer'd Scotland, and taken their King Captive.

[132] Sir Walter Mauny flew to receive her Majeſty, and briefly inform'd her of the Particulars reſpecting the ſix Victims.

As ſoon as She had been welcomed by Edward and his Court, She deſir'd a pri⯑vate Audience. My Lord, ſaid She, the Queſtion I am to enter upon is not touch⯑ing the Lives of a few Mechanics; it re⯑ſpects a Matter, more eſtimable than the Lives of all the Natives of France, it re⯑ſpects the Honour of the Engliſh Nation, it reſpects the Glory of my Edward, my Huſ⯑band, my King.

You think you have ſentenced Six of your Enemies to Death. No, my Lord, they have ſentenced themſelves, and their Ex⯑ecution would be the Execution of their own Orders, not the Orders of Edward.

They have behaved themſelves worthi⯑ly, they have behaved themſelves greatly, I cannot but reſpect, while I envy, while I hate them, for leaving us no Share in the Honour of this Action, ſave that of gran⯑ting a poor and indiſpenſable Pardon.

I admit they have deſerved every Thing that is evil at your Hands. They have pro⯑ved the moſt inveterate and efficacious of your Enemies. They, alone, have with⯑ſtood [133]the rapid Courſe of your Conqueſts, and have witheld from You the Crown to which You were born. Is it therefore that You would reward them? that you would gratify their Deſires, that you would in⯑dulge their Ambition, and enwreath them with everlaſting Glory and Applauſe?

But, if ſuch a Death would exalt Me⯑chanics over the Fame of the moſt illuſ⯑trious Heroes, how would the Name of my Edward, with all his Triumphs and Honours be tarniſhed thereby! Would it not be ſaid that Magnanimity and Virtue are grown odious in the Eyes of the Monarch of Britain? And that the Objects, whom he deſtines to the Puniſhment of Felons, are the very Men who deſerve the Praiſe and Eſteem of Mankind The Stage, on which they ſhould ſuffer, would be to them a Stage of Honour, but a Stage of Shame to Edward, a Reproach to his Conqueſts, a dark and indelible Diſgrace to his Name.

No, my Lord. Let us rather diſappoint the ſaucy Ambition of theſe Burghers, who wiſh to inveſt themſelves with Glory at our Expence. We cannot, indeed, wholely deprive them of the merit of a Sacrifice ſo nobly intended; but we may cut them ſhort of their Deſires; in the Place of that Death, by which their Glory would be conſummate, let us bury them under Gifts, [134]let us put them to Shame with Praiſes; we ſhall thereby defeat them of that popular Opinion which never fails to attend thoſe who ſuffer in the Cauſe of Virtue.

I am convinced; you have prevailed; be it ſo, cryed Edward, prevent the Execution; have them inſtantly before us!

They came, when the Queen, with an Aſpect and Accents diffuſing Sweetneſs, thus beſpoke them.

Natives of France, and Inhabitants of Calais, Ye have put us to vaſt Expence of Blood and Treaſure in the Recovery of our juſt and natural Inheritance; but, you acted up to the beſt of an erroneous Judg⯑ment, and we admire and honour in you that Valour and Virtue, by which we are ſo long kept out of our rightful Poſſeſſions.

You noble Burghers, you excellent Citi⯑zens! though you were tenfold the Ene⯑mies of our Perſon and our Throne, we can feel nothing, on our Part, ſave Reſpect and Affection for You. You have been ſufficiently teſted. We looſe your Chains, we ſnatch You from the Scaffold; and we thank You for that Leſſon of Humiliation which you teach us, when you ſhew us that Excellence is not of Blood, of Title, or Station; that Virtue gives a Dignity ſuperior to that of [135]Kings; and that Thoſe, whom the Al⯑mighty informs with Sentiments like yours, are juſtly and eminently raiſed above all human Diſtinctions.

You are now free to depart to your Kinsfolk, your Countrymen, to all Thoſe whoſe Lives and Liberties You have ſo nobly redeemed, provided you refuſe not to carry with You the due Tokens of our Eſteem.

Yet, we would rather bind You, to ourſelves, by every endearing Obligation; and for this Purpoſe, we offer to You your Choice of the Gifts and Honours that Ed⯑ward has to beſtow. Rivals for Fame, but always Friends to Virtue, we wiſh that England were entitled to call You her Sons.

Ah my Country, exclaimed Saint Pierre, it is now that I tremble for You. Edward could only win your Cities, but Philippa conquers Hearts.

Brave Saint Pierre, ſaid the Queen, wherefore look you ſo dejected?—Ah Madam! replied Saint Pierre, when I meet with ſuch another Opportunity of dying, I ſhall not regret that I ſurvived this Day.

Here a long Pauſe enſued. At length the Earl recollected himſelf. Mr. Meekly, ſais he, You have now proved to me your [136]Poſition more effectually, more convincing⯑ly, than all the Powers of Ratiocination could poſſibly do. While you related the Story of thoſe divine Citizens, I was im⯑perceptibly ſtolen away and won entirely from Self. I entered into all their Intereſts, their Paſſions, and Affections; and was wrapt, as it were, into a new World of delightful Senſibilites. Is this what you call Virtue, what you call Happineſs?

A good deal of it, my Lord. There are in Nature but two Kinds of Self; in other Words, there are but two Sorts of Wills in the Univerſe; the Will of infinite Wiſdom, of infinite Benevolence, going forth in Beauty and Beatitude on all Creatures; And the Will of the Creature, deſiring, attract⯑ing, envying, coveting, and rending all Things, from All, to its own Intereſt and Advantage. In the firſt Will ſubſiſts all poſſible Good, from the Second ariſes all poſſible Evil; and did not the firſt Will, in ſome Meaſure, inform and meliorate the Second, the Will of every Creature would be an Iſhmael, his Hand would be a⯑gainſt every One, and every One's Hand againſt him, and there would be nothing but Strife and Diſtraction, Hatred, Horrour, and Miſery throughout the Creation.

Hence it follows that, as there is but one Will, from Eternity, infinitely wiſe [137]to diſcern what is beſt throughout the Uni⯑verſe, infinitely good to deſire the Accom⯑pliſhment of what is beſt, and infinitely powerful to put what is beſt in Execution; every Will that is not inform'd by this ONE WILL, muſt of neceſſity act in Ignorance, in Blindneſs, and Error. I will further affirm that every Act of every Will, that is not informed by the ONE WILL of GOODNESS muſt, of equal ne⯑ceſſity, be the Act of Malevolence.

I do not ſee the neceſſity of that, re⯑plied the Earl. I well perceive that God can give to intelligent Beings an Exiſtence or Identity diſtinct from himſelf, for I ſee that he has done it. What ſhould there⯑fore prevent him from giving Qualities as diſtinct from himſelf as the Eſſence? why might he not impart, to any limited Degree, Capacity, Diſcernment, Power, Wiſdom, and Goodneſs? Might not ſuch a Being inſtantly perceive, to a vaſt Extent, the Relations of Things, with their ſeveral Fitneſſes and Diſagreements? would he not conſequently be enamoured of what was right and beautiful? would he not act agreeable to ſuch a juſt Approbation? and would not ſuch Actions be fitly accounted the Act of Virtue?

At this Inſtant a Meſſenger arrived on the Spur. He brought word to Mr. Meekly [138]that his Friend, Mr. Huſbands, was taken ſuddenly ill and earneſtly requeſted to ſee him directly; whereupon Mr. Meekly, who preferred any Matter of Charity to all other Conſiderations, immediately got up, made a ſilent Bow and vaniſhed.

TO RETURN to our Hero. As ſoon as he was new rigged, he preſs'd for ano⯑ther Viſit to his Patron; who received him, with accuſtomed Tenderneſs, but greatly wonder'd at his Peaſant Dreſs. Nurſe, then, recited to him the whole Adventure of the fritter'd Robeings. Whereat, the old Gentleman, in a manner devoured him with the Eagerneſs of his Careſſes.

When Nurſe and Harry were departed, he called to him his old Domeſtic. James, ſays he, with a Tear yet ſtanding in his Eye, I can no longer live without the Company of this dear Child, haſten, there⯑fore, the Orders that I have already given you, and let all Things be in Readineſs for the firſt Opportunity. The Domeſtic, who had caught the filent Habit of his Maſter, with a Bow, aſſented, and retired.

Autumn was now advanced, and Lord Dickey, with his Brother, a Number of little Aſſociates, and an attending Foot⯑man, got leave to go to the Copſe, a [139]Nutting. As the Children were perfectly acquainted with the Way, the Servant de⯑ſired to ſtay behind, a while, in order to provide Hooks for pulling down the Branches. This was granted; and forth they all iſſued in high Chat and Spirits.

The Copſe lay, at ſome Diſtance, on one Side of the Park behind the Manſion-Houſe; but, when they had nearly ap⯑proached the Place of their Deſtination, Harry miſſed a Garter, and, promiſing ſpeedily to rejoin his Companions, went back to ſeek it.

In the mean Time, his Aſſociates, on entering the Wood, met with another little Poſſe of the Village Fry, who were on their Return, one of whom carried a Bag of Nuts that ſeem'd bulkier than the Bearer. So, Gentlemen, ſays Lord Dickey, where are you going? Why, Home, where ſhould we go? ſays a little Boor, ſullenly. And, pray, what have you been doing, ſays the Lord. Gueſs, ſays the Boor. Is it Nuts that you have got in that Bag? demanded the Lord. Aſk, To-morrow; anſwered the Boor. Sirrah, ſais Dickey, a little provoked, how dare you to come and pull Nuts here, without our Leave? Why, as for that, Maſter Dickey, replied the other, I know you well enough, and I wouldn't aſk your Leave, an' you were [140]twenty Lords, not I. Sirrah, ſays Dickey, I have a great Mind to take your Nuts from you, and to give you as good a Beat⯑ing, into the Bargain, as ever you got in your Life. As for that, Maſter Dickey, coolly anſwered the Villager, you muſt do Both or Neither. Here I lay down my Nuts between us; and now come any Two of your Watergruel Regiment, one down t'other come on, and if I don't give ye your Belly fulls, why, then, take my Nuts, and welcome, to make up the Want.

This gallant Invitation was accepted, on the Spot. Lord Richard choſe his Com⯑panion in Arms; and Both appeared quite fluſh and confident of Victory. For, though neither of them had been verſed in the Gymnaſtic Exerciſes, they didn't want Courage and they knew that the Challen⯑ger was their Inferior in Strength and in Years.

But, unhappily for theſe two Champi⯑ons of Quality, Tommy Truck, their Ad⯑verſary, had, like Harry, been a Bruiſer, from two Years old and upward; and was held, in Veneration, as their Leader, and their Chief, by many who were his Supe⯑riors in Age and Stature.

[141] Lord Richard began the Aſſault, but, was down in a Twinkling. To him his Friend ſucceeded, but, with no better For⯑tune. A Swing or Trip of Tommy's ſent them, inſtantly, as Alcides ſent Antaeus, to gather Strength from their Mother-Earth. And, though theſe Summer Heroes, like the young Roman Nobility at the Battle of Pharſalia, were ſolely intent on defending their pretty Faces from Annoyance, yet Tommy, at the third Turn, had bloodied them, Both.

Harry, who was now on his Return, perceived the Engagement, and, running up, and, ruſhing between the Combatants, interpoſed, with a Voice of Authority, and parted the Fray.

Having enquired, and duely informed himſelf of the Merits of the Caſe, he, firſt turned him to Lord Richard, and ſaid, O, Brother Dickey, Brother Dickey, you ought not to hinder poor Boys from pull⯑ing a few dirty Nuts, what ſignifies 'em? Then, turning to the Challenger; his old Acquaintance; Tommy, ſays he, did you know that Dickey was my Brother? Yes, ſays Tommy, rudely, and what tho' of I did. O, nothing at all, ſays Harry, but I want to ſpeak with you, Tommy. Whereup⯑on he took the Conqueror under the Arm, and walked away, with him, very [142]lovingly, in all Appearance, looking about to take Care that none of the Boys fol⯑low'd him.

Mean Time, the little Gentry threw out their Invectives, in Profuſion, againſt our departed Hero. I think, ſays one, that Maſter Harry had as much to blame in Tommy as Lord Dickey. Ay, ſays ano⯑ther, one would think he might as well have taken his Brother's Part, as that Blackguard's. Indeed, it was very naugh⯑ty of him, ſays a Third. For my Part, ſays a Fourth, I never will have any Thing more to ſay to him.

While, thus, they vilified their late Friend, he and his fellow Champion walk⯑ed, Arm in Arm, in a ſullen and uninter⯑rupted Silence. Till, coming to a ſmall Opening, in a ſecreted Part of the Wood, Harry quitted his Companion, deſired him to ſtrip, and, inſtantly, caſt aſide his own Hat, Coat, and Waiſtcoat. Why ſhould I ſtrip, ſays Tommy? To Box, ſays Harry. Why ſhould you box with me, Harry? ſure I didn't ſtrike you, ſays Tom. Yes, Sir, replied our Hero, you ſtruck me when you ſtruck Dickey, and knew that he was my Brother. Nay, Harry, cried Tom, if it's Fight you are for, I'll give you enough of it, I warrant you.

[143] Tom was about eight Months older than Harry, his equal in the Practice of Arms, and much the ſtronger. But, Harry was full as tall; and his Motions, quicker than Thought, prevented the Ward of the moſt experienced Adverſary.

Together they ruſhed, like two little Tygers. At once, they ſtruck and parri⯑ed, and, watching every open, they darted their little Fiſts, like Engines, at each other. But Tom, marking the Quickneſs, and feeling the Smart of Harry's Strokes, ſuddenly leapt within his Arm, bore him down to the Earth, and triumphantly gave him the firſt riſing Blow.

Harry roſe, indignant, but warn'd, by the Strength of his Adverſary, to better Caution. He now fought, more aloof, and as Tom preſſed upon him, he at once guarded, ſtruck, and wheel'd, like an ex⯑perienced Cock, without quitting the Pit of Honour.

Tom, finding himſelf wholely foiled by this Parthian Method of Combat, again ruſh'd upon his Enemy, who was, now, aware of the Shock. They cloſed, they grappled, they caught each other by the Shoulders, join'd Head to Head, and Breaſt to Breaſt, and ſtood, like two Pil⯑lars, [144]merely ſupported by their Bearing againſt one another. Again they ſhifted the left Arm, caught each other about the Neck, and cuffed and punch'd at Face and Stomach, without Mercy or Remiſſion; till Tom, impatient of this Length of Battle, gave Harry a ſide Swing, and, Harry giv⯑ing Tom a Trip at the ſame Time, they fell Side by Side, together upon the Earth.

They roſe, and retreated, to draw Breath, as by mutal Conſent. They glar⯑ed on one another with an Eye of vindic⯑tive Apprehenſion. For neither of them could now boaſt of more Optics than Poliphemus; and, from their Forehead to their Shoes, they were in one Gore of Blood.

Again they flew upon each other, again they ſtruck, foined, and defended, and al⯑ternately, preſs'd on and retreated in Turns, till Harry, ſpying an Open, dart⯑ed his Fiſt, like a Shot, into the remain⯑ing Eye of his Enemy. Tom, finding him⯑ſelf in utter Darkneſs, inſtantly, ſprung upon his Foe, and endeavoured to grapple; but Harry, with equal Agility, avoided the Shock, and, traverſing here and there beat his Adverſary at Pleaſure. Till Tom cried out, I yield I yield, Harry, for I can't ſee to fight, any more.

[145] Then, Harry took Tom by the Hand and led him to his Cloaths, and, having aſſiſted him to dreſs, he, next, did the ſame friendly Office to himſelf. Then, Arm in Arm, they returned much more loving, in reality, than they ſet out, hav⯑ing been beaten into a true Reſpect and Affection for each other.

Sometime before this, the Footman had joined his young Lord, with the ſeveral Implements requiſite for Nutting. They had, already, pulled down great Quanti⯑ties; the young Quality had ſtuffed their Pockets; and the little Plebeians, who had aſſiſted, were now permitted to be buſie in gathering up the Refuſe. When all, turning at the Cry of there's Harry, there's Tom, they perceived our two Champions, advancing, leiſurely, but Hand in Hand, as Friends and Brothers.

They had left their Cloaths unbuttoned, for the Benefit of the cooling Air; and, as they approached, their Companions were frozen into Aſtoniſhment, at the Sight of their two Friends all covered with Crimſon.

They were neither able to advance to meet them, nor to ſpeak, when they ar⯑rived. 'Till Lord Dickey, firſt, inquired into this bloody Cataſtrophe, and, Harry [116]remaining wholely ſilent on the Subject; blind Tommy cried out, why, Maſter Dickey, the Truth is, that Harry, beat me, becauſe I beat You. Then Dickey, feeling a ſudden Guſh of Gratitude and Affection riſing up in his Boſom, look⯑ed wiſtfully on his Brother, and ſaid, with a plaintive Voice, O Brother Harry, Brother Harry, you are ſadly hurt; and, turning about, he began to weep moſt bitterly. But Harry ſaid, Shaw! Brother Dickey, don't cry Man, I don't matter it of the Head of a braſs Pin. Then turning to the Footman, with Tom ſtill in his Hand, he cried, here John, take that Bag of Nuts and poor blind Tommy to my Mammy's, and tell Daddy that I deſire him to ſee them both ſafe home.

Sir, your Hero is indeed a Hero, he muſt be every body's Hero.

Sir, you do him vaſt Honour; and I ſhould be proud of your further In⯑ſtructions towards his ſupporting the Dig⯑nity of the Character you give him. Pray, what are the ingredient Qualities of which a Hero is compounded? what Idea have you formed of ſuch a Perſonage? tell me, I beſeech you, what is a Hero, my good Friend?

Pſhaw!—what a Queſtion—every Fool knows that.—A Hero is—as though one ſhould ſay—a Man of high Achievement—who performs fa⯑mous Exploits—who does Things that are heroical—and in all his Actions and Demeanour, is a Hero indeed—why do you laugh—I will give you the Inſtances approved throughout the World; record⯑ed and duely celebrated by Poets, Painters, Sculptors, Statuaries, and Hiſtorians.—There was the Aſſyrian Ninus, the Seſoſtris of Egypt, the Cyrus of Perſia, the Alexander of Greece, the Caeſar of Rome, and, partly in our own Days, there was the Conde of France, the Charles of Sweden, and Perſia's Kouli Kan.—What the plague does the Fellow laugh at?

I am laughing to think what a Blockhead Themiſtocles was. Being aſked whom he conſidered as the greateſt of Heroes; not him who conquers but who ſaves, replied Themiſtocles; not the Man who ruins but the Man who erects; who, of a Village can make a City, or turn a deſpicable People into a great Nation.

According to your Notion of He⯑roiſm, that Boor and Barbarian, Peter Alexiowitz of Ruſſia, was the greateſt Hero that ever lived.

True, my Friend; for, of a nu⯑merous People, he diſembruted every one, except himſelf. But then, in all Equity, he ought to divide his Glory with Kate the Waſherwoman, who humanized the Man that humanized a Nation.

Whom do you take to have been the greateſt Hero of Antiquity?

Lycurgus, without Compariſon, the greateſt of Heroes and the greateſt of Legiſlators. In thoſe very early Days, the People of Lacedaemon were extremely rude and ignorant; they acknowledged no Laws, ſave the Dictates of their own Will or the Will of their Rulers. Lycurgus might have aſſumed the Sceptre; but his Ambition aſpired to a much more eleva⯑ted and durable Dominion, over the Souls, Manners, and Conduct of this People and their Poſterity. He framed a Body of the moſt extraordinary Inſtitutions that ever enteredinto the Heart or Head of Man. Next to thoſe of our DIVINE LE⯑GISLATOR, they were intended to form a new Creature. He prevailed upon the Rich to make an equal Diſtribution of their Lands with the Poor. He prohibited the Uſe of all ſuch Money as was current among other Nations, and, thereby prohi⯑bited [149]the Importation of the Means and Materials of Pomp and Luxury. He en⯑joined them to feed, in common, on ſim⯑ple and frugal Fare. He forbid all Gor⯑geouſneſs of Furniture and Apparel. In ſhort, he endeavoured to ſuppreſs every ſenſual and ſelfiſh Deſire, by Injunctions of daily Exerciſe, Toil, and Hardſhip, a pa⯑tient Endurance of Pain, and a noble Con⯑tempt of Death. At length, feigning ſome Occaſion of being abroad for a Sea⯑ſon, he exacted an Oath from the Lacedae⯑monians that they ſhould ſtrictly obſerve his Laws, without the ſmalleſt Infringe⯑ment, till his Return. Thus, for the love of his Country, he went into per⯑petual Baniſhment from it. And he took Meaſures, at his Death, that his Body ſhould never be found, leſt it ſhould be carried back to Sparta, and give his Coun⯑trymen a Colour for diſſolving their Oath.

Laying Peter aſide, who, think you, was the greateſt Hero among the Mo⯑derns?

To confeſs the Truth; among all that I have heard or read of; the Hero whom I moſt affect was a Madman, and the Lawgiver whom I moſt affect was a Fool.

'Troth, I believe you never would have been the Writer you are at this Day, if you had not adopted ſomewhat of both the ſaid Qualities. But, come, unriddle I beſeech you; where may this favourite Hero and Legiſlator be found?

In a Fragment of the Spaniſh Hiſ⯑tory, bequeathed to the World by one Signior Cervantes.

O!—have you led me to my old Acquaintance? pray, has not your Pegaſus ſome Smatch of the Qualities of the fa⯑mous Roſinante?

Quite as chaſte, I aſſure you. But, I perceive that you think I am drolling; you don't ſuppoſe that you can ever be ſe⯑riouſly of the ſame Opinion. Yet, if you demand of your own Memory, for what have the great Heroes throughout Hiſtory been renowned? it muſt anſwer, for Miſ⯑chief merely, for ſpreading Deſolation and Calamity among Men. How greatly, how gloriouſly, how divinely ſuperior was our Hero of the Mancha! who went about righting of Wrongs, and redreſſing of Injuries, lifting up the fallen, and pulling down thoſe whom Iniquity had exalted. In this his marvellous Undertaking, what Buffet⯑tings, what Bruiſings, what Tramplings of [151]Ribs, what pounding of Packſtaves did his Bones not endure? (Mine ached at the recital.) But, Toil was his Bed of Down, and the Houſe of Pain was, to him, a Bower of Delight, while he conſider'd himſelf as engaged in giving Eaſe, Ad⯑vantage, and Happineſs to others. If E⯑vents did not anſwer to the Enterprizes of his Heart, it is not to be imputed to the Man but to his Malady; for, had his Power and Succeſs been as extenſive as his Benevolence, all Things awry, upon Earth, at the Riſque of his Limbs and Life, would inſtantly have been ſet as ſtreight as a Cedar.

But, let me turn, with Reverence, to kiſs the Hem of the Robes of the moſt re⯑ſpectable of all Governors and Legiſlators, Sancho Panſa. What Judgments! what Inſtitutions! how are Minos, and Solon, and the inſpired of the Goddeſs Aegeria here eclipſed! Sancho, thou waſt a Peaſant, thou waſt illiterate, thou waſt a Dunce for a Man, but an Angel for a Governor; inaſmuch as, contrary to the Cuſtom of all other Governors, thou didſt not deſire any Thing, thou didſt not wiſh for any Thing, thine Eye was not bent to any Thing, ſave the Good of thy People! therefore thou cou'dſt not ſtray, thou hadſt no other way to travel. Could Aeſop's Log have been moved to Action [152]upon the ſame Principle, the Regency of Storks had not prevailed among Men. How am I provoked, Panſa, when I ſee thee inſulted! how am I grieved when I find thee depoſed! Saving the Realms of a certain Majeſty, I ſay, and ſigh to my⯑ſelf, O, that the whole Earth were as thine Iſland of Barataria; and thou, Sancho, the Legiſlator and the Ruler thereof.

I feel Conviction. I confeſs it. But tell me, I pray you; why has the World, through all Ages and Nations, univerſally aſcribed Heroiſm and Glory to Conqueſt?

Through the Reſpect, as I take it, that they have for Power. Man is by Nature weak; he is born in and to a State of Dependence; he therefore naturally ſeeks and looks about for Help; and, where he obſerves the greateſt Power, it is there that he applies and prays for Pro⯑tection. Now, though this Power ſhould be exerted to his Damage, inſtead of De⯑fence, it makes no Alteration in his Re⯑verence for it; he bows while he trem⯑bles, and while he deteſts he worſhips. In the preſent Caſe, it is with Man, as it is with God; He is not ſo awful and ſtrik⯑ing, he is not ſo much attended to, in the Sunſhine and gentle Dews of his Provi⯑dence [153]and Benignity, as in his Lightnings and Thunders, his Clouds and his Tem⯑peſts.

Hero, heros, and [...], in the three Languages, ſignify a Demigod, or one who is ſuperior to mere Man. But, how can this Superiority or Diſtinction be ſhewn? The ſerene Acts of Beneficence, the ſmall and ſtill Voice of Goodneſs are neither accompanied by Noiſe nor Oſtenta⯑tion. It is Uproar and Tumult, rather the Tumbling of ſack'd Cities, the Shrieks of raviſh'd Matrons, and the Groans of dying Nations that fill the Trump of Fame. Men of Power and Ambition find Diſtinc⯑tion and Glory, very readily, attainable in this Way; as it is incomparably more eaſy to deſtroy than to create, to give Death than to give Life, to pull down than to build up, to bring Devaſtation and Miſery rather than Plenty and Peace and Proſpe⯑rity upon Earth.

Were not Mankind, in this In⯑ſtance, as blind to their own Intereſts, as they were iniquitous in giving Glory where Shame alone was due?

In ſo doing, they proved at once the Dupes and the Victims of their own Folly. Praiſe a Child for his Genius in Pranks of Miſchief and Malevolence, and [154]you quicken him in the direct Road to the Gallows. It is juſt ſo that this wiſe World has bred up its heroic Reprobates, by aſcribing Honour and Acclamation to Deeds that called loudy for Infamy and the Gibbet; for the World was an Aſs from its very Commencement, and it will conti⯑nue a Dunderhead to the End.

From the Beginning of Things (a long Time ago) the joint Invention of Mankind has diſcovered but two Methods of procur⯑ing Suſtenance on Earth, the Firſt by the Labour of their own Hands, the ſecond by employing the Hands of others.

All therefore are excluded, or at leaſt ought to be excluded from ſuch a World, who refuſe to labour, or, what is ſtill worſe, who diſturb and prevent the La⯑bour of Others.

Among thoſe who will not labour, we may number all who have the Happineſs of being born to no Manner of End; ſuch as the Monks of every Country, the Der⯑viſes of Perſia, the Bramins of India, the Mandarins of China, and the Gentlemen of theſe free and poliſhed Nations.

Theſe have nothing to do but to ſleep it, to wake it; to eat it, to drink it; to dance it, to doze it; to riot it, to roar [155]it; and to rejoice in the happy Earneſt which this World has given them of the Jollities of the next.

Among thoſe who diſturb the Labour of others, I reckon all your raſcally Alex⯑anders and Caeſars, whether antient or modern, who, in their Fits of Frenzy and Folly, ſcamper about, breaking the Lan⯑terns and beating the Watch of this World, to the great Amazement of Women and Terrour of little Children; and, who ſeem to think that Heaven gave Noſes and Heads, for no End in Nature but to be blooded and cracked. In ſhort, I have no Patience when I hear talk of theſe Fellows. I am not Half ſo fretted when I hear my own Works read—Go on, I requeſt you, it may happen to put me in Temper.

CHAP. V.

THE young Gentlemen were, now, upon their Return; and, as they approached the Houſe, they crouded about Harry to keep him from being ſeen, till he took an Opportunity of ſlipping away and ſtealing up to his Chamber. He now grew ſtiff and ſore, and his Nurſe, hav⯑ing got an Intimation of what had hap⯑pened, hurried up to him, and wept over him with abundant Tears of cordial Affec⯑tion. She ſtrait, undreſſed, and put him to Bed; and, having ordered ſome White-Wine Whey, of which ſhe made him drink plentifully, ſhe, alſo, undreſſed, and went to bed to him, and Harry, caſt⯑ing his little Arm about her Neck, and, putting his Head in her Boſom, was faſt in a Twinkling.

By this, John had returned from the Execution of his Commiſſion. He had been fully apprized by Tommy, on the Road, of all the Circumſtances relating to this bloody Buſineſs; and, going to his Lord and Lady, he gave them the whole Detail, occaſionally dwelling, and expatia⯑ting on Harry's Courage, his Proweſs, his Honour, and his Generoſity. They could, now, no longer forbear indulging them⯑ſelves [157]with the Sight of a Child, in whom they held themſelves honoured, above all Titles. They ſtole, gently, up Stairs; and, having got a Peep at Harry, and ob⯑ſerved that he was faſt aſleep, they ſtole, as ſoftly, back again, each inwardly exult⯑ing in their glorious Boy.

Our Hero was ſcarce recovered, from his Wounds and Bruiſes, when, on a Day, he met a little Beggar Boy at the Hall-Door, half naked, and whinging, and ſhivering with Cold. His Heart was, in⯑ſtantly, touched with wonted Compaſſion; and, taking him by the Hand, what is your Name, my poor little Boy, ſays Harry? Neddy, Sir, ſays the Child. And, where's your Daddy and Mammy? O, Sir, anſwered Ned, I have no Daddy nor Mam⯑my in the World wide. Don't cry, don't cry, ſays Harry, I have ſeveral Daddies and Mammies, and I'll give you One or Two of 'em. But, where did you leave your Cloaths, Neddy? I haven't any, Sir, replied the Child in a piteous Accent. Well well, it don't matter, Neddy, for I have more Cloaths, too, ſays Harry. So, taking him again by the Hand, he led him up to his Apartment, without being perceived of any; and, helping him to ſtrip, he ran to his Cloſet for the Shirt which he had laſt thrown off, and put it on the new Comer with equal Haſte and [158]Delight. He, next, ran for the entire Suit that his bearded Dada had given him, and, having helped, and ſhewn him how to put on the Breeches, he drew on the Stockings and Shoes with his own Hands. To theſe ſucceeded the Coat and Waiſtcoat, and Ned was, now, full as well rigg'd as his Benefactor.

Never had our Hero enjoyed himſelf, ſo highly, as while he was thus employed. When he had finiſhed his Operations, he chuckled and ſmiled, turn'd Ned, round and round, walked here and there about him, and was as proud of him, as if he had been wholely of his own making.

He now, again, became thoughtful, forecaſting in his Mind the Particulars that might further be requiſite for the Accommodation of his Gueſt; for he was grown too fond of him to think of parting ſuddenly. He then recollected an adjoin⯑ing Lumber-Room, and, taking Ned with him, they found a little old Mattreſs, which, with united Strength they dragged forth, and lodged in a convenient Corner of the Cloſet. To this they added a Pair of old Blanketts, and Harry, having ſpread them for Ned's Repoſe, in the beſt Man⯑ner he was able, aſked his Dependent if he was yet hungry; Yes, very, very hungry indeed, Sir, cried Ned. No ſoon⯑er [159]ſaid, than Harry flew down to the Kitchen, and, looking about, and ſpying a large Porringer of Milk and a Luncheon of Bread, that one of the Servants had provided for a young Favourite of their own, he ſeized upon them like a Hawk, and haſt'ning, again to his Chamber, de⯑livered them to Neddy who, already, had half devoured them with his Eyes. Ned, inſtantly, fell to with the Rapture of a Cormorant, or any Rapture that can be ſuppoſed leſs than that of his Friend Harry, who ſtood over him with the Feelings of a Parent Turtle; that feeds his Young with the Meat derived from his own Bowels.

For a few Days, Harry kept his Depen⯑dent ſhut up in his Chamber, or Cloſet, without the Privity of any of the Family, except Nurſe, to whom he had reveal'd the Affair under the Seal of the ſtricteſt Secreſy.

But, on a croſs Day, Suſy the Houſe⯑maid, having entered with a new Broom into our Hero's Apartment, perceived, in a Corner, the tatter'd Depoſite of Ned's original Robeings, and, lifting them, at a cautious Diſtance, with a Finger and Thumb, ſhe perceived, alſo, as many o⯑ther Philoſophers have done, that there is no part of this Globe which is not peo⯑pled with Nations of Animals, if Man [160]had but Attention, and Optics duely ac⯑commodated to the Viſion. She dropt the living Garment, as though ſhe had ta⯑ken up a burning Horſe Shoe; and was, inſtantly, peopled, by her prolific Imagi⯑nation, with Tribes of the ſame Species from Head to Foot.

In this Fit of Diſguſt, Suſy happen'd, unfortunately, to ſtep into the Cloſet, and ſpyed Ned in a dark Corner, where he had ſquatted and drawn himſelf up to the Size of a Hedge-hog. She, immediately flew at him, like one of the Eumenides, and dragged him forth to the Light, as Hercules is ſaid to have haled Cacus from his Den. She queſtioned him, with a Voice of implacable Authority, and Ned, with humble and ingenuous Tears, con⯑feſſed the whole Adventure. But Suſy, no way melted, exclaimed, what, Sirrah, have you, and your Maſter Harry, a mind to breed an Affection in the Houſe? I will remit of no ſuch Doings, for I have an utter Converſion to Beggar-Brats and Vermil. She then commanded him to bundle up his old Raggs, and, driving him down Stairs before her, ſhe diſmiſſed him from the Hall-Door with a Pair of ſmart Boxes on each Side of his Head, and ordered him never more to Defend her Sight.

[161] Poor Ned, went weeping and wailing, from the Door, when who ſhould he ſee, at about fifty Paces, diſtant, but his be⯑loved Patron Harry, who had been cut⯑ting a Switch from the next Hedge. To him he ran, with Precipitation. Harry, touched with a Compaſſion not free from Reſentment, to ſee his Favourite in Tears, demanded the Cauſe of his apparent Diſ⯑treſs, which Ned truely related. Our Hero, thereupon, became thoughtful and moody; and, judging that Suſy had not acted thus without Authority, he conceiv⯑ed a general Diſguſt at a Family who had treated him ſo injuriouſly in the Perſon of his Neddy; but, comforting his Depen⯑dent the beſt he could, come Neddy, ſays he, don't cry, my Man; I will bring you, that I will, to my own dear Dada, and he will welcome and love you, for my Sake. Then, making his Way through a ſmall Breach in the neighbouring Hedge, he or⯑dered Ned to follow him, and flew acroſs the Field, like a Bird of Paſſage, in a di⯑rect Line to his Patron's.

The old Gentleman ſaw him approach⯑ing and gave Sign to his antient Domeſtic, who withdrew, with Precipitation. He received and careſſed our Hero with more than uſual Tranſport, and who, my Dear ſays he, is this pretty little Boy that you [162]have got with you? Harry, then, like the Grecian Demoſthenes, taking Time to warm himſelf with the Recollection of his own Ideas, and, ſetting his Perſon forth with an Action and Ardour that determined to pre⯑vail, made the following Oration.

Why, Dada, I muſt tell you as how this poor little Boy, for he is a very poor little Boy, and his Name is Neddy, Sir, and he has no Friend in the wide World but you and I, Sir; and, ſo Sir, as I was telling you, he comes to the Door, crying ſadly for Cold and Hunger, and he would have pitied every Body, for he had no Cloaths, nor Daddy nor Mammy at all, Sir, and I had a many of them, and that wasn't fair, you know, Sir; and I was in the Humour to give him all the Dadas and Mamas I had in the World, ex⯑cept you, Sir; and Mammy Nurſe. And ſo, I takes him up Stairs, and I puts the Cloaths upon him, that you gave me, when I was a poor little Boy, Sir; for no Body had to ſay to 'em, but you and I, Sir; and I knew that you would pity poor little Neddy, more than I pitied him my⯑ſelf, Sir. And ſo, Dada, they takes my poor little Neddy to Day, and boxed him, and beat him ſadly, and turned him out of Doors; and ſo I meets him crying and roaring, and ſo, you know, Sir, as how [163]I had nothing to do, but to bring him to you, Sir, or to ſtay, and cry with him for Company, Sir.

Here, Orator Harry ceaſed to ſpeak, except by his Tears, which he could no longer reſtrain, and which proceeded to plead moſt emphatically for him. But, his Patron took him in his Arms, and kiſſed the Drops from both Eyes, and ſaid, don't cry, my Darling, for I am yours, my Harry, and all that I have is yours, and, if you had brought a whole Regiment of poor little Neddies, with you, they ſhould be all welcome to me, for your Sake, my Harry.

Then Harry ſprung up, and caught his Patron about the Neck, ſo that it was ſome Time before the old Gentleman could get looſe. But, Harry, ſays he, I am going juſt now to leave this Country; will you and your Man Neddy come along with me? Over the World wide, Dada, ſays Harry; but where are you going, Sir? I am going a Begging, Harry. O, that will be brave Sport, ſays Harry, I'll tell you what you ſhall do, Dada. What's that, my Love? Why, Sir, ſays Harry, you muſt get a great Bag, like the old Man and little Child that was at Door, 'tother Day. And Neddy and I will beg for you, Sir; and we will put all that we [164]get into your great Bag, as that good lit⯑tle Child did for his Daddy, without touching a Bit; though he was a hungry enough, himſelf, poor Fellow, I warant. But don't let us go to beg to Papa's Door, Sir; for, if you do, they will box and beat us, and drive us away, as they did to poor little Neddy, to Day, Sir.

The old Gentleman, thereat, had his Countenance divided betwixt the riſing Tear and the burſting Laugh. But, taking Harry by the Hand, he ſaid. No no, my heavenly Creature, I am not going to beg of any Man living, but to beg of God to pour down his full Weight of Bleſſings upon my Harry, and, to endea⯑vour to confirm them to him, both here and hereafter, by my Care and Inſtructions.

Having thus ſpoken, he put a large Cake into the Hand of each of the Chil⯑dren, and, cauſing them to drink a full Glaſs of ſmall White-Wine, he took them into a back Yard, where a light Coach with ſix Horſes and three Servants, ready mounted, attended. And, having placed his young Companions, and ſeated himſelf between them, away the Coach drove, at a ſweeping Gallop.

About the Time that our Hero and his Patron ſet out, Nurſe went up Stairs, [165]with a moſt bountiful Cut, of Home⯑baked Bread and Butter; for the Amuſe⯑ment of the young Caitiff whom ſhe had left in the Cloſet; but not finding him there, ſhe haſtily dropped her Provinder on the firſt Window ſhe met, and, hurry⯑ing down to the Kitchen, earneſtly enquir⯑ed for the little Beggar-Boy whom Maſter Harry had taken into his Service; at this Queſtion all the Servants ſtood in ſilent A⯑mazement, except Suſy, who, bridling up, and aſſuming the whole Importance of her Station. Why, Nurſe, ſays ſhe, you muſtn't oppoſe that I am come here, to ſweep and to clean after louſy little Fla⯑grants, it was enough to breed an Anta⯑gion, that it was, in the Houſe; ſo what magnifies many Words, I took the little dirty Baſtard and cuff'd him out of Doors. You did Huſſey, ſays Nurſe, you dare to affront and vex my Child, my little Man, the Honour and Pride of all the Family? And, ſo ſaying, ſhe ups with her brawny Arm, and gave Suſy ſuch a Douſe on the Side of the Head, as left her faſt aſleep for an Hour and upward. Then running up Stairs, again, ſhe went, ſearching and clamouring, for her Harry, about the Houſe, in order to comfort and condole with him for his Loſs.

Dinner was now ſerved up, and the Company ſeated, and all the Servants ran [166]ſeverally, here and there, repeatedly ſum⯑moning Maſter Harry to attend. But, Harry was out of Hearing, by many a Mile. When the Cloth was removed, Nurſe entered with an Aſpect, half in Tears and half diſtracted, and exclaimed that her Child was not to be found. And what, Nurſe, ſays the Earl, do you think is become of him? I hope, my Lord, ſays ſhe, that he is either ſtrayed to his Daddy, or to the dumb Gentleman's. Then, Meſſengers were, inſtantly, diſpatched to both Houſes, who ſpeedily returned, with Tidings, that Maſter Harry had not been ſeen at his Foſter-father's, and that no one was at Home at the Houſe of the Dumb Gentleman.

The Buſineſs, now, became ſerious, and alarming; the whole Houſe was in Com⯑motion, and all the Domeſtics, and our Hero's loving Nurſe, with Lord Dickey in her Hand, ran ſearching through the Gar⯑dens, the Fields, and the Groves, that re⯑ſounded, on all Sides, with the Name of the Abſentee.

On their Return from a Diſquiſition, as fruitleſs as ſolicitous, Nurſe declared her Apprehenſions, that Harry was gone off, with a little favourite Boy whom he had taken into Service, and whom the Houſe [167]Maid, that Morning, had beaten out of Doors. Suſy, being nearly recovered, and now called and queſtioned, hereon, was compelled to confeſs the Fact, though in Terms leſs haughty and leſs elegant, than uſual; when my Lord, looking ſternly at her, and who, you Strumpet, he cried, gave you Authority to turn any one out of my Houſe whom my noble and gene⯑rous Boy was pleaſed to bring in? get you inſtantly away, and never let me be ſo un⯑happy as to ſee that Face again.

By this Time, the whole Village and Neighbourhood, as well as this noble Fa⯑mily, were in Trouble and Alarms for the Loſs of their little Favourite; when a Countryman enter'd in ſweaty Haſte and deſired, without Preface, to be admitted to the Earl. My Lord, ſays he, I think I can give you ſome News of your dear Child. As I was returning Home on the London Road, I ſaw a Coach and Six driv⯑ing towards me at a great rate, and, though it paſſed me in Haſte, I marked that the Gentleman with the Beard, was in it, and that he had two Children with him, one on each Hand, though I had not Time to obſerve their Faces.

Here is ſomething for your News, ſaid the Earl, it may be as you ſay.—Here, John! take a Poſſe of the Servants along [168]with you. Go in Haſte to that Man's Houſe. If no one anſwers, break open the Door; and bring me Word of what you can learn concerning him.

John, who was the Houſe Steward, hurried inſtantly on his Commiſſion; and, finding all in Silence, after loud and re⯑peated Knockings, he and his Myrmidons burſt open the Door, and ruſhing in ran up and down through all the Apartments. They found the Houſe richly furniſhed, a Library of choice Books above Stairs, a Buffet full of maſſy Plate, and every Thing in Order as if prepared for the Re⯑ception of a Family of Diſtinction. At this they all ſtood aſtoniſhed, till John, caſting his Eye toward a Table in the Street Parlour, perceived a Paper which he haſtily ſnatched up, and found to be a Letter, duely folded and ſealed and ad⯑dreſſed to his Lord. Exulting at this Diſ⯑covery, he left ſome of the Servants to watch the Goods, and hurried back with all poſſible Speed to his Maſter.

My Lord, ſays John entring, and ſtriv⯑ing to recover Breath, the dumb Gentle⯑man, as they call him, muſt be a main rich Man, for the very Furniture of his Houſe cannot be worth leſs than ſome Thouſands of Pounds. John then pre⯑ſented [169]the Letter, which the Earl haſtily broke open, and found to be, as follows:

The Myſtery of our Hero's Flight was now, in a great Meaſure unravelled; but no one could form any rational Conjecture, touching the Motive of the old Gentle⯑man's Procedure in the Caſe; and all were ſtaggered at his leaving ſuch a Maſs of Wealth behind him.

As the falling on of a dark Night ren⯑dered all Purſuit, for that Time, imprac⯑ticable; my Lord order'd the Servants to Bed, that they might riſe before Day; and then to take every Horſe he had, Coach-Cattle and all, and to muſter and mount the young Men of the Village, and to purſue after the Fugitives, by different Roads, according to the beſt Likelihood or Intelligence they might receive.

In this hopeful Proſpect, the Houſe was again in ſome Meaſure compoſed; all, ex⯑cept poor Nurſe who would not be com⯑forted, neither could be prevailed upon to enter in at the Doors; but all Night, on the cold Stairs, or rambling through the raw Air, continued clapping and wringing [171]her Hands, and bewailing the irreparable Loſs of her Harry.

On the following Day, my Lord or⯑dered a minute Inventory to be taken of all the Furniture in the forſaken Manſion-Houſe; and further appointed Harry's Foſ⯑ter-father, with his Family, to enter into Poſſeſſion, and to take Care of the Effects, till ſuch Time as the Proprietor ſhould re⯑new his Claim.

After three tedious Days, and as many expecting Nights, the Poſſe that went in queſt of our Runaways returned; all, drooping and dejected, moſt of them ſlow⯑ly leading their overſpent Horſes, and uni⯑verſally beſpatter'd or cover'd with Mire, without any Equivalent of comfortable Ti⯑dings to balance the Weight of their Lan⯑gour and Fatigue.

The Happineſs or Wretchedneſs of hu⯑man Life, as it ſhould ſeem, does not ſo much depend on the Loſs or Acquiſition of real Advantage, as on the fluctuating Opinions and Imaginations of Men. The Abſence of this Infant who, but a few Months before, had no Manner of Intereſt in the Views, Affections, or Solicitudes of this noble Family, appeared now as the Loſs of all their Honours and Fortunes. A general Face of Mourning ſeemed to dar⯑ken [172]every Apartment; and my Lord and Lady no more paid Viſits, nor received public Company. They were however inventive in many Contrivances for amu⯑ſing and conſoling their darling Dickey, but even this was to little Purpoſe, for he was often found ſilently languiſhing in Corners; or crying, O, where's my Brother Harry, my own ſweet Brother Harry, ſhall I never ſee my own Brother Harry any more?

My Lord had already diſpatched a Mul⯑titude of circular Letters to all his Ac⯑quaintances, with other Notices, through⯑out the Kingdom, containing Offers of ample Rewards for the Recovery of his Child. But, finding all ineffectual, he cauſed Advertiſements, to the ſame Pur⯑poſe, to be repeatedly inſerted in all the public Papers; as the ſame, no doubt, are ſtill extant, and may be found in the muſty Chronicles of thoſe Days.

Within a few Weeks after the publiſh⯑ing of theſe Advertiſements my Lord re⯑ceived a Letter, reſpecting his Son Harry, that afforded great Conſolation to him and his Lady; inſomuch, that, with the Help of the lenient Hand of Time, in leſs than the Space of twelve Months, this noble Family were reſtored to their former Chearfulneſs and Tranquillity.

[173] But, to return to the Situation in which we left our Hero: The Coach drove on, at a round Rate, and the Children conti⯑nued in high Glee, and thought this kind of Conveyance the fineſt Sport imaginable.

When they had entered, a Space, on the firſt Common, the Coachman looked about, to take Care that no one was in Sight; and, turning to the right Hand, he held gently on, till he came to another great Road, on which he drove at his former Rate. This he did, again, at the next Common, and, coming to another Road that led, alſo, to London, and Night now approaching, he put up at the firſt great Inn he came to.

Harry's Patron had the Precaution to keep his great Coat muffled about his Face, ſo that no one could obſerve his Beard, till they were ſhewn to a Room, and Fire and Candles were lighted up. Then, his ancient Friend and Domeſtic, having provided Sciſſars and Implements for Shaving, locked the Door and ſet to Work in the Preſence of the Children.

Harry was all Attention, during the whole Proceſs; and when the Operation was quite compleated, he drew near to his Patron, with a cautious kind of Jealouſy, [174]and, looking up to his Face, with the Tears in his little Eyes, ſpeak to me, Sir, ſays he, pray ſpeak to me. It is, anſwer⯑ed the old Gentleman, the only Comfort of my Life to be with you and to ſpeak to you, my Harry. The Child, hearing the well known Voice of Friendſhip, im⯑mediately cleared again, and, reaching up his little Arms to embrace his Patron; O, indeed, ſays he, I believe you are my own Dada ſtill.

Though Harry was, now, reconciled to the Identity of his Friend, yet he felt a ſe⯑cret Regret for the Abſence of his Beard. For he loved all and every Part, of him, ſo entirely, that the Loſs of a Hair ap⯑peared a Loſs and a Want to the Heart of Harry.

After an early Supper, and two or three ſmall Glaſſes of Wine per Man; this Gen⯑tleman, whom his Servants had now an⯑nounced by the Name of Mr. Fenton, be⯑came all Things in all with his young Companions. He delighted them with ſe⯑veral entertaining Tricks. He put the Point of a large Needle to the Edge of a drinking Glaſs, and then, placing the Centre of a Pewter Plate on the Top of the Needle, he began to turn it about, with an encreaſing Motion, till it whirled round, at a Rapidity that was altogether [175]joyous and amazing to the little Spectators. He, next, turned two Plates with their Faces to each-other, and, placing them on the Brim of a large Beer-Glaſs, he put an Egg upon the Plates, and, giving the Plates a ſlight Stroke, with the Side of his Hand, the Plates, inſtantly flew from between the Glaſs and the Egg, and the Egg fell plumb into the Glaſs, without the ſmalleſt Fracture.

After ſome other of the like Fooleries, the Table was removed; and, as the Room was very large, Mr. Fenton propoſed Hide and go ſeek to his Aſſociates. This Invitation was accepted with Tranſport, and, after they were cloy'd with Hide and ſeek, they all play'd Tagg till they were well warmed.

Mr. Fenton then ordered a Pallet into the Chamber, for James, his faithful Do⯑meſtic, and little Ned. Then, helping to undreſs Harry, he put him, firſt, to Bed; and, haſtening after, he took his Darling to his Boſom, and tenderly preſſed him to a Heart that loved him more than all the World, and more than that World ten times told.

In about three Days more, they arriv⯑ed ſafe, at Hamſted, and ſtopping at the Court of a large Houſe, that was delight⯑fully ſituated, they were welcomed by a [176]Gentlewomanly looking Matron, whom James had fixed for Houſekeeper, about a Fortnight before.

The next Day, Mr. Fenton and his blithe Companions were attended at Table by James and the two Footmen.

As ſoon as the latter Grace was ſaid, and the Cloth taken away; Harry, ſays Mr. Fenton, it is now our turn to wait on James and his Fellow Servants. For God made us all to be Servants to each other, and one Man is not born a Bit better than another, and he is the beſt and greateſt of all who ſerves and attends the moſt, and requires leaſt to be ſerved and attended upon. And, my Precious, he, that is a King to Day, if ſo it ſhall pleaſe God, may become a Beggar To-morrow, and it is good that People ſhould be prepared a⯑gainſt all that may happen.

Having ſo ſaid, he took his Aſſociates down to the Hall, juſt as the Servants had ſat down to Dinner. He gave his Domeſ⯑tics the Wink, and, beginning to ſet the Example, aſked Mrs. Hannah, and Mr. James, and Mr. Frank, and Mr. Andrew, what they would pleaſe to have? The Servants, readily falling in with their Maſ⯑ter's Scheme, ordered Harry to bring ſuch a Thing, and Ned to fetch ſuch a Thing, [177]and Harry to do this, and Harry to do that. While Harry, with a graceful Action, and more beautiful than Ganymede the Cup-Bearer of the Gods, flew chearfully about, from Side to Side, preventing the Wiſhes of all at Table; ſo that they poured upon him a thouſand Bleſſings from the Bottom of their Hearts, and, would now ſcarce have parted with him for the mighty Re⯑wards, which his Father, ſome Time af⯑ter, propoſed for his Recovery.

Within a Fortnight after this, Mr. James, the Houſe Steward, had furniſh⯑ed a large Lumber-Room with thouſands of Coats, out-Coats, Shirts, Waiſtcoats, Breeches, Stockings, and Shoes, of diffe⯑rent Sorts and Sizes, but all of warm and clean, though homely Materials.

When this was done, Mr. Fenton led his Favourite up to the Stores, and ſaid; my Harry, you ſee all theſe Things, and I make a Preſent of all theſe Things to my Harry. And, now tell me, my Love, what will you do with them? Why, Dada, ſays Harry, you know that I can't wear them myſelf. No, my Dear, ſays Mr. Fenton, for, you have Clothes enough be⯑ſide, and ſome of them would not fit you, and others would ſmother you. What then will you do with them, will you burn [178]them, or throw them away? O, that would be very naughty and wicked indeed, ſays Harry. No, Dada, as I don't want 'em, myſelf, I will give 'em, to thoſe that do. That will be very honeſtly done of you, ſays Mr. Fenton, for, in Truth they have a better Right to them, my Harry, than you have, and that, which you can⯑not uſe, cannot belong to you. So that, in giving you theſe Things, my Darling, it ſhould ſeem, as if I made you no Gift at all. O, a very ſweet Gift, ſays Harry. How is that, ſays Mr. Fenton; why, the Gift of doing Good to poor People, Sir. Mr. Fenton, then, ſtepping back, and, gaz⯑ing on our Hero, cryed; whoever attempts to inſtruct thee, my Angel, muſt, himſelf, be inſtructed of Heaven, who ſpeaks by that ſweet Mouth.

But, Harry, it would not be diſcreet of you to give theſe Things to the common Beggars who come every Day to our Door; give them Victuals and Half-Pence or Pence a-piece, and welcome. But, if you give ſuch Beggars twenty Suits of Clothes, they will caſt them all off, and put on their Raggs, again, to move Peo⯑ple to pity them. But, when you ſpy any poor Travellers going the Road, and, that your Eye-ſees that they are naked, or your Heart tells you that they are hun⯑gry; then, do not wait till they beg of [179]you, but go and beg of them to favour you with their Acceptance; then take them in, to the Fire, and warm them, and feed them; and, when you have ſo done, take them up to your Store-Room, and cloath them with whatever you think they want. And, believe me, my Harry, when⯑ever you are cold, or hungry, or wounded, or in want, or in Sickneſs, yourſelf; the very Remembrance of your having cloathed, and fed, and cured, and comforted, the naked and the hungry, the wounded, and the afflicted, will be Warmth, and Food, and Medicine, and Balm to your own Mind.

While Mr. Fenton ſpoke, the Muſcles of Harry's expreſſive Countenance, like an equally tuned Inſtrument, uttered Uniſons to every Word he heard.

From this Day forward, Harry and Ned, by Turns, were frequently out on the Watch; and, often ſingle, or in Pairs, or by whole Families, Harry would take in a poor Father and Mother, with their help⯑leſs Infants, driven perhaps from Houſe and Home, by Fire, or other Misfortune, or oppreſſive Landlord, or ruthleſs Credi⯑tor; and, having warmed, and fed, and cloathed, and treated the Old-Ones as his Parents, and the Little-Ones as his Bro⯑thers and Siſters, he would give them ad⯑ditional Money, for Charges on the Road, [180]and ſend them away the happieſt of all People except himſelf.

By this Time, Mr. Fenton had inquired into the Circumſtances and Characters of all the Poor in the Town and throughout the Precincts, and, having refuted or con⯑firmed the Intelligence he had received, by a perſonal Inſpection and Viſit from Houſe to Houſe, and, having made Entries of all ſuch, as he deemed real Objects and wor⯑thy of his Benificence, he invited the Heads of the ſeveral Families to take a Dinner with him, every Sunday, at his Hall.

On the following Sunday, there came a⯑bout thirty of theſe Viſitants, which Num⯑ber ſoon encreaſed to fifty weekly Gueſts.

On entring, they found the Cloth ready ſpread, and Mr. James, having counted Heads, laid a Crown, in Silver, upon e⯑very Plate; which firſt Courſe was a moſt reliſhing Sauce to all that followed. A plentiful Dinner was then introduced, and, the Gueſts being ſeated, Mr. Fenton, Harry, Ned, and the four Domeſtics at⯑tended, and diſpoſed themſelves, in a Manner the moſt ready to ſupply the Wants of the Company. The Gueſts, all abaſhed and confounded at what they ſaw, ſat, ſome Time, with open Mouth, and [181]unſwallowed Victuals, much leſs did they preſume to apply to the Waiters for any Article they wanted; till, being encou⯑raged and ſpirited up, by the Chearful⯑neſs, Eaſe, and Readineſs of their Atten⯑dants, they became, by Degrees, quite happy and jovial; and, after a ſaturating Meal, and an enlivening Cup, they de⯑parted, with elevated Spirits, with huma⯑nized Manners, and with Hearts warmed, in Affection, toward ev'ry Member of this extraordinary Houſe.

By the means of this weekly Bounty, theſe reviving Families were ſoon enabled to clear their little Debts, to the Chand⯑lers, which had compelled them to take up every Thing at the deareſt Hand. They, were, alſo, further enabled to pur⯑chaſe Wheels and other Implements, with the Materials of Flax and Wool, for employing the late idle Hands of their Houſhold. They, now, appeared decent⯑ly clad, and with happy Countenances. Their Wealth encreaſed with their Induſ⯑try. And the Product of the Employment of ſo many late uſeleſs Members became a real Acceſſion of Wealth to the Public. So true it is, that the Proſperity of this World, and, of every Nation and Society, therein, depends, ſoley, on the Induſtry or Manufactures of the Individuals. And, ſo much more nobly did this private Patron [182]act, than all ancient Legiſlators, or mo⯑dern Patriots, and Landlords; whoſe Selfiſhneſs, if they had but common Cun⯑ning, or common Senſe, might inſtruct them to encreaſe their proper Rents, and enrich their native Country, by ſupplying the Hands of all the Poor, within their In⯑fluence, with the Implements and Materi⯑als of the Proſperity of each.

In the mean Time, Mrs. Hannah, daily, inſtructed the Children in the Reading of Engliſh. Neither was Mr. Fenton inatten⯑tive to any Means that might preſerve and promote the Health, Action, and corporal Excellencies of his little Champion.

He held a large Lawn, behind his Gar⯑den: and, hither he ſummoned, three Times in every Week, all the Boys of the Vicinage, that were within two Years, advanced above the Age of our Hero. To theſe he appointed Premiums for Football, Hurling, Wreſtling, Leaping, Running, Cudgelling, and Buffing. But the Champi⯑ons were enjoined to inveſt their Fiſts with little Mufflers, inſomuch, that, how great ſoever their Vigour might be, the Bruiſes that they gave ſtopped ſhort of Mortality.

Now, though theſe Premiums were, al⯑moſt, univerſally adjudged to the Party of which Harry then happened to be a Mem⯑ber, [183]or, individually, to himſelf for his ſingle Proweſs and Preeminence. Yet, he never would conſent to bear the Prize from the Field; but, either gave it to ſome Fa⯑vourite among thoſe, with whom he had been aſſociated; or to the particular Champion whom he had worſted in Con⯑teſt. For he felt the Shame and Defeat of his mortified Adverſary, and conſolingly hinted at the Injuſtice of the Judges, and reformed their Error, by the Reſtoration of the Reward.

One Day, while Harry was watching to intercept poor Travellers, as eagerly as a Fowler watches for the riſing of his Game; he heard a plaintive Voice, behind the Hedge, as he thought, in the oppo⯑ſite Field. He flew acroſs the Road, and, paſſing through a ſmall Turnſtile ſoon found the unhappy Objects he ſought for. He ſtood, for ſome Time, like a Statue, and his Compaſſion became too ſtrong for Tears or Utterance: but, ſuddenly turn⯑ing, and flying back again, he ruſhed, with Precipitation, into the Room where Mr. Fenton was writing a Letter. What is the Matter, ſaid Mr. Fenton, ſtarting, what has frighted you, my Harry, what makes you look ſo pale? To this Harry replied not, but catching hold of his Hand, and pulling, with all his Force, O come, ſays he, O come, Dada, and ſee.

[184] Mr. Fenton then got up, and ſuffered himſelf to be led where the Child pleaſed to conduct him, without another Word being aſked or anſwered on either Side.

When they were come into the Field, Mr. Fenton obſerv'd a Man ſitting on the Ground. His Clothes ſeemed, from Head to Foot, as the tattered Remainder of bet⯑ter Days. Through a ſqualid Wig, and Beard, his pale Face appeared juſt tinctured with a faint and ſickly Red. And, his hollow Eyes were fixed upon the Face of a Woman, whoſe Head he held on his Knees; and, who looked to be dead, or dying, though without any apparent Ago⯑ny; while a male Infant, about four Years of Age, was half ſtretched on the Ground, and half acroſs the Woman's Lap, with its little Noſe pinched by Famine, and its Eyes ſtaring about, wildly, though without Attention to any Thing. Diſtreſs ſeemed to have expended its utmoſt Bit⯑terneſs on theſe Objects, and the laſt Sigh and Tear to have been, already, exhauſted.

Unhappy Man, cried Mr. Fenton, pray, who or what are you? to which the Stran⯑ger, faintly, replied; without lifting his Eyes. Whoever you may be, diſturb not the laſt Hour of thoſe who wiſh to be at Peace.

[185] Run, Harry, ſays Mr. Fenton, deſire all the Servants to come to me, immediately; and bid Mrs. Hannah bring ſome Hartſhorn and a Bottle of Cordial.

Away flew Harry, like feathered Mer⯑cury, on his Godlike Errand. Forth iſſued Mr. James, Frank, and Andrew. And laſt came Mrs. Hannah, with the Houſe-Maid and Cordials.

Hannah ſtooped, in Haſte, and applied Hartſhorn to the Noſe of the Woman, who appeared wholly inſenſible. After ſome Time, her Boſom heaved with a long-riſing and ſubſiding Sigh, and her Eyes feebly opened, and immediately cloſed, again. Then Hannah and the Houſe-Maid, raiſing her gently between them, got a little of the Cordial into her Mouth, and bending her, backward, they obſerv'd that ſhe ſwallowed it. Then James, Frank, Andrew, and the Houſe-Maid, joining their Forces, lifted her up, and bore her, as eaſy as poſſible, toward the Houſe. While Harry caught up her Infant, as a Piſſmire does its favourite Embryo, in a Time of Diſtreſs, in order to lodge it in a Place of Protection and Safety.

[186] In the mean Time Mr. Fenton and Mrs. Hannah put their Hartſhorn, with great Tenderneſs, to the Noſtrils of the Stran⯑ger, and requeſted him to take a Sup of the Cordial. But, he, turning up his dim, though expreſſive Eyes, feebly cried, are you a Man or an Angel? and directly faint⯑ed away.

They rubbed his Temples, with the Spirits, and did their utmoſt to recover him, but a ſudden Guſt of grateful Paſ⯑ſion had proved too ſtrong for his Con⯑ſtitution. On the Return of the Servants he was, alſo, carried in. A Phyſician was, inſtantly, ſent for; Beds were provided and warmed, in haſte; the new Gueſts were all, gently, undreſt and laid therein; and, being compelled to ſwallow a little Sack Whey, they recovered to a kind of languid Senſibility.

The Phyſician gave it, as his Opinion, that this unhappy Family were reduced to their preſent State, by Exceſs of Grief and Famine. That Nouriſhment ſhould be ad⯑miniſtered, in very ſmall Proportions. And, that they ſhould be kept as quiet, as poſſible, for a Fortnight at leaſt.

WHILE all imaginable Care is taking for the Recovery of theſe poor People. [187]We beg leave to return to the Affairs of their Protectors.

A Plague upon your return! This is juſt like a Man in whoſe Company I once travelled; we were advanced on our Journey, in a fair and happy Road, when he took it into his Head to ride back a⯑gain, in ſearch of an old Glove. Here you have raiſed my Curioſity to the high⯑eſt, and equally diſtreſſed me in favour of this unhappy Family, when, in the Inſtant, you fly off from the Satisfaction expected. But here alſo, I preſume, you are upon Honour; you are entruſted with Secrets, and would not for the World betray them to your Readers.

Sir, you never were more miſ⯑taken. I know nothing at all of theſe People's Affairs. As ſoon as they are able they will ſpeak for themſelves. I know of no Advantage that they can get by their Silence, whatever they may derive from your Compaſſion and Generoſity by telling their Caſe. But the Doctor, for the preſent, will not permit them. — Pro⯑ceed, my Friend, I pray you. Your Pati⯑ence will have but a very ſhort Trial.

CHAP. VI.

ABOUT a Month before this, Mr. Fenton had engaged one Mr. Vindex, the Schoolmaſter of the Town, to come, for an Hour every Evening, and initiate the two Boys in their Latin Grammar. But, he had a ſpecial Caution given him, with reſpect to the generous Diſpoſition of our Hero, which was ſaid to be induced to do any Thing, by Kindneſs; but to be hardened and rouzed into Oppoſition by Severity.

In about ten Days after the late Ad⯑venture, Mr. Fenton was called to London, where he was detained, about three Weeks, in ſettling his Books with his Dutch-Cor⯑reſpondents; and in calling in a very large Arrear of Intereſt, that was due to him upon his Depoſits in the Funds.

During his Abſence, Mr. Vindex began to aſſume a more expanded Authority, and gave a freer Scope to the ſurly Ter⯑rors of his Station.

Ned was, by Nature, a very lively, but very petulant Boy; and when Vindex, [189]reproved him with the imperial Brow and Voice of the great Mogul, Ned, caſt upon him an Eye of ſuch ſignificant Contempt, as no Submiſſions or Sufferings, on the Part of the Offender, could ever after com⯑penſate.

The next Day, Mr. Vindex returned, doubly armed, with a monſtrous birch Rod, in one Hand, and a Ferule in the other. The firſt he hung up, in Terro⯑rem, as a Meteor is ſaid to hang in the Heavens, threatening future Caſtigation to the Children of Men. The ſecond he held, as determined upon preſent Action; nor was he unmindful of any Hook, whereon to hang a Fault; ſo that, travelling from Right to Left, and from Left to Right, he ſo warmed the Hands of the unfortunate Edward, as ruined the funny Oeconomy of his Countenance, and reduced him to a diſagreeable Partnerſhip with the Afflicted.

On the Departure of Vindex, though Ned's Drollery was diſmayed, his Reſent⯑ment was, by no Means, eradicated. For the Principle of Ned was wholly agreeable to the Motto of a very noble Eſcutcheon, and, Nemo me impune laceſſit, was a Maxim, of whoſe Impropriety not Saint Anthony, himſelf, could perſuade him.

[190] All Night he lay ruminating, and brood⯑ing on Miſchief in his Imagination, and, having formed the Outlines of his Plan to⯑ward Morning, he began to chuckle, and comfort himſelf, and exult in the Execu⯑tion. He, then, revealed his Project to his Bedfellow, Mr. James, who was greatly tickled therewith, and promiſed to join in the Plot.

Full againſt the Portal, that opened up⯑on the School-Room, there ſtood an anci⯑ent and elevated Chair, whoſe Form was ſufficiently expreſſive of its Importance. Mr. Vindex had ſelected this majeſtic Piece of Furniture as, alone, ſuitable to the Dig⯑nity of his exalted Station. For he judici⯑ouſly conſidered that, if Thrones and Benches were taken from among Men, there would be an End of all Dominion and Juſtice up⯑on Earth.

Through the Centre of the Seat, of this Chair of Authority, Ned got Mr. James to drill a ſmall Hole, not diſcernible, ex⯑cept on a very minute Scrutiny. He then provided a cylindrial Stick of about ſix Inches in length, to one End of which he faſtened a Piece of Lead, and, in the other End he fixed the Head of a large Needle. This Needle had been a Glover's, of ap⯑proved [191]Mettle, keen, and poliſhed, and three-ſquare, toward the Point, for a quick and ready Penetration of tough Leather. He, next, faſtened two ſmall Chords, tranſverſly, to the leaden Extremity of the Stick, and, James aſſiſting, they turned the Chair with the Bottom upward, and tacked the four Ends of the Chords, in ſuch a manner, as anſwered to the four Cardinal Points of the Compaſs; while the Stick remained ſuſpended in an upright Direction, with the Point of the Needle juſt, ſo far, through the Drill, as put it upon a Level with the Surface of the Seat. Laſtly, they faſtened a long, and well waxed, Thread about the Middle of the Stick, and, drawing this Thread over the upper Rung, they dropped the End of it, juſt under Ned's Stool; and replaced the Seat of Learning in its former Poſition.

Greatly did Ned parade it, when, on Trial, he found that his Machine anſwer⯑ed to a Miracle; for, the Stick being re⯑ſtrained from any Motion, ſave that in a Direction to the Zenith; on the ſlighteſt Twitch of the Thread, the Needle, in⯑ſtantly, mounted four Sixths of two Inches above the Surface of the Seat, and was, as quickly, recalled by the Revulſion of the Lead.

[192] At the appointed Hour of Magiſterial Approach, in comes Mr. Vindex. Maſter Harry and Ned are called. Each ſeizes his Book; and takes his Seat as uſual in a Line nearly, diagonal to the right and left Corner of the Chair of Authority. Mr. Vindex aſſumes the Chair. But, ſcarce was he down, when Ned gives the pre⯑meditated Intimation to his Piercer, and up bounces Vindex, and gives two or three Capers, as though he had been ſuddenly ſtung by a Tarantula. He ſtares wildly about; puts his Hand behind him, with a Touch of tender Condolance; returns to the Chair; peers all over it with Eyes of the moſt prying Inſpection; but, not truſt⯑ing to the Teſtimony of his occular Senſe, in a Caſe that, ſo very feelingly, refuted its Evidence, he moved his Fingers over and over every Part of the Surface; but found all ſmooth and fair, in Spight of the late ſenſible Demonſtration to the contrary.

Down again, with ſlow Caution, ſubſid⯑ed Mr. Vindex, reconnoitring the Premiſſes, to the right Hand, and to the left.

As his Temper was not, now, in the moſt duleet Diſpoſition; he, firſt, looked ſternly at Ned, and, then turning toward Harry, with an Eye that ſought Occaſion for preſent Quarrel, he queſtioned him, [193]moroſely, on ſome Articles of his Leſſon. When Ned, not enduring ſuch an Indig⯑nity to the Patron of his Life and Fortunes, gave a ſecond Twitch, with better Will, and much more lively than at firſt; and up, again, ſprung Vindex, with redoubled Vigour and Action, and bounded, plung⯑ed, and pranced about the Room, as be⯑witch'd. He glared, and ſearched all a⯑bout, with a frantic Penetration, and por⯑ed into every Corner for the viſible or in⯑viſible Perpetrators of theſe Miſchiefs. He, now, began to imagine that ſome Devil wanted a Pincuſhion, and propoſed no o⯑ther, for the Purpoſe, than his capacious Material.

In this Thought, he retreated to the next Chamber, ſtripped off his Clothes, his Shoes, and Breeches, and, to know whe⯑ther a Lodgment had been duely made; he groped for the Heads of the ſuppoſed Weapons. He next ſearched his Breeches, and every Skirt and poſterior Fold of Coat and Waiſtcoat. But, finding the Coaſts clear of any Enſigns of Hoſtility, he writhed and twiſted his Head and Eyes to this Side and to that to diſcern, if poſſi⯑ble, the Devaſtations that had been made in the Field of Honour; when, hearing a little Titter in the neighbouring School Room, he began to ſmell a Fox, and, dreſſing himſelf again, with a malignant [194]Determination of better Note for the Fu⯑ture, he returned with a Countenance of diſſembled Placability, and, reſuming his Chair, began to examine the Boys, with a Voice apparently tuned by good-Temper and Affection.

During this ſhort Serene, poor Ned hap⯑pened to make a little Trip in his Rudi⯑ments; when Vindex turned, and cried, to our Hero, Maſter Harry, my Dear, be ſo kind to get up and reach me you Ferrule.

Theſe Words had not fully paſſed the Lips of the luckleſs Pedagogue, when Ned plucked the String with his utmoſt Force, and Vindex thought himſelf, at leaſt, im⯑paled on the Spot. Up he ſhot, once more, like a ſudden Pyramid of Flame. The Ground could no longer retain him, he ſoared aloft, roared, raved, curſed, and ſwore, like a thouſand Infernals. While Ned, with an Aſpect of the moſt condoling Hypocricy, and Words, broke by a Tone of Mourning, tenderly inquired of his Ail⯑ments.

Vindex turned upon him an Eye of jea⯑lous Malignity, and taking a ſudden Thought, he flew to the Scene of his re⯑peated Infliction, and, turning up the Bottom of the Seat of Pain, this compli⯑cated Effort of extraordinary Genius lay [195]revealed, and expoſed to vulgar Contem⯑plation.

He firſt examined, minutely, into the Parts and Conſtruction of this wonderful Machinery, whoſe Efficacy he ſtill, ſo feel⯑ingly, recollected. He then, drew the String; and admired, with what a pier⯑cing Agility the Needle could be actuated by ſo diſtant a Hand. And, laſtly, and deliberately, he tore away, Piece by Piece, the whole Compoſition, as his raſcally Bre⯑thren, the Turks, have alſo done, in their Antipathy to all the Monuments of Arts, Genius, and Learning throughout the Earth.

In the mean while, our Friend Edward ſat trembling and frying in his Skin. All his Drollery had forſaken him; nor had he a ſingle Caſt of Contrivance, for evading the Mountain of Miſchiefs that he ſaw im⯑pending. How indeed could he palliate? what had he to hope or plead in mitigati⯑on of the Penalty? where, in the Party, ſo highly offended, he ſaw his Judge and his Executioner.

Mr. Vindex had now the Ball wholly at his own Foot, and, that Ned was ever to have his Turn again, was a Matter no way promiſed by preſent Appearances.

[196] Vindex, at length, looked ſmilingly a⯑bout him, with much Fun in his Face, but more Vengeance at his Heart. Mr. Ed⯑ward, ſaid he, perhaps you are not yet ap⯑prized of the Juſtice of the Jewiſh Laws, that claim an Eye for an Eye, and a Breech for a Breech; but I, my Child, will fully inſtruct you in the Fitneſs and Pro⯑priety of them.

Then, reaching at the Rod, he ſeized his ſhrinking Prey, as a Kite truſſes a Robin; he laid him, like a little Sack a⯑croſs his own Stool, off go the Breeches, and, with the left Hand he holds him down, while the Right is laid at him with the Application of a Woodman who re⯑ſolves to clear Part of the Foreſt before Noon.

Harry, who was no way privy to the Machination of the Needle, now approach⯑ed, and interpoſed in behalf of his unhap⯑py Servant. He petitioned, he kneeled, he wept; but his Prayers and Tears were caſt to the Winds and the Rocks, till Vindex had reduced the Poſteriors of poor Ned, to a Plight little different from thoſe of Saint Bartholemew.

Mr. Vindex juſtly deemed that he had, now, given a Leſſon, of ſuch ample In⯑ſtruction, [197]as might diſpenſe with his Pre⯑ſence for ſome Days at leaſt.

In the mean Time, the Scalping of Ned's Bottom held him confined to his Bed, where he had full Time, and Leiſure, to contrive, with one End, a juſt and wor⯑thy Retribution for the Sufferings of the other.

Harry went, often, to ſit, and condole with Ned in this the Seaſon of his Calimi⯑ty; and, as he had, now, conceived a ſtrong Averſion to the Pedagogue, on Ac⯑count of his Barbarity; he offered to aſſiſt his Friend in any Meaſures deemed ade⯑quate to the Stripes and Injuries he had received.

The Houſe of Mr. Vindex was a large and old-faſhioned Building, with a ſteep Flight of Stone-Stairs, and a ſpacious Landing-place before the Door. Ned was again on his Legs, the Night was exceſſive dark, and the Family of the Preceptor had juſt finiſhed an early Supper.

About this Time, a gentle Rapping was heard, and a Servant, opening the Door, looked this Way, and that Way, and called out repeatedly, to know who was there; but, no Voice replying, he retired and ſhut all to again. Scarce was he [196] [...] [197] [...] [198]re-enter'd when he hears Rap, rap, rap, rap. The Fellow's Anger was now kindled, and, opening the Door ſuddenly, he bounced out at once, in order to ſeize the Run-away. But, ſeeing no Creature, he began to feel a coming Chilneſs, and his Hairs to ſtir, as tho' each had got the Life of an Eel. Back he ſlunk, cloſed the Door with the greateſt Tenderneſs, and crept down to reveal a Scantling of his Fears to his Fellows in the Kitchen.

Now, though Men and Maids laugh'd, heartily, at the Apprehenſions of Hodge; they yet reſented this Inſult on their Houſe, as they called it, and, getting all up to⯑gether in a Group, they ſlily, crouded be⯑hind the Door, with the Latch in one of their Hands, ready to iſſue, in an Inſtant, and detect the Delinquents.

They were not ſuffered to freeze. Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock. Open fly's the Door, and out ruſh the Ser⯑vants. Nothing appear'd. They all ſtood, ſilent, and aſtoniſhed beyond Meaſure. Some, however, with outward Bravade but inwards Tremblings, went ſearching, along the Walls, and behind the Poſts for ſome Lurcher. Again, they gathered to the Landing-place, and ſtood, whiſpering⯑ly debating what this might be. When, to the inexpreſſible Terror and Diſcomfi⯑ture [199]of all preſent, the ſpontaneous Knock⯑er aſſumed ſudden Life and Motion; and gave ſuch a Peal and Alarm to their Eyes and Ears, as put every Senſe and Reſolu⯑tion to the Rout, and in they ruſhed, again, one on the Back of t'other, and clapped to the Door, as in the Face of a Hoſt of purſuing Daemons.

Mr. Vindex and his Lady, for ſome Time paſt, had been ſitting oppoſite, and nod⯑ding over a Fire in the back Parlour, where they returned each other's Salute, with the greateſt good Manners and Punc⯑tuality imaginable. He now ſtarted, on hearing the Ruſtling in the Hall, and angrily called to know what was the Matter.

Vindex, from the Prejudice of Education during his Infancy, had conceived the ut⯑moſt Spight to all Spectres and Hobgob⯑lins, inſomuch, that he wiſhed to deprive them of their very Exiſtence; and labour⯑ed to perſuade himſelf, as well as others, of their Nonentity, but Faith proved too ſtrong, within him, for all his verbal Pa⯑rade of avowed Infidelity.

While the Servants, with pale Faces and ſhort Breath, made their Relation, the magiſterial Philoſopher did ſo ſneer, and, contemptuouſly, toſs this Way and t'other, and throw himſelf back, in ſuch [200]affected Fits of Laughter, as nothing could be like it. Till, bouncing, at the Sound of another Peal, he muſtered the whole Family, Boaders and all, to about ſeventeen in Number, together with Ma⯑dam Vindex who would not be left ſole; and now they appeared ſuch an Army as was ſufficient to face any ſingle Devil, at leaſt, and, forth they iſſued, and filled the Landing place, leaving the Door on the Jar.

Here, Mr. Vindex turned, and, with his Face toward the Knocker thus addreſſed the Aſſembly.

My honeſt, but ſimple Friends, quoth he, can any Thing perſuade ye, that a Spirit, or Ghoſt, as ye call it, a Breath or Being of Air, a ſomething, or nothing, that is neither tangible, nor viſible, can lay hold of that which is? Or are ye ſuch Idiots as to imagine, that you Knocker, (for he did not yet venture to touch it) a Subſtance, of ſolid and molten Braſs, with⯑out Members or Organs, or any internal Syſtem or Apparatus for the Purpoſe, can, yet, be indued with Will, Deſign, or any Kind of Intelligence, when the leaſt locomotive Faculty, in the meaneſt Rep⯑tile, muſt, of Neceſſity, be provided with an infinitely varied Mechaniſm, of Nerves, Tubes, Reſervoirs, Levers, and Pulleys [201]for the Nonce. I ſhould diſcredit my own Senſes on any Appearance contrary to ſuch palpable Demonſtration. In all Lights — Soft — break we off — Look where it comes a⯑gain — For, in this Inſtant of Affirmati⯑on, ſo peremptory and concluſive; the Knocker, as in Contempt and bitter Deſpight to Philoſophy, ſo loudly refuted every Syllable of the Premiſſes, as left neither Time nor Inclination, to Vindex, for a Reply. But, ruſhing deſperately forward, he burſt in at the Portal, with ſuch as had Preſence of Mind to take Ad⯑vantage of the opening, and, turning a⯑gain, and ſhutting the Door violently in the Face of Half of his Family, he ran and threw himſelf into his Chair, in an Agony of Spirits.

The Servants and Boarders, whom Vindex had ſhut out, not abiding to ſtay in Preſence of the Object of their Terrors, tumbled, in a Heap, down the Stairs, and gathering themſelves up, again, ran, di⯑verſly, to communicate, to all their Neighbours and Acquaintance, the Ti⯑dings of the enchanted Knocker. Their contagious Looks and Words gave the Pannic, throughout; but, Curioſity pre⯑vailing above Apprehenſion, the Town began to gather, though, firſt, in thin Parties, and at a cautious Diſtance; till the Croud, encreaſing, took Heart and [202]Reſolution from Number, and venturing up a Step or two of the Stairs, and being ſtill preſs'd and urged forward by new Comers from behind, they, at length, filled the whole Flight and the Landing-place, and one of them growing bold e⯑nough to lift his Hand toward the Knock⯑er, the Knocker generouſly, convinced him that no Aſſiſtance was wanting. Rap, rap, rap, rap. Rap, rap, rap, rap. Rap, rap, rap, rap. Back recoil the fore⯑moſt Ranks, caſting off and tumbling over the Ranks behind. No one ſtay'd to give Help or Hand to Friend or Brother, but, riſing, or ſcrambling off on all Fours; each made the beſt of his Way to the firſt Aſſylum; and, in leſs than ten Seconds, there was not a Mouſe ſtirring throughout the Street.

If I had the Ill-nature of moſt Authors, who ſeldom communicate any Thing worthy the Knowledge of the Public, I might, alſo, leave the foregoing Aenigma to be ſolved, or rather made more implicit, in ſuch ways as Philoſophy might happen to account for. But, in Compaſſion to the Pains of a labouring Imagination, I chuſe to deliver my Reader, with all poſſible Eaſe and Diſpatch.

The Fact is, that theſe aſtoniſhing and tremendous Phaenomena, that diſcomfited [203]little City, alarmed the Country round, and reſuſcitated the Stories and Legends of the old Women of all the Pariſhes from Barnet to London, was the whole and ſole Contrivance of our Hero's petulant Found⯑ling, during a nightly Lucubration.

Ned had, accordingly, imparted his Plan of Operations to Harry, and Harry had en⯑gaged Mrs. Hannah in the Plot.

Now, Mrs. Hannah had a Houſe, in a narrow Part of the Street, juſt oppoſite to that of Mr. Vindex, where her Niece and an old Servant reſided. This Houſe was narrow, but of the Height of four Stories; and, on the ſaid memorable Night, Ned dropped the End of a Bottom of ſmall Twine from the Garret Window, which Hannah took, acroſs the Way, and faſten⯑ed, with a double Knot, to the Knocker of Vindex's Door. And, now, it is twenty to one, that if Vindex's Family and the reſt of the Neighbourhood had been, even thus far, let into the Secret, they would not have been, altogether, ſo much alarm⯑ed at the Conſequences.

I have read of Generals who could gain, but not maintain Conqueſts; and of Wo⯑men who could keep all Secrets but their own. Thus it happen'd to Ned. His Vanity was, at leaſt, on a Level with his [204]Ingenuity; he was ſo elated with the Suc⯑ceſs of his recent Stratagem, that he boaſt⯑ed of it to ſome, and half whiſpered it to others; till it came to the Ears of the much exaſperated Vindex. Vindex, in the firſt Heat, and very Boil of his Paſſions, ſnatches up a huge Rod, juſt cut from that Tree whoſe bare Name ſtrikes Terror through all our Seminaries of Learning, and, taking with him one of his Boarders, he marches directly down to the Houſe of Mr. Fenton, and, thus formidably armed, he enters the fatal School-room.

Ned, by great good Fortune for himſelf, was then abſent. But, our Hero happen⯑ing to be there, Vindex, inſtantly, ſhut the Door and called him to Taſk.

Maſter Harry, ſays he, did you know any Thing of the ſtrange Knocking at my Door, laſt Tueſday Night? To this Queſti⯑on, Harry, who was too valiant to be tempted to tell a Lye through Fear, with⯑out Heſitation, anſwered in the Affirma⯑tive. You did, Sirrah, cried the Peda⯑gogue, and have you the Impudence, alſo, to confeſs it to my Face? Here, Jacky, down with his Breeches, and horſe him for me directly.

Jack was a luſty lubberly Boy, about ten Years of Age, and ſtooping to unbut⯑ton [205] Harry, according to Order, our Hero gave him ſuch a ſudden Fiſt, in the Mouth, as daſhed in two of his Teeth, that then happened to be moulting, and ſet him a crying and bleeding after a pi⯑teous Manner. Vindex then roſe into ten⯑fold Fury, and took our Hero in Hands, himſelf, and, notwithſtanding that he cuffed and kicked and ſought it moſt man⯑fully, Vindex, at length, unbuttoned his Breeches, and ſet him, in due Form, on the Back of his Boarder.

The Pedagogue, at firſt, gave him the three accuſtomed Strokes, as hard as he could draw. So much, my Friend, ſays he, is for your own Share of the Burden; and, now, tell me who were your Confe⯑derates and Abettors in this fine Plot? That I will never tell you, deliberately and reſolutely anſwered our Hero. What, ſhall I be bullied and out-braved, replied the frantic Savage, by ſuch a one as you? You little ſtubborn Villain, I will flea you alive, I will carbonade you on the Spot. So ſaying, he laid at him, as though he had been a Sheaf of Wheat; while Harry, indignantly, endured the Torture, and, holding, in, his Breath, that he might not give Vindex, the Satisfaction of a Groan, he determined to periſh rather than betray.

[206] In the mean Time, Ned had peeped in at the Keyhole, and, ſpying the Situation and Plight of his loved Patron, he ran to Mrs. Hannah and imparted the horrid Ti⯑dings. Hannah roſe, with all the Wrath of Tiſiphone in her Countenance, and, fly⯑ing to the School-room, ſhe ruſhed violent⯑ly againſt the Door, burſt it open in a twinkling, and, ſpringing forward, faſten⯑ed every Nail ſhe had in the Face and Eyes of Vindex, and tore away and cuffed at a fearful Rate. Jack at this Period, had let his Rider to the Ground, when Harry, catching at a Sword, that hung a⯑gainſt the Wainſcot, whipt it down, and drawing it from the Sheath, as quick as Lightning, he ſprung at Vindex, in order to run him through the Body; but, hap⯑pily, not having had the Patience to put up his Breeches, they trammelled him in his Advance, and he fell proſtrate, with the Sword, in his Hand, which reached the Leg of the Pedagogue and gave him a ſlight Wound, juſt as he was endeavour⯑ing to make his Way through the Door. Jack had, already, made his Eſcape, and the mauled Preceptor ſcampered after, with his Ears much better warmed, and his Temper better cooled, than when he entered.

[207] Harry bore his Misfortune, with a Sort of ſullen, though ſhamefaced, Philoſophy. But, every other Member, of this honour⯑able Family, almoſt adored him for the bloody Proof that he had given of his Virtue; and vowed unpitying Vengeance on the ungenerous Vindex.

During the above Tranſactions, the Strangers, whom Mr. Fenton had received into his Houſe, had been tended with great Humanity and were, now, on the Recovery.

Mr. James, on converſing with the Head of this little Family. Obſerved that he was an exceeding ſenſible Perſon, and had provided him with a decent, though caſt, Suit of his Maſters; and had alſo, with the Aſſiſtance of Mrs. Hannah, put his Wife and little Boy into clean and ſeemly Apparel.

As James's Invention was on the Rack to get adequate Satisfaction on the baſe ſpirited Vindex, he went to conſult his new Friend, who dropped a Tear of Generoſity and Admiration, on hearing the Story of Harry's Heroiſm and Nobility of Soul.

By his Advice, Mr. James diſpatched a Meſſenger to a Druggiſt, at London, and [208]to ſeveral other Shops for a ſundry Appa⯑ratus, and, having all Things in Readi⯑neſs, and, Harry being now able to bear a Part in the Play; James ſent a ſtrange Porter to Vindex, with Compliments from his Maſter, as though he were juſt come home, and requeſted to ſpeak with him.

Vindex, accordingly, comes, and knocks. The Door opens, he enters, and it inſtant⯑ly ſhuts upon him. He ſtarts back with Horror as at the Sight of Meduſa. He perceives the Hall all in Black, without a ſingle Ray, ſave what proceeded from a ſickly Lamp, that made the Gloom viſible. He is ſuddenly ſeized upon by two robuſt Devils cover'd over with painted Flames. They drag him to the School-Room, but, O Terror of Terrors! he knows the Place of his priſtine Authority no more. He beholds a Hell more fearful that his Fancy had yet fram'd. The Cieling ſeemed to be vaulted with Serpents, Harpyes, and Hydras, that dropt livid Fire. On one Side ran Phlegeton, in Waves of burning Sulphur. And here, the Tiſiphone, Ma⯑gaera, and Alecto, of the Heathens, ap⯑peared to contend for Frightfulneſs with Milton's Death and Sin. Four Fends, and two little Imps, at once laid their Fangs upon him, and would have drag'd him to the Ground. But the Pedagogue was a ſturdy athletic Fellow, and cuffed, [209]and ſcratched, and roared it out moſt manfully. The Devil, however, proving too ſtrong for the Sinner, he was caſt proſtrate to the Earth; and, being left, in Retroſpection, as bare as Father Time, ſome ſat upon his Shoulders to keep him down, while others, on each Side, alter⯑nately keeping Time, like the Threſhers of Barley, gave our Flogger ſuch a Scoring; as imprinted on his Memory to the laſt State of Magiſtracy, a fellow-Feeling for the Sufferings of petty Delinquents.

Being all out breathed in turns, they re⯑mitted from their Toil; and, now, ap⯑peared to be a Set of the merrieſt Devils that ever were aſſociated. They faſtened the Clothes of the diſconſolate Vindex, a⯑bout his Neck, with his own Garters; and, having manacled his Hands before him, they turned him looſe to the Street. While he, with a wonderful Preſence of Mind in the midſt of his Terrors, raiſed his Hands, the beſt he could, to cover his Face and hurried homeward; judiciouſly recollecting, that Forty nine, in Fifty, would recognize the one End, who would not recognize the other, eſpecially in the preſent Pickle.

Within a few Days, after this Adven⯑ture, Mr. Fenton returned. At the firſt Sight of one another, he and his Harry, [210]grew together for near Half an Hour. He, then, addreſſed every Member of his Family, One by One; and, with a fami⯑liar Goodneſs, inquired after their ſeveral Healths and Concerns. He alſo aſked after his late Gueſts, and deſired to ſee them; but, on Mr. James's Intimation, that he had ſomewhat of Conſequence to impart to him, they retired to the next Room.

Here, James made him a minute Recital of the preceding Adventures; and ſet forth, in due Contraſt, the Baſeneſs and Barbarity of Vindex on the one Part; and the unaſſailable Worthineſs of his Harry on the other. While the Praiſe, of this cho⯑ſen of the old Gentleman's Soul, ſunk, like the Balm of Gilead, upon his wound⯑ed Mind, and almoſt eradicated every Me⯑morial of former Grief, and planted a new Spring of Hope and Joy in their Room.

The Table being ſpread for Dinner, Mr. Fenton ſent to deſire that the Stranger and his little Family ſhould join Company. They came, according to Order, but en⯑tered, evidently overcome with a Weight of Shame and Gratitude too grievous to be borne.

Mr. Fenton ſaw their Oppreſſion, and felt the whole Burden upon his own Shoul⯑ders. He, accordingly, was intereſted and [211]ſolicitous in the Removal which he effect⯑ed with all that Addreſs of which his Hu⯑manity had made him a great Maſter.

Through the Enfoldings of the Stran⯑ger's Modeſty, Mr. Fenton diſcerned many Things preceding the vulgar Rank of Men. Mr. Clement, ſaid he, I am aſtoniſhed, be⯑yond Meaſure, that a Perſon of Letters, as you are, and, who has ſo much of the Gentleman in his Perſon and Manner, ſhould, yet, be reduced to ſuch Extremi⯑ty; in a Chriſtian Country, and among a People diſtinguiſhed for their Humanity. There muſt be ſomething very ſingular and extraordinary in your Caſe. And, this Night, if you are at Leiſure, and that the Recital is not diſagreeable to you; you would oblige me by your Story.

Sir, anſwered Mr. Clement, ſince my Life is yours, you have, ſurely, a Right to an Account of your Property. Whene⯑ver you think proper, I will chearfully o⯑bey you.

Mr. Fenton now roſe, and ſtepped into Town; and, calling upon a Neighbour whom he took to the Tavern, he ſent for Mr. Vindex who came upon the Sum⯑mons.

[212] Mr. Vindex, ſays he, pray take your Seat. I am ſorry, Mr. Vindex, for the Treatment you have got in my Houſe, and ſtill ſorrier that you got it, ſo very de⯑ſervedly.

I have long thought, Mr. Vindex, that the Method of School-maſters, in the In⯑ſtruction of our Children, is altogether the Reverſe of what it ought to be. They, generally, lay hold on the human Conſti⯑tution, as a Pilot lays hold of the Rudder of a Ship, by the Tail, by the ſingle Mo⯑tive, I ſay, of Fear alone.

Now, as Fear has no Concern with any Thing but Self, it is the moſt confined, moſt malignant, and the baſeſt, though the ſtrongeſt, of all Paſſions.

The Party, who is poſſeſſed with it, will liſten to nothing but the Dictates of his own Terror, nor ſcruple any Thing that may cover him from the Evil appre⯑hended. He will prevaricate, and lye; if that Lye is queſtioned he will vouch it by Perjury; and, if he happens to do an In⯑jury, he will be tempted to commit Mur⯑der to prevent the Effects of Reſentment.

Fear never was a Friend to the Love of God, or Man, to Duty, or Conſcience [113]Truth, Probity, or Honour. It, there⯑fore, can never make a good Subject, a good Citizen, or a good Soldier; and, leaſt of all, a good Chriſtian. Except the Devils, who believe and tremble, are to be accounted good Chriſtians.

How very different is the Leſſon which our Maſter CHRIST teacheth, who com⯑mandeth us, not to fear what Man can do unto us; to ſmile in Sickneſs and Calami⯑ty; to riſe ſuperior to Pain and Death; and to regard nothing, but as it leads to the Goal of that Immortality which his Goſpel has brought to Light.

There is, Mr. Vindex, but one Occaſi⯑on, wherein Fear may be uſeful, in Schools or Common-wealths. That is, when it is placed as a Guard againſt Evil, and ap⯑pears, with its Enſignia of Rods, Ropes, and Axes, to deter all, who behold, from approaching thereto.

But this, Mr. Vindex, is far from being the ſole Occaſion on which School-maſters apply the Motive of Fear and Caſtigation. They aſſociate the Ideas of Pain to thoſe Leſſons and Virtues which the Pleaſure of Encouragement ought, alone, to inculcate. They, yet, more frequently apply the Laſh, for the Indulgence of their own Weakneſſes, and for the Gratification of [114]the Virulence of their own naughty Paſſi⯑ons. And I have ſeen a Giant of a Peda⯑gogue, raving, raging, and foaming over a Group of ſhrinking Infants; like a Kite over a crouching Parcel of young Turkeys.

There are, I admit ſome Parents and Preceptors who annex other Motives to that of the Rod. They promiſe Money, gaudy Clothes, and Sweet Meats to Chil⯑dren; and, in their Manner of expatiating on the Uſe and Value of ſuch Articles; they often excite, in their little Minds, the Appetites of Avarice, of Vanity, and Sen⯑ſuality. They, alſo, ſometimes add the Motive of what they call Emulation, but which, in Fact, is rank Envy, by telling one Boy how much happier, or richer, or finer, another is, than himſelf.

Now, though Envy and Emulation are often confounded, in Terms; there are not two Things more different, both in reſpect to their Object, and in reſpect to their Operation. The Object of Envy is the Perſon, and not the Excellence, of any one; but the Object of Emulation is Ex⯑cellence, alone; as when CHRIST, excit⯑ing us to be emulous of the Excellence of God himſelf, bids us be perfect, as our Fa⯑ther which is in Heaven is perfect. The Operation of Envy is to pull others down. [215]But the Act of Emulation is to exalt our⯑ſelves to ſome Eminence or Height pro⯑poſed. The Eyes of Envy are ſore and ſickly, and hate to look at the Light. But Emulation has the Eye of an Eagle and ſoars, while it gazes in the Face of the Sun.

Were Tutors half as ſolicitous, through⯑out their Academies, to make Men of Worth, as to make Men of Letters; there are a hundred pretty Artifices, very obvi⯑ous to be contrived and practiſed, for the Purpoſe. They might inſtitute Caps of Shame, and Wreaths of Honour, in their Schools. They might have little Medals, expreſſive of particular Virtues, to be fixed on the Breaſt of the Atchiever, till forfeit⯑ed by Default. And on the Report of any Boy's having performed a ſignal Acti⯑on of Good-Nature, Friendſhip, Gratitude, Generoſity, or Honour; a Place of Emi⯑nence might be appointed for him to ſit on, while all the reſt of the School ſhould bow, in Deference, as they paſſed. Such Arts, as theſe, I ſay, with that diſtinguiſh⯑ing Affection, and Approbation, which all Perſons ought to ſhew to Children of Me⯑rit, would ſoon make a new Nation of In⯑fants, and, conſequently, of Men.

When you, Mr. Vindex, iniquitouſly, took upon you to chaſtiſe my moſt noble [216]and moſt incomparable Boy, you, firſt, whipt him for his gallant and generous Avowal of the Truth. And, next, you barbarouſly flead him; becauſe he refuſed to betray thoſe who had confided in his Integrity.

When I behold ſo many Scoundrels walking, openly, throughout the Land, who are ſtiled your Honour, and your Ho⯑nour, and who, impudently uſurp the moſt exalted of all Characters, the Character of a Gentleman. I no longer wonder, when I reflect, that they have been principled, or rather unprincipled, by ſuch Tutors as Mr. Vindex.

The merry Devils, Mr. Vindex, who took you in Hand, were not of a Species, ſo alienated from Humanity, as you might imagine. They have, therefore, appoint⯑ed me their Vehicle of ſome Smart-Money, in Recompence, but, deſire no further Advantage from your Company or In⯑ſtructions.

So ſaying, Mr. Fenton put a Purſe of five and twenty Guineas into the Hands of the Pedagogue, and withdrew without ſpeaking another Word.

Upon my Credit, this Mr. Fenton—I long to know ſomething more of him—he is a ſenſible kind of a Man, and has given us ſome very valuable Hints upon Education.—But, may I be ſo free with you as to drop ſome general Re⯑marks upon the whole of what I have read?

Free, Sir?—by all Means—as free as you pleaſe, to be ſure—believe me, you cannot do me a greater Favour.

Why, there's the Plague on't now,—You begin to kindle already.—Ah, were you Authors to know the thou⯑ſandth Part of the Liberties that are taken behind your Backs, you would learn to bear, with more Humility, a gentle Ad⯑monition though uttered to your Faces.—Few, indeed, have the Generoſity, or even Humanity to intimate what they themſelves think, or what the World ſpeaks of you. We are ſeldom over for⯑ward to ſay any Thing that might give Diſpleaſure to others, becauſe we like that others ſhould be pleaſed with ourſelves; but, in your Abſence, we pay ourſelves largely for our Taciturnity in your Pre⯑ſence; and I have often been in Company, [218]where the Intimates and Confidents of you Authors, have depreciated and ridiculed the very ſame Paſſages, which they ap⯑plauded with Cries and Claps in your Clo⯑ſets. The World, my Friend, has ſub⯑ſtituted good Manners in the Place of good Nature, whoever conforms to the former is diſpenſed with from any Obſervance of the latter. Shall I add, (for the Misfor⯑tune of you Authors,) that there is a Set of Men who, at once, diſpenſe with com⯑mon Manners and common Humanity. They go under the Name of Crities, and muſt be Men of Wealth, that the Defe⯑rence paid to Fortune, may give a Sort of Stamp and Currency to the Droſs of their Erudition. In the ſtricteſt Senſe, indeed, they may be called Men of Letters, their Study, as well as Capacity, being nearly confined to a juſt or orthographical Diſpo⯑ſition of the Alphabet. Their Buſineſs is to reconoitre the Outworks of Genius, as they have no Key to the Gates of Nature or Sentiment. They ſnuff Faults from afar, as Crows ſcent Carrion, and delight to pick, and to prey, and to dwell upon them. They enter, like Waſps, upon the Gardens of Literature, not to reliſh any Fragrance of ſelect any Sweets, but to pamper their Malevolence with every Thing that ſavours of Rankneſs or Of⯑fence. Happily for them. their Sagacity does not tend to the Diſcovery of Merit, [219]in ſuch a Caſe, a Work of Genius would give them the Spleen for a Month, or poſſibly depreſs their Spirits beyond Re⯑covery.

To theſe high and dreaded Lords Juſti⯑ciaries, the Critics, Authors deem it in⯑cumbent to ſubmit the Products of their Lucubrations; not in the Proſpect of any Advantage from their Advice or Animad⯑verſions; neither in the Hopes of acquir⯑ing their Friendſhip or Patronage; but merely to ſooth and deprecate the Effects of their Malignity. Accordingly, I have been preſent, when ſome of theſe Dictators have been preſented with a Manuſcript, as with an humble Petition; they have there⯑upon aſſumed the Chair, as a Judge aſ⯑ſumes the Bench when a Criminal is called before him, not in order to Trial or Hear⯑ing, but to Sentence and Condemnation. To what Scenes of Mortification have I been Witneſs on ſuch Occaſions! to what a State of Abatement, of Abaſement, of Annihilation, have theſe Entertainers of the Public been depreſſed!—‘I am ſorry, Sir, to tell you that this will not do.—A few Attempts here and there, but that will not compenſate—Here again how injudicious, abſurd, unpar⯑donable!—Lord, Sir, you ſhould have conſidered that when a Man ſits down to write for the Public, the leaſt [220]Compliment they expect from him is that he ſhould think—Here, my Friend, I have ſeen enough, I cannot affront my Judgment ſo much as either to recommend or patronize your Per⯑formance, all I can do for you is to be filent on the Subject, and permit Fools to approve who have not Senſe to diſ⯑cern.’ —Thus do theſe Critics-para⯑mount, with the Delicacy and Compaſſion of the Torturers of the Inquiſition, ſearch out all the Seats of Senſibility and Self-Complacence, in order to ſting with the more quick and killing Poignancy.

Now, my dear Friend, as you have not applied for the Favour of theſe eſtabliſhed Arbitrators of Genius and Literature, you are not to expect the leaſt Mercy from them, and I am alſo free to tell you that I know of no Writer who lies more open to their Attacks. You are exceſſively incor⯑rect; your Works, on the one Hand, have not the leaſt Appearance of the Limae labor; nor, on the other, have they that Eaſe which ought to attend the Haſte with which they ſeem to be written. A⯑gain, you are extremely unequal and diſ⯑proportioned; one Moment you ſoar where no Eye can ſee, and ſtrait deſcend with Rapidity to creep in the vulgar Phraſe of Chamber Maids and Children. Then you are ſo deſultory that we know not where [221]to have you; you no ſooner intereſt us in one Subject than you drag us, however reluctant, to another; in ſhort, I doubt whether you laid any kind of Plan before you ſet about the Building; but we ſhall ſee how your fortuitous Concourſe of Atoms will turn out.

Do I want Nature?

No.

Do I want Spirit?

Rather too much of Fire, at Times.

Do I want Sentiment?

Not altogether.

Then, Sir, I ſhall be read, and read again, in deſpight of my own De⯑fects, and of all that you and your Critics can ſay or do againſt me. The Truth is, that the Critics are very far from being Bugbears to me; they have always prov⯑ed my Friends, my beſt Benefactors; they were the Firſt who writ me into any kind of Reputation; and I am more beholden to their Invectives, than I am to my own Genius, for any little Name I may have got in the World; all I have to fear is that they are already tired [222]of railing, and may not deem me worth their further Notice. — But pray, my good Sir, if you deſire that I ſhould profit by your Admonitions, ought you not to give me Inſtances of the Faults with which you reproach me?

That would be Time and Labour altogether thrown away, as I have not the ſmalleſt Hope of bringing you to Confeſſi⯑on. You are a Diſputant, a Caſuiſt by your Education; you are equally ſtudied and practiſed in turning any Thing into nothing, or bringing all Things thereout. But don't flatter yourſelf that I have yet given you the Detail of Half your Faults; you are often paradoxical, and extremely peremptory and deſperate in your Aſſerti⯑ons. In this very laſt Page you affirm that the Character of a Gentleman is the moſt revereable, the higheſt of all Cha⯑racters.

I did, Sir, I do affirm it, and will make it good.

I knew it, Sir, I knew it, but don't chuſe, at preſent, to enter into the Diſ⯑cuſſion. At the next Pauſe, I ſhall wil⯑lingly hear you on this Queſtion.

CHAP. VII.

ON his Return, he ordered a Fire and a Bottle of Wine into his Study, and ſent for Mr. Clement. Mr. Clement, ſays he, ſit down. I aſſure you, Mr. Clement, I am inclined to think very well of you. But, pray, let me have the Nar⯑rative of your Life and Manners, without Diſguiſe. An ingenuous Confeſſion and Senſe of paſt Errors, has ſomething in it, to me, full as amiable or more, than if a Man had never ſtray'd.

Sir, ſays Mr. Clement, I have, indeed, been faulty, very faulty, in my Intenti⯑ons; though God has, hitherto, preſerv'd me from any very capital Act, and has, by your Hand, wonderfully brought me to this Day.