THE VOYAGES, TRAVELS, AND MEMOIRS OF WILLIAM OWEN GWIN VAUGHAN, Eſq

WE arriv'd at Calais, after a plea⯑ſant Paſſage of Six Hours, and took up our Lodging at the Ta⯑ble-Royal; where we were detain'd four Days, with the falſe Report of the Death of the French King, Lewis XIV; for the Governor kept the Gates ſhut, and wou'd not permit any Foreigners to go out [2] of the City. Calis, or Calais, is a very ſtrong Town in the Province of Picardy; tho' I think not ſtrong enough to be call'd, as it is, one of the Keys of France. It is, as near as I cou'd gueſs, a little bigger than Dover, but more populous. It wou'd, I be⯑lieve, be a very poor Place, if it were not for the Reſort of Foreigners; and a French⯑man told me, that when they were at War with England, their White Bread immedi⯑ately turn'd to Brown; intimating, their Riches did not come from their own Na⯑tion.

The Cauſe of my Stay here, gave me no ſmall Joy; for a Letter came to my Hands from my dear Iſabella, which was left at the Poſt-Houſe of Dover, and brought me by the ſame Captain I came over with to Calais. This prov'd a Conſolation to me in all my Travels; for whenever I was melancholy, I had Recourſe to that. The Letter was as fol⯑lows:

When our Embargo was taken off, we took Poſt-Chaiſes, and arriv'd at Paris in three Days; from whence, in compliance to my Uncle, I ſent him the following ſhort Ac⯑count of my Journey.

I was oblig'd to leave Paris ſooner than I intended, upon receiving the following Let⯑ter:

The receiving of this Letter very much ſurpriz'd me; for all the Time I remain'd in Paris, I had not made any Acquaintance with the Fair Sex; and, bating the Viſit I made to Monſieur and Madam D'Acier, I had not been in the Company of any Females. The Thoughts of leaving Paris very much re⯑joic'd my Tutor, who was never eaſy, upon the Account of that young Gentleman. I communicated the Letter to him, who was as much ſurpriz'd as I was. In the Evening Father Raimond came, and preſs'd me to be gone the next Day. He inform'd me his Acquaintance had courted a young Lady, and ſhew'd him a Letter from the very Per⯑ſon, where ſhe herſelf inform'd him of all he knew, and was as preſſing for me to be gone, as the good Father. Therefore I a⯑greed to ſet out for Marſeilles the next Day, in order to imbark for Italy, and my Bag⯑gage was to follow me. I ſent my French [16] Servant to the good Father, who took him home that Night; and the next Morning I purſu'd my Journey with my Tutor, and my Engliſh Servant, who might very well paſs for a Frenchman, for he ſpoke that Language as well as Engliſh. I was very much ſurpriz'd and vex'd at this Accident, for having got acquainted with ſeveral Perſons of the Royal-Academy at Paris, I had the pleaſing Hope of cultivating my Underſtanding by their Con⯑verſation; for Study, and the Thoughts of my lovely Iſabella, fill'd up all my Time.

In our third Day's Journey, near the Skirts of a Wood, we were attack'd by half a Do⯑zen Robbers, who wou'd have certainly got the better of us, if, while we were engag'd with them, two French Gentlemen, with their Servants, had not arriv'd ſeaſonably to our Reſcue. We left two dead upon the Place, and the other four made their Eſcape. I re⯑turn'd the French Gentlemen the Thanks they deſerv'd for their Succour; for if they had not come to our Aſſiſtance, we muſt certainly have been murder'd; but, by the Providence of God, not one of us was wounded. The Gentlemen were bound for Toulon, therefore I reſolv'd to accompany them to that Place, which lay as convenient (they inform'd me) [17] to embark for Italy, as Marſeilles. We thought it proper to puſh on, without taking any Notice of w [...] happen'd to us, becauſe it wou'd retard our Journey; tho' we might have receiv'd a Reward for the Death of the two Thieves. We all arriv'd ſafe at Toulon, without meeting any other Accident by the way; from whence I ſent Orders to Mar⯑ſeilles for my Baggage to be brought from thence. But the French Gentlemen leaving me the next Day, I thought it proper to go to Marſeilles myſelf. Toulon, the Telo Mar⯑tius of the Romans, is a Biſhoprick, and has a very fine Port, and very ſtrongly fortify'd. The two great Moles, of 700 Paces each, that almoſt cover the whole Port, has not been many Years finiſh'd by the preſent King, Lewis XIV. tho' begun by Henry IV. When I arriv'd at Marſeilles, which lies about 40 Miles from Toulon, I receiv'd a Packet of Letters from England, which the good Father Raimond took care to ſend, with another from Paris from an unknown Lady, that unra⯑vell'd the Meaning of my ſo ſuddenly leaving that City, the Letter was as follows:

I muſt own, I was a little uneaſy to be made ſuch a Tool of. However, I ſoon for⯑gave the Lady, conſidering the Power of Love.

I was compell'd to wait a Fortnight for want of a Veſſel to imbark in for Genoa, and therefore had Leiſure enough to view this Ci⯑ty. Marſeilles is a City of the greateſt Anti⯑quity in France. It was founded by the Pho⯑ceans, a Colony from Athens, as Strabo tells me. It is one of the fineſt Ports of France, and the ſafeſt, for it was never known any Veſ⯑ſel ever periſh'd there by Storm. It was a [20] flouriſhing City in the time of the Romans, who made Alliances with 'em, finding it not an eaſy Matter to overcome it. By the Means of its Levant Trade, it is eſteem'd the richeſt City in France; and its Situation upon the Mediterranean, makes it ſo advantageous for Trade, that it will ever prove ſo. This Ci⯑ty was free, till the Year 1481, when it ſub⯑mitted to the King of France, with the reſt of Provence. It is ſo well Peopled, that it is difficult to walk the Streets, for the Mul⯑titude of Paſſengers backwards and forwards. The publick Buildings are very magnificent. Here the Gallies of the Crown are kept in admirable Order, under command of a ſtrong Tier of Guns. The Churches and Monaſte⯑ries are numerous, and beautiful, and the Clergy here ſeem more open and facetious, than in any other Place I have ſeen in France.

I embark'd for Genoa in a Dutch Veſſel bound for that Place; but in the Dusk of the Evening, which ſucceeded the firſt Day of our Voyage, we were purſu'd by a Corſair of Tunis. The Fright and Confuſion was very great, for our Veſſel carry'd but Eight Guns, and Sixteen Men, beſides Eight Paſ⯑ſengers. The Maſter made many falſe Tacks, [21] in hopes to loſe him in the Night; but at the Dawn of Day, we diſcover'd him about two Leagues to Leeward of us, and the Wind ceaſing with the Riſing of the Sun, we had no Hopes to eſcape, for they made up to us with their Oars, which we were without. How⯑ever, both Sailors and Paſſengers reſolv'd up⯑on their Defence, and the rather, becauſe we obſerv'd a Veſſel under the French Shore, who, by her Working, ſeem'd to endeavour to come up to us; tho' ſome of the moſt timorous wou'd have it another Rover of Barbary. Notwithſtanding, we made ready to receive 'em. But the Wind freſhning a little, we choſe to make all the Sail we cou'd for the Port of Toulon, not above Seven Leagues di⯑ſtant from us. But our Endeavours prov'd fruitleſs, for before Eight a Clock ſhe came within Gun-ſhot of us, and ply'd us with her fore-chace Guns, tho' without any Da⯑mage, for not one of the Shot enter'd our Ship; which they perceiving, left off firing, becauſe it retarded their Courſe, and row'd hard to come along ſide of us, which they did in an Hour from their firſt Firing. When they came within Haling, they bid us ſtrike that Moment, or every Man (when we were taken) ſhou'd be flung overboard. But we [22] gave 'em no other Anſwer, than with our great Guns, and ſmall Arms, which I believe they did not expect. But they return'd our Civility with Intereſt; and after plying it warmly on both Sides for half an Hour, they boarded us on our Forecaſtle; and thoſe that underſtood their Language, declar'd we ſhou'd all fall a Sacrifice to their Revenge. The Knowledge of that gave us freſh Reſolution to fell our Lives as dear as we cou'd; but an accidental Shot taking away our Colours, the Rovers thought we had ſtruck to 'em, which gave 'em ſome Pauſe. But when they found we continu'd the Fight, even to Deſperation, they fell on furiouſly again. But a lucky Shot from us, flew into their Powder-Room, and blew up their Quarter within two Foot of the Water. This gave us freſh Courage, and we clear'd the Deck of all that were alive on Board us. They cut off their Grapples, and fell a Stern, but ſtill ply'd us with their ſmall and great Shot. We made all the Sail we cou'd to get out of their way, and, by degrees, left 'em out of Gun-ſhot; but found our Ship ſhot thro' in ſeveral Places between Wind and Water, and we were forc'd to lie by to ſtop our Leaks. While we were en⯑deavouring to find 'em out, it was a great Sa⯑tisfaction [23] to me to ſee the other Ship we ſaw under the Shore, get up with the Corſair, and engage her; they fought furiouſly about half an Hour, but at laſt overcame her; yet that Satisfaction was allay'd, by my being in⯑form'd our Leaks cou'd not be found; and the Water gain'd upon us, notwithſtanding they labour'd hard at the Pump. The Ma⯑ſter immediately made a Signal of Diſtreſs, and the Ship and Prize came to our Aſſiſt⯑ance. The Ship prov'd a Spaniſh Gard de Coſte. The Captain came on Board us, and very civilly offer'd me a Cabbin of his Lieu⯑tenant's, who was kill'd in the Engagement with the Corſair. I was much pleas'd with the Offer, and got my Things remov'd on Board. The Captain's Name was Don Ju⯑an de Fonſeca; his Ship from Barcelona, of 30 Guns, where he was oblig'd to go to re⯑fit, for this was his ſecond Engagement. In the firſt, he had ſunk a Rover of Barbary, who went to the Bottom, without ſaving one Human Creature. Our Ship had made ſhift to ſtop her Leaks, but not ſo effectually as to purſue her Voyage; ſo, after a Conſultation, the Maſter determin'd to [put into Toulon to refit. Therefore I reſolv'd to accompany the Spaniſh Captain to Barcelona, having ſatis⯑fy'd [24] the Dutchman for my Paſſage. I had much ado to make him accept it, telling me I had done him more Service than that came to, in the Engagement. Tho' I, my Tutor, and Servant, had the good Fortune to eſcape without any Wound in our Bodies, yet ſeveral Shot had pierc'd our Cloaths. The Stock of my Carbine was ſhot away, as I was charging it, without doing me any Hurt; and the Hat of my Tutor had part of the Brim ſhot away. We loſt but three Sailors in the deſperate Engagement, and five wounded, two of which were Paſſen⯑gers. Before Night, we parted with the Dutchman, and ſaw him, by the Help of a Teleſcope, enter the Harbour of Toulon, ere it was dark; and we purſu'd our Voyage for Barcelona, accompany'd with the Algerine Prize.

The Captain of the Spaniard loſt nineteen Men in this laſt Engagement, and thirty-five in the former, beſides thirty wounded in both, ſo that his Complement was ſo very much leſ⯑ſen'd, that if it had not been for the Help of the Galley-Slaves out of the Corſair (who were moſt Spaniards) he cou'd not have work'd his Ship. The Captain of the Prize was a Flemiſh Renegade, who was intended [25] to be executed as ſoon as we arriv'd in Spain; but a Wound he received in the Groin pre⯑vented it, for he expir'd before we got into Harbour. The reſt were Moors, therefore intended for the Gallies of Spain; their Com⯑plement was 280 Men, when they firſt ſet out a Roving, but they had loſt 27 in the En⯑gagement with us, beſides 11 that were blown up with their Powder; and 59 with the Spa⯑niard. Don Juan de Fonſeca made me a Pre⯑ſent of a very fine Turkiſh Scimitar, adorn'd with wrought Gold, which very much pleas'd me; and in Return, I made him, with a great many Intreaties, accept of a Gold Watch of Tompion's make; but I had almoſt affronted him, when I offer'd to ſatisfy him for my Paſſage to Barcelona, where we ar⯑riv'd without any Impediment. He did me the Honour to introduce me to the Governor, and ſaid ſo many things in my Commenda⯑tion, that made me aſham'd to hear 'em. But the Spaniards are noted for Hyperboles. However, the Governor us'd me with a great deal of Civility, wondering a Perſon ſo young, ſhou'd begin his Travels ſo early; and order'd me an Apartment in the Caſtle; and in all the time I continu'd there, never preſs'd me to go to Maſs, or once ask'd me [26] concerning my Religion, which I was very well pleas'd at; for he was aſſur'd I was a Proteſtant, by my Country.

Don Juan de Fonſeca was hardly ever from me; and the Civilities I receiv'd from him, I ſhall never forget. I found nothing of the ſtiff formal Spaniard in him, nor indeed a⯑mong any I had the Fortune to converſe with; ſo that I imagine the general Character of the Spaniards we receive in England, is not alto⯑gether true. They are certainly cautious con⯑cerning their Women, yet not all out; ſo much as I expected, for I never was intro⯑duced into any Family, without ſeeing the Female Part of it; but they never ſtay long in Company; or indeed ſeldom look at any Strangers, but when they are ſpoke to, or juſt upon their Entrance into a Room, and when they take their Leave.

Barcelona (the Roman Barcino) is the Ca⯑pital of the Province of Catalonia. It was built by Barca the Carthaginian, from whom it takes its Name. Though ſometimes it was call'd by the Romans, Faventia Colonia, and Julia Auguſta It was taken from the Moors of Spain by Lewis the Pious, Emperor of Germany. It has two Rivers that waſh the North and South Side, tho' neither of them [27] of any great Note. The Mole is a very fine one, tho' the Harbour being ſo full of Sand, will not permit large Veſſels Entrance. The Buildings are very handſome, tho' it does not exceed Marſeilles in any thing; and for Trade, it falls very ſhort. I was advis'd by every Body to Winter at Barcelona, which I reſolv'd to do to perfect myſelf in the Spaniſh Lan⯑guage. Nothing extraordinary happen'd to me while I was there; tho' Murders were committed almoſt every Night, which is reckon'd nothing there. One Gentlewo⯑man was murder'd by her Brother, as ſhe came from her Devotion at the Cathedral Church. This poor Lady, it ſeems, had an Intrigue with one of the Dons of the Place, and the Brother came as far as Toledo to pu⯑niſh the Stain of his Family, as he call'd it; and I never knew he was ſo much as impri⯑ſon'd for it. Another Perſon of Note was ſhot thro' the Back, as he was making Wa⯑ter againſt a Wall: This Gentleman, it ſeems, had been too buſy with another Man's Wife, as the Rumour went, tho' the Adventure was forgot the next Day.

The Death of one Gentleman gave me ſome Concern, having ſome Knowledge of him. He was a Perſon of good Extraction, [28] but his Family was fallen to Decay. He made his Addreſſes to a beautiful Lady, and gain'd her Affection; but the Parents of the Lady got him a Poſt to the Weſt-Indies, not out of Love, but to get him out of the way. How⯑ever, the enamour'd Couple correſponded to⯑gether by Letter for two Years. In the mean time, her Parents reſolv'd to wed her, againſt her Will, to a rich Spaniard of Quality, that was in Love with her. The young Lady ſent Word to her Lover, of her unhappy Marriage that was approaching, and attempt⯑ed to make her Eſcape, but was prevented by the Infidelity of her Confidant. The Gentle⯑man, underſtanding how Matters went, re⯑ſign'd his Poſt in the Indies, and arriv'd at Barcelona ten Days after the fatal Marriage was conſummated. The News almoſt broke his Heart; and his Paſſion was ſo violent, that he caſt many ways to get a Sight of his Mi⯑ſtreſs, and at laſt obtain'd it. They had ſe⯑veral Meetings at a Friend's Houſe of the Gentleman's; but I was inform'd by a Per⯑ſon that knew the Affair, that all their Meet⯑ings were very innocent. At laſt, they were diſcover'd by the new Husband, who hir'd ſeveral Bravos, that did their Work ſo well, the poor Gentleman was murder'd as he was [29] juſt entring the Door where his Miſtreſs wait⯑ed for him. Some time after, the Husband met with the ſame Fate, as he came from vi⯑ſiting a new Miſtreſs. Some ſuppos'd the Wife had a Hand in the Murder; but it was never found out; and the Lady went into a Monaſtery. Before I left Barcelona, I re⯑ceiv'd a Letter from my dear Iſabella, with ſeveral from my Uncle and Father; that of Iſabella's was as follows:

This Letter was the only Joy I receiv'd, all the while I was at Barcelona; tho' I was diſturb'd at the Account of my Rival's re⯑newing his Addreſſes. The Governor ask'd me if I had not gain'd a Miſtreſs, ſince my Arrival; and when I anſwer'd him in the Negative, he ſeem'd ſurpriz'd! Sure, ſaid [31] he, you muſt have a very inſenſible Heart, not to feel the Charms of Love in ſo warm a Climate, where it is almoſt the chief Buſineſs of the Nation. But alas! he knew little of my Soul, which felt the Pangs of Love in a much colder Climate than Spain. I receiv'd ſo many Civilities from this Gentleman, that very much perplex'd me, becauſe I had no⯑thing extraordinary to make him a Return; and, to add to the Obligations I had to him, when I left Barcelona, he gave me Leave to redeem a Slave from the Galleys, which is eſteem'd the greateſt Honour can be done to any Stranger: Tho' I did not take ſo much Time to examine the Demerits of the Crimi⯑nals, as a Nobleman did; who, having the ſame Honour done him, ask'd all the Slaves the Crimes that brought them into that Con⯑dition; but every one of 'em, to the laſt Man, told him, they were either put in by Malice, or Miſtake: But the laſt Man told him frank⯑ly, He cou'd not ſay but he was put in very juſtly, for taking a Purſe in Tarragona, with⯑out the Conſent of the Owner. The Duke, upon this, gave him a Stroke with his Cane, You Rogue, ſaid he, what do you here, a⯑mong ſuch a Parcel of honeſt innocent Fel⯑lows? Get about your Buſineſs! The Per⯑ſon [32] I redeem'd, was both old, and unhealthy, and therefore I thought him the propereſt Per⯑ſon among 'em, that he might have the Sa⯑tisfaction of ending the Remainder of his Days in Freedom.

I obſerv'd a gloomy Melancholy had ſeiz'd my Tutor, and tho' I ſtrove all I cou'd to di⯑vert him, yet I found it to no Purpoſe; nei⯑ther cou'd I prevail upon him to know the Cauſe of his Sorrow; he only anſwer'd me, that it was his natural Diſpoſition. But I ſaw too much of him, not to know his Diſeaſe lay in the Mind; yet had Hope, Time, and the various Climates we ſhou'd viſit, wou'd cure him; but hitherto his Malady increas'd. One Day, when I was retir'd to my Cloſet, to write ſome Letters to England, he came into the Room, not knowing I was there, and for ſome time ſigh'd and wept bitterly; at laſt, he broke out into ſomething like the following Complaint. Sure never wretched Mortal ever felt the Pains and Diſappoint⯑ments that I have undergone! They are too great to bear! All-ſeeing Heaven, that in⯑flicts theſe Puniſhments upon us, creeping Things, ſure will forgive us, if we ſeek a Remedy by Death, for nought but Death can cure my Misfortunes. As he was going [33] on with his Complaints, I purpoſely made a Rumbling in my Cloſet, which he hearing, was going down Stairs; but I prevented him, by opening the Cloſet-Door, and call'd him back. Well, Governor, ſaid I, will you ſtill perſiſt in Grief, and yet tell me you have nothing troubles you? I am ſorry you be⯑tray a want of Confidence in me, whom I would have you reckon among the Number of your Friends, and you may command every thing in my Power as ſuch. Sir, anſwer'd my Governor (in much Confuſion) I am con⯑vinc'd of your Goodneſs to me, and there⯑fore have, in a ſhort Narrative, written the Account of my Misfortunes, which I intend⯑ed for your Peruſal after my Death; and, when you have conſider'd 'em, I am well aſ⯑ſur'd you will not blame me for cutting off my Cares with my Life. I ſhall blame you for nothing, I reply'd, but your perſiſting in that melancholy Thought. Conſider the Task you have undertaken, that of returning me ſafe to my Uncle: Alſo remember, Time works many ſtrange Cures of the Mind, as well as the Body. In common Calamities, I own, reply'd my Tutor, Time is a very good Phyſician; but when the Malady is lodg'd in the Soul, and no Balm to heal it on [34] this ſide the Grave, Time only makes the Burden too heavy to be born. However, I own there is a Duty incumbent upon me, on your Account, and I will lay aſide my Re⯑ſolution of Dying, till you have perus'd this fatal Account of my unfortunate Life, and then, I doubt not, but you will, out of Com⯑paſſion, diſmiſs me to the peaceful Grave. When he had done ſpeaking, he put into my Hands the following Relation.

I muſt own, I was very much affected with the Story; and the more, becauſe it reſembled my own Fortune. The Reflexion gave me much Uneaſineſs. I ſent for him, and we mingled our Sighs and Tears together.

Now, pray Sir, ſaid my Tutor, think, af⯑ter the Load of Grief which is fix'd upon me, whether Death is not the only Friend that can ſhake it off. I ſtrove to comfort him, with the little Eloquence I was Maſter of, but bid him have Recourſe to his Uncle's laſt Letter, and that wou'd teach him, Life was not giv⯑en us to diſpoſe of as we pleas'd, that was a Sin never to be repented of. And muſt I then bear this Load of Life (he reply'd) per⯑haps till grey Hairs appear upon my Head? No, no, Sorrow ſure will do its Office. Let Friendſhip, my dear Governor, ſaid I, ſupply the Place of Love, and that, from me, you may intirely depend on. He at laſt reſolv'd [106] to ſuffer all, he told me, purely to oblige me.

I now began to be in terrible Anxieties on my own Account, for in my laſt Letters from my Uncle, he mention'd nothing of my dear Iſabella. I remember'd, with Grief of Mind, I had left behind me a very powerful Rival, endow'd with Wealth and Title, the Pride of the Female Sex; but then, I thought Iſabella had none of her Sex's Frailties, and I wou'd ſooner believe the Legend of the wonderful Images of the Portugals, than think ſhe cou'd prove falſe In the Church of Bouças (a Village near the City of Oporto, in the Capital of the Province Entre Douro e Minho, in Portugal) is plac'd a Crucifix bigger than the Life, averr'd to be wrought by Nicodemus. It was caſt up by the Sea, and when it was firſt found, wanted an Arm. There were many curious Workmen employ'd to make the Image compleat; but as ſoon as the Arm was fix'd on, it immediately flew off again, to the Amaze⯑ment of the Artiſts: In ſhort, there were as many Arms made, as would have ſerv'd another Briareus, or a Chineſe Idol, to no purpoſe. But at laſt (as the good Fathers are truly traditionally inform'd) one was found floating on the Sea, and being apply'd to the Image, ſtuck ſo faſt, without the Aſſiſtance of the Statuary, that it cou'd not be taken off again; and tho' the Body and Arm were found at ſome Years Diſtance, it prov'd to be the true Arm. At Santarem (a Town in the Province of Eſtremadura in Portugal) is another wonderful Image of our bleſſed Saviour, an Infant, that has outgrown ſeveral Niches made purpoſely for it; and tho' firſt a Child, when erect⯑ed, yet they proteſt it now is full ſix Foot high, and has almoſt out-grown the laſt Nich; and if it ſhou'd proceed in thriving at this Rate, it is to be fear'd the Roof of the Church muſt be remov'd, to make room for it.. We imbark'd on Board of [107] one of the King of Spain's Gallies for Genoa, in order to view ſome Part of Italy; for I found it impracticable to go by Land, as my lovely Iſabella advis'd me in her Letter. But before I left Spain, I ſent my Uncle, my Fa⯑ther, and Miſtreſs, an Account of every thing that befell me, and where I was bound next.

My poor Governor was ſtill inconſolable, tho' he ſtrove to appear chearful, in Complai⯑ſance to me; but I found his Malady had ſtruck him to the Soul, and I fear'd Death would lay his Icy Hands upon him; yet I had hope, Variety of Objects might help him ſometimes to forget his Grief. And indeed, his Fortune having ſomething reſembling my own, made me doubly ſuffer with him. I had forgot to ask him who the Perſon was, we ſaw at Paris, that gave him ſo much Uneaſi⯑neſs; and when it came into my Memory, [108] forbore to ask him, for fear I ſhould recall his Sufferings up afreſh; but when we ar⯑riv'd at Genoa, we found that young Noble⯑man there, where he avoided him as before. He then inform'd me, it was a diſtant Rela⯑tion of his, of the Roman Perſuaſion, that had often done him ill Offices upon the Ac⯑count of his being a Proteſtant; and farther, to make him hate him, had begun to make his Addreſſes to his dear Eliza, purely in Contradiction to him. Upon that Account, I reſolv'd to make but a ſhort Stay there.

The City of Genoa, no doubt, is very an⯑cient. Some will have Janus the Founder; tho' I can't but think the Word Janua im⯑plies a Gate; and it was certainly, in the Time of the Romans, one of the Gates to Italy. It was undoubtedly a City of great Power, when Rome flouriſh'd; for Livy tells me, Liguria (Genoa being its Capital) revolt⯑ed againſt 'em, when Rome triumphed over Africa, Aſia, and Greece; their Armies preſt the Romans to that Degree, that they offer'd Vows to Jupiter Stator, to ſtop the Progreſs of the Ligurians; but at laſt, more by Poli⯑cy than Force, it was made a Province of Italy.

[109]Of all the Countries in the Univerſe, Genoa ſeems the moſt abandon'd by Nature; but cer⯑tainly the moſt aſſiſted by Human Induſtry; for, notwithſtanding the Barrenneſs of the Situation, among high Cliffs, and fruitleſs Mountains, one of the proudeſt Cities of Europe raiſes her aſpiring Head. There's not one Foot of Earth in their noble Gardens, but ſtands 'em in as much as an Acre in Wales. This proud City ſuffer'd much in the Reign of Lewis XIV. by a hoſtile Fleet ſent to puniſh the State for ſome Miſdemeanors, which forc'd them to a diſadvantageous Peace. The Duke is inveſted with a Regal Crown, at his Inauguration; for the Iſland of Corſica being part of their Dominions, they give it the Title of a Kingdom.

At this City I receiv'd a Packet from Eng⯑land, brought me by a young Gentleman of the ſweeteſt Countenance I ever ſaw; tho' the Letters he gave me, almoſt diſtracted me. That from my Uncle, was as follows:

This Letter put me out of Love with Life; and my good Governor gave me that Com⯑fort, he had formerly receiv'd from me; but had it not been for the Conſideration of my Uncle, and my divine Iſabella, I believe I ſhould have call'd Death to my Aid. The Letter I receiv'd from her, gave me ſome Conſolation; it was wrote in ſuch a touching [113] manner for my Loſs, with the Lamentation of her whole Family, and her Dependance on my Life and Love, that I reſolv'd to live, if it was but to thank her for her Tenderneſs; tho' I muſt own I felt the utmoſt Concern in the Loſs of that conſolative Epiſtle. It was three whole Days, before I inquired for the young Gentleman that brought me the Pack⯑et. But what was my Surprize, when my Governor brought him to ſee me, and at the ſame time told me, in that young Gentleman I beheld his amiable Eliza! I forgot all my Sorrows at ſo unexpected a Rencounter, and my Heart overflow'd with an inexpreſſible Joy on the behalf of my Governor. I cou'd hardly believe my Senſes. What, cry'd I, dead, and reviv'd again! I muſt own, re⯑ply'd the charming Eliza, my Story is a lit⯑tle Romantic: But the Obligations my Lover has receiv'd from you, ſhall prevail upon me to relate that Part of it, which you are a Stranger to; and tho' I ought to bluſh at this Transformation, I am ſure you will forgive me, when you know it proceeds from Love.

After our Ill-fortune had ſeparated us, a Gentleman of a great Eſtate, related to Cle⯑rimont, renew'd his fulſome Addreſſes to me, and tho' of a different Religion, my Father [114] gave his cruel Conſent, and the Day was fixt for our Nuptials: By the Advice of a Fe⯑male Acquaintance, I drank a Sleeping. Draught, which depriv'd me, ſeemingly, of all the Faculties of Life. When the intended Bridegroom came, he was very eaſy under his Diſappointment, and ſaid to one of his Ser⯑vants (loud enough to be heard by my Father) Pox on't! this had been lucky enough, Dick, if ſhe had ſtaid till the Day after our Wed⯑ding. Very true, reply'd the Servant, the Wedding-Sheets and the Shroud, are the beſt Linnen can be put on a Woman. And the ſooner ſhe changes, return'd the Maſter, the better. Then, with a Horſe-Laugh, with⯑out taking any Leave, they rid away.

My Father was very much incens'd at his brutal Behaviour, and, as I found afterwards, repented his Uſage of me. He prepared a magnificent Funeral, but I ſpar'd him the Trouble, in coming to Life again; and, I muſt own, never receiv'd any Teſtimony of his Tenderneſs before: He careſs'd me with all the Love expected from a Parent, vow⯑ing never more to force my Inclination; and ſpoke ſeveral favourable things of my dear Clerimont. But, alas! the Funeral he had taken ſuch Pains to furniſh out for me, prov'd [115] in ſome fort for himſelf; for, two Days after my Revival, leaning over a Balcony, to give ſome Directions to the Workmen in the Gar⯑den, it gave way, and he fell, never to riſe again in this World.

The fatal Accident (notwithſtanding I was a free Woman, and Miſtreſs of a plentiful Fortune) gave me unſpeakable Diſcontent; for by his Behaviour to me, I began to revive the Love and Duty which his former Severity had almoſt kill'd. After I had perform'd the Funeral Rites, I began to think of my dear Clerimont; and being inform'd by his good Uncle, he had wrote him an Account of my ſuppoſed Death, took a Reſolution of unde⯑ceiving him myſelf; therefore embark'd for Barcelona in a Ship of my own (ſince my Fa⯑ther's Death) as a Paſſenger, unknown to any one, after ſettling my Affairs at home. I ſoon found you out, and had the Pleaſure of ſeeing the deep Melancholy growing in the Face of my Lover. I embark'd with you for Genoa, without diſcovering myſelf, or ever appearing before him, but in the Night, to obſerve his Sighs. Going to the Poſt-Houſe here, I found that fatal Packet direct⯑ed for you, and took that Opportunity to wait on you; tho' had I underſtood the Con⯑tents [116] of it, I ſhould not ſo readily have brought it. Laſt Night I reveal'd myſelf to Clerimont, for I cou'd no longer bear his Sor⯑rows; and to-day he has brought me to pay you the Thanks ſuitable to your Goodneſs; but, as I have not Words ſufficient, I beg you would take even my Silence for the Force of Eloquence working in my Mind. That ſhou'd be my Task, reply'd my Governor; but I am as uncapable as you; for I find the Torrent of Joy pour'd ſo unexpectedly in upon me, has made ſuch a Revolution in my Soul, that my Body is not able to bear the Tranſport: Therefore, dear Sir, think your ſelf, what a grateful Heart wou'd ſay, and imagine my Thanks.

The good Fortune of theſe happy Lovers, was the Balm to the extreme Sorrow I felt. I was reſolv'd to return for England with my Governor and his Miſtreſs, in the firſt Veſſel of our Country that was ready; but at laſt, it was agreed to travel by Land, for the bet⯑ter Conveniency of Eliza.

While we were providing for our Journey, a Galley of Genoa arriv'd, with a Corſair of Barbary ſhe had taken, after a bloody Re⯑ſiſtance. There were ſix and Thirty Slaves redeem'd from a wretched Captivity they had [117] undergone on Board the Corſair. Hearing there was one Engliſhman among 'em, I re⯑ſolv'd to relieve him, and carry him home along with me, after his hard Sufferings. My Governor went, according to my De⯑ſire, and brought him to me. At firſt Sight, I was ſtruck with a Tenderneſs I cou'd not give any Account for; but after a little Con⯑ference, I found it was my Brother Jona⯑than, who had been abſent above Eight Years. I never conſider'd, I had met with one that wou'd take ſome part of my For⯑tune from me; but the Joy I receiv'd in re⯑lieving an only Brother from Miſery, gave me the utmoſt Satisfaction. He gave me his Hiſtory in the following manner.

Thus, my dear Brother, I have gain'd my Freedom from the Chains of Bondage. And ſure, never any Priſoner rejoic'd leſs at his Li⯑berty, than I do; and if I had not met with you, that gives me all the Joy I am capable of feeling, without my dear Fatima, I believe my Sorrows wou'd have made an end of my miſerable Life. Nay, as it is, I can never be happy without her. We condol'd with my Brother ſome time, at his melancholy Rela⯑tion; and I muſt confeſs, I felt ſo much, that my Heart prompted me to think of attempt⯑ing to bring off the Object of his Deſires. When I communicated my Thoughts to my Brother, he was tranſported. We were ſeve⯑ral Days, before we cou'd light upon a Pro⯑ject that ſeem'd reaſonable. At laſt, we de⯑termin'd to hire a Tartane, and engage about a Dozen reſolute Men, who ſhou'd be all diſ⯑guis'd in Mooriſh Habits. We got a broad flat-bottom'd Boat built on purpoſe, ſome⯑thing like our Ferry-Boats in England, only with higher Sides, and not ſo heavy. With theſe, we intended to ſail for Tunis, anchor [142] as near as we cou'd to the long Sand-Bank be⯑hind the Rocks, my Brother mention'd, where he was thrown out of the Long-Boat; then with our flat-bottom Boat, land as near the Houſe of Fatima's Brother, as we cou'd, and bring her away by Force.

My Brother and Governor lik'd the Deſign very well, and wou'd make one in it, even with the Conſent of the fair Eliza, who was reſolv'd her dear Clerimont ſhou'd partake of whatever Fortune befell us; nay, it was hard⯑ly in our Power to prevent her going along with us. We hir'd a Veſſel, and got our Boat ready, but we had much Difficulty to get Men; ſome of the Slaves were ſolicited (I mean, thoſe that were ſet at Liberty with my Brother) but none wou'd venture near the Bar⯑bary Coaſt again, willingly. At laſt, by great Rewards, I pickt out Seven Engliſhmen, and Four Genoeſe, that promis'd to ſacrifice their Lives for us.

We embark'd with a favourable Wind, and arriv'd in the Latitude of Tunis in twelve Days; but we did not think it proper to come too near till it was dark. When Night ap⯑pear'd, we made for the Shore, and anchor'd within half a Mile of the Sand; then getting our flat-bottom'd Boat out, my Brother, my [143] Governor, myſelf, and Nine of our Men, got into it, every one arm'd with two Brace of Piſtols, a Cutlaſs, and a ſhort Dagger; but we were not got above half a Mile from the Ship, ere we ſtruck on the Sands; tho' we ſuffer'd no Damage, becauſe the Sea was very calm. But the Tide flowing, our Boat float⯑ed again in half an Hour. When we came near the Shore, we left off Rowing, and ſet her forward with Poles got for that Purpoſe, that we might not be diſcover'd by the Noiſe of our Oars. We ſoon landed at the Place my Brother purpos'd; two of our Men we left to ſecure the Boat, and keep her even with the Water, as the Tide ebb'd away. We then ſet forward, led by my Brother. When we came near the Place, a great Maſtiff Dog open'd ſo loud, that he might be heard even to the City of Tunis. But my Brother being foremoſt, and knowing him, call'd him by his Name; but the poor Creature's Joy to ſee him, was almoſt as loud as his Barking.

In ſhort, the Houſe was alarm'd, for we cou'd ſee Torches waving too and fro in the Garden. However, we encourag'd one ano⯑ther, and went boldly on to the Gate. Juſt as we came to it, it flew open, and a young Moor flew from us like Lightning. We did [144] not care to loſe time in purſuing him, but preſs'd in, ſtill following my Brother, who led us into the very Court-yard. The firſt he met ſeem'd to be a Perſon of Diſtinction, by the Richneſs of his Dreſs. He was follow'd by ſeven or eight Servants. When he came up to my Brother, he made a Stop, and ſome Words paſſing between 'em, in the Mooriſh Tongue, the Moor immediately fir'd a Piſtol at him. We thought we had no Time to loſe, but fell upon 'em like ſo many Furies, kill'd two or three of 'em, and immediately diſ⯑pers'd the reſt. But as we were following my Brother into the Houſe, we perceiv'd him faint, and fall Speechleſs upon the Ground. While we were examining his Wound, a love⯑ly young Creature came running to us, all in Diſorder, crying in Engliſh, If you are Chri⯑ſtians, protect me. I did not doubt but this was the fair Fatima, by her extraordinary Beauty, and ſpeaking Engliſh; therefore or⯑der'd my Brother, who was ſhot quite thro' the Thigh, to be put in a Wheel-barrow, and immediately carry'd to the Boat. We had put our Handkerchiefs into the Wound, and ſtopt the Bleeding, but he had not reco⯑ver'd his Senſes. We immediately follow'd, with the amiable Chriſtian Moor, but were [145] forc'd to turn about to defend ourſelves againſt the Perſon that fir'd at my Brother, and his Slaves that he had once more rally'd. He call'd to us in a prodigious Fury, but we un⯑derſtood him not. He made a Stroke at my Head with his Scimitar, that wou'd have in⯑fallibly ended my Days, if I had not receiv'd it on the Hilt of my Sabre; but I ended his Fury, by ſhooting him dead at my Feet.

The Slaves, ſeeing their Maſter fall, ran yelling back again into the Garden. I took up his Scimitar, and made the beſt of my way after our People▪ When we came to our Boat, we puſh'd away, as faſt as ever we cou'd, for there was no Time to be loſt; we cou'd eaſi⯑ly perceive the City was alarm'd, by the fi⯑ring of ſeveral Guns, and the Lights that gleam'd over the Points of the Rocks. We imagin'd the young Turk that ruſh'd out of the Garden, when we were going in, had gi⯑ven Notice to the City, which we ſuppos'd to be the young Engliſh Mahometan, my Brother mention'd in his Relation.

One of the Two, we left to look after the Boat, was a Genoeſe Surgeon, who immedi⯑ately dreſs'd my Brother's Wound, as well as he cou'd in the Dark, but he cou'd not aſ⯑ſure me, whether there was any Danger or no, [146] till he came to have Light enough to exa⯑mine it more circumſpectly.

The Confuſion we were all in, did not per⯑mit us to take Notice of a young Moor that was in the Boat with us. I ask'd the Surgeon, and the other Genoeſe, that were left to look after the Boat, how the Youth came there? He told me, not long after we landed, he walk'd after us, to liſten if he cou'd hear any thing, and perceiving this young Spark com⯑ing towards him, with a great deal of Preci⯑pitation, he thought it was his beſt way to ſe⯑cure him, for fear he might alarm the Coun⯑try. I was loth, continu'd the Surgeon, to fire upon him, not knowing but there might be People near us, therefore reſolv'd to en⯑gage him with my Cutlaſs; but as I was go⯑ing to aſſault him, he fell upon his Knees, and ſpoke in ſuch a beſeeching Accent (tho' I did not underſtand a Word of his Diſcourſe) that I cou'd not have the Heart to hurt him; therefore ſecur'd him in the Boat, and in the Hurly-burly quite forgot him; for, I think, his ſeeming Innocency, and his Tears, which have never ceas'd ſince he has been with us, wou'd have prevail'd upon me to have ſet him at Liberty.

[147]I ſpoke to him in Lingua Franca ^*, and Italian, all the Tongues I am Maſter of, but he did not underſtand me.

All this time my Brother lay Senſeleſs, and his Condition almoſt brought me to Deſpair; but the Surgeon comforted me, by telling us, as ſoon as we came on Board, he had Cor⯑dials that wou'd reſtore him, for he aſſur'd me he was not dead. I comforted the Fair Fatima (as I thought her to be) as well as I could; but judge my Surprize, when ſhe gave me ſuch Anſwers, that aſſur'd me ſhe was not her we had ventur'd our Lives for: The Knowledge of this, almoſt made me loſe my Senſes. I rav'd, and tore my Hair, and wou'd have thrown myſelf into the Sea, in order to ſwim back to the Shore, and recover her, or loſe my Life: But it cou'd not be; for juſt as we got on Board our Veſſel, we perceiv'd a Mooriſh Galley coming out of the Port; we cut our Anchor, and made all the Sail we cou'd to get from 'em; and, as if Heaven took our Parts, a brisk Gale aroſe, [148] that was fair for our Purpoſe, ſo that when the Morning dawn'd, we loſt Sight of her.

In the mean time, my Brother came to his Senſes; but when he learn'd that we had fail'd of our Purpoſe, he ſwoon'd again, and every body thought he wou'd have expir'd; it was a full Hour before he open'd his Eyes, but then utter'd ſuch Complaints, as melted us in⯑to Pity, that underſtood him. The Surgeon, my Governor, and I, were all ſtanding about him, perſuading him to be dreſs'd; but he utterly refus'd it: No, ſaid he, ſince my dear Fatima is loſt for ever, 'tis in vain to think of perſuading me to live. Immediately after this, we were ſurpris'd to ſee the young Moor ruſh into the Cabbin, and looking ſtedfaſtly on my Brother, give a great Shriek, and fall ſenſeleſs at my Feet. My Brother, turning his heavy Eyes that way, cry'd out, Oh Hea⯑vens! what do I ſee? Why wou'd you uſe me thus cruelly? We ſoon underſtood, by his Tranſports, that the diſguis'd Youth was his lovely Fatima.

Our Joys were now as extravagant as our Sorrows were before. She ſoon came to her⯑ſelf, and running to the Bed where my Bro⯑ther lay, fainted away again. No Words, I am ſure, cou'd have the Force to diſcover ſo [149] ſincere a Paſſion; and we all wept for Joy, to ſee ſuch Tenderneſs. It was ſome time before their Tranſports had Leiſure to mind thoſe about 'em; and it wou'd have continu'd longer, if the Surgeon had not let us know, it might endanger my Brother's Life. There⯑fore I prevail'd upon her to withdraw, while his Wound was dreſs'd. I then went to make my Compliments to the other Lady, who was ſtill upon Deck in the utmoſt Confuſion; for I muſt own, the Diſappointment we ſup⯑pos'd ſhe had occaſion'd, made me entirely neglect her. I ſoon made her eaſy, and let her into ſome Part of our Story; and began to inquire, what ſtrange Fortune had brought her to thoſe Circumſtances we found her in. She related to us her ſhort Story, as fol⯑lows:

Gentlemen, I am Daughter to an Engliſh Merchant, that has reſided upwards of Ten Years at Leghorn. My Father had contract⯑ed me to one of his Countrymen that liv'd at Naples: He came to Leghorn to ſee me, we lik'd each other, and were marry'd. My Hus⯑band being oblig'd to go to Venice by Land, I was embark'd in a Felucca for Naples; but a Storm came upon us, that drove us from [150] our Courſe. We were taken by a Corſair of Tunis, where I was ſold to a young Moor, who intended me for his Seraglio. But I was reſolv'd ſooner to ſuffer Death, than yield to his Embraces. Laſt Night, he was reſolv'd to force me, if I wou'd not comply willingly to his baſe Deſires, and was going to execute his horrible Purpoſe, the Moment you enter'd the Garden; but the Cries of his Slaves a⯑larming him, he ran to his Arms, and left me. I hearing the Engliſh Tongue ſpoke a⯑mong you, hop'd you might be Chriſtians diſguis'd (as it prov'd) therefore reſolv'd to put myſelf in your Hands, not knowing any thing of the Miſtake, which Heaven has, I hope, brought to a joyful End. I ſhall ever acknowledge the Bleſſing I have receiv'd from you; and I am aſſur'd, both my Father and Husband will return you ſuitable Thanks for redeeming me from Infamy and Slavery; and if you think fit to put my Ranſom at Ten Thouſand Crowns, I'll engage it ſhall be paid, either at Leghorn, or Naples.

I let her know we were Gentlemen, above ſuch mercenary Ends; and I ſhou'd think the Obligation ſufficiently paid, by ſending her to her Father, or Husband, which ſhe thought [151] fit, when we arriv'd at Genoa. I might have known indeed, reply'd the Lady, by your Countenances and Actions, you are not of the vulgar Strain; however, I hope you'll be ſo good to acquaint me who are my Preſer⯑vers, that I may ever remember you in my Prayers, and wiſh you eternal Felicity in this World, and the next. I let her know, I wou'd take an Opportunity to ſatisfy her, when my Brother was out of Danger. His Hurt mended every Hour, and before we ar⯑riv'd at Genoa, he cou'd, with the help of a Cane, walk upon Deck in calm Weather. As we ſet out ſecretly from thence, we took care to be as ſecret in our returning back.

I rewarded our Men above their Expecta⯑tion, tho' not more than I thought they de⯑ſerv'd; for it muſt be own'd, our Underta⯑king was very hazardous, and the Succeſs was far beyond, even my Hopes, neither had we any one that receiv'd the leaſt Hurt, but my Brother. When I ſhew'd him the Sci⯑mitar of the Moor I had ſlain, he ſoon knew it to be that of his barbarous Maſter's, as he call'd him; and the fair Fatima cou'd not hear the Death of her cruel Brother (tho' born of different Mothers) without ſhedding Tears, which only ſhew'd the Excellency of her Na⯑ture; [152] for ſure, ſhe had Reaſon enough to wiſh his Death.

She told us, when ſhe heard he had ſold my Brother to the Captain of the Corſair, it gave her an infinite Satisfaction, for ſhe knew thoſe ſort of Perſons underſtood the Value of Money ſo well, they wou'd be eaſily prevail'd upon to part with any thing, for that ſhining Droſs. I ſent that very Night (ſaid Fatima, relating her Story) to the Jew, an Account of what had befell the Slave he was to redeem, with a ſtrict Charge to finiſh the Affair the next Day. The next Morning, as I was ſit⯑ting alone, with all my Thoughts employ'd about my Love, and caſting about my Eſcape, for I was aſſur'd of my dear Vaughan's Free⯑dom, my old Slave interrupted my Medita⯑tions, with the fatal News of his being car⯑ry'd away the Night before. The Terrors I felt, took away my Senſes, and I continu'd ſeveral Hours in a Swoon. When I reviv'd, my Tears flow'd inceſſantly, and my faithful Slave, with all her Good-nature, cou'd not give me any Conſolation. It was two Days before I cou'd be prevail'd upon to take any Nouriſhment. But the Jew inform'd my old Slave, that the Corſair did not intend to make more than a Four Months Voyage; therefore [153] having ſome faint Hopes of ſeeing my Love again, I reſolv'd to live till the Time was expir'd.

During that tedious Time, my Life was made more uneaſy, by the barbarous Treat⯑ment of my Brother, who was reſolv'd to wed me to one of his Acquaintance, that, as he often ſaid, he might get rid of one he ha⯑ted. He brought him to ſee me, though a⯑gainſt the Cuſtom of the Moors, and I had the Ill-fortune to pleaſe him too well. I need not tell you, that Brothers, among the Turks and Moors, have an abſolute Command over their Siſters, and the Wives of their deceas'd Father. Therefore the Day was fix'd for our Nuptials, which was to have been three Days after I had made my Eſcape. After that barbarous Decree, my Brother gave me more Liberty than uſual; therefore I had an Op⯑portunity of conveying a Turkiſh Habit into the little Summer-Houſe, where I had often convers'd with the Charmer of my Soul, the Key of which I had kept ever ſince the Death of my Father. By degrees, I carry'd all my Gold and Jewels there; and that very Night you came to relieve me, was the Night I had fix'd upon for my Eſcape, (firſt giving my old faithful Slave her Liberty, with a Sum [154] of Money, to make her meanly happy for the reſt of her Life, even with my Brother's Conſent.) I had but juſt dreſs'd myſelf, and ſecur'd my little Fortune, when I was alarm'd with a confus'd Noiſe of People in the Gar⯑den, and imagining they were coming to ſeize me, ruſh'd out of the Gate, and flew, as faſt as my weak Limbs wou'd permit me; yet, in the Terrors of my Apprehenſions, I knew not where I was going. I muſt own, I was very much frighted at meeting a Stranger, yet I thought it was better than falling into the Hands of any of the People of Tunis. I ſoon knew you were upon ſome clandeſtine Deſign; tho' every Body ſpeaking Italian, I cou'd not underſtand what was ſpoke; and the Thoughts of what Fortune might attend me, gave me many terrible and uneaſy Appre⯑henſions.

The Appearance of a wounded Perſon, and the Sight of a Mooriſh Lady (as I took her to be, you brought along with you) ſoon convinc'd me you had ſucceeded in your De⯑ſign. I did intend to diſcover myſelf to her, hoping ſhe wou'd give me her Protection. I ſpoke to her in the Arabian Language, but was ſurpriz'd to find I was not underſtood. And immediately after, perceiving the Diſ⯑content [155] that ſpread itſelf over all your Faces, I cou'd not help endeavouring to find it out; imagining I heard Engliſh ſpoke among you, doubled my Curioſity. I need not tell you my Surprize, when I heard the Voice of my dear Vaughan repeat my Name, whoſe lov'd Accents were ever in my Ears. You ſaw the violent Working of my Soul, and brought me from Death to Life, a Life of Joy and Tranſport.

The unlook'd-for Happineſs of theſe four Lovers, made me once more think of my own uncertain Fate, and of my dear Iſabella, who was never from my Thoughts.

My Uncle's Intention, at firſt, was, that I ſhou'd make the whole Tour of Italy; but the unfortunate End of my dear Father, was the Cauſe of his deſiring my immediate Re⯑turn, as he mention'd in my laſt Letter; and I can't but own, maugre my Curioſity, which was very prevalent, I was pleas'd to think I ſhou'd ſee my dear Iſabella, before the tedious Time prefix'd for my Return.

Finding no Veſſel ready to carry us to Mar⯑ſeilles, where we had agreed to go by Sea, we embark'd for Leghorn, and the rather, that we might return the Lady we had brought [156] from Tunis, ſafe among her Friends. We embark'd on Board a Felucca, but had the Mortification to find the young Nobleman in the Veſſel, bound for Leghorn (the Relation of my Governor's, mention'd before.) Our Uneaſineſs was the more on the Account of the Fair Eliza, who never durſt appear upon Deck, notwithſtanding her Diſguiſe, for fear of being known by him; neither wou'd my Governor once come in his Sight. And, to add to my Misfortune, I was oblig'd to ſhare Cabbins with him, or lie upon Deck.

During our ſhort Voyage, he ſeem'd good-natur'd, to a Degree; but was ſo officiouſly Talkative and Troubleſome, he was hardly to be bore, ever plaguing me with Stories of his ſucceſsful Amours.

I was (ſaid he) deſperately in Love with a Lady at Genoa, who, ſuſpecting I had a Paſ⯑ſion for another Woman, whom, I muſt own, I had an Affair with when firſt I ar⯑riv'd, wou'd not let me alone before I had wrote her a Letter, to convince her of my Coolneſs. But not underſtanding the Italian Language well enough to write my ſelf, I was oblig'd to employ a Countryman of ours to write it for me, which I tranſcrib'd; and by the Conſequence that follow'd (for I [157] ſhou'd have been murder'd, if I had ſtaid any longer at Genoa) I believe I had not fair Play from my Friend, in the Tranſlation. I know you are a Maſter of that Language, and I ſhou'd take it for a ſingular Favour, if you wou'd once more render it into Engliſh, that I may be a better Judge of my Countryman's Sincerity. I muſt own, I took it from him to tranſlate, that I might be rid of his Com⯑pany for ſome time. The Contents of this fine Letter were as follows:

The Senſe of this Letter, gave me a more deſpicable Opinion of the Fool that wrote it; and I muſt own, the Trouble I was forc'd to endure, in having his impertinent Company, gave me very much Uneaſineſs; for, during our Voyage, I was oblig'd to appear as a Stranger to my Brother, my Governor, and the Ladies, for fear he ſhou'd come to know 'em. But our Arrival at Leghorn, after a Voyage of Five Days, gave me ſome Re⯑poſe; for as ſoon as he landed, he took a Poſt-Chaiſe for Florence, and rid us of his moſt troubleſome Company: Tho' he re⯑turn'd [159] in a Week, and went back in the ſame Veſſel for Genoa again. I muſt own, Fo⯑reigners may juſtly have a Contempt for our Nation, when too many that travel, have the ſame Sentiments with this young Imperti⯑nent.

As ſoon as we landed, we conducted the Lady to her Father's Houſe, where we found the whole Family in Mourning. We did not immediately diſcover her to him, but pre⯑tended our Buſineſs with him, was only to re⯑commend us to a Houſe, where we might re⯑ſide, during our Stay in Leghorn. He told us, if we cou'd be contented with a melan⯑choly Family, we might make uſe of his Houſe, as if it were our own. We thank'd him for the Favour, and, by degrees, got out of him the Reaſon of his Mourning. My Brother, being a Man of ſome Mirth, told him, he believ'd, by the Art of Divination, he cou'd, in leſs than Five Minutes, inform him whether he ſhou'd ever ſee his Daughter again, and the Day and the Hour of their Meeting: But the Merchant expreſs'd ſome Uneaſineſs, as imagining my Brother made a Jeſt of his Sorrows: Nay, Sir (ſaid my Go⯑vernor) don't look grave at what the Gentle⯑man propoſes to you, for I can aſſure you he [160] has an admirable Knowledge that way. What my Governor ſaid, ſeem'd only to add to his Confuſion. Pray, Sir, ſaid I, tell me one Thing, is your Son-in-law here, or at Na⯑ples? Gentlemen (return'd our kind Hoſt) I muſt own, you look like ſuch, pray don't laugh at the Misfortunes of a mourning Fa⯑mily, whoſe Diſtreſs is never to be forgot; my unfortunate Son-in-law is now in the Houſe with me, but ſuch a Picture of Un⯑happineſs, that cannot be look'd on without Compaſſion; and I fear his Death, in a very ſhort time, will add to our Mourning. I be⯑gan to think, the unexpected Sight of the La⯑dy might be as prejudicial as their Sorrow; therefore told him, in a few Words, by de⯑grees, the Adventure of the Lady, and fetch'd her out of a Room where ſhe was conceal'd, and had heard all, to throw herſelf at his Feet. When ſhe appear'd, he ſtood fix'd in Aſtoniſhment for ſome time; but when he was convinc'd it was his Daughter that knelt before him, the Tears of Joy guſh'd out ſo faſt, that ſtopt the Utterance of his Tongue. When his extravagant Tranſport was a little abated, he went up to his Son-in-law, and after ſtaying ſome time, brought him down with him; he appear'd the very Shadow of a Hu⯑man [161] Form; and notwithſtanding he had been prepar'd for the tender Interview, as ſoon as he enter'd the Room, he ſunk, ſpeechleſs, in⯑to his Father-in-law's Arms. We thought it proper to retire into another Apartment, during this dumb Scene. It was ſome time before they came to us, but the Redundancy of their Gratitude had almoſt overwhelm'd us. We intended to ſtay but three or four Days at Leghorn ^*; but we were preſs'd ſo [162] obligingly, that a whole Month paſs'd away before they wou'd hear of our moving; and then with the utmoſt Reluctance.

We viſited Florence ^*, and ſaw all the Ra⯑rities of the Great Duke's Repoſitory, which [163] is certainly one of the nobleſt Entertainments in the World, at leaſt it appear'd ſo to me, and my Company.

When we came back to Leghorn, in order to prepare for our Journey, a violent Fever attack'd me, that confin'd me to my Apart⯑ment for near two Months, which I can at⯑tribute to nothing more, than the Anxiety of my Mind; and as moſt Fevers are attended with Deliriums, I was for ever crying out of the Infidelity of my dear Iſabella; even when my Illneſs was gone, the Lowneſs of my Spi⯑rits gave Force to my Imagination, and thoſe uneaſy Thoughts retarded my Strength.

One Day, taking the Air upon the Water, the Maſter of the Felucca that brought us from Genoa, paſſing by in a Boat, told me, he believ'd I had left a Packet of Letters in my Cabbin, which he wou'd bring me, if I wou'd give him a Direction. I did not re⯑member I had loſt any thing; however, I [164] deſired he would ſend 'em where I lodg'd the next Day. When he brought 'em, they were ſeal'd up. Sir, ſaid the Italian, I found they were in a Language I did not underſtand, and, not knowing the Conſequence, I ſeal'd 'em up, and left 'em at my Lodgings, di⯑rected for you, or the young Gentleman that ſhar'd my Cabbin with you, imagining one of you wou'd ſearch after 'em, before I re⯑turn'd from Genoa, where I have been twice ſince I brought you to Leghorn; and if I had not met you accidentally Yeſterday, I ſhou'd have committed them to the Flames, before I went back to Genoa. I thank'd him for his Civility; and opening the Packet, found they were directed for my Engliſh Companion, I had in the Felucca, againſt my Will. I laid 'em among my other Pa⯑pers, not having any Curioſity to peruſe 'em, with an Intention to give 'em the right Own⯑er, if ever I ſhould have the Misfortune to ſee him again. But when I told my Gover⯑nor and Brother, at Dinner, of my Packet, they ſeem'd willing to know the Contents, that they might have a farther Occaſion to deſpiſe the Gentleman, or at leaſt to make themſelves merry with his fine Epiſtles. Af⯑ter Dinner, we went to my Apartment, and [165] taking out the Packet, I gave it my Brother to read. The firſt was as follows:

The Reading of this Letter, gave me the moſt horrid Apprehenſions my Soul ever knew. I call'd to mind the Letter I tranſla⯑ted from the Italian, at the Deſire of that Wretch, not doubting, in the leaſt, but that was the Engine, made to deſtroy all my Peace. In the firſt Tranſports of my Fury, I ſaid, and did the moſt extravagant things imaginable, to the Surprize of all the Com⯑pany.

The firſt Letter was directed to Paris, and the ſecond to Genoa. My Brother caſting his Eyes curſorily over the ſecond, I perceiv'd his Colour change, ſeeming very unwilling to read it. I ſnatch'd it out of his Hands, and, to my Surprize and Terror, found I was utterly deſtroy'd.

At the Reading of this villainous Letter, all my Fortitude, Reſolution, and Philoſo⯑phy left me; my diſorder'd Soul whiſper'd [174] my Heart to put an end to my wretched Be⯑ing, which I had certainly done, if the Thoughts of Revenge had not bid me live. I immediately gave Orders for my Journey to England, but my impatient Fancy outrun all Expedition; Yet the Tumult of my Spi⯑rits, threw me into another violent Fever; and tho' every one thought it would be cer⯑tain Death, to remove from the Place where I was, yet I order'd a Litter; and the next Morning purſu'd my Journey, attended with my Governor, Eliza, my Brother, the fair Fatima, and Servants.

Eliza, in our firſt Day's Journey, was ta⯑ken with a ſudden Indiſpoſition, that prevent⯑ed our going any further that Day. We were far from any Town, and it was with great Difficulty we found Accommodation at a lit⯑tle Village, a Mile from the main Road. I was agitated with ſo much impatient Paſſion, that my Friends found it a hard Task to per⯑ſuade me from leaving them behind, and pur⯑ſuing my Journey with my two Servants. The next Morning, Eliza was much better; but, to my great Mortification, I was ſo weak, that I had not Strength enough to riſe without Help; yet, notwithſtanding my Condition, I order'd my Litter to be got [175] ready, but was inform'd, the Men went a⯑way with it back to Leghorn, early in the Morning. I loſt all Patience at the Diſap⯑pointment, and fell out with my Friends; not doubting (tho' they deny'd it) but it was their Contrivance, to prevent my Journey during my Weakneſs. In ſhort, my Illneſs redoubled its Attacks, and took ſuch ſtrong Poſſeſſion of the Outworks, that it was the Opinion of every one about me, my Life could not hold out much longer. My Senſes left me, and a ſtrong Diſtraction ſeiz'd my Soul. But even in thoſe Fits of Madneſs, Revenge was uppermoſt; for they inform'd me, when I came out of thoſe Poſſeſſions, all my Ravings were upon Iſabella and my Rival, threatning Death to Both.

The Place where we were, had but little Accommodation for us, even in Health, and much leſs for a Perſon in my Condition; therefore my Brother, unknown to me, ap⯑ply'd himſelf to a neighbouring Gentleman, who freely granted us the Uſe of his Houſe. I was remov'd there; and having the Ad⯑vice of the beſt Phyſicians from Florence, my Diſtemper, by degrees, left me; but I ſtill continu'd in ſuch a weak Condition, it was impoſſible for me to remove, ſo ſoon as my [176] Impatience wou'd have me. I was well aſ⯑ſur'd, the Time affix'd for the fatal Nuptials was elaps'd, therefore my Heart began to feel ſome Eaſe in the Reſolution I had taken in the Revenging the Loſs of my Love, by the Death of my hated Rival, or falling a Victim to my Misfortunes. This Hope gave me room to gather ſome Strength, which in a few Days increas'd ſo much, that I cou'd walk in the Garden, which was one of thoſe noble ones in Italy, that ſurpaſs even many Princes in other Countries. But what was my Surprize! when, in a neighbouring Arbor, I heard the Voice of that Wretch, ſinging an Italian Air, who by his damnable Wiles, had prevail'd upon me to tranſlate that Letter, which was the ſole Cauſe of all my Misfortunes. My Fury gave me Strength enough to fly to the Place from whence I heard his deteſted Voice. As ſoon as I came near him, I could not help crying out, with the utmoſt Tranſport of Fury, Villain! thy laſt Moment is approaching! I never once conſider'd I had no other Weapon than a Cane, to aſſiſt me in walking, which I thruſt againſt his Breaſt with ſuch Violence, that he fell backwards in a mighty Fright. How⯑ever, finding it was no offenſive Weapon I [177] had in my Hand, he drew his Sword, and made ſeveral Thruſts at me, which I parry'd with my Cane for ſome time; and at laſt, with much Difficulty, diſarm'd him. But the Violence of the Exerciſe being too ſtrong for my weak Condition, I fell to the Ground almoſt Senſeleſs. The Wretch ſeeing that, recover'd his Sword, and, with all his Strength, ſtabb'd me thro' the Shoulder; the Sword enter'd ſo far into the Earth, that he made ſeveral fruitleſs Attempts to pull it out again. I had juſt Senſe enough to know what he was doing, without any Power to prevent him. But my Brother Jonathan com⯑ing upon the Inſtant, put an end to his vain Efforts, by laying him breathleſs at my Feet, with a Blow of his Sword. He then came to my Aſſiſtance, leaving the Wretch wel⯑tring in his Blood. The Family, and my Friends, were ſoon alarm'd; tho 'no one cou'd come to the true Knowledge of this Quarrel for the preſent; but the Appearances ſeem'd ſtrong againſt the other, becauſe I had no Sword. However, the Gentleman of the Houſe took care of him, as having ſome ſmall Acquaintance with him. He inform'd us, that the villainous Wretch waited for a Servant that he had ſent to Leghorn for a [178] Packet of Letters, which I too well knew were thoſe the Captain deliver'd to me. When my Wound was dreſt, I inform'd the Gentle⯑man of all that befell me. When he heard his barbarous Policy to undo my Peace, he exclaim'd againſt his Conduct, vowing never to give him any Countenance for the fu⯑ture.

My Wound was not dangerous, tho' the Loſs of Blood contributed to my Weakneſs; but the Wretch that gave it me, ſeem'd in a very dangerous Condition; for the Blow my Brother gave him, had fractur'd his Skull, and the Violence of the Pain often took away his Senſes. Yet, in his Intervals, he talk'd of nothing but Revenge, declaring to every one that came to viſit him, my Brother's Blood ſhould make Atonement for the Tor⯑ment he ſuffer'd. As for myſelf, he had ſuf⯑ficiently puniſh'd me, in being the Inſtrument of robbing me of all that cou'd make me hap⯑py in this World. I muſt own, I was in ſome Fear for my Brother; therefore was for leaving the Place as ſoon as poſſible. But the Italian Gentleman, in whoſe Houſe we were, advis'd us not to purſue our Journey by Land. He laid before me the many Difficulties we ſhou'd meet with, and convinc'd me we [179] ſhou'd make our Voyage ſooner, by imbark⯑ing for Marſeilles, and travelling thro France by Land. The Alps, at this Time of the Year, he aſſur'd us, were cover'd with Snow, and many had periſh'd by miſtaking the Road. The Conſideration of the two Ladies, pre⯑vail'd upon me more than any Danger I fear'd; therefore we were determin'd, as ſoon as poſ⯑ſible, to return to Leghorn, and procure a Veſ⯑ſel to carry us to Marſeilles.

My Wound was ſo well heal'd in ſix Days after I receiv'd it, that the ſeventh, I reſolv'd with my Companions to venture on Horſe⯑back, in order to return to Leghorn. But when the Time came, my Brother was not to be found. We made all the Enquiry imagi⯑nable to no purpoſe; but what gave me ſome ſmall Satisfaction, was, that Fatima aſſur'd me he was gone to Leghorn, to provide a Veſ⯑ſel for our Voyage. I own, I much won⯑der'd he had not inform'd us of his Deſign; but as the fair Fatima ſeem'd very eaſy, I thought I had no Reaſon to be otherwiſe.

We took Leave of our friendly Italian; tho', I muſt own, I parted with ſome Re⯑gret from that infamous Wretch, who was the Cauſe of all my Sorrows, without giving him the Puniſhment due to his Crimes. How⯑ever, [180] I did not doubt but the Juſtiee of Hea⯑ven would overtake him; and I found ſome Conſolation in overcoming my juſt Reſent⯑ment.

We purſu'd our Journey for Leghorn, where we arriv'd the next Day, without any Accident; but, upon Enquiry after my Bro⯑ther, we cou'd learn no News of him. I began then to be very uneaſy; and obſerv'd a Gloom on Fatima's Countenance, notwith⯑ſtanding all her Endeavours to conceal it. Se⯑veral Days paſt in this Uncertainty, till Fati⯑ma's Fears began to be too powerful for her Prudence; yet all my Perſuaſions cou'd not get the Reaſon of my Brother's Abſence from her, tho' ſhe confeſs'd to me, ſhe knew it. My Governor, Eliza, and I, had many Con⯑jectures, but none could give us any Conſola⯑tion, eſpecially ſince we obſerv'd Fatima be⯑gan to be inconſolable, and confeſs'd, his Stay was beyond the Time prefix'd. We preſs'd her on all ſides, to declare to us the Reaſon of his unexpected Abſence, with this Perſuaſion, that it was poſſible the Knowledge of it might be of Service to him; but all our Intreaties prov'd ineffectual: Yet ſhe de⯑clar'd, if we had no Tidings of him in two Day, ſhe wou'd confeſs to us the Secret.

[181]We went to Bed, full of Terrors, and for my own Part, Sleep was a Stranger to me. But, in the middle of the Night, I was a⯑larm'd with a violent Knocking at the Gate; the Servants of the Houſe not riſing at the ſecond Alarm, I ſlipt on my Gown, and with my Sword in my Hand, went down in⯑to the Court-Yard; but gueſs my Surprize, when, asking, Who was there? I heard my Brother's Voice. I open'd the Gate, and my Surprize was doubled, when I found my Brother on Horſeback, at the Head of a Lit⯑ter, with a ſick Man in it, attended by four Servants: But, when I found the Perſon within it, was the Wretch that had wounded me in the Garden of the Italian Gentleman, my Wonder ty'd up my Tongue, and my Company (who by this time were come to us) ſtood like ſo many Statues ſtruck with the Sight of Meduſa's Head. At laſt, obſerving my Brother's Diligence in helping him out of the Litter, in a ſeeming Trance, we all, in⯑voluntarily, gave him our Aſſiſtance, with⯑out knowing what we were doing. We put him into Bed, and then follow'd my Brother out of the Room (leaving his Servants and a Surgeon with him, that came in their Com⯑pany) [182] without ſpeaking a Word, ſo full of Wonder, that our Tongues ſeem'd of no Uſe to us.

When we came down into the Hall, my Brother tenderly embrac'd us all; tho' his dear Fatima could not ſpeak, yet the Tears of Joy that fell from her fair Eyes, convinc'd us all of the tender Love ſhe bore him. When we were ſeated ſome time, gazing ſi⯑lently at one another, my Brother began his Story as follows.

My dear Brother, I muſt firſt beg your Pardon for concealing from you what I am going to relate; but my Reaſon for it was, that you wou'd not have given your Conſent to what I deſign'd to do. Two Days before we intended to leave our friendly Italian, I receiv'd that Letter, (which he gave me to read,)

This Letter was given me (continu'd my Brother) by a Servant, who told me he was order'd by his Maſter, to wait the next Morn⯑ing in the ſame Place, for an Anſwer. The Letter, I own, gave me much Concern. I advis'd with my dear Fatima, and with much Difficulty, got her Conſent to ſend an An⯑ſwer, in which I promis'd to meet him at the Time and Place appointed. I aſſur'd Fatima I would be with you in eight Days, at the fartheſt; and for that time, ſhe gave me her Word to keep the Affair a Secret from every one. The Morning I parted from her, was with the utmoſt Sorrow. She took her Leave of me, as if ſhe was never to ſee me more. I retir'd, with my Servant, full of Grief, to the little Cottage upon the Skirts of the Mead, [185] where I gave myſelf up to examine my Con⯑ſcience, and endeavour'd to make my Peace with Heaven; tho' I own to you, I thought I was going to do a Deed, not in the leaſt ac⯑ceptable to God. As ſoon as the appointed Morning came, I aroſe, giving my Servant Orders to obſerve the Combat; and if it was my Fate to fall, he ſhou'd immediately repair to you (after laying me in the Earth) and give you an Account of my End.

About Six o' Clock, I perceiv'd my An⯑tagoniſt, coming ſlow and penſive along the Skirts of the Meadow. When he came near⯑er to me, I obſerv'd he had been weeping. Tears, ſaid I, can make but poor Atonement for the many Injuries thou haſt heap'd upon my poor Brother and Me; therefore, betake thee to thy Sword, that I may chaſtiſe thy Perfidy. He made me no Anſwer, but draw⯑ing his Sword, I made a full Paſs at him, which he, opening his Arms, receiv'd into his Breaſt, and fell towards me, upon his Face, with the Point of my Sword out at his Back. I was very much ſurpriz'd at his man⯑ner of Proceeding; and calling my Servant, who waited at ſome Diſtance, we both rais'd him up. Forbear, ſaid he, and think not of giving Aſſiſtance to a Wretch, that rather de⯑ſerves [186] Death from your Hands, and who came on purpoſe to be puniſh'd for all thoſe Crimes, the Heat of Youth, and want of Thought, have made me commit. I had no other way to recompenſe all thoſe Ills I have done your worthy Brother, but to receive Death from your Hands. The Wound you formerly gave me, prob'd me to the Soul; my Illneſs gave me Leiſure to think, and Thought was my Monitor. I knew what I had done, inſtigated by One, whoſe Nobility is a Stain to Virtue, was the baſeſt Act I could have committed. I had no other Method to meet with the Death I deſired, but by writing that Letter to you. I had not the Aſſurance to look your injur'd Brother in the Face. But I beg, by Honour, Virtue, and all the amia⯑ble Train of Goodneſs, to plead for me to your noble Brother, whoſe Virtues rank him above Nobility. I conſider'd my Crime no more than a little Artifice, which would be approv'd by all the laughing Part of the World. But when I weigh'd it fully in my Illneſs, I found it the baſeſt, blackeſt, and moſt inhuman Policy, that ever was com⯑mitted by mortal Man. I often us'd to whiſper to myſelf, What Anxiety have I felt, even for a Diſappointment of a Day! But [187] what muſt theſe two poor, virtuous, inno⯑cent, abus'd Souls ſuffer, even to the Sepa⯑ration of their Mortality! My Wound was never ſo dangerous as reported. But the Tor⯑ments of my troubled Conſcience, perſuaded even the Surgeon, that I was often delirious, when alas! all my Madneſs was in my Mind, and not in the Brain. I purpoſely, when I was calm, threaten'd Revenge upon you; but it was only that you might be inform'd of my falſe Reſentment againſt you, I well know⯑ing, your Spirit would find ſome Means to ſeek me out, and puniſh me for my Crime as I deſerv'd. Even the Letter I wrote to you, went to my Soul, becauſe what I wrote was againſt my Conſcience. All I deſire of you, is, to bury me obſcurely, and let my Faults be forgotten in the Grave. He endeavour'd to ſay more, but his Tongue falter'd, his Eyes clos'd, and, grafping me faintly by the Hand, he ſunk to the Earth, in all Appear⯑ance never to riſe again. We took him in our Arms, and, with the Sword in his Breaſt, carry'd him to the Cottage, and then ſent my Servant for the Surgeon, that attended you both in your Illneſs. While he was gone, there ſeem'd no ſign of Life in him. I muſt confeſs, his unhappy Condition had wip'd a⯑way [188] all Reſentment in me, and I felt for him all the Tenderneſs of a Brother and Friend, waſhing his Face with my repentant Tears, often curſing myſelf for the raſh Act.

When the Surgeon came, he drew the Sword out of his Body, upon which he open'd his Eyes, fetching a deep Sigh, but clos'd 'em immediately again. However, the Surgeon prob'd his Wound, and gave me ſome Hopes it might not prove mortal. We undreſs'd him, and put him to Bed; but the Surgeon deſir'd we might leave the Room, till the Evening he came again; for he confidently aſſur'd us, by that Time, he would either be paſt Cure, or out of Danger. I own I cou'd not obey his Orders, but ſat by his Bedſide till the Evening the Surgeon return'd; and all that time, I cou'd not perceive him to breathe; therefore, I was aſſur'd in myſelf, the Soul had taken her Flight for ever. The Surgeon, by his Countenance, ſeem'd to think as I did; but when he took off his Plaiſters from his Wounds, he cry'd, Courage! Sir; we have Hopes, and great ones too. I own, thoſe Words very much chear'd my drooping Spi⯑rits. When he had once more dreſs'd him, he forc'd open his Mouth, and pour'd in ſome Cordial, which upon the Inſtant caus'd him [189] to groan, and ſome Moments after he open'd his Eyes, faintly looking upon us, but did not ſeem to know us. In ſhort, it was four Days ere he came to his Senſes; and then the Surgeon declar'd he was out of Danger, ſince in that time he had eſcap'd a Fever.

I was ſo much concern'd for his Welfare, that I had even forgot the Time I propos'd to meet you at Leghorn, was elaps'd; therefore I ſent my Servant to acquaint you with the Reaſon of my Delay, intending to follow the next Day. But we were very much ſurpriz'd laſt Night, to find the poor Fellow ty'd to a Tree in the Road, having been robb'd of his Horſe, his Cloaths and Money, as alſo ſe⯑verely beaten into the Bargain.

Tho' the Gentleman's Wounds were almoſt heal'd, yet he continu'd ſo weak, that he could not get out of his Bed without Aſſiſt⯑ance; yet, knowing the Neceſſity of my be⯑ing with you, he would accompany me in the Litter that carry'd you a Day's Journey into the Country (that I had order'd to be con⯑ceal'd in the Village, to prevent, my dear Brother, your purſuing a raſh Deſign, that muſt have ended with your Life, conſidering the Weakneſs of your Condition.) I'll wait on you, ſaid he, to your worthy Brother, to [190] obtain his Pardon, or die at his Feet. When he was inform'd we were near the Houſe where you reſided, the Thoughts of ſeeing the Face of the Perſon he had ſo heinouſly injur'd, took away his Senſes, and he faint⯑ed away. But the Surgeon aſſur'd us, a lit⯑tle Reſt and Quietneſs would ſoon reſtore him; therefore deſired he might not be di⯑ſturb'd for ſome Hours.

When my Brother had ended his Relation, Revenge, Hate, Fury, with all the Train of violent Paſſions, left my Breaſt; and in their room, ſoft Compaſſion, Tenderneſs, with Friendſhip, took their Place. Tho' I was undone thro' his Means, yet a gloomy Con⯑tentment took Poſſeſſion of my Soul, ſo that I could freely pardon the Man who was the Cauſe of all my Misfortunes. I was over⯑come with an ardent Longing to embrace him. All the Company felt the ſame Senti⯑ments with me; neither cou'd we prevent the Tears guſhing from our Eyes, at my Brother's ſhort Story.

We all return'd to Reſt; and I muſt own, I had not felt the balmy Effects of Slumber ſo ſweet, for many Days. Tho' the latter Part of it was diſturb'd with a Dream of my dear Iſabella; I thought ſhe appear'd before [191] me with thoſe piercing Rays of Beauty, with which ſhe firſt wounded my Soul. Canſt thou then forſake me (ſhe cry'd) ungrateful Wretch? What have I done to merit ſuch bar⯑barous Uſage? Are theſe the Vows and Pro⯑miſes thou madeſt me at our cruel Separation? Why didſt thou betray my eaſy Heart, to feel the Torture of Deſpair for ever? But know, thou Wretch! tho' Death will ſoon overtake me, yet I will die another's, to puniſh thee. When ſhe had (as I thought) pronounc'd theſe fatal Words, ſhe flew from me in a violent Rage, and the Agony I felt in my Dream, awak'd me in a cold Sweat, all o'er my Limbs. Tho' this was but a Dream, yet my Mind felt all the Tortures imaginable, at the Thoughts of my miſerable Fortune.

The next Morning, my Brother inform'd us the Gentleman was better, and expreſs'd a great Deſire to ſee me. After Breakfaſt, we all went up together. At Sight of me, the Tears ran down his Cheeks, which choak'd the Paſſage of his Words for ſome time. For Heaven's ſake, Sir, ſaid I, do not add to my Sorrows, by making me bear yours. I know your Penitence, and it is with the utmoſt Candour I now declare, I heartily forgive what is paſt, and beg to be rank'd in the [192] Number of your virtuous Friends. This Goodneſs, he faintly reply'd, had over⯑whelm'd his Soul with ſo much Confuſion, that it was more than his feeble Spirits cou'd ſtand under; and, upon ſaying that, his Speech fail'd him, and a deadly Paleneſs overſpread his Face. It was a full Hour be⯑fore we cou'd bring him to Life again, and I began to taſte all the Bitterneſs of Grief for his Condition. When he cou'd uſe his Tongue, he ſaid ſo many humane tender things, as plung'd all the Hearers in Floods of Sorrow, inſomuch, that the Surgeon turn'd us all out of the Chamber, declaring he would, upon the Inſtant, leave him, if we of⯑fer'd to ſee him again, till he thought fit.

Juſt as we left him, a Packet was given me from England, which I knew to be my Uncle's Hand. I had not wrote him any Letter for near four Months, having indeed almoſt forgot (thro' my Brother's Affairs, my Sickneſs, and my own unhappy Love) I had any ſuch Perſon in the World; and when I did call him to mind, the Intention of my Journey to England, made it of no Signification to write. I ſound, by the Date of the Letter, it was full ten Weeks ſince it was wrote.

All my Sorrows were renew'd, at the read⯑ing this melancholy Epiſtle; and I began to curſe my Stars, for my unthinking Backward⯑neſs in Writing; and to write now, ſeem'd to me to be of no Uſe, becauſe I intended to embark for England the next Morning. How⯑ever, all my Friends advis'd me to ſend my [195] Uncle a Letter, for fear ſome Accident might retard our Voyage. I took their Advice, and ſent him one, giving him a ſuccinct Account of every thing that had be⯑fell my Brother and me, ſince my laſt; and of that fatal Letter, which had caus'd the Coldneſs of Iſabella's Family, and my inevi⯑table Ruin; with a Promiſe to be in England with the utmoſt Expedition.

The wounded Gentleman, hearing we were to imbark for Marſeilles the next Morning, was reſolv'd to go with us, notwithſtanding his weak Condition, and all our Perſuaſions to the contrary, cou'd not avail. The Sur⯑geon inform'd us the Sea would rather do him Good, than Harm, and he was reſolv'd to at⯑tend him to Marſeilles. Therefore, the next Day, we left Leghorn with a proſperous Gale, and in eight Days we arriv'd ſafely at Mar⯑ſeilles, without meeting with any Accident by the Way. The hurt Gentleman mended e⯑very Day, and when we diſembark'd, he was able to walk without Aſſiſtance. He had re⯑concil'd himſelf to my Governor, and Eliza. The Preſents he made them were worthy the Gift of a Prince; and, unknown to me, he and my Brother, had ſettled my Father's E⯑ſtate upon me, and had given my Brother an [196] Equivalent out of his own Fortune. When I complain'd to him of his profuſe Generoſi⯑ty; For Heaven's ſake, Sir, ſaid he, accept this ſmall Favour, in Recompence for all the Misfortunes I have heap'd upon you. And would to God, the reſt of my Eſtate and Life cou'd but reſtore what I have robb'd you of, I would freely ſurrender both. Yet, who knows but Fate has ſtill reſerv'd the amiable Iſabella to bleſs your Arms! I am ſtrongly poſſeſs'd with that Hope. I have ſome Rea⯑ſon to believe you the Care of Providence: And ſuch Wretches, as that perfidious Man and I, muſt ſurely be puniſh'd, in the Loſs of all our unlawful Deſires wou'd wiſh for. All my Days to come, ſhall be ſpent in beg⯑ging Forgiveneſs from Heaven and you. Sure there muſt be the Seeds of ſome Goodneſs, even in the moſt profligate Heart, and repen⯑tant Tears may make them flouriſh, and kill thoſe Weeds of Baſeneſs, that ſhadow'd o'er our vicious Inclinations. I wou'd not be the Wretch I was ſome few Days ago, for all the gaudy Titles of State and Grandeur.

In ſhort, there was ſuch a virtuous Altera⯑tion wrought upon him, I cou'd not help eſteeming him equal to my Brother. His Friendſhip was, in ſome ſort, a Cordial for [197] my diſappointed Love; for I had made a firm Reſolve, after the Loſs of my dear Iſa⯑bella, to forget all the fatal Charms of the Sex, which, at beſt, enervate the Soul of Man, unbend his Mind, and render him un⯑fit for noble Actions. I intended to dedicate my future Life to my King and Country: My new Friend ſtrengthen'd me in that Reſo⯑lution. Our Deſign was, as ſoon as we ar⯑riv'd in England, to buy us Poſts in the Ar⯑my, and make, for the future, War our Mi⯑ſtreſs. Theſe Thoughts almoſt engroſs'd my whole Soul; but the Idea of the charming Iſabella, wou'd too often intrude, and fill my Heart with a Medley of Love and Arms.

We ſet out from Marſeilles in Poſt-Chaiſes, for Paris, where we all ſafely arriv'd, health⯑ful in Body; tho', for my own Part, with a Mind full of cruel Diſturbances. We were oblig'd to ſtay ſome time here, to diſpoſe of a Casket of valuable Jewels that Fatima brought from Tunis, and procure Bills of Ex⯑change for our Money, for fear of Accidents. But as ſoon as we arriv'd there, I diſpatch'd one of my Servants for England, to acquaint my Uncle of my coming. Here my Fever attack'd me again; but I was ſo impatient to [198] come to my Journey's End, that as ſoon as our Affairs were ended, we hir'd Poſt-Chaiſes for Bulloigne, where we ſafely arriv'd, tho' late at Night, but found the Gates ſhut a⯑gainſt us. But having Recommendations to Mr. Gordon, a Wine-Merchant, a Gentleman juſt ſettled at Bulloigne, he prevail'd upon the Captain of the Guard to give us Entrance; and, thro' his accuſtom'd Good-nature, he wou'd accommodate us at his own Houſe, where we were nobly entertain'd. He preſt us ſo oblingly to ſtay ſome time, that we ap⯑pear'd almoſt guilty of Ill-manners; but De⯑ſpair, and Love, ſeldom regard Forms.

He, finding our Affairs preſt us to be gone, procur'd us a Veſſel to carry us to Dover, and we embark'd the next Morning, at break of Day; but before the Sun was two Hours old, a general Darkneſs o'erſpread the Hemiſphere, follow'd by a moſt violent Tempeſt, mix'd with Thunder and Lightning, that the Cap⯑tain of the Veſſel declar'd, he had never ſeen the like. The Helm was of no Uſe, there⯑fore we were oblig'd, under a reef'd Foreſail, to run before the Wind, truſting to the Mer⯑cy of Providence for three Nights and Days. Upon the fourth, the Storm retir'd, and gave us Leave to make an Obſervation; we [199] were greatly ſurpriz'd to find we had paſs'd the Lizard. Upon this, we conſulted what Courſe we ſhould ſteer; but finding the Wind favourable for Milford Haven, the Captain was prevail'd upon, for a Sum of Money, to ſteer for that Harbour. The Night ap⯑proaching, the Tempeſt (as if it abated only to fetch Breath) came on more violently than before, and all the Hopes we had of Life, was, to ſteer our Courſe for the open Sea. Our Veſſel bore up againſt the Storm very well, for two Days; but on the third, the Maſter came into the Cabbin, with Looks that told us our Misfortune; he inform'd us, the Veſſel had ſprung a Leak, and, ſhould the Storm continue a Day longer, we muſt inevitably ſink to the Bottom.

The Tears of my Friends, I muſt own, ſhock'd me very much; yet, for my own Part, I ſat in expectation of the laſt Moment, with the utmoſt Tranquillity. But in a few Hours, the Storm very much abated; yet, with all our Aſſiſtance, the Water gain'd up⯑on us, and no Land appearing, we had no Hope of ſaving our Lives.

The Veſſel was, once more, left to the Mercy of the Waves, whoſe frightful Swell, tho' the Wind was laid, ran Mountains high. [200] The Maſter order'd the Long-boat out, that we might endeavour all we cou'd to ſave our Lives: But the Mariners, as ſoon as it was in the Water, crowded ſo faſt upon one ano⯑ther, that the Rope which held it to the Ship's Side, broke, and in a Moment after, the Boat was ſwallow'd by the Billows: Three out of thirteen of the Sailors, that were in it, ſunk to the Bottom, never to be ſeen more alive. It was with the utmoſt Difficulty the reſt were ſav'd. The Sailors finding no Hope of eſca⯑ping that way, began to throw overboard their Guns, Water-Casks, and Proviſion, and, by the Divine Providence, found out one of the Leaks, which they, with much Difficulty, ſtopt; and by continual plying the Pump, clear'd her of ſome Water: But the inceſ⯑ſant Labour fatigu'd us all ſo much, that we began to deſpair again. Yet Life being ſweet, every Perſon in the Veſſel put forth their ut⯑moſt Strength, and labour'd hard all Night. In the Break of the Morning, we diſcover'd Land, to the inexpreſſible Joy of the Sailors, and what Wind we had, pointed fair for the Place. But our Joy had like to have been more fatal than the Storm; for upon the firſt Notice of diſcovering Land, every Perſon ran upon Deck, like Madmen, to be confirm'd [201] in the pleaſing News, never regarding the Pumps, till we found the Veſſel almoſt ſink⯑ing under us: Yet the Hope of Life, in⯑ſpir'd us with new Strength. We work'd as hard, as if the Sight of Shore had been a Day's Reſt from Labour. We had no Boat to land with, therefore the Captain made a Signal of Diſtreſs, and in leſs than an Hour, we ſaw ſeveral Boats rowing towards us. The Captain wiſely conſider'd, if theſe Boats ſhould come on Board, every one would be for get⯑ting into them, and leave the Veſſel to ſink for want of Working; therefore he order'd Tow-Ropes out, that the approaching Boats might lend their Aſſiſtance that way. Ac⯑cordingly, he acquainted the Sailors with his Intention, and they, with the Paſſengers, ap⯑prov'd of it. The Boats, when they came near us, obey'd the Captain's Order, and in two Hours we arriv'd ſafe in St. Aubin's Bay, a Harbour in the Iſland of Jerſey ^* The [202] noble Lord Jermin, the then Governor, came to the Harbour, and invited me and my Com⯑pany on Shore, where we were entertain'd and accomodated as well, as if we had been in England. I ſhall decline mentioning thoſe fine Qualities, ſo well known in his Native [203] Country, and only ſay, he is ador'd in his Government; the Inhabitants expreſſing the utmoſt Sorrow, when it occurs to their Me⯑mory, the Time muſt come for him to leave them.

[204]We were oblig'd to ſtay in this Place many Days, againſt our Inclinations, tho' the a⯑bovemention'd Nobleman did all in his Pow⯑er to make the Time paſs away as pleaſantly as he could.

When our Captain had taken out his La⯑ding and Ballaſt, to ſearch for the Leaks, he inform'd us, 'twould be full Twenty Days before his Veſſel would be in a Condition to put to Sea again. This Notice made us all very uneaſy; but, for my own Part, I ap⯑pear'd ſo very much dejected, that the noble Governor, out of his good Nature, ſeem'd to ſympathize with me in Sorrow. I muſt own, tho' Life was a Burden to me, yet the Thoughts that my dear Uncle would imagine me no longer in this World, and with Sor⯑row break his Heart, added Pain to Pain, and Grief to Grief. The Conſolations of my Friends were to no purpoſe, tho' their friendly Sighs were mingled with mine.

[205]My Lord Governor perceiving the Unea⯑ſineſs we expreſs'd, at our Stay in the Iſland, ſent to Guernſey a ſmall Veſſel, to in⯑quire whether there was any Ship preparing to ſail for England. She return'd the next Day, and inform'd us, a Ship from the Eaſt-Indies had put in there, the late Storm, and intended to ſet ſail for England in two Days.

This News reviv'd all my Company; therefore we took Leave of the Governor, with Thanks for his kind Uſage, imbark'd in the ſame Veſſel that brought us the News, tho' it was almoſt Evening, and about Mid⯑night arriv'd ſafely in St. Peter's Harbour, in the Iſland of Guernſey ^*.

[206]Inquiring for the Captain of the Ship in the Harbour, we found him at a Tavern; but I was agreeably ſurpriz'd to find it Mr. Brooks, and his Ship the Elizabeth, which he worthily ſav'd for his Couſin, Mr. Bridg⯑ford, that marry'd the Widow by a Wile. He hardly knew me at firſt; but when I came to his Remembrance, he ſeem'd as much tranſported, as if I had been his own Son. He was confounded to find me with ſuch Company, in a Place ſo little expected; but I ſoon let him into as much of my Story, as I thought proper. I muſt own, ſaid he, when I receiv'd a Letter from the Governor yeſterday, deſiring it as a Favour, to give Paſſage to England to ſome Gentlemen, La⯑dies, and their Servants, I did not intend to comply with it, through the Inconveniency [207] it would put me to; therefore gave Orders to ſet Sail early in the Morning, knowing there was another Veſſel now in the Harbour, that ſails for England in a few Days: Neither could the Governor take it ill, as he only di⯑rected his Letter to any Captain that ſhou'd chance to be in the Bay. But if I had known my Paſſengers, I wou'd have ſtaid a Fort-night, to oblige them, and myſelf too. I return'd him Thanks for his Civility, and begg'd him to ſet Sail with the ſooneſt. Why then, this Moment, if you pleaſe, anſwer'd the Captain.

Upon the Inſtant, he took Leave of his Company at the Tavern, and (tho' we were all very much fatigu'd) went on Board his Ship, where he gave immediate Orders for weighing Anchor; and we were under Sail before Break of Day. The Captain reſign'd the great Cabbin to the two Ladies, and ac⯑commodated every Body as well as he cou'd.

I retir'd to mine, hoping I ſhou'd meet with a little Repoſe, being ſomething calmer in my Mind, knowing a few Days wou'd put a Period to my Misfortunes, by Death; for I had made a firm Reſolution to puniſh the Perfidy of Iſabella's Husband, or fall by his [208] Hand; or if I ſurviv'd, to find a way to die beneath her Feet.

Theſe Thoughts lull'd me to taſte the Plea⯑ſures of refreſhing Sleep. But my Senſes were hardly lock'd up, before I was awak'd with the Groans of a Perſon, not far off, in one of the Cabbins. I aroſe up in my Bed, and liſten'd; when I heard a Man cry, For Heaven's ſake! take off my Irons, that I may die at Liberty! Another anſwer'd, You know I dare not do it, without the Captain's Order, and he is now gone to ſleep; as ſoon as he is up, I'll go and acquaint him. Dear Tom, reply'd the other, take Pity on the Mi⯑ſeries I feel, and ſtep to him now; I know he does not want Humanity, or Good-nature; and tho' I deſerve not the leaſt Favour from him, yet, when I am going to give an Ac⯑count to Heaven for all my Crimes, I am aſ⯑ſur'd he will releaſe me from theſe heavy Irons, that even a Man in Health can hardly bear.

I own, I was touch'd with the Perſon's deep Sighs, therefore call'd for my Servant, put on my Gown, and went to enquire into the melancholy Affair. When I came to the Cabbin where the Wretch lay, I was ſhock'd [209] to ſee a Man ſtretch'd at his Length, upon a poor Flock-Bed on the Ground, without any Covering, meagre and pale, with at leaſt a hundred Pounds Weight of Irons about his Body; to me, he ſeem'd as if his laſt Mo⯑ments were approaching. Compaſſion took Poſſeſſion of my Soul, tho' I was convinc'd, by his own Diſcourſe, he deſerv'd but little.

A Sailor that was walking upon Deck, came up to me, and judging, by my Coun⯑tenance, that I ſeem'd to pity the unfortunate Wretch, cry'd out, What, is he going? let him go, and be d—n'd! Friend (ſaid I) let this poor Creature's Crimes be what they will, I muſt own, I think his Condition deſerves Compaſſion; therefore, I ſhall be very much oblig'd to you, if you will free him from his Irons, that his Soul may take its Flight with the more Tranquillity. Sir (reply'd the Sai⯑lor) if you were acquainted with that Rogue's wicked Heart, you would believe no Puniſh⯑ment in this, or the next World, could be bad enough for him. O Sir! cry'd the un⯑fortunate Wretch, I deſerve every thing that Man ſays; but I have heartily repented of all the ill Actions I have committed, and only beg to die without this Load upon my Body. Some of theſe Irons have eat my Fleſh from [210] the Bones; and, as I wear the Form of a Man, don't let me be treated in my Dying Moments, worſe than a mad Beaſt ty'd to the Stake.

I us'd ſo many Perſuaſions, with the Rhe⯑torick of a Guinea, to the Perſon that ſeem'd to have the Guard of him, that he was going to awake the Captain, and acquaint him with the poor Wretch's Condition, and my Re⯑queſt to have him releas'd from his Fetters; but the Captain that Moment came out of his Cabbin, being diſturb'd with our Converſa⯑tion, and, at my Intreaty, order'd his Irons to be taken off. As ſoon as he was freed from them, he gave me Thanks for the Service I had done him, and riſing ſlowly from his Bed whereon he lay, ſeiz'd upon ſome of the Irons he was releas'd from, and ſtruck the Sailor (that was talking to me before the Captain came out of his Cabbin) with ſuch Violence, that we all believ'd he was kill'd; then made a Blow at the Captain, which he happily a⯑voided, by ſtarting aſide; but perceiving the Sailors running from all Parts of the Ship to ſeize him, he threw himſelf overboard mau⯑gre all they could do to prevent him, crying, he had in ſome meaſure ſatisfy'd his Revenge, and was never ſeen more.

[211]All this was done ſo ſuddenly, that I ſtood quite confounded, imagining I was in a Dream. But when we began to recollect ourſelves, we went to ſee if the Sailor was alive or dead. We took him up, and I muſt own, I was very well pleas'd to find he was only ſtunn'd with the Blow. In a little time he came to his Senſes; and the firſt Words he ſpoke were, G—d D—n him, for a Son of a B—h! who wou'd have thought he had ſo much Strength left? But I'll prevent him giving another Blow! Upon ſaying this, he ran up and down the Deck, with his Cutlaſs drawn (he being one of the Centries at the great Cab⯑bin Door) to ſeek for him, to make an end of him, but when he was inform'd of his raſh Cataſtrophe, he ſeem'd to be uneaſy that he had not the killing of him with his own Hand.

By this time, my Brother, Clerimont, and the Ladies, were alarm'd, and came about us, to know the Cauſe of the Diſturbance. I told 'em, 'twas the firſt time I ever found Compaſſion a dangerous Virtue. We begg'd of the Captain to let us into the Affair. He told us, at Dinner it ſhou'd be our Deſert, in⯑ſtead of Fruit. While this Combuſtion hap⯑pen'd, the Man at the Helm had diſregarded [212] the Steerage, ſo that the Sails clap'd to the Maſts, and the Ship ſtaid ſome time; but even this ſeem'd the Providence of Heaven, for, had we continu'd our Courſe, it being a very hazy Morning, we ſhou'd have run upon the Shallows of the Great Sark ^*.

Thank Heaven! ſaid the Captain, this Wretch, after endeavouring to fruſtrate our Voyage by the moſt wicked Deſigns could ever enter the Mind of Man, ſeems intended by Providence to be the Means of ſaving us, and, like Jonah in the Ship of Joppa, now he has abandon'd our Veſſel, we ſhall have all Dangers ceaſe.

When the Ship had her true Way again, the Captain order'd the Wretches Bedding and Cloaths to be examin'd, and thrown over⯑board: In ſearching the Pockets of an old pair of Breeches, they found a written Paper, with a Pencil, which he read to the Company, as follows:

This terrible Declaration, made me very much repent my Good-nature. I could hard⯑ly think there had been ſuch a wicked Villain in the World.

After Dinner, we begg'd Captain Brooks to relate the Hiſtory of this Wretch; which he did in the following manner:

Sir, ſaid he (directing his Diſcourſe to me, having ſome ſmall Knowledge of him) you know my Couſin Bridgford, the old Acquain⯑tance of your good Uncle, made me Captain of the Elizabeth, in conſideration of ſome [214] Services he was pleas'd to own I did him. This Wretch, who is gone to the other World, to anſwer for his Crimes in this, through my Intreaty, was made chief Mate; and behav'd honeſtly as ſuch, during our Trading-Voyage to the Indies. In our Return, near the Lati⯑tude of St. Helena, where we were bound for ſome Refreſhment, in the middle of a dark Night, we heard ſome Guns fir'd, that ſeem'd to us as if ſome Veſſel was in Diſtreſs; I or⯑der'd our Ship to ſteer the Courſe from whence the Fire came; but in an Hour afterwards, we heard ſuch a terrible Report, that we all concluded the unfortunate Veſſel was blown into the Air. However, I kept on my Courſe, to ſee if I cou'd aſſiſt any of the unfortunate Wretches, that (no doubt) had either got in⯑to their Boat, or had thrown themſelves into the Water, to avoid the Flames, hanging out Lights about ſeveral Parts of my Ship, that they might ſee where to come for Suc⯑cour.

In leſs than an Hour more, ſome of our Crew cou'd perceive a Boat rowing towards us, full of Men. As ſoon as they came up with us, they begg'd for Heaven's ſake, to be taken on Board. I, who had no other In⯑tention, mov'd by Compaſſion, conſidering [215] it might have been our own Caſe, invited 'em kindly on Board. When they were a little recover'd from their Fright, they inform'd me, they belong'd to a Ship bound for Cork in Ireland, from the Coaſt of Coromandel, and had, by a violent Storm, been drove out of their Courſe; that in the beginning of the Night, a Fire broke out in the Gun-Room, burning with ſuch Fury, that all their Endeavours to extinguiſh it prov'd fruitleſs; therefore they hoiſted out their Long-Boat, and with one Barrel of Water, and two Casks of Bisket, abandon'd their Ship; and in half an Hour after they left it, they ſaw it blow up, ſeveral Pieces of the Veſſel falling with⯑in twenty Yards of 'em.

There were ſeventeen Men in the Boat, their Maſter being one of them, whoſe Name was Cox; but obſerving he was very much wounded in the Head, I order'd our Surgeon to dreſs him immediately, who inform'd me his Skull was fractur'd, and he thought it ſeem'd to be a Blow with a Cutlaſs: But the Sailors that came with him in the Boat, told us he aroſe up haſtily, at the firſt Noiſe a⯑bout the Fire, and hurrying down the Lad⯑der that goes under Deck, fell with his Head on the Edge of a Bucket. When he came [216] to his Senſes (for the Pain of Dreſſing had flung him into a Swoon) he told us the ſame Story. Yet ſtill, the Surgeon inſiſted it cou'd be no ſuch thing, and began to inſtil, I know not what Notions, into my Mind, that theſe Men might be Villains. I own, he a little ſtagger'd my Faith at firſt; but when I conſider'd their Condition, I thought it im⯑poſſible. However, I determin'd to leave 'em all at St. Helena, becauſe, indeed, there were too many Mouths for me to maintain in our Voyage for England. I gave 'em all the Refreſhment my Ship cou'd afford, and they return'd me Thanks in ſo ſincere a manner, that quite obliterated thoſe Notions the Sur⯑geon had of them. The Captain I put in my own Cabbin, uſing him, as I thought an honeſt unfortunate Man, in his Condition, deſerv'd, and ſuch as I ſhould have been pleas'd to meet with, upon the like unfortu⯑nate Accident.

In two Days after this, we arriv'd ſafe at St. Helena ^*, where I put all the unfortunate [217] Sailors on Shore, with this Reaſon, that my Ship was too deep laden to be incumber'd with ſo many ſuperfluous Men.

I went to wait on the Governor on Shore, and contracted with him for what freſh Pro⯑viſions I wanted, intending to ſet Sail in eight Days; but the Governor advis'd me to ſtay longer, aſſuring me, that ſeveral Ships would arrive before that Time, that would accom⯑pany me in our Voyage home. On that Ac⯑count, I reſolv'd to take his Advice. I ſent on Board for ſome Neceſſaries, becauſe I in⯑tended to take a Lodging in the Valley for a [218] Fortnight, to enjoy the Air of the Country. But my Surgeon being inform'd of my Inten⯑tion, came with my Servant in the Boat, with the Things I had ſent for, importuning me ſo ſtrongly not to lie out of the Ship, tha [...] I return'd on Board with him, purely to make him eaſy; for, I muſt own, his Apprehen⯑ſions did not give me the leaſt Inquietude.

Homes (the Name of the Wretch that is ſo lately gone to Perdition) complain'd he was very much troubled with the Scurvy, there⯑fore intreated the Favour of going on Shore for a few Days. I cou'd not refuſe him; neither had I any Apprehenſion of an ill De⯑ſign from him, having ever behav'd in the Voyage, like a downright honeſt Man, en⯑tirely in our Owner's Intereſt. We ſtaid twenty Days in the Harbour, without the Appearance of any Ship from the Eaſt, therefore I made a Reſolution of purſuing our intended Voyage, if no Veſſel arriv'd to bear us company, in four Days: Accordingly, I gave Notice to the Governor of my Inten⯑tion, as uſual, that the Inhabitants, if they had any Demands, might be ſatisfy'd before we ſet Sail.

I went to reſt that Night with a Tremor upon my Spirits, and an unaccountable Me⯑lancholy, [219] that ſeem'd a foreboding ill Omen. About Midnight, the Surgeon came into my Cabbin, and awak'd me, with a very great Surprize in his Countenance. His Looks, I own, very much alarm'd me. What's the matter with you, Mr. Weſtwood? ſaid I (that's the Name of my Surgeon) you ſeem in ſome Diſorder! Sir (reply'd Mr. Weſtwood) here's a Man has ſwam from Shore, in the middle of a ſtormy Night, to give you Notice of approaching Danger; and, I muſt own, I have been in ſuch a continual Lowneſs of Spirits, that I am well aſſur'd ſome ill De⯑ſigns are hatching againſt our Welfare; there⯑fore pray riſe, and hear what the Perſon has to ſay, for he will not communicate it to any one but yourſelf. I aroſe upon the Inſtant, and deſired him to bring in the Man. He brought him into the Cabbin, naked as he was. As ſoon as I ſaw him, I knew him for one of the Perſons that came to us in the Boat. Sir, ſaid he, I have ſomething to in⯑form you of, that requires your private Ear. My Friend (I reply'd) this Gentleman is one whom I can entirely truſt, therefore what you have to communicate to me, he may hear. If ſo, Sir, reply'd the Man, I ſhall proceed. However, Sir, ſaid I, I beg the Favour [220] (ſince you came naked for my Service, as I ſuppoſe) that you will put on this Nightgown. Sir, return'd the Man, I'll accept of your Fa⯑vour; tho' I feel nothing of the Inclemency of the Weather, becauſe my Concern for you has fill'd up all my Thoughts: I therefore will proceed to tell you what I know, that you may be prepar'd for the Event. Mr. Homes, your chief Mate, has form'd the blackeſt De⯑ſign, that cou'd ever enter into the Soul of the moſt Profligate. In leſs than two Hours, he will ſeize your Ship, and put to Death You, and Mr. Weſtwood, with every Sailor that will not come into his black Deſign. I own myſelf one of the Confederates, but with no other Motive, than to uſe my utmoſt En⯑deavours to prevent it, if Heaven will per⯑mit: Therefore acquaint your Men with the Danger approaching, arm 'em immediately, and prevent 'em, if poſſible; at leaſt, ſell your Lives like Men that have deſerv'd a bet⯑ter Fate. I was eager to enquire about this Affair; but the Man told me, I had no Time to loſe; firſt arm your Men, ſaid he, and when you are in Readineſs to receive them, I'll acquaint you with the Conſpiracy againſt you.

[221]I then order'd the Watch to awake thoſe that were gone to Reſt; and when they were all upon Deck, with their Arms in their Hands, I call'd the Man, and deſired he would communicate the Story to the whole Crew, which conſiſted of Fifty-four Men. We made a Circle round him upon the Quar⯑ter-Deck, and he began as follows:

Gentlemen, you all know me (I believe) to be one of thoſe Men, whom the Huma⯑nity of your Captain ſav'd from imminent Death, therefore I think he has a Right to my Life and Fortune. Every Perſon, beſide myſelf, that his Compaſſion gave Means of Life to, have deſerv'd the Halter more than once. Their Number was much greater, their Crew conſiſting of 120 Men, when they ſet out from the Coaſt of Guiney; but the Day before the Night you ſav'd us from the devouring Waves, we had a terrible Engage⯑ment with a Dutch Man of War, in which we loſt above half our Men, Homes, the Captain, miſtaking her for an Indian Trader, that we had Advice of from the Guiney Coaſt. Our Ship taking Fire, by what Accident, I know not, the Dutch Man of War's Men that had boarded us, and wou'd have cer⯑tainly [222] taken us, left us; fearing, as we ſup⯑pos'd, they might ſuffer by us, if we blew up; and ſail'd away: The Fire was ſo ſud⯑den, that we had but a ſmall time to hoiſt out our Long-boat. The Captain, and ſix⯑teen of us got into it; but many other of the Wretches endeavouring to get in, were bar⯑barouſly murder'd by the other Sailors. We row'd as faſt as we cou'd from the burning Ship; but the Cries of the Wretches we left behind, methinks, are ſtill in my Ears. It was no ſmall Joy to us, when we perceiv'd your Lights hung out. But the Wretch, the Captain, tho' ſo dangerouſly wounded, de⯑clar'd, if he thought he ſhou'd have met with a Ship ſo ſoon, he wou'd have taken all the Men he cou'd, that he might have been able to have taken the Ship that was coming to his Reſcue. But ſince it is as it is, ſaid he, we muſt make the beſt of a bad Market, and wait for ſome Opportunity to get another Ship. Then we conſulted how to impoſe on you with a falſe Story, and trump'd up That they told you; for the Wound the Captain has upon his Head, was given by a Dutchman in the Fight. Pray, ſaid the Sur⯑geon, how came you among ſuch a Crew of Villains? Why, Sir, I'll tell you, reply'd [223] the Man; I belong'd to a Coaſt Sloop in the River of Gambo, where all my Crew were murder'd, but one, by the Negroes, who had inviegled them up into the Country. The poor Man that made his Eſcape, had but juſt time to tell me the fatal News, ere Death overtook him, from the Wounds he had receiv'd. I had ſcarce time to cut my Cable, and drive out to Sea, favour'd by the Wind and Tide of Ebb, when I perceiv'd about twenty Boats coming down the River, in order to ſeize my Sloop, and, no doubt, to make me partake of the ſame Fate with my unfortunate Men; which I certainly ſhould have done, for they would have over⯑taken me in a couple of Hours, if both they and I had not perceiv'd a Ship in the Offin, which prov'd to be this Wretch and his Crew. I made them a Signal of my Diſtreſs, which they perceiving, made up to me, and took me on Board; but the Negroes left their Purſuit, as ſoon as ever they diſcover'd the Ship.

I ſoon found, to my Sorrow, what Com⯑pany I was got into; but it was to no Pur⯑poſe to complain, for the Captain ſeiz'd my Veſſel, took out every thing that ſeem'd uſe⯑ful, and ſunk her, with this Pretence, He [224] fear'd his Men might take it into their Heads to leave him, and ſet up for themſelves; tho', I muſt own, he promis'd to pay me for my Cargo, and give me my Liberty the firſt Opportunity; but thoſe were but Words, and what I verily believe he never intended to per⯑form.

I often obſerv'd your Mate, during the time we were ſailing to this Iſland (after you kindly took us in) caballing privately with our Captain, and ſeveral of our Men; but had no Notion of their wicked Intention to ſeize your Ship, till Yeſterday Morning, be⯑ing at a Planter's in the South Valley, where I was treated with ſome Palm Wine, and not being us'd to drink in a Morning, it got in⯑to my Head; finding myſelf inclin'd to ſleep, I laid myſelf down under a Hedge, but be⯑fore I had clos'd my Eyes, I was interrupted by the Voices of our Captain, and your Mate. By their Diſcourſe, I found out their black Deſign; and their Buſineſs to that Plantation was, to communicate the Affair to me; but I underſtood, if I did not come into it, it was their Intention to murder me. I imme⯑diately aroſe from the Place, full of unquiet Thoughts, which brought me out of my drunken Fit. I took care to get as far from [225] the Hedge as I cou'd, that they might not ſuſpect I had overheard 'em. It was a full Quarter of an Hour before they found me out, and in that time I had compos'd my⯑ſelf, as well as I cou'd. When they came up with me, they ask'd me, if I wou'd take a Walk to the next Plantation, where two of them lodg'd. I anſwer'd, very willing⯑ly, Yes.

When we came to the Bridge that was built over the River, they ſtop'd, and open'd the whole Affair to me. I made no Heſita⯑tion, but enter'd into their Deſign with a ſeeming Joy; for if I had not, I don't doubt but it was their Intention to throw me into the River. Nay, their very Looks declar'd as much.

At Three o' Clock this Morning, your Mate, with the reſt, are to board you, arm'd every Man with a Cutlaſs, and two Brace of Piſtols, ſecure the Watch, and kill every one that will not take part in their villainous Un⯑dertaking; then weigh Anchor, and ſail for the Bermudas, where they will diſpoſe of the Cargo, and then ſet out upon the Pirating account.

When he had finiſh'd his ſhort, but terri⯑ble Relation, the Sailors cry'd out, they [226] wou'd have the Long-boat, and meet them with ſuch a Reception, that ſhou'd make 'em repent their Undertaking: But the Surgeon and I perſuaded them, it would be better, and ſafer, to counterwork them. We therefore a⯑greed to charge all our Guns with Musket-Ball, and if they offer'd to come on, when we order'd them to return, the Sailors ſhou'd fire upon 'em. However, eight of my Men prevail'd upon me to have the Long-boat rea⯑dy, to purſue them, and bring 'em Priſoners, in order to be puniſh'd for their treacherous Intention.

In ſhort, we provided againſt every thing, and in half an Hour after we were prepar'd to receive 'em, we heard their Oars in the Wa⯑ter. We let 'em come within three Ships Length of us, and then call'd to 'em to pro⯑ceed no farther. As they (I believe) did not expect to be hinder'd in their Boarding us, they lay upon their Oars, and ask'd me what I was afraid of. Homes was the chief Speak⯑er, who I ſoon gave to underſtand, I knew his vile Intention. If it be ſo (he cry'd out) we have no Time to dally. Come, my Lads, we'll ſoon ſee who are to be Maſters, they, or we. Upon that, they row'd towards us with all their Strength, with their Cutlaſſes drawn, [227] and Piſtols in their Hands. But before they reach'd us, we fir'd upon 'em with our Dou⯑ble and Round, which kill'd four of their Num⯑ber, and wounded ſeveral. Their Confuſion was ſo great, at this unexpected Reception, that they row'd a-head of us, where our Guns cou'd not bear upon them. While I was or⯑dering my Men upon the Forecaſtle to fire upon them, I perceiv'd the Ship driving, for that Wretch, Homes, had cut my Cable.

The Tide, by good Fortune, was ebbing; for had it been Tide of Flood, we muſt have drove upon the Rocks, before we cou'd have caſt another Anchor. In the Confuſion, the Boat row'd to board us; but my Men fir'd upon them once more, in the ſame manner as at firſt, which put 'em in much Diſorder. Our Ship ſtill driving, I order'd 'em to caſt An⯑chor. However, they took ſo much Time in doing it, that we were a Quarter of a League from the Pirates, before the Anchor fell. In the mean time, our Long-boat, with the eight Men, got up to the Pirates, and a deſperate Engagement follow'd. What trou⯑bled me was, that I cou'd not aſſiſt 'em, for if I had fir'd my Guns with Ball, which cou'd eaſily reach 'em, I might have deſtroy'd my Friends with my Enemies. My Men [228] were ſwearing, curſing, and banning at this unforeſeen Accident; nay, ſome of 'em were for ſtripping, with an Intention to ſwim na⯑ked to help 'em, never once conſidering the Tide of Ebb wou'd prevent 'em. But what was the more extraordinary in this Confuſion, not one of us, for ſome time, thought of our Yawl upon the Booms. But as ſoon as I men⯑tion'd it, they got it into the Water in a Mo⯑ment, threw themſelves into it with ſo much Precipitation, that their Haſte had almoſt overſet it, and row'd away with ſo much Strength, that they ſoon got up to the Aſſiſt⯑ance of their Comrades in good time, for two of 'em were kill'd, and the other ſix very much wounded. Their Firing (we obſerv'd) had ceas'd ſome time, having diſcharg'd all their Fire-Arms; and if the Yawl had not arriv'd as it did, the other ſix of my Men had certainly been cut to pieces; but this Re⯑inforcement ſoon put an end to the Fight, by the Death of all the Pirates but two, and Homes, who were very much wounded.

When they were brought on Board, my Men were for tearing them to pieces, eſpeci⯑ally Homes; but I pacify'd them a little, by telling 'em they ſhou'd be reſerv'd for the Pu⯑niſhment due to their Crimes, when we arriv'd in England.

[229]My Surgeon dreſs'd their Wounds, and, by good Fortune, all my own Men recover'd; but the two Pirates dy'd in our Voyage home. The vile Wretch, Homes, while his Hurts were healing, us'd to utter ſuch blaſphemous Imprecations, that ſhock'd all the Crew. When he was fully recover'd, I order'd him to be manacled, leaving his Legs at Liberty, with two Men to guard him. He often at⯑tempted to throw himſelf overboard, and was as often prevented.

About a Month ago, as he was walking upon Deck, with his two Guards, he obſerv'd Mr. Mullart, (the Perſon that ſwam on Board to give us Notice of their Deſign) ſtanding upon the Gunnel of the Ship, to look at a dead Whale that was floating near us. He goes up to him, unobſerv'd, and puſh'd him into the Sea. As it fell out, the Sea was ve⯑ry calm, tho' we had Wind enough to fill our Sails; otherwiſe, tho' a good Swimmer, he might have periſh'd. We brought to, with all the Celerity imaginable, and not without ſome Difficulty, ſav'd him.

One of the Sailors upbraiding him for the Cruelty of the Action, he ſtruck him in the Face, broke his Jaw, and beat out three of his Teeth, with his Hand-Cuffs. I ſeeing [230] this vile Proceeding, order'd him to be ſeiz'd and fetter'd; but it was with much Difficul⯑ty, for he laid about him with ſuch Agility and Vigor, that a Carpenter was oblig'd to knock him down with a Hand-Spike. When he came to himſelf (for the Blow had ſtunn'd him for ſome time) he ſwore he was ſorry for nothing, but that Mullart was not gone to Hell by Water.

As I was giving Orders how he ſhou'd be us'd for the future, he grinn'd at me, gave me ſeveral hearty Curſes, and ſpit in my Face, which, I own, provok'd me to ſtrike him. He was then laid in the manner you ſaw him this Morning.

About a Week ago, he began to think of his Crimes, and ſeem'd ſo penitent, that I or⯑der'd his Irons to be taken off, had him bath'd, ſhifted, and clean'd. When his Cloaths were on again, Mr. Mullart being upon Deck, he very ſubmiſſively approach'd him, telling him, he was very ſorry for what he had done to him; but as ſoon as ever he got within his Reach, he flew upon him, got him down, and in his Fury wou'd have ſtrangled him, if if he had not been taken away by main Force.

[231]We all thought it high time to make him as ſecure as poſſible, for ſuch an infernal Wretch never more cou'd deſerve Compaſ⯑ſion. For theſe laſt three Days, his Centries have thought him near his Death; but it was only his Artifice, to get clear once more, that he might do more Miſchief in his laſt Mo⯑ments.

When Mr. Brooks had ended his Story, we all thought it impoſſible Nature ſhould fur⯑niſh out ſuch a Villain. And yet, ſaid the Captain, this Wretch has made more than one Voyage with me, and ever ſeem'd a Man of Integrity; an open and free Countenance, that diſcover'd no Rancour or Baſeneſs in it. But, as Shakeſpear ſays, There's no Art to find the Mind's Conſtruction in the Face.

We ſail'd on with a favourable Gale, bend⯑ing our Courſe for the Briſtol Channel, where Captain Brooks was bound. On the fourth Day after our leaving Guernſey, we diſcover'd the chalky Cliffs of our Native Country, which gave a ſudden Alteration to the Fea⯑tures of every one of the Company; all but myſelf, wore a pleaſing Contentment on their Countenances; but, for my own part, my Mind felt ſo many Viciſſitudes, that the wiſeſt [232] Phyſiognomiſt, I believe, wou'd have been puzzled to have known my Thoughts; but no Wonder, for I knew 'em not myſelf. All the Paſſions of Love, Duty, Hatred, Jea⯑louſy, Revenge, and Death, mix'd in ſuch a general Tumult, that all within was wild A⯑narchy and Uproar. The Thoughts of ſee⯑ing my Native Country, which fill'd every one elſe with the utmoſt Tranſports, gave me no other Satisfaction, than the Hopes of Death, to put an end to Thought, and all my devouring Sorrows.

In two Days more, we came to an Anchor near the Landing-Place of the Iſland of Lun⯑dy ^*, where we found a ſmall Veſſel bound for Monmouth. As that Place was but a Day's Journey from moſt of our Dwellings, we took Leave of Captain Brooks, and embark'd in that Veſſel for Monmouth. The Captain parted from us with very great Regret, but with a Promiſe to ſee us in a few Days after [233] his Arrival at Briſtol. We weigh'd Anchor together, and kept Company, till we arriv'd at the Mouth of the Avon, that leads to Bri⯑ſtol, and then parted, after receiving ſeveral Guns from the Elizabeth, by way of Salute. We arriv'd that Night at Chepſtow, upon the River Wye, where all the Company deſir'd to be ſet on Shore, for they were very much fa⯑tigu'd, particularly the Ladies.

As ſoon as ever we landed, I ſent one of my Servants to acquaint my Uncle with my Ar⯑rival, and of my Intentions to wait on him in three Days, at the fartheſt; with Orders to my Servant to meet me at Monmouth the next Day, where we arriv'd by Noon. I found my Servant waiting for me, who in⯑form'd me, that my Uncle and Mrs. Betty had been gone to London four Days before, to wait my Arrival there. I own, I was both griev'd, and pleas'd; griev'd, that I ſhould not ſee my dear Uncle ſo ſoon as I expected; and pleas'd, to know that he had receiv'd my Letters, and had Strength and Health enough to travel.

Now Deſpair, with all its black Train of Horrors, fully poſſeſs'd my Soul; yet gave me Light enough to ſee, I ſhou'd never poſ⯑ſeſs my dear Iſabella! All Hopes were ba⯑niſh'd, [234] and the nearer I drew to the Reſidence of my adorable Fair One, the farther I drew from all Thoughts of Happineſs. What Pains, what Miſeries, what Anxieties, and what inexpreſſible Tortures, was my broken Heart torn with! Treading upon the ſame Earth, and breathing the ſame Air with my dear Love, for ever debarr'd my Arms, only added to my various Torments.

I went to Reſt, but alas! the Fatigues of the Sea, the Weakneſs of my Body, and the want of Sleep, were over-balanc'd by the Tortures of my Mind.

I aroſe in the Morning, without ever clo⯑ſing my Eyes, which had made ſuch an Al⯑teration in my Countenance, that I was hard⯑ly known by my Friends: They were too well acquainted with the Cauſe, yet, notwithſtand⯑ing, endeavour'd to comfort me. But alas! they might as well have ſtopt the Fury of a Tempeſt, or the ſwifteſt Current in its rapid Courſe, as give Advice to heal my wounded Soul.

My Friend was inconſolable, well know⯑ing my Ruin was the Work of his unlucky forming; and maugre my ill Fate, I was compell'd to ſmother my Heart-breaking Sor⯑rows, in order to comfort him, who now [235] was dearer to me than any thing on Earth, ſince I had loſt all Hopes of my Divine Iſa⯑bella.

The Tortures of my Mind prey'd ſo vio⯑lently on my Body, that I was once more hur⯑ry'd to the dark Confines of Death. A ſpe⯑cial Meſſenger was ſent to my Uncle at Lon⯑don, to inform him of my unhappy State, and my new-converted dear Friend wou'd accom⯑pany him, maugre all my Intreaties to the contrary. I was ſo very weak, it was danger⯑ous to remove me to my Uncle's, tho' but a ſhort Day's Journey from Monmouth. As I thought my laſt Moments approaching, I took a Reſolution of writing the following Let⯑ter to Iſabella.

My Spirits, with my Tears and Sighs, had left me, and it was ſome time ere I had Strength enough to fold the Letter, and di⯑rect it To the Divine Iſabella.

[237]I order'd my Servant that had accompany'd me in my Travels, to find her out, and if it was poſſible, to give it into her own Hands. Obſerve (ſaid I) her Countenance; tell her the unhappy Condition of thy Maſter. I will, if it be poſſible, keep Life till thy Return, that I may have the Pleaſure in Dying, to hear ſhe has dropt a Tear for all my Misfortunes. He promis'd to execute his Commiſſion with the utmoſt Diligence.

The next Day he return'd, with a dejected Countenance, and inform'd me that Iſabella, her Mother, and Aunt, had been gone ſome Days from their Houſe, but none of the Ser⯑vants cou'd inform him whither. He alſo in⯑quir'd of the Neighbourhood, but to as little Purpoſe.

This ſtruck me into the laſt Depth of De⯑ſpair, inſomuch, that I reſolv'd to put a Pe⯑riod to my Life. I refus'd all Phyſic, Nou⯑riſhment, and Reſt, and deſpis'd the Intrea⯑ties of my Brother and his Friends. I in⯑form'd 'em, no one upon Earth, not my dear Uncle, ſhou'd deſtroy my Reſolution of Dy⯑ing, if he arriv'd before I expir'd. They preſs'd me with their Tears and Sighs, but all in vain: Till at laſt, they prevail'd upon me to hear the Prayers of a worthy Clergyman, [238] who ſo effectually cur'd me of Deſpair, by laying before me the never-forgiven Sin of Self-Murder, that I ſubmitted to all their De⯑ſires. The Phyſicians preſcrib'd, I took their Medicines, receiv'd what they intended for Nouriſhment, and addreſs'd myſelf to Sleep; yet all to no purpoſe. Death glar'd me full in the Face, tho' all his Terrors cou'd not fright me. I look'd upon him as the only Cure for a broken Heart. The Converſation with my good Prieſt, had, I thank Heaven, ſettled my Conſcience. I expected Death's Approach, as that of my beſt Friend, and hop'd to ſee him before my Uncle, that I might not be a living Witneſs to all his Heart-rend⯑ing Griefs. They gave me Medicines to make me ſleep; but, alas! the Agonies I felt, in what the Apothecaries call Compoſing Draughts, and that ſeem to lock up the Senſes to ſoft Slumber, are hardly to be expreſs'd. The Mind was ſtill awake, tho' my Body ſeeming⯑ly was at reſt; and Fancy repreſented to me my hard Fortune, with redoubled Terrors.

I was ten Days in this languiſhing deplora⯑ble Condition, fluctuating between Death and Life, when News was brought me of my Un⯑cle's Arrival. Tho' I wiſh'd to ſink to the ſilent Grave, for the Reaſon I juſt now men⯑tion'd, [239] yet my Heart felt ſome Gleam of Plea⯑ſure, that he was come to cloſe my Eyes, and bleſs me ere I died. When my Uncle enter'd the Room where I lay, he ran to me, tender⯑ly embrac'd me, and wept over me. O Hea⯑ven, ſaid he, is this the Joy I propos'd to my⯑ſelf, in thy precious Converſation? No, my dear Boy, thou ſhalt not leave me. Forget Iſabella, and turn thy Eyes to another Beauty I have brought with me, that loves thee for thy Virtue and thy Merit; and, if that can have any effect upon thee, ſhe is the very Pic⯑ture of thy loſt Iſabella. Since ſhe is now a⯑nother's, turn thy Eyes upon this Lady, and let her Charms cure thoſe Wounds the other gave. Alas! Sir, ſaid I, Fate is not to be controll'd, and my Paſſion is as irrevocable. Wilt thou not live (reply'd my Uncle) to com⯑fort my feeble Age, who have no other Joy in Life, but thee? I have been induſtrious to provide this Match for thee; and, contrary to the Rules of the Sex, have prevail'd upon her to accompany me. Do not let thy hopeleſs Paſſion make thee forget good Manners. Thy Slights will break her Heart. Never poor Wretch had ſuch a Conflict in his Soul. I thought it wou'd be the higheſt Ingratitude, not to ſee a poor young Lady, that had given [240] me her Heart, without ſeeing me. After much Argument, I told my Uncle, if he pleas'd, he might bring the Lady to ſee what a Wretch ſhe had plac'd her unhappy Love upon, and all the Satisfaction I cou'd give her was, to ex⯑pire before her; for I told my Uncle, I found Death approaching.

He immediately went out, and return'd with my Friend, who led a Lady by the Hand. I then call'd to mind (weak as I was) he had of⯑ten told me of a beautiful Siſter of his, that he wiſh'd I cou'd love, that he might make me ſome Recompence for the Loſs he caus'd of my Iſabella. And I, out of good Manners, ſel⯑dom ſaid any thing againſt it.

Madam, ſaid I, your good Brother has brought you to ſee a Wretch, tho' young, old in Misfortunes; one who is flying to the Grave, to ſeek a Refuge from 'em; one, who — What! interrupted the Lady, and has my dear Vaughan, in reality, forgot his Iſabella? The Chamber having but little Light in it, I could not diſtinguiſh the Fea⯑tures of my Iſabella; but I knew, full well, that ſoft Voice, whoſe Tone was ever in my Ears. It had ſuch an Effect upon me, that I cou'd only pronounce her dear Name, then ſunk down ſpeechleſs in my Bed. It was a full [241] half Hour, ere they cou'd reſtore me to Senſe. But when I ſaw the dear Image tenderly weep⯑ing over me, that I ever carry'd in my Heart, I cou'd not help crying out, Am I awake, or do I dream of ſuch imaginary Bliſs? Art thou indeed my Iſabella? Mine! really mine! and not wedded to that Wretch, who wou'd rob me of all my Soul can love in this World! I am thine (reply'd the charming Iſabella) ever will be thine, nor ever was, or ever will be any others'. I have my Mother's, my Aunt's and thy good Uncle's Conſent, to join our Hands, as well as Hearts together; and they are here to ratify what I ſay. Upon this, the Mother and Aunt enter'd, who tenderly em⯑brac'd me, calling me their dear Son, and Nephew.

Theſe tender Tranſports were too ſtrong for my weak Frame, and Joy was near doing what my Griefs wou'd ſoon have done. My Speech forſook me, and every one about me thought I was gone for ever. It was many Hours before I was brought to Life; and when I recover'd, I found my dear Iſabella al⯑moſt in the ſame Condition. But kind Hea⯑ven, that is watchful over thoſe that tread in the Paths of Goodneſs, in a few Days, reco⯑ver'd us to taſte the Bliſs of happy, virtuous [242] Love in our chaſte Converſation. It was ſome time before I had Leiſure to enquire con⯑cerning my unbounded Joy; when my Friend inform'd me of it in this manner.

When I ſaw you, my dear Vaughan, plung'd in Sorrow by my means, I had often Thoughts of putting an end to my wretched Life. But reflecting it wou'd be a nobler piece of Ju⯑ſtice to puniſh the Villain that was the Cauſe of all our Misfortunes, I was reſolv'd to ſeek him out, to take away his Life; or give up mine, to pay for the Injuſtice I had done you thro' his Wiles. I found a fitting Pretence to leave you, when you ſuppos'd I was going with your Servant to London, in order to ac⯑quaint your good Uncle with our miſerable State. But I parted with the Meſſenger the Morning we ſet out, giving him Directions to call upon me in his Return with your Uncle, to receive Advice from me, if Fate had or⯑dain'd I ſhou'd not fall in the Attempt; or, if they heard no News of me, to conclude I was no longer in this World. When I came within a few Miles of the Reſidence of Iſa⯑bella, a violent Storm aroſe, which made me take Shelter in a neighbouring Village. But gueſs my Surprize, when I ſaw a Coach and [243] Six ſtop at the Church Door, which, by the Liveries, I knew belong'd to that vile Man, Sir Euſtace, I formerly call'd Friend. The Sight, at firſt, almoſt took away my Senſes; but recollecting my ſcatter'd Reaſon, I ſet my ſelf to obſerve all Paſſages. The Wretch came out, dreſs'd like a foppiſh Bridegroom, leading the lovely Iſabella, trembling, pale, and wan, follow'd by the Mother and Aunt. I enquir'd of a Stander-by, if he knew that Gentleman and the Ladies? He anſwer'd, No; but that they came to be marry'd at their Town for more Privacy. Hope then began to revive in my Soul; for I was reſolv'd to put a Stop to the Wedding, or loſe my Life.

I follow'd 'em into the Church, where, as ſoon as Sir Euſtace ſaw me, he cry'd out, in a Tranſport of Joy, Fortune, I thank thee! thou haſt ſent the only Friend I have in the World, to be Witneſs of my Joy. Upon that, he come forward with open Arms to em⯑brace me. Hold, ſaid I, puſhing him from me, I abhor all Friendſhip with a Villain; and kind Heaven has ſent me at this happy Moment, to prevent thy impoſing upon this betray'd young Lady, and her Relations, thro' thy Villainy. and my miſtaken Folly: [244] But know, the Hand of Heaven, by me, ſhall puniſh thee for all thy Villainies. He ſtood like one aghaſt; while I had time to go up to the young Lady: Madam, ſaid I, if you ever did love the unhappy Vaughan, love him ſtill, for he is innocent, and ever was ſo, but betray'd by that Wretch, who is more emi⯑nent in Vice than Title.

The lovely Iſabella, I thought, ſeem'd to liſten with an eager Tranſport in her Eyes, at what I declar'd. I gave her my Hand, and led her out of the Church, follow'd by the Parſon, who ſeem'd in the utmoſt Amazement at this wonderful Proceeding! But I told him his Diſappointment ſhou'd be no Loſs to him, for I wou'd pay him as well, as if he had fi⯑niſh'd the Marriage. For Heaven's ſake! Sir, reply'd the Parſon, don't imagine I am ſuch a mercenary Wretch, to think of the Loſs of what I might expect, for doing the holy Of⯑fice I am ordain'd to by Heaven, and my Su⯑periors? No, I am, I own, very much ſur⯑priz'd at ſuch an Adventure, that never hap⯑pen'd to me before, or any one of my holy Function, that I ever heard of. Yet I am convinc'd there is ſomething very extraordi⯑nary in your Proceeding; and I own, I think by your Appearance, and the Confuſion of [245] the other Gentleman, you are in the Right. I took a Diſtaſte againſt him the firſt time I ſaw him, when he came to me about the Li⯑cence. What a brave Trade you would have, Doctor (ſaid he) if you cou'd grant a Licence to undo, what you have done this way, in your Time! Ah, how happy ſhould we young Fellows think ourſelves, if ſuch a Thing cou'd be brought about! But when I repri⯑manded him for his ludicrous manner of ſpeaking, he cry'd, Pr'ythee, old Tackum, don't be ſo muſty; I warrant you have had many a Wench in your Time. I own, I was ſo very much offended with his ridiculous Jeſts, that I told him, the Lady he was going to marry, I fear'd, wou'd have but an indif⯑ferent Time with him, and if I had the Hap⯑pineſs of her Acquaintance, I ſhou'd think it my Duty to inform her of the Poorneſs of his Imaginations. When he found I was a little ſcandaliz'd with his mean Notions of Marri⯑age, he began to excuſe himſelf, and beg my Pardon.

I forgot to tell you, as I led Iſabella out of the Church, my falſe Friend ſtood like one thunderſtruck in his Amazement. Villain! ſaid I, as I paſs'd him, if thou think'ſt I have injur'd thee, in the Diſcovery I ſhall make to [246] this Lady and her Relations, thou know'ſt where I may be found in a few Days, where I will be ready to chaſtiſe thy Perſidy to this La⯑dy, and the Infamy thou haſt thrown on me. He gave me no manner of Anſwer, but let me paſs on without Interruption.

When we came to the Parſon's Houſe, I related (not without bluſhing) the baſe and in⯑famous Contrivance between Sir Euſtace and me, my Repentance, and the terrible Effects it had on you; alſo the Hiſtory of your Bro⯑ther and the fair Fatima, with Clerimont and his Lady, as I had learnt 'em from your own Relations. The charming Iſabella ſhed a Torrent of Tears at the Repetition of all your Sufferings: It was eaſily ſeen, ſhe lov'd you with an unbounded Paſſion. The Mother and Aunt ſeem'd as much tranſported with Joy, as the fair Iſabella. How ſhall I puniſh myſelf, (cry'd the Fair One) for ſo eaſily believing my dear Vaughan falſe! His good Uncle too, what ſhall we ſay to him to excuſe our ill Treatment. I comforted 'em, by telling 'em, the Proofs were too artful and plain to be doubted for Truths. In ſhort, never were any Perſons elevated from diſmal Sorrow, to the extremeſt Pitch of Pleaſure, as theſe La⯑dies and myſelf were rais'd to. But that Joy [247] was temper'd with Fears, when I inform'd 'em of your cruel Indiſpoſition and Sorrows. We reſolv'd to ſet out as ſoon as poſſible to the Place appointed, to meet your Uncle; and if we found him not there, immediately to repair to Monmouth; but upon Enquiry, we cou'd get no Coach to carry the Ladies; therefore a Servant was order'd to Iſabella's Mother's for hers.

While we were mingling our Tears, Hopes, Sorrows, and Joys, together, the Clark came to inform me, the Gentleman beg'd the Favour of ſpeaking one Word with me in the Church⯑yard. I did not doubt, but he had muſter'd up Courage enough to call for Satisfaction for his ſuppos'd Injury. I therefore took my Sword, and maugre the Intreaties of Iſabella, her Mother, and Aunt, went to meet him. When I came near enough to him to be heard, I told him I was ready to repair the Injuries I had done him, with my Sword, if he had Spirit enough to require it. No, Sir, ſaid he, I have had time enough to recollect myſelf, and find I have been to blame in my Conduct; but notwithſtanding, I find Love, like Fate, is not to be controll'd; therefore I conjure you, by our former Friendſhip, to forget what is paſt, and aſſiſt me honeſtly to gain the fair [248] Iſabella. I love her more than Life, and wou'd even part with it to gain her Heart, and your Forgiveneſs, Hearing him talk ſo reaſonably, I began to loſe ſome part of my Reſentment, but yet laid before him the Impoſſibility of his ever gaining his Deſires. We argued ſome time, and our Diſcourſe had inſenſibly led us out of the Churchyard, along a narrow Lane that led to a Gate in the Fields, which I ob⯑ſerving, was for turning back. Hold (ſaid he) you are not to return ſo ſoon as you ima⯑gine. Upon ſaying this, he whiſtled thro' his Fingers, and I was upon the Inſtant ſur⯑rounded by ſix of his Footmen, who imme⯑diateiy ſeiz'd and bound me. Now take that Hypocrite, and do as I order'd you. Know, thou Fool (cry'd he, looking me full in the Face) I have taken all the Time I had, before I ſent to thee, to think how I ſhou'd puniſh thee for thy Breach of Friendſhip, and the Loſs of Iſabella. With that, taking a Whip from one of his Servants, he gave me ſeveral ſe⯑vere Laſhes; then ſpitting in my Face, order'd his Footmen to tie me to the Gate, and leave me. Fury and Shame had ty'd up my Tongue, at this indignant Uſage; therefore I cou'd not utter a Word; and if the Tears had not guſh'd from my Eyes, I believe my Heart [249] wou'd have burſt with Paſſion. My Strug⯑gles to get looſe were to no purpoſe, and my Strength fail'd me with my fruitleſs Efforts. Which the Villain perceiving, repeated his Indignities. I know you will endeavour (cry'd he) to ſeek me out, in hopes to revenge this Affront; but be aſſur'd, Fool, whenever thou com'ſt in my way, expect to meet with the ſame Chaſtiſement. Upon this, he and his Fellows left me, almoſt dead with boiling Rage. It was not long, however, that I con⯑tinu'd in this Condition; for Iſabella ſent the Clark after me, to obſerve our Motions, who on the other ſide of the Hedge, heard how I was us'd, but durſt not appear till the Villain was gone, for fear of taſting the ſame bitter Cup.

As ſoon as I was at Liberty, I ran, with⯑out ſpeaking a Word, got upon my Horſe, and flew after the Villain; but my Rage had ſo blinded me, I had not put the Tongue of the Buckle of the Girt, as I ſuppoſe, firm in its Place (for I got ready my Horſe myſelf, not having Patience to wait for any one) ſo that I came, with the Saddle between my Legs, upon the Ground, over the Crupper of my Horſe, tho' without any Hurt. But it was ſo late ere I cou'd catch him again, that I was [250] well aſſur'd the Wretch had reach'd his Dwel⯑ling, tho' thirty Mile from the Village where I had left Iſabella. However, I went on with my Purſuit, not conſidering the poor Beaſt, till he was ſo tir'd, I cou'd hardly get him a⯑long; therefore I went into a little by Ale⯑houſe, reſolving to ſtay till the Morning. I never went to Bed, for my furious Paſſion was too violent for Reſt. My Time was ſpent in caſting about how to be reveng'd on the inju⯑rious Villain. At laſt I fix'd on this Expe⯑dient: I procur'd a Diſguiſe, ombred my Face, and appear'd as a Gypſy. I got, the next Day, to the Villain's Caſtle, which is ſeated upon an Eminence that overlooks a Plain of two Miles round, and not one Houſe but his own in that Circuit. It was a good while ere I cou'd ſee any of the Family; but at laſt a little black Boy came out, with a Bow and Arrow, to ſhoot at a Mark he put up againſt a Tree; but as ſoon as he perceiv'd me, he ran back as if in a Fright. While I was looking after him, I ſaw the Villain meet him, who took him by the Hand, and en⯑courag'd him to come towards me (firſt look⯑ing circumſpectly about him.) When he came to me, he cry'd, Here, you Gypſy, tell this black young Devil his Fortune. No, Villain, [251] I reply'd, I am come to tell thee thy For⯑tune; behold this injur'd Face, diſguis'd as it is. He knew my Voice, and was for running back, but I got between him and the Houſe, drew my Sword that I had conceal'd under my Great-coat, and intercepted his Paſſage. He ſeeing no Hopes of eſcaping, drew his, and, as Deſpair makes Cowards valiant, he made ſeveral violent Thruſts at me, but to no purpoſe, for at laſt I ſent him breathleſs to the Ground, with my Sword thro' his Body. As ſoon as he fell, I flew over the Plain without being purſu'd, took off my Diſguiſe, wrap⯑ping ſome Stones in it, and ſunk it in a Pond on the Skirts of a Wood as I paſs'd along, un⯑perceiv'd by any one. I got to the Alehouſe in my own Perſon, and that Night came back to Iſabella and her Relations, who ſpent the time of my Abſence in great Inquietudes. I have not let them yet into the whole Affair. Neither have I conſider'd with myſelf, whe⯑ther to own the Deed or not. Purſuit, I know, has been made after the Gypſy, but no Enqui⯑ry after me. If I ſurrender myſelf to the Law, I do not fear a Pardon, for the flagrant Uſage I receiv'd from that bad Man, will plead for me. The Clark, nay, even his own Ser⯑vants, will be ſufficient Witneſſes of it. How [252] wou'd you adviſe me to proceed, my dear Vaughan? I told him, I thought it wou'd be time enough to ward againſt it, when he was call'd upon to anſwer; but it was my Opinion, he wou'd not have any farther Trou⯑ble about it, ſince he was not ſuſpected.

We had ſcarce ended our Diſcourſe, when a Servant came in, very much ſurpriz'd, and told us, there were ſeveral Officers of Juſtice, with a great Crowd of People with 'em, arm'd, enquiring for my Friend, crying, they had a Warrant to apprehend him for Murder. I own, I was raſh enough to adviſe the op⯑poſing 'em. But he declar'd he wou'd ſur⯑render without Reſiſtance, and rely upon his Innocence and Provocation. While I was arguing the Affair with my Friend, the Offi⯑cers came into the Room where we were, ac⯑company'd by my Uncle, my Brother, and Clerimont. My Friend ſurrendred, without the leaſt Shew of Reſiſtance. As I was go⯑ing down Stairs, to accompany him to Pri⯑ſon, he ſtop'd me, begging it as a Favour I wou'd not go with him: Conſider, ſaid he, you have not recover'd your Strength, and I know your Friendſhip ſo well, that it will but diſorder you to ſee the Place where I am going. My Uncle join'd with him, Come, [253] come, Billy, ſaid my Uncle, the Sick muſt be us'd like Old Age; you and I will ſtay behind, and fear nothing. I have Intereſt e⯑nough in this Country to have your Friend well us'd; and I have not the leaſt Fear he will ſuffer, for an Action no Man of Honour cou'd avoid. Think of the happy Moment that is now approaching. Iſabella, my Boy, the charming Iſabella, will be your own in a few Days. My dear Uncle, I reply'd, tho' I think every Minute an Age, till my Ange⯑lick Iſabella is mine; yet, I can't think of that Happineſs, while my dear Friend is in Miſery. Thy Friend (reply'd my Uncle) will be free from Trouble before the Marriage-Ceremony can be finiſh'd. There are Wri⯑tings to be drawn, Settlements made, and ſe⯑veral things to be in Order, before we can en⯑ter upon that Affair. Beſides, I wou'd not come too abruptly into a Buſineſs that muſt laſt for Life. You muſt approach your Hap⯑pineſs by degrees.

My dear Uncle, I reply'd, the Thought of my coming Bliſs is ſo great, that was it not qualify'd by ſome Fear, I cou'd not bear my Tranſport. I have felt the Malevolence of that blind Diſpoſer, Chance, ſo often, I muſt own, I am ſtill in doubt; even when I am in [254] full Poſſeſſion of all my Joy, I ſhall tremble for fear of loſing her. Sickneſs and Death viſit the Youthful, as well as thoſe ſunk in the Vale of Life; and if that grim Tyrant, who rudely thruſts even to the Beds of Mo⯑narchs, ſhou'd intrude with his Icy Dart to that of my divine Iſabella, alas! with what Terrors muſt I bear the remaining Hours of Life, ſince my Religion will not ſuffer me to put an end to it!

Theſe imaginary Ills, reply'd my Uncle, wrong thy Underſtanding. Wou'd you think of Shipwrack in the Port; or refuſe refreſh⯑ing Sleep for fear of melancholy Dreams? No, no, the World of Happineſs is in thy View; the lovely Proſpect ſtands before thee, free from the Storms of Fortune.

Whatever my good Uncle cou'd ſay to me on the joyful Subject, gave me but a gloomy Satisfaction. My dear Uncle did all in his Power to ſettle my Thoughts in Joy, and by degrees my Heart was ſo full of it, that my Eyes o'erflow'd with Tranſports, and I ap⯑pear'd all Air and Spirits.

My dear Uncle, ſaid I, be ſo good to re⯑late ſome Paſſages of the unfortunate End of my good Father, and wicked Mother-in-law, that the Sorrow may alleviate this mighty Joy.

[255]My Letter, reply'd my Uncle, inform'd thee of every thing concerning that never-to-be-forgotten Cataſtrophe. But ſearching that evil Woman's Cabinet, I found this Copy of a Letter ſhe ſent to Wigmore, with his An⯑ſwer to it, which convinces me that he was not that Penitent he pretended to be. Upon this, my Uncle took a couple of Letters out of his Pocket, and gave 'em me to read. The firſt was that of my vile Mother-in-law's, as fol⯑lows:

[258]When I had read the Letter, my Uncle cry'd, Surely, this Woman had Impudence enough to beſtride the ^* Black Ram, without changing Colour. Heavens! how were we deceiv'd with this vile Woman's falſe Peni⯑tence! Whenever I think on't, I am pierc'd to the Heart. But come, let us, after theſe Letters are deſtroy'd, bury all Thoughts of this pernicious Woman, and all her vile Ma⯑chinations.

But to the other, and then commit them both to the Flames. Wigmore's Anſwer was as follows:

Theſe two Letters, ſaid my Uncle, when I firſt met with 'em, gave me infinite Pain, when I conſider'd, our Credulity in truſting that vile wicked Woman, had drawn this fa⯑tal Sorrow on our Heads.

[261]I thought it Wiſdom to conceal this Tra⯑gical Story from the World; therefore gave it out, thy worthy Father dy'd a natural Death, his long Indiſpoſition giving it Credit. But there was no concealing the End of that miſer⯑able Woman; therefore, to ſcreen her Igno⯑miny, we reported ſhe had given her Son Johnny, by miſtake, Phyſic ſo ſtrong, that had purg'd him into another World. This, with the Loſs of her Husband, we gave out, had turn'd her Brain, ſo that ſhe was forc'd to be ſecur'd in her Cloſet; but in endeavour⯑ing to get out of the Window, met her Fate. Tho' many, I fear, judg'd the true Cauſe of her Death.

But now, my dear Child, turn thy Thoughts from every melancholy Subject, and look up⯑on the lovely Iſabella (who was then entring the Chamber) who ſhortly ſhall be thine. I was ever his, reply'd the Charmer of my Soul; and if I had wedded that ridiculous Wretch, whoſe End has brought us into ſome Trou⯑ble, it was only out of an obſtinate Revenge for your ſuppos'd Falſhood; but that Re⯑venge wou'd have fallen upon myſelf, for Death wou'd in a few Days have ended my Miſeries.

[262]In the Letter the baſe Sir Euſtace ſent to your converted Friend, concerning the fatal Conſe⯑quence of your Perſidy, he told him of my be⯑ing brought inſenſible out of the Garden: But he cou'd not deſcribe the terrible Agonies, Heart-breaking Sighs, and dark Deſpair, my Soul was fill'd with. I read the fatal Letter a thouſand times over, examin'd well the Hand, and tho' the Direction was not in the ſame Character, I found the Seal and the Let⯑ter were yours.

Nothing gave me greater Proof of your Infidelity, than your Silence. I wou'd often cry, Ungrateful Man, haſt thou then forſaken me! I even ſtudy'd Means to excuſe you, but cou'd not find one. No, I cou'd not find the leaſt Glimpſe to hope the contrary.

I diſcover'd to my Mother and Aunt the Progreſs of our young Amours, whoſe Good⯑neſs never rebuk'd me for my Weakneſs, but thought as I did, that you were falſe. My Mother remov'd me to a neighbouring La⯑dy's, of her Acquaintance, that I might not have in mind even the Place where you firſt utter'd your falſe Vows.

With much Perſuaſion of your Rival, and my Friends, I fix'd the Day of our Nup⯑tials; and, to ſay the Truth, his Behaviour [263] was much mended, he ſeem'd to wear a more ſolid Air, and expreſs'd his Love with ſo ſin⯑cere a Freedom, that I often wiſh'd I cou'd give him that Heart you held ſo faſt.

The Night before the Morning intended for my Nuptials, was ſpent in the utmoſt Grief of Heart; and when my Mother and Aunt came in the Morning, to dreſs me for the Solemnity, I had not Strength to riſe without Help. I was ſeiz'd with a violent Fever, which confin'd me to my Bed for near three Months. The intended Bridegroom ſpent his whole Time at my Chamber-Door, and appear'd inconſolable. I muſt own to you, I began (from his Behaviour) to give him ſome part of my Eſteem; but my Heart was not in my Power to give him, tho' I often wiſh'd it had. I thought it was a moſt unbe⯑coming Weakneſs, to lament one who paid my Sufferings with Diſdain. Therefore, once more the Day was fix'd; and if all-judging Heaven had not ſent your Friend that very Moment, what but my Death muſt have follow'd, when I had underſtood that my dear Vaughan was innocent?

O Heavens! I reply'd, the very Thought fills me with the utmoſt Agony. Well, well, reply'd my Uncle, when you are once wedded, [264] you'll begin to talk like your reaſonable Peo⯑ple; at preſent, your Senſes are in a Hurry, and every Faculty bewilder'd in a Maze of I don't know what. But Time and Marriage will reſtore you to your Underſtandings.

We were interrupted by my Man's telling me Mrs. Betty was arriv'd, and beg'd to ſee me. When ſhe came in, ſhe look'd wiſtful⯑ly upon me, and burſt into Tears. What, Betty, ſaid I, are you griev'd to ſee me a⯑gain? She cou'd not utter one Word, but ran up to me, took me about the Neck, and almoſt drowned me with Weeping. The poor Creature's Love fill'd my Heart with a grateful Tenderneſs. When ſhe had found the Uſe of her Tongue, ſhe cry'd, O my dear Maſter, the Sight of you gives me more Pleaſure than ever I did feel, or can feel. I have not known one Moment's Joy ſince your Abſence. She ſaid ſo many kind things, that I cou'd not refrain kiſſing her tenderly.

My dear Iſabella, ſaid I, you muſt allow Mrs. Betty ſome ſmall Share in my Heart with you, whoſe faithful Friendſhip, tho' a Servant, I ſhall never forget, and will make it my future Study to recompenſe her uncom⯑mon Fidelity. That, Sir, reply'd my Uncle, ſhall be my Care; one Woman is enough [265] for one Man to take care of. You are in the right, reply'd the divine Iſabella. But, now I think on't, I have left Fatima, and Eliza, prepa⯑ring to follow your Brother and Clerimont to the Priſon, and I came to you, my dear Vaughan, to lay my Commands upon you to ſtay with your Uncle till our Return. My Uncle, myſelf, and Betty, were uttering the Fulneſs of our Hearts, with the utmoſt Con⯑tentment; when a Perſon that belong'd to the Inn, came running up Stairs in the utmoſt Confuſion, For Heaven's ſake, Sir, ſaid he, run into the Garden, and lend your Aſſiſt⯑ance to a Lady that ſome Villains are hurry⯑ing away into a Boat, againſt her Will.

My Uncle and I ran down upon the In⯑ſtant, with our Swords in our Hands; but, O Heavens! what was my Terror and Sur⯑prize, when I diſcover'd my dear Iſabella in a Boat, held by Force in the Arms of a Per⯑ſon, a Stranger to me, and ſix Men rowing down the Stream with their utmoſt Force. The unexpected Sight took away my Senſes, and had I not lean'd my Back againſt a Tree, I muſt have fallen to the Ground.

There was a ſmall Boat, at the Landing-place in the Garden, which (when I could recover my Strength) I got into ſo ſuddenly, [266] that my Uncle cou'd not prevent me. When I had puſh'd it off with my Foot, I found, too late, I had neither Oar nor Pole to ma⯑nage her, ſo that ſhe drove down the Stream, without my being able to ſtop her.

My Fury and Impatience almoſt took away my Senſes. The Boat drove for two Hours before it ſtopt againſt a Bank, and then it was ſo dark, when I got out of it, I cou'd not ſee my way. I thought it to no purpoſe to put off the Boat again; and, notwithſtanding my Impatience, I was forc'd to grope about to find ſome Path, but all to no purpoſe; therefore I was wandering about till Day-light, and then had the Misfortune to find I was got upon a little Iſland in the River Wye. I then endeavour'd to find the Boat again, but all to no Purpoſe.

I was now plung'd into the utmoſt Deſpair. A thouſand times I form'd Reſolutions fatal to my Life. I accus'd Heaven, Fortune, and unlucky Stars. I cou'd not help ſaying to my ſelf, What Sins have I committed, that my Puniſhment in this World muſt be beyond Hu⯑man Nature to bear! How happy did I think myſelf (after all my Misfortunes) but twelve Hours ago! Cou'd mortal Man ima⯑gine, after running thro' ſo many various [267] Scenes of unfortunate Incidents, and then to have the Cure of all my Sorrows within my reach, to have her ſnatch'd from me in my own native Soil, a Country fam'd for her wholſome Laws, by a Stranger? for I own, I cou'd not remember I had ever obſerv'd the Face of the villainous Raviſher. I ſometimes imagin'd it was all a Dream; but, to my cru⯑el Grief, I was too well aſſur'd I was a⯑wake.

I waited till the Sun had made a full three Hours Courſe, upon the Iſland, in hope my Uncle, and my Friends, wou'd find ſome means of following me, but to no purpoſe. I cou'd hear People talk upon the Shore, be⯑hind the Willows, but when I call'd to 'em for their Aſſiſtance, cou'd get no Anſwer. My Mind was ſo diſturb'd, that my Reaſon ſeem'd to fly me; and my Spirits were ſo low and faint, that I had not Strength to walk. However, I took the Reſolution of plunging into the Water, to ſwim to the oppoſite Shore; but the Weight of my Cloaths, the Rapidity of the Stream, and my Weakneſs, hurry'd me to the Bottom; and if I had not been aſ⯑ſiſted by two Fiſhermen, who were mending their Nets on the Shore, and ſaw me throw myſelf into the Water, I muſt have inevita⯑bly [268] periſh'd. They drew me into their Boat (depriv'd of Senſe for ſome time) and carry'd me to their Cottage, ſtrip'd me of my wet Cloaths, and put me to Bed. When I came to myſelf, I bewail'd my Misfortunes in ſuch a manner, that the Fiſhermen imagin'd I had thrown myſelf into the River, to put an end to 'em. Upon that Suppoſition, they began to comfort me, and inquir'd into the Cauſe of my Sorrows. But when I had inform'd 'em, one of 'em cry'd out to the other, As ſure as can be, the Woman we heard laſt Night cal⯑ling for Help! was the very Perſon this Gen⯑tleman is in queſt of.

They told me, about an Hour after Day was ſhut in, laſt Night, they heard a Lady cry violently, and a Man comforting her; but the Boatmen row'd ſo faſt down the Stream, they were ſoon out of Hearing. This Know⯑ledge rous'd up my Spirits, and the Thoughts of Vengeance gave me new Strength. I got my Cloaths dry'd with the utmoſt Expedition, and dreſs'd myſelf; but inquiring after my Hat and Sword, they reply'd, they knew no⯑thing of them. I did not doubt, but I had loſt 'em when I was in the Water, yet was diſtreſs'd how to get more. The Fiſhermen offer'd to carry me in their Boat to Chep⯑ſtow, [269] ^*, where I might accommodate myſelf. I accepted of their Offer, and we got into their Boat upon the Inſtant. However, I bor⯑row'd a Hat of one of 'em, and an old Pair of Horſe-Piſtols, the only Arms that belong'd to them. The Boat was a very old ſluggiſh one, that did not anſwer my impatient Deſire of getting to the Town, and it was with much Perſuaſion I did not go on Shore to walk. They told me, about a Mile farther, there was a little Creek, where I might land, and walk to Chepſtow ſooner than the Boat cou'd get there. When we came into the Creek, we perceiv'd a Boat, with a Man aſleep in't, and I ſtrongly imagin'd it was the very Boat that the Raviſher had row'd away in, with my dear Iſabella. My Blood, at that Thought, thrill'd thro' my Veins, and I was juſt ready to ſhoot the poor Wretch, as he lay aſleep in the Boat.

[270]I order'd my two Fiſhermen to row up cloſe to the other Boat; but the Noiſe of our Oars awak'd the Man, who ſtarted up to look at us. As ſoon as I came near enough to lay hold of the Fellow, I ſeiz'd him by the Throat, and clap'd a Piſtol to his Head. The Man was ſo ſcar'd at my manner of Proceed⯑ing, that he was ready to die with Apprehen⯑ſion. Villain! ſaid I, if thou doſt not this Moment declare where thy vile Maſter has carry'd the young Lady he took away by Force Yeſterday, this Moment is thy laſt. For Heaven's ſake, reply'd the Fellow, don't murder an innocent Man, that has done nothing but by the Command of his Maſter, whom he is oblig'd to obey. As for the La⯑dy you mention, I know no more where ſhe is gone, than you do. All that I do know, I'll tell you with all my Heart.

Sir Euſtace landed at this Place, late laſt Night, with the Lady and his Servants. My Maſter, the Owner of this Boat, attended him, telling me he wou'd return by Break of Day this Morning, and ordering me to take care of the Boat in the mean time. I own, I am very much in fear ſome Accident has befallen him. I do ſuppoſe he went laſt Night to Chepſtow, with Sir Euſtace and his Lady, [271] whom he ſeiz'd at Monmouth ^*. He inform'd my Maſter, that the Day he marry'd her, ſhe ran away with a young Gentleman, which I ſuppoſe to be yourſelf. But, dear Sir, blame not me, I am, as I told you before, but a Servant to the Owner of the Boat. Sir Eu⯑ſtace! I cry'd, is that Villain ſtill living? or do you abuſe me? Really, reply'd the Man, I know no more than that my Maſter call'd him ſo; and if it is the ſame that you mean, he is lately recover'd of a dangerous Wound he receiv'd about a Month ago, by a Gentle⯑man in Diſguiſe.

I cou'd not help crying out, with the ut⯑moſt Tranſport of Fury, Yes, it is the ſame, and Heaven has permitted the Wretch to live, that I, with my own Hand, may take ſure Vengeance on ſuch a Villain, for all the Miſery he has heap'd upon my Head. I then inform'd the Man (in ſhort) of the Vil⯑lainy [272] of that infamous Traitor, Sir Euſtace. My two Fiſhermen, and he, ſeem'd thunder⯑ſtruck at the Relation. My Fiſhermen were afraid to aſſiſt me any further; they did not doubt, they ſaid, if ſuch a baſe Man ſhould hear of it, he wou'd not ſtick to have them murder'd; for they had often heard of his vile Actions in the Country. But when I in⯑form'd 'em my Uncle (naming his Name) had as many powerful Friends in that Coun⯑try, as he had; one of the Men cry'd, What, Sir, are you the Nephew to that worthy Gentleman? When I anſwer'd in the Affir⯑mative, he told me, he wou'd run the Ha⯑zard of his Life to ſerve me, upon his Ac⯑count; nay, and anſwer for his Companion: We owe both our Lives to him. Notwith⯑ſtanding my own unhappy Condition, I cou'd not refrain asking the Man, which way my Uncle had been ſo ſerviceable to them?

Sir, reply'd the Man, my Companion and I were taken up for a Murder and Robbery, and tho' innocent as yourſelf, yet the Jury found us Guilty: Nay, we muſt own, the Appearances were ſtrong againſt us. I'll give your Honour the Story in as few Words as poſſible.

[273]About three Quarters of a Year ago, as my Partner and I were fiſhing in this River, we perceiv'd a Hat floating down the Stream, which we took up. We waited ſome Hours, imagining ſome Body wou'd come to claim it; but no one appearing, my Partner gave me half a Crown for my Share, being in more want of a Hat than myſelf. He wore it ge⯑nerally Sundays and Holidays, without any one claiming it. About the Time we found the Hat, a young Fellow frequented a by Ale⯑houſe in the Neighbourhood, for two or three Days, where my Companion and I us'd often to drink. One Day, while we were there, he offer'd to pawn a gold Medal to the Land⯑lord of the Houſe; he not having Money e⯑nough to ſpare, came to me, and deſired I wou'd lend him three Guineas upon it, the Medal weighing, at leaſt, five Guineas: I made no Scruple, but let the young Man have the Money, with this Agreement, that if he did not redeem it in a Fortnight, I wou'd diſpoſe of it, for I told him, I cou'd not be out of my Money for a longer Time. He conſented, and the next Evening diſappear'd of a ſudden.

The following Day, as we were drawing our Nets, we perceiv'd ſomething very heavy; [274] but we were very much ſurpris'd, when drag⯑ging it aſhore, to find a murder'd Body in it, with ſeveral Wounds upon the Head, in a light-colour'd Suit of Cloaths, trim'd with a ſmall Silver Edging. We acquainted the Country with it, and the next Day it was own'd to be an old Lady's Son, who had been miſſing ſome time. The Corps was bury'd by the ſorrowful Mother, and no Enquiry cou'd find out the Murderer.

A few Days after this, the Eaſter Holidays came on, and my Partner and I went to ſee ſome Friends at Monmouth; but my chief Reaſon of going, was to diſpoſe of my gold Medal. My Companion went to have his Hat done ſomething to; while I went to a Goldſmith's to diſpoſe of my Medal. When I offer'd it to the Man of the Shop, he exa⯑min'd it very narrowly, then looking me wiſt⯑fully in the Face, ask'd me, how I came by it? When I had inform'd him, he reply'd, Very well, I'll carry it to a Perſon in the Neighbourhood, that perhaps will give more than the Weight of it. I ſeem'd very well ſatisfy'd.

The Goldſmith went out, but return'd in a Quarter of an Hour, with the Conſtable and ſeveral Aſſiſtants, and, in ſhort, charg'd [275] me with the Murder and Robbery of the Widow's Son. I was inſtantly carry'd before a Juſtice, and examin'd; and before my Ex⯑amination was over, my Partner was brought in by the Hatter, who ſwore, the Hat he brought to him, he ſold to the young unfor⯑tunate Gentleman that was murder'd. Theſe Circumſtances meeting thus together, it was agreed on all Hands, that we were guilty of the Murder; and what confirm'd People's Opinion was, that the Landlord of the Ale⯑houſe, where I had the Medal, deny'd the Fact.

Upon this, we gave up ourſelves for loſt. I having ſome ſmall Share of Education, drew up our Caſe, to be preſented to the Judges, but it did us no good, for we were condemn'd to die, for the Guilt of another Perſon.

Your good Uncle was at the Trial by Ac⯑cident, and whether by our Countenance, or ſome Proceedings in our Trial, I can't tell, but he ſeem'd to think us innocent. He exa⯑min'd us ſtrictly about the young Man I had the Medal from, as to his Age, Shape, Size, and what Dreſs he wore. When he had done that, he left us, deſiring us to recommend our ſelves to Heaven, tho' he own'd, he thought [276] we dy'd for an Act we had never commit⯑ted.

We prepar'd ourſelves for Death, not hav⯑ing the leaſt Hopes of Life. The Morning that was intended for our Execution, your good Uncle enter'd our Room in the Priſon, firſt preparing, by degrees, our Spirits, to re⯑ceive the unlook'd-for Change in our Condi⯑tion. He inform'd us, we were at our Liber⯑ty, and brought a Surgeon with him, whom he order'd to let us both Blood.

I was (ſaid your Uncle) convinc'd of your Innocency; but what made me more aſſur'd of it, was, that I had ſeen a young Fellow taken up at Hereford, where I had ſome Buſi⯑neſs, for offering to ſell a gold Watch, that he cou'd give but a ſlender Account how he came by it. I came into the Court at Mon⯑mouth, juſt as your Trial came on. After you were found Guilty, I inform'd the Judges of my Suſpicions, and I thought it the Du⯑ty of every Gentleman to uſe his Endeavour to clear the Innocent. I immediately return'd to Hereford (after enquiring of you all the Circumſtances of your Defence) and dealt with the Priſoner ſo effectually, that he con⯑feſs'd every thing. He inform'd me, that he had been long a Companion to the Wi⯑dow's [277] Son, and both living a diſorderly Life, he prevail'd upon him to rob his Mother of a Sum of Money, and imbark for the Weſt-Indies; but the Devil put it into his Mind to murder him, which he did, by firſt ſtabbing him with a pointed Hanger; and after cut⯑ting him over the Head with the ſame Wea⯑pon, for fear his Groans might be overheard by ſomebody by Accident, he took from him a Purſe of ſixty-four Guineas, the fatal Me⯑dal, a Diamond Ring, and the gold Watch he was taken up for, in endeavouring to ſell it at Hereford. The poor Wretch was aſſur'd that Heaven wou'd not let Murder be hid; for, as he intended for Ireland, he might have diſpos'd of both Medal and Watch with Safe⯑ty there. But he knew the Devil infatuated his Mind.

Your good Uncle (continu'd the Fiſher⯑man) made him ſign his Confeſſion; and he took ſuch farther Meaſures with the Judges, that he procur'd our Liberty; and not only that, but made a Gathering for us among the Gentlemen of the Country, that amount⯑ed (with his own Bounty) to an hundred and thirty five Pounds.

Now, Sir, ſince you are Nephew to that noble Gentleman to whom we owe our Lives [278] and Fortunes, command us what you pleaſe, as far as Honeſty and our Power may carry us, and we will inſtantly obey you.

While the Fiſherman was relating this ſhort Story, his Companion ſpy'd a Hat floating againſt the Bank of the Creek, which I knew to be my own, but both the Men were ſo very much ſtartled at the Sight of it, that neither of 'em wou'd take it up. How⯑ever, I got the young Fellow in the other Boat, who was not ſo ſcrupulous, to get it for me, who, underſtanding the villainous Treatment I had receiv'd from the Wretch that hir'd the Boat of his Maſter, was reſolv'd to join with the other two.

While we were conſulting how to proceed, the Owner of the Boat came down to the Creek. My Blood roſe at the Man, tho' I knew he had been impos'd upon by that baſe Villain, Sir Euſtace. However, I reſolv'd to be ſilent, in hope I ſhou'd learn ſomething from him. As ſoon as he came near enough, his Man ask'd him, how he could leave him all Night in ſuch a Place, without Victuals, Drink, or Reſt? Z—ds! reply'd the Man, you have had more Reſt than I, I dare ſwear. Never was poor Wretch ſo ill us'd, as I have been. When I came within a Quarter of a [279] Mile of Chepſtow, the Villain order'd his Servants to bind my Hands and Feet, and throw me into a Ditch, which, by good For⯑tune, prov'd a dry one. The Reaſon why, my Friend (cry'd the Brute) I part with your good Company, is, becauſe I wou'd not have you know where I intend to lie to⯑night; perhaps, in a little Time, I ſhall find ſome Method of ſatisfying you for the Trouble you have been at, upon my account. And ſo, Friend, I wiſh you a good Night's Reſt!

Upon ſaying this, he, and his wicked Crew, walk'd away, although I begg'd to be releas'd, promiſing I would return to my Boat, without following them. But he re⯑ply'd, No, no! that is one Reaſon why I would have you lie there all Night.

Pray Friend, ſaid I, in what Condition was the poor young Lady, that he forcibly carry'd away? Why truly, Sir, reply'd the Man, I can't well tell, for ſhe had mourn'd ſo much in the Boat, that when we landed, ſhe did not utter a Word, but ſuffer'd her⯑ſelf to be led by her Husband, without any Reſiſtance.

I ſoon undeceiv'd him in that Particular, by acquainting him with the Truth of the [280] ſorrowful Affair. And is it ſo? reply'd the Maſter of the Boat. If I had known that, no Recompence, or Threats, ſhould have prevail'd upon me to have lent him any Aſſiſt⯑ance in ſuch a baſe Action.

After a ſhort Conſultation, I reſolv'd with the Maſter of the Boat, to go by Land to Chepſtow, while the two Fiſhermen, and the other Man, carry'd the Boats there.

Accordingly, we parted: But as ſoon as we enter'd the Town, the firſt Perſons I ſaw were, my dear Uncle, my Brother, my Friend, and Clerimont, with four Servants, all well arm'd, in ſearch after the Raviſher and me. They hir'd a Boat at Monmouth, with all the Expedition imaginable, thinking to overtake me at leaſt, and, as we all ſup⯑pos'd, miſt me when the Boat I was in, fell in with the little Iſland, where I remain'd all Night. They were going, when we met 'em, down to the Creek, to endeavour the finding the Man that was bound, and thrown into the Ditch, being inform'd of it by the very Perſon that had releas'd him in the Morning.

We came to a Reſolution of ſeparating: My Brother and I, with two Servants, to get Horſes and go into Wales, in purſuit of [281] them; my Uncle, my Friend, and the other two Servants, to follow by Water; my Go⯑vernor to ſtay at Chepſtow, or Monmouth, juſt as he thought convenient.

My Brother and I, with two Servants, ſet out well arm'd for our Purpoſe, without ta⯑king any formal Leave of my Uncle and the reſt; for I was too much concern'd, to mind Ceremony. As we paſs'd the Mountains that environ Chepſtow, the Horſe of one of my Uncle's Servants fell down-right lame, which gave me ſome little Uneaſineſs. But the Fellow being Running-Footman to the laſt Maſter he ſerv'd, told us, he would be at the next Town before us, and provide himſelf another Horſe. Accordingly he left the lame one at a Cottage in the Road, and flew away as ſwift as a Greyhound. The Roads were ſo bad for our Horſes, that he was ſoon out of Sight. After riding about four Miles, we came to a ſmall Inn, where I was ſurpriz'd to find him drinking with a Footman at the Door. As ſoon as we came near enough for him to be heard, he call'd out to me, Sir, for a ſmall matter, I can have a Horſe of this Man, who is a Servant to Sir Euſtace; and as we are to go within a Mile of his Maſter's Houſe, I am to leave [282] the Horſe at a Place where he has appointed, his Buſineſs not being urgent, he ſays he will walk the reſt of the Way.

The Name of that Villain, Sir Euſtace, and the manner of the Servant's ſpeaking to me, convinc'd me there was ſomething to be underſtood by it. I therefore endeavour'd to compoſe myſelf from the Ruffle the Villain's Name had caus'd in my Soul. I ſoon ob⯑ſerv'd the Fellow was very much gone in Li⯑quor, therefore was in ſome Hope of learn⯑ing which way my dear Iſabella was forc'd. He did not ſeem to have any Notion of us, or our Buſineſs, therefore I told him, I in⯑tended to make a Viſit to his Maſter at my Return. Hark ye, Sir, reply'd the Fellow, to tell you the Truth, if you do, you'll loſe your Labour, for my Maſter is not at home at preſent, neither can I tell you when he will be at home. Nor does he much care, inter⯑rupted my Uncle's Man, for I find his Maſter and he don't ſet their Horſes toge⯑ther.

I muſt own I did tell you ſo, return'd the Man, but you are to blame to let all the World know it. There's no Harm done, I reply'd; he knows I want a Servant; there⯑fore, if you intend to leave Sir Euſtace, and [283] he'll give you a Character, I'll take you in⯑to my Service. A Character, Sir! (cry'd the Man, haſtily) I am afraid his Character will be but ſmall Encouragement for me to get another Maſter. I muſt conceal, if poſ⯑ſible, my ever living with him. Sir, I muſt beg your Pardon, when I tell you (as one of my Maſters Acquaintance) he is ſo wicked a Man, that I think no one, that is not as wicked as himſelf, would live with him.

In ſhort, I ſoon found the Fellow was too honeſt in his Principles, for ſo impious a Maſter. And yet, one wou'd think (conti⯑nu'd the Servant) he ſhou'd take Warning. It is not above ſix Weeks ago, when a Gen⯑tleman he had ill us'd, in Diſguiſe, run him through the Body. We all thought he wou'd have breath'd his laſt; but he recover'd in leſs than a Month, the Wound not being through any Mortal Part. He order'd his Servants and the Surgeon to conceal his Re⯑covery from the Country: But we were ſoon let into the Meaning of it; for he went diſ⯑guis'd, two Days ago, to Monmouth, under Pretence to take up the Gentleman for his ſuppoſed Murder; but it was only to take his Opportunity of running away with a young Lady, whom he ſays he's contracted [284] to; which he did, and is now gone to Bri⯑ſtol, for more Secrecy and Security, where he intends to force the Lady to marry him, or perhaps worſe.

I was ſo much diſorder'd with what the Man ſaid to me, my Paſſion overcoming my Reaſon, that I declar'd aloud, I wou'd be the Death of him. The poor Fellow began to ſuſpect ſomething; and the Apprehenſion of ſome Ill Uſage threw him into ſuch a Fit of Trembling, that he ſoon became ſober. He begg'd for Heaven's ſake, he might not ſuffer for the Evil Deeds of his Maſter.

No, my Friend, ſaid I, I have ſome Re⯑gard for thee, for thy Honeſty, becauſe I think, by thy Diſcourſe, thou doſt not ap⯑prove the wicked Deſigns of that baſe Vil⯑lain. Therefore, if thou wilt receive me for thy Maſter, be aſſur'd it is in my Na⯑ture to uſe every one well, that has any De⯑pendance upon me.

Sir, reply'd the young Fellow, you ſeem ſo far different in your Behaviour from my preſent Maſter, that I ſhall think myſelf got out of Purgatory into Paradiſe. We ſoon made an Agreement, to the Satisfaction of us both.

[285]He then inform'd me, his Maſter had diſ⯑patch'd him to his Caſtle in Wales, for ſeve⯑ral Neceſſaries for himſelf, and the Servants that were gone with him to Briſtol, which were privately to be brought in a Waggon; for he apprehended it was not ſafe to bring the Lady home immediately, not doubting, in the leaſt, but the Gentleman that wound⯑ed him before, wou'd purſue him, with the Company he had ſo much exaſperated by his villainous Proceeding.

Upon the Knowledge of this, we return'd back to Chepſtow, in order to get to Briſtol with the utmoſt Expedition. When we came back to Chepſtow, we were inform'd, my Un⯑cle, with his Party, had hir'd a Veſſel to go for Briſtol, which made us imagine he had gain'd ſome Knowledge of the Place where they were gone.

We only ſtaid to give our Horſes ſome ſmall Refreſhment, and ſet forward by Land for Briſtol; tho' we were two Hours ferry⯑ing over.

When we arriv'd at Briſtol, my new Ser⯑vant told me, his old Maſter was at Captain — in Radcliff Street, over-againſt the Church. My Brother and I diſ⯑guis'd ourſelves in our Servants Cloaths, and [286] went to the Houſe where we were inform'd Sir Euſtace and my dear Iſabella were. The Door was ſhut ſome time; but after half an Hour's waiting, we ſaw the Villain coming out with a Gentleman, that we ſuppos'd to be the Maſter of the Houſe. My Blood flew with ſuch Violence thro' my Veins, that it was with much Perſuaſion of my Bro⯑ther, I had not ſhot the Villain through the Head. But he advis'd me to uſe Strata⯑gem.

Let us, ſaid he, ſend for your new Ser⯑vant, and by the time he comes, we'll think of ſomething to compaſs our Ends, without Bloodſhed. When the Servant came, we inſtructed him to go to the Lady, as from his Maſter, and with a Ring as a Token for his Paſſport, which I gave him, which was my dear Iſabella's, I did not doubt but ſhe would know it again, and come more wil⯑lingly.

My new Man did his Buſineſs dexterouſ⯑ly. He found the Chamber of Iſabella, guarded by two of his old Fellow-Servants, who made no Scruple of letting him paſs, when he acquainted them he had Orders to conduct the Lady to his Maſter, in order to be marry'd that Night.

[287]When he came into the Room, where the divine Iſabella was lamenting her Condition in Tears and Sighs, upon the Floor, he, without Ceremony, gave her the Ring, tel⯑ling her, the Owner of it waited for her in the Street; if ſhe cou'd give Credit to that Paſſport, ſhe might be in the Arms of her devoted Husband in a few Minutes. She look'd upon the Ring ſome time, with the utmoſt Tranſport of Joy (as the Man told us afterwards) and at laſt ſaid, Though my terrible Misfortunes make me ſuſpect every thing, and every Perſon, yet, whatever Hands I fall into, I can't fear worſe Uſage than from thoſe I have the Misfortune to be in at preſent.

She then gave my new Servant her Hand, who led her down Stairs, telling the two Cen⯑tries at the Door, to order a handſome Supper, for their Maſter wou'd be back in leſs than an Hour.

When we perceiv'd him coming with the divine Iſabella, I trembled ſo much, I had not Power to ſtand; but my Brother, fear⯑ing my Tranſports might diſcover us, led me ſome diſtance from the Houſe. But when my lovely Iſabella came up to me, nei⯑ther of us cou'd utter a Word. My Brother [288] wou'd not let us ſtay to open our Hearts, but took hold of my dear Iſabella, and hurry'd her along, while I follow'd, not knowing what I was doing.

As we were croſſing the Bridge, we met my Uncle and his Party, they not expecting to meet us. By the Light of the Shops upon the Bridge, knowing Iſabella, they drew their Swords; and had not my Brother diſ⯑cover'd himſelf that Inſtant, ſome of my Friends had probably loſt their Lives; for, in the Heat of my Fury, I miſtook them, as they did us, and drew my Piſtols; but the firſt flaſhing in the Pan, prevented my doing an Action that I ſhould have for ever re⯑pented.

We had not time to congratulate each other, upon our unexpected meeting; but my Un⯑cle and Friends, finding we had regain'd Iſa⯑bella, led us back to the Boat they came in, and, notwithſtanding the Darkneſs of the Night, we ſet out from Briſtol, ſo eagerly, that we forgot my Uncle's two Servants at the Inn, who were found watching about the Houſe where Iſabella was confin'd by Sir Euſtace, who, by Threats, got out of them, who they belong'd to. A Fellow that ſaw our Rencounter upon the Bridge, had follow'd [289] us to the Boat, and hearing Sir Euſtace threat⯑ning my Uncle's Servants, declar'd what he knew concerning us.

Upon this, he got his Men together, took a Boat, and follow'd us with ſuch Impreca⯑tions, that the two Servants of my Uncle's were ſo frighted for my Safety, not know⯑ing their Maſter was with me, that they got a Guide to conduct them along the Water⯑ſide, to give us Notice of our approaching Danger, as they told us afterwards.

While we were in the Boat, my dear Iſa⯑bella and I, mingled our Tears of Joy toge⯑ther. She told me when the hated Villain firſt ſeiz'd her, ſhe had Recourſe to Tears, Sighs, and Reproaches, which drew nothing but Threats from the worthleſs Wretch: But at laſt, ſhe thought it wou'd be more to her purpoſe to diſſemble her Sorrows; therefore ſhe ſeem'd, by degrees, to dry up her Tears, and liſten more favourably to his odious Love.

This Method deceiv'd him ſo effectually, that he did not doubt but ſhe wou'd give her Conſent to the Marriage in a few Days. She had prevail'd upon one of his Men to bring a Letter to me, and he was to ſet out on the following Morning.

[290]We landed at Weſton, and order'd our Boat to meet us at Thornbury the next Day, where we were oblig'd to go altogether, in a Waggon, not meeting with any better Con⯑veniency. But having the Company of my lovely Iſabella, with my Uncle and Friends, I was in as much Joy, as if we were riding in our Coach and Six.

When we came within half a Mile of Thornbury, the Fields being pleaſant, we all got out to walk. I, with my charming Iſabel⯑la, led the Way, full of the delightful Hope of poſſeſſing for ever that Beauty, who was the Treaſure of my Soul.

Juſt as we croſs'd a Stile that led into the Horſe Road, I obſerv'd four or five Men run into a Thicket, that led into the Fields, on the other Side of the Road. This alarm'd me very much, and I made a full Stop till my Company came up.

By ill Fortune (expecting no Danger) we had left our Piſtols in the Waggon, and the ſhorter Cut being over the Fields, the Wag⯑gon was a Quarter of a Mile behind us. While we were diſputing what to do, the five Men came running croſs the Road, with that infamous Villain, Sir Euſtace, at the Head of them. My Friend knowing him, [291] ran to oppoſe him, unarm'd as he was. The Villain fir'd a Piſtol at him, which brought my Friend to the Ground. The Sight rais'd ſuch a Rage in my Soul, that I ruſh'd up⯑on him, juſt as he preſented a Piſtol to my Breaſt, and ſo opportunely, that I clapt my Hand between the Flint and the Lock, juſt as he drew the Trigger, and, with ſtrug⯑gling to wrench it from him, the Flint cut the Back of my Hand very much. I at laſt, with much Difficulty, wrung it from him, and ſhot him through the Head with his own Piſtol.

As ſoon as he fell, his Companions in Villainy ran away, without once looking be⯑hind them; and I flew to my Friend, who, thank Heaven, was only wounded ſlightly on the Temple.

This was all done ſo ſuddenly, that it look'd like a Dream. When the Confuſion was over, we went to examine that impious Wretch, who, notwithſtanding his Villainy, I wiſh'd in my Soul he had Life enough left to repent. But alas! he was gone for ever, with all his Sins about him.

When we came to Thornbury, our Boat⯑men met us, with a Croud of People, arm'd with ſeveral Weapons, coming to our Aſſiſt⯑ance. [292] The unfortunate Sir Euſtace over⯑took them in their ſhort Voyage to Thorn⯑bury, and by Threats made them (though unwillingly) confeſs where they were to take us up. As ſoon as Sir Euſtace parted from them, to put his wicked Intentions in Prac⯑tice, the Boatmen alarm'd the Town, which we met coming to our Aſſiſtance, tho' too late.

I went to a neighbouring Juſtice, and de⯑clar'd what had happen'd, who took Bail of my Uncle for my Appearance at the Seſ⯑ſions: But I was never troubled about it. His Servants were found, who took up the Body, which was interr'd privately by his younger Brother, a worthy Gentleman, that prov'd as much an Honour to the Family he ſprung from, as the other ſtrove to diſ⯑grace it.

The next Day we embark'd for Chepſtow, and the ſame Evening arriv'd ſafe at Mon⯑mouth, to the Comfort of my Governor, El⯑vira, and the amiable Fatima. From thence we ſet out for my Uncle's.

In a few Days after, my Brother with the fair Fatima (after receiving at the Font the Chriſtian Name of Maria, at my Uncle's Re⯑queſt) Clerimont and his Eliza, and my dear Iſabella and I, join'd thoſe Hands, with the [293] Aſſiſtance of the Prieſt, whoſe Hearts were united long before. And that we might be witneſs to each others Happineſs, all dwelt in the ſame Houſe with my Uncle.

Thus, after ſo many Storms of Fortune, we arriv'd ſafe in the Harbour of Delight, and [taſted Joys beyond Expreſſion. Long may our Years continue, in all the Harmony of connubial Love! All our Wiſhes are, to go Step by Step together; and when the hoary Winter of our Age approaches, to ſink Hand in Hand into the Grave, and reſt in Peace.