CHAP. XVII.

WHILE Harry was ſpeaking, Ned ſaw a Woman ſtanding before one of the Windows, and, look⯑ing earneſtly at her, he gave a ſudden Jump, and, dancing about; cried, O Sir, Sir, my Mammy, my Mammy, my Mam⯑my! [4]there's my Mammy, there's my Mammy, as ſure as Day!

Run Ned, inſtantly, cried Mr. Fenton, and call James to me—James, yonder's the Woman who ſtole Ned from his Parents, have an Eye to her, do not let her eſcape! Order Frank to take a Horſe and go with all ſpeed to Mr. and Mrs. Fielding, that they may come and know, of a ſurety, whether Ned is their Child or not—Stay a Moment; as ſoon as you have given Frank his Orders, take the reſt of the Ser⯑vants and lay hold on this bad Woman, bring her into the Houſe by Force, and con⯑fine her in one of the Back Rooms till Mr. Fielding arrives. By all Ned's Account, ſhe muſt be a very ſad Creature, and deſerves no Favour.

James went out with Alacrity upon his Commiſſion, and, having executed Matters with his accuſtomed Punctuality, he return⯑ed to the Company.

Law! Sir, cried James, it is impoſſible that this Woman ſhould be Ned's Mammy as he called her. This is ſome unhappy decayed Gentlewoman, as innocent of the Fact, I dare anſwer, as the Child unborn. I am ſorry, with all my Heart, that I had her uſed ſo roughly. Beſide, Sir, ſhe is ſo [5]deaf, that ſhe can't anſwer to any thing of which ſhe may be accuſed.

When we took her in hand ſhe was ter⯑ribly frighted. Come, ſays I, Miſtreſs, you muſt now give an Account of all your Wickedneſs.—Ennis, ſays ſhe, Ennis? no but Enfield; five Miles beyond Enfield, with the Rev. Mr. Catharines—I know nothing, ſaid I aloud, of your Enfields or your Catharines; but I tell you that you muſt now anſwer for the Life that you have led. Dead, dead, ſays ſhe, God forbid! A dear and a good Maſter he was to me, I am ſure; I have lived with him theſe five Years; and he gave me Money enough to bear my Charges; but I fell ſick at Saint Alban's and ſpent all; and I have been theſe three Days creeping along, and begg⯑ing wherewithal to keep Life in me on the way.

As you ſay, James, cried Mr. Fenton, this Account ſeems pretty feaſible; a deaf Servant however is ſomething uncommon; and yet I once knew a deaf and dumb Man the moſt ready and apprehenſive Attendant I ever ſaw, he would inſtantly collect what⯑ever you wanted from the Motion of your Lips and the Caſt of your Eye. Go to her yourſelf, Ned, and obſerve her more ex⯑actly; for, if what ſhe ſays has any Truth [6]in it, it is impoſſible ſhe ſhould be your Mammy.

Ned accordingly went, but returned un⯑der evident Confuſion and Difficulty. I don't know what to think, Sir, of this Matter, cries Ned. When I look at the Gentlewoman's Face, I could ſwear, twen⯑ty times over, to every Feature, but, when I look at her Dreſs and Manners, I could again almoſt ſwear againſt her Face.

Ned's Perplexity added greatly to Mr. Fenton's Curioſity. He got up in haſte and went in Perſon to inſpect the Party. When he enter'd, he ſaw a young Woman who looked very pale and ſickly, but of a gen⯑teel Appearance, and neatly though plainly dreſſed. She caſt upon him a ſenſible and penetrating Look, and courteſying to him, with downcaſt Eyes, Sir, ſays ſhe, your Preſence tells me that you are Maſter here. I know not for what Offence your People have confined me, but if it is on any Suſ⯑picion of Miſbehaviour, I have here the Certificate of a worthy Man and a great Saint, who vouches at leaſt for the Inno⯑cence of my Conduct.—Here ſhe pre⯑ſented him with a Paper that contained the following Words:

On reading this, Mr. Fenton bowed and made a Motion with his Hand for her to ſit down. He then took a Pen and Paper that lay beſide him, and wrote to the Pur⯑poſe, that he requeſted her to allow him to detain her Certificate for about an Hour, after which he would return it, and endea⯑vour to make her amends for the unbe⯑coming Treatment which his People had given her.

On caſting her Eye over the Paper, ſhe made a low Courteſy, and ſaid, I ſhall wil⯑lingly attend, Sir, during your Pleaſure; but hope, in the mean time, that your Charity will afford me a Morſel or two of the Fragments of your laſt Meal.

Mr. Fenton then pulled a Bell, and hav⯑ing ordered ſome cold Meats and White⯑wine to be ſerved, he bowed, and with⯑drew to his Company.

[8] Ned, ſaid he as he enter'd, this Woman is juſt as much the Empreſs of Ruſſia as ſhe is your Mammy. Here, Mr. Clement, look at this Certificate; I have no Reaſon to doubt the Truth of the Character given in it, for her Perſon and Manners are every way conformable. I am ſorry, at Heart, that I ſent in ſuch a Hurry for Mr. and Mrs. Fielding; I have thereby raiſed a Sort of Expectation in them, and it may be ve⯑ry mortifying to have that Expectation ſo ſuddenly and ſo wholly defeated.

Some time after, a Coach and ſix fro⯑thing Horſes drove up to the Door, and Mr. and Mrs. Fielding, alighted, with a Kind of Impatience and Trepidation appa⯑rent in their Countenance. As ſoon as Mr. Fenton had duly received and ſeated them; my dear Madam, ſays he to Mrs. Fielding, I think myſelf very unhappy in having gi⯑ven you a deal of unneceſſary Trouble. My poor Ned, here, has been utterly miſ⯑taken in the Perſon of the Woman whom he took to be his Mammy. The Certifi⯑cate of her certain Reſidence bears a Date even previous to that in which we found him; and her Deportment is more than a thouſand Teſtimonies againſt her being of the wandering or diſſolute Claſs of People. Be pleaſed, Mr. Fielding, to look over this [9]Certificate; I think it has all the Marks of its being genuine.

The Moment that Mr. Fielding caſt his Eye on the Paper, a well known Character, a well known Character indeed, he ex⯑claimed. It is the Hand of Mr. Catharines, my Tutor, my Friend; the Man of the World, excepting yourſelf Mr. Fenton, for whom I have the deareſt Reſpect and Af⯑fection. No Queſtion can be made of any thing to which he ſets his Affirmative.

Alas, cried Mrs. Fielding, then all the Hopes we had conceived muſt again be caſt aſide. Here comes our Nurſe too, poor Woman, in great Haſte; I ſent her Word that we had found the Perſon whom we ſuſpected to have ſtolen our Child, and deſired that ſhe would meet me here di⯑rectly.

While Mrs. Fielding ſpoke, Nurſe en⯑ter'd panting and almoſt breathleſs, and, without ſaluting or taking any Note of the Company, Where, ſhe haſtily cried, where is the Boy, Madam, whom you ſuppoſe to be your Child?

Ah! Nurſe, ſaid Mrs. Fielding, we were quite miſtaken in the Woman whom we ſuſpected to be the Kidnapper, and ſo that Affair is all over again.

[10] I have nothing to ſay, cried Nurſe, to this Woman or t'other Woman; but you muſt not have another Body's Child put upon you; if he is indeed your Son, I ſhall know him in an Inſtant; I ſhould know him from all the Children that ever were born. Why, Nurſe, cried Mrs. Fielding, eagerly, do you know of any natural Mark, or Mole, or Spot, by which you could gueſs at him. He had no ſuch Spot upon him, Madam, but, if he be a living Boy, he has a Mark of my own making that never will out, and that's the Reaſon that I never dared to tell you of it. What Mark, Nurſe, what Mark? tell me inſtantly, I beg you.

Why, Madam, you muſt know as how the Weather was very cold, it being twelfth Day in Chriſtmas Holidays. So you and my Maſter were from Home on viſiting, and I had a rouzing Fire down, and my Child ſtood by my Knee, being juſt then twelve Months nineteen Days old, and as ſturdy a Fellow, of his Age and Inches, as any could deſire to ſee. So the Cat, all at once, threw down ſome crockery Ware behind me. Up I ſtarted, to be ſure, and run to ſave the Veſſels; but, hearing my Child ſcream, I turned much nimbler back again, and found him fallen, with his little Neck againſt the upper Bar of the Grate. It was well that I didn't die on the Spot, for then [11]he muſt have died too. So I whipt him up in my Arms, but he ſhriek'd and roar⯑ed terribly. So I got ſome ſoftening Cream and ſpread it over the Burn, and I put a Plaſter upon that again; and I cover'd the Place, from Day to Day, ſo well with his Cap, that neither you nor my Maſter knew any thing of the Matter. But the Shape of his Hurt went ſo deep into my Heart and into my Memory, that, as I was ſaying and ſtill ſay, I ſhould know him by it again among all the Children in all the World.

Go then, my dear Nurſe, cried Mrs. Fielding, go immediately and examine if this Boy has your Mark upon him. Is this the Maſter, Madam, whom you ſuſpect to be your Son? It is, Nurſe, it is; my Heart took a liking to him the firſt Moment I ſaw him; he too was ſtolen from his Parents, and may as well be my Son as the Son of another.

Here Nurſe made a haſty Step or two toward Ned, but, ſuddenly ſtopping and turning pale, ah! Madam, ſhe cried, I wiſh you would go and try yourſelf; the Wound, if he has it, is juſt under his right Ear; for if I ſhould find, indeed, that he is my very Child, I ſhall certainly run mad on the very Spot for Joy. I dare not try, Nurſe, I dare not try for the World, ſaid Mrs. [12] Fielding, I am already all of a Tremble, I know not how.

Nurſe, then, plucking up a little Reſo⯑lution, ſtepped ſuddenly to Ned, and turned up his Hair; when, giving a loud Scream, ſhe had juſt the Power to cry out, my Child, my Child, my Child, my Child! and dropped down in an anguiſhing Fit of Hyſterics.

Mrs. Fielding, on hearing her Nurſe cry out, roſe haſtily from her Chair, and would have gone to embrace her Son, but, fall⯑ing inſtantly back, ſhe fainted away. The poor Nurſe, however, was not ſo happy. She broke forth, at Times, into convulſive Peals of Laughter that made the Houſe ring; and again ſhe fell into Fits of Weep⯑ing, ſo outrageous and bitterly deſolate, as no Heart, under the Temper of Adamant, could ſupport.

While the Family were all in Buſtle, ap⯑plying Remedies to their Patients, Mrs. Fielding recovered, and, hearing the Cries of her Nurſe, ſhe went and kneeled down by her, and wept with her and over her while her Tears proved a ſeaſonable Reſto⯑rative to herſelf.

As ſoon as Mr. Fielding found that his Lady was well recovered, he turned to Ned, [13]and, lifting his Hair, obſerved the remark⯑able Seam that the Burn had made. It is, it is my Child! he tenderly cried. O my God, how is this? wherein have I deſerved thy ſmalleſt Notice or Regard, that thou ſhouldeſt thus viſit me with thy Wonders, and by thy Mercies put me to Confuſion of Face?

Here Ned kneeled reſpectfully down for a Bleſſing, which his Father ſilently called upon him with lifted Hands and Eyes. He then raiſed him, and ſitting down, took him fondly to his Boſom; thou art, thou art my Son, my beloved Son, he cried; my firſt and my laſt, the only Offspring of my Bowels. Thou ſhalt no more be a Wan⯑derer, no more be a Beggar, my Babe. Thrice bleſſed be our Meeting, and tenfold bleſſed thy future Fortunes! O that our Lives, my Child, might be made one whole Oblation to him from whom this amazing Salvation hath come!

By this Time, the Nurſe's Diſtemper was greatly abated, though ſhe ſtill continued extremely low and feeble, and did not ſeem to recollect, except by faint Glimmerings, any Matter that had paſſed. Mr. Fielding then propoſed to take her to Town, to the Phyſicians; obſerving that there was Room enough for her and Ned in their Carriage, and, as Mrs. Fielding made no Exception, [14]the Coach was ordered to turn directly to the Door.

Poor Ned, during this Time, was as a Perſon who fluctuated between the dread of leaving known and certain Enjoyments, and the Hopes of his poſſeſſing ſomewhat that he had not yet taſted.

Mr. Fielding then ſtepped up, in a Kind of quick Rapture, to Mr. Fenton. He caught him in his Arms; my deareſt Sir, he cried, I love, I reſpect, I revere you, even next to my God! What can I return you? what ſhall I ſay to you? All that I am or have ſinks out of ſight from your Benefits.—I am bleſſed, my dear Sir, I am bleſſed be⯑yond Expreſſion, replied Mr. Fenton, in being made an humble Inſtrument of Hap⯑pineſs to a worthy Man. — O Sir, cried Mr. Fielding, what Events next to miraculous! we came to your Door, but we were not permitted to paſs; our Carriage broke for the Purpoſe; you then told us of this Found⯑ling, but what Likelihood that among Mil⯑lions he ſhould happen to be ours? You then propoſed an Expedient for aſcertain⯑ing the Perſons from whom he was kidnap⯑ped. This Expedient failed. God, how⯑ever, would diſcover him, and had fore⯑ordained the Means. He ſet upon him an indubitable Mark for the Purpoſe; none [15]knew of this but his Nurſe, and ſhe has re⯑vealed it. Had any one of theſe many Circumſtances been wanting, our Child muſt have continued a Stranger to us for ever. Indeed, Sir, ſaid Mr. Fenton, they are all concurring Proofs that you are un⯑der the eſpecial Eye of Providence. But, Sir, I fear we ſhall have a heavy Loſs of our Friend Ned; for, though he does not want his ſmall Faults, he is a worthy hearted Child, and a very pleaſant Compa⯑nion. O Sir, cried Mr. Fielding, you and Maſter Fenton have a Right to command both him and us at all Times. But come, Ned, take Leave, for the preſent, of your beſt Friends.

Here Ned, with filling Eyes, ſtepped re⯑ſpectfully to Mr. Fenton, and, kneeling be⯑fore him, took each of his Hands and kiſſed them, crying, my Father! my Father! whereupon Mr. Fenton tenderly raiſed him, and, preſſing him affectionately to his Bo⯑ſom, cried, God be good to you, my Son, and make you a Bleſſing to your true Pa⯑rents and to all your Kin!

Ned then turned to Harry, and taking him by both Hands, and looking him fond⯑ly in the Face, O Maſter Harry, Maſter Harry, he cried, I never ſhall be able to ſay the Word Farewell to you, my Maſ⯑ter Harry! I was hungry and you fed me, [16]I was naked and you cloathed me, I was a Stranger and you took me in; the whole World to me was fatherleſs and friendleſs, when you were Father and Mother, and a whole World of Friends to me, my true Lord and Maſter Harry. Are you not my Owner, am I not your Property, your own hard bought Bargain? Did you not pur⯑chaſe me with your Stripes, and with your precious Blood, and will you ſuffer me to be taken away from you, my Heart's Maſter?

Here Harry, ſwallowing his Paſſion as well as he was able, claſped Ned in his Arms and cried, my Brother, my Brother, my Friend and Brother for ever! then turn⯑ing to Mr. and Mrs. Fielding, and wiping his Eyes, I hope, Madam, I hope, Sir, ſays he, that you will excuſe my young Friend, here, for his Partiality to a Family who have loved him long and very dearly; in a little time, to be ſure, he will love and re⯑ſpect you both, above all the World, though put all together. Though I grieve to part with him, I heartily rejoice at his being found, and acknowledged to be the Child of ſuch worthy Parents, and I hope, I ſay, that you will not be offended at his Concern for parting with his old Friends.

No, my noble Creature, cried Mr. Field⯑ing, we are delighted at the Proof that he [17]gives of his Gratitude, and at the Strength of his Attachment where he has been ſo highly obliged.

O Sir, O Madam, ſays Ned, (kiſſing the Hands of his Parents) did you but know the Value of what I loſe, when I leave, when I leave — and here he burſt afreſh into Tears.

Mrs. Fielding, then took Ned in her Arms, and tenderly embracing him, cried, we do, my Love, we do know the Value of the Family that you leave, and it is the firſt and the deareſt Wiſh of my Heart that we ſhould all become as one Family and as one Houſehold. This Angel here, as you ſay, is your rightful Owner, and we owe him more, on that Account, than our whole Fortune can pay, and he ſhall have you as long and as often as ever he pleaſes; but, for this Night, my Darling, it would be very unkind not to go with your good Nurſe, your true and loving Mammy, who has ſuffer'd ſo much for your ſake, and her Caſe requires that we ſhould take her im⯑mediately to the Doctors.

Here Ned acquieſced, and, having ta⯑ken a weeping Leave of all the Family, not forgetting the meaneſt Servant in the Houſe, he ſtepped ſlowly into the Coach, [18]ſat down by his Nurſe, and away they drove.

As ſoon as the Family of the Fieldings were gone, Harry withdrew to his Cham⯑ber and locked himſelf in, while Mr. Fen⯑ton went to enfranchiſe his late Priſoner.

He firſt returned her Certificate to her, and then preſenting her with twenty Gui⯑neas, he bowed and made a Motion with his Hand to the Door, intimating that ſhe was at liberty to depart when ſhe thought proper.

Having looked ſeveral Times, with Si⯑lence and Surprize, now at Mr. Fenton and again at the Money, I ſhould be very ill deſerving of your Bounty, Sir, ſhe ſaid, ſhould I attempt any longer to impoſe up⯑on you. I am not deaf as you ſuppoſed, it was only an Artifice which I made uſe of, when taken into Cuſtody, to avoid anſwer⯑ing Queſtions that might have brought a worthy Family into Diſgrace. But you look ſo altogether the Gentleman and the kind hearted Chriſtian, that I think I ought to have no Reſerve of any Kind toward you.

Be pleaſed then, ſaid Mr. Fenton, as far as Prudence will allow, to let me know who and what you are.

[19] I hope, Sir, ſhe replied, that I am very far from being what I was, otherwiſe I ſhould be the very vileſt of the Vile. Wherefore, if you will allow a weakly Woman to ſit, I will tell you the whole of my ſhort Story, with the ſame Openneſs that I make Confeſſion of my Sins to Him from whom, alone, I can look for Re⯑miſſion.

My maiden Name was Fielding, my Fa⯑ther was a Gentleman of large Fortune and good Repute; he had by my Mother a very worthy Son who inherits his Eſtate, and a very unworthy Daughter who now takes the Shame of confeſſing her Faults before you.

My Mother was one of the holieſt of Women, and brought me up, to the beſt of her Power, in her own Principles and Practice; but ſhe died when I was in the thirteenth Year, an Age when the Blood is in the Tide of flow, before I had acquired a due Reliſh for my Duty, before the Yoke of Chriſt became eaſy or his Burden delightſome.

My Father then provided me a Gover⯑neſs, a Woman well ſkilled in French and Needlework, and other ſuch ſhewy Mat⯑ters of Accompliſhment; a Woman alſo [20]of much apparent Modeſty and Decorum, though inwardly of a debauched and laſci⯑vious Diſpoſition.

There is nothing ſo pernicious to the Breeding and Morals of Children as their being permitted to keep kitchen Company, where high fed Huſſeys and pamper'd Fel⯑lows form a Hotbed of ſteaming Senſuality and Guilt.

My Governeſs, though ſomething elder⯑ly, took a liking to my Father's Clerk, a modeſt young Man, whom, however, ſhe had the Art to ſeduce to her wanton Purpoſes.

In order to promote her Intrigue, in my Father's Abſence, at Evenings, ſhe uſed to procure Collations, and after we had eat and drank, to propoſe Plays and other Matters of innocent Merriment, as ſhe called them.

The Chief of our Men Servants was one Guilliam Rampant, the Butler, a comely robuſt Fellow, and one in whom my Father had placed great Truſt.

One Night, as we were playing at Hide and Seek, this Man watched the Place where I ſought to conceal myſelf, and coming ſoftly and ſuddenly to me, he caught me [21]up under one Arm, and running with me to a diſtant Apartment, he there ruined me.

A falſe Shame did not permit me to ſay any thing of the Matter, and the Villain had, afterward, the Inſolence to threaten me that, if I did not admit him to further Familiarities, he would tell what had paſſ⯑ed, and expoſe me to the Family.

At length, both the Governeſs and I proved with Child, of which the Houſe⯑keeper, in private, informed my Father; whereupon my Governeſs was turned, with Infamy, out of Doors, and I was locked up and confined in a waſte Room.

On the third Day of my Impriſonment my Father entered, and having examined me with a ſtern though ſedate Severity, on my Knees, and with a Flood of Tears, I confeſſed the whole Affair.

The Butler was then ſent for. Guilliam, ſaid my Father, if you do not directly mar⯑ry this Strumpet, I will hang you for a Rape, but, if you marry her, I will give you two hundred Pounds to ſet you going in ſome poor Way, on Condition that I ne⯑ver ſee the Face of either of you any more.

[22] The laſt Terms were immediatly compli⯑ed with. A Licenſe was ſent for. We were married in my Father's Preſence. The Money was paid down, and we were directly turned into the Streets.

Upon this ſmall Fund, and about a hun⯑dred and fifty Pounds more which my Huſ⯑band had ſaved of his Vails and Wages, he ſet up a gaming Tavern to which there was great Reſort; and as he was a very bold, ſenſible, and enterprizing Man, he became extremely agreeable to Numbers of his Cuſtomers, among whom there were many Perſons of Fortune and Diſtinction.

At length the Time of my Labour ap⯑proached. I lay, for a Fortnight, in Ago⯑nies that admitted of little Intermiſſion. My Child died within me, and was brought into the World Piecemeal.

I languiſhed, for three Months after my Delivery, without being able to quit my Bed; and the Remembrance of the Pangs and Miſeries that I endured cauſed me to vow, within myſelf, that I would never more have any Commerce with Man⯑kind.

On my Recovery, therefore, I daily re⯑jected the Careſſes of my Huſband, and, [23]every Night, I bolted myſelf into my Chamber, whereupon he began to behave himſelf with great Coldneſs and Diſtance toward me, and to frequent the Company of common and lewd Women.

In about fourteen Months after my Mar⯑riage, my Huſband had a Run of Dice againſt him, whereby he loſt to the amount of fifteen hundred Pounds; and as he had not wherewithal to diſcharge the full Sum, he determined, at all Events, to pay to the laſt Penny of his Debts of Honour, as he called them. Hereupon he began to raiſe Contributions on the Public, and, af⯑ter ſeveral very bold and ſucceſsful Exploits, his Perſon became notorious, and he was taken, from amidſt his right-honourable Aſſociates, at a Gaming-table in London, conveyed to Newgate, tried, convicted, and executed at Tyburn.

Upon this, all our Subſtance was imme⯑diately ſeized by Creditors, or by the Offi⯑cers of the Crown; and I was turned into an unknown World, without any Thing to ſuſtain me, ſave a few Shillings in my Pocket, and the ſingle Suit of Clothes which I happened to have on my Back.

I forgot to tell you, my dear Sir, that my worthy but afflicted Father had died before this Period; and this ought to have [24]been the greateſt of Afflictions to myſelf; but the Seaſon of my Feelings was not yet come, and I barely dropt a ſlight Tear, without any Senſe of Remorſe for having been, in all likelihood, his principal Exe⯑cutioner.

As my Brother was now the only Per⯑ſon, upon Earth, to whom I had any Right to apply for Support; I accordingly went to his Houſe with an anxious beating Heart, and ſent him in a written State of my very deplorable Caſe. But his Anſwer was, that, if ever I ſhould again appear before his Doors, he would take me up, as a Va⯑gabond, and tranſport me to the Planta⯑tions.

Wholly deſperate, by this Diſappoint⯑ment, and ſtimulated almoſt to Frenzy, my Blood boiled in my Veins. The hor⯑rid Thoughts of Vengeance could alone aſſuage my raging Spirit; and I reſolved to compaſs my Ends by Poiſon, by Dag⯑ger, or any the ſpeedieſt Means. For I looked upon my Brother as a Robber who had deſpoiled me of my Title to my Fa⯑ther's Affection and Inheritance.

For this accurſed Purpoſe it was neceſſa⯑ry to get near him. I ſold my Clothes, and having diſguiſed myſelf in the Dreſs [25]of a Charwoman, I engaged as a Servant in a Cellar over the Way.

From this Place I obſerved an Infant of about two Years old, who, at times, was brought to the Door by the Hand of his Nurſe; and I learned that he was the only Child of my Brother, and that the Lives of his Parents were wrapt up in him.

Here I conceived I had found an Object on whom I might execute my Revenge, with better Safety to my own Perſon, and greater Torture to my Adverſary, than by any other Method that Invention could ſupply. I therefore couched on my Watch, like a Lioneſs for her Prey, and ſpying the Child alone, I ſhot acroſs the Street, caught him up in my Arms, and away I flew.

I haſtened with him as faſt as I could till I reached the Fields. I then got under a Ditch, and ſtripped him of his gay Ray⯑ment which I folded in a Handkerchief; and having cut in Pieces an old Petticoat, and tacked it about him, I made my way to a Cabbin where they ſold ſmall Ale and Spirits, and there took up my Lodging for the firſt Night.

I believe, Sir, I am the greateſt Inſtance, that ever was, of the Length to which hu⯑man [26]Nature can go in Reprobacy, when abandoned of God, and unviſited by his gracious Motions in the Heart. The ſtrong Bent which my Mother had given me to Religion cauſed me only to recoil with the greater Force; and, when my Father caſt me off, I even reproached my God, and was at Enmity with him for having ſuffer⯑ed me to fall into my firſt Offence againſt Virtue.

I was yet urged and carried further down the Hill of Perdition, by the Example of the licentious Set of Profligates that daily and nightly frequented my Huſband's Houſe, inſomuch that, in time, I began to reliſh their Profaneneſs, and my Tongue as well as Ear, at length, became accuſtomed to Oaths and Execrations; a Vice, of all others, the moſt unnatural, moſt ſhock⯑ing, and abhorred in our Sex.

In fine, I became an Alien and even an Enemy to all Goodneſs; and I would will⯑ingly have been a Party in any Kind of Wickedneſs, ſave that of perſonal Proſti⯑tution, and this I avoided merely for fear of a ſecond Child-birth, which I dreaded more than I dreaded the Torments of Hell.

How pitiable, then, muſt have been the Caſe of the unhappy Infant who had fallen into my cruel Gripe. I often ſuffered him, [27]on purpoſe, to weep for Hunger, and then would laſh him for crying, that I might pleaſe myſelf, as it were, with the Miſe⯑ries of my Brother in the Perſon of his Child.

For four Years and nine Months I led a wandering and mendicant Life, in which Trade my little Nephew grew very ſucceſſ⯑ful and uſeful to me, ſo that I began to abate of my Severity toward him. Deteſt⯑ed by my Relations, and outcaſt from the World, I cared for nothing but Self, and nightly indulged my Appetite with the beſt Victuals and Liquor that my Pocket could afford, from the Iſſues of my own Petitions and of thoſe of my fellow Traveller.

One Day, having paſſed through Enfield, where I had raiſed ſome petty Contributions, I ſpyed an Infant on a Bank, at a Diſtance from any Houſe, and inſtantly the Project occurred of exacting the larger Charities by his Means. I looked about, and think⯑ing that I was not obſerved, I caught the Child up and ran off with all my Speed. But I had not gone far, when I heard a Man ſhouting after me, and perceived that I was purſued. Thereupon I caſt down the Child, with my Pouch of Proviſions, and leaving little Ned behind me alſo, I made the beſt of my Way thro' the oppo⯑ſite Thicket.

[28] As my Terrors continued, I continued to run, till I was all in a glow and faint with Fatigue, but ſtill keeping forward, though ſlower and ſlower, God conducted me within Sight of the Parſonage Houſe of Mr. Catharines, which I reached with much Difficulty, and then ſunk away on the Threſhold.

I knew nothing further of what paſſed till I found myſelf in a warm though coarſe Bed, with one Woman holding a Bottle of Salts to my Noſe, and another preſenting me with a Cordial. I looked about and found myſelf ſomething revived, but, on the Sight of ſome Meat which was brought to me, I again fainted.

Within ſome Hours after, I was ſeized with Pains in all my Bones, and fell into a raging though intermitting Fever. Mr. Catharines, who was Phyſician to the Bo⯑dies as well as Souls of all his Flock, viſit⯑ed and preſcribed for me, and had me at⯑tended with great Humanity.

On the third Night, I dreamed that an inviſible Hand came and, ſeizing me by a ſingle Hair of my Head, hurried me aloft, through the Regions of the Air, till it held me right over a fiery Gulf, in the Pinna⯑cles of whoſe Flames a Variety of Daemons [29]appeared to hover, the Horridneſs of whoſe Figures was indeſcribable to Ears of Fleſh and Blood. They all ſeemed to ſtruggle toward me, and to ſtretch forth their Fangs to receive me, while my Huſband, Guil⯑liam Rampant, aſcended ſwiftly in the Midſt, and, ruſhing up with a Pair of Sheers, cut the Hair that withheld me in twain, ſo, down I thought I fell, and, giving a great Shriek, I awakened to Dark⯑neſs and inexpreſſible Horrors.

Though no Light was in the Room, my conſcious Spirit ſupplied the Office. All my Tranſgreſſions aroſe minutely and diſ⯑tinctly to Memory. They appeared ſub⯑ſtantially, as ſo many Fiends, within me and round about me; and I fell into an Agony that threw me into a Fit.

I awoke again before Morning, but without any Abatement of my Terrors or Deſperation. The former Objects conti⯑nued to preſent themſelves before me, and, no longer able to ſupport Exiſtence, I gro⯑ped about for a Knife, or other Inſtrument of ſelf-Deſtruction, for I ſaid, to myſelf, perhaps Death may bring Reſt to the Wea⯑ry and Overladen, or, at leaſt, afford ſome Reſpite before the fearful Judgment of final Condemnation. So, finding no other Means that ſuited my deſperate Purpoſe, I graſped my Neck in my Hands, and exerted [30]my Force to ſtrangle myſelf; but Nature proved repugnant to the Completion of an Office againſt herſelf, and I ſunk from my Agonies into a ſecond Fit.

On the breaking of the Day Mr. Catha⯑rines entered, but, as the Room was dar⯑kened I did not know who he was. He approached my Bed, and taking hold of my Hand, he ſighed and ſaid, you are very ill, poor Woman, exceeding ill, indeed; you have more Need of a Phyſician for your Soul than your Body; if you pleaſe then I will kneel down and pray with you and for you, that God may receive your de⯑parting Spirit.

O no, Sir, I cried, I cannot pray; even to hear a Prayer would be worſe than Hell to me. I have no God, no Saviour, they have long ſince departed from me; I am a Sinner to whom Hope can never come; Omnipotence itſelf can do nothing for me; I feel that, if God would, he cannot ſave me, except he were to create me over again.

And he can create you over again, cried the good Mr. Catharines; even in this Inſtant he can make you a new Nature and a new Creature; he can ſave you from all your Sins by an inward Salvation, by [31]pouring the Abundance of himſelf into your Boſom.

O Sir, I exclaimed, you do not know how vile I am. Even now I am in Hell; the Fiends have the Property and Poſſeſſion of me. O, if any ſingle Soul were to ſuffer, for everlaſting, what I ſuffer'd laſt Night, better it were that Creation had never been.

Here I recounted to him my Dream, with the Agonies that I felt, and my At⯑tempt to deſtroy myſelf; when the com⯑forting Saint cried out, good Hopes, good Hopes! very excellent Hopes, indeed. Theſe are ſtrong and bleſſed Compunctions. I ſee that the Saviour of Sinners is determin⯑ed not to loſe you. Be of good Cheer! here, take this Julap to recruit your weari⯑ed Spirits, that you may be able to lay open the Woundings of your Soul to the miniſtring Phyſician of your dear and loving Lord.

But, do you think, Sir, ſaid I, that there is any Hope for me? Hope, cried he, there is Aſſurance, more ſtable than the marble Foundations of the Earth. God is all Love, he is nothing but Love, he ne⯑ver rejected Any that once turned unto him. His Incarnation, his whole Taſk and Buſineſs upon Earth, his Sufferings and Crucifixion, his Agonies and Death were [32]choſen, and embraced by him for the love and ſake of Sinners. It is in the Regions of ſinning Nepthali, in the Darkneſs and Shadow of Death, that the Light of the loving Jeſus delights to ſpring up. But, come, my dear Siſter, tell me who and what you are. Lay open, with Truth and Honeſty, the manifold Diſtempers of your Sin-ſick Soul; your Weakneſs, your Po⯑verty, your Nakedneſs, your Pollutions, your Errors, and your Emptineſs; and He, who ſhineth in Darkneſs, will deſcend into you, my Siſter, and will be your Strength, and the Riches of pardoning Mercy to you; and will cover your Naked⯑neſs, and purify your Pollutions, and turn your Errors into Rectitude, and your Emptineſs into the Fullneſs of the Joy and Glory of your God!

Here I made him a full Recital of all the Paſſages of my Life, as openly but much more minutely than I have done to your Honour. Never was Man ſo affected. He groaned, he ſobbed aloud, he wet his Handkerchief with his Tears as tho' it had been drenched in the River.

As ſoon as I had concluded, do you not know me then? he cried, (breaking afreſh into Tears) do you not know me, Mrs. Phaebe? know you not Marmaduke Catha⯑rines, your Brother's Tutor and your Tutor, [33]the Man from whoſe Lips you uſed to im⯑bibe Inſtruction with ſo much Avidity? Ah, had I ſtayed, nothing of this would have happen'd; but your Brother got me preſented to a rich Living here, and ſo I left my Vineyard and the Fruits thereof un⯑guarded; Oh that accurſed Rampant! I left my Lamb to the voracious and remorſe⯑leſs Wolf! — From your Infancy, Mrs. Phaebe, you were the Darling of my Affec⯑tions; the Day did not ſeem to ſhine in which I ſaw you not. Your Smiles cheer'd my Spirit, and your unaffected Graces played round my Heart.

Your Brother, too, ſaw and approved my Paſſion for You. What Happineſs did he not propoſe to himſelf in our Uni⯑on! We will be Brothers, he cried, my Catharines, folding me faſt in his Arms, we will be Brothers in Reality as well as Inclination.

But thoſe bliſsful Proſpects ſoon vaniſh⯑ed away. You were ſeduced, my Daugh⯑ter, you were ſeduced from your Duty, from your God and your Lover. Your Brother writ me an Account of your fatal Falling away; and I ſpent my Nights in Tears, and my Days in Anguiſh.

Ah, how you are altered, even in Perſon and Aſpect, I could not have known you [34]again. Sin hath taken away the Innocence and Sweetneſs of your Countenance, and ſpread a Cloudineſs and Stain in the Place thereof. But, you are returned, my Child, you are returned to Virtue and Piety, to yourſelf and to your God, and he will once more beautify you, and make you, as the King's Daughter, all glorious within, and deck you with living Saphirs, even the morning Stars of the Preparation of the Appearance of Jeſus!

While the holy Man ſpoke, the nether Millſtone of my Heart began to diſſolve, my Agonies and Terrors departed from me; my Breaſt began to heave with a kindly though ſad Emotion, and a Tor⯑rent of Tears greatly eaſed my Diſtemper both of Body and Mind.

Mr. Catharines, as I afterward learned, on hearing of my doleful Miſcarriage, had vowed to himſelf, in ſecret, never to have Commerce with Womankind.

A widowed Lady, however, of large Fortune and liberal Education, but much advanced in Years, happened to reſide in the Neighbourhood. She was firſt caught by the ſimple though affecting Piety of his Diſcourſes from the Pulpit. She viſit⯑ed and was viſited by him. She was then further charmed by the Luſtre of his Senti⯑ments, [35]the Sanctitude of his Manners, and the Sweetneſs of his Diſpoſition. Sir, ſaid ſhe to him one Day, I am, by Birth, a Foreigner, and neither have Children, nor any Relation of my Blood in this King⯑dom who, on my Deceaſe, may put in for a Title to my Fortune. I bluſh not to tell you that, if I were young and beautiful, you are the Man of the World whom I would have choſen for my Huſband. But my Defects take nothing from your great Merits. You are as precious in my Eyes as if I were deſerving of you; and I am deſirous of making yo umy Own for Life, provided you ſwear to me, before the nup⯑tial Knot is tied, that my Fortune, my Company, and my Obedience are all that ever you will require from me in Right of our Marriage. You ſhall live, and ſhall be as an only Son to me; and I will have for you, at once, all the Duty of a Wife and the Tenderneſs of a Mother.

I am not inſenſible of what Gibers may ſay, reſpecting the Impropriety of certain Appetites at my Years; but I truſt, by my Conduct, to diſabuſe their Opinion, and to cauſe all Occaſion of ſtumbling, in my Neighbour, to ceaſe.

In the mean Time, my two capital Proſ⯑pects will be compaſſed by this Scheme, the One, of giving myſelf a legal Title to [36]your Company; the Other, of giving You a legal Title to my Fortune.

A Propoſal, for ſuch a Species of Mar⯑riage; anſwered exactly to Mr. Catharines's Vow of Celibacy. The Lady, though conſiderably upward of Sixty, ſhone in all the Graces and Attractions of Youth, ex⯑cepting only thoſe perſonal Allurements to Concupiſcence, toward which Mr. Catha⯑rines had reſolved on an Averſion; He could therefore form no rational Objection to the Scheme; and, within a few Weeks, they were privately married.

While I wept, as I told you, Sir, under a kindly Remorſe for my manifold Offences, Mr. Catharines kneeled down and poured forth his Prayers beſide me, with an Elo⯑cution ſo warm, and ſo deeply affecting, as entered and ſearched through my Heart and my Reins, and ſeemed to tear out, by the Roots, all the Evil that was in me.

As ſoon as he had ended, and that I had thanked him, with Words half ſuf⯑focated, for the Graciouſneſs of his Con⯑ſolations, Mrs. Catharines came in. Would you then, Sir, ſaid ſhe, would you mono⯑polize all the Charities? will you not ſuf⯑fer a Siſter near the Throne of Grace, who may aſſiſt in the under Services to the Ser⯑vants of our Maſter?

[37] My Dear, ſaid he tenderly, I was about to requeſt your Preſence. Here lies on the Bed of Sickneſs, and perhaps of Death, the Daughter of my Patron, the Siſter of my Friend, and once the deareſt Object of my Affections and Proſpects for Life. Pray order a Chamber for her more becom⯑ing her Station, and my Debts to her Fa⯑mily.

She, inſtantly, went out with Alacrity, and without Reply, and, within a few Mi⯑nutes, ſeveral female Servants entered who, gently wrapping me in the Clothes wherein I lay, conveyed me to a Bed ready ſheeted and warmed, that ſtood in a ſmall but de⯑cent Apartment.

As ſoon as I was placed, Mrs. Catha⯑rines came up, and ſtooping, tenderly kiſſ⯑ed me and ſaid, God be very gracious un⯑to you, my Daughter!

Here I was treated with an Attention and Delicacy, that joined with my evil Deeds to put me to utter Shame. How⯑ever, I began to recover apace, and within a few Days was able to ſit up.

On the ſeventh Night I had a very ſin⯑gular Dream or Viſion which will never depart my Memory, and which, I truſt, [38]through Life and Death, will preſerve its happy and comforting Influence upon me.

Methought I walked, with vaſt Crowds of fine and merry People, along a Road of a gentle and pleaſant Deſcent, made eaſy to the Foot like the Mall in London.

On a ſudden, my Huſband Guilliam Ram⯑pant ſtood beſide me. I ſurveyed him with a Delight that I had never known be⯑fore. He ſeemed to ſurpaſs in Beauty all the Perſons around us; his Garments were embelliſhed with Gold and Gems, and his Countenance ſhone with a wonderful Luſtre.

Come, Miſs Phaebe, ſaid he, gracefully taking me by the Hand, come with me to yonder Paradiſe, where I will weave a Garland for you of never fading Flowers, and treat you to Fruits of a heavenly Fla⯑vour. Immediatly, a vaſt Garden opened its Blooms and incomparable Beauties to my quickened Imagination. The Odours thereof perfumed the Air far and wide, and the burdened Trees reached forth Fruits of irreſiſtable Temptation.

My Huſband then plucked, and gave me to eat of the Cluſters of the Grape and Apples of the Pine, which I ſeized and de⯑voured with an intemperate Reliſh; when, [39]happening to look down, I perceived that he had got the Legs and Hoofs of a Goat, and it inſtantly occurred that he could be no other than the Tempter of our firſt Pa⯑rents. Terrified almoſt to Death, I did not dare to ſpeak out; but, lifting up my Heart in a ſecret Prayer, He and his Para⯑diſe immediately vaniſhed.

At once I found myſelf in a vaſt and dreary Wilderneſs, whoſe Trees were bar⯑ren of Fruits and the Brambles of Berries; through which there was no Path, and from whence there was no Outlet. Go on what Side I would, I had ſcarce made my way through one Thicket when I was pre⯑ſented with another; till, being ſpent with Fatigue, I deſpaired of any Deliverance, and ſat me down to die.

Soon after methought Mr. Catharines approached, in mean and beggar'd Apparel, but with a majeſtic and ſtern Countenance. Wretch! he cried, are you at length come to a Knowledge of the Evil of your Ways? are you now come to a Senſe of your vile and forlorn Eſtate? do you find at laſt that I, alone, can be your Stay and your Hel⯑per? So ſaying, he ſeized me by the Hand, and his Touch filled my Frame with Con⯑fidence and Delight. We roſe into the Air, we moved together over a boundleſs Tract of Deſart, from whence the Lions roared [40]and the Wolves bayed at us. At length we alighted at the Entrance of a narrow Path that led up the Aſcent of a moun⯑tainous Country. The nearer Side was covered with Clouds, and blaſted by Tem⯑peſt, through which the farther Part ſeemed to gleam with a faint Radiance that promiſed the riſing Day.

Courage! ſaid my Conductor, we muſt aſcend this Mountain, in ſpite of all Oppo⯑ſition; in ſpite of the Toils, the Difficul⯑ties, and Dangers; the Pains, Calamities, Diſtreſſes, and Diſcouragements of the Way. No Obſtacles, I cried, ſhall appal or diſcourage me, I will rejoice in Diſtreſſes and Pains while I have You by my Side.

Hereupon I felt wonderful Strength and Alacrity, I ran up the Aſcent with a will⯑ing and eager Pace, and propoſed in a few Minutes to reach the Top. But, alas! I was widely out in my Account. The Way became ſtraiter, and ſteeper, and rougher. I began to fail through fatigue, and the edged Flints tore my Feet and marked my Footſteps with Blood. Ah! Sir, I cried, this is very grievous, indeed. Peace, ſaid he, it is very ſalutary; theſe Flints are your kindeſt Friends, your trueſt Phyſicians; and the Wounds that they give your Body will be more than the Balm of Gilead to the [41]healing of your Soul. I then ſummoned all my Powers and proceeded, though with much Anguiſh, which often compelled me to lean, with all my Weight, upon my Companion.

At length we came to a Paſs that was thick ſet and interwoven with Briars and Thorns, and, ſeeing no way, I made a full Stop. Good cheer, cried my Guide, this muſt alſo be traverſed, there is no quailing now, you muſt endure to the End, my Daughter. The Thorn was pronounc⯑ed a Curſe to the firſt Adam and his Poſ⯑terity, but your ſecond Adam has made it a Wreath of living Brightneſs; Theſe, ac⯑cordingly, are appointed to twiſt the Gar⯑land of your Bleſſedneſs, and to make you a Partaker of their Crown of eternal Glory.

Revived by this Promiſe, I ruſhed into the Midſt, and ſtruggled to get forward, though ſcreaming with Anguiſh; but, when the Thorns rent my Skin, and en⯑tered into my Body and Soul, and lodged their Stings within me; I could endure no longer; but, caſting myſelf on my Con⯑ductor, O that Death, that Death, I cried, would put an End to my Sufferings! He then turned and ſmiled upon me, and, taking me under his Arm, bore me harm⯑leſs [42]through the Remainder; then, ſeating me on a Bank, he placed himſelf beſide me.

While I ſat, ſtill panting with Pain and Fatigue, He bent forward, and pulled off his Sandals. I then ſaw the large Wounds that the Spike had made. My Spirit in⯑ſtantly told me that it was my Lord, him⯑ſelf, under the Form of his Miniſter. I threw myſelf proſtrate before him. My Boſom opened wide; and taking hold of his Feet, covered with Duſt as they were, I preſſed them to my Heart and would have thruſt them into my Soul; when, on their Touch, I felt ſuch an ecſtatic Tranſ⯑port, that, if I had not awoke, my Body could no longer have retained my Spirit, it muſt inſtantly have iſſued to Him who breathed it.

The Conſolation of this Dream greatly ſtrengthen'd and reſtored me, and I haſten⯑ed to get up that I might delight myſelf with ſerving the Servants of my Benefactors.

When Mrs. Catharines roſe, ſhe found me buſied in the baſeſt Employments of the Kitchen. She looked aſtoniſhed. Why, my Dear, ſhe cried, would you de⯑mean yourſelf in this Manner? O, Madam, I replied, I beſeech you to leave me to my own Conſcience, it tells me that even this Office is much too honourable for me.

[43] When Breakfaſt was ready, Mr. Catha⯑rines came in from his Morning's Walk of Meditation. As he enter'd I caſt myſelf before him and, claſping his Knees, cried, How bleſſed are the Feet of him who bringeth good Tidings of Salvation to Sin⯑ners! but, above all, bleſſed is he who beareth in his own Perſon the Image and Impreſſion of the Prince of Peace! Being much ſurprized and abaſhed at my Manner of Salutation, he demanded the Reaſon of it, and I told my Dream, whereupon they were ſo affected, that they Both ſhed Tears of tender Congratulation.

I have already told you, Sir, that Mr. Catharines was Phyſician to the Bodies as well as Souls of all his Pariſhioners; I might have added, to all the Country about him.

For this Purpoſe, he provided a little kind of Apothecary's Shop where he kept all Manner of Drugs for the Sick, as well as Matters of Surgery for the Sore and the Wounded. On theſe Occaſions I became his principal Deputy and Aſſiſtant. I was, myſelf, often aſtoniſhed at the Effects of my Application in this Way. I ſcarce re⯑member an Inſtance wherein I failed of Succeſs. A Spirit of Healing ſeemed to accompany my Walks. I have frequently [44]cured Thoſe who were given up as irre⯑coverable by the Doctors and Surgeons. And I never had ſuch heart-felt Delight as when, on my Knees, I bathed the Feet of the Sick, or waſhed the Ulcers of the Beggar; for in Them, methought, the great Phyſician of Sin-ſick Souls lay be⯑fore me, who had healed my own Wound⯑ings, and done away my Tranſgreſſions.

I ſhould have told you, Sir, that when Mr. Catharines heard that I had ſtolen and dropped my little Nephew, the only Child of his beſt and moſt beloved Friend, He, that very Day, diſpatched a Number of Emiſſaries to Enfield, and throughout all the adjacent Country, with Orders to make the moſt diligent Search and En⯑quiry after him; but, alas! all our Pains and Solicitudes, both then and afterward, proved fruitleſs; this coſt me, Day and Night, ſecret Deluges of Tears, and ſerved to imbitter the happieſt Life that otherwiſe, perhaps, could be ſpent upon Earth.

About three Months ago Mrs. Catharines began to decline, and peaceably dropped, like over-ripe Fruit, into the Lap of our⯑general Mother.

Mr. Catharines had often deſired my Per⯑miſſion to write to my Brother in my [45]Favour; but, conſcious of the Injury that I had done him in the Perſon of his Child, I had hitherto declined the Propoſal. At length, however, I determined to throw myſelf at his Feet, and confeſs my Guilt, though without any Proſpect of obtaining his Pardon; perhaps, ſaid I, he may think on ſome more ſucceſsful Means for the Diſcovery of his Son, than we have yet hit upon. My Benefactor approved of my Reſolution; he wrote a Letter to my Brother by me; and within a few Days, I ſet out in his Chaiſe for London.

On the Road, I took it into my Head once more to make Tryal of my Brother's Nature, and to preſent myſelf before him as an Object of his Charity. For this Pur⯑poſe I diſmiſſed the Chaiſe at St. Alban's. I alſo ſent back my little Baggage with an Account of my Project in a Note to Mr. Catharines, and retained nothing but this poor Garb that I have on.

On that Night I was taken ſuddenly and extremely ill of a Cholic, and could keep nothing on my Stomach for the ſix follow⯑ing Days. I ſent to London for a Phyſician, who attended and preſcribed for me; and, by the time I was able to creep abroad, what with Fees to the Doctor, the Apothe⯑cary's Bill, and a ſtill more exorbitant Bill [46]from the Landlord, I had ſcarce three Sixpences left to bear my Charges to the City. With that Sum, however, I ſet forward on Foot; but, finding myſelf ſtill very weak and ſickly, I was tempted to repine for not having brought more Money from Home, but, again, I remember'd that my Maſter had told me that Sufferings were the beſt Friends and Phyſicians to ſuch a Sinner. I was, therefore, content and pleaſed to be once more reduced to the loweſt State of Beggary, and, after three Days ſore Travel, God was pleaſed to conduct me to your charitable Door.

This, Sir, is the Letter which my Friend wrote in my Favour to my Brother. You ſee it is open, but, before you read it, I ought to account to you, for ſome Touches of uncommon Tenderneſs, which Mr. Ca⯑tharines has expreſſed toward me.

Some Weeks after the Funeral of his Lady, He and I ſtood chatting in the Front of the Houſe. The Evening was exceeding pleaſant, and the Maids ſat ſinging and milking the Cows before us; when the great Bull, ſuddenly tearing up the Ground with his Feet, ran furiouſly at his Maſter. On ſeeing him approach, I ſhrieked and ruſhed into the Houſe, but, obſerving that Mr. Catharines did not fol⯑low, I turned and ran as precipitately out [47]again. There I ſaw that the terrible Crea⯑ture had pinned him up, between his Horns, againſt the Wall, at which he butted with all his Force.

Then, caſting Fear aſide, I ſprung up and, ſeizing the Bull by one of his Horns, would have torn him away from my dear Protector. But, my Strength not availing, I caught his Ear in my Mouth, and bit it through and through, while I endeavour⯑ed to tear out his Eyes with my Nails. In the mean time, a little favourite Ma⯑ſtiff, ſcarce bigger than two Fiſts, came happily out, and leaping up caught the monſtrous Animal by the Noſe, where⯑upon he gave a hideous Roar and, fling⯑ing away, ran kicking and leaping about the Yard.

I remembered nothing more till I a⯑woke from a Swoon, and perceived that Mr. Catharines ſat beſide me. He held one of my Hands, which he had waſhed with his Tears, and which, at Times, he preſs'd to his Lips, and again to his Boſom.

When he had prevailed upon me to ſwallow a Spoonful of Cordial, O my Phaebe, my Phaebe, he cried, you have this Day offer'd up your precious Life, a Victim, for the Preſervation of Mine, and, [48]from this Day forward, my Life, and all that I am, is your Property for ever. But tell me, my Phaebe, whence could you get, in a Moment, ſuch aſtoniſhing Intrepidity, how attain to the Power of acting againſt Nature, the conſtitutional Terrors and Delicacies of your Sex? Ah, Sir, I replied, the Book of Life tells us, that perfect Love caſteth Fear away.

From that Time Mr. Catharines earneſt⯑ly preſſed me to Marriage. My firſt, and my laſt, and my only Love, he would ſay, you know that in Womankind I can love nothing but You. Your whole Image, your every Feature is impreſſed upon my Soul; I am already wedded to them, they are inſeparable from my Being. Why then do you wiſh to have me caſt forth from my Species, as a withered Branch, without any kind of Fruit, without One, the leaſt little One, to bind us up together, and car⯑ry us down to Poſterity? O, Sir, I would then ſay, let not our Nuptials be ſullied by any Gloom or Regret; let me firſt be re⯑conciled, if poſſible, to my Brother, and then diſpoſe of me as you pleaſe, it is your Right ſo to do.

I THANK you, Madam, ſaid Mr. Fenton, I thank you for your very affecting and [49]ſtill more edifying Narrative; and I will endeavour to recompenſe you for the Trouble that I have given you by being the Bearer of very happy Tidings. Your little Nephew has lived with me almoſt ever ſince you loſt him. He has received an Education becoming his Family, and was this Day diſcovered and reſtored to his Pa⯑rents.

My God, my Chriſt, ſhe exclaimed, what a Wonder is here! how are blind and er⯑ring Mortals, wilfully blind and wilfully er⯑ring, deſerving of ſuch a Clue as this to guide them? My Nephew alive and well, diſcovered and reſtored this very Day to his true Parents!—I am confounded, I am cruſhed to the Centre beneath the Weight of thy Benefits, O, thou overflowing Foun⯑tain of Mercy and Grace!

Now, Madam, ſaid Mr. Fenton, now it is at your Election to reveal or ſuppreſs the Affair reſpecting your Nephew. I know, Sir, ſhe replied, you propoſed this only to try me; I deſire no Advantage from Fraud or Diſguiſe, and, could I be ſo baſe, this Letter, as you will find, would detect and betray me.

[50] Mr. Fenton then unfolded the Letter, and read as follows:

You ſee, Sir, ſaid Mrs. Phaebe ſmiling, you ſee that Mr. Catharines muſt be a Lover, by the Extravagance of his Praiſe. I ſee, Madam, ſaid Mr. Fenton, that he deſervedly loves; and greatly deſerves alſo to be beloved. But, Madam, if you will be ruled by my Advice, you will ſtay here till your Brother ſhall call upon me, which I expect he will do in a very little Time. Mean while I will introduce you to a Siſ⯑ter-Saint, who has been long tried and re⯑fined in the hotteſt Furnace of Affliction.

The very next Morning Mr. Fielding rode to the Door, attended only by a ſingle Servant. As ſoon as he had ſaluted Mr. Fenton, and ſat down, he took out a Note for 2000l. and preſented it to him. You [53]muſt not refuſe, Sir, ſaid he, to relieve my Diſtreſs, by accepting this in Part of what I owe You. I can ſpare it, without the ſmalleſt Inconvenience. I have lately re⯑covered a Tract of Land that lies contigu⯑ous to Mr. Catharines, the worthy Man of whom you heard me ſpeak Yeſterday; ſo that I ſhall ſoon have the Pleaſure of taking Poſſeſſion of a conſiderable Acceſſion to my Fortune, and, at the ſame Time, the great⯑er Pleaſure of embracing ſo very dear a Friend. This Sum, Sir, ſaid Mr. Fenton, comes very ſeaſonably to the Relief of a Perſon for whom I have conceived an ex⯑traordinary Eſteem and Affection, a Perſon who is entitled to my beſt Service, and who may alſo be entitled to your further Munificence. So ſaying, Mr. Fenton roſe, went to the Door, took Mrs. Phaebe by the Hand, and leading her toward her Brother, this Sir, ſaid he, is the Gentlewoman of whom I ſpoke, and whom I recommend to your tendereſt Regards.

Mr. Fielding looked earneſtly and in⯑quiſitively at his Siſter, changed Colour, and, for a while, ſat mute with Aſtoniſh⯑ment; when, ſuddenly riſing, and ſtepping haſtily to her, he claſped her in his Arms, and cried aloud, my Phaebe, my deareſt Phaebe, my long loſt, long ſought, my long lamented Siſter! have I found you at laſt, are my Prayers at length heared, and are [54]you once more reſtored to my Boſom, my Siſter! Ah, what muſt have been your Sufferings, what have I not ſuffered myſelf, from the ſtinging Recollection of the Bar⯑barity of my Behaviour? But, at the Time that you applied to me, I was exaſperated againſt you, by being told you had turned out a common Proſtitute; and, from your Connection with that Reprobate to whom my Father had unhappily married You, I was ready to believe the worſt that could be reported concerning You. Pardon me, however, my Phaebe, do but promiſe me your Pardon, and I will endeavour to com⯑penſate for my injurious Treatment of You.

Here, the Siſter dropped on her Knees, and, breaking into Tears and Sobs, repli⯑ed, you want no Pardon, my Brother, you never wronged me. — I deſerved all Sorts of Evils; they were due to my Tranſ⯑greſſions — but I have injured you, I fear paſt Forgiveneſs, my Brother. — It was I who ſtole your little Darling, who robbed you of your only Child, and cauſed you ſo many Years of Sorrow and Bitterneſs. — I deſerved it, I deſerved it at your Hands, exclaimed Mr. Fielding; let us then exchange Forgiveneſs, my Phaebe, for our Child is reſtored to us, and we remember our Sorrows no more. So ſaying, his Eyes [55]filled, and, tenderly raiſing his Siſter, he took her again to his Boſom.

Mr. Fenton, wholly melted by this paſ⯑ſionate Scene, took them jointly in his Arms, and then ſilently ſeated them oppo⯑ſite to Each other.

My Siſter, ſaid Mr. Fielding, you have promiſed me your Pardon, before you were acquainted with the Extent of my Faults. Our dear Father, in his laſt Illneſs, made me ſit by his Side; when, heaving a deep Sigh, he thus begun. I fear, I fear, my Son, that I have greatly wronged your Siſ⯑ter. I grieve at Heart that I had her mar⯑ried to that Ruffian Rampant. With a little leſs of Severity and more of tender Admo⯑nition, ſhe might have ariſen from her Fall; ſhe might have returned to Virtue and Ho⯑nour; her Errors might have been for⯑gotten, perhaps reſtored to Rectitude; She might have been leſs wretched, and my Days might have been longer. She was young, ſhe was artleſs and obvious to Se⯑duction. I, myſelf, joined to betray her, by that ſhe Wolf whom I appointed the Guardian of my Lamb. Perhaps, as ſhe affirmed, her Inclination no way concurred with the Force that was offered her. We ought, as far as poſſible, to have covered her Shame; Shame only ſerves to bronze over a baſhful Countenance, and make it al⯑together [56]Shameleſs. Alas, my Child, all Things appear quite different, at my Death, from what they did during my Life-time; and the Pride of Blood, and the Reſent⯑ment for injured Gentility give Place to the Calls of Nature and the Feelings of Humanity.

I intended your Siſter five thouſand Pounds, but by my Will I have cut her off with a Shilling, leſt the Villain, her Huſ⯑band, ſhould come in for any Share of our Subſtance. Wherefore I leave You, in my Place, at once the Father, the Brother, and the Guardian of my dear Child — and here his burſting Tears prevented another Word.

As ſoon as he was more compoſed he proceeded. I adjure you, my Son, in the Name of our common Father, in the Name of that God to whom I am going, I adjure you, I ſay, to keep a conſtant Watch over the Conduct of your ſtill precious Siſter, my Son! and (if ſuch a One may be found) to keep in Fee ſome diſcreet and pious Matron, who may inſinuate into her Ac⯑quaintance, and gain her Confidence, and preſerve her from a further Progreſs in the Paths of Vice; for O, the Soul of my wrecked Child, at this Hour, is infinitely precious in my Eyes.

[57] I further enjoin you that, in caſe the Reprobate, her Huſband, ſhould periſh by Sword or Piſtol, or by the Gallows, as is moſt likely, you will pay your Siſter the Sum of three thouſand Pounds, but gra⯑dually at firſt, as her Neceſſities may crave, and the Whole, on your Aſſurance of her Return to Virtue.

While her Brother was ſpeaking, Mrs. Phaebe, had thrown her Apron over her Face, and by her Groans and paſſionate Sobs prevented his Proceeding. At length ſhe exclaimed, Wretch, Parricide that I am! I have cut ſhort the ſacred Life of him who brought me to the World. You then loved me, my Father, you ſtill continued to love me, though I knew it not; and I have murdered the kindeſt, the tendereſt of Parents, but I will die to make Atone⯑ment, I will not ſurvive you, my Father!

Mr. Fielding then aroſe, and ſtepped affectionately to his Siſter, and taking her in his Arms, and mixing his Tears with hers, endeavoured to conſole her. You did not, my deareſt Siſter, you did not mur⯑der him, he cried; you accuſe yourſelf of Faults of which you are no way guilty. Our Father was aged, and laboured under a Complication of Diſorders that muſt, ſhortly, have put a Period to all that was [58]mortal in him. Be comforted then, I ſay be comforted, my Siſter!

When Mr. Fielding had reſumed his Seat, and that the Violence of his Siſter's Paſſion had ſubſided, he looked earneſtly and tenderly at her. I will, ſaid he, my Phaebe, at ſome other Time, account to you for the Motive of my Barbarity to⯑ward you, and how I was impoſed upon by the very Perſon whom I kept in pay to give me Intelligence concerning you. But tell me how it comes to paſs that, in my Life, I never ſaw you look ſo charmingly? even during your infant Years, you never had ſuch a ſweet Simplicity, ſuch a hea⯑venly Childiſhneſs of Countenance as you now have. It is, ſaid Mr. Fenton, becauſe ſhe is the King's Daughter, ſhe is all glorious within, and the Lovelineſs of her Spirit in⯑forms and ſhines through her Aſpect. — But here is a known Character that will fully clear up the Matter. — And ſo ſaying, he preſented him with the Letter from Mr. Catharines, when, at the Sight of the Superſcription, Mr. Fielding gave an Ex⯑clamation of Surpriſe. — Then, unfold⯑ing, he read it in deep Silence, but by Fits, and Interruption; frequently putting, and long holding his Handkerchief to his Eyes.

As ſoon as he had finiſhed — Yes, yes, my dear Catharines, my Brother, he cried, [59]the Wiſh of my Heart ſhall be accompliſh⯑ed for us both. You ſhall have your Phaebe reſtored to you, and ſhe ſhall be re⯑ſtored to you with Benjamin's Portion, even a double Portion! — But, O my God, how wonderful, how miraculous is all this! to have my only Child, and my only Siſter, at once reſtored to me by one and the ſame Hand! Teach me, teach me, Mr. Fenton, by ſome new Method of Gratitude, to ex⯑preſs a Part of the Senſe of what I owe you!

You have already, Sir, cried Mr. Fen⯑ton, done and ſaid by much too much upon that Head, and have thereby given me great Pain inſtead of Gratification. The Payment that I get is a Treaſure hidden from all Men, ſave him to whom it is gi⯑ven. I will not, however, do you the Offence to return you your Bill, but ſhall diſpoſe of it in a Manner that, I truſt, will be nearly as equitable. Mean while, my dear Friend, I moſt cordially congra⯑tulate you on the ſignal Evidences that have been given of the Favour of your God to you, and of his watchful and intending Providence over You and Yours. I ſup⯑poſe you will ſoon ſet out, with your amiable Siſter here, on your Viſit to your Friend and Brother the worthy Mr. Catha⯑rines. I ſhall heartily pray for a blisful Iſſue to the Union of the ſainted Pair, and [60]I requeſt you to favour me with a Call on your Way.

Within an Hour after, Mr. Fielding ſet off for London, on Horſeback; and Harry accompanied his Siſter, in Mr. Fenton's Poſt-chaiſe, upon a ſhort Viſit to his Friend Ned.

As ſoon as they were departed, Mr. Fenton took Paper, and wrote the following Letter to Mr. Catharines.

[Here follows Mr. Fenton's ſhort Syſtem of the Beauties and Benefits of our Con⯑ſtitution. But, if the Reader loves Amuſe⯑ment, preferable to Inſtruction; he is at liberty to paſs it over, and proceed in the Story.]

[157] WITHIN little more than a Month, Harry made himſelf perfect Maſter of the foregoing Syſtem, and wrote Comments upon it much more voluminous than the Text.

As he had loſt his Friend Ned, who was now under the Tutelage of his Uncle, Mr. Catharines, little Dicky Clement became the principal Companion of his Hours of Amuſement, and Dicky with his good will would never be from his Heels.

One Morning, as they ſtrolled up the Road, ſome Diſtance from the Town, Harry obſerved a Crowd gathering faſt on the Way, and haſtened, like Others, to ſee what was the Matter.

As ſoon as he arrived, he perceived Mr. Gripe the Conſtable at the Head of the Poſſe, with his painted Staff of Authority exalted in his Hand. Pray, what are you about, Mr. Conſtable, ſays Harry? I am going, Sir, to ſeize a Robber, who has taken Shelter in yonder waſte Hovel — And who did he rob? — He robbed Mr. Niggards here, that is to ſay, his Boy here of a Sixpenny Loaf. Perhaps the Man was hungry, ſaid Harry, and had not wherewithal to buy One. Pray, tell me, my Lad, how the Affair was.

[158] Why, Maſter, you muſt know as how Mr. Niggards, my Maſter here, ſent me this Morning to the Town with a Shilling to buy two ſixpenny Loaves. So, as I was coming back, I met an able looking Man, who made me afraid with his pale and eager Face. My good Boy, ſays he, will you give me one of thoſe Loaves in Charity? I dare not, Sir, ſays I, they are none of my Own. Here, ſays he, I will give you my Hat for One of them; but this I refuſed, as his Hat, to my thinking, was not worth a Groat. Nay, ſays he, I muſt have one of the Loaves, that's cer⯑tain, for I have a Wife and ſeven Children all ſtarving in yonder Hovel, and, while there's Bread in the World, I can't but ſnatch a Morſel for them. So, as I told you, I was frighted. I gave him One of the Loaves without any more Words, and away he run as faſt as his Legs could carry him; but I followed him with my Eye till I ſaw him ſafe lodged.

Here, Harry wiped his Eye and muſed awhile. Tell me truely now, my good Boy, continued he, if both thoſe Loaves had been your own, would you willingly have given One of them, to keep the poor Man and his Family from periſhing?

[159] I would, Sir, ſaid the Lad, with a very good Will. And, had I ſix Pence of my own, I would have gone back with all my Heart, and have bought another Loaf. But, my Maſter is a hard Man, and ſo I was forced to tell him the Truth.

Here, my Lad, ſays Harry, here is a Crown. Go back, buy two Loaves for your Maſter, in Place of the One he has loſt, and keep the remaining four Shillings to yourſelf for your Trouble. You ſee, Mr. Conſtable, continued he, you never can make any thing like Felony of this Matter. The Boy confeſſes that he gave the Bread with a very good Will, and that he would not have informed, had it not been for fear of his Maſter.

It is very true, pleaſe your Honour, re⯑plied Mr. Gripe, I myſelf do pity the poor Man from my Heart, and will have nothing more to ſay in this Buſineſs.

Stay awhile, ſays Harry, perhaps we may find ſome further Employment for you. I think I ſhould know the Face of yonder Man. Is not that the Niggards whom you had in Cuſtody, the other Day, and for whoſe Deliverance I paid five and twenty Pounds to his Creditor? The very Man, Sir, ſays Gripe.

[160] Harry then put his Hand in his Pocket, and, taking out a ſmall Scrap of Parch⯑ment, exclaimed, I am glad of what you tell me with all my Heart! Indeed, I did not like the Looks of the Man at the time, and that made me accept an Aſſignment of this Action. Here, Mr. Gripe, take your Priſoner to freſh Cuſtody in my Name. Away with him to Gaol directly! as the holy Goſpel has it, He ſhall not depart thence till he has paid the uttermoſt Farthing. No, no, Mr. Niggards, I will not hear a Word. Go and learn hence forward to be merci⯑ful yourſelf, if you would look for any Mercy from God or Man.

Dicky, my Dear, go back again, ſays Harry, our Neighbour Joſeph here will ſee you ſafe home. I will not ſuffer any One to go in my Company, for fear of putting the poor Man or his Family to ſhame.

Harry had not advanced fifty Paces to⯑ward the Hovel, when his Ears were ſtruck with the Sound of ſudden and joint Lamen⯑tation; and turning, he perceived that the inquiſitive Crowd had gathered at his Heels. My Friends, ſays he, I entreat, I beſeech you to leave me for the preſent. I would not chooſe any Witneſſes to what I am a⯑bout. Pray, oblige me ſo far as to depart on your own Occaſions.

[161] Hereupon, being loth to offend him, they retired a few Steps, and ſtood toge⯑ther, aloof, attentive to the Event of this uncommon Adventure.

Mean while the Cry continued with a Bitterneſs that thrilled through every Nerve of our Hero; and, as he now approached the Place, he did his utmoſt to reſtrain himſelf and quell the Feelings within him, and he drew his Hat over his Eyes, to pre⯑vent the Parties from ſeeing the Emotion that they cauſed.

The Hovel was of Mud Walls, without any Roofing; but, as there was an Open⯑ing where a Door had once been, Harry ſtole to the Entrance, caſting an under Eye of Obſervation about him.

Hereupon, a Woman turned. She had been fearfully peering over the Wall at the Crowd which had not yet diſperſed, but having Notice of Harry's Entrance, ſhe looked toward him and dropt on her Knees.

O Sir, ſhe cried, if you are the Gentle⯑man who owned the Loaf, for Chriſt his Sake I pray you to have Mercy upon us! Money, indeed, we have not, but we have [162]theſe Shreds remaining, and we will ſtrip ourſelves of our Covering to make you a Recompenſe. Alas, alas, could we have gueſſed how my Huſband came by it, we would have famiſhed a thouſand Times rather than touch a Morſel. But he, dear good Man, did it all for our Sakes, for the Sake of the heavy Burden with which he is overladen. Ah, I would to Heaven we were all dead, hanged or drowned out of his Way. He might then walk the World at large, and be happy, as he deſerves.

Here again, ſhe ſet up her Wailing, which was accompanied by her ſeven Chil⯑dren, with ſuch a woful Conſort, as the Heart of Harry could not ſuſtain, neither ſuffer him, for a Seaſon, to interrupt or appeaſe.

At length he ſaid, with a faultering Voice, pray be not alarmed, Madam. For I diſ⯑cern that you are a Gentlewoman, though in a very unhappy Diſguiſe. The Affair of the Loaf is ſettled to your Satisfaction, and here are ten Guineas, it is all that I have about me, and it is only to ſhew you, for the preſent, that you are not quite ſo friendleſs in the World as you thought. Meantime I requeſt that you will All come with me to Hampſtead, where we will try to do ſomething better for you.

[163] Here, the Woman looked with an ear⯑neſt and eager Rapture at him. May Jeſus Chriſt, ſhe cried, be your Portion, my Angel; and he is already your Portion, he is ſeen in your Sweet Face, and breaks out at your Eyes in Pity to poor Sinners.

Harry was now ſtepping forth, and the Reſt prepared to follow him; when the poor Man, who, for Shame, had not yet uttered a Syllable, gently ſtaid him at the Opening. Turn, generous Maſter, ſaid he, pray turn and hear a ſmall Apology for my Tranſgreſſion. I am a very un⯑happy Man, I have ſeen better Times; but I am driven, by cruel Uſage, from Houſe and Home and Maintenance. I was going to London to apply to the Law for Relief, when my youngeſt Child, who was on the Breaſt, fell deſperately ſick about four Days ago. As we had no Money to hire Lodging, and had begged the Means of Life for the two foregoing Days, we were compelled to take up with this ſhelterleſs Hovel. From hence I frequented the Road, and for the three laſt Day, begged as much as ſuſtained us in coarſe Bread and Water. But, this Morning my Boy died, and his Brothers and I, with our Sticks and our Hands, dug his Grave that you ſee yonder, and I placed that Flag over him to preſerve his tender Limbs from the [164]Pigs and the Hounds; till it may pleaſe Heaven to allow me Means to bury him according to the holy Rites of our Church. This melancholy Office, Sir, detained me ſo long; and Exerciſe had made the Appetites of my Children ſo outrageous, that I was, in a manner, compelled to do what I did. As I had no Coffin nor wind⯑ing Sheet, I took the Waiſtcoat from my Body and wrapped it about my Babe, and would willingly have wrapped him with my Fleſh and my Bones, that we might quiet⯑ly have lain in one Grave together.

Harry anſwered not a Word, but, walk⯑ing onward before his Company, plenti⯑fully watered the Ground with his Tears as he paſſed. While the poor Man took his youngeſt Son in his Arms, and the Wo⯑man her youngeſt Daughter on her Back, and thus, with a leiſurely Pace, they all arrived at Mr. Fenton's.

The Door being opened, Harry led his nine Gueſts to the back Parlour, where he inſtantly ordered plenty of Bread and Butter and Milk for the Children, with cold Meat, Ale and Cakes for the Father and Mother; and this was a Matter too cuſtomary, in this Houſe, to be any Cauſe of Wonder to any Member of the Family.

[165] As ſoon as they were refreſhed, he took them all to his Wardrobe, where he con⯑ſtrained the Parents to take of the very beſt Things for themſelves and their Children; and having ſo done, he walked out and left them to dreſs.

Mr. Fenton was in his Study, and had juſt finiſhed a Letter as Harry entered with a ſmiling Countenance. I have been very lucky this Morning, Sir, ſays he, I think I have got the prettieſt Family of Boys and Girls that is to be found within five Shires. Do you know any thing about them, Harry? Nothing further as yet, Sir, than that they and their Parents are ex⯑ceeding poor, and have fallen, as they ſay, into great Misfortunes. The Mother is a very handſome and genteel young Wo⯑man, and the Father a portly and very comely Man, ſave that he has a large pur⯑ple Mark on the left Side of his Face. A purple Mark! cried Mr. Fenton, and ſtart⯑ed. Go, my Dear, and bring that Man to me directly. Why pray Sir, do you know him? No, my Love, I ſhould not know him tho' he ſtood before me, but I would give a thouſand Pound that he may prove the Man I mean, and that I ſhall diſco⯑ver on a ſhort Examination.

[166] By this Time, the Father of our new Family was dreſſed, and Harry took him by the Hand, bid him be of good Courage, and led him in to his Uncle. He bowed twice with an awful and timid Reſpect; while Mr. Fenton roſe and looked earneſtly at him. I rejoice, Sir, ſays he, to find that my Son, here, has been of ſome lit⯑tle Matter of uſe to you and your Family. Pray take a Seat, nearer to me, Sir, if you pleaſe. He tells me you have met Miſ⯑fortunes, I alſo have had my Share. I think myſelf nearly of Kin to the Unhappy; and you will ſingularly oblige me by as much of your Story as you ſhall pleaſe to com⯑municate. I am intereſted in it.

I have nothing to conceal from your Honour, anſwered the Stranger. And I ſhall willingly give you an open and faithful Narrative of my ſhort but ſad Hiſtory.

My Name is Giffard Homely. My Fa⯑ther was a Farmer in eaſy Circumſtances near Stratford. He bound me Apprentice to a Tanner; and when my Time was out, gave a hundred and twenty Pieces to ſet me up in my Buſineſs. But, dying ſoon after, he bequeathed the Bulk of his Sub⯑ſtance to my elder Brother.

[167] Though my Brother was a Spendthrift, I loved him dearly; and, when his Credi⯑tors fell upon him, I became his Bail for two hundred Pounds. Within a few Months after, he ſuddenly diſappeared, and I never could learn further Tidings concerning him.

A Writ was thereupon marked againſt me, and put into the Hands of Bailiffs. But Liberty was precious. I left all my Subſtance to the Poſſeſſion of my Purſuers, and, paſſing at a great Rate, I eſcaped in⯑to Lincolnſhire.

There I joined myſelf to Anthony Granger the Tanner. Independent of his Trade, he held a very beautiful and well parked Farm, under Sir Spranger Thornhill, the Lord of the Mannor. And, as I ſerved him with great Zeal, Affection, and Appli⯑cation, his Affairs proſpered mainly under my Hands.

He had an only Child, a very lovely Girl of about ten Years of Age, her Manners, like her Countenance, were extremely en⯑gaging; and I took vaſt Delight, at all lei⯑ſure Hours, in teaching her to read and write, and in diverting her with a Variety of little Plays and Amuſements.

[168] I had no Intention, at that Time, of gaining her young Heart; but that hap⯑pened to prove the miſerable Conſequence; and a heavy Price it is that my poor dear Girl has ſince pay'd for her Affection.

Year after Year, ſhe now grew in Sta⯑ture, but much more in Lovelineſs, at leaſt in my Eyes. And yet I flattered myſelf that I affected her merely for her own ſake. I uſed to pleaſe myſelf with the Proſpect of her being advanced to high Fortune; and I thought that I would willingly have given her up at the Altar to ſome Lord of the Land.

One Hollantide Eve, a Parcel of young Folk, of us, were diverting ourſelves about the Fire with ſeveral Paſtimes; and, a⯑mong the reſt, the Play was introduced of, I love my Love with an A becauſe She's amia⯑ble, and ſo on through the Alphabet.

When it came to my Peggy's Turn, ſhe ſaid, I love my Love with an H, be⯑cauſe he's very honeſt, and I never will hate him for his being Homely. And this might have paſſed without any Obſervation, had ſhe not caſt a Glance at me and bluſhed ex⯑ceedingly, which threw me alſo into equal Confuſion.

[169] As this was the firſt Diſcovery that I made of her Affection, it alſo ſerved to open my Eyes to the Strength of my own Paſſion; and this coſt me many a ſleepleſs Night and aching Heart. I did not look upon myſelf as a ſufficient Match for her; I reflected that it would be very ungenerous to leſſen the Fortune or Happineſs of the Girl that I loved; and I reſolved a hundred times to quit the Country, that my Abſence might cure both her and myſelf of our fooliſh Fondneſs for Each-Other. But, though this was what my Reaſon ſtill prompted and approved; my Heart ſtill held me back, as it were for a while longer, when I was on the Brink of De⯑parture.

Peggy was juſt arrived to her fifteenth Year, on the 24th of April, and was elect⯑ed by the Neighbours to be Queen of the following May, and to deliver the Prizes to the Victors at the Wake.

I had made a Vow, within myſelf, to forſake her and the Country, the very Day after her Regency. But, in the mean while, I could not reſiſt the Temptation of ſhewing my Addreſs before the Queen of my Wiſhes.

[170] Accordingly, on the Day, I entered the Liſts among the other young Candidates. But, I will not burden your Honour with a particular Detail of our inſignificant Con⯑teſts. You have unqueſtionably been Witneſs to the like on ſeveral Occaſions.

It will be ſufficient to inform You, that as I had the Fortune to get the better at the Race, and at Wreſtling; when I ſuc⯑ceſſively went to receive the reſpective Prizes, my Peggy's Eyes danced, and her Feet went pit-a-pat with Joy as I approached her.

Cudgels came next in play, and a little Stage of Boards was erected for the Pur⯑poſe, that the Spectators might ſee with the better Advantage. I had long learned this Art from a famous Maſter in Stratford; and, as I was confident of my Superiority, I hurt my Rivals as little as poſſible; only juſt ſufficient to make them acknowledge that they were foiled.

At length, one Hector Pluck, a Butcher, mounted the Stage. He had, it ſeems, been quite an Adept at this Sport, and, for ten foregoing Years, had carried off the Prize from ſeveral neighbouring Shires; but he was now come to ſettle near Lincoln, and was to have been married, the follow⯑ing [171]Day, to a Farmer's Daughter who was One of the fair Spectators at the Wake.

The Moment he aſſailed me, I perceiv⯑ed that his Paſſions were up, and that his Eye was a plain Interpreter of the Deadli⯑neſs of his Heart. He fought cautiouſly however, and kept on a watchful Reſerve; and we had long attacked and defended, without any Advantage on either Part; when, with a Motion and Fury quick as Lightning, he made a ſide Stroke at me, and aimed to cut me acroſs the Face with the Point of his Stick. This was a Blow which I had not Time to intercept or even to ſee. The Villain however happily miſſed of his Intention; for his Cudgel, be⯑ing ſomething advanced, only bruiſed my right Cheek; when inſtantly I gave him an exaſperated Stroke on the Head, and, cutting him to the Skull, laid him ſprawl⯑ing on the Stage; whereat All who knew me gave a great Shout.

After ſome Time he roſe, and advancing a little toward me, he ſtretched out his left Hand, as if in Token of Reconciliation; while, pulling out his Butcher's Knife, from a Sheath in his Side-pocket, he, with his right Hand, made a Stab at my Heart, and ſuddenly leaping off the Stage, at⯑tempted to eſcape.

[172] Immediately the Blood poured from me, in a Stream, and ran along the Boards. I found myſelf growing weak, and, ſitting down on the Stage, I had the Preſence of Mind to rip open my Boſom, and taking out my Handkerchief, I held it to the Wound.

In the mean time the whole Concourſe was in an uproar. The Cry went about that Giffard Homely was murdered, Giffard Homely was killed. My poor dear Peggy fell ſenſeleſs from her Throne, and was car⯑ried home in the Fit. Several Horſemen haſted away, of their own accord, for a Surgeon. And the Butcher was purſued, knocked down, hard pinioned, and con⯑veyed with following Curſes to the Gaol of Lincoln.

Among Others who came to condole with me, little Maſter Billy Thornhill, our Landlord's Son and Heir, came running, and deſired to be lifted up on the Stage.

As ſoon as he ſaw the Blood, and how weak and pale I looked, he broke out in⯑to a paſſionate Fit of Tears. O Giffard, my Giffard, my poor Giffard, be cried, I fear you are a dead Man! You will no more be my Holiday Companion, Giffard. Ne⯑ver more will you go a Birding with me; [173]or ſet Gins for the Rabbits, or catch little Fiſhes for me; or carry me on your Back through the Water, or in your Arms over the Mire. Alack, alack, what ſhall I do, if I loſe you, my poor Giffard!

The Surgeon came at full Gallop. As ſoon as he had ſeen the Greatneſs of the Gaſh, ſay your laſt Prayer, my Friend, he cried; in a very few Minutes you muſt be a dead Man. But, when he had probed the Wound, his Face turned to Chearful⯑neſs. A moſt wonderful Eſcape, he cried; the Weapon has miſſed your Vitals, and only glanced along the Rib. Be of good Courage; I engage, in a few Weeks, to ſet you once more upon your Legs.

Mean time, my loving Neighbours made a Litter and Bed for me of the Tents and Tent-Poles, All ſtriving who ſhould carry me, and All eſcorting me home.

The good Mr. Granger had been that Day confined by a Sprain in his Ancle, and now ſat weeping by his Child, who fell out of one fainting Fit into Another, till ſhe was told that I was brought home, and that the Doctor had pronounced me out of Danger.

As ſoon as I was put to Bed, and my kind Attendants withdrawn, Mr. Granger, [174]on a Crutch, came limping and ſat down by me. He had endeavoured to reſtrain his Tears before the Crowd, but as ſoon as he was ſeated they broke out anew.

O Giffard, Giffard, he cried; my dear Peggy is very ill, and You are very ill, and to loſe you both at once would be hard upon me indeed!

Notwithſtanding a ſhort Fever, the Doctor happened to keep his Promiſe, with the aſſiſtance of Youth and a good Habit; and I began to gather Strength and reco⯑ver apace.

As ſoon as I was up and about, I ob⯑ſerved that Miſs Peggy ſeemed no longer deſirous of reſtraining her kind Looks or her kind Offices; and this gave me ſome Concern, till I alſo obſerved that her Fa⯑ther took no Unbrage, or no Notice of it.

One Evening, as we ſat over a Tankard of October, Giffard, ſays he, bluntly, what would you think of my Peggy for a Wife? Nothing at all, Sir, ſays I. I would not marry your Daughter, if ſhe would have me to-morrow. Pray why ſo, Giffard? Peggy is very pretty, and deſerving, as I think, of as good a Man as you. Her De⯑ſervings, Sir, ſaid I, are my very Objection; I ſcarce know a Man in the Land who is [175]deſerving of her. If that is the Caſe, Giffard, her Hand is at your Service with all my Heart. O, Sir, I replied, I have no ſuitable Fortune; but I know you are pleaſed to banter; I am no Match for her. You are an induſtrious and a making young Man, ſaid he; and ſuch a One is richer, in my Eye, than a Spender with Thou⯑ſands. Beſide, you are loving and good⯑natured, my Son, and I ſhall not loſe my Child by you, but gain another Child in you, as dear to me as herſelf.

Here, I was ſo tranſported, ſo over⯑powered by the Kindneſs of the dear good Man, that I could not get out a Syllable; but, ſinking before him, I eagerly graſped his Legs, and then his Knees, and, riſing, went out to vent my Paſſion.

In about a Month after, Sir Spranger Thornhill and my young Friend, Maſter William, honoured our Nuptials with their Preſence; and all our kind Neighbours came crowding to the Solemnity, and, by their Joy, appeared to be Parties in our Union.

For eight following Years, never was known a happier Family. But, about that time, Sir Spranger Thornhill ſicken'd and died; and was attended to the dark Man⯑ſion [176]of the Bodies of his Anceſtors, by the greateſt Concourſe of true Mourners that ever was ſeen in the Shire, All lamenting that Goodneſs was not exempted from Mortality.

Our dear Father could never be ſaid to hold up his Head, from that Day. He ſi⯑lently pined after his old Friend, and Patron, Sir Spranger; and all our Cares and Careſſes were not able to withhold him from follow⯑ing the ſame appointed Track.

Never, ſure, was Grief like mine and my Peggy's. In looking at each Other we ſaw the Loſs that we had ſuſtained; and, while we lay Arm in Arm, often, often have we watered the good Man's Memory with our Tears.

Time, however, who has many ſevere Sorrows in Proſpect, helps to ſoften and leſſen thoſe that he brings in his Train. An encreaſing Family of Children, ſweetly tempered like their Mother, called for all my Concern; and our young Landlord, Sir William, whenever he came from College, uſed to make our Houſe his Home, and take me with him wherever he went; till Lord Lechmore, his Guardian, took him from the Univerſity, and ſent him abroad, with a Tutor and Servants, on his Tra⯑vels.

[177] As I had made conſiderable Savings, and now looked to have a Number of Children to provide for, I reſolved to realize all that I could for the poor Things: So I built a Malt-Houſe, and Wind-mill, and planted a large Orchard, with other profitable Im⯑provements, that coſt me to the Amount of about eight hundred Pounds.

While theſe Things were in Agitation, Sir Freeſtone Hardgrave, one of the Knights for our Shire, came into that Part of the Country. He had lately purchaſed a fine Eſtate, adjoining to the Weſt-ſide of my Concern; and was a Man of vaſt Opulence, but a Stranger among us, at that time.

Though Sir Freeſtone was an old Bache⯑lor, and had one of the moſt remorſeleſs Hearts that ever informed the Shape of Man, he had yet a pleaſing Aſpect and in⯑ſinuating Addreſs, and always applied thoſe Qualities to the Purpoſe of Betraying. Alas! I was informed, but too late, of his Character; that his Avarice outgrew even the Growth of his Wealth; and that his Deſires encreaſed in exact Proportion, as Age happened to deduct from his Ability to gratify them.

Unhappily, he caſt a greedy Eye at my little Farm. Like another lordly Ahab he [178]coveted the Vineyard of poor Naboth; and, at length, compaſſed his Ends by Means equally iniquitous.

When he propoſed to give me more than Value for it, I anſwered, that I myſelf had taken a Fancy to it, for the ſake of the dear Man who had given it to me, in Truſt for his Child and her Poſterity; and that I would not part with it for twenty Times an Equivalent. With this, however, he did not appear in the leaſt diſconcerted; but ſaid that he eſteemed and affected me the more for my Gratitude to the Memory of my old Benefactor.

I was afterwards told, and learned by dear Experience, that he never pardoned an Offence, nor even a Diſappointment; but nothing of this Diſpoſition appeared for the preſent. He viſited, made it his Buſi⯑neſs to meet me in ſeveral Places; ſought and ſeemed quite deſirous of cultivating an Acquaintance with me; did me many lit⯑tle friendly Offices among my richer Neigh⯑bours; condeſcended to toy with my Little Ones; appeared to take a huge Liking to my two eldeſt Boys; ſtood Godfather to my little Girl that is now in her Mother's Arms; ſaid he wondered how I contrived it to maintain ſo numerous a Family upon ſuch ſlender Means; and promiſed to pro⯑cure [179]me a beneficial Poſt in the Collection of the Cuſtoms.

After a Courſe of ſuch ſpecious Kindneſſes, and while my Heart glowed with Grati⯑tude, in the Recollection of his Favours both paſt and propoſed; he came to my Houſe in a mighty Hurry. My dear Homely, ſays he, I have juſt ſtruck up a moſt advantageous Bargain with our Neigh⯑bour Squire Spendal. But he wants the Money immediately. I have not the Whole about me; and yet if I don't pay him down directly, ſome curſed Diſappoint⯑ment may intervene. Do, run and bring me all that you have, quickly! I will re⯑pay you within two or three Days at fur⯑theſt.

Here I haſted, with Joy, to the Corner where I had depoſited my Caſh, as well for Payment of Rent as another little Mat⯑ter that I had in my Eye; and, bringing out a leathern Bag, I lay'd it on the Table. There, Sir, ſaid I, are two hundred and thirty Guineas; take but the Trouble to count them out, and give me a ſhort Ac⯑knowledgment. No, ſaid he, my dear Homely, never heed it for the preſent, I will be back with you the Moment I have paid the Purchaſe; and ſo ſaying, he caught up the Bag, and huddled away as faſt as his old Legs could ſcamper; while I ſat ſtill, [180]through Aſtoniſhment, my Heart miſgiv⯑ing me, at the Time, as if it foreboded the Miſchiefs that were to follow.

I waited, with great Anxiety, for his Re⯑turn till Evening, when haſtening to his Lodge, I was there informed that he had ſet out for London five Hours before. This threw me into a Pannick, though not alto⯑gether without a Mixture of Hope, and ſo I waited till the three Days of his Promiſe ſhould expire. Mr. Snack then came to me and demanded the Rent. He was a Lincoln Attorney, whom Lord Lechmore had lately preferred to the Care of my Landlord's Concerns, upon the Death of Mr. Kindly, the good old Agent. I told him ingenuouſly how Matters had happen⯑ed, and ſaid I would hurry to London, and bring back the Money directly.

Accordingly, I poſted away, and reſted not till I arrived at the great City. There, for ſeven Days ſucceſſively, I beſieged the Doors of Sir Freeſtone, hourly knocking and requeſting to be admitted to his Preſence. But he was either not up, or juſt gone out, or had Company with him, or was juſt then very buſy and not to be ſpoken to, and ſo forth.

At length, when he found that I would not quit his Houſe without an Anſwer, he [181]ordered me before him. His Chariot wait⯑ed at the Gate, and he ſtood dreſſed in the Hall. As I approached, and bowed with the Reſpect and mortified Air of a Petitio⯑ner, he put on a Look of the moſt ſtrange and audacious Effrontery I ever beheld. Who are you, Friend, ſaid he, and what may your Buſineſs be with me? I am come, an' it pleaſe your Honour, humbly to tell you that I am called upon for my Rent, and to beſeech your Honour to reſtore me the two hundred and thirty Pieces you had from me the other Day. Here, ſays he to his Servants, this muſt be ſome Deſperado who is come to rob me in broad Day, and in the Middle of my own People; the Fel⯑low ſays I owe him Money, I know not that I ever ſaw his Face before; I deſire that you will not ſuffer ſuch a dangerous Villain to enter my Doors any more. And, ſo ſaying, out he ſtepped, and away he drove.

O Sir, how I was ſtruck to the Heart at that Inſtant! I ſnaked out, ſcarce half a⯑live; not remembering where I was, or whither I was to go. Alas, I was far from making the Speed back again that I had done in going. I knew not how to ſhew my Face to my Peggy or her dear Little Ones, whom I had plundered and ſtript of their Subſtance by ſtupidly ſurrendering it, [182]without Witneſſes or a ſingle Line where⯑by I might reclaim it. At length I got Home, if Home it might be called, that had, then, Nothing in it, or at leaſt No⯑thing for me.

Mr. Snack had taken the Advantage of my Abſence to poſſeſs himſelf of my Farm and of All that I was worth. Under co⯑lour of diſtraining for Rent, he had ſeized every thing, even the Beds whereon my Wife and Children lay, with all their wearing Apparel, ſave what they had on their Backs. The Bill of Appraiſement, which I have here, comes to upward of ſix hundred Pounds. But, when the Cattle and other Effects were ſet up to Sale, the Auctionier and Bidders proved of Mr. Snack's providing; All were intimidated from offering any thing, ſave Thoſe who offered in Truſt for this Charitable Agent. And the Whole of my Subſtance went off within the Value of one Year's Rent, being one hundred and eighty five Pounds.

Never, exclaimed Mr. Fenton, never did I hear of ſo barefaced and daring a Violation of all Laws divine and human, and that too under Sanction of the moſt perfect Syſtem of Law that ever was fram⯑ed. But, what will not Power effect, when unreſtrained of Conſcience, when prompted by Avarice, and abetted by Cun⯑ning! [183]And, is there no Remedy, Sir, cried out our Hero? None that I know of, my Harry, ſave where Power oppoſes Power in Favour of Weakneſs, or Wealth oppoſes Wealth in Favour of Poverty. But we will ſee what may be done. Mean while, let Mr. Homely proceed in his Nar⯑rative.

When my Family, continued Homely, were thus turned out of Doors. An old Follower made way for them in his own Cottage, and retired with his Wife and Daughter to a Cow-houſe hard by. Mean while my loving Neighbours ſupplied them with ſufficient Bedding, and daily kept them in Victuals, even more than they could eat.

While I went ſlowly to ſee them, ſtop⯑ping, and turning every Minute toward our old Habitation; all the Horrors of our Situation flew upbraidingly in my Face: And I accuſed myſelf as the Robber and Murderer of eight Perſons, for any One of whom I would have ſpent my Life.

When I ſtooped to enter their lowly Roof, all trembling and ſick at Heart, I expected to meet nothing but Faces of Averſion and Expreſſions of Reproach. But, when they all ſet up a Shout of Joy at my Appearance; when they All crowded [184]claſping and clinging about me; the Vio⯑lence and Diſtraction of my inward Emo⯑tion deprived me of Senſation, and I ſwooned away.

When I revived, I caſt a Look about me, and perceived that their Grief had been as extreme, as their Joy was at my Arrival. Ah, my Peggy, I cried, how have I undone You! By you, I got all my Poſſeſſions, and, in Return, I have deprived You of All that you poſſeſſed. You were every Bleſſing to me, and I have repaid you with nothing but Miſery and Ruin.

Don't be concerned, My Love, ſays ſhe; neither repine at the Conſequences of your own Goodneſs and Honeſty. You are not as God to ſee into all Hearts; the Wiſeſt may be deceived; and the Beſt, as I believe, are the moſt ſubject to be impoſed upon. Common Charity muſt have ſuppoſed that there could not be ſuch a Soul as Sir Free⯑ſtone upon Earth. But be of good Courage, my Huſband, I have good News for you. I dreamed that our dear Father appeared to me laſt Night. Don't be diſheartened, my Child, ſays he; bear the Croſs that is laid upon. You, with a chearful and free Will, and All ſhall be reſtored to You ſe⯑ven fold upon Earth, and ſeventy ſeven fold in the Life that has no ending.

[185] When I found that my Peggy, inſtead of Diſtaſte and Upbraiding, had nothing but Love in her Looks and Conſolation in her Expreſſions; I folded her to my Bo⯑ſom, and to my Soul that went to meet her, and I would willingly have made her One with my own Being.

My Neighbours were not as Birds of the Seaſon. They neither deſpiſed nor forſook me becauſe of my Poverty. They came crowding to condole with me. They adviſed me to apply to the Law againſt Sir Freeſtone and Attorney Snack; and they offered to contribute towards my Journey. They alſo joined in this written Teſtimony of my Character and proſperous Circum⯑ſtances, before Snack made his Seizure. And Two of them have witneſſed in this bit of Paper that, when the Alarm came of Mr. Kindly's Death, and of a ſtrange Agent's being put in his room, they heard my ſay that I did not matter the worſt he could do; and ſaw me count down twenty Pieces over and above my Year's Rent.

The late Frights and Fatigues which Peggy underwent during Snack's Operati⯑ons; together with her Extremes of Joy on my Return, and of Grief at the Fit into which I had fallen, haſtened on her Labour; and She was delivered, before her Time, of [186]that weakly little Babe whom I buried this Morning.

Within ſix Weeks after her Child-Birth, we prepared for our Journey. Our Neigh⯑bours, like the good Samaritan, had Com⯑paſſion upon him who fell among the Thieves. They made me up a Purſe of thirty and five Pounds, and promiſed to contribute further toward the carrying on of my Suit.

We travelled happily by eaſy Journeys of a few Miles a Day, till, nine Days ago, we reached a ſmall Village the other Side of St. Albans. There we took up our Reſt, for the Night, at a Houſe that had no Sign, but ſet occaſional Lodgings and ſold. Bread and ſmall Drink.

As I deſired a ſeparate Apartment for ourſelves, we were put into a kind of waſte Room, that had no Faſtening to the Door except a Latch. After a ſlender Supper, we lay down on our Floor Beds, and I ſtuff⯑ed my Breeches cloſe under my Head with all poſſible Caution. We had made an ex⯑traordinary Journey that Day, and I was particularly fatigued by carrying ſeveral of my tired Children ſucceſſively in my Arms; ſo that we All ſlept but too ſoundly, and when I awoke in the Morning, neither Money nor Breeches were to be found.

[187] Such a Loſs, at another time, would have been as nothing to me. But, in our preſent Circumſtances, it was a Repetition and Doubling of All that we had loſt be⯑fore. I inſtantly ſummoned the People of the Houſe, and, in a good deal of Warmth, charged our Landlord with the Felony, telling him that I had been robbed of above three and thirty Pounds. Why, Maſter, ſays he, I know of nothing to the contrary, but it would be very hard, indeed, if I was to be anſwerable for the Honeſty of every One who goes this Road. If you had gi⯑ven your Money in charge to me, I would have been accountable for it. I believe, by the Grief You are in, that You muſt have been Loſers; I will therefore forgive you your Reckoning, and give you a Pair of Breeches of my own into the Bargain; but this is all I will do, till the Law forces me.

As there was no Remedy, at leaſt for the preſent, I accepted his Overture and ſet out. But, O Sir, it is impoſſible to deſcribe the Horrors of my Soul, as I ſilently ſtepped along, caſting an Eye of mingled Pity and Deſpair upon my Chil⯑dren. I curſed in ſecret my own Exiſtence, and wiſhed for ſome ſudden Thunderbolt to cruſh me into Nothing. All Truſt in God or his Providence had now wholly for⯑ſaken me, and I looked upon him as ne⯑glecting [188]all other Objects of his Wrath, and exerting his Omnipotence againſt me and Mine alone.

Peggy, as I ſuppoſe, perceived how it was with me, and kept behind awhile, that ſhe might give way to the preſent Tumult and Diſtemper of my Mind. At length, hoping to adminiſter ſome Matter of Com⯑fort to me, ſhe came up and ſilently put a few Shillings into my Hand, ſaying, Cou⯑rage, my dear Huſband, All cannot be loſt while we have a God who is infinitely rich to depend upon. Ay, ſaid I, theſe are the Fruits of your Dreams, theſe are Your promiſed Bleſſings that Heaven had in Store for us. And ſtill has in Store, ſhe replied; the ſame Hand that holds the Rod holds the comforting Staff alſo. Tell me not of Comfort, I cried, I ſee that the Face of God is ſet in Blackneſs and Blaſting againſt me. But, for me it matters not, had he not taken me at an Advantage. He ſees that I have eight Lives, All dearer than my Own, and he is determined to kill me in every One of them.

Do not caſt from you, my Love, ſhe ſaid, the only Crutch that the World and the Wretched have to reſt upon. God is pleaſed, perhaps, to take all human Means from us, that he may ſhew forth the Won⯑ders of his Power in our Relief. While [189]any other Hope is left, we are apt to truſt to that Hope, and we look not toward the ſecret Hand by which we are fed and ſup⯑ported; but, when All is loſt, All gone, when no other Stay is left, ſhould ſudden Mercy come upon us, our Comforter then becomes viſible, He ſtands revealed in his Greatneſs and Glory before us, and we are compelled to cry out, with unbelieving Thomas, My Lord, and my God!

Though theſe pious Expoſtulations of my dearly beloved Preacher had little In⯑fluence, at the time, for appeaſing my own Paſſions, I was yet pleaſed that my Peggy had her ſecret Conſolations, but little ima⯑gined that her Prophecy approached ſo near to its Completion.

For two Days we held on, living on ſuch Bread and Milk, as we could purchaſe at the Cabbins that had the Charity to receive us. But my Boy, who was on the Breaſt, grew exceeding ſick; ſo we were obliged to ſhorten our Journeys, for the two ſuc⯑ceeding Days, partly begging and partly paying for ſuch Victuals as we could pro⯑cure. Toward Evening we came within Sight of this Town. Our little Money was quite exhauſted, and our Child grown too ill to bear further Travel. So, I looked about, and perceived ſome roofleſs Walls that ſtood off from the Highway, and [190]thither we turned and took up our bleak Abode.

For the three following Days I frequented the Road, and by begging procured what ſcantily kept my Family from periſhing. Mean time, my Spirit was tamed and ſub⯑dued by the Habit of Mortification; and I looked up to Heaven and cried, Pardon, Pardon, O my God, the Offences and Blaſphemies of my Murmurings againſt You! You formerly bleſſed me with an over Abundance of Bleſſings, and that too for a long Seaſon; and, as Job juſtly ſays, ſhall we receive Good at the Hand of God and not receive Evil?—O Friend, and Saviour of Sinners! if thou loveſt whom thou chaſteneſt, and receiveſt Thoſe whom thou doſt ſcourge; when Death ſhall have put a Period to the Sufferings of Mortality; may I not humbly look to find Grace at the Footſtool of the Throne of thy Mercy-Seat?

At length our Child died this Morning, and we buried him in our Hovel, and watered his Grave with the Tears that we ſhed for him and for Each-Other. The reſt, Sir, you know, till this Angel of God was ſent, to accompliſh the Prediction of my Peggy in all its Fulneſs.

[191] Here Homely concluded; and, after a Pauſe and a deep Sigh, Mr. Fenton de⯑manded, Have you told me the Whole of your Hiſtory, Mr. Homely? I have, ſo pleaſe your Honour, through every Parti⯑cular of any Signification.—I am ſorry for it. Pray think again. Did you never meet with any Adventure that is yet un⯑recited? did you never ſave any Perſon at your own Peril?—No, Sir—O, now I recollect.

Some two or three and twenty Years ago, as I fled from the Bailiffs who purſued me, as I told you, for the Bail of my Bro⯑ther, I came to the River Avon. The Flood was great and rapid after the late Rains, and I thought of looking for a Place of ſmoother Water for my Paſſage, when a Gentleman and Lady, attended by a Train of Servants, came riding along the Banks. As they rode, chatting and laughing, a Fowler, who was concealed in a Copſe juſt at Hand, let fly at a Bird; whereupon, the fiery Horſe, that the Gentleman was on, took Fright, and, with a Bound, ſud⯑denly plunged into the Current; whereat the Lady gave a loud Shriek, and fell ſenſeleſs to the Ground. The Horſe roſe without his Rider, and ſwam down the Stream. Soon after, the Rider appeared, and the Attendants were divided between [192]their Care of the Lady and their Lamenta⯑tions for their Maſter on the Edge of the Bank. Then, ſeeing no other Help, my Heart ſmote me, and I caſt myſelf in with⯑out Reflection. I kept aloof, however, for fear he ſhould grapple at me and ſink us both together. So, I ſupported and ſhov⯑ed him before me toward Land, till, hav⯑ing reached the Bank, I laid hold on it with one Hand, and with the other raiſed him up within the Reach of his Servants, who had ſtretched themſelves flat upon the Brink to receive him. Then, being alrea⯑dy drenched, and having nothing further to do, I turned and ſwam over, and ſo made my Eſcape.

Did you aſk the Name of the Party, whom you ſaved in the Manner you ſay? No truly, Sir, there was no Leiſure for ſuch an Enquiry.—Why did you not wait for the Recompenſe that was ſo juſtly your Due for ſo great a Deliverance?—Recom⯑penſe? pleaſe your Honour, I could have done no leſs for the Beggar who begs at the Corner.

Noble, noble Fellow! exclaimed Mr. Fenton, I am he, I am he whom you ſaved that Day, my Brother!—And ſo ſaying, he aroſe, and caught Homely in his Arms, and preſſed, and preſſed him over again to his Boſom. While Harry, all impatient, [193]ſeized hold of Homely alſo, and ſtruggled hard to get him to himſelf from his Fa⯑ther.

When they were ſomething compoſed, and All again ſeated. Ah, Homely, ſays Mr. Fenton, I have ſent and made many Enquiries after You; but, not for many Years after the Day in which you ſaved me. I hated, I loathed you for having prolong⯑ed my Life to ſuch a Miſery as no other Man ever endured. O—h, that Lady, that Lady!—But, no Matter for the preſent—(and, ſo ſaying, he wiped the ſwelling Tear from his Eye.)—Tell me, Homely.—That Devil, Sir Freeſtone!—I am not of a malicious Temper, and yet I wiſh for nothing more than full Ven⯑geance on his Head.—Don't you believe that he went to You, with a felonious In⯑tention of defrauding you of your Proper⯑ty?—Believe it, Sir? I can ſwear it. The Circumſtances and their Conſequences are full Evidence thereof.

Very well, ſaid Mr. Fenton, though we may not be able to carry a civil Action againſt him; we may aſſail him with bet⯑ter Advantage in a criminal Way. I will draw up and take your Depoſition, my⯑ſelf; and, to-morrow, I will ſend you with a Note to Lord Portland, where more may be done for you, my Homely, than you think.

[194] In the mean time, You and your Fami⯑ly ſhall take up your Abode in the back Part of my Houſe, and from thence You ſhall not depart till, as your Peggy's Dream has it, all your Loſſes ſhall be reſtored to You ſevenfold upon Earth; what your Portion may be in Heaven muſt be your own Care, and may the Spirit of Grace guide You in the Way you ſhould go.

Early the next Morning, Mr. Fenton ſent Homely to London with his Depoſition and ſeveral Papers, accompanied by a Let⯑ter from himſelf to Lord Portland. In the Evening Homely returned, and, entering with a Face of Triumph, he ſeized Mr. Fenton's Hand, and eagerly kiſſing it, Bleſſ⯑ed, bleſſed be the Hand, he cried, that hath the Power of God, among Men, for good Works. When I ſent in your Ho⯑nour's Letter, I was not detained a Mo⯑ment. His Lordſhip made me ſit down, peruſed my Papers with Attention, queſ⯑tioned me on the Particulars, grew en⯑flamed againſt Sir Freeſtone, and gave him two or three hearty Curſes for an exe⯑crable Villain. He then called a Gentle⯑man to him who was in waiting, and or⯑dered an Attachment to be inſtantly iſſued againſt the Knight. It was accordingly executed upon him, and he now lies in [195]Newgate. God be praiſed! ſaid Mr. Fen⯑ton, ſo far there is Equity ſtill extant upon Earth.

It is not unnatural to ſuppoſe that Mr. Fenton's Family were immoderately fond of Thoſe, whoſe Father had ſaved the Life of their moſt dear Maſter. Mr. Clement, in particular, took Pains and Pleaſure in for⯑warding the Boys in their Letters; and Mrs. Clement paſſed moſt of her Time very happily with Peggy and her little Girls.

Frank, the Butler, had been abroad up⯑on an Expedition, at the time that Mr. Homely's Family arrived; and did not re⯑turn till Homely had come back from Lord Portland's. He was then informed, with Joy, of the Gueſts they had got; and he waited with Impatience, till the Man he longed to ſee ſhould come out from his Maſter. As ſoon as he appeared, he catch⯑ed one of his Hands in both of his, and, looking lovingly at him, cried, Do I once more behold that happy Face, Mr. Homely? I was the Man to whoſe Hands you deli⯑vered my precious Lord from the devouring of the Floods. Gladly, Heaven knows, would I have ſacrificed my own Life for the Salvation of his. But, alas! I had no Skill in contending with the Waters, and the ſure Loſs of my own Life would not have given the ſmalleſt Chance for the Recovery [196]of my Maſter. You are the Perſon, Mr. Homely, to whom God committed that bleſſed Taſk and Truſt. And Mr. James, and I, and all of us have agreed to make up a hundred Pound, apiece, for your Children, in Acknowledgment of the Bene⯑fit you did us on that Day.

Here, Homely took Frank very affectio⯑nately into his Arms, and, with a faulter⯑ing Voice, ſaid, Your Offer, Sir, is dear, very dear, indeed, unto me, as it is a Proof of that Love which you All ſo warmly bear to our common Lord and Maſter. If there is any Occaſion, I will not refuſe this extraordinary Inſtance of your Benevo⯑lence; but, our Maſter's Influence and Bounty are doing much in my Behalf. And, in the mean time, I will take it as a very particular Favour, if you will be pleaſ⯑ed to introduce me to my Fellow-Servants of this Houſe.

Within the following Fortnight, a Ser⯑vant came, on a foaming Horſe, and in a golden Livery, delivered a Letter at the Door, and rode away directly.

The Letter ran thus:

The Day following Mr. Fenton ſent Har⯑ry, in his Chariot, attended by Mr. James and two Servants in Livery, to return his Acknowledgments to the Favourite of the King.

[198] Lord Portland received our Hero with Pleaſure and Surpriſe equally evident in his Countenance. As he, unknowingly, piqued himſelf on being One of the fineſt Perſo⯑nages in the Nation, he ſecretly reſpected his own Reſemblance in Another.

After a few mutual Compliments and ſome occaſional Diſcourſe, the Earl told Harry that he muſt take a private Dinner with him. We are quite alone, ſays he, only two Viſcounts, a Baronet, and four or five Gentlemen of the Miniſterial Quill. Pray, my Lord, ſaid Harry ſmiling, is a Dinner the whole of their Penſion? Not ſo, Sir, I confeſs; they are the Swiſs of the letter'd World, and fight for Pay. They were formerly of the oppoſite Junto; but they have changed their Opinions along with their Party; and our Honour obliges us to give them at leaſt as much in the Cauſe of the Crown, as they formerly got in the Cauſe of the Populace. I doubt, my Lord, returned Harry, that their Si⯑lence would anſwer your Ends, full as well as their Oratory, unleſs your Treaſury could hold out in bribing People to read alſo. Very pleaſantly ſevere, indeed, replied the laughing Earl. But come, the Bell calls us to our Bit.

[199] When Dinner was over, and Cheer cir⯑culating with the Bottle, I would give a good deal to know, Maſter Fenton, ſaid the Earl, what you and your Father think of his Majeſty and his Miniſters? Should I ſpeak my downright Sentiments, my Lord, anſwered Harry, in ſome Things I might offend, and in Others appear to flatter. O, you cannot offend, in the leaſt, cried the Earl; we are daily accuſtomed to be told of all the Faults, whereof we are, or may be, or might have been guil⯑ty; and, as to Flattery, you know it is the Food of us Courtiers. Why, my Lord, you want no Champion, for the preſent, ſaid Harry; You are All, as I perceive, on one Side of the Queſtion; and if ſome One does not appear, however impotent to oppoſe You, the Shuttlecock of Converſa⯑tion may fall to the Ground. Right, very right, my ſweet Fellow, rejoined his Lord⯑ſhip; proceed, you ſhall have nothing but fair Play, I promiſe you.

To be ſerious then, ſaid Harry, my Fa⯑ther thinks, in the firſt Place, (for I have no Manner of Skill in ſuch Matters) he thinks, I ſay, that his Majeſty is one of the greateſt Warriors and One of the wiſeſt Stateſmen that ever exiſted. He thinks, however, that he has Attachments and Views that look ſomething further than [200]the mere Intereſts of the People by whom he has been elected; but he ſays that thoſe Views ought, in a Meaſure, to be indulg⯑ed, in return of the very great Benefits that he has done us. He is, therefore, grieved to find that his Majeſty has met with ſo much Reluctance and Coldneſs from a Nation ſo obliged.

You are a Darling of a Politician, ex⯑claimed the Earl; but we will not thank you for your Compliments, till we know what you have further to object againſt us.

My Father admits, my Lord, that his Majeſty and his Miniſters have re-eſta⯑bliſhed and exhibited, in fair and open Light, the moſt glorious Conſtitution that ever was conſtructed. But then, he appre⯑hends that You are beginning to ſap the Foundations of the Pile that You, your⯑ſelves, erected.

As how, my dear young Mentor? By being over bounteous in paying former Friends, and by being ſtill more profuſe in procuring new Adherents.—Child of Honour, cried the Earl; Another, leſs ele⯑gant than yourſelf, would have ſaid that we are ſapping the Conſtitution by Bribery and Corruption. You have, indeed, my Harry, delicately tempered your Admoni⯑tions, [201]even like the Cup of Life, the Sweets with the Bitters. But, what ſay You, Gentlemen, ſhall a Babe, lately from the Breaſt, bear away the whole Palm from People grown grey in Politicks?

The young Gentleman, ſays Mr. Veer (the Principal of the Court-Writers) talks wonderfully for One not verſed in the Sub⯑ject of which he treats. The People of England are ſtupidly proud and licentiouſ⯑ly ungovernable; they are the moſt ignorant and yet moſt obſtinate of any People upon Earth; it is only by their being ſelfiſh that they become in any Degree manageable; if their Voices were not bought, they would either give them to Perſons of their own ſtupid Caſt, unknowing in our Laws or our Conſtitution, or to Men of an anti⯑monarchal and republican Spirit, who would be perpetually putting Rubs before the Wheels of good Government.

I never knew, till now, Sir, returned Harry, that, in order to make People true to their Country and their King, that is, in order to make Men honeſt, it was ne⯑ceſſary to corrupt them. But I have ſtill good Hopes that the Picture, which you have drawn of our Governors, is not alto⯑gether a juſt One.

[202] Governors? cries Veer, I ſpoke not a Word of Governors. You ſpoke of the People, Sir, ſays Harry, and they, as I take it, are our Governors. The People our Governors! this is the moſt wonderful and the neweſt Doctrine that ever I hear'd, A Doctrine even as old as the Conſtitution, rejoins Harry: They are not only our Go⯑vernors, but more abſolutely ſo than Any ſo ſtiled. His Lordſhip is the only Man in Company whoſe Perſon, in ſome In⯑ſtances, is exempt from their Juriſdiction; but his Property remains ſtill ſubjected to their Deciſion.

No Law can be made in Britain but by the People, in their Proxies. And when thoſe Laws are made, the People are again conſtituted the Judges thereof on their Jury-Tribunals, throughout their reſpective Shires; as alſo Judges of Facts and Rights, whether civil or criminal, throughout the Realm.

Thus, their Privilege of making Laws for themſelves in PARLIAMENT, and of judging of the ſaid Laws (when made) on JURIES, compoſes, as it were, a Rudder, whereby the People are admitted (gloriouſ⯑ly) to ſteer the Veſſel of their own Com⯑mon-Wealth.

[203] Would it not be a Pity then that ſo great a People ſhould be no Other than Such as Mr. Veer has deſcribed them, a Parcel of ignorant, licentious, ſelfiſh, baſe, venal Proſtitutes, unenlightened by Reaſon and uninfluenced by Conſcience?

If they ſhould be reduced, if it is poſſi⯑ble, I ſay, that they ſhould ever be reduced to ſo very vile and deplorable a State, it can only be by the very Meaſures that Mr. Veer has recommended. The Character, as ye know, of a certain old Tempter is not over amiable, and I ſhould be ſorry that Any, whom I love and reſpect, ſhould follow in his Steps.

And now, Gentlemen, take the Argu⯑ment home to yourſelves. The People have the Diſpoſal of our Lives, Liberties, and Properties. Which of You then would like to have Life itſelf and all that is valuable in it, at the Arbitration of a Pack of Wretches who, being wholly ſel⯑fiſh, can have no kindred Feelings or Com⯑paſſion for You? Who being, themſelves, devoid of Honour and Equity, cannot judge according to the One or the Other; who, being already accuſtomed to Influence and Proſtitution, have their Ears and Hands open to All who would whiſper or bribe them to your Prejudice?

[204] I, as a Fool, Gentlemen, utter the Dic⯑tates of Wiſdom, for I ſpeak the Senti⯑ments of a much wiſer and much better Man than myſelf. Should a general Cor⯑ruption take Place in the Land, adieu to all Virtue; adieu to Humanity and all ſocial Connections! all Reaſon and Law, all Con⯑ſcience and Magiſtracy, all public and private Weal, muſt vaniſh or be confound⯑ed in one Chaos together. And, from hence it is ſelf-evident that He, who de⯑bauches the Morals of the Leaſt of his Majeſty's Subjects, is an Enemy to his King, to his Country and Mankind.

I proteſt, ſaid his Lordſhip, with ſome little Confuſion, I never beheld this Matter in the ſame Light before; but I ſhall take Care to inſpect and examine it at better Leiſure.

Here the Company roſe to ſeparate; when Harry, ſtepping toward Veer with an affectionate Pleaſantry in his Counte⯑nance; Mr. Veer, ſays he, I fear I have miſbehaved a little to Day, I am naturally warm, and am apt to be too much ſo on particular Subjects. O Sir, ſays Veer, I am an old Prizefighter, and accuſtomed to Cuts; but I now know my Man, and ſhall hereafter avoid engaging, or keep barely on [205]the Defenſive; do me the Honour, how⯑ever, as old Combatants were wont, to ſhake Hands, at parting, in Token of Hearts free from Malice. In the Conteſt of Love, Mr. Veer, you never ſhall foil me, cried Harry.

Now, my Lord, if you have any Com⯑mands for my Father, pray let me have the Pleaſure of being your Meſſenger. Upon my Honour, my dear Boy, and that is the Oath of a Lord, you ſhall not part me, for this Night at leaſt. My Father, Sir, will be uneaſy. I will diſpatch One to him directly; I have particular Deſigns upon you; you muſt with me to the Levee; I cannot refuſe myſelf the Pleaſure of in⯑troducing you to his Majeſty; I expect to get Credit by you. I rather fear, my Lord, that I may do you ſome Diſgrace.

O, cried the Earl, you think you are not fine enough. Why, truly, you will ſee Folk there, of much more luſtrous Attire. But, let Others diſgrace their Or⯑naments; be you humbly content, my Child, with adorning your Dreſs. Harry bluſhed and bowed.

When they arrived at Court, the Earl left his young Friend awhile in the Levee-Room, and went to impart ſome Matters to the King in his Cloſet.

[206] While our Hero ſtood in the Crowd, ſome One came and, with Birdlime, ſtuck a Paper to his Back, whereon was written in capital Letters, THE FOOL.

However, it did not remain long enough to do him much Diſgrace. A young Gen⯑tleman, of a graceful Figure and very amiable Aſpect, preſſed cloſe behind Harry, and gently ſtole the Writing away; then, taking him by the Hand, requeſted to ſpeak with him apart.

I wonder, Sir, ſaid the Stranger, who it was that could be ſo malicious, or ſo baſe as to faſten this Title on your Back; I am certain he muſt never have ſeen your Face. O Sir, ſaid Harry, bluſhing and ſmiling together, this muſt have been the Office of ſome old Acquaintance; it is the Title to which I have been accuſtomed from my Infancy; and I am well contented to carry it with me to the Grave; I am much affected, Sir, however, by this un⯑common Inſtance of your Humanity to an Unknown; pray add to the Obligation by letting me know to whom it is that I am ſo endearingly bound.

My Name, Sir, is William Thornhill. I am juſt arrived from my Travels; and I would willingly go my long Journey over [207]again to become juſt ſuch another Fool as you are.

Harry ſeized him by the Hand, and gave him at once the Squeeze and the Look of Love.—Sir William Thornhill, I preſume?—The Same, my dear Sir—I have been enamoured of your Character before I ſaw You, Sir William. My Name is Harry Fenton; I live on Hamſtead Hill; I ſee that your Pleaſure lies in communi⯑cating Pleaſure, I am therefore perſuaded you will indulge me with a Call, at ſome leiſure Hour—I will not defer that Ad⯑vantage a ſingle Day—I ſhall have the Lougings of a Lover, till you arrive.

Here the King entered, and all Con⯑verſe was broken off. Lord Portland, looking about, diſcovered Harry, and, tak⯑ing him by the Hand, led him up and left him ſtanding before his Majeſty. Then, approaching the royal Ear, may it pleaſe you, Sire, ſays he, this is the Son of the Gentleman who advanced us two hundred thouſand Pounds on our Expedition from Holland.

The King turned to Harry with a ſolemn and piercing Look; and, having eyed him for ſome Time, he again turned to the Earl and cried; Ay, Portland, this is Something, this, indeed, is a Gem fit to ſet [208]in the Crown of a Monarch. He then reached forth his Hand, and while our Hero ſtooped to kiſs it, He preſſed Harry's Shoulder with his other Hand.

My dear Child, ſaid the King, we are much obliged to your Father. You, by Inheritance, are attached to our Crown, and you may juſtly demand whatever we can beſtow. We humbly thank Your Ma⯑jeſty, anſwer'd Harry, we only claim the Privilege of ſerving you with all our Hearts and all our Powers.

What Poſt would you chooſe, my Dear, in the Army, or in the Court? indeed, I ſhould beſt like to have You about my own Perſon. That is the Pitch to which I aſ⯑pire, anſwered Harry, as ſoon as I am ca⯑pable of ſo high a Duty.

But, why have you been ſuch a Stranger, ſaid the King; had we ſeen you before, I think we ſhould not have forgot you. O Sire, ſaid Harry, I am but as a Bird from the Neſt, and this is the firſt of my unfledg⯑ed Excurſions. If a Bird, cried the King, it muſt be a young Eagle. Not ſo, Sire, anſwered Harry, I ſhould then better ſup⯑port the Brightneſs of the Sun that is now before me.—I would give one of my King⯑doms that you were my Son!—I am al⯑ready One of Millions of happy Sons and [209]Daughters who have the Glory of calling You their royal Father!

So ſaying, our Hero bowed twice, and drew back; while the King looked toward him, in Silence and Wonder.

After ſome Talk with his Courtiers, his Majeſty retired. And Lord Portland took Harry, and was followed by a Number of the young Gentry, to the Ball-Room.

There the Queen, at the upper End, was ſeated under a Canopy, her Maids of Honour attending, and two brilliant Ranges of Foreign and Britiſh Ladies, were ſeated on either Hand.

The Earl gave a Whiſper to the Maſter of the Ceremonies, and he immediately led Harry up to the Preſence, where he had the Honour of kiſſing Queen Mary's fair Hand.

After ſome whiſpering Chat between her Majeſty and Lord Portland, the Ball was ordered to be opened by our Hero and the lovely young Princeſs of Heſſe.

All Eyes were fixed upon them, with Attention ſtill as Night, while they moved like Homer's Gods, without ſeeming to preſs the Ground; or like a Miſt, before [210]the Breeze, along the Side of ſome ſtately Hill.

As ſoon as the Minuet was cloſed, the Princeſs ſaid ſoftly to Harry, in French, the Louvre, Sir, if you pleaſe.

This was a Dance of the neweſt Faſhion, and was calculated to ſhew forth and ex⯑hibit a graceful Perſon in all the poſſible Elegances of Movement and Attitude.

As ſoon as they had finiſhed, the whole Aſſembly could ſcarce refrain from break⯑ing forth in loud Plaudits, as at the pub⯑lic Theatre; and a Humming of mixed Voices and patting Feet was heard through⯑out.

When Harry had led the Princeſs to her Seat, and left her with a Bow of the moſt expreſſive Reſpect, He looked about for ſome Lady whom he might chooſe in Succeſſion; and, ſpying Lady Louiſa Bottom at the oppoſite Side, he ſtepped toward her, and, bending, gracefully offered to lead her forth.

She gave him her Hand, tremblingly, and whiſpered, as ſhe roſe, You are a great Stranger, Sir, but we deſerve you ſhould be ſo, ſince we did not treat you with the Reſpect that your Merit ſhould [211]have commanded. That, Madam, an⯑ſwered Harry, is not wholly the Cauſe of my Diſtance; but, there are Perſons whoſe Lovelineſs is more formidable to me, than an Arrangement of ſabred Huſſars with their fierce looking Muſtaches.

Harry had no ſooner ſaid this than his Heart ſmote him with Remorſe; for, though Louiſa was indeed lovely, and that he felt for her the Propenſities and Tenderneſs of a Brother; yet, She was not of that Spe⯑cies of Beauty that was formed to fix his Heart: And he ſecretly reproached him⯑ſelf for having attempted to raiſe the Vani⯑ty, or draw the Affections of an innocent Girl, with no further View than of making a Parade of his own Talents; a Meaſure, he juſtly judged, unbecoming a Man of a Spark of Honour or Integrity.

When Harry had finiſhed, and left Louiſa on the Floor; the Maſter of the Ceremo⯑nies honoured Sir William Thornhill with her Hand; and, after four or five more Mi⯑nuets by the younger Folk, the Parties were appointed and paired for Country Dances; except young Lord Bottom, who refuſed to ſtep forth, and ſat apart, rumi⯑nating and feeding on his own Cogitations.

The Princeſs and our Hero led up the Dance, and Louiſa and Sir William were [212]appointed the next in Courſe, in order to do the principal Honours to the two young Strangers.

As ſoon as the Dances were ended, and that All had mixed, and chatted, and roved about awhile, Harry obſerved Sir William coming toward him in a little Fluſter. What is the Matter, my Friend, ſays Harry, pray what has diſcompoſed you?—Tell me, my dear Harry, that Jackanapes in the Blue and Gold, do you know who he is? I proteſt, had it not been for the Re⯑ſpect I owe the Preſence, I would have chaſtiſed him on the Spot. The Dance was no ſooner done, than he came up with a moſt provoking Saucineſs in his Look. I wonder, Sir, ſaid he, at the Inſolence of One of your Rank; you ought to have had more Modeſty than to ſuffer yourſelf to be paired with a Lady ſo far above You.

O, cried Harry, taking Sir William very lovingly under the Arm, paſs this Matter over, my ſweet Friend, I beſeech you. That is young Lord Bottom, the very Per⯑ſon who, I'm pretty confident, contrived the honour of the Paſquinade on my Back this Day. But, he is Brother to the ſweet Girl with whom you danced. For her Sake, for my Sake, forgive him, I entreat you; but, above all, forgive him for the Sake of [213]his dear Father the Earl of Mansfield, One of the nobleſt Nobles, and One of the wor⯑thieſt Men that ever ſtept on Engliſh Ground. He has been, theſe two Years paſt, abroad upon an Embaſſy; and, while he is promoting the Intereſts of the Public, has left his own Houſhold unchaſtened and unguided.

Here, the Converſe of the Friends was ſuddenly broken off. The Maſter of the Ceremonies came and, tapping Harry on the Shoulder, told him that the Queen de⯑ſired to ſpeak with him.

When he had, with a lowly Reverence, advanced to the Throne; You are, ſaid the Queen, the moſt accompliſhed Cavalier that ever I beheld; and, had I ſufficient Youth and Beauty, I would chooſe You for my Knight to bear my Fame through the World. I would rather, ſaid Harry, that your Majeſty would employ me on ſome more dangerous Enterprize. How is that, ſaid the Queen? Why, anſwered Harry, your Majeſty's Champion could have little or nothing to do, as All would willingly ac⯑knowledge the Juſtice of his Cauſe.

You are, cryed the Queen, the lovelieſt and the ſweeteſt Fellow I ever knew. My Eye has followed you all along, and marked [214]You for my Own, and I muſt either beg or ſteal You from our good Friend your Father. I, therefore, want no Token to put me in mind of You, but You may want ſome Token to keep your Friends in your Memory. Here are two Pictures; the One is the Portrait of our Maſter and ſovereign Lord, juſtly enriched with Dia⯑monds to the value of ſome Thouſands. The Other is the Picture of the Woman who ſits before you, lowly, ſimple, and unadorned; chooſe which you pleaſe.

Give me the plain Picture, cried Harry, with a kind of Rapture, it ſhall henceforth become my Riches and my Ornament.

So ſaying, he bent his Knee, and, tak⯑ing the little Portrait, he preſſed it to his Lips with the Ardour of an ancient Lover in Romance. Then, putting it into his Boſom, he gracefully roſe; made three re⯑tiring Bows, and went from the Preſence.

O, The Fool, the egregious Fool! mut⯑tered Some. Nobly, moſt nobly done, cried Others!

As Harry was following the Earl of Port⯑land through the Palace-Gate, Lord Bottom came up with the Crowd and, in a half Whiſper, ſaid; You are too great a Man [215]to Day, Sir, to acknowledge your old Ac⯑quaintance. But not ſo great a FOOL, re⯑torted Harry, as not to be taught my Diſ⯑tance with Thoſe who, like Lord Bottom, have a Right to look down upon me.

After a ſhort but ſound Sleep, Harry hurried Home to prepare for the Reception of his new Friend. He told Mr. Fenton that Sir William was returned; how he had been obligingly made known to him in the forementioned Inſtance of his Humani⯑ty to a Stranger; and that he had promiſed to be with them that Morning. But, pray Sir, don't tell Homely a Word of the com⯑ing of his Landlord, till we place them, as it were by Surprize, Face to Face.

In about an Hour after, a Chaiſe and Four came rapidly to the Door; and Harry inſtantly ſprung out, and caught his Friend in his Arms before he came to the Ground.

The two Friends entered the Parlour, careſſing and careſſed, and caſting Looks of cordial Love and Delight on Each-Other. My Father, Sir, ſaid Harry, and led Sir William by the Hand to Mr. Fenton, who received him with a Countenance of that Heart-ſpeaking Complaiſance, which never fails to attach the Soul of the Perſon to whom it is directed. Ah, my Harry, cri⯑ed Sir William, I no longer wonder at [216]You; I ſee that You are All, that you are, by Inheritance.

But Sir, continued he, You had like to have loſt your Son, laſt Night. Their Majeſties were moſt unwilling to quit their Hold of him, and, I believe in my Soul, would willingly have adopted him the Heir of their Crown. I ſhould be very ſorry, Sir William, replied Mr. Fenton, to ſee a Circle about his Head, that would give him an aching Heart. I am ſure that is the Caſe with the preſent royal Proprie⯑tors. In a limited Monarchy like ours, the Station of the Prince is looked upon with a malignant Eye by the Envious, and, at the ſame Time, rendered uneaſy by the perpetual Conteſts, between Rights and Pri⯑vileges, on the one Part, and Prerogative on the Other.

Moreover, Sir William, I ſhall never wiſh to ſee One, of my Child's Diſpoſition, on the Throne of Great-Britain. I ſhould be jealous of ſuch a Perſon, in Behalf of my Country. No People could be more tenacious of their Liberties than the Swedes, till Guſtavus, the Son of Erie, aſcended the Throne. His Manners were ſo amiable, his Virtues ſo conſpicuous, his Government ſo juſt, and he made ſo popular a Uſe of all his Powers, that his Subjects thought [217]they could never commit enough into his Hands. But, what was the Conſequence? His Succeſſors made his Power a Prece⯑dent for their Own, without attending to the Precedent of his Adminiſtration.

Thus, you ſee, that a Prince, of Qua⯑lities eminently popular, might prove of dangerous Tendency to a free People, for⯑aſmuch as he might charm the Eyes of their Jealouſy to ſleep, and ſo ſeduce them from that Guard, which is ever neceſſary to preclude the Encroachments of Am⯑bition.

But, Sir William, may we not order your Horſes up? You muſt not think of going till you take a plain Dinner with us. A Supper too, Sir, moſt joyfully, anſwer⯑ed the Knight. I leave London in the Morning, on a certain Expedition, and ſhall not have the Pleaſure of embracing you again, for ſome time.

Here the Bell was rung, and the Cattle and Carriage diſpoſed of. When Mr. Fen⯑ton thus addreſſed the Baronet, with a Smile. Our Harry here, Sir William, ne⯑ver ſaw a Court, before; it is natural there⯑fore to think that he muſt have been great⯑ly amuſed, and his young Heart deceived by the Splendor and Parade. But you have ſeen, and obſerved upon many Courts, of [218]late; pray what do you think of the En⯑tertainment they afford?

As of the dulleſt of all dull Farces, an⯑ſwered the Knight. All the Courts that I have ſeen are nearly of the ſame Caſt. Conceive to yourſelf, Sir, a Stage or Thea⯑tre of Comedians, without Auditors or Spectators. They are All Actors and all Act, nearly, the ſame Part, of ſolemn Com⯑plaiſance and nauſeous Grimace. Each in⯑tends to impoſe, and yet no One is impo⯑ſed upon; where Profeſſions are taken to imply the very Reverſe of what they ex⯑preſs.

What do you ſay to this, Harry, ſays Mr. Fenton? I have very little to ſay, Sir, in favour of the Actors, but the Actreſſes, as I take it, afford better Entertainment. Here, Sir William and Mr. Fenton, laugh⯑ed; and Harry, upon a Wink, ſtepped out to bring in Homely, as it were by ſtealth.

Sir William, ſaid Mr. Fenton, there is a Man come to this Houſe, who once ſaved my Life at the riſque of his Own. It is a great many Years ago, and I have not ſeen him ſince the Action, till very lately. I have ſent Harry for him, that you may learn the Particulars, and adviſe with me what Recompenſe he ought to receive.

[219] If the Recompenſe is to be proportioned to the Value of the Life he ſaved, my honoured Sir, I ſhould not know where to fix the Bounds of Retribution. And in Truth, Mr. Fenton, from my Knowledge of you this Day, I alſo hold myſelf very highly his Debtor.

At this Inſtant Harry led in Homely by the Hand, and left him ſtanding directly oppoſite to the Baronet.

Homely gazed with all his Eyes, and ſtood mute through Aſtoniſhment.—At length he exclaimed, Bleſs me!—Mercy upon me!—as ſure as I hope for Heaven,—it is—I think it is, my dear young Maſter!

Sir William, at the Voice, lifted up his Eyes to Homely, and, remembering his marked Man, roſe quickly and, ſpringing forward, embraced him with much familiar Affection; while Mr. Fenton ſat, and his Harry ſtood beſide him, Both rapt in their own delicious Senſibilities.

My dear Homely, my old Companion and brother Sportſman! cried Sir William, how in the World comes this about? ſo joyfully, ſo unexpectedly to meet you here! — How is your Wife, and pretty Babes? I hope you left All well at Home.

[220] Yes, pleaſe your Honour, they are All well, wonderfully well in this Houſe, I aſ⯑ſure you; for, indeed, your Homely has no other Home upon Earth.

What you tell me is quite aſtoniſhing, replied the Knight; no Home for you with⯑in the Manor and Demeſne of your Friend? What Misfortunes, what Revolu⯑tions could bring this Wonder to paſs?

Sit down, ſaid Mr. Fenton, pray be ſeated Mr. Homely, and give your Lord a ſuccinct but deliberate Account of the inimitable Pair, Sir Freeſtone and his Coadjutor.

As ſoon as Homely had told his Tale, from the Commencement of his Diſtreſſes to his Arrival at the Hovel, he ſtopped ſhort and ſaid — I have ſomething more to impart, — but I hope your Honour will pardon me, — I am loth to deprive your Friends of your Company; but then my Peggy and my Boys will be ſo tranſported to ſee your dear Face again, that I can't but beſeech you to indulge them, a Minute or two, with that Bleſſing.

Sir William roſe, with a troubled Hu⯑manity in his Countenance, and followed to a back Apartment, where Homely again ſtopped him ſhort; and, before he would take him to his Peggy, he there gave him [221]a minute Detail of all his Obligations to what he called this wonderful Family. But, pray Sir, continued he, let them know very little of what I have told you, for nothing puts them to ſo much pain, as any kind of Acknowledgments.

After a ſhort Viſit to Peggy and her Chil⯑dren, Sir William returned to his Friends, with ſuch an inward Awe and Veneration for their Characters as, for a while, ſunk his Spirits and ſolemnized his Features. This poor Man, Sir, ſaid he, has been mi⯑ſerably treated; but God has been exceed⯑ingly gracious to him, in caſting the Ship⯑wreckt Wretch on ſuch a happy Shore as this. But this makes no Diſcharge of any Part of my Duty toward him.

Mark me, Homely, I am now of Age, and Lord Lechmore has no further Autho⯑rity in my Affairs; wherefore, before I leave this Houſe, I will give you a Letter of At⯑torney for the whole Agency of the Manor. Thank your Honour, thank your Honour, cried Homely, in a Kind of Tranſport! if I do not prove as faithful to you as Another I will do you Juſtice on myſelf with the firſt Rope I can lay hold on.

As for that Reprobate Snack, continued the Knight, I will take Care to be up with him. He owes the Executors of my Fa⯑ther [222]ſix hundred and ſeventy Pounds. I will have that Matter put directly in Suit, and, as ſoon as it is recovered, it ſhall be laid out on a Commiſſion for your Son, my Friend Tom; as I do not chooſe yet to aſk any Favour from the Miniſtry. Laſtly, that you may no more be diſtreſſed for Rent, I will never accept a Penny of it, till all your Children are decently and com⯑petently provided for.

O Sir, exclaimed Homely, I ſhall be too rich, quite overburdened; I ſhall not know where to lay my Treaſures. Not ſo faſt, my good Friend, replied Sir William, ſmil⯑ing; you have not heard of the Draw-back that I propoſe to have upon you. When⯑ever I reſide in the Country, You are to have a hot Diſh, ay and a cool Hogſhead too, ready for me and my Company. A⯑greed, Sir, cried Homely, provided I may have the Liberty, during your Abſence, to drink your Honour's Health out of that ſame Hogſhead. — A juſt Reſerve, ſaid Harry, laughing. — And full as grateful as it is jovial, cried Mr. Fenton. — Why, Gen⯑tlemen, rejoined Homely, a Man of Spirit would ſcorn to accept ſuch Benefits, with⯑out making Conditions.

After twelve o'Clock at Night, and an affectionate and tender Adieu, Sir William ſet out by Moon-light for London.

[223] The two following Days, were employ⯑ed in preparing for Homely's Departure; and a Coach and Four, with a Chaiſe, were provided for the Conveyance of him and his Family.

The Night before their parting, Mr. Fenton deſired that Homely and his Wiſe ſhould be ſent to him to his Cloſet. As ſoon as they entered, he cloſed the Door. My dear Friends, ſaid he, I may not be up in the Morning to take a timely Leave of you, it may do as well to go through that melancholy Office to Night. — Here, Mrs. Homely, here is ſome little Matter, apiece, toward beginning a Fortune for your three pretty Daughters. Pray, Home⯑ly, take Care to have it diſpoſed of for them upon good Securities. Here he put three Orders, upon his Banker, into Peggy's Hand, Each conſiſting of the Value of five hundred Pieces. Then, turning to Homely, and taking him ſtraitly in his Arms, God be with you and your dear Peggy, my Homely, he cried, and give us All a bleſſed Meeting where Friends ſhall part no more!

The diſtreſſed Homely was paſt utter⯑ance; but diſengaging, and flinging him⯑ſelf at the Feet of his Patron, while Peg⯑gy kept on her Knees weeping and ſob⯑bing beſide him; O, he cried, at length, Next to my God, O, next to my Lord [224]and my God! — My Lord, and my Maſ⯑ter, my Maſter and my Lord!

The next Morning, before Sun-riſe, Har⯑ry was up, and, going to Homely's Apart⯑ment, embraced him and his Wife. He then kiſſed and careſſed all the Girls and Boys, round, and gave to each of them a Gold Medal to keep him in their Remem⯑brance.

They then adjourned to the Hall, where they found already gathered, Mr. and Mrs. Clement with their little Dicky, Mr. James, Frank, Andrew and George, with Mrs. Hannah, Suſan, and Sarah, all deplo⯑ring the Departure of their beloved Gueſts. The Carriages were at the Door, and Time preſſed, when Homely and his Peggy, with open Arms, trembling Lips, and ſwelling Eyes, began to take their Leave. Then Homely cried aloud, God be with you, God be with you; never, never, till I get to Heaven, ſhall I meet with ſuch another dear Aſſembly! All then broke aloud into Tears, and Sobbings; while Homely took his weeping Peggy by the Hand; and breaking forth, with a heavy Heart, placed her and his Family in the Carriages: And away they went, though in opulent Circum⯑ſtances, yet with much more oppreſſed Spirits, than when they arrived.

[225] Mr. Fenton now judged it time to for⯑ward his Harry's Education, eſpecially with reſpect to his Knowledge of the World, of the Views, Pleaſures, Manners, Bents, Em⯑ployments, and Characters of Mankind.

For this Purpoſe he propoſed to leave Arabella ſole Regent of his Family. And, for a few Weeks, to ſtay with Clement and Harry in London, there to ſhew him what⯑ever might gratify his Curioſity or merit his Inſpection.

While the Coach was in waiting, and they All ſtood on the Hill, the great City being extended in ample View beneath them, Mr. Fenton exclaimed: "O! London, London, thou Mauſoleum of dead Souls, how pleaſant art thou to the Eye, how beautiful in outward Proſpect! but within how full of Rottenneſs and reeking Abomi⯑nations! They Dealers are all Students in the Myſtery of Iniquity, of Frand and Im⯑poſition on Ignorance and Credulity. Thy public Offices are hourly exerciſed in Ex⯑actions and Extortion. Thy Courts of Judicature are buſied in the Sale, the De⯑lay, or Perverſion of Juſtice, they are ſhut to the Injured and Indigent, but open to the wealthy Pleas of the Invader and Op⯑preſſor. Thy Magiſtracy is often employ⯑ed in ſecretly countenancing and abetting the Breach of thoſe Laws it was inſtituted [226]to maintain. Thy Charities, ſubſcribed for the Support of the Poor, are laviſhed by the Truſtees in pampering the Rich, where Drunkenneſs ſwallows till it wallows, and Gluttony ſtuffs till it pants, and unbuttons and ſtuffs again. Even the Great Ones of thy Court have audaciouſly ſmiled away the Gloom and Horrors of Guilt, and re⯑fined, as it were, all the Groſſneſs thereof, by new inverting Terms and palliating Phraſes. While the Millions that crowd and hurry through thy Streets, are univer⯑ſally occupied in ſtriving and ſtruggling, to riſe by the Fall, to fatten by the Leanneſs, and to thrive by the Ruin of their Fellows. Thy Offences are rank, they ſteam and cloud the Face of Heaven. The Gulph al⯑ſo is hollow beneath, that is one Day to re⯑ceive thee. But the Meaſure of thy Abo⯑minations is not yet full; and the Number of thy Righteous hath hitherto exceeded the Proportion that was found in the firſt Sodom."

That Evening they went to the Opera, where Harry was ſo captivated by the ſen⯑timental Meltings and varied Harmony of the Airs, that he requeſted Mr. Fenton to permit him to be inſtructed on ſome Inſtru⯑ment. Not by my Advice, my Dear, an⯑ſwered Mr. Fenton, I would not wiſh you to attempt any thing in which you may not excel. Muſic is a Science, that requires [227]the Application of a Man's whole Liſe in order to arrive at any Eminence. As it is enchanting in the Hand of a Maſter, it is alſo diſcordant and grateing in its inferior Degrees. Your Labours have been em⯑ployed to much more valuable Purpoſes; and I would not, as they ſay, give my Child's Time for a Song. Harry inſtantly acquieſced, with the beſt Temper imagin⯑able; as the Will of his beloved Patron was, truely ſpeaking, his own Will; and that he only wanted to know it, to be at all Times, and on all Occaſions, conforma⯑ble thereto.

A few following Days were employed in viſiting the Tower, in ſurveying the Ar⯑mory, Regalia, &c. in viewing the royal Beaſts, the Monument, and Exchanges, and laſtly, in contemplating the Solemnity of Weſtminſter Pile, with the marbled Effi⯑gies and monumental Depoſits of the Re⯑nowned in Death; the Place, as Mr. Fen⯑ton affectingly obſerved, to which all the Living muſt finally adjourn.

The next Night they went to the Thea⯑tre, to ſee the Feats of Signor Volanti, the celebrated Italian Poſturemaſter, Ropedan⯑cer and Equilibriſt. Such Wonders are now ſo common as to be ſcarce entertain⯑ing; but, at that Time, they were received with Burſts and Roars of Applauſe.

[228] Our Hero felt himſelf attached, by the ſimilar Excellences of his own Activity in Another; and, going behind the Scenes, he accoſted Volanti in French. Signor, ſaid he, I have been highly entertained by your Performance this Night, and here are five Guineas in return of the Pleaſure you have given me. The Foreigner looked at Har⯑ry, and then at the Money, with a kind of Aſtoniſhment. I thank you, noble Sir, he cried, my poor Endeavours are ſeldom ſo liberally rewarded. Pray, how long do you ſtay with us? In about a Fortnight, ſo pleaſe your Nobleneſs, I intend to leave London. But, before I go, I would do ſomething to leave a Name behind me. A Day or two before my Departure, I will fly from the Spire of Saint Clement's Church, in the Sight of all the People; and this I will do gratis, or rather in Acknowledg⯑ment of the Favours I have received in this Kingdom. But is it poſſible to exe⯑cute what you propoſe? With all Eaſe and Safety, Sir, I have done nearly as much, three Times in Germany, and once at Madrid.

Here an arch Thought ſtruck Harry, and, muſing a Moment, will you permit me, ſaid he, to be the Conductor of this Affair? Allow me only to appoint the Day and draw up your Advertiſement, and I [229]will make you a Preſent of twenty Pieces. Agreed, Sir, cried Volanti, and twenty thouſand Thanks to confirm the Bargain. Accept theſe five Guineas then, in Earneſt of my Engagement; my Servant, here, will tell or ſhew you where I am to be found.

That Night, at Supper, Mr. Fenton remarked an unuſual Pleaſantry in the Muſcles of his Darling's ſweetly ſober Coun⯑tenance. My Harry I find, ſaid he, does not always impart all his Secrets to his Friends; he has certainly ſome roguiſh Matter in Cogitation. Magicum calles, Sir, cried Harry, You are a Conjurer, that's certain. Why, the Public, as you know, Sir, have put the FOOL on me from my Birth; Homer ſays that Revenge is ſweet as Honey to the Taſte; and ſo I am medi⯑tating in turn how to put the FOOL upon the Public. And how do you contrive it, Harry? only by acting the old Proverb, that, one Fool makes Many. But pray aſk me not about the Manner, till I bring the Buſineſs to ſome Bearing.

The next Day, being Thurſday, they All went, in Mr. Fenton's Coach, to Smith⯑field, where Numbers of Tents were ſet up, and ſeveral Drolls and Pantomimes, &c. prepared, in Imitation of the Humours of Bartholemew Fair. The Weather was [230]fair and calm, and they let down all the Glaſſes, that they might ſee, without In⯑terruption, whatever was to be ſeen.

Their Coach ſtopped juſt oppoſite to an itinerant Stage, where a Genius, who com⯑priſed, within his ſingle Perſon, the two important Functions of a Tumbler and Merry-Andrew, by his ſucceſſive Action and Oratory, extorted Plaudits and Huz⯑zas from all the Spectators.

Among the reſt, a Countryman, who rode upon a Mule, ſat gaping and grin⯑ning, by Intervals, in all the extatic Rap⯑ture that can be aſcribed to Enthuſiaſm. While his Attention was thus rivetted, two knaviſh Wags came, and, ungirthing his Saddle, ſupported it on either hand, till a Third of the Fraternity led his Mule away from under him, and a Fourth came with a three legged Horſe, ſuch as Houſwives dry their Linnen on, and, having jamm'd it under the Saddle, they all retreated in Peace.

The Populace were ſo delighted at this humorous Act of Felony, that, inſtead of interrupting it, it only ſerved to redouble their Joys and Clamours. Harry, too, greatly chuckled and laughed at the Joke. But, when he ſaw the Beaſt led off, and [231]that the amazed Proprietor, on ſtooping to take the Bridle, had fallen precipitately to the Ground, his Heart twitched him with a Kind of Compunction, and, throwing himſelf out at the Coach Window, he made all the Speed that the Preſs would ad⯑mit, and, recovering the Mule, brought it back to its Owner.

Here, Friend, ſaid he, here is your Beaſt again, take Care the next time that they don't ſteal your Teeth. Thank you, Maſter, ſaid the Clown, ſince you have been ſo honeſt as to give him to me back, I will never be the One to bring you to Sizes or Seſſions. I am much obliged to your Clemency, anſwered Harry, but pray let me have the Pleaſure of ſeeing you ſafe mounted. So ſaying he held the Stirrup, while the Booby got up and ſaid, Well, my Lad, very well, if we happen to meet at Croydon, we may take a Pot together.

Mr. Fenton beheld and contemplated this whole Scene with all the cordial Gratificati⯑ons that the Heart of Man could ſeel; and langhing, as his Favourite entered the Coach, my honeſt Friend, ſaid he, your Officiouſneſs might have brought us All in⯑to a Scrape; for, had you been given in Charge to the Conſtable, you would pro⯑bably have applied to your Companions for Bail. I don't think, Sir, ſaid Clement, that [232]the Action would have been bailable, nei⯑ther could we deny that we ſaw the ſtolen Beaſt in his Cuſtody. In Truth, Gentle⯑men, ſaid Harry, I partly begin to be of Mr. Veer's Opinion, that the Peaſantry of England are the moſt booriſh and inſenſible of all the human Species.

In the Evening, they adjourn'd from Coffee to David's Harp in Fleetſtreet, in or⯑der to hear Marmulet the famed Genoeſe Muſician, who performed on the Pſaltery, the Viol d'Amor, and other Inſtruments not known till then in England.

They took Mr. James with them, to par⯑take of the Entertainment, and were ſhewn to a large Room, where Each pay'd Half a Crown at the Door.

The Room was divided into a Number of Boxes, where each Company ſat apart, while they were jointly gratified and charm⯑ed by the inimitable Execution of the Mu⯑ſician.

A Flaſk of Burgundy was ſet before Mr. Fenton and his Friends, while Mr. Hardy and Mr. Hilton, who ſat in the next Box, were regaling themſelves with a Flaſk of Roſa Solis.

[233] All was Silence and Attention till there was a Pauſe in the Performance. Then, ſaid Mr. Hardy, do you know, Jack, that the Earl of Albemarle is to have a Maſque on Monday Night? I am ſorry to hear it, ſaid Mr. Hilton, as I am obliged to be out of Town. I may happen to ſave ſome⯑thing by that, ſaid Hardy, you muſt lend me your Domino. Indeed, I cannot, it was torn to Fritters in a Scuffle as I came out from the laſt Maſquerade. Lend me your Maſque then. That, too, was loſt at the ſame time, but what occaſion can you have for a Maſque, Hardy? I am ſure no One will take that for a natural Face. Mine is the Face of Mars, Hilton, yours that of Adonis, with which no Modern Venus will ever be ſinitten, I promiſe you. I will engage to outrival an Army of ſuch Jackanapes in an Aſſault on the Fair. If Impudence may compenſate for the Want of other Artillery, I believe you may do Wonders, Hardy. And it does compen⯑ſate, my Friend. Women, take my Word and Experience for it, love nothing of their own Reſemblance, except in the Glaſs. They deteſt any thing that looks like an Ambiguity in the Sex. While what you are pleaſed to call Impudence, Jack, ſpares their Modeſty, ſaves them the Appearance of an Advance on their Part, and gives [234]them the Pleaſure of piquing themſelves on their extraordinary Virtue, in Caſe they ſhould happen to make a Defence. How⯑ever, ſince you have complimented me, on my Aſſurance, I will put it to the Teſt on this Occaſion; and go to his Excel⯑lency's Ball, without any other Vizard ſave this which Nature, in her great Bounty, hath beſtowed.

When our Company were on the Return to their Lodgings, Harry, ſaid Mr. Fen⯑ton, would you not like to go to this Maſ⯑querade? Why, Sir, as I have not yet ſeen One, perhaps it might not be amiſs to ſatisfy my Curioſity for once in my Life. In Truth, ſaid Mr. Fenton, I wiſh they never had been introduced into this King⯑dom, as they are Inlets to Intrigue, and give Countenance to Licentiouſneſs. How⯑ever, for once in your Life, as you ſay, you ſhall be gratified, my Harry. Be pleaſed to tell me, Sir, are they very en⯑tertaining? They would be extremely di⯑verting, my Dear, if People acted up to the Characters that they pretend to repreſent. But, on the contrary, they have Sailors who don't know a Point in the Compaſs or the Name of a Rope in the Ship. Shep⯑herds and Shepherdeſſes who never eloped from the cockney Dialect of the City. In⯑dian Queens who can ſay nothing as to their [235]Subjects or their Sovereignty. Gods and Goddeſſes totally ignorant of their own Hiſ⯑tory in the Mythology. And Italian Car⯑dinals who will ſwear you in the Phraſe of a Yorkſhire Foxhunter.

But, what ſhall we do for Tickets, Har⯑ry? I don't care to apply to my Friends, for Fear of diſcovering that we are in Town. O Sir, ſaid Mr. James, I am acquainted with his Excellency's Major Domo, and can procure you as many Tickets as You pleaſe.

Mr. Fenton aſſumed to himſelf, for the preſent, the Appointment of Harry's Cha⯑racter and Dreſs. As the Plainneſs of your Garb has hitherto, ſaid he, been a Maſque and Diſguiſe to your internal Ornaments; the Brilliancy of your Dreſs ſhall now, on the other Hand, diſguiſe and conceal the Simplicity of your Manners.

About two Hours before the Opening of the Ball, Harry wrapped himſelf in a Cloak of black Bays, and ſtepped into a hackney Coach with Mr. James, who had promiſed to introduce him to his Friend Mr. Dominic, in order for him to reconnoitre the ſeveral Scenes of Operation before the Action began.

[236] The Major Domo received Harry with the utmoſt Complacence; for he held his Maſque in his Hand, and the Lovelineſs of his Aſpect ſhone with peculiar Luſtre through the Blackneſs of his Attire.

After ſurveying ſeveral Apartments, they paſſed through the long Room and entered, by an arched Gateway, into a Kind of Saloon, at the upper End of which was a Pedeſtal of about five Feet in height, whereon a celebrated Statue of the Hercules Farneſe had formerly ſtood.

Harry eyed it attentively and, conceiving a ſudden Frolic, he inſtantly caſt away his Cloak, clapped on his Maſk and winged Helmet, graſped his Caduceus with his Right, and, laying his Left on the Top of the Pedeſtal, ſprung lightly up; and threw himſelf into that Attitude, to which the Statuaries have formed their Mercury, when juſt prepared for flight.

His Headpiece was of thinly plated but poliſhed Gold, buckled together at the joining by four burning Carbuncles. His Jacket was of Genoa Silk, died in Ultra Marine, exceeding the Tint of an Egyptian Sky. It was braced cloſe to his Body with Emerald Claſps, that ſhewed the Fineſs of his Proportion to inimitable Advantage, and [237]over the Whole, in celeſtial Confuſion, were ſown Stars, of different Magnitudes, All powdered with Diamonds.

The Moment that Harry caſt himſelf into his Poſture, Mr. Dominic ſtarted back ſeven or eight Paces, and, raiſing his Hands, with ſtareing Eyes, and a Mouth of open Amazement, at length he exclaimed; Stay a little, my dear ſweet Maſter! do now, do but ſtay juſt as you are for a Minute, and you will oblige me paſt Expreſſion, I will be your Own for ever.

So ſaying, he turned off, and running to an adjacent Apartment, where their Majeſ⯑ties, with the Princeſs of Denmark, the Princeſs of Heſſe, and the Chief of the Court were gathered; he told his Maſter aloud, that he had the greateſt Curioſity to ſhew him that human Eye ever beheld.

All roſe with Precipitation, and crowded after the Earl and the royal Pair, as cloſe as Decency would admit, till they came to the Saloon and beheld, with Aſtoniſhment, the Perſon, Shape, Attitude, and Attire of our Hero.

Some doubted, but Moſt believed that he was a real Statute, placed there by his Excellency on Purpoſe for a Surpriſe. Sir [238] Fielding, who was the acknowledged Con⯑noiſſeur of the Age, and was, in Fact, what the People of taſte call an elegans For⯑marum Spectator, exclaimed with ſome Vehemency, Never, never, did I behold ſuch Beauty of Symmetry, ſuch Roundings of Angles; where, where, my Lord, could you get this ineſtimable Acquiſition? O⯑thers cryed, Phidias, Phidias never execut⯑ed the like; all the Works of Praxiteles were nothing to it!

The Earl, however, was well appriſed of the Deception, and knew that our Mer⯑eury was no Part of his Property.—Son of Maia, ſaid he aloud, what Tidings from Heaven?—A Meſſage, anſwered Harry, from my Father Jupiter to their Majeſties—And pray, what may your Errand in⯑tend?—Matters of higheſt Importance; that they are the favourite Repreſentatives of my Father upon Earth. And that, while their Majeſties continue the Monarch of a free and willing People, they are grea⯑ter than if they were Regents of a Univerſe of Slaves.—All buzzed their Applauſe and Admiration.—It muſt be he, whiſ⯑pered the King—it can be no Other, cried the Queen—Albemarle, whiſpered his Majeſty, we have marked this Youth for our Own; keep your Eye upon him, and do your beſt Endeavours to engage and bind him to us.

[239] In the mean time, Harry, on delivering his celeſtial Meſſage, flew like a Feather from his Poſt, and caſting his Cloak about him, vaniſhed into an adjoining Cloſet.

The Company now began to gather faſt, and Harry, ſtealing from his Retreat, kept his Cloud about his Sky, and mingled in the Crowd. Mr. Clement had accom⯑panied Mr. Fenton in Dominos. They ſoon diſcovered Harry, and were highly diverted by the Account which he gave them of his Metamorphoſis into a Statue.

While the Aſſembly was dividing into Pairs and chatty Parties, a Phenomenon entered that drew all their Attention. The Honourable Major Gromley, the luſtieſt and fatteſt young Man in the Kingdom, advanced without a Maſque, in Petticoats, a ſlobbering Bib and Apron. He carried a large Round of Bread and Butter in one Hand, while Lady Betſy M [...]nit, an elderly Miſs of about three Feet high, held his Leading Strings with her Left and, in her Right, brandiſhed a Birch Rod of length⯑ened Authority. His Governante preſſed him forward and ſeemed to threaten Chaſ⯑tiſement for his Delay; while the jolly, broad, fooliſh, humourous, half laughing, half crying, Baby Face of the Major ex⯑torted [240]Peals of Laughter from All who were preſent. And this is ſufficient to con⯑vince us that the Performers of the ancient Drama could not poſſibly, in Maſks, ex⯑cite the Paſſions of Nature. No Excellence of Voice or Geſture, of Action or Emphaſis, could compenſate for the Excluſion of the immediate Interpreters of the Soul, the living Speech of the Eye, and varied Ex⯑preſſion of the Countenance.

After the Major had leiſurely traverſed the full length of the Room, and inimitably executed the Whole of his Part, he retir⯑ed to undreſs and aſſume a new Appear⯑ance.

Mean while, two Females entered in very unuſal Habits. The Firſt was dreſſed in a choice Collection of old Engliſh and Scotch Ballads, from Chevy Chaſe and the Fragment of Hardy Canute, down to Bar⯑bara Allen and the Babes in the Wood. The Other was all hung from Top to Bottom with Looking-glaſſes.

Immediately the Crowd gathered about them. All, who were fond of their own Hiſtory, preferable to that of Others, pay'd their Homage, in a circling Throng, to the Queen of the Looking-glaſſes. While the Few who preferred Inſtruction were intent in peruſing the Fair who was covered with [241]Knowledge. But, the Lady of the Mir⯑rors did not long retain her Votaries; her Glaſſes were all Emblems of her own Diſ⯑poſition, they were the Glaſſes of Scandal and Calumny, and repreſented the human Species in the moſt diſtorted View; Some lengthened and Some widened their Objects [...] Meaſure, while Others wholly in⯑ [...] and turned them topſy turvy. All [...] away in Diſguſt from ſuch Proſpects or their own Perſons, and the reflecting Lady was juſtly leſt to glitter apart from Society.

The next who entered was a Goliah, all ſheathed in compleat Steel. He advanced with ſlow and majeſtic Steps to the Side⯑board, and aſking for a Flaſk of Champain, turned it down without taking it once from his Head. He then demanded Another, and Another, and ſo on, till the Providore, who had looked and longed in vain to ſee him drop, ran pannic-ſtruck to his Maſter, and, in a half Whiſper, ſaid, my Lord, your Cel⯑lars will ſcarcely ſuffice to quench the Thirſt of one Man here, he has already turned down fifteen Flaſks of Champain, and ſtill is unſatisfied and calls for more. Then give him fifteen Hogſheads, replied the Earl laughing, and if that will not anſwer, ſend out for another Set.

[242] In the mean time, the mailed Champion had withdrawn from the Sideboard, and, with a large drinking Glaſs in his Hand, advanced till he got into the midſt of the Aſſembly. He then turned a little Inſtru⯑ment that was fixed in a certain Part of his double caſed Armour, and, filling the Glaſs to the Brim, he unclaſped the lower Part of his Bever, and accoſting a Peruvian Prin⯑ceſs who ſtood juſt oppoſite, permit me the Honour, Madam, ſays he, of drink⯑ing your Highneſs's Health. So ſaying, the Liquor was out of Sight in a Twink⯑ling. Will your Royal Highneſs, conti⯑nued he, be pleaſed to try how you reliſh our European Wines? I am obliged to you, Sir, ſaid ſhe, I am actually athirſt; then, raiſing her Maſk below, ſhe pledged him to the Bottom. Her Companion, a ſhin⯑ing Arcadian, advanced and requeſted the ſame Favour. Then Another, and ano⯑ther Lady, and ſeveral Others in Suc⯑ceſſion, All of whom he graciouſly grati⯑fied, till he was nearly exhauſted. Some of the Men then preſſed to him, and en⯑treated for a Glaſs; no, no, Gentlemen, ſaid he, go and be ſerved elſewhere, I am a Merchant for Ladies alone, I import no Liquors for vile male Animals.

Our former Acquaintance, Mr. Hardy, had adventured according to Promiſe with⯑out [243]a Maſque. After looking about a while for ſome Object of his Gallantry, he fixed upon a Lady of a very elegant Shape and ſprightly Appearance.

When they had bandied, between them, ſome occaſional Chat, of more Smartneſs than Humour, and more Wit than Mean⯑ing, He called for a favourite Air and led the Fair One a Minuet, in which they Both performed aſſez bien.

He now began to grow more warm in his Addreſſes. If your Face, Madam, ſaid he, ſhould happen to be anſwerable to the Enchantments of your Form, and the Syren in your Voice, I beſeech you to keep that Maſk on for ever, the Safety of Mankind is intereſted in my Requeſt. But ſuppoſe, ſaid ſhe, that my Face ſhould happen to prove an Antidote to the Danger of my other Charms? then, Madam, let me ſee it by all Means, and make haſte, I pray you before I am paſt Remedy. I ſee, ſaid ſhe, tittering, I ſee that you are already more than half a dying Man; poor Wretch, I pity you, and have taken it in⯑to my Head to ſlay you outright, in order to put you out of Pain.

So ſaying, ſhe drew her Maſk on one Side, and ſhewed him, indeed, a very lovely Countenance. But while his Flood of com⯑plimentary [244]Eloquence was juſt upon break⯑ing forth, huſh, Sir, cried the Lady, I will not hear a Syllable, till you firſt return the Compliment that I have pay'd you, and let me ſee what you have got under that Vizard of yours. Here Hardy, in ſpite of Impudence, ſtood mute with Aſtoniſhment. The Lady burſt into a Laugh; the Joke was caught and ſpread like wild Fire; the Laugh grew univerſal; all Eyes were on poor Hardy, and a hundred Tongues cried, at once, your Maſque, Sir, your Maſque, take off your Maſque for the Lady! This was ſomething more than human Aſſu⯑rance could ſtand. Hardy retired with pre⯑cipitate Confuſion; and juſtly ſuffered for the Preſumption of his boaſted Facility of Conqueſts over the Fair.

Our Hero had hitherto kept himſelf con⯑cealed, being ſecretly aſhamed of the Luſ⯑tre of his Apparel; but, at Mr. Fenton's deſire he laid his Cloak aſide, and, inſtant⯑ly, all the Eyes of the Aſſembly were upon him. In order to avoid their Gaze, he ad⯑vanced into the Throng, where a Parcel of circling Females aſked him a Number of inſignificant Queſtions, to which he return⯑ed, in Kind, Anſwers pretty nearly as in⯑ſignificant.

At length a Diana approached, whoſe Diamond Creſcent was of the Value of a [245]princely Ranſom. She took him careleſly by the Hand, and ſaid, come, Brother Mer⯑cury, let us give theſe Mortals a Sample of what we Coeleſtials can perform. Lead where you pleaſe, Madam, ſaid Harry, I cannot miſs my Way while I tread in the Light of ſo fair a Moon.

The Lady called to the Orcheſtre for a Saraband, and All made ample Room, attentive to the Motions of the ſhining Pair.

The Dance began, and the Spectators in a Manner ſuppreſſed their Breathing for fear of giving or receiving the ſmalleſt In⯑terruption. The Performers ſtepped Mu⯑ſic, their Action was Grace, and they ſeemed with Difficulty retained to the Floor over which they moved. They ended, and the Aſſembly was ſtill mute with Aſtoniſh⯑ment, till they broke out into a general Murmur of Praiſe.

Mr. Mercury, ſaid Diana, the Story of Argus tells us that you were formerly ac⯑cuſtomed to ſet Folk to ſleep; but, for the preſent, you have opened all Eyes to Ob⯑ſervation. Ah, Madam, anſwered Harry, could I have gueſſed at the Moon that was to ſhine this Night, I ſhould have aſſumed a very different Character. What Charac⯑ter, [246]I pray you? that of Endymion, Madam. I wiſh, ſhe whiſpered, that You were a Prince, or that I were a Peaſant, and ſo ſaying, ſhe turned from him and mixed in the Crowd.

Harry was next addreſſed by a Shepher⯑deſs, and again by a Nun. But, he de⯑clined, as honourably as he could, to tend the Flock of the One; or to be the Cauſe of any Breach of Vows in the Other, ob⯑ſerving to her, that ſhe had already taken the Veil. The Boy's a FOOL, ſaid ſhe; I know, ſaid Harry.

A Gipſy then accoſted, and taking him by the Hand, will you be pleaſed, Sir, to be told your Fortune, ſaid ſhe? By no Means, my ſweet voiced Caſſandra, anſwer⯑ed Harry, I would avoid, above all things, prying into Futurity. Knowledge, Sir, is ſurely deſirable, and above all Foreknow⯑ledge. Not ſo, ſaid Harry; Foreknowledge of Evil would but double the Miſery; and Foreknowledge of Good would deprive me of Hope by Certainty, and Hope is a Bleſſ⯑ing, perhaps, preferable to Poſſeſſion. Tell me, Sir, and tell me truely, did you ever yet ſee the Girl that you could like? Yes, Madam, two or three, for whom I have conceived a very tender Friendſhip, but no One yet for whom I have conceived a Paſ⯑ſion. Ah then, Mr. Mercury, ſaid the gen⯑tle [247]Propheteſs, I have only to deſire the laſt Caſt of your Office; when I am dead, be ſo grateful as to waft my friendly Spi⯑rit to the Shades of Elyſium, there to join Dido and other unfortunate Lovers.

So ſaying She turned and retired, with a Sigh, that entered, and ſunk into the Heart of our Hero.

The Company now began to depart, when the Earl of Albemarle, coming up to Harry, took him a little apart, and, throw⯑ing his Arm over his Shoulder, preſſed him to him and ſaid, my dear Fellow, you have done me ſignal Honour this Night; pray double the Favour to me, by letting me ſee you again ſpeedily and as often as you can. For the preſent, you muſt not go till their Majeſties have ſpoke with You. Not to Night, ſo pleaſe your Ex⯑cellency, anſwered Harry; at all other Times, I ſhall be ready to attend and ſerve their Majeſties, without any Maſque.

The next Morning, Mr. Fenton was much ſurpriſed by a Viſit from the great Man; Mr. Dominic had appriſed his Maſ⯑ter where he was to be found. During Breakfaſt, the Earl preſſed eagerly for Har⯑ry's Attendance at Court, and promiſed every Advantage and Honour that the Crown could beſtow. You muſt pardon [248]me, my Lord, ſaid Mr. Fenton. I am will⯑ing to advance to You two hundred thou⯑ſand Pounds more, toward his Majeſties preſent Expedition againſt the French, whom I look upon to be our natural and ſalutary Enemies. They are as Carthage was to Rome, they hold us in Exerciſe, and keep a quarrelſome People from falling out among themſelves. Indeed, my Lord, I am deſirous of gratifying my royal Maſter with any Thing except the Sacrifice of my Child. I cannot part with him till his E⯑ducation is compleated; and then, if he anſwers my Expectations, I doubt I may be more unwilling to part with him than ever.

In the Afternoon our Company went again to the Tower, to ſee as well as to hear the recent Story of the great Lion and the little Dog.

They found the Place thronged, and All were obliged to pay treble Prices, on Account of the unprecedented Novelty of the Shew; ſo that the Keeper, in a ſhort Space, acquired a little Fortune.

The great Cage in the Front was occu⯑pied by a Beaſt who, by Way of preemi⯑nence, was called the King's Lion; and, while he traverſed the Limits of his ſtrait⯑ened [249]Dominions, he was attended by a ſmall and very beautiful black Spaniel, who friſked and gambolled about him, and, at Times, would pretend to ſnarl, and bite at him; and again the noble Ani⯑mal, with an Air of fond Complacence, would hold down his Head, while the lit⯑tle Creature licked his formidable Chops. Their Hiſtory, as the Keeper related, was this:

It was cuſtomary for All, who were un⯑able or unwilling to pay their Sixpence, to bring a Dog or Cat as an Oblation to the Beaſts in lieu of Money to the Keeper. Among Others, a Fellow had caught up this pretty black Spaniel in the Streets, and he was accordingly thrown into the Cage of the great Lion. Immediately the little Animal trembled and ſhivered, and crouched and threw itſelf on its Back, and put forth its Tongue, and held up its Paws, in ſupplicatory Attitudes, as an Ac⯑knowledgment of ſuperior Power and pray⯑ing for Mercy. In the mean Time the lordly Brute, inſtead of devouring it, be⯑held it with an Eye of philoſophic Inſpec⯑tion. He turned it over with one Paw, and then turned it with the Other; and ſmelled to it, and ſeemed deſirous of courting a further Acquaintance.

[250] The Keeper, on ſeeing this, brought a large Meſs of his own Family-Dinner; but the Lion kept aloof and refuſed to eat, keeping his Eye on the Dog, and inviting him as it were to be his Taſter. At length, the little Animal's Fears being ſomething abated, and his Appetite quickened by the Smell of the Victuals, he approached flow⯑ly, and, with trembling, ventured to eat. The Lion then advanced gently, and be⯑gan to partake, and they finiſhed their Meal very lovingly together.

From this Day the ſtricteſt Friendſhip commenced between them, a Friendſhip conſiſting of all poſſible Affection and Ten⯑derneſs on the Part of the Lion, and of the utmoſt Confidence and Boldneſs on the Part of the Dog; inſomuch that he would lay himſelf down to ſleep, within the Fangs and under the Jaws of his terrible Patron.

A Gentleman, who had loſt the Spa⯑niel, and had advertiſed a Reward of two Guineas to the Finder, at length heared of the Adventure, and went to reclaim his Dog. You ſee, Sir, ſaid the Keeper, it would be a great Pity to part ſuch loving Friends. However, if you inſiſt upon your Property, you muſt even be pleaſed to take him yourſelf; it is a Taſk that I [251]would not engage in for five hundred Gui⯑neas. The Gentleman roſe into great Wrath, but finally choſe to acquieſce, ra⯑ther than have a perſonal Diſpute with the Lion.

As Mr. Fenton had a Curioſity to ſee the two Friends eat together, he ſent for twen⯑ty Pounds of boiled Beef, which was ac⯑cordingly cut in Pieces and given into the Cage; when, immediately, the little Brute, whoſe Appetite happened to be eager art the time, was deſirous of making a Mo⯑nopoly of the whole, and putting his Paws upon the Meat, and grumbling and bark⯑ing, he audaciouſly flew in the Face of the Lion. But the generous Creature, inſtead of being offended by his impotent Compa⯑nion, ſtarted back and ſeemed terrified at the Fury of his Attack, neither attempted to eat a Bit, till his Favourite had tacitly given Permiſſion.

When they were Both gorged, the Lion ſtretched and turned himſelf and lay down in an evident Poſture for Repoſe, but this his ſportive Companion would not admit. He friſked and gamboled about him, bark⯑ed at him, would now ſcrape and tear at his Head with his Claws, and again ſeize him by the Ear, and bite and pull away; while the noble Beaſt appeared affected by no [252]other Sentiment ſave that of Pleaſure and Complacence.

But, let us proceed to the tragic Cataſ⯑trophe of this extraordinary Story; a Sto⯑ry ſtill known to Many, as delivered down by Tradition from Father to Son.

In about twelve Months, the little Spaniel ſickened and died, and left his loving Patron the moſt deſolate of Creatures. For a time, the Lion did not appear to conceive otherwiſe than that his Favourite was aſleep. He would continue to ſmell to him, and then would ſtir him with his Noſe, and turn him over with his Paw; but, finding that all his Efforts to awake him were vain, he would traverſe his Cage from End to End at a ſwift and un⯑eaſy Pace, then ſtop, and look down upon him with a fixed and drooping Regard; and again lift his Head on high, and open his horrible Throat, and prolong a Roar, as of diſtant Thunder, for ſeveral Minutes together.

They attempted, but in vain, to convey the Carcaſe from him, he watched it per⯑petually, and would ſuffer nothing to touch it. The Keeper then endeavoured to tempt him with a Variety of Victuals, but he turned from all that was offered with loathing. They then put ſeveral living [253]Dogs into his Cage, and theſe he inſtantly tore piecemeal, but left their Members on the Floor. His Paſſions being thus in⯑flamed, he would dart his Fangs into the Boards and pluck away large Splinters, and again grapple at the Bars of his Cage, and ſeem enraged at his Reſtraint from tearing the World to Pieces.

Again, as quite ſpent, he would ſtretch himſelf by the Remains of his beloved Aſſociate, and gather him in with his Paws, and put him to his Boſom; and then utter under Roars of ſuch a terrible Melancholy, as ſeemed to threaten All around, for the Loſs of his little Playfellow, the only Friend, the only Companion that he had upon Earth.

For five Days he thus languiſhed, and gradually declined, without taking any Suſ⯑tenance, or admitting any Comfort; till one Morning, he was found dead, with his Head lovingly reclined on the Carcaſe of his little Friend. They were Both in⯑terred together, and their Grave plentifully watered by the Tears of the Keeper and his loudly lamenting Family.—But, to return.

When our Company were on their Way from the Tower to their Lodgings, Sir, ſaid Harry, what we have juſt ſeen re⯑minds [254]me of the Opinion of my Friend Peter Patience, that One who is fearleſs cannot be provoked. You ſaw how that little teaſing, petulant Wretch had the In⯑ſolence to fly in the Face of his Benefactor, without offending or exciting in him any Kind of Reſentment. True, Harry, for the Lion was ſenſible that his teſty Compa⯑nion was little, and impotent, and depend⯑ed upon him, and had Confidence in his Clemency, and therefore he loved him with all his Faults. Anger, however, in ſome Caſes, is not only allowable but be⯑comes a Duty. The Scripture ſays, be angry but ſin not. We ought to feel and fear for Others; and Luſt, Violence, and Oppreſſion of every Sort, will excite the Indignation of a generous and benevolent Perſon, though he may not fear for him⯑ſelf.

After Supper, Harry appeared to rumi⯑nate, and ſaid, How comes it, Sir, that Creatures, not indued with Reaſon or Con⯑ſcience, ſhall yet, in the Affections that are peculiarly called humane, exceed even moſt of the human Species? You have ſeen that it was the Caſe between the Lion and little Dog.

It was the Opinion, my Harry, of an an⯑cient Philoſopher, that God was the Soul and Spirit of Brutes; and this he judged [255]from obſerving that what we call Inſtinct, was incomparably wiſer, more ſagacious, and more accompliſhed for attaining its Ends, throughout its Sphere of Action, than the moſt perfect human Reaſon. Now, had this Philoſopher, inſtead of ſay⯑ing that God was the Soul of Brutes, bare⯑ly alledged that he ruled and dictated within them, he would not have gone a Tittle wide of the Truth.

God indeed is, himſelf, the Beauty and the Benefit of all his Works. As they cannot exiſt but in him and by him, ſo his Impreſſion is upon them, and his Impregna⯑tion is through them.

Though the Elements, and all that we know of Nature and Creature, have a Mix⯑ture of natural and phyſical Evil; God is, however, throughout, an internal, though often, a hidden Principal of Good, and never wholly departs from his Right of Do⯑minion and Operation in his Creatures: But is, and is alone, the Beauty and Bene⯑ficence, the whole Glory and Graciouſneſs that can poſſibly be in them.

As the Apoſtle ſays, the inviſible Things of God are made manifeſt and viſible by the Things that are ſeen. He is the ſecret and central Light that kindles up the Sun, his dazzling Repreſentative; and he lives, en⯑lightens, [256]and comforts in the Diffuſion of his Beams.

His Spirit inſpires and actuates the Air; and is, in it, a Breath of Life to all his Creatures. He blooms in the Bloſſom, and unfolds in the Roſe. He is Fragrance in Flowers, and Flavour in Fruits. He holds Infinitude within a Speck, and opens his World of Wonders in the Minims of Na⯑ture. He is the Virtue of every Heart that is ſoftened by a Senſe of Pity or Touch of Benevolence. He coos in the Turtle, and bleats in the Lamb; and, through the Paps of the ſtern Bear and implacable Tygreſs, he yields forth the Milk of loving Kindneſs to their little Ones. Even, my Harry, when we hear the delicious Enchantment of Muſic; it is but an external Sketch, a diſtant and faint Echo of thoſe ſentimen⯑tal and rapturous Tuneings that riſe up, throughout the Immenſity of our God, from Eternity to Eternity.

Thus all Things are ſecretly pregnant with their God. And the Lover of Sin⯑ners, the univerſal Redeemer, is a Princi⯑ple of Good within them, that contends with the Malignity of their lapſed State. And thus, as the Apoſtle ſpeaks, all Na⯑ture is in Travail and groaneth to be delivered from the Evil. 'Till the Breath of the Love of God ſhall kindle up the final Fire, out [257]of which the new Heavens and new Earth ſhall come forth, as Gold ſeven times re⯑fined, to ſhine for ever and ever!

HARRY, agreeable to his Covenant with Signor Volanti, had penned the following Advertiſement, and inſerted it in all the public Papers, to wit.—‘On Saturday next, between the Hours of Ten and Twelve in the Forenoon, the celebrated Dominico Jachimo Tonino Volanti will take his Flight from the Spire of Cle⯑ment's Steeple, and alight, at the Diſ⯑tance of two Bows ſhot, on the Strand, and this he will perform before the Eyes of all People.’

On the impatiently expected Morning, Harry took Mr. Clement with him in a hack Chaiſe, and found an innumerable Con⯑courſe, as well of the Gentry in their Coaches, as of the Populace on Foot. London had poured forth its Numbers to behold this aſtoniſhing Flight. The Win⯑dows were all Eyes on every Side, and the Houſe Tops were hung with Cluſters of People as of Bees.

After Harry had ſurveyed the Crowd, with inward Titillation, he whiſpered to Clement and ſaid, You ſhall ſee now, what a ſudden Diſcomfiture I will make of this huge Army.

[258] He then put forth his Head, and ſaid to All around, Don't Ye yet perceive, my Friends, what Fools we are all made, don't ye remember that this is the Firſt of April?

He had ſcarce ſpoke the Words, when they ſpread from Man to Man, and ſoon were muttered throughout the Aſſembly. And then louder, and more loud, the Firſt of April, the Firſt of April, was re⯑peated all about.

The Company now began to be in Mo⯑tion. All Heads were inſtantly withdrawn from the late thronged Windows, and the Houſe Tops began to be cleared with a ſhameful Caution.

Immediately was hear'd the rolling of many Wheels, and the Laſhing of many Whips, while every Coachman preſſed through the Crowd, impatient to deliver his honourable Freight from the public Shame. But the Populace, now, began to reliſh a Joke that was ſo much againſt their Betters; and, in Peals of Laughter, and united Shouts of Triumph, they echoed and reechoed after them, April Fools! April Fools!

[259] Among Others, Lord Bottom had come with his Friend Rakely, in an elevated Phaeton, of which his Lordſhip was Cha⯑rioteer. As they happened to bruſh cloſe by Harry's Carriage, ſwearing, and puf⯑fing, and laſhing, and curſing at the Crowd, Harry cried to his old Enemy, you need not be in ſo violent a Hurry, my Lord, perhaps you are not ſo great a Foot as you imagine.

The Fools of Faſhion were ſcarce with⯑drawn, when a long and ſtrong Rope was let down from the Top of the Steeple, to which it was faſtened at the upper End. A Man then, laying hold on it below, drag⯑ged it along through the Crowd, and braced it, at a great Diſtance, to an Iron Ring that was ſtapled into a Poſt, purpoſely ſunk on a level with the Pavement. They then brought a large and well ſtuffed Feather Bed, and fixed it under the Cord where it joined the Ring.

In the mean time, Volanti appeared on the Top of the Steeple, and bending cau⯑tiouſly forward, and getting the Cord within an Iron Groove that was braced to his Boſom, he puſhed himſelf onward, and, with a kindling Rapidity, flew over the Heads of the ſhouting Multitude, poiſing himſelf with expanded Legs and Arms, as [260]he paſſed, till he was landed, without Da⯑mage, on his yielding Receiver. And, in the very next Papers, Harry publiſhed the following Advertiſement, to wit.

‘Before the Firſt of April next, Sig⯑nor Dominico Jachimo Tonino Volanti, by the Help of Canvas Wings, contrived for the Purpoſe, propoſes to fly over Sea, from Dover to Calais, and invites all his London Friends to come and ſee him ſet out.’

On the Evening of the following Monday, our Company went to the King's Theatre, and Mr. Clement told Mr. Fenton, by the Way, how Harry had made double Fools of the Citizens, firſt in bringing them to⯑gether, and then in ſending them away.

The Moor of Venice was the appointed Entertainment for the Night. Mr. Mont⯑fort was to perform the Part of Othello, Mrs. Montfort that of Emilia, and Miſs Brace⯑girdle, their young Ward, the Part of Deſ⯑demona.

All was carried on to the Satisfaction of the Audience, till they were ſomewhat advanced in the Fourth Act, when Lord Mohun (as Milton has it) flown with Inſo⯑lence and Wine, entered and ſeated him⯑ſelf in one of the Stage-Boxes.

[261] He gave his whole Attention and Ap⯑plauſe to the fair Deſdemona, and, as ſoon as the Act was over, he ſlipped behind the Scenes, and began to addreſs her in a Strain of licentious Gallantry. But, as Miſs Brace⯑girdle anſwered him with a cold Kind of Diſdain, his Nobility was piqued, and, catching her about the Neck, he thruſt his Hand into her Boſom.

The Girl inſtantly ſhrieked, and Mont⯑fort coming up, forbear, my Lord, ſaid he, the young Gentlewoman is virtuous and of good Education, and ſuch Treatment is unbeſeeming a Man of Honour. Virtue and Education among Actors and Actreſſes! exclaimed his Lordſhip, hence, vile Ple⯑beian, and know your Diſtance better. And, ſo ſaying, he proceeded to an Action of ſtill greater Indecency.

The unhappy Montfort then cried, I will not ſuffer ſuch Uſage from any Man under the Crown; I am her Guardian, it is my Duty to protect her, and, at the ſame Time, he puſhed away his Lordſhip with ſome Violence. A Blow, a Blow, cried Mohun, and from a Vagabond too, Wretch, take the inſtant Chaſtiſement of your Inſo⯑lence. Then ſpringing back, he ſuddenly plucked out his Sword, and ran the worthy [262] Montfort through the Body, who imme⯑diately dropped and expired on the Spot.

The Women inſtantly uttered Shriek after Shriek, and, falling on the Body, ſent forth repeated Cries of the bittereſt Lamen⯑tation. The Audience were then in an Uproar, and called aloud to know the Meaning of the Diſturbance: when an Ac⯑tor haſtily advanced to the Front of the Stage, and, with wringing Hands, inform⯑ed them of what had happened.

Our Hero, thereupon, ſtarted up, and putting one Hand between the Spikes, he vaulted high over them into the Stage, and, drawing out his Sword, he ran about, ſearching for and enquiring after the Mur⯑derer; as did ſome other Gentlemen who haſtened round for the Purpoſe. But Lord Mohun, for the preſent, had made his E⯑ſcape. And, though he was afterward indicted, the Great Ones contrived Means for quaſhing the Affair, and he was never brought to Trial.

The Blood of the Good Montfort, how⯑ever, was not long unattoned. Lord Mo⯑hun, ſhortly after, fell by the Hand of the Duke of Hamilton, in a Duel behind Mon⯑tague Houſe.

[263] Harry had now ſeen whatever London could exhibit of elegant, curious, or pleaſ⯑ing; and Mr. Fenton judged it Time to hold up to him the melancholy Reverſe of this Picture, to ſhew him the Houſe of Mourn⯑ing the End of all Men; to ſhew him the dreary Shades and frightful Paſſages of Mortality, which Humanity ſhudders to think of, but through which human Na⯑ture, of Neceſſity, muſt go.

For this Purpoſe, he took him to the GENERAL HOSPITAL, where Death open⯑ed all his Gates, and ſhewed himſelf in all his Forms. But, the great Poet, on this Occaſion, hath anticipated all Deſcription.

While Mr. Fenton led his Pupil, through groaning Galleries and the Chambers of Death and Diſeaſe, Harry let down the Leaf of his Hat, and drew it over his Eyes, to conceal his Emotions. All that Day he was ſilent, and his Countenance downcaſt; and, at Night, he haſtened to Bed, where he wept a large Tribute to the mournfully inevitable Condition of Man's miſerable State upon Earth.

The next Day, Mr. Fenton took him to the Bethlehem Hoſpital for Idiots and Lu⯑natics. But when Harry beheld and con⯑templated Objects, ſo ſhocking to Thought, ſo terrible to Sight; when he had contem⯑plated, I ſay, the Ruin above all Ruins, hu⯑man Intelligence and human Reaſon ſo fearfully overthrown; where the Ideas of the Soul, though diſtorted and miſplaced, are quick and all alive to Horror and Ago⯑ny; he grew ſick and turned pale, and, ſuddenly catching his Uncle by the Arm, come, Sir, let us go, ſaid he, I can ſtand this no longer.

When they had reached Home, and that Harry was more compoſed; Are all the Miſeries, Sir, ſaid he, that we have wit⯑neſſed [265]theſe two Days, the Conſequences of Sin? Even ſo, indeed, my Harry, all theſe and Thouſands more, equally pitiable and diſguſting, are the natural Progeny of that Woe-begetting Parent. Nor are thoſe Mi⯑ſeries confined to Hoſpitals alone; every Houſe, nay every Boſom is a certain though ſecret Lazar-houſe, where the ſick Couch is preparing, with all the diſmal Ap⯑paratus, for Tears and Lamentations, for Agonies and Death.

Since that is the Caſe, Sir, who would laugh any more; is it not like Feaſting in the Midſt of Famine, and Dancing amid the Tombs?

All Things in their Seaſon, my Dear, provided that thoſe who laugh be as though they laughed not, rememb'ring that they muſt weep. And provided that thoſe who weep be as though they wept not, having Joy in their Knowledge that the Faſhion of this World quickly paſſeth away.

On the following Day, Mr. Fenton re⯑turned to Hamſtead, but left three thouſand Pounds with Harry and Mr. Clement, to be diſpoſed of, at their Diſcretion, among the Poor of the ſeveral Pariſhes of London and Weſtminſter.

[266] For this beneficent Purpoſe, they applied to the Clergy and Churchwardens of the reſpective Pariſhes, but did not wholly truſt to their Recommendation. They witneſſed in Perſon the Merits of the ſeveral Objects. After the Example of their divine Maſter, they went about doing Good; changing the Face of Affliction into Chear; turning the Voice of Mourning into Songs of Thankſ⯑giving; lightening every Burden, ſupply⯑ing every Want, and binding up the broken of Heart.

One Evening, as our Companions were drinking Tea in the Temple-Exchange Coffee-Houſe, a Man, advanced in Years, but of a very reſpectable Appearance, got up and addreſſed the Aſſembly.

Gentlemen, ſaid he, among the ſeveral Hoſpitals and other charitable Foundations that have done Honour to the Humanity of the Inhabitants of this City, there is one ſtill wanting, which, as I conceive, above all others, would give Diſtinction to the Beneficence of its Founders; it is a Houſe for repenting Proſtitutes, an Aſſy⯑lum for unhappy Wretches who have no other Home, to whom all Doors are ſhut, to whom no Haven is open, no Habitation, or Hole for Reſt upon the Face of the Earth.

[267] Moſt of them have been ſeduced from native Innocence and Modeſty by the Arts of cruel Men. Many have been deceived under Promiſe and Vows of Marriage; ſome, under the Appearance of the actual Ceremony, and afterward abandoned, or turned forth to Infamy by their barbarous and baſe Undoers. Shall no Place then be left for Repentance even to thoſe who do repent? forbid it Charity, forbid it Man⯑hood. Man is born the natural Protector of the Weakneſs of Woman, and if he has not been able to guard her Innocence from Invaſion, he ought at leaſt to provide a Reception for her Return to Virtue.

I have the Plan of this charitable Foun⯑dation in my Pocket; and, if any of you, Gentlemen, approve my Propoſal, and are willing to ſubſcribe, or to ſolicit your Friends to ſo beneficent a Purpoſe, I re⯑queſt your Company to the Leg Tavern over the Way.

Here, the Speaker walked toward the Door, and was followed by Harry and Cle⯑ment, and thirteen or fourteen more of the Aſſembly.

When a Flaſk of Port was brought, and the Company ſeated round a large Table; the Gentleman produced his Plan, with a [268]Summary of the Rules and Inſtitutes for the Conduct of the Houſe, which he pro⯑poſed to call the Magdalen-Houſe. A Plan which hath ſince been eſpouſed, and hap⯑pily executed by others, without aſcribing any of the Merit to the firſt Projector.

As all preſent applauded the Manner of the Scheme, and Intention of the Charity, each of them ſubſcribed from a hundred to twenty Pounds, till it came to Harry's Turn, who ſubſcribed a thouſand Pounds in Mr. Fenton's Name.

I ſuppoſe, Sir, ſaid one of the Com⯑pany, that your largeſt Contributions will ariſe from the Ladies, as the Whole is in⯑tended for the Benefit of the Sex. I ſhall not, anſwered the Gentleman, apply to a ſingle Lady on this Occaſion. Not one of them will dare to contribute a Penny, leſt it ſhould be thought that they partly allow, in themſelves, the Vices that they can par⯑don or patronize in others. It is this that makes the Caſe of the Wretches, whom we are about to befriend, deplorable be⯑yond Meaſure. They are firſt betrayed by our Sex, and then driven out to irretrieva⯑ble Infamy and Miſery by their own. For Women to Women, are as Turkeys to Turkeys, do but caſt a little Dirt upon the Head of any one of them, and the reſt of [269]the Flock combine, in an Inſtant, to pick out her Eyes and to tear her to Pieces.

Mr. Mole, a learned Philoſopher, and a Man of principal Figure in the preſent Company, then addreſſed the Projector and ſaid, if you will admit me, Sir, into Part⯑nerſhip in the Conduct of your Scheme, I will engage to levy Contributions to the amount of ſome Thouſands, over and above the Hundred I have already ſubſcribed. You are heartily welcome, Sir, replied the Gentleman, either to join or take the Con⯑duct of the Whole upon yourſelf. Pro⯑vided the Good is done, I care not by what Means, all my Ends will be anſwered, I wiſh to be nameleſs. That is not fair neither, ſaid another of the Company; you, Mr. Goodville, had the Trouble of con⯑triving this Buſineſs, and you ought, at leaſt, to have the Honour, if not the Con⯑duct of your own Plan.

Mr. Goodville, Mr. Goodville! exclaimed Clement in a Surpriſe, eagerly ſtaring at him, and recollecting, as from a Dream, the altered Features of his quondam Friend and Benefactor. Pray, Sir, do you remem⯑ber any thing of one Clement, a worthleſs young Fellow, whom once in your Good⯑neſs you condeſcended to patronize? Cle⯑ment, Clement! cried Mr. Goodville, getting up and haſtening to him, and catching [270]him in his Arms, my dear, my dear Cle⯑ment, my Man of Merit and Misfortunes, how rejoiced am I to find you! God be praiſed, God be praiſed, it is at length in my Power to do ſomething material for You. But, come with me to another Room, I have ſomething to ſay to You. We will leave theſe Gentlemen, the while, to think further of the Plan that lies before them.

When Mr. Goodville and Clement had withdrawn, Mr. Mole, ſaid one of the Company, you are concerned in a Num⯑ber of theſe public Benefactions. Yes, Gentlemen, anſwered Mole, I believe there is no charitable Inſtitution of any Note in London, in which I am not a Truſtee, and to which I am not a Contributer. For, though I do not ſet up for Sanctification by Faith, yet, I think, I may pretend to ſome Juſtification by Charity. Let the vulgar Herd pay their Prieſthood for cheat⯑ing them out of their Senſes, I give no⯑thing to the fat Impoſtors, or their lucra⯑tive Fable; my Subſtance is little enough for myſelf and the Poor. Why, pray Sir, ſaid Harry, are you not a Chriſtian? No indeed, Maſter, anſwered Mole, nor any Man who has Senſe enough to think for himſelf. Be pleaſed then, cried Harry, to hand me that Paper a Moment; here, Sir, [271]I daſh my Name and Contribution from the Liſt of the Subſcribers. He, who denies Glory to God in the higheſt, can never have Peace or good Will toward Men, and ſo, Sir, you ſhall never be the Almoner of a Pen⯑ny of my Money.

You talk as you look, my Dear, cried Mole, like One juſt eloped from the Nur⯑ſery, where you were affrighted by Tales of Ghoſts and Hobgoblins. I acknowledge, Gentlemen, the Benefit and Beauty of Morality in its fulleſt Extent; and, had Jeſus, the Chriſtian Prophet, confined him⯑ſelf to his Syſtem of moral Precepts, I think he would juſtly have been eſteemed the greateſt Philoſopher and Legiſlator that ever breathed. But, when he, or ra⯑ther his Diſciples, in his Name, in order to enhance the Authority of their Miſſion, pretended to Divinity in their Maſter, the low bred and ignorant Wretches pulled together, againſt the Grain, and compound⯑ed ſuch a ſtrange Medley of fighting In⯑conſiſtencies, and ſelf-evident Abſurdities, as are wholly everſive of every Principle of right Reaſon and common Senſe. They taught that God was made a Man; that, in order to expiate the Sins of the World, the Innocent was appointed to ſuffer for the Guilty. That the Sins of all Offenders were to be imputed to One who had never offended; and that the Righteouſneſs of [272]him, who had never offended, was to be imputed to Criminals of the deepeſt Dye. That the Creator ſubmitted himſelf to the Malignity of his Creatures, and that God himſelf died a ſhameful Death on the Croſs. And this, Gentlemen, makes ſuch a Heap of ridiculous Incoherencies, ſuch Contradictions in Senſe and Terms, as ex⯑ceeds even the Worſhip of Apes and Ser⯑pents, Leeks and Onions, and the other Garbage of Egypt.

You are a Villain, and a Thief, and a Liar, cried Harry, altogether enflamed with Choler. Mole, on hearing theſe Terms of higheſt Affront and Reproach, inſtantly caught up a Bottle and threw it at our Hero's Head, but it happily miſſed him, and only bruiſed the fleſhy Part of the Shoulder of the Gentleman who ſat next. Harry inſtantly ſprung up and made at Mole, while the Company roſe alſo and attempted to interfere; but ſome he caſt on one Hand, and ſome on the Other, and overturning ſuch as directly oppoſed him, he reached Mole, and, with one Blow of his Fiſt on the Temple, laid him motionleſs along the Floor. Then looking down on his Adverſary, I ſhould be ſorry, ſaid he, that the Wretch would die in his preſent State of Reprobacy; here, Drawer, run quickly and bring me a Surgeon. Then [273]returning to his Place, he ſat down with great Compoſure.

After a Pauſe he looked around. I hope, Gentlemen, ſaid he, that none of You are hurt. Indeed I am much concerned for having, in any Degree, contributed to your Diſturbance. But, had any of You a dear Benefactor and Patron, to whom you were bound beyond Meaſure, whom you loved and honoured above all Things, could ye bear to hear him defamed and vilified to your Face? No certainly, anſwered One; no Man could bear it, cried Another; but pray, aſked a Third, how came you to call the Gentleman a Thief?—Becauſe, re⯑plied our Hero, he attempted to rob me of my whole Eſtate. He endeavoured to thieve from me the only Friend I had in the Uni⯑verſe, the Friend of my Heart, the Peace and Reſt of my Boſom; my infinite Trea⯑ſure, my never ending Delight! the Friend without whom I would not chooſe to be; without whom, Exiſtence would become a Curſe and an Abhorrence unto me. Hap⯑py young Creature! exclaimed an elderly Gentleman, I underſtand you, you mean your Chriſt and my Chriſt, the Friend who has already opened his early Heaven with⯑in You.

By this, Mr. Mole began to move, where⯑upon Harry roſe and, putting his Hand in [274]his Pocket, here, Gentlemen, ſaid he, is one Guinea for the Surgeon and another for the Reckoning. When my Companion returns, be pleaſed to tell him I am gone to our Lodgings. For I will not ſtay to hold further Converſe or Altercation with that Bane of Society, that Peſt, which the Rulers in Darkneſs have commiſſioned to ſpread Contagion, Diſtemper and Death among Men.

Harry went early to Bed, but lay reſtleſs and much diſturbed in his Spirit all Night. Mr. Clement had heared the Particulars of our Hero's Behaviour, which he partly diſ⯑approved; but, as he ſaw him already de⯑jected, he did not chooſe to expoſtulate with him for the preſent.

The next Day they returned to Hamſtead, where Mr. Fenton, notwithſtanding the con⯑ſtrained Smiles of his Harry, obſerved an unuſual Cloud and Uneaſineſs in his Coun⯑tenance. I want to ſpeak with You, my Love, ſaid he; and beckoning him into his Cloſet, he took him affectionately by the Hand and made him ſit beſide him. What is the Matter, my Dear, ſaid he, looking concernedly in his Face, what is it that has diſturbed the Peace of the Boſom of my Beloved?

[275] Ah! Sir, cried Harry, I am, indeed, very unhappy. I doubt that I am partly loſing my Faith, and the Fear of that has given me inexpreſſible Horror. It is like tearing me from a Fort, out of which there is no Home or Reſt for me in the Univerſe.

Here Harry made a Recital of the late Affair to his Patron, and having cloſed his Narrative, is not this very wonderful, Sir, ſaid he, how or where in the World could this Mole have muſtered together ſuch Ar⯑guments againſt Reaſon, ſuch Appearances againſt Truth? How muſt the Vulgar and Illiterate be ſtaggered by ſuch Objections; when, even I, who have been bred, as I may ſay, at the Feet of ſuch a Gamaliel, have not been able to anſwer them, other⯑wiſe than by the Chaſtiſement which the Blaſphemer received at my Hand.

Here Mr. Fenton ſmiled and ſaid, don't be alarmed, my Love. We ſhall quickly diſpel the thin Miſts of Infidelity that were collected to ſhut the Sun of Righteouſneſs from your Eye. I confeſs, indeed, that this Spawn of Antichriſt has compiled a Summary of All that has ever been utter⯑ed, againſt the Lamb who was ſlain from the Foundation of the Word; yet he is but a Mole in Nature as well as Name; and he, with his Brother-Moles, know no more [276]and ſee no further than the little Heap of Dirt and Rubbiſh, that the working of their own purblind and floundering Reaſon hath caſt about them.

Sacred Depths and ſtupendous Myſteries belong to this Matter, and when you are able to bear them, they ſhall be clearly and fully unfolded to you, my Harry: In the mean Space, a few ſimple Obſervations will ſuffice to re-eſtabliſh the Peace of your ſweet and pious Heart.

As Chriſtianity was inſtituted for the Salvation of the Vulgar, the principal Truths thereof are very obvious and plain, and want no Learning, no Letters, to in⯑culcate or teach them. They ſpeak the Language of Nature, and all Nature is ex⯑preſſive of the Senſe and the Sound there⯑of. Whatever is within you, whatever is without you, cries aloud for a Saviour. For Sin hath been as the Mezentius, of whom you read in Virgil, who bound the Bodies of the Dead to the Perſons of the Living. Thus it is that the Sin of fallen Angels, and of fallen Man, hath bound Change and Corruption, Diſtemperature and Death, to the Elements, to the Vege⯑tables, to Animals, and even to the im⯑mortal Image of God himſelf in the Hu⯑manity; ſo that all Things cry out, with the Apoſtle Saint Paul, who ſhall deliver me [277]from the Body of this Death? So that all Things cry out, with the Apoſtle Saint Peter, ſave Lord, or I periſh!

Theſe are inevitable Truths, my Harry, which all Men, at ſome time, muſt feel throughout their Exiſtence, whether they read them or not. And he alone who never experienced nor ever ſhall experience Frailty, Error, or Sickneſs, Pain, Anguiſh, or Diſſolution, is exempt from our Solar Syſtem of Salvation from Sin.

But, what Sort of a Saviour is it, for whom all Things cry ſo loudly? Is it a dry Moraliſt, a Legiſlator of bare and external Precepts, ſuch as your Mole-Philoſopher required our Chriſt to be? No, my Darling, no. The Influence and Exiſtence of the Redeemer of Nature muſt, at leaſt, be as extenſive as Nature herſelf.

Things are defiled and corrupted through⯑out, they are diſtempered and devoted to Death from the inmoſt Eſſence of their Being; and nothing, under him, in whom they live and move and have their Being, can redeem, can reſtore them.

O Sir, exclaimed Harry, his Countenance brightening up, why could I not think of this? I ſhould then have been able to foil [278]my malignant Adverſary, even at his own Weapons.

Our Jeſus himſelf, continued Mr. Fenton, appeals to the Truth I have told you, where he ſays to the Sick of the Palſy, Son, be of good cheer, thy Sins are for⯑given thee. But, when the Phariſees, thereupon, concluded that he blaſphemed; he demonſtrated his Influence in and over the Soul, by the ſenſible Evidence of his Operation and Influence in and over the Body. What reaſon ye in your Hearts? ſaid Jeſus; whether is it eaſier to ſay thy Sins be forgiven thee, or to ſay, riſe up and walk? Then ſaid he to the Sick of the Palſy, ariſe and take up thy Couch, and go to thine Houſe. And immediately he roſe up before them, and took up that whereon he had been carried, and depart⯑ed to his own Houſe, glorifying God.

Here it was neceſſary, for the perform⯑ance of this wonderful and inſtantaneous Cure, that Jeſus ſhould inſtantly operate in and through every Member, Nerve, and Fibre of the Sick of the Palſy. And it was equally neceſſary, for that Purpoſe, that the Sick of the Palſy ſhould have lived, and have had his Being in Jeſus. In like Manner, alſo, his Sins, muſt have been pardoned, by an inward Salvation, by im⯑parting to the Will of the Sinner a new [279]and rectified Will; and by informing his Spirit with a Deteſtation of Evil and a Love of Goodneſs and Virtue.

But, pray Sir, if it is not too profound a Myſtery for me, be pleaſed to inform me, how God could be made Man? for this was one of the principal Objections of Mole.

God was never made Man, my Harry. God cannot be debaſed. He could not degrade himſelf by any Change into Man⯑hood, though he could exalt and aſſume Humanity into God. Neither could God die or ſuffer. To this, Chriſt himſelf, who was God and Man, bears Teſtimony; where he cries out, in the Agonies of his ſuffering Humanity, my God, my God, why haſt thou forſaken me? And again, where, crying with a loud Voice, he ſaid, Father, into thy Hands I commend my Spirit.—But, you are leading me ſomething deeper than I choſe to go, for the preſent.

From Eternity, God ſaw that, ſhould he produce any Creatures in his own Image, to be glorious by his Likeneſs and happy by his Communication, he muſt of Neceſſity create them intelligent and free; and that conſequently; as Creatures, they muſt be finite; and that, as Creatures who were free, they ſhould alſo be fallible.

[280] He, therefore, ſaw that all might fall, and he alſo foreſaw that ſome would fall. But his Graciouſneſs had provided two infallible Remedies for this Evil of Fallibility. He had provided a Saviour, and he had alſo provided Suffering. The Saviour was to reſtore them by an inward Redemption, by a Reinfuſion and new Birth of his own Na⯑ture in their Eſſence. And Suffering was to prepare and open his Way, by humbling their Pride, by mortifying their Luſt, and thus compelling them to unfold their Hearts to their own Happineſs.

Indeed, had no Creature ever fallen, God could not have been duely glorified to all Eternity. Millions of his infinitely amiable Qualities muſt have lain an in⯑ſcrutable Secret to Worlds upon Worlds. While all his Creatures were happy in him, and participated of him, no Diſtinction could be duely made between them and their Creator. Had Evil never been, Good⯑neſs would have ſunk unſpeakably in the Senſe of its Value, which is now infinitely heightened and glorified by the Contraſt. Free Grace and free Mercy on the Part of our God, and Penitence and Thankſgiving on the Part of humbled Sinners, would have been prevented of their thouſand en⯑dearing Connections. And all the Amities and Charities, throughout the Brotherhood [281]of Man; all the melting and fond Relations, which the Vine-Chriſt infuſes throughout his ingrafted Branches, bearing Bloſſoms and Fruits of divine Fragrance and Flavour, muſt ever have remained, unbleſſing and as dead, from Eternity to Eternity.

But, our God, my Child, is as powerful, as he is gracious and wiſe, to bring Light out of Darkneſs, and Life out of Death, and infinite and ever enduring Good out of the limited and ſhort State of tranſitory Evil.

To prove that no Being, beneath himſelf, could ſtand of their own Sufficiency, God permitted his two principal Creatures, the moſt immediate and moſt glorious Repre⯑ſentatives of his divine Perfections, to fall off from their Allegiance, and conſequent⯑ly from their Happineſs, with all their Progeny. The firſt was the Angel Lucifer who fell through Pride, and the ſecond was the Man Adam who fell through Luſt. Theſe two capital Sins of Pride and of Luſt are the genuine Parents of all moral and natural E⯑vil, of all the Guilt and Miſery that ever did or ever can ariſe throughout Duration; and our heavenly Father, in his Love, hath appointed intenſe Suffering, to abate and abaſe the one, and to mortify and ſlay the other, that Tranſgreſſors may finally be capable of his Mercy, through the Salva⯑tion and Grace of his Chriſt.

[282] The firſt of theſe Arch-felons deemed himſelf worthy of Deity, and, being unex⯑perienced in the Power with whom he had to contend, he attempted to arrogate all Worſhip to himſelf, and to rob his divine Benefactor of Glory and Godhead.

The ſecond of theſe Felons was tempt⯑ed, by the firſt, to aſpire, through his own Merits, at a godlike Independence; to caſt off his Allegiance to the Author of his Be⯑ing; and to expect. Intelligence and Know⯑ledge from the ſenſual Fruits of this World, after which he luſted. He accordingly took and eat of the Tree that was preg⯑nant with all the Goods and all the Evils of this external, elementary, and tranſient Syſ⯑tem, according to his Faith it was done unto him; according to his Luſt his Deſire was accompliſhed; his Nature became a Par⯑taker of temporary Nature; and he fell, with his Progeny, into all the Depravity and Evils, that the Sin of fallen Lucifer had introduced into theſe vaſt Regions; now made more exceedingly corrupt and ſinful by the Sin of fallen Adam.

Why, pray Sir, demanded Harry, had Lucifer any Concern in this World, before the Fall of our firſt Parents?

[283] Yes, my Dear, all the Space, that is now occupied by this Earth, and theſe Ele⯑ments with the Sun, Moon and Stars, to an inconceivable Extent; was once the Heaven and Dominion of Lucifer and his Angels. But when, by their Apoſtacy from the Light and Love and Goodneſs of God, they had cauſed Darkneſs and Ma⯑lignity, Envy, Rage, and Uproar, and every Species of Evil and Horror, to be predominant throughout their Kingdom; God determined, by a new Creation, to take it out of their Hands. Accordingly, he compacted it into the preſent Syſtem of temporary Nature, whoſe Duration is to be meaſured by the Revolution of our Luminaries, until the appointed Period of the great Conſummation, when all the Malignity that remains, and is compacted therein, ſhall be finally done away.

To this Truth Moſes bears Teſtimony, where he tells you that, at the Commence⯑ment of Creation, Darkneſs was upon the Face of the great Deep. And again, where he tells you, that the Tree of the Know⯑ledge of the Goods and Evils of this World ſprung up, even in the Midſt of the Para⯑diſe of God. But it is altogether impious and blaſphemous to ſuppoſe, that God would create Evil, or infuſe a Tendency [284]thereto into any of his Works. Again, the ſame Truth is atteſted by many Paſ⯑ſages of the ſacred Writings; where Luci⯑fer, or Satan, tells Chriſt, to his Face, that this World, with all its Glories, are his Portion and Property, that they were deli⯑vered unto him, and that he giveth them to whomſoever he will. And again, where Chriſt calls him the Prince of the Air; and again, where he ſays the Prince of this World cometh and hath no Part in me.

Now, when God, by his new Creation, had delivered this Syſtem of Things from the Influence and Dominion of evil Spirits, they became altogether Priſoners in their own Darkneſs. But when Adam, the ſe⯑cond Lord of this vaſt Domain, by a ſe⯑cond Apoſtacy, had brought additional Sin and Evil into temporary Nature, the Para⯑diſe of God, that was over all, vaniſhed; and the new Guilt of Adam opened a new and wide Gate, for the Re-admiſſion of Lucifer into his ancient Poſſeſſions. And he remains a Prince and a Ruler in the Elements and Hearts of Men unto this evil Day.

Theſe two capital Apoſtates, Lucifer and Adam, who had thus robbed their kind God of their Affections and Allegi⯑ance, were thereafter repreſented by the two Thieves who ſuffered in Company with [285]Chriſt who reached out to them a bleeding Arm of his Mercy on either Hand. The One accepted his Grace and, on that Day, entered Paradiſe along with his Lord. The Other rejected the Chriſt with Contempt and Reproach, and therefore, if ever re⯑claimable, muſt be conſtrained by Suffering to open his Heart to Redemption; when after a Proceſs of many many agonizing Ages, blaſpheming and indignantly ſpurn⯑ing at the Power of his Puniſher, he may be compelled to cry out, O Seed of the Woman! heal, heal the Head thou haſt cruſhed, and admit me alſo, tho' laſt, to ſome Part, the leaſt Portion of thy pardon⯑ing Salvation!

Theſe Two, my Harry, even Lucifer and Adam, were alſo the Thieves among whom the Traveller fell, going from Jeruſalem to Jericho, from the City and Place of Peace to the Place of Deſtruction. He repreſent⯑ed the wretched Race of fallen Man, whom Lucifer and their firſt Father had robbed of all their Subſtance, and ſtripped of their Robe of Righteouſneſs, and wounded, and left half dead in Treſpaſſes and Sins. Nei⯑ther did the Law or the Prieſthood avail any Thing for their Cure till JESUS the GOOD SAMARITAN had Compaſſion upon them, and bound up their Wounds, pour⯑ing therein the Oil of his Grace and the Wine of his Gladneſs; and expended two [286]Pence, even the two precious Pence of his own Body and Blood for perfecting their Recovery.

But, my deareſt Sir, ſaid Harry, if my Queſtion does not intrude, pray how was it conſiſtent with Juſtice that the Suffer⯑ings of the Innocent ſhould attone both for, and inſtead of, the Guilty? For this alſo was one of Mole's cardinal Objections.

Your Queſtion, ſaid Mr. Fenton, falls aptly in its Place. When Adam, as I have told you, apoſtatiſed from his God, and luſted after the groſs and ſenſual Fruits of this World, and fed upon them, and there⯑upon, became a Partaker of their Nature and Malignity; he fell from his Paradiſe and Sovereignty together, and he became a poor Subject and miſerable Slave to all the Evils and Inclemencies of that tempora⯑ry Nature, over which he had been conſti⯑tuted a throned Lord and Controuler.

Here was a deep and a woful Fall, my Harry, from Sovereignty to Slavery, from Eternity into Time, from Immortality into Corruption, from Bliſs into Miſery, and from Life into Death. The very State, in which the wretched Heirs of his fallen Na⯑ture find themſelves at this Day. How then was he to riſe, if ever to riſe again? [287]could this be effected by any Powers of his own? if he did not ſtand in the State of his Strength, how ſhall he recover and be able to reaſcend in the State of his Weakneſs? how think you, my Harry? A ſelf evident Impoſſibility, anſwered Harry.

Here then, continued Mr. Fenton, we find the Univerſe of Man depraved, fallen, and ſunk into the Darkneſs of Sin and Error, into the Dungeon of groſs and cor⯑ruptible Fleſh, and circled about and cloſed in by the Barriers and Gates of Death. And theſe Priſons were to be broken through, theſe Gates were to be burſt open, before he could re-enter upon Light and Immortality. All the Enemies who had conquered Man, Sin, Satan, and Temp⯑tation were alſo to be conquered. But, how was this to be done? A World lay at Stake, and the great Queſtion was, whe⯑ther the whole Race of Man ſhould con⯑tinue in endleſs Guilt and Miſery, or be reſtored to ever-during Purity and Bleſſed⯑neſs? Wherefore, what all the Powers of Creation were not able to attempt, Jeſus, in the Humanity, undertook to accom⯑pliſh.

Here you ſee, my Child, that Juſtice had little to do in the Caſe. It was not the Juſtice of Puniſhment, but the Mercy of [288]Deliverance that the Love of our heavenly Father required. Juſtice indeed affirmed that Suffering was due to Sin, and was the neceſſary Attendant and Conſequence there⯑of; but this alſo the Love of our Chriſt willingly took upon himſelf. He conquer⯑ed Suffering, through Sufferings, and was thereby made the perfect and accompliſhed Captain of our Salvation. He entered into our Fleſh, he went through all the Paſſages of this Vale of Tears and Region of Miſe⯑ry, into which we were fallen; through Poverty, Contempt, Rejection, Reproach; through all that the Rage and Rancour of Men and Devils could inflict, his bloody Sweat and anguiſhing Horrors of Hell, Bonds, Buffetings, Spittings, Scourgings, the bloody Mockery of a thorny Crown, and all the Soul-rending Tortures of an agonizing Crucifixion, till at laſt, he triumphantly cried it is finiſhed! and gave up the Ghoſt. From the Croſs he de⯑ſcended into the Grave; from the Grave again, he roſe in Glory and aſcended into Heaven, where he led Captivity Captive, and ſhewed the Powers of Darkneſs bound; that he might lead all the Followers of his beatific Croſs, in his own divine Proceſs, to Conqueſt through Sufferings, to Glory through Abaſement, to Exaltation through Humiliation, through Death unto Life, and through the Calamities of Time to a never ending, ever bleſſing, ever joyful Eternity!

[289] But, Sir, ſaid Harry, was the Humanity of our bleſſed Saviour the ſame as ours is? for ſo the Scripture ſeems to intimate, where it ſays, he was made Man, like unto us in all Things, Sin only excepted.

This was only ſpoken, anſwered Mr. Fenton, with reſpect to his outward Hu⯑manity. His creaturely Soul indeed, and the Fleſh which he derived from his mortal Mother, were even as ours are, Sin only excepted. But, theſe were only as the Huſk or Caſe of his internal and divine Humanity, which was conceived from the Eſſence of the FATHER, by the Operation of the HOLY SPIRIT in the Womb of a pure Virgin. It was this Humanity to which JESUS was intimately united, and that became one with the ever bleſſed TRI⯑NITY. And it was of the Ubiquity of this Humanity that Chriſt ſpeaketh, when he ſays to Nicodemus, no Man hath aſcended up to Heaven, but he that came down from Heaven, even the Son of Man which is in Heaven. But, when the external Huma⯑nity of Jeſus was, by Suffering and Death, prepared to be ſwallowed up of Glory, the whole CHRIST was then aſſumed up into Godhead. He ſaw all Things in Jeſus, as they were and ſhall be from Eternity to Eternity. And, though the Glory of his perſonal Appearance may be viſible in cer⯑tain Places, yet he is inviſibly preſent in [290]all Places and in all Hearts, begetting in them a new Birth of his own divine Hu⯑manity; that their Bodies may alſo be faſhioned like unto his glorious Body; and that, when our Corruptible ſhall have put on Incorruption, and when that our Mor⯑tal ſhall have put on Immortality, We All may be made One, as He is in the Father and the Father in him, that we alſo may be One in them. An Elevation, ſure, well worth the hardeſt Striving, the higheſt Ambition!

Thus I have ſhewn you, my Harry, the inevitable Neceſſity of the Suffering of our innocent Chriſt for the Salvation of guilty Sinners. And this alſo ſhews you the equal Neceſſity of his taking upon himſelf the ex⯑ternal Imputation of the Sins for which he ſuffered; that he might, thereby, be in⯑wardly imputed to us, and become to us and in us the LORD OUR RIGHTEOUSNESS; and be to us a better Adam, a ſecond and divine Father, regenerating us to a Birth of his own heavenly Nature. And thus, as the firſt Adam died unto God, and lived to fallen Nature; there was a Neceſſity that Chriſt, as well in his own Perſon, as his redeemed Progeny, ſhould die to the fallen Nature, that through him they might live again unto God.

O thank you, thank you, Sir, cried Har⯑ry, I ſhall henceforth be enabled to give an [291]Account, to all who aſk, of the Faith that is in me. But pray, did the divine Huma⯑nity of our Chriſt ſuffer in the Crucifixion?

I believe it did, Harry, even as our Souls are found to ſuffer in our Bodies, though of a Nature ſo very different from them. It was the Suffering of this divine Humanity that cauſed ſuch violent Repug⯑nance and Convulſions in Nature; that ſhut up the World from Light even at mid Day; that rent the Rocks, that opened the Graves, and gave up the Dead to attend their Lord and revive in the Life of his Reſurrection.

Will you be pleaſed, Sir, to indulge me in one Queſtion more? Could not God, in his Omnipotence, have affected the Salva⯑tion of Man by ſome other Means than the Suffering of our dear Chriſt? I think, were it to be done again, I would rather forfeit my Salvation, than that He ſhould endure ſuch Agony on my Account.

I will not pretend, my Harry, to give Limits or Directions to the Meaſures of my God, neither to ſay what he might or might not do within his own World, and with regard to his own Creatures. But, it is certain that he choſe the moſt effectual Method, for compaſſing his great and eter⯑nal [292]Purpoſe, that infinite Love could dic⯑tate, infinite Wiſdom contrive, and infinite Power execute. O my Harry, how un⯑utterably endeared muſt this Meaſure make our God to the Univerſe of his Creatures, and that to all Eternity! It is herein that the Nature of our God is revealed, it is hereby alone that he could ever have been duely known; known to be the God of Love, to be nothing but Love, in this his wonderful Work of Mercy tranſcending Mercy, and of Grace tranſcending Grace, that he might bring us to Glory tranſcend⯑ing Glory!

In this ſtupendous Work of Redemption, I ſay, Jeſus makes himſelf as it were little, that we may become great; He ſtoops in⯑to Manhood that he may exalt us into God. He came not arrayed in the Fool's Coat of the Luſtre of this deſpicable World, nor in the Weakneſs of its Power, nor in the Meanneſs of its Dignity; but over his Immenſity he threw the Appearance of Li⯑mitation, and with Time he inveſted his Eternity; and his Omnipotence put on Frailty, and his Supremacy put on Sub⯑jection; and with the Veil of Mortality, he ſhrouded his Beauty, that he might be⯑come familiar to us, that we might behold and converſe with him Face to Face, as Man converſes with Man and grows fond of his Fellow.

[293] Before the Incarnation, God was feared in his Thunders, and adored in the Ma⯑jeſty and Magnificence of his Works. But, it is in the meek and lowly Jeſus that he becomes the Object of Affection, in the bleeding, the ſuffering, the dying Jeſus, we behold him with weeping Gratitude, we love him with a Love of Paſſion and Burning, a Love that languiſhes for him, that cannot bear to exiſt without him.

How could that perverſe People ſhut their Eyes to the Divinity of their gracious Meſſiah, while he gave ſuch hourly and occular Proofs of the Power and Extent of his Godhead, in and over all Things? while he went about doing Good, carrying Healing in his Breath, in his Touch, in his Garments; while the Lame ſprung up as a bounding Roe at his Bidding; while the Tempeſt heared his Voice and was ſtill, and the Sea ſpread itſelf as a Carpet beneath the Foot of its Creator. While the deaf Ear was opened, and the dumb Tongue looſed to Utterance; while he poured the Beams of his Light upon the new-opening Eyes of the blind-born Gazer; and while in Death and amidſt the Tombs his Word was Life and Reſurrection.

Thus, my Harry, you find yourſelf uni⯑ted to your Saviour by many endearing and intimate Connections; by Creation, by Re⯑demption, [294]by Brotherhood, by Fatherhood, in the Fleſh, in the Spirit; by his being Bone of your Bone; and Spirit of your Spi⯑rit, by being the Firſt-Born of many Bre⯑thren, and by being the divine Father of a new and celeſtial Progeny.

But, what need we further? the World, from the Beginning, is fraught with him and ſpeaks of him. The World is, in it⯑ſelf, no other than a Hiſtory of the two capital and eternally important Truths, THE GREATNESS OF THE FALL in Luci⯑fer and Adam, and THE GREATNESS OF THE REDEMPTION in Jeſus Chriſt. Theſe Truths are engraven in the Rocks as deep as the Centre; they are written on both Sides of every Leaf in Nature. All that is within us, All that is without us utters forth the ſame Language, proclaims the ſame Tidings aloud. All Ceremonials, all Inſti⯑tutions of divine Authority, all ancient Pre⯑dictions and Prophecies were pregnant with and in Travail of the GREAT DELIVE⯑RANCE to be atchieved by the Shiloh who was to come. They give us a previous Hiſtory of his whole Proceſs upon Earth, from his Birth to his Reſurrection, as cir⯑cumſtantially, as minutely, as though it were a bare Tranſcript of what had recent⯑ly paſſed before their Eyes. But I ſhall only dwell a Minute on three principal Ar⯑ticles, [295]firſt, that Meſſiah was to be God—ſecondly, that he was however to be a ſuffering Meſſiah—and thirdly, that he was to give himſelf to Death for the Salva⯑tion of Sinners.

FIRST, with Reſpect to his Divinity, Daniel ſays: ‘I ſaw in the Night Viſions, and behold, One like unto the SON OF MAN came with the Clouds of Heaven, and came to the ANCIENT OF DAYS, and they brought him near before him. And there was given him DOMINION and GLORY, and a KINGDOM, that all Peo⯑ple, Nations, and Languages ſhould ſerve him; his DOMINION is an EVERLAST⯑ING DOMINION which ſhall not paſs a⯑way.’ Again Iſaiah: ‘Behold a Virgin ſhall conceive and bear a Son. For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given, and the Government ſhall be upon his Shoulder; and his Name ſhall be call⯑ed WONDERFUL, COUNSELLOR, the MIGHTY GOD, the EVERLASTING FA⯑THER, the PRINCE of PEACE. Of the Increaſe of his GOVERNMENT and PEACE there ſhall be NO END, upon the Throne of David, and upon his King⯑dom, to order it, and to eſtabliſh it, with JUDGMENT and with JUSTICE, from henceforth even FOR EVER.’

[296] SECONDLY, with Reſpect to his Charac⯑ter of Rejection and Suffering: ‘Who hath believed our Report and to whom is the Arm of the Lord revealed? He is deſpiſed and rejected of Men, a Man of Sorrows and acquainted with Grief, and we hid as it were our Faces from him; he was deſpiſed and we eſteemed him not. He was oppreſſed and he was af⯑flicted; he is brought as a Lamb to the Slaughter, and as a Sheep before her Shearers is dumb, ſo openeth he not his Mouth. He was taken from Priſon and from Judgment; and who ſhall declare his Generation? for he was cut off out of the Land of the Living, for the Tranſ⯑greſſion of my People was he ſtricken. And he made his Grave with the Wick⯑ed, and with the Rich in his Death. Iſaiah.’—David too ſays, ‘Dogs have compaſſed me, the Aſſembly of the Wicked have encloſed me; they pierced my Hands and my Feet. They part my Garments among them, and caſt Lots for my Veſture.—But, a Bone of him ſhall not be broken.—They ſhall look on him whom they pierced.’

THIRDLY, with Reſpect to his being a willing Offering for Sin. Iſaiah ſays, in the ſame Chapter: ‘Surely he hath born our Griefs and carried our Sorrows; yet we did eſteem him ſtricken, ſmitten of [297]God, and afflicted. But, he was wound⯑ed for our Tranſgreſſions, he was bruiſ⯑ed for our Iniquities; the Chaſtiſement of our Peace was upon him, and with his Stripes we are healed. All we like Sheep have gone aſtray; we have turn⯑ed every one to his own Way, and the Lord hath laid on him the Iniquity of us All.’ Jeremiah too—

Here, Mr. Fenton was interrupted. His Man Frank entered, booted, and all be⯑ſpattered with Dirt, and having whiſpered Something in his Maſter's Ear, Mr. Fenton turned aſide his Head, to hide his Concern from Harry, and ſtepping to his Cloſet, locked himſelf in.

BUT, it may be thought full Time to return to the Head-Branch of this noble Family.

Nearly nine Years had now elapſed, ſince the Earl and his Lady had ſeen or heared of their Harry, except by two or three anonymous Notes, in a Year, giving a ſhort Account of his Health and Accom⯑pliſhments; inſomuch that Time and long Abſence had, in a Meaſure, worn him from the Regrets of the Family; except⯑ing his Brother Richard, on whom Harry's Generoſity, in taking his Quarrel upon [298]himſelf, had left an affecting, and indeli⯑ble Impreſſion.

Lord Richard was, indeed, ſweetly diſ⯑poſitioned by Nature, and of an Aſpect and Perſon extremely elegant; and as he had Tutors in all Branches, in which he choſe to be inſtructed, he learned ſuffi⯑cient, by Way of Amuſement, to render him One of the moſt accompliſhed Youths in the Nation. He was alſo, naturally, unaſſuming and modeſtly diſpoſed; but the unremitted Adulation of Domeſtics and Dependents, with the complimentary Ar⯑tillery of all the Neighbours and Viſitants, could not fail of ſome Impreſſion, at leaſt ſo far as to make it evident that he was conſcious of his Condeſcenſion when he be⯑came familiar with you.

He was, however, eaſy to All who ap⯑plied to him for any Favour, exceeding charitable to the Poor; and particularly fond of our Harry's Foſtermother, and kind to her for Harry's Sake.

With ſuch amiable Qualities, he was eſteemed and beloved of All, and became the little Idol of the adjacent Country, in⯑ſomuch that, when he was ſeized with the Small Pox, the Apprehenſion and Anxiety for him was univerſal, and the great Man⯑ſion. Houſe was hourly circled by People [299]who came crowding, to enquire concerning his Danger.

The Eruption was but ſlight, only a few Spots on his Face and other Parts, ſo that my Lady was in high Triumph, on obſerving, that the Beauty of her Darling ſhould not be defaced. But ah, how frail is the Foundation on which Mortality builds for Happineſs! who can enſure it, who can arreſt it for an Hour, for a Mo⯑ment? On the eleventh Day, when the Phyſicians pronounced that All was promiſ⯑ing and full of Hope, Lord Richard was ſuddenly taken with Convulſions, and, in leſs than an Hour, expired.

Lady Enna, Counteſs of Moreland, from whom the Seat had been newly denomi⯑nated Enna's Field or Enfield, was preſent at the Death of All that ſhe held moſt pre⯑cious upon Earth. She had never left his Chamber ſince he had taken to his Bed; and was now carried off in a deep and death-like Swoon. She never after reco⯑vered her Senſes, except by deplorable Starts, to lament that ſhe was the moſt wretched of All that ever were created; and, on the ſecond Day, She alſo expired, and was interred in the ſame Tomb with the Offspring of her Body and the Idol of her Heart.

[300] Never was ſeen ſuch a Concourſe at any Funeral, ſince the Funeral of Jacob on which all Egypt attended. They crowded from a Diſtance of thirty Miles round. But, when they ſaw the old and revered Patron of the Country, all covered with ſad and ſolemn Weeds; when they beheld his Countenance exceeding all Pomp of Sorrow, and conceived the Weight and Wringing that was then at his Heart; Envy was quite blunted and robbed of its Sting. They now lamented the Living more than they mourned the Dead; and the pooreſt among the Poor looked down, with an Eye of Compaſſion upon the great Man, now rendered, as they deemed, more pitiable and deſolate even than themſelves; without Child or Kindred; without Any to continue his Name or his Honours; without Any who could claim a Share in his Wealth or his Woe; without any Cauſe of further Comfort or further Care upon Earth.

During the following Week the Earl kept his Chamber, and would admit of no Viſitor, till Mr. Meekly arrived.

Mr. Meekly had long eſtranged himſelf to Enfield; he had gone elſwhere, ſeeking the Houſes of Mourning, and breathing Peace and Conſolation wherever he went; but as ſoon as he heared of the Affliction of his noble Friend, he haſtened to help him to [301]bear up under the Weight of his Calamity. He entered, and ſeating himſelf in Silence beſide the Earl, he there wept near an Hour without uttering a Syllable.

My Lord was the firſt who ſpoke; Mr. Meekly, ſaid he, my Heart gratefully feels this melting Proof of your Love. You weep for me, my Friend, becauſe You ſee, and kindly feel, that there is no other Com⯑fort for me on this Side the Grave.

God forbid, God forbid, ſaid Mr. Meek⯑ly, the beſt and greateſt of all Comforts is coming to you, my Lord. Eternal Truth has promiſed it, and he will make it good to you; bleſſed, bleſſed are they who mourn, for they ſhall be comforted.

Ah, Mr. Meekly, replied the Earl, the Comfort that you mention is promiſed only to the deeply contrite and broken of Heart; to thoſe who duely lament the Baſeneſs of their Offences againſt ſo great and good a God. Neither do I deſpair, my Friend, but that I alſo may finally ſhare ſome Por⯑tion of that ſame Comfort; for, as I feel⯑ingly acknowlege myſelf the greateſt of all Sinners, ſo I wiſh for Grace to make me the greateſt of Penitents.

God be praiſed, cried Meekly, for the Grace already given! There was a Time, [302]my Lord, when, as you told me, you had nothing of theſe divine Diſpoſitions; when the World, as you ſaid, ſeemed to hold out Happineſs to you in either Hand; when Fortune, Title, Precedence, circling Ho⯑nours about you, and within you Youth and Health, and a revelling Flow of Blood and Spirits wholly diſguiſed and concealed the State of your Nature from you; when they hid from you your own Body of Frail⯑ty, Diſtemper, Sin and Death, and left you no Occaſion to call out for a Saviour, as you felt nothing from which you deſired to be ſaved. But God has now been graciouſly pleaſed to ſend you his Monitors, and to call upon you by Affliction, that you, in your Turn, may call upon him who alone can give you Conſolation.

It is not, my Lord, to the Mourners for Sin, alone, to whom Comfort is promiſed. The State of Suffering and Mourning is in its Nature extremely ſalutary and of happy Tendency to Man, and it is, therefore, that the ſuffering Jeſus hath pronounced it bleſſed.

The God of ALL LOVE takes no Delight in the Sufferings of his poor and pitiable Creatures; neither would he have made this State of our Mortality a Vale of Tears and a State of Miſery, had it not been in order to conduct us, through tranſitory Evils to [303]ever enduring Bliſs, where he himſelf will wipe all Tears from our Eyes.

When Adam, by his Apoſtaſy and fall⯑ing off from his Maker, had converted all the Goods of this temporary State into evil Incitements to Luſt, Covetouſneſs, and Sen⯑ſuality; God determined, by a gracious Reverſe, to turn all the Evils of corrupt and fallen Nature into Means of enduring Good to his fallen and frail Creatures; he therefore appointed Pain, Affliction, Di⯑ſtreſs and Diſeaſe to be his Miniſters, his Monitors, and Preachers within us, to con⯑vince us of all the Evil of our depraved and mortal Nature; to wean us from a World that is full of falſe Promiſes but empty of true Enjoyment; to remind us that we are Strangers and Pilgrims upon Earth, to turn our Eye to the Star that hath viſited us from on high; and finally, through our Sufferings, to accompliſh the great Work of his own Salvation in us.

Thank you, thank you, Mr. Meekly, theſe are comforting Things indeed. They pluck Comfort from the very Depth and Abyſs of Affliction. I love that my God ſhould be lovely to my Heart. You have now rent the dark Veil that long hung be⯑fore my Eyes; and the Sun of Righteouſ⯑neſs breaks upon me through the Clouds of my Mortality. — But, what of Death, Mr. [304] Meekly, what of Death, my Friend? I am intereſted in the Queſtion; my Time is approaching. When this Body ſhall fall to Duſt, and all theſe Organs of Senſation be utterly cut off; what remains, what then ſhall follow? by what Means ſhall my Spirit attain the Powers of new Perception; or am I to lye in the Grave, in a State of total Inſenſibility, till the laſt Trumpet ſhall ſound? my Nature ſhrinks, I confeſs, from a total Deprivation of the Senſe of Exiſ⯑tence.

It is no Way evident to me, my Lord, that Body, or at leaſt ſuch groſs Bodies as we now have, are neceſſary to the Percep⯑tions and Senſibilities of our Spirit. God himſelf is a Spirit, an all-ſeeing, all-hearing, all-taſting, all-ſmelling, all-feeling, all-knowing, and all-governing Spirit. He who made the Eye, ſhall he not ſee? He who made the Ear, ſhall he not hear? Wherefore, as our Spirits are the Offsprings of his divine Spirit, we may juſtly preſume them endowed with like Capacities. But, if Body is neceſſary to the Perception of Spirit, as Zoroaſter, the illuminated Philo⯑ſopher, ſeems to intimate, where, ſpeaking of God, he ſays, ‘whoſe Body is Light and whoſe Soul is Truth,’ in this Caſe, I ſay, we may reaſonably ſuppoſe that when our Spirits ſhall be parted from theſe groſs and frail Bodies, they ſhall be inſtantly [305]cloathed upon with more pure and perma⯑nent Bodies. Or, as I rather think, that thoſe pure and permanent Bodies are alrea⯑dy forming and pregnant within our groſs and corruptible Bodies; and that when the Midwife Death ſhall deliver us from the dark Womb of our woeful Travail and Mortality; we ſhall immediately ſpring forth into Incorruption and Glory.

Of this, my Lord, I am confident as I am of my Being, that He who, by Faith, hath already put on Chriſt, ſhall break through Death in the Brightneſs of the Body of his new Birth, incorruptible, immortal and bleſſed to all Eternity.

Tell me then, my deareſt Meekly, what mean you by the Body of this new Birth? For alas, I am but too apt to cry out with Nicodemus, How can theſe things be?

I mean, my Lord, the forming of Chriſt within us. Our being formed anew of a divine Seed of our ſecond Adam, even as our groſs Bodies were formed in the Womb from a corruptible Seed of the old Adam. I mean the clothing of our Spirits with the heavenly Subſtantiality of the ſpiritual Bo⯑dy and Blood of the heavenly Jeſus him⯑ſelf; for, as the Apoſtle ſays, there is a ſpiritual Body as there is a carnal Body. I [306]mean a Body the ſame as that, in which the believing Thief entered Paradiſe with his Lord on the Day of the Crucifixion. I am the Reſurrection and the Life, ſaith JESUS, whoſo believeth in me, though he were dead yet ſhall he live, and he who liveth and believeth in me ſhall never die. Death ſhall become a new and divine Birth unto him. And the great Apoſtle ſays, there are celeſtial Bodies and Bodies terreſtrial; but the Glory of the Ce⯑leſtial is one, and the Glory of the Terreſtrial is another. And again he ſays, for we know that if our earthly Houſe of this Tabernacle were diſſolved, we have a Building of God, an Houſe not made with Hands, eternal in the Heavens.

Theſe are great Things, indeed, Mr. Meekly, and full of Hope as well as Incite⯑ments to divine Ambition.

But why, my Lord, ſhould a new Birth from Jeſus Chriſt be thought wonderful? is there any thing more wonderful in it than in the forming and unfolding of the whole ſtupendous Mechaniſm of the Body of our old Man, from a ſcarce viſible Speck of Entity? Is there any thing more wonderful in it than in the Growth and unfolding of any common Vegetable from ſome latent Principle or inviſible Speck in the Seed, which not all the Optics and Glaſſes of a Galilaeo ſhould be able to diſcover? Were [307]not theſe the known Facts of every Day and Hour, Incredulity would have laughed the Suppoſition to nought. But, I think, I have got, about me, Something moſt ſurprizingly analagous and appoſite to the Nature and Manner of our new Birth in Jeſus.

Mr. Meekly then put his Hand to his Pocket, and took out a Lump of Matter, in Form like a long and huge Maggot, evidently without Motion, apparently with⯑out Life, and hard and incruſted all about to the Feeling.

What have you got there, my Friend, ſaid the Earl? An old Worm, my Lord, that, at this Inſtant, is pregnant with the Birth of a new Creature. Impoſſible, cried the Earl, the Thing is abſolutely dead. The Body of the old Worm is dead, indeed, my Lord; but there is certainly a Princi⯑ple of a new Life within it, that will ſoon manifeſt itſelf in the Birth of a very beau⯑tiful and wonderfully glorious Creature. And this you will find, if you leave it for a few Days where it may get the foſtering Warmth of the Sun through one of your Windows. Have you ever ſeen the Fly they call the Dragon-Fly, my Lord?

[308] Yes, and have admired the Elegance of its Shape, the Mechaniſm of its double Wings, and the Luſtre of its Irradiations.

This Maſs, my Lord, of apparently in⯑ſenſible Matter, is now actually pregnant with One of the ſame Species. The Pa⯑rent, through whoſe Death it is to attain Life, was no Other, as you ſee, than a vile and groveling Maggot, who once fed and took its Delight in the Stench and Ordure of a Jakes. But the new Creature that is to be born from it will be quite of a diffe⯑rent Nature and Tendency. It will loath the Food and Occupation of its foul Proge⯑nitor. It will ſoar ſublime over carnal and earthly Things. It will drink the Dews of Heaven, and feed on the conſummate Nectar and Fragrance of Flowers.

This, indeed, Mr. Meekly, rejoined the Earl, is to make the inviſible Things of God viſible, even to the naked Eye, by the Things that are ſeen.

While my Lord and his Friend were thus deeply in Diſcourſe, Mr. John, the Houſe-Steward, came in and told his Ma⯑ſter that One waited in the Hall with a Letter for him.

[309] A Letter, cried the Earl, what can I have to ſay, John, to any Letters, or any of the Writers thereof? — But, ſome⯑thing is due to Humanity, and it ſhall be paid; deſire him to ſtep in.

Hereupon a Stranger entered, whoſe Figure inſtantly caught the Eyes and At⯑tention of the Earl and his Companion in an aſtoniſhed Captivity. The Youth was dreſſed in ſimple Fuſtian; and his dark brown Locks, tied behind with a black Riband, flowed careleſly between his Shoulders; while ſome of the front ſtray⯑ing Curls, as in Sport, alternately ſhaded and diſcovered a Part of his lovely Coun⯑tenance. He bowed, he moved Attracti⯑on; and gracefully advancing toward my Lord, he again bowed, laid a Letter be⯑fore him, on the Table, and then ſilently retired backward a few Steps.

They viewed him, they gazed upon him, as it had been the ſudden Viſion of an Angel of Light. Mr. Meekly was not able to utter a Word; neither had my Lord the Power to lay a Finger on the Pa⯑per that was directed to him; till Mr. Meekly, at laſt, giving a great Stroke on the Table, cried ſuddenly out, I would lay a thouſand Pounds of it! It is He! it is he! [310]— My Heart tells me he can be no Other but your Harry Clinton!

Here Harry ſprung forward and, caſting himſelf precipitately at the Feet of the Earl, he claſped his Knees with an eager Reve⯑rence, crying, My Father, my honoured, my dear, my dear Father! and broke into Tears.

My Lord, all in a Tremor, attempted to raiſe him to his Arms; and Harry, per⯑ceiving this, roſe and threw himſelf into the Boſom of his Father. But the Earl gently and fondly put him off a little, and gazing intently at a Countenance that ap⯑peared to him lovely, above All that was lovely in the Circle of Creation, he gather⯑ed new Strength, and catching Harry to his Breaſt, he exclaimed in a Tranſport, Let me die, let me die, ſince I have ſeen thy Face, my Son!