BETTY BROWN, &c.

BETTY Brown, the Orange Girl, was born no⯑body knows where, and bred nobody knows how. No girl in all the ſtreets of London could drive a barrow more nimbly, avoid puſhing againſt paſſengers more dexterouſly, or cry her "Fine China Oranges" in a ſhriller voice. But then ſhe could neither ſow, nor ſpin, nor knit, nor waſh nor iron, nor read, nor ſpell. Betty had not been always in ſo good a ſituation as that in which we now deſcribe her. She came into the world before ſo many good gentlemen and ladies began to con⯑cern themſelves ſo kindly that the poor might have a little learning. There was no charitable Society then, as there is now, to pick up poor friendleſs children in the ſtreets, and put them into a good houſe, and give them meat, and drink, and lodg⯑ing, and learning, and teach them to get their bread in an honeſt way into the bargain. Whereas, this now is often the caſe in London, bleſſed be God for all his mercies.

The longeſt thing that Betty can remember is, that ſhe uſed to crawl up out of a night cellar, ſtroll about the ſtreets, and pick cinders from the ſcavengers carts. Among the aſhes ſhe ſometimes found ſome ragged gauze and dirty ribbons; with [4] theſe ſhe uſed to dizen herſelf out, and join the merry bands on the firſt of May. This was not however quite fair, as ſhe did not lawfully belong ei⯑ther to the female dancers who foot it gaily round the garland, or to the ſooty tribe, who, on this happy holiday, forget their whole year's toil; ſhe often, however, got a few ſcraps, by appearing to belong to both parties.

Betty was not an idle girl; ſhe always put herſelf in the way of doing ſomething. She would run of errands for the footmen, or ſweep the door for the maid of any houſe where ſhe was known; ſhe would run and fetch ſome porter, and never was once known either to ſip a drop or ſteal the pot. Her quickneſs and fidelity in doing little jobs, got her into favour with a lazy cook-maid, who was too apt to give away her maſter's cold meat and beer, not to thoſe who were moſt in want, but to thoſe who waited upon her, and did the little things which ſhe ought to have done herſelf.

The cook, who found Betty a dextrous girl, ſoon employed her to ſell ends of candles, pieces of meat and cheeſe, and lumps of butter, or any thing elſe ſhe could crib from the houſe. Theſe were all carried to her friend Mrs. Sponge, who kept a little ſhop, and a kind of eating-houſe for poor working people, not far from the Seven Dials. She alſo bought as well as ſold many kinds of ſe⯑cond hand things, and was not ſcrupulous to know whether what ſhe bought was honeſtly come by, provided ſhe could get it for a ſixth part of what it was worth. But if the owner preſumed to aſk for it's real value, ſhe had ſudden qualms of con⯑ſcience, ſuſpected the things were ſtolen, and gave herſelf airs of honeſty, which often took in poor [5] ſilly people, and gave her a ſort of half-reputation among the needy and the ignorant, whoſe friend ſhe pretended to be.

To this artful woman Betty carried the cook's pilferings, and as Mrs. Sponge would give no great price for theſe in money, the cook was willing to receive payment for her eatables in Mrs. Sponge's drinkables; for ſhe dealt in all kinds of ſpirits. I ſhall only juſt remark here, that one receiver, like Mrs. Sponge, makes many pilferers, who are tempted to theſe petty thieveries, by knowing how eaſy it is to diſpoſe of them at ſuch iniquitous houſes.

Betty was faithful to both her employers, which is extraordinary, conſidering the greatneſs of the temptation, and her utter ignorance of good and evil. One day, ſhe ventured to aſk Mrs. Sponge if ſhe could not aſſiſt her to get into a more ſettled way of life. She told her, that when ſhe roſe in the morning, ſhe never knew where ſhe ſhould lie at night, nor was ſhe ever ſure of a meal before⯑hand. Mrs. Sponge aſked her what ſhe thought herſelf ſit for. Betty, with fear and tremblings, ſaid, there was one trade for which ſhe thought herſelf qualified, but ſhe had not the ambition to to look ſo high. It was far above her humble views. This was, to have a barrow, and ſell fruit, as ſe⯑veral other of Mrs. Sponge's cuſtomers did, whom ſhe had often looked at with envy.

Mrs. Sponge was an artful woman. Bad as ſhe was, ſhe was always aiming at ſomething of a character; this was a great help to her trade. While ſhe watched keenly to make every thing turn to her own profit, ſhe had a falſe fawning way of ſeeming to do all ſhe did out of pity and kindneſs to the diſtreſſed; and ſhe ſeldom committed an extortion, [6] but ſhe tried to make the perſon ſhe cheated be⯑lieve themſelves highly obliged to her kindneſs. By thus pretending to be their friend ſhe gained their confidence, and ſhe grew rich herſelf while they thought ſhe was only ſhewing favour to them. Various were the arts ſhe had of getting rich. The money ſhe got by grinding the poor, ſhe ſpent in the moſt luxurious living; and, while ſhe would haggle with her hungry cuſtomers for a farthing, ſhe would ſpend pounds on the moſt coſtly delica⯑cies for herſelf.

Mrs. Sponge, laying aſide that haughty look and voice, well known to ſuch as had the misfortune to be in her debt, put on the hypocritical ſmile and ſoft tone, which ſhe always aſſumed when ſhe meant to take in her dependents. "Betty," ſaid ſhe, "I am reſolved to ſtand your friend. Theſe are ſad times to be ſure. Money is money now. Yet I am reſolved to put you into a handſome way of living. You ſhall have a barrow, and well furniſhed too." Betty could not have felt more joy or gratitude, if ſhe had been told that ſhe ſhould have a coach. "O, Madam," ſaid Betty, "it is impoſſible. I have not a penny in the world towards helping me to ſet up." "I will take care of that," ſaid Mrs. Sponge; "only you muſt do as I bid you. You muſt pay me intereſt for my money. And you will of courſe be glad alſo to pay ſo much every night for a nice hot ſupper which I get ready, quite out of kind⯑neſs, for a number of poor working people. This will be a great comfort for ſuch a friendleſs girl as you, for my victuals and drink are the beſt; and and my company the merrieſt of any houſe in all St. Giles's." Betty thought all this only ſo many more favours, and courtſeying to the ground, ſaid, [7] "to be ſure, Ma'am, and thank you a thouſand times into the bargain."

Mrs. Sponge knew what ſhe was about. Betty was a lively girl, who had a knack at learning any thing; and ſo well looking through all her dirt and rags, that there was little doubt ſhe would get cuſ⯑tom. A barrow was ſoon provided, and five ſhil⯑lings put into Betty's hands. Mrs. Sponge kindly condeſcended to go to ſhew her how to buy the fruit, for it was a rule with this prudent gentle⯑woman, and one from which ſhe never departed, that no one ſhould cheat but herſelf.

Betty had never poſſeſſed ſuch a ſum before. She grudged to lay it out all at once, and was ready to fancy ſhe could live upon the capital. The crown, however, was laid out to the beſt advan⯑tage. Betty was carefully taught in what manner to cry her Oranges; and received many uſeful leſſons how to get off the bad with the good, and the ſtale with the freſh. Mrs. Sponge alſo lent her a few bad ſixpences, for which ſhe ordered her to bring home good ones at night.—Betty ſtared. Mrs. Sponge ſaid, "Betty, thoſe who would get money, muſt not be too nice about trifles. Keep one of theſe ſixpences in your hand, and if an ignorant young cuſtomer gives you a good ſixpence, do you im⯑mediately ſlip it into your other hand, and give him the bad one, declaring, that it is the very one you have juſt received, and that you have not an⯑other ſixpence in the world. You muſt alſo learn how to treat different ſorts of cuſtomers. To ſome you may put off with ſafety goods which would be quite unſaleable to others. Never offer bad fruit, Betty, to thoſe who know better; never waſte the [8] good on thoſe who may be put off with worſe; put good Oranges at top and the mouldy ones under."

Poor Betty had not a nice conſcience, for ſhe had never learnt that grand but ſimple rule of all moral obligation, "Never do that to another which you would not have another do to you." She ſet off with her barrow as proud and as happy as if ſhe had been ſet up in the fineſt ſhop in Covent Garden. Betty had a ſort of natural good-nature, which made her unwilling to impoſe, but ſhe had no principle which told her it was a ſin. She had ſuch good ſucceſs, that, when night came, ſhe had not an Orange left. With a light heart, ſhe drove her empty barrow to Mrs. Sponge's door. She went in with a merry face, and threw down on the Counter every farthing ſhe had taken. "Betty," ſaid Mrs. Sponge, "I have a right to it all, as it was got by my money. But I am too generous to take it. I will therefore only take ſixpence for this day's uſe of my five ſhillings. This is a moſt reaſonable intereſt, and I will lend you the ſame ſum to trade with to-morrow, and ſo on; you only paying me ſixpence for the uſe of it every night, which will be a great bargain to you. You muſt alſo pay me my price every night for your ſupper, and you ſhall have an excellent lodging above ſtairs; ſo you ſee every thing will now be provided for you in a gen⯑teel manner, through my generoſity."

Poor Betty's gratitude blinded her ſo completely that ſhe forgot to calculate the vaſt proportion which this generous benefactreſs was to receive out of her little gains. She thought herſelf a happy creature, and went in to ſupper with a number of others of her own claſs. For this ſupper, and for more porter and gin than ſhe ought to have drank, [9] Betty was forced to pay ſo high, that it eat up all the profits of the day, which, added to the daily intereſt, made Mrs. Sponge a rich return for her five ſhillings.

Betty was reminded again of the gentility of her new ſituation, as ſhe crept up to bed in one of Mrs. Sponge's garrets five ſtories high. This loft, to be ſure, was ſmall, and had no window, but what it wanted in light was made up in company, as it had three beds, and thrice as many lodgers. Thoſe gentry had one night, in a drunken frolic, broke down the door, which happily had never been re⯑placed; for, ſince that time, the lodgers had died much ſeldomer of infectious diſtempers. For this lodging Betty paid twice as much to her good friend as ſhe would have done to a ſtranger. Thus ſhe continued, with great induſtry and a thriving trade, as poor as on the firſt day, and not a bit nearer to ſaving money enough to buy her even a pair of ſhoes, though her feet were nearly on the ground.

One day, as Betty was driving her barrow through a ſtreet near Holborn, a lady from a window called out to her that he wanted ſome Oranges. While the ſervant went to fetch a plate, the lady entered into ſome talk with Betty, having been ſtruck with her honeſt countenance and civil manner. She queſtioned her as to her way of life, and the profits of her trade—and Betty, who had never been ſo kindly treated before by ſo genteel a perſon, was very communicative. She told her little hiſtory as far as ſhe knew it, and dwelt much on the genero⯑ſity of Mrs. Sponge, in keeping her in her houſe, and truſting her with ſo large a capital as five ſhil⯑lings. At firſt it ſounded like a very good-natured thing, but the lady, whoſe huſband was one of the [10] Juſtices of the new Police, happened to know more of Mrs. Sponge than was good, which led her to inquire ſtill further. Betty owned, that to be ſure, it was not all clear profit, for that beſides that the high price of the ſupper and bed ran away with all ſhe got, ſhe paid ſixpence a day for the uſe of the five ſhillings. "And how long have you done this, ſaid the Lady?" "About a year, Madam."

The lady's eyes were at once opened. "My poor girl," ſaid ſhe, "do you know that you have already paid for that ſingle five ſhillings the enor⯑mous ſum of 7l. 10s.? I believe it is the moſt pro⯑fitable five ſhillings Mrs. Sponge ever laid out." "O, no Madam," ſaid the girl, "that good gen⯑tlewoman does the ſame kindneſs to ten or twelve other poor friendleſs creatures like me." "Does ſhe ſo?" ſaid the lady; "then I never heard of a better trade than this woman carries on, under the maſk of charity, at the expence of her poor fellow-creatures."

"But, Madam," ſaid Betty, who did not com⯑prehend this lady's arithmetic, "what can I do? I now contrive to pick up a morſel of bread with⯑out begging or ſtealing. Mrs. Sponge has been very good to me, and I don't ſee how I can help myſelf."

"I will tell you," ſaid the lady. "If you will follow my advice, you may not only maintain your⯑ſelf honeſtly, but independently. Only oblige your⯑ſelf to live hard for a little time, till you have ſaved five ſhillings out of your own earnings. Give up that expenſive ſupper at night, drink only one pint of porter, and no gin at all. As ſoon as you have ſcraped together the five ſhillings, carry it back to your falſe friend, and if you are induſtrious, you [11] will at the end of the year have ſaved ſeven pounds ten ſhillings. If you can make a ſhift to live now, when you have this heavy intereſt to pay, judge how things will mend when your capital becomes your own. You will put ſome cloaths on your back, and by leaving the uſe of ſpirits, and the company in which you drink them, your health, your morals, and your condition will mend."

The lady did not talk thus to ſave her money. She would gladly have given the girl the five ſhil⯑lings; but ſhe thought it was beginning at the wrong end. She wanted to try her. Beſides, ſhe knew there was much more pleaſure as well as honour in poſſeſſing five ſhillings of one's own ſav⯑ing than of another's giving. Betty promiſed to obey. She owned ſhe got no good by the company or the liquor at Mrs. Sponge's. She promiſed that very night to begin ſaving the expence of the ſup⯑per, and that ſhe would not taſte a drop of gin till ſhe had the five ſhillings beforehand. The lady, who knew the power of good habits, was contented with this, thinking, that if the girl could abſtain for a certain time, it would become eaſy to her. She therefore at preſent ſaid little about the ſin of drinking.

In a very few weeks, Betty had ſaved up the five ſhillings. She went to carry back this money with great gratitude to Mrs. Sponge. This kind friend began to abuſe her moſt unmercifully. She called her many hard names not fit to repeat, for having forſaken the ſupper, by which ſhe ſwore ſhe got nothing at all; but as ſhe had the charity to dreſs it for ſuch beggarly wretches, ſhe inſiſted they ſhould pay for it, whether they eat it or not. She alſo brought in a heavy ſcore for lodging, [12] though Betty had paid for it every night, and given notice of her intending to quit her. By all theſe falſe pretences, ſhe got from her not only her own five ſhillings, but all the little capital with which Betty was going to ſet up for herſelf. As all was not ſufficient to anſwer her demands, ſhe declared ſhe would ſend her to priſon, but while ſhe went to call a Conſtable, Betty contrived to make off.

With a light pocket and a heavy heart, ſhe went to the lady, and with many tears told her ſad ſtory. The lady's huſband, the Juſtice, conde⯑ſcended to liſten to Betty's tale. He ſaid Mrs. Sponge had long been upon his books as a receiver of ſtolen goods. Betty's evidence ſtrengthened his bad opinion of her. "This petty ſyſtem of uſury," ſaid the gentleman, "may be thought trifling, but it will no longer appear ſo, if you reflect, that if one of theſe female ſharpers poſſeſſes a capital of ſeventy ſhillings, or 3l. 10l. with fourteen ſteady regular cuſtomers, ſhe can realize a fixed income of 100 guineas a year. Add to this the influence ſuch a loan gives her over theſe friendleſs crea⯑tures, by compelling them to eat at her houſe, or lodge, or buy liquors, or by taking their pawns, and you will ſee the extent of the evil. I pity theſe poor victims: You, Betty, ſhall point out ſome of them to me. I will endeavour to open their eyes on their own bad management. It is one of the greateſt acts of kindneſs to the poor to mend their oeconomy, and to give them right views of laying out their little money to advantage. Theſe poor blinded creatures look no farther than to be able to pay this heavy intereſt every night, and to ob⯑tain the ſame loan on the ſame hard terms the next day. Thus are they kept in poverty and bondage [13] all their lives; but I hope as many as hear of this will get on a better plan, and I ſhall be ready to help any who are willing to help themſelves." This worthy Magiſtrate went directly to Mrs. Sponge's with proper officers, and he got to the bottom of many iniquities. He not only made her refund poor Betty's money, but committed her to priſon for receiving ſtolen goods, and various other of⯑fences, which may perhaps make the ſubject of an⯑other hiſtory.

Betty was now ſet up in trade to her heart's con⯑tent. She had found the benefit of leaving off ſpirits, and ſhe reſolved to drink them no more. The firſt fruits of this reſolution was that in a fortnight ſhe bought her a new pair of ſhoes, and as there was now no deduction for intereſt or for gin, her earnings became conſiderable. The lady made her a preſent of a gown and a hat, on the eaſy condition that ſhe ſhould go to church. She accepted the terms, a [...] firſt rather as an act of obedience to the lady, than from a ſenſe of higher duty. But ſhe ſoon began to go from a better motive. This conſtant attend⯑ance at church, joined to the inſtructions of the lady, opened a new world to Betty. She now heard for the firſt time that ſhe was a ſinner; that God had given a law which was holy, juſt, and good, that ſhe had broken this law, had been a ſwearer, a ſabbath-breaker, and had lived without God in the world. All this was ſad news to Betty; ſhe knew, indeed, that there were ſinners, but ſhe thought they were only to be found in the priſons, or at Botany Bay, or in thoſe mournful carts which ſhe had ſometimes followed with her barrow, with the unthinking croud to Tyburn.—She was moſt ſtruck with the great truths revealed in the Scripture, [14] which were quite new to her. She was deſirous of improvement, and ſaid, ſhe would give up all the profits of her barrow, and go into the hardeſt ſervice, rather than live in ſin and ignorance.

"Betty," ſaid the lady, "I am glad to ſee you ſo well diſpoſed, and will do what I can for you. Your preſent way of life, to be ſure, expoſes you to much danger; but the trade is not unlawful in itſelf, and we may pleaſe God in any calling, pro⯑vided it be not a diſhoneſt one. In this great town there muſt be barrow-women to ſell fruit. Do you, then, inſtead of forſaking your buſineſs, ſet a good example to thoſe in it, and ſhew them, that though a dangerous trade, it need not be a bad one. Till Providence points out ſome ſafer way of getting your bread, let your companions ſee, that it is poſſible to be good even in this. Your trade being carried on in the open ſtreet, and your fruit bought in an open ſhop, you are not ſo much obliged to keep ſinful company as may be thought. Take a garret in an honeſt houſe, to which you may go home in ſafety at night. I will give you a bed and a few neceſſaries to furniſh your room; and I will alſo give you a conſtant Sunday's dinner. A bar⯑row-woman, bleſſed be God and our good laws, is as much her own miſtreſs on Sundays as a Ducheſs; and the Church and the Bible are as much open to her. You may ſoon learn all that ſuch as you are expected to know. A barrow-woman may pray as heartily morning and night, and ſerve God as acceptably all day, while ſhe is carrying on her little trade, as if ſhe had her whole time to ſpare.

To do this well, you muſt mind the following

• Reſiſt every temptation to cheat.
• Never impoſe bad goods on falſe pretences.
• Never put off bad money for good.
• Never uſe prophane or uncivil language.
• Never ſwear your goods coſt ſo much, when you know it is falſe. By ſo doing you are guilty of two ſins in one breath, a lie and an oath.

To break theſe rules, will be your chief temp⯑tation. God will mark how you behave under them, and will reward or puniſh you accordingly. Theſe temptations will be as great to you as higher trials are to higher people; but you have the ſame God to look to for ſtrength to reſiſt them as they have. You muſt pray to him to give you this ſtrength. You ſhall attend a Sunday School, where you will be taught theſe good things, and I will promote you as you ſhall be found to deſerve.

Poor Betty here burſt into tears of joy and grati⯑tude, crying out, "What, ſhall ſuch a poor friend⯑leſs creature as I be treated ſo kindly and learn to read the word of God too? Oh, Madam, what a lucky chance brought me to your door," "Betty," ſaid the lady, "what you have juſt ſaid, ſhews the need you have of being better taught; there is no ſuch thing as chance, and we offend God when we call that luck or chance which is brought about by his will and pleaſure. None of the events of your life have happened by chance—but all have been under the direction of a good and kind Providence. He has permitted you to experience want and diſ⯑treſs, that you might acknowledge his hand in your preſent comfort and proſperity. Above all, [16] you muſt bleſs his goodneſs in ſending you to me, not only becauſe I have been of uſe to you in your worldly affairs, but becauſe he has enabled me to ſ [...]ew you the danger of your ſtate from ſin and ignorance, and to put you in a way to know his will and to keep his com⯑mandments.

How Betty, by induſtry and piety, roſe in the world, till at length ſhe came to keep a handſome Sauſage-ſhop near the Seven Dials, and was mar⯑ried to an honeſt Hackney Coachman, may be told at ſome future time, in a Second Part. Z.