A DESCRIPTION OF MILLENIUM HALL

AND THE COUNTRY ADJACENT

Together with the

CHARACTERS OF THE INHABITANTS

And such Historical

ANECDOTES AND REFLECTIONS

AS

May excite in the READER proper Sentiments of Humanity, and lead the Mind to the Love of

VIRTUE

BY

'A GENTLEMANON HIS TRAVELS'

SARAH SCOTT

Based on a reprint of the editionpublished in Great Britainby J. Newbury, 1762

A DESCRIPTION OF MILLENIUM HALL

Dear Sir, Though, when I left London, I promised to write to you as soon as I hadreached my northern retreat, yet, I believe, you little expected insteadof a letter to receive a volume; but I should not stand excused tomyself, were I to fail communicating to you the pleasure I received inmy road hither, from the sight of a society whose acquaintance I owe toone of those fortunate, though in appearance trifling, accidents, fromwhich sometimes arise the most pleasing circumstances of our lives; foras such I must ever esteem the acquaintance of that amiable family, whohave fixed their abode at a place which I shall nominate Millenium Hall, as the best adapted to the lives of the inhabitants, and to avoid givingthe real name, fearing to offend that modesty which has induced them toconceal their virtues in retirement. 

In giving you a very circumstantial account of this society, I confess Ihave a view beyond the pleasure which a mind like yours must receivefrom the contemplation of so much virtue. Your constant endeavours havebeen to inculcate the best principles into youthful minds, the onlyprobable means of mending mankind; for the foundation of most of ourvirtues, or our vices, are laid in that season of life when we are mostsusceptible of impression, and when on our minds, as on a sheet of whitepaper, any characters may be engraven; these laudable endeavours, bywhich we may reasonably expect the rising generation will be greatlyimproved, render particularly due to you, any examples which may teachthose virtues that are not easily learnt by precept and shew thefacility of what, in mere speculation, might appear surrounded with adiscouraging impracticability: you are the best judge, whether, by beingmade public, they may be conducive to your great end of benefiting theworld. I therefore submit the future fate of the following sheetsentirely to you, and shall not think any prefatory apology for thepublication at all requisite; for though a man who supposes his own lifeand actions deserve universal notice, or can be of general use, may beliable to the imputation of vanity, yet, as I have no other share thanthat of a spectator, and auditor, in what I purpose to relate, I presumeno apology can be required; for my vanity must rather be mortified thanflattered in the description of such virtues as will continually accuseme of my own deficiencies, and lead me to make a humiliating comparisonbetween these excellent ladies and myself. 

You may remember, Sir, that when I took leave of you with a design ofretiring to my native county, there to enjoy the plenty and leisure forwhich a few years labour had furnished me with the necessary requisites, I was advised by an eminent physician to make a very extensive tourthrough the western part of this kingdom, in order, by frequent changeof air, and continued exercise, to cure the ill effects of my long abodein the hot and unwholesome climate of Jamaica, where, while I increasedmy fortune, I gradually impaired my constitution; and though one who, like me, has dedicated all his application to mercantile gain, will notallow that he has given up the substance for the shadow, yet perhaps itwould be difficult to deny that I thus sacrificed the greater good inpursuit of the less. 

The eagerness with which I longed to fix in my wished-for retirement, made me imagine that when I had once reached it, even the pursuit ofhealth would be an insufficient inducement to determine me to leave myretreat. I therefore chose to make the advised tour before I went intothe north. As the pleasure arising from a variety of beautiful objectsis but half enjoyed when we have no one to share it with us, I acceptedthe offer Mr Lamont (the son of my old friend) made of accompanying mein my journey. As this young gentleman has not the good fortune to beknown to you, it may not be amiss, as will appear in the sequel, to letyou into his character. 

Mr Lamont is a young man of about twenty-five years of age, of anagreeable person, and lively understanding; both perhaps have concurredto render him a coxcomb. The vivacity of his parts soon gained him sucha degree of encouragement as excited his vanity, and raised in him ahigh opinion of himself. A very generous father enabled him to partakeof every fashionable amusement, and the natural bent of his mind soonled him into all the dissipation which the gay world affords. Useful andimproving studies were laid aside for such desultory reading as he foundmost proper to furnish him with topics for conversation in the idlesocieties he frequented. Thus that vivacity, which, properly qualified, might have become true wit, degenerated into pertness and impertinence. A consciousness of an understanding, which he never exerted, renderedhim conceited; those talents which nature kindly bestowed upon him, bybeing perverted, gave rise to his greatest faults. His reasoningfaculty, by a partial and superficial use, led him to infidelity, andthe desire of being thought superiorly distinguishing established him aninfidel. Fashion, not reason, has been the guide of all his thoughts andactions. But with these faults he is good-natured, and notunentertaining, especially in a tête-à-tête, where he does not desire toshine, and therefore his vanity lies dormant and suffers the bestqualifications of his mind to break forth. This induced me to accept himas a fellow traveller. 

We proceeded on our journey as far as Cornwall, without meeting with anyother than the usual incidents of the road, till one afternoon, when ourchaise broke down. The worst circumstance attending this accident wasour being several miles from a town, and so ignorant of the country, that we knew not whether there was any village within a moderatedistance. We sent the postilion on my man's horse to the next town tofetch a smith, and leaving my servant to guard the chaise, Mr Lamont andI walked towards an avenue of oaks, which we observed at a smalldistance. The thick shade they afforded us, the fragrance wafted fromthe woodbines with which they were encircled, was so delightful, and thebeauty of the grounds so very attracting, that we strolled on, desirousof approaching the house to which this avenue led. It is a mile and ahalf in length, but the eye is so charmed with the remarkable verdureand neatness of the fields, with the beauty of the flowers which areplanted all around them and seem to mix with the quickset hedges, thattime steals away insensibly. 

When we had walked about half a mile in a scene truly pastoral, we beganto think ourselves in the days of Theocritus, so sweetly did the soundof a flute come wafted through the air. Never did pastoral swain makesweeter melody on his oaten reed. Our ears now afforded us freshattraction, and with quicker steps we proceeded, till we came withinsight of the musician that had charmed us. Our pleasure was not a littleheightened, to see, as the scene promised, in reality a shepherd, watching a large flock of sheep. We continued motionless, listening tohis music, till a lamb straying from its fold demanded his care, and helaid aside his instrument, to guide home the little wanderer. 

Curiosity now prompted us to walk on; the nearer we came to the house, the greater we found the profusion of flowers which ornamented everyfield. Some had no other defence than hedges of rose trees andsweetbriars, so artfully planted, that they made a very thick hedge, while at the lower part, pinks, jonquils, hyacinths, and various otherflowers, seemed to grow under their protection. Primroses, violets, lilies of the valley, and polyanthuses enriched such shady spots, as, for want of sun, were not well calculated for the production of otherflowers. The mixture of perfumes which exhaled from this profusioncomposed the highest fragrance, and sometimes the different scentsregaled the senses alternately, and filled us with reflections on theinfinite variety of nature. 

When we were within about a quarter of a mile of the house, the scenebecame still more animated. On one side was the greatest variety ofcattle, the most beautiful of their kinds, grazing in fields whoseverdure equalled that of the finest turf, nor were they destitute oftheir ornaments, only the woodbines and jessamine, and such flowers asmight have tempted the inhabitants of these pastures to crop them, weredefended with roses and sweetbriars, whose thorns preserved them fromall attacks. 

Though Lamont had hitherto been little accustomed to admire nature, yetwas he much captivated with this scene, and with his usual levity criedout, 'If Nebuchadnezzar had such pastures as these to range in, hisseven years expulsion from human society might not be the leastagreeable part of his life. ' My attention was too much engaged tocriticize the light turn of Lamont's mind, nor did his thoughts continuelong on the same subject, for our observation was soon called off by acompany of hay-makers in the fields on the other side of the avenue. Thecleanliness and neatness of the young women thus employed, rendered thema more pleasing subject for Lamont's contemplation than any thing we hadyet seen; in them we beheld rural simplicity, without any of those marksof poverty and boorish rusticity, which would have spoilt the pastoralair of the scene around us; but not even the happy amiable innocence, which their figures and countenances expressed, gave me so muchsatisfaction as the sight of the number of children, who were allexerting the utmost of their strength, with an air of delightedemulation between themselves, to contribute their share to the generalundertaking. Their eyes sparkled with that spirit which health andactivity can only give, and their rosy cheeks shewed the benefits ofyouthful labour. 

Curiosity is one of those insatiable passions that grow bygratification; it still prompted us to proceed, not unsatisfied withwhat we had seen, but desirous to see still more of this earthlyparadise. We approached the house, wherein, as it was the only humanhabitation in view, we imagined must reside the Primum Mobile of all wehad yet beheld. We were admiring the magnificence of the ancientstructure, and inclined to believe it the abode of the genius whichpresided over this fairy land, when we were surprised by a storm, whichhad been some time gathering over our heads, though our thoughts hadbeen too agreeably engaged to pay much attention to it. We took shelterunder the thick shade of a large oak, but the violence of the thunderand lightning made our situation rather uncomfortable. All those whom wehad a little before seen so busy left their work on hearing the firstclap of thunder and ran with the utmost speed to Millenium Hall, so Ishall call the noble mansion of which I am speaking, as to an assuredasylum against every evil. 

Some of these persons, I imagine, perceived us; for immediately afterthey entered, came out a woman who, by her air and manner of address, weguessed to be the housekeeper, and desired us to walk into the housetill the storm was over. We made some difficulties about taking thatliberty, but she still persisting in her invitation, had my curiosity tosee the inhabitants of this hospitable mansion been less, I could nothave refused to comply, as by prolonging these ceremonious altercationsI was detaining her in the storm; we therefore agreed to follow her. 

If we had been inclined before to fancy ourselves on enchanted ground, when after being led through a large hall, we were introduced to theladies, who knew nothing of what had passed, I could scarcely forbearbelieving myself in the Attic school. The room where they sat was aboutforty-five feet long, of a proportionable breadth, with three windows onone side, which looked into a garden, and a large bow at the upper end. Over against the windows were three large bookcases, upon the top of themiddle one stood an orrery, and a globe on each of the others. In thebow sat two ladies reading, with pen, ink and paper on a table beforethem at which was a young girl translating out of French. At the lowerend of the room was a lady painting, with exquisite art indeed, abeautiful Madonna; near her another, drawing a landscape out of her ownimagination; a third, carving a picture-frame in wood, in the finestmanner, a fourth, engraving; and a young girl reading aloud to them; thedistance from the ladies in the bow window being such, that they couldreceive no disturbance from her. At the next window were placed a groupof girls, from the age of ten years old to fourteen. Of these, one wasdrawing figures, another a landscape, a third a perspective view, afourth engraving, a fifth carving, a sixth turning in wood, a seventhwriting, an eighth cutting out linen, another making a gown, and by theman empty chair and a tent, with embroidery, finely fancied, before it, which we afterwards found had been left by a young girl who was gone topractise on the harpsichord. 

As soon as we entered they all rose up, and the housekeeper introducedus by saying she saw us standing under a tree to avoid the storm and sohad desired us to walk in. The ladies received us with the greatestpoliteness, and expressed concern that when their house was so near, weshould have recourse to so insufficient a shelter. Our surprise at thesight of so uncommon a society occasioned our making but an awkwardreturn to their obliging reception; nor when we observed how many artswe had interrupted, could we avoid being ashamed that we had thenintruded upon them. 

But before I proceed farther, I shall endeavour to give you some idea ofthe persons of the ladies, whose minds I shall afterwards best describeby their actions. The two who sat in the bow window were called MrsMaynard and Miss Selvyn. Mrs Maynard is between forty and fifty years ofage, a little woman, well made, with a lively and genteel air, her hairblack, and her eyes of the same colour, bright and piercing, herfeatures good, and complexion agreeable, though brown. Her countenanceexpresses all the vivacity of youth, tempered with a serenity whichbecomes her age. 

Miss Selvyn can scarcely be called tall, though she approaches thatstandard. Her features are too irregular to be handsome, but there is asensibility and delicacy in her countenance which render her extremelyengaging; and her person is elegant. 

Miss Mancel, whom we had disturbed from her painting, is tall and finelyformed, has great elegance of figure, and is graceful in every motion. Her hair is of a fine brown, her eyes blue, with all that sensiblesweetness which is peculiar to that colour. In short, she excels inevery beauty but the bloom, which is so soon faded, and so impossible tobe imitated by the utmost efforts of art, nor has she suffered anyfarther by years than the loss of that radiance which renders beautyrather more resplendent than more pleasing. 

Miss Trentham, who was carving by her, was the tallest of the company, and in dignity of air particularly excels, but her features andcomplexion have been so injured by the smallpox, that one can but justguess they were once uncommonly fine; a sweetness of countenance, and avery sensible look, indeed, still remain, and have baffled all the mostcruel ravages of that distemper. 

Lady Mary Jones, whom we found engraving, seems to have been ratherpleasing than beautiful. She is thin and pale, but a pair of the finestblack eyes I ever saw, animate, to a great degree, a countenance whichsickness has done its utmost to render languid, but has, perhaps, onlymade more delicate and amiable. Her person is exquisitely genteel, andher voice, in common speech, enchantingly melodious. 

Mrs Morgan, the lady who was drawing, appears to be upwards of fifty, tall, rather plump, and extremely majestic, an air of dignitydistinguishes her person, and every virtue is engraven in indeliblecharacters on her countenance. There is a benignity in every look, whichrenders the decline of life, if possible, more amiable than the bloom ofyouth. One would almost think nature had formed her for a common parent, such universal and tender benevolence beams from every glance she castsaround her. 

The dress of the ladies was thus far uniform, the same neatness, thesame simplicity and cleanliness appeared in each, and they were all inlutestring night-gowns, though of different colours, nor was there anything unfashionable in their appearance, except that they were freefrom any trumpery ornaments. The girls were all clothed in cambletcoats, but not uniform in colour, their linen extremely white and cleanthough coarse. Some of them were pretty, and none had any defect inperson, to take off from that general pleasingness which attends youthand innocence. 

They had been taught such a habit of attention that they seemed not atall disturbed by our conversation, which was of that general kind, asmight naturally be expected on such an occasion, though supported by theladies with more sensible vivacity and politeness than is usual wherepart of the company are such total strangers to the rest; till by chanceone of the ladies called Mrs Maynard by her name. 

From the moment I saw her, I thought her face not unknown to me, butcould not recollect where or when I had been acquainted with her, buther name brought to my recollection, that she was not only an oldacquaintance, but a near relation. I observed that she had looked on mewith particular attention, and I begged her to give me leave to ask herof what family of Maynards she was. Her answer confirmed my supposition, and as she told me that she believed she had some remembrance of myface, I soon made her recollect our affinity and former intimacy, thoughmy twenty years abode in Jamaica, the alteration the climate had wroughtin me, and time had made in us both, had almost effaced us from eachother's memory. 

There is great pleasure in renewing the acquaintance of our youth; athousand pleasing ideas accompany it; many mirthful scenes and juvenileamusements return to the remembrance, and make us, as it were, live overagain what is generally the most pleasing part of life. Mrs Maynardseemed no less sensible of the satisfaction arising from this train ofthoughts than myself, and the rest of the company were so indulgentlygood-natured, as in appearance, to share them with us. The tea table byno means interrupted our conversation, and I believe I should haveforgot that our journey was not at an end, if a servant had not broughtin word, that my man, who had observed our motions, was come to informus that our chaise could not be repaired that night. 

The ladies immediately declared that though their equipage was in order, they would not suffer it to put an end to a pleasure they owed to theaccident which had happened to ours, and insisted we should give themour company till the smith had made all necessary reparations, adding, that I could not be obstinately bent on depriving Mrs Maynard so soon ofthe satisfaction she received from having recovered so long lost arelation. I was little inclined to reject this invitation: pleasure wasthe chief design of my journey, and I saw not how I could receive morethan by remaining in a family so extraordinary, and so perfectlyagreeable. When both parties are well agreed, the necessary ceremoniesprevious to a compliance are soon over, and it was settled that weshould not think of departing before the next day at soonest. 

The continuance of the rain rendered it impossible to stir out of thehouse; my cousin, who seemed to think variety necessary to amuse, askedif we loved music, which being answered in the affirmative, she beggedthe other ladies to entertain us with one of their family concerts, andwe joining in the petition, proper orders were given, and we adjournedinto another room, which was well furnished with musical instruments. Over the door was a beautiful Saint Cecilia, painted in crayons by MissMancel, and a fine piece of carved work over the chimney, done by MissTrentham, which was a very artificial representation of every sort ofmusical instrument. 

While we were admiring these performances, the company took theirrespective places. Miss Mancel seated herself at the harpsichord, LadyMary Jones played on the arch lute, Mrs Morgan on the organ, Miss Selvynand Miss Trentham each on the six-stringed bass; the shepherd who hadcharmed us in the field was there with his German flute, a venerablelooking man, who is their steward, played on the violincello, a lameyouth on the French horn, another, who seemed very near blind, on thebassoon, and two on the fiddle. My cousin had no share in theperformance except singing agreeably, wherein she was joined by some ofthe ladies, and where the music could bear it, by ten of the younggirls, with two or three others whom we had not seen, and whose voicesand manner were equally pleasing. They performed several of the finestpieces of the Messiah and Judas Maccabeus, with exquisite taste, and themost exact time. There was a sufficient number of performers to give thechoruses all their pomp and fullness, and the songs were sung in amanner so touching and pathetic, as could be equalled by none whosehearts were not as much affected by the words as their senses were bythe music. The sight of so many little innocents joining in the mostsublime harmony made me almost think myself already amongst the heavenlychoir, and it was a great mortification to me to be brought back to thissensual world by so gross an attraction as a call to supper, which putan end to our concert, and carried us to another room, where we found arepast more elegant than expensive. 

The evening certainly is the most social part of the day, without any ofthose excesses which so often turn it into senseless revelry. Theconversation after supper was particularly animated, and left us stillmore charmed with the society into which chance had introduced us; thesprightliness of their wit, the justness of their reflections, thedignity which accompanied their vivacity, plainly evinced with how muchgreater strength the mind can exert itself in a regular and rational wayof life, than in a course of dissipation. At this house every changecame too soon, time seemed to wear a double portion of wings, eleveno'clock struck, and the ladies ordered a servant to shew us our rooms, themselves retiring to theirs. 

It was impossible for Lamont and I to part till we had spent an hour intalking over this amiable family, with whom he could not help being muchdelighted, though he observed they were very deficient in the bon ton, there was too much solidity in all they said, they would trifle withtrifles indeed, but had not the art of treating more weighty subjectswith the same lightness, which gave them an air of rusticity; and he didnot doubt, but on a more intimate acquaintance we should find theirmanners much rusticated, and their heads filled with antiquated notions, by having lived so long out of the great world. 

I rose the next morning very early, desirous to make the day, which Ipurposed for the last of my abode in this mansion, as long as I could. Iwent directly into the garden, which, by what I saw from the house, wasextremely pretty. As I passed by the windows of the saloon, I perceivedthe ladies and their little pupils were earlier risers than myself, forthey were all at their various employments. I first went into the gayestflower garden I ever beheld. The rainbow exhibits not half the varietyof tints, and they are so artfully mingled, and ranged to make such aharmony of colours, as taught me how much the most beautiful objects maybe improved by a judicious disposition of them. Beyond these beds offlowers rises a shrubbery, where every thing sweet and pleasing iscollected. As these ladies have no taste but what is directed by goodsense, nothing found a place here from being only uncommon, for theythink few things are very rare but because they are little desirable;and indeed it is plain they are free from that littleness of mind, whichmakes people value a thing the more for its being possessed by no onebut themselves. Behind the shrubbery is a little wood, which affords agloom, rendered more agreeable by its contrast with the dazzling beautyof that part of the garden that leads to it. In the high pale whichencloses this wood I observed a little door, curiosity induced me topass through it; I found it opened on a row of the neatest cottages Iever saw, which the wood had concealed from my view. They were new anduniform, and therefore I imagined all dedicated to the same purpose. Seeing a very old woman spinning at one of the doors, I accosted her, byadmiring the neatness of her habitation. 

'Ay, indeed, ' said she, 'it is a most comfortable place, God bless thegood ladies! I and my neighbours are as happy as princesses, we haveevery thing we want and wish, and who can say more?' 'Very few so much, 'answered I, 'but pray what share have the ladies in procuring thehappiness you seem so sensible of?' 'Why Sir, ' continued the old woman, 'it is all owing to them. I was almost starved when they put me intothis house, and no shame of mine, for so were my neighbours too; perhapswe were not so painstaking as we might have been; but that was not ourfault, you know, as we had not things to work with, nor any body to setus to work, poor folks cannot know every thing as these good ladies do;we were half dead for want of victuals, and then people have not courageto set about any thing. Nay, all the parish were so when they came intoit, young and old, there was not much to choose, few of us had rags tocover us, or a morsel of bread to eat except the two Squires; theyindeed grew rich, because they had our work, and paid us not enough tokeep life and soul together, they live about a mile off, so perhaps theydid not know how poor we were, I must say that for them; the ladies tellme I ought not to speak against them, for every one has faults, only wesee other people's, and are blind to our own; and certainly it is trueenough, for they are very wise ladies as well as good, and must knowsuch things. '

As my new acquaintance seemed as loquacious as her age promised, I hopedfor full satisfaction, and asked her how she and her neighbours employedthemselves. 

'Not all alike, ' replied the good woman, 'I will tell you all about itThere are twelve of us that live here. We have every one a house of tworooms, as you may see, beside other conveniences, and each a littlegarden, but though we are separate, we agree as well, perhaps better, than if we lived together, and all help one another. Now, there isneighbour Susan, and neighbour Rachel; Susan is lame, so she spinsclothes for Rachel; and Rachel cleans Susan's house, and does suchthings for her as she cannot do for herself. The ladies settled allthese matters at first, and told us, that as they, to please God, assisted us, we must in order to please him serve others; and that tomake us happy they would put us in a way, poor as we are, to do good tomany. Thus neighbour Jane who, poor woman, is almost stone deaf, theythought would have a melancholy life if she was to be always spinningand knitting, seeing other people around her talking, and not be able tohear a word they said, so the ladies busy her in making broths andcaudles and such things, for all the sick poor in this and the nextparish, and two of us are fixed upon to carry what, they have made tothose that want them; to visit them often, and spend more or less timewith them every day according as they have, or have not relations totake care of them; for though the ladies always hire nurses for thosewho are very ill, yet they will not trust quite to them, but make usoverlook them, so that in a sickly time we shall be all day going fromone to another. '

'But, ' said I, 'there are I perceive many children amongst you, howhappens that? Your ages shew they are not your own. '

'Oh! as for that, ' replied my intelligencer, 'I will tell you how thatis. You must know these good ladies, heaven preserve them! take everychild after the fifth of every poor person, as soon as it can walk, tillwhen they pay the mother for nursing it; these children they send to usto keep out of harm, and as soon as they can hold a knitting-needle toteach them to knit, and to spin, as much as they can be taught beforethey are four or five years old, when they are removed into one of theschools. They are pretty company for us, and make us mothers again, asit were, in our old age; then the children's relations are all so fondof us for our care of them, that it makes us a power of friends, whichyou know is very pleasant, though we want nothing from them but theirgood wills. '

Here I interrupted her by observing, that it must take up a great dealof time, and stop their work, consequently lessen their profits. 

'There is nothing in that, ' continued the good woman, 'the ladies'steward sends us in all we want in the way of meat, drink and firing;and our spinning we carry to the ladies; they employ a poor old weaver, who before they came broke for want of work, to weave it for us, andwhen there is not enough they put more to it, so we are sure to have ourclothing; if we are not idle that is all they desire, except that weshould be cleanly too. There never passes a day that one or other of theladies does not come and look all over our houses, which they tell us, and certainly with truth, for it is a great deal of trouble to them, isall for our good, for that we cannot be healthy if we are not clean andneat. Then every Saint's day, and every Sunday after church, we all godown to the hall, and the ladies read prayers, and a sermon to us, andtheir own family; nor do they ever come here without giving us somegood advice. We used to quarrel, to be sure, sometimes when we firstcame to these houses, but the ladies condescended to make it up amongstus, and shewed us so kindly how much it was our duty to agree together, and to forgive everybody their faults, or else we could not hope to beforgiven by God, against whom we so often sinned, that now we love oneanother like sisters, or indeed better, for I often see such quarrel. Beside, they have taught us that we are generally in fault ourselves;and we find now that we take care not to be perverse, our neighbours areseldom in the wrong, and when they are, we bear with it in hopes theywill bear with us when we are as much to blame, which we may be sureenough will happen, let us try ever so much to the contrary. Then theladies seem so pleased when we do any kindness to one another, as to besure is a great encouragement; and if any of us are sick they are socareful and so good, that it would be a shame if we did not do all wecan for one another, who have been always neighbours and acquaintance, when such great ladies, who never knew us, as I may say, but to make ushappy, and have no reason to take care of us but that we are poor, areso kind and condescending to us. '

I was so pleased with the good effect which the charity of herbenefactors had on the mind, as well as the situation, of this oldwoman, whose neighbours by her own account were equally benefited by theblessings they received, that I should have stayed longer with her, if abell had not rung at Millenium Hall, which she informed me was a summonsto breakfast. I obeyed its call, and after thanking her for herconversation, returned with a heart warmed and enlarged, to the amiablesociety. My mind was so filled with exalted reflections on their virtuesthat I was less attentive to the charms of inanimate nature than when Ifirst passed through the gardens. 

After breakfast the ladies proposed a walk, and as they had seen thecourse I took when I first went out, they led us a contrary way, lest, they said, I should be tired with the repetition of the same scene. Itold them with, great truth, that what I had beheld could never weary, for virtue is a subject we must ever contemplate with fresh delight, and as such examples could not fail of improving every witness of them, the pleasure of reflection would increase, as one daily grew morecapable of enjoying it, by cultivating kindred sensations. By some moreexplicit hints they found out to what I alluded, and thereby knew whereI had been, but turning the conversation to present objects, theyconducted us to a very fine wood which is laid out with so much tastethat Lamont observed the artist's hand was never more distinguishable, and perceived in various spots the direction of the person at presentmost famous for that sort of improvement. 

The ladies smiled, and one of them answered that he did their wood greathonour, in thinking art had lent her assistance to nature, but thatthere was little in that place for which they were not solely obliged tothe latter. Miss Trentham interrupted her who was speaking and told usthat as she had no share in the improvements which had been made, shemight with the better grace assure Mr Lamont that Lady Mary Jones, MissMancel, and Mrs Morgan were the only persons who had laid out that wood, and the commonest labourers in the country had executed their orders. Lamont was much surprised at this piece of information, and though hewould have thought it still more exquisitely beautiful had it been thedesign of the person he imagined, yet truth is so powerful, that hecould not suppress his admiration and surprise. Every cut in it isterminated by some noble object. In several places are seats formed withsuch rustic simplicity, as have more real grandeur in them, than can befound in the most expensive buildings. On an eminence, 'bosomed high intufted trees', is a temple dedicated to solitude. The structure is anexquisite piece of architecture, the prospect from it noble andextensive, and the windows so placed, that one sees no house but at soconsiderable a distance, as not to take off from the solitary air, whichis perfectly agreeable to a temple declaredly dedicated to solitude. Themost beautiful object in the view is a very large river, in reality anarm of the sea, little more than a quarter of a mile distant from thebuilding; about three miles beyond it lies the sea, on which the sunthen shone, and made it dazzlingly bright. In the temple is a picture ofContemplation, another of Silence, two of various birds and animals, anda couple of moonlight pieces, the workmanship of the ladies. 

Close by the temple runs a gentle murmuring rivulet, which flows inmeanders through the rest of the wood, sometimes concealed from view, and then appearing at the next turning of the walk. The wood is wellpeopled with pheasants, wild turkeys, squirrels and hares, who live sounmolested, that they seem to have forgot all fear, and rather towelcome than flee from those who come amongst them. Man never appearsthere as a merciless destroyer, but the preserver, instead of thetyrant, of the inferior part of the creation. While they continue inthat wood, none but natural evil can approach them, and from that theyare defended as much as possible. We there 'walked joint tenant of theshade' with the animal race; and a perfect equality in nature's bountyseems enjoyed by the whole creation. One could scarcely forbear thinkingthose happy times were come, when 'The wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid; and the calf, and the younglion, and the fatling together, and a young child shall lead them. Thewilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them, and the desertshall rejoice, and blossom as the rose. '

At the verge of this wood, which extends to the river I have mentioned, without perceiving we were entering a building, so well is the outsideof it concealed by trees, we found ourselves in a most beautiful grotto, made of fossils, spars, coral, and such shells as are at once both fineand rustic; all of the glaring, tawdry kind are excluded, and by thegloom and simplicity preserved, one would imagine it the habitation ofsome devout anchoret. Ivy and moss in some places cover, while they seemto unite, the several materials of the variegated walls. The rivuletwhich runs through the wood falls down one side of the grotto with greatrapidity, broken into various streams by the spar and coral, and passingthrough, forms a fine cascade just at the foot of the grotto, whence itflows into the river. Great care is taken to prevent the place fromgrowing damp, so that we sat some time in it with safety, admiring thesmooth surface of the river, to which it lies very open. 

As the ladies had some daily business on their hands which they neverneglect, we were obliged to leave this lovely scene, where I think Icould have passed my life with pleasure, and to return towards thehouse, though by a different way from that we came, traversing the otherside of the wood. In one spot where we went near the verge, I observed apale, which, upon examination, I found was continued for some acres, though it was remarkable only in one place. It is painted green, and onthe inside a hedge of yews, laurel, and other thick evergreens rises toabout seven or eight feet high. I could not forbear asking what was thusso carefully enclosed. The ladies smiled on each other, but evadedanswering my question, which only increased my curiosity. Lamont, notless curious, and more importunate, observed that the inclosure boresome resemblance to one of Lord Lamore's, where he kept lions, tigers, leopards, and such foreign animals, and he would be hanged, if theladies had not made some such collection, intreating that he might beadmitted to see them; for nothing gave him greater entertainment than tobehold those beautiful wild beasts, brought out of their native woods, where they had reigned as kings, and here tamed and subjected by thesuperior art of man. It was a triumph of human reason, which could notfail to afford great pleasure. 

'Not to us, I assure you, Sir, ' replied Miss Mancel, 'when reasonappears only in the exertion of cruelty and tyrannical oppression, it issurely not a gift to be boasted of. When a man forces the furious steedto endure the bit, or breaks oxen to the yoke, the great benefits hereceive from, and communicates to the animals, excuse the forciblemethods by which it is accomplished. But to see a man, from a vaindesire to have in his possession the native of another climate andanother country, reduce a fine and noble creature to misery, and confinehim within narrow inclosures whose happiness consisted in unboundedliberty, shocks my nature. There is I confess something so amiable ingentleness, that I could be pleased with seeing a tiger caress itskeeper, if the cruel means by which the fiercest of beasts is taught allthe servility of a fawning spaniel, did not recur every instant to mymind; and it is not much less abhorrent to my nature, to see a venerablelion jumping over a stick, than it would be to behold a hoaryphilosopher forced by some cruel tyrant to spend his days in whipping atop, or playing with a rattle. Every thing to me loses its charm when itis put out of the station wherein nature, or to speak more properly, theall-wise Creator has placed it. I imagine man has a right to use theanimal race for his own preservation, perhaps for his convenience, butcertainly not to treat them with wanton cruelty, and as it is not in hispower to give them any thing so valuable as their liberty, it is, in myopinion, criminal to enslave them in order to procure ourselves a vainamusement, if we have so little feeling as to find any while otherssuffer. '

'I believe madam, ' replied Lamont, 'it is most advisable for me not toattempt to defend what I have said; should I have reason on my side, while you have humanity on yours, I should make but a bad figure in theargument. What advantage could I expect from applying to theunderstanding, while your amiable disposition would captivate evenreason itself? But still I am puzzled; what we behold is certainly aninclosure, how can that be without a confinement to those that arewithin it?'

'After having spoken so much against tyranny, ' said Miss Mancel, smiling, 'I do not know whether I should be excusable if I left you tobe tyrannized by curiosity, which I believe can inflict very severepains, at least, if I may be allowed to judge by the means people oftentake to satisfy it. I will therefore gratify you with the knowledge ofwhat is within this inclosure, which makes so extraordinary animpression upon you. It is, then, an asylum for those poor creatures whoare rendered miserable from some natural deficiency or redundancy. Herethey find refuge from the tyranny of those wretches, who seem to thinkthat being two or three feet taller gives them a right to make them aproperty, and expose their unhappy forms to the contemptuous curiosityof the unthinking multitude. Procrustes has been branded through allages with the name of tyrant; and principally, as it appears, fromfitting the body of every stranger to a bed which he kept as thenecessary standard, cutting off the legs of those whose height exceededthe length of it and stretching on the rack such as fell short of thatmeasure, till they attained the requisite proportion. But is not almostevery man a Procrustes? We have not the power of shewing our crueltyexactly in the same method, but actuated by the like spirit, we abridgeof their liberty, and torment by scorn, all who either fall short, orexceed the usual standard, if they happen to have the additionalmisfortune of poverty. Perhaps we are in no part more susceptible thanin our vanity, how much then must those poor wretches suffer, whosedeformity would lead them to wish to be secluded from human view, inbeing exposed to the public, whose observations are no better thanexpressions of scorn, and who are surprised to find that any thing lessthan themselves can speak, or appear like intelligent beings. But thisis only part of what they have to endure. As if their deficiency inheight deprived them of the natural right to air and sunshine, they arekept confined in small rooms, and because they fill less space thancommon, are stuffed into chairs so little, that they are squeezed asclose as a pair of gloves in a walnut-shell. 

'This miserable treatment of persons, to whom compassion should securemore than common indulgence, determined us to purchase these worst sortof slaves, and in this place we have five who owed their wretchedness tobeing only three foot high, one grey-headed toothless old man of sixteenyears of age, a woman of about seven foot in height, and a man who wouldbe still taller, if the extreme weakness of his body, and the wretchedlife he for some time led, in the hands of one of these monster-mongers, did not make him bend almost double, and oblige him to walk on crutches;with which infirmities he is well pleased, as they reduce him nearer thecommon standard. '

We were very desirous of seeing this enfranchised company; but Mrs. Morgan told us it was what they seldom granted, for fear of inflictingsome of the pains from which they had endeavoured to rescue those poorcreatures, but she would step in, and ask if they had no objection toour admission, and if that appeared really the case she would gratifyus. 

This tenderness to persons who were under such high obligations, charmedme. She soon returned with the permission we wished, but intreated us topay all our attention to the house and garden, and to take no more thana civil notice of its inhabitants. We promised obedience, and followedher. Her advice was almost unnecessary, for the place could not havefailed of attracting our particular observation. It was a quadrangle ofabout six acres, and the inward part was divided by nets into eightparts, four of which alternatively were filled with poultry of allsorts, which were fed here for the use of the hall, and kept with themost exact cleanliness. The other four parts were filled with shrubs andflowers, which were cultivated with great delight by these onceunfortunate, but now happy beings. A little stream ran across thequadrangle, which served for drink to the poultry, and facilitated thewatering of the flowers. I have already said, that at the inward edge ofthe pale was a row of evergreens; at their feet were beds of flowers, and a little gravel walk went round the whole. At each corner was anarbour made with woodbines and jessamine, in one or two of which therewas always an agreeable shade. 

At one side of the quadrangle was a very neat habitation, into which adwarf invited us to enter, to rest ourselves after our walk; they wereall passing backwards and forwards, and thus gave us a full view ofthem, which would have been a shocking sight, but for the reflections wecould not avoid making on their happy condition, and the veryextraordinary humanity of the ladies to whom they owed it; so thatinstead of feeling the pain one might naturally receive from seeing thehuman form so disgraced, we were filled with admiration of the humanmind, when so nobly exalted by virtue, as it is in the patronesses ofthese poor creatures, who wore an air of cheerfulness, which shewed theythought the churlishness wherewith they had been treated by naturesufficiently compensated. The tender inquiries the ladies made aftertheir healths, and the kind notice they took of each of them, could notbe exceeded by any thing but the affection, I might almost sayadoration, with which these people beheld their benefactresses. 

This scene had made too deep an impression on our minds not to be thesubject of our discourse all the way home, and in the course ofconversation, I learnt that when these people were first rescued out oftheir misery, their healths were much impaired, and their tempers moreso; to restore the first, all medicinal care was taken, and air andexercise assisted greatly in their recovery; but to cure the malady ofthe mind, and conquer that internal source of unhappiness, was a work oflonger time. Even these poor wretches had their vanity, and wouldcontend for superior merit, of which the argument was the money theirkeepers had gained in exhibiting them. To put an end to this contention, the ladies made them understand that what they thought a subject forboasting, was only a proof of their being so much farther from the usualstandard of the human form, and therefore a more extraordinaryspectacle. But it was long before one of them could be persuaded to layaside her pretensions to superiority, which she claimed on account of anextraordinary honour she had received from a great princess, who hadmade her a present of a sedan chair. 

At length, however, much reasoning and persuasion, a conviction ofprinciples, of which they had before no knowledge, the happiness oftheir situation, and the improvement of their healths, concurred tosweeten their tempers and they now live in great harmony. They areentirely mistresses of their house, have two maids to wait on them, overwhom they have sole command, and a person to do such little things intheir garden as they cannot themselves perform; but the cultivation ofit is one of their great pleasures; and by their extraordinary care, they have the satisfaction of presenting the finest flowers of thespring to their benefactresses, before they are blown in any otherplace. 

When they first came, the ladies told us that the horror they hadconceived of being exhibited as public spectacles had fixed in them sucha fear of being seen by any stranger, that the sound of a voice withwhich they were not acquainted at the outside of the paling, or thetrampling of feet, would set them all a running behind the bushes tohide themselves, like so many timorous partridges in a mew, hurryingbehind sheaves of corn for shelter; they even found a convenience intheir size, which, though it rendered them unwilling to be seen, enabledthem so easily to find places for concealment. 

By degrees the ladies brought them to consent to see their headservants, and some of the best people in the parish; desiring that torender it more agreeable to their visitors, they would entertain themwith fruit and wine; advising them to assist their neighbours in plainwork; thus to endear themselves to them, and procure more frequentvisits, which as they chose to confine themselves within so narrow acompass, and enjoyed but precarious health, their benefactresses thoughta necessary amusement. These recommendations, and the incidentswherewith their former lives had furnished them to amuse their company, and which they now could relate with pleasure, from the happy sense thatall mortifications were past, rendered their conversation much courtedamong that rank of people. 

It occurred to me that their dislike to being seen by numbers mustprevent their attendance on public worship, but my cousin informed methat was thus avoided. There was in the church an old gallery, whichfrom disuse was grown out of repair; this the ladies caused to bemended, and the front of it so heightened, that these little folks whenin it could not be seen; the tall ones contrived by stooping when theywere there not to appear of any extraordinary height. To this they wereconveyed in the ladies' coach and set down close to covered stairs, which led up to the gallery. 

This subject employed our conversation till we approached the hall; theladies then, after insisting that we should not think of going fromthence that day, all left us expect Mrs Maynard. It may seem strangethat I was not sorry for their departure; but, in truth, I was so filledwith astonishment at characters so new, and so curious to know by whatsteps women thus qualified both by nature and fortune to have the worldalmost at command, were brought thus to seclude themselves from it, andmake as it were a new one for themselves constituted on such verydifferent principles from that I had hitherto lived in, that I longed tobe alone with my cousin, in hopes I might from her receive some accountof this wonder. I soon made my curiosity known, and beseeched her togratify it. 

'I see no good reason, ' said she, 'why I should not comply with yourrequest, as my friends are above wishing to conceal any part of theirlives, though themselves are never the subject of their ownconversation. If they have had any follies they do not desire to hidethem; they have not pride enough to be hurt with candid criticisms, andhave too much innocence to fear any very severe censure. But as we didnot all reach this paradise at the same time, I shall begin with thefirst inhabitants of, and indeed the founders of this society, MissMancel and Mrs Morgan, who from their childhood have been so connectedthat I could not, if I would, disunite them in my relation; and it wouldbe almost a sin to endeavour to separate them even in idea. '

We sat down in an arbour, whose shade invited us to seek there a defenceagainst the sun, which was then in its meridian, and shone with uncommonheat. The woodbines, the roses, the jessamines, the pinks and above all, the minionette with which it was surrounded, made the air one generalperfume; every breeze came loaded with fragrance, stealing and givingodour. A rivulet ran bubbling by the side of the arbour, whose gentlemurmurs soothed the mind into composure, and seemed to hush us toattention, when Mrs Maynard thus began to shew her readiness to complywith my request. 

THE

HISTORY

OF

Miss MANCEL

AND

Mrs MORGAN

You may perhaps think I am presuming on your patience when I lead youinto a nursery, or a boarding school; but the life of Louisa Mancel wasso early chequered with that various fate which gives this world themotley appearance of joy and sorrow, pain and pleasure, that it is notin my power to pass over the events of her infancy. I shall, however, spare you all that is possible, and recommend her to your notice onlywhen she attracted the observation of Mr Hintman. This gentleman hearingthat a person who rented some land of him was come to London, and lodgedat one of those public houses which by the landlord is called an inn, atthe outskirts of London, on the Surrey side; and having some occasion tospeak to him, he went thither. The people of the house called the man MrHintman enquired for, who immediately came downstairs, wiping tears fromhis eyes; the continuance of which he could hardly restrain. Mr Hintmanasking the reason of those appearances of sorrow, the good-natured oldman told him, his visit had called him from a scene which had shockedhim excessively. 'The first day I came here' said he, 'I was induced bythe frequent groans which issued from the next chamber, to enquire wholodged there; I learnt, it was a gentlewoman, who arrived the daybefore, and was immediately taken so ill that they apprehended her lifein danger; and, about two hours ago, the maid of the house ran into myroom, begging me to come to her assistance, for the gentlewoman was insuch strong fits, she was not able to hold her. I obeyed the summons, and found the poor woman in fits indeed; but what appeared to me thelast agonies of a life which, near exhausted, lavishes away its smallremains in strong convulsions. 

'By her bedside stood the most beautiful child I ever beheld, inappearance about ten years of age, crying as if its little heart wouldbreak; not with the rage of an infant, but with the settled grief of aperson mature both in years and affliction. I asked her if the poordying woman was her mother; she told me, no--she was only her aunt; butto her the same as a mother; and she did not know any one else thatwould take care of her. 

'After a time the poor woman's convulsions left her; she just recoveredsense enough to embrace the lovely girl, and cried out, Oh! my dearchild, what will become of you! a friendless, helpless infant; andseeing me at her bedside, she lifted up her hands in a suppliantposture; and with eyes that petitioned in stronger terms than wordscould express, Oh! Sir, said she, though you are a stranger to me, yet Isee you are not so to humanity; take pity on this forlorn child; heramiable disposition will repay you in this world, and the great Fatherof us all will reward you in the next, for your compassion on a wretchedfriendless girl! But why do I call her friendless? Her innocence has thebest of friends in heaven; the Almighty is a parent she is not left toseek for; he is never absent;--Oh! blessed Lord! cried she, with adegree of ecstasy and confidence which most sensibly affected us all, tothy care I resign her; thy tender mercies are over all thy works, andthou, who carest for the smallest part of thy creation, will not denyher thy protection. Oh! Lord defend her innocence! Let her obtain aplace in thy kingdom after death; and for all the rest I submit to thyprovidence; nor presumptuously pretend to dictate to supreme wisdom. Thou art a gracious father and the afflictions thou sendest are.... Hereher voice failed her; but by her gestures we could perceive thecontinued praying, and, having before taken the child in her arms thelittle angel continued there for fear of disturbing her. By lookssometimes turned towards the poor infant, and sometimes with her hand onher own heart, and then her eyes lifted up as it were to heaven, we sawshe mixed prayers for the little mourner, with intercessions forherself, till sense and motion seemed to fail her; she then fell into aconvulsion, and expired. 

'The little girl perceived she was dead; and became almost as senselessas the lump of clay which had so lately been her only friend. We had butjust taken her from the body, sir, when you came; and this was theoccasion of the emotions you observed in me. '

'The cause was indeed sufficient, ' replied Mr Hintman, 'but I am gladyour sorrow proceeded from nothing more immediately concerning yourself. Misery will strike its arrows into a humane heart; but the wounds itmakes are not so lasting, as those which are impressed by passions thatare more relative to ourselves. ' 'Oh! sir, ' said the old man, 'youcannot form an adequate idea of the effect this scene must have on everyspectator, except you had seen the child! surely nature never formed solovely a little creature!' He continued his praises of Louisa, till atlength he excited Mr Hintman's curiosity; who expressing a desire ofseeing this miracle, he was carried up into the good man's room, towhich they had removed her. She, who had cried most bitterly before thefatal stroke arrived, was now so oppressed, as not to be able to shed atear. They had put her on the bed, where she lay sighing with a heartready to break; her eyes fixed on one point, she neither saw nor heard. 

Though her countenance expressed unutterable woe, yet she looked soextremely beautiful, that Mr Hintman, highly as his expectation hadbeen raised, was struck with surprise. He allowed he never saw any thingso lovely; and the charms of which her melancholy might deprive her, were more than compensated in his imagination by so strong a proof ofextreme sensibility, at an age when few children perceive half thedreadful consequences of such a misfortune. 

He advised that she should be blooded, to prevent any ill effects fromso severe a shock; for as she felt it as strongly as one of a moremature age, the same precautions should be used. In this he was obeyed;and it gave her such relief that she burst into a flood of tears; achange which appeared so salutary, that Mr Hintman would not immediatelyinterrupt her. But his curiosity did not suffer him long to forbearasking her name, and many other particulars; several of which she couldnot answer; all the account she was able to give of herself was, thather name was Mancel, that the person for whom she grieved was her aunt;but had had the sole care of her from her earliest remembrance. Thisaunt, she said, had often told her she had a father and mother living;but when she enquired why she never saw or heard from them she could getno satisfactory answer, but was put off with being told they were not inEngland; and that she should know when she grew older. 

This person had bred her up with the utmost tenderness, and employed themost assiduous care in her education; which was the principal object ofher attention. They had lived in a neat cottage in the most retired partof Surrey from Miss Mancel's earliest remembrance, till her aunt, afterhaving been some time in a bad state of health, fell into a gallopingconsumption. As soon as she apprehended the danger with which her lifewas threatened, she prepared every thing for her removal to London; butas she did not expect ever to return, this took more time than thequickness of her decay could well allow. The hasty approach of herdissolution affected her extremely on the account of her little niece, and she often expressed her concern in terms intelligible to her who wasthe occasion of it, who gathered from the expressions which fell fromher aunt, that the motive for the journey was to find out some of MissMancel's relations, to whom she might deliver her before death had puta period to her own life; and where she might safely remain till thereturn of her parents into England. 

In this resolution she discharged the only servant she kept, deliveredup her house to her landlord, and after having settled all her pecuniaryaffairs, she set out on her journey with her little charge; but grew soill on the road that she desired to be set down at the first inn; andher illness increased so fast she had no thought of removing; nor wasshe able to make any very exact enquiries after the persons of whom shecame in search. 

This account was interrupted with many tears, which served to render itmore affecting, and Mr Hintman, as much touched as the good old man whowas the occasion of his having heard it, agreed with him that it wouldbe proper to examine into the effects of which the deceased was thenpossessed; and to see if they could find any paper which would in adegree clear up the mysterious part of this affair. 

This was accordingly performed; but as to the latter intention withoutany success; for after all the examination they could make, theyremained as much in the dark as ever. 

They found in her trunk rather more money than was requisite to bury herin a manner becoming her rank; to defray the expenses of her sickness;and to reward those that had attended her. 

The old man expressed a willingness to take the child. He said it was alegacy left him by one who had conceived some confidence in hishumanity, and he could not in conscience disappoint an opinion which didhim honour; though, having children of his own, he did not pretend tobreed her up in the genteel manner to which she seemed by birthentitled. 

Mr Hintman replied, that he should have great reason to reproach himselfif with the ample fortune he enjoyed, and having no children or familyto partake of it, he should suffer another to take that charge, to whomit could not be so convenient; he therefore would immediately receiveher as his child; and see her educated in all accomplishments proper fora young person of fashion and fortune; as he should be able to supplyall deficiency, if necessary, in the latter particular. 

The old man was very glad to have the child better established than withhim; though he had for some hours looked with so much pleasure on her ashis adopted daughter, that no consideration, but the prospect of hergreater advantage, could have reconciled him to parting with her. 

In pursuance of the resolution Mr Hintman had taken, he carried MissMancel to a French boarding school which he had heard commended; veryprudently judging that his house was not a proper place for education, having there no one fit to take care of a young person. 

Louisa was so oppressed by the forlornness of her situation that shefelt none of that reluctance to going amongst strangers, so usual withchildren of her age. All the world was equally unknown to her, thereforeshe was indifferent where she was carried, only she rather wished not tohave been taken from the good old man whose venerable aspect, andcompassionate behaviour, had in some degree attached her to him; but shefelt the generosity of Mr Hintman's declared intentions; and, young asshe was, had too much delicacy to appear ungrateful by shewing anunwillingness to accompany him. Mademoiselle d'Avaux, the mistress ofthe school, was pleased with the appearance of her young scholar, whosetears had ceased for some time; and her face bore no disfiguring signsof sorrow; the dejection which overspread it giving charms equal tothose of which it robbed it. 

Mr Hintman desired Mademoiselle d'Avaux to take the trouble of providingMiss Mancel with all things requisite, and to put her in propermourning; those minute feminine details being things of which he was tooignorant to acquit himself well; and gave strict charge that her mindshould be cultivated with the greatest care, and no accomplishmentomitted which she was capable of acquiring. 

What contributed much towards gratifying this wish of Mr Hintman's wasMademoiselle d'Avaux's house being so full, that there was no room forLouisa, but a share of the apartment which Miss Melvyn had hithertoenjoyed alone, and of which she could not willingly have admitted anyone to partake but the lovely child who was presented to her for thispurpose. Her beautiful form prejudiced everyone in her favour; but thedistress and sorrow which were impressed on her countenance, at an agegenerally too volatile and thoughtless to be deeply affected, could notfail of exciting a tender sensibility in the heart of a person of MissMelvyn's disposition. 

This young lady was of a very peculiar turn of mind. She had been thedarling daughter of Sir Charles and Lady Melvyn, whose attachment to herhad appeared equal; but, in the former, it was rather the result ofhabit and compliance with Lady Melvyn's behaviour than a deep-rootedaffection, of which his heart was not very susceptible; while LadyMelvyn's arose from that entire fondness which maternal love and themost distinguishing reason could excite in the warmest and tenderest ofhearts. 

Sir Charles was an easy-tempered, weak man who gave no proof of goodsense but the secret deference he had to his wife's judgement, whosevery superior understanding was on nothing so assiduously employed as ingiving consequence to the man with whom she was united, by the desire ofher parents, contrary to her inclination. Their authority had beennecessary to reduce her to compliance, not from any particular disliketo Sir Charles, who had deservedly the reputation of sobriety and greatgood nature and whose person was remarkably fine; but Lady Melvynperceived the weakness of his understanding and, ignorant of thestrength of her own, was unwilling to enter into life without a guidewhose judgement was equal to the desire he might naturally be supposedto have to direct her right, through all the various paths in which shemight be obliged to walk; an assistance she had always expected from ahusband; and thought even a necessary part of that character. She wasbesides sensible of the difficulty of performing a promise so solemnlymade, as that of honour and obedience to one who, though she knew nothalf her own excellence, she must be sensible was her inferior. 

These reasons had deterred Lady Melvyn from marrying Sir Charles, butwhen she could no longer avoid it without violating her duty to herparents, she resolved to supply the apparent deficiencies in herhusband's understanding by a most respectful deference to his opinions, thus conferring distinction on him whom she wished everyone to esteemand honour; for as there was no affectation in this part of her conduct, any more than in the rest of her behaviour, all were convinced that theman who was respected by a woman of an understanding so superior to mostof her own sex, and the greatest part of the other, must have greatmerit, though they could not perceive wherein it consisted. 

In company Lady Melvyn always endeavoured to turn the conversation onsuch subjects as she know were best suited to Sir Charles's capacity, more desirous that he should appear to advantage than to display her owntalents. She contrived to make all her actions appear the result of hischoice, and whatever he did by her instigation seemed even to himself tohave been his own thought. As their way of life was in everycircumstance consonant to reason, religion, and every virtue which couldrender them useful and respectable to others, Sir Charles acquired acharacter in the neighbourhood which Lady Melvyn thought a sufficientreward for the endeavours she used to secure it to him; and, for thatpurpose, fixed her abode entirely in the country, where his conductmight give him the respect which would not be so easily obtained in agayer scene, where talents are in higher estimation than virtue. 

Sir Charles and Lady Melvyn had no other child than the daughter I havementioned, whose education was her mother's great care; and she had thepleasure of seeing in her an uncommon capacity, with every virtue thefondest parent could wish; and which indeed she had by inheritance; buther mother's humility made them appear to her as a peculiar gift ofprovidence to her daughter. 

Lady Melvyn soon began to instil all the principles of true religioninto her daughter's infant mind; and, by her judicious instructions, gave her knowledge far superior to her years; which was indeed the mostdelightful task of this fond parent; for her daughter's uncommondocility and quick parts, continually stimulated by her tenderness forthe best of mothers, made her improve even beyond Lady Melvyn'sexpectation. 

In this happy situation Miss Melvyn continued till near the end of herfourteenth year, when she had the misfortune to lose this excellentparent, nor was she the only sufferer by Lady Melvyn's death; every poorperson within her knowledge lost a benefactress; all who knew her, anexcellent example; and, some, the best of friends; but her extraordinarymerit was but imperfectly known till after her decease; for she had madeSir Charles appear so much the principal person, and director of alltheir affairs; that till the change in his conduct proved how great herinfluence had been, she had only shared the approbation, which, afterwards, became all her own. 

Human nature cannot feel a deeper affliction than now overwhelmed MissMelvyn; wherein Sir Charles bore as great a share, as the easiness ofhis nature was capable of; but his heart was not susceptible, either ofstrong or lasting impressions. He walked in the path Lady Melvyn hadtraced out for him; and suffered his daughter to imitate her mother inbenevolent duties; and she had profited too much by the excellentpattern, whereby she had endeavoured to regulate her actions, not toacquit herself far beyond what could have been expected at her years. 

Miss Melvyn was not long indulged in the only consolation her griefcould receive--that of being permitted to aim at an imitation of hermother--for Sir Charles had not been a widower quite a year when hemarried a young lady in the neighbourhood who had designed him thishonour from the hour of Lady Melvyn's death; and to procure betteropportunity for affecting her purpose had pretended a most affectionatecompassion for Miss Melvyn's deep affliction; she visited hercontinually; and appeared so tenderly attached to her that Miss Melvyn, who had neither experience nor any guile in her own heart to inspire herwith suspicions of an attempt to deceive her, made that return ofaffection which she thought gratitude required; nor was she at alldisturbed when she found she was soon to look on this lady in anotherlight than that in which she had hitherto seen her; it was easy for herto respect one whom she before loved; and she had been taught so true aveneration for her father, that she felt no averseness to obeywhomsoever he thought proper to give a title to her duty. 

Miss Melvyn had but very little time to congratulate herself on havingacquired for a mother a friend in whose conversation she hoped to enjoygreat satisfaction and to feel the tenderness of an intimate changedinto the fondness of a parent. She behaved to her with the same perfectrespect, and all the humility of obedience, as if nature had placed herin that parental relation; fearing, if she gave way to the familiaritywhich had subsisted between them when they were on an equality, it mightappear like a failure in the reverence due to her new situation. 

But this behaviour, amiable as it was, could not make the new LadyMelvyn change the plan she had formed for her future conduct. She hadnot been married above a month before she began to intimate to SirCharles that Miss Melvyn's education had been very imperfect; that ayoung lady of her rank ought to be highly accomplished; but that aftershe had been so long indulged by her parents, if a step-mother were topretend to direct her it might not only exasperate Miss Melvyn butprejudice the world against herself; as people are too apt to determineagainst persons in that relation, without examining the merits of thecause; and though, she said, she was little concerned about the opinionof the world in comparison with her tender regard for any one thatbelonged to him; yet she was much influenced by the other reasons shehad alleged for not appearing to dictate to Miss Melvyn, being verydesirous of keeping on affectionate terms with her; and she was alreadymuch mortified at perceiving that young lady had imbibed too many of thevulgar prejudices against a step-mother; though, for her part, she hadendeavoured to behave with submission to her daughter, instead ofpretending to assume any authority. The consequence and conclusion ofall these insinuations was, that 'it would be advisable to send MissMelvyn to a boarding school. '

Sir Charles was soon prevailed with to comply with his lady's request;and his daughter was acquainted with the determination which Lady Melvynassured her, 'was very contrary to her inclination, who should find agreat loss of so agreeable a friend, but that Sir Charles had declaredhis intention in so peremptory a manner that she dared not contend. '

Miss Melvyn had before observed that marriage had made a greatalteration in Lady Melvyn's behaviour; but this was a stroke she did notexpect and a very mortifying one to her who had long laid aside allchildish amusements; had been taught to employ herself as rationally asif she had arrived at a maturer age, and been indulged in the exerciseof a most benevolent disposition, having given such good proofs of thepropriety with which she employed both her time and money, that she hadbeen dispensed from all restraints; and now to commence a new infancy, and be confined to the society of children, was a very afflictingchange; but it came from a hand she too much respected to make anyresistance, though she easily perceived that it was entirely at hermother's instigation; and knew her father too well to believe he couldbe peremptory on any occasion. 

A very short time intervened between the declaration and execution ofthis design, and Miss Melvyn was introduced to Mademoiselle d'Avaux byher kind step-mother, who with some tears and many assurances of regretleft her there. Miss Melvyn had been at this school three months whenLouisa Mancel was brought thither, and though a separation from a fathershe sincerely loved, and the fear of the arts Lady Melvyn might use toalienate his affections from her, after having thus removed her from hispresence, greatly affected her spirits and she found no companions fitto amuse her rational mind, yet she endeavoured to support hermortifications with all the cheerfulness she could assume; and receivedsome satisfaction from the conversation of Mademoiselle d'Avaux, a womanof tolerable understanding, and who was much pleased with Miss Melvyn'sbehaviour. 

Miss Mancel's dejected air prejudiced Miss Melvyn much in her favour, the usual consequence of a similitude of mind or manners; and when by afurther knowledge of her, she perceived her uncommon share ofunderstanding; her desire to learn; the strength of her application; thequickness of her apprehension; and her great sweetness of temper, shegrew extremely fond of her; and as Miss Mancel's melancholy rendered herlittle inclined to play with those of her own age, she was almost alwayswith Miss Melvyn, who found great pleasure in endeavouring to instructher; and grew to feel for her the tenderness of a mother, while MissMancel began to receive consolation from experiencing an affection quitematernal. 

At the beginning of the winter, Lady Melvyn, who had less ambition toimitate the real merit of her predecessor than to exhibit her ownimaginary perfections, brought Sir Charles to London, there to fix theirresidence for the ensuing half year. This made little alteration in MissMelvyn's way of life. Sir Charles and his lady would sometimes call uponher, the latter not choosing to trust Sir Charles alone with hisdaughter, lest she should represent to him how unworthily she wastreated; but as he was not devoid of affection for her, he wouldsometimes visit her privately, concealing it from his lady, whoendeavoured to prevent this, by telling him, that schoolmistresses wereapt to take amiss a parent's visiting his children too often, construingit as a distrust of their care; and therefore if he offended in thatway, Mademoiselle d'Avaux's disgust might affect her behaviour to MissMelvyn, and render her residence there very disagreeable, which LadyMelvyn's great tenderness made her ardently wish to avoid, as she wasdesirous every thing should be agreeable to her dear daughter. SirCharles could not be entirely restrained by these kind admonitions fromindulging himself with the sight of Miss Melvyn. 

His lady had little reason to be afraid of these interviews, for herstep-daughter had too strong a sense of filial obedience, and toodelicate a regard for her father's happiness, to suffer the leastintimation of a fault in his wife to escape her lips, as a good opinionof her was so necessary to his ease; but as she soon found out thesevisits were made by stealth, they gave her great pleasure as a plainproof of his affection. Lady Melvyn thought her daughter's comingabroad would be as hurtful as her being visited at home, and thereforevery seldom sent for her to her house; and when she did, took care tohave her carried home before the hour that she expected company, onpretence of preserving the regularity of hours, which she knew would beagreeable to Mademoiselle d'Avaux. 

The true reason of this great caution was an unwillingness to be seenwith one whose person all her vanity could not prevent her from beingsensible was more attractive than her own. Miss Melvyn was very pretty, had an engaging sweetness in her countenance, and all the bloom whichbelongs to youth, though it does not always accompany it. Her person waselegant, and perfectly genteel. 

Lady Melvyn was void of delicacy; she had a regular set of features butthey wanted to be softened into effeminacy before they could have anyjust pretence to beauty. Her eyes were black and not void of vivacity, but they neither expressed penetration nor gentleness. Her person waswell proportioned, but she was formed on too large a scale, anddestitute of grace. She was not ill bred, but had none of that softnessof manners which gives rise to all the sweet civilities of life. Inshort, Lady Melvyn was one who by herself and many others would beesteemed a fine woman, and by many more ranked only under thedenomination of a shewey woman; like Mr Bayes's hero, she was unamiable, but she was great; she excited the admiration of some, but pleased none. 

As soon as she appeared in the world as Lady Melvyn, she began toexercise what she thought only lively coquetry; but her entire want ofgrace and delicacy often made that appear like boldness, which shedesigned for vivacity. As her ambition to charm was as great as if shehad been better qualified for success, it is not strange that she didnot choose to give opportunities of comparison between herself and adaughter who, though not so striking at first sight, was filled withattractions. 

The contempt which her ladyship thought she must in justice to her ownunderstanding shew for her husband's, and the supercilious coldnesswith which she treated Miss Melvyn, made that young lady very glad thatshe was so seldom sent for to her father's house. But she wished tolearn such accomplishments as whilst she lived in the country were outof her power, and therefore intimated to Lady Melvyn her desire of beingtaught music and drawing, with the better hope of success, as thenecessity of completing her education had been made the excuse forsending her to a boarding school; but this request was denied her onfrivolous pretences, the real cause, when she perceived the veryextravagant turn of her step-mother, she soon understood was to avoidexpense. 

She had flattered herself she might obtain permission to have her bookssent to her; but upon enquiry found that Lady Melvyn had removed them toher dressing room, and intermixed them with china, in so ornamental amanner, so truly expressive of the turn of her mind, where a pretendedlove of reading was blended with a real fondness for trifles, that shehad no chance for this indulgence. 

While Miss Melvyn was suffering all these mortifications from a parent, Miss Mancel was receiving every proof of the most tender affection fromone bound to her by no paternal ties. Mr Hintman, as soon as the seasonof the year brought him to town, visited his little charge, and wascharmed with the vivacity which was now restored to her. He called uponher frequently, and seldom without some present, or a proposal of somepleasure. He would continually entreat her to make him some request, that he might have the pleasure of gratifying her. He frequently gaveMademoiselle d'Avaux tickets for the play and the opera, that the youngLouisa might have somebody to accompany her; but as Miss Melvyn did notthink it proper at her age to go often with only her schoolmistress, or, according to the language of schools, her governess, Miss Mancelfrequently declined being of the party, rather than leave her amiablefriend and instructor. 

There was no one who shewed any particular civility to Miss Mancel, butreceived some return from Mr Hintman. Miss Melvyn was very deservedlythe chief object of his gratitude; but as she declined accepting thepresents he offered her, he chose a way more agreeable to himself, as itwould make his little Louisa the rewarder of the favours she received. He therefore was lavish of his money to her, and intreated her to lay itout in such manner as would be most agreeable to herself and MissMelvyn; at the same time asking her by what means she could most gratifythat young lady. 

Miss Mancel said she knew nothing that would be so acceptable to MissMelvyn as books. To this Mr Hintman replied that since that was thecase, he could very easily accommodate them, for he had by him a verypretty library left him by his sister about a year before, which he hadnever unpacked, having most of the same books in his own study. 

This accordingly he sent to Miss Mancel, with proper bookcases tocontain them, which they immediately put up in their apartments. Thiswas the most agreeable acquisition imaginable; for Miss Hintman havingbeen a very sensible young lady, the collection was extremely valuable. 

Mr Hintman's great indulgence could not fail of receiving from MissMancel the wished-for return of affection and gratitude; whenever hecame she flew to him with delight, caressed him with all the fondness soenchanting at that age, and parted from him with the extremestreluctance. Her great obligations to him were the frequent subjects ofher discourse with Miss Melvyn, who had the highest admiration of hisgenerosity. 

His allowance to Miss Mancel was sufficient to have defrayed all herexpenses, but those were to be the care of Mademoiselle d'Avaux, for themoney he gave Louisa was for no other purpose than her gratifications;necessity, or even usefulness, was out of the question; every thing ofthat kind being provided for her. Nor was he more sparing in whatconcerned her education, she learnt dancing, music, and drawing; besidesother things generally taught at schools; but her greatest improvementwas from reading with Miss Melvyn, who instructed her in geography, andin such parts of philosophy of which her age was capable: but above all, she was most attentive to inculcate into her mind the principles oftrue religion. 

Thus her understanding opened in a surprising degree, and while thebeauty and graces of her person, and her great progress in genteelaccomplishments, charmed every eye, the nice discernment, and uncommonstrength of reason which appeared in her conversation, astonished everyjudicious observer; but her most admirable qualities were her humilityand modesty; which, notwithstanding her great internal and externalexcellencies, rendered her diffident, mild, bashful, and tractable; herheart seemed as free from defects as her understanding was from thefollies which in a degree are incident to almost every other person. 

Miss Melvyn and her little companion received a considerable increase ofhappiness from the present of books Mr Hintman had made them; the latterhad no wish but that Miss Melvyn might receive equal indulgence fromparents that she enjoyed from one who bore no relation to her. The firstdesire that occurred to her on Mr Hintman's profuse presents of moneywas to treat her friend with masters for music and drawing, and suchother things as she knew she had an inclination to learn; but as she wasnot unacquainted with her delicacy on that subject, as soon as MrHintman left her, she ran to Miss Melvyn with some of the impatience inher countenance, though she endeavoured to conceal it, with which herheart was filled, and tried every tender caress, every fond and humblepetition, to obtain a promise from that young lady, that she would granther a request she had to make. She hung round her neck, and endeavouredto prevail by a thousand engaging infantine arts; and when she foundthey would not succeed, she knelt down before her, and with all thegrace and importunity of the most amiable suppliant, tried to win her tocompliance. Nothing would avail, for Miss Melvyn was convinced by herearnestness that her design was to confer some favour; she knew thegenerosity of her youthful mind too well to believe she so ardentlyaimed at any thing that was for her own private gratification. 

Thus Louisa found herself reduced to explain the use she intended tohave made of the promise she wanted to obtain; and having acquaintedMiss Melvyn with Mr Hintman's generous allowance, and of the payment shehad received of the first quarter, she in explicit terms told her, 'MrHintman has indeed given me money, but it depends on you to make thatmoney yield me pleasure, by suffering me to apply it to such uses aswill procure me the inexpressible joy of contributing in some degree tothe pleasure of one who renders my life so very happy. '

Miss Melvyn was so pleased with the generosity of her little pupil thatshe gave her as many caresses as the other had lavished on her in orderto obtain the promise she so much wished for; but she could not beinduced to grant her request. Miss Melvyn was void of that pride whichoften conceals itself under the name of spirit and greatness of soul;and makes people averse to receiving an obligation because they feelthemselves too proud to be grateful, and think that to be obligedimplies an inferiority which their pride cannot support. Had Louisa beenof the same age with herself, she would have felt a kind of property inall she possessed; friendship, the tenure by which she held it; forwhere hearts are strictly united, she had no notion of any distinctionin things of less importance, the adventitious goods of fortune. Theboundaries and barriers raised by those two watchful and suspiciousenemies, Meum and Tuum, were in her opinion broke down by truefriendship; and all property laid in one undistinguished common; but toaccept Miss Mancel's money, especially in so great a proportion, appeared to her like taking advantage of her youth; and as she did notthink her old enough to be a sufficient judge of the value of it, shedid not look upon her as capable of being a party in so perfect afriendship, as was requisite to constitute that unity of property. 

Poor Louisa by this disappointment of the first wish of her heart foundwhat older people often experience, that her riches instead of pleasureprocured her only mortification. She could scarcely refrain from tearsat a refusal which she thought must arise from want of affection, andtold Miss Melvyn she saw that she loved her but imperfectly; for, addedshe, 'Could we change places, with how much pleasure should I haveaccepted it from you! And the satisfaction that learning these thingsnow gives me would be turned into delight by reflecting on thegratification you would receive in having been the means of procuringthem for me. I should not envy you the joy of giving, because I asreceiver should not have the less share of that satisfaction, since byreflecting on yours I must partake of it, and so increase my own. '

Miss Melvyn could not forbear blushing at finding a superior degree ofdelicacy, and a generosity much more exalted, in one so young, than shehad felt in herself. She plainly saw that the greatest proof of a noblemind is to feel a joy in gratitude; for those who know all the pleasuresof conferring an obligation will be sensible that by accepting it theygive the highest delight the human mind can feel, when employed on humanobjects; and therefore while they receive a benefit, they will taste notonly the comforts arising from it to themselves, but share thegratification of a benefactor, from reflecting on the joy they give tothose who have conferred it: thus the receiver of a favour from a trulygenerous person, 'by owing owes not, and is at once indebted anddischarged. '

As Miss Melvyn felt her little friend's reproach, and saw that she haddone her injustice in thinking her youth rendered her incapable of thatperfection of friendship, which might justify the accepting of heroffer; she acknowledged her error, and assured her she would comply ifshe had no other means of obtaining the instruction she proposed topurchase for her; but that was not the case, for she found she couldvery well learn from seeing the masters teach her, and practising intheir absence. 

Mr Hintman expressed a desire that Miss Mancel should learn Italian, ifshe had no objection to it; for he never dictated to her, but offeredany advice he had to give, or any inclination which he chose tointimate, with the humility of a dependant, rather than the authority ofa benefactor; and indeed it was sufficient; for the slightest hint thatany thing would be agreeable to him, met with the most impatient desirein Miss Mancel to perform it: actuated by sincere affection, and thestrongest gratitude, nothing made her so happy as an opportunity to shewhim the readiness of her obedience. 

But as they were at a loss for a master to teach her that language, MissMelvyn told them she knew an Italian gentleman, who had been at SirCharles's house near two months before she had the misfortune of losingthe best of mothers. Lady Melvyn had begun to teach her daughterItalian, but desirous that she should speak it with great propriety, sheinvited this gentleman to her house who was reduced to great distress ofcircumstances, and whose person, as well as his many virtues, she hadknown from her childhood. He had been a friend of her father's and shewas glad of this excuse for making him a handsome present, whichotherwise it was not easy to induce him to accept. 

Mr Hintman was not long before he procured this Italian master for MissMancel; nor did she delay making use of his instructions; but I shallnot describe her progress in the acquisition of this, any more than herother accomplishments, in all of which she excelled to a surprisingdegree; nor did Miss Melvyn fall very short of her, though she was atsuch disadvantage in her method of learning many of them, not having theassistance of a master. Their time was so entirely engrossed by theseemployments, that they had little leisure, and still less desire, tokeep company with the rest of the school; but they saved themselves fromthe dislike which might naturally have arisen in the minds of the otherscholars, from being thus neglected, by little presents which MissMancel frequently made them. 

These two young ladies were very early risers, and the time which wasnot taken up by Miss Mancel's masters, and that wherein it was requisiteto practise what they taught her, they employed in reading, wherein Mrd'Avora, their Italian master, often accompanied them. 

Mr d'Avora was a man of excellent understanding, and had an incomparableheart. Misfortunes had softened common humanity into a most tenderdisposition; and had given him a thorough knowledge of mankind withoutlessening his benevolence for individuals; though such as learn it byadversity, the surest school for that science, seldom see them in anamiable light. 

Mr d'Avora was not less acquainted with particular nations than withmankind in general; he had travelled through all the countries inEurope, some parts of Asia and Africa, and having traversed them withdiscernment and the curiosity of wisdom, not of impertinence, hereceived such improvement of understanding, as few travellers can boast. 

He had an affection for Miss Melvyn, both for her own merits and theobligations he had to her family, and a very short acquaintance withMiss Mancel made him extremely fond of her. He took great pleasure inassisting them in the improvement they so industriously laboured for, and as he was a man of universal knowledge, he was capable of being veryuseful to them in that respect. For this purpose he often read withthem, and by explaining many books on abstruse subjects, renderedseveral authors intelligible to them, who, without his assistance, wouldhave been too obscure for persons of their age. He had very fewscholars, therefore had much leisure, and with great satisfactiondedicated part of it to our young ladies, as he saw he thereby gave thema very sincere pleasure; and he was much gratified with thinking that byhis care and instruction of Miss Melvyn, he made some return for thefriendship he had received from her family; and that could her mother besensible of his attendance on her much-loved and now neglected daughter, it would be highly agreeable to her. 

In the manner I have mentioned, these two young ladies passed theirtime, till Miss Mancel reached her fifteenth year, with littlealteration, except the increase of her charms, and her great improvementin every accomplishment. Her appearance began to grow womanly, she wasindeed

 'In the bloom of beauty's pride'. 

Dazzlingly handsome at first view; but such numerous and various charmsappeared on a more intimate acquaintance that people forgot how muchthey had been struck by the first sight of her, lost in wonder at herincreasing attractions, to the force of which she was the only personthat was insensible. Humble piety rendered her indifferent tocircumstances which she looked upon rather as snares than blessings, andlike a person on the brink of a precipice could not enjoy the beauty ofthe prospect, overawed by the dangers of her situation. 

She had indeed too much of human nature in her not to feel sometimes alittle flush of vanity on seeing herself admired; but she immediatelycorrected the foible, by reflecting that whatever advantages of mind orform had fallen to her share, they were given her by one who expectedshe should not suffer her thoughts or attention to be withdrawn therebyfrom him, who was the perfection of all excellence, while she at bestcould but flatter herself with being less imperfect than many of herfellow creatures. 

She considered flattery and admiration as the rocks on which youngpeople, who are at all superior to the multitude, are apt to be wrecked;deprived of quiet happiness in this world, and exalted felicity in thenext; and as she was really convinced that she had only a few obviousexternal advantages over others, she opposed to the praises lavished onher reflections of her imperfections, which, though not apparent to anyone but herself, she verily believed were uncommonly great, as shebeheld them with very scrutinizing and rigid eyes, while she looked onthose of others with the greatest lenity. But of all the means she usedto preserve her humility, she was the most assiduous in praying to himwho made her heart, to preserve it humble. 

Though the degree of piety I mention may sound in the ears of many toograve for so young a person, yet it by no means rendered her so; she hadgreat vivacity; a lively imagination; an uncommon share of wit; and avery happy manner of expressing herself. She had all the amiable gaietyof youth, without the least tendency to imprudence; and when she talkedmost, and, in appearance, let fancy assume the reins, said nothing torepent of. Her heart was all purity, universal benevolence andgood-nature; and as out of its abundance her mouth spake, she was inlittle danger of offending with her tongue. 

It is not strange that Mr Hintman's fondness should increase with MissMancel's excellencies, but the caresses which suited her earlier yearswere now become improper, and Mr Hintman, by appearing insensible of thenecessary change of behaviour, reduced her to great difficulties; shecould not reconcile herself to receiving them; and yet to inform him ofthe impropriety implied a forward consciousness which she was not ableto assume. 

She communicated the vexation of her mind to Miss Melvyn, who was stillmore alarmed as her superior age and experience rendered her moreapprehensive; but she knew not what to advise. 

In this dilemma Miss Melvyn had recourse to their good friend, whoseknowledge of mankind, his integrity and prudence, rendered him thesafest guide. Accordingly one day when Louisa was called from them to MrHintman, who came to make her a visit, Miss Melvyn informed Mr d'Avoraof the reason why her friend obeyed the summons with less joy than hehad observed in her on the like occasion the year before. 

Mr d'Avora was much disturbed at this information; but not choosing toincrease the uneasiness the young ladies seemed to be under till he hadmore certain foundation for his opinion, he only intimated, that customswere hard to break, but he should hope, that when Mr Hintman reflectedon the impropriety of behaving to a young woman as if she was still achild, he would alter it, and if he was not immediately sensible of thedifference a small addition of age makes, yet her behaviour would leadhim to recollect it. 

Although Mr d'Avora seemed to pay little regard to what Miss Melvynsaid, yet it made great impression on him, and as soon as he left her, he took all proper measures to enquire into the character, and usualconduct of Mr Hintman. 

This scrutiny did not turn out at all to his satisfaction, every accounthe received was the same; he had not the pleasure of finding what isusually asserted, that 'all men have two characters'; for Mr Hintman hadbut one, and that the most alarming that could be for Miss Mancel. Everyperson told him that Mr Hintman had a very great fortune, which he spententirely in the gratification of his favourite vice, the love of women;on whom his profuseness was boundless. That as he was easily captivated, so he was soon tired; and seldom kept a woman long after he had obtainedthe free possession of her; but generally was more bountiful than iscustomary with men of his debauched principles at parting with them. 

This, Mr d'Avora was assured, was Mr Hintman's only vice; that he wasgood-natured, and generous on all occasions. From this account he sawtoo great reason to fear, that all the care which had been taken toimprove Miss Mancel arose only from a sort of epicurism in hispredominant vice, but yet this was too doubtful a circumstance to be theground-work of any plan of action. A man of acknowledged generosity andgood-nature, however vicious, might do a noble action without having anycriminal design. In this uncertainty of mind he knew not what to adviseher, and was unwilling to excite such fears in the breasts of these twoyoung friends, as might be groundless; but yet would entirely destroytheir peace, therefore, he only told Miss Melvyn in general terms, thatMr Hintman's character was such, as rendered it very necessary thatLouisa should be much on her guard; but that whether more than prudentcaution, and decent reserve were requisite, her own observation mustdiscover, for no one else could determine that point, since he had thereputation of being generous as well as debauched; therefore his actionstowards her might be, and he hoped were, the result of his greatestvirtue, rather than of his predominant vice. 

Miss Melvyn made a faithful report of what Mr d'Avora had said to her, which filled both herself and her friend with inexpressible uneasiness. 

Louisa was in great difficulty how to act, between gratitude andaffection on the one side, and necessary caution and reserve on theother. She was almost as much afraid of appearing ungrateful, as ofbeing imprudent. She found little assistance from the advice of herfriends, who declared them selves incapable of directing her, thereforeshe was obliged to lay aside all dependence on her own care, and totrust in that of heaven, convinced that her innocence would be guardedby that power who knew the integrity and purity of her heart; and thatwhile she preserved it unblemished, even in thought and inclination, herprayers for his protection would not be unavailing. 

The remainder of the winter passed like the former part, only that theincrease of her apprehensions so far lessened her easy vivacity, that MrHintman observed the alteration, and complained of the constraint andawe which damped her conversation. 

As the school broke up at Easter, he intreated her to accompany him thatshort time into the country, from which she would gladly have excusedherself, both on account of her fears, and of her unwillingness to leaveMiss Melvyn, of whose conversation she was now more particularlytenacious, as Lady Melvyn had determined to suffer her to return home ina short time, not knowing how to excuse her remaining longer at school, as she was entered into her one and twentieth year. Miss Melvyn wouldhave been glad that her ladyship had not shewn this token of regard topopular opinion; for since she had enjoyed Miss Mancel's company, andbeen in possession of so good a collection of books, she was grownperfectly contented with her situation. 

Louisa, to make Mr Hintman desist from the request he urged with so muchimportunity, tried every means that did not appear like a totaldisinclination to accompany him, for any thing that bore the air ofingratitude could not be supported by her, whose heart was so void ofit, and who thought she could never feel enough for her benefactor, ifhis designs were not so criminal as she feared, but scarcely couldsuffer herself to suspect. 

Mr Hintman was too ardent in his purposes to give up his favouritescheme, and Louisa beheld with inexpressible concern the day approach, when she must either accompany him into the country, or disoblige himfor ever, and make herself appear extremely ungrateful in the eyes of aman whom she loved and honoured like a father. Her addresses to heavenfor protection now became more vehement and continual, and the greatestpart of her time was spent on her knees in praying to that power in whomshe trusted. Miss Melvyn and Mr d'Avora were scarcely less anxious, orunder fewer apprehensions than herself, but could see no resource exceptin the protection of the Almighty, to whom we seldom apply with entirefaith and resignation while we have any hopes in human assistance. 

Two days before that fixed on for the purposed journey, when Louisa'sanxiety was risen to the utmost height, the schoolmistress entered theroom, with a countenance so melancholy, as was more suitable to thesituation of mind in which the two young friends were then in, than toany reason they apprehended she could have for an air of so much sorrow. She soon began a discourse, which they immediately apprehended waspreparatory to the opening of some fatal event, and which, as is usualin such cases, was, if possible, more alarming than any misfortune itcould precede. The ladies expressed their fears, and begged to beacquainted with what had befallen them. After considerable efforts todeliver her of the secret with which she was pregnant, they learnt thata gentleman was in the parlour, who came to inform Miss Mancel that MrHintman died the day before in a fit of an apoplexy. 

All Louisa's fears and suspicions vanished at once, and grief alone tookpossession of her heart. The shock so entirely overcame her, that shewas not able to see the fatal messenger of such melancholy tidings asthe death of her benefactor, and second father. Miss Melvyn was obligedto undertake this office, and learnt from the gentleman that Mr Hintmandied without a will, and therefore left the poor Louisa as destitute, except being enriched by various accomplishments, as he found her, andat a much more dangerous time, when her beauty would scarcely suffercompassion to arise unaccompanied with softer sentiments. This gentlemanproceeded to inform Miss Melvyn, that his father and another person ofequal relation to Mr Hintman were heirs at law. He expressed greatconcern for Miss Mancel, and wished he had his father's power ofrepairing Mr Hintman's neglect, but that his influence extended nofarther than to obtain a commission to pay the expenses of another yearat that school, that the young lady might have time to recollect herselfafter so fatal a change, and determine at leisure on her future courseof life. 

Miss Melvyn was so sensibly touched at the prospect of the approachingdistress with which her friend was threatened, that she burst into tearsand uttered some exclamations concerning 'the inconsistency of thataffection, which could suffer a man to rest a moment without securing aprovision in case of death, to a young woman he seemed to love with thegreatest excess of tenderness'. 'Believe me, madam, ' said the younggentleman, 'Mr Hintman was capable of no love that was not entirelysensual, and consequently selfish; all who knew him lamented the fate ofa young woman, who by every account is so superiorly lovely. Among hisfriends he made no secret of his designs in all he had done for her, andboasted frequently of the extraordinary charms which were ripening forhis possession. It was but two days ago, that he was exulting in thepresence of some of them, that the time was now approaching, when heshould be rewarded for long expectation, and boundless expense; for heshould then, he said, be sure of her person, and had long secured herheart. He knew he had strong prejudices and strange scruples to combat;but was prepared, and should not find them difficult to conquer; atworst, his steward in a parson's habit would lull them all to sleep. '

'Good heaven!' cried Miss Melvyn, 'could there be such a wretch, andwere there men who would keep company with him, who would bear thedisgrace of being called his friends?'

'Your notions, madam, ' replied the gentleman, 'are too refined forpersons who live in the world: should a man insist on strict morals inall his acquaintance, he might enjoy a solitude in the most populouscity; though, I confess, nothing but ties of kindred could have made meintimate with one of Mr Hintman's character, which I should not thushave exposed to you, but as I imagined a better knowledge of the manmight alleviate the affliction you seemed to feel for Miss Mancel'shaving lost one whom you esteemed so sincere a friend. I should havebeen glad, ' continued he, 'could I have seen the young lady, of whom MrHintman told such wonders; but I will not presume to press it, time mayoffer me some opportunity for satisfying my curiosity without painingher, I therefore take my leave, with only requesting your permission toremit the money of which I was made the bearer. '

Miss Melvyn was so much affected with her friend's situation, that shetook the paper the gentleman offered her, without having power toreflect whether she ought to accept it, or being able to make him anyacknowledgement; and he retired directly. She was obliged to stay sometime to compose her spirits before she went to her friend, that shemight be the better able to comfort her. On examining the paper, shefound it a bank-note of an hundred pounds, which was now become all MissMancel's fortune. 

Lamont could not forbear interrupting Mrs Maynard in this place, by somevery severe reflections on Mr Hintman's having neglected to make aprovision for Miss Mancel in case of his death, which I believe was thepart of his conduct that to Lamont appeared most inexcusable; for thoughhe is too fashionable to think intriguing very criminal, yet he isnaturally generous, as far as money is concerned. 'I cannot think, 'replied my cousin, 'that Mr Hintman's behaviour in that particular canbe much wondered at. Death to such a man must be so dreadful an event, that he will naturally endeavour to banish it from his mind, whenever itattempts to intrude, and when a person takes so little care to makeprovision for his own happiness after death, is it strange he should beunmindful of what shall befall another after that fatal period? When aman neglects his own soul, and deprives himself of all hope ofeverlasting felicity, can we expect he should take any trouble toprovide for the temporal convenience of another person?

'Besides, could he, who aimed at reducing an innocent and amiable youngwoman to guilt and infamy in this world, and eternal perdition in thenext, be under any concern lest she should fall into the lesser miseriesof poverty? It would have been an inconsistency in such a character. '

'You see gallantry in a very serious light, madam, ' said Lamont. 

'I do indeed, sir, ' answered Mrs Maynard, 'I look on it as the mostdangerous of vices, it destroys truth, honour, humanity, it is directlycontrary to the laws of God, is the destruction of society, and almostas inconsistent with morality as with religion. '

'I beg pardon, madam, ' interrupted Lamont (who felt himself a littletouched with what she said), 'for breaking into your narrative, and mustbeg you will continue it. '

Miss Melvyn, resumed Mrs Maynard, was too well acquainted with thestrength of Louisa's mind to think it necessary to conceal from her anypart of what had passed between herself and Mr Hintman's relation. 

Louisa, much affected by Mr Hintman's dying, with a heart so unfit toappear at the tribunal before which he was so suddenly summoned, thoughtnot immediately of herself; but when she reflected on the dangers shehad escaped, she blessed her poverty, since it was the consequence of anevent which delivered her from so much greater evils, and sent up manysincere and ardent thanksgivings to heaven, for so signal apreservation. These thoughts possessed our young friends for the firstthree or four days after Mr Hintman's death; but then they began tothink it requisite to consult with Mr d'Avora, on what course of life itwas most advisable for Miss Mancel to enter. This was a difficult pointto determine; though her understanding and attainments were far superiorto her years, yet they were sensible her youth would be a greatimpediment to her in any undertaking. Mr d'Avora therefore advised thatshe should continue a little longer at the school, and then fix in themost private manner imaginable for three or four years, by which time hehoped to be able to establish her in some widow's family, as governessto her children; for he told her she must not expect, while her personcontinued such as it then was, that a married woman would receive her inany capacity that fixed her in the same house with her husband. 

As Miss Mancel had many jewels and trinkets of value, she had no doubtbut that with economy she might support herself for the term Mr d'Avoramentioned, and even longer if requisite, as she could add to her littlefund by the produce of her industry. As Miss Melvyn's return home drewnear, it was agreed that she should seek out some place in Sir Charles'sneighbourhood where Louisa might lodge cheaply and reputably; and in themean time Mr d'Avora should dispose of whatever she had of value, excepther books and her harpsichord; these she resolved not to part with tillthe produce of her other things, and the money she had by her, wasspent, as they would not only amuse her in the country, but afford herthe power of improving herself in those accomplishments which were to beher future provision. 

This plan softened the pangs of separation when the time of MissMelvyn's departure arrived. It was not long before she found out anapartment at a reputable farmer's, where Miss Mancel might lodgeconveniently. Had it been a less tolerable place, its vicinity to SirCharles's house, from which it was but a quarter of a mile distant, would have made it a very delightful abode to her, and she soon repairedthither. 

Great was the joy of the two friends at meeting. Miss Melvyn's situationat home was rendered as irksome as possible by Lady Melvyn's behaviourboth to her and Sir Charles who, notwithstanding her ill treatment, wasextremely fond of, and totally guided by her. His mind was so entirelyenslaved that he beheld nothing but in the light wherein she pleased torepresent it, and was so easy a dupe, that she could scarcely feel thejoys of self triumph in her superior art, which was on no subject soconstantly exerted, as in keeping up a coldness in Sir Charles towardshis daughter; this she had with tolerable facility effected in herabsence, and was assiduously careful to preserve now she was present. Tothose who know not the power an artful woman can obtain over a weakman, it would appear incredible that any father could be prejudicedagainst a daughter whose whole attention was to please him. She had soperfect a command over her temper that she never appeared to takeoffence at any thing Lady Melvyn said or did, though that ladyendeavoured by every provocation to throw her off her guard. Thisbehaviour only increased her hatred, which was not in the least abatedby Miss Melvyn's taking every opportunity of being serviceable to herhalf-brothers and sisters. Lady Melvyn persuaded Sir Charles that hisdaughter's calmness was only assumed in his presence, and continuallycomplained of her insolence when he was not by. If he ever appeared todoubt the truth of her report, she would burst into tears, complain ofhis want of love and little confidence in her, and sometimes thoughtproper to shew her grief at such treatment by a pretended hysteric fit, always ready at call to come to her assistance, though really sounnecessarily lavished on one easily duped without those laboriousmeans, that it appeared a wantonness of cunning, which was thus exertedonly for its own indulgence. She soon perceived that Miss Melvyn ratherchose to submit to any aspersions, than to render her father unhappy byundeceiving him; and taking advantage of this generosity, wouldsometimes, to establish his opinion of her veracity, accuse Miss Melvynto her face of offences which she had never committed, and things shehad never said. 

In such a situation the arrival of a friend, into whose sympatheticbosom she could pour all her griefs, and in whose delightful society shecould forget them, was the highest blessing. But Lady Melvyn contrivedto make her feel mortifications even in this tenderest particular, forthough she was in her heart glad to have her out of the house, that shemight not be witness of much improper behaviour, yet she would sometimesmortify herself in order to tease Miss Melvyn, by preventing her fromgoing to her beloved friend; and continually alleged her spending somuch time with Louisa as a proof of the aversion she had made SirCharles believe Miss Melvyn had to her. 

Louisa felt deeply her friend's uneasiness, but when they were togetherthey could not be unhappy. They seldom passed a day without seeing eachother, but as Lady Melvyn had taken no notice of Louisa, she could notgo to her house, therefore their meetings were at her lodgings, wherethey often read together, and at other times would apply to music todrive away melancholy reflections. As Louisa wished to remain near herfriend as long as possible, she endeavoured, by taking in plain-work, toprovide for some part of her current expenses, the less to diminish thelittle fund she had by her. She likewise employed part of her time inpainting, having reason to hope that if she could find a means ofoffering her pictures to sale, she might from them raise a veryconvenient sum. While she was thus contriving to enable herself to enjoyfor many years the conversation of her friend, Lady Melvyn was asindustriously laying schemes that, if successful, must disappoint allthe young ladies' hopes. 

Towards the end of the autumn, Mr Morgan, a man of fortune who had spentabove half a year in a fruitless pursuit after health, made a visit to agentleman in the neighbourhood. Unfortunately Miss Melvyn's charms madea conquest of this gentleman, in whom age had not gained a victory overpassion. Miss Melvyn's humility occasioned her being the last person whoperceived the impression she had made on his heart, and his age wouldscarcely suffer her to believe her senses when the symptoms became mostapparent. A girl may find some amusement in a young lover, though shefeels no disposition in herself to return his passion, her vanity isflattered by his addresses, and a woman must be very little disposed tobe pleased, who receives no pleasure from one who is continuallyendeavouring to oblige and amuse her; but the most whimsical of thepoets never fancied a grey-bearded Cupid, or represented Hymen with atorch in one hand, and a crutch in the other. I allow that

 'Oft the matrimonial Cupid, Lash'd on by time grows tir'd and stupid, '

and does not always wear that blooming joyous countenance, which thepainters give him; but should any capricious artist take the sickle outof the hand of old Time, and in its place put Hymen's torch, the picturemight be thought very unnatural, yet would represent a proper hymenealCupid to attend Mr Morgan to the altar. 

Such a lover could excite no emotion in his mistress's heart butdisgust. Miss Melvyn's principles were too delicate to suffer her tothink she had any title to ridicule a man for his partiality to her, however ill-suited to himself; but no consideration could prevent hisaddresses from being extremely disagreeable: however, she could withoutany great difficulty have so far commanded herself, as to have treatedhim with complaisance, till he gave her an opportunity of rejecting hiscourtship, had she not been apprehensive that this affair would giveLady Melvyn a new subject for persecution. She was pretty certain thatlady would be glad to settle her in another county; and that heraverseness to so ill-suited a marriage would only serve as an additionalrecommendation to her mother. She was indeed determined in justice to MrMorgan and compassion to herself, not to be induced by any solicitationsto marry a man whom she could not hope that even the strongestattachment to duty could render so well as indifferent to her, but shedreaded the means that might be taken to oblige her to accept MrMorgan's proposal. 

Little did she guess what those means would be. She expected to beattacked alternately with all the violence of passion, the affectedsoftness of dissimulation, and every art that cunning could devise, toforce Sir Charles to concur in her persecution. These indeed wereemployed as soon as Mr Morgan made his proposals; but her ladyship hadtoo many resources in her fertile brain to persevere long in a courseshe found unavailing. The farmer where Miss Mancel lodged had a son, whowas in treaty with Lady Melvyn for a farm, which at the end of the yearwould become vacant. This person she thought fit for her purpose, asMiss Melvyn's going so frequently to Miss Mancel might give some colourto her invention. She therefore took care to be found by Sir Charlesdrowned in tears; he pressed to know the occasion of her grief, but sheresisted his importunity in such a manner as could not fail to increaseit, still she declared, that she loved him to that excess she could notcommunicate a secret which she knew must afflict him, even though thesuppression and inward preyings of her sorrow should prove fatal to herlife. 

Sir Charles now on his knees intreated her to acquaint him with themisfortune she endeavoured to conceal, assuring her, that nothing couldgive him so much concern as seeing her in that condition. She told himshe was sensible, that as his wife it was her duty to obey him (a dutynewly discovered, or at least newly performed by her ladyship); but shefeared she had not strength left to give it utterance. The endeavourthrew her into a hysteric fit, which was succeeded by so many othersthat Sir Charles was almost frantic with his fears for so tender a wife, who was thus reduced to the last agonies by her affectionateapprehensions of giving him pain. 

After rubbing her hands and feet till they were sore, suffocating herwith burnt feathers, and half poisoning her with medicines, Sir Charlesand her servants so far brought her to life that after sending herattendants out of the room, she had just power to tell him she haddiscovered an intrigue between his daughter and Simon the young farmer, and then immediately sunk into another fit, which however did not lastso long; for as she had removed the heavy burden off her mind, she soonbegan to recover. 

Sir Charles was very much shocked at what Lady Melvyn told him, butcould not doubt the reality of the fact when he had seen the veryviolent effect it had had on his tender wife. He asked her advice how toproceed; and it was soon determined that it was necessary, either tooblige Miss Melvyn to marry Mr Morgan directly, or to disclaim her forever, and remove the disgrace of so infamous a conduct as far fromthemselves as possible. With this resolution she was to be immediatelyacquainted. 

Miss Melvyn was accordingly called in, and bitterly reproached by SirCharles; to which my lady added frequent lamentations that she shouldso far forget herself, and disgrace so worthy a family, interspersingwith them many expressions of the undeserved tenderness she had alwayshad for her, and her great confidence in Miss Melvyn's prudence andvirtue, shedding tears for her having so unhappily swerved from them. 

As all this passed for some time in general terms, Miss Melvyn was indoubt whether she or her parents had lost their senses; convinced theremust be distraction on one side or the other. As soon as she couldrecover her surprise, she begged to know what crime she had committed. Her astonishment was still increased by the answer she received, whichwas an accusation of this strange intrigue; and her frequent visits toMiss Mancel were brought as proofs of it. The submissive and mild temperwhich had hitherto most strongly characterized her, vanished at soinjurious a charge and she denied the fact with that true spirit whichinnocence inspires. She told Lady Melvyn, that though she had hithertosilently submitted to all her ill usage, yet it was her duty to repel aninjury like this, and when her reputation was so cruelly aspersed, itwould be criminal to suffer the vile inventors to pass unexposed. Sheinsisted on being confronted with her accusers, a privilege allowed tothe greatest criminals, and by the severest judges, therefore surelycould not be refused by a father to a daughter, on a charge so highlyimprobable, and for which no lightness in her conduct ever gave theleast ground. 

As Mrs Maynard was in this part of her narrative a bell rang, whichinformed us that dinner was ready, and we were unwillingly obliged topostpone the continuation of the history of the two young friends, tilla more convenient opportunity. 

 * * * * *

In the afternoon before we rose from table, four ladies came to drinktea with this admirable society. No addition was necessary to render theconversation amusing; but the strangers seemed to look on the ladies ofthe house with such gratitude and veneration, and were treated by themwith so much friendly politeness, as gave me pleasure. I found by thevarious enquiries after different persons that these visitors likewiselived in a large society. When they rose up to take leave Miss Trenthamproposed to walk part of the way home with them. No one objected to it, for the evening was inviting, and they had designed to spend it in thepark, through which these ladies were to pass; for Lady Mary observed, that after having shewn us the beauties of the place, they ought toexhibit the riches of it. 

The park is close to one side of the house; it is not quite three milesround; the inequality of the ground much increases its beauty, and thetimber is remarkably fine. We could plainly perceive it had been manyyears in the possession of good economists, who unprompted by necessity, did not think the profit that might arise from the sale a sufficientinducement to deprive it of some fine trees, which are now decaying, butso happily placed, that they are made more venerable and not lessbeautiful by their declining age. This park is much ornamented by two orthree fine pieces of water; one of them is a very noble canal, soartfully terminated by an elegant bridge, beyond which is a wood, thatit there appears like a fine river vanishing from the eye. 

Mrs Morgan stopped us in one spot, saying, from hence, as Lady Maryobserved, you may behold our riches, that building (pointing to what wethought a pretty temple) which perhaps you imagine designed only forornament or pleasure, is a very large pidgeon house, that affords asufficient supply to our family, and many of our neighbours. That hillon your right-hand is a warren, prodigiously stocked with rabbits; thiscanal, and these other pieces of water, as well as the river you sawthis morning, furnish our table with a great profusion of fish. You willeasily believe from the great number of deer you see around us, that wehave as much venison as we can use, either in presents to our friends, or our own family. Hares and all sorts of game likewise abound here; sothat with the help of a good dairy, perhaps no situation ever more amplyafforded all the necessaries of life. These are indeed our riches; herewe have almost every thing we can want, for a very small proportion ofthat expense which others are at to procure them. 'Such a situation, 'said I, 'would be dangerous to many people, for if, as some havesupposed, and, in regard to a great part of the world, I fear withtruth, mutual wants are the great bands of society, a person thusplaced, would be in danger of feeling himself so independent a being asmight tempt him to disclaim all commerce with mankind, since he couldnot be benefited by them. He would look on himself in the light of arich man gaming with sharpers, with a great probability of losing, and acertainty of never being a gainer. '

'I do not think the danger, ' replied Lady Mary, 'so great as youimagine, even though we allow that society arises from the motive youmention. However fortune may have set us above any bodily wants, themind will still have many which would drive us into society. Reasonwishes for communication and improvement; benevolence longs for objectson which to exert itself; the social comforts of friendship are sonecessary to our happiness that it would be impossible not to endeavourto enjoy them. In sickness the langour of our minds makes us wish forthe amusements of conversation; in health the vivacity of our spiritsleads us to desire it. To avoid pain we seek after corporealconveniencies, to procure pleasure we aim at mental enjoyments; and Ibelieve, if we observe the general course of men's actions, we shall seethem at least as strongly actuated by the desire of pleasure, as by thefear of pain; though philosophers, who have formed their judgements moreon reason than the knowledge of mankind, may have thought otherwise. '

'I think, ' said Mrs Morgan, 'somebody has asserted that he who couldlive without society must be more than a God, or less than a man; thelatter part of this assertion would have held good had he carried itfarther, and said lower than a brute, for there is no creature in theuniverse that is not linked into some society, except we allow theexistence of that exploded and unsociable bird the Phoenix. '

'I am surprised, ' interrupted Lamont, 'to hear ladies, who secludethemselves from the world in this solitary though beautiful place, sostrongly plead for society. '

'Do you then, ' replied Miss Mancel, 'mistake a crowd for society? I knownot two things more opposite. How little society is there to be found inwhat you call the world? It might more properly be compared to thatstate of war, which Hobbes supposes the first condition of mankind. Thesame vanities, the same passions, the same ambition, reign in almostevery breast; a constant desire to supplant, and a continual fear ofbeing supplanted, keep the minds of those who have any views at all in astate of unremitted tumult and envy; and those who have no aim in theiractions are too irrational to have a notion of social comforts. Thelove, as well as the pleasures, of society, is founded in reason, andcannot exist in those minds which are filled with irrational pursuits. Such indeed might claim a place in the society of birds and beasts, though few would deserve to be admitted amongst them, but that ofreasonable beings must be founded in reason. What I understand bysociety is a state of mutual confidence, reciprocal services, andcorrespondent affections; where numbers are thus united, there will be afree communication of sentiments, and we shall then find speech, thatpeculiar blessing given to man, a valuable gift indeed; but when we seeit restrained by suspicion, or contaminated by detraction, we ratherwonder that so dangerous a power was trusted with a race of beings whoseldom make a proper use of it. 

'You will pity us perhaps because we have no cards, no assemblies, noplays, no masquerades, in this solitary place. The first we might haveif we chose it, nor are they totally disclaimed by us; but while we canwith safety speak our own thoughts, and with pleasure read those ofwiser persons, we are not likely to be often reduced to them. We wishnot for large assemblies, because we do not desire to drown conversationin noise; the amusing fictions of dramatic writers are not necessarywhere nature affords us so many real delights; and as we are not afraidof shewing our hearts, we have no occasion to conceal our persons, inorder to obtain either liberty of speech or action. '

'What a serious world should we have, madam, ' replied Lamont, 'if youwere to regulate our conduct!'

'By no means, sir, ' answered Miss Mancel, 'I wish to make only thesealterations, to change noise for real mirth, flutter for settledcheerfulness, affected wit for rational conversation; and would but havethat degree of dissipation banished which deprives people of time forreflection on the motives for, and consequences of, their actions, thattheir pleasures may be real and permanent, and followed neither byrepentance nor punishment. I would wish them to have leisure to considerby whom they were sent into the world, and for what purpose, and tolearn that their happiness consists in fulfilling the design of theirMaker, in providing for their own greatest felicity, and contributingall that is in their power to the convenience of others. '

'You seem, madam, ' answered Lamont, 'to choose to make us all slaves toeach other. '

'No, sir, ' replied Miss Mancel, 'I would only make you friends. Thosewho are really such are continually endeavouring to serve and obligeeach other; this reciprocal communication of benefits should beuniversal, and then we might with reason be fond of this world. '

'But, ' said Lamont, 'this reciprocal communication is impossible; whatservice can a poor man do me? I may relieve him, but how can he returnthe obligation?'

'It is he, ' answered Miss Mancel, 'who first conferred it, in giving youan opportunity of relieving him. The pleasure he has afforded you, is asfar superior to the gratification you have procured him, as it is moreblessed to give than to receive. You will perhaps say of him, as theapothecary in _Romeo and Juliet_ does of himself and tell me that, "His poverty and not his will consents. "

'So let it be, and do you

 "Pay his poverty and not his will. "

'But certainly the highest satisfaction is on your side, and muchobliged you are to that poverty, which enables you to obtain so great agratification. But do not think the poor can make no adequate return. The greatest pleasure this world can give us is that of being beloved, but how should we expect to obtain love without deserving it? Did youever see any one that was not fond of a dog that fondled him? Is it thenpossible to be insensible to the affection of a rational being?'

'If Mr Lamont, ' said one of the visitors, 'has not so high a sense ofthe pleasure of being gratefully loved and esteemed, we ought not toblame him; he, perhaps, like the greatest part of the world, has notsufficiently tried it, to be a proper judge; Miss Mancel is certainlyvery deep in this knowledge, and her opinion may be received as almostan infallible decision, since it is founded on long experience; and hownobly does she calm the eager wishes of impotent gratitude, in declaringherself to be the most benefited when she confers obligations. '

This was uttered with so much warmth, and accompanied by looks soexpressive of affection and grateful sensibility, that I plainly saw itproceeded from something more than mere speculative approbation. Lamontdeclared, that he was well convinced of the justness of what Miss Mancelhad said; at first it appeared rather a sentiment uttered in sport thanan opinion which could be proved by argument; but that a littlereflection on one's own sensations would afford sufficient conviction ofthe truth of her assertion, and that the general errors in the conductof mankind plainly evinced they were of the same opinion, though theyoften mistook the means; for what, continued he, do people ruinthemselves by pomp and splendour, hazard their lives in the pursuits ofambition, and, as Shakespeare says, 'Seek the bubble reputation even in the cannon's mouth. '

But to gain popular applause and esteem? For what do others throw awaytheir time in useless civilities, and politely flatter all they meet, but in hopes of pleasing? Even those who make it their business toslander merit, and exaggerate the faults of others, do it from a desireof raising themselves in the opinion of mankind, by lowering those whomay be brought into comparison with them. 

During this conversation we had advanced within a field of the house, and the ladies stopped to take their leave, saying, as the evening wastoo far advanced to suffer them to make any stay with their goodfriends, they would not disturb them by just entering their doors. Butas some parley ensued, several ladies who had seen us from the windowsran out, just to pay their compliments to the worthy inhabitants ofMillenium Hall. The pleasure of this short meeting seemed reciprocal, and both sides appeared unwilling to part, but the setting sunadmonished us to return. 

The house to which we had so nearly approached was a very large oldmansion, and its inhabitants so numerous, that I was curious to know howso many became assembled together. Mrs Maynard said that if she did notsatisfy my inquiries, I was in great danger of remaining ignorant of thenature of that society, as her friends would not be easily prevailedwith to break silence on that subject. 

'These ladies, ' said she, 'long beheld with compassion the wretched fateof those women, who from scantiness of fortune, and pride of family, arereduced to become dependent, and to bear all the insolence of wealthfrom such as will receive them into their families; these, though insome measure voluntary slaves, yet suffer all the evils of the severestservitude, and are, I believe, the most unhappy part of the creation. Sometimes they are unqualified to gain a maintenance, educated as iscalled, genteelly, or in other words idly, they are ignorant of everything that might give them superior abilities to the lower rank ofpeople, and their birth renders them less acceptable servants to many, who have not generosity enough to treat them as they ought, and yet donot choose while they are acting the mistress, perhaps too haughtily, tofeel the secret reproaches of their own hearts. Possibly pride may stilloftener reduce these indigent gentlewomen into this wretched state ofdependence, and therefore the world is less inclined to pity them; butmy friends see human weakness in another light. 

'They imagine themselves too far from perfection to have any title toexpect it in others, and think that there are none in whom pride is soexcusable as in the poor, for if there is the smallest spark of it intheir compositions, and who is entirely free from it, the frequentneglects and indignities they meet with must keep it continually alive. If we are despised for casual deficiencies, we naturally seek inourselves for some merit, to restore us to that dignity in our own eyeswhich those humiliating mortifications would otherwise debase. Thus welearn to set too great a value on what we still possess, whetheradvantages of birth, education, or natural talents; any thing will servefor a resource to mortified pride; and as every thing grows byopposition and persecution, we cannot wonder if the opinion of ourselvesincreases by the same means. 

'To persons in this way of thinking, the pride which reduces many to be, what is called with too little humanity, toad-eaters, does not renderthem unworthy of compassion. Therefore for the relief of this race theybought that large mansion. 

'They drew up several regulations, to secure the peace and good order ofthe society they designed to form, and sending a copy of it to all theiracquaintance, told them that any gentleman's daughter, whose characterwas unblemished, might, if she desired it, on those terms be receivedinto that society. '

I begged, if it was not too much trouble, to know what the regulationswere. 

'The first rule, ' continued Mrs Maynard, 'was that whoever chose to takethe benefit of this asylum, for such I may justly call it, shoulddeposit in the hands of a person appointed for that purpose, whateverfortune she was mistress of, the security being approved by her and herfriends, and remaining in her possession. Whenever she leaves thesociety, her fortune should be repaid her, the interest in the mean timebeing appropriated to the use of the community. The great design of thiswas to preserve an exact equality between them; for it was not expectedthat the interest of any of their fortunes should pay the allowance theywere to have for their clothes. If any appeared to have secreted part ofher fortune she should be expelled from the society. 

'Secondly, each person to have a bed-chamber to herself, but theeating-parlour and drawing-room in common. 

'Thirdly, all things for rational amusement shall be provided for thesociety; musical instruments, of whatever sort they shall choose, books, tents for work, and in short conveniences for every kind of employment. 

'Fourthly, they must conform to very regular hours. 

'Fifthly, a housekeeper will be appointed to manage the householdaffairs, and a sufficient number of servants provided. 

'Sixthly, each person shall alternately, a week at a time, preside atthe table, and give what family orders may be requisite. 

'Seventhly, twenty-five pounds a year shall be allowed to each personfor her clothes and pocket expenses. 

'Eighthly, their dress shall be quite plain and neat, but not particularnor uniform. 

'Ninthly, the expenses of sickness shall be discharged by thepatronesses of this society. 

'Tenthly, if any one of the ladies behaves with imprudence she shall bedismissed, and her fortune returned; likewise if any should byturbulence or pettishness of temper disturb the society, it shall be inthe power of the rest of them to expel her; a majority of three parts ofthe community being for the expulsion, and this to be performed byballotting. 

'Eleventhly, a good table and every thing suitable to the convenience ofa gentlewoman, shall be provided. 

'These were the principal articles; and in less than two months a dozenpersons of different ages were established in the house, who seemedthoroughly delighted with their situation. At the request of one ofthem, who had a friend that wished to be admitted, an order was soonadded, by the consent of all, that gave leave for any person who wouldconform exactly to the rules of the house, to board there for suchlength of time as should be agreeable to herself and the society, forthe price of a hundred pounds a year, fifty for any child she mighthave, twenty for a maidservant, and thirty for a man. 

'The number of this society is now increased to thirty, four ladiesboard there, one of whom has two children, and there are five youngladies, the eldest not above twelve years old, whose mothers beingdead, and their families related to some of the society, their kinswomenhave undertaken their education; these likewise pay a hundred pounds ayear each. It has frequently happened, that widow ladies have come intothis society, till their year of deep mourning was expired. 

'With these assistances the society now subsists with the utmost plentyand convenience, without any additional expense to my good friends, except a communication of what this park affords; as our stewardprovides them with every thing, and has the entire direction of thehousehold affairs, which he executes with the most sensible economy. '

I should imagine, said I, it were very difficult to preserve acomfortable harmony among so many persons, and consequently such varietyof tempers?

'Certainly, ' answered Mrs Maynard, 'it is not without its difficulties. For the first year of this establishment my friends dedicated most oftheir time and attention to this new community, who were every dayeither at the hall, or these ladies with them, endeavouring to cultivatein this sisterhood that sort of disposition which is most productive ofpeace. By their example and suggestions (for it is difficult to giveunreserved advice where you may be suspected of a design to dictate), bytheir examples and suggestions therefore, they led them to industry, andshewed it to be necessary to all stations, as the basis of almost everyvirtue. An idle mind, like fallow ground, is the soil for every weed togrow in; in it vice strengthens, the seed of every vanity flourishesunmolested and luxuriant; discontent, malignity, ill humour, spread farand wide, and the mind becomes a chaos which it is beyond human power tocall into order and beauty. This therefore my good friends laboured toexpel from their infant establishment. They taught them that it was theduty of every person to be of service to others. That those whose handsand minds were by the favours of fortune exempt from the necessary oflabouring for their own support, ought to be employed for such as aredestitute of these advantages. They got this sisterhood to join withthem in working for the poor people, in visiting, in admonishing, inteaching them wherever their situations required these services. Wherethey found that any of these ladies had a taste for gardening, drawing, music, reading, or any manual or mental art, they cultivated it, assisted them in the pleasantest means, and by various little schemeshave kept up these inclinations with all the spirit of pursuit which isrequisite to preserve most minds from that state of languidness andinactivity whereby life is rendered wearisome to those who have neverfound it unfortunate. 

'By some regulations made as occasions occurred, all burdensome formsare expelled. The whole society indeed must assemble at morning andevening prayers, and at meals, if sickness does not prevent, but everyother ceremonious dependence is banished; they form into differentparties of amusement as best suit their inclinations, and sometimes whenwe go to spend the afternoon there, we shall find a party at cards inone room, in another some at work, while one is reading aloud, and in aseparate chamber a set joining in a little concert, though none of themare great proficients in music; while two or three shall be retired intotheir own rooms, some go out to take the air, for it has seldom happenedto them to have less than two boarders at a time who each keep anequipage; while others shall be amusing themselves in the garden, orwalking in the very pleasant meadows which surround their house. 

'As no one is obliged to stay a minute longer in company than shechooses, she naturally retires as soon as it grows displeasing to her, and does not return till she is prompted by inclination, andconsequently well disposed to amuse and be amused. They live in the verystrict practice of all religious duties; and it is not to be imaginedhow much good they have done in the neighbourhood; how much by theircare the manners of the poorer people are reformed, and theirnecessities relieved, though without the distribution of much money; Isay much, because, small as their incomes are, there are many who impartout of that little to those who have much less. 

'Their visits to us are frequent, and we are on such a footing that theynever impede any of our employments. My friends always insisted whenthey waited on the community, that not one of the sisterhood shoulddiscontinue whatever they found her engaged in; this gave them the hintto do the same by us, and it is a rule that no book is thrown aside, nopen laid down at their entrance. There are always some of us manuallyemployed, who are at leisure to converse, and if the visit is not veryshort, part of it is generally spent in hearing one of the girls readaloud, who take it by turns through a great part of the day; the onlydifference made for this addition to the company is a change of books, that they may not hear only part of a subject, and begin by a brokenthread. Thus they give no interruption, and therefore neither troubleus, nor are themselves scrupulous about coming, so that few days passwithout our seeing some of them, though frequently only time enough toaccompany us in our walks, or partake of our music. '

'Have you not, ' said Lamont, 'been obliged to expel many from thecommunity? Since you do not allow petulancy of temper, nor any lightnessof conduct, I should expect a continual revolution. '

'By no means, ' answered Mrs Maynard, 'since the establishment of thecommunity there has been but one expelled; and one finding she was indanger of incurring the same sentence, and I believe inwardly disgustedwith a country life, retired of her own free choice. Some more haverendered themselves so disagreeable, that the question has been put tothe ballot; but the fear of being dismissed made them so diligent to getthe majority on their side, before the hour appointed for decisionarrived, that it has been determined in their favour, and the earnestdesire not to be brought into the same hazard again has induced them tomend their tempers, and some of these are now the most amiable people inthe whole community. 

'As for levity of conduct they are pretty well secured from it, by beingexposed to few temptations in this retired place. 

'Some, as in the course of nature must happen, have died, and most ofthem bequeathed what little they had towards constituting a fund for thecontinuation of the community. More of them have married; some topersons who knew them before, others to gentlemen in the neighbourhood, or such as happened to come into it; to whom their admirable conductrecommended them. '

I could not help exclaiming, 'In what a heaven do you live, thussurrounded by people who owe all their happiness to your goodness! Thisis, indeed, imitating your Creator, and in such proportion as yourfaculties will admit, partaking of his felicity, since you can no wherecast your eyes without beholding numbers who derive every earthly goodfrom your bounty and are indebted to your care and example for areasonable hope of eternal happiness. '

'I will not, ' said Mrs Maynard, 'give up my share of the felicity you sojustly imagine these ladies must enjoy, though I have no part in whatoccasions it. When I reflect on all the blessings they impart, and seehow happiness flows, as it were, in an uninterrupted current from theirhands and lips, I am overwhelmed with gratitude to the Almighty disposerof my fate, for having so mercifully thrown me into such a scene offelicity, where every hour yields true heart-felt joy, and fills me withthanksgiving to him who enables them thus to dispense innumerableblessings, and so greatly rewards them already by the joyfulconsciousness of having obeyed him. '

The ladies at this time were at too great a distance to hear ourconversation, for not choosing to be present while their actions werethe subjects of discourse, they had gradually strayed from us. Uponenquiring of my cousin whether the persons in the large community we hadbeen talking of brought any fortunes with them, she told me that most ofthem had a trifle, some not more than a hundred pounds. That in generalthe ladies chose to admit those who had least, as their necessities weregreatest, except where some particular circumstances rendered protectionmore requisite to others. That the house not being large enough tocontain more than were already established in it, they have been obligedto refuse admission to many, and especially some young women of near twothousand pounds fortune, the expensive turn of the world now being suchthat no gentlewoman can live genteelly on the interest of that sum, andthey prefer this society to a retirement in a country town. Some whowished to board, have likewise been refused. As the expenses of thefirst community fall so far short of their expectation, and the sumsappropriated for that purpose, they determined to hazard another of thesame kind, and have just concluded a treaty for a still larger mansion, at about three miles distance, and by the persons now waiting for it, they have reason to believe it will not be less successful than theother, nor more expensive, but should they be mistaken in thatparticular, they have laid aside a fund sufficient to discharge it. Their scheme I find is to have some of the ladies down to Millenium Hallas soon as they have made the purchase, and there they are to remain, while the necessary repairs and additions are making to the housedesigned for their habitation, which they imagine will not be completedin less than half a year. They hope, by having the first admitted partof the community thus in the house with them for so long a time, tocompensate, in a good degree, for the disadvantages of being settled somuch farther from them. The sisterhood of the other society, likewise, in pity to those who are exposed to the same sufferings from which theyhave been delivered, have offered to crowd themselves for a few months, to leave vacant rooms for some who are destined to the other house, tillthey can be there accommodated. These also will be fitted for their newway of life, and taught to aim at the happiness enjoyed in thiscommunity, by the same means that they have attained to it. 

Our subject ended with our walk. Supper was served as soon as we enteredthe house, and general conversation concluded the evening. 

Had I not been led by several facts to repeat already so manyconversations, I should be induced not to bury all that passed at thistime in silence; but though I have taken the liberty, when the relationof facts naturally led to it, to communicate such discourses as werepertinent to the subject, it would be presuming too far on your time torepeat conversations which did not serve to illustrate any particularactions, however worthy they maybe of recollection. I shall thereforeonly say that it was not with less reluctance I retired to my chamber, at the hour of bed-time, than the night before. 

The next morning proved rainy, which prevented me from making any earlyexcursion. But as it cleared up about eleven o'clock, Lamont and I wentinto the garden, to enjoy the fragrance which every herb and flowerexhales at this time of the year, after the desirable refreshment ofgentle showers. I conducted him to the flower garden, which had so muchdelighted me the morning before; and we had not paid due admiration toall the vegetable beauties there exhibited to our view when Mrs Maynardjoined us. 

I told her it was but a poor compliment to her conversation to say Ilonged for her company, since now my curiosity might occasion thatimpatience, which I should nevertheless have felt, had I not been leftin painful suspense by the interruption we had received the day before, in the midst of her narrative. 

'It would be unnatural, ' said she, 'for a woman to quarrel withcuriosity; so far from complaining of yours, I am come merely with adesign to gratify it, and only expect you will judge of my desire tooblige you by my readiness in obeying your commands; were I myself thesubject, the motive for my obedience might be equivocal. '

The History of Miss Mancel and Mrs Morgan continued

I think, continued Mrs Maynard, we left Miss Melvyn requiring to beconfronted by her accuser, a request which her step-mother was notinclined to grant; for though in her dealings with young Simon she hadperceived such a degree of solicitude for his own interest, and suchflagrant proofs of want of integrity, that she did not doubt but that bypromising him the farm on rather better terms than she had yet consentedto he might be prevailed with to join so far in her scheme as to assertany thing to Sir Charles, yet she dared not venture to produce him faceto face to Miss Melvyn, fearing lest his assurance should fail him onso severe a trial. 

She replied, therefore, that the proofs were too strong to admit ofdoubt, but she could not think of exposing Miss Melvyn to themortification of hearing her depravity witnessed by, perhaps, the lastperson whom she expected should acknowledge it. Besides, that by such aneclat the disgrace must infallibly become public, and she be deprived ofthe only means left her of rescuing her reputation from that infamy, towhich, in a very short time, it must have been irrecoverably condemned;for it could not be supposed that Mr Morgan would accept as his wife awoman with a sullied character. 

Miss Melvyn was almost distracted, at being both so injuriously accusedand denied the liberty of defending herself; she begged, she intreated, on her knees, that Sir Charles would not suffer her to fall a prey tosuch undeserved malice. She asserted her innocence in the strongest andmost persuasive terms, and insisted so warmly on her demand of beingconfronted with her accusers, that her father grew inclined to grant herjust request. Lady Melvyn, perceiving he began to comply, repeated herrefusal in the most peremptory manner, and declaring to Miss Melvyn thatshe had no other choice left her but either to resolve to marry MrMorgan or to be exposed to shame in being publicly disclaimed by herparents, who would no longer suffer her to remain in their house, ledSir Charles out of the room; and he, though reluctant, dared not refuseto accompany her. 

Miss Melvyn was now left to reflect on this dreadful alternative. Filledwith horror at the shocking conduct of her step-mother, terrified withher threats, and sensible there was no villainy she was not capable ofperpetrating rather than give up a point she was thus determined tocarry, she was incapable of forming any resolution. She ran to herfriend, to seek from her that advice and consolation which her owndistracted thoughts could not afford her. 

Miss Mancel was so struck with the terror and amazement which was stillimpressed on Miss Melvyn's countenance, that she had not for some timecourage to ask the cause. Trembling with fears of she knew not what, she embraced her distressed friend with an air of such tender, thoughsilent sympathy, as softened the horror of Miss Melvyn's mind, andbrought a shower of tears to her relief, which at length enabled her torelate all that had passed between her and her parents. Louisa found itmuch easier to join in her friend's grief than to administerconsolation. She knew not what to advise; two artless, virtuous youngwomen were ill qualified to contend with Lady Melvyn, especially in anaffair which could not be rendered public without hazarding MissMelvyn's character; for reputation is so delicate a thing that the leastsurmise casts a blemish on it; the woman who is suspected is disgraced;and though Lady Melvyn did not stand high in the public opinion, yet itwas scarcely possible for any one to believe she could be guilty of suchflagrant wickedness. 

Miss Melvyn had a very strong dislike to Mr Morgan, whose dispositionappeared as ill suited to hers as his age; to enter into wedlock withoutany prospect of social happiness seemed to her one of the greatestmisfortunes in life; but what was still of more weight in herestimation, she thought it the highest injustice to marry a man whom shecould not love, as well as a very criminal mockery of the most solemnvows. On the other side she considered that to preserve her reputationwas not only necessary to her own happiness, but a duty to society. 'Itis true, ' said she, 'I am not placed in a very conspicuous sphere oflife, but I am far from being of a rank so obscure that my actions willaffect no one but myself; nor indeed do I know any so low, but they havetheir equals who may copy after them, if they have no inferiors. Thecare of our virtue we owe to ourselves, the preservation of ourcharacters is due to the world, and both are required by him whocommands us to preserve ourself pure and unpolluted, and to contributeas far as we are able to the well-being of all his creatures. Example isthe means given universally to all whereby to benefit society. Itherefore look on it as one of our principal duties to avoid everyimputation of evil; for vice appears more or less hateful as it becomesmore or less familiar. Every vicious person abates the horror which itshould naturally excite in a virtuous mind. There is nothing so odiousto which custom will not in some degree reconcile us; can we expectthen, that vice, which is not without its allurements, should aloneretain all its deformity, when we are familiarized to its appearance. Ishould never therefore esteem myself innocent, however pure my actions, if I incurred the reputation of being otherwise, when it was in my powerto avoid it. With this way of thinking, my Louisa, you may imagine thatI might be brought to believe it my duty to sacrifice my ease of mind, to the preservation of my character, but in my case, there is no choice;I must either add to the contamination of a very profligate world, or, in the face of Heaven, enter into the most solemn vows to love a man, whom the most I can do is not to hate. This is wilful perjury. In suchan alternative duty cannot direct me, and misery must follow mydecision, let me determine as I will. '

In this irresolution, Miss Melvyn left her friend, but the vent she hadgiven to her grief had greatly calmed her spirits and restored her tothe power of reflection. At her entrance into the house, she met LadyMelvyn, who with a very stern countenance ordered her to go andentertain Mr Morgan, who waited for her in the parlour. She found himalone, and as he began to renew his addresses, which a repulse from herhad not discouraged, since he hoped to succeed by the influence herparents had over her, she immediately formed the resolution ofendeavouring to make him relinquish his pretensions, in hopes that ifthe refusal came from him, he might become the object of her mother'sindignation, and her persecution might drop, at least for a time. Shetherefore frankly told him, that tho' her affections were entirelydisengaged, yet he was so very repugnant to them that it was impossibleshe should ever feel that regard for him which he had a right to expectfrom his wife; and therefore intreated him, in consideration of his ownhappiness, if hers were indifferent to him, not to persist in a pursuitwhich, if successful, could not answer his hopes, nor reduce her torender herself wretched by becoming his wife, or to exasperate herparents by refusing him. She then added all her heart could suggest toflatter him into compliance with this request. 

Mr Morgan's foible was not an excess of delicacy; he told her plainly, he admired her eloquence prodigiously, but that there was more rhetoricin her beauty than any composition of words could contain; whichpleading in direct contradiction to all she had said, she must excusehim, if he was influenced by the more powerful oratory of her charms;and her good sense and unexceptionable conduct convinced him, that whenit became her duty to love him, she would no longer remain indifferent. 

All Miss Melvyn could urge to shew him this was but a very poordependence, had no sort of weight, and he parted from her only moredetermined to hasten the conclusion of their marriage. 

Lady Melvyn had not been idle all this time; she had prevailed on youngSimon to acquiesce in the questions she put to him before Sir Charles, either by giving short answers, or by down cast eyes, which signifiedassent. With this Sir Charles acquainted Miss Melvyn, and insisted onher not thinking of exposing herself to the indignity of having thewhole affair discussed in her presence. All the indignation thatundeserved calumny can excite in an innocent mind could not have enabledMiss Melvyn to bear being charged before so low a creature, with apassion for him, and still less to have heard the suborned wretchpretend to confess it. She therefore found no difficulty in obeying herfather in that particular, and rather chose to submit to the imputationthan to undergo the shame which she must have suffered in endeavouringto confute it. She attempted to persuade Sir Charles to permit her tostay in the house under what restrictions he and his lady should thinkproper, till her conduct should sufficiently convince him of herinnocence, and not to force her into a hated marriage, or unjustlyexpose her to disgrace and infamy. Her tears and intreaties would soonhave softened his heart; and as far as he dared he shewed an inclinationto comply with so reasonable a proposal; but his lady easily obliged himto retract and to deprive Miss Melvyn of all hopes of any mitigation ofthe sentence already pronounced against her. 

Could she without the loss of reputation have fled to a remote part ofthe kingdom, and have hid herself in some obscure cottage, thoughreduced to labour for a subsistence, she would have thought it a statefar more eligible than becoming Mr Morgan's wife; but if she thus turnedfugitive and wanderer, in what light could she expect to be seen by theworld; especially as Lady Melvyn would infallibly, to remove any blamefrom herself, be liberal in her aspersions? Where she should be unknown, whatever disgrace might be affixed to her name, she herself might escapecensure; but yet she would not be less guilty of a violation of her dutyto society, since she must appear very culpable to those who knew her, and contribute to the depravity of others, as far as was in her power, by an example which, her motives being unknown, would appear a very badone. 

This consideration determined her to sacrifice her peace to hercharacter; for by having told Mr Morgan the true state of her heart, shehad acquitted herself from any charge of attempting, by the gift of herhand, to deceive him into a belief that he was the object of heraffections. She still had scruples about entering into the matrimonialstate, on motives so different from those which ought to influence everyone in a union of that kind: these were not to be removed, but sheimagined this might in some measure be excused as the least culpablepart she could act; and since man was herein neither her judge noraccuser, she hoped the integrity of her mind would be received as somealleviation of a fault she was thus forced to commit, since she wasdetermined in the strictest manner to adhere to every duty of herstation. 

Having formed this resolution, she went to consult her friend upon it, who as a person less perplexed, though scarcely less concerned, as theiraffections were so strongly united, that one could not suffer withoutthe other's feeling equal pain, might possibly be a calmer judge in sodelicate a point. Louisa subscribed to her friend's sentiments on theoccasion, only desired her to consider well, whether she should be ableto bear all the trials she might meet with in the married state when shewas entirely indifferent to her husband. 

'My prospect, ' said Miss Melvyn, 'I am sensible is extremely melancholy. All inclination must now be laid aside, and duty must become my soleguide and director. Happiness is beyond my view; I cannot even hope forease, since I must keep a constant restraint on my very thoughts. Indifference will become criminal; and if I cannot conquer it, toconceal it at least will be a duty. I have learnt to suffer, but wasnever yet taught disguise and hypocrisy; herein will consist my greatestdifficulty; I abhor deceit, and yet must not shew the real sentiments ofmy heart. Linked in society with a man I cannot love, the world canafford me no pleasure, indeed no comfort, for I am insensible to all joybut what arises from the social affections. The grave, I confess, appears to me far more eligible than this marriage, for I might therehope to be at peace. Mr Morgan's fortune is large, but his mind isnarrow and ungenerous, and his temper plainly not good. If he reallyloved me, he could not suffer me to be forced into a marriage which hewell knows I detest: a knowledge which will not mend my fate, mostcertainly. 

'Could I enjoy the pleasures of self-approbation, it would be impossibleto be very wretched, but the most exact performance of my duty will notyield me that gratification, since I cannot be perfectly satisfied thatI do right in marrying a man so very disagreeable to me. I fear thepride of reputation influences me more than I imagine, and though it isas justifiable as any pride, yet still it is certainly no virtue. '

'When I reflect, ' said she afterwards, 'on the step I am going to take, my terrors are inexpressible; how dreadful is it at my age, when natureseems to promise me so many years of life, to doom myself to a state ofwretchedness which death alone can terminate, and wherein I must buryall my sorrows in silence, without even the melancholy relief of pouringthem forth in the bosom of my friend, and seeking, from her tenderparticipation, the only consolation I could receive! For after thisdreaded union is completed, duty will forbid me to make my distressesknown, even to my Louisa; I must not then expose the faults of him whoseslightest failings I ought to conceal. One only hope remains, that you, my first and dearest friend, will not abandon me; that whatever cloud ofmelancholy may hang over my mind, yet you will still bear with me, andremove your abode to a place where I may have the consolation of yourcompany. If it be in my power to make my house a comfortable habitationto my Louisa, I cannot be entirely wretched. '

Miss Mancel gave her the tenderest assurances of fixing at least in herneighbourhood, since a second paradise could not recompense her for theloss of her society; and that on no terms could she prevail on herselfto continue in a house where she must see that wretched Simon, who hadbeen a vile instrument in reducing her friend to that distressfulsituation. This gleam of comfort was a very seasonable relief to MissMelvyn's dejected spirits, and gave some respite to her tears. 

As soon as she returned home, she acquainted Sir Charles and Lady Melvynwith her resolution, who soon communicated it to Mr Morgan; and nothingwas now thought of but hastening the wedding as much as possible. 

'I wonder, ' interrupted Lamont, 'how Miss Melvyn could bring herself tolet her step-mother have such an opportunity of exulting in the successof her detestable arts. '

'That, ' replied Mrs Maynard, 'was a consideration which had no weightwith her, nor should it indeed be any mortification to our pride thatdeceit and cunning have triumphed over us. Wickedness serves itself byweapons which we would not use, and if we are wounded with them, we haveno more reason to be mortified than a man would have to think hiscourage disgraced because when he lay sleeping in his bed he was takenprisoner by a body of armed men. To be circumvented by cunning must everbe the fate, but never the disgrace, of the artless. '

As Miss Melvyn's compliance procured her a greater degree of favour athome than she had ever before enjoyed, Miss Mancel was suffered to cometo the house, and met with an obliging reception from the whole family. Her continual presence there was a great support to her friend in hervery disagreeable situation, and after indulging her sorrow in theirprivate conversation, and mingling their sympathetic tears, she was thebetter able to endure the restraint which she was obliged to undergowhen any other person was present. 

The dreaded day fixed on for this unhappy union soon came, and MissMelvyn received Mr Morgan's hand and name with all the fortitude shecould assume; but her distress was visible to all, even to Mr Morgan, who was so little touched with it that it proved no abatement to hisjoy; a symptom of such indelicacy of mind as increased his bride's griefand apprehensions. 

The day after their marriage, Mrs Morgan asked his permission to inviteMiss Mancel to his house, to which he answered, 'Madam, my wife musthave no other companion or friend but her husband; I shall never beaverse to your seeing company, but intimates I forbid; I shall notchoose to have my faults discussed between you and your friend. '

Mrs Morgan was not much less stunned by this reply than if she had beenstruck with lightning. Practised as she had long been in commanding herpassions and inclinations, a torrent of tears forced their way. 

'I did not want this proof, ' resumed Mr Morgan, 'that I have but a smallshare of your affections; and were I inclined to grant your request, youcould not have found a better means of preventing it; for I will have noperson in my house more beloved than myself. When you have no otherfriend, ' added he with a malicious smile, 'I may hope for the honour ofthat title. '

Mrs Morgan was so well convinced before of the littleness of his mindthat she was more afflicted than surprised at this instance of it, andwished he would not have rendered it more difficult to esteem him by soopenly professing his ungenerous temper. However she silentlyacquiesced; but that her friend might not feel the pain of believingherself neglected, she was obliged to tell her what had passed. 

The new married couple stayed but two days longer at Sir Charles's. Fortunately Mr Morgan spent the last day abroad in paying visits in theneighbourhood, which gave the two unhappy friends leisure to lamenttheir ill fortune in this cruel separation, without giving the cause ofit any new offence. They took a melancholy leave that night, fearingthat even a correspondence between them might be considerably restrainedby this arbitrary husband who seemed to think his wife's affections wereto be won by force, not by gentleness and generous confidence. 

This was the severest affliction they had ever yet experienced, orindeed were capable of feeling. United from their childhood, theconnection of soul and body did not seem more indissoluble, nor wereever divided with greater pain. They foresaw no end to this cruelseparation; for they could not expect that a husband's complaisance tohis wife should increase after he ceased to be a bridegroom. Louisaindeed, who wished if possible to reconcile her friend to her fate, pretended to hope that her good conduct might in time enlarge his mindand cure him of that mean suspicious temper which then made him fear tohave his faults exposed by a wife whose chief endeavour would be toconceal them. 

But such distant views afforded no consolation to Mrs Morgan'saffectionate heart; the present pain engaged her thoughts too much tosuffer her to look so far off for comfort. She had flattered herself notonly with the hopes of enjoying Miss Mancel's company, but of deliveringher from all the difficulties of her situation, in offering her aprotection from insult or poverty. To be disappointed of so delightful aprospect was her greatest affliction, and sat much heavier on her mindthan the loss of her beloved society. 

The evening was far spent when Lady Melvyn found them drowned in tears, anticipating the pangs of parting, the employment of that whole day; andas her ladyship's hatred for her step-daughter was much subsided, sinceshe no longer feared the observation of her too-virtuous eye, hernatural disposition inclined her to prevent the wife's discovering herreal sentiments to her husband; she therefore reminded them that MrMorgan must then be on his way home, and advised that by all means theyshould part before his return, lest he should be witness of a sorrowwhich he would take amiss. They were sensible that in this her ladyshipjudged well, and Louisa's fear of occasioning any additional uneasinessto her friend gave her resolution and strength to take a last farewell. Mrs Morgan's maid attended her home, as she was too much affected to beable to perform that little walk without some support. Mrs Morgan'scondition was still more deplorable; more dead than alive, she followedLouisa's steps with eager eyes, till a turning in the road robbed her ofthe sight of her friend; and then, as if her eyes had no otheremployment worthy of them left, they were again overwhelmed in tears. Lady Melvyn found her incapable of consolation; but more successfullyendeavoured to make her suppress the indulgence of her grief by alarmingher fears with the approach of Mr Morgan. As soon as she was a littlecomposed, she led her into the garden for air. The night was fine, andthe moon shone very resplendent, the beauty of the scene and thefreshness of the air a little revived her; and as Mr Morgan stayed outlater than they expected she had time to acquire a sufficient commandover herself to receive him with an air of tolerable cheerfulness. 

The new married pair set out early the next morning, and arrived at MrMorgan's seat the following day. The house was large and old, thefurniture not much less ancient, the situation dreary, the roadseverywhere bad, the soil a stiff clay, wet and dirty, except in themidst of summer, the country round it disagreeable, and in short, destitute of every thing that could afford any satisfaction to MrsMorgan. Nature nowhere appears graced with fewer charms. Mrs Morganhowever had vexations so superior that she paid little regard toexternal circumstances, and was so fully determined to acquit herselfproperly in her new sphere that she appeared pleased with every thingaround her. Hypocrisy, as she observed, was now become a virtue, and theonly one which she found it difficult to practise. They were received ontheir arrival by a maiden sister of Mr Morgan's, who till then had kepthis house and he intended should still remain in it; for as through thepartiality of an aunt who had bred her up she was possessed of a largefortune, her brother, in whom avarice was the ruling passion, was verydesirous of keeping in her favour. 

Miss Susanna Morgan had lived immaculate to the age of fifty-five. Thestate of virginity could not be laid to her charge as an offence againstsociety, for it had not been voluntary. In her youth she was ratherdistinguished for sensibility. Her aunt's known riches gave the niecethe reputation of a great fortune, an attraction to which she wasindebted for many lovers, who constantly took their leave on finding theold lady would not advance any part of the money which she designed tobequeath her niece. Miss Susanna, extremely susceptible by nature, wasfavourably disposed to all her admirers, and imagining herselfsuccessively in love with each, lived in a course of disappointments. Inreality, the impression was made only on her vanity, and her heartcontinued unengaged; but she felt such a train of mortifications veryseverely, and perhaps suffered more upon the whole than if she had beenstrongly impressed with one passion. In time the parsimony of her oldaunt became generally known, and the young lady then was left free fromthe tender importunity of lovers, of which nothing else could probablyhave deprived her; for as she never had any natural attractions, she wasnot subject to a decay of charms; at near fifty-five her aunt departedthis life, and left her in possession of twenty thousand pounds, afortune which served to swell her pride, without increasing herhappiness. 

Nature had not originally bestowed upon her much sweetness of temper, and her frequent disappointments, each of which she termed being crossedin love, had completely soured it. Every pretty woman was the object ofher envy, I might almost say every married woman. She despised all thatwere not as rich as herself, and hated every one who was superior orequal to her in fortune. Tormented inwardly with her own ill-nature, shewas incapable of any satisfaction but what arose from teasing others;nothing could dispel the frown on her brow, except the satisfaction shefelt when she had the good fortune to give pain to any of herdependants; a horrid grin then distorted her features, and her beforelifeless eyes glistened with malice and rancorous joy. She had readjust enough to make her pedantic, and too little to give her anyimproving knowledge. Her understanding was naturally small, and herself-conceit great. In her person she was tall and meagre, her hairblack, and her complexion of the darkest brown, with an additionalsallowness at her temples and round her eyes, which were dark, verylarge and prominent, and entirely without lustre; they had but one look, which was that of gloomy stupid ill-nature, except, as I have alreadysaid, when they were enlivened by the supreme satisfaction of havingmade somebody uneasy, then what before was but disagreeable becamehorrible. To complete the description of her face, she had a broad flatnose, a wide mouth, furnished with the worst set of teeth I ever saw, and her chin was long and pointed. She had heard primness so oftenmentioned as the characteristic of an old maid, that to avoid wearingthat appearance she was slatternly and dirty to an excess; besides shehad great addition of filthiness, from a load of Spanish snuff withwhich her whole dress was covered, as if, by her profusion in thatparticular, she thought to compensate for her general parsimony. 

This lady Mrs Morgan found in possession of her house, and was receivedby her with that air of superiority to which Miss Susanna thoughtherself entitled by her age and fortune. Mrs Morgan's charms, thoughdrooping like a blighted flower, excited much envy in Susanna's breast, and she soon congratulated her on her extraordinary happiness in havingcaptivated a gentleman of so large a fortune when her own was at presentso very small. 

At first she commended her for not being elated with so great anacquisition, but in a little time taxed her with ungratefulinsensibility to so prodigious a blessing. She continually criticizedher economy, accusing her of indolence; representing, how she used everymorning to rouse the servants from their idleness, by giving each such ascold, as quickened their diligence for the whole day; nor could afamily be well managed by any one who omitted this necessary duty. MrsMorgan's desire that her servants should enjoy the comforts of plenty, and when sick, receive the indulgence which that condition requires, brought her continual admonitions against extravagance, wherein MrMorgan readily joined; for his avarice was so great that he repined atthe most necessary expenses. 

His temper was a mixture of passion and peevishness, two things thatseldom go together; but he would fret himself into a passion, and thenthrough weariness of spirits cool into fretfulness, till he wassufficiently recovered to rise again into rage. This was the commoncourse of his temper, which afforded variety, but no relief. 

Sensible that his wife married him without affection, he seemed to thinkit impossible ever to gain her love, and therefore spared himself allfruitless endeavours. He was indeed fond of her person; he admired herbeauty, but despised her understanding, which in truth was unavoidable;for his ideas and conversation were so low and sordid that he was notqualified to distinguish the charms of her elegant mind. Those who knowMrs Morgan best are convinced that she suffered less uneasiness from hisill-humour, brutal as it was, than from his nauseous fondness. But theaccount I give of him, I have received from others; Mrs Morgan nevermentions his name, if it can possibly be avoided; and when she does, itis always with respect. In this situation, a victim to the ill-humourboth of her husband and his sister, we will leave Mrs Morgan, and returnto that friend whose letters were her only consolation. 

Miss Mancel's person was so uncommonly fine, that she could not be longsettled in the country without attracting general notice. Though thelower rank of people may be less refined in their ideas, yet her beautywas so very striking, that it did not escape their admiration, and thehandsome lady, as they called her, became the general subject ofdiscourse. As church was the only place where she exposed to publicview, she had from the first endeavoured to elude observation, bymingling in the crowd, and sitting in the most obscure seat; but whenfame had awakened the curiosity of those of higher rank, she was easilydistinguished, and in a short time many inhabitants of the neighbouringparishes came to that church to see her. She more than answered everyexpectation; for such perfection of beauty scarcely ever came out of thehands of nature. Many ladies in the neighbourhood introduced themselvesto her, and found her behaviour as enchanting as her person. She couldnot be insensible of the approbation which every eye significantlyexpressed; but she was abashed and in some degree more mortified thandelighted by it. She well remembered what Mr d'Avora had said to her onthat subject and saw that in her situation beauty was a disadvantage. Heoften repeated the same thing to her in letters (for she and Miss Melvynkeeping up a constant correspondence with him, the latter had acquaintedhim with the general admiration paid to Louisa) and told her that hefeared the plan they had formed for her future way of life was at astill greater distance than they had hoped, since her beauty was thegreat obstacle to its being put in execution. 

The ladies of the best fashion in the neighbourhood begged leave tovisit her; and though she more than ever wished to have her timeuninterrupted, since as she had no prospect of any other means ofsupport, it was necessary, by such little additions as she could make toher small fund, to prevent its quick diminution, yet she could notdecline the civilities so obligingly offered her, but avoided allintimacy with any of them as foreign to her plan, and hurtful to herinterest. Thus was she circumstanced in respect to the neighbourhoodwhen Miss Melvyn married. 

As after this event Louisa was determined to change her habitation, shebegan to enquire for some family where she might be accommodated in thesame manner as in that where she was then fixed. Among the persons whohad taken most notice of her was Lady Lambton, a person of admirableunderstanding, polite, generous and good-natured; who had no fault but aconsiderable share of pride. She piqued herself upon the opulence of herfamily and a distinguished birth, but her good sense, and many virtues, so qualified this one blemish, that it did not prevent her being a veryamiable woman. 

When she found Miss Mancel designed to change her abode, she told herthat at an honest farmer's near her house she might be accommodated, but that as some little alterations would be requisite to make the placefit for her, she, in the most obliging manner, desired her company tillthe apartment was ready; which would give her opportunity to see suchthings were done to it as would be most convenient and agreeable. LadyLambton insisted so strongly on Miss Mancel's accepting this invitationthat she could not without incivility refuse it; and as, after the lossof her friend, all places were alike to her, she had no reason todecline so obliging an offer. 

No great preparations were required for this removal of abode. LadyLambton came herself to fetch Miss Mancel home. The old lady was charmedwith her new guest, many of whose accomplishments were unknown to hertill she came under the same roof, and would not suffer any preparationsto be made for another lodging, but insisted on her continuing muchlonger with her. 

Lady Lambton behaved in so very obliging a manner, and Louisa found somuch pleasure and improvement in the conversation of a woman whoseadmirable understanding and thorough knowledge of the world are seldomto be paralleled, that she could not be more agreeably placed; as shedared not go even into Mrs Morgan's neighbourhood, for fear of givingadditional uneasiness to one whose situation she plainly perceived wasby no means happy; for though Mrs Morgan suppressed all complaints, never hinted at the treatment she received, and endeavoured to representher way of life in the best colours, to save her friend the sympatheticpangs of heart which she knew she would feel for her sufferings; yet thealteration in her style, the melancholy turn of mind which in spite ofall her care was visible in her letters, could not escape theobservation of one whose natural discernment was quickened by affection. 

The full persuasion of Mrs Morgan's unhappiness, and that anxioussolicitude which arose from her ignorance as to the degree of herwretchedness, was a source of continual grief to her mind, which LadyLambton's sincere friendship could scarcely alleviate. But she knew toowell how few people can bear the unhappy to suffer her uneasiness toappear. She stifled therefore every expression of that kind; for if LadyLambton had generously sympathized in her affliction, it would havegiven her pain to know she had occasioned that lady's feeling any; andif she had been insensible to it, complaints would not fail to disgusther. 

Lady Lambton was fond of music, and not void of taste for painting; MissMancel's excellence in these arts therefore afforded her the highestentertainment. Her ladyship was likewise a mistress of languages, andwas pleased to find Louisa equally acquainted with them. In this houseMiss Mancel had passed above a twelve month, when Sir Edward Lambtonreturned from his travels, in which he had spent four years. As soon ashe arrived in the kingdom he came to wait on Lady Lambton, hisgrandmother, who was likewise his guardian, his father and mother beingboth dead. She had longed with impatience for his return, but thoughtherself well repaid for his absence by the great improvement which wasvery visible both in his manner and person. 

Sir Edward was extremely handsome, his person fine and graceful, hisconversation lively and entertaining, politeness adding charms to anexcellent understanding. His behaviour, I have been told, wasparticularly engaging, his temper amiable, though somewhat too warm, andhe had all his grandmother's generosity, without any of her pride. 

It would have been strange if a man of three and twenty years old (forthat was Sir Edward's age) had not been much charmed with so lovely awoman as Miss Mancel. That he was so, soon became visible, but she, aswell as his grandmother, for some time imagined the attentions he paidher were only the natural result of the gallantry usual at his age, andimproved into a softer address, by a manner acquired in travellingthrough countries where gallantry is publicly professed Lady Lambton, however, knowing her own discernment, expressed some fears to Louisa, lest her grandson should become seriously in love with her, in order todiscover by her countenance whether there was really any ground for herapprehensions, which she founded on the impossibility of his marrying awoman of small fortune, without reducing himself to the greatestinconvenience, as his estate was extremely incumbered, and he was by anintail deprived of the liberty of selling any part of it to dischargethe debt. She was too polite to mention her chief objection to MissMancel, which was in reality the obscurity of her birth. Louisa, whosincerely believed Sir Edward had no real passion for her, answered witha frankness which entirely convinced Lady Lambton that she had receivedno serious address from him; but Louisa, who saw herself now in thesituation which Mr d'Avora had warned her against, begged permission toleave Lady Lambton's, to prevent her ladyship's being under anyuneasiness, and to avoid all danger of Sir Edward's receiving any strongimpression in her favour. 

Lady Lambton was unwilling to part with her amiable companion; andbesides, thought if her grandson was really enamoured, she shouldincrease the danger rather than lessen it by not keeping Louisa underher eye; she therefore told her she could not consent to lose hercompany, and was certain she might depend on her honour. Louisa thankedher for her good opinion, and assured her she would never do any thingto forfeit it. 

Sir Edward was more captivated than either of the ladies imagined, andevery day increased his passion. Louisa's beauty, her conversation andaccomplishments were irresistible; but as he knew the great occasion hehad to marry a woman of fortune, he long endeavoured to combat hisinclinations. He might have conceived hopes of obtaining any other womanin her circumstances on easier terms; but there was such dignity andvirtue shone forth in her, and he was so truly in love, that such athought never entered his imagination. He reverenced and respected herlike a divinity, but hoped that prudence might enable him to conquer hispassion, at the same time that it had not force enough to determine himto fly her presence, the only possible means of lessening the impressionwhich every hour engraved more deeply on his heart by bringing some newattractions to his view. He little considered that the man who has notpower to fly from temptation will never be able to resist it by standinghis ground. 

Louisa was not long before she grew sensible that what she had offeredto Lady Lambton for the ease of her ladyship's mind, was advisable tosecure the peace of her own. Sir Edward's merit, his sincere respect forher, which certainly is the most powerful charm to a woman of delicacy, could scarcely fail to make an impression on a heart so tender, sogenerous as hers. She kept so strict a watch over herself that she soonperceived her sensibility, and endeavoured to prevail on Lady Lambton topart with her; but the old lady, imagining it was only in order to quiether apprehensions, would not consent; and the difficulty in finding aplace where she could be properly received, strongly discouraged herfrom insisting on it. If she continued in the neighbourhood, her purposewould not be answered; for she could not avoid Sir Edward's visits; heronly friend was denied the liberty of protecting her, and to go into aplace where she was unknown would subject a young woman of her age andbeauty to a thousand dangers. 

These difficulties detained her, though unwillingly, at Lady Lambton'sfor above half a year after Sir Edward's return; who, at length, unableto confine in silence a passion which had long been obvious to everyobserver, took an opportunity, when alone with Louisa, to declare hisattachment in the most affecting manner. She received it not withsurprise, but with real sorrow. She had no tincture of coquetry in hercomposition; but if she had been capable of it, her affections were toodeeply engaged to have suffered her to retain it. Her sensibility wasnever so strongly awakened; all her endeavours to restrain it were nolonger of force, her heart returned his passion, and would haveconquered every thing but her justice and her honour; these were deeplyengaged to Lady Lambton; and she would have detested herself if shecould have entertained a thought of making that lady's goodness to herthe occasion of the greatest vexation she could receive. She thereforenever hesitated on the part she should act on this trying occasion; butthe victories which honour gains over the tender affections are not tobe obtained without the severest pangs. Thus tormented by the strugglesbetween duty and affection, she was not immediately capable of givinghim an answer, but finding that her difficulties were increasing by hisrepeated professions, and animated by the necessity of silencing a lovewhich too successfully solicited a return of affection, she assumed asufficient command over herself to conceal her sentiments, and withaverted eyes, lest her heart should through them contradict her words, she told him, he distressed her to the greatest degree; that the respectshe had for him on account of his own merit, and not less for therelation he bore to Lady Lambton, made her extremely concerned that heshould have conceived a passion for her, which it was not in her powerto return; nor could she listen to it in justice to Lady Lambton, towhom she was bound in all the ties of gratitude; neither should anythingever prevail with her to do any thing prejudicial to the interests of afamily into which she had been so kindly received. 

Sir Edward was too much in love to acquiesce in so nice a point ofhonour; but Louisa would not wait to hear arguments which it was sopainful to her to refute, and retired into her own chamber, to lament insecret her unhappy fate in being obliged to reject the addresses of aman whose affections, were she at liberty, she would think no sacrificetoo great to obtain. 

Miss Mancel endeavoured as much as possible to avoid giving Sir Edwardany opportunity of renewing his addresses; but his vigilance found themeans of seeing her alone more than once, when he warmly urged thepartiality of her behaviour, representing how much more his happinesswas concerned in the success of a passion which possessed his wholesoul, than his grandmother's could be in disappointing it. She, heobserved, was actuated only by pride, he by the sincerest love that evertook place in a human heart. In accepting his addresses Louisa couldonly mortify Lady Lambton; in rejecting them, she must render himmiserable. Which, he asked, had the best title to her regard, the womanwho could ungenerously and injudiciously set a higher value on richesand birth than on her very superior excellencies, or the man who wouldgladly sacrifice fortune and every other enjoyment the world couldafford, to the possession of her; of her who alone could render lifedesirable to him? By these, and many other arguments, and what was moreprevalent than all the arguments that could be deduced from reason, bythe tenderest intreaties that the most ardent passion could dictate, SirEdward endeavoured to persuade Louisa to consent to marry him, but allproved unavailing. She sometimes thought what he said was just, butaware of her partiality, she could not believe herself an unprejudicedjudge, and feared that she might mistake the sophistry of love for thevoice of reason. She was sure while honour, truth and gratitude pleadedagainst inclination they must be in the right, though theirremonstrances were hushed into a whisper by the louder solicitations ofpassion. Convinced that she could not be to blame while she acted incontradiction to her secret choice, since the sincerity of herintentions were thereby plainly, though painfully evinced, she persistedin refusing to become Sir Edward's wife, and told him, that if he didnot discontinue his addresses, he would force her to leave the house, and retire to any place that would afford her a quiet refuge from hisimportunity. 

A hint of this sort was sufficient to drive Sir Edward almost todistraction, and Louisa dared not pursue the subject. When he found shecould not be induced to consent to an immediate marriage, he endeavouredto obtain a promise of her hand after Lady Lambton's decease, though toa man of his impatient and strong passions such a delay was worse thandeath; but Miss Mancel told him, by such an engagement she should beguilty of a mean evasion, and that she should think it as great a breachof honour as marrying him directly. 

The despair to which Louisa's conduct reduced Sir Edward, whose loveseemed to increase with the abatement of his hopes, was very visible tohis grandmother, but her pride was invincible; neither her affection forhim, nor her great esteem for Miss Mancel's merit, could conquer heraversion to their union. She saw them both unhappy, but was convincedthe pangs they felt would not be of very long continuance, trusting tothe usual inconstancy of young persons, while the inconvenienciesattending an incumbered fortune, and the disgrace which she imaginedmust be the consequence of Sir Edward's marrying a woman of obscurebirth, would be permanent and influence the whole course of his life. 

Louisa, unable to support so hard a conflict, continually resisting bothher lover and her love, was determined to seek some relief from absence. She wrote Mr d'Avora a faithful account of all the difficulties of hersituation, and intreated him to receive her into his house, till hecould find some proper place wherein to fix her abode. 

This worthy friend approved her conduct, while he grieved for herdistress; his honest heart felt a secret indignation against LadyLambton who could, by false pride, be blinded to the honour which hethought such a woman as Miss Mancel must reflect on any family intowhich she entered. He wrote that young lady word, that she might beassured of the best reception his house could afford, and every servicethat it was in his power to render her; desiring that she would let himknow when she proposed setting out, that he might meet her on the road, not thinking it proper she should travel alone. 

This letter gave Miss Mancel much satisfaction; she was now secure of anasylum; but the great difficulty still remained, she knew not how to getaway from Lady Lambton's in a proper manner; for to go clandestinely wasnot suitable to her character, and might bring it into suspicion. Inthis dilemma she thought it best to apply to that lady, and with herusual frankness told her (what had not escaped her discernment) theaffection Sir Edward had conceived for her, and the return her own heartmade to it; only suppressing his solicitations, as her ladyship might beoffended with his proceeding so far without her consent. She representedthe imprudence of her continuing in the house with Sir Edward, wherebyboth his passion and her own must be increased; and yet she was at aloss how to depart privately, but was convinced it could not be affectedwith his knowledge, without such an eclat as must be very disagreeableto them all; nor could she answer for her own resolution when put to sosevere a trial; as she should have more than her full measure ofaffliction in going from thence, without being witness to its effect onhim. 

One should have imagined that the generosity of Miss Mancel's conductmight have influenced Lady Lambton in her favour; but though itincreased her esteem, it did not alter her resolution. With inexcusableinsensibility she concerted measures with her, and engaged to procureSir Edward's absence for a short time. Some very necessary businessindeed demanded his presence in a neighbouring county where the greatestpart of his estate lay, but he had not been able to prevail on himselfto leave Louisa; too much enamoured to think any pecuniary advantagecould compensate for the loss of her company. But as it was natural thatan old grandmother should see the matter in another light; her pressinghim to go and settle his affairs gave him no cause to suspect any latentmeaning, and was too reasonable to be any longer opposed. 

Though Sir Edward was resolved on so quick a dispatch of business aspromised him a speedy return, yet any separation from Miss Mancel, however short, appeared a severe misfortune. The evening before the dayof his departure, he contrived to see her alone and renewed hisimportunities with redoubled ardour, but with no better success thanbefore. He lamented the necessity he was under of leaving her, thoughbut for a little time, with an agony of mind better suited to an eternalseparation. She, who saw it in that light, was overcome with the tenderdistress which a person must feel at taking a final leave of one who isextremely dear to her. Her own grief was more than she could haveconcealed; but when she anticipated in her thoughts what he would sufferwhen he knew he had lost her for ever, and judged from the pain he felton the approach of what he thought so short an absence, how very greathis distress would be, she was unable to support the scene with herusual steadiness. Tears insensibly stole down her face and bestowed onit still greater charms than it had ever yet worn, by giving her an airof tenderness, which led him to hope that she did not behold his passionwith indifference. This thought afforded him a consolation which he hadnever before received; and though it increased his love, yet it abatedhis distress, and rendered him more able to leave her, since heflattered himself she would with pleasure see him return, which he wasnow more than ever resolved to do as speedily as possible. 

The day of his departure she spent chiefly in her own room, to conceal, as far as she was able, a weakness she was ashamed of but could notconquer. She had written the day before to inform Mr d'Avora that sheshould set out for London four days after her letter. Accordingly at thetime appointed, after having agreed with Lady Lambton that Sir Edwardmust be kept ignorant of the place to which she was gone, she set outwith that lady, who carried her in her coach twelve miles of the way andthen delivered her to Mr d'Avora, who was come thither to receive her. Lady Lambton could not part with her amiable companion without regret, and expressed her true sense of her merit in such strong terms to Mrd'Avora, who could not forgive that pride which had occasioned so muchpain both to Louisa and Sir Edward, that he told her in plain terms howvery happy and how much honoured any man must be who had her for hiswife. Perhaps Lady Lambton would have subscribed to his opinion, had anyone but her grandson been concerned; but the point was too tender, andit was no small command over herself that prevented her giving the goodold man a hint that she thought him impertinent. 

Our travellers arrived in town the next day, after a melancholy journey, for even the company of a friend she so much loved and esteemed couldnot restore Miss Mancel's natural vivacity, though in compassion to thegood old man who sympathized tenderly in her distress she endeavoured tothe utmost of her power to conceal how very deeply she was afflicted. Itwas some little time before her spirits were sufficiently composed toform any scheme for her future life, nor were they benefited by a letterfrom Lady Lambton which acquainted her that Sir Edward, at his return, finding she had left the place, that his grandmother had consented toher departure and refused to tell him where she was gone, was for somedays frantic with rage and grief, and had just then left Lady Lambtonwith a determination to serve as volunteer in the army in Germany, inhopes, he said, to find there a release from his afflictions, whichnothing but the hand of death could bestow. 

The old lady was much shocked at this event, but hoped a little timewould restore his reason and enable him to bear his disappointment withpatience. There was room to believe, she said, that the rest of thecampaign would pass over without a battle, and if so the change of scenemight abate his passion. 

Louisa's heart was too tenderly engaged to reason so philosophically, she was almost distracted with her fears, and was often inclined toblame her own scruples that had driven so worthy a man to suchextremities. All Mr d'Avora could urge to reconcile her to herself andto calm her apprehensions for Sir Edward were scarcely sufficient torestore her to any ease of mind; but at length he brought her to submitpatiently to her fate and to support her present trial with constancy. 

They were still undetermined as to her future establishment when Mrd'Avora one day met an old acquaintance and countryman in the street. Asthis person had many years before returned to his native country, Mrd'Avora inquired what had again brought him into England? His friendreplied that he was come in quality of factotum to a widow lady offortune. In the course of their conversation he asked Mr d'Avora if hecould recommend a waiting woman to his lady, hers having died on theroad. The character this man gave of his mistress inclined Mr d'Avora tomention the place to Miss Mancel, who readily agreed that he shouldendeavour to obtain it for her. 

Mr d'Avora had engaged the man to call on him the next day by tellinghim he believed he might be able to recommend a most valuable youngperson to his lady. He was punctual to his appointment and conducted Mrd'Avora and Louisa to Mrs Thornby's, that was the name of the lady inquestion. 

Miss Mancel was dressed with care, but of a very different sort fromwhat is usually aimed at; all her endeavours had been to conceal heryouth and beauty as much as possible under great gravity of dress, andto give her all the disadvantages consistent with neatness andcleanliness. But such art was too thin a veil to hide her charms. MrsThornby was immediately struck with her beauty, and made some scruple oftaking a young person into her service whom she should look upon as agreat charge, and she feared her maid might require more attention fromher than she should think necessary for any servant to pay to herself. Mr d'Avora represented to her how cruel it was that beauty, which waslooked upon as one of the most precious gifts of nature, shoulddisqualify a young woman for obtaining a necessary provision. That thisyoung person's prudence was so irreproachable as sufficiently securedher from any disadvantages which might naturally be feared from it. Butstill he allowed her person would justly deter a married woman fromreceiving her, and might make a cautious mother avoid it, since her goodconduct would rather add to than diminish her attractions, therefore itwas only with a single lady she could hope to be placed; and he was wellconvinced that such a one would have reason to think herself happy in soaccomplished a servant; since her mind was still more amiable than herperson. 

Mrs Thornby allowed what he said to be reasonable and was so charmedwith Louisa's appearance that she assured him she would receive her withpleasure. She was in haste for a servant, and Miss Mancel had no reasonto delay her attendance, therefore it was agreed she should enter intoher place the next day. 

When Lady Lambton took leave of Louisa she would have forced her toreceive a very handsome present; Louisa had accepted many while shelived with her ladyship, but at this time she said it would look likereceiving a compensation for the loss of Sir Edward; and as she chose tosacrifice both her inclinations and happiness to her regard for LadyLambton, she could not be induced to accept any thing that looked like areward for an action which if she had not thought it her duty, nothingwould have prevailed with her to perform. The tenderest affections ofher heart were too much concerned in what she had done to leave her thepower of feeling any apprehensions of poverty; all the evils that attendit then appeared to her so entirely external that she beheld them withthe calm philosophy of a stoic and not from a very contrary motive; theinsensibility of each arose from a ruling passion; the stoic's frompride, hers from love. But though she feared not poverty, she saw it wasadvisable to fix upon some establishment as soon as it could beobtained; and therefore received great satisfaction from being assuredof Mrs Thornby's acceptance of her services. Mr d'Avora was not withouthopes, that if Sir Edward continued constant till Lady Lambton's death, Louisa might then, without any breach of honour or gratitude, marry him;though to have engaged herself to do so, would, as she observed, havebeen scarcely less inexcusable than an immediate consent; therefore headvised her to assume another name, as Sir Edward might not choose, after she was his wife, to have it known that she had been reduced toservitude. 

Louisa was accordingly received at Mrs Thornby's by the name of Menil. Her good sense and assiduity enabled her to acquit herself so well inher new place as greatly delighted her mistress; and though sheconcealed the greatest part of her accomplishments, sensible they couldbe of no assistance, and might on the contrary raise a prejudice againsther; yet her behaviour and conversation so plainly indicated a superioreducation that before she had been there a week Mrs Thornby told her shewas certain she had not been born for the station she was then in, andbegged a particular account of her whole life. 

Louisa, fearing that a compliance would render her less agreeable to hermistress, who already treated her with respect which seemed more thanwas due to her situation, and often appeared uneasy at seeing herperform the necessary duties of her place, intreated to be spared a taskwhich, she said, was attended with some circumstances so melancholy asgreatly affected her spirits on a particular recollection. 

Mrs Thornby's curiosity was not abated by this insinuation, and sherepeated her request in a manner so importunate, and at the same time sokind, that Louisa could no longer, without manifest disrespect, declineit. 

She began then by acquainting her that she went by a borrowed name; buthad proceeded no farther in her narration than to tell her that her realname was Mancel and that she had been left to the care of an aunt in herearliest infancy by parents who were obliged, for reasons she couldnever learn, to leave their country, when Mrs Thornby exclaimed, Mychild! my child! and sinking on her knees, with eyes and hands lifted uptowards heaven, poured forth a most ardent thanksgiving, with an ecstasyof mind not to be described. Her first sensation was that of gratitudeto the Almighty Power, who had reserved so great a blessing for her;maternal tenderness alone gave rise to the succeeding emotions of herheart; she threw her arms round Louisa, who on seeing her fall on herknees, and not comprehending the meaning of her action, ran to her; butstruck with astonishment and reverence at the awful piety in hercountenance and address, bent silent and motionless over her. MrsThornby, leaning her head on Louisa's bosom, burst into such a flood oftears, and was so oppressed with joy, that the power of speech totallyfailed her. Louisa raised her from the ground, crying, 'Dear madam, whatcan all this mean? What does this extreme agitation of your mind give meroom to hope?'

'Every thing, my child! my angel! that a fond parent can bestow, 'replied Mrs Thornby. 'I am that mother that was obliged to leave thee toanother's care; and has Heaven preserved my daughter, and restored herto me so lovely, so amiable! Gracious Providence! Merciful beyond hope!Teach me to thank thee as I ought for this last instance of thygoodness!' And then her whole soul seemed again poured forth in gratefuladoration. 

Louisa could scarcely believe this event was real; thus unexpectedly tomeet with a parent whom she supposed lost to her for ever almoststunned her; her thoughts were so engrossed by the raptures of herjoyful mother that she did not feel half her good fortune; and thedelight she received in seeing her mother's happiness robbed her ofevery other sensation. 

It was some hours before Mrs Thornby's mind was sufficiently composed toenter into any connected conversation. From broken sentences Miss Mancellearnt that her father and mother, by the complicated distress of ruinedfortune and the too fatal success of a duel in which Mr Mancel wasunwillingly engaged, had been obliged to absent themselves from England. They went to one of the American colonies, in hopes of finding means toimprove their circumstances, leaving the young Louisa, then in hercradle, with a sister of Mr Mancel's, who readily undertook the care ofher. They were scarcely arrived in America when Mr Mancel was seizedwith a fever, of which he soon died, and with him all their hopes. MrsMancel was left entirely destitute, at a loss how to hazard the tediouspassage home, without the protection of a husband and with hardly asufficient sum remaining to discharge the expenses of it. 

Her melancholy situation engaged some of the inhabitants of the place tooffer her all necessary accommodations, till she could find a properopportunity of returning to England. During this time, Mr Thornby, agentleman who had acquired a fortune there, saw her, and was so wellpleased with her person and conduct that he very warmly solicited her tomarry him. Every person spoke in his favour, and urged her to consent;her poverty was no faint adviser, and with general approbation at theconclusion of the first year of her widowhood she became his wife. 

His affairs soon called him into a more inland part of the country, towhich she attributed her never having heard from her sister, to whom shewrote an account of her husband's death; but by what Miss Mancel toldher she imagined her letter had not been received. 

Mr and Mrs Thornby continued in the same place, till about two yearsbefore her arrival in England; but his health growing extremely bad, hewas advised by his physicians to return to Europe. He wished tore-visit his native country but was persuaded, for the re-establishmentof his constitution, to spend some time in Italy. The climate at firstseemed to relieve him, but his complaints returning with greaterviolence, he died in the latter part of the second year of his abodethere. 

His estate in the Indies he bequeathed to a nephew who lived upon thespot; but the money he had sent before him into England, which amountedto forty thousand pounds, he left to his widow. He had desired to beinterred at Florence, where he died. As soon as the funeral was over, and some other necessary affairs settled, Mrs Thornby set out forEngland, where she no sooner arrived than she employed intelligentpersons to find out her sister-in-law and daughter, but had not receivedany account from them, when her daughter was restored to her as the freegift of providence. 

Mrs Thornby was now more desirous than ever to hear each minuteparticular that had befallen her Louisa; but Louisa begged that beforeshe obeyed her orders she might have permission to communicate the happyevent to Mr d'Avora, whose joy she knew would be nearly equal to herown. A messenger was dispatched for this purpose, and then she relatedcircumstantially all the incidents in her short life, except her partialregard to Sir Edward Lambton, which filial awe induced her to suppress. 

Mrs Thornby grew every day more delighted with her daughter, as heracquired accomplishments and natural excellencies became moreconspicuous on longer acquaintance. Her maternal love seemed to glowwith greater warmth for having been so long stifled, and Louisa foundsuch delight in the tender affection of a mother that she was scarcelysensible of the agreeable change in her situation, which was now inevery circumstance the most desirable. All that fortune could give shehad it in her power to enjoy, and that esteem which money cannotpurchase her own merit secured her, besides all the gratification ayoung woman can receive from general admiration. But still Louisa wasnot happy, her fears for Sir Edward's life, while in so dangerous asituation, would not suffer her mind to be at peace. She might hopeevery thing from her mother's indulgence, but had not courage to confessher weakness, nor to intimate a wish, which might occasion herseparation from a parent whose joy in their reunion still rose torapture. Chance, that deity which though blind is often a powerfulfriend, did what she could not prevail on herself to do. 

One morning the news paper of the day being brought in, Mrs Thornbytaking it up, read to her daughter a paragraph which contained anaccount of a battle in Germany wherein many of the English were said tobe slain, but few of their names specified. Louisa immediately turnedpale, her work dropped out of her hand and a universal trembling seizedher. Mrs Thornby was too attentive not to observe her daughter'sdistress, and so kindly inquired the reason that Louisa ventured to tellher for whom she was so much interested; and gave an exact account ofSir Edward's address to her, her behaviour upon it, and the great regardshe had for him. 

Mrs Thornby affectionately chid her for having till then concealed acircumstance whereon so much of her happiness depended, and offered towrite to Lady Lambton immediately, and acquaint her that if want offortune was her only objection to Miss Mancel, it no longer subsisted, for that she was ready to answer any demands of that sort which herladyship should choose to make, as she thought she should no way so wellsecure her daughter's happiness as by uniting her with a gentleman ofSir Edward's amiable character, and whose affection for her had soevidently appeared. 

Louisa could not reject an offer which might rescue Sir Edward from thedangers that threatened him, and with pleasure thought of rewarding sogenerous and so sincere a passion. Perhaps she found some gratificationin shewing that gratitude alone dictated her refusal. The letter wasimmediately dispatched, and received with great pleasure by LadyLambton, whose esteem for Miss Mancel would have conquered any thing buther pride. She accepted the proposal in the politest manner, and thatSir Edward might be acquainted with his happiness as soon as possible, dispatched her steward into Germany, ordering him to travel with theutmost expedition, and gave him Mrs Thornby's letter, with one fromherself, containing an account of the great change in Louisa's fortune. 

The servant obeyed the directions given him and performed the journey inas short a time as possible; but as he entered the camp, he met SirEdward indeed, but not as a future bridegroom. He was borne on men'sshoulders, pale and almost breathless, just returned from an attack, where by his too great rashness he had received a mortal wound. Hefollowed him with an aching heart to his tent, where Sir Edwardrecovering his senses, knew him, and asked what brought him there soopportunely, 'to close his eyes, and pay the last duties, to one ofwhose infancy he had been so careful?' for this servant lived in thefamily when Sir Edward was born, and loved him almost with paternalfondness, which occasioned his desire of being himself the messenger ofsuch joyful news. 

The poor man was scarcely able to answer a question expressed in suchmelancholy terms, and was doubtful whether he ought to acquaint him witha circumstance which might only increase his regret at losing a lifewhich would have been blessed to his utmost wish, but incapable in thatstate of mind of inventing any plausible reason, he told him the truth, and gave him the two letters. 

The pleasure Sir Edward received at the account of Louisa's goodfortune, and the still greater joy he felt at so evident a proof of herregard for him, made him for a time forget his pains, and flattered thegood old steward with hopes that his case was not so desperate as thesurgeons represented it; but Sir Edward told him he knew all hope wasvain. 'I must accuse myself, ' said he, 'of losing that lovely generouswoman what a treasure would have gladdened my future days had I notrashly, I fear criminally, shortened them, not by my own hand indeed, but how little different! Mad with despair, I have sought all means ofobtaining what I imagined the only cure for my distempered mind. Wearyof life, since I could not possess her in whom all my joys, all thewishes of my soul were centred, I seized every occasion of exposingmyself to the enemy's sword. Contrary to my hopes, I escaped manytimes, when death seemed unavoidable, but grown more desperate bydisappointment, I this morning went on an attack where instead ofattempting to conquer, all my endeavour was to be killed, and at last Isucceeded, how fatally! Oh! my Louisa, ' continued he, 'and do I thenlose thee by my own impatience! Had I, like thee, submitted to thedisposition of providence, had I waited, from its mighty power, thatrelief which it alone can give, I might now be expecting with rapturethe hour that should have united us for ever, instead of preparing forthat which shall summon me to the grave, where even thou shalt beforgotten, and the last traces of thy lovely image effaced from my toofaithful remembrance. How just are the decrees of the Almighty! Thypatience, thy resignation and uncommon virtues are rewarded as theyought; my petulance, my impatience, which, as it were, flew in the faceof my Maker, and fought to lose a life which he had entrusted to mykeeping, and required me to preserve, is deservedly punished. I amdeprived of that existence which I would now endure whole ages of painto recall, were it to be done, but it is past and I submit to thyjustice, thou all wise disposer of my fate. '

The agitation of Sir Edward's mind had given him a flow of falsespirits, but at length they failed, leaving him only the more exhausted. He kept Mrs Thornby's letter on his pillow, and read it many times. Frequent were his expressions of regret for his own rashness, and hefelt much concern from the fear that Louisa would be shocked with hisdeath. Her mother's proceedings convinced him she was not void of regardfor him; he now saw that he had not vainly flattered himself when heimagined, from many little circumstances, that her heart spoke in hisfavour; and the force she must have put on her affections raised hisopinion of her almost to adoration. He often told his faithful attendantthat in those moments he felt a joy beyond what he had ever yetexperienced, in believing Louisa loved him; but these emotions were soonchecked by reflecting, that if she did so, she could not hear of hisdeath without suffering many heart-felt pangs. 

He lingered for three days, without the least encouragement to hope forlife, and on the last died with great resignation, receiving his deathas a punishment justly due to his want of submission in the divine will, and that forward petulance which drove him to desperation in notsucceeding to his wishes just at the time that to his impetuouspassions, and short-sighted reason, appeared most desirable. 

The afflicted steward wrote an account, of this melancholy event to LadyLambton, and stayed to attend Sir Edward's body home, that his lastremains might be deposited in the family vault. 

Lady Lambton received these mournful tidings with excessive grief, andcommunicated them to Mrs Thornby. Louisa, from the time of themessenger's setting out for Germany, had been pleasing herself withreflecting on the joyful reception he would meet with from Sir Edward, and had frequently anticipated, in imagination, the pleasures she andSir Edward would receive at seeing each other after so melancholy aseparation. She now every hour expected him, and when Mrs Thornby beganto prepare her against surprise, she imagined he was arrived and thather kind mother was endeavouring to guard her against too sudden joy. She attempted to break through the delay which must arise from all thiscaution by begging to know if he was in the house, desiring her not tofear any ill effects from his sudden appearance, and rose from her seat, in order to attend her mother to Sir Edward. Mrs Thornby made her sitdown again, and with a countenance which spoke very different thingsfrom what she expected, acquainted her with the fatal end of all herhopes. 

Louisa was shocked in proportion to the degree to which she was beforeelated. She sunk lifeless in the arms of her mother, who had clasped herto her breast, and it was a considerable time before their cruelendeavours to bring her to her senses succeeded. Her first sensation wasan agony of grief; she accused herself of being the occasion of SirEdward's death, and from the unfortunate consequences of her actions, arraigned her motives for them. Mrs Thornby and Mr d'Avora, whom shehad sent for on this occasion, endeavoured to convince her she was noway to blame, that what she had done was laudable, and she ought not tojudge of an action by its consequences, which must always remain in thehands of the Almighty, to whom we are accountable for our motives, butwho best knows when they ought to be crowned with success. When they hadprevailed with her to exculpate herself, her piety and patience made itthe more easy to persuade her calmly to submit to the decrees ofprovidence. She soon saw that to suffer was her duty, and though shemight grieve, she must not repine. The good advice of her two friendswas some support to her mind, but her chief strength arose from herfrequent petitions to him who tried her in sufferings to grant herpatience to bear them with due resignation. Such addresses, ferventlyand sincerely made, can never be unavailing, and she found theconsolation she asked for. Her affliction was deep, but silent andsubmissive, and in no part of her life did she ever appear more amiablethan on this trying occasion when her extreme sensibility could neverextort one word or thought which was not dictated by humble piety, andthe most exemplary resignation. That Sir Edward had had so just a senseof his own error, and so properly repented his impatience was a greatconsolation, and she hoped to meet him whom she had so soon lost, in astate of happiness where they should never more be parted. 

Mrs Morgan had borne a tender share in all Louisa's joys and sorrows;for in the frequency of her correspondence every circumstance thatattended the latter was faithfully imparted, though the communicationwas less free on Mrs Morgan's side, who, contrary to her natural temper, acted with reserve on this particular; induced by a double motive, abelief that it was her duty to conceal her husband's faults, and adesire to spare her friend the pain of suffering participation in hervexations. She longed to attend Miss Mancel in her affliction, but darednot urge a request with which she knew Mr Morgan would not comply. Helived entirely in the country and seemed to be totally insensible to thepleasure of contributing to the happiness of others. All his tendernesswas confined within the narrow circle of himself. Mrs Morgan dailybeheld distress and poverty without the power of relieving it, for hisparsimony would not let him trust her with the disposal of what moneywas necessary for her own expenses, his sister always brought what theyin their wisdoms judged requisite, and Mrs Morgan was treated in thoseaffairs like a little child. 

In matters too trifling to come within Mr Morgan's notice, Miss Susanna, fearing her sister should enjoy a moment's ease, took care to performher part in teasing, as if their joint business was only to keep thatpoor woman in a constant state of suffering. To complete her vexation, Mr Morgan, who had always drank hard, increased so much in that vicethat few days passed wherein he was not totally intoxicated. Mrs Morgansaw no means of redress, and therefore thought it best to suffer withoutcomplaint; she considered that, by contention, she could not prevailover their ill temper, but must infallibly sour her own, and destroythat composure of mind necessary to enable every one to acquit herselfwell in all Christian duties. By this patient acquiescence her virtueswere refined, though her health suffered, and she found somesatisfaction in reflecting that him whom she most wished to please wouldgraciously accept her endeavours, however unavailing they might betowards obtaining the favour of those on whom her earthly peacedepended. 

At this part of Mrs Maynard's narration we were again interrupted bydinner, but the arrival of some visitors in the afternoon affordedLamont and myself an opportunity of begging her to give us the sequel, and for that purpose we chose a retired seat in the garden, when shethus proceeded. 

The next six years of Miss Mancel's life passed in a perfect calm; thismay appear too cold an expression, since her situation was such as wouldby most people have been thought consummate happiness. Mrs Thornby'sample fortune enabled them to live in great figure, and Miss Mancel'sbeauty and understanding rendered her the object of general admiration. Had her conduct been less admirable, she could not but have acquiredmany lovers; it is not strange then, such as she was, that she should beaddressed by many men of distinguished rank and fortune. Wherever sheappeared, she attracted all eyes and engrossed the whole attention. MrsThornby, more delighted with the admiration paid her daughter than sheherself, carried her frequently into public and kept a great deal ofcompany. Louisa could not be insensible to general approbation, but washurt with the serious attachment of those who more particularlyaddressed her. As she was determined never to marry, thinking it a sortof infidelity to a man whose death was owing to his affection for her, she always took the first opportunity of discouraging every pursuit ofthat kind; and restrained the natural vivacity of her temper lest itshould give rise to any hopes which could end only in disappointment. She endeavoured to make publicly known her fixed determination never tomarry; but as those resolutions are seldom thought unalterable, many menflattered themselves that their rank and fortunes, with their personalmerits, might conquer so strange an intention, and therefore would notdesist without an express refusal. 

In the seventh year after Mrs Thornby's return into England, she wastaken off by a fever, and left Miss Mancel, at twenty-four years of age, in possession of forty thousand pounds, a fortune which could not affordher consolation for the loss of so tender a parent. Having nothing toattach her to any particular part of the kingdom, she more than everlonged to settle in Mrs Morgan's neighbourhood, but feared to occasionsome new uneasiness to her friend, and was sensible that if, whenvicinity favoured them, they should be denied the pleasure of eachother's company, or very much restrained in it, the mortification wouldbe still greater than when distance would not permit them to meet. Shehad the satisfaction of hearing from her friend that Mr Morgan seemed toesteem her more than for some years after their marriage, and often gaveher reason to think he did not despise her understanding and was wellpleased with her conduct. The truth was, this gentleman's eyes were atlast opened to the merits of his wife's behaviour, the long trial hehad made of her obedience, which was implicit and performed withapparent cheerfulness; if compared with his sister's conduct, could notfail of appearing in an amiable light, when he was no longer beset withthe malicious insinuations of Susanna, who had bestowed herself on ayoung ensign whose small hopes of preferment in the army reduced him toaccept that lady and her fortune as a melancholy resource, but his onlycertain provision. This alteration in Mr Morgan's temper gave Mrs Morganand Louisa room to hope that he might not always continue averse totheir becoming neighbours. 

While they were flattering themselves with this agreeable prospect, MrMorgan was seized with a paralytic disorder which at first attacked hislimbs, but in a very short time affected his head so much as almost todeprive him of his senses. He was totally confined to his bed, andseemed not to know any one but his wife. He would take neither medicinenor nourishment except from her hands; as he was entirely lame, she wasobliged to feed him, and he was not easy if she was out of the room. Even in the night he would frequently call to her; if she appeared athis bedside, he was then contented, being sure she was in the chamber, but would fall into violent passions which he had not words to express(for he was almost deprived of his speech) if she did not instantlyappear. 

When Miss Mancel heard of his deplorable situation, she was under thegreatest apprehensions for her friend's health, from so close and sofatiguing an attendance, and begged she might come to her, as he wasthen incapable of taking umbrage at it. The offer was too agreeable tobe rejected, and these ladies met after so long an enforced separationwith a joy not to be imagined by any heart less susceptible than theirsof the tender and delicate sensations of friendship. Louisa was almostas constantly in Mr Morgan's room in the day time as his wife, thoughshe kept out of his sight, and thus they had full opportunity ofconversing together; for though the sick man often called Mrs Morgan, yet as soon as he saw she was in the chamber he sunk again into thatstate of stupefaction from which he never recovered. Mrs Morgan put abed up in his room, and lay there constantly, but as he was assolicitous to know she was present in the night, as in the day, shecould never quite undress herself the whole time of his sickness. 

In this condition Mr Morgan lay for three months, when death releasedhim from this world; and brought a seasonable relief to Mrs Morgan, whose health was so impaired by long confinement and want of quiet restthat she could not much longer have supported it; and vexation hadbefore so far impaired her constitution that nothing could have enabledher to undergo so long a fatigue, but the infinite joy she received fromMiss Mancel's company. 

When Mr Morgan's will was opened, it appeared that he had left his wifean estate which fell to him about a month before the commencement of hisillness, where we now live. The income of it is a thousand pounds ayear, the land was thoroughly stocked and the house in good repair. MrMorgan had at his marriage settled a jointure on his wife of fourhundred pounds a year rent charge, and in a codicil made just after hissister's wedding, he bequeathed her two thousand pounds in ready money. 

After Mrs Morgan had settled all her affairs, it was judged necessarythat, for the recovery of her health, she should go to Tunbridge, towhich place Miss Mancel accompanied her. As Mrs Morgan's dress confinedher entirely at home, they were not in the way of making manyacquaintances; but Lady Mary Jones being in the house, and having longbeen known to Miss Mancel, though no intimacy had subsisted betweenthem, they now became much connected. The two friends had agreed toretire into the country, and though both of an age and fortune to enjoyall the pleasures which most people so eagerly pursue, they weredesirous of fixing in a way of life where all their satisfactions mightbe rational and as conducive to eternal as to temporal happiness. Theyhad laid the plan of many things, which they have since put intoexecution, and engaged Mr d'Avora to live with them, both as a valuablefriend and a useful assistant in the management of their affairs. 

Lady Mary was at that time so much in the same disposition, and socharmed with such part of their scheme as they communicated to her, thatshe begged to live with them for half a year, by which time they wouldbe able to see whether they chose her continuance there, and she shouldhave experienced how far their way of life was agreeable to her. LadyMary's merit was too apparent not to obtain their ready consent to herproposal, and when they had the satisfaction of seeing Mrs Morgan muchrecovered by the waters, and no farther benefit was expected, they cameto this house. 

They found it sufficiently furnished, and in such good order, that theysettled in it without trouble. The condition of the poor soon drew theirattention, and they instituted schools for the young and almshouses forthe old. As they ordered everything in their own family with greateconomy, and thought themselves entitled only to a part of theirfortunes, their large incomes allowed them full power to assist manywhose situations differed very essentially from theirs. The next expensethey undertook, after this establishment of schools and almshouses, wasthat of furnishing a house for every young couple that married in theirneighbourhood, and providing them with some sort of stock, which byindustry would prove very conducive towards their living in acomfortable degree of plenty. They have always paid nurses for the sick, sent them every proper refreshment, and allow the same sum weekly whichthe sick person could have gained, that the rest of the family may notlose any part of their support by the incapacity of one. 

When they found their fortunes would still afford a largercommunication, they began to receive the daughters of persons in office, or other life-incomes, who, by their parents' deaths, were leftdestitute of provision; and when, among the lower sort, they meet withan uncommon genius, they will admit her among the number. The girls yousee sit in the room with us are all they have at present in that way;they are educated in such a manner as will render them acceptable whereaccomplished women of a humble rank and behaviour are wanted, either forthe care of a house or children. These girls are never out of the roomwith us, except at breakfast and dinner, and after eight o'clock in theevening, at which times they are under the immediate care of thehousekeeper, with whom they are allowed to walk out for an hour or twoevery fine day, lest their being always in our company should make themthink their situation above a menial state; they attend us while we aredressing, and we endeavour that the time they are thus employed shallnot pass without improvement. They are clad coarse and plain for thesame reason, as nothing has a stronger influence on vanity than dress. 

Each of us takes our week alternately of more particular inspection overthe performances of these girls, and they all read by turns aloud tosuch of us as are employed about any thing that renders it notinconvenient to listen to them. By this sort of education my friendshope to do extensive good, for they will not only serve these poororphans, but confer a great benefit on all who shall be committed totheir care or have occasion for their service; and one can set no boundsto the advantages that may arise from persons of excellent principles, and enlarged understandings, in the situations wherein they are to beplaced. In every thing their view is to be as beneficial to society aspossible, and they are such economists even in their charities as toorder them in a manner that as large a part of mankind as possibleshould feel the happy influence of their bounty. 

In this place, and in this way of life, the three ladies alreadymentioned have lived upwards of twenty years; for Lady Mary Jones joinedher fortune to those of the two friends, never choosing to quit them, and is too agreeable not to be very desirable in the society. MissMancel has often declared that she plainly sees the merciful hand ofprovidence bringing good out of evil, in an event which she, at the timeit happened, thought her greatest misfortune; for had she married SirEdward Lambton, her sincere affection for him would have led her toconform implicitly to all his inclinations, her views would have beenconfined to this earth, and too strongly attached to human objects tohave properly obeyed the giver of the blessings she so much valued, whois generally less thought of in proportion as he is more particularlybountiful. Her age, her fortune and compliant temper might have seducedher into dissipation and have made her lose all the heart-felt joys shenow daily experiences, both when she reflects on the past, contemplatesthe present, or anticipates the future. 

I think I ought to mention Mrs Morgan's behaviour to her half-sisters. Sir Charles died about five years ago, and through his wife'sextravagance left his estate over-charged with debts and two daughtersand a son unprovided for. Lady Melvyn's jointure was not great; SirGeorge, her eldest son, received but just sufficient out of his estateto maintain himself genteelly. By the first Lady Melvyn's marriagesettlements, six thousand pounds were settled on her children, which, asMrs Morgan was her only child, became her property; this she dividedbetween her stepmother's three younger children, and has besidesconferred several favours on that family and frequently makes themvaluable presents. The young gentlemen and ladies often pass some timehere; Lady Melvyn made us a visit in the first year of her widowhood, but our way of life is so ill suited to her taste that, except duringthat dull period of confinement, she has never favoured us with hercompany. 

My cousin, I believe, was going to mention some other of the actions ofthese ladies, which seemed a favourite topic with her, when the rest ofthe company came into the garden, and we thought ourselves obliged tojoin them. 

The afternoons, in this family, generally concluded with one of theirdelightful concerts; but as soon as the visitors were departed, theladies said, they would amuse us that evening with an entertainmentwhich might possibly be more new to us, a rustic ball. The occasion ofit was the marriage of a young woman who had been brought up by them andhad for three years been in service, but having for that whole time beencourted by a young farmer of good character, she had been married in themorning, and that evening was dedicated to the celebration of theirwedding. 

We removed into the servants' hall, a neat room, and well lighted, wherewe found a very numerous assembly; sixteen couples were preparing todance; the rest were only spectators. The bride was a pretty, genteelgirl, dressed in a white calico gown, white ribbons, and in everyparticular neat to an excess. The bridegroom was a well looking youngman, as clean and sprucely dressed as his bride, though not with suchemblematic purity. This couple, contrary to the custom of finer peopleon such occasions, were to begin the ball together; but Lamont askedleave to be the bride's partner for two or three dances, a complimentnot disagreeable to the ladies, and highly pleasing to the rest of thecompany, except the bride, whose vanity one might plainly see did notfind gratification enough in having so genteel a partner to recompenseher for the loss of her Colin; he, however, seemed well satisfied withthe honour conferred on his wife. 

That the bridegroom might not be without his share of civility, theladies gave him leave to dance with the eldest of the young girls moreparticularly under their care, till his wife was restored to him. 

We sat above an hour with this joyous company, whose mirth seemed aspure as it was sincere, and I never saw a ball managed with greaterdecorum. There is a coquetry and gallantry appropriated to allconditions, and to see the different manner in which it was expressed inthis little set, from what one is accustomed to behold in higher life, afforded me great amusement; and the little arts used among these youngpeople to captivate each other were accompanied with so much innocenceas made it excessively pleasing. We stayed about an hour and half inthis company, and then went to supper. 

My cousin told me that Miss Mancel gave the young bride a fortune, andthat she might have her share of employment and contribute to theprovision for her family had stocked her dairy and furnished her withpoultry. This, Mrs Maynard added, was what they did for all the youngwomen they brought up, if they proved deserving; shewing, likewise, thesame favour to any other girls in the parish who, during their singlestate, behaved with remarkable industry and sobriety. By this mark ofdistinction they were incited to a proper behaviour, and appeared moreanxious for this benevolence on account of the honour that arose from itthan for the pecuniary advantage. 

As the ladies' conduct in this particular was uncommon, I could notforbear telling them, that I was surprised to find so greatencouragement given to matrimony by persons whose choice shewed themlittle inclined in its favour. 

'Does it surprise you, ' answered Mrs Morgan smiling, 'to see peoplepromote that in others which they themselves do not choose to practise?We consider matrimony as absolutely necessary to the good of society; itis a general duty; but as, according to all ancient tenures, thoseobliged to perform knight's service, might, if they chose to enjoy theirown firesides, be excused by sending deputies to supply their places; sowe, using the same privilege substitute many others, and certainly muchmore promote wedlock than we could do by entering into it ourselves. This may wear the appearance of some devout persons of a certainreligion who, equally indolent and timorous, when they do not choose tosay so many prayers as they think their duty, pay others for supplyingtheir deficiencies. '

'In this case, ' said I, 'your example is somewhat contradictory, andshould it be entirely followed, it would confine matrimony to the lowerrank of people, among whom it seems going out of fashion, as well aswith their superiors; nor indeed can we wonder at it, for dissipationand extravagance are now become such universal vices that it requiresgreat courage in any to enter into an indissoluble society. Instead ofbeing surprised at the common disinclination to marriage, I am ratherdisposed to wonder when I see a man venture to render himself liable tothe expenses of a woman who lavishes both her time and money on everyfashionable folly, and still more, when one of your sex subjects herselfto be reduced to poverty by a husband's love for gaming, and to neglectby his inconstancy. '

'I am of your opinion, ' said Miss Trentham, 'to face the enemy's cannonappears to me a less effort of courage than to put our happiness intothe hands of a person who perhaps will not once reflect on theimportance of the trust committed to his or her care. For the case ispretty equal as to both sexes, each can destroy the other's peace. Oursseems to have found out the means of being on an equality with yours. Few fortunes are sufficient to stand a double expense. The husband mustattend the gaming-table and horse-races; the wife must have a profusionof ornaments for her person, and cards for her entertainment. The careof the estate and family are left in the hands of servants who, inimitation of their masters and mistresses, will have their pleasures, and these must be supplied out of the fortunes of those they serve. Manand wife are often nothing better than assistants in each other's ruin;domestic virtues are exploded, and social happiness despised as dull andinsipid. 

'The example of the great infects the whole community. The honesttradesman who wishes for a wife to assist him in his business, and totake care of his family, dare not marry when every woman of his ownrank, emulating her superiors, runs into such fashions of dress asrequire great part of his gains to supply, and the income which wouldhave been thought sufficient some years ago for the wife of a gentlemanof large estate will now scarcely serve to enable a tradesman's wife toappear like her neighbours. They too must have their evening parties, they must attend the places of public diversion, and must be allowedperpetual dissipation without control. The poor man sighs after the dayswhen his father married; then cleanliness was a woman's chief personalornament, half the quantity of silk sufficed for her clothes, variety oftrumpery ornaments were not thought of, her husband's business employedher attention, and her children were the objects of her care. When hecame home, wearied with the employment of the day, he found her ready toreceive him, and was not afraid of being told she was gone to the playor opera, or of finding her engaged in a party at cards, while he wasreduced to spend his evening alone. But in a world so changed, a mandare not venture on marriage which promises him no comfort, and mayoccasion his ruin, nor wishes for children whose mother's neglect mayexpose them to destruction. 

'It is common to blame the lower sort of people for imitating theirsuperiors; but it is equally the fault of every station, and thereforethose of higher rank should consider it is their duty to set no examplesthat may hurt others. A degree of subordination is always acquiesced in, but while the nobleman lives like a prince, the gentleman will rise tothe proper expenses of a nobleman, and the tradesman take that vacantrank which the gentleman has quitted; nor will he be ashamed of becominga bankrupt when he sees the fortunes of his superiors mouldering awayand knows them to be oppressed with debts. Whatever right people mayhave to make free with their own happiness, a beneficial example is aduty which they indispensably owe to society, and the profuse have theextravagance of their inferiors to answer for. The same may be said forthose who contribute to the dissipation of others, by being dissipatedthemselves. '

'But, madam, ' interrupted Lamont, 'do you think it incumbent on peopleof fashion to relinquish their pleasures, lest their example should leadothers to neglect their business?'

'I should certainly, ' replied Miss Trentham, 'answer you in theaffirmative were the case as you put it, but much more so in the light Isee it. Every station has its duties, those of the great are morevarious than those of their inferiors. They are not so confined toeconomical attentions, nor ought they to be totally without them; buttheir more extensive influence, their greater leisure to serve theirCreator with all the powers of their minds, constitute many duties ontheir part to which dissipation is as great an enemy as it can be tothose more entirely domestic; therefore on each side there is an equalneglect; and why should we expect that such as we imagine have feweradvantages of education should be more capable of resisting temptationsand dedicating themselves solely to the performance of their duties, than persons whose minds are more improved?'

'I cannot deny, ' answered Lamont, 'but what you say is just, yet I fearyou have uttered truths that must continue entirely speculative; thoughif any people have a right to turn reformers, you ladies are bestqualified, since you begin by reforming yourselves; you practise morethan you preach, and therefore must always be listened to withattention. '

'We do not set up for reformers, ' said Miss Mancel, 'we wish to regulateourselves by the laws laid down to us, and as far as our influence canextend, endeavour to enforce them; beyond that small circle all isforeign to us; we have sufficient employment in improving ourselves; tomend the world requires much abler hands. '

'When you talk of laws, madam, by which you would regulate youractions, ' said Lamont, 'you raise a just alarm; as for matter ofopinion, every one may demand an equal power, but laws seem to requireobedience; pray, from whence do you take those which you wish to makeyour rule of life?'

'From whence, ' answered Miss Mancel, 'should a Christian take them, fromthe Alcoran, think you, or from the wiser Confucius, or would you seekin Coke on Littleton that you may escape the iron hand of thelegislative power? No, surely, the Christian's law is written in theBible, there, independent of the political regulations of particularcommunities, is to be found the law of the supreme Legislator. There, indeed, is contained the true and invariable law of nations; andaccording to our performance of it, we shall be tried by a Judge whosewisdom and impartiality secure him from error, and whose power is ableto execute his own decrees. This is the law I meant, and whoever obeysit can never offend essentially against the private ordinances of anycommunity. This all to whom it has been declared are bound to obey, myconsent to receive it for the rule of my actions is not material; for aswhoever lives in England must submit to the laws of the country, thoughhe may be ignorant of many of the particulars of them, so whoever livesin a Christian land is obliged to obey the laws of the Gospel, or tosuffer for infringing them; in both cases, therefore, it is prudent forevery man to acquaint himself thoroughly with these ordinances, which hecannot break with impunity. '

'If such obedience be necessary, ' said Lamont, 'what do you imagine willbe the fate of most of the inhabitants of Christendom; for you willallow that they do not regulate their conduct by such severe commands?'

'What will be their fate, ' replied Miss Mancel, 'I do not pretend evento suppose, my business is to take care of my own. The laws againstrobbery are not rendered either less just or less binding by the numbersthat daily steal or who demand your purse on the highway. Laws are notabrogated by being infringed, nor does the disobedience of others makethe observance of them less my duty. I am required to answer only formyself, and it is not man whom I am ordered to imitate. His failingswill not excuse mine. Humility forbids me to censure others, andprudence obliges me to avoid copying them. '

Lamont thought Miss Mancel too severe in her doctrine; but there wassomething so respectable in her severity, that he forbore to contest it, and owned to me afterwards that, while she spoke and he contemplatedthat amiable society, his heart silently acquiesced in the justness ofher sentiments. 

We parted at our usual hour; and at the same time the company in thelower part of the house broke up, eleven o'clock being the stated hourfor them on those occasions to return to their respective homes. 

The next morning, as I went downstairs, I met the housekeeper andentered into conversation with her, for which the preceding night'sfestivity furnished me with topics. From her I learnt that since theladies had been established in that house they had given fortunes fromtwenty to a hundred pounds, as merit and occasion directed, to abovethirty young women, and that they had seldom celebrated fewer than twomarriages in a year, sometimes more. Nor does their bounty cease on thewedding-day, for they are always ready to assist them on any emergency;and watch with so careful an eye over the conduct of these young peopleas proves of much greater service to them than the money they bestow. They kindly, but strongly, reprehend the first error, and guard them bythe most prudent admonitions against a repetition of their fault. Bylittle presents they shew their approbation of those who behave well, always proportioning their gifts to the merits of the person; which aretherefore looked upon as the most honourable testimony of theirconduct, and are treasured up as valuable marks of distinction. Thisencouragement has great influence, and makes them vie with each other inendeavours to excel in sobriety, cleanliness, meekness and industry. Shetold me also that the young women bred up at the schools these ladiessupport are so much esteemed for many miles round that it is notuncommon for young farmers, who want sober, good wives, to obtain themfrom thence, and prefer them to girls of much better fortunes, educatedin a different manner, as there have been various instances whereintheir industry and quickness of understanding, which in a great measurearises from the manner of their education, has proved more profitable totheir husbands than a more ample dower. 

She added that she keeps a register of all the boys and girls, which, byher good ladies' means, have been established in the world; whereby itappears that thirty have been apprenticed out to good trades, threescore fixed in excellent places, and thirty married. And it seldomhappens that any one takes an apprentice or servant till they have firstsent to her ladies to know if they have any to recommend. 

I expressed a desire to see the schools, which she obligingly offered toshew me, but feared we could not then have time to go thither, asbreakfast was just ready. While I was talking with her, I observed thatthe fingers of one of her hands were contracted quite close to the palm. I took notice of it to her. 'Oh! sir, ' said she, 'it was the luckiestaccident that could possibly be; as I was obliged to work for mysupport, I was very much shocked at my recovery from a fever to findmyself deprived of the use of a hand, but still tried if I could getmyself received into service; as I was sensible I could, notwithstandingmy infirmity, perform the business of a housekeeper; but no one wouldtake me in this maimed condition. At last I was advised to apply tothese ladies and found what had hitherto been an impediment was astronger recommendation than the good character I had from my lastplace; and I am sure I have reason to value these distorted fingers, more than ever any one did the handsomest hands that ever nature made. But, ' added she, smiling, 'few of my fellow-servants are betterqualified; the cook cannot walk without crutches, the kitchen maid hasbut one eye, the dairy maid is almost stone deaf, and the housemaid hasbut one hand; and yet, perhaps, there is no family where the business isbetter done; for gratitude, and a conviction that this is the only houseinto which we can be received, makes us exert ourselves to the utmost;and most people fail not from a deficiency of power, but of inclination. Even their musicians, if you observed it, sir, are much in the samecondition. The steward, indeed, must be excepted; he is one whom thegood Mr d'Avora chose for the sake of his integrity some years before hedied, as his successor in the care of the ladies' affairs, and employedhim for some time under his own inspection, that he might be sure he wasfit for the purpose, though he persuaded the ladies to receive their ownrents and direct all the chief concerns of their estates, which theyhave done ever since, so that theirs is rather a household than a landsteward. But, except this gentleman and the shepherd, there is not oneof their musicians that is not under some natural disadvantage; thedefects of two of them are so visible I need not point them out, but ofthe other two, one is subject to violent fits of the stone, and theother to the asthma. Thus disabled from hard labour, though they findsome employment in the manufacture, yet the additional profit whichaccrues from their playing here adds much to their comfort, as theirinfirmities render greater expenses necessary to them than to others intheir station. '

There was something so whimsically good in the conduct of the ladies inthese particulars, as at first made me smile; but when I considered itmore thoroughly, I perceived herein a refinement of charity which, though extremely uncommon, was entirely rational. I found that notcontented with merely bestowing on the indigent as large a part of theirfortunes as they can possibly spare, they carry the notion of their dutyto the poor so far as to give continual attention to it, and endeavourso to apply all they spend as to make almost every shilling contributetowards the support of some person in real necessity; by this meansevery expense bears the merit of a donation in the sight of him whoknows their motives; and their constant application is directed towardsthe relief of others, while to superficial observers they seem onlyproviding for their own convenience. The fashionable tradesman is surenot to have them in the list of his customers; but should he, throughthe caprice of the multitude, be left without business, and see hiselated hopes blasted, in all probability he will find these ladies hisfriends. Those whose youth renders them disregarded, or whose old agebreeds neglect, will here meet with deserved encouragement. This sort ofeconomy pleases me much, it is of the highest kind, since it regardsthose riches which neither moth nor rust can corrupt, nor thieves breakthrough and steal; and is within the reach of every person's imitation, for the poorest may thus turn their necessary expenses into virtuousactions. In this they excel others, as much as the bee does the commonbutterfly; they both feed on the same flowers, but while the butterflyonly gains a transient subsistence and flies and flutters in all itsgaudy pride, the bee lays up a precious store for its future well-being, and may brave all the rigours of winter. Man, indeed, often encroacheson the labours of the bee and disappoints it of its reasonable hope; butno one without our own concurrence can despoil us of the treasures laidup in heaven. 

As the good housekeeper foretold, the bell soon summoned me tobreakfast; which, like every other hour spent in that society, wasrendered delightful by their rational cheerfulness and polite freedom. We offered to take our leave, but should have been disappointed had wenot been asked to prolong our visit; nor were we so insincere as to makemuch resistance to this agreeable invitation; we expressed some fears ofinterrupting their better employments; to which Mrs Morgan replied byassuring us that we did not do so in the least; but added, 'I will tellyou plainly, gentlemen, the only alteration we shall wish to make, ifyou will favour us with your company a few days longer. Our familydevotions are regular, as you were strangers we have not summoned you tothem, but for the rest of your visit we must beg leave to alter thatmethod; for we do not think it a proper example to our servants tosuffer any one in this house to be excluded from them; though as yourcoming was sudden, and has been prolonged only, as it were, from hour tohour, we at first did not think it necessary to require your presence. '

You may imagine we expressed ourselves obliged by this frankness; and, for my own part, I was glad of what appeared to me like being receivedinto a community of saints; but was forced to wait for it till night, the devotion of the morning having been paid before breakfast, as wasusual in that family. 

Mrs Maynard accompanied us that morning into the park, and having placedourselves on a green bank under an elm, by the side of the canal, Icalled on her to perform her promise, and increase my acquaintance withthe rest of the ladies, by giving some account of them. 

'I shall not the less readily comply, ' she answered, 'for being able tobring what I have to say of them into less compass, than I did myhistory of Mrs Morgan and Miss Mancel, of whom, when I begin to speak, Ialways find it difficult to leave off, and am led by my fondness for thesubject into a detail, perhaps too circumstantial. Lady Mary Jones, bywhat I have already said, you may have perceived must come next inorder. '

THE HISTORY OF Lady MARY JONES

Lady Mary was daughter to the Earl of Brumpton by his second wife, whosurvived the birth of her child but a few hours. The earl died when hisdaughter was about ten years old, and having before his second marriagemortgaged to its full value all of his estate which was not settled on ason born of his first lady, his daughter was left entirely destitute ofprovision But as she was too young to be much affected with thiscircumstance, so she had little reason to regret it, when an increase ofyears might have awakened a sensibility to that particular. Immediatelyon her father's death she was taken by her aunt, Lady Sheerness, whodeclared she should look upon her as her own child, and indeed herindulgence verified the truth of her declaration. 

Lady Sheerness was a widow; her jointure considerable; and her lord athis decease left her some thousand pounds in ready money. When he diedshe was about twenty-five years old, with a good person and infinitevivacity. An unbridled imagination, ungovernable spirits, with a livelyarch countenance and a certain quaintness of expression gained her thereputation of being possessed of a great deal of wit. Her lord, in thedecline of life, had been captivated by her youthful charms, when shewas but sixteen years old. His extreme fondness for her led him toindulge her vivacity in all its follies; and frequently while he waslaid up at home in the gout her ladyship was the finest and gayest womanat every place of public resort. Often, when the acuteness of his painsobliged him to seek relief from the soporific influence of opium, shecollected half the town, and though his rest was disturbed every momentby a succession of impetuous raps at the door, he was never offended; onthe contrary, he thought himself obliged to her for staying at home, which she had assured him was because she could not bear to go abroadwhen he was so ill. This, as the greatest mark of her tenderness he everreceived, he failed not to acknowledge with gratitude. She scarcely tookmore pleasure in having a train of admirers than his lordship felt fromit; his vanity was flattered in seeing his wife the object of admirationand he fancied himself much envied for so valuable a possession. Hercoquetry charmed him, as the follies of that vivacity of which he was sofond. He had no tincture of jealousy in his whole composition; andacknowledged as favours conferred on himself the attentions paid to hiswife. 

Though Lord Sheerness's conduct may appear rather uncommon, yet itseemed the result of some discernment, or at least his lady'sdisposition was such as justifies this opinion; she had received agenteel education; no external accomplishments had been neglected; buther understanding and principles were left to the imperfection of naturecorrupted by custom. Religion was thought too serious a thing for soyoung a person. The opinion of the world was always represented to heras the true criterion by which to judge of everything, and fashionsupplied the place of every more material consideration. With a mindthus formed, she entered the world at sixteen, surrounded with pomp andsplendour, with every gratification at her command that an affluentfortune and an indulgent husband could bestow: by nature inclined to novice, free from all dangerous passions, the charm of innocenceaccompanied her vivacity; undesigning and artless, her follies wereoriginally the consequences of her situation, not constitutional, thoughhabit engrafted them so strongly that at length they appeared natural toher. Surrounded with every snare that can entrap a youthful mind, shebecame a victim to dissipation and the love of fashionable pleasures;destitute of any stable principles, she was carried full sail down thestream of folly. In the love of coquetry and gaming few equalled her; noone could exceed her in the pursuit of every trifling amusement; she hadneither leisure nor inclination to think, her life passed in anuninterrupted succession of engagements, without reflection on the pastor consideration on the future consequences. 

The lightness of her conduct exposed her to the addresses of many gaymen during the life of her lord; but an attachment was too serious athing for her; and while her giddiness and perpetual dissipation exposedher to suspicion, they preserved her from the vice of which she wassuspected: she daily passed through the ordeal trial; every step shetook was dangerous, but she came off unhurt. Her reputation was indeeddoubtful, but her rank and fortune, and the continual amusements whichher house yielded to her acquaintance, rendered her generally caressed. 

Her lord's death made no alteration in her way of life; and as her mindwas never fixed an hour on any subject, she thought not long enough ofmarriage to prepare for that state and therefore continued a widow. Shewas upwards of forty years old, unchanged in anything but her person, when she took Lady Mary Jones, I will not say into her care, for thatword never entered into her vocabulary, but into her house. Lady Maryhad naturally a very good understanding, and much vivacity; the lattermet with everything that could assist in its increase in the company ofLady Sheerness, the other was never thought of: she was initiated intoevery diversion at an age when other girls are confined to theirnursery. Her aunt was fond of her and therefore inclined to indulgence, besides she thought the knowledge of the world, which in her opinionwas the most essential qualification for a woman of fashion, was no wayto be learnt but by an early acquaintance with it. 

Lady Mary's age and vivacity rendered this doctrine extremely agreeable, she was pretty and very lively and entertaining in her conversation, therefore at fifteen years of age she became the most caressed person inevery company. She entered into all the fashionable tastes, wascoquettish and extravagant; for Lady Sheerness very liberally furnishedher with money and felt a sort of pride in having a niece distinguishedby the fineness of her dress and her profusion in every expense, as itwas well known to have no other source but in her ladyship's generosity. Though Lady Mary received much adulation, and was the object of generalcourtship, yet she had no serious love made to her till she was betweensixteen and seventeen, when she accompanied her aunt to Scarborough: shewas there very assiduously followed by a gentleman reputed of a largefortune in Wales. He was gay and well-bred, his person moderatelyagreeable, his understanding specious and his manner insinuating. Therewas nothing very engaging in the man, except the appearance of a verytender attachment. She had before found great pleasure in being admired;but her vanity was still more flattered in being loved: she knew herselfcapable of amusing; but till now had never been able to give eitherpleasure or pain, according to her sovereign decree. She grew partial toMr Lenman (that was the name of her lover) because he raised herconsequence in her own eyes: she played off a thousand airs of coquetrywhich she had never yet had an opportunity to exercise for want of areal lover. Sometimes she would elate him by encouragement; at others, freeze him into despair by her affected coldness: she was never twohours the same, because she delighted in seeing the variety of passionsshe could excite. 

Mr Lenman was certainly sufficiently tormented; but so great aproficiency in coquetry at so early an age was no discouragement to hishopes. There are no people so often the dupe of their own arts ascoquettes; especially when they become so very early in life;therefore, instead of being damped in his pursuit, he adapted hisbehaviour to her foible, vanity, and by assuming an air of indifference, could, when he pleased, put an end to her affected reserve; though hewas not so impolite a lover as quite to deny her the gratification sheexpected from her little arts. He found means, however, to command herattention by the very serious proposal of matrimony. She had no greatinclination for the state, but the novelty pleased her. The pleasure shereceived from his addresses she mistook for love, and imagined herselfdeeply enamoured, when she was in reality only extremely flattered; thecommon error of her age. In the company she had kept matrimony appearedin no very formidable light; she did not see that it abridged a woman ofany of the liberties she already enjoyed; it only afforded her anopportunity of choosing her own diversions; whereas her taste in thosepoints sometimes differed from her aunt's, to whom, however, she wasobliged to submit. Thus prepossessed, both in favour of her lover andhis proposal, she listened to him with more attention than she chose heshould perceive; but he was too well acquainted with the pretty arts ofcoquetry not to see through them. He therefore took courage to insinuatehis desire of a private marriage, and ventured to persuade her to take atrip with him to the northern side of Berwick upon Tweed. 

Lady Mary could not see, as Mr Lenman's fortune was considerable andhers entirely precarious, why he was so apprehensive of not beingaccepted by her aunt, but there was something spirited in those northernjourneys that had always been the objects of her envy. An adventure wasthe supreme pleasure of life and these pretty flights gave marriage allthe charms of romance. To be forced to fly into another kingdom to bemarried gave her an air of consequence; vulgar people might tie the knotat every parish church, but people of distinction should do everythingwith an eclat. She imagined it very probable that her aunt would consentto her union with Mr Lenman; for though he was not equal to her inbirth, yet he was her superior in fortune; but yet she looked upon hisfears of a refusal as meritorious, since he assured her they arose fromhis extreme affection, which filled him with terrors on the leastprospect of losing her. Should Lady Sheerness, he urged, reject hisproposal, she might then be extremely offended with their marrying, after they knew her disapprobation; but if they did it without herknowledge, she would not have room to complain of downrightdisobedience, and if it was displeasing to her, yet being done, and pastremedy, she would be inclined to make the best of what was unavoidable, and forgive what she could not prevent. 

These arguments were sufficiently solid for a girl of sixteen who neverthought before and could scarcely be said to do so then. Lady Marycomplied with his plan, and the day was fixed when they were to takethis lively step; their several stages settled, and many more arts andcontrivances to avoid discovery concerted, than they were likely to haveany occasion for; but in that variety of little schemes and romanticexpedients her chief pleasure in this intended marriage consisted. 

The day before that on which Lady Mary and her lover were to set out forScotland, she was airing with Lady Sheerness when one of the horsestaking fright, they were overturned down a very steep declivity. LadySheerness was but very little hurt, but Lady Mary was extremely bruised;one side of her face received a blow which swelled it so violently thather eye was quite closed, and her body was all over contusions. She wastaken up senseless, entirely stunned by the shock. As soon as she wascarried home, she was put to bed; a fever ensued, and she lay afortnight in a deplorable condition, though her life was not thought tobe in danger. Her pain, for the greatest part of that time, was tooacute to suffer her to reflect much on the different manner in which shehad intended to employ that period; and when her mind became more atliberty, her disappointment did not sit too heavy on her spirits; for asher heart was not really touched, she considered the delay which thisill-timed accident had occasioned without any great concern, and ratherpleased herself with thinking that she should give an uncommon proof ofspirit, in undertaking a long journey, so soon after she was recoveredfrom a very evident proof that travelling is not free from danger. Asshe had during this confinement more time to think than all her life hadyet afforded her, a doubt would sometimes occur, whether she did rightin entering into such an engagement without the consent of her aunt, towhom she was much obliged. But these scruples soon vanished, and shewondered how such odd notions came into her head, never having heard theword duty used, but to ridicule somebody who made it the rule of theirconduct. By all she had been able to observe, pleasure was the only aimof persons of genius, whose thoughts never wandered but from oneamusement to another, and, 'why should not she be guided by inclinationas well as other people?' That one question decided the point, and alldoubts were banished. 

Before the blackness which succeeded the swelling was worn off her face, and consequently before she could appear abroad, a young lady of heracquaintance, who, out of charity, relinquished the diversions of theplace to sit an afternoon with Lady Mary, told her as a whimsical pieceof news she had just heard (and to tell which was the real motive forher kind visit, having long felt a secret envy of Lady Mary) that, herlover, Mr Lenman, had been married some years, to a young lady of smallfortune, whom he treated on that account with so little ceremony thatfor a considerable time he did not own his marriage, and since heacknowledged it had kept her constantly at his house in Wales. 

This was indeed news of consequence to Lady Mary, but she was littleinclined to believe it and enquired what proof there was of this fact. The young lady replied that she had it from a relation of hers latelyarrived at Scarborough who having been often in Mr Lenman'sneighbourhood, was well acquainted both with him and his wife, and hadin a pretty large company where she was present asked him after MrsLenman's health, to which he made as short an answer as he could, butsuch as shewed there was such a person, and his confusion on thisquestion made her relation enquire what could be the meaning of it, which all the company could easily explain. 

Lady Mary was prodigiously disconcerted with this intelligence; herinformer imagined the visible agitation of her spirits proceeded fromher attachment to Mr Lenman, but in reality it was the effect of terror. She was frighted to think how near she was becoming the object ofgeneral ridicule and disgrace, wedded to a married man and duped by hiscunning; for she immediately perceived why her aunt was not to be letinto the secret. How contemptible a figure must she afterwards have madein the world! There was something in this action of Mr Lenman's veryuncommon, fashionable vices and follies had in her opinion received asanction from custom, but this was of a different and a deeper dye; andlittle as she had been used to reflect on good and evil in any otherlight than as pleasant and unpleasant, she conceived a horror at thisaction. 

After her visitor departed, she began to reflect on the luckiness of theoverturn which had obstructed her rash design, and admiring her goodfortune, would certainly have offered rich sacrifices on the shrine ofChance had there been a temple there erected to that deity. 

While her mind was filled with these impressions, the nurse, who hadattended her in her sickness, and was not yet dismissed, entered theroom crying with joy and told her, that she had just received the newsof the ship's being lost wherein her son was to have embarked, had henot been seized with a fit of sickness two days before it set sail, which made it impossible for him to go on board. The poor woman wasprofuse in her acknowledgements for God's great mercy, who had by thismeans prevented the destruction of her dear child. 'To be sure, ' addedshe, 'I shall never again repine at any thing that happens to me. Howvexed I was at this disappointment, and thought myself the mostunfortunate creature in the world because my son missed of such a goodpost as he was to have had in this ship; I was continually frettingabout it and fancied that so bad a setting out was a sign the poor boywould be unlucky all his life. How different things turn out from whatwe expect! Had not this misfortune, as I thought it, happened, he wouldnow have been at the bottom of the sea, and my poor heart would havebeen broken. Well, to be sure God is very kind! I hope my boy willalways be thankful for this providence and love the Lord who has thuspreserved him. '

This poor woman spoke a new language to Lady Mary. She knew, indeed, that God had made the world, and had sent her into it, but she had neverthought of his taking any further care about her. She had heard that hehad forbidden murder and stealing and adultery and that, after death, hewould judge people for those crimes, and this she supposed was theutmost extent of his attention. But the joy she felt for her owndeliverance from a misfortune into which she was so near involvingherself, and the resemblance there was in the means of her preservationto that for which her nurse was so thankful, communicated to her some ofthe same sensations, and she felt a gratitude to him who, she imagined, might possibly be more careful over his creatures than she had ever yetsupposed. 

These impressions, though pretty strong at the time, wore off after shegot abroad. A renewal of the same dissipation scattered them with everyother serious thought; and she again entered into the hurry of everytrifling amusement. Mr Lenman, as soon as he found that his marriage wasbecome public, despairing of the success of his scheme, left the placebefore Lady Mary was out of her confinement, afraid of meeting thereproachful glances of a woman whom he designed to injure; and whoseinnocence, notwithstanding her levity, gave her dignity in the eyes of aman who had really conceived an ardent passion for her. 

Lady Sheerness and her niece stayed but a short time at Scarboroughafter the latter was perfectly recovered, the season being over. Theyreturned to London and all the gaiety it affords; and though the townwas at that time not full, yet they had so general an acquaintance, andLady Sheerness rendered her house so agreeable, that she never wantedcompany. Every season has its different amusements, and these ladies hadan equal taste for everything that bore the name of diversion. It istrue, they were not always entertained; but they always expected to beso, and promised themselves amends the following day for thedisappointment of the present. If they failed of pleasure, they haddissipation, and were in too continual a hurry to have time to askthemselves whether they were amused; if they saw others were so, theyimagined themselves must be equally entertained; or if the dullness ofthe place was too great to be overlooked, they charged it on their ownwant of spirits, and complained of a languor which rendered themincapable of receiving pleasure. 

Lady Mary fortunately had had no confidante in her design of runningaway with Mr Lenman, and the part he had acted was so dishonourable hecould not wish to publish it; her imprudence was therefore known only toherself; and the fear of disobliging her aunt by letting her intendeddisobedience reach her ears induced her to conceal it; otherwise, mostprobably, in some unguarded hour, she would have amused her acquaintancewith the relation, embellished with whatever circumstances would haverendered it amusing; for the love of being entertaining, and the vanityof being listened to with eagerness, will lead people of ungovernedvivacity to expose their greatest failings. 

Lady Mary's levity encouraged her admirers to conceive hopes which herreal innocence should have repressed. Among this number was Lord RobertSt George. He was both in person and manner extremely pleasing; but whatwas a stronger charm to a young woman of Lady Mary's turn of mind, hewas a very fashionable man, much caressed by the ladies, and supposed tohave been successful in his addresses to many. This is always a greatrecommendation to the gay and giddy; and a circumstance which shouldmake a man shunned by every woman of virtue, secures him a favourablereception from the most fashionable part of our sex. 

Lady Mary would have accused herself of want of taste had she not likeda man whom so many others had loved. She saw his attachment to her inthe light of a triumph over several of her acquaintance; and when a manraises a woman in her own esteem, it is seldom long before he gains aconsiderable share of it for himself. Vanity represented Lord Robert asa conquest of importance, and his qualifications rendered him a verypleasing dangler. Lady Mary liked him as well as her little leisure toattend to one person would permit. She felt that pleasure on hisapproach, that pain at his departure, that solicitude for his presence, and that jealousy at the civilities he paid any other woman, which girlslook upon as the symptoms of a violent passion, whereas if they were toexamine their hearts very nicely they would find that only a small partof it proceeded from love. 

Lord Robert was too well skilled in these matters to remain ignorant ofthe impression he had made; and if he had been less quick-sighted, thefrequent intelligence he received of it would not have suffered him longto remain in ignorance. Lady Mary, vain of her conquest and proud ofbeing in love, as is usual at her age, let every intimate into herconfidence, and by mutual communication they talked a moderate likinginto a passion. Each of these young ladies were as ready to tell theirfriend's secrets as their own, till the circle of that confidenceincluded all their acquaintance. From many of these Lord Robert heard ofLady Mary's great attachment to him, which served not a little toflatter his hopes. He imagined he should meet with an easy conquest of agiddy, thoughtless girl, entirely void of all fixed principles andviolently in love with him; for his vanity exaggerated her passion. Inthis persuasion he supposed nothing was wanting to his success butopportunity, for which he took care not to wait long. 

He was intimately acquainted with an old lady, whom he often met at LadySheerness's, whose disposition he knew well suited to his purpose, shehad before proved convenient to him and others; not indeed by unrewardedassistance, for as her fortune was too small to supply the expenses ofthe genteel way of life she aimed at, she was glad to have thatdeficiency made up by presents which she was therefore very assiduous todeserve. This lady, as she was a woman of fashion and lived in figure, was politely received in all gay companies who were not disposed to takethe trouble of examining scrupulously into her character. She had onematerial recommendation; she played high at cards, and omitted nothingto make her house agreeable; and few were more crowded. 

This lady had often been visited by Lady Sheerness and her niece, thoughgenerally at the same time with the multitude; but one day, when sheknew the former was confined at home by indisposition, she invited LadyMary, whose aunt's complaisance would not suffer her to refuse theinvitation on her account. 

Lord Robert was there, and as it was only a private party, there were nocard-tables but in the outward room. The mistress of the house drew LadyMary into the inner, on pretence of having something particular to sayto her, Lord Robert soon followed. The conversation grew lively betweenhim and Lady Mary; and when the convenient gentlewoman saw themthoroughly engaged and animated in discourse, she quietly withdrew, returning to the company, whose attention was too much fixed on thecards to perceive that any one was missing; and to keep their thoughtsmore entirely engrossed, she betted with great spirit at every table. 

Lady Mary did not perceive she was left alone with Lord Robert, till thegrowing freedom of his address made her observe it; but as prudence wasnot one of her virtues, she was not at all disconcerted with thistête-à-tête; nor did it lessen her vivacity. Lord Robert, encouraged byher easiness on the occasion, declared himself so plainly that she wasno longer able to blind herself to his views and with surprise foundseduction was his aim, if that word maybe used for a man's designsagainst the honour of a woman who seems so careless of it. Her heart wasentirely innocent of vice, and she could not imagine how his lordshipcould conceive it possible to succeed with her in intentions of thatsort. She had always thought such imprudence in a woman a very greatfolly, for in a graver light she had never beheld it, and shewed herselfoffended at his supposing her capable of such a weakness; but withoutthat honest indignation which a woman would have felt who had acted onbetter principles. 

Lord Robert was not much discouraged; a woman is under greatdisadvantage when her lover knows himself to be so much beloved that shedare not let her anger continue long, for fear of losing him for ever. He was well convinced that mere worldly prudence could not make alasting resistance against a strong passion, and such he flatteredhimself hers was. He therefore ventured to resume the subject; but hisperseverance increased Lady Mary's surprise and she began to thinkherself affronted. Her partiality pleaded in his favour some time; butat length she thought it necessary to retire, notwithstanding his utmostendeavours to detain her. As she left him, she desired him to learn tobelieve better of her understanding: she perceived it no otherwise aninsult; her education had deprived her of that delicacy which shouldhave made her feel a severe mortification at the little share she had ofthe good opinion of a man she loved; on the contrary, she esteemed theaffront she had received a proof of his affection. She had often indeedheard the name of virtue, but by the use she had known made of the word, it appeared to her to have no other signification than prudence. She wasnot at all shocked with Lord Robert's conduct; but resolved not toconcur in his views, because she had no inclination to do so, thatoverbalanced her very moderate degree of prudence. On this account shedetermined to avoid being again alone with him. 

Lady Mary's natural sense gave rise to some doubts, whether the veryopen professions of gallantry which Lord Robert had made to her werecommon; she had been frequently addressed with freedom, but hisbehaviour seemed more than commonly presuming. In order to find whatothers would think of it, she often turned the conversation to thosesort of subjects, and was a good deal startled one day by a lively, butamiable and modest young lady who said she believed no man that was notan absolute fool, or at the time intoxicated, ever insulted a woman withimproper behaviour or discourse, if he had not from some impropriety inher conduct seen reason to imagine it would not be ill received; and Iam sure, added she, 'if such a thing was ever to befall me, it wouldconvert me into a starched prude, for fear that hereafter innocentvivacity might be mistaken for vicious levity: I should take myself veryseverely to task, convinced the offence was grounded on my conduct; forI am well persuaded there is something so respectable in virtue that noman will dare to insult it, except when a great disparity incircumstances encourages an abandoned wretch to take advantage of thenecessity of the indigent. '

Lady Mary was greatly affected by this sentiment she began to reflect onher own behaviour, and could not but see that Lord Robert might, withoutany great danger of offending, hazard the behaviour he had been guiltyof; since in effect she had not conceived much anger against him, andthough she had hitherto avoided being again alone with him, yet she hadnot shewn any very great marks of displeasure. She now watched withattention the conduct of other young ladies; many of them seemed to acton the same principles as herself; but she observed that she who had byher declaration first raised in her suspicions about her own behaviour, had a very different manner from hers. She was indeed gay and lively;but her vivacity seemed under the direction of modesty. In her greatestflow of spirits, she hazarded no improper expression, nor sufferedothers to do so without a manifest disgust she saw that the gentlemenwho conversed with her preserved an air of respect and deference, whichthey laid aside when they addressed women whose vivacity degeneratedinto levity. She now began to perceive some impropriety in her ownbehaviour, and endeavoured to correct it; but nothing is more difficultthan to recover a dignity once lost. When she attempted to restrain hergaiety within proper bounds, she was laughed at for her affectation: if, when the conversation was improper, she assumed an air of gravity, shewas accused of the vapours or received hints that she was out of humour. 

These were great discouragements in her endeavours to correct the errorsof her conduct, but gave her less pain than the difficulties she wasunder about Lord Robert St George. He still continued to address herwith a freedom of manners which she now perceived was insulting; shewanted to discourage his insolence but feared giving a total offence toa man who had too great a share of her affections; she was apprehensivethat if she quite deprived him of his hopes, she should entirely losehim and he would attach himself to some other woman. This situation wasdangerous and Lord Robert knew the power he had over her. The dilemmashe was in really abated the vivacity she wished to restrain, but it wasimmediately attributed to the anxiety of a love-sick mind, and she wasexposed to continual raillery on that subject. Her lover secretlytriumphed, flattering himself that her passion was now combating on hisside. 

In this situation she was unable to determine what part to act, and allher intimates were too much like herself to be capable of advising her. Thus distressed, she resolved to cultivate the acquaintance of the younglady who had opened her eyes to her own conduct, and try what relief shecould obtain from her advice. This was easily effected; Lady Mary wastoo amiable not to have any advances she made answered with pleasure. Anintimacy soon ensued. 

Lady Mary communicated to her new friend all the difficulties of hersituation and confessed to her the true state of her heart. That younglady was not void of compassion for her uneasiness; but told her thatwhile she was encouraging Lord Robert's passion, she was losing hisesteem, which alone was worth preserving. 'I allow, ' said she, 'that bydepriving him of his hopes, you may put an end to his addresses; butconsider, my dear Lady Mary, what satisfaction they can afford you ifthey are only the result of a fondness for your person which would loseall its charms for him as soon as it became familiarized by possession. You would then at once find yourself both neglected and despised by theman for whose sake you had rendered yourself truly despicable. I knowyou are incapable of an action that would at the same time rid you ofhis esteem and of the more valuable consciousness of knowing yourself tobe truly estimable. I am not of the opinion of those who think chastitythe only virtue of consequence to our sex; but it is certainly so veryessential to us that she who violates it seldom preserves any other. Andhow should she? For if there are others as great, greater there cannotbe, there is none so necessary. But herein I know you are of my opinion;I only therefore intreat you to shew Lord Robert that you are so; do notlet him mistake your real sentiments; nor in order to preserve his love, if custom will oblige me to call his passion by that name, leave himreason to flatter himself that you will fall a victim to his arts andyour own weakness. 

'Consider with yourself, ' continued she, 'which is most desirable, hisesteem or his courtship? If you really love him, you can make nocomparison between them, for surely there cannot be a greater sufferingthan to stand low in the opinion of any person who has a great share ofour affections. If he neglects you on finding that his criminal designscannot succeed, he certainly does not deserve your love, and theconsciousness of having raised yourself in his opinion and forced him toesteem you, together with the pleasure of reflecting that you have actedas you ought, will afford you consolation. '

These arguments had due weight with Lady Mary, she determined to followher friend's advice and submit to the consequences. Lady Sheerness hadcompany that evening and among the rest Lord Robert. He was, as usual, assiduous in his addresses to Lady Mary who, withdrawing to a littledistance from the company, told him, that she had too long suffered hislordship to continue a courtship, which he had plainly acknowledged wasmade with such views as gave her great reason to blame herself for everhaving listened to it. She acknowledged that the levity of her conducthad been such as lessened her right to reproach him. Encouraged by hererrors, and presuming perhaps on a supposition that he was notunpleasing to her, he had ventured to insult her in a flagrant manner, but without complaining of what was past, she thought herself obliged totell him his pursuit was in vain; that the errors in her conduct werethe fault of education; nor might she so soon have been convinced ofthem if his behaviour had not awakened her to a sense of someimpropriety in her own conduct, which, conscious of the innocence of herintentions, she had never suspected: she then told him that if he didnot entirely desist from all addresses to her she should be obliged toacquaint her aunt with his behaviour, who could not suffer such aninsult on her niece to pass unresented. 

As soon as she had thus explained herself to Lord Robert, she mingledwith the crowd, though with a mind little inclined to join in theirconversation; but her young friend was there and endeavoured to supporther spirits, which were overcome by the effort she had made. This younglady soon after went into the country and returned no more to London. 

Lord Robert was so disconcerted that he left the room as soon as LadyMary had thus given him his dismissal. As their acquaintance lay much inthe same set, they frequently saw each other. Lord Robert endeavoured toconquer Lady Mary's resolution by sometimes exciting her jealousy and atothers making her the object of his addresses; but she continued steadyin her conduct, though with many secret pangs. He began at last toconverse with her with greater ease to himself as his passion abatedwhen no longer nourished by hope; and notwithstanding a remainder ofpique, he could not forbear treating her with a respect which herconduct deserved; for he plainly saw she had acted in contradiction toher own heart. This alteration in his behaviour afforded her greatsatisfaction; and though her love was not extinguished, it ceased to bevery painful when she was persuaded she had obtained some share of hisesteem. 

When Lady Mary was in her twentieth year, Lady Sheerness was seized witha lingering, but incurable disorder. It made little alteration in hermind. In this melancholy situation she applied to cards and company tokeep up her spirits as assiduously as she had done during her betterhealth. She was incapable indeed of going so much abroad, but heracquaintance, who still found her house agreeable, applauded theircharity in attending her at home. Cards even employed the morning, forfear any intermission of visitors should leave her a moment's time forreflection. In this manner she passed the short remainder of her life, without one thought of that which was to come. Her acquaintance, for Icannot call them as they did themselves, friends, were particularlycareful to avoid every subject that might remind her of death. At nightshe procured sleep by laudanum; and from the time she rose, she tookcare not to have leisure to think; even at meals she constantly engagedcompany, lest her niece's conversation should not prove sufficient todissipate her thoughts. Every quack who proposed curing what wasincurable was applied to, and she was buoyed up with successive hopes ofapproaching relief. 

She grew at last so weak that, unable even to perform her part at thecard-table, Lady Mary was obliged to deal, hold her cards and sort themfor her, while she could just take them out one by one and drop them onthe table. Whist and quadrille became too laborious to her weakenedintellects, but loo supplied their places and continued her amusement tothe last, as reason or memory were not necessary qualifications to playat it. 

Her acquaintances she found at length began to absent themselves, butshe re-animated their charity by making frequent entertainments forthem, and was reduced to order genteel suppers to enliven the evening, when she herself was obliged to retire to her bed. Though it was for aconsiderable time doubtful whether she should live till morning, it wasno damp to the spirits of any of the company from which she hadwithdrawn, except to Lady Mary, who, with an aching heart, was obligedto preside every evening at the table, and to share their unfeelingmirth, till two or three o'clock in the morning. 

She was greatly afflicted with the thought of her aunt's approachingdeath, whose indulgence to her, however blameable, had made a deepimpression on her heart; as this gave a more serious turn to her mind, she could not see Lady Sheerness's great insensibility to what musthappen after death without much concern. The great care that was takento rob her of leisure to reflect on matters of such high importanceshocked her extremely; and she was disgusted with the behaviour of thoseshe called her friends, who she plainly perceived would have fallen intototal neglect of her had she not found means to render her house moreamusing to them than any into which they could enter. She now saw thatfriendship existed not without esteem; and that pleasurable connectionswould break at the time they were most wanted. 

This course of life continued, till one evening Lady Sheerness wasseized with a fainting fit at the card-table, and being carried to herbed, in half an hour departed to a world of which she had never thoughtand for which she was totally unprepared. 

As Lady Mary was not able to return to the company, they in decency, notin affliction, retired. 

Having long expected this event, her grief was greater than hersurprise. She sent for the gentleman who she knew was her aunt'sexecutor, that her will might be opened and necessary directions givenfor the funeral. Lady Mary had no doubt of succeeding to an easyfortune, and when the will was read it confirmed her in that suppositionby appointing her sole heiress. But the executor told her he feared shewould find no inheritance. The will was made on her first coming to LadySheerness, when there was some remains of the money her lord had lefther, but he was well convinced it had since been not only entiretyexpended, but considerable debts incurred. 

This account was soon proved true by the demands of numerous creditors. Lady Mary gave up all her aunt's effects, which fell short of the debts, and remained herself in the same destitute condition from which LadySheerness had rescued her. This was a very severe shock; she had seensufficient proof of the little real friendship to be found in suchfashionable connections as she had been engaged in, to know that she hadnothing to hope from any of her acquaintance. Her father had been atvariance with most of his relations, and Lady Sheerness had kept up thequarrel. She had therefore little expectation of assistance from them inthe only wish she could form, which was to obtain a pension from thegovernment, whereto her rank seemed to entitle her. She saw no resourcebut in the pride of some insolent woman who would like to have a personof her quality dependent on her; a prospect far worse than death. Orpossibly, good-nature might procure her a reception among some of heracquaintance; but as she had nothing even to answer her personalexpenses, how soon would they grow weary of so chargeable a visitor?

While she was oppressed with these reflections, and had nothing beforeher eyes but the gloomy prospect of extreme distress, she received amessage from Lady Brumpton, who waited in her equipage at the door, desiring to be admitted to see her, for Lady Mary had given a generalorder to be denied, being unfit to see company, and unwilling to beexposed to the insulting condolence of many whose envy at the splendourin which she had lived and the more than common regard that had usuallybeen shewn her, would have come merely to enjoy the triumph they felt onher present humiliation. 

Lady Brumpton was widow to Lady Mary's half-brother. She had been aprivate gentlewoman of good family but small fortune, by marrying whomher lord had given such offence to his father that he would never afteradmit him to his presence. Lady Sheerness had shewn the same resentmentand there no longer subsisted any communication between the families. Lord Brumpton had been dead about three years and left no children. 

His widow was still a fine woman. She was by nature generous and humane, her temper perfectly good, her understanding admirable. She had beeneducated with great care, was very accomplished, had read a great dealand with excellent taste; she had great quickness of parts and a veryuncommon share of wit. Her beauty first gained her much admiration; butwhen she was better known, the charms of her understanding seemed toeclipse those of her person. Her conversation was generally courted, herwit and learning were the perpetual subjects of panegyric in verse andprose, which unhappily served to increase her only failing, vanity. Shesought to be admired for various merits. To recommend her person shestudied dress and went to considerable expense in ornaments. To shew hertaste, she distinguished herself by the elegance of her house, furnitureand equipage. To prove her fondness for literature, she collected aconsiderable library; and to shew that all her esteem was not engrossedby the learned dead, she caressed all living geniuses; all were welcometo her house, from the ragged philosopher to the rhyming peer; but whileshe only exchanged adulation with the latter, she generously relievedthe necessities of the former. She aimed at making her house a littleacademy; all the arts and sciences were there discussed, and none daredto enter who did not think themselves qualified to shine and partake ofthe lustre which was diffused round this assembly. 

Though encircled by science and flattery, Lady Mary's distress reachedLady Brumpton's ears and brought her to that young lady's door, who wassurprised at the unexpected visit, but could not refuse her admittance. Lady Brumpton began by apologizing for her intrusion but excused herselfon the great desire she had of being acquainted with so near a relationof her lord's, who, as she was too young to have any share in theunhappy divisions in the family, she was persuaded was free from thoseill-grounded resentments which the malice and impertinence oftale-bearers are always watchful to improve; and when she consideredherself as the first occasion of the quarrel, she thought it her duty, in regard to her deceased lord's memory, to offer that protection hissister might justly demand from her, and which her youth renderednecessary. 

Lady Mary was charmed with the politeness of Lady Brumpton's address, but still more with the generosity of her behaviour in seeking her out, at a time when so many were diligent to avoid her. The acknowledgementsshe made for the favour done her spoke as much in her recommendation asher person. Lady Brumpton after some conversation told her she had arequest to make to which she could not well suffer a denial; this was noother than that she would leave that melancholy house and make hers theplace of her fixed abode; for as, by Lord Brumpton's will, he hadbequeathed her his whole fortune, she should not enjoy it with peace ofmind if his sister did not share in the possession. 

This very agreeable invitation filled Lady Mary with joy and surprise. She made a proper return to Lady Brumpton for her generosity and theyagreed that Lady Mary should remove to her house the next day. 

When Lady Mary was left alone to reflect on this unexpected piece ofgood fortune, and considered the distress she had been in but two hoursbefore, and from which she was now so happily delivered; when shereflected on the many calamities wherewith from her childhood she hadbeen threatened and by what various means she had been saved so oftenfrom ruin, she could not forbear thinking that she was indeed the careof that Being who had hitherto employed so little of her thoughts. Suchfrequent mercies as she had received, sometimes in being preserved fromthe fatal consequences of her own follies, at others from theunavoidable distresses to which she had been exposed, awakened in hermind a lively gratitude to the supreme Disposer of all human events. Thepoor consolations to which her aunt had been reduced in the melancholyconclusion of her life shewed her that happiness did not consist indissipation, nor in tumultuous pleasures, and could alone be found insomething which every age and every condition might enjoy. Reason seemedthis source of perpetual content and she fancied that alone would afforda satisfaction suitable to every state of mind and body. Some degree ofreligion she imagined necessary, and that to perform the duties itrequired was requisite to our peace. But the extent of true religion shehad never considered, though her great good fortune told her that sheought to be thankful for the blessings conferred and not distrust thecare of providence, of which she had received such signal proofs. 

She had often heard Lady Brumpton ridiculed under the appellation of agenius and a learned lady; but when she recollected who those personswere, no other than the open professors of folly, it did not prejudicethat lady in her opinion, but rather raised her expectation of beingintroduced into a superior race of beings for whose conversation sheknew herself unqualified, but from whom she hoped for some improvementto her understanding, too long neglected. 

In this disposition of mind Lady Brumpton found her at the hour that shehad appointed to fetch her. They went directly into Lady Brumpton'sdressing room, who presented Lady Mary with a settlement she hadprepared of a hundred pounds a year which she begged her to accept forher clothes and desired that whenever she found it insufficient shewould draw on her for more: she at the same time made her the firstpayment. 

Lady Mary, now entered into a new set of company, frequently foundherself entirely at a loss; for she was so totally unacquainted with thesubjects of their discourse that she understood them almost as little asif they had talked another language; she told Lady Brumpton how much shewas concerned at her own ignorance and begged she would give her somedirections what she should read. That lady, whose chief aim was toshine, recommended to her the things most likely to fall intoconversation, that she might be qualified to bear her part in it. LadyMary took her advice and read some moral essays, just published; then anew play; after that the history of one short period; and ended with avolume of sermons then much in fashion. When she began to examine whatshe had acquired by her studies, she found such a confusion in hermemory, where a historical anecdote was crowded by a moral sentiment anda scrap of a play interwoven into a sermon, that she determined todiscontinue that miscellaneous reading and begin a regular and improvingcourse, leaving to others the privilege of sitting in judgement on everynew production. 

In this situation Lady Mary continued some years, without anymortification, except what she felt from seeing the consequences of LadyBrumpton's too great vanity. It led her into expenses, which though theydid not considerably impair her fortune, yet so far straitened it thatshe frequently had not power to indulge the generosity of her mind whereit would have done her honour and have yielded her solid satisfaction. The adulation which she received with too much visible complacencyinspired her with such an opinion of herself as led her to despise thoseof less shining qualities, and not to treat any with proper civilitywhom she had not some particular desire to please, which often gavesevere pangs to bashful merit, and called her real superiority inquestion; for those who observed so great a weakness were tempted tobelieve her understanding rather glittering than solid. The desire ofattracting to her house every person who had gained a reputation forgenius occasioned many to be admitted whose acquaintance were a disgraceto her, and who artfully taking advantage of her weakness by excess offlattery found means of imposing on her to any degree they pleased. 

The turn of conversation at her house was ridiculed in every othercompany by people who appeared most desirous of being in her parties. And indeed it was capable of being so; the extreme endeavour to shinetook off from that ease in conversation which is its greatest charm. Every person was like a bent bow, ready to shoot forth an arrow whichhad no sooner darted to the other side of the room, than it fell to theground and the next person picked it up and made a new shot with it. Like the brisk lightning in the Rehearsal, they gave flash for flash;and they were continually striving whose wit should go off with thegreatest report. Lady Mary, who had naturally a great deal of vivacityand a sufficient share of wit, made no bad figure in the brilliantassembly; for though she perceived an absurdity in these mock skirmishesof genius, yet she thought proper to conform to her company; but sawplainly that a sprightly look and lively elocution made the chief meritof the best _bons mots_ that were uttered among them. 

After she had spent about five years with Lady Brumpton, this lady wasseized with a nervous fever which all the art of her physicians couldnot entirely conquer. Her spirits were extremely affected and herfriends decreased in their attentions as her vivacity decayed. She hadindeed always been superior to her company in every requisite to pleaseand entertain, therefore when she could not bear her part theconversations flagged; they dwindled from something like wit into oddityand then sunk into dullness. She was no longer equally qualified toplease or to be pleased; her mind was not at unison with shallow jestersand therefore they could make no harmony. 

Her disorder wore her extremely and turned to an atrophy. In thatgradual decay she often told Lady Mary she was awakened from a dream ofvanity; she saw how much a desire to gain the applause of a few peoplehad made her forget the more necessary aim of obtaining the approbationof her Creator. She had indeed no criminal actions to lay to her charge;but how should she? Vanity preserved her from doing anything which sheimagined would expose her to censure. She had done some thingscommendable, but she feared the desire of being commended was part ofher motive. The humility and calmness of a true Christian dispositionhad appeared to her meanness of spirit or affectation, and a religiouslife as the extremest dullness; but now too late she saw her error, andwas sensible she had never been in the path of happiness. She had noterred from want of knowledge, but from the strong impulse of vanitywhich led her to neglect it; but sickness, by lowering her spirits, hadtaken away the false glare which dazzled her eyes, and restored her toher sight. 

Lady Brumpton was sensible of her approaching death some weeks beforeshe expired, and was perfectly resigned. Lady Mary had a second time themelancholy office of closing the eyes of a benefactress and relationwhom she sincerely loved. Lady Brumpton, to remove from her any anxietyon her own account, acquainted her, as soon as her disease becamedesperate, that she had bequeathed her ten thousand pounds, and all herplate and jewels. 

Lady Mary found this information true, and received the sum. She wastenderly concerned for the loss of so good a friend; and by the variouscircumstances of her life and the many blessings bestowed on her, had aheart so touched with the greatness of divine mercy that her mind took amore serious turn than common; and tired of the multitude in which shehad so long lived, she was seeking for a retirement when she met MrsMorgan and Miss Mancel at Tunbridge; and as I have already told you, came hither with them. 

Mrs Maynard was not a little wearied with so long a narrative, andtherefore did not continue much longer with us; but Lamont and Iremained in the park till dinner. 

In the afternoon the ladies proposed we should go upon the water, ascheme very agreeable to us all; some of the inhabitants of the othercommunity were of the party. We got into a very neat boat, of a sizesufficient to contain a large company, and which was rowed by theservants of the family. We went about three miles up the river, withgreat pleasure, and landed just by a neat house where we understood wewere to drink tea. The mistress of it received us with great joy andtold the ladies she had longed to see them, their young folks havingquite finished her house, which she begged leave to shew us. Its extremeneatness rendered it an object worthy of observation; and I wasparticularly attentive as, its size suiting my plan of life, Idetermined to copy it. 

The rooms were neither large nor numerous, but most of them hung withpaper and prettily adorned. There were several very good drawings framedwith shells, elegantly put together; and a couple of cabinets designedfor use, but they became ornamental by being painted and seaweeds stuckthereon, which by their variety and the happy disposition of themrendered the doors and each of the drawers a distinct landscape. Manyother little pieces of furniture were by the same art made very prettyand curious. I learnt in a whisper from Mrs Maynard that thisgentlewoman was widow to the late minister of the parish and was left athis death with five small children in very bad circumstances. The ladiesof Millenium Hall immediately raised her drooping spirits, settled anincome upon her, took this house, furnished it and lent her some oftheir girls to assist in making up the furniture, and decorating it, according to the good woman's taste. She carried us into her littlegarden that was neat to an excess and filled with flowers, which wefound some of her children tying up and putting in order while theyounger were playing about, all dressed with the same exact neatness asherself. 

When we had performed this little progress we found tea ready, and spentthe afternoon with greater pleasure, for observing the highgratification which this visit seemed to afford the mistress of thehouse. In the room where we sat was a bookcase well stocked; mycuriosity was great to see what it contained, and one of the ladies towhom I mentioned it indulged me by opening it herself and looking atsome of the books. I found they consisted of some excellent treatises ofdivinity, several little things published for the use of children andcalculated to instil piety and knowledge into their infant minds, with acollection of our best periodical papers for the amusement of lighterhours. Most of these books, I found, were Miss Mancel's presents. 

The fineness of the evening made our return very delightful, and we hadtime for a little concert before supper. 

The next morning I called up Lamont very early and reminded thehousekeeper of her promise of shewing us the schools; which she readilyperforming, conducted us first to a very large cottage or rather five orsix cottages laid together. Here we found about fifty girls, clad in avery neat uniform and perfectly clean, already seated at theirrespective businesses. Some writing, others casting accounts, somelearning lessons by heart, several employed in various sorts ofneedlework, a few spinning and others knitting, with twoschoolmistresses to inspect them. The schoolroom was very large andperfectly clean, the forms and chairs they sat on were of wood as whiteas possible; on shelves were wooden bowls and trenchers equally white, and shining pewter and brass seemed the ornaments of one side of theroom; while pieces of the children's work of various kinds decorated theother; little samples of their performances being thus exhibited asencouragement to their ingenuity. 

I asked many questions as to their education and learnt that they arebred up in the strictest piety; the ladies by various schemes and manylittle compositions of their own endeavour to inculcate the purestprinciples in their tender minds. They all by turns exercise themselvesin the several employments which we saw going forward, that they mayhave various means of gaining their subsistence in case any accidentshould deprive them of the power of pursuing any particular part oftheir business. The ladies watch their geniuses with great care; andbreed them up to those things which seem most suitable to the turn oftheir minds. When any are designed for service, they are taught thebusiness of the place they are best fitted for by coming down to thehall and performing the necessary offices under the direction of theexcellent servants there. 

A very large kitchen garden belongs to the house, which is divided intoas many parts as there are scholars; to weed and keep this in order ismade their principal recreation; and by the notice taken of it they aretaught to vie with each other which shall best acquit themselves, sothat perhaps never was a garden so neat. They likewise have no smallshare in keeping those at the hall in order; and the grotto and seatsare chiefly their workmanship. 

I gave them due praise upon their performances at the clergyman'swidow's, and delighted two of them very much by my admiration of alittle arbour which they had there planted with woodbines and othersweet shrubs. In their own garden they are allowed the indulgence of anylittle whim which takes not up too much room; and it is pretty to seetheir little seats, their arbours and beds of flowers, according totheir several tastes. As soon as school breaks up, they run with as mucheagerness and joy to their garden, as other children do to theirchildish sports; and their highest pleasure is the approbation theirpatronesses give their performances. They likewise take it by turns todo the business of the house and emulation excites them to a cleanlinesswhich could not by any other means be preserved. 

From this school we went to one instituted for boys, which consisted ofabout half the number, and most of them small, as they are dismissed tolabour as soon as they are able to perform any work, exceptincapacitated by ill health. This is instituted on much the sameprinciples as the other, and every boy of five years old has his littlespade and rake which he is taught to exercise. 

We returned from our little tour in time enough for prayers, with mindswell prepared for them, by the view of such noble fruits of real piety. Indeed the steward who reads them does it with such extreme proprietyand such humble and sincere devotion as is alone sufficient to fix theattention and warm the hearts of his hearers. 

After breakfast was over, we got Mrs Maynard to accompany us into thegarden, she in complaisance to us abstaining while we were at the hallfrom her share in the daily visits the ladies pay to their severalinstitutions, and to the poor and sick in their village. Theiremployments are great, but their days are proportionable; for they arealways up by five o'clock, and by their example the people in thevillage rise equally early; at that hour one sees them all engaged intheir several businesses with an assiduity which in other places is notawakened till much later. 

I called on Mrs Maynard to continue her task, which without any previousceremony she did as follows. 

THE HISTORY OF Miss SELVYN

Mr Selvyn, the younger brother of an ancient family, whose fortune wasinferior to the rank it held in the country where it had long beenfixed, was placed in trade in London; but his success not answering hishopes, he gave it up before it was too late to secure himself a smallsubsistence and retired into the country when Miss Selvyn was about fiveyears old. His wife had been dead two years; thus his little girl'seducation devolved entirely on himself. 

He bred her up genteelly, though his fortune was small, and as he waswell qualified for the part became himself her tutor and executed thatoffice so well that at twelve years old she excelled all the youngladies in the neighbourhood of her own age in French and writing, eitherfor hand or style; and in the great propriety and grace with which sheread English. She had no small knowledge of accounts and had made someprogress in the study of history. Her person was elegant and pleasingand her temper and manner perfectly engaging; but yet these charms couldnot induce the neighbouring families to forgive her for excelling othergirls in her accomplishments. 

They censured Mr Selvyn for giving his daughter an education to whichher fortune was so little suited, and thought he would have done betterto have bred her up to housewifery and qualified her for the wife of anhonest tradesman; for part of what he had was known to be a life income;a small sinecure having been procured him by his friends in town beforehe retired into the country. 

The censures of those who love to shew their own wisdom by blamingothers had little effect on Mr Selvyn; he continued his diligence incultivating his little girl's mind; and even taught himself many thingsthat he might be able to instruct her. If he did not breed her up in amanner to gain a subsistence by the most usual means, he howeverqualified her to subsist on little; he taught her true frugality withoutnarrowness of mind, and made her see how few of all the expenses theworld ran into were necessary to happiness. He deprived her of alltemptation to purchase pleasures, by instructing her to seek only inherself for them; and by the various accomplishments he had given her, prevented that vanity of mind which leads people to seek externalamusements. The day was not sufficient for her employments, thereforeshe could not be reduced to trifle away any part of it for fear of itslying heavy on her hands. 

Thus Miss Selvyn was bred a philosopher from her cradle, but was betterinstructed in the doctrine of the ancient moralists than in theprinciples of Christianity. Mr Selvyn was not absolutely a free-thinker, he had no vices that made him an enemy to Christianity, nor that pridewhich tempts people to contradict a religion generally received; he didnot apprehend that disbelief was a proof of wisdom, nor wished to lessenthe faith of others, but was in himself sceptical; he doubted of what hecould not entirely comprehend and seemed to think those things at leastimprobable which were not level to his understanding. He avoided thesubject with Miss Selvyn; he could not teach her what he did notbelieve, but chose to leave her free to form that judgement which shouldin time seem most rational to her. 

I could not forbear interrupting Mrs Maynard to signify my approbationof Mr Selvyn's conduct in this particular as the only instance I hadever met with of a candid mind in one who had a tendency towardsinfidelity; for 'I never knew any who were not angry with those thatbelieved more than themselves, and who were not more eager to bringothers over to their opinions than most foreign missionaries; yet surelynothing can be more absurd, for these men will not dare to say that thevirtues which Christianity requires are not indispensable duties; on thecontrary, they would have us imagine they are most sincerely attached tothem; what advantage then can accrue to any one, from being deprived ofthe certainty of a reward for his obedience? If we deny revelation, wemust acknowledge this point to be very uncertain; it was the subject ofdispute and doubt among all the philosophers of antiquity; and we havebut a poor dependence for so great a blessing if we rest our expectationwhere they did theirs. Can a man therefore be rendered happier by beingdeprived of this certainty? Or can we suppose he will be more virtuous, because we have removed all the motives that arise from hope and fear?And yet, what else can excuse an infidel's desire to make converts?Nothing. Nor can any thing occasion it but a secret consciousness thathe is in the wrong, which tempts him to wish for the countenance of moreassociates in his error; this likewise can alone give rise to hisrancour against those who believe more than himself; he feels them atacit reproach to him, which to his pride is insupportable. '

'But, ' said Lamont, 'do you imagine that a free-thinker may not becertain of a future state?'

'Not positively, ' answered Mrs Maynard. 'If he is certain of that point, he is a believer without owning it; he must have had his certainty fromScripture; all the reason he boasts can only shew it probable, and thatprobability is loaded with so many difficulties as will much weakenhope. Where can reason say immortality shall stop? We must allow thatOmnipotence may bestow it on such ranks of being as he pleases. But howcan reason tell us to whom he has given it? Whether to all creation, orno part of it? Pride indeed makes man claim it for himself, but deny itto others; and yet the superior intelligence perceivable in some brutes, to what appears in some of his own species, should raise doubts in himwho has nothing but the reasonings of his own weak brain to go upon. Butto proceed with my subject. '

The minister of the parish wherein Mr Selvyn dwelt was a gentleman ofgreat learning and strict probity. He had every virtue in the mostamiable degree, and a gentleness and humility of mind which is the mostagreeable characteristic of his profession. He had a strong sense of theduties of his function and dedicated his whole time to the performanceof them. He did not think his instructions should be confined to thepulpit; but sensible that the ignorant were much more effectually taughtin familiar conversation than by preaching, he visited frequently thevery poorest of his parishioners; and by the humility of his behaviouras much as by his bounty (for he distributed a great part of his incomeamong the necessitous) he gained the affections of the people soentirely that his advice was all-powerful with them. 

This gentleman's great recreation was visiting Mr Selvyn, whose senseand knowledge rendered his conversation extremely entertaining, and MissSelvyn's company was a great addition to the good minister's pleasure, he took delight in seeing her, as Hamlet says, 'bear her faculties someekly'. She was entirely void of conceit and vanity, and did not seemto have found out that her knowledge exceeded that of most persons ofher age, at least she looked upon it as a casual advantage whichreflected no honour to herself but was entirely owing to Mr Selvyn. Heryouthful cheerfulness enlivened the party without rendering theconversation less solid; and her amiable disposition made the goodminister particularly anxious for her welfare. 

He soon found out Mr Selvyn's scepticism and endeavoured to remove it. He represented to him that his not being able to understand the mostmysterious parts of Christianity was no argument against the truth ofthem. That there were many things in nature whose certainty he by nomeans doubted, and yet was totally ignorant of the methods whereby manyof them operated, and even of the use of some of them. Could he say whatpurpose the fiery comet answers? How is its motion produced, so regularin its period, so unequal in its motion, and so eccentric in its course?Of many other things man is in reality as ignorant, only being able toform a system which seems to suit in some particulars, he imagines hehas discovered the whole, and will think so till some new system takesplace, and the old one is exploded. He asked Mr Selvyn if they descendedto the meanest objects in what manner could they account for thepolypus's property of supplying that part of its body which shall be cutaway? That insect alone, of all the creation, does not continue maimedby amputation, but multiplies by it. 'To what can we attribute thisdifference in an insect, which in all particulars beside, resembles somany others? Yet who doubts of the reality of these things? If we cannotcomprehend the smallest works of almighty wisdom, can we expect tofathom that wisdom itself? And say that such things he cannot do, orcannot choose because the same effects could be produced by other means?Man no doubt might exert the same functions under another form, why thenhas he this he now wears? Who will not reply, because his Maker choseit, and chose it as seeing it best. Is not this the proper answer on alloccasions, when the decrees of the Almighty are discussed? Facts onlyare obvious to our reason; we must judge of them by the evidence oftheir reality if that is sufficient to establish the facts; why, or howthey were produced, is beyond our comprehension. Let us learn thatfinite minds cannot judge of infinite wisdom, and confine our reasonwithin its proper sphere. ' By these, and many other arguments, Mr Selvynwas brought to believe the possibility of what he did not comprehend;and by this worthy clergyman's care Miss Selvyn was early taught thetruths of Christianity, which though the most necessary of all things, was at first the only one neglected. 

In this retired situation they continued till Miss Selvyn was nearseventeen years old; Mr Selvyn then determined to remove to London; andtaking a small house in Park Street, fixed his abode there. Lady EmiliaReynolds lived next door and soon after their arrival made them a visit, a compliment she said, she looked upon as due to so near a neighbour. Some other ladies in the same street followed her example, and in a veryshort time Miss Selvyn was introduced into as large an acquaintance aswas agreeable to her, for she was naturally averse to much dissipation. 

Lady Emilia Reynolds was a single lady of very large fortune, her ageupwards of thirty, her person fine, her manner gentle and pleasing, andan air of dejection did not render her countenance the less engaging. She was grave and sensible, and kept a great deal of good company, without entering into a gay way of life. Miss Selvyn's modesty and goodsense seemed to have great charms for her; she cultivated a friendshipwith her, notwithstanding some disparity in their ages; and neither ofthem appeared so nappy as when they were together. 

Mr Selvyn could not be displeased at an intimacy so desirable, nor couldMiss Selvyn be more properly introduced into the world than by a personof Lady Emilia's respectable character. 

At her house Miss Selvyn saw a great deal of good company, and was sogenerally liked that many intreated Lady Emilia to bring her to themwhenever her ladyship favoured them with a visit. These invitations weregenerally complied with, as under such a protectress Miss Selvyn mightproperly venture to any place. Lady Sheerness was one of this number, whose rank, and some degree of relationship, brought acquainted withLady Emilia, though the different turn of their minds and their veryopposite taste of life prevented any intimacy between them. Lady Emiliawas not blind to Lady Sheerness's follies, but she esteemed them objectsof her compassion, not of her censure, nicely circumspect in her ownconduct, she judged with the extremest lenity of the behaviour ofothers, ready to attempt excusing them to the world, and not evensuffering herself to blame what she could not approve; she sincerelypitied Lady Mary Jones, who seemed by fortune sacrificed to folly; andshe was in continual fear lest she should fall a victim to thatimprudence which in her case was almost unavoidable. 

By this means Miss Selvyn became acquainted with Lady Mary and was theyoung woman I before mentioned as Lady Mary's adviser and conductor, inputting an end to Lord Robert St George's courtship. 

Not long after she had the satisfaction of thus assisting a young ladywhose failings gave her almost as many charms as they robbed her of, shehad the misfortune to lose Mr Selvyn. All that a child could feel forthe loss of a tender parent Miss Selvyn suffered. His death was not sosudden, but that it afforded him time to settle his affairs, and to giveevery direction to Miss Selvyn which he thought might save her from allembarrassment on the approaching event. He recommended to her, as herfortune would be but small, to attach herself as much as possible toLady Emilia, since she now became still more necessary as a protectress, than she had before been desirable as a friend, and that interest asmuch as gratitude required her cultivating the affection that lady hadalready shewn her. 

The latter motive was sufficient to influence Miss Selvyn, whose heartsincerely returned the regard Lady Emilia had for her; but at that timeshe was too much affected with Mr Selvyn's approaching dissolution tothink of anything else. His care for her in his last moments still moreendeared him who through life had made her happiness his principalstudy. Her affliction was extreme, nor could Lady Emilia by thetenderest care for some time afford her any consolation. 

Miss Selvyn found herself heiress to three thousand pounds, a fortunewhich exceeded her expectation, though it was not sufficient to sufferher to live in London with convenience. Lady Emilia invited her to herhouse; and as the spring advanced, her ladyship inclining to pass thefine season in the country, hired a house about a hundred miles fromLondon which she had formerly been fond of and was but just becomeempty. She had been but little out of town for some years and went toher new habitation with pleasure. Miss Selvyn bid adieu without regretto every thing but Lady Mary Jones, for whom she had conceived a realaffection, which first took its rise from compassion and wasstrengthened by the great docility with which she followed her adviceabout Lord Robert, and the resolution with which she conquered herinclination. Lady Mary grieved to lose one whom she esteemed so prudentand faithful a friend, and considered her departure as a realmisfortune; but they agreed to keep up a regular correspondence as thebest substitute to conversation. 

The country was perfectly agreeable to Lady Emilia and her young friend. The life they led was most suitable to their inclinations, and winterbrought with it no desires to return to London; whereupon Lady Emiliadisposed of her house there and settled quite in the country. They wereboth extremely fond of reading, and in this they spent most of theirtime. Their regular way of life, and the benefits of air and exercise, seemed to abate the dejection before so visible in Lady Emilia; and shenever appeared to want any other conversation than that of Miss Selvyn, whom she loved with a tenderness so justly due to her merit. 

After they had been settled about two years in the country, Lord RobertSt George, who was colonel of a regiment quartered in a town not farfrom them, came to examine into the state of his regiment; and having atthat time no other engagement, and the lodgings he had taken just out ofthe town being finely situated, he determined to make some stay there. Here he renewed his slight acquaintance with Lady Emilia and MissSelvyn; and by favour of his vicinity saw them often. Lord Robert'sheart was too susceptible of soft impressions not to feel the influenceof Miss Selvyn's charms. He was strongly captivated by her excellentunderstanding and engaging manner, as for her person, he had known manymore beautiful, though none more pleasing; but the uncommon turn of hermind, her gentleness and sensible modesty, had attractions that wereirresistible. 

Lord Robert's attachment soon became visible; but Miss Selvyn knew himtoo well to think his addresses very flattering, and by his behaviour toLady Mary Jones feared some insulting declaration; but from theseapprehensions he soon delivered her. Real affection conquering thatassurance which nature had first given and success increased, he had notcourage to declare his passion to her, but applied to Lady Emilia toacquaint her friend with his love, and begged her interest in hisbehalf, fearing that without it Miss Selvyn's reserve would not sufferher to listen to his addresses. 

Lady Emilia promised to report all he had said, and accordingly gaveMiss Selvyn a circumstantial account of the whole conversation, whereinLord Robert had laid before her the state of his fortune, which wassufficient for a woman of her prudence; and she added that she did notsee how Miss Selvyn could expect to be addressed by a man more eligible, whether she considered his birth, his fortune, or his person andaccomplishments. 

Miss Selvyn was a little surprised that so gay a man should take soserious a resolution. She allowed the justness of what Lady Emilia saidin his favour and confessed that it was impossible Lord Robert couldfail of pleasing; but added that it could not be advisable for her tomarry: for enjoying perfect content, she had no benefit to expect fromchange; and happiness was so scarce a commodity in this life thatwhoever let it once slip, had little reason to expect to catch it again. For what reason then should she alter her state? The same dispositionwhich would render Lord Robert's fortune sufficient made hers answer allher wishes, since if she had not the joy of living with her ladyship, itwould still afford her every thing she desired. 

Lady Emilia said some things in recommendation of marriage; and seemedto think it improbable Miss Selvyn should not be a little prejudiced infavour of so amiable a lover as Lord Robert, which tempted that younglady to tell her that though she allowed him excessively pleasing, yetby some particulars, which formerly came to her knowledge, she wasconvinced his principles were such as would not make her happy in ahusband. 

Lady Emilia allowed the force of such an objection, and did not press amarriage, for which she had pleaded only out of an apprehension lestMiss Selvyn's reserve might lead her to act contrary to herinclinations; and therefore she had endeavoured to facilitate herdeclaration in favour of Lord Robert, if she was in reality inclined toaccept his proposals. She acquiesced then readily in her friend'sdetermination; only desired she would herself acquaint Lord Robert withit, as he would not easily be silenced by a refusal which did notproceed from her own lips. 

His lordship came in the evening to learn his fate, and Lady Emiliahaving contrived to be absent, he found Miss Selvyn alone. Though thiswas what he had wished, yet he was so disconcerted that Miss Selvyn wasreduced to begin the subject herself, and to tell him that Lady Emiliahad acquainted her with the honour he had done her, that she was muchobliged to him for his good opinion and hoped he would be happy withsome woman much more deserving than herself; but she could by no meansaccept the favour he intended her, being so entirely happy in herpresent situation that nothing in the world should induce her to changeit. 

This declaration gave rise to a very warm contest, Lord Robertsoliciting her to accept his love with all the tenderness of thestrongest passion, and she with equal perseverance persisting in herrefusal. He could not be persuaded that her motive for doing so wasreally what she alleged but as she continued to affirm it, he beggedhowever to know if she had not made so strange a resolution in favour ofa single life, whether she should have had any particular objection tohim?

Miss Selvyn shewed the uselessness of this question, since the reason ofher refusing the honour he intended her would have made her reject theaddresses of every other man in the world. Lord Robert could not believethis possible and therefore desisted not from urging a question sodisagreeable to answer. 

When Miss Selvyn found it impossible to avoid satisfying him in thisparticular, she told him that if he were entirely unexceptionable, sheshould be fixed in the same determination; but since he insisted onknowing if she had any objection to him, she was obliged to confessthat had she been better inclined to enter into the matrimonial state, his lordship was not the man she should have chosen, not from anydislike to his person or understanding, but from disapprobation of hisprinciples; that, in regard to her sex he had a lightness in his way ofthinking and had been so criminal in his conduct that of all men sheknew, she thought him most improper for a husband. 

Lord Robert was surprised at so new an objection, and told her, that hedid not apprehend himself more blamable in those respects than mostyoung men. Gallantry was suitable to his age, and he never imagined thatany woman would have reproached him with his regard for her sex, when hegave so strong a proof of an inclination to leave them all for her. 

'I am sorry, ' replied Miss Selvyn, 'that your lordship thinks me meanenough to take pleasure in such a triumph, or so vain as to imagine Ican reform a man of dissolute manners, the last thing I should hope orendeavour to succeed in. Such a tincture of corruption will alwaysremain the mind of what you are pleased to term a gallant man, to whom Ishould give the less polite appellation of vicious, that I could not behappy in his society. A reformed rake may be sober, but is nevervirtuous. '

Lord Robert growing very urgent to know what she had particularly to layto his charge, she told him frankly, that his treatment of Lady MaryJones had disgusted her, as she, and perhaps she only, had beenacquainted with the whole. 

Lord Robert endeavoured to excuse himself on the encouragement LadyMary's levity had given to his hopes; observing that when a woman'sbehaviour was very light, his sex were not apt to imagine there was anygreat fund of virtue; nor could it be expected that any one else shouldguard that honour of which she herself was careless. 

'I am sure, ' replied Miss Selvyn, 'your lordship's hopes must have beenfounded on Lady Mary's folly, not her real want of innocence; a follywhich arose from the giddiness of youth and the hurry of dissipation;for by nature Lady Mary's understanding is uncommonly good. By what yousay, you imagined her honour was lawful prize, because she appearedcareless of it; would this way of arguing be allowed in any other case?If you observed a man who neglected to lock up his money, and seemedtotally indifferent what became of it, should you think yourself therebyjustified in robbing him? But how much more criminal would you be, wereyou to deprive him of his wealth because he was either so thoughtless orso weak as not to know its value? And yet surely the injury in this casewould be much less than what you think so justifiable. If the world hasbut the least sense of real honour, in this light they must see it; andto that tribunal I imagine you only think yourself answerable; for didyou reflect but one moment on another bar before which you will besummoned, you would see there can be no excuse for violating the laws bywhich you are there to be tried. If you could justify yourself to theworld, or to the women of whose folly you take advantage, by thefallacious arguments which you have so ready for that purpose, suchcobweb sophistry cannot weaken the force of an express command. '

'I will not pretend, ' answered Lord Robert, 'to deny the truth of whatyou say, but must beg you will consider it more easy for you to urgethese truths, than for those to obey them who are exposed to andsusceptible of temptations. When a woman has no title to our respect, how difficult is it to consider her in the light you require! Levity ofconduct we are apt to look upon as an invitation, which a man scarcelythinks it consistent with his politeness to neglect. '

'I wish, ' replied Miss Selvyn, 'that women were better acquainted withthe ways of thinking so common with your sex; for while they areignorant of them, they act to a great disadvantage. They obtain by thatlevity which deprives them of your esteem, a degree of notice andpretended liking which they mistake for approbation; did they but knowthat you in your hearts despise those most to whom you are mostassiduously and openly attached, it would occasion a great change intheir behaviour; nor would they suffer an address to which they cannotlisten without incurring your contempt. How criminally deceitful is thisbehaviour! And what real virtue can a man truly boast, who acts in thismanner? What woman in her senses can enter into a union for life withsuch a man?'

'Why not, madam?' said Lord Robert. 'My behaviour to you shews that weyield to merit the homage it deserves; you would lose all your triumphwere we to put you and the lighter part of your sex on an equality inour opinions. We are always ready to esteem a woman who will give usleave to do so; and can you require us to respect those who are not inthe least respectable?'

'No, ' answered Miss Selvyn, 'I only wish you would cease your endeavoursto render those women objects of contempt, who deserve only to beneglected, and particularly not to deprive them of the very smallportion of regard they are entitled to, by the fallacious appearance ofan attachment of the tenderest kind; which in reality arises fromcontempt, not love. But, ' added she, 'I have said more than I designedon the subject; I only meant to answer the question you put to me withso much importunity; and must now confirm what I have already declared, by telling you that were I inclined to marry, I would not on any accounttake a husband of your lordship's principles; but were you endowed withall the virtues that ever man possessed, I would not change my presenthappy situation for the uncertainties of wedlock. '

When Lord Robert found all his solicitations unavailing, he left thecountry and returned to London, where he hoped, by a series ofdiversions, to efface from his heart the real passion he had conceivedfor Miss Selvyn. She forbore informing Lady Mary Jones, though theircorrespondence was frequent, of Lord Robert's courtship; she did notdoubt but her ladyship was sincere when she assured her she now beheldhim with the indifference he deserved, but thought that to tell her shehad received so very different an address from him would bear too muchthe air of a triumph, a meanness which her heart abhorred. 

Lady Emilia and Miss Selvyn had lived several years in the country withgreat rational enjoyment, when the former was seized with a fever. Allthe skill of her physicians proved ineffectual, and her distemperincreased daily. She was sensible of the danger which threatened herlife, but insisted on their telling her, if they had any great hopes ofher recovery, assuring them that it was of importance to her to knowtheir opinions with the utmost frankness. Thus urged, they confessedthey had but little hopes. She then returned them thanks for their care, but still more for their sincerity: and with the greatest composure tookleave of them, desiring to be left alone with Miss Selvyn, who was intears at her bedside. Every one else withdrew, when taking Miss Selvynin her arms, and shedding a few silent tears, she afterwards thusaddressed her. 

'At the moment that I must bid you a long farewell, you will know thatyou have a mother in her whom you before thought only your friend. Yes, my dearest Harriot, I am your mother, ashamed of my weakness and shockedat my guilt, while your gentle but virtuous eyes could reproach yourunhappy parent, I could not prevail on myself to discover this secret toyou, but I cannot carry to my grave the knowledge of a circumstancewhich concerns you. Yes, you are my daughter, my child, ever most dearto me, though the evidence and continual remembrancer of my crime. '

Miss Selvyn imagined the distemper had now seized Lady Emilia's brain, which it had hitherto spared; and intreated her to compose herself, assuring her that what so much agitated her decaying frame was only thephantom of an overheated imagination; for her parents were well known, neither was there any mystery in her birth. 

'Oh!' interrupted Lady Emilia, 'do not suspect me of delirium; it haspleased the Almighty to spare my senses throughout this severe disorder, with a gracious design of allowing me even the last moments of my lifeto complete my repentance. What I tell you is but true, Mr Selvyn knewit all and like a man of honour saved me from shame by concealing thefatal secret; and acted the part of a father to my Harriot, withouthaving any share in my guilt. But I see you do not yet believe me, takethis, ' pulling a paper from under her pillow, 'herein you will find anaccount of the whole unfortunate affair, written a year ago; lest at thetime of my death I should not be able to relate it; this will prove, bythe nice connection of every circumstance, that the words thereincontained are not the suggestions of madness. '

Miss Selvyn accordingly read as follows:

'When I was seventeen years old, Lord Peyton asked me of my father, butnot till after he had secured my tenderest affections. His estate wassufficient to content a parent who was not regardless of fortune andsplendour; and his proposals were accepted. But while the tediousness ofthe lawyers made us wait for the finishing of settlements, Lord Peyton, who was in the army, was commanded to repair immediately to hisregiment, then stationed in Ireland. He endeavoured to prevail with myfather to hasten our marriage, offering every kind of security he coulddesire, instead of the settlements so long delayed; my wishes concurredwith his, rather than suffer him to go without me into a kingdom which Iimagined would not prove very amusing to him. But my father, who was avery exact observer of forms, would not consent to any expedient. Nosecurity appeared to him equivalent to settlements; and many triflingcircumstances requisite to the splendour of our first appearance werenot ready; which to him seemed almost as important as the execution ofthe marriage writings. 

'When Lord Peyton found my father inexorable, he attempted to persuademe to agree to a private marriage, only desiring, he said, to secure meentirely his before he left the kingdom; and proposed, that after hisreturn, we should be publicly married, to prevent my father's suspectingthat we had anticipated his consent. But this I rejected; disobedienceto a parent, and other objections, were sufficient to make me refuse it;and we saw ourselves reduced to separate when we were so near beingunited. As Lord Peyton was an accepted lover, and our intended marriagewas publicly known, and generally approved, he passed great part of histime with me. My father was obliged to go out of town on particularbusiness, the day before that appointed for Lord Peyton's departure. Itis natural to suppose we passed it entirely together. The concern wewere both under made us wish to avoid being seen by others, andtherefore I was denied to all visitors. Lord Peyton dined and suppedwith me; and by thus appropriating the day to the ceremony of takingleave, we rendered the approaching separation more afflicting than inreason it ought to have been, and indeed made it a lasting affliction; agrief never to be washed away. 

'Lord Peyton left London at the appointed hour, but the next days, andalmost every succeeding post, brought me the tenderest expressions ofregret for this enforced absence, and the strongest assurances of theconstancy of his affection. Mine could not with truth be written in amore indifferent strain, my love was the same, but my purpose was muchaltered; as soon as I had calmness of mind enough to reflect on what hadpassed, I resolved never to be Lord Peyton's wife. I saw my ownmisconduct in all its true colours. I despised myself, and could nothope for more partial treatment from my husband. A lover might in theheight of his passion excuse my frailty, but when matrimony, andcontinued possession had restored him to his reason, I was sensible hemust think of me as I was conscious I deserved. What confidence, whatesteem could I hope from a husband who so well knew my weakness; or howcould I support being hourly exposed to the sight of a man whose eyeswould always seem to reproach me! I could scarcely bear to see myself;and I was determined not to depend on any one who was equally consciousof my guilt. 

'I soon acquainted Lord Peyton with this resolution, which he combatedwith every argument love could dictate. He assured me in the most solemnmanner of his entire esteem, insisted that he only was to blame, andthat he should never forgive himself for the uneasiness he had alreadyoccasioned me; but intreated me not to punish him so severely as everagain to give the least intimation of a design not to confirm ourmarriage. As I resisted my own passion, it may be supposed that, although too late, I was able to resist his. I saw that a generous manmust act as he did, but no generosity could restore me to the same placein his esteem I before possessed. His behaviour on this occasion fixedmy good opinion of him, but could not restore my opinion of myself. Allhe could urge therefore was unavailing; the stronger my affection, themore determined I was in my purpose; since the more I valued his esteem, the greater would my suffering be at knowing that I had forfeited it. Iacquainted my father with my resolution, alleging the best excuses Icould make. He was at first angry with my inconstancy, charged me withcapriciousness and want of honour; but at last was pacified by myassuring him I would never marry any man. As he had been sorry to partwith me, the thought of my continuing with him as long as he lived, mademy peace. 

'Lord Peyton's impatience at being detained in Ireland increased withhis desire of persuading me to relinquish a design so very grievous tomy own heart, as well as to his; but he could not obtain leave to returninto England before I found, to my inexpressible terror, that themisfortune I so sincerely lamented would have consequences that I littleexpected. In the agony of my mind I communicated my distress to LordPeyton, the only person whom I dared trust with so important a secret. 

'Instead of condoling with me on the subject of my affliction, heexpressed no small joy in a circumstance which he said must reduce me toaccept the only means of preserving my reputation; and added, that asevery delay was now of so much importance, if the next packet did notbring him leave of absence, he should set out without it; and rather runthe hazard of being called to account for disobedience, than of exposingme to one painful blush. 

'I confess his delicacy charmed me; every letter I received increased myesteem and affection for him, but nothing could alter my purpose. Ilooked upon the execution of it as the only means of reinstating myselfin his good opinion, or my own, in comparison of which even reputationseemed to lose its value. But severe was the trial I had to undergo uponhis return into England, which was in a few days after his assurance ofcoming at any hazard. He used every means that the tenderest affectionand the nicest honour could suggest to persuade me to marry him; andthe conflict in my own heart very near reduced me to my grave; till atlength pitying the condition into which I was reduced, without the leastapproach to a change of purpose, he promised to spare me any furthersolicitation and to bury his affliction in silence; after obtaining apromise from me that I would suffer him to contrive the means forconcealing an event which must soon happen; as my unintriguing spiritmade me very incapable of managing it with tolerable art and secrecy. 

'Lord Peyton had maintained his former friendship with my father, whothought himself obliged to him for not resenting my behaviour in themanner he imagined it deserved. When the melancholy and much dreadedtime approached, Lord Peyton gave me secret information that he wouldinvite my father into the country, on pretence of assisting him by hisadvice in some alterations he was going to make there; and assured me ofcareful attendance, and the most secret reception, from a very worthycouple to whose house he gave me a direction if I could contrive, undercolour of some intended visit, to leave my own. 

'All was executed as he had planned it; and when my servants thought Iwas gone to visit a relation some miles distant from London, I went asdirected, and was received with the greatest humanity imaginable by Mrand Mrs Selvyn; not at their own house, but at one taken for thatpurpose, where the affair might be more secretly managed. Lord Peytonhad concealed my name even from them; and secured their care of me undera borrowed appellation. 

'The day after I got to them I was delivered of you, my dearest child, whom I beheld with sorrow as well as affliction; considering you as themelancholy memorial and partner in my shame. 

'Mr and Mrs Selvyn attended me with the greatest care, and were neverboth absent at a time; they acquainted Lord Peyton with the state of myhealth by every post; and I was enabled, by the necessity of the case, to write to my father as frequently as I usually did when absent fromhim. Within the fortnight from the time of my departure from my ownhouse I returned to it again, after delivering my dear Harriot into thecare of these good people, who promised to treat her as their own child. Under pretence of a cold I confined myself till I was perfectlyrecovered. 

'Lord Peyton detained my father till he heard I was entirely well; andthen went with impatience to see his little daughter, over whom he shedmany tears, as Mr Selvyn afterwards informed me; telling it that it wasa constant memorial of the greatest misfortune of his life, and couldnever afford him a pleasure that was not mingled with the deepestaffliction. 

'Mrs Selvyn had lain in about six weeks before I went to her, the childshe brought into the world lived but a few months; upon its death, atLord Peyton's desire, they took you from nurse, and pretending you theirown, privately buried their child, who was likewise nursed abroad. MrSelvyn was a merchant, but had never been successful, his wife died whenyou were about three years old. Having no children to provide for, andnot being fond of trade, he was desirous of retiring into the country. Lord Peyton to facilitate the gratification of his wish, procured him asmall sinecure; gave into his possession three thousand pounds, which hesecured to you; and allowed him a hundred a year for the trouble of youreducation; with an unlimited commission to call on him for any sums heshould want. 

'The constant sense of my guilt, the continual regret at having by myown ill conduct forfeited the happiness which every action of LordPeyton's proved that his wife might reasonably expect, fixed a degree ofmelancholy on my mind, which no time has been able to conquer. I livedwith my father till his death, which happened not many years ago; at hisdecease, I found myself mistress of a large fortune, which enabled me tosupport the rank I had always enjoyed. Though Lord Peyton had providedsufficiently for Mr Selvyn's and your convenience, yet I constantly senthim a yearly present; till no longer able to deny myself the pleasure ofseeing my dear child, I prevailed on him to remove to London and to fixin the same street with me, taking care to supply all that was requisiteto enable him to appear there genteelly. You know with what appearanceof accident I first cultivated a friendship with you, but you cannotimagine with how much difficulty I concealed the tenderness of a motherunder the ceremonies of an acquaintance. 

'Of late I have enjoyed a more easy state of mind: I have sometimes beeninclined to flatter myself that your uncommon merit, and the greatcomfort I have received in your society, are signs that Heaven hasforgiven my offence and accepted my penitence, which has been sincereand long, as an atonement for my crime; in which blessed hope I shall, Itrust, meet death without terror, and submit, my dear daughter, wheneverI am called hence, in full confidence to that Power whose mercy is overall his works. I ought to add a few words about your dear father, whoseemed to think my extreme regular conduct and the punishment I hadinflicted on myself, such an extenuation of my weakness that he everbehaved to me with the tenderest respect, I might almost say reverence, and till his death gave me every proof of the purest and the strongestfriendship. By consent we avoided each other's presence for three years, by which time we hoped the violence of our mutual passion would beabated. He spent the greatest part of it abroad; and at the end of thatperiod we met with the sincerer joy, from finding we were not deceivedin our hopes. Our attachment was settled into the tenderest friendship;we forbore even the mention of your name, as it must have reminded us ofour crime; and if Lord Peyton wanted to communicate any thing concerningyou, he did it by letter; avoiding with the extremest delicacy ever totake notice that any such letters had passed between us; and even inthem he consulted about his child, in the style of a man who was writingto a person that had no other connection with it than what herfriendship for him must naturally occasion, in a point where he wasinterested by the tenderest ties of the most extreme paternal love. 

'I have often with pleasure heard you mention his great fondness for youin your childhood, when he visited at your father's; your growing yearsincreased it, though it obliged him to suppress the appearance of anaffection which you would have thought improper. I need not tell youthat I had the misfortune to lose this worthiest of friends, about halfa year before you came to London, which determined me to send for you, that I might receive all the consolation the world could give me, andsee the inheritor of her dear father's virtues. While he lived I darednot have taken the same step; your presence would have been too painfula testimony against me, and continually reminded my lord of a weaknesswhich I hope time had almost effaced from his remembrance. '

Miss Selvyn was extremely affected with the perusal of this paper; shewas frequently interrupted by her tears; grieved to the heart to thinkof how much uneasiness she had been the cause. As soon as she hadconcluded it, she threw herself on her knees at Lady Emilia's bedside, and taking one of her hands, which she bathed with her tears, 'Is itpossible then, ' said she, 'that I have thus long been ignorant of thebest of parents? And must I lose you when so lately found? Oh! my dearmother, how much pleasure have I lost by not knowing that I might callyou by that endearing name! What an example of virtue have you set me!How noble your resolution! How uniform and constant your penitence!Blest you must be supremely by him who loveth the contrite heart; andyou and my father I doubt not will enjoy eternal felicity together, united never more to part. Oh! may your afflicted daughter be receivedinto the same place, and partake of your happiness; may she behold yourpiety rewarded, and admire in you the blessed fruits of timelyrepentance; a repentance so immediately succeeding the offence, thatyour soul could not have received the black impression!'

'Can you, who have never erred, ' said Lady Emilia, 'see my offence in sofair a light? What may I not then hope from infinite mercy? I do hope;it would be criminal to doubt, when such consolatory promises appear inalmost every page of holy writ. With pleasure I go where I am called, for I leave my child safe in the Divine Protection, and her own virtue;I leave her, I hope, to a happy life, and a far more happy death; whenjoys immortal will bless her through all eternity. I have now, my love, discharged the burden from my mind; not many hours of life remain, letme not pass them in caressing my dear daughter, which, though mostpleasing to my fond heart, can end only in making me regret the loss ofa world which will soon pass from my sight. Let me spend this hour, as Ihope to do those that will succeed it through all eternity. Join with mein prayers to, and praises of, him in whom consists all our lastinghappiness. '

Miss Selvyn sent for the minister of the parish at Lady Emilia's desire, and the remainder of her life passed in religious exercises. She expiredwithout a groan, in the midst of a fervent prayer, as if her soul wasimpatient to take its flight into the presence of him whom she wasaddressing with so much ardour. 

Miss Selvyn's affliction was at first extreme, but when she reflected onher mother's well-spent life, and most happy death, it much abated theexcess of her grief. By that lady's will, she found herself heir totwelve thousand pounds, and all her personal estate. She had beencharmed with the account Lady Mary Jones had sent her of this society, and wished to increase her acquaintance with that lady, and thereforeoffered, if proper, to make her a short visit, as soon as her necessaryaffairs were settled. This met with the most welcome reception, and shecame hither as a visitor. Her stay was gradually prolonged for near twomonths; when having reason, from the great regard shewn her, to thinkshe should be no disagreeable addition, she asked leave to join herfortune to the common stock, and to fix entirely with them. Nothingcould be more agreeable to the other three ladies than this offer, andwith extreme satisfaction she settled here. 

Upon this increase of income it was that my friends established thecommunity of indigent gentlewomen, which gave you so much pleasure. 

Lamont was much struck with the conduct of Lady Emilia; she had shewn, he said, a degree of delicacy and prudence which exceeded what he had anotion of; he never met with a woman who foresaw the little chance shehad for happiness in marrying a man who could have no inducement to makeher his wife but a nice, often a too nice, sense of honour; and whocertainly could have no great opinion of her virtue. The folly of bothmen and women in these late unions was the subject of our conversationtill we separated. In the afternoon the ladies asked us to accompanythem to the house they had just taken for the new community, to whichthey were obliged to go that day, as they had set several persons towork there. They keep a post-coach and post-chaise, which with the helpof ours, were sufficient to accommodate us all. A short time brought usto the house, a very old and formerly a very fine mansion, but now muchfallen to decay. The outside is greatly out of repair, but the buildingseems strong. The inside is in a manner totally unfurnished; for thoughit is not empty, yet the rats and mice have made such considerabledepredations on what time had before reduced to a very tatteredcondition that the melancholy remains can be reckoned little better thanlumber. 

The last inhabitant of this house we were informed was an old miserwhose passion for accumulating wealth reduced him into almost asunfortunate a state as Midas, who, according to the fable, havingobtained the long-desired power of turning every thing he touched togold, was starved by the immediate transmutation of all food into thatmetal the instant it touched his lips. The late possessor of the house Iam speaking of, when he was about fifty years old, turned away everyservant but an old woman, who if she was not honest, was at least tooweak to be able to put any dishonesty in practice. When he was aboutthreescore, she died, and he never could venture to let any one supplyher place. He fortified every door and window with such bars of ironthat his house might have resisted the forcible attack of a whole army. Night and day growled before his inhospitable door a furious Dutchmastiff, whose natural ferocity was so increased by continual hunger, for his master fed him most sparingly, that no stranger could haveentered the yard with impunity. 

Every time this churlish beast barked, the old gentleman, with terrorand dismay in his countenance, and quaking limbs, ran to the only windowhe ever ventured to unbar, to see what danger threatened him; nor couldthe sight of a barefoot child, or a decrepit old woman, immediatelydispel his fears. As timorous as Falstaff, his imagination firstmultiplied and then clothed them in buckram; and his panic ceased nottill they were out of view. 

This wretched man upon the death of his only servant, agreed with an oldwoman to buy food for him, and bring it to the well defended door of hisyard; where informing him of her arrival by a signal agreed upon betweenthem, he ventured out of his house to receive it from her; and dressedit himself; till worn out by anxiety of mind he grew too weak to performthat office and ordered the woman to bring it ready prepared; thiscontinued for a little time, till at last he appeared no more at hisgate. After the old woman had knocked three days in vain, theneighbourhood began to think it necessary to take some measuresthereupon; but not choosing to run the hazard of breaking open thehouse, they sent to the old gentleman's nephew, whose father had beensuffered to languish in extreme poverty many years before his death; norwas the son in much better condition; but he had acquainted some of theneighbours with the place of his abode in hopes of the event which nowinduced them to send for him. 

As soon as he arrived, he prepared to force his way into the house, butit was found so impracticable that at length they were obliged to untilepart of the roof, from whence a person descended, and opened the door tothose who did not choose so dangerous an entrance as that through whichhe had passed. 

They found the old man dead on a great chest which contained his money, as if he had been desirous to take possession even in death. 

His nephew was just of age, and having till then been exposed to all theevils of poverty, was almost distracted with joy at the suddenacquisition of a large fortune. He scarcely could be prevailed with tostay long enough in this house to pay the last duties to an uncle whohad no right to anything more from him than just the decent ceremonies;and without giving himself time to look over his estate, hastened toLondon. 

He hired a magnificent house in Grosvenor Square; bespoke the mostelegant equipages; bought the finest set of horses he could hear of atdouble their real value; and launched into every expense the townafforded him. He soon became one of the most constant frequenters ofWhites; kept several running horses; distinguished himself at Newmarket, and had the honour of playing deeper, and betting with more spirit, thanany other young man of his age. There was not an occurrence in his lifeabout which he had not some wager depending. The wind could not changeor a shower fall without his either losing or gaining by it. He had nota dog or cat in his house on whose life he had not bought or sold anannuity. By these ingenious methods in one year was circulated throughthe kingdom the ready money which his uncle had been half his lifestarving himself and family to accumulate. The second year obliged himto mortgage great part of his land, and the third saw him reduced tosell a considerable portion of his estate, of which this house and theland belonging to it made a part. 

I could not help observing the various fate of this mansion, originallythe seat of ancient hospitality; then falling into the hands of a miserwho had not spirit to enjoy it, nor sense enough to see that he wasimpairing so valuable a part of his possessions by grudging thenecessary expenses of repairs; from him devolving to a young coxcomb whoby neglect let it sink into ruin and was spending in extravagance whathe inherited from avarice; as if one vice was to pay the debt to societywhich the other had incurred; and now it was purchased to be the seat ofcharity and benevolence. How directly were we led to admire the superiorsense, as well as transcendent virtue of these ladies, when we comparedthe use they made of money with that to which the two late possessorshad appropriated it! While we were in doubt which most to blame, he whohad heaped it up without comfort, in sordid inhumanity, or he whosquandered it in the gratification of gayer vices. Equally strangers tobeneficence, self-indulgence was their sole view; alike criminal, thoughnot equally unfashionable, one endeavoured to starve, the other tocorrupt mankind; while the new owners of this house had no other viewthan to convenience and to reform all who came within their influence, themselves enjoying in a supreme degree the happiness they dispersedaround them. 

It was pleasing to see numbers at work to repair the building andcultivate the garden and to observe that at length from thisinhospitable mansion, 'health to himself, and to his children bread, thelabourer bears. ' Within it were all the biggest schoolgirls, with one oftheir mistresses to direct them in mending such furniture as was notquite destroyed; and I was pleased to see with how much art theyrepaired the decays of time, in things which well deserved better care, having once been the richest part of the furniture belonging to theopulent possessors. 

On our way home we called at a clergyman's house, which was placed inthe finest situation imaginable and where we beheld that profusion ofcomforts which sense and economy will enable the possessors of narrowfortunes to enjoy. This gentleman and his wife have but a small livingand still less paternal estate, but the neatness, prettiness andconvenience of their habitation were enough to put one out of humourwith riches, and I should certainly have breathed forth Agar's prayerwith great ardour if I had not been stopped in the beginning byconsidering how great a blessing wealth may be when properly employed, of which I had then such hourly proof. 

At our return to Millenium Hall we found some of the neighbouringsociety who were come to share the evening's concert and sup with us. 

But at ten o'clock they departed, which I understood was somewhat laterthan usual, but they conformed to the alteration of hours our arrivalhad occasioned. 

The next day being very hot, we were asked to breakfast in a delightfularbour in the flower garden. The morning dew, which still refreshed theflowers, increased their fragrance to as great an excess of sweetness asthe senses could support. Till I went to this house, I knew not half thecharms of the country. Few people have the art of making the most ofnature's bounty; these ladies are epicures in rural pleasures and enjoythem in the utmost excess to which they can be carried. All that romanceever represented in the plains of Arcadia are much inferior to thecharms of Millenium Hall, except the want of shepherds be judged adeficiency that nothing else can compensate; there indeed they fallshort of what romantic writers represent, and have formed a femaleArcadia. 

After breakfast all the ladies left us except Mrs Maynard. We were socharmed with the spot we were in that we agreed to remain there and Icalled on my cousin to continue the task she had undertaken, which shedid in the following manner. 

THE HISTORY OF Miss TRENTHAM

Miss Trentham never knew the blessing of a mother's care, hers died thesame month which gave her daughter birth; and Mr Trentham survived hiswife but eight years. He left his little girl eleven thousand pounds, recommending both her person and fortune to his mother, Mrs Alworth. 

Mrs Alworth was an old lady of good sense and merit. She had felt themost melancholy, but not unusual effect of long life, having outlivedall her children. This misfortune she alleviated in the best manner shewas able, by receiving her grandchildren into her family. Her son by hersecond husband left behind him a boy and girl, the former at the time Ispeak of about eleven years old, the latter ten. Her daughter hadmarried Mr Denham and at her death left two girls. Mr Denham enteringinto wedlock a second time, very willingly complied with Mrs Alworth'sdesire of having his two daughters. The eldest of these was twelve yearsold, the youngest eleven. 

These children had lived with the old lady some years, when she tookhome Harriot Trentham. As their grandmother was rich, there had been astrong contention among them for her favour, and they could not withoutgreat disgust see another rival brought to the house. Harriot wasextremely handsome and engaging. The natural sweetness of her temperrendered her complying and observant; but having been bred under thecare of a sensible and indulgent father, she had never been taught thelittle arts of behaviour which mothers too commonly inculcate with somuch care that children are as void of simplicity at eight as at eightand twenty years old. The first thing a girl is taught is to hide hersentiments, to contradict the thoughts of her heart, and tell all thecivil lies which custom has sanctified, with as much affectation andconceit as her mother; and when she has acquired all the folly andimpertinence of a riper age, and apes the woman more ungracefully than amonkey does a fine gentleman, the parents congratulate themselves withthe extremest complacency on the charming education they have giventheir daughter. 

Harriot had been taught no such lessons. Her father had a strong disliketo prematurity, and feared that communication with the world would toosoon teach her art and disguise, the last things he would have chosen toanticipate. 

By teaching her humanity, he initiated her into civility of manners. Shehad learnt that to give pain was immoral; and could no more have borneto have shocked any person's mind than to have racked his body. Anythought therefore that could hurt she suppressed as an indispensableduty, and to please by her actions and not offend by her words was anessential part of the religion in which she was educated: but in everything whereby no one could suffer she was innocence and simplicityitself; and in her nature shone pure and uncorrupted either by naturalor acquired vices. 

Mrs Alworth, though fond of all her grandchildren, could not conquer adegree of partiality for Harriot, whose attractions, both personal andmental, were very superior to those of her cousins. Her beauty securedher the particular attention of all strangers, she gained their favourat first sight, and secured it by her amiable disposition when theybecame more acquainted with her. 

Envy is one of the first passions that appears in the human mind. HadMiss Alworth and the Miss Denhams been much younger, Harriot would nothave passed unenvied. Every day increased their dislike to her as shegrew daily more beloved by others, and they let no opportunity escape ofmaking her feel the effects of their little malice. Their hatred to herproduced a union among themselves; for the first time they foundsomething in which they all agreed. They were continually laying littleplots to lessen her in their grandmother's opinion; frequent were theaccusations against her, but her innocence always triumphed though itnever discouraged them from repeating the same unsuccessful attempts. Mrs Alworth was extremely fond of them all, but yet she saw throughtheir malice and their behaviour only served to endear Harriot the more, who defended herself without anger and retained no rancour in her mind. Free from resentment or suspicion she was ever open to their arts, andexperience did not teach her to be on her guard against them, whichoften occasioned their having appearances on their side, and might haveraised prejudices against her in Mrs Alworth's mind had she not found adefender in Master Alworth, who alone of all her cousins was free fromenvy. He was naturally of an honest and sweet disposition, and beingfond of Harriot, for beauty has charms for all ages, felt greatindignation at the treatment she received and would often express aresentment from which she was wholly free. Mrs Alworth's great fondnessfor her grandson and strong prejudices against schools, from a beliefthat boys acquire there more vice than learning, had determined on aprivate education. She therefore provided a tutor for him before he wasseven years old; a man of learning and sense, with a great deal ofreligion and good humour and who was very attentive to the employmentfor which he had been chosen. 

Master Alworth, by being thus kept at home, had frequent opportunitiesof observing the malice of his sister and Miss Denham against Harriotand never failed exposing their practices to his grandmother; who fromthence learnt to suspect their reports about things which passed in hisabsence and consequently could not be cleared up by him. His fondnessfor Harriot soon made him beloved by her, and as she found littlepleasure in the society of her other cousins, she sought his company, but as he was much engaged by his studies she seldom found him atleisure to play. The tutor, greatly delighted with her, tried to awakenin her mind a desire of improvement and found it an easy task; she wasinclined to learn and capable of doing it with great quickness. MrsAlworth readily entered into the good man's views, and was pleased withthe eagerness of Harriot's application. Master Alworth was far enoughadvanced in learning to assist his favourite, and from him she receivedinstruction with double pleasure and more easily comprehended hisexplanations than those of their tutor, who found it difficult to divesthimself sufficiently of scientific terms, which greatly retard theincrease of knowledge in a youthful mind. 

Thus beloved by her grandmother and Mr Alworth, and hated and traducedby her female cousins, Harriot lived till she was sixteen. Years hadstill improved her person and she had made considerable progress inlearning, when Mrs Alworth judged it proper that her grandson should goabroad to complete an education which she flattered herself was hithertofaultless. He had no objection to the scheme but what arose from hisunwillingness to leave Harriot, who saw his departure approach withgreat concern. She loved and respected her grandmother, but Mr Alworthwas the only person whom she could look upon in the tender and equallight of a friend. To be deprived of his society was losing the chiefpleasure of her life and her best guardian against her enemies. 

Mrs Alworth was pleased with the affection which so evidently appearedbetween these two young people, she hoped to see a happy union arisefrom it. Their fortunes and ages were properly suited, and a love whichhad taken root in childhood and grown with their increasing years seemedto promise a lasting harmony, of which the sweetness of theirdispositions would be no bad security. These pleasing ideas amused thisworthy woman, but the two friends themselves had not extended theirviews so far. Bred up like brother and sister, a tenderer degree ofrelation had not entered their thoughts, nor did any thing more appearnecessary to their happiness than a constant enjoyment of each other'sfriendship. In this disposition they parted when Mr Alworth went abroad. His tutor thinking himself not properly qualified to conduct him in histravels, recommended another gentleman, and Mr Alworth, at Harriot'srequest, prevailed with their grandmother to detain his old tutor tillHarriot's education was completed. 

Mr Alworth continued abroad two years, during which time Harriot hadapplied with such unwearied diligence that she was perfect mistress ofthe living languages and no less acquainted with Greek and Latin. Shewas well instructed in the ancient and modern philosophy, and in almostevery branch of learning. 

Mr Alworth found his cousin not alone improved in understanding, herbeauty was just then in its perfection and it was scarcely possible toconceive any thing handsomer. She had great elegance of manner, a pointwherein her grandmother excelled, and was as far removed from conceit asfrom ignorance. Her situation was much mended by the marriage of theeldest Miss Denham; and Miss Alworth waited only for her brother'sarrival and approbation to enter into the same state. The gentleman towhom she was going to be married had first made his address to Harriotbut, as well as several others, was refused by her. She was not inclinedto change her situation, or this gentleman's fortune, person andcharacter were unexceptionable; however, one circumstance without anyother objection would have been sufficient to have rendered his suitunsuccessful; she perceived that Miss Alworth was in love with him, andthough she had little reason to have much regard for her, yet goodnature made her anxious for the success of a passion which she saw wasdeeply rooted. 

She therefore, while she discouraged his addresses, took every means ofrecommending Miss Alworth, whose treatment of her she believed ratherproceeded from compliance with Miss Denham's than from ill temper. 

This gave her hopes that she might make a good wife to Mr Parnel, theobject of her affections. He soon perceived that Miss Alworth did notbehold him with indifference, but as he was much captivated by Harriot'scharms, it at first had no other effect than leading him to indulge incomplaints of her cruelty to Miss Alworth, who listened with compassion. Harriot often represented to him how little he ought to wish for herconsent to marry him, which he so strongly solicited; for should shegrant it, he would be miserable with a wife who did not love him. Shetold him that were he indifferent, her being so might do very well, andthey live on together in that eternal ennui which must ever subsistbetween a married couple who have no affection for each other, and whilenatural good temper and prudence enabled them to dream away a dull lifein peace and dead insensibility, the world might call them happy; butthat if he really loved her, her indifference would render him morewretched than the most blamable conduct. She would then represent theadvantages of marrying a woman whose sole affections he possessed, though at first he felt for her only esteem and gratitude; and advisedhim by all means to seek for one whose heart was in that situation, which he was well qualified to find. 

Though Harriot forbore to mention Miss Alworth's name, Mr Parnel wellunderstood to whom she alluded, but found it difficult to take heradvice. At length, however, deprived of all hope of obtaining the womanhe loved, and moved to compassion by the visible unhappiness of one wholoved him, he began to listen to it and frankly told Harriot that heunderstood the aim of what she had said. She was not sorry to throw offall restraint as it gave her the power of speaking more to the purposeand at length brought him to say that he should not be unwilling tomarry her. Harriot feared lest the belief of Mr Parnel's still retainingan affection for her might render Miss Alworth uneasy, and thereforeadvised him gradually to slacken his addresses to her and at the sametime to increase in proportion his attentions for Miss Alworth, that hemight appear to prefer her, since a symptom of inconstancy she knewwould not so much affect her as any sign of indifference, and Harriot'sgenerosity so far exceeded her vanity that she very sincerely desired tobe thought neglected rather than give any alloy to the happiness of hercousin. 

There was the more colour for this supposition as Mr Parnel had neverbeen publicly discarded by her, since for the completion of her viewsshe had found it necessary to preserve his acquaintance. 

Miss Alworth was happy beyond expression when she found herself theobject of Mr Parnel's addresses. Her wishes so far blinded her that shereally believed Harriot was neglected for her; but yet knew she had longbeen endeavouring to serve her and was obliged to her for someinstructions how to behave so to Mr Parnel as to secure his esteem andconfidence, the best foundation for love. As her brother was then soonexpected over, Mrs Alworth thought that to wait for his approbation wasa proper compliment. 

Mr Alworth was not at all inclined to object to so good a match, especially as it was much desired by his sister, and the marriage wascelebrated soon after his return. This ceremony did not so engage hisattention as to render him less sensible of the pleasure of renewing hisfriendship with Harriot, who received him with the sincerest joy. Hefound her greatly improved and every hour passed agreeably that wasspent in her company. They were continually together and never happy butwhen they were so. Every one talked of their mutual passion; and theywere so often told of it that they began to fancy it was true, butsurprised to find that name should be given to an affection calm andrational as theirs, totally free from that turbulency and wildness whichhad always appeared to them the true characteristics of love. They weresensible, however, that nothing was so dear to them as each other, theywere always sorry to part, uneasy asunder, and rejoiced to meet; a walkwas doubly pleasing when they both shared it; a book became moreentertaining if they read together, everything was insipid that they didnot mutually enjoy. When they considered these symptoms, they wereinclined to think the general opinion was just and that their affection, being free from passion, proceeded from some peculiarity of temper. 

Mrs Alworth thought she should give them great satisfaction in proposinga speedy marriage; and rejoiced to see the first wish of her heart, which had been for their union, so nearly completed. The old lady'sproposal made them a little thoughtful; they saw no very good reason fortheir marrying; they enjoyed each other's society already and did notwish for any more intimate tie. But neither knew how to refuse, sincethe other might take it for an affront, and they would not for the worldhave had the sincerity and tenderness of their affection brought intodoubt. Besides they began to think that as their love was so generallylooked upon as certain, it might become difficult to continue the samedegree of intimacy without exposing themselves to censure. This thoughtwas sufficient to determine them to marry; and their entire affectionfor and confidence in each other convinced them they ran no hazard inthis step; and that they could not fail of being happy as man and wifewho had so long enjoyed great felicity in the most intimate friendship. 

In consequence of this resolution, lawyers were employed to draw upsettlements and every thing requisite for a proper appearance on theirmarriage was ordered; but they were so very patient on the subject thatthe preparations went on slowly. Some who hoped to have their diligencequickened in a manner usual on such occasions, affected delays, but weresurprised to find that no complaint ensued. They grew still moredilatory, but the only consequence that arose from it was a decentsolicitation to dispatch, without any of those more effectual meansbeing used, which impatient love or greedy avarice suggest. 

These young people were perfectly happy and contented and thereforewaited with composure for the conclusion of preparations, which howeverslowly did however proceed. The old lady indeed was less patient, but agrandmother's solicitations have no very powerful effect on lawyers;therefore hers availed little. 

During these delays Mrs Tonston, formerly the eldest Miss Denham, havingbeen extremely ill, was sent to Buxton for the recovery of her health. As this place was but a day's journey from Mrs Alworth's house, sheexpressed a desire to see her grand-daughter, and Mr Alworth andHarriot, as well as Miss Denham, very readily accompanied her thither. 

The accommodations at Buxton allow very little seclusion; and as MrsTonston was sufficiently recovered to conform to the customs of theplace, they joined in the general society. The first day at dinner MrAlworth's attention was much engrossed by Miss Melman, a very prettywoman. She was far from a perfect beauty, but her countenance expressedan engaging vivacity, and great good humour, though a wandering unfixedlook indicated a light and unsteady mind. Her person was little butelegant; there was a sprightliness in her whole figure which was veryattractive: her conversation was suitable to it, she had great life andspirit, all the common routine of discourse and a fashionable readinessto skim lightly over all subjects. Her understanding was sufficientlycircumscribed, but what she wanted in real sense she made up invivacity, no unsuccessful substitute in general estimation. 

This young lady was almost a new character to Mr Alworth. He had livedconstantly at his grandmother's till he went abroad, and as soon as hereturned into the kingdom he went thither; from which, as it was themiddle of summer and consequently London had no temptations, he hadnever stirred. He therefore had been little used to any woman but hissober and sensible grandmother, two cousins who were pretty enough, buthad no great charms of understanding; a sister rather silly; and theincomparable Harriot, whose wit was as sound as her judgement solid andsterling, free from affectation and all little effeminate arts and airs. Reason governed her thoughts and actions, nor could the greatest flow ofspirits make her for a moment forget propriety. Every thing in her wasnatural grace, she was always consistent and uniform, and a stranger tocaprice. 

Miss Melman was a complete coquette, capricious and fantastical. As MrAlworth was the prettiest man at the place and known to have a goodfortune, she soon singled him out as a conquest worthy of her andsuccessfully played off all her arts. By appearing to like him, sheenticed him to address her; and by a well managed capriciousness ofbehaviour kept up the spirit of a pursuit. She frequently gave himreason to believe her favourably disposed towards him, and as often, byobliging him to doubt of it, increased his desire to be certain it wastrue. She kept him in a state of constant anxiety, and made him know herconsequence by the continual transition from pleasure to pain in whichhe lived. 

He had not been much more than a fortnight at Buxton when his attachmentto Miss Melman became apparent. Harriot saw an assiduity in hisbehaviour very different from what he had ever shewn to her. He feltthat in the circumstances wherein he and Harriot then were, his conductmust appear injurious, and shame and the secret reproaches of hisconscience made him take all possible opportunities of avoiding herpresence: if he was obliged to converse with her, it was with an air sorestrained and inattentive as made her fear his regard for her wasentirely vanished. The sincere affection she had for him rendered thisapprehension extremely painful. She would have been contented to haveseen another woman his wife, but could not bear the thought of losinghis friendship. At first she passed over this change in silence andappeared even not to observe it; but when they received an account thatthe marriage writings were finished, she thought an affected blindnesshighly unseasonable and told him, in the most friendly and generousmanner, that nothing remained to be done but to cancel them, that sheplainly perceived another had obtained the heart she never possessed;that the measures taken for their marriage were of no sort ofconsequence, and she flattered herself she might retain his friendshipthough he gave his hand to another. 

Mr Alworth at first appeared confounded, but recovering himself, confessed to her frankly he never knew the weakness and folly of thehuman heart till his own convinced him of it; that he had always feltfor her the most perfect esteem, joined with the tenderest affection, but his passions had had no share in his attachment. On the contrary, hefound them strongly engaged on the side of Miss Melman, and felt anardour for her which he had never before experienced. That he could notthink of being her husband without rapture, though he saw plainly shewas inferior to his Harriot both in beauty and understanding; and as forher principles, he was totally ignorant of them. He now, he said, perceived the difference between friendship and love, and was convincedthat esteem and passion were totally independent, since she entirelypossessed the one, while Miss Melman totally engrossed the other. 

Harriot was pleased with the frankness of Mr Alworth's confession andwished only to be secure of his esteem, but she saw him so wholly takenup with Miss Melman that she was convinced passion had greater powerover his sex than esteem, and that while his mind was under thetumultuous influence of love, she must expect very little satisfactionfrom his friendship. 

She took upon herself the task of breaking off their treaty of marriageand acquainted her grandmother with her resolution, who saw too plainlythe reason for her doing so to blame her conduct, though she grieved atthe necessity for it and could not sincerely forgive her grandson'slevity and want of judgement in preferring a wild fantastic girl to theextreme beauty and solid well-known merit of Harriot, an error for whichshe prophetically saw he would in time be severely punished. 

Harriot, from the intended bride, now became the confidante of MrAlworth, though with an aching heart; for she feared that afterexperiencing the more active sensations of a strong passion, friendshipwould appear too insipid to have any charms for him. She accompanied MrsAlworth home before the lovers chose to leave Buxton, but not till shehad prevailed with her grandmother to consent that the marriage betweenMiss Melman and Mr Alworth should be celebrated at her house. 

When everything requisite for the ceremony was ready, they came to MrsAlworth's, where the indissoluble knot was tied and in the bridegroom'sopinion the most perfect happiness secured to his future years. Theystayed but a few days after the marriage and then went to her father'shouse, till the approaching winter called them to London. 

Harriot found a great loss of a friend she so sincerely loved, but shehoped he would be as happy as he expected and had the satisfaction ofbelieving he retained a tender regard for her. They correspondedfrequently and his letters assured her of his felicity. After he hadbeen some time fixed in London, he grew indeed less eloquent on thesubject, which did not surprise her as the variety of his engagementsshortened his letters and denied him leisure to expatiate on the mostpleasing topics. 

Miss Denham had accompanied her sister home, and in the winter MrsAlworth was informed by Mrs Tonston that Miss Denham had received aproposal from a gentleman of a good estate, but he insisted on a fortuneof nine thousand pounds, which was two more than she was possessed of;and as they wished the old lady to make that addition, Mrs Tonston as aninducement added that the gentleman was extremely agreeable to hersister. 

Mrs Alworth was not inclined to comply with their views, and made noother answer to all Harriot urged to prevail with her to give therequisite sum than that it was more than perhaps would at her death fallto Miss Denham's share and she saw no temptation to purchase somercenary a man. When Harriot found that all she could say wasunavailing, she told Mrs Alworth that if she would give her leave, shewas determined to make the required addition out of her fortune; for shecould not bear her cousin should be disappointed in a particular shethought essential to her happiness by the want of a sum of money whichshe could very well spare; adding that the treatment she had receivedfrom her cousins she attributed to childishness and folly and should befar worse than they were if she could remember it with resentment. 

Mrs Alworth was greatly touched with this instance of Harriot'sgenerosity, and finding that nothing but the exertion of her authority, which her grand-daughter acknowledged absolute and always obeyedimplicitly, could prevent her from performing her purpose, shedetermined to take the most effectual means of hindering it by advancingthe money herself, and invited Miss Denham and her lover to her house;where the marriage was performed, and they departed. 

Mrs Alworth began to feel the infirmities of age, and now that she andHarriot were left to continual tête-à-tête, absolute quiet might havedegenerated into something like dullness; but the disturbance they foundnot at home reached them from abroad. Mr Parnel was wearied with hiswife's fondness, who not considering that he had married her more out ofgratitude than affection, had disgusted him with the continualprofessions of a love to which his heart would not make an equal return. This fondness teased a temper naturally good into peevishness and wasnear converting indifference into dislike. Mrs Parnel, distressed beyondmeasure at an effect so contrary to what she intended, reproached himwith ingratitude and tormented him with tears and complaints. 

Harriot, who considered this match as in a great measure her own work, was particularly desirous of redressing these grievances and took greatpains to persuade Mrs Parnel to restrain her fondness, and suppress hercomplaints, while she endeavoured to make her husband sensible that heought, in consideration for the cause, to pardon the troublesome effectsand not to suffer himself to be disgusted by that affection in his wifewhich to most husbands would appear a merit. Mrs Alworth joined toHarriot's persuasion the influence her age and respectable charactergave her, and though not without great difficulty, they at last saw Mrand Mrs Parnel live in peace and amity, without any of the pleasuresarising from strong and delicate affections or the sufferings occasionedby ill humour and hatred; and whatever void they might find in theirhearts, they were so happy as to have well filled by two very finechildren which Mrs Parnel brought her husband, who always treated herwith great indulgence in hopes of fixing Harriot's good opinion; forthough despair had damped his passion, yet he still loved her with thetenderest respect and reverence. 

Towards the latter end of the second year of Mr Alworth's marriage, hisgrandmother died, much regretted by Harriot, whom she left mistress ofher own fortune with the addition of four thousand pounds, part of itthe accumulated interest of her paternal inheritance, the rest MrsAlworth's legacy. Her grandson succeeded to her house and intreatedHarriot that he might find her there when he came to take possession. 

Their correspondence had been regular but they had never met since hismarriage. Mrs Alworth was not fond of the conversation of an old lady;and from seeing herself not very agreeable to her grandmother, felt anuncommon awe in her presence. Harriot had received repeated invitationsfrom them, but could not be prevailed with to leave old Mrs Alworth, whohad no other companion. 

The only relief she found in her affliction for the loss of so worthy aparent was putting the house, and all belonging to it, in order for thereception of her first friend, in whose society she expected to renewthe happiness she had so long enjoyed from it. Nor was she disappointedin her hopes of finding him still her friend; they met with mutual joy, and Mrs Alworth seemed at first as much pleased with her new possessionas they were with each other. But Harriot soon found her happinessconsiderably damped. Mr Alworth, unwilling to let his grandmother knowthe ill success of a union which he was sensible she disapproved, hadbeen silent on that subject in his letters, but he was too wellacquainted with the generosity of Harriot's temper to fear she wouldtriumph at the natural consequence of his ill-grounded passion, andtherefore concealed not from her any part of the uneasiness which hiswife's disposition gave him. He too late saw the difference betweensensible vivacity and animal spirits and found Mrs Alworth a giddycoquette, too volatile to think, too vain to love; pleased withadmiration, insensible to affection, fond of flattery but indifferent totrue praise; imprudently vivacious in mixed companies, lifeless whenalone with him; and desirous of charming all mankind except her husband, who of his whole sex seemed the only person of no consequence to her. Asher view was to captivate in public, she covered a very prettycomplexion with pearl-powder and rouge because they made her moreresplendent by candle-light and in public places. Mr Alworth had instrong terms expressed his abhorence of that practice, but she wassurprised he should intermeddle in an affair that was no business ofhis, surely she might wear what complexion she pleased. The natural turnof his temper inclined him to rational society, but in that his wifecould bear no part. The little time she was at home was employed indressing and a multitude of coxcombs attended her toilet. Mr Alworth'sextreme fondness for her made him at first very wretched; he soon foundhimself the most disregarded of all mankind and every man appeared hisrival; but on nearer observation he perceived his jealousy wasgroundless and that she was too giddy to love any thing. This made hispride easy, but his tenderness still had much to endure, till at lengthcontempt produced some degree of indifference and his sufferings becameless acute, though he lived in continual grief at finding himselfdisappointed of all his airy hopes of happiness. 

Harriot was scarcely less afflicted than himself, she endeavoured torender him more contented with his situation, and attempted to teach MrsAlworth to think, but in both was equally unsuccessful. However, thiswas not all she had to endure. When Mr Alworth began with unprejudicedeyes to compare her he had lost with the woman for whom he relinquishedher; when he saw how greatly Harriot's natural beauty eclipsed MrsAlworth's notwithstanding the addition of all her borrowed charms, hewondered what magic had blinded him to her superiority. But when he drewa comparison between the admirable understanding of the one, her greatfund of knowledge, the inexhaustible variety in her conversation, withthe insipid dullness or unmeaning vivacity of the other, he was stillmore astonished and could not forgive his strange infatuation. Thistrain of thought perhaps had no small share in giving rise to a passionfor Harriot which he had never felt, while it might have been the sourceof much happiness to them both. In short, he became violently in lovewith her and fell a prey to the most cruel regret and despair, sensiblethat all he suffered was the consequence of his own folly. 

Respect for Harriot made Mr Alworth endeavour to conceal his passion, but could not prevent its daily increase. At this time I becameacquainted with her, during a visit I made in the neighbourhood; and asthe natural openness both of her disposition and mine inclined us toconverse with much freedom, I one day took the liberty to tell her howmuch Mr Alworth was in love with her. She had not the least suspicion ofit, the entire affection which had always subsisted between them sheimagined sufficient to lead me into that error but told me the thing wasimpossible; and to prove it, related all the circumstances of theirintended union. Appearances were too strong to suffer me to be persuadedthat I was mistaken; I acknowledged that what she urged seemed tocontradict my opinion, but that it was no proof; for the perverseness ofhuman nature was such that it did not appear to me at all improbablethat the easiness of obtaining her, when they had both been, as it were, bred up with that view, might be the sole occasion of his indifference;and the impossibility of ever possessing her now would only serve toinflame his passion. 

Harriot accused me of representing human nature more perverse and absurdthan it really was, and continued firm in the persuasion of my beingmistaken. Whatever glaring signs of Mr Alworth's love appeared, she setthem all down to the account of friendship; till at length his mind wasso torn with grief and despair that no longer able to conceal the causeof his greatest sufferings he begged her to teach him how to conquer apassion which, while it existed, must make him wretched; and with thegreatest confusion told her how unaccountably unfortunate he was, bothin not loving, and in loving, each equally out of season. Almostdistracted with the distressful state of his mind, he was in the utmosthorror lest this declaration should offend her; and throwing himself ather feet with a countenance and manner which shewed him almost franticwith despair, terrified her so much that she did not feel half the shockthis declaration would have given her had it been made with morecalmness. 

She strove to silence him; she endeavoured to raise him from her feet, but to no purpose; she could not abate the agonies of his mind, withoutassuring him she forgave him. Her spirits were in extreme agitation tillshe saw him a little composed, for she feared his senses were affected;but when her alarm began to abate, the effect of her terrors and hergrief appeared in a flood of tears; Mr Alworth found them infectious, and she was obliged to dry them up in order to comfort him. When he grewmore composed, Harriot ventured, after expressing her concern for hishaving conceived so unfortunate a passion, to intimate that absence wasthe best remedy and that there was nothing to be done but for her toleave the house. 

Mr Alworth was not able to support the mention of her going away andintreated her at least to give him time to arm himself against thegreatest misfortune that could befall him, the loss of her society. Shedared not control him in any thing material while his mind continued inthat desperate situation and therefore consented to stay some timelonger. She found it very difficult to make him think that there everwas a proper time for her to depart, though passion was much lesstormenting since he had ventured to declare it; and what before arosenearly to distraction, sunk now into a soft melancholy. Mrs Alworth paidso little attention to her husband that she had not perceived theconflict in his mind. She was wearied with the country to the greatestdegree, and made the tiresome days as short as she could by not risingtill noon; from that time till dinner her toilet found her sufficientemployment. As the neighbourhood was large, she very frequentlycontrived to make a party at cards; but as her company was not used toplay high, this afforded her little relief except she could findsomebody to bet with her, which was not very difficult as she wascontented to do it to a disadvantage. 

In this way she contrived, just, as she called it, to drag on life; andwondered how so fine a woman as Harriot could have so long buriedherself in that place, scarcely more lively than the family vault. 

When Harriot thought she had sufficiently convinced Mr Alworth of thenecessity of her absence, she took her leave with much greater concernthan she would suffer to appear, though she did not affect indifference;but the truth was, Mr Alworth's passionate tenderness for her had madean impression on her heart which without it all his merit could noteffect. The melancholy languor which overspread his countenance gave itcharms she had never before discovered in it; the soft accents in whichhe breathed the most delicate love penetrated to her very soul, and sheno longer found that indifference which had been so remarkable a part ofher character. But she carefully concealed these new sensations in hopesthat he would more easily conquer his passion for not thinking itreturned. 

Though the winter was scarcely begun, yet having no inducement to go toany other place, she went to London; and as I had prolonged my stay inthe country only to gratify my inclination for her company, I went withher to town. Mrs Alworth did not continue there a month after us; buther husband, whose health was by no means in a good state, went to Bath;and that he might not be quite destitute of pleasure, he carried hislittle boy with him, though but a year and a quarter old. His wife didnot contend with him for this privilege, she would have seen little moreof the babe had it been in London. 

Harriot Trentham was at her first arrival in very low spirits, and everyletter she received from Mr Alworth increased her dejection, as itpainted his in very strong colours. As the town filled she began to tryif dissipation could dispel her melancholy. Her beauty, the fineness ofher person, and her being known to have a large fortune, which fame evenexaggerated, procured her many lovers and she became the most admiredwoman in town. This was a new source of pleasure to her. She had livedwhere she saw not many single men, and though few of these who dared toflatter themselves with hopes, had failed paying their addresses to her, yet these successive courtships were very dull when compared with allthe flutter of general admiration. Her books were now neglected, and toavoid thinking on a subject which constantly afflicted her, she forcedherself into public and was glad to find that the idleness of the menand her own vanity could afford her entertainment. 

She was not however so totally engrossed by this pleasing dissipation asto neglect any means of serving the distressed. Mrs Tonston, exertingthe genius she had so early shewn for traducing others, set her husbandand his family at variance, till at length the falsehoods by which shehad effected it came to be discovered. Her husband and she had neverlived well together, and this proof of her bad heart disgusted him soentirely that he turned her out of his house, allowing her a mere triflefor her support. In this distress she applied to Harriot, who she knewwas ever ready to serve even those who had most injured her. 

Her application was not unsuccessful. Harriot sent her a considerablepresent for her immediate convenience and then went into the country toMr Tonston, to whom she represented so effectually his ungeneroustreatment, since the fortune his wife brought him gave her a right to adecent maintenance, that he made a proper settlement upon her and gavethe writings into Harriot's hands, who not only saw the money paidregularly, but took so much pains to convince Mrs Tonston of themalignity of her disposition that she brought her to a due sense of it, and by applying for his assistance to mend her heart, who best knew itsdefects, she became so altered in temper that five years after herseparation from her husband Harriot effected a reconciliation, and theynow live in great amity together, gratefully acknowledging theirobligations to her. 

I have anticipated this fact in order to render my narrative lesstedious, or I should have stopped at Harriot's procuring a settlementfor Mrs Tonston, and have told you that by lying in her return at an innwhere the smallpox then was she caught that distemper, and soon aftershe arrived in London it appeared. I need not say that she had it to avery violent degree. Being then in town I had the good fortune to nurseher and flatter myself that my care was not useless; for in cases sodangerous, no one who does not feel all the tender solicitude of afriend can be a proper nurse. 

Mrs Alworth wrote her husband word of Harriot's illness, who came postto London, filled with the extremest anxiety, and shared the fatigue ofnursing with me; she was all the time delirious. When she came to hersenses, she at first seemed mortified to think Mr Alworth had seen herin that disfigured condition; but on reflection told me she rejoiced init, as she thought it must totally extinguish his passion; and hergreatest solicitude was for his happiness. But she afterwards found herexpectation was ill grounded. 

When she recovered, she perceived that the smallpox had entirelydestroyed her beauty. She acknowledged she was not insensible to thismortification; and to avoid the observation of the envious or even ofthe idly curious she retired, as soon as she was able to travel, to acountry house which I hired for her. 

In a very short time she became perfectly contented with the alterationthis cruel distemper had made in her. Her love for reading returned, andshe regained the quiet happiness of which flutter and dissipation haddeprived her without substituting any thing so valuable in its place. She has often said she looks on this accident as a reward for the goodshe had done Mrs Tonston, and that few benevolent actions receive soimmediate a recompense, or we should be less remiss in our duties thoughnot more meritorious in performing them. She found retirement bettercalculated for overcoming a hopeless passion than noise and flutter. Shehad indeed by dissipation often chased Mr Alworth from her thoughts, butat the first moment of leisure his idea returned in as lively colours asif it had always kept possession of her mind. In the country she hadtime to reflect on the necessity of conquering this inclination if shewished to enjoy any tolerable happiness; and therefore took propermeasures to combat it. Reason and piety, when united, are extremelyprevalent, and with their assistance she restrained her affection oncemore within its ancient bounds of friendship. Her letters to Mr Alworthwere filled with remonstrances against the indulgence of his love, andthe same means she had found effectual she recommended to him and withsatisfaction learnt that though they had not entirely succeeded, yet hehad acquired such a command over his heart that he was as littlewretched as a man can be who is a living monument of the too commonfolly of being captivated by a sudden glare of person and parts; and ofthe fatal error of those men who seek in marriage for an amusing triflerrather than a rational and amiable companion, and too late find that thevivacity which pleases in the mistress is often a fatal vice in a wife. He lives chiefly in the country, has generally a few friends in thehouse with him, and takes a great deal of pains in the education of histwo sons; while their mother spends almost the whole year in town, immersed in folly and dissipation. 

About fourteen years ago Harriot, who I ought to begin to call MissTrentham, came to see a lady in this neighbourhood and thus was firstknown to the inhabitants of this mansion. They were much pleased withher acquaintance and when she had performed her visit, invited her topass a little time with them. She required no solicitation, for it wasthe very thing she wished, and here she has remained ever since. When MrMaynard died, leaving me but a small jointure, Miss Trentham wasindulged in her inclination of asking me to spend the first part of mywidowhood with her and her friends; and I have been fortunate enough torecommend myself so effectually that they have left me no room to doubtthey choose I should continue with them, and indeed I think I couldscarcely support life were I banished from this heavenly society. MissTrentham and Mr Alworth keep up a constant correspondence by letters, but avoid meeting. His wife has brought him one daughter, and MissTrentham's happiness has been rendered complete by obtaining from herpermission to educate this child; a favour which contrary to what isusual is esteemed very small by her who granted and very great by theperson that received it. This girl is now ten years old, and the mostaccomplished of her age of any one, perhaps, in the kingdom. Her personis fine, and her temper extremely engaging. She went about a week ago toher father, whom she visits for about three weeks twice in a year, andnever returns unimproved. 

As Miss Trentham's fortune made a good addition to the income of thesociety, they on this occasion established in the parish a manufactureof carpets and rugs which has succeeded so well as to enrich all thecountry round about. 

As the morning was not very far advanced, I asked Mrs Maynard to conductus to this manufacture, as in my opinion there is no sight so delightfulas extensive industry. She readily complied, and led us to a sort ofstreet, the most inhabited part of the village, above half a mile fromMillenium Hall. Here we found several hundreds of people of all ages, from six years old to four score, employed in the various parts of themanufacture, some spinning, some weaving, others dying the worsted, andin short all busy, singing and whistling, with the appearance of generalcheerfulness, and their neat dress shewed them in a condition of properplenty. 

The ladies, it seems, at first hired persons to instruct theneighbourhood, which was then burdened with poor and so over stockedwith hands that only a small part of them could find work. But as theyfeared an enterprising undertaker might ruin their plan, they themselvesundertook to be stewards; they stood the first expense, allowed aconsiderable profit to the directors, but kept the distribution of themoney entirely in their own hands: thus they prevent the poor from beingoppressed by their superiors, for they allow them great wages and bytheir very diligent inspection hinder any frauds. I never was morecharmed than to see a manufacture so well ordered that scarcely any oneis too young or too old to partake of its emoluments. As the ladies havethe direction of the whole, they give more to the children and the aged, in proportion to the work they do, than to those who are more capable, as a proper encouragement and reward for industry in those seasons oflife in which it is so uncommon. 

We were so taken up with observing these people, that we got home butjust as dinner was carrying in. 

In the afternoon we informed the ladies how we had spent the latter partof the morning, and in the course of conversation Lamont told them thatthey were the first people he ever knew who lived entirely for others, without any regard to their own pleasure; and that were he a RomanCatholic, he should beg of them to confer on him the merit of some oftheir works of supererogation. 

'I do not know where you could find them, ' replied Miss Mancel, 'Ibelieve we have not been able to discover any such; on the contrary, weare sensible of great deficiencies in the performance of our duty. '

'Can you imagine, Madam, ' interrupted Lamont, 'that all you do here is aduty?'

'Indispensably so, ' answered Miss Mancel, 'we are told by him who cannoterr that our time, our money and our understandings are entrusted withus as so many talents for the use of which we must give a strictaccount. How we ought to use them he has likewise told us; as to ourfortunes in the most express terms, when he commands us to feed thehungry, to clothe the naked, to relieve the prisoner, and to take careof the sick. Those who have not an inheritance that enables them to dothis are commanded to labour in order to obtain means to relieve thosewho are incapable of gaining the necessaries of life. Can we thenimagine that every one is not required to assist others to the utmost ofhis power, since we are commanded even to work for the means of doingso? God's mercy and bounty is universal, it flows unasked and unmerited;we are bid to endeavour to imitate him as far as our nature will enableus to do it. What bounds then ought we to set to our good offices, butthe want of power to extend them further? Our faculties and our timeshould be employed in directing our donations in a manner the mostconducive to the benefit of mankind, the most for the encouragement ofvirtue and the suppression of vice; to assist in this work is thebusiness of speech, of reason and of time. These ought to be employedin seeking out opportunities of doing good and in contriving means forregulating it to the best purpose. Shall I allow much careful thoughttowards settling the affairs of my household with economy, and becareless how I distribute my benefactions to the poor, to whom I am onlya steward, and of whose interests I ought to be as careful as of my own?By giving them my money I may sacrifice my covetousness, but by doing itnegligently I indulge my indolence, which I ought to endeavour toconquer as much as every other vice. Each state has its trials; thepoverty of the lower rank of people exercises their industry andpatience; the riches of the great are trials of their temperance, humility and humanity. Theirs is perhaps the more difficult part, buttheir present reward is also greater if they acquit themselves well; asfor the future, there may probably be no inequality. '

'You observed, sir, ' said Miss Trentham 'that we live for others, without any regard to our own pleasure, therefore I imagine you thinkour way of life inconsistent with it; but give me leave to say you aremistaken. What is there worth enjoying in this world that we do notpossess? We have all the conveniences of life, nay, all the luxuriesthat can be included among them. We might indeed keep a large retinue;but do you think the sight of a number of useless attendants couldafford us half the real satisfaction that we feel from seeing the moneywhich must be lavished on them expended in supporting the old anddecrepit, or nourishing the helpless infant? We might dress with so muchexpense that we could scarcely move under the burden of our apparel; butis that more eligible than to see the shivering wretch clad in warm andcomfortable attire? Can the greatest luxury of the table afford so truea pleasure as the reflection that instead of its being over-charged withsuperfluities, the homely board of the cottager is blessed with plenty?We might spend our time in going from place to place, where none wish tosee us except they find a deficiency at the card-table, perpetuallyliving among those whose vacant minds are ever seeking after pleasuresforeign to their own tastes and pursue joys which vanish as soon aspossessed; for these would you have us leave the infinite satisfactionof being beheld with gratitude and love, and the successive enjoymentsof rational delights, which here fill up every hour? Should we do wiselyin quitting a scene where every object exalts our mind to the greatCreator, to mix among all the folly of depraved nature?

'If we take it in a more serious light still, we shall perceive a greatdifference in the comforts arising from the reflections on a life spentin an endeavour to obey our Maker and to correct our own defects in aconstant sense of our offences, and an earnest desire to avoid thecommission of them for the future, from a course of hurry anddissipation which will not afford us leisure to recollect our errors, nor attention to attempt amending them. '

'The difference is indeed striking, ' said Lamont, 'and there can be nodoubt which is most eligible; but are you not too rigid in your censuresof dissipation? You seem to be inclined to forbid all innocentpleasures. '

'By no means, ' replied Miss Trentham, 'but things are not alwaysinnocent because they are trifling. Can any thing be more innocent thanpicking of straws, or playing at push-pin; but if a man employs himselfso continually in either that he neglects to serve a friend or toinspect his affairs, does it not cease to be innocent? Should aschoolboy be found whipping a top during school hours, would his masterforbear correction because it is an innocent amusement? And yet thus weplead for things as trifling, tho' they obstruct the exercise of thegreatest duties in life. Whatever renders us forgetful of our Creator, and of the purposes for which he called us into being, or leads us to beinattentive to his commands, or neglectful in the performance of them, becomes criminal, however innocent in its own nature. While we pursuethese things with a moderation which prevents such effects they arealways innocent and often desirable, the excess only is to be avoided. '

'I have nothing left me to say, ' answered Lamont, 'than that yourdoctrine must be true and your lives are happy; but may I withoutimpertinence observe that I should imagine your extensive charitiesrequire an immense fortune. '

'Not so much, perhaps, ' said Mrs Morgan, 'as you suppose. We keep a veryregular account, and at an average, for every year will not be exactlythe same, the total stands thus. The girls' school four hundred pounds ayear, the boys' a hundred and fifty, apprenticing some and equippingothers for service one hundred. The clothing of the girls in the houseforty. The almshouses two hundred. The maintenance of the monsters ahundred and twenty. Fortunes and furniture for such young persons asmarry in this and the adjoining parishes, two hundred. All this togetheramounts only to twelve hundred and ten pounds a year, and yet affordsall reasonable comforts. The expenses of ourselves and household, in ouradvantageous situation, come within eight hundred a year. Finding sogreat a balance in our favour, we agreed to appropriate a thousand ayear for the society of gentlewomen with small or no fortunes; but ithas turned out in such a manner that they cost us a trifle. We thendedicated that sum to the establishment of a manufacture, but since thefourth year it has much more than paid its expenses, though in manyrespects we do not act with the economy usual in such cases, but givevery high wages, for our design being to serve a multitude of poordestitute of work, we have no nice regard to profit. As we did not meanto drive a trade, we have been at a loss what to do with the profits. Wehave out of it made a fund for the sick and disabled from which they mayreceive a comfortable support, and intend to secure it to them toperpetuity in the best manner we can. '

'How few people of fortune are there, ' said Lamont, 'who could notafford £1200 a year, with only retrenching superfluous and burdensomeexpenses? But if they would only imitate you in any one branch, how muchgreater pleasure would they then receive from their fortunes than theynow enjoy?'

While he was engaged in discourse with the ladies, I observed to MrsMaynard that by the account she had given me of their income, theirexpenses fell far short of it. She whispered me that their accidentalcharities were innumerable, all the rest being employed in that way. Their acquaintance know they cannot so much oblige as by giving them anopportunity of relieving distress. They receive continual applicationsand though they give to none indiscriminately, yet they never refuse anywho really want. Their donations sometimes are in great sums, where thecase requires such extraordinary assistance. If they hear of anygentleman's family oppressed by too many children, or impoverished bysickness, they contrive to convey an adequate present privately, or willsometimes ask permission to put some of their children into business, orbuy them places or commissions. 

We acquainted the ladies that we should trouble them no longer than thatnight, and with regret saw it so soon ended. The next morning, upongoing into Lamont's room, I found him reading the New Testament; I couldnot forbear expressing some pleasure and surprise at seeing him thusuncommonly employed. 

He told me he was convinced by the conduct of the ladies of this housethat their religion must be the true one. When he had before consideredthe lives of Christians, their doctrine seemed to have so littleinfluence on their actions that he imagined there was no sufficienteffect produced by Christianity to warrant a belief, that it wasestablished by a means so very extraordinary; but he now saw what thatreligion in reality was, and by the purity of its precepts was convincedits original must be divine. It now appeared evidently to be worthy ofits miraculous institution. He was resolved to examine whether the moralevidences concurred with that divine stamp which was so stronglyimpressed upon it and he had risen at day break to get a Bible out ofthe parlour that he might study precepts which could thus exalt humannature almost to divine. 

It was with great joy I found him so seriously affected; and when wewent to breakfast could not forbear communicating my satisfaction to mycousin, who sincerely shared in it. As soon as breakfast was over wetook leave of the ladies, though not till they had made us promise asecond visit, to which we very gladly agreed, for could we with decencyhave prolonged this, I know not when we should have departed. 

You, perhaps, wish we had done it sooner and may think I have been tooprolix in my account of this society; but the pleasure I find inrecollection is such that I could not restrain my pen within moderatebounds. If what I have described may tempt any one to go and dolikewise, I shall think myself fortunate in communicating it. For mypart, my thoughts are all engaged in a scheme to imitate them on asmaller scale. 

I am, Sir.