one.

This, my dear lady, is the whole I know of the matter; I fear, Miss Little will never forgive me, for creating her so much distress: I had infinitely rather be dead, than alive; I dread the eye of Mr. Little, and, it is my opinion, I ought immediately to quit your hospitable mansion. "Alas! my dear child, I know not what to say; you believe you ought to quit us! Would to God you had never thus thought. This persuasion is the source of all our unhappiness: How often have I told you, that no enemy could ever injure you, if your own conduct was uniformly correct. You have deeply wounded a heart that loves you. I promised myself, that you would become a large addition to our domestic felicity. But you are apprehensive you have offended beyond forgiveness! Alas! my daughter is more distressed for you, than for herself; you know not how much she has suffered on your account; you know not how much we all suffer! Why, my dear child, will you thus afflict your best friends?" I am, my dear madam, grieved to have been the source of so much distress to persons so dear to me; but I shall shortly be out of the way of offending any "What do you mean?" To quit this house, to quit this country. The dear lady threw her maternal arms around me, and with flowing tears interrogated: "Is it thus you will avoid offending us? Ah, my dear child, how little do you know of us, or of yourself: For God's sake, let me persuade you not to take so rash a step! Where would you go, what would you do? Would you leave a home, an envied home, and thus, while you afflicted your dearest friends, gratify your malignant foes?" But, my dear madam, it is impossible I can *continue under this roof. Mr. Little will not restore me his confidence, my felicity in this family is fled, forever fled. "You are mistaken, your happiness rests entirely with yourself; be but uniformly discreet, be but the companion we expected, when we adopted you, and all will yet be well." But, madam, the eye and ear of Mr. Little will now be open against me, suspicion will be on the alert, and he will accept the tales of my enemies, as testimonies of sacred writ. Believe it not; think no more of this untoward business; you have but one enemy who can essentially injure you, and that enemy is yourself. I will be responsible for my family; you shall not be molested in this house, only convince us, that you love us; do but prove, that you are more attached to us, than to any other individuals, and we are satisfied: Do but reflect, how delightfully we might pass our time together. The business of the day closed, and we assembled in the parlour; you with your book,

66

we your admiring audience, until we are summoned to supper; then, after you have closed our serene day by an appropriate, and affecting address to the God who created, and who has hitherto preserved, us, we retire to an early pillow, soothed, and gratified, our sleep cannot but be refreshing. Why, what a paradise would our abode become. But, my child, when you pass every evening abroad, you know not what a melancholy group you render us. We are dumb, our countenances are sad; our silence is sometimes broken by Mr. Little, who questions in anger, "Where is our young gentleman to-night? any society but ours!" Then follows a heavy sigh: "Well, let us go to bed, it will be late before he returns; but this will never do." We dare not open our lips, but my girls mingle their tears with mine. Greatly moved by these observations, I sincerely repented of my past conduct; and I determined I would, in all things, conform myself to the wishes of my parental friends. I beheld the family picture presented before me, by the dear lady; I beheld it with rapture, and I decisively said: yes, indeed, my future evenings shall all be devoted to a family so charming, and thus will my days be passed in peace. I promised the dear lady, solemnly I promised, that I would be all she wished; and I communicated to her bosom inexpressible delight. I left her in tears, but they were tears of rapture: I retired to my chamber; I threw myself upon my knees, I supplicated pardon of my heavenly Father, and, with a devout heart, I implored his supporting aid. A petition to my Creator always possessed the potent power of refreshing my soul; I was greatly refreshed, and I looked forward with renewed complacency. In a few hours, I was summoned to dinner; at the door of the diningroom, I was met by Mr. Little, no cloud rested upon his countenance; I entered the dining-room, where were seated my charming, my faithful friends; the mother, and her daughters; their countenances were animated, but their eyes bore testimony to their previous agitation; our interview, and hour of dining, were highly gratifying. It is true, many words were not uttered, but there is, in the expressive eye, and other intelligent features of a fine countenance, a fascination which dwelleth not in words. Soon after dinner my little friend, the youngest daughter of my patron, visited me in my chamber, and bestowed upon me many caresses.

Halcyon days and months now revolved; I fondly fancied I had surmounted every difficulty, and I anticipated a succession of delightful enjoyments; yet again I experienced the satiety, consequent upon one

me;

unvaried routine. He, who had appointed me for a life of wandering, gave me a disposition which relucted at the constant recurrence of the same scene; I ventured to pass one evening abroad: another, and another succeeded. I was severely reflected upon, and I felt it keenly; conscious of meriting reproach, I was the more deeply wounded. I had been recently conversant with a young preacher from England; my imagination was fired; the world could not have longer detained I condemned myself for wasting so much time; my heart, my soul was in England, in London. Let the world bestow its censures, London was the place, it contained every thing delightful ; I was on tiptoe to be gone; if I was not approved by the family, so much the better, there would be less ingratitude in quitting it. My dear maternal friend once more sought, and obtained a private interview; this I wished to avoid; she saw my reluctance, and was convinced she should not succeed. She reproached me: this, though painful, I could bear better, than her tenderness. "Then you will leave us," said the dear lady. I am determined. "You will repent it, sir; you will return with sorrow, and with shame; when, possibly, you may not find these hospitable doors open to receive you." Never, never, I will die first. She paused, she raised her hands to heaven, she looked: merciful God, I see her now before me: the impression of her varying countenance was unutterable; tears coursed each other down her pallid cheeks. Pausing for a few moments, she said: "Poor, unhappy youth, you know not what you are about, where you are going, and what you are doomed to suffer. Here, then, ends all my pleasing prospects; now indeed I have lost my sons; poor Anna, she has now, in truth, no brother. Go, unhappy youth, go, the sooner you depart, the better; I do not wish to see you again." She left me, nor will I attempt a description of my sensations. I retired to my chamber, my chamber now no more; I wept, I audibly sobbed. In imagination I beheld the beloved friend, by whom it was once occupied; he seemed to upbraid me for my conduct; how torturing were the pangs I suffered. Upon the evening of this sad day, my cherub friend entered the chamber, and for the last time, during my abode therein; pretty soul, she threw her arms around my neck, my face was wet with her tears; she told me, that her sister was very, very sad! On what occasion, my love? Why, papa is very, very angry with you and she says, you are going away to-morrow, she knows not where, and that she shall never see

you again; and she walks about her chamber, and wrings her hands,

O! dear, O! dear, I never saw her so much distressed before!" This was a truly affecting night, but it was the last I passed under that roof; I was not summoned to breakfast: a servant came to ask, if I would breakfast in my chamber, there could be no doubt of my negative. I saw by the countenance of this domestic, that I was fallen. About twelve o'clock, I received a message from Mr. Little, he was alone; I must attend him. My sufferings were great. To meet his eye was abundantly worse than death; I endeavoured to avoid it. Some time elapsed before he spoke; he repeatedly attempted to speak, but mingling grief and rage arrested his utterance. At last he said: " Well, sir, you are going to commence your travels ?" This, with the manner in which it was spoken, relieved me. It was at that moment my choice to cherish resentment, rather than regret. I am going to England, sir. “You are ; well, and what are you going to do there? But this is no business of mine; yet I suppose it must be my business to know, how you are to get there; have you any money, sir ?" No, sir. "Hold your hat, sir.' I did so, and he threw into it as much gold as he pleased, and, as I then believed, as much as would support me, if I should reach the extreme age allotted to man. "Have you enough, sir?" Yes, sir, quite enough, and God forever bless you. "Do you hear, sir, leave behind you my son's fowling-piece, and here ends my air-built castle ;" and with a flushed countenance, and a tearful eye, he left me, nor did I ever more cross the threshold of his door. I turned my back upon this once delightful home, with mingling emotions of sorrow, mortification, regret, and anger; all combining to produce unutterable anguish. My frame trembled, as I turned from the door; a chillness pervaded my heart; sickness seized my stomach, and I had just sufficient presence of mind to turn the contents of my hat into my pocket-handkerchief, when I sunk down upon the steps of the first door in my way. I was seen, and noticed by the people of the house, who conveyed me into their dwelling, and, when they had recovered me, questioned me respecting the cause of my indisposition. I related, with my usual frankness, every particular, and in a short time, the story circulated, and with all the variations commonly attached to interesting articles of intelligence. I was soon sufficiently restored to reach the residence of my mother; where a new scene of sorrow awaited me. The poor sufferer was beyond measure astonished at the step I had so rashly taken, and her distress was unutterable: she had promised herself a long series of enjoyments, from the happy arrangements made for me; and I suspect

H

66

she contemplated, at no very distant period, a union between Miss Little, and myself; and her consequent agony, when she learned, that I had not only abandoned my home, and those flattering prospects, but that, in consequence of my fixed determination to repair to England, she was to lose me, perhaps for ever; the torture of her mind was, as I said, beyond the reach of language: but neither her tears nor entreaties, strongly enforced by those of my brothers, and sisters, could for a single moment shake Whatever barriers might oppose resolution. my my wandering steps, to England I must depart; I saw, or seemed to see, the sacred shade of my father, first reproaching me, and then soothing me to a compliance with the wishes of his mourning family; and, by the anguish of my feelings, my soul was harrowed up: yet still, obdurate as I was, I continued inflexible. I could not endure to see, or be seen, in the vicinity of the abode which I had quitted; and I made immediate preparations for my departure. I tendered, to my disconsolate mother, the money I had received from Mr. Little, not a penny of which she would accept : No, my beloved child, if you must launch out upon the wide ocean, into a world of which you know but little, you will find this sum, large as it is, far short of your exigencies. Through your filiai exertions, I am established in a dwelling, far beyond my most sanguine expectations, or even wishes; and, from your well-timed efforts, I derive many other advantages; and if my God is about to deprive me of my son, I doubt not, His goodness and mercy, which have hitherto followed me, will still be manifest, both in my provision, and preservation; and in that of my helpless children." My heart seemed ready to burst; conscience whispered, I was acting wrong, very wrong; yet even this conviction could not induce a relinquishment of my plan; an irresistible impulse seemed hurrying me on. Many instances, striking instances, in my long and wearisome life, combine to prove, that the way of man is not in himself; I, at least, have experienced the truth of this sacred testimony. As the time of my departure drew near, my feelings were still more keen. My mother, my brothers, my sisters, my friends, renewed their tears, and entreaties; I could not stem a torrent so mighty, and I determined I would abide with them. But it was the determination of the moment, extorted by the mournful supplications of all who were dear to me; and when they ceased to urge, I resumed my former resolution; and my mother, from early life devoutly religious, mildly resigned herself to an event, which she considered inevitable.

“I see,”