THE SCHOOL OF VIRTUE.

IN the delightful County of Devon lived Sir William Howard, a Baronet of distin­guished abilities; whose sentiments in the grand council of the nation were on several occasions applauded by every member, who, like him, wished for the prosperity of his country, before that of degrading self-inte­rest;—possessing at once the real and un­common titles of patriotism and honesty:— for then, as well as at this time, these two epithets bore a different signification.—But lest my fair readers should suppose I mean to descant on the theory or practice of Po­litics, I shall at once drop the digression, and proceed.

Sir William's house was an ancient Gothic structure, not raised by lofty towers or tur­rets, [Page 2] not the gaudy uplifted tinselled fronts of modern piles, as the mansions of many of our new created families of fashion are,— but in a more noble style, tho' not overlook­ing the residence of humbler life, only in the front, an unobstructed view of the sea shore for many miles, in serene weather, might be enjoyed; adding an unlimited prospect of the sea, which in a calm clear day was only to be lost in the sensible hori­zon of sight, which of an evening at the setting of the glorious luminary of light and heat, seemed not only beautiful in the ex­treme, but an awful emblem of solemn thought; for who could look on the unpa­ralleled colouring of the glassy deep, with­out contemplating on the Supreme Being, who out of nothing, such great and beauti­ful elements created?—Here it was that the worthy Baronet, at the close of day, spent many edifying and satisfactory hours, where­by he digested a happy theory into real practice;—considering wisely, for what end he was sent into a probationary state as a free agent, whereby the choice of life or death were given.—Nor did the early dawn rise from her grey mottled pillow, without the Knight's visit to the seat of his well earned wisdom, for ere the golden mantle, embroidered with precious gems of the blushing morn was perceived, the pious man had invoked the protection and direc­tion of the Beneficent Being, to whom he [Page 3] owed the whole of his happiness and afflu­ence; so that with the rising Planet of Glo­ry, he was ready for an audience,—which was never refused to the meanest who stood in need of his advice, assistance, or relief: for his doors were open to his friends, ac­quaintance, the traveller, the indigent, or oppressed. Thus was humanity made a regular and unerring system,—philosophy only refined the impressions, so that the beautiful sublimity of Religion was the true finisher of Sir William's works,—never daring to attempt any thing that would not admit the touchstone of that exalted stand­ard,—she always being ranked the criterion of order.—So far let me sketch the outlines of this truly good and worthy character;— for envy shrunk at his presence, nor dared calumny to spread her baleful exhalations where his name was mentioned,—for Fame (for once) had sounded with solid grounds the worth of Howard's name—in proclaim­ing the daily exercise at Howard's Castle, such being the name his mansion bore.

Sir William's domestics were not nume­rous, having only those who were fit to ex­ecute with faithfulness his daily commissions; to distribute not only at Howard's Castle, but also at the respective residence of the afflicted or distressed, who had, by proper application, made known their cases,— therefore the profligate, the idler, and pro­fane were excluded. Three male servants, [Page 4] with two females, composed the whole of his family. His Lady, who had for many years shared with him the blessings of the poor, was some time since departed from a transitory state, to enjoy the everlasting crown laid up for her, and all those who piously follow her in the paths of virtue and christian piety. But ere they parted, had given repeated pledges of their love, which the Deity, for his wise ends, had as oft called hence to celestial happiness; yet did not wholly decline the grant ardently wished in their mutual prayers—for an heir was left to perpetuate the worthy name as­sumed in that illustrious family.—Henry was his name, who was now in habits of general custom, making a grand tour of Europe, in order to finish an education which had been liberal indeed;—for early had his parents instilled the seeds of virtue, morality, and religion into his mind, which was well capacitated to receive the impres­sions, being naturally strong and very su­sceptible of implanting on a large scale the greatest depths of understanding; whereby expanded ideas could reach the greatest heights, whilst extension was unlimited. Since this period, proper preceptors, with the assistance of an university, had finished what the British Island could afford in the grand researches of knowledge, to be of real service in the rugged road through life.

[Page 5]Henry was now arrived at an age of man­hood, having attained his twenty-second year; for though his studies were partly finished before that period, yet his father, wisely considering the danger of evil im­pressions, and the consequences of bad ex­amples—digressionally made applications of all the various courses continental travellers or residents usually practised, and the result of corrupted minds, faithfully pourtraying the use that might be deduced from a know­ledge of men and manners in other coun­tries; at the same time, by an easy ascent, mounting his ideas above the meridian of modern taste, so far as the slavish habits of imitation in dress, gambling, or excess in pleasures of a sensual complexion;—wisely remarking to his son, the many amateurs in science, and the few who possessed real ta­lents which would argue the name of merit. Thus comparatively opposing the advantages and disadvantages of the usual method of finishing a polite education in travelling— to see the manners and customs of the most enlightened and truly polished courts of Europe,—a practice really worthy of con­tinuance, and of real utility to form the mind, so far as liberality of sentiment, a re­gard to religion, a pure taste for improve­ment in arts and sciences, with observations in the real practice of reading men, to be able to point out the general propensity, whether good or evil, of the various nations [Page 6] when contrasted, so as to carry thither no prejudice, nor to bring from thence the least colouring of a depraved taste; but to go out a man of caution, and return a man of experience; refined by a true notion of vir­tue, honor and liberality. Those were the short contents of Sir William's repeated lessons to his son, previous to his setting out on his travels; which were listened to with dutiful attention, and carefully retain­ed for practical uses.—Being thus provided with necessary instruction, a competent knowledge of the acquisitions that he was to obtain, the dangers he was to avoid, and assisted by the counsel and tuition of a re­spectable gentleman in holy orders, as his preceptor, we shall not hesitate to proclaim, that great were the expectations of Sir Wil­liam, from the consequent polish his son should acquire by two or three years resi­dence on the continent.

Henry had now been absent nearly three years, without any extraordinary occurrence, except his intelligence and description of the several towns, cities, and countries he visited, all of which were, with a precision peculiar to himself, narrated with a strict ad­herence to truth; yet in so animated and chaste a method, with an elegance of style, that gave repetitions of pleasure to Sir Wil­liam, to find his labour well bestowed in the cultivation of his son's morals,—that assured him alone, that he would be an or­nament [Page 7] to the sphere he was likely to re­volve in; as integrity of heart, usually termed (by the higher ranks of life) honor, was a principle, possessed without a spot or blemish by his son, which Sir William carefully reminded him to regard as a jewel of inestimable value.

The exigency of state was now on the eve of calling Sir William to attend his duty in Parliament, when Henry wrote to his father; he wished to know his pleasure relative to his return to England, expressing a desire to see him, and to receive further useful lessons in practical knowledge, hav­ing seen a sufficiency of human life, few of the maxims whereof he chose to adopt, preferring the manly customs and liberal sentiments of Britain, to all those of the Continent. To this request Sir William immediately attended, and in reply to his son's letter gave him to understand, he should be glad of his return; as his inten­tions were to vacate his seat in the House, wishing to decline in favour of him.

Whilst the period of this interval was passing over, Sir William amused himself with the happiness of seeing his accomplish­ed son return in a few days.

One evening, in the month of September, nearly about the autumnal equinox, when the sun is supposed to enter the first scruple of Libra, or the Balance, which makes equal day and night in every quarter of the globe, [Page 8] and consequently rise sudden squalls of wind, therefore a dangerous season for ships in narrow seas;—about the setting of the sun, Sir William, from the leaden terrace of his mansion, espied something of the appear­ance of a sail, (a word used as a sea-phrase on a sight of a ship at sea) however the sudden change of the approaching night brought on an unusual darkness, accompa­nied with an awful sky, overcast with clouds of foreboding danger; the winds sounded hollow, and seemingly mourned the fate of victims decreed to an untimely visitation; whilst the waves in sadness seemed disturbed by the gathering of vivid flashes of lightning, that seemed also determined to be active in the approaching scene.—Quickly the distant view of the vessel was interrupted; the face of nature seemed all at once hid beneath the towering clouds, which like fleeces over­wrapt each other.—Now was Sir William's conjectures roused; his mind was agitated exceedingly; in vain were his endeavours to calm the tumult of assembled passions; reason, fortitude, and all the auxiliary so­lacing of resignation barely afforded relief, so great was his anxiety;—for probability seemed so nearly allied to truth, that his powers were almost duped into a belief, that the ship just now in sight, was freighted with the safe conveyance of his son and his at­tendants; here he immediately checked his groundless suspicions, by a succession of [Page 9] ideas that cleared up the gloominess of his imagination.—"What," said he, "shall I doubt of the providence of God, whose hand has hitherto been stretched forth to guard me from misfortunes? forbid it hea­ven!—but I am a son of frailty, yet I hope my fall shall be to rise again, therefore let the will of Heaven be fulfilled." A short ejaculatory prayer to the Divine Being closed Sir William's soliloquy. He then hasted from the terrace, the elements beginning their emulative strife. Rain poured down in torrents,—lightning flashed in liquid sheets,—the winds howled in hoarse bellow­ings, accompanied with dreadful claps of thunder:—thus a hurricane set in.

Calmness nevertheless sat now triumphant on Sir William's brow, though an innate principle of something more than ordinary, filled at intervals the scope of his imagina­tion.

At an advanced hour of night, Sir Willi­am ordered his domestics to retire to rest, yet from him sleep had fled; and so much the ocean gained upon his thoughts, that he sat direct in view of the boisterous ele­ment; carefully watching each succeeding wave that surfed on the adjacent beach.— 'Twas now about the last hour of night, the clock having recently struck twelve, the sky seemed more clear,—the sable face had part­ly disappeared, though the winds were still more strong, and had set to the south west [Page 10] point,—a pale yellow had butted the rising of the blast,—the storm was completely set; at this juncture the Knight perceived the ebbing surf of more than common size had left behind something of the appearance of trunks or chests of baggage!—forthwith he rung his alarm bell, his servants instantly attended, but scarce were they collected, before a second appearance of a wreck was seen, from whence proceeded a lamentable cry of distress in the extreme.—This was more than Sir William's breast could su­stain,—he rushed forth in frantic strides, beckoning the instant attendance of his do­mestics, which was obeyed implicitly,—a few minutes opened the scene, and revealed a sight more than can be described in the sadness of representation:—Several mangled bodies thrown from the wreck,—others in pitiable efforts endeavouring to escape, whilst the yawning deep enveloped her prey!—In vain did the good Knight exert all his ability;—to contest with winds and waves was more than he dared, despair had invaded the thoughts of those who were minded to give relief,—the sight was too piercing a spectacle, where no alleviation could take place,—the whole crew were seen to sink beneath the briny surface!—Here Sir William broke silence, "Alas! what avails our boasted strength, our greatest power, our most useful faculties?—nothing! when Heaven's high will opposes our inten­tions [Page 11] —Though human creatures are in the greatest need of timely aid at some few yards distance, yet we cannot afford the smallest relief."—Just now sunk the last victim to the merciless waves!—"see the havock!—see the wretched appearance of lifeless mortals! behold the mangled limbs of both sexes!—but see what this last ebb has left?—a woman's body!—yes!—no con­fusion,—perhaps not quite dead;—she was the last the mighty flood was satiated with,— hither bear the corps,—if returning life should animate the body, then are all our cares happily bestowed."

Thus ended the good man's reverie. —He hasted to his house to administer all that humanity could dictate, to recover the person whom his servants had conveyed thither; leaving an old man to watch what the sea should cast up, and bring tidings if the case required assistance.

In less than an hour's application Sir Wil­liam's efforts were crowned with success,— reanimation succeeded the seeming dissolu­tion,—the delicate frame of a charming young lady began to exercise its wonted functions.—The worthy Baronet knelt down to pay the tribute of thanks and praise to God for blessing his endeavours, and in­voked a continuance thereof. The young lady with a fervent piety, accompanied him, rendering thanks to Heaven, and pouring out a blessing on her deliverer from the jaws [Page 12] of death; closing her lips only through faintness. A cordial was administered with effect,—she became herself again,—health seemed approaching; but rest being deemed a necessary supply, she was left in the care of Sir William's house-keeper, when sleep seemed a welcome guest to her wearied senses,—so in a profound slumber she re­posed on a warm bed, whilst the Baronet withdrew with his assistants.

Meanwhile day approached. Sir Willi­am, anxious to know the person he had rescued from death, as also the names and quality of those who had perished in the storm, the sea being now silenced by a dead calm, stillness seemed to be the reigning queen of the morn, whilst he with his ser­vants carefully took up the bodies that re­mained on the piked rocks of the shore; shells were provided, and ten persons were coffined for interment, which with a solemn ceremony was performed,—the worthy rector attending his duty with becoming respect, setting forth to a crowded assemblage of neighbouring te­nants to the manor, the uncertainty of life,— the positive assurance of death,—the conse­quences of sudden or unprovided death,— the necessity of being always ready,—with a pathetic discourse on the heedlessness of youth of both sexes, in regard to seeking their Creator in the days of their youth, and the indispensible necessity for it, to ensure a blessing here, and a happy immortality here­after; with an allusion to the life preserv­ed, [Page 13] —that an early piety was no doubt the cause of prolonging it; also in inveigh­ing much against the detestable word of chance,—clearly proving, that without the guidance of the Celestial Power, nothing was certain; for though wickedness might for a time bear the appearance of prosperity and happiness, yet a certain fearful period of destruction awaited the delinquent. The clergyman closed his sermon on the funeral of the drowned persons, with many serious and practical admonitions, requisitions, and reflections,—so that out of the church-yard none departed without a tear of compunc­tion, and a firm resolve to adhere to the words of their Pastor.

When the rites of the dead were ended, Sir William had the papers of the wreck examined, when it was found the ship had cleared from New-York, in America, nine weeks before that period; that she was call­ed the Sisters, John Parsons, Commander; was bound for London, laden with dry goods, and had on board several ladies and gentlemen as passengers to England. The bad condition of the ship's papers precluded a further information, and put Sir William under the disagreeable necessity to enquire of the young lady the other particulars re­lative to the voyage, and the number and quality of the persons that were cast away; which, owing to the fatigue and delicacy of her constitution, he was obliged to forego [Page 14] for a few days, until she should retrieve strength of body and recollected ideas, to give a full account of herself, being fearful to bring to her recollection any thing that would retard her recovery.

A few days elapsed, during which time an unremitting attention was paid to the young lady's health, in order to establish it, which with the care practised, soon accom­plished; yet Sir William was cautious to enquire, lest a relapse should be the conse­quence.—Whilst he was ruminating on the late catastrophe of the shipwreck, the post brought him a letter, announcing the safe arrival of his son, in England, dated from Dover; that he should take in London in his route; and hoped to pay his duty in three days to his honored parent. This filled the good man with a taste of happi­ness he never knew before; it was now, and only at this instant, he owned his doubts and fears for the safety of his son. Although he betrayed no symptons of fear outwardly, yet a continual disagreeable phantom of imagination haunted his mind, stating a possibility,—adding a probability of his son being cast away in the late violent hur­ricane. Such must be the fears of all pa­rents, whose feelings are edged with a pa­rental care of tenderness and love for their offspring; where gifts of piety are bestow­ed on children, their ardour in affection and duty will be the consequent return; this Sir [Page 15] William knew, therefore enhanced the re­gard for his amiable son.

The expected period of Henry's arrival being nearly advanced, the day being half spent, the sun was declining from his meri­dional height, when Henrietta, for so was she called, asked the assistance of her attend­ant to dress herself, fancying she should be better by a jaunt in Sir William's coach, which the physician that attended her great­ly enforced, though strenuously objected to by Sir William, fearing the sharpness of the air might be too much; however, by the Doctor's advice he was over-ruled. She therefore attired herself in an elegant suit of silk, suitable for the season, richly trim­med with sable, never having understood the fate of her relations; Sir William hav­ing constantly evaded any conversation on the subject, intending to open it by degrees, fearing the fatal effect such a narration as he must relate, not knowing what affinity the deceased might have been to her; for her attendant constantly remarked, the whole ship's freight, together with the sea­men and passengers, were all saved. The chests of Henrietta, wherein her cloaths, money, and jewels were deposited, being produced, seemed to corroborate the truth of the housekeeper's tale;—but there was too much in the sequel to reveal,—and the burden was too weighty to conceal.—Thus were Sir William and Henrietta anxious to [Page 16] speak to each other, to satisfy their doubts, yet prudential caution retarded him, whilst the young lady recovered sufficiently to sustain the shock. Notwithstanding the late miraculous escape and the dangers she encountered, Henrietta had recovered most surprisingly; she was just returned from an hour's excursion in the neighbour­hood, and looked charmingly; her person was delicate, her comple [...] [...]edingly fair, her hair of a fine [...] her shape so delicately formed, [...] [...]mpose an elegance of personage ra [...] [...] be met with; her eyes were of a dark hazel, liquid and piercing; her countenance had more of the languishing expression in it, than the presuming pertness of modern refinement; she was in every respect a finished beauty,— wanting neither teint or shade in the com­position of her agreements.—Added to this delineation of superficial charms, her mind was enlightened, improved, stored, and en­riched with every accomplishment necessary for her sex;—her taste was elegant and hap­py, which would have made her a pleasura­ble object to look on or converse with, could her mind be calmed from the doubts and fears which involuntarily seized her at times,—yet she feared the solution so much, as to let it prey upon her patience for a convenient opportunity to enquire of Sir William.

Dinner was preparing and nearly ready, [Page 17] when at the further end of the avenue a carriage appeared in view. Sir William had not power to restrain himself, but cried out in an ecstacy of joy,—"my son!—my son!"—and then almost lost utterance,—but on recollection, curbed his passion, by a timely remark, that he expected his son to dinner;—concealing from the young lady the emotion he felt on the approaching in­terview with him.

Scarcely were their greetings exchanged before Henry arrived, which gave his wor­thy father an opportunity of an happy em­brace.—The son returned it with becoming duty and respect, and after enquiry of health, Sir William took his son aside, and in a few words gave him a detail of all he knew of the young lady under his care;— the story brought tears of pity into the young man's eyes;—he felt and sighed for the loss human nature had sustained;—he said he would, when opportunity presented itself, in a respectful manner, propose to the lady such questions as should lead to a dis­covery of her name and person, also the relations she had lost, with other particulars relative to her voyage.—This Sir William approved.—They both instantly came into the parlour, where the young lady, the vi­car, and the physician sat;—the gentlemen both with equal warmth gave joy to Henry on his safe return; he likewise, with becom­ing zeal, gave his friends a kind reply of [Page 18] friendship and thanks, and after the usual ceremony of welcoming, took his seat; but before this period had place, the beautiful person of Henrietta caught his eye, and with humility and respect he gracefully sa­luted the lady, who was not wanting to return the compliment. All parties during dinner enlarged on general topics of conver­sation, carefully avoiding any subject, that might hurt the lady's feelings;—but as soon as the cloth was removed, Henrietta opened the business by a sincere request to Sir Wil­liam, (whom she very justly styled her deli­verer,) if any of the persons in the wreck had been able to escape the fury of the waves?—Sir William, after a little hesita­tion, said, he feared not,—this answer, Henrietta replied, she feared, ever since the return of her senses, notwithstanding the great care of the female that attended her, who had related a contrary story.—Here she could scarce refrain from tears, but by the soothing of the gentlemen present, she for­bore to weep; especially on the intreaty of the attracting young traveller, who so hap­pily insinuated himself by a respectful atten­tion, that she voluntarily wished to relate the particulars of the voyage, in order to form an opinion of the safety of her friends. She gave them to understand that she was the youngest daughter of Lord Colville, whom she hoped was then alive and well, as also the lady her mother; that in conse­quence [Page 19] of her sister's being married to a field officer, who had a particular command of some of the King's troops in America, she had been prevailed on to go with her to the continent, to which quarter she was ac­companied by her brother, who held a com­mission under her sister's husband. That on the ship springing a leak in the Channel, her brother, sister, and her sister's husband, the captain, and several others, had taken to the long boat; but owing to a sudden gust of wind, they could not, or rather would not, bring too the vessel; those who remain­ed on board being partly ungovernable, the mate refusing to permit her to go into the boat with her friends, so that she was forced away from her relations by a man, who, had he survived, she had the greatest reason to dread his unlawful attachments,—Here the Knight interrupted her by a thanksgiving, in which the pious vicar added, "that the evil man seeks his own destruction;" but each asking pardon of the lady, desired her to proceed, to which she replied, her story was but a few words more;—that there were three females and seven males in the ship, when they parted company from the long-boat, and that two of those females were her attendants; the other being an old lady who had resided many years abroad, and was returning to her native country to die, as she expressed.—As for the men who had perished in the ship, they were all of a [Page 20] desperate fortune, who neither regarded themselves or those under their care; for in her opinion, a port might have been attain­ed, had they been unanimous in their opi­nion; but she had some reason to think, rapine was the prevalent gloss under which they acted, and lost their lives through a design of enriching themselves by the money on board,—as the mate acknowledged in the hour of danger;—"so, to the provi­dence of God," said she, "do I owe my miraculous escape from the wreck.—But my dear brothers and sister!"—A flood of tears prevented her from proceeding.— when Henry addressed himself to the lady,— "madam," said he, "let me give you joy; the General, who is your brother, (I pre­sume,) your sister and the honorable Mr. Colville, who is a Captain in General Moun­sey's regiment, were, on the eve of the hur­ricane, picked up by a French Coaster, and brought into Havre de Grace, from whence they arrived in England three days ago. I had the honor to be in their company,—but ocular demonstration will corroborate what I now affirm to be truth," showing the lady the London news paper, wherein the ship, and those concerned in piratically carrying her away, were advertised; also, a reward of five hundred pounds offered by Lord Colville, for the recovery of his daughter. Here the lady's transport was more than her tender frame could bear;—she swooned away in the arms of Henry, who, with the [Page 21] Doctor's assistance soon brought her to her senses, which for a few minutes she could not persuade herself to be possessed of; but on the Baronet's remonstrance, she with transport thanked the gallant Henry, who was the messenger of Heaven, in disburden­ing her from an insupportable load of anxious cares and troubles.—The gentle­men each congratulated her on the happy tidings of her friends;—her escape from the snares of a wicked man,—and happy re­vival from the jaws of death;—and she, with an audible voice, and a christian so­lemnity, rendered thanks for the mercies and blessings she had recently received;—in which the gentlemen with one accord joined, commending her to that Beneficent Being for future protection. After this music was proposed, and Henrietta displayed her finish­ed talents on the organ. This being over, Sir William informed Henrietta, that he he was well acquainted with Lord and Lady Colville, her parents; and that he should write by the return of the post, to acquaint them of her safety,—to which she thank­fully assented.

Night having gained upon them, it was judged time to withdraw by the Vicar and the Doctor; and Sir William and his son paying their compliments to Henrietta, each of them repaired to a place of repose.

It was some time before Henry could con­quer his revolving ideas, to permit sleep to [Page 22] sooth him, for the lovely image of Henriet­ta was constantly in his view; he found an impression already engraved,—he flouted the fanciful notion of love, yet could not say to what other passion he could attri­bute his situation.—After repeated queries and answers, solus, he was unable to deter­mine the point; so let sleep gain dominion without a satisfactory investigation. Hen­rietta was no less disturbed;—but to yield to love's impressions at first sight, she deem­ed romantic to a degree;—however, yield­ed to sleep before she made a decision.

The morning approached, when Sir Wil­liam, after paying his usual tribute of thanks to the Deity, went up softly to his son's apartment; but how great was his surprise, and how pleasing his reflection, when he heard him paying his tribute to God!— Hear this, ye sons of dissipation,—ye noc­turnal revellers!—to what end is your ren­dezvous?—only for one minute consider the difference of a virtuous and an immoral character! learn from hence true wisdom and real understanding;—for in the hour of death neither right honorable, most honora­ble, most noble, or even majesty itself, can calm the pangs of a wounded conscience!— therefore, consider in time!—To fly from evil company, of either sex, is the grand work of reformation,—so to neglect so great and so necessary a business, is more than the cata­logue of madness or folly can set forth;— [Page 23] it is losing all, both here and hereafter,— for a bubble!—For what solid or real satis­faction has the slave of passions?—ask the miser,—the gambler,—the spendthrift,— the adulterer,—the defrauder,—or any of the rest of the wretched tribe;—I answer, none!—any of them must and will own the same.—Therefore a clear conscience, up­right principles, to do as we would wish to be done by,—or, the grand system of honor and honesty, being so easily learned, and with such pleasure practised, the weakest or meanest capacity can be an adept in the sci­ence in one lesson,—from hence all the mo­ral and christian duties will follow;—and as the happy mystery is so readily obtained, the attainment needs no comment.

The Baronet's pleasurable curiosity made him return from his son's chamber door without interrupting his duty to his Maker, and to go, for the first time in his life, on his tip-toes to a young lady's room door;— where, to his like satisfactory surprise, he heard her repeat her morning hymn!—Hear this, ye daughters of Eve, ye slaves to dress and fashion! ye light headed frail votaries of pleasure!—I ask you, how oft, in the whole course of your lives, you have, either night or morning, invoked the God of power to protect and direct you?—I am without faith in the answer,—therefore I shall leave it a blank.—But consider, your years at most can be but few,—that in the [Page 24] grave there is no method of repentance,— that to forget the Deity, is an invitation to the grand seducer of the first of your sex to make a prey of you,—therefore fly from folly!—your fall is for the most part wrought by deceit!—for since the days of Eve, who fell by the device of the serpent, all her offspring, of the female sex, are victims to that credulity which first brought sin and death into the world.—If you wish to be happy both here and hereafter, abhor that enemy to truth,—that cross-eyed fawn­er Flattery,—as the rock on which so many of your charming sex are cast away!— avoid flattery!—that is the monstrous cham­pion of vice!—it is that deceitful imp that introduces pride, and all her followers;— the consequences are fatal!—For Heaven's sake avoid this one enemy, and you will conquer all the rest;—only consult with truth, the faithful companion of virtue, and you will readily perceive the happiness that results from thence;—accompany this one of virtue's champions, and never fear the rest; he will lead you to the pleasant walks of piety and virtue;—'tis these alone can insure you happiness through life!—an easy lesson!—If your mind is once fixed on it, your retention will for ever ensure it to you.—Pray, Ladies, don't be dormant in a work of such importance; it don't preclude any part of your dress, if suited to your station in life; no not any of your cosme­tics; [Page 25] —as effeminate foibles they are not to be accounted a pollution, so that decency in their usage, or a loss of time is not spent in their application.—I should say more on the subject, but I avoid any digression that might give offence to your sex; my wishes are sincere for the happiness of your tempo­ral and eternal state,—therefore don't be angry on reading these few lines by way of application;—only reflect, it is yourselves that are concerned.—A prayer morning and evening, cannot impede any part of your domestic duties,—ten minutes each time will suffice;— practise this rule for one year, then I am sure you will own that Novels contain morality, as well as pleasing narra­tions;—as truths are the foundation of this work, I request your attention.

Sir William practised the same art here at his son's chamber door, for he went his way without interrupting the lady;—and walked from his mansion to the summit of a rock that overhung the flowing tide, which at ebb exposed a frightful precipice.—Here it was, at half fall of neap tide the ship was cast on those breakers, from which the ten persons lately wrecked received their death wounds;—it raised up the contemplative ideas of this son of wisdom, to the man­sions of the Deity in the highest Heaven, in glory to him who is the refuge of the just and faithful,—which the person of the honorable lady, whose life he had saved, [Page 26] through God's assistance, he ranked amongst the most valuable of her sex; ardently wishing that Lord Colville would as readily consent to the union of his son with her as he should:—with this remark, that their persons and minds were very much alike.— He then leisurely walked back, when he found his son and Miss Colville in conver­sation, which was very agreeable to him;— the most respectful and affectionate greet­ings were exchanged.

When breakfast was prepared, the Baro­net expressed a tenderness for Miss Colville, intimating a desire of Henry's keeping a cor­respondence with her, as he was apprehensive Lord Colville would soon deprive both him and his son of the happiness they at present enjoyed in her company; supposing her fa­ther would remove her to town on receipt of his letter.—To this Miss Colville replied, she should ever with gratitude to him, and respect to his son, be much honored in the correspondence of either.—Many were the assurances of friendship that were reciprocal­ly exchanged; and Henry, fixing his thoughts on the beautiful object present, began, at his father's instance to describe the various countries he had visited; making remarks on the manners and customs of their inhabi­tants; taking a comparative view of their laws and constitutions, opposed to those of the English Nation; which accounts, re­marks, and applications highly entertained [Page 27] Miss Colville and his father, and were so agreeable, as to let the forenoon steal away insensibly, till dinner was on the table.— Thus did three days elapse in the society of three good persons, whose minds were of the same contexture.—The fourth day, pretty early in the morning, a post chaise and four horses stopt in the court yard, out of which Captain Colville and Lord Dacie stept, who were immediately introduced to Sir William, Henry, and Miss Colville. The Captain thanked the Baronet for the care he had taken of his sister, and related to them the manner of their escape from the dangers of the sea. After a tender embrace of her brother, Miss Colville launched out into praises of the hospitality of Sir William and his son, to which the Captain, in a handsome manner expressed his obligations, as also those of his family;—and gave Sir William to understand, that Lord Colville, his Lady, and a young female relation, would the next day arrive to pay their respects to him for the care he had taken of their daughter:— which intelligence gave great satisfaction to Miss Colville, Sir William Howard, and his son. During the conversation between the Captain and Sir William, his son, and Miss Colville, Lord Dacie stood in an auk­ward posture, without uttering a word, except a salute to the strangers on his first entrance.—The Captain seemed somewhat embarrassed at the cavalier behaviour of his [Page 28] friend, who had rivetted his eyes on Miss Colville, jogging his heel and toe so as to make a disagreeable sound.—He apologized for him, by observing to Sir William, that his friend, Lord Dacie, had borne him com­pany from town; on which Sir William complimented him in asking how the noble Duke his father, and the Dutchess his mother were; to which he answered in an affected tone, he supposed they were very well.— However, the Baronet with his usual polite­ness and hospitality, entertained his guests in a suitable manner. After dinner, Henry recognized the person of my Lord, whom he had seen on the Continent, which gave the evenings conversation a general turn; in which the depraved taste, the shallow un­derstanding, and the superficial knowledge of his Lordship, was glaringly conspicu­ous.—But Henry mildly passed over many controverted matters, in which Lord Dacie egregiously stated them his own way, regard­ing neither composition or disposition in his garulity.

At an early hour Miss Colville wished the gentlemen good night, being tired with the insipped parade of his Lordship; as a pellucid vein of libertinism was perceptible in all he could enlarge on;—adding to every other sentence, an oath of confirmation.

The character which he bore on the Con­tinent, as well as in the Metropolis, which was well known to Henry, was that of a pe­tulant [Page 29] coxcomb; therefore no intimacy ever subsisted between his Lordship and Henry, —for in truth they were opponents by princi­ple. Captain Colville was not so; he was nearly in a medium between the two former characters, consequently coherent to a com­panion of either disposition,—being compa­tible to a virtuous or vicious guidance.

The increased hour of the clock sum­moned them to rest.—The morning ushered in a fine day,—the vicar paid his respects, and was stayed by Sir William to breakfast. Lord Dacie immediately opposed the diffe­rence of the cloth of the Captain and the Parson, upon which each party politely gave precedence to the other;—however, the in­discreet jest of the shallow-headed hero did not escape a sharp reproof from the lady.— She observed, the reverend name command­ed respect; as also the honorable service of a potentate, or national representative;— but then the former certainly had the prece­dence;—yet in her opinion the latter had a pre-eminence over law or physic, which bore a component sound, as liberal professions, with divinity; but wherefore they were tag­ged together she was at a loss to suggest.— However, as a literary character, she ap­pealed to his Lordship for a solution.—The weakness of his understanding was immediate­ly discovered by the embarrassment he seem­ed under;—he got up, took his coffee in his hand, walked to the window, sipped it, [Page 30] and returned;—silence reigned universal!— upon which, the Captain indiscreetly burst forth into an immoderate fit of laughter, saying: "my Lord, you are foiled."— Lord Dacie replied, "I wonder at your ob­servation; do you think I reason with women?"—and walked to the window again in a pet.—Miss Colville was not at all dis­pleased, but with her usual good humoured aspect, said:—"my Lord, our sex thank you,—or in other words, I thank you in their name, for your refusal to speak reason­ably to any of us;—I hope your own sex may not experience the same inconvenience."

Sir William Howard changed the subject, fearing an obloquy thrown out by any of the young persons might tend to a bad conse­quence, well knowing, juvenile heat would seldom avow, tho' indiscreetly depart from consistency;—and in general terms, said, "I am certain we have all seen the Metro­politan cities of England and France, there­fore I should be glad of your separate opi­nions, whether we, or our neighbours, have gained the palm with respect to taste and refinement, in arts and sciences; and which city can boast of the most superb buildings, squares, recreations, and outlets?"

To which Lord Dacie, in a hasty tone re­plied, "there is no comparison;—except London bore an analogy, as a shilling to a guinea, if compared with Paris;—for what signifies," continued he, "the amplitude of [Page 31] that trading city, when the taste and elegance of Paris is mentioned?—Can we compare the choaked Thames with the grand river Seine,—whose banks are not crowded with buildings to the water's edge, but a parade of near an hundred feet in breadth between the houses and the river?—the parapet wall being low, adds a grandeur to the river, that the muddy Thames cannot presume to command.—If you look eastward towards the Pont Neuf, you have the whole range of the old and new Louvre on one side, and the Mazarin College on the other;—look down the river westward, the Thuilleries Gardens on one side, and the Palais de Bour­bon, with the grand Hospital on the other, are such views, that London has nothing to compare with them."

"I grant you," said Henry, "that those views are very pleasing; but your prejudice magnifies more than Newton's telescope, as London is at this time one of the first cities in Europe, or I may say the world:—for tho' the buildings come close to the water's edge, yet there is a convenience that results there­from, which would not be equalled by rai­sing a four foot wall to please the eye of an idle spectator.—Tho' we are not without views superior to those you have mentioned; —for, look up from Black-Friar's Bridge, and you take five times the scope you seem to make the most of.—In the first place, the Thames is four times the width of the [Page 32] Seine,—our bridges bear the same compari­son in length, for take the Pont Royal and Black-Friar's Bridge, what is the one to the other?—The Place de Victoires is by no means equal to Grosvenor-Square;—nor the boasted street of the Boulevards, equal to Oxford-street;—nay, the Palais Royal, if divested of its tinselled front, what are the chambers compared with those of St. James's?"—Here the Captain observed, "Gentlemen, I know but little of either London or Paris, tho' our family were the best part of a year in the latter.—I shall appoint an arbitrator, if you are both wil­ling to abide the decision."—Henry replied, "with all my heart,"—his Lordship only said, "every one to his own way of thinking, but certainly the French were the most po­lished people."—Sir William rallied his Lordship on calling the sons of ancient free­dom into the contest:—for it was not per­sons but things that were proposed for il­lustration.—The vicar wished to be neuter, —though he must observe, that in his time old England had no rival, if her qualities were known.

Miss Colville observed, that both nations possessed greatness;—in her way of think­ing, France could say "Paris was great" but England could at the same time pro­claim, "London was greater."—Sir Wil­liam complimented her on her sagacity,— which closed the conversation.

[Page 33]The vicar being summoned to attend a sick person, and Sir William to decide a controversy in his official capacity as a justice of the peace, the young people were left to converse by themselves.

The captain gave Henry a friendly invi­tation to town, which he very politely decli­ned; alledging, he should not be able to do himself the honor.—The arrival of Lord and Lady Colville, with Miss Dampier, their niece was announced, which drew the attention of all parties.—Lady Colville, it is natural to suppose, was agreeably surpri­sed, on seeing her supposed lost child in Hen­rietta, not having seen her for nearly two years;—his Lordship, her father, also ten­derly embraced his daughter;—joy was dif­fused on all sides in the sight of each other. —By this time Sir William Howard was re­leased from his suppliants, and was highly gratified with the interview; giving them joy in their child, and a hearty welcome to Howard's Castle,—which was answered with grateful acknowledgments by Lord and Lady Colville.

The young lady who was come to see her cousin Henrietta, with her uncle and aunt, was also a cousin to Lord Dacie, being sister's children; so that a proximity of kindness pervaded the strangers at Howard's Castle.

After dinner the the ladies and gentlemen separated, upon which Lady Colville gave her daughter to understand, that she must [Page 34] look upon Lord Dacie in a favourable light in future; as the Duke his father, and Lord Colville, her father, had agreed upon the match; and that an acquaintance between her and the young Lord, so as to settle their affections, was the only impediment to pro­tract solemnization.—However, her Lady­ship assured her daughter, that notwithstand­ing the refractory temper of Lord Colville, if the proposition did not meet Henrietta's plenary approbation, she hoped to find means to secede from the intended union.— Miss Colville listened to her mother's propo­sal, or rather information of her fathers in­tentions;—her father she knew to be abso­lute,—her mother humane and tender in her disposition,—yet easily overruled;— therefore, Henry's personage recurred most forcibly to her imagination.—To contrast him with Dacie, was the extremity of de­grees in comparison.

Miss Dampier observed to Miss Colville, the rank and fortune of her cousin, Lord Dacie, and the certainty of her arriving to a ducal coronet, if she gave her hand to the amiable young nobleman, as she stiled Dacie; — for Miss Dampier partook of some of his qualities, so far as pride, a preposterous taste, a loquacity never to cease, together with prejudicial opinions that were insur­mountable.—She was therefore a person whom Henrietta had reason to treat with civility as a relation, yet with so much pru­dence, [Page 35] as to guard against her admitting her into confidence; so that her reply was suit­able.—She observed to Charlotte Dampier, that such things required time to seriously consider,—remarking, that altho' life was uncertain, and short in the enjoyment of its pleasures,—yet marriage was a sound that conveyed a solemnity, and required mature deliberation:—for it was not conditionally for life, but absolutely so, until death calls for a separation.—Charlotte laughed hear­tily at her cousin's morality, as she called it, and wished some of her acquaintance had heard her.—Lady Colville, in her usual ten­der manner waved the discourse, observing the levity of her niece, well knowing the flighty turn of Charlotte was opposite to the temper of Henrietta;—she therefore jocose­ly, desired Charlotte to desist, by remarking her temper to be like her father's—alluding to Sir James Dampier, who was Lady Col­ville's own brother.

The ladies being seated at tea, we shall take a peep at what the gentlemen were about,—which was simply in the ancient style of English hospitality,—wine and friend­ship.—Sir William more than once had it at his tongue's end to propose an union be­tween his son and Lord Colville's daughter, Henrietta,—but just as he was determined to open the matter, his Lordship let the se­cret out, by informing the company then present, (Lord Dacie having stept to the [Page 36] garden) that the young lord was fixed upon by him and his father, to intermarry with his daughter;—which he judged an excellent match, as he termed it.—Upon which Sir William cast his eyes towards Henry, whom he perceived was somewhat chagrined at Lord Colville's avowal.—Sir William was not sufficiently collected in his ideas to make any reply; his surprise was so great, to find that a lady of such excellent parts as he knew Miss Colville to possess, should be made a slave to such a sapscull as Dacie;—therefore, Lord Colville, and his son the Captain, were at a loss to account for the delay of Sir William's answer.—Henry at that juncture withdrawing himself,—it was a few minutes before Sir William spoke to the question;— but then with a great deal of reserve, and a visible coolness which he could not get over, observed, "that Miss Colville was a lady deserving of the first character in the realm, and was every thing her sex ought to be,"— Lord Colville abruptly replied, "his care was to provide for her maintenance, by choosing a man, as a husband for his daugh­ter, who had a sufficient income to make him independent; and that the young noble­man he was so fortunate to make choice of, was heir to an estate of fifteen thousand a year,—there being but a sister to provide for who was two years younger then Lord Dacie; so that Henrietta had but little to fear when united with a person of the rank [Page 37] and fortune of his lordship." Sir William seemed to acquiesce, which closed the sub­ject, Lord Dacie entering the room.

Meanwhile Henry had the pleasure of con­versing with the ladies, who were mutually one and all charmed with his conversation, his vivacity and good humour being proper­ties not to be equalled; —adding, to an ele­gance of person scarcely to be met with, an air and deportment manly and noble.

Both Henry and Henrietta knowing the intentions of Lord Colville, though supposing each other strangers to them, it drew their eyes so forcibly, that they often met,—and darts of unutterable anguish pierced their hearts; so that repeated sighs were heaved involuntarily, which gave the quick-sighted Charlotte some idea of the symptoms.—But she dared not utter a groundless suspicion, until more corroborating circumstances oc­curred to ensure her of the orthodox of her belief.

The gentlemen now mixed company, and Henry received a rallying on his effeminan­cy, to prefer tea before wine.—Here he had the advantage, by making a confession, "that ladies were of that attaching quality, that a permission to be in their company without refreshments, was superior to any repast in the company of his own sex."— For this compliment Lady Colville thanked him, and jollity seemed to pervade the whole evening.

[Page 38]Early the next morning Sir William, at ebb-tide, showed Lord and Lady Colville the situation the ship was wrecked in, with the manner of their daughter's miraculous escape.

A week passed as a short space to all parties, except to Lord Dacie, who wished to return to town, having planted a sufficient quantity of the seeds of jealousy, to make his abode at Howard's Castle intolerable,— but through the persausion of Lord Col­ville he consented to stay three days longer.

Sir William Howard acquitted himself so well in the estimation of his visitants, that all were happy, except the exceptionable person just now mentioned, who suffered in the extreme to find every person attached to Henry; who, (by Sir William's inadver­tency it came out,) would, on his demise, be in possession of twenty thousand pounds per annum.—Also had in expectancy an income of an equal sum, with a Ducal Co­ronet annexed. Yet nevertheless, Henry's manner was meekness, added to a becoming cheerfulness, that made him the object of universal admiration.

The rumour of the extraordinary circum­stance of the shipwreck, by this time had found its way into all the news-papers throughout the kingdom,—therefore drew some persons of distinguished rank to en­quire into the truth of the matter.— The Duke of Kingsborough, accompanied [Page 39] by the Marquis of Languedoc, his Lady, and their beautiful daughter, were curious enough to take a trip to Howard's Castle,— at which seat they arrived the morning that Lord Colville and his company intended set­ting out for London.—The arrival of those noble personages retarded their journey, as the Duke of Kingsborough and Lord Colville were intimately acquainted.—Sir William Howard satisfactorily gave a detail of the ca­tastrophe, upon which it was determined Lord Colville should stay a few days longer.

His Grace of Kingsborough was happy in conversing with Henry Howard, who was his nephew and heir apparent, which, when Lord Colville understood, he was sorry he had engaged with the Duke of Ashbridge, Lord Dacie's father,—but as a man of honor he took no steps to retract.

The reader may naturally suppose, that in so polite an assemblage of notables, every species of recreation the country afford­ed was enjoyed;—a grand fete was given, but the season was rather too far advanced. —The ball room was finished in the highest taste, by the exertions of the ladies and gentlemen.—Lady Olivia, the Marquis of Languedoc's daughter, was Henry's partner; she was a person of great skill in the lively scenes of festivity, so that these two bore the laurel of the evening, as well as the sway of the morning. Olivia was a finished beauty, and had received what is stiled a good educa­tion [Page 40] in the Beau monde—and therefore might justly say, what report of merit has said, Je le tiens.—Miss Colville had but indifferent pastime;—clogged with Lord Dacie, who was but a poor substitute to show the graces of the ball room;—such a partner no doubt disconcerted Henrietta,—who was brilliant in her manner, but had no means to exhibit to advantage.—The near approaches of a succeeding day brought them to a resolution of changing the scene,—so that for once in the course of the regular practice of thirty years, Sir William was found in bed until nearly nine o'clock in the morning. Noon summoned the fatigued partakers of pleasure to the breakfast room, every eye sparkled with pleasure,—nothing impeded the gene­ral satisfaction that was diffused throughout the persons that composed this polite circle, —for Dacie had nipped in the bud the sprouts of jealousy, that suspicion had in a fit of malig­nant sport dropt in his bosom. The charm­ing Olivia, by the consent of all parties, and particularly at the instance of the Duke, was recommended to Henry's care;—there­fore serenity sat on Dacie's brow,—ease, though awkward, gave him her place. Har­mony thus beguiled all the strangers in the west, until the hoary-headed month of No­vember had taken possession of the fourth day in his sovereignty;—nor would the chil­ling breezes of the aged season have disturbed the happiness of Howard's Castle, but that [Page 41] several of the gentlemen had an interest in the wrangling of the law; and as those who possess the qualifications of acting as scribes or advocates, are not always in a hurry to prefer the interest of their clients to that of their own, it was a prudent step, in looking to the practice of the gentlemen of the long robe, so far as consistency would admit of. —Without aspersing the characters of honor and integrity that are the pillars of the law, it will not be improper to observe, how many quacks and illiterate pretenders there are in the profession,—who, like moths in a garment, spoil considerable property, to purloin a pittance to support their ignoble characters; to the utter ruin of families, who become burdens to the community, through the atrocity of such wretches, who would be more serviceable in the new settlements of Botany Bay, then in the old established con­stitution of Great-Britain and its dependen­cies.—But those pests of society render abortive the excellent uses of the law of this country, by their gross abuses of it;—for their lengths are the extent of impunity, and sometimes a step beyond it;—but then there is a loop to creep out at to avert the penalty of such violation.—Yet the evil can never be eradicated, until the mode of admission is rectified; as the candidates for the greatest trust, integrity can assume, are admitted, without any qualification, except having served, or attended a limited term of years, [Page 42] and then on paying a certain number of fees, are legally admitted to plunder according to law!—a shameful neglect in the wisdom of the supreme council of the nation!—for it is the gentlemen who bear the title of attornies, that are the set of men who want the pruning knife,—to act in the Prussian fashion, by lopping off three fourths of the superfluous shoots and rotten branches.—The gentlemen who are called to the bar are not the active agents in the iniquitous practice of protract­ing suits at law,—it is the tribe of the fore­going description.

All the nobility and gentry having taken an affectionate leave of Sir William and his son, they were at leisure to concert what was necessary to be done. Sir William having vacated his seat, and a writ being issued, Henry was elected without opposition; there­fore must needs attend parliament after the Christmas recess. Sir William gave his son several political lessons,—to which he faith­fully promised to concede in every matter he should be concerned in. The holidays being over, nothing material occurred. Henry took his leave of Sir William to give his maiden speech in the senate, which was on a question of national importance; on which he was loudly applauded in the house, and his speech published at full length in the news-papers. Sir William was not a little gratified in the difference of the modest account given by Henry in his letter, and of [Page 43] those in the news-papers announced of his talents. A few days attendance on the duties of the senate, gave Henry a popular name;—yet he was not intoxicated with the plaudits of the multitude;—wisely reflect­ing, the luculent spring was by a single drop made lutulent,—therefore he modestly refused all panegyric on his abilities which periodical writers held out.

About this time Captain Colville gave him an invitation to Colville-House, which was within a few streets of Henry's dwelling; his residence being at his uncle's house, the Duke of Kingsborough, Sir William having had no town house for some years. Henry accepted of his friend's invitation, for he still had a wish to see Henrietta, although he concluded she was to be the wife of Dacie. —Yet it gave him a kind of pleasure that results from the purity of mental faculties; as he wished for the happiness of the person who made the first impression of a tactile nature, which should now only bear the ap­pellation of friendship, yet required a pandect of the softest passion to eradicate it.

But as before remarked, Henry had a perfect mastery over his passions, therefore latitudinarianism was a course he abhor­red;—so that he went with pleasure to see his friends.—He received compliments from Lord and Lady Colville, General Mounsey and his Lady, Miss Dampier, and several others, but was surprized he did not [Page 44] see Henrietta.—He enquired how she did, was told very well, but was not in town; she was on a visit to Lady Ann Catesby, the sister of Lord Dacie, at Ashbridge, the seat of the Duke his father.

Until this instant Henry was never at a a loss for recollection,—but the frailty of human nature, often, in a conflict with rea­son, is more than a conqueror, for every person present observed the disorder of the minute, and was questioned as to the cause of his sudden indisposition, which he hap­pily overcame in a short time; giving out, that a dizziness, to which he was often sub­ject, was the cause, though he was then under prescription for it, which he hoped would prove a panacea.—This passed very well of all present, except Charlotte Dam­pier, who had other motives to germinate her suspicions.

The day passed extremely well,—the Ge­neral wished to cultivate an acquaintance with Henry, and a future day was appointed at his house for the pleasure of seeing each other.—Miss Dampier, in spite of her coquetting, found her heart was not free,— that Henry had trespassed innocently;—this was done without his knowledge, therefore we shall exculpate him.—No method pre­sented, as practicable to the wounded fair, to lay the state of her grievances before her paramour, at length a letter was considered the best intelligencer;—for oft times literal [Page 45] conveyance will set forth distinctly, what verbal conference would shrink from.— Wherefore, courtship by letter is recom­mended as the most delicate method of introduction;—and where deceit cannot appear in more colours than one,—so of course easily detected.

Henry was astonished at the billet-doux of Charlotte,—being unable to form a conjecture that would carry a feazability in what she meant, whether jest or earnest; but in compliance with the rules of decorum, he sent an answer, in which an explanation was required. The giddy fair-one judged the requisition was best, if an opportunity served, to deliver it orally—which was done by her calling on Henry at his apartments in his uncle's house. It was very disagree­ble to Henry, to receive a lady into the house, without the knowledge of his uncle, and to deny her an audience, after admis­sion, would be likewise a still more irksome task to a person of his feelings;—for he found himself considerably agitated by the imprudence of his visitant:—as, in females, nothing can argue a greater share of indis­cretion, than to degrade themselves by acting masculine characters, to pay those visits that should be paid to them; there­fore, let ladies of prudence and virtue have that coercive principle, to avoid such unbecoming steps towards levity.

A long conversation ensued, but the [Page 46] wisdom Henry possessed was unshaken. No advantages were presumed, and much less taken, although a breach of the laws of prudence might have been otherwise handled by many of our depraved pragmatic heroes of modern taste. Here the scale was balanced. Miss Dampier took her leave, though unsatisfied as to Henry's frankness,— for though he alledged he was not pre­engaged, nor yet averse to the happiness of a connubial state, he pleaded for time to consider,—never offering to kiss her lips;— a pleasure she hoped to enjoy. But such inflammatory incitements, often tend to the worst consequences;—a practice though fashionable, yet ‘more honored in the breach than the observation of it’ for ladies who wish to reap the advantages of this life, and that to come, should conduct themselves with the utmost caution; and doubt every thing that carries an appearance of danger with it. But the lady in question did not possess the necessary ingredients to avoid an imputation of censure, which is a stain to the character of a virtuous woman, not easily effaced, and often terminates in a flaw through life. Thus the enamorata retired from an unsatisfactory interview.— However an emissary was sent the next morning with an elucidation, setting forth, her suspicions of his attachment to her cou­sin, Miss Colville, with a recital of what he already knew,—the intentions of the pa­rents [Page 47] of Lord Dacie and Henrietta; hint­ing that she had for some time suspected what she feared was too true:—but her en­deavours should be exerted to hasten the solemnization of the nuptials of her cou­sins,—as they both were of the same affinity to her;—with several indirect insidious words, which had so great an effect upon Henry, as to hurt his feelings very much.— He saw plainly what kind of a woman he had to deal with,—how dangerous it was either to encourage or reject her passion;— and that she would not be baulked easily.— This dilemma put him to the ne plus ultra of acting.—An answer, as was required, was returned.

This singular circumstance nearly de­prived Henry of his vivacity;—however, a respite was granted until the appointment at General Mounsey's took place; a day of much business, as intended by Miss Dam­pier. The day arrived which brought with it all the gaiety and splendour of the town; it was that appointed for celebrating her Majesty's birth day; therefore, the notables throughout the Metropolis, assisted in pay­ing their compliments to so amiable a pair as the nation is blessed with;—for the ex­ample given by the Royal Personages, is not to be equalled; and justly merits the approbation and admiration of every liberal minded person throughout Europe.

The ladies and gentlemen assembled at [Page 48] General Mounsey's were very numerous; and in the assemblage, were the Dukes of Kingsborough and Ashbridge, with the fa­mily of the latter, as also Lord and Lady Colville and family, consequently Henrietta was included.—For the first time Henry saw the beautiful Lady Ann Catesby,—Lady Olivia Beaumont, the lovely daughter of the Marquis of Languedoc was in her com­pany; they were with Henrietta, three of the first toasts in this kingdom, each being an accomplished woman.—Miss Dampier had a watchful eye on Henry, therefore he was precluded the scope he would otherwise have taken in innocent recreations.—The court ball called the whole group to St. James's, so that Miss Dampier lost her in­tended hour of interview, which she fancied portended such happiness;—vain of the large fortune she knew she should possess, (which was superior by far to any of the ladies already mentioned) a pride (of all others the most contemptible,) took posses­sion of her soul; betokening a low taste, an avaricious disposition, and an inclination the reverse of every thing a lady should be.

Henry was elegant in the ball room.— The ladies Ann Catesby and Henrietta Colville were minuet partners;—Lady Oli­via Beaumont a country dance partner;— Henrietta then was a second time his partner, —Having led down the dance they had an opportunity to exchange a few words,— Henry gave the argument or heads of the [Page 49] Chapter of Accidents relative to Charlotte Dampier;—Henrietta also related the arbi­trary measures that were put in practice to gain her compliance to intermarry with Lord Dacie,—also gave Henry to under­stand, that he was not indifferent in Lady Olivia's eyes, and might expect a literal explanation.

Nothing further passed, Lord Dacie join­ing the company; being extremely fond of his intended bride, and tenacious to secure her person. The assembly having broke up about three o'clock in the morning, the whole company who had left the General's house returned thither; not one, even amongst the seniors, complaining of the want of rest, as all wished to suivez raison, so far as they might say, Loyal je serai du­rant ma vie bon vouloir servir le majesté, so kept the night in honor of the day, and the succeeding day in honor of the night, to make for once an excuse loyalté me oblige.— Here it might be excusable for once, but never should be repeated; as human nature will not admit of a repetition of such recre­ations as would prevent a necessary recruit of those animal spirits which are dispersed by the exertion of our faculties; for were ladies to endeavour to acquire a knowledge of philosophy, instead of spending their time in learning useless foreign languages, they would thereby enlarge their faculties, and gain, if not a precedence to, at least [Page 50] an equality with the male sex.—It is not the boasted knowledge gained by conversing in seminaries of learning, that can give us a knowledge of mankind;—with what can the fusty style of the Greeks or the Romans enrich our minds, when their languages are dead to us?—like many other antiquated customs, ‘more honored in the breach than the observance.’ —Indeed, in any of the learned professions, Latin and Greek are only necessary to preserve the dignity of the profession.—Therefore, Ladies who would wish to be acquainted with the writings of the Greek or Latin poets, should read some good translations, and they would be more than a match for those critics of mouldy scraps, who pride themselves in their unintelligible profundity and dogma­tical principles.

It is now time to inform our readers, that all the company went from General Moun­sey's, except Miss Colville and Henry Howard, who, through the persuasion of the General took a morning's nap. The afternoon furnished the tea-table. The General and Mrs. Mounsey were highly taken with Henry, often wishing, that an union between him and Henrietta had taken place;—but as nothing in an honorable manner could for the present occur, all thoughts of it were laid aside; yet with a secret resolve on the part of the General, to bring it about if possible, notwithstand­ing [Page 51] the obstinate temper of his father-in-law.—Henry and Miss Colville spent the day together with the greatest satisfaction; their dispositions being so similar, that it might be said they possessed but one mind.— The General pressed Henry to make one at a card party that evening, with which he reluctantly complied, fearing his presence might create groundless suspicions to the prejudice of Miss Colville's character; well knowing, Miss Dampier would make a handle of the least appearance whereby she could raise the anger of Lord Dacie; and by disturbing the tranquillity of the two families, consequently disable Henry from having an opportunity of conversing with Miss Colville. Henrietta let Mrs. Moun­sey into the secret of Miss Dampier's attack on Henry, which created a good deal of mirth between the Ladies. The General and Henry were both pressing to know the secret, which Miss Colville strenuously op­posed;—however, by the General's solicita­tion, Mrs. Mounsey consented to relate it, if Henry gave permission. This request he did not hesitate to comply with, yet accused himself of remissness, on hearing Miss Dampier's affair was the cause of the Ladies sport,—as it was really imprudent in Henry to divulge it, without the strictest injunction to keep it inviolably a secret;—but he left no restraint on Miss Colville in that respect, therefore he could only blame himself.— [Page 52] The General was very merry on the intelli­gence given, and in a friendly manner cau­tioned Henry against the arts that might be practised by Miss Dampier, in which he was joined by Mrs. Mounsey. Miss Colville said but little, only remarked it was too forward for a lady.—Company increased,—Captain Colville being of the party, the evening passed very agreeably;—it was near ten o'clock at night, when Miss Dampier enter­ed the room; her relations were at a loss to conjecture what could have brought her thither at that hour.—But the facetious General enquired into the state of her mind, which the love-sick lady relished but indifferently; apologized for her interrupt­ing such good company; and said, she came thither at that hour on business of some im­portance to her cousin▪ Lord Dacie, whom she thought to have found there.

Henry felt himself uneasy at the sight of that lady, as did Miss Colville, neither of whom had the presence of mind to speak to Miss Dampier, who, with a malicious smile said, "so, lady and gentleman, you are both too well employed to speak," and then, like a bow-shot disappeared. We may naturally suppose they were both hurt very much by that lady's odd manner of salutation, yet were at a loss to account for such conduct. —The General, by a pleasant joke, gave Henry, in a low voice, the substance of his thoughts respecting the strange visit just now [Page 53] paid by Miss Dampier, in which he coincid­ed. The company soon after broke up, when no persuasion could avail, for Henry was resolved on going to his uncle's.—On his leaving the General's house, Capt. Colville accompanied him, and informed him, that on his coming to his brother's, he had seen Lord Dacie and Miss Dampier standing at the entrance of an avenue, in conversation with Betty, his sister Henrietta's waiting-maid; but on his approach they disappear­ed.—Henry found there was something in preparation which he judged was not ground­ed on honorable principles,—however, he trusted to the method he had hitherto inva­riably practised, to acquit himself with ho­nor against the united forces of calumny and perfidy; the only productions the ma­chinations of evil-minded persons can be­get.—The Captain took his leave with a design to give him a meeting in the morning at breakfast.—Henry retired to rest, strange­ly affected by the unaccountable appearan­ces of the evening; casting up the most that could be made of them, he found he had nothing to fear from the lady or gentle­man in question;—rightly judging, Miss Colville's maid-servant acted as an emissary; therefore to inform Henrietta must be at­tended to in the morning.—At an early hour Henry's servant carried a letter to Miss Col­ville, warning her against a breach of her servant's trust.—An answer was received by [Page 54] Henry, acknowledging the obligation for his care, at the same time informing him, that her brother, on his parting with him the preceding night, had told her what he had seen,—upon which Betty made a con­fession, that by a gift of a few guineas, Lord Dacie and Miss Dampier had prevail­ed on her to watch the conduct of Mr. How­ard and Miss Colville,—for what reason she did not know,—but believed Lord Dacie would do Mr. Howard all the injury in his power.

Upon reading the contents, Mr. Howard could not readily account for all the scenes of the piece in rehearsal. Presently Capt. Colville called agreeable to his promise. After breakfast they went together to pay a morn­ing's visit to General Mounsey and the ladies. Lord Dacie was beforehand with them, and seemed pleased to see Mr. Howard, and gave him an invitation to Ashbridge, which Mr. Howard declined in the most polite man­ner, but his Lordship would take no denial, so Mr. Howard, after several importunities consented, being surprised at the seeming friendship of Dacie; but with prudence re­solved to guard against every advantage. Captain Colville, and the ladies, were be­yond description perplexed to account for Lord Dacie's great good-nature to Mr. How­ard,—as Miss Colville observed, from the beginning of their acquaintance, what a dislike Dacie seemed to have to Mr. Howard; [Page 55] but the General entering the room almost at that instant, Lord Dacie also asked him to favour him with his company at Ashbridge, to which he readily consented, and enquired who were the others that were to compose the party? to this Dacie, in a vague man­ner said, a few select friends.—The Gene­ral, in his usual vein of humour, replied, perhaps enemies; Dacie seemed hurt at his joke. Here the subject concluded, and Lord Dacie, wishing a good morning, de­parted.

Mr. Howard had none present but his friends, for the Captain had wholly forsaken his intended relation Lord Dacie, and was closely attached to the interest of Mr. How­ard.—Of the rest, Henry had every assur­ance of friendship.—The national concerns required Mr. Howard's attendance in the House of Commons, and he, of course, took an early leave; Miss Colville was un­der the necessity of attending her mother, who was indisposed;—the Captain bearing her company, the General and his lady were left alone. In the evening Miss Dampier paid them a visit in seeming good spirits, and made kind enquiries for Mr. Howard, who, she said, was a gentleman of distin­guished abilities; to this Mrs. Mounsey made no reply, the General withdrawing previous to her entrée.—"But," continued Miss Dampier, "is it not provoking, that "my cousin Henrietta will at all times con­duct [Page 56] herself so imprudently, as to shun Lord Dacie's company, if Mr. Howard's can be resorted to?—this is not becoming, notwithstanding all her boasted religion."— "Pray, Madam," replied Mrs. Mounsey, "do not give yourself the liberty to asperse an absent character, especially one who is undeserving of the venom you would wil­lingly discharge; I beg you will not censure my sister."—These words roused the fiery disposition of Charlotte; she, in an elevated tone rejoined, by asking Mrs. Mounsey if she could deny what she had asserted? if not, then Mrs. Mounsey was equally culpa­ble, to connive at such duplicity.

Mrs. Mounsey took little notice of her invective, but intreated her to choose some other time, when the person whom she in­veighed against might be present; to these words Charlotte made no reply, but hastily withdrew, sounding the door as she went out, signifying thereby the humour she was in.

No change in the condition of affairs took place for some days.—Mr. Howard, in com­pany with General Mounsey and Capt. Col­ville, paid Lord Dacie the promised visit; Lord Colville, Lady Colville, Henrietta, and Mrs. Mounsey having gone some hours pre­vious.—In this visit nothing material happen­ed until the close of the evening, when Mr. Howard wished to return to town, which was opposed in a friendly manner by Lord [Page 57] Dacie, and the Duke and the Dutchess of Ashbridge, upon serious grounds, as they expressed.—Mr. Howard, upon their entrea­ties▪ consented to give over his intentions until the next morning.—Wine went round in rather a mercurial revolution, therefore too quick in its motion for the temperate habit of Henry.—After the male characters were warm, and the ladies retired, the Duke proposed to Mr. Howard a treaty of alliance, not offensively and defensively, as states and powers propose, but that of father and son; in short, an invitation to pay his addresses to Lady Ann.—This was a delicate point with Mr. Howard: he was conscious the lady in question was equal to his expectations; and of personage, family, and fortune, to rank with the first lady in the kingdom; her youth and beauty could not be disputed, therefore a suitable reply was absolutely necessary.— For a minute he paused, and then, with the utmost courtesy thanked the noble Duke for the intended honor, but remarked, that there were several considerable matters to be settled previous to his being able to state a time wherein he could say he was prepared to pay his addresses to the lady; as his father, Sir William Howard, was a man of that strictness and regularity, that nothing could palliate the crime he would think him guil­ty of, were he to enter into any preliminary without his leave and approbation:—and that he should with pleasure lay before him [Page 58] the whole of the business, if his Grace thought proper.—This Mr. Howard consi­dered as a sure method of parrying for the present any scheme that might be proposed; as he had in mind the advice in Miss Col­ville's letter, which conjured him to act with caution during his stay at Ashbridge; she being careful of his person, and doubt­ful of his safety, where Lord Dacie could act without controul.—It may be urged, what could a gentleman of Mr. Howard's rank and fortune fear, when surrounded by his friends, at the seat of a man of fashion, a small distance from the metropolis?—To this every prudent person, who has read of the oddities of Lord Dacie's character (his mind stocked with the malignant plants of envy and jealousy, the latter of which had shed its baleful seeds in such a prolific soil, that it was beyond all skill to eradicate the evil) will readily admit, that if they recur to the former occurrences, his safety was really doubtful; which will hereafter explain the propriety of the constant use of the aid of prudence,—for Lord Dacie here put it to the test, with an irregular subterfuge, by observing, that Mr. Howard looked for more weight in the scale of Plutus; adding, he was certain Sir William Howard had not the pow­er to abjugate him in every transaction, as a living witness could testify.—On his utter­ing these last words, the company were somewhat alarmed, by the gross manner of [Page 59] Lord Dacie's breach of order, to a select party of his friends;—but Mr. Howard, in a cool determinate voice, requested to know the meaning of his pun, adding, in a peremptory tone, it was an improper time to use such a species of language; but he must insist on an explanation.—No reply was given by Lord Dacie, but a laugh, with which he slunk out of the room.—It was now too late to think of town,—besides, as the utmost harmony had hitherto reigned, Henry was careful to be on the most deli­cate forms of politeness, to continue it.

Soon after Lord Dacie returned, and in a light manner wished to retract his words, saying, it was but freedom of speech.— The General, casting his eye on his lordship, with a sarcastic smile, replied, it was free­dom, indeed!—Here the affair dropt.— Tea and cards came in succession;—the cast of partners were Mr. Howard and Miss Colville, Lord Dacie and Miss Dam­pier, Captain Colville and Lady Anne Catesby.—This work of chance, as it may be called, in coupling them in this manner, gave Lord Dacie all the sourness he could decently support without an open revolt from honor. —Success dealt to Mr. Howard and his partner in a great measure; though nothing very considerable was ha­zarded by any of the parties, it was a suffi­cient cause to raise a dispute;—Miss Dam­pier alledged an unfair method was practised [Page 60] in which she was seconded by Lord Dacie; —discontent stalked with gigantic strides, therefore pretexts of the most trivial kind were sufficient incitements;—the amuse­ment was marred—upon which the play ended, but not without very loud com­plaints of irregularity, wherein Mr. How­ard and Miss Colville were tacit, plainly perceiving, every trifle gave offence.— Mr. Howard got up and walked into the court-yard, but had scarce got across before he received the contents of a pistol in the tip of his shoulder, which wounded him in two places, though very slightly.

The report of the pistol drew out the male part of the company, who were not afraid of danger, in the foremost of whom were Captain Colville and General Mounsey; when, on seeing the condition of Mr. How­ard, they were astonished to the greatest de­gree, and unable to conjecture what could have produced so strange an incident,— as Lord Dacie, and all his domestics, were within doors at the time.—However, his Lordship did not go without censure,— notwithstanding he was (seemingly) the most surprised of any person present;—repeatedly asking Mr. Howard, what appearance the ruffian or ruffians had, who had so Tartar-like assaulted him?—Mr. Howard gave the description of a soldier, or a man habited as one.—By this time the ladies were made acquainted, by some of the affrighted fe­male [Page 61] male servants, that Mr. Howard was shot dead!—This tale had nearly proved fatal to Miss Colville, throwing her into a state of insensibility, which was succeeded by a vio­lent paroxysm, in which she called on Mr. Howard's name repeatedly; but through the greatest attention she was restored to her senses, though not before several hours had elapsed, and she had a sight of Mr. How­ard, who told her his wounds were slight.— During this unhappy stir in the family at Ashbridge, Miss Dampier and Lord Dacie were both active in the misery of the night. —Miss Dampier had a violent convulsion fit on hearing of the accident that befel Mr. Howard, for she sincerely loved him, and would of course (according to the law of love) rather have seen him in the grave, than in the arms of another.—Lord Dacie felt sufficiently, on hearing Miss Colville at intervals call, in her agony, on the name of Henry, in a rapturous manner;—it was a rack to his very soul!—a sensation unutter­able! for his pain was in the most exquisite degree acute, and grievous to be borne;— but the authors of evil are the greatest par­takers of its malignant influence;—for he who culls poison for the dispatch of others, rarely escapes himself. In Dacie this max­im was verified; for though God gives his sun-shine and rain to the just and unjust, yet he has also said, "that the worker of ini­quity shall perish by his own stratagems."— [Page 62] To proceed,—Mr. Howard's wounds, which were very trifling, were dressed by a sur­geon procured for that purpose, yet a fever was feared as attendant; therefore it was judged necessary that he should keep to his room for a few days. To this Henry strongly objected, but was over-ruled, and constrained by every person present; and to preserve a life of such eminent virtues, it was unanimously agreed on, that none of the company should depart until he was able to go to town.—This was General Mounsey's care, for though he left his domestics without orders for a single day's absence, yet his friend bore that estimation, that nothing could preclude his utmost at­tention. In this plan he was most heartily seconded by Captain Colville, who foresaw his sister's happiness existed in the safety of the worthy Howard, whom he now regard­ed as a near relation.

Lord Colville and his Lady were very assiduous during Mr. Howard's confinement; but the ladies, one and all, constantly, notwithstanding the Doctor's advice to the contrary, kept him company the greatest part of the time.

The affair respecting Miss Dampier and Miss Colville during this period widened the breach; they were now relations it is true, but no longer friends, for Miss Dam­pier openly claimed something more than modesty could produce, or decency can [Page 63] relate, of an interest in Mr. Howard; but lest our readers should be inclined to think him deserving of censure in that respect, I shall observe, Mr. Howard's morals were pure and uncorrupt, never having assayed to overstep the bounds of virtue and reli­gion▪—The ladies were hereupon inclined to think less favourable of Miss Dampier; so that her pretext only disappointed her in those steps she took in a most unwarrantable assertion, to secure to her the test of truth by a palpable falsehood,—a method that always proves futile.—During those strange singularities, a disagreeable piece of news was set forth in all the public papers,—that Mr. Howard had recently been married to Miss Dampier, and had gone to Ashbridge to solemnize their nuptials, and on the day after was murdered by Lord Dacie's ruffi­ans.—This report in a news-paper presented itself to Sir William Howard, as he sat down to breakfast at Howard-Castle.—But who can express the surprise, vexation, and grief of that truly great and good man!— David on the fall of Absalom, did not feel more, though their feelings were nearly allied; for Sir William conceived his son guilty of rebellion, in entering into such a state without his approbation, and that Di­vine Vengeance pursued him for such a vio­lation of his duty! It behoves both sexes seriously to reflect, that to reject the advice, or to contract marriage without the consent [Page 64] and approbation of parents, is a direct vio­lation of God's commandment; and will certainly draw down a punishment adequate to so enormous a crime. On this occasion Sir William lost no time;—day and night forwarded him; so that little more than thirty hours, brought him more than two hundred miles.—He never rested until he alighted at Ashbridge, enquired for, heard, and soon had a sight of his son.—Surprise never wore a face of greater appearance of wonder, than on the worthy father and his worthy son seeing each other; a kind of suspicion of the reality of the scene haunted the minds of them both; when the good natured General shook the Baronet's hand, and on his request the good man showed the print that had given him so much uneasi­ness, begging to know how much of it was true;—all of which was refuted, to the great satisfaction of the father of this amia­ble young man, who was now able to set up, and judged to be out of danger of any feverish attack.

As soon as Sir William Howard had heard the whole story, he rendered thanks to the Deity for preserving the life of his son in the hour of danger;—however, the friends of Henry were unanimous in cen­suring Lord Dacie.—The Duke of Kings­sorough was rigid in his opinion of the dishonorable turn of his Lordship; not concealing his prejudice from the Duke of [Page 65] Ashbridge.—It was now the usual hour in which he daily visited his nephew; for since the accident, he was punctual in his attend­ance to secure the safety of Henry, until he should be able to remove him to town.— Therefore, the Duke opportunely visited him in the very hour of his father's arrival.— The Duke was astonished at the presence of Sir William Howard, "Brother," said he, ‘in the name of wonder, what enchant­ment has conjured you hither?’ but on Sir William's reply, and a sight of the news-paper, his surprise ceased in that re­spect; though it increased on reading the paragraph. Various were their conjectures; however, it was resolved upon to trace it, as far as they could, and in the mean time to insert a contradiction, which was imme­diately attended to. By this time the ar­rival of Sir William Howard was made known to the Duke and Dutchess of Ash­bridge, Lord and Lady Colville, with the other ladies;—a congratulation took place, and a hearty welcome to the neighbour­hood.—In all the happy faces on the occa­sion, none was so visibly affected as Miss Colville's, she poured out her prayers to Heaven, to bless her deliverer,—for so she always termed Sir William, since her ship­wreck.

Happiness and pleasure were seen in every face at Ashbridge, on the arrival of Sir William, and the restoration of his son's [Page 66] health.—The evening did not pass without the Duke of Ashbridge's conference with Sir William Howard on the former particu­lars, which he had opened to Henry, re­specting Lady Ann his daughter;—it was a subject of mature deliberation with Sir William, who therefore proposed a period to return a categorical answer on the subject. The next day dismissed all the strangers from Ashbridge.—Mr. Howard and his fa­ther returned to town, with the Duke of Kingsborough;—and although every effort was made to silence the public prints, yet a doubt pervaded the town, whether the mat­ter was real or fictitious;—but time, that regulator of report, gave the truth to the public in less than a month; and Mr. Howard received the compliments of the Speaker, in the House of Commons, on his providential escape.—This transaction threw an odium on Lord Dacie, that he could by no means efface, to the satisfaction of those who had entertained disadvantageous opi­nions of him.

Lord Colville would have willingly broke off the contract, but Lord Dacie and his father persisted in having the engagement fulfilled; for the marriage articles between Lord Dacie and Miss Colville were pre­pared;—a bond, with a condition thereunto written, having been already executed be­tween Lord Colville and the Duke of Ashbridge, subjecting either party to a [Page 67] penalty, to a large amount, which should recede from the condition of such bond:— however, Six Months were limited for ful­filling it, so that there were three months yet to come, to determine the point.

About this time Mr. Howard became an invalid, having got a new complaint, which showed apparent symptoms of a consump­tive attack. Chalybeate waters were pre­scribed by the gentlemen of the faculty, and the German Spa deemed the best for that purpose.—From hence arose a most pathetic scene;—Miss Colville was inconso­lable on receiving the news,—although uttered from the lips of Henry;—every thing in idea magnified to enormity;—the time, though but one year, fixed upon for his residence abroad, was with her an age;—she dreaded the impediments which his absence would inevitably throw in the way of her happiness; fearing the approach of the time, wherein her father was to ful­fil his engagement, or incur the penalty, as stipulated with the Duke of Ashbridge.— For ten days, which was the term Mr. Howard took to prepare himself for his journey to the Continent, Miss Colville was incessantly afflicting herself, on their being separated; and foreboded in her mind, that the approaching period was to terminate all the felicity life could afford,—placing an implicit faith in the delusion of her imagination;—so strong are the powers of [Page 68] the mind, when a chimerical series of the fictions which the nervous system may oft times impose, are suffered to revolve with the course of progressive order; from whence may be deduced, the danger of encouraging any of the opponents of reason, and much more, those of religion;—for hope is the sheet anchor of all those, who have faith in the regulating works of an Omnipotent Be­ing.—But we must make a small allowance for the errors of love,—for it is a strange passion, which alternately changes from its intense degrees in the zenith, to the nadir of human understanding; and overturns all the equipoise of reason, should she oppose the hasty strides of the tyrant.

The day too soon arrived, which was to separate two persons, who were really all they seemed to be;—doing to none those offices, which they could not with pleasure receive in return.—Mr. Howard took a dutiful and affectionate leave of his father, who, with General Mounsey, his Lady, Captain Colville, and Miss Colville, ac­companied him to Dover, that being the route he chose to Spa.—Those friends hav­ing, all except Henrietta, taken their adieu,—the affecting,—tender,—and deli­cate farewel, was between Henry and Henrietta, love's dominion indeed!—sighs and tears completely overcame the fortitude and resignation of those finished charac­ters;—but human nature is not without its [Page 69] frailty,—which is much better to be trivial and innocent, than the opposite extreme of so hurtful a contexture.—The wind was fair,—the packet ready,—and only waited for Mr. Howard;—dire necessity parted two persons who seemed moulded for each other. So long as the vessel remained in sight, Henry continued on deck, looking towards the spot where his friends stood; during which time, Miss Colville devoured with her eyes the object of her love;—resolving, never to admit another to supplant him in her heart;—and earnestly praying to Hea­ven to preserve him, and grant his safe return;—hoping to effect her escape from the snares of Lord Dacie, as Sir William Howard and General Mounsey had under­taken, previous to Henry's departure, to use their interest and influence with Lord Colville, to forego his covenant with the Duke of Ashbridge.

An hour deprived them of all observance of the vessel.—With a sorrowful counte­nance Miss Colville prepared to return with her friends to the Metropolis,—where they arrived early the next day.—Sir William and the General were not unmindful of their word with Miss Colville, but proceed­ed the day following in the business with her father, in order to emancipate her from the power of Lord Dacie; in which they succeeded beyond their most sanguine ex­pectations.—The following extraordinary occurrences facilitated the business.—

[Page 70]Miss Dampier had, through her agita­tion of mind, brought on a fever, in which she was apprehensive of the approach of death.—The dread of dissolution to an awakened sinner, must present horror, be­yond the power of description to be deline­ated.—In this hour of trial, Miss Dampier wished to see Mr. Howard, and her offended cousin, Henrietta;—and upon being told of the sudden departure of the former for the Continent, and of the latter accompa­nying him, under the care and conduct of her friends, she was much affected, more especially as a compunction had attacked her conscience; and she wished to see her aunt Lady Colville, to whom she confessed her malefaction in being privy to the attack made on Mr. Howard, at Ashbridge, though the use of fire arms was concealed from her;—but that Lord Dacie was culpable, was without doubt.—She giving reference to the assassin, he was secured, and confessed his crime; alledging by way of extenuation, the narrowness of his circumstances, and the largeness of the reward of his services, paid by Lord Dacie.—Though to a grovel­ling wretch, of such narrow faculties, this might seem a palliation for atrocity, yet it did not lessen the offence.

Upon Sir William Howard's being in­formed by Lord and Lady Colville, of the whole of this villainous conspiracy to maim his son, as the hireling set forth his instruc­tions [Page 71] were to that effect,—the wretch was permitted to escape, on condition of his transporting himself forthwith;—which the worthless being the first opportunity com­plied with.—As for Lord Dacie, he wil­lingly retracted in his pretension to Miss Colville; for his breach of honor and the laws of hospitality were more than sufficient to abrogate any treaty that could have been concluded.—However, by his, and the Duke his father's rescinding, the bond became void, and was consequently given up.—No words can express the heart-felt satisfaction Miss Colville experienced on the occasion;—being thus delivered from bond­age.

Miss Dampier's recovery remained for a long time doubtful, having several relapses of the disorder;—but Providence was pleased to lengthen her days, and she re­trieved her health, but was brought so low as to require assistance to use her limbs;— being debilitated exceedingly.—This lesson brought her to a due sense of her state;— she therefore resolved to redeem the time, and seek for peace and pardon, from the wise and good author of her being, to atone for such a black catalogue as her con­science held to view;—for the diabolical scheme of disfiguring the person of Mr. Howard, could answer no end whatever; but was the blackest work of horrid ima­gination, and an instigation of a depravity of heart.

[Page 72]By this time a letter from the beloved va­letudinarian was expected,—which accord­ingly came to hand, and brought the agree­able news of his safe arrival at Spa.— Sir William Howard was mindful to record the whole of the nouvelle accounts, which he transmitted to his son;—remarking, that prudence and caution, were, under the care of Heaven, still necessary attendants to secure him from danger;—for that wicked men, can, in the most distant na­tions, find miscreants, who for gain, would stick at nothing that wore the face of prac­ticability.

Captian Colville was very uneasy on per­ceiving a coolness in the Duke of Ashbridge towards him;—and the manner of the Dutchess giving him no opportunity to con­verse with Lady Ann, was almost a denial to his paying his devoirs to her, as had been permitted heretofore;—and on his taking his leave of Lady Ann, she with tears re­peated the message of her father, which prohibited her the pleasure of seeing him again as a suitor;—therefore it must not be, except by stealth.—This was a thunder-stroke to the Captain, who, as heir apparent to his father, Lord Colville, had considera­ble pretensions, and was in every respect on equal terms;—but knowing remonstrance would not avail, and that the pique arose from the denial of his sister to Lord Dacie, he could not hesitate to acknowledge it was [Page 73] the return of usage, or what is usually styled retaliation;—therefore, a literal plan was established, and the post was deputed to retail the measure of the tender passion; which they had with an ardent sincerity nourished, and which was truly sterling in its quality.

Lord Dacie being now a marked charac­ter amongst all his acquaintance, he found it a salutary step to take a trip to the conti­nent, until the wonder of the day should sleep in the minds of the public;—to which plan he conformed,—so that a few posts brought, in the packet received from Mr. Howard, an account of Lord Dacie's salutation at Spa.—This was not pleasing intelligence to any of the friends of Mr. Howard, though they had in recollection the wise conduct and prudential steps practised by him on all oc­casions;—yet, a mind of such an incorrigi­ble state as Lord Dacie's, must naturally lead every reflecting person to form a cri­tique, not to the advantage (as to safety) of the former, or to the honor of the latter. Lord Dacie was not clear in his intellects, and supposing Mr. Howard knew nothing of his former perfidy, sent him a card of invi­tation, which Mr. Howard returned, with a verbal answer, ‘that he should avoid such meetings, Ashbridge intended tragedy was so recent in his memory, that he could not readily forget the performance.’ [Page 74] —and added, ‘that he should always know the disguise of a base mind, though ar­rayed in the mask of friendship.’

This answer had the desired effect; Dacie was roused from his lethargic slumber;— he was now convinced Mr. Howard was made acquainted with the whole of the plot. —Conviction in his heart pronounced the sentence of guilt, which in the most deprav­ed of mankind, has its moments of reflec­tion; these never fail to bring shame to re­membrance, attended with bitter accusations of conscience.—Pusillanimous principles were naturally imbibed by him, which pre­vented his calling on Mr. Howard, to excuse his percussion, in such a villainous style, as he had done; yet to complete his portrait, he wanted courage and sagacity to direct him, for his counsellor, Miss Dampier, was absent, therefore he felt a severe loss in his plots, not being able to bring any of them to maturity;—he of course avoided Mr. Howard as much as possible;—constantly retiring if he saw him enter the state, pump, or assembly rooms; so it was a round of mortifying watchfulness, instead of recrea­tion, during the time he staid at Spa.—The evening previous to his setting out for Paris, he sent Mr. Howard the following letter;

Mr. Howard received a sort of satisfac­tion on reading Dacie's letter; his conces­sion showing a compunction that resulted from a sense of his crimes, and the misera­ble state his wickedness had plunged him in­to.—Though his method to conciliate bore a likeness to artifice, yet as there was nothing to accrue from duplicity in his con­fession, [Page 76] Mr. Howard readily gave him what credit, his returning to an orderly habit could claim as its right;—for minds, habi­tuated to the sincere test of regulated truth, are apt to adopt the steps prodigality as­sumes, as though there was merit in acting on principles of integrity.—However, li­berality of sentiment is so praise-worthy, that it only errs in doing good to all, with­out examining their pretensions.

During the season Mr. Howard was at Spa, nothing was going forward that me­rited recording, saving what follows: Cap­tain Colville was reduced to the penny-post for all his happiness,—(Lord Colville hav­ing desired him, on pain of displeasure, to discontinue his visits to Ashbridge, or its environs) but love often leads children into disobedience, which in Lady Ann Catesby and Captain Colville was instanced; and if possible for degrees of comparison, to aug­ment their affection—fervour and ardency, were the words of their motto.—A new character must now be introduced.—A Mr. Ward, the younger son of a nobleman, who had just taken upon him sacred orders of the church, made his appearance, with some friends, on a visit to the Marquis of Lan­guedock.—Lady Olivia Beaumont found such an irresistible attraction in the cassock'd hero, that love's toil was begun.—The out­lines of this honorable and reverend cha­racter were suitable to his function;—he [Page 77] was young, and in the style of manhood, very handsome; a sanguine complexion, piercing black eyes, delectable in aspect, tall and genteel, his delivery the very essence of eloquence; whence the reader may con­ceive, he was very soon a popular preacher, and did honor to his cloth, by his words and works—which, by the bye, is a good lesson for his brethren of the gown, for many preach one doctrine and practice another;— this is a glaring error, the notoriety of the fact, many experienced readers will, no doubt admit.

This gentleman was a cousin-german to General Mounsey, who was ever an advo­cate in the cause of honor; so that Mr. Ward had in him a friend, and a relation of a fixed standard; yet of so great a deli­cacy was this business, that a disparity in fortune made his pretensions to partake, of a precarious state, for the gown and his family allotment were but barely six hundred pound; a year, which with Lady Olivia's ten-thou­sand pounds per annum on the demise of the Marquis, her father, had but a light sound: but love levels all distinctions, for Mr. Ward and Lady Olivia commenced and continued the process of the Paphian God, with truth and sincerity.

Whilst affairs were thus complexion­ed, Miss Colville was constantly employed in the care of her absent best beloved, having [Page 78] held a correspondence by each succceding post; but now the period was advancing to its second moiety, when England should re­ceive her favourite, with the bloom of health, which blessing Heaven had won­derfully restored.—The salubrity of the mineral waters, and temperature of the climate, daily wrought wonders in Mr. Howard.—The following letter gave her hopes a lively faith, and she charitably gave credence to its contents;—for, without faith and charity, even in temporal matters, hope is but a helpless cripple, and often ex­pires in a conflict with the gigantic cham­pion of despair!

This letter had a proper effect on the drooping spirits of Miss Colville;—she returned her answer, giving potent reasons for neglecting to mention the reverend cha­racter alluded to; however, as Mounsey-Park, in Berkshire, was the now almost con­stant residence of General Mounsey and his Lady, Henrietta was only accommodated with occasional visits from Lady Olivia Beaumont; for the hurry of bustling strife had passed to the goal of rest; every thing slumbered into easy and natural interregnum of silence. The months slipt insensibly to [Page 81] the ultimate, upon which Henry was to re­turn to his native isle; and of course was expected with joy by all those who had the the pleasure of Mr. Howard's acquaintance. As for Miss Dampier, she spent her solitary hours at Ashbridge, Lady Colville having forbid her to visit at Colville-House, ever since the fever had left her,—accounting her of too dangerous a disposition to associate with her daughters. Sir James Dampier and his lady were expected to arrive in England in a few months, having resided in the ex­alted sphere of the representation of Majesty at one of the Barbarian courts of Africa;— and to the best of my recollection, at the imperial court of Morocco. Sir James was a plain honest man,—his lady haughty and impatient; and what was the worst in her composition, Pride was a load under which she could hardly support herself;— a burthen that has ruined the happiness of many of her sex.

In the latter end of September, Mr. How­ard's time to return was expired, which gave Miss Colville the very appearance of con­tent herself.—She indulged herself with a walk, in company with Lady Olivia Beau­mont, to the Park, and in a promiscuous manner they met with Captain Colville, her brother, accompanied by two other officers of his regiment, a Captain Stewart, and a Lieutenant Pearson, (both of whom had [Page 82] lately purchased their commissions) who were very uncouth to ladies of such elevat­ed rank, which Captain Colville took amiss, repeatedly informing them, that one lady was his sister, and the other a lady of distinc­tion, who paid her a visit.—However, his words were as idle dreams to those sons of Mars, imagining they were two courtezans, well known to Captain Colville, although in the conduct or appearance of the ladies nothing bespoke such characters; but some of the fops of fashion, when a cockade is presented in their hats, suppose they are at liberty to insult every fine woman they meet with.

The disturbance created on the Mall, (as the valiant Colville had given repeated proofs of his courage in three several battles, whilst Stewart and Pearson had never un­sheathed their swords, except at a challenge of a puppy, or an incensed gander, or such like animals) brought together a crowd, in which number of curious persons, the Rev. Mr. Ward was included.—He readily re­cognized the ladies, and immediately espou­sed their cause;—and in a commanding, sharp, and manly tone, desired the heroes of the sword to withdraw; which, to proceed from a messenger of peace, did not come in a palatable manner to be relished by such proud stomachs:—the consequence was, Captain Stewart, as a qualified blood, drew his sword on the unarmed clergyman, who, [Page 83] by the help of a cane, parried off the lunge, and instantly disarmed him, to the surprise and applause of all the spectators present; and then with the cane gave him his devers­ed discipline—Meanwhile Captain Colville rattanned Pearson very severely, who durst not draw upon a man of such courage and skill as he knew the Captain to be possessed of.—Words can scarcely convey the fright and agony such a rencontre naturally threw such timid innocent ladies into;—their shrieks and cries prevented Mr. Ward from exacting penance from Captain Stewart, which he otherwise would have done.—A conveyance was immediately procured, and the ladies were attended home with safety by Captain Colville and Mr. Ward.

This singular circumstance had great in­fluence with the Marquis and Marchioness of Languedock, who, on the occasion request­ed the pleasure of seeing those gentlemen at Pelham-House; this was a favourable op­portunity, and the worthies of the day, Mounsey and Colville were not unmindful of their friend; for Mr. Ward was compli­mented by all present as a man of honor and a man of resolution, when necessity called for the assistance of true courage, in a case of emergency.—The noble parents of Olivia were charmed with his conversation, for he was possessed of all the requisites that com­pose the man in a spiritual and temporal sense;—Calumny never could point a dart▪ [Page 84] nor Envy exhale a breath, that had, or could sully his fame.—Mild benevolence sat smiling in his road, for this son of the church was what her children should be in manners and morals.—Yet, notwithstand­ing his merit, the fickle goddess had denied him her boon, therefore little could desert claim, more than repeated thanks, praises, and promises of friendship.—Here the reader may remark, that this introduction was an inlet to a future familiar intercourse; for though Mr. Ward had visited at Pelham-House once before this period, yet he was partly a stranger to the noble proprietors.

Mr. Ward having done such wonders in the Park, his fame extended to all quarters of the towns;—the rude sons of war were derided by every discerning person, and heartily laughed at in their own corps;— to show the world the test of their courage, was a thing so horrid in the ideas of those squeamish heroes, that they gave up every pretension to it.—But some arch wags, who had an ascendancy over Captain Stewart, advised him to vindicate his honor, by send­ing a challenge to the gownsman who had so shamefully treated him; alledging that he would certainly decline opposing his person to the danger of powder and ball; and that by this means he would wipe away the im­puted scandal of pusillanimity. This scheme took the desired impression.—Quixotism [Page 85] was now established,—a messenger was posted away with the following card;

To which Mr. Ward returned for an­swer as follows:

This unexpected reply of Mr. Ward's was a thunder-stroke to the fighting Cap­tain,—his heart was agitated exceedingly,— and his pulse beat high,—the fright brought on a fever;—so that Mr. Ward was troubled [Page 86] no further with the gasconades of the cockade; the newspapers bore testimony of the seat of true courage (by publishing it) ‘to be of­ten resident with men of contrasted em­ployments.’ —The nine days of wonder were over,—and the story subsided.

Now the time was fully accomplished that Mr. Howard should return to England.— Miss Coville, Sir William Howard, and several of his nearest friends, were waiting his arrival with anxiety;—but all sublunary transactions are liable to transmutation, for when our thoughts are pregnant with the created plea­sures of hope, which exist only in imagina­tion, the limping swollen-eyed hag of dis­appointment mars our proposed happiness; —cutting off even what we possessed, from the flattering, yet all-acceptable cozener:— thus human happiness, at most, is in a con­tinual habit of uncertainty.—A former let­ter had given the happy hour in which Mr. Howard was to arrive at Kingsborough-House, in Surry, thither were assembled the entire circle of Howardian friends; but who can paint the reverse of the festive scene, upon receipt of an express, which gave the assembly to understand, that an accident of a broken limb, retarded Henry from being able to fulfil his engagement; which acci­dent proceeded from a hasty step into the pacquet at Ostend, (that being the way he chose in his return, being shorter by many leagues than by way of France) a shattered [Page 87] leg was the consequence, the fractured bones threatened an amputation to be necessary.— This intelligence threw a gloom on the aspect of every face present,—in Sir Willi­am Howard it excited every feeling of a parent of tenderness;—he sighed, and in his grief offered up fervent prayers to the Deity for the safe recovery of his son. As for Miss Colville, her afflictions were beyond measure;—every phantom of her mind cor­roborated the doubtings that oppressed her; —a kind of despair possessed her heart, that she should never see the object of her love; —therefore only to minds susceptible of the tender passion, can be conveyed the distress of this young lady.

Nothing could be devised by any of the ladies or gentlemen that composed the socie­ty of friends assembled, but a resignation to the will of Heaven, that disposes of all things for the best, to answer some unknown yet wise ends; so that only in the lap of pa­tience, their cares were laid: for all the anxiety that might arise in the breast of any solicitous friend, tended only to corrode with perplexity its possessor, and rendered no service to the afflicted object of Heaven's visitation.—To repine is a sin,—for re­signation and prayer certainly continues the work of miracles, notwithstanding what disaffected casuists have advanced to the contrary.

We shall leave this collection of notables [Page 88] to the contemplation of their friend's situation, as in fact it really proved to be a dangerous one:—whilst we observe to the reader, the turn of affairs at the metropolis of France.

Lord Dacie, we have already noticed, kept up a continued correspondence with Mr. Howard, therefore knew the time he had proposed to return to the land of liberty, and had resolved, if possible, to give him a friendly meeting in London, for which pur­pose he prepared his baggage for removal; but had, on the evening preceding his in­tended route, a curiosity to see the entertain­ment exhibited by royal appointment in the gardens of Versailles. But an unhappy ac­cident happened, whereby several persons were taken into custody, by the Maréchaus­sée of the Lieutenant Criminel at the Cha­telet, for a riot in those gardens; which subjects all persons, of whatever rank or country they may be, who draw swords in places of royalty, to an imprisonment of twenty-one years continuance. Amongst the number accused, was the unfortunate Lord Dacie, although his sword had not left its scabbard, and he had only been a spectator to the disorder of the malecontents. —To assert his innocence was left to fu­ture proofs, therefore he was hurried away to prison, with the other noblesse and gen­try, who were the unhappy objects of the arbitrary measures of despotic power. The Prevost of the Bastille received those persons [Page 89] from the officers of the Chatelet, to whose unhappy fate we shall leave them, and relate what passed elsewhere.

The pacquet in which Mr. Howard had taken his passage for England, was, by contrary winds forced, when half channel over, in their track for Margate, on the breakers off the town of Helveot Sluys, and every soul perished; amongst whom were several passengers of distinction.— Hereby we may observe, the favours of all bountiful Heaven, whose greatest blessings we too often construe into a curse; so much do we prize the short-sighted infatuation of our shallow discernments. The friends of Mr. Howard, on hearing the authentic ac­count of the loss of the pacquet, with the tragic catastrophe of the persons on board, were one and all thankful to the dispensation of Heaven, in ordering the lesser evil to prevent a greater.

News arrived of Mr. Howard's safety, so far as the faculty could conjecture, wherein the fears of amputation, or a fever were re­moved;—the splintered parts were knitted, though as a compound fracture the utmost care was necessary to guard against any dan­gerous symptom.—The misfortune of poor Dacie by this time was publicly known, for the news-papers announced the accusation and punishment.—The Duke of Ashbridge hereupon exerted all his court influence, to find means to extricate his son;—but libe­ration [Page 90] is not a light word in France;—liber­ty being a coy lady in that nation, as well as in most of the courts on the continent.— By this, discontented people may learn, that the possession of this English beauty, is the greatest blessing under Heaven.

This affair rendered the court of Lon­don active in demanding a British subject, who in the most plausible point of view, was but a spectator to the scene of riot the natives had solely enacted: to which re­monstrance the court of Versailles attended, and liberated the person of Lord Dacie; yet not without manifest regret, and wholly granting it as a national favour, rather than acknowledge the innocence of his lordship: —so much for the happiness and safety of the subjects of the grand monarque.

During this period, the scene of action was chiefly confined to Great-Britain.— The limb of Mr. Howard, which received the accident, now (by some alteration in the application) mended but slowly; and the necessary bandages, and the continued situation of an exact posture, brought on a sort of an intermitting fever.—This alarm­ing symptom gave Miss Colville fresh cause of uneasiness,—which showed itself in a manifest change in the state of her health, and by the advice of physicians, Bath waters were deemed absolutely necessary; to which place, Lord and Lady Colville removed, with their daughter, for that purpose.

[Page 91]The springs afforded but little relief, it was the mind that was disordered, and not any material decay in the body;—but so predominant is the power of the faculties of thought over the organs of action, that though the springs and order of mechanism is in the latter, yet the former comprises the force, power, and spirit, by which they are worked.—Hence we shall conclude a con­tinual state of watchfulness, in too an elabo­rate cast of thought, had so completely van­quished the refreshment of sleep, that for several days and nights the fair penitent knew nothing of the pleasing delusion of dreams, being without a desire to slumber. There­fore opiates were necessarily administered, which took a little effect, and of course the soporiferous draught was increased, which operated so powerfully, that an everlasting sleep was dreaded as the consequence; for during an interval of two days and nights, no remedy availed to revive her from a stu­pefaction. All this time, Lord and Lady Colville were almost frantic, and the dis­carded relation, Miss Dampier, was per­mitted to see her cousin; yet her presence or that of any other visitant had no effect.— Lady Ann Catesby and Lady Olivia Beau­mont were exceedingly affected, as were all friends who visited this amiable young lady.

Lord Dacie now arrived from the conti­nent, and was, with the rest of the Ashbridge [Page 92] family at Bath. He saw the beautiful object of his once violently heated love;—he was extremely agitated, and felt in his very soul the most poignant grief for her apparent dis­solution. But the only catholicon that can be applied in such cases had its course of application, that is to say, the hand of the Omnipotent Power in the working of Na­ture;—she by slow degrees arrived to a state of sensibility, and progressively attained the other faculties of Nature.

The cynic proverb says, ‘that love is a jest, and vows are but wind,’ which, in fallacious minds may obtain verification; but in those of exalted nature, where honor keeps the door of faith, it is altogether an erroneous principle. Henrietta loved, and yet held faith sacred! Lord Dacie loved; and broke his faith!—he saw, felt, and in­dulged a passion, that had led him into such fatal error, and which he had pledged his honor to his friend never to indulge again; —but alas! what are human resolves?— a blast of the impregnated element, and as light as the air itself, unless it is biassed by admonitions of honor and truth, two qua­lities rarely found in one person:—for tho' truth is essential to honor, yet honor is no guide to truth; and there is a false honor, that is more dangerous than the slippery foot­ed jilt, falsehood. For in what point of view shall we take the satiated prodigal, if he returns to those vicious courses, that depriv­ed [Page 93] him of all he possessed, when in the state of his inebriation.

If the wretch, reprieved from an ignomi­nious termination of his existence, should again by evil practises violate those laws which the hand of clemency had released him from the atonement of, do we generally admit that his second offence against light, knowledge, and experience, deserves the same mercy, which lengthened his days at a for­mer period.—I answer,—we do not:—for it would be a false aphorism, founded in er­ror, and must tend to the manifest injury of society.

Who can indulge an unlawful passion, and not dread its effects?—for love, if once it can conquer reason, is like firing a tenement of faggots,—it cannot be extinguished until all the fuel is exhausted;—therefore, why should we make light of such a dangerous combustion, whose explosion may give us cause, too late, to repent of such rashness?

Miss Colville and Mr. Howard were alike in the steps they slowly mounted to obtain, pristine vigour.—Great were the adulatory compliments paid by many male visitants, particularly Lord Dacie, who was now ad­mitted as a converted man; for his munifi­cence to many was so conspicuous, that a censure of ostentation was issued forth by the general firm of every body;—and, as his compliments with Miss Colville, came mal­a-propos, and was a perishable evanescent, [Page 94] —totally an exotic remedy, to gain that la­dy's favourable opinion of his reformed principles,—in that alone was her faith ac­counted weak: for this doubtful part of the creed of a lady, when a libertine is the saint to be canonized, is really good doctrine.— Pray keep in your opinion, and still doubt; for to the daughters of Eve, not in this ter­restrial sphere dwells a more dangerous mon­ster than an hypocrite—a wretch that de­spises God, to deceive man!—therefore let the convert by his faith show forth his works, that by his works faith may be given to his conversion.

Lady Olivia Beaumont found many in­conveniencies since his Lordship's return from the continent; he wore such a face of sanctity, that the Marquis and Marchioness of Languedoc were upon all occasions hap­py to see his Lordship. The worthy person of Mr. Ward was his first essay against the doctrine of truth,—but with no great suc­cess;—this son of the priesthood being more than his match in every respect: so that his Lordship took occasion to shun eve­ry place, where he knew the worthy gentle­man would be of the party.—Thus by an outward form, to which his inward thoughts were in no wise suited, this mistaken man practised a new species of deceit; but to many of those who were acquainted with his former mal-practices, it was obvious to be no more than a veil; though to the rest of the [Page 95] world it was a cloak which covered all the vile nakedness of craft and subtlety.—In this masked character his Lordship did not fail to write in course to Mr. Howard, who was fully satisfied of his Lordship's sincerity; and was so far wrapped up in his faith, as to intrust his pacquet for Miss Colville to the care of this son of sanctity.—But in this step he was certainly wrong, for where deceit has been once practised, that person should never be tempted to violate the laws of fidelity again.

The curiosity such a trust excited in him, did so powerfully work upon his weakness, that it was to him an impossibility to with­stand the temptation; he therefore formed a resolve at all events to see the contents of the pacquet. Thus he fell to a contempti­ble breach of honor and integrity, betraying the trust reposed in him; which could an­swer no end whatever, but only to show the frailty of human nature when it became de­praved:—so that little heed should be given to the returning honesty of the sons of pro­digality.—To heal their tainted principles is as much impossible, as to restore to life the dead corpse that is in a state of putrefac­tion; and it should be a settled maxim with the inexperienced of either sex, to shun the company of all those who have led a disso­lute life; for as it is impossible for the leo­pard to change his spots, in like manner is the same task of impossibility to those who [Page 96] pretend reformation, to be freed of their habitual evil practises, whenever they re­volve in the circles of gay scenes of life:— for they will certainly fulfil the scripture phrase, "like a dog return to his vomit, or a sow to wallowing in the mire."—This state will be continued so long as ease and elegance are worn on the brow of religious appearance.—This is certainly a fatal mis­take, and a great injury to the cause of pure religion, whose words and works are sim­ple, sincere, and without ostentatious pa­rade.

The worst state a man can fall into is to make a mockery of that sublime system which begins at the heart, and reaches up to Heaven, to enter the ears of the omniscient being, who perceives our most inward or re­mote thoughts; therefore, it is more than madness to attempt to act the hypocrite, when our opponent is no less a being than God himself.

Now Lord Dacie having broke the faith, he found the secret of Mr. Howard's heart, which was an expression of pure love for Miss Colville, by which all the former bitterness of the spirit of rivalship revived in his Lordship's breast; he was therefore resolved to make the most of every oppor­tunity: however, he had no confidant, his evil genius directing him solely; but he soon found out a scheme which he put in [Page 97] practice in the following extraordinary man­ner.

Miss Colville did not receive her usual weekly pacquet, therefore was very unhappy at the neglect of Mr. Howard. Her con­jectures were various upon the occasion, as she could not surmise what to impute it to. —Lord Dacie readily conceived the cause of that lady's uneasiness; he added a forgery to the pacquet committed to his care, by fixing a day, in which he mentioned Mr. Howard would arrive in England; and as he meant to surprise his friends, requested she would meet him at the Devizes, a town on the London road, some few miles from Bath; that by his entré unawares, his fa­ther, and all their friends at Bath, would meet with an agreeable surprise.

This device was framed, as he knew Miss Colville went out daily in a carriage beyond the verge of the city of Bath.—He sealed up the pacquet, and had it delivered by a per­son, as though he arrived express with it.— The news of this post revived the lady, to whom it was directed;—she felt every power assume its wonted regulation; she perused, digested, and then seemed amazed at the oddity of Mr. Howard's whim, as the letter represented; and as she perceived some­what in the difference of the hand-writing, and the style of the lines which were the counterfeit part, she was stagnant in opinion [Page 98] respecting it;—however, the conveyance by the post, express as she conceived, and his seal to it, put it beyond a doubt as ge­nuine.—This craft succeeded so well, that Lord Dacie was preparing all his necessary apparatus to put his scheme into practice, when he received another pacquet, inclosed in one to himself, and directed as before for Miss Colville.—This he also broke open, and found by its contents, that in reality Mr. Howard had determined to return to England, on the very day following that which he had appointed in the pacquet al­ready delivered, therefore, it made him more vigorous in his plan;—for he found it now wrought up to a pitch of desperation:— for what was now done, he knew would raise a potent enemy in Mr. Howard, and expose him to the shame and censure of the whole nation;—therefore he thought the plan that he had laid down, could he carry it through, and gain his point, the excuse of an ardent lover would be sufficient to palliate for the duplicity he might be charg­ed with.—Thus were at one and the same time, three grand deceptions carried on by this converted man of honor!—He deceiv­ed the liberal-minded Mr. Howard,—the charming, innocent fair, Miss Colville,— and the whole circle of his friends and ac­quaintance!—He was constrained to place confidence in his valet de chambre, whom he bribed to be honest, as he called it,— [Page 99] and posted him to look out for a ship, bound to the city of Lisbon, or any of the Italian States. As for France, he had received partly his deserts there, which raised in him an implacable hatred for every thing that bore the name of French. This trusty ser­vant was a Portugueze by birth, therefore fitted to the work he was employed in.— He found a Captain who would sail the day Lord Dacie proposed to seize his prize,— but would wait a day longer in order to ac­commodate his Lordship;—as his passen­gers were to be well paid for, he would strain a point to serve himself and his friends.

The post brought a letter to Sir William Howard, announcing the day that Henry hoped to pay his duty to him at Bath.— This diffused such a spirit of joy in the wor­thy Baronet, that he could not forbear ac­quainting Miss Colville with the agreeable intelligence, at which she seemed greatly surprised; yet imagined she was beforehand in her knowledge, and pleased herself with the agreeable ideas of Mr. Howard's frolic, to surprise his friends a day sooner than he was expected; she therefore was amusing the cognitions of her mind with the pleasures of idea, letting hope and an exuberant fancy sport in her bosom, at the prospect that lay before her.

Whilst she was thus agreeably entertain­ing her thoughts, the base-minded Lord [Page 100] Dacie was getting ready all necessaries for his intended elopement. The day at length arrived, and Miss Colville, though she ima­gined she was in a few hours to see the per­son for whom she wished to live, had a kind of predestination of fatality, which affected her so much that she fell into tears several times; this was observed by her domestics, who were anxious to know her disorder,— but she waved all direct answers. By these evasions her women supposed her mind to be somewhat disordered, and strenuously oppo­sed her going out that morning;—this li­berty of her servants made her in a peremp­tory manner, command silence, in which they implicitly obeyed.

She no sooner got into her carriage, than another flood of involuntary tears gushed from her eyes,—a presage of a particular change.—The coach went on at a quick pace, but ere she reached Devizes by three miles of the road, it being a lonesome place, no houses or persons near, a post-chaise and four horses appeared, out of which two men rushed with masks on, and without ceremo­ny commanded the coachman to stop, for­cing Miss Colville out of her carriage and thrusting her into the post-chaise, into which one of them stept, whilst the other rode on horseback with a loaded blunderbuss in his hand.—The chaise drove off at a great rate, taking the cross roads, and avoiding the town that was then partly in view, distant [Page 101] nearly three miles.—Previous to their de­parture, they gave the coachman and foot­man, who conducted Miss Colville, a cau­tion to depart homeward to Bath, on pain of the forfeiture of their lives;—with which they readily complied.

Words cannot describe the agony of Miss Colville!—she shrieked out, tore her hair, and in vain called for help, and then fell into a convulsion fit; but the ravisher, who had her now in his custody, had no pity on her cries and lamentations, telling her, on her revival, that as she regarded her life, welfare and safety, to forbear making such noise;—and endeavoured to sooth her, by informing her that she should be conducted to a place of safety, and find a friend there ready to receive her, who loved and adored her.—She, however received no consolation from this flattering tale, continuing to vent her grief in torrents of showers, that fell from her lovely eyes;—tears of heated brine of sorrow, that scalded and wounded her beauteous cheeks as they fell.

The tyrant was relentless, and closed up the blinds, not permitting her to leave her seat for nearly twenty hours, having provid­ed necessaries for the journey, which were in the carriage.—Of these refreshments the afflicted lady would not partake.—The stra­tagem practised on her,—the dangers she had to encounter,—the loss of Mr. Howard, [Page 102] —added to those of her friends, were bur­thens on her mind, not to be easily removed, —she therefore saw in the terrors of her mind, every species of villainy practised on her,—but how to escape she could not de­vise. With these disagreeable reflections she arrived at Black-Wall, near London, and was hurried immediately on board a ship, which was then making ready to fall down the river, and was bound on a voyage to Lisbon.

No sooner was she seated in the cabin, than the two masqued men took off their disguises, and in their persons she perceived, to her utmost astonishment and mortifica­tion,—Lord Dacie and his valet de chambre! —She was then, if possible, more miserable than before;—she felt every pang redou­bled; she then readily recollected the for­gery of the pacquet, and that it really must have been intercepted;—she accused his Lordship with it,—he did not hesitate to own it,—and only said, he thought every scheme laudable whereby he could secure her in his possession;—for he had determin­ed not to exist without her, and therefore hoped she would make him happy in a few days.—He would give her a week to make up her mind, which, if not favourable to his expectations, he must use force to make her comply with his desires, as his inten­tions were honorable;—and should as soon as they reached the destined port, make her [Page 103] his wife, according to the ceremonial of the law, and therefore she might rest assured, she was safe under his care, and that his person and fortune were at her service.—There we shall leave them and return to Bath.

It would baffle description to set forth the ravings of her parents,—her brothers, sister, and Sir William Howard; with the rest of her friends.—Henry arrived!—His Hen­rietta and his false friend Dacie, were both missing! He stormed, raved, and was in such a frantic plight, as he never experienced be­fore!—He soon discovered the cheat and trick played by the designing villainy of Dacie! He made the coachman and foot­man who attended Miss Colville, relate all the particulars of the usage of the ravisher. A hue and cry was raised! It was all in vain, for no person had seen a lady of her description, no inn keeper saw such travel­lers,—all enquiry was without effect.

A week was spent in exploring all parts of the kingdom;—advertisements made their appearance;—all the pacquets to the continent were constantly searched; every means used to find out the retreat of the stigmatized Dacie,—all efforts were vain:— so that the pursuers teturned to Bath incon­solable, and sorrow pervaded every counte­nance.

As for Mr. Howard, he wished for death a thousand times,—but had too great a [Page 104] dread to offend the Omnipotent Being, to use any means to shorten an existence, which was given by God, and should therefore be demanded at his good pleasure:—for of all the catalogue of crimes belonging to sinful man, none can equal that of suicide! It is of so daring and presuming a nature to op­pose God's will and pleasure, as to leave no hope of pardon;—for as there is no time on earth for repentance, we are certain in the grave there is none.

THE SCHOOL OF VIRTUE. VOL. II.

THE Portugueze ship proceeded on her voyage without any material occurrence, until the sixth day after her departure from England, when the sea became very rough; and although the vessel was deeply laden, and kept steady of course, yet Miss Col­ville was so much affected by sea sickness, that her recovery was doubtful.

Dord Dacie had hitherto behaved with all the respect imaginable, and gave every pos­sible attendance to render her situation as agreeable as could be expected, but her grief was not to be soothed;—she pined with inward sufferings; and had been so late [Page 106] an invalid, that her constitution bore evident marks of declension.—About sun-set the breeze abated, and in a few hours it totally subsided.—Lord Dacie seated himself by her bed-side in the state-room, and addressed Miss Colville in the following manner.

"I perceive you give way to an indul­gence of your grief,—a passion, in your present situation, very unbecoming; but if you persevere in it, the effects will be of a serious consequence,—for," continued he, "if you mourn the loss of that spiritless fellow, Henry Howard, your penchant shall be gratified;—he shall have your charms, if you are willing to resign yourself to his care in preference to mine;—but this you are to remark, as the test of truth, that I shall reap those sweets that were so long in­tended for Mr. Howard;—and only two days further consideration shall be granted, in which you are to determine on the mat­ter.—The choice is in substance this,—you must at all events yield to my embraces at that period;—if it is willingly performed on your part, I shall espouse you in legal form on our arrival at Lisbon, and then return with you to England as my lady:— and consider, Madam, that my family and fortune are equal to your own, and that you once had consented to give me your hand; which contract would have been long since consummated, were it not for the schemes of your composing, as well as those of my cou­sin, [Page 107] Miss Dampier:—for to her I owe the hardships I have felt, ever since Mr. How­ard returned from his travels.—But on the other hand, if it is a forced compliance on your part, the consequence will be this, I shall detain you during my pleasure, and then send you home by the first vessel I shall find suitable for your safe conveyance, to that idol of your affections; and no doubt, as he is possessed of so much religion, he will thankfully accept you, and be resigned to his fate of being comuted, as many men of rank and fashion often are.—So, Madam," continued Dacie, "you are at liberty to be a wife or a mistress, both of which are free­ly submitted to your own choice; whereby a state of future repentance on your own part may be avoided.

"I shall now withdraw, by to-morrow you will be more recollected in your thoughts, —and as it is now calm weather, I shall not disturb your rest any longer."—On saying these words he wished her a good night, and retired to his room on the other side of the cabin.

This choice, as Lord Dacie had termed it, was more than a dagger to the soul of Miss Colville. She, in despair, prayed to the author of her being, to release her from the tyranny of this wicked man, by calling her hence,—as there were no other means, in human probability, to protect her from the loathsome embraces of a man in whom was [Page 108] every species of villainy;—therefore the names of a wife or mistress, to such a per­son, were equally odious; and whose pro­mise of a performance to make legal the former appellation, was not to be relied on; at best it was sacrificing herself to a son of Belial, from whom every evil consequence was to be feared.

She spent the night in lamenting her misfortunes, often earnestly invoking the deity to avert the ruin that so nearly threat­ened her.

In the combat of a resignation to the will of Heaven, the delusive enemy of our na­ture held out the quick means to avoid shame and misfortune, by making her quie­tus in suicide.—This alluring bait was gild­ed over with the beauties of Roman virtue, and an exaltation of mind, and the use of such means when necessity required it, with a thousand suggestions equally palatable to a mind not fraught with the principles of un­corrupt religion;—but in all these methods of seduction the enemy found nothing in her; and not being able to prevail, he re­tired, leaving her to converse with the spiri­tual comforts she received from a sole de­pendence in a resigned state on the goodness and mercies of God: abhorring in her soul the idea of self-murder,—that gloomy mon­ster that recently hath shown his power amongst Christian nations.—The very op­posite power to the beneficence of the au­thor [Page 109] of Nature.—For how can a creature, which is composed of the dust of the earth, presume to disembody himself, to appear naked in the presence of glorious spirits, be­fore the throne of grace, with the entire burthen of numberless imperfections laid open to view? It is a horrid thought in­deed! and is the most depraved and attroci­ous crime man can commit.

About ten o'clock in the morning Lord Dacie again waited on Miss Colville, and by great persuasion she sipped a little tea; not having taken any sustenance, that would vi­sibly support human nature, since her decoy from Bath, except tea.

The day was nearly at a period when Lord Dacie again renewed his solicitations to her concerning the proposed choice.—She mild­ly observed;—that he should grant her time, till the ship arrived in the port of her destination, to consider of the matter;—but in this he peremptorily refused to comply. —His tenacious disposition made her apply herself to reason with him, which she did in the following words:

"I know, my Lord, I am now in your power, so far as a command over my person will admit,—but surely you will not be so cruel to exert that prerogative over a person of my sex, by snatching from me the feli­city of my future existence, in depriving me of a title I prize equally with my life, and which in the fruition can afford you no solid [Page 110] satisfaction. Reflect, but for a moment, the offence such a crime would give to the su­preme being, and what destruction it will bring down on your head for violating the laws of God and man!—You know the manner in which your wiles allured me from my friends; and although it was an impru­dent step in me even to consent to meet the man whom I thought was to be my husband, yet a tenderness for him, through a perfect knowledge of his honorable principles, made me comply.—The stratagem you used can never redound to your credit; so that on a due consideration of the aggravated cha­racter of duplicity, that you acted both with me and all the world, I think you cannot do less than indulge me with time to make my election on the position advanced by you.—Honor calls aloud to you not to violate her system in an action so repugnant to the laws of human nature, both moral and divine; for even after the rites of the church were performed, it would be time enough to ask any favour that is in my power to grant. "Pray, therefore," continued she, "for Heaven's sake don't triumph in my misery;—but have pity on the feelings of human nature, and do not insult the resistless state I am placed in;—your kindness herein shall not pass without grateful ac­knowledgments."—Here tears started in her eyes, and grief prevented her further utterance.

[Page 111]But the attentive Lord, with a sullen brow replied, "Madam, it will not avail to try by the art of words to dissuade me from my purpose; for if you and I are in this vessel on Sunday night, I shall accom­plish my desires:—the rest of the rites of honor leave to me.—Your demeanor shall, agreeably to my proposition, ensure you future regard;—for I suppose you mean to claim protection at Lisbon, if you possess what I am determined you shall not have in your power to plead; for if you are admit­ted but once to my bed, that court will not look upon you otherwise than as a wife or a mistress.—Here you shall not be too crafty for me. Was I to admit this, it would be folly indeed; for I have been at a great deal of pains to bring matters to the present crisis, therefore all schemes to divert me from my purpose will be vague, and answer no inten­tion whatever.—So, Madam, desist, and make yourself happy;—for nothing on my part shall impede it. If you can, make your­self easy, until an opportunity serves to quiet your stings of conscience,—although with me, I must confess, it is an idle useless cere­mony." He ended here, she rejoined in the most pathetic manner to grant her re­quest, alledging, she would not take the ad­vantage of claiming national protection; (although it was her secret intention) but in all her reasoning and fair promises the hard­hearted ravisher seemed unaffected.—She [Page 112] cried and claimed on her knees his protection and favour; but he remained inexorable, and went aloft, leaving her to her own determi­nation, as he said, for no words could per­suade him to change his brutal purpose.

The next day passed, in which poor Miss Colville felt all the pangs that a malefactor can feel the day before execution.—Saturday morning▪ was now approached,—the sky looked red and lowering,—the face of heaven seemed changed,—the winds seemed how­ling and hollow—the ship rolled exceeding­ly—the wind set in to the southward,— upon which the Captain called all hands aloft;—every one did his part with alacrity, they saw the winds were determined to con­test the point with the watery element.— Presently vivid flashes of lightning rolled along the deck,—the echoing thunders, with dreadful murmurings passed through the watery clouds,—the wind in frantic sport tos­ed the sea in mountain heaps, forming vallies at pleasure;—the loaded ship with difficulty went up the limped hill, but with redou­bled velocity ran down the steep declivity, —thus the ship and her cargo were become in a few hours the mock and sport of contest­ing elements.

Danger with all her terrific attendants made her appearance,—the Captain, in des­pair, cried out hard weather!—to prayers! —and in the same instant almost, called to lighten the vessel!—Overboard were hove valuable bales of merchandize.—Death in [Page 113] various forms stared every one in the face,— all seemed struck with horror at the ap­proach of that grim-visaged monarch;—to all he seemed terrible, except the amiable Henrietta;—she smiled at their danger, and thanked heaven that had changed her suffer­ings,—being happy to be in the power of God, in preference to that of vile seducing man;—with pleasure offering up her breath into the hands of the being who had given it.

It was the reverse with Lord Dacie;— in wild disorder his hair stood erect,—he saw death as the fell monster of terror,— he prayed with despairing agony,—and in broken accents, with a most fearful counte­nance, invoked the God of mercy to forgive his sinful soul. Thus in his humility he craved forgiveness from Henrietta for the wrongs he had done her, and also for those he intended to perpetrate; and in his seeming­ly dying words, solemnly vowed, that if the ship should outride the storm, he would not attempt to violate the laws of moral recti­tude;—but that she should be safe in his care, and no insult ever should be offered.

The storm after some hours abated, and by the appearance of the Sabbath-day rested from its vigorous fury, and about noon be­came perfectly serene.

Miss Colville was dubious of the faith she could place in Lord Dacie's promises to her, though to witness them, he appealed to hea­ven;—and whilst she was ruminating on his [Page 114] words, he came to her bedside, and with a pleasant aspect, gave her notice, that that night was to afford him all that human hap­piness could bestow.

These words struck her with horror,—she reminded him of his vows to heaven, and to forbear such wickedness;—her words were wasted in the air;—he said he had sworn to fulfil his desires, and that it was equally as great a sin to perjure himself by the omission, as the commission; and desired she would not resist: him.—She prayed him earnestly to think of his words when death was near, and to forego his wicked purposes; for that she was come to a determined resolution, to lose her honor only with her life; and therefore, if he attempted to force her to a gratification of his unlawful desires, she would not only resist him, but oppose her strength to his, and offensively maintain her privilege.— She hereupon called the Captain of the vessel, and craved his protection;—but Lord Dacie's purse had commanded him already, therefore, in vain were her intreaties; he was deaf to all her complaints,—and as for her threats, he knew they must prove abortive, for Dacie's ends obtained, set aside the force of complaint.

Now seeing every refuge vanish, except that of her own breast, she was determined to yield only by the force of power;—bravely resolving, and firmly determining, to perish in the conflict, rather than pollute her virtue. [Page 115] —A principle which every lady of honor should imbibe;—for in defence of God's law, if a life is lost, the virtuous competitor lives or dies without an imputation of sin.

The clock time-piece showed the fourth hour since noon.—Lord Dacie had con­firmed, with an evil imprecation, by an oath, that at six o'clock he would gain all he wished for;—to which Miss Colville protes­ted, in the presence of heaven, he should not.—Her words were scarcely repeated, when the Captain slipt down stairs, and on entering the cabin, gave by his countenance symptoms of fear equal to those which ap­peared on his brow during the preceding storm.—He said, a corsair was in chase of the ship;—for a vessel had just now hove in sight, which had fired a gun to leeward to bring him to;—however, he had crowded all the canvas he could to escape. As for themselves, as British subjects, they would be safe no doubt, as all the states of the pirati­cal infidels were in amity with Great-Britain; —but as for him, and his crew, together with the ship and the remainder of the cargo that was saved from the storm, would cer­tainly be the absolute property of the infi­dels, who would make him and his crew slaves.

The reader may conjecture what were the difference of the feelings of Miss Colville, contrasted with every other person on board. —It sounded to her as a reprieve from hea­ven, [Page 116] as she had an uncle who had resided at Fez, in Morocco, but was now at Algiers, as Plenipotentiary from the Court of Great-Britain;—and added to this, she was certain, on being reported, any of the states would free her.

Lord Dacie was petrified, and stood aghast, quite motionless, plainly perceiving her op­position to the title of being his wife would separate them; and in all probability he should not meet with her again until they returned to England.—His countenance fell, —he lowered his tone,—and in faultering accents begged she would pass for his wife; which assumption (he observed) to the Ma­hometans, would preserve her from insult.— To this she hastily replied,—"No, my Lord, I will trust my person with Turks or Heathens, rather than with a perjured wretch, who can claim no sanctity in any religion;—your heart is corrupt, therefore your words and actions partake too much of its quality;— so of all mortals existing, you are the most detestable to me; for even your dying words are not to be regarded."—"But," re­joined his Lordship, "admitting all you say to be true,—I don't mean to contradict you, only remain neuter, whilst I inform the captors of our names, quality and na­tions—She replied, "Enough of your dissi­mulation, I shall not hold any converse with you, but claim their protection."

By this time the galley was plainly in [Page 117] sight, and within a league, bearing down on them with all possible expedition.—The Portugueze Captain seeing it was impossible to escape, was laying to for the Algerine to come up with them, as by their flag and pendant it was easy to distinguish what na­tion she was of, although it was now near the dusk of the evening. The Portugueze sailors were all pannic struck, finding that such inveterate enemies were to be their masters.

In vain did Fernandez, Lord Dacie's ser­vant, who had procured the means to en­slave himself, by acting in iniquity, the per­formance of trepanning Miss Colville, im­plore his master, to use his endeavours to obtain his liberty, as the servant of a Bri­tish Lord;—His Lord was too busily em­ployed to attend to any thing he said;— whereupon the affrighted wretch fell on his knees before Miss Colville, imploring her favour and protection, which she promised, notwithstanding his villainy, in conjunction with that of his master, was the means to bring her thither.—Even the base-minded Captain Cordoza, also claimed a share of her favour and protection; although he had an hour before, denied her the like boon, at the greatest extremity a virtuous mind could possibly experience.

The galley was now along-side the ship; the pirates boarded with their usual ferocity, clapping the Captain and all his crew into [Page 118] irons.—Lord Dacie was taken into custody and Fernandez would have partook of the same fate of his countrymen, but Miss Col­ville humanely interceded for him, by al­leging he was a British subject,—therefore he went with his master.

The Captain of the galley was an English Renegado, who had fought under General Mounsey in America, and recollected Miss Colville to be the General's sister, which was a happy circumstance; and she therefore re­ceived all the politeness that could be ex­pected from an apostate infidel Captain, who had chosen this life, merely to get a suffici­ent booty to enable him to live independent whenever he should think proper to steal off to his own country.—But this is a bad scheme indeed,—to hazard both soul and body for filthy lucre!

The Captain of the galley immediately removed Miss Colville into the cabin of his war ship;—he layed before her a variety of preserved fruits and sweetmeats, with a plen­ty of chocolate and coffee, made in the Eu­ropean manner.—This was a seasonable sup­ply, and the only hearty meal which that lady had eaten since she left Bath; for though she drank tea on board Cordoza's ship, yet she eat nothing except a biscuit about noon each day; she was therefore through her late illness; and the harrassed state she had ex­perienced, quite reduced to the appearance of a skeleton; and might be said to be no [Page 119] more than skin and bone, notwithstanding the cruelty exercised by Lord Dacie for the completion of his brutal desires, taking no pity on her reduced state of health.

The galley bore away for Algiers with her prize, where we shall leave Miss Col­ville and Lord Dacie, and return to see what went on during this period in Eng­land.

Mr. Howard, Captain Colville, and General Mounsey, having spent a week, as was before remarked, in a fruitless search for Miss Colville, returned to Bath with all the dejection of spirits imaginable. However their gloom, except that of the disconsolate Henry, was soon removed;—but he mourned his mate in silence.—Sir William Howard did all he could to console his son for the irreparable loss of the accomplished Miss Colville, and by degrees opened his mind to him with respect to another choice, naming Lady Ann Catesby, or Lady Olivia Beaumont. But Mr. Howard knew where their hearts were engaged;—but if they were free, this proposal at present would have no influence on Henry. The impressi­on already made by virtue and innocence were not easily erased; the dear image of Henrietta was never out of his mind; and to reflect she was in the arms of such a mon­ster of deceit, as he was convinced Lord Dacie was, put him into flights of torment that bordered on insanity.

[Page 120]He at times fostered a hope in his bosom of the interposition of Providence in the favour of innocence,—but he as oft scouted the idea; well knowing that the good man is as much, if not more liable to misfortunes than the evil man: for Provi­dence permits, for its own secret purposes, things to pass, that in all appearance, to the superficial eye of human nature, is loss and misfortune.—Yet a benefit arises to the suf­ferer, that more than sufficiently compen­sates for his vexation in the visitation of the calamity.—As Mr. Howard was now be­come more thoughtful, yet resigned to the decree of Heaven, he mentioned to his fa­ther a wish to return to Howard's castle, in Devonshire, with which Sir William cheer­fully complied.

About this time it was known in most po­lite circles that Miss Dampier was pregnant. Such a report in the bon ton goes at the ra­tio of wild fire; few diminishing the shame or misfortune of their acquaintance,—on the contrary swelling the account from one to another, until at last it becomes a hyper­bole of incredence, and sinks into oblivion, through the means ill-nature had undertaken to sully the covering of truth. However, here the story could neither add or diminish, unless some ladies might report she was to produce twins or a monster.—But the real fact was, she was in a few months the mother of a young son; and as Sir James, her fa­ther [Page 121] had never that happiness, it was a great acquisition in the family!—Report stood tiptoe to know the author of her misfortune, or as others stiled it, her fortune; but in this the new-made mother was also very ex­plicit, for a stranger had not been admitted, a friend, and a relation, was the person ad­mitted to partake of her amusements;— the already execrated Lord Dacie was the cause of his relation's increase.—This put him up again to receive the discipline of tongues:—for one worthless man to destroy the happiness of two ladies, and the peace of several families, was deemed a very capi­tal offence all over England, which no doubt it was:—and by the sequel we shall find how his thrift turned out.

Mr. Ward was now the constant and ac­cepted visitant at Feversham-House, the seat of the Marquis of Languedoc.—He saw and admired the talents and abilities of the young clergyman, and found out his daughter's inclinations to be fixed on that gentleman; therefore he was resolved to prove the affection of Mr. Ward, before he made his purpose known.

About this time he admitted the honor­able Mr. Ward into his family, as his chap­lain, which was a desirable situation for the accommodation of the lovers,—for every day afforded hours of converse;—and altho' Lady Olivia was not without a considerable [Page 122] train of admirers, yet no person had influ­ence enough to assume the name of rival.

A 'Squire Lee, and his sister, who were the sister's children of the Marquis, paid a visit at Feversham-House.—The Lady, whose name was Arabella, and who was really a fine woman, was possessed of a fortune of ten thousand pounds, then in her own hands; —the Marquis therefore judged this a pro­per opportunity to try the sincerity of the honorable Chaplain's pretensions, and in a friendly manner opened the business to him, by declaring his approbation, if his niece's affection could be obtained, which he had no doubt but Mr. Ward could with assidui­ty gain; and he should acquaint Miss Lee to look upon Mr. Charles Ward in quality of a suitor in future.—This proposition stag­gered Mr. Ward; he was cautious in giving offence, therefore, in reply to the Marquis, he returned him his sincere thanks, but de­clined his answer until he should acquaint his friends of the honor his Lordship pro­posed doing him, to admit him as a relation in his family.

The Marquis dismissed the subject for the present, but in a few days renewed it; when the generous-minded Ward, with a sincerity that would do honor to a prince, frankly owned he could not accept of the terms his Lordship had proposed;—and that had he seen the Lady in question two years sooner, he should have been happy to have embraced [Page 123] the opportunity, as she was a Lady of rank, fortune and beauty;—but he must confess he loved a nearer relation to his Lordship, and that Lady was no other than his daugh­ter:—"And," continued Mr. Ward, "I shall openly confess, I cannot be happy with any other Lady, were her pretensions ever so great to the high rated trifles of fortune;— for with Lady Olivia, I should be the happi­est man living, did she but possess only a covering.—I would have sooner made known my pretensions, but the difference in the scale of fortune, I judged, would mar them; now, my Lord, I assume an equality of for­tune, as by the loss of my two elder brothers, one of whom died of a decline in the south of France a few days ago, and the other nearly about the same time of the like dis­order, in this kingdom, I am left to claim the honors of my father's title and fortune, whom I presume you knew."—"Very well" replied the Marquis, "and now," continued he, "you are the Earl of Bellview, I pre­sume."—"Yes, my Lord," rejoined Mr. Ward, "I am."—"Well then," says the Marquis, "I shall let you know the whole of my intentions.

"As you were a character which took my attention, I paid particular regard to your conduct;—I found, both by report and ob­servation, that my daughter really loved you; —I judged your income was not very large, [Page 124] I therefore schemed the plan of proving your affections for my child, and this was the day I purposed to open my mind to you, by offering you my daughter's hand:—for the wretched passion of avarice, I thank Heaven, has never had any dominion over me.—As I have but one child, was your income not to produce five pounds, annual­ly, there is enough to support the dignity of my family.—But now, my Lord Bellview, for in future so I shall call you, you are at li­berty to name the day you are to be my son."

Mr. Ward, in a polite manner, thanked his Lordship, and hasted to relate to Lady Olivia the substance of their conversation,— as he had not seen her since the express came with the news of both his brothers death. —The interview no doubt gave both parties sincere happiness, to be permitted to assure formally, what they so long had been secret­ly, that is, true lovers;—but the death of such near relations obliged Mr. Ward to re­main for three months longer in his present state, until the period of mourning was at an end.

Captain Colville, during the time that Lord Colville, his father, forbad him to vi­sit Lady Ann Catesby, was constrained to carry on a correspondence with that Lady in the utmost privacy, well convinced of the violence of his father's passion, should he know of his disobedience. He had an as­surance [Page 125] of the Lady's affections for him, and had on those grounds imprudently men­tioned to her the practicability of an elope­ment,—which had such an effect on her principles, that she doubted the Captain's sincerity for a considerable time afterwards. This is a very proper remark to be made by every Lady who has moral rectitude, and a care and regard for her character, to shun the man who would propose such a hazard­ous scheme; which carries infamy in the very name of it, and shows that the woman who consents to elope under the sanction of immediate marriage, is no better in her vir­tuous principles, than the mistress who con­sents to go into lodgings, until her seducer fulfils his promise; which by the bye he ne­ver meant to perform.—Sans changer comme je fus!

The Captain was very much alarmed at the diffidence Lady Ann had assumed, in her credence of his sincerity; he on all occasions endeavoured to persuade her of his integri­ty of heart, and that his intentions were to get the marriage rites performed in private, as the family difference had retarded it, the preliminaries whereof had been long since settled;—but all he could advance had but little influence on Lady Ann,—she was of a contrary composition to that of her brother, Lord Dacie;—she was virtuous and dutiful, but very timorous, which was a guard over [Page 126] her morals, a principle which should be im­bibed by the younger part of the sex; for they cannot be too cautious of the deceits and crafts of the world, especially if a Lady is in possession of beauty or fortune, to en­gage the attention of the libertine or the fortune-hunter,—two dangerous and detest­able characters.

Meanwhile a true account was transmit­ted by Lady Dampier, to her husband, from whom she was but just come over (for Sir James was a second time appointed resident at Algiers) of the stigma cast on their fa­mily, by the imprudence of their daughter, and the deceit of her nephew, Lord Dacie, whom she had drawn in his true colours, without reserve;—and in her narrative gave him to understand, that the shame and odi­um brought on their daughter Charlotte was irreparable,—as his Lordship had eloped with Miss Colville, whom he decoyed by stratagem:—and entreated Sir James to re­turn to England as soon as he could, for on her return home she had found, that by Charlotte's imprudent conduct, his affairs required a speedy rectitude in many particu­lars.

This news came to hand a fews days pre­vious to the return of the Renegado with his prize to Algiers, which had the desired effect on Sir James, for he immediately dis­patched a messenger to England, claiming letters of recall from his embassy;—and in [Page 127] consequence waited only the return of the messenger to fulfil the forms of office pre­vious to his departure for England.

His uniform conduct and proper demean­or gained him the countenance and favour of the Dey, who respected him very much; and as marks of his approbation and esteem, made him many valuable presents. The officers of state, belonging to the Bar­barian Court were also greatly taken with the manner of Sir James's rectitude, and particularly Benhaded Mustapha Beg, who was the Abalaroux, or Captain General of the Dey's forces, whose galley the Renegado commanded, which had taken the Portu­gueze ship.

The galley arrived with her prize in safe­ty. Benhaded Mustapha Beg, the Captain General, and Sir James Dampier, were then at Oxora, a village three miles from the city of Algiers, on a party of pleasure, cre­ated merely to entertain Sir James, in terms of friendship, prior to his departure for Eng­land; and of consequence the Captain of the galley was under the necessity of bring­ing thither all the captives or ransomers taken in the prize.

The Renegado made his appearance with Cordoza and his crew as captives; Miss Colville, Lord Dacie, and his servant Fer­nandez (at the instance of Miss Colville) as British subjects; who, on the interposition [Page 128] of Sir James Dampier, as representative of his Britannic Majesty, were to be liberated and sent to England, at the expense of the state.

The weather being at this season very pleasant in Barbary, the rural retreat of the Mahometan Chieftain was very well laid out to enjoy the luxury of Mussulmen; for the Haaram or petty Seraglio for the female captives of Christian nations, was in the form of a semicircle, close to the rotundity whereof were the apartments of those un­happy persons which Providence had permit­ted for his own wise purposes to fall into the hands of this Infidel Chief. In the interior part, from the radical line which formed the segment, was a beautiful garden, which, contrary to the general practice of the Ma­hometans, was laid out in all the art and taste of European nations. In the middle of this delightful spot was a small neat building, in the Ottoman style, with pro­jected balconies, so that the front which formed the piazza, overlooked the platform, which was enclosed by palisades of curious workmanship, which entrance into this pri­son palace was more difficult than a Euro­pean could conceive; and was merely that captives should, under the parade of the at­tendant eunuchs, enter in a pageant to set forth the grandeur of this Mahometan Lord.

Sir James Dampier and Mustapha Beg [Page 129] were at the Balcony when the Captain of the galley entered with his pageant. The Cap­tain first, and the ransomers following. Sir James no sooner cast his eyes on the prison­ers, than he immediately recognized his niece, Miss Colville, and the nephew of his Lady, Lord Dacie, who had brought shame to his family; he therefore with a suitable dignity informed the Lordly General, that the Lady who had passed into the portico of inspection was his niece, and that the Lord who followed the captives was a nephew to Lady Dampier; and gave him a detail of such part of the intelligence which he had received from Europe as he judged material to answer his purpose.

Mustapha Beg was happy to have it in his power to oblige Sir James, and instantly dispatched a messenger attendant to bring thither the Lady. On the summons of the eunuch, Miss Colville was petrified with fear, lest any immodest liberty should be taken before she could apply to the court of Al­giers for protection, not knowing where to find her uncle. But the Renegado Captain dispelled her fears, with an assurance that nothing was to be feared from his Lord, for that the English Ambassador was with him, therefore it was a fortunate circumstance. On hearing this, she with haste accompani­ed the attendant to the presence chamber, where she was at the door saluted by Benha­ded, [Page 130] who retired, that Sir James might have an opportunity of embracing his niece and hear the story of her adventures.—This was a signal favour of the utmost respect from a proud Mussulman.

Sir James received in his arms his niece, and wept over her with different emotions; —first, with grief, supposing her debauched by the vile seducer who accompanied her,— and then with joy, on being so fortunate as to have it in his power to protect her, and give her every comfort and assistance, until he should bring her safe to her disconsolate parents,—being convinced, from the amo­rous disposition of Mustapha, that had he set out for his native country, her transcend­ent beauty would have endangered her li­berty.

The overjoyed and surprised Lady dropt quite insensible in his arms, and not with­out the services of an attendant eunuch was brought to a state of sensibility.—Return­ing animation gave her astonished senses reasonable application;—she poured out blessings on her dear uncle, who was the a­gent of Heaven, to assist her in the most critical juncture.—She then related the whole story of her extraordinary history, since her return from America, until that in­stant period; the recital of which drew a second time tears from the manly brow of Sir James; for his feelings were acute, when suffering innocence experienced such severe [Page 131] trials. He joined with his worthy relation in returning thanks to the Omnipresent Power that protected her from pollution under the dominion of the agent of Satan, who (Miss Colville found out by the servant Fernandez whose liberty she sought to restore) had by a large bribe gained over the Renegado Cap­tain to report them to be man and wife;— which would afford him an opportunity to accomplish his wicked design on her virtue. As Dacie did not know Sir James had been removed from Fez, by his own choice, to Algiers, therefore at the expense of every thing sacred, the wicked man purposed to perpetrate the villainous work he had un­dertaken;—but the Omniscient Power fru­strated his desired purpose, and exposed all his artful projects, to his utter shame and disgrace.

After a long conference, the waiting eu­nuch acquainted his Lord of Sir James's wish for his return, which was complied with by his immediate presence; upon which Sir James gave the substance of his niece's adventures, and on hearing of it, he in a friendly manner congratulated him and the Lady on her miraculous escapes from sur­rounding dangers, and on her arrival at a place of safety;—generously offering her all the services in his power to bestow.

She, with every acknowledgment thank­ed him for his kind professions of friendship, [Page 132] and in an opportune and seasonable minute, craved the liberty of Cordoza (notwithstand­ing his behaviour to her in the hour of trial and imminent danger) as she had promised him so to do, in kind compassion for his fa­mily, he having a wife and several children dependant on his industry,—who must pine in want should his assistance be with-held; —for her system was to do good for evil, which in the end answered every good pur­pose, as it was heaping coals of fire on the heads of enemies, and commanded their future friendship, with the due sense of gra­titude.—She also begged the liberty of Fer­nandez, Lord Dacie's servant, to whom she had promised her protection, and who was grateful for it, as the intelligence lately given had instanced,—for in so doing he had incurred the displeasure of his master; —yet he was careless in that, choosing to flee from a man whose employments would have inevitably made him a slave for life, had not the injured innocent Lady, who withstood the shock of combined villainy, and which she sustained with surprising for­titude, become an advocate for him; and to whose benevolent disposition he should be indebted for the term of his natural life,— Miss Colville having reported the truth that he was a Portugueze.

The courteous Mahometan without a mi­nute's hesitation, freely granted her request; and ordered them instant liberation.

[Page 133]They were conducted to the Mustapha's presence, and fell on their knees to return him thanks, which he refused, saying, "Thank that generous Lady, who fufils the belief your religion requires, in doing good to her enemies, in which character you have both acted your parts, though happily for her without much success;—go and retain a due sense of gratitude, learn from a wo­man, a lesson of true wisdom, be thankful to the Supreme Being, repent and be hap­py."—He then dismissed them, but not be­fore they had with tears of gratitude, sincere­ly thanked a thousand times, the goodness of Miss Colville. They both of them were conveyed to Portugal, in a vessel of re­deemed captives, which was then putting to sea.

Lord Dacie was, during this time, in a painful state of suspense;—he was quite crest fallen, on finding his trusty servant in iniquity had recanted from his principles, and had not returned.—He was, as all base minds are, on the appearance of danger of the most trivial consequence,—mean and grovelling,—ready to worship the most abject wretch that could show the least fa­vour.

The time came that released him from his meditation.—He attended Mustapha, but what was his surprise, confusion, shame, terror, and remorse, on seeing Sir James Dampier, his uncle, whose daughter he had [Page 134] debauched! He would have sunk into a state of annihilation, could his will bring forth wishes into works!

Sir James, in the style of a true Briton, asked him what he thought of human na­ture?—the works necessary to secure a peaceable conscience here, and a happy state hereafter!—to gain either, he had pursued a wrong method;—but he should help him to pursue another course, which in the end would bring him to a due sense of the obli­gation he was under to him.

Lord Dacie found by the stern aspect of Sir James, that here his career must end!— This guilt brought in accusation, and for the first time, perhaps, in his whole life, he felt the pangs of compunction. His silence was an interpretation of the perturbed state of his mind; but Sir James undeceived him in his conjectures, and addressed him in these words. "Pray, my Lord, which of those Ladies is the real object of your choice,—my daughter or my niece?—I find you are re­solved to be a near relation of mine."—Da­cie, with a downcast look, and a sigh, re­plied, "Sir, I have abused your family, it is true, and perhaps would have gone farther, were it not for the accident that prevented me."—"Silence your wicked tongue," re­plied Miss Colville, "it was not accident that prevented you, nor chance either, but the interposition of an invisible power, whose influence only can bring you to an acknow­ledgment [Page 135] of what you are.—You have a­bused my uncle, who has the misfortune to acknowledge your kindred, by seducing my cousin Charlotte;—therefore, to atone for your crime, make her your wife, who has now a pledge of your unlawful amour, and then you will palliate only the illegal step you have both taken:—however, assimilate the honor due to your progeny."

Lord Dacie found that Sir James had re­ceived the full particulars of his conduct in England, he therefore was fearful of his an­ger,—as cowardice is inseparable from base principles, and in a tone of humble suppli­cation craved his pardon;—and that he would repair as much as in him lay, the in­jury he had done.—Sir James, who per­ceived that Lord Dacie would not only pro­mise to perform, but absolutely swear to any thing that should avert for the present mo­ment his displeasure, seemingly, therefore, acquiesced in the solemnity of his Lord­ship's assertions,—finding it of no real ser­vice in the cause of his daughter, to enlarge farther upon a subject which gave him pain in the recital.—Besides, Lord Dacie would not have been his choice for a son-in-law, had his daughter behaved with prudence and discretion.

Benhaded Mustapha Beg, who had left the presence chamber on the entrance of Lord Dacie, to view and order the disposal of the captives which were brought in by [Page 136] Captain Maanoka, the Renegado (which was the name given by the barbarians on his conversion, and which implies, "a reform­ed sinner!"—A singular epithet to be given to a vile, or the vilest of sinners, who had renounced his interest in the Messiah, and had entered into the cabal of Mahomet, the wretched impostor, and was an open enemy to most Christian nations, in the character of a public robber.—This fellow, who we have before noticed, was an officer in the British service in America, but through dis­gust had sold out and entered himself in the list of apostates in the road to destruction, (gain being his only god!) gave the necessa­ry directions to the Captain, and had just now returned;—who, on finding his friend Sir James Dampier in better spirits, wished him joy.

The heads of the conversation being re­lated, he gave it as his opinion, that Lord Dacie should, without fail, repair the dis­grace he had brought on so worthy a gentle­man as his excellency, the British Ambassa­dor was allowed to be, by all ranks in that state; the Ottoman Court having always ratified his requisitions with signal marks of approbation:—the Dey of Algiers, as the tributary of that power, paid him all the respect due to his exalted station;—particu­larly his own merit had enhanced his regard for him beyond the respect paid to his pre­decessors [Page 137] in that high office, which he then filled with honor to his King and Country.

Sir James thanked the generous Algerine for his liberal compliment, that he had with such candour reported, what his merit could in no wise claim, but his friendship had with such kindness bestowed. Mutual com­pliments passed between them. Lord Da­cie, though callous in the state of corrupt principles, gave his honor as a pledge, that on the first opportunity he would do that justice to Sir James and his family, which his conscience called aloud to be per­formed;— in short, the hypocrite was never better acted than by his Lordship at this juncture.—In his soul he was resolved to for­feit every tittle he advanced, though he had pawned honor and honesty for the comfort­able covering of a good opinion, which was freely granted by Sir James and the noble Algerine.

Miss Colville only remained of the doubtful sect, as she saw the caricature of deceit was of congenial parts and princi­ples with the artful schemer:—truly sup­posing was he to be out of his present situa­tion, and a charte blanche presented to him to be afterwards on his filling it up, attest­ed,— that a single sentence of what he now advanced would not be inserted.—For tho' liberality of sentiment was her just claim, yet she well knew, by woeful experience, that Dacie wanted a cardiac medicine to [Page 138] perform the regular action of a man, who feared his Maker,—loved his fellow crea­tures, or regarded the useful laws of civil society.—For all was a chaos,—a very mist of darkness and confusion in his breast, to perform all the cast of parts which he ought not!

Dinner being prepared, the noble Musta­pha regaled his friends with all the pompo­sity and style of the east; (for the manners of Mahometans, in all nations are nearly alike,) where we shall leave them and see how affairs went on in Great-Britain.

Sir William Howard and his son having retired to the family seat at Howard's Castle, spent their time in happy converse on the mutability of mundane enjoyments; and by opposing philosophy with religion, Sir Wil­liam easily demonstrated the theory and practice of both,—when to his satisfaction he plainly perceived the near affinity the one had to the other;—for philosophy, which is a word derived from the Greek, signifying a love of wisdom, is that useful science, which comprehends the whole system of mo­rality, or the duties of human life, common­ly called ethics.

The next thing it comprehends, is the knowledge of the causes and effects of things, whether external or internal, in the air, earth, or waters, which may be said to pro­ceed from natural causes, agreeably to the order of creation by the Supreme Being.— [Page 139] The other part of the science, is in the curi­ous speculation of the existence of things; by which calculations in the revolution of the Heavenly bodies are made, with other experiments which are commonly called the Phoenomena of Nature.

Religion (which is derived from the He­brew, signifies the duties of human crea­tures to the Deity, and to their own species) may be subdivided into three parts, com­prehending natural, moral, and revealed.— The first was the worship of the Gentile world;—the second, by the Jews under the law;—the third to the Christians, through the atonement for sin by the Messiah, where­by the law is done away, and the world is now under grace, that all who repent of their iniquities and believe, may receive re­mission thereof and be saved.

Thus the good Baronet satisfied his son of the affinity of philosophy and religion, which are so nearly allied, as to render it impossi­ble to separate them,—therefore, it would enlarge the faculties, and illumine the ideas of the fair sex, were they to study these grand sciences, on which all our happiness here and hereafter solely depends;—and as their abilities in comprehension, for the most part, are superior to that of the oppo­site sex, there can be no reason assigned why they should not partake of the inestimable blessings of those studies, which in the junior, or adult, can be, by assiduity, at­tained, [Page 140] for the most part in a few months; —or, at least, so much of both, as by application at leisure hours, a proficiency may be gained, —and then we shall have publications of the compositions of the fair, in all the abstruse principles of science; which are now for the most part dogmatized to a mechanic standard;—as, though reason and religion were to be dealt out to mankind by a market corporation, with weight, measure, size, shape, colours, and a thousand et coeteras.—Pray, fair rea­ders, exert your talents, and rival those sons of nominal learning.

At intervals the loss of Miss Colville was a recollection in Henry's breast, that brought with it all the pangs of a lover's despair,— as it may well be supposed, he conjectured her to be, by this time, the absolute wife or mistress of his false friend;—for the name of a friend had been bestowed by the liberal-minded Henry, from the period the deceit­ful Lord assumed compunction, until the time Mr. Howard arrived in England, and was undeceived.—Yet he did not withdraw that familiar title; only added a preceding well-adapted word of falsehood to it, by constantly stiling the absent Lord his false friend.

In these paroxisms, Henry's delicate feel­ings were in the extreme of agony wrought to the highest pitch of human suffering;—yet he did, when thus attacked, avoid his father's [Page 141] presence, with a view to keep him from be­ing a partaker of his sorrows.—Upon those occasions he oft times went to the projecting summit of the precipice, beneath whose awful craggy limbs the object of his thoughts was cast into the bosom of the briny deep; —contemplating on her miraculous escape from an enraged element, that in the calm of the morn usually dashed with impetuous force against the shelving teeth of this pon­derous competitor;—which, in his reverie, gave him a glimpse of Hope's celestial ray, that the power, whose care had preserved her from the dangers of such potent forces, in the time of a mountainous tossing sea, when winds and rocks had combined in the utter destruction of presuming mortals, who by their art endeavoured to outride in their wooden walls, the contending elements,— that she alone should be restored to the hap­piness of society; although experienced persons, who knew the art of steering their naked frames through the surfing flood, had tasted the bitterness of death, whilst the in­experienced timorous female, knew no me­thod to gain a measure of the shortest name through the deluge of surrounding sheets.

These cogitations often gained their point, —and soothed the lover with providential faith,—that still a door was open to receive the object of his meditation from all the pursuits of designing man, assisted by the grand enemy of peace.

[Page 142]Thus the mount became a place of sooth­ing resort,—which to a timorous head would have caused a speedy dizziness on the horror of the gaping jaws of a thousand opening clefts, that only spring tides gave a moisten­ing to their wind-dried fronts.

Serious conversation only, had admission between the sage and his gloomy son,—for melancholy had so constantly attended him, that it was in vain to drive her from the du­ties of her employ;—though Sir William often endeavoured to beguile the tedious hours with cheerful converse and recreating amusements, the vicar and physician, with other worthy characters assisting; but in this he failed,—for Henry was only a spectator, a smile not daring to approach his lips,— so well had the pallid votary of his at­tendance kept her regulated duty in its course.

Music was always agreeable, if the plain­tive strain was performed.—In this refining employment Henry engaged many hours of the heavy measure of Time's glass;—for in this art he was an amateur, and had attain­ed a competent knowledge to dub the con­noisseur.

Thus the days were spent in Devon's pleasant shire;—the revolving year going on its circuitous motion with clogged wheels.

During this time the Bath meeting dis­persed:— each family going to their man­sion. [Page 143] —Lady Dampier about this time re­ceived her husband's pacquet, which in sub­stance contained his request to the British court, for leave to return from his embas­sage;— but things having received a differ­ent turn since her letter to him to return, she therefore with-held it, and at court his request was not known.

The scandal of the day being more than her Ladyship's pride could brook, she there­fore, with her fallen daughter, resolved again to visit the African shore, to find amongst infidels, what a Christian country had denied to her daughter; who could claim no excuse for levity and bare-faced error, in straying from Virtue's track.

They embarked for the Barbary shore, leaving the young offspring of the prolific pair, (Lord Dacie and Charlotte Dampier) to the care of an experienced nurse, at Cray­don, in Surry, near the seat of Sir James Dampier, in that county.—Charlotte on parting with the infant showed a mother's care by her sorrowful countenance.

The weather being fine, and the winds fair, they left sight of Albion's shore with a pleasant gale; though not without a sinking state of spirits, on reflecting, the land they had just lost sight of, was their native soil; —where a certain succession of the comforts of human life might have been had in abundance, had not dire necessity obliged them to go in quest of the like solace in a [Page 144] foreign climate, where the attainment of them was all an uncertainty.—And as nei­ther her Ladyship or Charlottle drew any of their happiness from the source of religion, it may be naturally supposed, they were with­out much comfort in the prosecution of their voyage:—as, the notion of leaving cares behind, is but a mere idle tale, founded in the theoretical chimera of an inexperienced imagination:—for let it be understood, in future, by adventurers who have done wrong in one country, and who fly to another to forget their errors or evil haunting of thought,—that wherever they go for such purposes, their minds will accompany them, —and the faithful monitor of the heart, —their consciences,—constantly accuse them.

Captain Colville was on a precarious footing at Ashbridge.—A young nobleman of family, who bore the title of Lord Fair­ford, was much approved of by the Duke and Dutchess in the qualifications of his per­son and family; but what met their greatest approbation was the largeness of the income he was in possession of;—and although they liked his person very much, yet Lady Ann, their daughter, was not of their way of thinking,—for she neither approved of him in that respect, or in any of the many quali­fications he was said to possess,—as he was too much of her brother's wily craft, to me­rit her approbation.—He could act the very [Page 145] faint in public,—but was, in the receptacles of his secret retreats, a very lewd and aban­doned character.

Lady Ann, although she had treated the Captain rather severe, yet was satisfied of her having sufficient provocation, by the in­sult he had offered to her virtue, in propo­sing an elopement;—for though she really loved the son of Mars with all the ardency of a prudent lady, yet she had resolved never to break the commandment of God, by diso­beying her parents;—or provoke the wrath of Heaven, by violating its holy laws, in making a private match, though it had been with a Monarch, without their entire consent and approbation;—and had rather, in obe­dience to their commands, have given her hand, to a person of their choice, to be her husband, though the compliance should make her days miserable, than run counter, in making her own bargains, without their consent. But she was satisfied of the tender­ness of her father and mother, in not for­cing any person on her that was not agree­able to her.

Lord Fairford paid her a visit in due form; —but the lady, with an honest sincerity as­sured him, it was in vain for him ever to expect a compliance in her, to be suitable to his expectations;—therefore it would be adviseable in him to desist, as his solicitations would answer no end.

His Lordship took great offence at the [Page 146] plain avowal of her Ladyship, and in a haugh­ty tone declared his intentions were to per­sist in the liberty her father had given him, in paying his devoirs to her;—and added, that women were sublunary beings, conse­quently liable to a fickle fancy,—and that perseverance, even by the help of patience, had repeatedly wrought wonders.

To this coarse compliment, her Ladyship thankfully acknowledged his elegant simile would do honor to the sex; and further ad­ded, ironically,—that she supposed his taste and judgment corresponded with the ele­gance of his sentiments. If so, it was a pity a nobleman of his accomplishments did not seek for some object that was not subject to mutability, or under the influence of the planetary system;—as in her opinion, the study of humanity was omitted by modern polish, or else the diminished worth of fe­male happiness would not be overlooked by every pretender to a character of rank.

His Lordship could hold out no longer, —his heat was visible—as he perceived the lady had in sentiment an advantage over him.—He replied in a hasty tone, that not­withstanding he might not be the object of her choice, yet to suit his own inclinations, he should repeat his visits so often, as to preclude her an opportunity of receiving the favors of the discarded Captain,—alluding to Captain Colville:—"But," continued he, —"if I find that hero is continued in your [Page 147] list, I shall chastise the haughty spirit that makes him assume to be on equal terms with me."

These words were uttered with such an affected air of consequence, as made the prudence of Lady Ann give way to a smile of contempt;—informing him, at the same time, that Captain Colville was not only on equal terms with him, but with the first no­bleman in the kingdom, for he had both rank and fortune, added to merit, to warrant his pretensions;—therefore it was not alto­gether so commendable, in her opinion, for a gentleman to menace an absent character, who had equal pretensions in every respect to those he could assume.

Lord Fairford was hasty in his temper, therefore he could not tamely submit to the rebuke of a lady, for the unmanly part he had acted,—but with a seeming show of in­difference, forced a loud laugh,—which gave occasion to the lady to leave him to his own private thoughts.—This he did not notice, but paid her repeated visits;—and finding the vanity of his pretensions, was resolved to show to his mistress the greatness of his spirit, that she might not think so slightly of him, as he perceived plainly, she had on all occa­sions given him to understand.—So in the hour of heated imagination, by the aiding assistance of old hock, he sent a challenge to Captain Colville, or rather a threatened chastisement, as though he had dominion over him.—The letter was as follows:—

Captain Colville received the billet by Lord Fairford's servant, who instantly re­turned without waiting for the Captain to open it, as his Lordship had commanded him, for fear a disagreeable answer should be returned.—Captain Colville could not forbear smiling at the assumed air of dicta­ting authority with which the menace was fraught;—and immediately returned the fol­lowing replication:

This letter was sent by Captain Colville's servant to his Lordship,—who was under particular instructions to wait for an answer. —In this he was disappointed,—for his [Page 149] Lordship, through the effects of his elevating dose, was constrained to lay himself down to rest on his bed, to retrieve, by the assistance of sleep, his reason and recollection, there­fore the letter was left.

The morning gave his Lordship an op­portunity of reading the spirited answer of his rival; he was very much perplexed how to manage matters;—and as his name was enrolled in knight-errantry, on taking a re­peated bumper of brandy, he sent the Cap­tain a downright challenge, to meet him the next morning at eight o'clock, with his friend, at an appointed ground.—This was delivered by Lord Fairford's servant, by whom the Captain returned a written answer, in which he acknowledged the receipt, and accepted the treat.

Accordingly Captain Colville called on his brother, General Mounsey, who readily attended him to the spot—They waited un­til past nine o'clock, and were for returning to town, when Lord Fairford and Captain Thwaites made their appearance in his Lord­ship's coach, and would have passed them, had it not been for Captain Colville, who called loudly to the coachman to stop.

Lord Fairford and his second came out; —his Lordship, in a faltering and stammer­ing voice endeavoured to apologize for his having kept the Captain and his second so long waiting, alledging, his watch was the occasion; but here Captain Thwaites inter­rupted [Page 150] him, by saying, he understood ten o'clock was the appointed hour;—to this his Lordship stammered as a reply, "he must have mistaken him;"—"however," said General Mounsey, "you are both time enough to kill one, or perhaps both!"

By this time the honorable Mr Ward, now the Earl of Bellview, made his appear­ance, having heard of the appointment of these victims to false honor, and joined the antagonists and their seconds;—when, after a friendly salutation, as he was known to all the parties present, (and was a relation to the General, as was noticed before) he en­quired whether or not they had seriously con­sidered the business they were going about? —To this Captain Colville replied, "My Lord Bellview, the noble Lord who has brought me hither, has given me sufficient cause to vindicate my honor, in seeking re­prisal, for by his hostile invitation, I am to protect, at the hazard of my life, the dignity of my rank;—therefore, as a man of tried courage in the field of glory, I scorn to be deemed unworthy of all I assume.

"This proud Lord, whose arrogance is not to be borne with, has, by an unprovo­ked insult defied me.—But I am come here with a determined resolution to have the satisfacton of his opposing his life to mine; —and as a lady is the disputed prize, only with my life shall I resign my pretensions to her:—and to evade my sword, will at this [Page 151] time, to all intents and purposes be nuga­tory and cowardly!"

Lord Fairford replied, "you are hasty, Captain Colville;—it was in an hour of ine­briety, at the instance of this gentleman, (pointing to Captain Thwaites) I undertook to compose a mandatory card, to require your attendance here this day, and do now acknowledge I was in error."

Lord Bellview rejoined, "I do not take into consideration your false reasoning on either side,—for the diabolical usage of du­elling should, of all the lists on record of barbarous chivalry, be the first that should be expunged, being repugnant both to the laws of God and man;—for what man of the least serious reflection, but must shudder at the thoughts of being hurried, in the very act of offence, in the real breach of the divine command,—before the throne of a just of­fended God!

"Is not this an act of more heinous atro­city, then any of the wrongs for which a justi­ciary court has awarded judgment of death? —For in the latter, a time of repentance, through grace, may be obtained, and a foun­dation of hope ascertained;—but in the for­mer case, no such blessing can be promised; it is a voluntary race to perform the works of the cruel enemy of souls,—cutting off the wretch from a means of obtaining peace and pardon, to sink into the abyss of destruction! —And in our view of the crime it amounts [Page 152] to, against the peaceful law of society, the calamity is truly great, for in this deluded notion of supporting the empty title of false honor, or nominal heroism, the most worth­less of the sons of Adam, may, if he is what is styled a gentleman, that is to say, a man of property, call forth a man of integrity, worth, and respectability, who may perhaps have an amiable wife and several children, whose sole hapiness depends upon the valua­ble life of this gentleman, and through the mistaken notion of honor, upon the sum­mons of this worthless character, be brought to an appointed spot, as you both are at this period, and by an exchange of fire, or a thrust of a sword, this infatuated, yet amiable gen­tleman, is carried home on a bier, lifeless, to his family!

"The villain escapes!—boasts of his cou­rage, or rather savage nature,—as he posses­ses neither the fear of God or man,—and evades the hand of justice, for so heinous a crime with impunity;—though in fact he is literally the murderer of the fallen victim to this barbarous custom:—leaving a disconso­late widow, and orphan children, to be­moan and lament his untimely fate!—Pray therefore, you giddy headed and over heated young men, relinquish a pursuit of such se­rious consequences — for everlasting happi­ness or misery depends on the fall!

This serious remonstrance had a good ef­fect upon the duellists and their seconds; [Page 153] —all of them acknowledging the truth of what Lord Bellview had advanced.—The consequence was, Lord Fairford asked Cap­tain Colville's pardon, as being the aggres­sor;—and in order to show a due sense of the impropriety of his conduct, relinquished the pretensions he had assumed for Lady Ann Catesby;—promising, in the presence of these credible witnesses, to add his good of­fices in forwarding the Captain's happiness with that lady.

Thus was stopped the effusion of blood, which would have been the consequence, were it not for the timely interposition of this reverend and right honorable character. A lesson not beneath the notice of those sons of wantonness, who shed blood to satiate a brutal inclination of a fiend-like wish of re­venge!—A spark, kindled by the very arch fiend himself, which cannot be extinguished without human gore, unless a calm friend of peace, with his attention to the heedless opponents, forwards a reconciliation.

It was a remark of the celebrated Dean Swift, ‘that when two gamblers fell out, the only way to decide their quarrel, was, like men of spirit, by a duel; then if one or both were killed, it was only ridding the world of one or two rascals.’ —Ne oublie!

The duellists, their seconds, and the noble peace-maker, retired from the spot to their respective homes, quite satisfied with the re­conciliation [Page 154] that had taken place;—and which, it is to be hoped, gave them a useful memento.

Lady Dampier and her daughter arrived at the city of Algiers, the once celebrated city of Carthage, the Queen of Nations, but now of a despotic petty Prince, styled the Dey, or Grand Lord,—who is as absolute over his subjects, as though they were a herd of swine;—their lives and fortunes being always at his disposal, unless he is cautious of the Captains, or Commanders of his bands or troops, who often rise as conspirators, cutting off suddenly the tyrant for some bloody act;—as his word is a law, and his sol­diers executioners.—Yet every crowned head in Europe, as also every state, are more or less tributary to this infidel depredator; or else their subjects feel the fatal effects of such a neglect.

This may seem strange, that a petty Prince, whose dominions is little more than the size of a county in England, should keep all the Christian powers in awe!—But to era­dicate the evil, would require no less an extir­pation, than to destroy the race of this infidel sect, that swarms all over Africa, Asia, and some part of Europe;—for as soon as one set of these marauders are put to the sword, a like number flock to supply their stead— for desperation in fight is their acknowledged disposition.—Added to this,—a chain of these Barbarian Lords, called Beys or Begs, [Page 155] are settled all along the coast of the Mediter­ranean Sea;—therefore can, in a few hours be out at sea, and in the like time return with their prizes into any of the ports of these piratical states, who are always so far united, as to aid and assist against Christian powers.

Upon Lady Dampier and Charlotte's arri­val, they were waited on by the proper of­ficers of the state, who conducted them, with the usual formality or ceremonial, on the introduction of persons of the first rank at Court; and were escorted safe to the ho­tel of the British Ambassador, who received them with no less joy then surprise:—Sir James, having at that instant, Lord Dacie and Miss Colville, with other notable cha­racters, at dinner.

The surprise was of the most agreeable kind to Miss Colville,—that she might be assured of Lord Dacie's performance of what he had so profusely promised, when oppor­tunity would serve.—The effect of surprise was on the contrary with his Lordship,— he was greatly disconcerted,—but was con­strained to yield to the stroke of his own cunning,—he had no back doors nor ways of escape,—he had promised, in the presence of a principal Lord at the Algerine Court, Benhaded,—therefore to rescind, would endanger his liberty.

Lady Dampier was all fury on the sight of her nephew, and in spite of all remonstrance [Page 156] to the contrary, she loaded him with every vile epithet her passion could suggest,—ima­gining, he had got beyond any method of retribution to her daughter Charlotte;— supposing, he had been married to Miss Col­ville:—but on her being undeceived, she became more calm.—But Charlotte was so affected at seeing the perjured Lord, that she swooned away, and was some time be­fore she recovered.—On her being infor­med of the singular adventures of Miss Col­ville, she was astonished, and contrary to her general practice, thanked heaven for her fortunate escape;—but the liberty such an accident left in Lord Dacie's power to do her justice, was partly an incitement for her praise to heaven for so fortunate an acci­dent.

She gave Miss Colville a satisfactory ac­count of the beloved Henry, (whom she, as well as Henrietta once had loved to dis­traction; but finding her endeavours fruitless, had combined with Lord Dacie, to assassinate him, as has been in the former part of this narration fully set forth) Miss Colville was happy to hear of her dear Henry's welfare, and wept for joy on the occasion.

The hurry of the day being over, Lady Dampier and her daughter much fatigued with their voyage, retired to rest.—Lord Dacie found no place wherein he could enjoy a peaceful hour.—The whole night passed without his being able to get any sleep, to [Page 157] forget his burdens, which were now become seriously a weighty load;—for he saw the hand of a supreme power dealt to him the bitters, which he himself, had so long mixed for others.

Early the next morning Sir James Dam­pier was waited on by Benhaded Mustapha Beg, who, on hearing that the injured young lady was arrived, came on purpose to pay his compliments to her and Lady Dampier. —But the most material cause of his visit, was to see the promises of Lord Dacie ful­filled.

After a ceremonial had taken place be­tween Lord Mustapha and the Ladies, Lord Dacie was summoned to attend; and on his introduction, the Algerine informed him, he should be glad to see the ceremony of marriage performed by the Ambassador's chaplain, which would make his Lordship happy in the lady for whom he had heard him express such a strong regard, and which would, according to the Christian laws, make them one flesh.

His Lordship found all evasion would answer no end, but to expose his principles to a clear view, and his person to real dan­ger,—so he tamely submitted to the matri­monial bondage!—A happy state for all those who enter into it, with a true sense of the utility of it,—and the institution is really the work of the Almighty;—therefore it is an honorable state,—which should only be [Page 158] performed by mutual consent;—for an uni­on of the friends or relations of the bride and bridegroom should take place prior to the nuptual solemnization;—which, between the couple joined in wedlock, should be pure and disinterested.—At least so far as avarice is concerned, an unmixed love should be poured out, in which the happy pair should partake alike!—For we daily see the fatal effects of forced compliance in this respect, and what may well be deemed a Smithfield bargain!—as, to the God of Mammon, (sordid interest) are sacrificed mul­titudes!—The consequences are too ob­vious, as the annals of Doctor's Commons can set forth an abundance of examples.— Parents should be tender, and children duti­ful, then mutual happiness would ensue.

Another great bar to the matrimonial hap­piness in the lower class, is the exorbitant sum a licence amounts to, and of course is the cause of many wretched prostitutes, with whose abandoned pageantry the streets of the Metropolis are constantly thronged.—The legislator would do well to devise a means to lessen their number.—To a mind fraught with the fear of God, or the shame of man, a life of prostitution must appear most odious; —for this step must convince the frail fe­male, who is so credulous as to believe a de­signing man, that she acts directly against the laws of God; and is in a state of everlasting punishment, unless a true repentance takes [Page 159] place; and at the same time she is an outcast to society,—despised and abhorred,—a wretch subject to disease and death by the iniquity she follows—carrying evident marks with it of the wrath of heaven for such a breach of God's commandment, and in the words of good Bishop Cranmer, "a living sacrifice to the devil."

The alteration marriage made in Miss Dampier, now Lady Dacie, was evident: she showed in her eyes a sparkling of joy.— All present were festive,—mirth and good humour closed the day;—his Lordship throwing off the gloom, every face showed the mark of approbation.—Night closed the scene,—the rising day renewed the festive board, which a third day closed without any accident to affect the tranquillity of the as­semblage.

Lord Dacie and his Lady were very soon reconciled and happy in each other, for they were of a disposition not many degrees apart; therefore were the more likely to assure an agreement in the road of life.—He, by many solemn formalities of sorrow for his past offences against Miss Colville, craved her forgiveness;—the bountiful lady did not withhold the boon, as she saw he was now fixed in the walk of life, and his pretensions to roam were at an end.

Letters of recal arrived by the special or­der of the British Court.—Sir James with his Lady, niece, daughter, and his new-made [Page 160] son embarked for England,—In the prosecution of their voyage we shall leave them, and see what the island they were bent to produced previous to their arrival.

But this article should not be dismissed without remarking, that notwithstanding the illiberal stigma thrown out on foreign­ers of all denominations, by the generality of British subjects, and more especially against those who do not profess the Christian faith, (for prejudice is of too strong a com­position to biass even principles of benevo­lence!) in the good Lord Benhaded Musta­pha, Sir James Dampier and all his family received the most pure tokens of friendship and liberality;—which in Miss Colville's delicate sentiments she expressed "surpassed the boast of Christian hospitality."

The generous Mustapha parted with his Christian friends with all the visible marks of regret, and furnished them with every neces­sary for the voyage; wishing them a pros­perous and safe return to the country of their destination.

Sir William Howard and his son were now busied in erecting a monument, sacred to the memory of the noble Duke of Kings­borough, who was now no more; having resigned his last breath in the presence of his brother-in-law, Sir William, and of his nephew, Henry Howard, and agreeable to an act of settlement a long time previously passed, the right of succession vested in Hen­ry, [Page 161] —who was now the Duke of Kingsbo­rough.

The sovereign, in consequence of the un­blemished reputation Henry Howard had supported, granted him the order, his uncle the late Duke, had been distinguished by; —so that the ensign was re-delivered by his Majesty, who was pleased to order an instal­lation, in which his Grace, Henry, Duke of Kingsborough, received the mark of royal approbation from the hands of the Monarch, as a Knight of the Garter.—A distinguished honor was thus conferred on this exalted genius of virtue and religion.

The good man is not always happy nor free from censure,—and often falls, instead of rising in his circumstances;—owing to his using no acts to trepan the unwary in bar­gains of advantage and overreaching, and often dies in a prison.—Whilst the reverse is attendant on the wicked man, who uses every method to increase his wealth, wrest­ing honesty whenever she oppses his pros­pects of gain; thriving in all his underta­kings, his schemes are so deep, and his plans so well laid, that nothing comes amiss; —wallowing in riches, and dying possessed of coffers filled with gold!

This may seem strange to the superficial observer, who may be impious enough to arraign heaven for such a distribution of its favours,—that the object who paid due re­verence to its dictates, is of all men the most [Page 162] unfortunate;—whilst the wretch, who hard­ly ever thought of virtue, morality, or re­ligion, or of the duties due to God or man, is the successful agent in collecting stores and amassing wealth!—But, serious spe­culators, only consider for one moment, the difference of these two men;—one was a good man and died in prison,—his con­science was a faithful monitor,—it did not accuse him of any flagrant crime,—he had in his breast a calm resignation to the will of heaven, nor was ever known to repine, although he often wanted the necessaries of life;—he praised the Deity for the past bles­sings he had bestowed, and with an enlight­ened hope, through faith, trusted him for all that was to come;—he died as composed as though he was falling into a pleasant slum­ber;—his last words were an ejaculation to the throne of grace, to receive his departing spirit,—and he closed his eyes in charity with all men, having a lively hope of the mercies he was to be a partaker of.

The latter end of the bad man, who breathes his last in a palace, is quite the reverse of the dying moments of the good man.—All his parade is nearly ended,— the turn of lawyers and physicians are now over,—a deadly arrow is placed in death's bow;—the pangs of a tormented soul, the never dying worm, conscience, now stares him in the face, accusing him of all the frauds, acts, and deceptions he has used to [Page 163] amass his ill-gotten pelf,—and reminding him, that he had never spared an hour for serious reflection from the busied scenes of his worldly cares, to fix upon a time for repentance!—No, it is true he did not, for death sent him a summons as he was calcula­ting the annual account of his interests by usury!—two days more, left him a lifeless corpse;—but before his death, his will was hastily sketched,—he left a sum to en­dow an hospital, but the rest was devised and bequeathed in such terms of ambiguity, that the law will necessarily swallow up the principal part of it, to ascertain the right of the claimants. His last agonies, as he en­tered the valley of the shadow of death, were for the wrongs he had done the good man, who died in prison,—and by whose first as­sistance he had gained reputation in the world; he, with despair, painted on his brow, buf­feted by the acuteness of the stings of death and conscience, sighed out his last breath, with a declaration of hope having entirely fled!

Now which of these conditions is the most desirable, or the most to be envied? —The reader will pardon this digression, when told it is intended to show the common pictures of every day's exhibition,—which should teach us never to repine at the situa­tion Providence has allotted us, but to be diligent to do the best we can by honest means and methods;—for a bad heart is [Page 164] the source of evil actions; therefore an honest mind begets an active disposition,— for indolence is an inlet to every vice.

The resignation of Lord Fairford in fa­vour of Captain Colville, at Ashbridge, was not a matter of willingness in the former,— it was a pusillanimous spirit;—he was fear­ful to rouse the latter, as he saw in him a potent competitor, and who he was certain had Lady Ann's affections.

He turned his thoughts towards Miss Lee, the niece of the Marquis of Languedoc, a lady whom we formerly mentioned as a person of a considerable fortune and accom­plishments.—In this pursuit he was not an unsuccessful adventurer, for the lady counte­nanced his addresses, by the order of the Mar­quis, her uncle, and by the direction of the 'Squire, her brother, so that a short courtship brought them as forward as those the crosses of human life had buffeted, who began their courtships almost three years sooner;—for there is a something that may intervene, "were our determination to be ever so punc­tual,—time and chance happeneth to all men," —as all the other characters of this narra­tive experienced.

The Duke and Dutchess of Ashbridge were now upon better terms with Lord and Lady Colville, judging, that from the appearance of things, their son, Lord Dacie and Miss Colville were by this time man and wife, [Page 165] though it appeared extraodinary to all par­ties, that there was no authentic account of their situation:—Although the news-papers of Great-Britain, as also those of the most general resort on the continent, were autho­rized by public advertisements to set forth their destination or residence, if it could be found out.—However, as yet no news what­ever had transpired, as Sir James had dis­patched his express from Algiers previous to the arrival of the parties in question, and Lady Dampier and her daughter had em­barked without knowing the result of their voyage;—and as public scandal was the in­centive which made them seek an asylum beyond the seas,—it proved a lucky resolve. —But these words, luck, chance, fortune, &c. are not to be explained as they are generally accepted,—for these synonimous expressions for the providence of heaven, must be supposed, and absolutely construed, as the order, direction, or permission of the Supreme Power.

Captain Colville received an invitation from lady Ann's parents, and a permission from his own, to renew the formality of courtship;—and things which affected that serious business were so nearly got over, that the marriage settlements was in its draft for perusal and amendment;—so that the Captain wore a face of prosperity.—Yet it was the determination of the parents of both parties to delay the solemnization of their [Page 166] nuptials, until a true and satisfactory ac­count of the persons missing could be obtain­ed.—Prest d'accomplir—Foy pour devoir.

The elegant monument which was erected to the memory of the late Duke of Kingsbo­rough, at Highmeadow, in the church­yard of that town, which contained the remains of his Grace, the family vault being near it, (and which was but a mile from Howard's-Castle, in Devonshire,) drew a great many polite families to view it;—as his Grace, Henry, Duke of Kingsborough, was the architect himself, and had all the work performed under his immediate inspec­tion and direction.—This employment di­verting him a good deal from the melancho­ly habit he had formed since he had lost his dear Henrietta,—a name he never mentioned without a deep sigh, and a trickling tear stealing down his cheek!—So deep and firm had the impression sunk the dye, that during a life of the greatest length, the noble Duke could not think of erasing an imagery view of an object whose conduct was the admira­tion of envy herself!

The persons of taste and rank who were curious enough to examine the beauties, elegance, and propriety of the recording marble at Highmeadow, were at once sur­prised, pleased and ultimately astonished, at the taste and judgment of the noble construc­tor and architect.

[Page 167]The season being now at the height for rural enjoyment, his Grace sent letters of invitation to several of his friends, amongst whom were the entire family of Lord Col­ville, including the General;—the Marquis of Languedoc and his family, which of course included all the younger branches;—the Duke of Ashbridge and his family;—the lat­ter he wished to see, that he might exchange forgiveness of any supposed fault on either side, that had caused such a singular change in his family.

The company was very numerous indeed, and all bestowed many compliments on his Grace's tribute to his deceased uncle, in the excellence of the curious work erected to his memory.—The modest Duke on every such occasion denied his ability; but the worthy Baronet displayed his properties and talents to the advantage due to his merit, which in­trinsically was of the utmost value to benefit society in all ranks of life.

The weather being remarkably fine, the winds were laid asleep in the bosom of the smooth beguiling glaze of the brackish ele­ment,—the scaly brood wantoned in the slow movement of the pearly flood,—scarcely a zephyr whispered through the lofty tops of the grove of pines, that overlooked the craggy guardians of Neptune's domain, with an unbounded view of sea and sky;— the birds were warbling out their morning carols, extolling the beauties of the scene,— [Page 168] lambs ran frisking round each other, gently straying a small length from their dams;— the cattle were eager at their morning's re­past, instinctively foreboding the south de­clination of the luminary of day would ren­der the heat more than they could labour under, to crop the flowery variegated stems which reared their heads in vegetative pride. —Nature seemed leisurely to put off her mor­ning attire in the filtered waters of the as­cending dew, whose aromatic odours perfu­med the air with the sweetness of fragrant compositions.

This was the morn the worthy Baronet and his noble son had fixed on, with the approbation of all the notables present, to form a summer camp along the plain, that took in the little harbour of Bay-Mouth,— in which it was usual for coasters to put in, when a calm sea or contrary winds made it necessary for their convenience,—there to lay at anchor in safety.—When the creek was gained, all the points of the compass could not affect their safety,—for it was a dock, locked in from danger;—but the dif­ficulty of obtaining it in boisterous weather, made many unskilful mariners suffer loss by the attempt.

Marquees were erected,—a parallelogram was shaped,—distinct streets were formed transversely, so that an unobstructed view of the level surface of the extended sheet was carefully preserved.

[Page 169]About ten o'clock the little town was completely built;—a distant view was beyond description beautifully picturesque.

The azure vaulted roof overspreading the amethyst of liquid particles, raised in idea something superior to the admired works of nature,—bespeaking at once the residence of the Apologued Genii.—The beautiful sim­plicity of the canvass walls,—and its more beautiful female inhabitants, with its gay males, made the Duke's encampment look like the land of enchantment;—for it made its appearance, and possessed its inhabitants in so short a space of time, as made the honest rustics stand aloof, rubing their eyes, questioning the reality of the scene.

The day advanced with smiles to the southwest declivity of Sol's bespangled path, and on removal of the dining covers, the charms of music enchanted all around, and discord with her bristly young, made a quick decession; for concord and her heaven-born offspring fancifully played their aerial tran­sitions, whilst echo answered to encore:— and on the downy wings of the breathing offspring of time, were pleasing thrills carried along the glassy surface of the silent deep.—Tout vient de dieu.

In this elysian hour of soft soothing into forgetfulness, a ship in full rigged trim, just had hove in sight, and turning the point of the jutting promontory, seemed to want [Page 170] the aid of the gentle blasts of Boreas to plough the furrow of the yielding tide.—Her royals were set,—every wing was expanded to assist her to catch the fleeting gale,—but all her efforts seemed to fall short of the necessary supply;—and the friendly tide that drifted his sheets along the shore, only assisted the floating castle.

By this time she reached the entrance of the secure harbour of Bay-Mouth, resolving there to pass the night, and the next mor­ning proceed up the channel.—The tars were busied in their necessary employ,—the bower anchor dropt, and in five minutes space, she rested safe within the verge of land's protection.

The sea-sick passengers were struck with the enchanting sounds of harmony's assembly, and hasted from their hard beds to ascend the steps of the cabin.

The first who stood on deck was Sir James Dampier, the next Lord Dacie, and then the ladies followed; but what words can paint the astonishment of the sea voyagers, when they recognized the mansion of How­ard's-Castle.

Poor Henrietta, in the feelings of her heart was overcome, lest her once beloved Henry was this day wed to some more happy fair; and that the sound she heard was the festive board's attendant.—She could not prevent her loss of motion, and a fainting fit follow­ed.—This naturally created a bustle on the [Page 171] deck;—the new inhabitants of the canvass town flocked down to give friendly assistance; —amongst the foremost was the gallant Duke of Kingsborough,—but the sight of her he loved above himself,—his dear Hen­rietta,—his all,—his care, was just recovered from her weakening sensation!—He sprung from land upon the deck, and in his arms clasped the dear idol of his affections!—He with enraptured voice, cried, "my dear! my long lost Henrietta!"—She in the same juncture exclaimed, "my dearest Henry, oh!"—Utterance failed, and they both dropt down insensibly in each other's arms. —The scene drew tears from all the spec­tators,—no eye was dry,—joy had her tor­rents—and a speedy release was given to all fears by Sir James Dampier, who in a few words gave the history of all their adven­tures. A second torrent of joy took place, and diffused itself to all around.

Henry and his charming Henrietta were now reanimated.—a thousand soft embraces took place,—the happiness of seeing each other without the most trivial spot to fully their native purity, rendered them all the happiness a terrestrial state could admit of.

A thousand greetings were given and as oft returned by the rural and the debarked friends,—parents and children became over­joyed,—it was a scene of inexpressible hap­piness—formed in the most romantic strain, to charm and surprise!

[Page 172]The noble Henry took the fair partner of his soul into his tent;—but as the sea had made her health yield to a temporary indispo­sition, it was judged necessary that she should, as well as the rest of her company who had debarked, retire to the mansion, to take the refreshment of sleep on the settled solidity of terra firma.

It was a matter of curious investigation, the means by which Lord Dacie was ensnar­ed.—His parents seemed mightily pleased that he had it in his power to heal the wounds the family reputation had sustained.—The noble Henry shook his Lordship's hand and wished him joy!—at this the crowding spec­tators were surprised:—His Lordship would have coined a form of words, to palliate the course his villainy had taken;—but to the generous Duke a repetition of the errors of human life was a painful sensation.—He po­litely entreated his Lordship to repeat no griev­ances,—that with the works, their remem­brance was forgotten, oblivion having enve­loped all traces of their existence.

An universal approbation of the liberal minded Duke's method of forgetting inju­ries on granting forgiveness then succeeded; —peace and harmony walked hand in hand to conduct the well paired couples to the castle of hospitality;—where sincerity, ho­nor, and beneficence, sat at the door ready to receive the guests.

The next day the scene opened with the [Page 173] approbation of prudence, on the re-inforce­ments of content and happiness.

Sir William Howard addressed the seniors of the assembly,—who one and all coin­cided in his opinion, that an union between the junior matched ladies and gentlemen, should take place in a few days.—The first couple who received the address were, the long afflicted pair, his Grace the Duke of Kingsborough and the honorable Miss Hen­rietta Colville;—with a salute of acquies­cence the happy, happy pair, gave notice of their readiness to comply.—The honor­able Captain Colville, and the right honor­able Lady Ann Catesby were the next.

Then the right honorable and reverend Earl of Bellview, and the right honorable Lady Olivia Beaumont.—The right honorable Lord Fairford and the honorable Miss Lee were the fourth and last whose assent were request­ed.—All of these, well-paired happy per­sons were content to attend at the altar.

The necessary documents were transmitted to the metropolis,—special licences were procured,—and after a few days delay, the several persons abovementioned attended the solemn ritual ceremony, and became of the nearest kindred to each other.—The connu­bial knot was tied by each pair in succeeding order;—the neighbouring villagers partook of the festivity;—Hogsheads of elevating drink, and barrels of sound rectified liquors, with provisions in plenty were provided, as [Page 174] the beveridge of the populace;—the bells rang a joyful peal;—music echoed through the glade and adjacent groves;—bonfires and illuminations crowned the night;—and Howard's-Castle consummated the happiness of Wedlock.—The succeeding day ushered forth the honorable appellation of man and wife, between four new made couples;—and we may also venture to say a fifth—for Lord and Lady Dacie, were then but in their se­cond moon.

Thus the sport of time became the seri­ous work of completion;—and in the full scope of imagination, we may indulge our­selves a little, in reviewing the truly happy state of ten ladies and ten gentlemen of rank and fortune.

A fortnight had nearly elapsed before any of the assembly counted the days,—so easy did time steal on the wings of pleasure and contentment, who were united to lull the group from thoughts of care.

A day was appointed for the collection of friendship's numbers to disperse,—but prior to their separation, an excursion on the smooth settled sheet of the ocean, in a large barge constructed on purpose for coast­ing jaunts of pleasure and recreation, was proposed.

The day arrived,—the aged persons who were of this notable assembly, did not par­take of the entertainment on the water,— they chose the safety of firm sooting;—and in land vehicles pursued the pleasures of the [Page 175] day,—and all parties were to meet at an ap­pointed place of rendezvous;—a cold col­lation and the canvass coverings of the tent equipage, were sent before.

The morning was remarkably serene,—a solemn silence reigned over the face of the deep,—all nature seemed hushed in drow­sy slumbers;—no noise ventured to wing its course in any direction,—a still solemnity sat to judge the events of the day.—The sun ascended from his watery pillow with a drowsy appearance, as though he was bloated with the intemperance of the night;—his bright golden locks seemed tinged with singy red;—the azure roof was vineer'd with streaks of pale reflecting tumors partaking of a watery galaxy;—no one present professed prognostication from the appearance of hea­ven,—for every one was intent on the busi­ness of preparation.

About eight o'clock in the morning, on Thursday the 29th day of July, the ten new married persons, with general Mounsey and his lady, and a set of necessary attendants to work the barge, embarked with alacrity on board the pleasure boat, which was decora­ted with taste and elegance by and under the order and direction of his Grace the Duke of Kingsborough.—The tide with gentle shift­ing assisted their endeavours;—and with an easy sail, slow in motion, they quitted Bay-Mouth Harbour.

The Duke and Dutchess of Ashbridge,— [Page 176] Lord and Lady Colville,—the Marquis of Languedoc, and his Marchioness,— Sir James Dampier and his Lady,—and Sir William Howard, accompanied by 'Squire Lee, (who did not much approve of the watery element) took open carriages that gave them a constant view of the barge, which by mutual agreement, was to keep in sight of the shore.

Thus equipt, the debarkation and alight­ing was to be precisely at four o'clock in the afternoon.—The next day at that hour was the time appointed for their return.

The day was pleasant at the hour of set­ting out,—everyone was pleased with the prospect of the pleasures of it.—Views from sea and land were equally delightful;— every angle of the shelving shore showed something of a different prospect, to that which a few minutes before had opened to the view.—Meandering brooks,—purling rills, shady groves—flowery valleys,—wooded copses,—craggy summits of weathered beaten rocks,—thus the variegated face of nature showed its rural and natural appear­ance.

Anon the show of art, industry, and toil. —The new mown fields—the yellow beds of thriving grain,—the ripened vegetable root, showed by its stem the mature state it enjoyed;—with these might be viewed the neat, snug, and well-built farm-house, with the convenient yard adjoining,—the domestic [Page 177] animals with busy care seeking their food in receptacles of their wonted usage.—The cattle in peaceful plenty enjoying the spoils of nature's spontaneous herbage; —the sheep in wandering flocks on the sweet tasted verges of the bounded plain, cropping the honey-suckle,—the arch-notioned goat ascending the steep ridge of the almost per­pendicular mount, where rocks ledging as steps, serve the turn of the adven­turing beast's clambering disposition to nip the bitter herbage of the craggy precipices, which in his taste is delightfully palatable.— The laborious horses are with a servile con­cordance yoked, and harnessed to the loaded team waggon.—The early farmer and his sturdy assistants are with their brawny limbs, exposed to the insults of the weather, at the various employments of reaping, mowing, binding, pitching, or stacking of the vari­ous productions of harvest's extensive toils.

The shifting scenes affording a wide field for instructive lessons to the idle and disso­lute.—To see the laborious cares that were necessary to bestow, to foster the productions of the prolific furrowed land, so as to pre­sent them ready for the use of the mincing epicurean!—should not those labouring sons of the plough, be honored as the first in arts?—Their science is of comfortable reflection;—transposing the weak leas of ri­sing grass in November's snowing reign, to the fine contexture of the wheaten leaf of [Page 178] July.—The calf of March to the sirloin of Christmas,—with many other branches equally useful and indispensibly necessary.

These prospects pleased the eye, and gave an agreeable allusion to active life, in the parties that were travelling both by sea and land;—who passed near four hours in plea­sing confabulation.—The sea voyagers, as we may style them, were remarkably happy, as they were all on deck, in view of every scene of delight; and were in regular pairs, to match in the participation of instructive or recreative conversation.

The planet of day was now got to his greatest altitude; and ere the time-piece pointed it was five minutes past noon, there arose a murmuring in the breezes that had just then sprung up.—The trees with a silky consistence made a sudden rustling, as though their boughs were crushed by an in­visible power;—the waters curled, verg­ing in oblong sheets, and seemed to bear marked sinking points, as though engraved with a pungent machine.

The rarified atmosphere, which in the end­less boundary of sight showed a lively blue, by a raised density of particles which arose with the south west wind, (an awful layer of woolpack forms,) filled with the moon's attractive christalized element, opposed themselves with the pale or red repositories of Sol's meteors;—the caverns of the earth at the same juncture yielded up the confined [Page 179] fluid of the roving winds;—thus the face or heaven brought quickly in view the threats of contention between the four elements:— and as man is a composition of these four, it behoves him at all times upon such appear­ances to provide for his safety.

The land party perceived the approaching storm, and were fearful of its effects,—and by signs, made known their wishes, for the barge to gain the shore,—but to perform this desirable work, the waterman found im­practicable;—as no creek of safety was now nearer than two leagues, and to gain it great hazard would accrue:—for the part of the country which they now were coasting, was all along a high ridge for nearly the last six miles,—and was of the same appearance for the like number of miles, which they were obliged to pursue to obtain any place of safety in the threatening storm.—It was a di­lemma of equal conclusion;—to return or to pursue were difficulties of like delay,—the wind being on their larboard bow one way, and on their starboard the other:—so a pro­secution of their voyage to the creek was determined; there to land and remain du­ring the night, if the weather continued boisterous, was the resolve of the gentlemen on board.

The ladies were terrified by the timidity of the watermen, who were ten in number, but who were to a man fearful of the agitated element, well knowing the danger of the rocky shore. [Page 180] —But as cowardice adds to danger, the gen­tlemen made light of the fears of the pilot­ing watermen,—by which the ladies were somewhat calmed.

It was strikingly awful in the aspect of the persons whose consciences threatened them in the hour of danger;—and of those whose monitor held out a transcript of the ease and comforts of the heart, and whose works knew no pollution.—His Grace of Kings­borough and his Dutchess sat with composure, —serene innocence in the latter, and resig­nation in the former, both joining in a dox­ology to heaven for all former blessings, be­ing confident of heaven's future care, as their lives were without reprehension, except in the state of nature;—in this they were well versed, and knew the necessity of being partakers of the living sacrifice, at whose table they were constant attendants,—the preceding Sabbath being their last.

Others of this polite company were not to, —Lord Dacie and his consort felt themselves differently,—for the terrors of their con­sciences represented death in a more hor­rible view, than the fabled appearance of Tisiphone, the worst of the three furies of hell. Their hearts failed them, they almost faint­ed through the extreme of fear.

The Earl of Bellview and his charming Countess were like the noble Duke and Dutchess, just now mentioned;—they were not at all dismayed, cheerfulness appeared in [Page 181] each of them.—Lady Ann Colville was the same. The captain was in tolerable good spirits, as were General Mounsey and his lady. —Lord and Lady Fairford were greatly terrified;—the former from conviction, the latter from a timidity of opinion, that it was inevitable death, if the storm should overtake them;—not considering the hand of Providence, that could raise and lay the power of the winds, or of any other of the elements.

Here we see the uncertainty of human enjoyments!—all were happy an hour before,—and now the lowering face of hea­ven affrighted the greatest part into the most abject opinion of the power of the omipo­tent being.—But the bruised consciences of sinners will, sooner or later, convict them of the unregenerate state they are in, if a sight of danger presents itself.

The land party were not much better off! —Every one of them felt exceedingly for the danger their children or relations were exposed to.—The storm made a beginning, by repeated peals of awful thunder!—no house was near for shelter, except a barn, which was now opened for the reception of early harvest.—No person was therein, so that the foremost of the travellers were housed on the falling of the first drops of the thunder shower.—Sir William Howard and 'Squire Lee were in the rear a quarter of a mile;—the shower commenced so heavy, [Page 182] that a large spreading oak, which was but a few paces from the highway, seemed a shelter from the impending storm.

By this time the smooth element which the morning had presented with such be­witching temptation, was now become a turbulent, boisterous, and furious sea; frothing and foaming, driving its agitated mountains, in mighty torrents against the opposing rocks!—Now the happiness the morning boasted of, was sunk as far below the mediocrity of hope, as it had risen before on the approach of pleasure!—This is the barometer of man's fluctuating state!—His glass rises high, low, and perhaps runs out within the hour!—So, whoever places his happiness in the superficial appearance of things, may be assured he will be deceived; —and if not provided against the worst, to his utter and irreparable loss.

The barge, although a good sea boat, was by this time tossed at the pleasure of the furi­ous winds.—All the rigging and ornamen­tal decorations were torn, as if composed of paper;—and drifted into the overflowing tide.—Nothing was left to obstruct the blast but a bare mast,—the boom having been torn from it and forced overboard;—the sea rolling so dreadfully, that it was imagined, every minute by all on board, that she must overset,—therefore the company were seat­ed all between decks,—every man in pos­session of his wife;—whilst the very colour­ing [Page 183] of horror was to be seen in several faces! —but an earnest cry to him, in whose hands the earth, sea, and winds are, was unremit­tingly poured forth.

The thunder's sounding hoarseness seemed to increase, and lightning flashed through every crevice.—The mast was shivered into a thousand pieces, although no person re­ceived any material hurt!—This dreadful crash might well be supposed to rouse the very inmost thoughts of those who were so nigh the danger.—Scarce had their panic subsided, and they were again seated, when a deluge of water stove in the quarter deck, by which they were all completely wet;— and the Duke and Lord Belview were slightly wounded by some splinters that flew from the forced joists.

Death now seemed to all inevitable, so each resigned himself to God in prayer!— but Lord Dacie essayed to go up to the rails, which formed the netting on the quarter deck, —in this he was opposed by the two wounded Noblemen, who remonstrated with him on the impropriety of such conduct;—but he replied, death was as certain between decks as above, and as he could swim well, perhaps he might save his life.—In this whim, or rather presuming notion, he was joined by Lord Fairford, who said he had the like abi­lities.—Lord Belview advanced every thing he could against such a step,—adding, it was a piece of cruelty to leave the Ladies in [Page 184] this minute of trying danger and extremity; —and that it was an offence to the Deity to act upon such principles; for a man should at all times hazard as much on his wife's account as his own:—and that in men of exalted parts and exemplary lives, it had been known, that they could have saved their own lives, if they had chosen to relinquish their wives; but no instance ever occurred wherein any such men abandoned their wives in the hour of danger,—as it betrayed every thing be­neath the dignity of human nature.

His Lordship's words had no effect.—The Duke then conjured them to stay and share their fate, observing, that God's power was not abated;—and that there were still hopes if they could put faith in that Beneficent Being, who never deceived any who really and sincerely relied on his mercy;—and fur­ther observed, that notwithstanding the vio­lence of the tempest, and the impetuosity of the waves, he had a full assurance in his mind, and rested confident, thro' his hope in God, that they should all get safe to shore. —He therefore entreated those Lords not to abandon their wives, nor betray their confi­dence in the goodness of the Supreme Being.

All that either the Duke or Lord Bellview could advance, had not any effect on those congenial characters, who were in their feel­ings equally agitated.—The perturbed state of their minds raised them nearly to lunacy, —for to receive death calmly, they supposed [Page 185] to be a dangerous plan, as the word chance was of efficacy with them; therefore they went on deck and laid fast hold of the rail that supported the net work, of the fair wea­ther seats.—In this posture they continued for nearly twenty minutes, notwithstanding they were within hearing of the lamentable cries of Lady Dacie and Lady Fairford; who would have been tossed against the benches, as the barge rolled, were it not that the Duke of Kingsborough and Lord Bellview, took each one of them under the opposite arm to that in which their Ladies were placed.

As the sea rolled with such heavy shocks, it was impossible for any of the gentlemen to quit their situations to entreat the absent Lords who were almost, spectators of the hor­rors of the deep!—However, General Mounsey repeatedly called aloud to them to return;—but it was in vain,—they were deaf to all entreaties.—The horrors of death were of too dreadful an aspect for ei­ther of them to open their ears to any other care than that of self-preservation.—(A most striking representation of a conscious guilt of preying upon the spirits, even in the very hour of death.)—The sea beat over their heads like mountains of earth, depriv­ing; them of day light.

At about twenty minutes past three o'clock in the afternoon, the railing was heard to give way; and so in a great swell, in which [Page 186] the barge shipped a heavy sea, were carried away the netting, rails, and of consequence the two unfortunate obstinate Lords!— Thus they perished through a perverse disposition!—When they meant to save their lives, they lost them!—For their trust was not in God, but in their own cunning!— A deadly and a deceitful enemy to the true happiness of human nature.

The watermen, or as we should call them, seamen, as they had to encounter that bois­terous element, were of opinion that the barge was off the creek; as she was hither­to at liberty to drift along the shore at the pleasure of the wind and tide. The Duke ordered them to stand to the helm, and en­deavour to put her before the current, which beat up the creek.—But still the sea kept her vehement tossing, and the winds their howling!—the rain and lightning rolled like incorporated sheets upon the shattered deck! yet, by the direction of that power, whose unerring skill surmounts all difficul­ties, which to man oft times seems an im­possibility, the barge or sea boat got to the entrance of the creek, and with a flowing tide took the further end at one tack, and stuck fast in the mud, which secured her from the ebbing of the surge.—Thus the votaries to pleasure gained the land!—which they all with uplifted hands and hearts thanked the Supreme Power for the attain­ment of.

[Page 187]The unfortunate sons of obstinancy were now to be regretted,—but it was in vain to repine at the decrees of heaven;—they were no more!

The gay embarquants now in sadness de­barked; yet thankful to heaven for their es­cape from the surrounding terrors of a mo­mentary threatening death.

In their wretched plight, the humane inha­bitants of the little town gave all the com­fort their humble life afforded.—Beds were got ready, and each couple thought them­selves happy to find a roof over their heads, and a firm ground beneath their feet.

In the mean time, the land party were not much better off,—for corroding care, and restless suspense, heightened the anxiety and almost despairing condition of those who occupied the barn.—The barge was lost sight of by them!—the dark clouds of rising bil­lows towered above the sides of the little vessel, which at repeated times would have been enveloped in the surging waves, had it not been for the all preserving power of the invisible hand that was stretched out to help and save those for whom further work on earth was designed.—The barn lost its roof in the whirlwind of a tremendous and awful clap of thunder!—and the light­ning in a vivid flame set the sedgy covering on fire.

The housed sanctuary was now become a place of imminent danger!—All of its temporary [Page 188] inhabitants fled with the utmost precipita­tion, and sheltered themselves beneath the roof of an humble cottage, which present­ed itself at some distance, where they found undissembled hospitality;—the cottager and his family removing themselves from the convenient seats of their unadorned dwell­ing, found thereby a means to seat their hapless guests, who were now beyond the limits of patience in their anxious cares.

During the former part of the storm, we have observed the goodly Knight with 'Squire Lee, had taken their shelter under the spread­ing branches of a venerable oak;—in which situation they continued for a considerable time, which, according to the relation of Mr. Lee, might have been an hour or there­abouts.—During this time the venerable sage seemed enwrapped in the scenes of the aw­ful majesty of heaven; observing to his com­panion, the happiness of being at peace with that power, whose works were now in per­formance!—that when the pleasure of the author of our being was made known to the messengers of his presence, to require our attendance, we were like the wise virgins in the parable, ready with our lamps, burning the incense of a clear conscience.

The worthy man then with uplifted eyes to heaven, in a doxology of some length, expressed his acknowledgments due to the bounty of his God!—then earnestly invok­ed a blessing on his children, to preserve [Page 189] them from the dangers of the seas, and eve­ry casual vicissitude; and that they might continually have before their faces, a view of the requisites to perform the commands, and conform to the will of the Most High; —granting them an emancipation from the works and words of their spiritual enemy, whose power was in the vanity of depraved mortals greatly advanced.—He further add­ed, with devotional fervency, the hope he had in the tribunal and eternal power of the Almighty,—and in the good time of the wisdom of the deity to give him a release from the precarious situation of human life, which was a round of chequered scenes, in which the proneness of evil had gained su­perior numbers;—concluding with a com­mendation of his friends and enemies to the throne of grace, and a resignation of him­self to the will of the Supreme Being.

These last words were just gone forth, the breath being scarcely departed from his lips, when a deafening clang and dreadful rumble of etherial fire, broke through the fable cloud that over hung the oak, and in the space of a lightning flash, the ball of liquid fire descended on the trunk of the sturdy overgrown druid favourite;—dividing it from the topmost shoot to the roots!—and in that instant left the speaking monitor of truth and honor, lifeless, at the verge of the grassy circumscription of the sapient suckers under the blasted tree!

[Page 190]Mr. Lee, who was attentive to the words of the departed son of wisdom, was beyond measure astonished,—affrighted,—and struck with terror, agony, and surprise!—and tho' he stood within a hand's breath of the fallen great good man, he received no hurt what­ever; only the electrical sensation of being stunned by the proximity of the volatile flame which had lodged itself in the earth.

Some minutes passed before he collected his reason!—then on his knees, with fer­vent zeal, he thanked, and asked a blessing of further preservation from heaven;—and with eyes rivetted to the spot whereon Sir William lay, he gazed, wonder still re­maining in his sight.—For upwards of two hours continuance he stood by his deceased friend;—the storm then abating, he pursu­ed the loansome road, to overtake his fellow travellers,—and on his arrival at the con­sumed barn, saw the footsteps of both sexes, in the moistened mould. He lifted up his eyes, and perceived the cot wherein the com­pany of the barn had found a further shelter! —he hasted thither, where he found his companions and their ladies well wet, af­frighted, and fatigued.—But all their trou­bles slept in forgetfulness, on hearing of the fate of the honorable Baronet!—All were in tears,—terror,—and surprise!—They then, with redoubled pangs of anxious care, doubted of the existence of the sea toiled [Page 191] party.—Horror and amasement sat ghastly on every brow! —

Let blanks supply the place of words,— all that the cottager's guests conceived, felt, and suffered on Mr. Lee's relation.

The town of Barpoint, which was adja­cent to the coving creek in which the barge arrived, was about six miles distant.—The cottager related the safety of the sea compa­ny, if they had arrived there;—to know the truth of conjecture, the company remount­ed their open carriages, and with the gui­dance of the peasant, hasted thither.

About seven o'clock in the evening they arrived,—but were told the company of the barge had separate lodgings, and were gone to rest, through the fatigue they suffered at sea;—their garments being quite wet thro' with the rolling waves that the vessel had shipped in the storm. By advice of each other, the late arrived company proposed to keep silent the matter of Sir William How­ard's premature death until the next morn­ing;—judging it would, without any good accruing, or service obtained, prevent the Duke and Dutchess, his son and daughter from rest;—and with equal suprise mar the comforts of the others of the harrassed com­pany.

A worthy clergyman, who was the only [Page 192] man of elevated rank or easy circumstances in the village, (for the name of a town, Barpoint could scarcely claim) having just heard of several persons being in distress, —with all the humanity his sacerdotal habit should possess, entreated the weatherbound visitants to accept of his humble roof, where he would, in the best manner he was able, accommodate them;—and expressed his re­gret at being absent from his house on the arrival of the barge,—else he should have lodged her company, who were obliged to accept the offers of his peasant parishioners.

The grateful company thanked the good clergyman for his urbanity and hospitality, and without hesitation accepted his kind of­fer; where they remained, well provided with wholesome provisions and christian care until the next morning.

The attendants, with more assistants, took care of the body of the deceased worthy Baronet, and in a shell conveyed it into the Church, where his remains were deposit­ed for that night.

The bargemen were equally successful in picking up the bodies of Lord Dacie and Lord Fairford, which the surfy shore had gained, at some distance from the creek of Barpoint;—their bodies also were lain in shells, and deposited in the church where Sir William Howard was laid.

Next morning ushered in a glorious fine day of settled weather,—and the attentive [Page 193] parson who had lodged the land travellers, called on all the sea voyagers at their res­pective lodgings, to come to his dwelling, informing them of their friends being there. —They all obeyed the summons very thank­fully, when the humane rector acquainted the sea and land travellers with their diffe­rent misfortunes.—For as yet the accidents of the one party were not known to the other.

The conjunction of parties would have af­forded a real pleasure,—had it not been for the preceding accidents.—For on a perfect understanding of their misfortunes, all were blended in the lamentable scene of woe;— the day of nominal pleasure brought forth a day of irretrievable loss, grief and anguish.

The noble Duke of Kingsborough and his amiable consort were inconsolable in the loss of their honorable father, who was a cha­racter of respectability, worthy of example. —The Duke of Ashbridge, his Dutchess, Sir James Dampier, and his Lady [...] ex­ceedingly sorrowful for the untimely death of their son.—The good 'Squire Lee, and his relation, the Marquis and his family, were all extremely grieved for the unhappy fate of Lord Fairford.—Proper steps were taken to pay a due compliment to the deceas­ed;—the whole company returned to the seat of the late Sir William Howard, now the mansion of the Duke his son;—hearses were provided, and the bodies removed, —when after a period of lying in state, due [Page 194] to their rank, they were severally deposited in the vaults of the Howard and Kingsbo­rough families, at Highmeadow, where each raised a record in marble to the memo­rable merit of their deceased near relations.

The Duke of Kingsborough caused to be erected under his own direction, a superb monument, with emblematical representa­tions, trite inscriptions, and faithful records and delineations of his father's never dying fame!—For in the good and great Sir Wil­liam Howard, pure philanthropy, with mild benevolence and Christian charity, found their abode;—and have made a name in Howard, which will ever grace human nature;—and at this period gives a name to a congenial mind, whose words and works can only be equalled by the deceased Sir William Howard—the patron of the poor, and the husband and parent to the widow and fatherless!—Pense à bien, J'ai bonne cause.

After the interment, each family returned to their respective seats:—the Duke and Dutch­ess of Kingsborough remained at Howard's-Castle.—They solaced each other with peace­ful lessons of piety, harmony, love, and tenderness, and which were their constant attendants.—Discord, irreligion, and pride, were as in the life time of the deceased wor­thy proprietor, denied any kind of employ or admission.—The worthy parson of Bar­point [Page 195] was called to the living of Highmea­dow, on the presentation of his Grace, the rector having departed this life to enjoy a better, which it is to be hoped he succeeded to, as he was truly a Christian

This change to the Barpoint parson, was happy indeed;—for it gave him a means to provide comfortably for a wife and six chil­dren, which he had done tolerably well at an income only of forty pounds a year;—but his Grace's unsolicited kindness, raised him, with the chaplaincy to the Duke, to a living of eight hundred pounds per annum.

Ten months after marriage, the charming Dutchess of Kingsborough brought forth a pledge of her love, which gave to her and her Lord the happy name of parents.—The child was a male, and was baptised William, in memory of his grandfather.

The Countess of Bellview did the like honor to her Lord, in about the same time; a daughter was the fruit of their love.

The other characters which are drawn we don't recollect had such early pledges of their affections.—But we remember, that about this time, Lady Dacie changed her name for that of Lee, which was a happy marriage;—for 'Squire Lee, the brother of Lady Fairford, was the person who became her husband. His settled principles and sedate deportment, made a reformation in the disposition of that Lady;—for Lady Dacie is now a prudent, virtuous person, and does the graces of her rank with a due [Page 196] sense of honor—Her son which was born as heir to Lord Dacie, in the expectant rank of the Dukedom of Ashbridge, is a fine promising child;—and his grandfather the Duke, has applied to the upper house, and settled in him the right of succession.

Lady Dampier's pride is somewhat hum­bled;—she now begins to think she cannot live for ever;—and although she has worn grey hairs these ten years, she has retained the vanity of dress, fashion, and conversa­tion until within these last six months.—It is to be hoped, in six months more, she will have forgotten that paint, pride, and osten­tation, in advanced life, is incompatible with religion, mortification, and repentance.

The moralist may deem the victims of an untimely death, a singular instance of the visitation of heaven, and rather a forced method to raise a tragic scene;—but here it will be proper to observe to such a class of readers,—"That God is not the author of evil."—"That the wicked man shall not live half his days."—"That God delights not in the death of a sinner, but rather that he should re­pent and live."—and "That time and chance happeneth to all men."

In Sir William Howard we see superfici­ally, a sudden and unprovided death!—But only comment for a moment,—"God is not th [...] [...]or of evil," therefore, as in Elijah, who by etherial fire had his mortal parts instantly consumed as a favour from Heaven, that by [Page 197] sudden death he might receive sudden glo­ry, "for flesh and blood cannot inherit the King­dom of Heaven,"—why not the same mani­festation of God's bounty to that wise man, who possessed wisdom and understanding,— "In fearing God, and in departing from iniqui­ty?"—Therefore it was a gracious call and a glorious change!—He was fit to live or die, as all God's elect certainly are!—By the two drowned Lords, we see plainly the end of the wicked!—they were dreadfully cast down on the approach of death; and by their fears and negligence, in mistrusting or requiring assistance from heaven, ran headlong into danger, and perished through the perverseness of their own hearts!—Be­sides, the wicked man shortens his days most certainly, by lewdness, excess, riot, quar­rels, distempers, or a violation of the laws of society, which brings him to an ignomi­nious death.

Thus life is shortened by the wicked man! —And that agreeable to the preacher of wisdom, "time and chance happeneth to all men."—Certainly they do, for time is the measure of his probationary stay in a sublu­nary state.—Chance is a synonymy of the manner of his exit, whether naturally or violently;—so that on the whole review of human hature, it must be allowed, "that vice like envy, carries the sting of its own pu­nishment;—whilst virtue like innocence, [...]ries its reward with it, in a conscience void of of­fence towards God and Man."