BEFORE I enter into a detail of the adventures of our hero, I presume it will not be unaccepta­ble to my readers, if not expedient, to give a cursory sketch of his birth and education, in order to illustrate the subject of the following sheets. This I shall do in as concise a manner as possible—well knowing that prolixity creates disgust.

He was the first and only son of a gentleman in Lon­don, who enjoy'd an affluent and independent fortune —was noble, generous, humane and hospitable: His income not only supported his family in splendour, but also dispensed its glad'ning streams to the dreary abodes of pain and indigence. This gentleman, at a a suitable age, with the approbation of his friends, paid his addresses to a young lady of a distinguished family, and great fortune—possessed of every accomplishment to render a man of honour happy: To whom he was shortly married. Before the anniversary of their nup­tials arrived, their happiness was augmented by the birth of a son, who, from that period, was the delight of every eye that saw him, and in whom all the rising hopes of his fond parents concentrated.

[Page 6]This son, is the person whose surprizing and varie­gated adventures I intend to disclose—candidly tracing him through the various mazes and doublings of his peregrination:—He was called Mercutio.

There is a period between infancy and manhood, in which, let our station in life be what it may, nothing but trifles occur: I should hold myself inexcusable in detaining the attention of my readers from the more in­teresting incident of my narrative, with an insipid rela­tion of those; and therefore, shall date the adventures of our hero from the commencement of his sixteenth year. At that period, he became enamoured with a young lady, by an accident, which laid the foundation of his future fortunes and misfortunes, and of course, this history.

He had just completed his studies, at Oxford, when he attained his sixteenth year: He therefore took leave of his teachers and fellow students, and repaired to London. It would be needless to describe the joyful emotions of his parents, on his arrival—Let it suffice to say, that while the fond mother clasp'd him with ardour to her bosom, his father's heart expanded with parental pride, to see his son—his only son, in full posses­sion of every necessary accomplishment—nature as well as art having largely contributed to render him complete.

His mother, listen'd with supreme delight to the periods, which, with uncommon ease and propriety [Page 7] he pronounced, while he described the progress he had made in his studies, and remark'd on the beauties and deformities of the several authors which had come un­der his particular observation—which he did with so much judgment and candour, that envy herself could have made no exception—She revolved in her mind the many years of uninterrupted happiness which it was probable he might enjoy—the many hours of heart-felt satisfaction she herself, as well as his happy father were yet likely to experience, not only in his company and conversation, but also in the pleasing contemplation of his transmitting his name and virtues to millions yet unborn: But alas! the happiness of mankind is fleet­ing and transitory—like fair weather in an April day, it is but of short duration; and though so widely differ­ent, from disappointment, pain and slavery, in its nature and consequences, is, nevertheless, so immedi­ately succeeded by them, as to appear, to human con­ception, to be of the same family.

This happy family lived within fifteen minutes' walk of Hyde-Park, and it being that delightful season of the year in which nature seems to take a pride in displaying her innumerable beauties—our hero frequently walk'd in the Park for recreation—sometimes in company with his happy parents, and at others alone. As he delighted much in reading, he seldom took an excursion alone without a book, in the perusal of which he often spent an hour or two—reclining beneath the friendly shade of some one of those venerable trees which adorn that [Page 8] fine Park. One evening, while he was amusing himself in this manner, he was roused by a shriek of distress, which was uttered by a young lady, who, walking too near the serpentine river, where the bank was very steep, accidentally fell in—and the stream running ra­pidly, wash'd her more than a hundred yards in a few seconds. Mercutio, being at a considerable distance from the bank of the river, exerted his utmost speed, and perceiving the young lady just above the water— he plunged in—caught her in his arms, and with much difficulty, bore her to the shore, almost breathless. He was met at the bank of the river by two ladies, in tears, who prov'd to be the mother and sister of her he had rescued from a watery grave. They gave him what assistance they could, in conveying her to a convenient situation, then requested him to step to the end of Pic­cadilly for an eminent physician, who lived there. He ran immediately, leaving the young lady to the care of her mother and sister, and in a few words communicat­ed his business to the surgeon: who instantly accom­panied him to the spot. The young lady, notwith­standing the endeavours of her mother and sister, was to all appearance dead. The tender parent was hardly kept from fainting, while the surviving daughter wept immoderately—so that the whole exhibited a scene of real distress. While the surgeon exerted his abilities to recover the almost drowned lady, it required all the philosophy as well as rhetoric of Mercutio, to keep the other two in any tolerable degree of spirits;—however it pleased God to crown the endeavours of the surgeon [Page 9] with unexpected success:—Cheerfulness diffused itself instantly over every countenance, when her resuscita­tion was announced—they surrounded her with an eagerness which plainly indicated their late apprehen­sions, and present satisfaction. Our hero was not the last in congratulating her on her recovery; but the joy of her mother and sister, is easier imagined than described. She, with a heavy sigh, opened her eyes, which, even in that impair'd state, were equal in lustre to the dia­mond of the most exquisite polish, and looking around her, eagerly said, where is my mama?—Where is Charlotte?—Here we are, replied the mother and sister together. Be composed, my dear, said the old lady—Heaven his interposed in our favour, and all will be well. Madam, interrupted the surgeon, my advice is to convey your daughter home as soon as possible—let her be put in a warm bed, and do not disturb her to night—give me your address, and I will visit her early in the morning, and prescribe such things as I shall then judge salutary. The old lady re­turned her thanks for his care, and informed him that she lived on the south side of Cavendish-Square. The patient was then placed between her mother and sister, in the doctor's chariot, which had brought him and Mercutio, who having promised, at the instance of the old lady, to accompany the surgeon the next day, took leave and departed.

Although the foregoing accident and adventure, does not appear to have been calculated for the foundation [Page 10] of an amour; yet this was absolutely the case: For no sooner did Lucinda, (the young lady) expand her beauteous eyes, than love, like the electrical fire, diffus'd itself through each avenue of our hero's heart, which being tender and susceptible, retained this first impres­sion so firmly, that it was never eradicated, until the lovely orbs, by which it was communicated, were quench'd in death.

Mercutio's mind had never been agitated before, in the same manner, as it was that evening, and the ensu­ing night. He slept little—broken slumbers, and con­fus'd ideas, tortur'd his imagination, till the return of the day. The image of Lucinda appear'd to his ima­gination in various forms: At one time, he beheld her pale and lifeless on the bank of the river—at another, faintly struggling with the impetuous stream—and some­times as a bride, adorned for the nuptial ceremony, in all the bloom of youth, beauty and native innocence.

Having breakfasted, he hastened to the house of the surgeon, and with him, for the first time, rode to Ca­vendish-Square, where he was received with all that politeness peculiar to persons of exalted rank and refin­ed education. Lucinda, after a comfortable night's rest, arose, invigorated and cheerful, and having been informed by her mama, of the particulars of what she had su [...]ere [...] the prece [...]ing evening, and of her miracu­lous preservation—she was just expressing her desire to see and thank her deliverer, when the servant announc'd [Page 11] the arrival of the physician and another gentleman. Lucinda's matchless charms blazed forth in their native splendor—and, her natural vivacity having resumed its feat, her discourse considerably encreased the satisfaction of the company. The old lady, acknowledged the preservation of her daughter's life, in the most grateful terms, and added, that she knew Lord S—r, her husband, would never forget the obligation. Though our hero was fully recompensed for the service he had rendered the daughter of Lord S—r, with a con­sciousness of having been instrumental in saving such a composition of wit and beauty from the merciless jaws of death; yet his satisfaction was considerably augmented, by the acknowledgments of Lucinda her­self, which she expressed in the following manner: Words, sir, are too weak, to describe my grateful sensi­bility of the vast obligation, under which, my mama informs me, you have laid me, by your humane exer­tions in saving me from impending danger; but as the only return in my power at present, is a grateful re­membrance of the favour, I hope that may be accepted in part, and I promise to make up the deficiency, by ever esteeming you as the generous preserver of my life.

Madam, said he, the reward you have promised, and which I accept with joy, and shall ever strive to deserve, is more than an equivalent to any service I could possibly render; but you must not suppose yourself under any obligation to me; for a gentleman who could have done less, on a similar occasion, must have divest­ed [Page 12] himself of every particle of humanity, as well as violated its common laws.

The surgeon finding his fair patient in perfect health, and being satisfied for his trouble, departed. Mercutio was more than once prevented from taking his leave, by the joint solicitations of the ladies, who ardently requested the favour of his company till evening, to which he very willingly complied.

Dinner being over, the ladies played a duetto on the harpsichord, accompanied with their voices: The mas­terly skill with which they performed, and the enchant­ing harmony produced from the lips and fingers of these lovely girls, increased the infant passion of Mercu­tio to a degree of ardor not often exceeded. He listened with rapture, and gazed with silent astonishment! He had never feasted his eyes and ears so sumptuously be­fore. The evening approaching, he took leave, having previously, in compliance with reiterated requests, promised to renew his visit shortly, which he did not fail punctually to observe, as will appear in the sequel.

As the accident which gave rise to our hero's ac­quaintance with this family, proved to be the source of those surprizing adventures of which the ensuing part of this history is composed, I presume it will not be accounted a digression, to present the reader with a very brief account of the eminent personages, who gave birth to the empress of his affections.

[Page 13]The father of Lucinda was the eldest son of the duke of N—, whose great abilities, as well in the field as cabinet, are too well known to need a repetition in this place: The son possessed not only the estate of his fa­ther, but also his virtues and bravery. At a suitable age, without having run through those scenes of vice and dissipation, which are too frequently and fatally the principal objects which our young noblemen pursue, he fixed his affections on an amiable young lady, daughter of Lord H—n. They lived, as might be expect­ed, in all that harmony which never fails a virtuous union, founded on mutual esteem. The first fruit of their connubial love was a daughter, which was the same who had captivated the affections of Mercutio. She had received an education suitable to her birth and fortune, which she improved by every means possible. The second child was a son, and called Charles, an amiable youth, then in Naples: He had been taken dangerously ill in that city, and his companion and tutor having written to his father, to inform him of the situation of his son, he had embarked, accompani­ed by a very able physician, for Italy.—But to return:—

Mercutio's attention was totally diverted from its usual channel: 'twas entirely absorbed in the contem­plation of the charming qualifications of Lucinda, and in revolving the happy consequences that would infalli­bly attend an honorable union with her—and began seriously to resolve on matrimony, if the consent of all [Page 14] parties could be obtained: Of this, however, he had many doubts and fears; having frequently heard his father reprobate the custom of marrying at too early a period, and being so young, he imagined would be an insurmountable obstacle in procuring his consent, which he conceived as absolutely necessary to his future hap­piness.

Lucinda's gratitude was, at the first interview, by an easy transition, converted to genuine friendship: It is no wonder, then, if the exact and manly features, sym­metry of shape, engaging deportment, and natural viva­city of Mercutio, assisted by so powerful an ally as the most uncontaminated esteem, should have made an indelible impression on such a heart as her's—susceptible of the slightest. This was the case—but each was ignorant of the attachment of the other, and bore hard on the feelings of both; for it would have afforded great consolation to them, to have known the real situation of each other's heart.

Mercutio resolved to love—he relinquished all his former diversions: The park, the ball, the opera and play, had no charms for him! he devoted himself to solitude while at home—and seldom went abroad but to Lord S—'s.

It was at one of those visits he had the honour of his first interview with the father and brother of his beloved Lucinda. They had arrived from Italy the day before, [Page 15] both in health and vigour. On entering the room, Lu­cinda with a charming grace, taking his hand, presented him to her father, saying, This, papa, is the gentleman (with the assistance of heaven) to whom I owe this my second existence. He arose instantly, and enclosing him in his arms, said, Sir, you have bound, by your generosity, me, and every branch of my family, by the most lasting ties, those of friendship—let this day be the epocha of our invariable attachment. My dear Charles, said he to his son, from this day forward, consider this our worthy friend as a brother—a beloved and truly meritorious brother. So saying, he joined the hands of the two young men, who saluted each other with ardor. Mercutio congratulated his newly adopted brother, on his recovery and return to England; and he, in return, assured him of his unshaken gratitude and affection. They then entered into unrestrained conversation, in the course of which Mercutio's anxiety forsook him—he discoursed with his usual vivacity and good sense, and by his judicious reasoning and remarks, prov'd himself the finished gentleman. Charles was enraptured with his discourse, and earnestly wished to cultivate an acquaintance with one, whose sentiments appeared congenial with his own, and who had already engrossed a large portion of his esteem.

In the afternoon, they took an excursion in Hyde-Park, and coming to the spot where Lucinda had slip­ped into the river, the gratitude of the whole family was again called into action: They reiterated their former [Page 16] acknowledgments, so that Mercutio, overwhelmed with a sense of their generosity, entreated them to desist, add­ing, that the favours he had received that day, were sufficient to preponderate all he had done, or ever should be able to do, though his whole future life should be devoted to their service. This turned the discourse in another channel—for, as the whole family entertained sentiments of the highest esteem for him, they forebore speaking on a subject which they found gave him pain, though they conceived themselves so highly obliged, that they held themselves insolvent.

Before they parted, Charles begged the favour of Mercutio's company to Hampton court, on that day week, adding, he had been so long abroad that he had almost forgot the beautiful retreats of his own country. Mercutio promised to wait on him at the time appoint­ed, and taking leave of the whole family, departed.— His father, having some affairs to transact at Bristol, set out the next morning for that place, while his son formed the resolution to disclose his love for Lucinda to his mother, before his father's return: Rightly judg­ing, that if she approved, it would not be a very ar­duous task to procure his approbation also. In conse­quence of this resolution, one evening, being engaged in serious conversation with her, he introduced the important secret that engrossed all his thoughts—and caused him so much anxiety, and which he had never communicated to any one before. It happened that his mother was not altogether unacquainted with the [Page 17] family to which she found her son so firmly attached, and had he been of riper years, would not have with­held her approbation a moment; but knowing her hus­band's tenacity in that point, she forebore giving a positive answer, for the present; promising, however, to do every thing in her power, to interest his father in his behalf.

This, though insufficient immediately to obliterate every doubt, was a cordial to the mind of Mercutio: He, from that evening became cheerful, and before the day arriv'd on which he had consented to ride to Hampton, he enjoyed the most perfect tranquillity of mind, and resolved to acquaint his friend Charles, with the passion he had conceived for his eldest sister, but previously to enjoin him to secrecy, if he should disapprove of it. Having settled these things in his mind, he met his friend Charles at the appointed time and place. It was a fine day, and Charles entertained him with the many rarities and diversions of Italy, which afforded Mercutio much satisfaction. They arrived at Hampton about noon, and having refreshed, ordered dinner to be ready at three, and then went to regale themselves with the beauties of the elegant gar­dens which pertain to the palace.

After ranging those spacious and delightful avenues for some time, the keeper appear'd, to conduct them into the Labyrinth, which is a master-piece of ingenui­ty: It is so very intricate, that it is next to an impos­sibility for a person, unacquainted with its various turn­ings [Page 18] and windings, being once fairly entered, to extri­cate himself without the assistance of a guide. Those youths having entered, the keeper retired, but remained within call, well knowing they would have need of his assistance. Having attained the centre, they sat down under a fine shady tree to rest, and to discourse till it should be time to go to dinner. After some preparatory conversation, Mercutio, in a few words, and in a very diffident style, informed Charles of his violent passion for Lucinda, and requested him to give his opinion and advice on the subject, as it was a very important one to him. My dear friend, said Charles, it gives me infinite pleasure, that the persom whom I so much esteem, has honoured me with his confidence in a matter so weighty and interesting, and must freely confess, that it is no more than I suspected. I have, since my return from Italy, observed a degree of singularity in my sister's be­haviour, which gave birth to that suspicion: She de­votes much of her time to solitude—appears remarka­bly pensive—except when you honour us with your company, at which time she resumes her native sprightliness; but no sooner are you gone, than she re­tires to her chamber, and seldom appears cheerful till a similar occasion presents itself. My sister Charlotte has also made the same remark, which she communicated to me, and imputes it to the real cause, namely, Love: And to give you my sentiments freely on the subject, I really believe Lucinda to be under the same perplexities you labour under yourself. But tell me, my dear Mercutio, have you ever disclosed your [Page 19] passion to my sister? No, my dear friend, your virtuous —your accomplished sister is yet unacquainted with the flame which preys each moment on my heart, and this it is that has rendered me unhappy:—Unhappy!- ex­claimed Charles, I should hold myself guilty of ingrati­tude, and consequently unworthy your friendship, if I could harbour the most distant idea of your being un­happy without sympathizing with you, and contribut­ing all in my power to restore your peace of mind: —My sister, or I am much mistaken, loves you ardent­ly. My advice is, that you reveal your sentiments to her without delay—for I am fully sensible that there is not one of the family, but would be proud of the alliance: —Banish every apprehension—explain yourself without reserve, and my life for it, you'll succeed. For my part, you may depend on all the assistance in my power— but my opinion is, you have a friend in the citadel, that will do more execution than all the external aux­iliaries you can command.

Mercutio was so overwhelmed with a sense of his friend's uncommon generosity, that he was for some time at a loss for words to describe his own feelings on the occasion.—My inestimable friend, said he, where have you imbibed this greatness of soul? Your good­ness is so unlimited, that there is not a bare possibility of a retaliation—but rely on my unchangeable attach­ment—my willingness to embrace every opportunity of rendering you all the service in my power—Come, come, said Charles, hastily interrupting him, no more [Page 20] of this—let's away to dinner. Mercutio, looking at his watch, found it was four. They started up instantly, and walked almost an hour at a good round rate, when to their amazement, they found themselves just where they had been sitting so long—they attempted it again, but without success—they were constrained to call the keeper, who liberated them in a few minutes.

They hastened to the inn, where they found dinner waiting—their walk having created good appetites, they ate heartily; and after taking a cheering glass, remounted, and set out for London. Night overtook them about three miles from town, and as they were riding slowly along, busy in discourse, they were met by a youth, genteely dressed, and well mounted, who presenting a pistol to Mercutio's breast, demanded his money.

Their servants being armed, rode up and took him, which was easily accomplished, as he made no resist­ance; but exclaimed aloud—Now, my miseries will soon have an end! I shall die contented, and my dear Amelia will see that I prefer even an ignominious death, to a wretched life, without her!—These words surprized our young friends—they both wished to know the cause of this young highwayman's inconsistent behaviour. The servants had bound him, and were riding one on each side, when Mercutio and Charles halted—The words and actions of this young man, said Mercutio, surprize me exceedingly—I feel desirous to know what has prompted him to take to the high­way— [Page 21] in my opinion, he is but a novice in the trade; for instead of attempting an escape, he appeared will­ing to be taken, and by the words he expressed while the servants were binding him, I suspect this action the effect of a desperate resolution, formed in consequence of some disappointment in a love affair—I think it would be worth our while to examine him on the sub­ject. You have utter'd my sentiments exactly, replied Charles—I think there must be something very singular in his case; for as you observed, he does not appear to have had much experience. They soon overtook their company, and ordering their servants to ride forward, took charge of the prisoner themselves.

My friend, said Mercutio, what could induce you, among such a variety of occupations which exist in this kingdom, to make choice of one, which must inevitably terminate in ignominy and punishment?

That question, said the prisoner, stabs me to the soul. He paused—and would have said no more, had not Mercutio desired him to inform them by what means he had been reduced to that way: You need not, said he, be under apprehension of any circumstance, which you may probably discover in your narrative, being brought against you before a magistrate—for you may depend upon our honour, that whatever you disclose to us, shall be buried in eternal oblivion—and for this reason we sent our servants forward: Therefore, by giving us a brief and candid relation of the misfortunes [Page 22] or temptations, which, perhaps, contrary to your natural inclination, precipitated you into this dange­rous course, may have a palliative tendency, and your affairs, however unpromising at present, may shortly terminate in your favour.

If you mean, returned the prisoner, that it will have a tendency to divert your intentions of surrendering me into the hands of justice, I should willingly refuse, be­cause a person who has no business in this world, should stay no longer in it than to procure a convenient passage to another, which however bad, cannot be worse than this; and as I am one of this description, am willing to meet death in any form and at any time. But, gen­tlemen, you appear to be generous, and therefore, whatever pangs the relation of my late misfortunes may add to my tortured soul, I shall endeavour to gra­tify your request.

My father is a merchant of no small account, in the city which now lies before us. My mother died when I was about eleven years of age, and I being the only child, was placed at Rule's academy, at Islington, where I remained two years; when a brother of my mother's, having repeatedly urged my father to send me to one of the universities, without success, took me from thence and placed me at Oxford, where, after making ample provision for my education, &c. took an affectionate leave, previously exhorting me to be diligent, and obedient to my tutors—If you are at­tentive [Page 23] to your studies, said he, you shall find you have at least one friend. My kind uncle was as good as his word—for he took the most scrupulous pains to have me well accommodated for the space of five years, which was the time I re [...]ained at the university. When I had finished my st [...]ies, I returned to London, and after returning my affectionate thanks to my worthy uncle, for his care of my education, as well as many other favours, I waited on my father, who received me very kin [...]ly. Well, George, said he, I understand you intend to practice law; but I wish you would wa [...]e that resolution for the present, as I have great need of your ass [...]stance—besides, it may be of service to you hereafter, to have a thorough knowledge of the mercan­tile branch. He pa [...]se —I told him to command me in any thing he [...]leased, and I would convince him, that in my long absence I had not forgot to pay the most respectful obe [...]ience to his orders. This answer pleased him exceedingly—and from that day to this, I have transacted his business with the greatest care and punctuality. But how shall I relate the rest?—Some time ago, I conceived a tenderness for an amiable young creature, the only daughter of a very wealthy jeweller, in Cheapside: This tenderness encreased ra [...]i [...]ly, and was soon succeeded by the most ardent passion. I de­clared my sufferings to the dear object of my wishes— who con [...]escended to approve, and accepted my vows. Our love became reciprocal. But—s [...]nce that fatal moment, anxiety has been my inseparable companion. Our fathers happened to have sentiments congenial— [Page 24] yet it was impossible ever to obtain their mutual consent to our union—as they had both formed a determination never to agree to the marriage of their children with any person, but such as had a great fortune, and im­bib'd principles similar to their own—and were re­solved never to part with a shilling, until death should deprive them of the power of accumulating wealth.

Under such circumstances, conceive, if you can, the torment we endured. Buoyed up with flattering hopes, however, and having frequent opportunities of enjoying each other's company, our situation was yet tolerable; but alas! this was but of short duration. My father, yesterday evening, came into the compting-house, and appeared remarkably pleasant:—After some preliminary discourse—George, said he, I am surprized that a young fellow of your lively turn don't endeavor to push yourself into the world;—I mean, continued he, by marriage. There is nothing gives a young man so great an opportunity of making a fortune as an ad­vantageous match. Why, before I was of your age, there was not a great fortune, maid or widow, in town, or within twenty miles round it, but I paid my addresses to—and you see what an est [...]te I have raised from your mother's dowry. You understand the law, and if you was married to a woman of fortune, you might, with the help of [...]er gold, soon climb the ladder of prefer­ment—might soon be lord chief justice, my boy.

[Page 25]I was astonished at his discourse, as I had frequently, since I left college, heard him reprobate a married life as being attended with great expence, care and anxiety, and declaring, that if he was a young man, he never would be duped into it again. However, I told him I had often thought of matrimony, and should have no objection to it, with an agreeable young woman. As to her being agreeable, said he, I suppose you mean handsome, or young—these are but secondary conside­rations: The woman whom I would recommend should be rich—if handsome it would be no objection; but for age, it signifies not a button. Now I have taken the pains to select a woman for you, to whom in my opinion, you cannot have the least objection—she's none of your foolish, extravagant jillflirts, who would ruin you in paint, patches and lace:—No, no, my boy, she's a sober, staid body, industrious and frugal—true, she's about forty or forty-five; but then she has twenty-five thousand pounds in glittering gold, my boy: and the greatest advantage of all is, she'll not have many children. Now, George, what do you think of my proposal?—What do you think you are indebted to me for anticipating your very hopes—and providing such a wise for you?

I was so confounded with this last speech, that for some time I was unable to answer him; but recovering myself a little from the vexation I felt, I observed, that I was deeply sensible of his goodness, in procuring such a person as he had described; but thought it proba­ble [Page 26] the lady's affections might be pre-engaged, as I had never been honoured with an interview—Not at all, not at all, interrupted my father, hastily: People of sense never suffer their affections to be engaged contrary to their interest:—She knows I have no child but you, and consequently, that you will be very rich at my de­cease: You need not be under any apprehension on that score—I'll introduce you to-morrow, and my word for it, you'll meet with no repulse. I re­plied, my dear father, I am sorry it is out of my power to accept the honour you intended me—as I am engaged to a person of such beauty and good sense, that you yourself must applaud my choice, and—A damn'd prostitute, interrupted he, in great rage—some offspring of extravagance and folly, I dare say; but I dont care who or what she is—if you don't acquiesce with my proprosal, prepare to turn out, for here you'll stay no longer, nor ever finger one penny of my estate, I promise you:—I would sooner bequeath it to my grave-digger. Let me have a final answer to-morrow morning;—but, d'ye hear, I will be obey'd, one way or other.

With these words he left me to the most mortifying reflections. I remained petrified with astonishment for some time; but at length resolved to pay my dear Amelia a visit to inform her of my deplorable situation. and urge her to accompany me to my uncle's, where I knew we should be received with affection, and there tie the indissoluble knot, which would forever frustate [Page 27] the caprice of an unfeeling parent. With these perplexing ideas, I reached her father's, who, to my inexpressible anguish, would not permit me to see her. You must discontinue your visits here, said he—my daughter is to be married in a few days to Mr. Ephraims of the old Jewry, a wealthy broker. I was just going to solicit a moment's interview—but he cut me short— George, it's needless for you to put yourself to any further trouble about her, as it will be impossible for you to see her until she is married to Mr. Ephraims, who is now with her in the dining-room: Come, will you take a walk to the coffee-house? I made him no answer, but taking my hat and cane, left the room, pronouncing the words DAMNED AVARICE! I returned home in dreadful perturbation of mind, threw myself on the bed in all the pangs of despair. I slept none— but waited the return of day, with an anxiety not to be described.

I went this morning to the compting-house, as usual, though undetermined what answer to give my father. He did not suffer me to deliberate long; for coming in suddenly, he demanded my answer, with a countenance which indicated his displeasure, and the storm impend­ing, which soon burst upon my devoted head:—Don't hesitate a moment, young man, said he, I'm not to be trifled with. In the tumult which then pervaded my soul, I told him, I had given all the answer I had to give:—Then, you infamous scoundrel, said he, begone out of my house instantly—you unworthy rascal! if [Page 28] ever I catch you within my doors again, I'll shoot you. I rose instantly, and he thrust me out the door, in a degree of rage bordering on madness.

In the height of my despair, I took the fatal resolution which you have just witnessed. I hired this horse at a livery stable where I was known, in order to be disco­vered, and set out in the dusk of evening—The rest you know; but when I attacked you, my wish was, that you would have lodged a friendly bullet in my head, and rid the world of the unhappiest of mortals. Here he stopped, when Mercutio, with some earnestness, demanded his name:—My name, replied he, is George Wright. Gracious heavens! exclaimed Mercutio, is it possible that you are my friend and fellow-student, with whom I have spent so many delightful hours at Ox­ford? Have you forgot Mercutio?—Mercutio! re­turned he, greatly agitated, is this you? No, it is im­possible for me to forget him—but long absence, and the extreme confusion of mind, had almost obliterated from my memory every trace of those well known features—Oh Mercutio! did you ever expect to see what you have this evening?—Tears forbid further utterance. He was immediately unbound, while Mer­cutio and Charles endeavoured both by moral and phi­losophical arguments to dissuade him from his desperate purpose—in which they happily succeeded. Mercutio offered him his purse, which he refused—saying, I have money enough: If that would purchase happiness, I need not be long without it. Being now pretty late, [Page 29] when they reached Hyde-Park wall, and having exact­ed a promise from George, that he would not attempt to shorten his days, either directly or indirectly, they parted, each taking a different route.

The next day, Mercutio paid a visit to Lucinda, and Charles having introduced him, retired. She re­ceived his visit with manifest marks of satisfaction on her countenance, which inspired her lover to avow his passion with confidence, which he did in the most une­quivocal, yet respectful terms, and received an answer, which totally eradicated every sentiment of anxiety from his breast,—the most perfect tranquillity pervaded his soul. His father having returned from Bristol, he communicated his case to him in a letter, couched in the most submissive and respectful terms—relating, with­out reserve, every circumstance which had occurred in the first of his seeing the beautiful object of his love, until that day, and finally requesting permission to con­tinue his addresses to the young lady. This letter he committed to the care of his mother, who was to ne­gociate the matter for him. Having dispatched this part of the business, it was necessary to communicate his wishes to the parents of Lucinda. This he resolved to do in person: Accordingly, he summoned up all his fortitude, and waited on them for that purpose. He was received with the same degree of kindness which he had experienced ever since his acquaintance in that family. When the common topics of the day were dis­cussed, the ladies withdrew, leaving him, Charles and the [Page 30] father together. After a short preface, Mercutio in­formed lord S—the motive of his visit, and earnestly solicited his permission to address his eldest daughter on the subject of marriage. His reply was such as might have been expected:—I should hold myself ungrateful in the highest degree, said he, and consequently highly culpable, if not unpardonable, were I to deny your request; but so far from that, I grant it with pleasure, as to a person, of all others, the most deserving: and, I mistake, or Lucinda herself is of the same opinion. Mercutio made a suitable acknowledgment of the ho­nour done him, adding, that the pleasure he experienc­ed on the present occasion, could only be exceeded by that which he must derive from the absolute consumma­tion of the desired union.

Not to trouble the reader with a repetition of all the tender epithets, and languishing speeches, inseparable from negociations of this kind—let it suffice to say, that matters were in a short time so forward, that the mar­riage articles were drawn—a day appointed for the celebration of the nuptials, and the two families united in the strictest amity. So far, then, had Mercutio been successful; nay, so flattering was the prospect, that he would not have relinquished his claim, to have been made emperor of the world. But, alas! the period was approaching, with hasty strides, in which the most gloomy sadness was to usurp dominion over the empire of his soul—when all those gilded scenes which then presented themselves to the eye of his imagination, were [Page 31] to "dissolve, and like the baseless fabric of a vision, leave not a wreck behind."

A few days previous to that appointed for the wed­ing, Lucinda was attacked with an extreme pain in her left breast and side. A physician being called, she was let blood, and was, apparently, in a fair way of re­covery; but the ensuing night, she was seized with an intermittent fever; and, in nine days, in spite of the most skilful and strenuous endeavours of several of the faculty, eminent in their profession, the beauteous Lu­cinda resigned her immortal parts into the hands of Him who gave it, reclining in the arms of her disconso­late lover, who had scarcely eat, drank or slept, or even left the house, during her illness.

This was a severe stroke to the afflicted Mercutio! Yet well calculated to teach him resignation to the will of the Almighty. She was interred in the family vault in St. James's church, on the very day her hand was to have been joined to Mercutio's, who followed her remains, array'd in solemn black, which but faintly expressed the gloomy situation of his mind.

Having assisted at those rites, which forever separated him from that treasure, which but a few days before, not all the riches of the east would have purchased, he betook himself to the most profound solitude—kept no company—never went abroad, except to spend a lone­some hour in St. James church. One morning early, [Page 32] when he repaired to that owful receptacle, and having walked backward and forward for some time, with his arms folded together, supposing himself alone, broke out into the following passionate exclamations: Oh! my tortured bosom!—Where shall my soul find peace? Alas, there is none for me on this side eternity—no, no, the marble jaws of death hath separated, finally separated me from all the world contained to render me happy! I shall never more behold those ravishing fea­tures which once transported my devoted soul—where blooming innocence and inimitable beauty contended for pre-eminence—shall never listen to those joy-inspir­ing accents, which has so frequently fill'd my soul with pleasure unspeakable! But though the cruel tyrant has separated our bodies, our souls can never be divided— that tie is too strong—it cannot—shall not be broken. Here, Charles, who had arrived at the mournful spot before Mercutio, and had heard the foregoing, disco­vered himself. Though the time, place and other cir­cumstances, had a palpable tendency to render solitude more solitary; yet it was a matter of consolation to those young friends to meet, even on so mournful an occasion: For though it was impossible for one to re­move the melancholy from the other, yet by interming­ling their griefs, they were enabled to support the enor­mous load more patiently, than they could have done separately. After discoursing some time on the shortness and positive certainty of the extinction, sooner or later, of human life, as well as the innumerable avenues lead­ing to the gloomy mansions of death, that are constantly [Page 33] [...]rouded with persons of all ranks▪ ages, sex, and de­nominations, travelling to the never-ending regions of eternity—they found themselves inperceptibly betrayed into a train of cheerful ideas, (the natural consequence of moral and religious discourses) and their melancholy retreated insensibly. In this frame of mind, Mercutio requested Charles to spend the day with him. Taking leave of that awful recess, they dropt a tributary tear and departed. They spent the day in a manner corre­sponding with that in which they had began it, taking to their assistance HERVEY and SHERLOCK, whose inimitable works made no small addition to that cheer­ful resignation with which their morning discourse had inspired them.

Thus did those young men, adopt the most proper measure imaginable, to frustrate the secret wiles of the great adversary of mankind, who is ever ready, on such occasions, to suggest doubts of the providence of God, whereby the afflicted, or rather tempted persons, are sometimes prompted to precipitate themselves into ir­retrievable ruin, by r [...]ing, uncall'd-for, into the aw­ful and immediate presence of God; "with all their imperfections on their heads."

Mercutio, finding no relish for the reigning pleasures of the town, and being constantly importuned to ac­company the youthful and gay in diversions, which to him were disgusting, resolved to travel, if it should meet the approbation of his parents. He accordingly [Page 34] proposed it to them—they freely assented, in hopes that a diversity of climate, and the innumerable objects, both natural and artificial, to be met with in making the tour of Europe, might have a happy effect in re­viving those animated marks of a cheerful heart and vigorous body, which had ever been the leading features in his countenance, until impaired by grief and disap­pointment.

Preparations were made for his intended voyage: He visited the parents of the much lamented Lucinda. But, it would require some of the finest strokes and strongest colouring that ever proceeded from the pen of the immortal Raphael, to paint the emotions of the whole family, when the moment of separation arrived. Not an eye present but shed the tear of real affection! Not a heart but palpitated, in perfect unison, with the soul-dividing pangs of separation. Lord S— and his amiable consort, clasp'd their departing friend to their noble breasts, in all the extacy of parental love. Adieu! my dear son they exclaimed together. Adieu! my beloved friend and brother, repeated Charles and Charlotte—It was too much for human nature to bear—The organs of speech were mutually arrested —tears supplied the place of words. He silently and speedily withdrew, while his agitated limbs were yet capable of supporting him out.

After taking an affectionate leave of his parents, he set out post for Dover, and embarked on board a packet [Page 35] at that place, attended by two trusty domestics, who had been many years in the family, and arrived at Calais the same evening. It is more than probable, that if Mercutio, or his friends, had barely conceived the danger, difficulties, hardships and slavery, he had to encounter, before they were to meet again, they would have guarded against so fatal an event with all their powers; but it is more wisely order'd: man is not permitted to penetrate the unfathomable depths of futurity: he is allow'd a faint glimpse of the present: and, while he retains his faculties, he may, by retro­spection, take an imperfect, ideal view, of such of the past as has been strongly marked, and consequently made a more lasting impression than generally attend the common occurrences of life; but the incidents and objects of futurity are concealed behind an impenetra­ble cloud, until the unceasing, undeviating order of nature, shall unfold them, individually, in the order in which they may then lie.

He made no stay in Calais, but proceeded to Paris. As he had not much relish for coversation, he intended, while he resided in Paris, to act the part of a spectator only: Of course, he took lodgings at a private house, in a pleasant situation, where he could enjoy the cool air, undisturb'd by the rattling of chariots, and the vain pomp of Parisian grandeur. He attended all pub­lic places of recreation, but carefully avoided culti­vating an intimacy with any person. He wrote to his father and other friends, by every post: This, and [Page 36] the perusal of the several epistles from them, (not one of whom neglected to answer punctually every one of his) employed most of his leisure time, and afforded him much of that kind of pleasure, in which he then most delighted.

Being present at an auction of pictures, one day, where several persons of distinction were assembled, his eyes involuntarily caught a face which seem'd familiar to him: He fixed his attention on the object, and after considering him for some minutes, found it to be his old acquaintance and fellow-student, George Wright. Mercutio was a good deal surprized at seeing him in that place, and so richly dressed (it being an elegant suit, fashioned in the Parisian taste, and richly embroi­dered) in so short a time after the singular affair before recited. He found means to discover himself to his friend, who, when he recognized him, gave a signal to follow, and immediately left the room. When they had got into the street, Georg, in a very affectio­nate manner, took Mercutio by the hand, saying, I have joyful news to communicate to you, my dear friend; but we will step into a hotel, where we can discourse in private, and with freedom. There being one within a few steps, they entered, when George called for a private room and a bottle of Burgundy. I make no doubt, said George, but you are astonished at the alte­ration you perceive in me—but banish your surprize: The dear girl, of whom I told you the last time I had the happiness of seeing you in England, and whom I [Page 37] considered as irrecoverably lost to me, is now in Paris, and mine by every law, human and divine, and death alone can separate us. Why, you have been very for­tunate indeed, replied Mercutio. Fortunate! Yes, my friend, my good fortune has exceeded my most sanguine expectations; and, be assured, my heart vibrates with gratitude to heaven, and you, the happy instrument of my salvation from eternal infamy and despair! Mercu­tio expressing a wish to be informed of the particulars of this apparently unaccountable revolution, George proceeded to gratify it. After I parted with you and your friend at Hyde-Park wall, I went to a friend in whom I could confide, and related my story in a few words, concealing only the resolution I had taken in consequence of my father's barbarity, and requested his advice and assistance. Why, said he, it's a critical affair —I'm at a loss how to advise—After a short pause— George, said he, I'll tell you what—I will go in the morning to your father, and, without taking any no­tice of having seen you, as I am something in his debt, settle and pay him off: Then, as he will be obliged to examine the account himself, I shall have a fair oppor­tunity to enquire for you, if he does not start it himself. This will naturally (as you know our intimacy) bring out the whole transaction, in which I shall be able to discover how the old man stands affected towards you. If I find him relenting, I will immediately press him to a reconciliation—if not, I shall be silent on the subject: This is all in my power to do, in the present state of affairs. In the morning he set out—and it is hard to [Page 38] determine whether hope or fear was most predominant in my soul during his absence; but one thing is certain, that I never suffered so much uneasiness in so short a time before. At length he returned—and, to my extreme amazement, announced the instantaneous death of my father! And though it might be supposed, after expe­riencing such cruel treatment, I should receive the news of his decease with a degree of satisfaction, rather than regret:—But I do assure you, this was not the case— I stood astonished for some time, and know not how long I should have remained so, had not my friend rouzed me from my reverie, by telling me, my presence was absolutely necessary at home, as my father was a widower, and having no child but me, the af [...]airs of the family would otherwise soon fall into a distracted state. Besides, what would the world say, if you should so far neglect your duty, as not to provide for and superintend your father's funeral?—Although I was fully sensible of the justice and propriety of these hints—yet I was so wrapt in the contemplation of the sudden stroke which had reduced my father to a state of inanimation, that I had forgot every thing else. However, not to detain you, I repaired home, where I no sooner perceived him from whom I derived my existence, lying pale and breathless, than, impelled by filial love and duty, I fell on the venerable corpse, and bathed it with tears— lamenting, in the most sincere and pathetic terms, his premature death, which was occasioned by a fit of apoplexy. To be brief—in one month after the funeral obsequies were performed, in consequence of a letter [Page 39] from my uncle in Venice, requesting me to go thither, I applied myself to the settling my affairs, which to me who had managed my father's business so long, was an easy matter.

Upon the whole, after settling and paying every legal demand, I found myself worth at least forty thousand pounds. Among a number of bonds, which I discover­ed in a little box in my father's scrutoire, one for five and twenty hundred pounds, on the father of my dear Amelia presented itself. I wrote to him without de­lay, informing him of my intended voyage to Venice, and requesting immediate payment. The next day, I received an answer to my billet, full of consolatory lan­guage, expressing much sorrow for the loss I had sus­tained in so good a father—requesting the favour of a visit, and added, that he could not reimburse the whole sum for a few weeks, owing to some heavy losses he had met with in the public funds, &c.

As I wished for nothing on earth so much as one more interview with his daughter, if yet unmarried, should it even be the last—a gleam of hope darted thro' my soul, and suggested the idea, that if she was yet single, I might one day be so happy as to call her mine.

I waited on the old man in a few days. He received me with much apparent kindness, and to my inexpressi­ble joy, introduced me to his daughter, as beautiful, and as much at liberty as when I last parted with her— [Page 40] though her father had employed the most rigorous means to force her to wed the avaricious, superannuated Israelite—yet it was all to no purpose—the lovely girl remained inflexible; she chose rather to endure confinement, nay, even death itself, than submit to be joined to a wretch of that description. In the course of our conversation, I gave him to understand, that I should have immediate occasion for the money, as I intended to embark for Venice in a few days, having settled all my affairs, and that a failure would be de­trimental, and perhaps productive of disagreeable con­sequences. He told me, he would endeavour to fur­nish it within three weeks, and concluded with a request, that I would not pass his door as a stranger, in the mean time; for as he ever had a great veneration for my deceased father, he should think it an honour to be ranked among the friends of his son.

It was easy to perceive the old fellow's drift. He was well acquainted with my father's circumstances, and also, that I was sole heir; therefore, he conceived if he could ingratiate himself with me, I would not only marry his daughter without a portion, but also release him from the payment of the bond, in which he was not altogether mistaken; for finding her attachment as strong as ever, I was determined to renew my visit shortly, and demand her of her father in marriage, and if granted, I was resolved to have celebrated as soon as possible, without regard to the motives or conditions of his consent. In short, at the very next visit I declared [Page 41] myself to him. He consented without hesitation, and in ten days more, heaven conferred on me the greatest blessing—my every wish. We were married, and the same day I resigned the bond into his own hands, with­out any consideration, which pleased him exceedingly. George, said he, you have been a dutiful son to your de­ceased father, and for that reason I have given you my only child, and though I have given her nothing on the day of her marriage, all I have will fall to you both when I die, and perhaps I shall make as great an addi­tion to my present stock, as you could possibly, if you had it in your own hands.

I immediately made the necessary preparations for my intended voyage. Having never been in France, I resolved, in order to show my dear Amelia the manners of the Parisians, as well as gratify my own curiosity, to take it in my tour: We have been here a month, and expect to sail for Italy in a few days.—This is all I have to communicate at present. Now, I wish you to accompany me to my lodgings, where, as long as we remain in Paris, you shall be a welcome guest. Mercutio consented, and on the way informed George of his own sad disaster, and of the resolution he had taken in consequence. George sympathized with him in his misfortunes; but at the same time, begged him to be consoled: for, it argues a debility of mind, to faint under the dispensations of providence;—true fortitude, you have taught me, consists in a virtuous and cheer­ful resignation: It is to your animating and well-timed [Page 42] instructions, I owe all my present and future happiness: but for them, I might ere now, have suffered an igno­minious death. I beg you will not take amiss what I so freely say, as it proceeds from a sincere desire to see you happy; for you may rest assured, there is not a man upon earth, who shares with you an equal propor­tion of my esteem. No, replied Mercutio, so far from it, that I deem it as a particular mark of friendship. Mrs. Wright gave her new visitor a cordial reception. She was very handsome, and possessed a sufficient share of good sense, so that he was very happy in having met with such agreeable company, and hearing much of the beauty and pleasant situation of Venice, which is situated on seventy-two small islands, in the Adriatic gulph, resolved to accompany his friend thither.

Having dispatched a letter home to advertise his friends of his intention, he embarked on board an Italian ship, bound to Rome, whither they had a short and pleasant passage. After staying three days in that once fam'd capital, to refresh, they set out by land for Ancona, from whence they sailed in a small vessel for Venice. On their arrival, they sound George's uncle in good health, who received Mercutio with the greatest politeness imaginable. He was at first, overjoyed to see his nephew; but his transport was much abated, when he was informe [...] of the sudden death of his brother.

[Page 43]Mercutio, at the earnest request of the whole family, took up his abode with them during his stay at Venice. He visited all the islands in the republic, and every place of public resort in each, so that at length he re­sumed his former vivacity, and began to entertain a relish for society. The tranquillity of his mind appear­ed visible on his countenance, and he frequently ming­led with the young Venetians of quality, in the di­versions peculiar to that country.

The Doge having given an invitation to all the youth of distinction in the city (to partake of a splendid en­tertainment to be given in honour of the Doge of Na­ [...]les, who had arrived, with a great retinue, on a visit) with liberty to introduce all their foreign friends and acquaintances of the same description. Mercutio was pressed by a young Venetian of the first rank to accom­pany him. He complied, and had the honour of danc­ing with the Doge's daughter, beautiful as Venus, but not a Diana. He was struck with the brilliancy of her charms, but was ignorant of her quality—yet supposed her the daughter of some great personage. The highest encomiums were bestowed on him and his incompara­ble partner by the two Doges, who were present during the whole entertainment. 'Twas late when the com­pany retired, and Mercutio having just turned the cor­ner of the street where he lodged, was overtaken by a young female, who delivered him a billet, the substance of which was couched in the following terms:

[Page 44]STRANGER,

HAVING been so happy as to be honored with your hand this evening, I have, for a peculiar reason, a strong desire to have a short interview in private, as I have a matter of great importance to communicate to you. If this meets your approbation, you will attend vespers to-morrow evening, at the chapel of St. Aloysius, where the person who delivers this will attend, to conduct you to a proper place for that pur­pose—if not, destroy this, and quit Venice speedily— Perhaps you may find no reason to repent a compliance.

Mercutio having got home, examined the billet, and perused it attentively several times over, justly conclud­ed it must be the lady with whom he danced, that had honored him with this singular epistle. The next morn­ing he showed the billet to George, and requested his advice, adding, he would fain meet the author, if he thought he might do it with safety. Why, replied he, I don't imagine you have any cause to apprehend dan­ger in meeting her; but a refusal, it appears to me, if you remain here, may be attended with disagreeable consequences. If I was in your place, I would meet her at all events. In consequence of this advice, he attended at the time and place appointed, where he had not been long, before he observed a female, whom he thought the same that delivered him the paper. She seemed very busy in examining the features of the whole congregation; at length, fixing her eyes on him for some time, and having satisfied herself as to the [Page 45] identity of his person, her solicitude vanished, and she contented herself with a slight glance now and then. It was growing dusk when vespers ended, yet he still observed the female loitering about till the congrega­tion was dispersed—she then beckoned him to follow her. He complied—and without speaking a word, followed her through many turnings and windings, and just as the day closed, they arrived at a small wicket, which opened into a spacious garden. His conductress having admitted him, locked the gate, and conducted him to an elegant summer-house, where, in a whisper she told him he must wait a few moments, while she went to inform her mistress of his arrival—and de­parted instantly.

While he was [...]uminating on the singularity of his present situation, his attention was suddenly diverted by the rus [...]ling of silk, advancing towards the place where he sat. He rose, and advanced to salute her— she unveiled at his approach, and returned his salute with ardor. She prevented him from speaking by say­ing:—Your condescention, sir, has exceeded my ex­pectations, which induces me to draw the most flattering presage of our future correspondence. My present conduct may, perhaps, appear to have an air of levity; but I hope I shall be able to justify it to you, at least; for though custom has rendered it criminal for a female to make advances towards the other sex; yet nature and reason mutually conspire, to render a dispensation with this tyrannical custom absolutely necessary, in some [Page 46] particular circumstances. How peculiarly hard must that woman's situation be, who, possessing the most un­adulterated passion, and being entirely cut off from all manner of communication with the object of her love, must, in obedience to an arbitrary custom, linger out her days in the most excruciating torture—not daring to employ the means necessary to restore her peace of mind. Here she paused—but without giving him time to reply, proceeded:—This is the case with me—there­fore, your generosity will, I trust, plead in my behalf, and stimulate you to pardon me, for deviating from the common path, as you are the cause, though perhaps never intended or desired it.

You surprize me, exceedingly, madam, replied Mer­cutio; I am not conscious of having, by any means— No, no, said she, interrupting him, I am convinced you never intended to inspire me with such tender sen­timents, as those I imbibed on the first sight of you last night, and which now and ever since that fatal mo­ment pervade my soul—I should be happy in a convic­tion of your having come to the entertainment, with such an intention: for then I should have reason to hope for a suitable return. But, if some happier maid has already secured your affections, and the avenues leading to your heart thereby eternally [...]arred against me, I cannot—will not long survive the discovery.

Mercutio, for the first time since the death of Lucin­da, found his heart powerfully assailed on all sides, by [Page 47] the charms of Leonora, whose movements were so rapid, that he had not time to collect his forces: What wonder then, if she carried her point by a coup-de­main? She requested that he would accom [...]any her into the house—he complied—what man could have refused?—Their love became reciprocal—mutual caresses succeeded the most unequivocal protestations of eternal fidelity, and *********************.

Man, in the course of his peregrination through life, is, and justly▪ subject to innumerable disappointments and inquietudes, which act more or less powerfully, in proportion as his sensibility is more or less refined. The sensibility of Mercutio was of that kind which is denominated the most delicate, consequently, real suf­ferings made more lasting impression on his mind, than they would probable on one less susce [...]tible: For tho' he did not lack a degree of philosophy, and reliance on providence, sufficient to support him under the common accidents of life; yet, like all the descen­dants of A [...]am, he had a spark of that frailty, which, in those recesses of reason when the soul is left unguarded, and open to the hostile attacks of misfortune, expels both religion and philosophy, and, by debilitating the mental faculties, absorbs every idea of happiness, repre­sents every object, past, present and future, in the most gloomy colours, and in the most discouraging points of view, by which means persons un [...]e [...] such circumstan­ces sometimes become lunatic, or raving, and too fre­quently have recourse to suicide, in order to shun mis­fortunes [Page 48] which are commonly imaginary. How re­markably kind and indulgent is Providence in cases of this nature: For when the mind has experienced any uncommon shock, there is always a counterpoise placed within reach, sufficient to prevent the dreadful effects of a mind surcharged with grief. This was exemplified in the case before us: For had Mercutio remained at home, a variety of objects would frequently have awak­ened the remembrance of Lucinda, and kept his mind in a continual state of dreary solitude, if not absolute despair. But by a mysterious concatenation of events, we behold him reinstated in his former vigour and gaiety —involuntarily engaged in an amour, which, though apparently criminal, is not absolutely so; for his in­tention was to repair the error he had been suddenly betrayed into, by an honorable marriage, as soon as a convenient opportunity should present.

The female confidante, before the dawning of the day, gave Mercutio notice it was time to decamp. Though this was an unwelcome piece of intelligence, yet a compliance being absolutely necessary, they part­ed, with reluctance, Leonora having previously pressed a very valuable ring on the finger of Mercutio, which she requested him to wear in testimony of her unalter­able attachment.

Having proposed to renew his visit, on an appointed evening, his female conductress escorted him to the spot where she had met him the evening before, and on the [Page 49] way, laid down a very judicious and well-constructed plan for their future operations, and withal, pointing out the most infallible marks whereby he might find the wicket without difficulty or danger of being discovered. Having rewarded her honesty with a few pieces, he repaired to his lodgings, just as the dawn of day began to appear, and went immediately to bed, where the soft balm of sleep locked up his faculties, while his counte­nance exhibited a type of death—his imagination be­ing steadily fixed on the object of his love.

About noon, his friend George waited on him, to whom Mercutio made known every particular of his nocturnal adventure—But pray inform me, said he, if so much may transpire, in what part of Venice does your fair enamoretto dwell? Indeed, replied Mercutio, I am not able to solve that question, though I am of opinion, I could find the house; but the way to and from it is so intricate, that it would be next to an im­possibility for me to point out the particular spot, until I make a further discovery, which I am determined to attempt this day. But, my dear George, I must re­quest you to keep this matter a profound secret, because I have very cogent reasons to suspect that the young lady is of an exalted rank, and if the affair should inad­ [...]ertently be developed, disagreeable consequences might ensue. Pardon me for giving you this (perhaps need­less) caution, as it does not proceed from a doubt of your fidelity: but from a conviction of the tenderness of your connections, which will scarcely admit of the least [Page 50] reserve. For, added he, I have experienced too many proofs of your sincere attachment, to harbour the most distant idea of your saying or doing any thing that might prove injurious to me, with design. George assured him he should never abuse the confidence reposed in him, by any means, adding, that it would afford him the highest satisfaction to see his friend completely happy.

After dinner, he sallied forth, determining to ex­plore, by day-light, the mine which contained the sum of all his earthly treasure. Accordingly, passing thro' all those crooked defiles through which he had been con­ducted the preceding night, soon discovered the wic­ket, which he passed with some precipitation, and passing two angles of the garden-wall, found himself in a spacious street, where, running his eye along that side of the wall which fronted the street, he perceived a con­nection between it and a magnificent building, which he rightly conjectured must be the house he sought. He was confirmed in this opinion—for, pass­ing on the opposite side of the street, he perceived two young ladies at one of the windows, one of whom was Leonora. She observed him, and instantly retired.

He hurried home, and having described the building, &c. to his friend, was assured, it could be no other than the palace of the Doge, and that his mistress must be his daughter. This information was received with manifest satisfaction by Mercutio, who determined to pursue his amour in consequence.

[Page 51]He carried on his operations with such precaution, that he continued his nocturnal visits for the space of eight months, when the effects of their illicit commerce began to appear, and to conceal it much longer, would have been a difficult task, if not utterly impracticable. This circumstance, which, in another situation, would have heightened their joys into rapture, embarrassed them exceedingly: But though difficulty and danger stared them in the face, neither love, fortitude or inven­tion deserted them in this emergency.

Speedy and effectual measures being absolutely neces­sary, they devoted one whole night in deliberating what was most proper to be done; and after proposing and rejecting several plans, determined, that Mercutio should immediately provide for their transportation to England, if possible; if not, to some other part of the world. In the mean time, Leonora, with the assistance of Margaretta, her maid, should be setting all things in proper train for an elopement at a minute's warning. These preliminaries being settled, he returned home, and taking his well-tried friend aside, made known the project, and earnestly solicited his assistance.

I have a plan in my head, (said George, after pausing some time) which I am of opinion, if adopted, cannot fail of being successful. I have a light vessel lying at a small distance from hence, which arrived but yesterday from Valona, whither she had been with a cargo of merchandize. Now, as the utmost privacy is requisite, [Page 52] it would be highly improper to attempt sailing in any of the vessels lying in the gulph, except this, as there is not one bound to any port in Great-Britain: I can have her ready in twelve hours, and will carry you down to Osimo in eight more, from whence you may travel easily over land to Naples, in a short time, and remain incog. until your mistress can proceed with less difficulty, if you think proper; if not, there are gene­rally ships from every part of Europe, so that you may sail for England when you please. Now, what do you think of my plan? Why, I think, said Mercutio, nothing could have been so fortunate, and it shall be put in execution this night, if agreeable to you. The sooner the better, said he, for it is hardly known that the vessel has returned, and if we can sail early in the night, I can replace her in her present situation by sun­rise to-morrow at farthest, and shall never be missed. These reasons appearing perfectly satisfactory, he took leave in order to make the necessary preparations for his departure. In the afternoon, they went on board, in order to show the servants where to carry the bag­gage, as soon as it was dark, while Mercutio conduct­ed Leonora. After taking a view of the vessel, and learning the nearest way to it, they returned to George's house, and by the time they had taken a slight refresh­ment it was dusk. George, offered it as his opinion, that it would be most proper to depart without taking a formal leave of the family, adding, that after matters were settled, and they arrived in England, he might write to his uncle, and inform him of the reason of his abrupt [Page 53] departure. This was agreed to, and Mercutio sat out, to pay his last visit at the Doge's, while his servants conveyed the baggage on board, and George with his little crew, got up the anchor and unfurled the sails, so that there might be no delay.

Mercutio found his mistress ready and willing to de­part, so that they soon sallied out at the wicket, and bidding an eternal, though silent farewell to the Doge, proceeded towards the water side: The faithful Mar­garetta bearing a large bundle of wearing apparel, and Mercutio an ebony box, crammed with ducats, which Leonora put into his hands, just as they were leaving the house, though he was ignorant of its contents until after their arrival at Naples.—They embarked safely, having a fine breeze from the westward, and a strong current setting outward, anchored at Osimo in six hours.

It happened very fortunate for our adventurers, that George had an intimate friend there, who at that time lay under particular obligations to him. As soon as they dropped anchor, George went on shore, and re­paired immediately to the house of his friend, and in­formed him, that there was a gentleman and his wife on board his vessel, wishing to proceed to Naples, and for particular reasons, to perform their journey as privately as possible, and requested him to procure a convenient vehicle to transport them. Here, said he, are thirty ducats—be faithful—be diligent. This is but a trifling earnest of what I will do further for you. The gentle­man [Page 54] will correspond with me during his stay at Naples —you will forward our letters with care, secrecy and expedition. His friend assured him he was happy in being charged with this commission, as it would afford him an opportunity of demonstrating his gratitude for the many favours he had already received Well, said George, I rely on your word; now come with me and conduct them to your house, for I want to sail im­mediately—I expect to see you again in a few days— in the mean time let nothing extort this secret from you.

George returned on board, and informed his depart­ing friend the substance of his negociation: Then taking an affectionate farewell, those adventurers lan [...]ed, and followed their new host; while George spread the can­vas to the wind, which at that time had veered round several points in his favour, so that before the day dawned he had remoored and got home to his own house—having performed a trip of more than forty-six leagues, in something less than ten hours and a half.

Proper apartments being assigned for the reception of our adventurers, they tetired to rest, whilst the vigilant host went in search of a carriage to convey them to Naples, the ensuing day. Having succeeded to his wish, he returned, and informed his guests, who were then up, and taking chocolate with his wife, a woman of good sense, who informed Leonora, that she had a sister, a widow, in Naples, an approved and experienced midwife, that kept a commodious house fitted for the [Page 55] reception of ladies in her situation, where they might be accommodated with every thing necessary as long as she pleased to remain. This was an agreeable piece of information; and her husband, in order to fulfil his engagements with George, in the fullest extent, made a tender of his service to accompany them to his sister in-law's, and negociate the whole business for them im­mediately on their arrival. This proposal was accept­ed with joy, as it seemed exactly adapted to their cir­cumstances; for 'twould have been madness to have taken Leonora to sea, except in a case of the most pressing necessity.

They started next morning with the first light, and arrived at the place of their destination on the fourth day about sun-set. When they were within two leagues of Naples, their host rode forward to provide for their reception, which having accomplished, he met the carriage about half a mile from the city, where they alighted and walked to their lodgings. They received a very cordial welcome from the mistress of the house, who was a genteel a [...]able person. An elegant supper was served up, of which our young travellers eat hear­ty; and at an early hour were conducted to proper apartments for repose.

The next morning, Mercutio wrote to his friend George, to inform him of their safe arrival, and request­ed him to write as speedily as possible, as Leonora was anxious to hear how matters were conducted at Venice, [Page 56] in consequence of her elopement—well knowing her father's impetuous temper would, in the first torrent of his rage, bear down all before it. This letter he deli­vered to his generous host, accompanied by a purse of ducats, which, for some time hestrenuously refused; but on Mercutio's declaring, he should not look on him as his friend, if he did not accept it, with reluctance com­plied, saying, heaven knows, I neither wished or ex­pected any reward for the trifling pains I have taken to serve you—you may rest assured, I would not have done and promised what I have on any other considera­tion, but that of serving my friend, who informed me, is deeply interested in what concerns your welfare. He then departed, with a promise to forward all letters that came under his care, to and from him, with the greatest secrecy and dispatch.

In five days, Mercutio had the inexpressible satisfac­tion of receiving the following letter from George, by the hand of his late friendly host:—

[Page 60]Mercutio, in consequence of the preceding informa­tion, resolved, as soon as Leonora was able to stir about after her confinement, to sail for England.

At length, the much desired period arrived—when she was safely delivered of a beautiful boy, to the no small satisfaction of our hero and his lovely companion. Leonora being diligently attended by her kind hostess, and the faithful Magaretta, was soon in a situation to undertake the intended voyage. Her son, healthful and vigorous, grew exceedingly fast, and his father's features were strikingly depicted in his face, which cir­cumstance gave birth to the most pleasing reflections i [...] the minds of his parents.

Mercutio began immediately to make diligent enqui­ry for an English ship; and finding one bound for Li­verpool, bargained with the commander, whose name was Nicholson, for his passage. The ship waited for nothing but a fair wind, therefore, he was as expedi­tious as possible, in providing necessaries for the voyage, and conveying his baggage on board. Having arranged all his affairs in ample order, nothing remain­ed to be done, but to satisfy his hostess, and write a farewell epistle to his friend George. They devoted the last evening to mirth and hilarity; our hero hav­ing previously discharg'd his reckoning with two hun­dred ducats. Just as they were sitting down to sup­per, they were surpriz'd by the appearance of George and his friend. Mutual salutations past, George in­formed [Page 61] them the cause of his journey as follows:— "About three days ago, I was informed by a Vene­tian gentleman, a friend of the Doge's, that the Doge of Naples had sent a very pressing invitation to the Doge of Venice, to honour him with a visit, which, in con­sideration of the one he received from him when you were there, as well as the strict amity existing between them, he had accepted, and is expected in Naples this evening. I was afraid to commit this piece of intelli­gence to paper, and therefore set out as soon as I pos­sibly could, in order to let you know your danger: For a discovery now, might be attended with dreadful con­sequences."—My inestimable friend, replied Mercutio, how shall I ever make you a suitable return for your disinterested exertions in my favour? Unadulterated friendship is all you hold worthy your acceptance, and it shall be my chief care, to preserve that inviolate and undiminished. We are, my dear George, to embark for Liverpool to-morrow morning—I have every thing on board, and if the wind should prove favorable, the ship will sail immediately, so that if heaven permits, we shall soon be on the British shore; and, probably, the first letter you receive from me will inform you of the celebration of our happy union. May heaven grant you a safe, and agreeable passage, returned George.

At a very late hour they retired to rest, and before the dawn of day, were all assembled in the common apartment, where they reiterated their former pro­fessions of eternal friendship. Our voyagers taking [Page 62] an affectionate leave of their hostess, set out, accompa­nied by George and his friend. The anchor was weighing by the time they got on board, and George, having seen them safe through the whole of this dan­gerous enterprize, wished them a prosperous voyage, and returned to the shore.

Our hero was as happy at the commencement of this voyage, as the nature of the circumstances would per­mit: Leonora too, promised herself the most perfect felicity in the endearing company of her beloved Mer­cutio, and with the enchanting prattle of the dear pledge of their mutual affection. Mercutio had previously dispatched a packet to England, to inform his friends of the time of his intended departure from Naples, and in the letter to his mother, he signified his intention of bringing with him a Venetian lady, whom he intended to make his wife, with the approbation of his friends, immediately on his arrival in London. But it is the uncontrolable will of heaven, that man, when he for­gets his origin, and looks up with confidence to supreme felicity as already within his grasp, should experience the chastising rod of affliction, in order to bring him to a sense of his duty—to acknowledge his own imbecility and the omnipotence of that Being, from whom all happiness, whether in heaven or on earth, must flow; and to whom all thanks are necessarily due. A striking instance of this was exhibited in the case before us. Mer­cutio conceived that nothing could intervene to blast the flattering prospect which had just engaged his at­tention; [Page 63] but which was on the eve of disappearing: The fatal moment was fast approaching, in which all his imaginary joys were to vanish, like the fleet­ing meteor: The cloud was already collected, and suspending over his head, which was shortly to burst and involve him in misery. How vain! how trifling! in the view of Omnipotence, are the pursuits of short [...]ighted mortals;—ever anxious to secure happiness which shall be permanent, our imagination is eternal­ly on the wing; our invention is tortured for schemes to secure the glittering phantom, and we madly re­ject the substance, which thro' life, is constantly with­in our reach; and ignorantly pursue a shadow, which we never can—never will overtake.

They had just weather'd Comin, on the Isle of Sar­dinia, when a most tremendous hurricane from the N. W. accompanied with an irresistable current setting out of the gulph of Lyons, and violently passing be­tween Minorca and Sardinia, drove them, in spite of their skill and industry, into the Streights of Mes­sina. The day was just closing when they doubled the cape, which tended to aggravate the horror of the scene which immediately succeeded. The awful bursts of thunder, and streams of livid lightning, together with dreadful squalls of hail, rain, and wind, seemed to threaten a final dissolution. The whole universe ap­peared in violent convulsions, and the ship was hurled about like an egg-shell in this elemental conflict, which none but the most insensible being, could have be­held [Page 64] without horror. To administer comfort to Leo­nora was the whole business of Mercutio, during the storm, and it was with much difficulty he preserved her from fainting.

About day light, however, it pleas'd that God in whose hand the whole universe is but as a grain of [...]and, to quell the fury of the unfathomable deep—to re­buke the winds; and immediately all was hus [...]'d in­to profund tranquillity. The cloud [...] dispers'd—the blue concave appear'd in its native splendor, and the beams of that glorious diffuser of light and heat, con­veyed new vigor to the benumbed limbs of the fatigued mariners, and cheerfulness once more reigned through­out the whole.

As soon as the storm subsided, captain Nicholson ordered all hands to appear on the quarter deck, when both seamen and passengers beat, in lowly reverence, to that all merciful Being, whose assistance is ever at hand, to relieve and support his unworthy creatures, and offered up the acceptable sacrifice of grateful hearts, in the most unfeigned thanks for his divine protection during the storm, without which they must inevitably have perished. This done, they began to repair their shattered sails and rigging, which had suffered much in the hurricane. Though they were much rejoiced with their late deliverance, their satisfaction was considerably damped, when the captain found that they were within a few leagues of Malta, and less of the coast of [Page 65] Barbary; and, as the wind still blew fresh from the N. W. it would be exceedingly difficult to keep off the coast; consequently, they would be in continual danger of the rovers, until they made the Streights of Gi­braltar. They instantly braced up, and laid the ship as close to the wind as possible, stood away for the South point of Sicily. They had sailed only three hours in this direction, when the captain, from the main topmast head, discovered a corsair, at the distance of about three leagues and a half, bearing down on them. Capt. Nicholson immediately shifted his course, in hopes of making Puzoli, before the pirate could reach them; but in this he was unfortunately disappointed; though it is very probable, he might have succeded, had his vessel been in as good sailing order, as she was before the late storm; but it was impracticable in the present shattered condition to escape—the pirates gained on them every moment.

When the captain found all his endeavours to escape fruitless, he told Mercutio, that their liberty, property, and perhaps lives, depended on their courage and ac­tivity: Therefore, added he, I expect you will lend me all the assistance in your power. There are three guns on board, which I will load with grape, and bring them to bear in an oblique direction: I have, sixteen hands besides myself, and you with your two servants will make twenty;—we have small arms plenty, with which we must endeavour to prevent them from board­ing us:—For my part, I am determined never to sur­render [Page 66] while I have a living man, or a load of ammu­nition on board. We will, continued he, flee fro [...] them as fast as we can, as well to gain time to arrange matters, as to amuse and fatigue them—and when they get within reach of our guns, suddenly tack and pour in a volley, which, perhaps, will throw them into disorder, and if their number and metal does not exceed ours, decide the matter in our favor.

Mercutio assured him, that all the assistance in his power should be devoted to his service, and they imme­mediately made the necessary dispositions for the event. The pirate, in the mean time, was not idle, but bore down upon them with crouded sails and oars; and in a short time hailed captain Nicholson, and ordered him, if he wished to experience any mercy, to bring too immediately, and strike his colours. The captain having all things in readiness, clapt his helm a-lee, and was about in an instant; then poured in a well-directed fire, which killed four of the Turks and wound­ed two Christian slaves, who were chained to the oar. This sudden, unexpected volley, and the execution performed by it, disconcerted the pirates considerably, but being thirty in number, besides eight Christians at the oar, they returned the fire vigorously, and dropping astern, discharged six double fortified fours into the cabin windows, by which, the unfortunate Leonora, her son, and Margaretta, were at the same moment, sent into eternity!—The galley then came along side, and the commander levelling his piece at the brave captain [Page 67] Nicholson, shot him through the heart. Mercutio con­tinued the conflict, with great firmness and courage. The galley having grappled the ship, the infidels im­mediately attempted to board her; but were bravely repulsed—Mercutio, jumping into the mizen chains, cut off, with his hanger, the arms of two Turks, who fell overboard and were drowned. The pirates then made a feint of falling off; but just as our hero was stepping out of the chains, he received a ball in his right knee, which laid him prostrate on the quarter deck. The pirates immediately grappled again, and without much resistance, boarded the ship, as there were only two men left unwounded. Captain Ni­cho [...]son, his two mates, the carpenter, Mercutio's two servants, and five foremast men were killed; and Mer­cutio, the boatswain, cook, cabin-boy, and three sailors wounded. The loss on the part of the Turks, was twelve killed, exclusive of four slaves, and three wounded.

Mercutio's wound bled amazingly, by which means he became insensible, and remained in that situation till the pirates, perceiving some signs of life, and judging by his habit, that he was a person of distinction, had conveyed him on board the galley, and confined him to a ring-bolt, on his back. 'Twas in this unhappy situ­ation he became sensible, when, making an effort to rise, he found himself chained hand and foot!—But what words can describe the intolerable anguish of his soul, when he was informed, by one of his [Page 68] fellow-captives, of the dreadful fate of the beaute­ous Leonora and her lovely infant! Had he not been chained fast to the deck, it is more than probable, that, in the midst of despair, he would have leaped overboard; but finding it impossible to move out of the spot, he gave himself up to immoderate grief! and formed the desperate resolution of taking no food, in order, as he expressed it, to end his life and miseries as quick as possible.

The wound he had received having never been at­tended, grew very painful; and being overheated in the action, he had caught a violent cold, which brought on an intermittent fever, so that at the time the galley arrived at Algiers, he was actually delirious. The re­negado who commanded, was a Spaniard, who judg­ing Mercutio a person of quality, had him taken to his own house, and procured an eminent physician, who applied such healing medicines, that in about one month he was reinstated in his health; but still remained dis­consolate for his beloved Leonora and darling son.

The renegado, perceiving the health of Mercutio re­stored, asked him several questions relative to his coun­try and connexions, and whether he had any expecta­tion of being ransomed. Mercutio answered, that if a letter could be conveyed safely to London, he was sure of being ransomed. This was granted, and he dispatch­ed one letter to his father, and another to his friend George Wright.

[Page 69]The renegado demanded three hundred crowns for his ransom; and as he had lost several of his men in the late engagement, he took our hero and three of his fellow captives on board his own galley, where they were constrained to row night and day, chained to the thwart they sat on. They had no occasion to per­form voluntary abstinence▪ for their food was of the coarsest kind, and the quantities so small as to be but barely sufficient to support them in a life of wretched bondage. This cruel slavery bore much heavier on Mercutio than his companions in distress, having never been accustomed to hardships. His hands were soon stript of skin, yet his merciless commanders compel­led him to labour, though the blood ran in streams down the handle of the oar.—He who 'till then, had been clothed with the finest production of the loom, had no other covering than a frock and drawers of the coarsest canvas, without shoes or stockings. His feet began to swell and grow exceedingly pain­ful. Three months had elapsed without any news arriving from England or Venice, all hands having been pressed in the Downs out of the vessel that had sailed to England; and the other having foundered off Minorca, and all on board perished: However, he obtained leave to write once more to Venice, and, in a [...]bout six weeks, received a letter from his friend George, wherein he assured him he should have the money in fifteen days without fail.

[Page 70]The money arrived at the appointed time, with three hundred crowns more than he had requested, to furnish him with clothes and other necessaries; and an invitation, to come and reside in Venice for some time. Our hero would willingly have waved going there, well knowing that the very fight of the ci­ty would be a dagger to his soul; yet, the regard he had for his friend, and the great and many obliga­tions he lay under, silenced every objection that pre­sented itself, and decided the matter quickly. He paid the renegado the sum demanded for his own ran­som, and two hundred crowns for his three companions in slavery, who, with himself were immediately liberat­ted. He gave the three poor fellows ten crowns each, and told them to make the best of their way home; but they finding him going to Venice; begged permis­sion to sail on board the same ship, as they had no chance of getting their passage to England, and added, that, when he was gone, the Turks might seize and enslave them again. This he complied with, and they all embarked on board the ship in which George had sent the money, and arrived at Venice in a short time.

Our hero having taken leave of these poor fellows, who expressed their gratitude to him in the most fervent manner, went to see his well tried friend, whom he found in health, but not quite so cheerful as former­ly, having just returned from the funeral of his uncle and aunt, who both expired in one day. He was re­ceived, however, with unaffected kindness, which he [Page 71] experienced for the space of six weeks, the time he remained in Venice; and, having pretty well recruited his health and spirits, he resolved to embark for En­gland on board the first ship he could find bound thither. George endeavoured to dissuade him from his purpose, by representing to him the danger of being cap­tured by the French privateers; that nation having entered into an alliance with the States of America: Who had thrown off the Hanoverian yoke, and de­clared themselves Independent; and, under the auspi­ces of a gentleman of Virginia, (George Washing­ton) who had given indubitable proofs of his bravery and skill in tacties, in former wars between France and England, were bravely struggling against the des­potic arms of Great-Britain, in support of the inde­feasible Rights of Man.

Mercutio, however; was not to be diverted from undertaking, his intended voyage: Disconsolate for the loss of Leonora, and weary of the repeated vicis­situdes of his adverse fate, he resolved to attempt a passage to England at all events.

George finding it to no purpose to persist, urged the matter no further; but procured a vessel, and furnished him with a sum of money, more than sufficient to de­fray every expence. In a short time he was ready to embark, and having taken leave of his kind friends, with the most grateful acknowledgment for all past favors, and promising to remit the money George had [Page 72] so freely advanced for his ransom, &c. by the first op­portunity after his arrival in London, once more bid adieu to Venice.

Fortune favoured them with prosperous gales and pleasant weather; and in a few days, they were imper­ceptibly wasted within sight of the Lizard. Mercutio, for the first time, since his redemption from captivity, became cheerful. He experienced that kind of satis­faction, which the hopless mariner, who, having been deprived the fight of land or sunshine for many days, and all the time threatened by the devouring waves, to be buried in the bowels of the deep, is suddenly wafted into the desired haven.

They arrived, and moored off Deal without an acci­dent. Mercutio proposed hiring a post-chaise, and to set out for London the next morning. But alas! Fortune, that fickle goddess, had raised her foot with a design to give him another kick. Press-warrants were out for raising ten thousand seamen; in consequence of which, a lieutenant and forty seamen boarded the ship, about midnight; and, slipping down between decks, made prize of the whole crew, and among the rest, Mercutio.

Resistance would have been as vain as it was im­practicable, they therefore made a virtue of necessity, and submitted to be conveyed on board the Otter, (a tender) where they remained for some days, and then put on board the Isis, of 50 guns, at Spithead. They were welcomed on board with three cheers from the [Page 73] whole crew. The lieutenant who had pressed them, caused plenty of grog to be distributed among the new hands: This done, he ordered the boatswain's mate to bring them aft, where he read over the articles of war; after which, he entertained them with the following eloquent ha [...]rangue.

"Ship-mates and brother sailors!—But I speak chiefly to you that's come aboard last. Tho' you are press'd, you need'nt think you're kidnapped:—No, damme, boys—you have liberty to enter your names in the ship's books, and receive the bounty.—Now, since you're a board, and must stay whether you will or not, you may as well consent to enter—The king must have sailors to destroy them d—n'd French b—gg—rs that's combined with the rebels d'ye see; and if we don't kill 'em, take 'em, sink 'em, make 'em run away, d—n my eyes, boys.—Come, my boys, you that's a mind to enter, come aft, and give your name to the purser—he's as honest a fellow as ever the devil got— he'll give you the bounty and plenty of grog, by G—d, —Huzza! God save the king!—Huzza!"

The major part of the pressed men accepted this po­lite invitation, while he continued to display his rhetori­cal powers:—"Come, my brave mess-mates, now is the time to EXTINGUISH yourselves in OFFENCE of your king and country—There an't a man in England but must turn out now, d—n me, either by sea or land; and, for my part, I'd rather be an under-turnkey in hell, than a SOGER, d—n me if I had'nt."

[Page 74]This animating oration had a great effect on the tar-pawlings; for as he very justly observed, there they were, and there they were like to remain, consequent­ly, might as well comply as not—so they generally took his advice. Adverse as Mercutio's fate appeared, he did not absolutely despair of procuring his liberty, if he could gain access to the commander; but found, on enquiry, that he was on shore. Finding no officer on board superior to this loquacious son of Neptune, he resolved to solicit his assistance in remitting a letter to London. Having executed this resolve, this patriotic officer gave him the following answer:—"I'll tell you what, mess-mate, you may write a letter to Lunnan, but I'm d—'d if I think it will be of any service to you. However, if you think it will do you any good, as you have the look of a clever fellow, I'll speak to the pur­ser for pen, ink and paper for you; and when I go ashore to night, I'll clap it in the post-office. But God knows when or where we shall sail—we may sail to­morrow, and mayhap we may'nt this month, d'ye see." Mercutio thanked him for his civility, and told him he would satisfy him for his trouble. He went down to the purser, and soon returned with a quire of paper, an inkstand, and a parcel of pens; and beckoning to him, in a vociferous tone, said, "Mess-mate, come down into my cabin, and there you may write as much as you please—here's pen, ink, and paper enough to set the whole world in an uproar—Old Singe-the-Devil, d—n his old frosty face, charged me four shillin for this roll of paper: He never thinks he has enough for any [Page 75] thing—I'd rather be a purser than the captain— [...]r he cheats the sailors, the officers, and the king to boo [...]!"

Our hero put his hand in his pocket, and pulling out ten dollars, presented them to the lieutenant, which h [...] received with much apparent satisfaction, saying, at the same time—"By G—d, messmate, you're the heartiest fellow I've met this war. The king, God bless him, owes me five hundred guineas; but I think money d—n'd scarce with him as well as us. The admiral says we shall all be paid off when we come home; but d—n me if I believe him, d'ye see."

Our hero paid very little attention to what he said, but sat down on a chest, and wrote a very pressing let­ter to his father, informing him of the desperate cir­cumstances under which he lay, and earnestly request­ing him to employ all possible means to obtain his re­lease. Having delivered the letter to his friend the lieutenant, he grew cheerful, and began to cherish the hope of being yet restored to his friends, without being forced to sea again. But Providence, it seems, had otherwise decreed. The next morning, very early, orders came on board, for the Isis, with two frigates, and some transports, to weigh, and sail the next tide. Their destination was to some part of the Continent; but as the special orders were sealed, and not to be opened till they had got into a certain degree of latitude, the particular port was unknown.

[Page 76]The captain and officers who had been on shore, came on board soon after the sailing orders, and Mer­cutio made application, by letter (through his friend the lieutenant) for a discharge—but without effect: In vain he represented the sufferings he had endured in Algiers, from whence he had been so lately redeemed —he was deaf to his entreaties: All the consola­tion he received, was, that if he behaved well, he might make his fortune before the war was over.

Finding all his efforts defeated, he consigned himself to his fate. His countenance became gloomy and thoughtful; and had he remained long in that state, it is more than probable, he would have degenerated in­to a most unsocial being—so, true it is, that the sweetest temper may be soured by frequent repulses and disap­pointments.

The necessary preparations being made, the an­chor was weighed; the sails extended to the expanding gale; and with drums beating, trumpets sounding, colours flying, and every other demonstration of naval joy, they took their departure.

Satisfaction appeared conspicuous on every counte­nance on board, except that of Mercutio's, which was impressed with marks of the deepest melancholy. His uneasiness was taken notice of by several of the officers as well as the seame [...], particularly by the first lieu­ [...]ant, who brought on board the orders for sailing; but [Page 77] had never taken notice of Mercutio till they had been a full week at sea. This gentleman observing him in a pensive attitude one day, at the same time remarking, that he had not the least appearance of a seaman; enquired of the second lieutenant who he was, and from whence he came.

Being informed of this, and that he had been late­ly released from the Algerines, he was impatient to have some discourse with a person of so singular a description. He wrote a billet, and sent it by the ca­bin-boy, requesting a short interview. Our hero, after perusing the billet, ordered the boy to conduct him to the person who had sent him: He followed, neither knowing nor caring who it was that desired the interview. On entering the cabin he saluted the lieu­tenant with a very low bow, who instantly arose, and taking our hero by the hand, very politely returned the salute. But what words can paint the amazement and joy of Mercutio, when in the features of the lieutenant he recognised those of his beloved friend Charles, Lu­cinda's brother! Charles instantly recollected his fea­tures—and rushing into each others arms, they em­braced with mutual transport, without uttering a syllable: The sudden shock of joy having shackled their organs of speech for several minutes.

Mercutio first recovering his speech said, My dear Charles, my tongue would but discover its impotence in attempting to describe the pleasing sensations which pervade my soul, on this occasion—to meet a friend [Page 78] so much esteemed, after so long and painful a separa­ration, is a happiness so unexpected, that my weak frame, fatigued and emaciated, with trouble, disap­pointment, and melancholy, is almost unable to sustain the sudden shock, which, like the swift winged, livid lightning, has penetrated the very centre of my soul—stunned my whole fabric—and unhinged all my senses. But tell me, what good genii sent you here, to administer the balm of consolation to my distracted soul? My beloved, respected friend, replied Charles, the supe­rior pleasure which this happy interview affords me, would have been incapable of augmentation, had it not been damped by your hint of "trouble, disap­pointment, and melancholy," which your countenance too clearly demonstrates to have been your companions. What dreadful reverse of fortune can have destroy­ed the peace of my friend? If there is any thing with­in the compass of my power that will, in the smallest degree, contribute to your ease or satisfaction, only-mention it: Command my purse—enjoin me to any thing I am capable of, and you shall see with what willingness I will exert all my powers to restore your peace of mind.

Mercutio, after making him such an answer as his unbounded, disinterested offers merited, related the whole of his adventures, from the time they parted last, in London, till they met on board the Isis: con­cealing, however, his amour with Leonora.

[Page 79]Charles generously sympathized with him in all his misfortunes, promised to render him all the service in his power, and to represent his case to the captain, who, notwithstanding his profession, was a gentleman of the nicest feelings, and most distinguished merit; and, added he, if the fleet is detained on the Ameri­can coast, I think I have influence enough with him to procure your dischage, and you can sail from New-York to England at any time, as packets are constantly going and coming. Mercutio made him a genteel ac­knowledgment for his intended favours; but declared, that since fortune had brought them together once more, he was determined to accompany him through the whole course of the expedition.

Charles expressed the highest satisfaction at this de­claration, and protested that no event could have hap­pened, that could give him equal pleasure.—Mercutio then desired to be informed of his friend's reason for making choice of a sea-faring life, together with a ge­neral narrative of his transactions during their long se­paration. I shall with pleasure gratify your curiosity in that point, replied Charles, but must beg leave to wave it for the present, and filling a glass of wine, presented it to Mercutio, saying, Come, my friend, you must endeavour to consign the remembrance of your late misfortunes over to eternal oblivion—you are now among as lively a set of fellows as the world can produce:—They hope every thing—fear nothing—and drink punch, grog and phlip, like so many fishes.

[Page 80]Having taken a cheerful glass, they went upon d [...]k, when Charles, taking him by the hand, presented him to the captain as his particular friend; and, in a few words, informed him of the most interesting parts of his adventures. The captain congratulated our hero on his release from the infidels, and at the same time lamented the necessity of pressing men in­discriminately: He concluded, with promising him a total exemption from all manner of duty while he continued on board; together with permission to re­turn to England by the first opportunity, and ample protection from all press-gangs during the war.

From that time Charles and Mercutio eat, drank, and slept together; the officers vied with each other in a genteel treatment to him, and the captain became his firm friend. These fortunate circumstances produc­ed the most agreeable change in his countenance and conversation. One fine evening, when the surface of the immense ocean, calm and serene, reflected the glittering rays of that glorious luminary, the sun, with redoubled splendor, Mercutio, with his friend was surveying and admiring the liquid green which every where surrounded them, boundless! reiterated his request. "Mercutio," said Charles, "I should ill de­serve the tender, the honorable appellation of friend, if I was capable of refusing so trifling a gratification; and though you will reap no pleasure in the information, you will at least confess you are not the only person ex­posed to the frowns of fortune; for since you set out [...]on [Page 81] your travels, I have experienced many hard strokes myself.

"Some time after your departure, Augustus Daven­port, son of Sir Edward Davenport, of Oxfordshire, having seen my sister Charlotte, at my uncle's seat, which lies contiguous to Sir Edward's, where she was on a visit, came to London, and resided with his brother in-law, Sir Benjamin Godfrey. As his journey to the metropolis, was undertaken with a view of setting on foot an hymeneal treaty between him and my sister, he engaged Sir Benjamin, (knowing the great friendship existing between him and my father) to intro­duce him, and assist in the course of the negociation with his recommendation and advice.—He was shortly permitted to pay his addresses to Charlotte—When matters were nearly ripe, Augustus took leave for some time.—He returned, accompanied by his father and—a sister—That sister!—Oh Mercutio! do not suppose yourself unfortunate!—But I'll proceed: The marriage contract being sanctioned with the ap­probation of all parties, they were married, to the great satisfaction of both families.

"After staying six weeks in town, Sir Edward pro­posed returning to his country seat; and, as Augustus after tarrying a while at his father's, intended to take his wife to a seat which Sir Edward had lately purchased and promised to give him whenever he should enter the bands of wedlock, the old knight re­quested, [Page 82] or rather insisted, that I should accompany them thither. I acquiesced, being prompted by more powerful motives than those produced by his invitation.

"We sat out, all on horse-back, and had a very agreeable ride to Sir Edward's, who treated us nobly for the space of one month, at the end of which, Au­gustus prepared to go to his own seat. I, as well as his sister, accompanied them. But, now, Mercutio, your repeated misfortunes, though great, will quickly disap­pear, when you hear the sequel—I might almost say with the Ghost of Hamlet: ‘I can a tale unfold, whose lightest word will [...]arrow up thy foul! Freeze thy young blood! Make thy knotty and combined l [...]cks to part, and each particular hair to stand a [...] end, like quills upon the fretful porcupine!’

"This daughter of Sir Edward was, I believe, a model of beauty and apparent innocence. She pos­sessed every accomplishment necessary to render a woman lovely, and the undivided possession of her, a peculiar blessing. I have frequently when in her com­pany, contemplated on her perfections with amaze­ment: And, I verily believe, if any man had told me then, of the fatal change which has since taken place in her, I should have been ready to run him through. This enchanting paragon, without intention, or even suspicion, established so absolute a dominion over my soul, that the very thought of parting with her, was as daggers to my heart!—I addressed her on the [Page 83] subject—succeeded to my wish—and, we were married. But ah! what bitter reflections does the remembrance of that cursed union awaken in my soul! One year I lived with her in so great a degree of felicity, that I would not have exchanged my situation for all the riches of the East.

"She wished to visit her friends at Oxfordshire—I consented; for what could I refuse to her whose breast was the repository of my soul?—We found Sir Ed­ward in good health; and after staying a few days, proceeded to the seat of Augustus, where we arrived just as Charlotte had made her first appearance at church after the birth of a beautiful boy.

"While we remained there, all the neighbouring gentry for several miles round, came to congratulate the young couple on the birth of an heir. Among those who appeared the most assiduous, was Charles Howard, son to a noble Earl, who I afterwards found, had been acquainted with Louisa Davenport, from her infancy, but had not seen her during the last five years. This person, though a villain of the first magnitude, had nevertheless, by long practice in the insidious arts of seduction, become an adept in dissimulation, so that he had actually secured the good opinion of every person of condition in and about Oxfordshire—consequently, was received into all parties of pleasure with a hearty welcome; and was never parted with but with regret. He was remarkably assiduous in congratulating myself [Page 84] and wife on our late union, and at length received an invitation to pay us a visit in London.

"One evening, as I was sitting with my wife, in one of the side-boxes of Drury-Lane theatre, Howard entered the same box, and seated himself over against us; my wife knew him instantly, and welcomed him to London. He seemed surprized at this meeting—I immediately recollected his features, and rose to salute him—he returned the salute in a very polite manner, and seating himself on our side, informed us in a whis­per, that he had just arrived in town. My wife and he began a whispering dialogue; the subject of which was on her part, an enquiry about the people in Ox­fordshire.

"The play being ended, he very politely took leave, having previously received an invitation to pay us a visit the first opportunity, which he promised to observe.

"Some short time after, he paid the visit; but as I happened to be abroad, I was deprived of the oppor­tunity of seeing him; which, I suppose, was no disap­pointment: For I have every reason to think my wife entertained him to his satisfaction▪

"It is probable I never should have heard of this visit, had it not been for the following accident. Hav­ing received a letter from a gentleman of my acquaint­ance, in South-Audley street, which required an im­mediate [Page 85] answer, I stepped into a coffee-house in St. Jame's-street to write one, and just as I had it seale [...], I observed a porter who had frequently carried letters for me, pass the window; when I ordered the waiter to call him in. When he came, I told him my business, which he said happened very luckily, as he then had a letter for my lady, and as he must necessarily pass through South-Audley-street on his way to my house, could very handily perform both errands at once.

"I was instantly tempted, by some unaccountable im­pulse, to open the letter which he had told me was for my wife, and requested him to let me see the superscrip­tion. He produced it; and when I found it was a man's hand writing, I felt so strong an inclination to peruse the contents, that I communicated my wish to the porter,—gave him a glass of wine, and promised him a guinea. This had the desired effect—he laid the letter on the table, and told me he would call in a quarter of an hour.

"I opened it carefully, and to my inexpressible hor­ror and amazement, read as follows:

"I was so enraged at this indignity, that if either of the objects of my revenge had been present, I should have sacrificed them to my injured honor. I suppressed my rage, however, for that time, sealed the infernal epistle, resolving to have ample vengeance. The por­ter returning, I gave him the guinea, and promised him five more, if he would let me see the answer, to which he readily agreed, and told me he would meet me at the Horse-Guards exactly at three o'clock. He de­parted and I knew not how to dispose of myself until his return; for this discovery had raised my resentment to such a pitch, that I was unfit for company or con­versation. A hundred times I reproached myself for breaking open the accursed note; then a sense of the injury I had suffered, awakened all my indignation, and I was several times going home in order to pour my vengeance on the head of my perfidious wife. Tortured with such reflections, I wandered through the Park—took a few turns across the parade till the clock struck three. The porter appeared in two minutes after.

"I retired into the passage leading to the treasury: He followed and delivered his charge to me—then retiring [Page 87] a few paces, lest me to discover the fullest proof of my wise's perfidy. The occasion and attention with which I perused it, made so deep an impression on my mind, that I think I can repeat it verbatim—'Twas thus:

"Conceive, Mercutio, if you can, the situation of my mind at that instant. I never experienced such a struggle between love and revenge before. I retired to a tavern, where I sealed the letter, and returned it to the porter. After enjoing him to the most profound secrecy, I paid him the promised reward, and he de­parted.

"I should certainly have wreaked ray vengeance on the faithless wretch, but for the desire of punishing her [Page 88] co-partner in guilt, with my own hand. My mind was so violently agitated for some hours, that I found it impossible to form any resolution. After taking a serious retrospect of the matter, I determined to go home— behave as usual, if possible—mark critically every cir­cumstance, and from the result form my determination.

"Having settled this in my mind, I walked about till dusk, by which time I had pretty well composed myself, and then returned to my faithless wise; who, Judas like, received me with a kiss. I was obliged to feign a slight indisposition, in order to avoid suspicion, as well as to procure an opportunity to stifle my indigna­tion in silence.

"The next day I staid at home till after five in the evening, and perceived as the evening approached, she grew very uneasy—frequently asking me if I was in­disposed. She also put me in mind of an assignation I had made, to meet some friends at White's that even­ing, and which I had absolutely forgot. When she mentioned this, I told her I would go. Accordingly I departed, apparently in a hurry. I walked down the street precipitately, and slipped into a tavern, posted myself at a window which commanded a full view of my house; so that nobody could have entered unperceived by me.

"I had not remained long, before I observed a man in a scarlet cloak, knock at my door: He was admit­ted [Page 89] instantly; and though I could not be certain whe­ther it was the mark I was aiming at or not, it being then dusk; yet determined I was to know who he was, and his business there.

"Just as I got to my own door, I met one of my servants coming out: I asked him if any company had come that evening. He seemed surprized, but replied, he knew of none—adding, that Jenny (the chamber­maid) had let somebody in a few minutes ago, and on his asking her who it was, said it was her master. This was enough: I made no delay, but going in, shut the street door, locked it, and putting the key in my pocket, proceeded cautiously up stairs.

"I listened a moment at the door, and heard enough to convince me of my dishonor. In a degree of rage bordering on madness, I burst open the door! They were on the bed:—I drew instantly, and calling him base villain—cursed traitor, with many other epithets of the same kind, ordered him to rise and defend him­self; as I was determined to lose my life or punish his perfidy with death. He rose with apparent reluctance, and drew his sword, which lay on the table, and put himself in a posture of defence. After a few passes, I left him for dead on the floor—having run him quite through the body. Turning to my faithless wife, Madam, said I, though you deserve a similar fate, yet I forbear the sacrifice: Perhaps you can find some sub­ [...]erfuge to vindicate your conduct to the world; but [Page 90] conscience will not be imposed on. I therefore leave you to the stings of that monitor.

"Before I left the house, I ordered a servant to go for a surgeon, that if the wretch had any remains of life, he might be saved if possible. Whether he lived or died I know not. I went immediately to my fa­ther's, and in as few words as the circumstances would admit, informed him of the whole transaction. He was much alarmed, told me I had acted extremely wrong in committing such a rash and desperate act: However, as the thing was done, and as it was abso­lutely necessary for me to disappear speedily, for some time at least, he immediately wrote a letter to the ad­miral, with whom he was intimately acquainted, re­questing him to appoint me to some post on board one of his majesty's ships; at the same time giving him some hint of the cause of his making the request. He then gave me one thousand guineas, and bank notes to four times that amount; to which he subjoined his blessing, with tears, as did also my honored mother: Both of them lamenting with me the fatal cause of the disagreeable separation.

"I instantly took horse for Portsmouth, attended by a servant who is now on board. The admiral received me in a very polite and friendly manner; and when he had read the letter, told me, he was very sorry it was not in his power to supply me with any thing higher than a first lieutenancy, of a fifty gun ship, having no­thing [Page 91] better in his gift; but assured me of the first va­cancy. He then presented me with the commission immediately; and now, said he, I will give you the orders for sailing, as that fleet must sail with the first fair wind. The secretary copied the orders, and the admi­ral, after sealing, delivered them to me, together with a letter from the captain.

"The wind being fair when I came on board, the captain, on reading the admiral's letter, hoisted the signal for sailing. What has taken place since, you know already. And now, you must confess, that I have had no small share of misfortune—nevertheless, I endeavour to eradicate the impressions it has made in my mind; 'tis true, the reflection gave me much uneasi­ness for two or three days, but I find myself quite easy and cheerful now."

Our hero readily perceived, that the misfortunes which he had experienced, were by no means equal to those of his friend. He highly commended Charles's resolution of leaving his wife to the severe lashes of her own conscience, which, he observed, would probably be productive of better effects, than any corporal pun­ishment that could have been desired.

Nothing remarkable happened in the course of the voyage. They arrived at Quebec in May 17. After landing their troops, marines, provisions, &c. Sir Guy Carlton gave orders for the ships to be cleared, [Page 92] and repaired, if necessary, and to sail into a certain de­gree, and their cruize in order to intercept the French fleet. They were ready to sail in sixteen days. Their force consisted of two fifty gun ships, and three frigates, all well manned and fit for either offence or defence.

The captain of the Manheim, of fifty guns, dying at Quebec, Charles was appointed to the command; in consequence, our hero lest the Isis, and accompanied his friend.

The period was approaching, in which our two friends were to be once more separated:—The thick and gloomy clouds of adversity were already collected, suspended over, and ready to burst on the British na­tion. Fortune had lavished her favors profusely on the king of England; but the measure of his iniquity, be­ing full to the brim, the goddess took offence at the ar­bitrary proceedings of the imperious monarch, in con­junction with Bute, North, Sandwich, and several others of the same stamp, and was determined to hum­ble their arrogance, by taking into her protection the oppressed, much injured Americans, whose destruction was meditated, and every measure that appeared likely to effect it, adopted in London, for no other reason than that they would not tamely submit to be plundered of the fruits of their virtuous labour.

This favorable turn of affairs reanimated the fainting Americans, who laboured under every disadvantage but want of bread, courage, and a good General.

[Page 93]In England it had a different effect. The King and his sycophantic train were utterly confounded; for they had never dreamt of resistance in America. They ex­pected implicit obedience to their commands and de­mands, however tyrannical or unjust. But the sequel demonstrated their mistake; and had so remarkable an effect on George, that he became insane, and it is doubt­ful whether he is yet rational or not.

This fleet had not cruized long before they discovered five French and two Spanish ships of war, bearing down with crowded canvas: The two latter were in the service of France. A council of war was immedi­ately called on board the Isis, wherein it was determin­ed to attack the French (they were all under French colours) as soon as ever they came within gun-shot. Accordingly, the necessary dispositions being made, the two large ships bore up in front, in order to sustain the first shock of the enemy's fire. The frigates at the same time dropt astern, with orders to act as opportunity or necessity might require. Every man stood at his station, with his eye fixed attentively on the approaching enemy —not a whisper could be heard on board. The fleets advanced to the conflict, with silent rapid motion. What an awful situation! where thousands of human beings stand on the very verge of eternity! stand ready to discharge the dreadful messengers of death among their fellow-creatures! Surrounded by the devouring ocean: Dreadful abyss! shocking idea!

[Page 94]The French commander call'd to the captain of the Isis to strike, otherwise to expect no quarter. He an­swered, that he wished for no quarter, and that if he in­tended to capture the English fleet, he must kill him first, for he was determined never to surrender while he had a living man on board. He had no sooner pro­nounced these words, than he gave orders to pour in a broadside, which was performed with alacrity, and re­turned no less vigorously. The fight soon became ge­neral. Chain, grape and langridge, flew like hail. Masts, yards, fails and shattered rigging, covered the foaming surface of the ocean, which, from the most beauteous green, was converted to a crimson hue.

The British tars, it must be acknowledged, fought with unparelleled bravery. Pity it had not been in a better cause. One of the English frigates taking a [...]van­tage of the smoke to leeward, ran under the stern of a French ship of ninety guns, poured in a heavy broad­side, which raked her fore and aft, and set her on fire, which was never extinguished till she was burnt down to the water. The frigate wore as she discharged the broadside, and recovered her position without injury or difficulty.

Just at that instant, a two and forty pounder pene­trated the Blenheim, between wind and water, and was on the point of sinking before the leak was disco­vered—all hands were employed in repelling the com­mon enemy, and therefore paid no attention to any [Page 95] thing else. At the same instant, the brave commander of the Isis was deprived of his head and right hand by a chain-shot. Before there could be any stop put to the leak, the Blenheim sunk, having three hundred and fifty met on board. Mercutio and Charles were on the quarter-deck when it went down: The principle of self-preservation prompted the former to seize a large hen­coop, which had worked loose, by some means, so that when the ship sunk, it bore him up.

After having been tossed about for some time, in the midst of this dire conflict, he, with nine of his ship­mates, was taken into a boat belonging to one of the Spanish ships, immediately conveyed on board and hand-cussed two and two.

They had scarcely got on board, when one of the French ships blew up—and while a second shared a similar fate with the Blenheim, the fiercest flames de­voured the sails, rigging, and hull of a third. The explosion was dreadful; and a more horrid scene was never described. Legs, arms, heads, whole bodies, blood and brains, were hurled in the air, in awful con­fusion. The distracted French sailors were seen jump­ing into the sea, to escape the more excruciating tor­ments of being consumed by fire. The flames having communicated to another of the French ships, which encreased the horror of the scene. The two surviving ships took to precipitate flight. The English made a feint of pursuit, but being in a shattered condition, gave [Page 96] a great shout, accompanied with three times three cheers, hove about and let them go. On their return, they took up several of the miserable wretches that had escaped the flames, and some few who had es­caped from sinking with the Blenheim.

The French commander steered away for Brest, and pressed the Spaniard to accompany him; but he abso­lutely refused—so bore away for Bilboa, a rich seaport in Spain. On their arrival, Mercutio, with his fellow-prisoners, were confined in a noisome dungeon, with­out light or fresh air; the damp ground for their com­mon bed, and a very scanty allowance of course bread and water, for their subsistence. In this deplorable situation, they remained for the space of three months, in which time six of the unhappy captives expired; for the horrid stench of their own ordure, which was never removed during their confinement, added to their want of food and fresh air, introduced a malignant disease among them, under which, those attacked by it, lin­gered in extreme torture, about three days, and then expired. The wretched survivors, envied their de­parting fellow-sufferers, and earnestly invoked the powers of heaven to hasten their dissolution—their bodies were so emaciated by the combined force of grief, want and disease, that they resembled skeletons more than living men. Mercutio, however, in spite of all these, su [...]ered nothing more than want of liberty and food; for his appetite still remained, and although re­duced almost to nothing, was still healthy.

[Page 97]It happened, fortunately for our hero, that a Spanish nobleman having heard of the prisoners, made applica­tion to the chief magistrate for leave to send them to his villa, in order to assist at digging a canal, which was already begun, through an extensive park, where a num­ber of labourers where then at work.

The nobleman obtained his request, on certain con­ditions, and dispatched a domestic with the magistrate's order to release them. When they were brought out, and their chains taken off, they concluded, they were going to be put to death. True it is, death never received a more hearty welcome, than these men would have given him. However, this was not the case, they were conducted immediately to the villa, whither the nobleman had already gone. When he was apprized of their arrival, he ordered them to be brought before him.

He was astonished at their appearance, and express­ed much indignation at the treatment they had received, generously commiserated their misfortunes, and imme­diately commanded plenty of good food to be given them, after forcing them to drink a large glass of wine, each in his presence. His orders were punctually obeyed, and two of the poor creatures instantly fell victims to the gratification of their raging appetites: They expired in strong convulsions, while Mercutio and the other wretched survivor, remained insensible for several hours. The nobleman, however, whose name was Don Diego de Guzman, sent for a physician, [Page 98] who, in a few days, by the application of salutary me­dicine, and nourishing, though simple food, restored them to perfect health. After being shaved, washed, and putting on clean linen, they began to wear the aspects of men again; but were still weak.

They were sent in company with several other la­borers to digging the canal; here, though they eat their food by the sweat of their brow, yet, having plenty that was good, with a quart of wine each man per day, they recovered strength surprizingly, and began to experi­ence much satisfaction. Mercutio, had he not been greatly affected with the idea of the death of Charles, would probably have been tolerably happy; for having experienced so many turns of fortune, he had become in some measure, habituated to crosses and disappoint­ment, and therefore, though his situation, at that time, was by no means a desirable one; yet it effectually se­cured him from the attacks of envy, and from falling into those excesses to which young men are exposed; the effects of which, are galling remorse, tormenting reflections, and very frequently, infamy. He therefore, in gratitude, returned thanks to the Supreme Dis­poser of every event, for the measure of contentment he still possessed, in the enjoyment of sound and unin­terrupted health and increasing vigour.

Don Diego generally devoted seven or eight hours of each day in viewing the work and in giving directions: Though a native of old Spain, and immensely rich, yet he was neither indolent nor imperious; but com­pletely [Page 99] affable and generous; in a word, sympathy and benevolence characterized that noble Spaniard. He had studied the features, air, and behaviour of Mercu­tio for some time, with the most acute attention, and rightly judging he was of no vulgar extraction, re­solved to question him on the subject. Accordingly, one day he ordered Mercutio to follow him, with his mattock, as if to do something that had been neglect­ed. Having taking him out of the fight of his fellow labourers, he made him a number of questions; such as, where he was born? how he came to be captured? &c. The answer he received proved so satisfactory to the Don, that he began to entertain a very high opi­nion of our hero's merit, and, after a pause of some minutes, he asked him, if his liberty could be procured, whether he would be willing to stay and settle in Spain? Mercutio did not refuse; his answer however, was evasive. He well knew that, being at liberty, a desire of returning to his native country would inevitably predo­minate. He therefore framed his answer accordingly, and, from the succeeding circumstances, we may just­ly infer that the old Don took for granted that he in­tended to stay.

Don Diego told him to go to his work, and left him. After the labours of the day were ended, a fe­male domestic came to Mercutio and desired him to follow her. He complied, and she conducted him in­to an apartment he had never seen before; and, af­ter desiring him to sit, retired. He had not been long, [Page 100] there before Don Diego made his appearance, and, preventing our hero from rising, sat down by him.

Mercutio, said he, ever since I first beheld you, I have entertained a prepossession in your favour: I find that prepossession has not been unjustly founded. Your behaviour in the inferior station to which you have unfortunately been reduced, with the candid ac­count you have given me of your misfortunes, con­firms me in the good opinion I had conceived of you, and all these circumstances have concurred to deter­mine me to set you at liberty. To convince you of the sincerity of my professions, (here he rang a bell and a servant entered bearing a bundle, which he deli­vered to his master and departed) take this, said he, and with it your liberty, presenting the bundle, which contained a rich Spanish habit, embroidered; and though I proposed in our conversation to day, your staying in Spain, I did not intend to make that the condition of your liberty; as that would be only en­larging the place of your confinement. No, I have procured your liberty, and intend you shall enjoy it in its most extensive latitude. You are at liberty to go when and where you please. If you choose to remain some time in Spain, my house and my purse are at your service.

Such a superior display of generosity in an utter stranger, almost petrified our hero with astonishment: He remained silent for some time. At length he ex­claimed, [Page 101] thanks to Heaven! Thanks to the generous, the benevolent Guzman! May that power who in­spired you with these exalted sentiments, shower down his choicest blessings on you, and your posterity. May his mercy be liberally extended to you and them, as you have extended yours to me, exceeding my most sanguine wishes! Command my life! It's at your ser­vice—there is no injunction, consistent with religion and honour, you are capable of laying on me, that I can, or will, refuse to my generous deliverer—here he was interrupted by the Don. Mercutio, said he, I am already more than recompenced in the real plea­sure I derived from a consciousness of having, in this instance, performed my duty. It argues a sordid, con­tracted mind, such as I hope the natives of Spain are strangers to▪ to confer a favour in hopes of retalia­tion: So I desire whatever thanks the effusions of your gratitude may inspire, may be directed to that Fountain of benevolence, who has commanded us to love one another, and who graciously inforced the precept by his own glorious example.—You will sup with me to night, and if you would oblige me, divest yourself of all restraint; treating me in all respects as if we were sons of the same father. To-morrow I will give you a more convincing proof of my esteem: Which is greater, perhaps, than you expect. Thus this disinterested Spaniard suppressed the ardent ac­knowledgments which our hero was about to make, and which all mankind would allow him as justly his due: Desiring nothing but an approving conscience, [Page 102] and wishing to ascribe all the merit of the action to the Author of all good.—He then introduced our hero to Donna Belvidera, his wife, a person of consummate beauty and good sense, by whom he was treated with all imaginable respect. The Don had two daughters, who were accounted beauties, but they never appear­ed before Mercutio unveiled. After one month's re­sidence there, no opportunity offering of procuring a passage to England, he resolved to take the advantage of the Don's proffer, and, having an inclination to go to Barcelona the capital of Catalonia, noted for its trade, riches and beauty, informed him of his in­tention. He instantly acquiesced, and, taking him in­to his closet, unlocked his bureau and taking out a a purse containing 200 johannes, presented them to him, saying, I insist on your acceptance of this trifle, as a farther token of my esteem for you: It may per­haps be serviceable to you in your tour, in which I heartily with you genuine satisfaction: Barcelona is a beautiful city, and one of the richest in the Spanish dominions. I shall expect to hear from you in the course of two months, for you may rest assured I am much interested in your welfare; and shall take a pleasure in hearing of your health and prosperity.

Our hero was about to make a proper acknowledg­ment for this and every other favor he had received at his hands, but was prevented by the Don's begging to be excused for that time, as he was obliged to meet some gentlemen on an important occasion. This put [Page 103] an end to to the conference, and Mercutio began to prepare for his intended journey. Having procured a good horse, and being properly equipped, he took leave of the old Don and his lady, who did not part without regret, and set forward attended by a hired ser­vant, mounted on a mule, a beast more frequently made use of there than a horse.

He made no delay, but kept steadily forward until he arrived at Barcelona, where he lodged some days at an inn, until he could procure accommodation in a pri­vate house, which best suited his disposition. He went one day into a jeweller's shop, to look at some trinkets, as well as to enquire for a convenient lodging; and after some discourse with the jeweller, who was a very jo­cular person, and spoke tolerable English, received an invitation to dine. He accepted the invitation, and was conducted to an elegant back apartment, where his wife and four fine children were sitting. When the lady was informed that our hero was from London, she rose and gave him a very cordial reception, as she was a native of that city herself. Their conversation became general till dinner was served up. They in­formed Mercutio, that they were married in London, and had lived and carried on business near three years; but the father of the jeweller dying, he was obliged to return to Barcelona, to settle his affairs and take pos­session of the estate. The jeweller further informed him, that he resided four years in London prior to his marriage, in which time he had embraced the Protestant [Page 104] faith, and added, that he was determined to return to that city, as soon as the war with America was at an end; as he found it very difficult to disguise his religi­ous sentiments, though he used the utmost precaution for that purpose—which line of conduct he conjured our hero to pursue as he valued his life.

He spent the evening with his new acquired friends, much to his satisfaction; and as they had a couple of rooms unoccupied, Mercutio hired them for himself and servant. He took leave late in the evening, and the next morning, discharged his reckoning at the inn, and after providing for the accommodation of his cattle, removed to his new lodging.

Here he began again to taste the sweets of society; his host and hostess being perfectly frank, social and generous, which rendered his situation very comforta­ble—his kind country-woman proposed a separate table for him; but he requested as a favor, to be permitted to eat and drink with her and her husband. This was agreed on, and they enjoyed much satisfaction in the society of each other. During his residence at this place, he visited every place of polite entertainment and resort in that beautiful and opulent city, by which means he contracted an acquaintance with several young Spaniards of distinction; some of whom pro­fessed a very great friendship for him; but among all those, none had so great a share of the esteem of our hero, as Don Alonzo, a young Castilian nobleman, [Page 105] who inherited the most happy disposition: To a very regular set of features, and genteel shape, he added an agreeable and graceful deportment—his judgment was found, and his conversation animating, modest and pleasing. He had just arrived at Barcelona, after a residence of two whole years in the capital of France, that mart of vivacity and politeness, so that he retained none of that imperious stiffness of a Spaniard—neither had he acquired the extreme volatility which character­izes the French; but that happy medium, which ren­dered his company very desirable.

Alonzo professed every sentiment of respect for our hero, who fell nothing short, so that in a little time a reciprocal attachment took place between them, which rendered their walks, recreations, and interests of every kind inseparable.

Alonzo had a very extensive acquaintance, to whom at different times, he introduced Mercutio as a respect­ed friend; by which means, he became, as it were, naturalized;—and as he spoke the Spanish language fluently, his company was courted by all the most no­ble Spaniards in Barcelona.

Our hero with his friend Alonzo, and several other persons of distinction, made an appointment to divert themselves in chasing the wild-boar, a kind of exercise common in that country. The company met accord­ing to appointment, and set forward in high spirits to [Page 106] the chace. The dogs beat the low grounds for some time, and at length roused an amazing large boar.

The foaming beast took to an adjacent mountain, and ascended it swiftly. They pursued him vigorously over the same; but on descending the other side, which was very steep and craggy, Mercutio's horse was stung so severely by a tarantula, that he bounded suddenly over a sharp ridge of a rock, by which he dismounted his rider, though an excellent horseman. This unlucky accident put an end to the sport, and threw the rest of the company in the utmost consternation. Every one dismounted instantly, and ran to his assistance. On examining, they found his right arm broke, and his shoulder dislocated. Alonzo mounted his horse and ran, or rather flew to a small village, which lay conti­guous to the foot of the mountain, for a surgeon, who dwelt there, and begging his attendance immediately, went out and procured a horse for him, in order to acce­lerate his speed, which he had brought to the door just as the surgeon had his dressings and implements ready —They soon arrived at the spot where he was lying in extreme pain. Alonzo immediately gave him a large glass of cordial, which greatly revived his spirits. The surgeon then got him removed to a convenient place, and ordered a palanquin to be sent for immediately, to convey him to the nearest house, where accommodation could be procured, after the opperation of setting was performed. Mercutio's ser­vant was dispatched on this business instantly, as there [Page 107] was not one to be had nearer than Barcelona, which was full seven English miles.

The surgeon, who was eminent in his profession, hav­ing examined, set, and bound up his arm and shoulder in an exceeding tender manner, told him he need not be un­der any apprehension, as he would pledge his life for the performance of the cure in the space of four weeks, with God's assistance, if he followed his directions. The young gentleman, said he, turning to the company, must be carefully removed to some house as near as possible. A young Spaniard, one of the company, whose father's seat lay but a small distance from the mountain, proposed his being removed thither, where, he observed, he should be carefully attended, until his cure should be effected. Mercutio, who by this time, was considerably relieved from his pain, returned him thanks for his kindness; but asked the surgeon, if he might not be removed to Barcelona, without danger, and being answered in the negative, gratefully accepted the offer.

The servant having exerted all his speed, soon return­ed, followed by a couple of brawny fellows, bearing a palanquin, in which Mercutio was immediately placed, in an easy position, and conveyed to the gentleman's house. The son having rode on before to inform his father, whose name was Don Ferdinando de Castigni, of the accident.

[Page 108]The old gentleman met the rest of the company at the gate, gave them a cordial welcome, said he was sorry for the unfortunate interruption in their amuse­ment, and that nothing should be deficient on his part to render the time of the young gentleman's stay in his house, as easy and agreeable as possible.

Mercutio was taken out of the palanquin and put to bed, and the surgeon having desired him to be composed, till the morning, took his leave, as did also the rest of the company, except Alonzo, who did not leave the house that night.

Our hero was blessed with a good night's rest: His friend Alonzo had been twice at his bed-side in the morning before he awoke—the third time finding him awake, eagerly enquired how he had rested. He an­swered, that he had never rested better in his life; add­ing that he had not felt the least pain, since he had laid down.

The surgeon appearing soon after, dressed his shoul­der, but did not open the bandage of his arm, saying he would let it remain till the evening of the ensuing day; and assured him, if he kept himself still, he was not afraid but he should be ab [...]e to perfect the cure in fifteen days.

Alonzo sat with him the greatest part of that day: In the afternoon he took leave, with a promise to see [Page 109] him early next morning. Mercutio parted with him reluctantly, as he was not intimately acquainted with young de Castigni. However, he did not want for company in Alonzo's absence; for the old Don and his son, sat with him, until they conceived it time for him to repose.

Not a day passed that he had not two or three of his friends to visit him. In short he was as well attended, during the three weeks that he was under the surgeon's hands, as he could possibly have been in England. His arm was restored to its proper shape and vigour, for which he liberally rewarded his surgeon.

As soon as he was able to leave his chamber, he made an apology to the old Don and his lady, for the trouble his unlucky fall had made in their house, and at the same time returning his most unfeigned thanks for the generous and polite attention he had received during the time he had resided with them. Don de Castigini prevented him from proceeding any further, by saying, "Come, come, Sir, I request you will say no more on this subject—humanity is a duty incumbent on every person who professes christianity; to have done less, for a person in the situation you were when first introduced here, would have disclosed a very callous heart, an unchristian-like disposition, that would dis­grace a Heathen, and consequently beneath a Christian. But, however, as I see you are desirous of making a suitable return for the little service you have received [Page 110] in my house, I will soon give you an opportunity of displaying your gratitude to advantage." Make your own conditions, replied Mercutio, and you shall see with what willingness, I will hazard my life, if re­quired, in the service of my generous and kind benefactor. "Well then," rejoined the Don, "the condition is this: That you will favor us with your company fourteen days at least. This is all I ask, and after your professions of gratitude, I expect you will not refuse me the favor."

To this he very willingly agreed, and the Don in­troduced him to his three daughters, whom he had ne­ver before seen. They were all beautiful, and each of them attired in a rich Spanish undress, of blue satin, spangled with silver. The two eldest were a little in­clined to brown, though beautifully featured; but the youngest possessed all the beauty that could possibly be comprized in one woman. They drop [...] their veils when Mercutio entered the apartment with their father; but he ordered them to unveil, and converse without reserve, as though no stranger was present. They o­beyed, and the e [...]ect of such a sudden blaze of beau­ty, flashing all at once on our hero, greatly embarrassed him: However, he advanced to salute them, and they met him with congratulations on his recovery. He returned their compliments in a very modest, be­coming style.

They had just seated themselves, when Alonzo and young Ferdinando entered. After mutual salutations [Page 111] and congratulations had passed between them, they en­tered into an animated strain of conversation, where­in the young ladies bore a distinguished part. The agreeable and pertinent remarks which, with the most engaging modesty they expressed, afforded Mercutio the most superior satisfaction. Donna Isabella, the youngest daughter, whose personal charms were, though matchless, totally eclipsed by the real and more lasting beauties of her mind, made an impression on the heart of our hero, not easily described. To the most happy turn of wit, she united the sweetest tem­per, and the most critical propriety of speech: All these amiable qualifications rendered her conversation delighting. 'Twas this captivated Mercutio. When Isabella took any part in the conversation, he was in extacy; with the most profound attention he listen­ed to the enchanting accents she pronounced, and when she ceased to speak, preserved his attentive at­titude, as if petrified with pleasure by the ravishing sound.

A collation was served up, consisting of the luxu­ries of Europe; which was followed by a desert of the choicest viands of Spain, and the evening was spent in the most undissembled mirth and hilarity; Don Ferdinando himself being a very social person, his frank and affable behaviour considerably augmented the satisfaction of the whole company.

[Page 112]The next day, our hero wrote to his friend and be­nefactor, Don Guzman, at Bilboa: His letter contain­ed a most grateful acknowledgment of the obligations he lay under to him—an account of the accident he had met with, and his recovery, and concluded with a promise to see him in a short time, being determined to set out for Bilboa in a few days.

Though Mercutio certainly intended to fulfil his pro­mise in its fullest extent, yet he soon found (what he might be supposed to have been well acquainted with before) that nothing earthly is entitled to our confi­dence; but that all our actions are guided by an in­visible power; and that however flattering our future prospect may appear to our partial fight, or however near, yet the clouds of disappointment and adversity, which are driven about by the uncertain gales of for­tune, may intervene and deprive us of the glittering phantom, if not forever, at least for a season.

It was with the utmost reluctance that Don Ferdi­nando and his family permitted our hero to depart, af­ter a stay of twenty four days, nor then, without the most pressing invitations to pay them another visit shortly. A strict regard to truth constrained him to in­form them of his intention of leaving Spain very soon. This information had a remarkable effect on the coun­tenance of Donna Isabella. Mercutio, however, in compliance with the request of the whole family, pro­mised to pay them a parting visit.

[Page 113]The countenance of Isabella resumed its wonted serenity, and they took a cheerful and friendly leave of each other; he returned to Barcelona, accompanied by Alonzo and young Ferdinando. His kind host and his wife were happy in seeing him safe again, and, in tes­timony of the pleasure they derived from his return, devoted the day to mirth and good cheer: The only thing that occurred to damp their joy, was the reflec­tion of so soon parting with Mercutio: However, they spent the day very agreeably. In the evening, Alonzo and his friend took an affectionate leave of our hero, and his host, and departed. Mercutio hav­ing retired to his apartment, began to reflect on the long series of adventures he had run through since his departure from his native country, which appeared like a chasm in his life: The result was, he resolved to stay about one week longer in Barcelona, take leave of his friends there, and return to Bilboa, where he intended to take shipping for England. But alas, how vain are the resolutions of man! When the idea of taking leave of Castigni's family presented itself, the image of the charming Isabella, arrayed in all the charms peculiar to innocence, youth, and beauty, dis­solving in tears at the separation, accompanied it. However, as he supposed his heart was entirely disen­gaged, he persisted in his resolution, and under this impression endeavoured to compose himself to rest, but in vain, the pleasing phantom was still visible to the eye of his imagination; all his reflections served but to increase his perplexity; nor could he sleep until Au­rora [Page 114] had tinged the oriental clouds with streaks of the deepest crimson; then the God of sleep gently advanced, and spreading his downy [...]pinions over him, lulled him into a pleasing [...]mber, where we will leave him to his repose, and as Isabella is soon to be introduced, as a principal character, we will en­quire how she spent the night.

We find, from her own confession, that she passed that night in no less perplexity than Mercutio. When she anticipated the fatal, approaching day which was [...]o separate her from him for ever, her tender bosom swelled with sighs; and she wet her pillow with her tears. Oh! she would exclaim, how unhappy am I! Though I enjoy all the advantages of birth, fortune, and education, yet my prophetic soul forbodes my future misery. I love Mercutio, yet he is ignorant of it! What then? Perhaps if he was convinced of the love I bear him, he would not have it in his power to extricate me from the wretchedness which awaits me, or which would complete my misery. Perhaps some English beauty is now impatiently waiting his return, to crown her happiness by fulfilling the ten­der engagements he entered into, when they parted. And yet, my eyes deceived me, or I observed something like embarrassment in his countenance to day, at parting. But what will that avail me? It may be, if unen­gaged elsewhere, he has become enamoured with one of my sisters:—There ruin stares me in the face again! Would to heaven I was acquainted with [Page 115] his sentiments; my heart tells me he is sincere, and, if I am not mistaken, would disclose his sentiments on this subject, if I could find means to propose the question to him. But why should I wish to know what perhaps would plunge me into the depths of despair? Sleep at length overpowered her; but all her waking ideas passed in review before her while sleeping, so that she arose without refreshment or de­termination. But to return:—

Mercutio arose without that tr [...]quillity of mind with which he had been blest for a considerable time before. He concealed his uneasiness from his kind host and lady during the time they sat at breakfast; and afterwards drest, and walked out to one of those delightful gardens which are adorned with all the beauties of nature and of art, and are fitted for the entertainment and reception of persons of quality only. He walked about, musing on the vision of the preceding night, for some time. He reflected that the passion which he had conceived was as yet but in embryo, and might be easily eradi­cated. Besides he had no foundation to build his hope on, if he should cherish it. When he considered the dis­appointments and dangers he had already experienced, the losses he had sustained, and the depths of misery to which he had been reduced, in consequence of his past amours, he resolved to abandon an enterprize which appeared to be fraught with hazard and mani­fest difficulty. He became cheerful again, and de­termined [Page 116] to leave Barcelona, in a very few days. At dinner he communicated his intention to his host, without the least hint of the reason of so precipitate a retreat. He dispatched his servant, in the evening, to Don Ferdinando's, to inform the family that, if agreeable he would do himself the honour to pay them a visit early in the succeeding day. His message was received with pleasure by the whole family, especially by Isabella.

In the morning he set out, on horse back, attend­ed by a servant. He was received with the same degree of kindness, which he had uniformly expe­rienced in that family. Though he was treated as usual, yet he perceived that the apparent cheerfulness of the whole family was only the effect of his presence: He perceived some latent grief in their countenances, struggling to conceal itself from his observation: The day, however, was spent very agreeably: A na­tural effect of the society of persons of refined and generous sentiments. In the evening our hero inform­ed them of [...]is intention of setting out for Bilboa in three days, at farthest. This information had an instan­taneous and visible effect on Isabella; (perhaps to Mer­cutio only:) she withdrew, but returned shortly, more cheerful, apparently, than she had been that day. The moment of departure was procrastinated until a very late hour: At length, however, it arrived. Isabella was the last person of whom [...]e took leave. To de­scribe the agitation of his soul, in that moment, ex­ceeds [Page 117] the power of my pen. His pulse beat high, and he stood as if riveted to the floor. The lovely Isabella, whose heart, tender as the orb of sight, had caught the sweet infection, was seized, when he took her hand, with a sudden tremor, which thrilled like lightning through the deepest, and most intricate recesses of it.—In vain she endeavoured to conceal the palpi­tation of her convulsed breast—to withhold the speed of the glittering globes of chrystal which privately stole down her blushing cheeks,—Cupid had planted one of his keenest darts in her un [...]ullied breast, and she tacitly confessed it. Mercutio had address enough to conceal his perturbation from all but her whose sympathetic soul reverberated each sigh, and felt each throb that agitated his disordered mind.—They parted.

Neither his ride home, or a retrospect of his past difficulties, could extinguish or diminish the flame which that beauteous female Spaniard had kindled in his breast. I must, said he, I must again see Isabella!—I behaved very ill at parting! I must disclose my passion to her! —She seemed to pity my distress in the parting mo­ment! Perhaps the little God has been propitious— has inspired her with ideas favourable to my wish!— It must be so! Her eyes betrayed the secret of her heart, and seemed to say, cruel Mercutio!—Can you then leave me? Leave me thus! O let me see you once more! Once more, e'er the relentless ocean for ever separate us!—Thus he wasted the night; but, [...]n being informed by his host that a vessel belong­ing [Page 118] to Holland was to sail in the course of four or five days he relinguished the notion of re-visiting Isabella; and resolved, if passage could be obtained on board the Dutch vessel, to sail in her, and instead of going to Bilboa, to send a letter to Guzman, to inform him of his embarkation, and likewise that he would make him complete satisfaction for all his kind­ness, on his arrival in England.

He sallied forth without making his intentions known to his host, in order to go on board the Dutchman, and, if he found things to his mind, to agree for his passage; but he had not walked fifty paces when a billet was put into his hand by a female, who told him she would meet him in an hour, on that spot to re­ceive his answer—she instantly disappeared. He was surprized at the incident; but did not open the billet until he had returned to his lodging: Then locking his door, he opened it, and read as follows.

The most frightful spectre that was ever described, entering his chamber at midnight, could not have deranged his ideas more than this short epistle did. He saw all his plans disconcerted, and all his late resolutions tumbled into the dust in a moment.— Though the epistle was not long, nor the requisition unfair; yet to form a proper answer to it, in so sh [...] a time was an arduous task.—In the first place, no rightly judged, if he should give her encouragement, she would propose an elopement; this from principles of honour he could not agree to, or if he could, it would inevitably draw down the resentment of her father and brother on his head. In the second, if he should renew his visits at her father's, and should even procure his permission to pay his addresses to her, the known di [...]erence of religious sentiments between the natives of England and those of S [...]ain would na­turally produce a scrutiny with res [...]ect to his parti­cular profession, which might be attended with disa­greeable consequences. However, time being short, he wrote the following answer.

This he sealed, and repairing to the appointed spot, delivered it to the female messenger, who was already waiting. He [...] into her hand, with a note, a small present, and she [...]nstantly departed.

At all events Mercutio was determined to make enqui [...]y about the D [...]ch vessel. Accordingly meet­ing a Dutch merchant at the water side, he enquired of him whether the vessel bound for Hollan [...] had sailed yet, or not? The merchant informed him that she had no [...]: But that the captain expected to sail in less than a week. He ma [...]e no farther enquiry at that time, except the captain's name, and where he lodged▪ Having received this information he repaired to his lodgings.

The next day, sitting at a window fronting the street, he perceived the same person who had brought him [Page 121] the letter, pass on the other side of the street: He in­stantly followed her, and received the following letter from her hands. As she had some other business in town, she told him she would return in two hours, in which time he might have his answer prepared.

Having returned to his lodging, he opened the letter and read:—

This letter awakened all his love for this unha [...]y fair one. To see her whom he loved with the most sin­cere passion, on the brink of being condemned to lin­ger out her days in the arms of an old phlegmatic wretch, for whom she had a mortal aversion. In forming a re­solution how to act in consequence of the contingency, he called to his aid reason, gratitude, honor, and love. With all those helps he was yet undetermined: He figured to himself the impropriety of carrying off Don Ferdinando's daughter, without his knowledge or con­sent; and though love seemed to triumph over [...] consideration, yet he could not by any means [...] himself to a breach of honour: Especially [...] [Page 124] a point. He resolved to meet Isabella, however, according to her request—He did so, and every scruple was instantly removed. She came attended by her faith­ful confidante—After the first salutation, Mercutio proposed retiring to his lodgings. This was rejected, and Isabella informed him that she commanded a private apartment in the house of her aunt, where they might discourse without interruption. He eagerly em­braced the offer: The more so, as it might convince her of the rectitude of his intentions. Thither, then, he was immediately conducted. The maid led them to an apartment in the back part of the house, and re­tired.

Isabella then confirmed the contents of her last let­ter, a [...]ding that her suspicions of the Italian's contriv­ing, to hasten the nuptials were not without founda­tion; for that he had absolutely extorted a promise from her father, of shortening the time by eight days. I have, said she, obtained leave to spend three days with my aunt; in which time, if Heaven shall inter­pose in my favor, by pointing out an escape from this detested wretch, my peace of mind will be restored; if not—you know my resolution—I crave your assist­ance—There does not exi [...]t a person so capable of af­fording me the same relief and protection with your­self: If this is withheld, I die miserable. Tears [...] further utterance. "Weep not, my angel," said " [...], tenderly embracing her: ‘These tears [...]! Every thing possible shall be done; and [Page 125] even impossibilities attempted, to restore you to hap­piness.’ She brightened at this assurance, and he be­gan to paint the obligations he lay under to her father, in the most striking colours. He then expatiated largely on the blackness of ingratitude; and concluded, by declaring the fervency of his love for her, which be said was heightened by the reflection of her being a daughter of the generous De Castigni; but added, that whatever steps a sense of her distress might prompt him to take in her behalf, he was determined to take none that should be dishonorable to himself; or by which he might forfeit the esteem of her noble father: "Such a step," continued he, "would render me unworthy of your confidence."

Our Hero expected the latter part of his declaration would have been a little unwelcome to Isabella; but in this he was mistaken: She told him she abhor­ed the very idea of purchasing happiness at the ex­pence of his honor or integrity, adding, if she could have harboured the most distant thought of his being capable of acting in a manner unworthy of a gentle­man, she should never have acted the part she had.

She then produced a letter from her brother, enclosing one from his mother. This letter promised a faithful attention to the request of his mother, which was couched in the following terms.

This letter determined ou [...] here. Though a thou­sand different ideas crowded his imagination at first, yet, when he compared all the circumstances; view­ed the matter in every light in which it was capa­ble of being viewed, he resolved no longer to refuse a happiness, which, by the long concatenation of events that had accompanied it, appeared to be [Page 127] the immediate gift of Heaven: But to risque every thing in establishing that happiness which involved his own. He embraced her with ardor, and exclaim­ed, "Is Heaven then propitious to my wishes! And am I at last to obtain that treasure, which is of greater estimation than the glittering mines of Col­con [...]ia! A treasure of which kings would boast with rapture!"—Here she interrupted him by observing, that her mother and the Reverend Father had maturely weighed every circumstance; that he conceived the Italian, having taken an undue advantage of a rash vow, made in the effusions of gratitude, his claim had neither religion, reason, nor justice for its foun­dation, and consequently was null to all intents and purposes; that if a countermine could be effected, it would not only be blameless, but meritorious: As the temporal, and, perhaps, eternal happiness of Isa­bella was deeply concerned, it behoved them to prevent, if possible, a union fraught with so many evils and inconveniencies. They also agreed that to deceive the Italian, without the knowledge or concurrence of the Don would be laudable, for the reasons above men­tioned.

Our hero then enquired if she had seen her brother since her arrival in town, she answered in the affirma­tive, and that he should see him shortly. She then rang a small bell, and Teresa, her maid, appeared: She told her to inform her aunt and brother that she wished the favor of their company. In a few minutes [Page 128] they entered, accompanied by the holy Father, a per­son truly reverend in his appearance, the serenity of whose countenance spoke the goodness and tranquillity of his soul.

After mutual salutations. Isabella with her aunt re­tired into a closet; when the priest began a very pious and edifying discourse, in the course of which he made several pertinent allusions to the cause of their meeting. He animadverted freely, and with great ingenuity on the impropriety of hasty marriages, unequal matches, rash promises, &c. and concluded by urging in a very pathetic manner, the necessity of the approaching union, as the lives, and what was of infinitely more value, the happiness of the mother and daughter, wholly depended on its consummation. He next enjoined our hero to write a letter to his intended father-in-law, containing an ample account of the whole affair—promising to take charge of it himself, and deliver it to the Don, after preparing him for the reception of the news. This Mercutio promised to do. They were then re-joined by the old lady, leading forward Isabella, the cheerful­ness of whose lovely countenance but faintly typified the exquisite felicity of her soul, which heightened her charms to a degree scarcely inferior to absolute perfec­tion.

The ceremony was dignified by the sincere devotion with which it was performed. The old lady, for the first time, performed the part of a mother, and young [Page 129] Ferdinando that of a father, in conferring on Mercutio a treasure which he would not have exchanged for the empire of the universe. The ceremony over, the priest and Ferdinando took leave under a promise of taking breakfast with the bride and her husband the next morning.

The hour for repose arriving, the old lady conducted her niece to a proper apartment, and retired, leaving her under the conduct of her maid▪ as the business of a bride-maid having never fell within her sphere.

The first thing that occupied our hero's attention in the morning, was a letter to his father-in-law, which he penned agreeable to his promise, informing him of the rise, progress and consummation of his present happiness: Explaining, in the most respectful terms, the motives of his conduct, and humbly requested him to pardon a crime which originated merely from a wish to restore to happiness a family, for every branch of which he entertained the highest sentiments of gratitude and esteem. After finishing this letter, he wrote another to his old benefactor at Bilboa.

The priest and Ferdinando kept their appointment, and they all breakfasted together very cheerfully; the former, having taken charge of the letter, and wish­ing our hero and his bri [...]e a great deal of happiness, departed. Mercutio then informed his wife and friends his wish to embark for Holland as soon as possible. [Page 130] They were well pleased with the information, and Fer­dinando promised to spend every evening with them, until their embarkation, and to see them safe on board. He then took leave and Mercutio went in search of the Dutch captain. He found him, and agreed immedi­ately for their passage. The captain proposed sailing the next day, as he had to touch at Marseilles for some lading; and observed, that if he thought proper to wait his return to Barcelona, he would lay too and take them in. This proposal, however, did not exactly tally with the circumstances of our hero; he therefore, made a virtue of necessity, and told the captain he had some business at Marseilles himself, and was resolved to embark very early the next morning. They parted, and our hero immediately returned to inform Isabella of his determination. He next went to his lodgings, in order to satisfy his host, as well as to discharge his servant and dispose of his horse. As the servant in­tended to return to Bilboa, he committed the letter for Guzman to his care, which he promised to deliver safe; and then presenting him the mule he had rode to Bilboa, the servant departed, very grateful for the liberal treatment he had received.

Our hero disposed of his horse to his landlord, and having taken a parting bottle together, he took a final leave of them, and returned to the impatient Isabella, who was afraid some unlucky accident would yet inter­vene to separate them; she was, therefore, naturally anxious to leave Barcelona with all possible speed.

[Page 131]Ferdinando spent the evening with them; indeed they did not go to rest that night at all—for as it might possibly be the last they were to spend together, an [...] as they inten [...]ed to embark with the first appearance of day, they were busy in making the necessary arrange­ments, and in concerting a plan for their future corres­pondence.

Before the day dawned, Mercutio and his brother-in-law walked down to the water side, as the former had appointed to meet the ship's boat at that [...]our. In the interim, Isabella waited on her aunt in her bed-chamber, who immediately arose at the sound of her opening the door, and taking her niece by the hand, led her to a cabinet, from which she took a casket, and presenting it to her, said: "Accept this, my dear Isabella, as a token of my love to you and my dear sister. May you be happy! Perhaps I shall never see you more. Your father, when informed of the inno­cent deceit that has been practiced on him, will, I am convinced, search you out."

Just then the men returned, and the boat being wait­ing, they made ready instantly; then taking an affection­ate farewel, but not without tears on the part of the women, they set forward. Their baggage, was not very bulky, consisting chiefly of money and jewels, was easily carried to the water side by our hero and Fer­dinando, who was resolved to see them safe on board. Preparations were making for weighing the anchor, [Page 132] when they came on board, where the captain welcom­ed them heartily, and conducted them to a very com­modious cabin, which had been cleared out and fitted for their reception. The wind being favorable, the captain left them in order to get the ship under way as quick as possible. The sails set, and every thing put in order, he returned to the cabin, and informed Ferdinando that the ship's boat was ready to put him on shore, he took an affectionate leave of his sister and her husband, and returned to Barcelona.

Our voyagers were savored with a gentle breeze for some days, during which time they enjoyed as much happiness as their situation could possibly afford. They happened to have a couple of French gentlemen and a very agreeable young lady of the same nation, which greatly encreased their satisfaction. Social harmony, and convivial friendship were imparted from breast to breast, and uninterrupted tranquillity, a necessary conse­quence of that friendship, seemed to be established on a permanent basis. But, as anguish and rapture act al­ternately on the human mind, it is folly in the extreme, to drea [...] the one or wish for the other as permanent: For it is observable, that a continual round of what is generally understood by the word pleasure, becomes by repetition, disagreeable, irksome, and painful: Loathing and disg [...]st takes place of desire—the taste is vitiated, and the intoxication of the senses renders the agent incapable of distinguishing the difference between one and the other. Pain, slavery and chains, by long [Page 133] custom, become less irksome, nay, in a certain degree, natural; and the anguish of grief diminishes in propor­tion to the length of its continuance.

Their tranquillity was not of long continuance, for when they were within two days sail of Marseilles, they were overtaken by a dreadful hurricane, assisted by a strong current sitting out of the gulph of Lyons, which threatened the total destruction of the ship, and all on board. The wind blew with irresistable violence, which carried away the fore-top-mast and bowsprit in the be­ginning of the storm, and at length grew so furious, that the main-mast went by the board, at the same in­stant the tiller-rope breaking, the man at the helm was knocked overboard; and it was at the manifest hazard of their lives that the whole crew ventured to seize the tiller and bend new ropes to it.

Consternation and horror pervaded the minds as well as countenances of all on board, under a firm per­suasion of being shortly buried in the capacious womb of the tremendous deep. Fortunately the ship hull had suffered no damage, for the masts and yards which had been carried away, fell clear of the gunwale, and the rigging was immediately cut away. But as hope is generally the last thing that forsakes us, so they did not absolutely despair, till after enduring the fury of the storm for three days and as many nights, they found the ship hurled, by the combined force of wind and waves, stern foremost into a cavity between two huge rocks, where she remained immoveably fixed.— [Page 134] Despair at last stared them in the face!—Dreadful situ­ation!—The ship's keel was jammed in between the rocks, from which no mortal strength or skill could extricate it:—Surrounded by the foaming waves, which were hurled about in horrible confusion, by the yet un­abated fury of the tempest, they all betook themselves to fervent prayer, and instant preparation for eternity! for death appeared inevitable. Despair was strongly depicted in the faces of the mariners, and every hope of setting foot on shore again had fled.

Five days and nights they remained in this horrid situation, and the major part of their provision, particu­larly bread, was rendered useless, the water being six feet deep in the hold; however, they made very little use of what they had—they eat little, slept less, and in all respects conducted themselves as persons hourly ex­pecting death.

Mercutio's concern for Isabella triumphed over every other consideration; his expectations of relief were exhausted, he went seldom on deck, since assistance had become useless. The two Frenchmen, from similar motives, remained constantly below, the one being the husband and the other the brother of the French lady: They found it an arduous task to keep her in any tolera­ble degree of spirits; but it must be confessed Isabella supported her fate with a fortitude that would have re­flected honor on philosophy itself. About eleven o'clock, on the fifth night of their extreme distress, the wind shifted, and blew so violent, that the waves rolled [Page 135] in succession over this devoted ship and crew. Their ears were at the same time assailed with the most shock­ing peals of thunder, and terrifying flashes of ethereal fire—floods of rain and resistless gusts of wind roared in concert—the whole exhibited a scene of terror which would baffle every attempt to describe.

As the stern of the vessel lay considerably higher than the head, the cabins and steerage were yet clear of water; the captain, his officers and passengers occu­pied the former, and the common sailors the latter. About day-break the storm began to abate, and by nine o'clock, they were blest with a prospect of a calm sea and a clear sky. This, hopeless as their situation was, afforded them a transitory cessation of grief, during which they all bent in gratitude to that Omnipotent Power, who had mercifully stayed the fury of the wind, and awed the boisterous waves into subjection.

Though this change in the weather had in some measure alleviated their distress, yet the cutting reflec­tion on their situation, produced pangs of the most ex­cruciating woe: The beauteous prospect by which they were surrounded, served but to inspire them with the dreadful idea of soon terminating their days by fa­mine. In this state of horrid anxiety, they sat as if benumbed and stupid, until the captain broke the mournful silence in the following manner:

[Page 136]"My dear fellow-sufferers, we are in a dreadful situ­ation I confess, but still we have the greatest reason imaginable to be thankful to the Almighty, for our pre­servation hitherto: And I look on our being cast on this rock as a most signal mercy, for had the ship con­tinued to float, the storm was sufficient to have dashed her to atoms in a very short time, and which must in­evitably have been her fate the instant she was thrown into this cavity, had she been in any other pos [...]tion. I sincerely believe that our being cast here was a means, employed by the Almighty, to convince us of our nothingness, and that he is not only able, but willing, to save to the utmost, those who rely on his Omnipotence for deliverance and protection: And although I must confess that appearances seem to contradict it, I really begin to conceive hopes that we shall all make the shore again with safety."

They listened with rapture to what he said, and eagerly demanded, what foundation he had to hope for what to them appeared to exceed the utmost stretch of human probability? "Why, my friends," rejoined the captain, "the sea is now calm, and the sky clear, I will take an observation, by which means I shall be able to ascertain the best course to [...]eer to make the nearest land."

The captain found by observation, that it would be most adviseable to steer for Leghorn. "We are," said he, "thanks to the Almighty, all in good health [Page 137] and vigor, we will get out the boats, and have them sitted [...] with masts and sails; the carpenter shall fix the binicle in a convenient part of the long boat;—let every one take one hundred weight of his most valuable property: With this burthen I am of opinion we can make the port in three days, where I have a brother, who can, perhaps, assist me in recovering a part of my cargo."

This proposal was embraced with avidity by the whole company, who immediately began to clear the boats of all incumbrances, so that they soon had them out and rigged, and then proceeded to embark the most valuable of their effects, provisions, water, &c. The cap [...]ain, for fear of being separated by another squall, proposed making a tow-line fast to the head of each boat, by which, in case of extremity, they on board the cutter would be enabled to get on board the long­boat.

About four in the afternoon they left the wreck, and stee [...]ed away under an easy sail East by South. Every one assisted, so that they went at a great rate, using both sails and oars. The next day, land appear­ing on the larboard bow, they were inspired with new life; the captain assuring them they would be in Leg­horn that night. Joy was imprinted in legible charac­ters on all their countenances, and they congratulated each other on the signal deliverance, as if they were already on shore—they strove to banish the disagreea­ble [Page 138] recollection of their late distress, to make room for the more acceptable and pleasing sensations which they already tasted by anticipation.

About sun-set they descried a sloop a head, at the distance of about a league, which they soon met. They hailed her, and requested the commander to come on board the long boat, which he immediately complied with. This gentleman proved to be the captain's bro­ther before mentioned, who expressed much astonish­ment at seeing them coming from sea in an open boat; but his surprize vanished when informed of the particu­lars, and was much affected with the narrative; but bid them be of good cheer, as they would quickly be among humane and hospitable people, who would render them all the service in their power.

In about three hours they anchored before Leghorn. Being late at night, it was agreed to stay on board the sloop till next morning, except the captain, who went on shore.

In the morning they disembarked, and our hero hired one of the sailors to carry his baggage. He had just taken leave of his captain, and received his bro­ther's directions where to find suitable accommodations for some days, when, as he was handing Isabella along, he was met by a gentleman in a rich Italian habit, who, after being informed of their shipwreck, kindly welcomed them on shore, and invited them to take [Page 139] breakfast with him. They consented, and he conducted them to a very elegant house, where they were kindly received by the mistress. Among other enquiries, the gentleman asked Mercutio the place of his nativity? Finding him an Englishman, which he was himself, he told him he intended to remove to England in a very short time, and politely offered him his house, if he would stay with them: He added, that he expected to embark with his whole family in three weeks at farthest.—Just then a man entered the room, the unex­pected fight of whom gave Mercutio no small pleasure: 'Twas George Wright!—The familiarity of the salu­tation of those two friends, amazed the whole family. But George soon removed their surprize by informing them of the very great intimacy which had subsisted between them.

George embraced the first opportunity of taking our hero aside, to enquire what brought him to Italy again. When Mercutio had satisfied him in every particular, he in his turn informed him, that his wife had paid the debt of nature, shortly after his departure for England. She fell a victim, said he, to the same disease which car­ried off my uncle and aunt. She was no sooner attack­ed by it than the most unfavourable symptoms appear­ed. On the eighth day the fever seemed to abate, which I interpreted as a good omen; but in this I was mistaken, for that evening I observed the physicians busy in private discourse, in the course of which, they frequently shook their heads, as if void of hope. I [Page 140] suspected the truth.—The eldest of the three, both in years and practice, beckoned to me to follow him, and when in private, said: Endeavor, Sir, to collect all your fortitude, to support you under your affliction—To dis­semble in such a case would be unpardonable—Your amiable spouse will soon be numbered with the dead! Six hours, without a miracle, will be the utmost peri­od of her existence! I am sorry to inform you that her disease is of so complicated a nature, that it baffles the power of medicine. I have, with my colleagues, done every thing possible—we therefore, surrender her into the hands of that Being, with whom are the issues of life. He added no more, but turning about, left me in pangs of the most intolerable anguish.

His prediction was truly verified, for exactly at the time he mentioned, she expired in my arms! I must confess, it was the greatest shock I had ever experienced. I remained for some time insensible of any thing that passed; in which situation I was removed to another apartment, where, on recovering my senses, I found several of my friends at my bed-side, kindly endeavor­ing to alleviate my grief. Among the number who had collected to solace my melancholy, were two Fran­ciscans, who entered into a very pious discourse on the subject of resignation, in which they did not forget to give me a modest reproof for neglecting to send for the Fathers of the Church, that they might have administer­ed the sacrament (as they called it) of extreme unction, previous to her departure. A slight apology and a few [Page 141] ducats, however, silenced them on that head; but they insisted on celebrating mass on the spot, which I did not think proper to refuse.

The clouds of melancholy enveloped my mind for a considerable time, and it is doubtful whether I should have resumed my native cheerfulness yet, had I remained in Venice. I resisted the solicitations of my friends a long time—at length, weary of their impor­tunity, I resolved to pursue their advice, and, as I had some affairs to settle in Naples, I made ready to go thither immediately.

While I remained there, I went to Mount Vesuvius, at least, as near as the stones, sulphur, ashes and flames would permit, as there was a most violent eruption, which covered the neighboring fields and gardens with those combustibles. From thence, I visited the tomb of the celebrated Virgil, which stands at a small dis­tance from a subterraneous passage, [...]ut quite through the base of a large mountain, known there by the name of Paufilipo's Grotto. I rode through this wonderful passage, and could just, when on horseback, touch the arched roof, (which is perfectly regular, and beau­tified with millions of curious stones and shells, neatly arranged in every form that fancy can devise) with my horse-whip.

However, not to trouble you with a recital of every place and thing I saw, in travelling from Naples to [Page 142] Leghorn, I took my abode in this house, the owner of which is now my father-in-law, and as worthy a man as England ever produced. He then confirmed what the gentleman had told our hero, adding, that he was to accompany the family to England, and was highly pleased, when he found Mercutio was to be of the party.

Mercutio desired to be introduced to Mrs. Wright; but George informed him that she was not in Leghorn, that he lived in St. Marino; but told him he intended to set out next morning for that place, and requested him and his lady to accompany him—declaring that nothing could give him so much pleasure and satisfaction. Our hero gladly accepted the invitation. They then joined the company, when George was introduced in form to Isabella, who received his salute with the ut­most complaisance as her husband's friend.

The next morning early, they set forward, and met a cordial reception from Eliza, Mrs. Wright, who was as complete a female figure, perhaps, as Italy could afford. The modest and sprightly behavior of this lady to her new acquaintances, unfolded a sweetness of temper, not frequently equalled, and never exceeded: In short, her whole deportment reflected the highest honor on the choice and judgment of her husband.

The dwelling of George was situated at the foot of a mountain, on the summit of which stands the capital [Page 143] of St. Marino. A beautiful green of considerable ex­tent, lay in front of the house, terminating in an acute angle at one end, and widening at the other in a gradual manner, till it passes the end of the mountain, and loses itself in a beautiful champaign country, divers [...]fied with fields, gardens, and delightful villas. At the back of the house, at the distance of a few perches, the moun­tain rose with awful magnificence, in several parts of which stood small villages, and the interstices cons [...]sted of rocks, caves and woods, affording the highest gra­tification to a contemplative eye.

George, it seems, had s [...]nce his second marriage and removal to St. Marino, taken frequent excursions through several parts of the mountain and villages ad­jacent.—In one of his morning rambles, he perceived a path leading towards a high and craggy promontory, which j [...]tted over the sea. He could not spare time to examine where it led to then, returned home, and thought no more about it, until one evening as they were all sitting, enjoying the pleasant breeze, and ad­miring the diversity of the objects which immediately surrounded them. "Mercutio," said he, "let us take a walk▪ I stumbled on a path not long before I went to Leghorn, which, if I am not mistaken, leads to some romantic place, and I have a curiosity to see it— what say you, will you accompany me?"—"With all my heart," said he, "come ladies, favor us with your company." This was agreed to, and they all set out immediately.

[Page 144]After walking about a quarter of a mile along its base, they began to ascend the mountain by a narrow path, which led to a small village near the summit. The path was too narrow to admit more than one at a time; so George led them on, the two ladies kept the centre, and Mercutio closed the rear.

When they had ascended to nearly the midway, George struck off into a smaller path, which was the one he had mentioned. They had not travelled far on that course, till they came into a place which appeared to have been once cultivated: Here they found vines laden with most delicious grapes, of which they all eat heartily. George was not mistaken in his opinion of the place, for a more romantic scene was never painted; but his having surveyed the promontory from the water, and observing the direction of the path, enabled him to found his judgment truly. They all sat down on a flat stone to discourse on the amazing scene.

They were about midway between the base of the mountain, which in that part was washed by the sea, and the summit. The spot were they sat, projected over the foaming surge, which in vain attempted to wash away its support, a huge pile of rocks, which rose like a bracket:—Above their heads, from the side of the mountain, arose a stupendous rock of marble, which likewise projected, in form of a semi-arch, mak­ing an awful, yet a magnificent canopy over the half of the old vine-yard. What particularly encreased [Page 145] their astonishment, was the number of trees and shrubs which proceeded in all directions from the fisures of that amazing rock; for the contrast of colours occasion­ed by the various species and positions of the trees, gave it the appearance of a spacious arched ceiling, curiously ornamented with tapestry.

The ladies viewed this piece of natural architecture with the utmost astonishment. With amazement, they cast upwards their wondering eyes, at the awful pile which hung over, and threatened to fall and crush them to atoms. "Let us go down," said Isabella; "my eyes ach looking at this monstrous rock!" "The prospect is really terrifying," said Eliza. As it was near sun-set they agreed to return, and accordingly be­gan to descend in the same order in which they had as­cended. When they were near the foot, Mercutio, hearing a rustling at some distance above him, turn­ed about and perceived a man, step nimbly into the path which led to the old vineyard. He instantly com­municated the discovery to the rest of the company, and they all continued to watch the Mountaineer, un­til intervening objects rendered it impossible. They set forward again, discoursing as they went of the strange adventure of the man of the mountain. "That man," said Isabella, "is unacquainted with the na­ture of the place to which he is going, or is fonder of retirement than I am." "I am of opinion," said Mercutio, "that he has some sort of a habitation a­mong those rocks. I will examine that place closely to-morrow. I intended to have made some further ob­servations [Page 146] this evening, had not night overtook us, before we were aware. However, I will ascend to­morrow morning, before he is out of bed; will you bear me company, George?" "Yes, that I will," said he, "I am anxious to know who he is, and what he follows for a livelihood: "He must have some singu­lar reason for taking up his abode in such a place."

At the dawn of day, George and Mercutio a­rose, and, leaving their beauteous partners wrapt in calm slumbers beneath the calmy pinions of repose, set forward towards the mountain, in order, if pos­sible, to explore the rocky cavern, which contained the person they perceived ascending the preceding evening.

They arrived at the old vineyard just as the fun beams began to penetrate the horizontal mists; and with the utmost silence and caution, placed themselves under a spreading vine, so advantageously, that it was impossible for their game to escape; nor was it possi­ble for any person to ascend or descend by the path without discovery. They had not remained in am­bush long, when they perceived the broad stone, on which they had sat the preceding day, rise, as if by magic art, and from the cave, to which it served for a door, issued a young man richly dressed, followed by the identical man they had seen the evening before, who reared the stone against the rock.

"Here William," (said the young gentleman, in good English) "convey this letter to my dear Teren­ [...]a; [Page 147] do not return without an answer. Be speedy and faithful! If heaven favors my escape from Italy, I will generously reward your diligent and trusty servi­ces." The servant vanished instantly; but our am­buscade lay still, in order to make further discoveries.

The stranger, after walking backward and forward in silence, with his arms folded, exclaimed aloud, with all the marks of grief and anxiety in his coun­tenance, "Why, O Why! ye immortal powers, have ye bestowed on me every thing that the world conceives conducive to happiness, and suffer me nevertheless, to exist here a living monument of thy displeasure, secluded from the society of mankind?—If without knowledge or intention, I have merited punishment extreme, O hasten my dissolution, by hurling the his­sing bolts of thy vengeance on my devoted head; and, at one stroke, reduce me to a state of nonenti­ty! O that heaven had doomed me to a life of indi­gence! Had doomed me to break the stubborn glebe, or to have furrowed the briny wave! The peasant is unacquainted with the care that hourly torments me; and the cheerful mariner performs the duties of his station with alacrity and content; but here am I, o [...] an eminence, the very idea of which is sufficient to petrify a man with horror, unmoved at the drea [...] situation, because the extreme anguish of my mind is superior to the greatest corporal dangers."

[Page 148]This said, he advanced to the identical spot where the two friends were posted, in order to indulge his melancholy under the branches of the clustering vine. 'Tis impossible to describe his astonishment, when he saw them both arise, and heard them salute him in En­glish! He gazed wildly on them for a moment, then springing backward, ran towards the edge of the pre­cipice, with a resolution to throw himself into the sea, and would certainly have effected it, had not Mercutio, who suspected his intention, intercepted him in the midst of his career, and with the assistance of George, took him by force, to the place where they had been sitting so long. Having seated themselves, one on each side of him, Mercutio in the most soothing terms, attempted to set his late rashness in a proper point of view; de­siring him at the same time, to fear nothing, as they were friends, and would give him all the assistance in their power, and concluded by requesting him to com­pose himself a little, to favor them with a brief sketch of his adventures, and inform them by what means he got into that dismal retreat.

"Gentlemen," replied the astonished youth, who could yet scarcely believe his eyes and ears, "before I gratify your request, you must answer me two or three questions: Your appearance tells me you will do this candidly." They assured him upon honor they would. "First then, were you ever in this place before this morning?" They immediately recounted to him the adventures of the preceding evening, not omitting [Page 149] the most minute circumstance. This information in­spired him with fresh life: He then demanded if they were natives of England? And being thoroughly satis­fied in these particulars, he exclaimed in rapture, Thanks to the immortal Jehovah! Deign to accept the grateful thanks of an unworthy mortal, thou glorious and inexhaustible source of benevolence, for this interval of happiness in the midst of my distress! Pardon my impatience—I am but mortal!

"Forgive me, gentlemen," said he, "I behave ve­ry ill; but I doubt not your generosity will impute it to the real cause." They requested him to make no apology for his behavior as it needed none, assuring him they approved his sensibility, and looked on it as proof of a good heart.

Eugenio, the stranger, perceiving their impatience to hear his story, began thus:—"Well, gentlemen, I suppose you have not met with such a scene as this in all your travels: If you please, we will descend into my subterraneous habitation, which exhibits a lively epitome of my own wretchedness." The descent was very craggy, which supplied the want of stairs. After descending about twelve feet perpendicular, they found themselves in a kind of grotto, the floor of which was composed of solid marble. The roof was of a concave form, lined with party-coloured shells, and stones of different complexions and qualities. The cave was about thirty feet long, and fifteen in width: The end [Page 150] next to the sea was entirely open, forming an arch; and that part which composed the roof, projected full fifteen feet beyond the mouth of the cavern, which screened him effectually from rain. The prospect it afforded was really terrifying: Nothing could be ob­served at the back part of the cave; but the terror was greatly encreased by casting the eye downward from the mouth to the dreadful cliffs which hung below. One would be tempted, when viewing this scene, to sup­pose that the author of the tragedy of Lear, was sit­ting in the mouth of this cave, when penning the description which he puts into the mouth of Edgar, in order to deter old Gloster from the desperate act of casting himself headlong from such a height.

In one corner of the cave lay a matrass and some other bedding; in another, a small trunk, which served the double purpose of table and cupboard: A small kegg, and a brace of pistols made up the rest of the furniture, all which had been procured and con­veyed thither by the trusty servant.

Being all seated on the matrass, Eugenio proceeded to relate his story:—"My narrative," said he, "gentle­men, will be found barren of pleasure or amusement, as it consists entirely (the latter part at least) of melancholy, vexation and despair. My father, one of the representatives of the county of M—▪ thought proper, after I had gone through all the steps of a libe­ral education at home, that I should take a tour thro' [Page 151] France, Spain, and Italy. In consequence of this re­solution, he sought out an elderly gentleman, of good morals, completely versed in the sciences, a competent judge of the human mind and the passions of it. He possest a sweetness of temper peculiar to himself, and his countenance and deportment would have commanded respect among ruffians. Such a person, inheriting every endearing qualification, could not have failed to attract my most profound reverence and esteem: I already anticipated the profit, as well as pleasure, I should derive from the company of a gentleman, who knew how to blend the most instruc­tive precepts with the most familiar conversation, from which I might imbibe principles that would re­flect honor on the choice of my father, the abilities of my tutor, and on my own genius and industry.

"My father's next care, was to engage a faithful servant to attend us through the whole of our [...]ere­grination; but fea [...]ing [...] a fresh hand, who was unac­quainted with the family, might not answer the pur­pose, he gave us his own valet, who served him in his travels twenty years ago, and is the same you saw here to-day. I had just entered my eighteenth year when I commenced this tour. Our first move was to Paris, where we remained three months. From thence we went to Orleans, stayed three weeks; and then proceeded to Lyons. We made but a short stay there, resolving to embark at Toulon for Civitta Ve­chia. We spent six weeks in Rome, and then visited [Page 152] Naples, staid there a short time and set out for Florence, which we never yet have reached. Having missed our proper road we travelled till we were within an incon­siderable distance of the capital of St. Marino. My tu­tor, who had formerly been there, proposed, as we were so near, to ride into town, put up our horses, refresh, and spend an hour or two in the evening in the governor's garden, which, he said, was a per­fect type of Eden—lodge in St. Marino that night, and start for Florence in the morning. I made no objection but submitted every thing to his superior judg­ment. The landlord where we halted, sent a little Italian with us to the porter of the governor's gardens, to re­quest admission for us in his master's name. He inform­ed the porter that we were a couple of foreign gentle­men on our travels, who had rode a considerable dis­tance out of our way in order to take a view of the gardens, and that his master would esteem the favor as done to himself if he would admit us. He admitted us without hesitation, for which my tutor rewarded him with a piece of gold. He then conducted us to a walk which led to the centre. I was struck with admira­tion at the astonishing struggle between nature and art, which appeared in the beauteous disposition of the innu­merable surrounding objects. In the centre, a bason of marble, well stocked with gold and silver fish, fifteen yards diameter, had a very fine e [...]ct, which was encreased by the figure of a sea-horse, gilt, in the mid­dle of the bason, from the nostrils of which two streams of water projected to the height of thirty feet. The [Page 153] bason is immediately surrounded by ten beautiful olive trees, planted at equal distances. Twenty yards from these, another circle of trees afford a charming shelter to the delightful arbors which occupy the intermediate spaces. Here persons of the first rank in the republic, usually spend their evenings, after feasting their sight and smell with the exquisite odours which proceed from the flowers of every hue; which, by the culti­vating hands of the most celerated florists, are taught to grow in every direction. In each of these arbors is an elegant organ, which, by turning a small brass cock, plays off thirty-six favorite Italian airs: They can all be set going together, or one, two, &c. at plea­sure. The contrivance is a master piece of art: By raising a small gate in the side of a canal at some dis­tance, from which the bason is supplied, a small trunk is immediately filled with water; at the other extremity of which are as many brass cocks as there are organs: When these are turned, the music begins. One of those organs was playing just as we passed the door of the arbor. We stopped a while to listen to the enchanting sound, an Eunuch coming out at that moment, my tutor enquired if a couple of foreigners might be admitted. He desired us to wait a moment, left us, and instantly returning, desired us to walk in. We complied, and were much surprized at being saluted, on our entrance, by five ladies"—(Here he faultered)—"Five ladies richly habited and closely veiled." (Here tears inter­rupted his narrative. Recovering, "Gentlemen, pardon my emotion," said he, "you will find in the [Page 154] sequel of my unhappy story, enough to justify my pre­sent behavior.

"We returned their salute in a proper manner. The music was suddenly stopt, and one of the ladies, who by her air and the superiority of her dress, appear­ed to claim the precedence, requested us to be seated, with which we complied. She then asked how long we had been in Italy? My tutor satisfied her in this particular, she proceeded to ask several other questions concerning our past travels, and the route we intended to take; to all of which we answered without reserve. She expressed her satisfaction with the discription we had given her of England, France, and the other places through which we had passed; and in her turn describ­ed in the most animating style, the innumerable rarities of Italy, adding, that three days would not be sufficient to review those gardens, as they were very extensive. We passed the highest encomiums on the taste, magnifi­cence and convenience, which appeared in every part; but urged the unavoidable necessity of departing from thence the next morning, as our time was limited, and we had spent a great portion of it in France; therefore, it required our exertion, in order to finish our intended tour within the appointed time.

"To this she made no answer, but rung a small bell, which brought the Eunuch, to whom she whispered a few words: He withdrew immediately, but soon after returned, bearing two bottles, some glasses, and [Page 155] a casket of the most dilicious fruits. Having placed these on a table, he was ordered to set the music to playing. The ladies invited us to partake of this re­freshment. The music began, and the ladies unveiled.— But ah! The pangs that sight has cost me are beyond description! The first time my ravished eyes met those of the beauteous Terentia, my soul experienced emo­tions to which, till then, I had been a stranger! Un­der these new impressions I was much embarrassed, I retired for some time, for feeling my face flushed with an unusual warmth, I was afraid my tutor should perceive my agitation; well knowing him to be a man of the most acute penetration, and apt to draw the most exact conclusions. I was convinced that the beauteous object who was the cause of my emotion, perceived it plainly; for whenever my eyes accidentally met her's, I found them rivetted on me; she would then cast them downwards, and affect to be paying earnest attention to the music. Having walked once or twice round the bason, I found myself pretty well compo­sed; I summoned all my fortitude, and returned to my company. After the organ had played off a round, my tutor made a motion to retire; accordingly, hav­ing made a proper acknowledgement, for the very kind reception we had met with, we took leave and de­parted.

"We returned to our inn, and retired early to rest. When I reflected on our evening's adventure, I began to be well satisfied at leaving St. Marino in the morning, [Page 156] as the means of obliterating the memory of an infant attachment, which, if suffered to gather strength, must inevitably draw after it a train of disagreeable, if not fatal consequences; for by the influence the dear Te­rentia had over the rest of the ladies, I concluded, and rightly too, that she must be the governor's daughter. My sleep, however, was much disturbed by dreams, yet when my tutor awakened me, which was at day­break, I found myself in tolerable spirits. The reason he assigned for waking me so early, was, that it would be much more agreeable to ride in the morning, than in the scorching rays of noon. I rose immediately, and though the mandate appeared somewhat disagreea­ble at first, yet I dressed briskly: In the mean time, my tutor roused the landlord, and ordered our horses to be got ready immediately. My chagrin wore off insen­sibly, and the visions of the prece [...]ing night were en­tirely obliterated; I became composed and cheerful, an [...] began to anticipate the pleasure of viewing the ra­rities of Florence. My servant was adjusting my hair, when my tutor entered and informed us, that our horses were stolen! What then is to be done? said I. Why, replied my tutor, we must remain here a day or two, in order that the lan [...]lord may have an op­portunity of making a search for them, and if they are not to be found, he must pay for them, and we must endeavor to procure others. We had deposited a hun­dred guineas, the value of the horses, in the hands of the owner, but were to be reimbursed in Florence, by the person to whom we were to deliver them, all but fifteen guineas, which was for their hire.

[Page 157]"Being detained contrary to our wishes or expecta­tions, my tutor, after breakfast, proposed taking a fur­ther view of the Governor's gardens, which pleased me exceedingly. On our way to the gardens, my tutor pointed to a superb edifice, which he informed me was the palace of the Governor. We stood some minutes to view this magnificent structure, and as we were turning to go to the gardens, I perceived at one of the upper windows, the lady who had treated us so kindly the preceding evening; but perceiving us, she instantly disappeared.

"This incident gave me some uneasiness; however, I still supported a kind of feigned cheerfulness, in order to deceive my tutor—the first time I had ever felt an inclination so to do. Having gained admittance, we took a different walk from that of the preceding day, which led us into one of the most delightful scenes [...]n nature, Here, painting, botany, statuary, &c. were carried to the most elevated pinnacle of perfection: Endless beauty and variety attracted the fight, and the most exquisite odours pervaded the whole parterre. If there is a place on earth, descriptive of the primeval residence of our first parents, this must be the spot.

"We traversed these paradisiacal walks until noon, and the day beginning to grow warm, we retired into an elegant summer-house, so situated as to screen us en­tirely from the meridional beams, and at the same time to command a prospect of the circus, bason, &c.

[Page 158]"We fat discoursing there for some time; my tutor, according to his usual manner, philosophizing and mo­ralizing on every perceptible object. At length, grow­ing drowsy, he said he would take a nap, and desired me to awaken him in an hour. After he had slept some moments, I found myself weary fitting alone, I got up, and bent my steps towards a small grove of trees, cut in the form of cones, and planted in narrow rows, which formed a very refreshing retreat.

"I had not been long in this sequestered spot, when I saw four or five young ladies cross the walk I was in, at the distance of about a hundred yards. They turned their faces full on me as they crossed, but passed along without hesitation. Though I was not sure they were the same I had been in company with the evening be­fore, yet I found an unusual flow of spirits on their pass­ing, and was anxious to have a full view of them, for something whispered me, There goes the cause of your late uneasiness. I immediately, I know not by what impulse, advanced to the spot where they had thwarted my fight. When I arrived there, I desoried them at a distance taking leave of each other, after which each took a different route. I was convinced that I had guessed rightly, for she whose image had haunted me all the foregoing night, was then walking slowly before me, towards the farther end of the walk. Prompted by a motive too powerful for me to resist, I followed, without approving of my own conduct, and soon overtook her. Hearing some body walking behind her, she looked round and I advancing, saluted her, [Page 159] [...]he returned my salute very ingenuously, and we joined conversation to the end of the walk, and entered an ele­gant rotunda, by which it terminated, where we dis­coursed familiarly on several matters, with the relation of which I shall not trouble you; let it suffice to say, that we not only e [...]changed vows of eternal fidelity, but for­med an assignation to meet, that very evening, in order [...] enlist ourselves under the sacred bonds of hymen.

"I know, gentlemen, you will condemn my precip [...] ­ [...]ncy; but if you reflect that love was the acting spring, my unhappy case will have a claim to you pity, at least. We parted, and I found my tutor still sleeping. I awakened him, and we returned, to the inn to dinner. In the afternoon the landlord returned, and informed [...] that he had got intelligence of the horses; but desir­ed one of us to go with him, as he had taken ve [...]y little notice of them, and consequently would not be able to prove them, if required. My tutor said he would go, and accordingly set out, and I have not seen [...] since.

"In the evening, I repaired to the spot where I was to meet the object of my love; 'twas at the en­trance of a wood at the foot of this mountain. She appeared at the time appointed, and we at her re­quest penetrated the wood about half a mile, to the mountain brow, where we were met by an old Friar, who conducted us to a cell, in the side of the rock, and, shutting the door, desired us to sit down. My [Page 160] charming bride told him she was in haste, and request­ed him to perform the c [...]mony immediately, as he had promised.

"He then represented the imminent danger to which he should expose himself, and the magnitude of the offence; adding, that he trembled at the fatal conse­quences that must inevitably follow a discovery. She told him there was not a person on earth privy to it but those who were present, and that as she intended to sleep in her own apartment that night, there was not the least shadow of danger. To these arguments she added a purse of gold, which effectually silenced the reverend father, and secured his service.

"He then proceeded to the nuptial ceremony, which he performed in a very devout and becoming manner. After the ceremony was ended, he laid the strictest in­junctions on us never to discover the place nor the per­son by whom we had been married. This we both promised religiously to observe; then, having thanked him and wished him a good night, we were about to leave the cell, when we were much alarmed at hearing the sound of human voices, approaching. Our con­sternation was increased, when the Friar, who went out on the first alarm, came in and informed us, that a party of the Governor's life guards, with an officer at their head, were within two hundred yards, advancing briskly, by torch-light. Imagination cannot shape to itself a situation more alarming than mine was at [Page 161] that moment. The Friar said, "Fly my son! Your being found here will be fatal to us all. I have a private way to escape under ground; perhaps if you are not found, all may yet be well." There was no time for delibe­ration; I was constrained to comply, Heaven knows with what reluctance! So, after taking a parting em­brace, I fear for ever, of my dear Terentia, he gave me a burning, waxen taper in my hand; then lifting a trap door, bestowed on me his benediction, and I entered the dismal gulph, overwhelmed with all the horrors which such a dreadful vicissitude was capa­ble of producing. He shut down the door and left me to penetrate the bowels of this mountain for near a mile, under the most excruciating torture of mind. At length, I emerged once more into open air, through a crevice of a rock barely wide enough to ad­mit me. I wandered about through the thickets, some­times missing my steps and falling many yards down the rugged side of the mountain, till day light, when I found myself on the uppermost declivity of this pro­montory, which affords a much more horrid prospect than you now behold. In that inhospitable spot I sat down, weary and faint with climbing from one ridge of rocks to another, all night, to bemoan my adverse fate, ruminating on the dreadful situation to which, in the short space of two days and two nights, I was reduced, the circumstances which produced, and those which accompanied this change; I became as it were, petrified with grief and astonishment, and re­mained insensible of every thing, and should probably, [Page 162] never have recovered, had not my man, who provi­dentially through curiosity watched us to the cell, and lay perdue till the guards were gone, discovered my retreat. He, observing that they took my dear spouse and the Friar with them, suspected I was slain, and as soon as they were out of sight, entered the cell.

"After he had called me several times by name, he began to search diligently, and finding a waxen taper, light it, and as he has since informed me, searched eve­ry part of the cell with great minuteness. He was ex­ceedingly surprized, and could not believe his own eyes: Looking again, however, very narrowly, he espied the trap door, which he raised and descended instantly▪ He continued pursuing and calling me until his taper was exhausted, and then groped his way to the hole through which I had passed. It being then broad day, so that in some places he could trace my footsteps along. Observing something white, at a distance on an emi­nence, far above him, he advanced towards it, thinking I had laid down, and hung my handkerchief there as a signal to him in case he should search for me. However, in this he was mistaken; for though it was my handker­chief. I was not there, but had dropped it by accident. But it happened through the providence of God, that as he stood debating with himself whether he should proceed, or return back by the way he came, and in­form my tutor of what had happened, that he perceived me at the distance, he supposed, of three quarters of a mile, climbing over a ridge of rocks. He had once [Page 163] a mind to call; but reflecting, that as I was igno­rant of his having followed me, I might conceive it to be some of the guards in pursuit, and conceal myself where he would not be able to find me, deter­mined to follow in silence.

"He found me in the situation I have before de­scribed, and having after a long search, found a spring issuing from a rock, he washed my face and temples, by which means I recovered my senses again. Miserable as I was, a transient gleam of joy ran through my soul on beholding my trusty, affectionate servant; but gloomy reflections took place of that, and I fear will pervade my soul till death puts a period to my life and miseries together.

"The place in which he found me, afforded no shelter from the fury of a storm, which was collecting, we therefore set out in search for a situation that would, and chance directed us to this cavern. About noon the clouds dispersed, and the weather became serene, my man de­clared he would endeavor to find the way to town, in order to gain some intelligence of my tutor, if possible, and to procure some provisions for me. Though I ar­dently wished to know how matters had been conducted since the unhappy affair of the preceding evening, and though we could not exist long without some refresh­ment, yet it was with reluctance I permitted him to go. A thousand doubts and fears possessed my mind, until he returned, and informed me of his success. On [Page 164] his arrival in town, it was his intention to go to our [...] but fear being ever watchful, before he ventured to ap­proach, he took care to have a watchful eye about him, le [...]t he should be discovered, and was no sooner within sight of the house than he perceived it surrounded by guards. He retreated with some precipitation, down a narrow lane, which led to a remote part of the town. Slackening his pace a little, he accidentally met an old acquaintance, with whom he had contracted an intima­cy when attending my father in his travels. His friend invited him to partake of a bottle of wine, to which he complied, and while drinking, they enquired of each other the particulars of their travels, employment, &c. They both answered without reserve. "My friend," said the other to my man, "I am sorry to find you are in the service of a person, who if found, will meet the most rigorous treatment, if not an ignominious death. The old gentleman, his companion, is now in a dungeon, as well as the Friar and landlord; and I am afraid that will not be the greatest punishment the Governor will inflict on them, for he is much enraged against them. I was present at their whole examina­tion, and though there does not appear any cause of accusation against any but the Friar, they will share the same punishment."

"My man then requested him to tell every circum­stance he knew, which he did in a few words. He informed him, that an ancient Duenna, who had nursed Terentia, and had a real affection for her, seeing her set [Page 165] out towards the Friar's cell, resolved to follow and ac­company her home, but on seeing her so familiarly give me her hand and enter the wood with me, returned in­stantly, and informed the Governor of the discovery she had made, who immediately ordered his guards to go to Friar John's cell, and bring every person he found there instantly before him. The dear creature disclaim­ed all manner of knowledge or acquaintance with me: That she had met a gentleman on her entering the wood, she confessed, but denied having any discourse with him. The Friar also persisted in having seen her come alone to the cell, and that there had been no other person there that evening.

"Notwithstanding all their asseverations of innocence, the Friar was committed to the dungeon, and my dear bride to the care of the Duenna, with orders to keep her closely confined from the sight of every person but herself. "Your horses," continued his friend, "were found in the possession of a man, who would not deliver them to any person but some of the Governor's hous­hold: The landlord, and the old gentleman took him by force and conveyed him to town late last night, confined him in a room till this morning, when they obtained an audience of the Governor, and had their prisoner examined. His examination developed the whole affair, for he produced a note in the hand writing of Terentia, charging him to keep the horses safely, until the bearer or some other of her father's domestics should demand them, and not then with­out [Page 166] her orders in writing. On being asked who de­livered the horses to him, he answered he believed it to be one of the Governor's Eunuch's, and that he was sure he should know him if he could see him again. All the Eunuchs were then brought into the presence of the governor, and the man instantly pointed out the culprit. He denied the fact positively, and bore the rack a considerable time before he disclosed the truth. He confessed that his mistress had given him orders to watch two gentlemen from the gardens to their lodgings, to find out whether they travelled on horseback or not: That having performed this, he informed her of every circumstance, and that she gave him money and the note, charging him to go in the night, take the horses out of the stable, and convey them to the place where they were found. The Governor ordered him to be strangled immediately. The man in whose custody the horses were found, was severely scourged, for not giving immediate notice to the Governor of these proceedings:" A guard was sent to the inn to search for me, with orders not to return without me; and my tutor and the landlord closely confined, till I should be found.

"This was all he could collect at that time, and being well assured of the fidelity of his friend, informed him of my concealment, and begged he would assist him in procuring some necessaries for my support: This he complied with▪ and they parted, having previously agreed to meet the next day at the same place.

[Page 167]"My man returned in the evening, much fatigued, having carried this matrass and cover, besides provi­sions enough for a week's subsistence, and a large flask of wine.

"When I reflected on the concatenation of circum­stances by which my late happiness, and present mise­ry was effected, I could not but admire the power of love, which surmounts every difficulty, and maugre consequences, braves every danger to attain its end. It is obvious, that our horses were taken for no other purpose than to detain us in St. Marino some day [...] longer. But to proceed:—

"From the information of my man, respecting the fidelity of his friend, I began to entertain hopes of yet regaining my dear Terentia, if there was a possibi­lity of conveying a letter to her. I communicated these ideas to my man, which he said exactly corresponded with his, and added, that but for the shortness of the time, he would have sounded his friend on that subject, but would not fail to try every expedient to procure me the satisfaction I desired. He met his friend accord­ing to appointment and found every thing to his wish. His friend is in the service of an English gentleman, who lodges in a house in a back street, the back win­dows of which overlooks the Governor's private garden, which is immediately attached to the palace.— His friend further informed him, that he had formed an intimacy with a female domestic of the Governor's, [Page 168] by whose means he could be informed of every par­ticular relative to my af [...]airs. He said, the Duenna attended the young lady as the shadow the substance; but that he did not doubt finding means to convey her a letter, if committed to his charge. My man assur­ed him of an ample reward if he succeeded; but with all conjured him not to communicate the secret to his fair enamoratta. He then, with the assistance of his friend, procured pen, ink and paper; flint, steel and candles, and returned to me full of the success of his ne­gociation. I was overjoyed at the prospect of return­ing happiness, and embraced him as a brother—indeed he has manifested the most unshaken attachment, and unwearied diligence in soothing my misfortunes, which demands my utmost regard,

"The next morning I wrote a letter to my dear girl, wherein I described my dreadful situation—painted the anguish of my mind on her particular account, and my sorrow for the fate of my beloved tutor. I conjured her by the sacred ties which united our souls, to let me know the situation of affairs there, and gave her a hint of the fidelity of the person who forwarded the letter. I sealed and delivered this to my faithful servant. "Now, sir," said he, "don't be alarmed, if you should not see me for a day or two▪ as it is impossible to hurry this kind of business, because it depends entirely upon circumstances, and must be conducted with the greatest caution." He was gone four days and as many tedious nights: I began to look on my ruin as [Page 169] inevitable. I saw already my man stretched on the rack —saw the guards ascending the mountain, and was several times preparing to take the desperate leap, from which you prevented me to day. It was my determination to escape my enemies by that means, if ever they should discover my retreat.

"At length, however, he arrived with a letter from her dear hand: (Here he read the letter:) He said his friend bid him tell me, that he had never run such a hazzard in his life, as he did in procuring it. He had taken an opportunity of dropping my letter into the walk before her, when her keeper was at some distance behind. Terentia, saw it fall, and casting her eyes upwards and perceiving him, seemed to hesitate; how­ever, she picked it up and thrust it hastily into her bo­som. Her keeper overtook her presently and passed her, and after some time went into the palace. Dur­ing her stay in the house he observed my wife, seated in a shady spot, reading the letter, with much appa­rent emotion. She suppressed her agitation, and seem­ed anxious to speak to him; but that was impossible, as the Duenna just then returned. The next morning, very early, he posted himself at the window, and though it was but just day light, she was there. She perceived him immediately, and showed him a billet which she seemed anxious to convey to him. He made a sign to her to throw it down, and retire, giving her to understand that he would descend for it, she under­stood him and immediately complied. He then, by the help of a rope-ladder, which was kept in the house [Page 170] in case of fire, descended speedily, took up the letter, and returned to his post; then taking up his ladder he stood some minutes, till the dear creature, who had been observing his motions, returned to the spot where she had left the letter, and perceiving it gone, looked up at him with a glow of satisfaction on her counte­nance, and retired into the house. His friend further said that he did not conceive it impossible to deliver her entirely from her confinement, and if I could devise means to convey her out of Italy immediately, he would freely undertake it.

"You see gentlemen," said he, "that my worthy tu­tor is condemned to linger out his days in a miserable dungeon, and self preservation will not permit me to take any step towards effecting his liberation. This thought afflicts me beyond measure. If he had incur­red his punishment by any misconduct of his own, I should have been sensibly afflicted; but the reflection of his being entirely innocent, and of the whole crime being mine, distracts me, and, I fear, will make such an impression of grief on my mind, as will never be ef­faced.

"My servant is now gone with a letter to inform my dear Terentia that I am determined to free myself and her quickly, or perish in the attempt. He is also to request his friend to assist him in procuring beasts to convey us to Leghorn, where, if we succeed, I will embark for England immediately. This, gentlemen, [Page 171] is the sum of my unhappy story, and I think you must acknowledge my misfortunes to be peculiarly distres­sing: such as, I hope, you will never experience."

They confessed he had been unfortunate, but ex­horted him to be cheerful, for that his case, at present, was by no means desperate; that he had now reason to expect that his affairs would take a favourable turn. They informed him of their intended voyage, and pro­mised him every possible assistance. Just at this instant the servant arrived.

The servant started at the sight of strangers, and was going to retire, but his master, perceiving his intention prevented him, saying, Fear nothing, here are none but friends: Come forward, how have you sped? At that instant Mercutio and George arose, with an intention to retire; but Eugenio insisted on their stay until his servant should have disclosed the result of his negociation. They acquiesced, and he desired the servant to inform them, without reserve, of all his transactions since his departure from thence: He be­gan as follows:—

"I met my friend at the appointed place, who in­formed me that the Governor of St. Marino intends paying a visit to the Doge of Venice, in a very short time: He added, that the lady is not so closely confin­ed as she has been, being now permitted to walk in the garden alone. He advises you, sir, to remain here [Page 172] until her father sets out for Venice; in the mean time, he promises to arrange matters so as to effect the libera­tion of the lady immediately after the departure of her father."

He then delivered a letter which, he said, his friend had procured from the lady's own hand. Eugenio seized it, and read it with avidity, then presenting it to Mercutio, said, Behold a slight specimen of her mental accomplishments, and tell me whether the communica­tion of happiness appears to be intimately connected with such perfection, or not.

After perusing it attentively, our hero and his friend could not withhold their assent to his proposition: They bestowed the greatest encomiums on the amiable and beloved writer, who, by the spirit, ease and ele­gance with which she wrote, would have arrested the attention, and extorted the approbation of the most surly critic. To the most ardent vows of eternal fide­lity, united with wishes for her deliverance, she added an intimation of her father's intended journey to Ve­nice, and a minute account of the particular rout he designed to take.

Mercutio enjoined Eugenio to make himself per­fectly easy, as from the present face of his affairs, he had every reason to hope they would shortly terminate to his entire satisfaction. George heartily joi [...]ed in the admonition, and added, that his house and purse [Page 173] were at his service, together with all the personal as­sistance in his power. "My beloved friends," said the astonished Eugenio, "how shall I render you a proper return for your unparalelled generosity? The liberality, and extensive latitude of your offers, when I reflect on my present critical situation, and the danger to which you expose yourselves in case of discovery, really amaze me! Of one thing I am sure—if the whole of my future [...] should be devoted entirely to your service it would fall infinitely short of a suitable re­turn." Common humanity, replied George, is suffici­ent in this case to prompt us to contribute to your re­lief, therefore we can have no claim on your gratitude; for all the good offices we can possibly perform in be­half of each other will entitle us to no other reward, than a consciousness of having performed a part of that duty, which, as men, we owe one to another. If by any thing in our power, your happiness is secured, we shall participate with you in the conviction of hav­ing acted with propriety; and the only acceptable re­turn you can make, is your friendship, independent of acknowledgments.

This effectually silenced Eugenio, and George pro­posed to retire: "In the evening," said he, "I will send a person to conduct you and your servant to my house, which is but a short distance from hence, where you shall be properly accommodated, and may remain in as much privacy as here, till your affairs are brought to an issue." Eugenio was about to return an answer [Page 174] full of grateful acknowledgments; but they politely taking leave, and bidding him fear nothing, departed.

As they descended the mountain, their discourse na­turally turned on the amazing revolutions of human af­fairs. "Eugenio," said George, "was beginning to grow desperate yesterday, and if we had not discovered his retreat, it is more than probable he would have at­tempted the regaining his wise by means which, per­haps, might have terminated in his destruction." "Ve­ry likely," replied Mercutio; "the sense of his misfor­tunes had nearly overcome his reason and fortitude: How often are we prevented, by the interposition of Divine Providence from the commission of that, which, if permitted, would involve us in inevitable ruin! Then how thankful ought we to be to that mighty Be­ing which spake all things into existence, for his mer­ciful condescension in restraining us from actions which, if committed, his justice must have severely punished."

Having regained the foot of the mountain, they were joined by their ladies, who were taking a walk along the sea shore, the ground between which and the mountain being covered with a delightful verdure, with fine tufts of trees interspersed, on the boughs of which millions of birds sat singing; the azure concave was beautifully clear to the extremity of the horizon, and every obj [...]ct conspired to render their excursion agreea­ble. It was in this delightful spot that George [...] of the discovery his friend and he had that [Page 175] morning made. They listened with astonishment and expressed the utmost solicitude for the success of Euge­nio and Terentia. They next consulted on the most salutary measures to be employed with regard to their intended journey, and after rejecting several proposi­tions, agreed, that preparations should be made for a sudden departure, horses provided, ready to start at a minute's warning, and all things packed up ready to lay on them. It was also thought requisite that Eugenio and Terentia should assume the appearance of servants, at least till their arrival at Florence, in order, by concealing their quality, to prevent discovery. These preliminaries being agreed to, George instructed a servant how to ascend the mountain and to conduct Eugenio down thither in the twilight.

Eugenio arrived attended by his guide and servant just as candles were lighting. The reception he met with, reflected the highest honour on the feelings of his new found friends: He was introduced to the ladies by Mercutio; they received him with marks of the most profound respect.

Eugenio was a handsome person, perfectly well shaped and extremely polite; his complexion fair, his features manly; and though his late misfortunes had, in some measure, checked his natural vivacity, yet re­turning hope rendered his company very agreeable, which, added to his mental qualifications, secured him a strong prepossession in the affections of his new friends, [Page 176] who now actually consulted the ease and safety of their guest more than their own.

After supper, George informed Eugenio of the plan which had been adopted, which he highly approv­ed, expressed much surprize at the promptitude of his friends to serve him, and promised eternal friendship in return.

Early on the following day, Eugenio dispatched his man with a letter to Terentia, informing her of his for­tunate situation, and of the plan projected by his friends: He likewise sent a handsome present to his agent in town, requesting at the same time, his every assistance to release the lady as soon as the Governor should de­part, assuring him of an ample reward. The man had orders to conceal himself in town till an answer was procured. George instantly began to make the neces­sary arrangements for the intended journey, in which Mercutio assisted him. The house in which George resided was ready furnished, therefore his moveables could be easily packed in portmantaus, which was immediately done, while our hero and George went in quest of horses, to transport them whenever they might be called for. In the mean time, Eugenio's servant ar­rived with a letter from Terentia, in substance as fol­lows:

Eugenio was transported beyond measure on the pe­rusal of this epistle, and already anticipated the pleasure of folding his beloved Terentia in his arms. He sub­mitted the letter to the perusal of the ladies, who heartily congratulated him on the apparent prosperous turn of his affairs; and George and Mercutio return­ing shortly after, informed them, they had horses and every other necessary accommodation at command on the shortest notice: "And now," said Mercutio, "ba­nish anxiety, since the good old gentleman, your [...] has made his escape; three days, I hope [...]

[Page 178] [...] and if fortune favours us, as many weeks [...] you both out of the reach of danger." These [...] inspired Eugenio with new life, and the visible change on his countenance indicated a heart elate with joy. Agreeably to his appointment with his friend, Eugenio's servan [...] [...] to town the next day, and had the satisfaction of seeing the Governor set out; and of hearing that the scouts who had been sent in pursuit of the keeper of the prison, and his fellow travellers, had returned without having been able to procure the least intelligence of their rout. It was then concerted be­tween him and his friend, that on the evening of the en­suing day, he should conduct his master to the spot where he had met Terentia in order to proceed to Fri­ [...]r John's cell, and there wait the arrival of the lady. His friend informed him that Terentia was to feign a slight indisposition some hours before that appointed for the intended enterprize, and retire to her closet on pretence of trying to compose herself to sleep. That [...]her window overlooked the garden, and was not more than four feet from the ground, so that she might de­scend with safety: In the mean time, he would fix the abovementioned ladder of ropes to his own window, with which she was well acquainted, where he would stand centinel and instantly on her approach, drop the ladder, receive her into the window and, throw a man's long riding cloak over her, conduct her to the appointed spot: He added, that his master's being out [...] for a few days would greatly facilitate the [...]

[Page 179]Having placed every thing in a proper train in town, Eugenio's servant returned with a billet from the lady, wherein she assured him of her perfect willingness, and even impatience to accompany him to any part of the globe.

Eugenio communicated these welcome tidings to his friends, who partook of his satisfaction on the occasion. They then concluded, that it would be prudent to send for the horses in the afternoon; to have the baggage laid on as soon as it was dark, then set forward and travel all night, and, as George knew the whole road perfectly, to halt as seldom as possible until they should arrive in Leghorn.

The next day all hands were busy in making the necessary arrangements for their departure: Eugenio, in a sta [...] of the utmost anxiety, thought it the longest of his lif [...]; nor were his friends less anxious. At two o'clock, the servants were dispatched for the beasts; at five, Eugenio and his man began to ascend the mountain, and our hero and his friends waited their re­turn in calm suspence, as though something fatal hung on the event. The whole hemisphere was involved in darkness, when Eugenio and his faithful servant arriv­ed at the place of assignation. After waiting about half an hour, full of hopes and fears, Eugenio was re­lieved from all his anxiety, by the appearance of her whom he esteemed more than empires: He clasped her in his arms with ectasy, at the same time ex­claiming, [Page 180] "And do I once more embrace my love! Thanks to all gracious heaven! Such bliss would be cheaply purchased with an age of toil and suspence." Terentia manifested her satisfaction by the most tender caresses, and tears of joy.

After the first emotions had subsided, Eugenio turn­ed to her conductor, saying, "And you, my much esteemed friend! How shall I ever reward your merit as it deserves? You have rendered me a kindness which I can never repay. But (pulling out a purse of gold and presenting it) accept this trifling testimony of my esteem, until an opportunity shall offer when I may have it in my power to do more justice to your worth. " He refused it peremptorily—persuasions were vain, he would not touch a single ducat, and it was with some difficulty that he was prevailed on to accept a ring which Eugenio forced on his finger, saying, "Wear this, as a token of my friendship, till you return to Lon­don, when you must return it; and I will supply its place by something more worthy of your acceptance."

They then took an affectionate leave of each other and parted. Eugenio's man led the way bearing a ve­ry weighty casket belonging to Terentia: They were a considerable time descending the mountain, but ar­rived safely at George's just as supper was served up. Terentia was received with politeness and affection; and, after resting herself a little, sat down to supper with them. Preparation was instantly made for their [Page 181] departure, Mercutio and George undertook to equip Eugenio, and the ladies disguised Terentia, who con­sented to personate Isabella's waiting woman. In the mean time, the servants saddled the horses and laid on the baggage, and, after imploring the assistance and protection of heaven, they mounted and set forward.

They arrived at Leghorn without meeting with any material occurrence, where they were received with the most unaffected cordiality by Mr. Wilcox and his amiable spouse, who, though somewhat advanced in years, was possessed of the most perfect good nature, added to a superior degree of good sense, and a most pleasing vivacity combined with an elegant form and unacceptionable features.

Mr. Wilcox had two sons, the eldest commanded a stout merchant ship in the Levant trade; the youngest was factor to his father, in Amsterdam; and two daughters, the youngest was then in Holland with her brother; and the eldest was married to George Wright.

The old gentleman had already provided a ship to transport them to Holland, which he had freighted himself: He intended to remain in Amsterdam a few weeks, till his son Robert should have disposed of what merchandize he had on hand, expecting the re­turn of his other son from the Levant, and then to re­turn to Liverpool with his whole family. They re­mained but ten days in Leghorn, for George having [Page 182] informed his father and mother-in-law of the adventure of Eugenio and Terentia, they judged it the most expe­dient to keep them in disguise while on shore, and to embark as soon as convenient. In the mean time Mr. Wilcox and his son-in-law were busy in seeing their ef­fects embarked and safely stowed on board the ship. One day they found the captain engaged in discourse with a stranger, who seemed to press earnestly for some favor: The Captain perceiving Mr. Wilcox, inter­rupted the stranger, somewhat hastily, saying, here is the gentleman of whom I was speaking, if he is willing to grant your request I have not the least objection.

"What is your request Sir?" said Mr. Wilcox, in the most unreserved manner, "I shall think myself happy in having it in my power to oblige a gentleman of your appearance, therefore pray let me hear your request, and rely on my willingness to serve you." "You do me a great deal of honour, Sir," said the stranger, "and I cannot enough admire your frankness and generosity, in so freely tendering me your service. Not to keep you longer in suspence, I am a native of England, and have been transacting some affairs in Ita­ly for a certain nobleman in London: Having lately received letters from thence pressing me to return on a very important affair, I am in haste to get thither. Af­ter having, in vain enquired for a vessel bound for En­gland, I was informed of this being shortly to sail for Holland; I therefore made application to the com­mander, who informs me, that you have already en­gaged [Page 183] his ship entirely, and that without your consent he could not pretend to take any passengers on board. Now Sir, if you will be kind enough to permit me to sail with you to your destined port, as my affairs are very pressing, I shall esteem it as a favor of the first mag­nitude, and will comply with every requisite for my pas­sage." "Say no more, sir," said Mr. Wilcox: "You are not only welcome to your passage, but, as I pro­mise myself much satisfaction in your company, I shall make that the only condition." "Your generosity," returned the stranger, "demands all my gratitude, and you may rest assured of my eternal acknowledg­ment of the obligation." He would have proceeded, but Mr. Wilcox prevented him by informing him, that he intended to embark his family early the next morn­ing, and sail whenever the wind should serve, therefore, advised him, if he had any business to transact [...]on shore, to be as expeditious as possible.

They then politely took leave of each other; Mr. Wilcox and George returned to their friends, and the stranger having no business on shore, remained on board with the Captain.

Three hours before day, our little community arose, and being collected in the common apartment, united in imploring the protection of that God who gave them existence, in their intended voyage. They then began to prepare for embarkation: Eugenio and Te­rentia put of their menial habits, and appeared in their [Page 184] proper characters. At dawn of day, being all ready, they set forward towards the water-side, where they found the ship's boat waiting. They embarked, and the ship was immediately got under weigh: The can­vass being spread to the fresh breeze, they were, in a few hours, wafted out of sight of the city of Leghorn.

Soon after they went on board, Mr. Wilcox enquired for the stranger, and was informed he was not stirring yet. They were all sitting on the quarter deck, con­gratulating each other on the extreme pleasant weather with which heaven had favoured them in the com­mencement of their voyage, when the stranger appear­ed upon deck, and advancing, saluted the whole compa­ny in the politest manner. But how shall I paint the astonishment of Eugenio, when in the person of the stranger, he perceived his beloved tutor? He sprang forward, and eagerly embracing him, exclaimed aloud, "Do I behold, once more, my honoured, my much loved master, friend and companion, alive and at his liberty." Then falling on his knees, earnestly intreated him to pardon the folly of his youth, which had nearly involved them both in irretreivable ruin.

"Rise my child," said his tutor, with a countenance that discovered the goodness of his soul, "and may heaven pardon every inadvertency of your future life as freely as I do this first: As to the inconveniencies I may have met with since our seperation, they were of no consideration with me, when compared with the [Page 185] anxiety I experienced on your particular account, lest you should be discovered. After all I am happy in the reflection of having your company to England; and of having in my power then to present you safe to your noble parents."

"My dear sir," replied the youth, "your genero­sity, from our first interview, has been familiar to me; but in this particular instance manifests itself in so super­lative degree, that it leaves me a bankrupt, by confer­ring an obligation too vast for me ever to acquit my­self of." He then took Terentia by the hand, and presented her to his tutor, saying, "behold, dear sir the innocent, beloved cause of our late troubles; and seal my pardon by admitting her to a share of your esteem." The old gentleman prevented her from kneel­ing, by catching her in his arms, as she was taking that posture: He assured her of his warmest friendship, adding, that he had never imputed the least part of his late troubles to her intention. She declared her sa­tisfaction in being honoured with the regard of so wor­thy a person; and promised to respect him as one of her best friends. Breakfast interrupted the conversa­tion for some time. When over, Mr. Savigny, Eu­genio's tutor, requested of his pupil the particulars of his adventures since they parted in St. Marino. Euge­nio accordingly related, in the most connect manner, every circumstance, as it has been communicated to the reader already: Painting, in the most striking co­lours the favours he had experienced at the hands of [Page 186] his new friends. "Mr. Savigny listened attentively to every part of his narrative, not without emotion, and when it was ended, remarked, that the hand of Providence had been visibly exerted in favour of them both; adding, that nothing short of a complete affiance in the protection of the Supreme Being, could have encouraged him even to hope for an escape from the horrid dungeon in which he had been confined. The whole company then requested a similar favour of Mr. Savigny.

"My adventures," said he, "in so short a space, cannot be supposed to have been many or important; and though interesting to me, will afford neither plea­sure nor amusemement to the company present: Yet, it would argue the most unpardonable ingrati­tude in me, to refuse so slight a gratification to per­sons who have so generously contributed to my present happiness, and that of my pupil, in so extensive a lati­tude. The day I parted with you," turning to Euge­nio, "You know I set out in company with our host, in order, if possible, to recover our horses. The per­son in whose possession we found them, refused to deliver them without a written order from the Governor or some of his houshold: We were much surprized at this repulse, and demanded his reasons. He answer­ed, that they were delivered to him by one of the Go­vernor's Eunuchs, who charged him to keep them safely, feed them well, and that he should be amply rewarded; and moreover delivered him a billet from [Page 187] the Governor's daughter:" (Here Terentia withdrew with Isabella,) "which contained peremptory orders not to deliver the horses to any person without the aforementioned order.

"This answer did but involve me in greater perplex­ity, for, what business the Governor of St. Marino could have with our horses, or how he came by them, was to me, an inexplicable mystery. I told him the horses were mine, that I suspected he wished to im­pose on me; that the story he had vamped up appeared to me a fiction, and the note a forgery. I told him further, that if he would deliver up the horses immedi­ately, I should give myself no further trouble; if not, that I would make immediate application to the Go­vernor, and have him severly punished for his obstinacy.

"Finding that all I said had no effect, I left him, and with my landlord, returned to St. Marino, and soon obtained an audience with his Excellency: This was the next day about ten o'clock. After having made my complaint, he promised me ample satisfac­tion and instantly dispatched an officer and twelve men with orders to bring the delinquent before him imme­diately. He was brought there in a few hours, when the Governor proceeded to interrogate him: He im­mediately produced the billet. The Governor having perused it, asked who delivered him the horses? An­tonio, replied the prisoner. He then asked him if [Page 188] Antonio had assigned any reason for bringing them to him; he answered in the negative.

"The Eunuch was sent for, and examined. He trembled exceedingly, his tongue faltered, and his an­swers were short, broken and ambiguous. The Go­vernor commanded him to the torture—He confessed the whole, corroborated what the prisoner had said, and completely unravelled the whole affair. The Go­vernor, having obtained all the information the unfor­tunate Eunuch could give, ordered him to be strangled: My feelings revolted at this piece of cruelty, and I could not refrain soliciting pardon for the trembling victim; but in vain: He flew into a violent rage and began to interrogate the landlord and me concerning you, at which we were astonished, not doubting but you was still at our lodgings.

"In vain we assured him we had neither seen nor heard from you since we had set out in search of the horses: He insisted our answers were all evasions; that we had all conspired together to rob him of his daughter, and perhaps his life. One miscreant, said he, has atoned for his crimes by death, and, if that heretic, meaning you, is not speedily discovered, you may rest assured of a similar fate: Drag them away, said he to the keeper of the prison, confine them closely; if you suffer them to escape, your life shall pay the forfeit.

[Page 189]"Accordingly we were conveyed to the common pri­son, where we were confined in a most horrid dungeon, denied the benefit of light or air, and in continual ex­pectation of being strangled or broke on the wheel. The second day of our imprisonment, the landlord was released, in order (as the goaler has since informed me) to detect, if possible, you or your servant, who it was supposed, would be keeping a look out for me. Dreary as my habitation, and gloomy as my future prospect was, my ardent prayer to heaven was, that I might be permitted to endure the utmost vengeance of the Governor, rather then you should be discovered.

"One night, as I lay, enveloped in the most gloomy darkness, ruminating on my unhappy situation, and praying for your safety, I thought I heard somebody discoursing in a very low key. I raised my head and listened very attentively.—I soon perceived, through a very small crevice, the Goaler and a person in a cano­nical habit (who afterwards proved to be the Friar who married you) in close conversation together: They were forming a plan for abandoning the prison the ensuing night, and to post away to the dominions of Spain with all possible speed.

"Hopeless as my situation was, a ray of hope darted through my soul with the idea of converting the disco­very to my own advantage. A variety of resolutions presented themselves to my distracted imagination, between that time and the dawning of the day. At al [...] [Page 190] events, I resolved to hint the matter to the Goaler, let him know I had discovered their whole plan, and final­ly, request a participation in their adventure: I was encouraged to this measure by an idea that he would never (if he could help it) return to Italy, conse­quently would be regardless of the consequences which might attend his elopement: He might also be appre­hensive of my discovering their rout.

"I slept very little that night, and that little was interrupted by dreams, by no means agreeable, and when I awoke, my heart palpitated violently; my whole frame was much agitated, tho' unconscious of any crime, either committed or meditated.

"Morning, if the appearance of the Goaler may be termed so; for light never intruded my apartment, at length dispelled the perturbation of my mind; my keeper appeared more civil than ordinary, which I in­terpreted as a good omen. He presented my usual modicum of food—I received it with a heavy sigh, ex­claiming at the same time, When Oh Lord! shall I be released from this racking situation?—Thrice hap­py, said I, turning to the keeper, are you my friend, in the enjoyment of that liberty, of which I am un­justly deprived! How happy should I be now, could I be permitted to b [...]eathe, once more the fresh air! Once more enjoy the light of heaven!—But alas! I am, I fear, if not to suffer an ignominious death, doomed to linger out the remainder of my days in this loath­some [Page 191] d [...]n, excluded from the society of men, with a mind tortured with the most racking anxiety, without having committed even the shadow of a crime.

"I really commiserate your distress, but you know, said he, the nature of my employment will not admit of my contributing to the alleviation of it. Oh y [...]s, answered I, it is in your power to rescue me from the impending mischief which awaits me. If you intended to remain here, I should not put your fi [...]elity to the trial. He appeared much embarrassed. But be not offended nor surprized, when I inform you, that your intentions are well known to me: I overheard every word that past between you and the reverend father last night; and all I request in consequence is, that you will admit me a partner in your intended enterprize.

"His countenance changed, and he was about to re­ply; but I prevented him, by saying, only reflect, my dear friend, on the consequences resulting from your elopement: You see how rigorously I am already trea [...]e [...], without any cause, and is it not more than probable that when the Governor is informed of the step you have taken, he will wreak his whole vengeance on me:—I see humanity in your countenance—I am convinced you have not a wish to be accessary to my death, which will inevitably follow your departure. Oh consider this, my dear friend, said I, taking his hand, you are sensible my present confinement is un­merited; therefore, let me take my lot with you this [Page 192] night, let what will befal me, I will be your everlast­ing friend.—Here I paused. Your request shall be granted, said he, I am going to Father John now; and will return to you shortly; in the mean time, make yourself easy: If we succeed, this night you shall be at your liberty; if not, inevitable ruin attends us all.

"He left me, and I must confess I wronged him; for I was doubtful of his integrity: He returned, how­ever, according to his promise, and informed me, that he had consulted with the Holy father; that he was well satisfied for me to accompany them to some dis­tance from the town; but that then I must shift for myself.—I will, continued he, furnish you with a horse of my own, which you may dispose of as you think proper, and twenty ducats to bear your ex­pences till you are out of danger. With these words he presented me with this purse, (showing it) containing the aforesaid sum and this dagger: You may, perhaps, find this your best friend, [...]aid he. Farewell—hold yourself in readiness—doubt nothing.