The man of real sensibility: or The history of Sir George Ellison. [Six lines from Sterne] — History of Sir George Ellison

The man of real sensibility: or The history of Sir George Ellison. [Six lines from Sterne] — History of Sir George Ellison

Table of contents

Title page

PREFACE.

THE HISTORY OF SIR GEORGE ELLISON.

Just Published, and To be Sold, By JAMES HUMPHREYS, Junr.

[Page]

THE HISTORY OF SIR GEORGE ELLISON.

SIR George Ellison's father was the younger son of an ancient and opulent family, and as such received only a small proportion of his father's wealth, but by his profession was enabled to live genteely. He dedicated all his leisure hours to the care of [Page]his children's education: Their learning he left to proper masters; the object of his attention was their hearts. He instructed them fully in the Christian religion, and shewed them that it was the best foundation, as well as surest support of moral virtue.

Before his son George had completed his one and twentieth year, his family, by the death of his wife and two children, was reduced to two sons and one daughter. James his second son, was then but twelve, and his daughter fourteen years old. This difference in their ages determined Mr. Ellison to trust in his son George's hands two thirds of the sum of 4000l. of which he was possessed. By so good a capital he hoped to secure the success of his eldest son, whose disposition gave him reason to believe he should thereby do the best service to his other children. He knew the young man to be perfectly sober, humane, and generous, and at the same time an exceeding good oeconomist extremely diligent, and well inclined to that care of, and attention to his affairs, so necessary for those [Page]who undertake merchandise. And indeed, George, as he entered into merchandise, he wished to pursue it in the most profitable manner, indifferent as to any inconveniencies which might attend it. He therefore endeavoured to settle correspondences with some of the less adventurous merchants, by whose means he might negotiate a quick trade from Jamaica, where he intended to fix; and the character he had established in the city, by his excellent behaviour during his apprenticeship with Mr. Lamont, an eminent merchant, rendered him successful in both these articles; and with warm hopes, though tender concern, he took leave of his father and this kingdom, well provided with correspondents here, and recommendations to the principal people in Jamaica.

Five years after his first settling at Jamaica, he acquainted his father with his resolution of returning the whole capital he set out with, observing the hazard his brother and sister ran by his being intrusted with the whole; but, that his father might not apprehend he [Page]was distressing himself, he further informed him that he had now raised a capital of 6000l. to which he should always think he had as good a title as himself.

If Mr. Ellison's good conduct gained him the esteem of his own sex, we may easily suppose the other was not insensible of his merit; especially as it was accompanied by a very fine person, a face handsome from great symmetry of features, but still more from vivacity, sensibility, and sweetness of countenance; a manner and address polite and engaging, and a turn for conversation peculiarly agreeable. As the manners of Jamaica are not peculiarly reserved, many intimations were given to him of the favourable disposition of the Ladies; but his attention was so totally engaged by his business, that the strongest hints were lost upon him; Yet the politeness of his behaviour, and the chearfulness of his temper, so well concealed the coldness of his heart, that to warm it seemed no impracticable attempt; and prudence, as well as inclination, might dispose many to endeavour to gain the affections [Page]of so worthy and so successful a young man. No woman had the mortification of thinking she had a rival, till a widow Lady entered the lists.

This Lady was seven years older than Mr. Ellison, having completed her three and thirtieth year. Though the bloom of youth was past, she was still handsome, and behaved very prudently in the different states of life in which she had appeared; was possessed of ten thousand pounds in money, and a plantation of no less value. Mr. Ellison's friends persuaded him not to let slip so good an opportunity of improving his fortune; since, without those advantages, her character and person rendered it an eligible match. He listened, without reluctance, to the advice of his friends, but, being sensible he should feel double satisfaction if he had his father's sanction, he would not make any direct address to the Lady, till he had received that necessary consent. His father took the first opportunity of removing this impediment, sending not only his consent but his approbation, [Page]accompanied with the warmest wishes for his happiness.

Mr. Ellison, whose inclination for the Lady had increased with acquaintance, received his father's letter with joy; and, now making an express declaration of his attachment, the widow, without affected reluctance, accepted his proposal, and the marriage was soon completed.

By the alteration of his fortune, Mr. Ellison found his sphere of action extended; but (as is frequently the case) this gave him great uneasiness. The thing which had chiefly hurt him during his abode in Jamaica, was the cruelty used on one part of mankind, as if the difference of complexion excluded them from the human race. He had not been married above a week before he gave great offence to his wife and steward, by putting a stop to a most severe punishment, just beginning to be inflicted on a great number of them, who, intoxicated with the pleasures of a holy-day, had not returned home at the [Page]time commanded. 'I am, said he, determined, henceforward, to ease your steward of this part of his business; the produce of the land he may still attend, but those who cultivate it shall be my care; he is not fit to be trusted with any thing but what is inanimate. And that you may not think I pay too high a price for this indulgence of my compassion, or rather this compliance with my conscience, I will endeavour to find a means of rendering our slaves obedient, without violating the laws of justice and humanity.'

Mrs. Ellison was mortified to find her husband incorrigible in so material an article, fearing least her fortune should suffer thro' his simplicity; but humanity, when sufficiently warm and steady, seldom waits long for the power and opportunity of exertion. He soon formed a plan, and set about the execution of it with the utmost diligence. Afterwards haranguing his slaves, 'While you perform your duty, said he, I shall look upon you as free servants, or rather like my children, for whose well-being I am ever anxious and [Page]watchful. I have provided you with convenient habitations; given you a plentiful portion of all necessaries; assigned to each a small share of peculiar property; taken care of you in sickness; and considered your ease in health; I have increased your liberty; promoted your amusements; and much lightened your punishments. But still these are too heavy; I cannot feel myself so superior to any of my fellow-creatures, as to have a right of correcting them severely. I am determined therefore, for the future, to abolish all corporal punishments. I shall require nothing of you that can be properly thought a hardship; but, if gratitude and prudence cannot bind you to good behaviour, the first offence shall be punished by excluding you from partaking of the next weekly holy-days; for the second fault you shall not only be deprived of your diversion, but of a day's food; and, if these gentle corrections do not reform you, on the third offence you shall be sold to the first purchaser, however low the price offered; and this sentence is irreversible; no prayers, no intreaties, shall move me. [Page]The man who, after so happy a change to his condition, can repeatedly offend, is not worthy to be the object of my care; and shall become the property of some master, whose chastisements may keep within the bounds of duty the actions of that man, whose heart cannot be influenced by gratitude, or his own true interest.'

Mr. Ellison's humanity had already gained the affections of his slaves, but on this declaration they almost adored him, and in the strongest terms promised him, and themselves likewise, never to offend so good a master, in such a manner as to bring them under the heavy sentence he had pronounced against those who persevered in disobedience. This was at that time the real sentiments of their hearts, but human frailty had left scarcely the resolution of one unbroken; yet few of them were so senseless as to incur the third punishment. The first who was so unfortunate, when he found that the sentence was going to be put in execution, was almost distracted, and was with difficulty restrained [Page]from doing violence on himself. His importunate intreaties for pardon extremely distressed Mr. Ellison. To deny the poor wretch a farther trial grieved him to the soul; and yet he saw that a strict adherence to his first declaration was absolutely necessary; he therefore resolved to endure the conflict, though not unmoved, yet with unaltered purpose; and to shew them that, in despight of his compassion, which was too great to be concealed, he was still inflexible.

Mrs. Ellison, who met him as he returned from this unhappy wretch, was amazed at his uneasiness. 'Surely, said she, you have no spirit, if you can pity such an ungrateful creature. I hope you are sensible it is a great weakness to be so tamely forgiving.' 'How [...] I think so, replied Mr. Ellison, when I see such various proofs that the Being, in whom there is no weakness, who is all perfection, is far more forgiving than any of his creatures? He is love and mercy itself; can then any portion of the divine nature, that part of his image which he stamped on [Page]man, be esteemed a failing! How much more disobedient are the best of us to him, than our slaves are to us? Yet he does not crush us with his power; he neither sends the lightnings to blast the offender, nor pestilence to consume a sinful country; he bears with us year after year, gives us frequent calls and admonitions to repentance, and leaves us a long season for amendment.'

As Mrs. Ellison was not deficient in understanding, she saw there was some truth in what her husband had said; but it was a truth her reason could more easily perceive, than her heart feel, for it was steeled by habit.

Mr. Ellison, soon after his marriage, had desired his father to send him over a proper person to teach reading, writing, and accompts; leaving him at liberty as to the stipend, only desiring that the man might be sober and virtuous. As soon as this person arrived, he gave him a neat house and established him schoolmaster, sending all the [Page]children of his Negroe slaves to be under his tuition. He caused them to be instructed in the principles of the Christian religion, hoping thereby to civilise their manners, and rectify their dispositions. This office he performed himself to those more advanced in years, believing instruction would come with more authority and persuasion from him, as they respected him as their master, and loved him for the happiness they enjoyed in his service; and certainly such doctrine can scarcely fail of proving persuasive, when the preacher's actions are so eminently conformable to his precepts.

By plentiful food and a comfortable life, Mr. Ellison's Negroes became stronger than any in the island; the natural strength of those who belonged to other masters being consumed by hardships and hunger. His were therefore able, with ease, to do so much more work, that he might have diminished their number, if compassion had not prevented him. He had the satisfaction of seeing his conduct succeed to his utmost wish. Negroes [Page]are naturally faithful and affectionate, though, on great provocation, their resentment is unbounded, and they will indulge their revenge, though to their own certain destruction.

Above a year passed away without his being obliged to sell another slave; which gave him hopes he should never again be exposed to so painful an exertion of his power. And the poor wretch, whose example had so good an effect on his companions, had all that time suffered the usual severities under a hard master. His self-reproaches made him doubly wretched, and, as he lived in a plantation adjacent to Mr. Ellison's, he was a constant object of compassion to his former companions, who frequently lamented his fate, and represented his distress with such pathetic simplicity, as touched Mr. Ellison's compassionate heart to so great a degree, that he resolved to re-purchase him at any price. This he effected on more reasonable terms than he hoped, for the poor fellow's dejection of spirits was such, that it undermined his health, [Page]and rendered him so weak, that his master was very glad to get the price he had given for him. When he was acquainted with his being again become Mr. Ellison's property, his joy was near proving fatal, having entirely overpowered his spirits. A holy-day was given to all the slaves to welcome his return, and never was the restoration of a Monarch celebrated with so much heart-felt, disinterested joy.

But, although the gratitude and assiduity of this poor fellow's future behaviour greatly rewarded his master, yet it produced a disagreeable event; another slave was encouraged by it to flatter himself that Mr. Ellison would never again exercise the same severity, since it had proved so painful to him; but above all, not on one, who was particularly intelligent and useful, as this slave knew himself to be. On this supposition, he extended his offence to a third time, but was dreadfully surprised to find himself, notwithstanding his most earnest intreaties, doomed to be sold. Before the day appointed for the sale [Page]of the offender arrived, he was seized with a violent fever, and his malady so increased as to render his recovery doubtful, and he was desirous not to recover. Preferring death to slavery under another master, he refused to take the remedies prescribed, and earnestly begged he might be suffered to die. Mr. Ellison thought his condition would sufficiently excuse the reversing of his sentence; so that the poor man now became as anxious to preserve, as he had been before desirous of losing his life; and, his mind being at ease, he recovered from his fever and his perverseness together.

Mrs. Ellison, before the expiration of the first year of their marriage, brought him a very fine boy. Her fortune enabled him to extend his trade; and his success therein always answered his wishes. But he was not free from vexations; Mrs. Ellison, though a good sort of a woman, was one of those who make bad companions in intimate society. She was so very fond of her husband, that she was miserable if he was out of her sight. If, when [Page]abroad on business, he did not return just at the hour she expected, he found her in agonies, lest some misfortune had befallen him; and, with floods of tears, she reproached him with insensibility of the pain she suffered, from his want of punctuality. If he expressed an inclination to spend an evening with a friend, she was inconsolable, and lamented his indifference If he paid the common attentions which politeness required for any other woman, she was fired with jealousy. When any generous action of his reached her ears, which could not but happen frequently, she would most pathetically lament that, 'notwithstanding the fine fortune she brought, her dear boy would be a beggar,' and upon all emergencies she would say, that her first husband would not have used her so. Had Mrs. Ellison openly shewed an intention of enslaving her husband, she would have found him better acquainted with the relative duties of matrimony, than to have submitted to a disgraceful and unnatural yoke. But, when they were first married, she restrained only with silken threads; the fetters were forged [Page]by degrees. By the little endearments of excessive fondness, she would bring him to compliance, when he raised objections from convenience, or politeness; and unwilling to appear insensible of so much tenderness, he would sometimes delay business, and break appointments. Every compliance of this sort rendered her applications more frequent, and if he shewed much reluctance, plaintive, affectionate reproaches of want of love, strengthened the request. Every conquest more fully convinced her of his weakness; she perceived that his greatest fear was to give pain; that he could not bear without severe pangs, to be the cause of uneasiness to any person; but, above all, to one who was rendered susceptible of it, chiefly by her love for him.

Mr. Ellison, however, at length saw reason to suspect there was more of policy than love in her behaviour; but, before he conceived this suspicion, she had brought him to a habit of compliance, which he could not shake oft without a stronger effort than the gentleness of his nature would suffer him to exert.

[Page]But, if he stood justified to himself, his friends passed a less favourable sentence. They found themselves deprived of the most agreeable society the place afforded, and were not a little angry with the occasion of it. Some, seriously and sensibly, advised him to free himself from his bondage: Others laughed at him for his pusillanimity. A secret consciousness that the advice was good, and the ridicule just, made him receive both with great good humour, but they were equally ineffectual; he eluded them in the best manner he could, telling the first, that 'to throw off the restraint would give him more trouble than he found in submitting to it;' and to the jesters he only said 'they must not wonder if his long application to merchandize had taught him to see every thing in the light of traffic; and his wife had bought him at so great a price, that he tho't she had a right to make the best of the purchase.' Her power over him could not be a secret, but he had pride enough to wish to conceal the uneasiness it gave him.

[Page]Mr. Ellison had other vexations, which increased with the age of his little boy: He was equally the darling of both his parents, but they differed much in their opinions as to the proofs of that affection. The child was naturally of a passionate and stubborn temper, which his father saw with concern, and thought it his duty to keep him within reasonable controul; and, if possible, to conquer faults, which, when strengthened by time and habit, must prove incorrigible. Mrs. Ellison, on the contrary, called his passion spirit, and his stubbornness constancy and steadiness, and could not bear he should receive the least contradiction. She was continually puffing him up with the notion of his consequence, representing all the people about him as his slaves, and making them seek to please him by the most abject means. She taught him to look on them in the same light as she herself did, as creatures destitute of all natural rights, of sense and feeling. She was pleased to see him vent his childish passions upon them, and was always ready to gratify his resentments beyond his wish; and so [Page]successful were her endeavours, that, by the time he arrived at the age of five years, he was a little fury, bursting with pride, passion, insolence, and obstinacy. Mr. Ellison saw all this with a very sensible concern; he endeavoured to teach his wife the duty of a parent, and to convince her that her indulgence rendered her the child's most pernicious enemy; but, having never reasoned in her life, the faculty was too feeble to enter into the force of his arguments; she was too perverse to attend, and too weak to be convinced.

He then assumed an air to which she had hitherto been a stranger, and told her, 'though he had sacrificed his own inclinations to her, she must not expect to find the same easy temper in him when the welfare of his son was at stake;' and in the most resolute manner declared, he would not suffer him to be made a brute. Tears were now called to her aid; she wept for his cruelty, and lamented the hatred he bore both to her and her child. But all these arts proved now unavailing; Mr. Ellison's heart was too deeply [Page]engaged in the importance of the cause of their contention, to be moved by any thing she could say; and he kept so firmly to his point, that she began to think it advisable to calm him by a seeming compliance, and that she, or her dear darling might not incur Mr. Ellison's anger, she taught the boy to conceal his thoughts and inclinations, and to assume such a manner in his father's presence, as for a little time gave that affectionate parent great pleasure; but it was not long before he found, that to his other faults his son had now added a degree of deceit and hypocrisy, beyond what he imagined possible at so early an age; and that, while he loved his mother for laying the foundation of his future misery, he beheld him only as an object of terror and hatred. To be superiorly beloved was so great a gratification to Mrs. Ellison's narrow and ungenerous mind, that she rejoiced in every symptom of his dislike to his father, though beloved by her as much as was consistent with such selfish principles as her's.

[Page]How truly unhappy is it for mankind that this difference in parents, in regard to the education of their children, so generally prevails—the mother fond of her child to excess, yet, blinded by her fondness, indulges it without reason—and the father, tenderly dreading ing the ruin of his child, counteracting the mother in its presence, while yet unable to judge of right or wrong.—Mr. Ellison's conduct, in this respect, was quite different; he was possessed of such a forethought, and prudent constancy in the wrong he resolved to rectify, as what is seldom (but which it could be wished were oftner) to be met with. When he reproved Mrs. Ellison it was always in the absence of his child, and then indeed, in such a sweet and persuasive manner, that had the child been present and capable of reason, it must have been won over to its duty, and the fondest affection for its father.

Mr. Ellison was convinced of what concern and great importance to its future happiness and welfare depended on the education of his child. He was so convinced of the [Page]pernicious principles that his son was imbibing, and of the unhappy consequence of them, that rather than have submitted to it he would have given up his own immediate and domestic quiet. He knew that the evil habits imbibed at his son's age, took too deep a root, and if not checked in time, were seldom to be conquered, either by religion, reason or persuasion. He had too fatal an instance of it in Mrs. Ellison; educated in the islands, she was familiarised to cruelty and hardened to any idea of sensibility—she could laugh at the sufferings of the poor blacks, and would frequently reproach Mr. Ellison for his humanity towards them. Such also, were the principles she would have instilled into her child. But Mr. Ellison's forecast of the natural consequences of this, and how unhappy it must in future render, not only his child, but all those with whom he might be connected, and more particularly those under his immediate protection and care, put him on his guard to prevent it.

[Page]When Mr. Ellison found, that all the care he could take towards rectifying his son's temper was only made the occasion of introducing more evil into his disposition, he determined, as the last resource, to send him into England with a friend who was going thither; and there to have him placed at a school, under the eye of his grandfather, who he knew would watch over him with the most affectionate attention. To execute this resolution was a most painful talk. Mrs. Ellison, at first, absolutely refused consenting to it; and to force on her the grief of parting with her son, who was then but six years old, gave him more poignant affliction than her heart was capable of feeling for any misfortune whatsoever.

To remove her objections, he therefore proposed their following the child into England, as soon as they could settle their affairs in such a manner, as might enable them to bid a long adieu to Jamaica, without great detriment; but this administered little consolation to Mrs. Ellison, as she had conceived [Page]a dislike to England, which even her son's being there could not conquer; but forbearing to declare this, imagining it would make her fondness for the child appear less than she chose it should be thought, Mr. Ellison, after sending away his boy, was very assiduous in hastening the means of their leaving the island; supposing he therein gratified his wife as much as himself.

The most difficult part of his business was to get a steward, who would treat his slaves with the same gentleness to which he had accustomed them; and he had nearly settled his commercial affairs, before he saw any probability of finding a person fit for that important office.

The first rumour of his intended departure caused the utmost consternation among these poor creatures; they gathered round him, and falling on their knees, in their imperfect English, cried out, 'Oh! massa, no go, no go; if go, steward whip, beat, kill poor slave; no go, no go; you go we die.'

[Page]He assured them, that he looked upon them all as his children, and promised no one should supply his place, that did not consider himself as their father. Instead of being satisfied with this promise, they exclaimed, 'all fathers not good; no father like you;' and such torrents of tears would accompany their words, as frequently staggered his resolution. Notwithstanding the most affectionate assurances he could give them, melancholy constantly sat on their, before happy, countenances; at their holy-day meetings, instead of indulging the jollity of which they used to be so fond, their hours were spent in lamenting their approaching misfortune, and laughter was now exchanged for tears.

Business having called Mr. Ellison to Port-Royal, he there heard lamented, the misfortunes of Mr. Hammond, an English gentleman, who had been established there above two years as a merchant in good credit. Mr. Hammond had just received a 1000 l. in return for some commodities he had exported; [Page]and this sum he insisted on an unsuccessful friend's taking for a time, in hopes it might enable him to save his credit, and carry on his trade till affairs took a more favourable turn.

By this well-timed loan, the poor man and his family were saved from destruction; but losses by shipwreck, and other accidents, having successively fallen on Mr. Hammond, he saw himself reduced into the situation from which he had relieved his friend; with only this difference, that his was a single distress; whereas a wife, and nine children, would have been sharers in the misfortunes of the other. All Mr. Hammond's effects were seized, but proved insufficient to discharge his debts. The creditors knew he had lent some money, but were ignorant as to the exact sum: This they pressed him to call in; promising, on the receipt of it, to discharge him from prison, even if it did not quite amount to what was due to them.

[Page]Mr. Hammond could not support the thought of purchasing his liberty by reducing so large a family to beggary; but, as he was sensible his creditors had a just right to all his property, he offered to enter into the most binding engagements to give up the sum to them, as soon as his friend could refund it without ruin; and to make him pay them the established interest till that time; but, enraged at this delay, they refused to accept his offer, and declared he should remain their prisoner.

This story very much affected Mr. Ellison's compassionate heart; and in hopes of finding some method of relieving the distress of so worthy a man, he went the next day to the prison to visit him; and having undertaken to do his utmost, to bring the creditors to agree to what he had offered, he negociated the affair with great assiduity, but little success.

During the course of this transaction, having had many proofs of Mr. Hammond's integrity and humanity, he acquainted him [Page]with his resolution of advancing the thousand pounds lent to his friend, and becoming himself that Gentleman's creditor; assuring Mr. Hammond that he should never ask for the payment, but suffer his friend to suit his own convenience in that respect.

He then told Mr. Hammond, that he was sensible, though by this step he might deliver him from prison, yet he should not secure him from distress; he therefore begged leave to assist him in any course of life wherein he thought proper to engage; adding, that he could not but wish he might accept the offer he now made him of taking upon himself the direction of his plantation and slaves, as he delayed his removal into England only till he could find a fit person for his steward.

Mr. Hammond's heart overflowed with gratitude, as well for the transfer of the debt of the thousand pounds, as for the kind offer he made him. The care of the land, he said, would give him pleasure, and he believed he might acquit himself tolerably well [Page]in it, but he knew himself totally unfit for the government of slaves, the severities requisite to keep them in order being such, as he was not only incapable of decreeing, but even of beholding.

Mr. Ellison, delighted with the sentiments he had expressed, as they confirmed him in that opinion of his disposition, which had first inspired him with the desire of leaving him his deputy when he should depart the island, told him, that the difficulties he had been under in finding a steward, were occasioned by the fears of having his slaves ill treated, who had always been used by him more like children than servants, and had convinced him by their behaviour, that severity was not only unnecessary, but hurtful. He desired Mr. Hammond therefore, if he had no other objection to the stewardship, to go home with him, and after sufficient observation to give him his answer.

Mr. Hammond readily acquiesced. When he saw Mr. Ellison's conduct to his slaves, [Page]and how great the difference thereby made between them, and all others whom he had seen in that condition how much less abject their way of thinking; how chearful and assiduous they were in performing their duty; the quickness of their apprehension; and in many, the nobleness of mind, and rectitude of principle, which kind encouragement and fatherly instruction had given them, in comparison of those who are stupified by ill usage and oppression; he no longer beheld the office he was invited to accept in a formidable light; but on the contrary, his heart swelling with joy and transport at the happiness of the poor slaves around him, he broke into the following soliloquy, which afforded Mr. Ellison the highest satisfaction and delight.

"O Humanity!—Heaven-born principle! —true and never ceasing source of bliss—happy those, whose hearts are warmed with thy sweet and benign influence! Blessed with the divine principle of thee, we forget ourselves, and seek our dearest joys in bestowing happiness upon others. By thy divine influence [Page]we tread the paths of peace,—and are led in the dear and blessed footsteps of Him, of whom thou art an all-glorious attribute. By thee we are led to the true and delightful ways or piety and religion—to the ways of pleasantness—and to the paths of peace."

Thrice happy that man, whose soul, impressed with the true principles of real and pious sensibility, looks up to Heaven for an example for his conduct and behaviour in life. If blessed with affluence, his chief bliss is to make others happy, and every time he relieves an object from distress, he feels a joy unutterable;—words want the power, and language the expression, to declare the delightful satisfaction he feels: Or indeed, supposing poverty his lot, and, that he has but little, yet, of that will he administer relief, and find more comfort and real satisfaction, than the miser in his hoard or the spend thrift in his pleasures.

With all his affluence, is it likely that Mr. Ellison, without that sweet and heavenly sensibility [Page]that fired his soul, would have enjoyed any degree of the happiness he did? Is it not through all his actions the chief instrument of his bliss, leading him, as it were, step by step, to the summit of human perfection?

Mr. Ellison now saw the liberty of departing from Jamaica approach. His mercantile affairs were the more easily settled by his brother's arrival in the island; for, as soon as he had determined on his return to England, he wrote to his father to send over his brother James, who had been likewise bred to merchandize, as it would be in his power to settle him very advantageously, and to establish him immediately in an extensive trade, by making over his correspondents to him. He found the young man sensible, honest, and diligent; and well deserving the encouragement he designed to give him.

Mrs. Ellison was indeed less pleased with her brother in-law, fearing her husband might favour him too generously.

[Page]The young man was shocked to see the arbitrary power she exercised over her husband, not immediately discerning, that there was one thing his brother feared even more than his wife, the reproaches of his own conscience, and though he sacrificed most worldly things to her caprices, yet there was a Being whom he more carefully endeavoured to please than her.

Affairs were in this situation when Mrs. Ellison was seized with a fever, at that time almost epidemical. The attack was so violent, as from the first gave little hopes of a recovery, and, notwithstanding the best medical assistance, she died in a few days.

Mr. Ellison was sincerely afflicted at her death; her faults he had long pitied and now forgot; while her virtues, or such as he imagined she possessed, were engraven on his memory.

But his friends, while they endeavoured to console him, comforted themselves in believing, [Page]that though habit and gentleness of temper may teach a prisoner to hug his chains, yet when taken off, he will soon grow sensible he is relieved from a burden, and find the removal of constant constraint makes him amends for the loss of many pleasures which accompanied it.

But they had not an opportunity of seeing this supposition verified, as Mr. Ellison did not stay long enough in the island after his wife's death, to wear off the grief he felt on the occasion.

In a short time, however, he became sufficiently himself to prosecute his plan for setling every thing there to the best advantage. He found Mr. Hammond even exceed his hopes; he soon gained the affection of the slaves; an open, humane, and chearful countenance giving them a prejudice in his favour, which his conduct improved into a rational confidence.

[Page]He also beheld with delight, the improvement the children had received in the school he had established. The master's salary was raised, and a young lad left with him of a remarkable good disposition and understanding, as an assistant, but with a secret view of qualifying him to succeed, in case the master should die, or grow weary of the charge.

The schoolmaster's sister, upon invitation, being come over from England, was made mistress of a school of Negroe girls, a charge wherein she acquitted herself extremely well. The effect of their instructions was evident in the conduct of the Negroes; for the ferocity of their tempers, their obstinacy, and that resentful turn of mind, seemingly natural to them, were so softened by religion, that it very seldom happened that any symptoms of them appeared.

By this time Mr. Ellison's brother James had entered into a very tender attachment. The youth no sooner became acquainted with [Page]Miss Reynolds, a young lady in the neighbourhood, than he felt the influence of her charms; she was not insensible of the merits of her lover, and they were so well agreed before Mr. Ellison's departure, that James thought it proper to inform his brother of his inclination.

A long acquaintance with Miss Reynolds had afforded him a good opportunity to discern her merit; his brother could not have chosen a woman he so much esteemed; her fortune, though not considerable, was sufficient to be of some assistance in trade, and her prudence and oeconomy were well suited to his situation. He therefore very sincerely gave his approbation, had the marriage celebrated with great elegance in his own house, and made a present to the bride of all the jewels that belonged to his deceased wife. To his brother he gave a house he had at Kingstown, with all his plate and linen, and the free use of all his furniture; and to [...] Hammond he allowed 200 l. per [Page]annum, with the liberty of living in his house, and many other privileges.

Having thus intirely settled, his affairs, he set sail for England, leaving his friends and dependants most sensibly afflicted, and sharing in their grief, though the desire of returning to his native country, of seeing his father and his child, and of repairing a constitution much hurt by the heat of the climate, made the change on the whole very desirable to him.

His voyage was swift and prosperous; and no dangers called off his thoughts from the pleasure he felt in anticipating, in imagination, the joys he expected from his return to his native land; but disappointments too often follow the hopes which have risen to the highest point, and when we think we are just ready to grasp our pleasures, they elude our touch, and leave us nothing but regret.

Mr. Ellison had in his imagination formed many delightful scenes, between himself and [Page]his father; the evening of whose days he hoped would be greatly brightened by sharing his prosperity, and by his assiduous endeavours to amuse, if he could not relieve, the infirmities of age. But all these flattering hopes are put to flight on his arrival in port; a letter being delivered him there, acquainting him that his father was very dangerously ill, not from sudden sickness, but a gradual decline.

Old Mr. Ellison had taken care he should receive this intimation, to prepare him for their first meeting, and render it less shocking; and, to make it still less affecting, he had sent for his grandson home, in hopes that the joy of the parent would mitigate filial sorrow. Nor was he totally disappointed; Mr. Ellison could not be insensible of the pleasure of seeing his only child in health, and in appearance improved, of which the dying man gave him all the comfortable proofs he could recollect. But this, though it in some measure alleviated his grief, scarcely sufficed to render it supportable.

[Page]The indulgence he had given his imagination, made the approaching death of his father more grievious. He was greatly affected by the calm resignation of his mind; the patience with which he supported his painful distemper; and the chearful and lively hopes of a blessed eternity, which in his eyes disarmed death of all its terrors, and made him look on his last hour with the same placidity, as on any one that preceded it; and so well supported him at the fatal instant, as to render him scarcely sensible of the pains which usually attend the separation of the soul from the body.

Mr. Ellison determined, as soon as he had settled his affairs, to fix in the country. Sir William Ellison his cousin-german, invited him to his seat in Dorsetshire, promising to shew him several good houses, any of which were to be hired or purchased; and Mr. Ellison was particularly inclined to fix his abode in that country, as it had been the place of his family's former residence. He had sent over, before he left Jamaica, 45000l. [Page]and, beside the interest of that sum, he received 1200l. a year from his plantation, clear of all deductions.

On his arrival at his cousin's seat in Dorsetshire, he was received very affectionately. Sir William had not seen him from the time he first left England, but retained a great regard for him, founded on an early acquaintance with his virtues. Though nearly related in blood, there was little resemblance in the dispositions of these two gentlemen. Sir William was a man of sense and integrity, but a humourist. He was now, at fifty years old, a batchelor; for having been in his youth jilted by a woman he ardently loved, who, after all preliminaries to their marriage was settled, left him for a man of larger fortune, and more gaudy appearance, he had made a vow never more to address any of the sex; and kept that vow better than is usually done by those who make it in a fit of resentful rage and disappointment. His father died soon after, and left him in the possession of 3000l. per annum, free [Page]from any incumbrances whatsoever; the estate in good order, and the mansion house well furnished, and above a year's income in cash.

Mr. Ellison, though well pleased with Sir William's reception and conversation, finding he laid him under some restraint, determined not to make his visit very long; and, therefore soon called upon the Baronet to fulfil his promise, of shewing him the houses which were to be purchased in that country.

After seeing them all, he fixed on one almost adjoining to Sir William's, and purchased it with the estate belonging thereto, consisting of two farms of about 150l. a year each.

The house was a large and good old mansion, in tolerable repair; but, having stood empty near ten years, during the minority of the owner, was inwardly in very bad order, and the gardens entirely gone to ruin. This circumstance much lessened the price, [Page]but was no disagreeable thing to Mr. Ellison, who rather chose to lay out the place to his own taste, than to pay for what the seller might call improvements.

He immediately purchased it, and, being provided with a house-keeper who had ample recommendations to him, he informed her, that a decent and regular oeconomy in his house was what he expected, as far from extravagance and wastefulness as from parsimony. He would have his servants enjoy soberly all the comforts of life, as he thought that to make them happy, was his first duty; but this he knew was best done by order, regularity, and decent frugality. He would have such a number of servants as could perform the business of his house with ease, and therefore desired her to consider how many servants would be requisite.

As for the state of the adjacent poor, being yet but little acquainted with it, he could give no particular directions, but wished she would inform him of what she heard on that [Page]point, and likewise [...]ntion to him the sort of relief she judged more proper.

It may not be amiss to shew how Mr. Ellison was circumstanced, as to a more extensive neighbourhood.

On the contrary side to Sir William's house lived Mr. Grantham, lawful heir to the Duke of—, if that Nobleman died without children; which was now highly probable, as he was above 60 years old, and his Duchess but little younger. Mr. Grantham was indeed a very distant relation, yet was heir both to the estate and title; but, this branch of that great family having fallen to decay, he inherited from his father only 50l. a year. This he farmed himself, and lived in the only house [...] had, which was little better than a common cottage. His education had been on a level with his fortune, and his manners were those of a plain honest farmer; yet regard for his birth, and compassion for his narrow circumstances, procured him a due portion of [...] all the neighbouring [Page]gentlemen. His notions of family pride had an influence over him in the choice of a wife. He thought he should disgrace his blood by marrying a farmer's daughter, though with such a one he might have got a few hundred pounds, which would have set him much at his ease; and, a Lieutenant dying in an adjacent town where he was quartered, and leaving a daughter intirely unprovided for, and greatly distressed, he thought her a wife much more suitable to the dignity of his family. Captivated by her gentility rather than by her person, for she was no beauty, he took a pride in addressing the Captain's daughter (for the courtesy of a country town kindly bestows the title of Captain on every officer) and she was glad to accept of any provision.

However, Mr. Grantham was more fortunate than he had reason to expect; his wife proved very notable and industrious, only too prolific, having perpetuated the family of the Granthams, of which the Duke and he were the last, by bringing him five [Page]sons and three daughters; a number attended with great difficulties in their narrow circumstances; but the thought that they might one day be so many Lords and Ladies, was a sufficient consolation, and made them behold so numerous a progeny with exultation.

At the distance of about two miles from Mr. Ellison's lived Mr. Allin; a gentleman who inherited a good estate from his father, but, being extravagant in his youth, had reduced it within very narrow bounds, and involved himself in difficulties that had a good deal soured his temper, converting his extravagance into parsimony. His society would not have been very eligible, had it not been for an only daughter who kept his house, whose beauty, accomplishments, and excellent qualities, rendered her the most distinguished young woman in the whole country.

A little father off dwelt Mr. Blackburn, an old gentleman of great merit; who by a due mixture of study and conversation, had greatly embellished an admirable understanding.

[Page]On the other side of Mr. Ellison's house, and about five miles from it, lived young Mr. Blackburn, son to the gentleman just mentioned; his father having given him an estate with a good house upon it, on his marriage with a young woman of family, but no fortune, whose beauty had captivated the young man; his father being glad to encourage any rational inclination, in hopes the society of a woman he loved might reform him from his vices. But success had not answered his wishes; young Mr. Blackburn soon grew tired of his wife, and returned to his bottle, to hunting, gaming, and women; and behaved with such insolence to his father, when he reproached him for his dissolute course of life, that he banished him his presence, and declared a resolution to disinherit him. This breach had subsisted three years, when Mr. Ellison came into the country; and the father still as much offended, and the son as far from reformation, as ever.

These were Mr. Ellison's nearest neighbours, and first visitors, paying him their [Page]compliments before he had got a room fit to receive them. But, as he aimed at nothing farther than neatness and convenience, it was not long before his house was as well furnished as he desired.

Mr. Ellison had two very particular attractions in his neighbourhood; Mr. Blackburn delighted his understanding; Miss Allin captivated his heart. But it is probable, that even all Miss Allin's attractions might have proved ineffectual, had they not found him in a state of leisure.

Business first, and then duty, had hitherto defended his heart; these shields were now removed, and it lay open to Cupid's arrows; in such a defenceless state it might have fallen a prey to half her perfections, and could not make the least resistance. Nor indeed did he wish it; he yielded himself a willing captive; for, as he had no desire to remain single, he with pleasure encouraged an inclination for a woman he thought so well qualified to make him happy, and whose narrow [Page]circumstances gave him reason to hope for a favourable reception.

An inclination we chuse rather to encourage than repress is very quick in its growth. Mr. Ellison had been settled but two months in Dorsetshire, when he came to a resolution of asking Mr. Allin's permission to address his daughter, giving him to understand that his fortune set him above all pecuniary demands.

The great advantages his daughter would find in such an union, would have made Mr. Allin sufficiently eager to compleat it, had he not been spurred on by the last article, which however was a stronger incentive; for the miser in Moliere was not more sensible of the charms of that part of a lover's address sans dot, than Mr. Allin; Mr. Ellison therefore had not only his consent, but his good wishes, and secretly all the influence of his authority.

[Page]Unfortunately the father's was not the only will of consequence in this case. The joy Mr. Ellison felt on receiving the permission he asked was soon damped; for, on explaining himself to Miss Allin, she burst into tears (having foreseen from the manner in which she was left alone with him, what was to be the subject of his conversation) and the more generously and nobly he expressed his affection, the faster her tears flowed. Alarmed by the tenderest fears, he begged to know the cause of her distress; but, before she could assume sufficient power over herself to comply, they heard Mr. Allin coming towards them; Dreading his presence, she requested her lover to conceal her uneasiness; and, promising to lay her whole heart open to him the next time they met, she made her escape by one door, as her father entered at another.

Mr. Ellison was not much better able than his mistress to support an interview with the father; so that eluding his questions, in such a manner as gave him no suspicions of [Page]what had passed, he pretended business that obliged him to return home directly.

He shut himself up in his room, in a state of mind which the heart may guess, but words cannot describe. He passed the night in an agitation and anxiety he had before no conception of; the hope which self-flattery would sometimes suggest, only served to prevent his exerting his reason to support what his fears anticipated. He rose before the sun, with a resolution to know his fate ere the day was over, but wished to learn it without Mr. Allin's knowledge.

Unable to contrive any means of effecting this desire, the restlessness of his mind led him abroad; and the impulse of his heart directed him towards Mr. Allin's house. He wandered in the adjacent fields a long time, uncertain what methods to pursue, and fearing to create uneasiness to the woman for whom he suffered so much.

[Page]At length Miss Allin, who had not rested much better than her lover, going to the window in hopes new objects might divert her thoughts, saw him in a field adjoining to the garden. The delicacy of her mind bore so great a resemblance to his, that she imagined the cause which brought him thither, and, desirous to conclude the interview before her father rose from his bed, she hastened to him with as much speed as a person can use, who feels a very sensible affliction for the pain she is going to give one, whom she sincerely esteems.

When he saw her approach, he had scarcely courage to meet her, dreading the explanation he had so impatiently longed for. Maiden bashfulness, with some mixture of concern on one side, and extreme agitation of spirits on the other, rendered them equally unable to speak; but with common, though tacit consent, they sat down together on a green bank at the foot of a tree; a l [...] silence ensued; and it is difficult to say when it would have ended, if Miss Allin had not [Page]sooner recovered her spirits than her lover. She tempered the disagreeable intelligence she was going to impart with very sincere expressions of concern, at the necessity she saw herself under of giving him pain; professed a due sense of his merit, and lamented that, when they first met, her heart was not so free as his, since then, in all probability, they might have constituted each other's happiness, instead of mutually destroying each other's peace.

She then told him that she had, with her father's consent, been engaged above a year to Dr. Tunstall, a young physician in the neighbourhood; and their marriage had been so long deferred, only by the difficulties her father found, or that his parsimonious temper made him imagine, in raising 2000l. the sum he had promised to give with her: That she received the Doctor as her intended husband at her father's command, when her heart was so little prejudiced in his favour, that she could, without any severe pang, have been equally obedient, had be ordered her [Page]never to see him any more; but, since she had considered it as her duty and happiness to increase the little prepossession she had conceived, the case was much altered, and she was now as strongly engaged to him in affection, as in honour; An engagement she was determined not to violate, though she despaired of seeing it fulfilled; for she had received an express command from her father never to entertain the least acquaintance or correspondence with Dr. Tunstall, but to look on Mr. Ellison as her husband, and she feared he would never revoke the decree; since, beside the many reasons, which she was sensible there was for preferring him to the Doctor, his generosity had added one, that with her father was insurmountable, by declining the acceptance of a fortune.

She proceeded to say, that she had nothing to expect but her father's anger, which was impetuous and dreadful; all, therefore, she had to ask of Mr. Ellison, who, she hoped would rather think her unfortunate than ungrateful, was, that he would, as far as lay in [Page]his power, mitigate her father's rage, and prevail with him to let her live peaceably in her present condition; for she relinquished all hopes of changing it; and did it with the less concern, as she imagined his partiality for her might render it more vexatious to him to see her married to another, than merely to be disappointed of her himself.

It is unnecessary to describe the effect Miss Allin's words had upon Mr. Ellison. She felt so lively a compassion for him, that she forgot her own grief, and said every thing she thought might contribute to his consolation, except what alone could prove effectual; but, as she was fully determined to adhere strictly to her engagement, she carefully avoided giving him the least room to hope a change in her sentiments.

As soon as his mind was a little composed, he took his leave; assuring her that he would try every means to secure her peace, though he was not yet sufficiently master of his thoughts, to see the manner in which it [Page]would be most adviseable for him to proceed.

Each returned to their respective houses, but with different sensations; she found her heart much lightened, since she had acquainted her generous lover with the state of it; but he carried back despair instead of uncertainty.

However, after some time spent in reflection, he grew resigned and patient, and, notwithstanding his disappointment, he was ardently desirous to restore Miss Allin to the happiness, of which he had for a time deprived her; and resolved to perform his promise more effectually than she could expect.

Accordingly, three days after he had received his sentence from her, he sent an invitation to Mr. Allin to dine with him; and took that opportunity of acquainting him, that, since he was last at his house, he had learnt that Miss Allin had long been engaged, with his consent, to Dr. Tunstall, and therefore [Page]had resolved to desist from his pretensions; as he should think himself very criminal, if, taking the advantage of a superiority of fortune, he should attempt to deprive another of a blessing which must be so dear to him; and indeed, he should have so bad an opinion of a woman who could be mercenary and inconstant enough to break her word, though in his favour, as would render it impossible for him to be happy with her.

Mr. Allin was much disconcerted at this declaration, and answered: He might do as he pleased; but that as for Dr. Tunstall, if he intended to marry his daughter, he must wait till business increased, or death put her in possession of his little estate, for he found it impossible to raise a fortune for her, without distressing himself.

From the account Mr. Ellison had heard of his circumstances, he easily believed there was some truth in what he said; and told him he would remove that objection, only desiring him to confirm his former consent with [Page]a good grace, and not diminish the satisfaction of his daughter by an apparent reluctance, or even the coldness of his compliance.

Mr. Ellison was not slow in executing his purpose. He wrote Miss Allin a letter the next morning, wherein he inclosed a draught on his banker for 2000l. His generosity went still farther; he feared her father would not acquit himself properly in regard to her cloaths; and considered that, as the income of the man she married was very small, to be well equipped might prove hereafter much to her convenience; he therefore sent his housekeeper to the next great town, to buy silks, lace, cambrick, muslins, hollands, in such abundance, as would not only enable her to make a very genteel appearance on her marriage, but suffice for some years; and he chose to do it in this manner, rather than to make her a present of the money, as the surest means of securing her convenience, to which, moderation and generosity might have made her less attentive.

[Page]The pleasure he felt in this disinterested conduct, almost extinguished for the time the sense of sorrow; but the heart will have its due; when the gratification began to deaden, vexation returned, and he could gladly have excused a visit Dr. Tunstall made him, in order to return thanks for his generosity; which Mr. Ellison learnt from him, was with great pain accepted by Miss Allin; nor could any thing, but her father's express and absolute command, have conquered her reluctance in this particular. The sight of a man, so much happier than himself, brought so painful a comparison to Mr. Ellison's mind, that the effect was visible to the Doctor, who could not blame the sensation, though Mr. Ellison could scarcely forgive it in himself; and was hurt to find, by this first instance, that he was capable of envy, a passion he had never felt before.

His politeness, however, did not forsake him on so severe a trial; he commanded both his countenance and words so well, as to give his happy rival a kind, though melancholy [Page]reception; and, determined to conquer the sensation he so much disapproved, he expressed an inclination to be sometimes favoured with his visits, though he must request him to excuse his returning them.

While Mr. Ellison flattered himself with the hopes of marrying Miss Allin, he delayed settling his family in the order he intended, thinking it more adviseable to regulate the whole at once; but, when that prospect [...]ani [...]ed, there no longer subsisted any reason for postponing it.

The knowledge he had of his son's impetuous temper, and bad qualities, determined him to educate him at home. Whether he would there acquire an equal share of learning as at school, he much questioned, but the rectifying his heart appeared to him the most essential article towards his happiness; and, of all knowledge that he most wished him to acquire, was the knowledge of himself, and the means of governing his passions; in these points he thought he might [Page]be better instructed under his own eye than at school; and, if thereby he could render him an honest and amiable man, he should have good reason to be contented, though he did not prove a learned one.

He had already begun to make proper inquiries after a well qualified tutor; and was likely to succeed, as he had set no bounds to the salary. A gentleman of excellent character, great learning, and amiable manners, having met with some disappointments in the profession of physic, to which he was bred, was very glad of so eligible a retirement, on a promised salary of 400l. a year; and as Mr. Ellison was so great a master in the science of benevolence, that he performed few actions that did not bear more than one good fruit, he had in view the serving Mr. Grantham by the home education of his son, and therefore made it a condition, that the tutor should teach as many boys as he pleased, with the same care as his own. [Page]The little Granthams spent few beside their sleeping hours at home; for, as their father's house almost joined to Mr. Ellison's, they returned thither without inconvenience every night, coming early the next morning; and having at Mr. Ellison's both their corporal and mental food; the first of which was some ease to the narrow circumstances of those good people, and the latter gave their father the most sincere joy, as he now saw them in a way of being educated equal to their birth, and future fortune, of which he had before utterly despaired. Indeed he found his expence much lightened; for Mr. Ellison carefully provided them apparel, in every respect equal to that worn by his own son; and was very watchful that the latter assumed no superiority over them, to whom he shewed him he was in reality greatly inferior; but this was explained to him in the absence of the Grantham's; for Mr. Ellison wished for their sakes the thought might not occur to them; and exhorted their father and mother not to destroy one benefit arising from their present low estate, which might greatly add to the [Page]happiness of their lives, by instilling into their minds a pride that must be the source both of private chagrin, and public contempt.

Mr. Ellison was not so wholly engaged either by private vexation, or domestic business, as not to extend his attention to all his neighbours. The little estate he had bought lay in three parishes, which gave him a knowledge of the state of each.

He found the poor tax ran very high, and yet the poor were but ill taken care of; the farmer was much burdened, the poor but little relieved.

All these inconveniencies he endeavoured to apply remedies to, which he did effectually; and, besides relieving the wants of the poor, he promoted a spirit of industry among them.

On other occurrences his benevolent disposition scarce knew any bounds; he composed all differences in his neighbourhood, [Page]was the father of the orphan, a true friend to the distressed and helpless, a visitor of the sick and those who were in prison, and many a debtor, that had not been so out of wantonness, he delivered from the unrelenting pursuits of his creditors.

These scenes were indeed the great feasts of his soul; but all his hours yielded him refined pleasures, because they were all spent in the exercise of benevolence; a desire to do good to others, was so intirely his governing principle, that, however engaged in business or pleasure, he never lost sight of it, endeavouring to promote it by every action of his life.

Though temperance and virtue are the best preservatives of health, yet they cannot secure to any one an uninterrupted state. Mr. Ellison, while employed in assiduous endeavours to alleviate the sufferings of others, became himself the object of compassion.

[Page]He was seized with a violent fever, which so far baffled the skill and care of Dr. Tunstall, for whom he had sent on being first taken ill, that in three days he was entirely delirious, and his life judged to be in great danger. The grief of his friends and dependants is easier to be imagined than described; but none felt more sincerely on the occasion than Mrs. Tunstall, whose gratitude attached her very strongly to him, though she had never been in his company since the morning that determined him to give up all pretensions to her.

She always waited the Doctor's return with impatient anxiety, and was greatly affected by the account her husband gave her, in the beginning of the second week of Mr. Ellison's illness, of the accident which had happened to his house-keeper; who, by a fall down stairs, had put out her ankle, and must be totally confined to her chamber; whereby Mr. Ellison was deprived of a very careful, tender, and sensible nurse, which his situation rendered extremely necessary, and yet the [Page]Doctor saw no means of procuring him one; any of the servants, or people in the parish would have attended him with care and affection, but their ignorance disqualified them for the trust.

Mrs. Tunstall was shocked to think of the danger he must run in such hands, and, presuming that in his insane state of mind he would not know her, proposed attending him herself, though it might prove very dangerous in her present state, she being then in the eighth month of her pregnancy. The Doctor's tenderness for his amiable wife, made him very unwilling to consent, but she urged him with such persuasive importunity, that he at length, though reluctantly, agreed to carry her to Mr. Ellison's that very day.

It is easy to imagine that Mrs. Tunstall must perform with the greatest assiduity, an office she undertook out of gratitude. The only rest she allowed herself was on a couch, in Mr. Ellison's chamber; she mixed all his medicines, and gave him every thing he took, [Page]but was careful not to approach his bed-side on his first waking, lest sleep might calm his delirium, and expose her to his knowledge.

She was seldom out of his chamber, except during one or two short visits she daily made his house-keeper, for a whole week that he continued in the same melancholy state; he then began to recover his senses, but was so weak and spent, he took little notice of any thing that passed; she therefore prolonged her attendance for some days, keeping out of his sight, but directing the nurse, and watching that all proper care was taken; and she had the satisfaction, before Mr. Ellison was well enough to discover there was any other person than his nurse in the room, to see the house-keeper able to be brought in, and take the same care she herself had done for some days; whereupon with great joy she resigned her office, and returned home.

Every day confirmed her in this easy state of mind; for his recovery, though slow was [Page]uninterrupted; and the many hearts which his extreme danger had oppressed with grief and anxiety were relieved from their heavy burden; more sensible than ever of the value of the man on whom their happiness depended, as all their sensibility had been awakened by his illness.

Caution had been given to Sir. William and the house-keeper, not to disclose Mrs. Tunstall's attendance; but the appearance of so strong an attachment, the hazard she had run, and the uncommonness of the action, had made such an impression on Sir William, that the utmost his prudence could effect, was to be silent on the subject, till his cousin was pretty well recovered; and then news being brought them, as they were sitting together, that Mrs. Tunstall was brought to bed, he could not forbear observing, that she had but just had time to recover her fatigue.

Mr. Ellison usually avoided entering into any conversation on a subject wherein he felt [Page]himself too tenderly interested, but his sensibility on the present occasion put him off his guard; and he enquired to what fatigue Sir William alluded.

The Baronet could no longer resist the desire he felt of acquainting his cousin with Mrs. Tunstall's extraordinary care of him, to which, Mr. Ellison listened with equal surprise and pleasure. Her conduct on this occasion had the effect she feared from it, if it came to his knowledge, for it awakened every tender sensation; but these were not accompanied with the pain she thought might attend them. He had brought himself to such a patient acquiescence in the decrees of Providence, that, while he cherished the remembrance of her with tenderness, his regret for his disappointment was calm and temperate. He attributed her care to the gratitude of a noble mind, and felt ineffable pleasure in so strong a proof, that his esteem was just.

[Page]Mr. Ellison, as the most likely means of perfecting his recovery, made some excursions into different parts of the country, and it was for a considerable time before he again settled at home.

At his return, he was shocked at the evils election-drunkenness had caused in his neighbourhood; and Dr. Tunstall particularly, being violent in politics, and having exerted himself much during the contest, acquired such a habit of drinking, and entered into intimacies with so many people who made it their chief pleasure, that the love of it did not cease with the first inducement.

Mrs. Tunstall's situation was hereupon very melancholy. She daily beheld the man she loved in the most disgustful condition; and, when not absolutely intoxicated, the effects of the former night's debauch, so stupified and disordered him, that he was not capable of conversation, nor susceptible of affection. Add to this, that the sensible decline of their circumstances, from such a [Page]perpetual round of rioting, made her dread the consequences that must attend it.

Mr. Ellison's humanity was of so quick and lively a kind, that it did not wait to be informed of a person's particular sufferings; from comparing their income with their necessary expences, he knew when they were under any difficulties in point of circumstances, and this induced him to prevail upon Mrs. Tunstall's father to receive from him a proper supply for her use, as coming from himself.

However, Dr. Tunstall was not to be reclaimed, and he at last fell a victim to his passion, being seized with a high fever, which, in a few days, put a period to his life.

Had Mr. Ellison obeyed the impulse of his heart, he would have flown to the disconsolate widow, and endeavoured, by all the tender sensibilities that can spring from friendship, to have soothed her grief; but he feared such a conduct might appear scarcely decent; [Page]in one, whose sentiments were so well known; and, while he acted only as a friend, her reputation might be wounded, by being supposed so soon to receive the assiduities of a lover, and her delicacy offended by any marks of regard, which might bear the appearance of so early a renewal of his former addresses.

These considerations made him forbear visiting her for the present; and, when he thought he might visit her with decency, the preference he often gave his duties to the pleasures arising from her society, made her fancy his having no views beyond the enjoyment of her friendship, till the expiration of the first year of her widowhood, during which he had condemned himself to absolute silence, concerning the situation of his heart; but, having given so much time to worldly form, he was determined no longer to delay what was due to himself, after having fulfilled all, that decorum could possibly expect; he, therefore declared frankly to her, how little alteration time had made in his affection; [Page]and intreated she would give him leave to hope, that she would listen to his addresses with more complacency than when he first made them.

Mrs. Tunstall was somewhat surprised at Mr. Ellison's constancy, and not a little puzzled in what manner to answer him; but, as he insisted on a reply, she stammered out some expressions of the honour he did her, the greatness of the advantages he thus offered her, and her high sense of the obligations she lay under, which must incline her to wish to comply with any request of his.

This sort of cold reception was ill suited to the ardor of Mr. Ellison's passion; he therefore begged that politeness, gratitude, and, above all, interest, might be out of the question; for, though amiable virtues, yet his heart was too delicate, or too capricious, to be contented with receiving them in return for his warmest affections.

[Page]Mrs. Tunstall's situation was rendered the more perplexing, by being really ignorant of the state of her own heart. She had only considered him as a most amiable and worthy friend, and knew not whether she could with pleasure consent to be united to him by a tenderer tie; however, she could safely promise all his delicacy required, not to marry him except he became the free disinterested choice of her heart. Mr. Ellison had no sooner received this assurance, than he repented his request; but his, apprehensions were groundless.

Mrs. Tunstall was not quite so indifferent as she imagined; love seldom rises to a blaze, till it is fanned with hope; and in a few other visits she declared to him that she could no longer resist any inclination of his; on the contrary, found her affection for him grow so intire, that she wished to have it made her duty to love him with a warm and undivided heart.

[Page]Every circumstance now seemed to concur to make Mr. Ellison completely happy, when, three days before that fixed on for his nuptials, he received a letter from Mrs. Blackburn, informing him, that her husband was in the hands of the sheriff's officers, and, if he did not take compassion upon him, he must be immediately removed to prison, as they were not able to discharge the debt, and the creditor refused to take Mr. Blackburn's bond, knowing his whole fortune was mortgaged.

Fewer intreaties would have sufficed to bring Mr. Ellison to their relief. He set out in all haste on horseback, but had not gone three miles, when his horse threw him. He was at first intirely stunned by the fall; but pain in a short time brought him to himself, and convinced him that his thigh was broke. His servant sent off a messenger to a surgeon to meet him at his own house, and with great difficulty got him home.

Mrs. Tunstall was shocked to the greatest degree at this melancholy news, and immediately [Page]determined that the want of the marriage ceremony should not prevent her attendance on him, during his confinement. She had once acted this part from gratitude; and trusted she might now, without censure, be allowed to perform it through affection. Her tender attentions greatly alleviated Mr. Ellison's pains, but could not effect his cure; the third day after the fracture, a mortification began, which gave the surgeons the most alarming apprehensions.

Melancholy as his situation was, no dejection appeared in his countenance, and, as soon as he apprehended his life was in danger, he considered of the best methods of preventing others from suffering by his death. He charged on his fortune the support of all the charities and benevolences he had established. He discharged Mr. Blackburn's debt, and bequeathed ten thousand pounds to Mrs. Tunstall; and, as his son's fortune could not fail of being great, since Sir William's estate would come to him, he charged it with annuities for all his dependants; he had not a [Page]servant to whom he did not leave some token of his bounty, and, not confining his thoughts to England, obliged his son to leave his Jamaica estate in the hands of his steward, as long as he should live, providing for all the Negroes that should remain on the plantation at the time of his steward's death.

His hardest trial was yet to come, the taking leave of his son and intended spouse. For the form [...] [...] felt a thousand fears, lest his unguided youth might be led into some of the many errors to which that season of life is prone; and he did not more grieve than fear to leave him. He recapitulated the substance of all the instructions he had for so many years been inculcating, and beseeched him with tears, and the tenderest caresses, to imprint them deeply on his heart.

But his severest task was taking leave of Mrs. Tunstall, who approached his bed more dead than alive. He bade her not grieve for him, since he trusted he was going to the only place where he could find a happiness [Page]superior to what he should have enjoyed in her society. Mrs. Tunstall had no power to answer but with tears, which flowed plentifully over the hand she pressed between hers, while kneeling by his bed side.

At night, when the surgeons examined his leg, they found the mortification, to their surprise, had not advanced. The next day the symptoms appeared still a little more favourable, and in a few days, beyond all expectation, he was declared out of danger; and he now found that the life he could so contentedly have parted with, was still extremely dear to him. But, had it indeed lost its charms, it must have obtained new ones from the joy that was diffused over the whole neighbourhood.

Mrs. Tunstall was ever rejoicing over his restored life, or on her knees giving thanks for so great a blessing, till Mr. Ellison was sufficiently recovered to confirm at church the union of their hearts, which love had before completed; an union which every succeeding [Page]day rendered more delightful, as a fuller knowledge of each other's virtues, by increasing their esteem and rational affection, more than compensated for some abatement of passion, which must unavoidably be the consequence of possession, and that certainty of each other's affections, which banishes all the fears and anxieties that fan the fire of love, and increase the passion by vicissitude, mingling pains with its pleasures.

Mr. Ellison had now no wish ungratified. Mrs. Ellison returned his affection in the tenderest manner, and completed his happiness, by entering into all his views, and assisting him in every work of humanity, wherein her heart was as deeply engaged as his.

In a short time after Mr. Ellison's marriage Sir William died, and left him heir to his estate and title.

His children, as they grew up, were all honourably married, and well settled in the world; and, among the rest, the eldest of [Page]his daughters was married to the eldest of the Grantham's sons, the old gentleman having for some time past, enjoyed the title of Duke, with the estate, on the decease of his relation.

Thus lived Mr. Ellison, enjoying in sweet and contented retirement, the highest bliss and self-satisfaction that human nature is capable of, and which can only be obtained by a truly well spent and virtuous life: Deriving from a pious and humane sensibility, that happy and constant serenity of conscience, that is only the attendant on good actions. Guided by it, he was early led to indefatigable industry, and a steady and prudent attention to business. This he knew was not only the surest and most rational way to prosper in life—but also the most pleasing and self-satisfactory—that it was not only the way, whereby he could expect to place himself above dependency—but that it was likewise the only means which could enable him to gratify the utmost wish of his heart—the being able to relieve his fellow creatures.

[Page]His industry, as it was guided by a a generous prudence, and a constant and steady adherence to the dictates of conscience and humanity, could not fail of the greatest success;—but although it raised him to the greatest affluence, it did not raise him above himself—he still retained the sentiments he at first set out with, blessing and crowning with the most delightful happiness, all around him— He sought not the favours of the great, or the respect of the affluent—but the approbation of his own conscience.—He delighted not in the bustle of courts or of the world—but, while he thought it his duty, he gave himself to business, and pursued it with unwearied attention; and, being favoured by Heaven to the utmost of his wishes, he chose a retirement most suitable to his inclination; where, sequestered from the noise and bustle of life, he could gratify, unmolested, the purest desires of his soul, and enjoy himself in peace and satisfaction—where, envied by none— but adored by all—he might be a father to the fatherless—and a protector to the widow —a comforter to the afflicted—and a friend to the whole human race.

[Page]We could not take leave of this worthy family at a better time, than when it enjoys the utmost felicity the world can afford, lest, by some of those unavoidable misfortunes, which in the course of time must befal every mortal being, the scene may be overcast, and those who are now the happiest of mortals, become objects of compassion.

FINIS.

§

§

[Page]

Man of Real Sensibility: OR THE HISTORY OF SIR GEORGE ELLISON.

Dear SENSIBILITY!—Source inexhausted of all that's precious in our Joys, or costly in our Sorrows.—'Tis here I feel thee—'tis thy Divinity that stirs within me.—For that I feel some generous joy—some generous care beyond my self.—All comes from Thee— STERNE's Sentim. Journey.

PHILADELPHIA: PRINTED by JAMES HUMPHREYS, JUNE. in FRONT-STREET. M DCC LXXIV.

PREFACE.

[Page]

THE lives of good or eminent persons, have always been thought a very useful study, as they set before us examples which may incite us to virtue, and trace out to us a path, wherein emulation may induce us to walk. But the Author of this little History, which is founded on fact presumes, that the life of a man, more than ordinarily good, whose station and opportunies of acting are on a level with a great part of mankind, might afford a more useful lesson than the lives of his superiors, as being more within the reach of imitation.

Just Published, and To be Sold, By JAMES HUMPHREYS, Junr.

[Page]

In Front-street, the lower corner of Black-horse Alley, elegantly printed in Octavo, and embellished with a very elegant engraved copperplate FRONTISPIECE.

A Second American Edition OF THE SEARCH AFTER HAPPINESS, A Pastoral DRAMA: By Miss HANNAH MORE, of Bristol in England.

WITH ARMINE AND ELVIRA, A LEGENDARY TALE, in TWO PARTS.

By Mr. CARTWRIGHT of London.

ALSO,

Cooke's Voyage round the World, 2 vols. 8 vo. School for Husbands, 2 vols. The Child of Nature improved by Chance, a philosophical Novel 2 vols. At the same Place may be had, All Kinds of STATIONARY and BLANKS.

Information about this book

Title statement

The man of real sensibility: or The history of Sir George Ellison. [Six lines from Sterne]History of Sir George Ellison

Scott, Sarah, 1723-1795.

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI :

Date

2008-09.

ID [DLPS]

N32437

ID [TCP]

N32437

ID [STC]

Shipton 42696

ID [NOTIS]

APX9011

ID [IMAGE-SET]

42696

ID [EVANS-CITATION]

99025983

Availability

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.

Series

Early American Imprints, 1639-1800 ; no. 42696.

Notes

(Evans-TCP ; no. N32437)

Transcribed from: (Readex Archive of Americana ; Early American Imprints, series I ; image set 42696)

Images scanned from Readex microprint and microform: (Early American imprints. First series ; no. 42696)

Source

— The man of real sensibility: or The history of Sir George Ellison. [Six lines from Sterne], History of Sir George Ellison, Scott, Sarah, 1723-1795..

Extent

[2], 84, [2] p. ; 17 cm. (12mo)

Printed by James Humphreys, Junr. in Front-Street.,. Philadelphia: :: MDCCLXXIV. [1774]. (Attributed to Sarah Scott in the Dictionary of national biography.) (Bookseller's advertisement, p. [85].)

Creation

Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford.

Editorial practices

EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO.

EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org).

The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source.

Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data.

Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so.

Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor.

The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines.

Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements).

Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site.