Digitized by tine Internet Arcliive in 2014 https://archive.org/details/elementsofmorali01salz ELEMENTS M O R A I, I T Y, FOR THE USE OF CnfLDREN; WITH AN INTRODUCTORY ADRESS TO PARENTS. ^"^mipm^JW^^W^mT^ TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF THE Rev. C. G. S A L Z M A N N. THE THIRD AMERICAN EDITION. WILMINGTON: Printed by JOSEPH JOHNSON Market-street Opposite the B^nk. A D V E R T I S £ M E N t> THIS Utih JVorJi fell acciddnfally Into my hanfs^ •when I begun to learn Qerrnan^ and^ merely as ar. cxercifi in fiat language- I attempted) to tranflate it ; but^ as I proceeded^ I was pleafea to find that chance had throne in rr^y way a very rational book^ a?id that the writer coincided with me in opinion refpe^ing the method which ought to be piirfued to form the heart and temper^ or^ in otl^sr words ^ to inculcate the firfl principles of morality, I do ncty however^ mean to nfb- §r thefe volumes in by introdu^ory eulogiums^ for I have always defpifed t h of e prefatory puffs direct; yety as I equally defpife falfe humility ,fhail /imply fay ^ that if I had not thoright it m. very ufcful producliofi' I fhould not have gone on with the tranjlation. I term it a tranflation^ though I do 7:ot pretend to af fert thai it is a literal one: on the contrary^ befide mak- ing it an Englifiy pr^ry., I have 7nade fome additions^ and altered many parts of it^ not only to give it the fpi- rit of an original^ but to avoid introducing any German cufiouis^ or heal opinioris. My reafon for naturalizing it mufi be obvious — / did not wifh ti^ puzzle children by p'Anting out modifications of manners^ when the grand principles of morality were to be fixed on a hoard bafi.s. Though I have net copied^ I have endeavoured to imi- tate^ the JhnpHcity of ftyle and manners which I admir- ed in the origionaL If it had been a French work^ I Jhould probably have had to curtail many fmooth compli- ments^ that I might not have led my little readers to the very verge of fclfehood; but it did not appear to me ne- c^U^'^ry tn retrench the artlefs dictates ofajfedlion^ when ( ) / -wijhed to 'inJiyiU'ite a iaQ for domeflic fleajures mio the hearts of hrjh f-aj-ents ajid chiidre?i. Jll the flclures are d?-i.rjjn from re^d life^ and that I highly appro ue of this mcih^d^ rry havhig '■ojvitten a book on the fume pian-'' ^ is ih^ flror.gej? proof. I have here aif 'o iriferted a little tcde to lead children to confidcr the fndians as theu brothers, hecaufe the omljfion of this fubjedl appeared to he a chafm hi a -well dlgejled fyjlem^ MA.RY WOLLSTONECRAFT. * In titled, Original Stories from real Life, INTPc OD UC T ORY ADDRESS. T O PARENTS. THE clefign of this Book is to give bu'tli to what- v/e call a Good Disposition in children: generally as. the worJ is uled, it appear-: to me necelTa- ry toafcertain its real meaning. A good difporitionis, in my opinion, a fuperlor degree of knowledge : knovv - ledge coniifts in being acqiuiinted with the charaCc- eriltics of things : but a good difpofition is nob cov.^.ned to a bare acquaintance with their diiting;;i-uing cbnr- a'flers ; it extends to their intriniic vali e, ar.d the efecis produced by them, to which. affedtion or averfioa is, at all times, neceilary attached. For example, give a child, of five years old, two' round yellow pieces marked with fome imprefiion, the one a guinea, the other a brafs coimter ; fhew hini the difference between them ; tell him that the former is ofaiclear, the latter of a deep yellov/ ; that one has a fine head, the other a wild uninformed countenance ftamped on it ; that one is lighter th:Mi the or'^^ r : ih:-i child has then acquired a knowledge of both ^ pieces, which may be termed juil. But afterw ards only maks him compreherid the value of the guinea — tell him ho w^ many raliins and toys he can purchafe with it • you have determined his difpolition ; he not only knows the guinea, but he loves it. Teach him that envy is the vexation which is felt at feenig the happinefs of others, you will have given him a juit idea of it; but fnew him its dreadful ef- feds^ the example of Hannah^ in chap. 29^ v/Iio A3 ( vi ) was fc tormented by this corroding- paifion, a-t her filler's v/edciing. tha'c fhc could neither eat, drink, nor lle.:p, and was fo far carried away by it, as to f-nibiccer lier innocent filler's pleafure : this reprc- ieiUation has dectruiined the ciiiid's diipofition — he v/ill hale envy. An objecllon now naturally occurs to me ; how happens i: tiien txiat children remain indifferent, whea the cliariicleriilics of envy are pointed out to theui ; a'ulfeei a de?;ree of abhorence, v/hen they fee a pidure of i:3 eiiect ? The anfwer to this objection is very fiinple ; we love what affords us pleafure, and hate what gives iis uneafnefs. As long therefore as I only kiiov/ a thing by certain diilincl: characlers, I remain indiiferent to it ; but as foon as I am perfuaded that it will afford me pleafiu'e or pain, I deiire to hate it. Suppofe, for inflmce, that my ibn had never leen any grapes or winter cherries ; I wKh to make them known to him, and defcnbe in ^vhat rcfpect chcy clLiFcr from each other fo clearly^ thac he can deterinlnc tlic fpecies of plant to which they belong; I might then, indee:!, fay, that he had a juft conce[:tion oi" uoch ; but would it make him love one better than the other ? However, bring him fome winter cherries and green grapes ; and which do yon think his iucUnation wordd lead him to at the fight of tiiein ? ccriair.'y to tl'.e cherries, attracted by the red colour; b It let iif.a raile both, and he will, probably, loofi akc- , andafivlbr the grapes. Toe:! I! . - . i pofuion liill fcrcher, and taking it,, for gra'itcci ':h;it lie had the Jiextday a violent tooth- ach, wiien tii 3 grapes and cherries are again brought to libn, and he is .!;U:rod rhat the former wiU cool his tooth, and occaiion a very difagreeabie fenfation, and that the lactcr, as they are often prepared, may, per- haps, foften the pain. — •tVhich will he nov/ prefer ? Doubtiefs the cherries. By this method it appears, that we may direcl the inclination of a child which way we wilh, if we only know how to make him nghtly comprehend the pleiifure or pain which certiist things will procure him. ( vii > What has been faid of grapes and cherries, may alfo be applied to vice and folly, to the love diue to God, our fellow-creatures, and ourfelves. If the love of God is repreieiued as a defire to do his will, and vice as a departure from his law, they may underiiaud the meaning of both ; but it an idea be not guven theai of the ve:.ation which is inieparable from the latier, and the pleafure which refults from the former, they will remain as indirrerent as the chad was to the fruit, which he only knew by defcription. This is the rea- fon, 1 believe, why many children, who have a nuin- ^her of fine maxims by roce, Itill neglect to pradife the virtues they can fo v^ell defcribe ; bi t when experi- ence has taught them, they will continue to prcier that manner of ac^ting from which they expcd the iiiolt agreeable ienfations* Befides, if I have rightly obferved, pleafure and uneafmefs are feelings, and I conclude from this, thai: dehre or averlion increafes, in proportion as the un- ealinefs or pleafure attached to a thing is forcibly felt. If, for exatnple, to make a child have an averliou for idlenefs, I fay to him, ifilenefs, my dear chiid^ is a vice: it makes a man difcontenteci, itjiires his Keairh, and rinnsliis circumlfances. This ddeourie,' I believe, would not have much efied ; for the child cannot form a right idea of difcontent, heakh, or cir- cimiitances : but if I lay to him, there was once a far- mer, named Brown, v/ho was a very idle man, ?.jd defcribe him, as he is drawn in chap. i6, I Inall cer-- tainly give birth to a v/iih, at leait, not to be idle ; for his imaginati.on reprelenting idlenefs in a lively manner, he will feel the unealinefs infeparable from it. After this explanation, I hope my defign will be tmderitojd, when I fay, that i am at giviug bn'tn to a good difpoficion ; I have therefore, in little tales, equally marked the value and eifeds of things, the knowledge of which is the moil neceifary for children ; and endeavoured fo to addrefs them to their fei^ifes^' ( viii ) titat whilft they ftnke the imagination, they mafy b« felt by reafoii. Some people may imagine that I have overlooked a few iiibiects. The omlllion did not anie from forget- fidneiV. I had a falficient reafon for omitting them. I ha\ e not, for example, inferred any tale to repreient the nreiuhiefs of magilb'aces, becanie children are not in any imaiediate connexion wirh the-n, and durnig tlieir .infancy OL.ght to coidivier their p.irents and fchoohnaiicrs in Lhac iight. In liie eouri'e of che book I have, howe . er, I hope, treated all the moral fub-- jecb with winch children ought to be acquanited. ■* ^^^^-^ i< ^ Parents and teachers, I now prefent this book to- you, earnc!liy wilhing tliat it may hav^e a proper effeft. on your children, and that the pernfal of it may make them more obedient, coinplaifant, induOrious, patient^ &c. Bat I m.i'ii fay a few words to yon concerning the rij^^ht ufe of it. I do not think that it will have m-uh eirtcl, if yon give it to tliem to read juif as they pieafe ; for they wilJ natnraiiy be fo eager to come to the end of the tales, that the truths which they con- tain woi.ld be palfed flightly over ; they will fuck oiF the fugar, and leave ihe medxlne which it concealed, behind. Tlie hally reading of fo many good Icffons mijft have mrcli the lame effect as thole dry precepts vvhicli many p.nenis have a cuhom of continually re- pearing — none at all. Vv iic ''. fo mi.ch advice, is given iii a breath, and men are toiti a: once what they fiiould,. Qud what tliey ihouid not do, they, in general, do< no dung. I v^oald ^hcref(^^e ndvife yon to relate them your- feives, bi;t not for an ho'n' t(^gether, in the could tone of inftn.iCLion, or yom* crouble and mine will be ioff. Rather take advani:^ of an inieMpeded moment, after din'ier, diiriisg a wahk, or when the children them- felves beg you to cell them fomething-; nay, after yoir have begun che tale, fometimes break oU fnddenly 5 ( « ) *they will intreat yon to go on, but you mnft not b* prevailed on ; and, merely to try their patience, tell them that if they behave well, the following day you will continue the relation. In this manner their defire to hear the tales will be kept aii\ e, and the relations will appear to them to be a reward, which is always more pleaiing to children than initriidion. The tales mull be told with warmth and interert, or they will have little erfe^t ; try td make them have the vivacity of plays, by afTimiing the voicp and manner of the different perions who- are . mentioned. It would be ufeful when children have committect ! fome fault, to fhew them the hiliory , which repre- i fents the bad coniequences of it, or the excellence of 1 the contrary virtue. But this mult be done with great i caution, for if the ftories be told in a tonecjf anger, , they will foon become difagreable, and produce a ^ry bad effedt. Wait then till the firft emotion of anger is oyer, and when you are fufficiently calm to fpeak with coolnefs of the fault which the child has commit* ted, point out the tale moft applicable, laying particu- lar emphalis on the bad effecT:s which naturally follow, not as a punilhment, but as a confeqilence. However, though I am periuaded that the recital of thefc tales in the manner I have recommended would be the moft ufeful, yet 1 am afraid that many people, who have not the talsnt of telling a ftory well, would ' find the attempt very irkfome, and I adyife them to purine another method. Let the children read the tales aloud, and after e- very two or three periods, alk them fome pertinent queftion. If, for inllance. a child is reading the tale, in which it is faid, that the poor are neceliary to the rich, it my then be pointed out that health and every other bleiiing of life only arifes from good conduct:, and that all men are equal, till they didinguilh them- felves by fuperior virtues or attainments : dwelling on this circumllance is particularly ufeful, becaufe children are apt to conilder themieives of tco muclt ^Onfeqnence. — This method of making them read "fe alio an excellent exercife to iiiarpea their attention^, and make them reject. Bi.'t where ihall I find, a Acs an affeclionate mother^ a perfon who poiVeiles fufBcient abilities to inrtrii^l my children in this manner f — ileipeclable woman, iince thou halt fviincient tenderneis and feofe to be anxious about the penb-i to whom thou wifhelt to intri^lt the weighty charge of educating thy children, I approach tliee with refpet^, and with p-leafure ofi'er thee my ad- yite. The propereft perf^ja to ionn the characlier of thy children, is thyfeif. four leK has i^ndeniably uenJernefs than o-irs 5 the female voice is, in ^ei;;;ra:, ;TiDre perfviafivc a'jd •foft, and more eaniy miiniiates ufelf into- the hearts of chUdren^ They have a greater aiteition for their ffjother, if fhe doeb ;if)t r^lign the ;5?fice^ than for any ocher perfon in :h2 \v»jr.c; , and yo'jr vivacity arid tenderneis will eud\:.-r ^ ri .0 ^nve a utgrce of mtereit and familiarity ti) t;i j 'aU"., vhv h a man Vv'ho -oncers into ttie bufy iceuc' of I:f^ vAls. (tldom be able to equal. To you does the pieafiu-;; laik belong of foraiing: then* tempers, and giving chcm habits 01 vn'tae ; for as the fight of your breaft is a hint to yoi:, that you were diitnied to lackle yoo.r chharen, fo is cne con* fcio-ifaefs of your abihties, and the doineilic ties^ Which fo firraiy attach yoar children to yon, hints from God, that the hrit foraiation of their charader' belongs to you. If you have fufHcient refohitlon to perfevere, you will be amply recompenfed for the trouble this em- ployment gives you, and it will become, atter you have acquired a tafte for yoar duty, your moft agree- able relaxation. The fociety of your children, which was, perhaps, fometimes a little troublefome to you, Will foon, vvi-ien you are anxious to improve them, be.- come yom- deareil enjoyment. You v^iil drink deeply of that inexpreihbly fweet pleafure, maternal intima^ cy, a cordial of which fo many mothers only tafte a drop. Your blooming, obedient, adive da^ighters • youp fobuft fons, full of honeity and goodnefs of heart, will procure you more relpeft than the uiort coltly or- naments ; and when you walk in their company in tht meadows, you will fee them free from rt:ie prejudices, faults, and cares, which in the houies of yoi.r ueigh- "boursfeed pale difcoritent and marrow-confuming grief; .you will find in every word the ^xprcllion of inno- cence, good fenfe, and contentment ; — then recoiled^ that you have laid the foundation oi ail this. What a thought 1 would yoa give it v:p for ail the pleafures in the world ? But if through particular circuml\ances you are pre- vented from ini\ru MORALITY. 17 go, readily gave his confent ; and the children jump- ed for joy, as they attended Sir William to the car- riage. They then returned, and feated themfelves again round the baflcet of cherries, and could talk of no- thing but the pleafure they expected the next day. Going home, they were full of little plans, and allved fo many queftion, that they ftopped at their own door before they were aware of it. A fervant was directly fent to hire a coach, which llie was to order exadly at five o'clock in the morning. The childrea were then fent to bed, and were delired by their pa- rents, wlien they killed them, and bade them good night, to remember and rife early to drefs themfelves in time, that they might not have to wait for them. Mary was up before four; fhe roufed the whole houfe, and ran from room to room, linging and danc- ing ; and when flie faw her mother ready to go di.wn rtairs, Ihe returned to her own room to look for her bonnet. — Suddenly fhe dropped her long, and remain- ed filent near her clofet door, on the floor of which her bonnet lay : Ihe had toiTed it careieiHy there Vvheii Ihe returned from paying a vifit with her mother. Her brother, who had followed her, faw her eyes full of tears, and enquired what was the matter that ihe would not come and play wi*h him. Let me alone, faid Ihe ; I do not know what I fliall do. He ran, half crying, to his mother, to know the caufe\ — What have you done to xMary ! faid he, in a forrowful tone ; we were laughing and playing together j nil now, and indeed I have not vexed her, yet fne turns her back on me, and will not fpeak to me. The maid brought in the breakfafl whilft they were fpeaking. — Go and cull your fifter, anfw ered the mo- ther, and I ihall foon hear what is the matter with her. He went, but quickly returned, faying his filler could not eat. any breakfaft this morning. — ^Not eat any breakfart I repeated the tender mother j go again^ and dciire ber to come to me diredly. ELEMENTS OF Mary came trembling, her eyes v/ere red with weepirr^r ; i].e hung down her head, and held in her hand, behind her, the midiin bonnet her mother had made her when ihe went kit time to fee her coaiins : it was covered with dirt, and cniit to wear. Hov/ has th.is happened ? aihed Mrs. Jones. Pray, my dear mother, forgive me, fobbed out the weeping girl, and indeed 1 will never in my life again neglect to do as you bid me, and put my bonnet in the box. The fa- ther entered and faw her in tears, and his wife, whom he had left a moment before very cheerful, now looked vexed and angry. She pointed to the dirty- rumpled bonnet ; and Nx;.ry car-gh: her father's hand, ftili crying, but unable to fpeak ; poor girl, find he^ you have deprived yourfelf of the pleafure we wiflied to procure you. - Dear father, dear mother, cried Mary, turning from one to the other, furely you will' not leave me at home. — Oh I you will not leave me I My child, anfwered her mother, do you not know that you have not another bonnet fit to go in ; and that this is the fecond time that you have ncgleded ta put it by in the box I gave you, that you might keep It clean till y~u wanted to wear it again ? I cannot help you : 1 muft leave yon at home, beca\ife I Ihould be alhamed to let you appear in company fuch a dirty f gure. I lhali not enjoy half the pleafure I expeclecl, lujNV I am obliged to leave you at home ; but remem- }/er, that the (hrappointment entirely arifes from your own thoughtieiinefs, and your not paying proper at- tention to my example, who always keep my clothes in order. Mary would have faid more, but they fav/ the coach drive up to the door, and finilhed their breakfaft ia a hurry, not to keep the horfes waiting, ivlr. Jones took hold of Charles' hand ; and after defiring Mary to remember to be more careful for the future, they drove olF, leaving her weeping on the iT:ep£. Her longing eyes followed the carriage till it turned the corner of the Itreet ; ' then flie itole fobbing to her f>.wn room^ uijdrelied herfelf^ and wept till her eyes M O K A L I T V. 19 were fore. What a hateful thing is flovenlineCs^ faid file 5 it has deprived me of all niy proinired pleaiiire. The other day, when niy Uttle covdins came to ouir houfe, I vvas a.]]iamed to go into the parl(jur, becaufe I had thrown ink on my frock, after my mother ddlr- ed ine to be careful. Another day an old gentleman came into the room, when they were playing wdth me he kiffed them all, and gave them fonie fruit — • yes, all of them — yet he left me landing as if he did not fee me : my mother told me afterwards that he was angry with me bccauie niy face was dirty, and my hair tangled ; nov/ I am left at home, and I have vex- ed my father and mother ; I know that they love me^ and wiflied to take me vvfith them:, when the.y went in a coach fuch a pleafant journey — How the fun Ihines, and here I am alone, crying, inlfead of going with them to fee a fine houfe and garden— fooiilh girl that I am ! She fat filcnt fome time ; then dried her eyes, and began to fold up her clothes, and put her drav/ers and clofet in order ; and (lie gave the houfe-maid a Ihilling, Ihe had faved, to walh the bonnet, over which ihe had ihed fo many tears. This employment amufed her a httlc while ; but Ihe began to cry again, when fiie had no more to do. My ihilling is thrown away, thought Ihe, as much as if I had toiled it out of the window ; had I been more careful, I might have bought a new book full of itories, or have given it to the poor girl my uaother lent my old Ihoes to, whon^ I yeiierday faw trembling with cold ; it is my owa fault : Oh ! this Jlovenlitid/s is a nafly thing. Mean while, the coach drove riuickly over hill and dale. ELEMENTS OF CHAPTER II. ABOUT eleven o'clock they reached Sir William^s fiiiehoufe; a lervant received them, and made an excuie for his mailer, who was Itill in bed ; he in- formed them that he had caught cold by being out fo late the evening before, in the air; and had taken fomething warm when he went to reft, which obliged him to Itay longer in bed than ufua]. He then offered to Ihew them the way to the breakfaft parlour ; but Mr. jones, who faw the garden through the hall look very niviting, propofed a walk, and his-wife and fon readily confented. It was a beautiful garden, or rather pleafure ground ; and every fweet path offered fomething new to their view, whillt they breathed the air perfumed by vio- lets, pinks, rofes, and various other flowers: they^ came to a grafs plat which furpaiTed all, and command- ed a fine extenfive view of the country ; a little ftream, artfully conducted from a neighbouring river, bubbled through it, and pretty feats made of roots and plaited oilers were placed under fhady tribes. They ilopped to feaft their eyes with the fmiling profpetl, and fat down on one of the inviting feats; for fome time they remained quite fiient, till, preiTmg each others's hands, they {did all at once, v. ell, this is beautiful ! this is charming ! After they had gazed fome tnne, Mr. Jones obfer^ ed that man was a noble creature ; that he made i all nature beud to his power, and by his indulhy turn- ed a barren wade into a fruitful garden, planting there- in a number of w hoiefome vegetables and fweet flowers^ coiiected from dlJereat parts of the world ; forcing the wild trees to ])raduce deficious apples and pears, and jnaklng the water run over dry ground. While he was fpeaking, they heard a little noifebe- laind the hedge; Charles ftaried np to look froio MORALITY. whence it came, and faw a poor labourer eating his dinner ; a crull of brown bread, and a niorl'el of cheele. This was his whole meal, and he wallied it down with a draught of pure water from the brook. Look, faid Charles, there lits a very poor man, who has nothing to eat but bread and cheefe, and only v/a- ter to drink. Poor man I I pity him. And yet he may, perhaps, be a contented man, anfwered his fa- ther. Come, we will try to make an acquaintance with him, and hear what he has to fay for himfelf. They turned down another walk, and found the maa under a lhady tree. In his countenance they faw, when they approached nearer, a look of honeity ; and contentment fmiled in every rough feature. God give a blelling to your meal, faid iVIr. Jones; tkiink you, maiter, replied the countryman.. And do you contrive to hve contented, my good man, alkecl Mr. Jones ; for this little boy thinks you niuit be very^ i-ahappy witii fcch a fcanty mealf^ The world goes very wcil with me, maiter, replied he. I wilh it went as well with every body as with me : I am -welly tharik God^ and health is dearer to me than a -whok Jack- full of gold: as long as I have health, I can work hard, and laugh at foiilh fancies rich people, vex theaiieivea about. After I have dug from hve in the morning al- moin till noon, blefs my heart, hovv good I find my meal ; with what sn appetite I eat my bread and cheefe ; believe me, my noble inaifer, though he be lord of the manor, finds not his dainties half as good j and when I go to bed, my deep is fo found, I da not want a fofc bed, lalTareyor.; nay, I could ileep on the ground, if it was to come to'thatl I have worked in this gar- den ten years, and maintained my wife and children by the fweat of my own brow ; have had a decent coat to go to church in, and a bk of meat of a Sunday, if times were not very hard 5 and no one ever^eard Joha complain, I will be bold to fay: but, thampGod I have nevei- been (ick ; iicknefs throws a man fadly back in. the world, and fends m.any^ a poor child to the work- li-oiife. — J ehu v."as going on^ bat a fervant came to tell 1* ELEMENTSOF them that Sir William was up, and waited for them, fo tliey were obliged to wilh Joha a good morning. They hafteiied to the ho-afe. What a graad houfe! The hail was lupported by pillars of fine marble, with beautiful Paitues in the niches; and a n.nnl:)er of fer- vants were bufy preparing for dinner. They mo nted a nobie flight of Aairs, and were ronducied through fome large rooms, elegantly fiiniiiiicd and hung with pidiires and glalTes, riclily gilt : ?z hi ai liie very fight of food ; I have an o^-jreuior. at livy i;r..a t. a ftitch in my fide. Oh I Oh :— -vlr, joneo exprt.:v;d his conipaiiion, and he went on for an iioiir, givnjg thein a inliory of iiis van/>.is complaints ; lie iiieutioned a number of phyficians, to v. ho.n he iiad applied ; de- fcribed the difngreeable opera:ioi:s he had imdcrgone, and tlie naufeoits medicines he had taken. Before he had huilhed the (hfmal recital more co.npany entered, who svilhed him joy, as is ufual on birrh-dLays; br.t he could only coinplani ofnls di.^*iruers, Vv'iiicli rejidered life a burtlien, aad would not aiIo<.v ban one day to rejoice with his viators. His lownefsof fpirits fpread a giooni over' the con v erfationi, till they werereheved by a fer- vant who came to tell ti:!em-tiiat dinner was ferx ednp, and all tlie company gladly repaired co the dining par- lour. They palTed through a range of fervants, who flood In ihe hail, dxeficd in rich liveries ; and, on entering the room, it^as a fuperb light to fee the table cover- ed with filver' dilhes, and plate and glafs glittering oa nobie fideboards. They were foon feaced, and one courfe followed an.other, conhlHng of the greatefi: dain- ties the ie2L[oa afforded, dreifcd in fuch various ways. MORALITY. 23 that It woi^ld require the knowledge of French a cook tQ clcfcrihe th'^m ; fweetnieats. tVL.it, and many differ rent foris of wine, were iait plated heiore them. A fine band of muiic ftri.fk i;p, and played ihe moll lively airs ; and the company Teemed to enjoy the fealt, ail but Sir \V illiam : he was helped to many things, V'hich he fent a\\ay afcer he had tried to cat a bit or two, to Ihew his refped for the company. When they returned to tiie drawing-room, to drink coffee, Mr. Joties and \m fjn Hood with Sir Wiiiiam ^t a bow- window, to vkw the grand profpedt it com- manded. A fine trad: of ground extended itfelf on eve- ry fide, but it was only a part of Sir William's great jeftate. I am glad to fee yon fo happy, faid jMr. Joncs^ addreifing his fneiid : yon have all that the heart of man could vvilh for ; your garden, your houfe, yo^r table and fervants, are princely. Happy ! exclaimed Sir William, I ! wretched man I., I believe there crawls not under the fiai a more miferable creati.re than I am* Of "ivhat ufe are ad thtje things^ ivhen I have not health P Did you not remai-k, that 1 fearcely tafted .of any of tlie diihes ? and ail my coltly furniture is loft on me. I am fo continually in pain, that when I lie down I turn from fide to fide, \inable to fleep ; or Ihould I {lumber, frightful dreams, the confequence of a flew fever, fatigue me as much as watchfulnefs. You tell me that my garden is pleafant ; I ieldom walk in it, lel\ I fhould c::rch cold ; and my children were all fo weak, they died in their infancy. I have no one to nurfe me, and ficknefs makes all my acquaintance fly from me. — It is triie, many of my relations vilit me ; but I think they only come to calculate how l^ng I fhall thus gradually be linking into the grave. Believe me, my dear friend, I often wilh to be in the place of one of my day labourers ; to be able to eat, drink, fleep, and laugh ; and to have children to take, care of me in my old age. I fee them dancing round m/ fturdy plow- man ; while I, wretched man, am a burthen to my- felf. He raifed his eyes towards Heaven, and a tear flolc down his pale cheeks. 54 ELEMENTS OF CHAPTER in. AFTER dinner, Charles went to play in the gr«r* den, and was fo dehghred with the variety of new objects which caught his eye wherever he turned, that he thought he could never lee enough. At laft lie obfervcd through the garden gate, that there was ftiil much more to be feen. A river ran through the mea- dows, and willows grew on its banks. He followed its winding courfe, till a wood diverted his attention ; now, thought he, I mull: fee wliere that pretty path leads. He ran to it, and trembled with pleafure when he entered the cool ihade ; but he had fcarcely advan- ced twenty fteps before he loft fight of the meadows. Thick bullies furrounded him ; above which oaks and beeches raifed their proud heads ; on whofe top he on- ly law a little blue iky. All v^as ftili, as an uninha- bited country ; unlefs the croaking of a raven, or the cooing of a Vv-ood-pigeon, refounded through the trees. This gloom, the profound rilence,and thehoarfe croak- ing, which fometimes interrupted it, made Charles feel an indiftinx^ fenfation of fear. He advanced cau- tiouily, and looked round with timidity at every ilep. Sometimes it came into his head to turn back, but ftill he loitered, attraded by the fight of many wild flower* be had never feen before, and other pretty things. One moment he purfued a butterfly ; then ilopped to gather blackberries, and here and there he found fome wood flrawberries ; fometimes he gathered them for his mother, then for himfelf. In Ihort, when he liad pockets and hands full of blackberries and flowers, he rcfolved to turn back and feek for the garden gate- He turned, quickened his pace, and walked a long time, looking forward, expeding every moment to fee the end of the wood ; but he looked in vain ; he waiked till he was tired, yet no meadows could he fee* M O R A L I T Y. ^5 Then it came into his head that he had ioft himfeir, and was wandering Itill further out of his way. At this thought, he felc acold Ihivering run over his body, and he could hardly draw his breath, his heart was fo full. JVhat -will btcome of me^ thought he^ if I am o^ bhged to remain in the- wood with nothing to eat or drink ! inuit I — oh^ mufl I lie in the dark } perhaps, a ferpent, or fome bad man, may come and kill me whilil I am afleep. Ihavclieard my mother talk of gvpiies, who (trip little children, and leave them na- ked or carry them away, and ihey never fee their dear parents any more. O my mother, dear mother, I Ijiali never fee you again He was fodirturbed by thefe fad apprehenfions, that he knew not what to do, or which way xto turn. liut he might eatily have found his way out, if he had had fenfe enough to remark the poiitioa of the fun, and direded his i^eps accordingly ; or if he had purfued a beaten path, it would have led him to a village, or at lealt to afarm-houfe; but fear made him incapable of ]:efle(3:ion. He never thought of looking at the fun; and after purfuing one path a little while, he turned without any reafon into another, which for a moment he beiieved to be the right one. . Once he was indeed in the right path,, becaufe he found a branch of blackberries which- he had left there, intending to take thera home with him when he turned back. Had he been a man, he woidd probably have continued in this road; but the reafon of a little child is as weak as its body. He could not reafon julHy on account of his youth, and wanted his father's advice to teach hira how to think, as much as his Ifrong arm to fupport a poor tired boy, whofe legs tottered under him. iVIore and more confufed, he fcraTiibled through thorns and hrtArs at the glimpfe of a new path. In this ftate of anxiety, the night came on. It grew darker and darker, and as the day Ihut in he began to W.eep.aloud. Hjowever, the .moon foon was up ; it wasiat the full, and enlightened the whole wood; but it only increafed poor Charles, terror. Whilft it was dark ti*5 wood appeared all blacky and hccould %6 E L E M E N T S OF not diftinguiih any particular thing to be afraid of ; but the confined light of the moon gave to the objefts around him the llrangeil appearance. At a little dif- tance he fancied that he faw a little black man fitting, waving his bead backwards and forwards, that then a great wlTite thing came out of a buih ; nay, that a death's head peeped tlirough an oak, and not far from it fomething with horns and a long tail. In fad there %vere none of thefe things ; he only faw bulhes, bro- ken branches, and a white horfe ; yet feai' rendered his mind lb weak, that he could not confider tran- quilly how fooiiOi his conjectures were, nor liad he fafiicient coui'^ge.to approach to fee the objects dif- tincT;ly. Atlafthe recollected . his father's advice, and fell on his knees and prayed to God to have pity on him. Oh, my father, who art in Heaven, he fobbed out, vforfake notn poor lolt child! Tears almoft choaked bim ; but he was foon roufed by a rulthng among thebuihes, and now indeed he really faw a tall black figure approach him, with a wiiite^ cap. on, its head, and a milk white pigeoH flying before' it. He Itarted up, but was fo weak that his legs funk under him,- and he ,feil again on -the. ground ; however, as he plainly fay; it.advance nearer and nearer, fear gave liim Itrength, and fcreaming out he fprang for ward. -r- The thing followed him, cvy'mg^ flop ^ flop ; burhe ran heedlefsly on, and j'unning against :tlae irpotoof ■-^^ tree, he fell and .was caught. - • . • ■ The terror which feized him is not to bie defcribed ,• lie neither heard nor faw any thing, and his- .tongue ftuck to the roof of his mouth when he atteinpted to utter a few half formed words. Notwithftanding all this terror, the 'blade 'man was not fuch a wicked thing as Charles fu ppo fed j 4iis band, far from being as qold as ice, was warmy afl .preffed him gently. Poor child, faid he, what aUeth thee } how coraeft thou here ? and .why art thou afraid of me } - The black man was obliged to repeat thefe quef- MORALITY. 27 tions feveral times before Charles had power to anfwer hiiu. At lali, gathering a httle courage, he afked, with a trembhng voice, who are you ? I am, replied the black man, neither a ipirit nor a thief, but the cu- rate of a village not far off. Now the half dead Chartfes began to breathe again ,- and obferving the figure his- imagination had made fo hideous^ he faw in reality a clergyman with a white v/ig. ,.1 Tke JOT He felt in&y eafily Ice concei ved , for he now hoped to find his way out of the wood, condu(5led by this friendly man; but, recollecting himfelf, healked, Vv'here is the white pigeon which ftew before you ? A white pige^^n, anfwercd he, I did not fee one ; where ihotrld it come from at fuch a late hour, when moft birtls are at rooft ? Fear has undoubtedly clouded your light. While he was fpeaksng, Charles faw him rub a white handkerchief acrofs his forehead ; for he had Ibeen v/alking faft to iiaften home, and had taken olF his hat to wipediis temples^ a\ hen Charles took his wig .for a huge cap. Now he was more at his eafe he could reflect, and fenfibly concluded that fear had tranf- Ibrmed that very white handkerchief into a pige- on. Glad to hear the found of his own voice, and to hold a man's hand, he began to relate how he came -into the wood, lod himfelf, and what terrible things he'had feen, adding, when I faw you coming I thought : — I . knew not what I thought, I -was lo terrified. .And did you not tell your parents, afl^ied the clergy- man, til at you were going to walk in the wood? No, replied Charles. The clergyman drew back a Ilep or two, aRoniihed, and let fall his hand, faying, thy father know nothing of it I — what an imprudent child thou arc. Such a young boy, who can have learned ft) little, j'hould never have ventured out of the houle without leave. God put itiuto the hearts of men to keep their children longer at home with them, than 28 ELEMENTS OF dogs keep tkelr puppies, or hens their chickens, be- caufe a child is lliii more helplefs, has more to learn, and could not To readily find its own food, or a6t pro- perly, if not directed by a man who had lived a long time in the world. As you grow taller, ifyouarea good boy, you will grow wifer, and learn from the example of , your parents, and other men, how to take <^are of yourfelf.. But now your parents know that you are fo ignorant and helplefs, they will be v^ery un- eafy. Charles had forgotten every thing when he was terrified almolt out of his wits; but he began to cry again, as foon as he thought of his father and mo- ther. Be eafy, faid Mr. Benfon, for that was the name of the clergyman ; I will fend a meffage to them as foon as I reach home. Charles again recovered his Ipirits, and encouraged by the kind treatment he had met with, v.entured to af^j more queltions. Charles. Dear Sir, where are all the things I faw jul\ now ? the little man in black — the death's head — • the iiorns ? ^ . Curate. I will explain the matter to you. Did you not perceive chac as foon as you imagined you had lolt y ourieltL, you ihoyght of all the accidents which could happen to a lol\ child ; you trimbled, and could fcarcely breathe ;~w as it not fo } Charles, Yes, jul\ fo. Curate. What you felt was fear. Fear is a fad thing, it makes people very foolilli. They can neither fee clearly, nor hear diflindly, when it becomes voi- lent; and it feems as if all the accidents they thought of were juflat hand: and they often, indeed, have caufe to be forry for thinking they have not Ih'ength to avoid .the ieal danger ; they make no elFort, or run diredly into the evils they fiiould Ihun. This happened to a man who now lives in my parilh, who was a foldier in America lall: war. He was aa idle boy, and never learned to think or do any thing in a regular manner. Very late in the evening of a winter's day, his cliptain had occafioa to fend him in a hurry with ibme .orders to a detached troop, and M O A L I T Y. 29 v/as oUio e'^ to crofs the flcirts of one of the vaft waftcs in AmeS:a. He had often heard that the natives lurk- thickets, and rode trembhng along, expeding lee them rulh out of every bulli. At lall he actual- ly tho\ight he fav/ a body of the copper coloured men, who inhabit thofe trackiefs woods, coining towards him with manacing geltures, loud Ihouts, and horrid yells, as he had heard difcribed. Though all was Hill, lave the ruiUing of the leaves", which a ftrong wind whiftled through, he imagined that they were clofe at his heelo, anci fpurring his horfe, it let off full Ipeed, till he le-: fall ihe reins ; endeavouring to catch them again, he fell over the horfe's head, and broke his leg by the fall. On the ground he remained along time groaning, till his groans reached the ears of one of thofe men whom we Europeans with white complexi- ons call lavages; his heart, however, was humane ; the the lame blood warmed it which mounts to beautify a fair face. He held the foldier's head again ft his bc- foni tiil he recovered his ienfes, then took him on his iflioidders, and carried him to his cabia ; for the terri- fied- man had actually approached one. He foon ga- thered feme iVicks together, lighted a fire, and brought him all the refreihment the cabin afforded; afterwards he made him. a bed, covering a mat ^vith the ikins of all the wild animals he had killed. Nor was this all ; he ran fearlefsly to the fame common to leek for ibme herbs,, which he' applied to his wound, and bound np his leg. Every day did he hunt for food, and drefs it for the enemy of his country ; and when he could limp along, carried him within light of the camp, and preding his fick brother's hand againft his forehead, he prayed the Great Spirit to take care of him, ar^ conduct him fafe to his own country. It was jult the lame in your cafe ; you thought fo long of the accidents you had heard of, that you cre- ateii them. Believe me, the little black man, the death's head, and the reft of the things you have men- tioned, were only branches of trees, wdiich your ter- iriiied moid^ .like the fo!dier's, gave forms to, though E L E INI £ N T S OF i.a la c5l no fjch thing were nigh. If you hw\ not heen terrified, and had always Ibllowed the famc ^e^^-g^ path, you would cerrainly have foiuid your way ^^^^ of the wood, for it is not \ ery extenfive : but fea. in idc you wander fooiixOily from one path to another, without confidering what you ought to have done the moip.ent you ddcovered that you had loi\ your way. If I had not met you, fome unhicky accident might, through this unreafonable fear, have befallen you, for you looked like a fool when I cfuight you. Charles now held the clergyman's hand liili faller: and when you faw me, continued he, how did you feel ? Churhs. I can Icarce tell you, I trembled m every joint ; tried to fcream out for help, but -my tongue would not move, and when I attempted to run, my legs bent under me. Curate. What you felt was the palTion of fear, which is very ufeful to make men careful, when dired- ed by reafon ; but very hurtful to weak men and chil- dren, who have not fufRcient Ib-ength of mind to mo- derate it, and keep it within due bounds. I have heard of men who have fuddenly dropped down dead ^\■ith terror, or been feized with dreadf^d fits : and Ibm. times it renders them ib foolilh that they iofe all theii lenfes for araoaient, and fly into the very dan- ger tliey wUhed to avoid. My own experience taught me this. When I was at the univenity, the houfe in which I lived took fire. You may fuppofe that we were all terrified, to fee the flames burlting out at midnight; but my pre- lence of mind ibon returned ; I haltened to pack up my books and cloaths, and carried them to a place of fafty, and returned to alFift the reft of the family. But the Itudent who lodged in the next chamber to me vas lb difturbed by fear that he knew not what to f]o — loft time in enquiring how the fire began, and complaining of the careleilnels of the fervants : in fliort, he brouglit nothing out of his chamber but an o'd draught board , and if I had not exerted myfelf, lill his books would have been loft, well as his MOLALITY, clothes, which I had not time to cai*ry^^kvv'ay. ^ If I then, my child, yoii wilhtolive contented, and have fuch I adegree ofprefenceofmiud aswillenable you to be ufe- ful to your fellow creacures, guard againll vain fears. Charli's. But how am I to do it ? Now the terror is over — I wonder at my fear ; it is quite gone. Curate. It is not poifible to guard againll all fears, or entirely banifli the fudden fenfations which, in a certain degree, are iifeful, or God would not h*ve planted them in our mind ; but try to moderate them by refiedion, that they may not dilturb your reafon and fenfes ; and only fear the dangers you . really fee, and not thofe your fancy creates. You will foon fucceed, if you thmk often that many things have not happened as you feared they would, and that tliofe you could not avoid were not half fo dreadful as ypu had reprefented to yourfelf in the firif moment of fear. You fliould try to rhink of the beft method to avoid real danger, inllead of giving way to fear, wiiich cre- ates imaginary difficulties. If you are good, and learn to ttiitik as you gro'^^^ up, your mind will grow ftrong, and you will acquire true courage, which in the hour of danger, keeps the head clear, and enables the mind to fee the proper liep which it fliould refolutely take, imdiilurbed by nnnecelfary terror. When yoa can truft in God, however, as you now truft in me, you will have nothing to fear. — A child looks up to a man for piotection — a man to God. CHAPTER IV. YES, there he is ! my dearefl hufband. — There comes our father, our dear father ! cried out the wife and children of the curate, who had expedf- ed him above an hour, and growing a little uneaiy, came towards the wood to meet him. His wife kifl'ed his cheek, and two of the children caught his hand, w hile thehttle one who could notfpeak plain^ embrac- ed his knees. 32 ELEMENTS OP They mftarntly aflied \^lio that Iktle boy was^ whom he had brought home in his hand ? He informed them, in a few words, that he was a child who had ram- bled .into the wood unknown to his parents, and loft himrelf. At the fame time requefted his wife to^ walk home before them, and call on one of his poor parilhi- oners, who would, for a mug of cider, go to relieve Charles, parents from their anxiety, by aihiring them. that he w.is I'afe ; he added, that he would follow hetr llowh^ with the children, becaufe the poor llray child was I'o fatigued he could not walk. fafL The tender mother, feeling for the aiHided parents,, haftened to the v^illage, and fent a peafant immediately with a meffage to them. The clergyman followed with his three children, w^io tripped along, before him, whilei he flyxkened his pace, that he m/lght converfe with Charles, wiio could hardly drag one foot after the o- ther, Curate. Were yon pleafed, my dear, to fee my chil- dren run witli fo much joy to meet and kiis ? Charles. O yes I If ni.y father were now to meet us, I Ihould do fo to, I fliould be fo glad. Curate. You would be glad, and why? Charles. Why ? Sir. I do not underltand you ; he is very good to me, and loves me dearly ;. how can I help being glad when I fee him again ? Curate. Do you know then Vvhat joy is? AVe feel it when fomething agreeable fuddenly occurs.;-^: My wife and children rejoiced to fee me again, becauie they love me, and know that I have their good at hearty, and you would on the fame account rejoice to fee your parents. But believe me, my dear child, that even joy, when it is too ftroug, does as much, harm as violent fear. It diftur}:)s the operations of the underiianding to fuch a de^j'ee, thai a man is no loiigcr diredcd by reafon, and in this corin!rR)n ofLe>i hurts himfelf. f have a {lifer who fainted when Ihc heard that I'he had gained a great prize in the lottery : and a peafant in my pariih, M lioicibn caaiehonic; fi^J;;c ily from lea, afur he h;.d MORALITY. 33 given him npfor loft above five years, felt fuch lively joy, chat he ran like a madman down ftairs, and mill- ing a iiep, fell and fnapt his ancle. — Guard then againft hnmoderate joy. Charlss How am I to guard againft it ? Curate. You muft often think that the unexpected good is never as great as we at firft imagine, and that there is always fomething diiagreeable attached to it. My fifter, for inllance — her prize cauied her much vexation. As foon as it was known that ihe had beea fo fortunate, all her relations flocked round ; fome borrowed money, and others received handfoma prefentsfrom her ; yet few of them werefatisfied ; and after they had tormented her almoft to death, they did not fcruple to call her unfeeling and covetous. If Ihe had forefeen all this care, or only confidered a moment that riches never purchafed content, ihe would not have fainted through excefs of joy. And as tor the peafant's fon, who returned fo unexpectedly fromfea, he had been from Ihip to fhip and became a thief ; fo that after he came back he would neither work nor obey his father. If the unfortunate parent had thought of this, and reprefented to himfelf that perhaps the fon who had fo long neglected to write to his old father might not be an honeft man, he would not have been fo intoxicated with joy, nor have ftepped fo heedlefsly. They nQW approached the Curate's houfe, and the dog fprang out to meet them, teitifying his joy by a number of tricks and marks of fondnefs, till they all en* tered through the garden into the houfe. ELEMENTS OF CHAPTER V. TH E Curate's wife received her dear gyefls verj afFe^ionately ; and after informing them that fhe had lent the meffage to Charles' parents, fhe conducSted tht;m into the room in which Ihe had fpread a table for fupper. It was a very ft-ugal one. There was- neither meat nor paltry to be feen ; a plate of cherries and fome bread and milk made the whole of the meal. But the 1 healthy, kind faces which furronnded the table, made ; it appear nuich more pleafant than Sir William's grand ' feaft. Lome,, children,, let us eat and be merry, faid the good clergyman : we are in health, are hungary, and here is fufficient to fatisfy us ; and, turning to Charles,^ he added, you are with good, friendly people, ani what more is necelTary to niake us all happy ? ■ Charles feated himfelf, and eat v/ith a- good appetite ; ^ -and he grew liiii more lively, when Mr. Benfon began -a converfation which was entirely new to him. How., allied he, have you nothing new to relate ? His wife foon related that Ihe had read of a Lady, who when an acquaintance viiited her, and begged to fee her jewels, and other precious things, fsnt for her children^ and faid, behold my treafure ; tbefe are dearer to me than all the gold and jewels in the world.— George, the eldefVfon, told the little hiil'ory of a man w lio had ^ been fhip-wreeked, and hearing ail the crew lament the i loi^o of their goods, faid calmly, I have every thing with me. Henry, the youngeiV fon,.faid that he had read of a nobleman, who would iioi give his daughter to a gentleman, who had demanded her in marriage, before he had learned a mechanical trade. The little \ Caroline lifped (?ut fomething about a young moufe, ■who had not obeyed ics mother, and went, contrary MORALITY. 35 to her advice, to play with the cat, who caught her ' and worried her to death. And the Ci.rate enterrained the company with the hiftory of a giioiV, which in the beginning was very clrcadfiU to liear, but in the end .excited a univerfal langh, becaufe it foon appeared that it was only the tnck of fome giddy yoiuig people, who wilhed to amufe thenifelvcs by terrifying others. It was a cuftom at the Curate's, that whoever fup- ped with them, fliould repeat fon>ething to amule the company ; and now came Charles' turn ; they pi'efled him, according to cuftom, to tell them a itory ; but as he could not recoiled: one, he fimply related how he had wandered out of the garden and loft himfelf. As he was obliged, during the relatioK, to fpeakibmetinies -of his father and mother, they foon perceived that af- ,ter uttering their names he became more fad, aad be- fore he concluded, tears ruflied into his eyes, and he aiked perrnHhon to leave the room for a nioment. He was sUowed to r-etire, and not returning foon, the Cu- rate fought all over the houfe and in the yard for him ; hut no Charles could he hnd. At laft he difcovered him behind the-kitchen deor, crying bitterly. Curate. What is the matter with you, my little ^ueft? Charles. Nothing at all. Curate. Something muft ail you, or you would not cry. Charles. Ah 1 If I ivere ivith my dear father and { mother \ < Curate. "You -now feel, my child, forrow, or a vi- olent and uneafy defire to fee feme abfent perfon, whom you love; I do not blame you for it, no one ought to be fo dear to a good child as his parents ; and he fliould feel a little uneafy when he is parted from them. But, "my dear child, if you would live contented, you mufb learn to moderate this as well as fear and joy, or you will mifs many pleafures. Do you think you can bring [ therh here ^y-your longing and crying ? Certainly not; you know it is impoihble. Of what ufe is then this vi- o^«nt defire, v/hith makes you fo very uncomfortable } 3^ ELEMENTS OF Come, we are juft ready to begin to play in the par- lour, where you will find fomething to amufe you, and make you laugh ; but if you Itill obllinately indulge your ufelefs longing, you will lole, at lealt, one plea- fant hour of your life. Come with me and be cheerful ; your father- and mother are well ; before tiiis time they know that you are with thofe who will take care of you, therefore they are no longer uneafy en your account. To-morrow I will take you to them, then you may kifs and talk to them as much as you pleale. C/jarles. No, no, leave me alone, let me cry here, I cannot play. Curate. Well if you will cry I cannot help you. He returned to the parlour, and they all came round hiui, alldng eagerly, where is he ? what is the matter with poor Charles ? Curate. Behind the kitchen door, fighing and cry- ing after his father and mother. Poor boy, they all faid, in the fame, breath, let u$ try to do iomething for him. They ran our, and ta- king him by the hand, they prayed him not to cry ; but he cried ftill more. They drew him into the par- lour ; but he turned his face to the wall, and continued to fob. Begin to play, children, faid the Curate, the even- ing is palhng away ; but they did not hear him, they were fo anxious to perfuade the little Granger to leave off crying. So it happens, continued he, when we long jfor any thing out of our reach ; we not only de- prive ourfelvcs of much pleafure, but by continuing to weep and lament we difturb the focial comfort of our friends. I have looked forward during the whole day to the pleafure I Ihould enjoy this evening ; — my wife and children have eagerly expelled my return, and this little boy deltroys all ; come, my dear, take the chil- dren to bed, and I will go to my chamber. He rofe, and they all prepared to follow him, quite difappointed. Charles now began to reflect, that it was very un- grateful and unbecoming to dirturb the pleafure of thofe good people who had taken, fo much pains to a- MORALITY. 37 niufe hlin. Dear Sir, faid he, do not go to bed, I will not cry any" more, I will play, only ftay a mo- ment. Then all were alive again, and little Caro- line kiflcd him, faying, he will be a good boy, that he will. — They foon brought their ftools back, and feat- ed themielves round the table. Now, my dear, faid the Curate to his wife, which of the children has behaved bei\ to day? Henry fmil- ecl. Do you not fee, anfwered fhe, in the fmile of the Utile blue-eyed boy, that he has been the moi\ in- duitrious, attentive child to-day ? The Curate took him by the hand, and faid, while he kiifed hun and pinched his cheek, are you not contented, fuice you have this evening received fu.:h praife ? Do always your duty, my child, and you will ever fnid this fweet iatisfadtion. Hov/ever, I am going to procure you a- nother pleaiure : you lhall choofe the game you love beft, and we will all play at it. The play of the merchant, faid Henry, Good children, faid the Curate, this evening let ns play the pleafant play of the merchant. I am the merchant ; I have to fell all forts of eatables, beauti- ful clothes, bookr. and natural cv.riofities ; in fhort, all that you wifn for, at a jull price. Every one muft now alk for fomething. Then the Curate enquired where they were made ? — of what material ? — who made them ? — the ufe they were of ? — and how mucli they commonly coft — and whoever could not an- Tvver thefe qiieiVions, or anfwered wrong, mull pay 9. forfeit ; George, for inftance, ail^ed for a hat ; and he was queftloned, \\'homade it ? — of what it w^as made ? if there were more than one fort of hats ? — and of what ufethev are of to men ?&c. This ever furnilhed foinething to laugh at, and particularly when they drew out the forfeits. At laft all were redeemed. — Let us once more play, they all cried out. The Curate fhook his he2d : I thought you would be more moderate in your pleafures, and go to bed. But the children begged and kiifed their father's hands and cheeks, till hefaid^ well, play once 38 E L E M E N T S G F more ; but you will foon fee what will happen. They then began to play again, but not in fuch a fpirited manner as at firlt : and they were all fooa weary. Geprge began to yawn, He^vry to rub his ^yes, Charles was almoll nodding with deep, and the little Caroline began to cry and complain, to bed, ^amma, will you go to bed ? — and George himfelf afked, if they might foon leav e off playing? So it /jappens^ faidthe Curate^ -when ^ws know not ho iv to be -moderate in our phafures ; vexation or difgull always follows. If you had left off playing in time, you woi.l4 have gone to bed contented ; but you are now dif- Satisfied. Thus ended the play, and all the children went to bed. Caroline hilf crying for want ot' ileep, and the ireft weary, and almolt ouL of huniour. C H A P T E R VI. IP ARLY in the morning, every one was in inoti- on in the Curate's houfe, and fo full of fpirits that Charleo could not remain in bed, though he wiffi- cd to have flcpt an hour or two longer, becaufehe (till felt weary after his long walk. He was a child accuft- omed to neatnefs and order, fo he wafhed his face, cleaned his teeth, and .combed his hair, before he left his room. He then .came down ftairs, and found them all drelTed in the malt-d£cent manner, ready to join in a lliort prayer, which the Curate addrelTed to their heavenly Fnther ; thanking him for the protection he had affored them while they Qept, and entreating him to grant them food the enfuing day, and fenfe to do their duty. They then all ran on the common before the door till breakfaft {was ready, and returned with an appitite to eat their bread and milk. George left fome milk in his bafon, and broke part of his bread into it j when Charles enquired what he MORALITY. 39 ^vas going to do v, ith it ; he fald, I am going to carry it 10 my dog Pompey, for the poor leilow has not had any breakfaU yet. Then he took them k to his little playful puppy ; but they loon heard h nxvry bittet y,and all the faini f ran out to iee what was the marter with him. There iVood poor George, dillbived in tears. They alked him what had happened ? Oh, anfwered he. ?ny dog^ my little: do{:\, my pood d^.g^ Fonipey is dead ! They Airrounded him and joined in the lementations. There lay the poor dog George had been fo fond of, that he always dit'ided his meals with him ; and no one could guefs how he had been fo fuddenly deprived of life, till Chearls faw fome blood on his fore-head, which led fhem taluppofe that he had received an unlucky kick by an nnruly horfe; The Curate fpoke tenderly to him, and faid, I pity you, my dear George, for I know you were very fond ©f your little dog ; but leave off crying, I will take care to procure you another next week. AH this fig- nified nothing, George continued to= weep. Oh 1 jny poor fellow, my dear Pompey ! The boy, faid the Curate, is very forrow^ful. That which we feel when any thing difagreeable happens. We call forrow. But it is mifery, when men carry it fo far that they like to indulge it. Sorrow does na good, and if George fhouid cry for a whole year, my good dog ! ray dear Pompey ! it will not bring him back. Nay, immoderate forrow will make him ne- gleiSl his duty, and then he cannot expert much plea- fure in the evening. Come, children, let ns go in- to the garden to onr bufniefs. Sir, faid Charles, with a forrowful tone, will you not foon take me back to my father and mother. Yes, anfwered the Curate, only it is neceiFary that I w^ork a little in the garden Hrft, and tell the chil- dren what they ought to do, and vifit my Tick parifli- ioners. For whoey.er would live content, mind this, Charles, maftdifpatch his buiinefsin an orderly man- ner. W'e neVer feel fatislied with ourfelves when we D 2 ELEMENTS OF alwaj^s think of fometking we Hiould do, and yet feaye ic undone. Charles followed him, a liitle fad ; but when he came into che garden, his co; nuenante foon began to ciearnp. It was a charming garden. There were not firs, yews or aloes, to be leen, it is true, nor the ftatues and fountains wliich ornament the gardens of tlie rich ; but all was fmiple and ufefid : yet i'weet- }y pleafant. The walls were hursg with peaches and nedarines, and fine cherry, apple and pear-trees were lanted in fuch a manner as not to fcreen the .vegeta« les, which grew in great proiVaidri ;^pea^y beans, and various oiher u/c-f.ji plants, w ere placed in beds to catch the fun-beams, and currants anc goofeberries grew near the walks. One ])art of the garden was referved for flowers | the bee-hives were placed there, and a feat lliaded with trees, around whofe trunks honey-fuckles and jellamins twined, afforded a cool retreat at noon, and here ihey retired \\hen it was too hot to work in the garden. Rofes bloomed on all fides, and a number gf flowers fprung up in fuceihon to perfume ,,the air, jind afforded the Curate an opportunity to remark the wifdom and goodnefs of God, difpiayed in the moit cfiimte wild Hower, as well as iu the nobler works of creation, animals and men. Be) ond the garden was a field ; tliey entered through a little gate, auv^ faw two cows feeding, a calf bounding near them, and fome poultry, feeking for tlieir own food, which gave a ilili more cheerful ap- pearance to the whole fccne. The hen clucked to gather her chickens, and birds fmig in the hedge vvhich ep.elofed the meadow ; all was gay, and leenicd to ]au>^h wiih joy. Charles laughed too, and catching the Curaie's hand, he faid, v. hat a beautiful place tills is! if my fatlier and mother were here, I Ihould MQvev w!^h ic leave it while I l}\ ed. Then tl:e Curate gave each of the children their raftv ; but George Vv' as fo forrowuil on account of the iLc.:v. .if '"'is -h;!, that Henry good-uaturedly oiieretl MORALITY. 41: to plnck all the kidney-beans for his mother himfelf, and the Httle Caroline had a bed given her to weed. George, when he had nothing to do, cried ftill more, and his father fent him into the houfe, that he might not dirturb their pleafure, fnice he would not try to employ oramufe himfelf. After the Curate had look- ed over the garden, and plucked fome ripe fruit for their fupper, he returned to Charles, and led him to a feat, raifed on a httle eminence which overlooked the whole garden. I am very glad, faid he, to fee you fo pl^afed ; but this place was not always as pleafant as it is now. V7hen I came here, about fourteen years ago, it was full of weeds, briars and fcones, I came to be the curate of the village, and married my wife, becaufe Iloved her with my whole heart ; but Ihe had no fortune , and my curacy was not fuiiicient to maintain us. This made me very uneafy, and fbme months palTed away in fruitlefs vexation. While I was in this wretched ftate, a rich old far- mer came to vifit me, and foon obferved my fadnefs. Friend, faid he, wiiy are you fo troubled ? How, an- swered ly can fuch a poor man as I am be contented r You poor, replied he , you may reckon yourfelf worth above two thoufand pounds. You joke with me, faid I ; if you will give m.e a hundred pounds, you lhall have all I am worth in: the world, and you would have a poor bargain. Very well, returned he, draw, ing a knife out of his pocket, and feizing my hand, he made a ftroke, as if he ment to cut it off : full of ter- ror, Ifnatchedit away. Give it to me, only give this -iitcle hand, I will let you have two hundred pounds for it, and leave you your left hand, and ail your goods.. You cannot think, dear Charles, how- much 1 was terrified by this demand ; I ikpped back, and looked full in the farmer's face. Do you perceive^ faid he, Mr. Parfon, how rich you are ? That fmgle> hmb only you would not fell me for two hundred pounds. If I had attempted to cut off yovir head^ yo^ D 3 ^1 \ I. E M E N T S OF could not ha^-e been more eager to pre\ ent me. \Viih^ out^ joidng. Mr. Paribii, a young inan, in healtli, V. iih a Ibiind mind, aiai robiiil bodv, oiicht not to coiriplaiii of povercy. See t]:ere, die hen, llie finds f-very where food for hcrfeifand chickens, and fo do thoie pigeon^. It is the ia:ne \virh ail enimals ; the ^^Y,^^> t^J- owl, the fax, andeveiiriii^s ; they all have fLuhcient induih-y to procure thenhelves food ; and v/hy notnian? Hold i.ip your head, and inftead of anxiety and weak complaints, think how you can bet- ter your liaiation. ; — think of niingyour arms, and all AMii go v:'eil. God prefcrve you, Mr. Parfon ! next wct k I iliail cc)iiie again to fee )'ou. And fo he left me ill deep tbovicvht. Soi-rovvfuiiy I lifted np my eyes from the ground, and diico\'ercd a fpider \\ ho liadjait caught a great fly ni her web, andthe whole v. eb wasfrdl of the renjains of dead flies. The fpider, thought I, lives without care; fhe procures her daily bread — and thou, then I ij/ri.ng angrily up, thou a man, exclaimed I, who can If reheci:, read and write, who halt a vigorous arm, and iiigcnious hands, with which ib many ufeful things have been made, and thou can-t not procure thy ovv'ii ftibbhence ! From that moment I turned aU my thoughts to tlie main frbject, to findfo]]ie work which might maintain nie. I palled rlie \\hoie night without ileeping a Vv ink, iind hcepiefb niglits are particukndy iax'ourable io re- flection ; I coiiki think of noching elie ; it fcemed to me as if ujy whole viHage w as before me. My thoughts ran over evei y corner, to fearch for fomething to do to maintain my family. Then this Vv^aile place prefented itfelf to my mind fuddenly, which you now fee a calii\ated garden. Some years before a houfe had Ifood on it, but the thatch caught Are. and it wasibbn burnt tothe ground; and the inhabitants left it in ruins, and went to live fomewhere eife. The moment I thought of it, I rould think of nothing but clearing a w ay the rubbifli. Yes^ thought I could earn fufficient to maintain my M O R A L I T Y. 4g v/lfc and the coming infant, if I had money enough to build a fmall houfe on this wafte ground, which originally was ilolen from the common. If the lord of the mannor would give me leave, I wonid be a contented man. This lucky thought pleafed me, and I counted the hours till the good farmer came again. At ialt he came, and his firitqueihon was, w^ll, how are yQ\}X fpirlisnow? have you thought of any thing? Yes^ replied I, all would go well if I could obtain leave to build a fmall houfe on the common, and if I could O! rrow fome money, to add to the little I have, I lliould foon be able to build a houfe, and buy a cow ; and before my little one came into the world, I might Feafonably hope to maintain it and' its mother com- forra!:)ly. Leave all thefe cares to me, faid he, giving me his ha:id ; the place is yours ; I will build the ];oafe for you, becaufe I underfiand theie matters better than you fcliolars, who have been poring over books haif yoi rhves, and you may pay me by degrees, as you fiiid it convenient. The grant was foon obtained, and while they v/ere building rhehoufel worked hard every day to clear the pkne of Hones, and grubbed up the briars. I'laid the Itones on one another, and made a kind of wall, plaftered with nmd, to keep out the cattle, that they might not fpoil my garden. The rnbbilh and cinders I burnt to afnes, and they made excellent manurefor the ground. The next year I brought my wife cabbages, peas, beans, and fallad ; beiide many other things which already had grown in the garden ;.^^nd I feit fmcere pleafr.re vyhen I could bring he^ fomething which I had cultivated myfelf, , Ivly pariOnoners brought me ilips :'.nd fr.ckers, which I planted with care, and you fee YvhuL they are come to ; nay, ioiue of the young trees rofe irom the kernels which I put into the ground after I had eaten the fruit. In that fpot 1 fowedhay feed %i;ddover_, and every year make hay eno.igh to ierve 44 ELEMENTS OF thy cows, when I take them off the common ; and the^ not only fnpply ns with what milk Vv^e want, but fuf- ficient gutter and cheefe for the family : the flowers my wife got by degrees^ and my good friend the far- mer gave me a fwarm of bees. Thus paffed two years, and my labonr made me more healthy than ever ; but in fpite of all this, I had my cares ; I Vvas in debt to fome tradefmen y who live in the next market town. One day^ when tlie farmer vrfited me, he exprelfed his fatisfaction to fee all look fo comfortable, and that my labour had been fo fuccefs- fiii. Now, fi>id he, I hope you have enough to live on. I threw ray eyes down on the ground, and faid no, I am ftill thirty pounds in debt. Hearing this, he grew angry, and ftruck his oaken ftaff on the floor, and faid, not enough to live on^ how comes that about You have only need of food^ clothes, and fome books ! Your garden and poultry would almoft fupply you with fufficient food j and the money you receive from the curacy is furely enough to pnrchafe clothes, books and other neceffaries — let me lee what you are in debt for ? He was a refped- abie old man, fo I could not be angry with, hini^ though he hurt me when he fpoke fo o^^uick.. I took out the bills he mumbled over them.. Sillc for a gown, v/iue, coffee, foap, a glafs for the par- lour, china cups, kc. — I fee now it is:^ added he, only the foap is a neceiTary, all thefe other fupcrflui ties you could have lived comfortably without ; or, at leaft, liave pnrchafed fome things at a cheaper rate, whick would have anfsvered your purpcfe quite as well. — Where is all this money to come from? Sir, if a man cannot pay for cof%e, he muft drink milk; and beer, iridead of w ine. Youi' wife (hould have been contented xvlth a cotton gown ; and china is cjuite unneceffary. A glafs for yoi-r wife to put her cap l^rait by, would be fuificienl ; I thought you had more fenfe than to wiih for i'i.ch a childilh orm iijent in your parlour. Do you fee that raven, he has j ieked up a fn:iil, and is devour- ij}g it with pleafure, Every day he procures fufiideQti MORALITY. 45 ro fatlsfy his appetite, and lives,. without care or debts, for natui'e produces all that he wants. But as loon as it Ihould come into his head, thai the fnails, mice, and ^ones of his native country, and the wood he had feeii grovv', were all too mean for hiin ; and if this foolifh pride led him to fell them, to purchafe with the money the cinnamon and mace of India, certainly nature would not afford him fuihcient to fatisfy his luxury j and he mult foom be plunged into a fea of cares and debts. I do not like thofe people who hoard up their moaey, after they have fupplied the prelhng wants of nature, not allowing themfelves any innocent pleafure ; but I likewife believe that men ought firlt to be careful to fe- cure necelTaries, before they think of fu perfiuities. The art of avoiding l-uperfluous expences, to he able to pro- cure necelTaries, I call ceconomy, Oeconomy, cecon-* omy, dear IVlr. Parfon, you have ftill to learn, or elfe all your induftry will go for nothing ; care wilHhll purfue you ; and do not take amifs what 1 am going to fay ; you will only leave your poor children debts, and cheat the trades-people. ,Good di^y. Sir; do not take okence at my well meant reprimand. I mult own ti»is rough admonition hurt me a little 5 bur when I coolly retle to vifit a fick perfon,. who wanted his advice. Do you wiih to go with me, Charles ? Yes, anfwered he, I flio! Id like to go wherever yon pleafe. They then went ont together, and f^on came to a lit-- tle thatched hoiife. The Curate knocked wich with his itick againft the door; a woman opened it, and the moment ihe faw him,- began to wring her hands, and cry, it is all over ;. ic is all over ; — bnt come in. She opened the chamber door— gracious God, what a dreadful fight ! On the bed lay a man, whofc mouth and nofe were almoin eaten away by a cancer. On the foot of the bed fat four children, who, as foon as the Curate entered, buril into tears, and cried, our poor father fee how he fuffers ! The Curate could not reifrain his tears, he turned his fuce to the v/all and v,'ept, and Charles wept with him. When he had wiped away his tears:, he came towards the frck man, and faid in a foftened voice, hov/ da you find yourfelf^ jny poor friend ? As well as can be expeded, replied he ; I take care MORALITY. 47 9S much as poffible not to be fretful ; I am patient, and by the help of patience one may enarre the grearelt j^aia. If 1 w^ere impatient, and threw myfelf ixoin oae jide of the bed to the oiher, and qv arreiled peexiihiy Avith iny family, I Ihould loon be quite ioW. My pain W'oidd become more violent, my blood heated by \m- pacience, and refUefs anxiety would increaie the fury of my diibrder ; and my \\ i& and children, who have^ %vithout :hls, Godkiio\N S, faiHcient trouble, would no Jon^er tenderly watch ov,er me. Bi-t reiignation mo- derates every pang; and my wife, children and neigh- bours, pity, nurfe and hearLen me Xi^^. ^Patience can foften every pain. You are jighc, my gaod friend, anfwered the Cu- rate ; when we fuffer, we cannot do better than me- derate our impatience, and conceal our anguilh. It is not the fault of the innocent people who furround us that we are afiiitled .; why then ihould we make them fuffer for it ? or, by our ill humour, drive them away, whom duly does not compel to take care of us ? How much more grateful is it to be nurfed rather from a motive of affection, than mere duty ? Poor man \ you know not how iinccrely I pity you, and with what fatisfaclion I vilit you ; but I ihould have little compaf- lion for you, ar^d vifit you with regrete, if your pain- ful ftate only excited murmers and difcontent. God blefs and fu pport you ! continue to give proofs of your patience and fortitude, till death delivers you from all your mifery, and truiHng in the mercy of your hea- venly Father, you compofediy clofe your eyes. The Curate faid much more to comfort this poor lick man, and affe(5tionately fqueezing his hand, flipped a piece of money into it and haflened out of the cottage, be- caufe he had heard that another fick man flood in need of his ad V ice. Charles followed him, arid they foon came to a hut, vhere they law a ihil more dreadful fight. — A man, with a pale disfigured countenance, and livid hps, was, lying groaning oa a bed of half rotten ftraw., Miferably durty tattered rags covered his body; but in 4uch a ma^iner^ that through the many holes and rents 4« ELEMENTS OF they could fee the form of a fl:e]eton. He wiHied to fpeak to the Curate, but a violate cough tormented hiin fo that he co\Aa not, till he had thrown up great clots of blood from his lungs. Great God, pity me ! howl fuffer ! he exclaimed, lifting his fad eyes to heaven, when the cough ceafed for a moraent, and fell back fpent on his wretched bed. The Curuate faw his miferable Itate, and begged him to try to conjpofe himfelf, fince patience was the ■ only remedy for fuch violent pain. t After a few minutes, he enquired what v/as the ; jRiattcr mith him. A confumption, anfw.ered he, with a voice almol\choaked with fobs. ; And how did you fall into it ? again enquired the Curate. I The iick man v/as filent for a moment ; then col- lecting all hisllrength to raife himfelf, he gnalhed his teeth through anguifh, and rofe with much diffi^ culty. Ail this mifery, faid he, in broken fentences and . a low hollow voice, for his lungs were already half gone, iill this mifery I owe to my intemperance. ; Some years ago, I unfortunately became acquaint- \ ed with a number of idle., dillblute young men, and | they taught me to drink. In the morning I drank drams, and in the evening fat at the ale-houfe till midnight, fwallowing ftrong | beer. Thus I neglected my work, and often, when I- ''| was half drunk, quarrelled and fought with my neigh- bours, to whom 1 was obliged to give money to hulh, it up ; nay, one of them went to law with me ; it colt'' me a main light of money, but to be fure I ufed him very ill. Where could money come from to pay for all this } I fold one piece of ground after another, iheep, cows, horfes, clothes, till every thing was gone — only for drink. And now fee what I am be- come — a begger. — Oh ! — and through drunkennefs, and drunken broils, I am come to this — oh , reverend Sir; here, prelhng his hand to his iide, here I feel it — and I am afraid even to pray to God to have mer- cy upon aie^ I have been lb wicked. M O I\ A L I T y. i-v He would have f^^id more, but a violent iit of cough- I- ing, which almoll itopped his breach, prevented him. He firuggled and Uri ggled for breach, tiil he had broiighriip a quantity of blood, and bghing piteoidly, cait his eyes on his wretched bed. Tiie Curate thea fa id CO him, try to compofe yourfelf, uiihappy man ; you experience the dreadful ,eifects of inteniperan.ce. God has given us an appetite to eat and drink, that \\ e may never forget to re^relh and nouriili our bodies ; aiid if we only eat till oi.r hunger was farisfied. and did not criuk till we weie thinty, we fhoi.ld relilhour food, and p^referveour heahh and ftrength. B it when v/e take more than is neceiTary, lo pleafe the palate, it ail '•urns to poifoa ; we become indolent, and bad humours break out in naily fores, and at laft corrupt the blood, llomach, .lungs, and by degrees the whole body. Poverty and hcknefs follow, and extreme pain, which only ends in an untimely death. Is not this a truth, which I for lb me years have be^n repeat- ing to you v,'ithout eiTeci? O yes, too true, aniwered the Tick wretch : but I did not believe you, becaufe 1 dxd not faii lick fttdden- ly — -this dreadfai cough came on by degrees, and my companions perfcaded me it was only a cold, tUi I had no more money to treat them v. ich ; then they left me to liarve alone, and remember when in v/ant all you had faid — yes, it was all true — I now feel it— v. hat a fool I was, not to lillen to you, who had only mv good at heart. You wilh, now, alked the Curate, that you had lived a ditterent life ? It racks me, an- fwered the poor wretch, when I think what a Vv icked life I have led. ' Gracious God 1 if I had obeyed thy commands, if I had been teniperate, what a happy man fnoidd I now be, enjoying my health and the fortune my facheriefc me , — ■iiitead of that 1 am lying here fick and in mifery — a beggar ! — .viercif. 1 God, have pity on me I A flood of tears roi ed down his pale cheeks, and the Curate and Cliarles felt both ihocked and aiTected. ^ \ The Curate tried to comfort hiiii, and proimfed to ; E i i 50 E L E M E N T S O F I fend him fome broth. After he had left him, he'' turned to Charles and faid, if thac poor wreCcii had repeiitcd iooiier, he m\ght perhaps have, avoided all this mucry, or at iealt a ^^ra-^t part of it ; but now it, is too lace. It is a fearful thiiig to put otF repentanc( till a aian cannot fliew by his conduct that he is aiha- med of his faults. This example ihould warn . alj young people to correal their faults as foon as theirl troabied confcience tells them they have done wrong •] for even a chdd never does wrong without feeling un-J eafy. The Curate turned homewards, intending tol go with Charles to his parents, after he had taken le^ivis of the family. CHAPTER VHI. BETTY, a country woman, vvaited for them a^ the door, to pay the Curate a fmali fnm which^ he had lent her. He enquired how her farm now went on She looked him ftuj ii} the face, and faid very ill. How io r e-iq-aired rhe Curate. llientbe v^onian bi.rit uuo tears, and 'fald, I am a jTiiferable cre.iture. I have net had a pcacable hour Jince I /aw rny t roiher-ln-iait s gotd luck. Yes, hfl^ lives a hne life, he has built a houfe, and bonght, onej year, the fine meadow by tb.e chi^rch^ the next twcH more, almoll as good : — What can i piirchafe } No-2 thing ! — There lit I on the old farm, which my grand-lj mother left me ; and fo far from being able to build ho .fe, or b- y meadows, it w ill be svell if I can keej together the little furnitureand the poor pieceof groiuK my father gave me. But thefe things will not lalt fori ever. I hope I lhall live long enough to fee my boall-' ing brother-in law w'lth a begger's v/aliet at hv^ ba;ck;. I have known many fine folks, as proad as he, wha- were at la it obliged to leave dieU* tanns, alhanied» tof fliev/ their faces — ihough they had held the-r heads fdJ M O K A L I T Y. 51 high. Bur I cannot gviefs where iill the mon^y comes froiii ! The rogue mult get it by loiUe ih\mge means ; if ib much could be earned by labour, why cannot I earn it ? I never lit with aiy hands acrois when there is any thing to be done, Gv)od woijjan, faid the Curate, are you bck ? Betty. ^ God be praiied, I have no iickneia to coai- pTain of. Curate. And your hnlband ? Bcttv. Nothii-g ails him. Curate. And yo;:r children ? Btity. As gay as larks. Curate. How are yoi-r poultry and the reflof your Jiveilock? Betty. Why I cannot fiiy I have much reafon to complain of them this year. Curate. Ar.d you have ibmecliing wholeionie to eat and drink every day, I Ibppoie ? Betty. "Yes, I never knew what it was to want a meah Citrafe. And yet yon call yourfelf a wretched wo- man r Betty. Yes. — Can I build a houfe } Can I piirchafe a £eld } Curate. I now fee clearly, that you are an unhap- py wom^in. You are W' ell, liave lufficie,*?.t to live oji, and have every thing uecefiary to render your life comfortable ; but you indulge a vicious paihon — Envy ; which prevents your enjoying the bleihngs yon pofiefs, and makes you grieve and pine for thole which Hca- "\-en has given to ^^our neighboi rs. Poor woman I as long as yon nouriih envy, yon will eat bitter bread, snd enjoy none of the comforts within your reach'- Look at yourfelf in the glafs, you had formerly a rud- dy frelh colour, and now you are grown quite fallow : Envy is the caufe of this change, it has turned the red to yeliQW. And at night, I know you have not any rcii, by your funk eyes — Envy keeps you asvake. But Vv" Li at is worfe than ail, envy has lb milled you, thar cu have told lies of an innocent man, who never did E 2 5^ .E L E M E N T' S OF yon an V hii-'n). — What horrid wickednefs ! Recollect yo-.-.r!uM.% yo i/r,-i ;c- called him a rogre ; yet I know taat clierc; i^, i-oi j,. lur.icUer ir.aii in the whole village. He lias only lo iiiaiik his conjtant indullry and pru- t-'.e.' .e tor rlii' viny; lb wed in the world. What, do }'0j call th.it j'rleiuily man a rogue; who was io kind toyoa, ^ 'i^^;; yo r halba ui was fick at haiveft time, lo,;;ie yca"o he d-ea %vcrkedhard to lave your wheai:, witirjut e:irf-l':ng any reward, ri;e woaun ..^kh^ co cry, ihe wiihed to exa^fe her- iv't, :iiC C .ra.-: i.'itrrt.pLed her laying, is it polli- hlt - J call : ^v^'^^ koncit, and ib Iriendly, a ro;_ue ? : .> c!epr.\'e youriblf of all yoi-r comfort iiiid '^leafurc, hca^ili and ileep, and render yoi.rfelf Cid aii'i rply bc:rie \0!.r time. Confider a moment, h'.vc iboii; • yoa m..it Le, and tha: envy is a hideous vi.e. The V Oman precelved now that Ihe was envious ; f: V . tucn her head, thanked the Curate for his CO - li.i went away. Chanes now rook leave of this kind family ; and the Ciirate reached his hac and Hick to accompany him; but a bird :;hai: h mg in the window made fnch a difmal node, .r-jnning from one nde of the cage to the other, that he topped a ujo neivt. and looking into the dra v. er of the cage, fc^wd that the poor bird had not one grain of ieed le^, nor any water. It v/as a bird George had ca^'e^^'J^, V- heii it fell from its nelt and hnrt its v. ino- and ever line." he had been very fond of it ; but he was fo taken up this nK:>rning with lamenting the death of Po.npey, that he hud quite forgotten his lark. The Curate was di'pleaitd, and called George, bidding him look a.t his bird ; he added, fee the effects of immode- rate fbrrow ; if I had not obferN ed the poor lark, it v/o',.Id have died wirli hunger this night ; and in the ^iiorniiAg we fhoaid ha'v e had a frefn caide ot forrow, only hecaufe you ncglecled you dc.ty. George fed the bird, while tlie Curate and Charles went out liu'or.gh tiie garden gats. U O R A L I T Y. 53 C H A P T E Pv IX. THEY foon came to the wood where Charles had loll himreif the day before, and to the place where he tliought he had feeii fpirirs. Charles could not help laiighuig when he faw and touched the bidhes aod brandies which had ralfed fuch terror in his mhid. Stop, little man, faid he to a bvfh, which the v.'lr.d had made to nod the eveni'.ig before; and propping it r.p, I will teach thee to frighten people again. But, Sir, allied he, are there no ghoits ? I believe not, anfwered the Curare ; I have lived foine years in the world, and walk in the dark . " 1 / . i.iid yet I ha^ie iiever leen one. Many pco^ 'c v> n: la} that they have, and I will tell yon how it happens. Some- times people lee fomething v/hen it is alnioft dark, it frio;htens them, and fear makes th?m take it for a o;ho(l ; then they liart and icream, and tell what a frigiufi;! {pint uhey have ieen. if you had not returned to tlie tile \sood to-day, and e:'amlned the things which cai^l'- ed yon inch Eerror, yon would have had fome dreaufuh ftorics to relate ; and yon might pofitiveiy have declar- ed that they were true. Sometimes fooliili people play malicions tricks to di(hirb tlieir acpi:atntance. I have heard of many of thefe tricks — I vviil mention one. Three ofncexs cam.e, fome years ago, to an inn, and v^ ere conducted into the beil room. Soon after their f'.^perior oificer came, and they were obliged to give vd the room to him. Tkis vexed them, and they confult- ed togetlier how they Ihould play him a trick. As Iboa av hg^^was aileep, they came into his chamber. With Insets wrapped around them, and danced about his bed. That the General was al-anned at firil, you may eafilv Inppofe ; but lie had great preience of mind, and foon ■gueiied the trick, and filently pulling up the fneet, he uid out or bed^ covering himfeif witii it^ witl^bnt hav- 5i ELEMENTS OF ingbeeo pcrcen'tfl l>y them, arr] joined in the fl:ince. "\\'hat I what, fo: r white thing^i ! The oiu-cers wcie- fi-..;^;ucneh, hahci-ed out of the roosn \\'lrhoMt i\;rtjiei- co:Uii deration, and the next momiiig cleclarcd that riie lioi ie was haunted. fc is tiirs, i;jy dear Charles, fhat {lories oF fpirit and hauiuc:! ho-ies gain heiK l ; either the ])ec)ple did not j'ee clearly, through fear, cr others have deceived theiii. VV lien at Tiight yovi fee l(.)nierhii}g, which you do noc know wliat to make of, advance with coinage In It, ar.d look more neariy at it, 'and yoi; will always ihar yon have deceived yaurielf, or that fooie one li I • ^dayed }'oi: a irick. Ci^arles shook his head, as if he cotdd not believe hint, and iidd, 1 \. i'l tell von a (tory that is cercainly triie. Unr old maid iits ioinec.nies in. a room till eie- veri or tw eh. e o'c lock : one r.ioht there came a little y\ h\:d nian, nor bii^^; ;er tliaa I am, into the room, and cor. GHv ally made a'uio!;ie)n with his han(h The maid, w hi> had been tolo hc\v^ iiie ovio ht to behave to Inch a h>nvt, iiionld Die chance to meet whh it, follow ed it. Idien the I'pitit led htr into the cehar, gave her a Ipaid, an.d laid, (i^;^- in this j'lace, bnt ooferve, you niidt not iV'eak a hngle worck She di;g, and foinid a great brais kettle iadl of go;d. che went to feizs it, crying w hat a heap of gold I Then hie heard a violent noife, and it ah Na.nihtd. Whai thiid; you of this. Sir? did the maid iicc lec clearly, or did Ibme one play her a :trick ? In this cafe, anfvvered the Curate, it ^vas neither the one nor the odicr ; hu: the old maid has told yoti a lie, to divert yon ; ihc knew it was not trne. 'J'here are many pcor-'c who amnfe themielves with invent- in'i r no' ic-. and teihng them to children and foo- liin creainrac, - ho are idle, and glad to caicji hold of any foohih ikory. Will you not give TomethiDg to a poor man, cried a - voice (from behind an oak) which interrupted their difcourfe. The Curate and Charles looked rouad^ to MORALITY. 55 Tee from whence the voice canio^ awd favv a miferable beggcr, who had iolt his rigAt arm, and with the iett held his ha: out to receive charity. I'he Curate was moved, and gave hitn a penny ; and Charles threw a half-penny into the hat. li'jvy came you to lole your arm? faid the Citrate. The beggcr rofe with fotoe rro. ble, and anfwered, if you wiil permit me to walk a httle way with you, 1 will tell you. I came into the world as well formed as yoii ; br.t when I was a child 1 was a foolilh ralh creature. 1 did liOiihiiig but climb and fcrambic up trees and dangerous places^ only for the fake of climb- ing. My, father and mother were always defiring me to be careful. Child, child, my mother would fay, pray do not climb np fuch dangerous places. But I did not niiud \^ hat they faid ; if i had obeyed ,my good pareius, 1 ibouldnow be .another kind of a man. One day I faw under our thatch a fwailoa's nelt. I will fooa have that, thought I, and I railed a great ladder agaiult the wall, and iteppedfrom it on a rotten board v)vcr a Vv indosv. Crack, crack, went the board, and I fell with it to the ground, and broke my poor arm — my r'giu .avm ! My father and inv^chy wcpc, and ran for a il rgeon to fet it, but before taey coi/ld Riid hmi it was terribly fwelied. He tormented me above three weeks, drawing one fplinter oi.t after ano- ther. At lail the whola arm was biack^ — black as a coal ; and nothing could fave it, it midi" be cut oiF. — It was a dreadful operation; and afrerwardb they took a red hot iron, and held it to the part, to Itop the blood. So I became a cripple I iviy father loved me, aurl when he died left me ail the money he had pnich- e i hinifelf to fave for me. But as 1 could not work I n*fpent it, and nov/ I muii live on what I beg from c.iaritable people. My brothers, who recel\ed no- thing from my father, ear-;} a comfortable liveiihcod, for they bave arms, while I am Vv-recched, and often Tick through hunger and cold. Truly^ Sir^ found ihs are of rnon vulne tha^i gold. The Curate tried to comfort him : be not tro\:bled, 56 E L E M E N T S O F poor man, Hiid he ; if you are an Hon eft man , and bear your inhraiiry with padence, and hart no one, yon will always find charitable people who will have compafiion on you, Believe me, you vviii never come to want. Very well, anfwered the man ; but, Sir, if I could only be of io.ne nfe ! I eat the bread of id'enefs — is it not dreadfal for me to fee all men working for one another, and that I alone mul\ be a burthen to them ? I often wiih to die, that I nhght no more be pointed at as a miferabie creature. The Curate gave him fix-pence, and bid him call foinetimes at his houfe, an J if he \vas fober and lioneft^, lie v/oiiid try to iindhiin lom^ enploynient. CHAPTER X. WHILE they were converfing in this manner, thty heard the found of coach wheels. Curio- fity led Charles to advance a fev/ iieps before them, and he faw it peep from behind the bulhes. — Is it poffi- ble ? yes, indeed, i xlced — Sir, Sir, here come my dear father and mother I cried he, running towards the coach. The coachman itoj^ped, he flew like the v/ind, and threw his arms firil round, his father's neck, then his rnoLher's, asid co: ld only bring ovt. dear fa- ther ]_ dear uiuchcr ! H's parenis were ahnoit melted into tears, and held tlicir lod ion in their arms a few hiinutes wicluxit Ipcaking a wo-rd. At lail tiie father broke liience, drid -i iked, had von no companion with you? A coiup-u'don, anAvered Charles, O yes, there he is ; Icarceiy had he finiiiied thele words before he fprnngoutof the carriage, ca'.ght the C:na:e's hand, led him to his fsuier, ai^d laid, this is the good nnn ■wno yCiierday hivtdnn' Ine. Mr. Jones frepj Cd oi.t, and taking the Ci.ra:e"s 'haud^ laid, as he diock it_, dear Sir^ kc -v inad I tl.-a..k MORALITY. yon for all you have done for my poor loft boy ? Pray come into the coach, and I'peak to my w iie ; w e came this way to meet you, and fpare you part of your walk, and now we will carry you home. As fooa as the Curate was feared, drive on, cried Charles, to the coachman. Bv.t the Curate faid, be not in fuchharte, my young friend, I mulVmake that poor man known to your father. He beckoned to him, and related in a few words his hii^ory. Pvlr. Jones was moved with conipalUon, vtnd threw half a crown into the poor man's hat, and his \vife follovved his ex- aunple. The miferable creatv^re's eyes fparkled with joy — and he almoft bowed to the ground as he drew back : at the fame time Mr. jones fqueezed the Cu- rate's hand, and thanked him for having procured him the pleafure of making glad a poor man's heart. As ihey^ drove along, Charles was dehred to relate what had happened to him the day before ; and he re- peated again and again how kindly he had been treat- ed by the Curate and his family. Mr, Jones and his wife became more and more attached to this good fami- ly the longer they lillened to Charles, and eagerly wifhed to fee them all together. They deilred the coachman to drive faller, and away they went, fiili drive, throwing up the duf^, and rattling over the gravel, and fplaihing through thi^ little trooks which ran acrofs the road. New they entered a narrow rocky road, yet Charles was very unwilling to let the horfes flacken their pace, though the way was io rough. But could he have forefeen the difaoreeable accident which awaited them in the narrow lane, he would have wiihcd to have gone a mile round to ha\ e av oided it ; for they had hardly advanced an hundred yards before they met another coach. Make way ! cried John, the driver of the other coach. Fool, replied Nicholas, Mr. Jones' coachman^ how v^ould you have me make way ? Do you not fee the rock on one fide, and" the mountain on the other ? Why did you enter fiich a narrow rough road ? allied John, Aud if you were fo acquainted with it, ELEMENTS OF fneeringly re'orteu N'-v.-Vn:., —]\\ YJ. yov venture ? Then the two coach in. r-: . ; ■ ! .o •■.v-j a. id (wear at ea.h odier, \n a niOit av . • Mr. Gri-.iT, the ma. ^ v. l;o : . on.'h, cal- led out to his coachi.ict i, ki'ock the ry.. .'. ■.vii, if he will iioi: clear the v^rt/. This br-...Lal ' -ecch ro->red Air. Jones' anger; he laatched at his llick^ nor could -his Wife or the Ccraie detai i him. Air. G-r.ilF jumped ovt at the faaie thiie ; and they ad- aijced aM;;r:]y to- wards each other. The coach:nen ipmn^ fro ii their feats, threw afide theh' whips, and began tCL fight fo fiinoafly, that the blood foon Rreanied from their heads. Mr;~ Jones and Gri-ii raifed their voices rat/re and more. Mrs. Jones called out, fi^r God's nke, my dear, coine back I Charles co-.dd only fay , Nicholas, Niciiolas, pray make iti p ! Tiic Curate uicd to fofi:ca maccers by good words .; b t all cli'.s v/as of no life, l^iere was a dreadful bustle, a:.d the C\ rale expected every inltant to lee the two gentlemen proceed co blows, as well as the coachiiien. At lalf Mr. Jones recodeclci] hlmfelf ; — he flretched out his hand" in a friendly manner, fayii:g, i beg your pardo-.i, iriir, lamtoohaliy. Mr. Gruff. What then — what then—- why are you fo haiiy Mr. ynnes. It is ^^ery fooliih to be fo, and if w-e do not moderate our anger, v.-e may, in the heat of difpiite, forget oi^rfeives, and fall on each oLher like wild animals, or like thci'e two men. Mr. Gruff, ii might happen — but perhaps you think that J am afraid of yon ^ Mr. Jones. No; but would you be fo cruel as tcr ftrike an innocent man Mr. Gruff. If he provoked me, what would you have me do ^ Mr. Jones. And if you had beaten xuz till I could no longer Hand, v/oald that have moved my coach one- inclioutof the way ? Mr. Gruff. No, to be fure ; who ever thought of fuch a thing^ ? MORALITY. .59 Mr. Jor.es, Would it not have been more reafona- l)ie, if i had ordered the coachman to back hii boif^ till he had made room for yours to pafs ? Mr. Gruff, "ies, if you would do that. Mr. Jones. I will do it with pleafiire. Mr. Gr-ufi. W hy did you not do it at firft ? Mr. Jones. I Ihould have done it very readily, if your coachman, and, excufe me, Sir, if you had ufed different words. Mr. Gruff was foftened by this frank treatment ; he took his off'ered hand, faying, fixrgive me, Sir, I feel that 1 have been very unreafonabic and rude i I am the caufe of ail — my violence encouraged my -coachman^I ought not to have fulFered him to ufe fwchgrofs language. The Curate was very glad to fee that this difagreea ble alfciir had taken fuch an unexpefted turn. He draught Mrs. Jones' hand, and faid, how noble it is when a man can moderate his anger ! Hovj beautiful is forbearance ! A voilent enemy has often been fo touched by it, as to become ever after a firm friend what dignity has this felf-command given to your huf- band's appearance ! my heart begins to warm to him. While all this paffed, tlie coachmen were on the ground, fighting like two bull-dogs. My dear Sirs^ laid the Curate,^we have no time to lofe ; let us part thefe madmen, or we lhall never be able to purfue our Avay. They ran to the furious coachmen, but they were fo covered with blood and mud, that they could not diftinguilh the colour of their coats. They called t them, but anger is deaf; they forgot every thing i their fury, and all attempts to feparate them only ren dered them more violent. At lait John's eye met hi mafter's, and he would have difengaged himfelf, bu Nicholas flung him fo unmercifi liy down again, tha his head Ifmck againil one of the v. heels of the coach and he remained motionlefs on the ground. Now when John could no longer relii\ him, Nicliolas firii came to himieif ; he grew calm in a moment^ and ELEMENTS OF wonld have raifed John, but there appeared no more life in him; his face was as pale as death, and his head fell oa his Ihoalder. Nicholas fiiook him gently, cry- ing out at the fame time, John, John, canii thou not hear me ? but John anlwered not a word. He then leaped up, ftruck his bloody hands violently againfb both fides of his own head, and fcreamed out in an ago- ny — God be merciful to me, what have I done J What a fury 1 have been in— I have. I have killed thee, John, my old friend John I They were all terrified by thefe lamentations, and furrounding poor John, joined in them. The Curare had moft preience of mind, and reforution. What (ig- niries all this forrow and compaifion, faid he — let r;S fee how we can help the man. He bade Charles bring a little water in his hat, from a fmall ilream which ran among the rocks, and Mrs. Jones held her fmelling bottle to the poor man's nofe. while the Curate ri b- bed his temples till there wasfome appearance of return- ing life. They all itood lilent, eagerly watching over him, and joy appeared in every face when he again o- pened his eyes. Nicholas was ahnolt frantic with de- light ; he lljueezed John's hand, begged him to forgive him, and tried again to help him up. But John was fo weak that his legs could not fupport him ; he totter- ed, and would have fallen, if Nicholas had not held him up. Now what was to be done ? Mr. Gruff had not a man to drive him, nor Nicholas any one to alfiit him to back thehorfes. They all.itood lamenting a quarter of an hour, and could not think of any means to go forward. At lall the Curate fa.d, if we doiiot find an expedient, we mult pafs the night here, and perhaps this poor man may ioie his life by OL.r delay. Come, let us not trifle away any more time — one of the coach- es mult tirit be drawn back — winch lhall it be? Mine, mine, cried out Mr. Jones and Mr. Gruff, in the fame' breach. They vvo^^lu bodi gladly have had the merit of yielding liiit. I'he C-.;rai:e coufidcred a moment, and then obferyed^ that out ofrdpea to the lady, who M O R A L I T Y. was not to blame, it appeared moft reafonable that ivlr. Gruff*s coach ihould be backeaed to let them haitea home, and then Nicholas might return to alhR Mr, Gruft. But what can I do alone with John ? aiked hs in a coinpallicnatc tone ; fuppole he Ihould faint agaia with lofs of blood?— I know of no other way, inter- rupted the Cnrate, than to take him in Mr. Jones' coach to my houfe; and I will take care of him till he is perfedly well. And now mult the people, who an hour before would not yield a foot of their pretended right, fubmic to the • greatert inconvenience, Fir It they brovjght John, all covered Avith mad and blood, to feat him in Mr. Jones* coach; and the Curate laid to Nicholas, with foiiic in- dignation, as he helped to lift him 'm--^Behold ths fruits cf anger 1 When men give themfelves np to auger, they acl fooliihly, and know no longer wdiiit they are about ; and, after the fit of anger is over, they forely repent of their folly, as you do now. Nicholas drew the coach back wdth great diiTiCulty, large drops of fweat ran down his cheeks, he was fo fatigued, though they all alFiited him, except Mrs. Jones and Charles, for they fat in the coach, and fiip- ported John. After this laborious bufiuefs, Nicholas mounted his box, and drove llowly and mournfully for- ward. Mr. Gruff followed them with his eyes till they were out of light, and would willingly have accompa- nied them ; but he was obUged to flay and watch his horfes till Nicholas came back. Poor man, the time feemed to him very long ; he remained alone tv/o , hours in the place of his fervant ; he might have amufed himfelf, but he could think of nothing but his fooliih condutt, and how^ little his anger muft Jiave made him I look in the ftrang-ers eves. 1 • F ? 62 E L E M E N T S OF CHAP T E R XI. yf' E A N time Mr. Jones and his company advan- Jl-V A "^^^^ Towards the Milage where the Curate lived. But they were continually terrified; for John fainted ieveral times, falling lirlt on one, then on another. It may eaiily be fiippofed what nafty hgures they ail appeared, covered with mud and blood; br;t they Avcnld w illingly have bore all this, if Jo.hnhad been better; b\uheorcw vorfc and worfe, and they were rircav'Itii'iy afraitl that he would die in die coach; before thc\ rr.ujicd the Ci;rate's hou.fe. They every mo- ment looked out.of tlie window, to fee if they ccuid le€ the l^eeple riling out of the trees ; and bade I'vicholas drive as fait as poihblc to eafc them of their fears; but the coach road wtis three or four miles roimd. ho- hi did all he could to halten fcrwarc: ; )^^tti:ey ^•. tie an hour on the road, and their apyrelieniioii:. ir^aJt; ii: appear as long as four or five. VtMien at laiUhey arrived at the door, ihe'.r nrli care was about John. They wiihed re lead him iixto the hoafe, but the motion was too rr.v^ch ibr him. aiid he ihnk fenlflpls into the arms of ihe Curate, who pray- ed ' fome coiintryuicn, Y. hc'u curiofity had gathered round the coach, to aiihi- in carrying hmi nuo the Jiouie. it IS eafy to fuppofe the terror this f^g'it raifed in the family. Mrs. Benlbn looked at her hi iband, when file faw' them brinp_ in a llranger, who feemed to be dead. The children cried, Mr. Jones ^xiid his w ife flood mute, and the Curate himfelf walked in an agita- ted m-anner once or tw ice up and do\v n the chamber. At lall he faid, let one infbntiy go for Mr. Smith, .the furgeon. George ftartedup immediately, and ran down iiairs. How tedious did the q^jarter of an hov:r appear. They wxnt every moment to the w indow to M O R A L I T Y. '63 f v-\i ^.:.]^ing; and from the window to John ; a his piiile, iiil-^bed his temples, heid vinegar fo his lioie '; but u-ii would not do ; he did not open his eyes. He is dead, cried the Curate's wife he is dead, cried Irs. Jones ;~yes^ yes, he is dead, faid the children ..Lcr-them, and they -Al began to weep. The Curate himielf was alarmed ; he walked feme- ti-,nes quick, fomc times flow, up and down the room, looked eaniei'Uy out of the w-indo\v, then returning to John, would foon leave him with a llgh, and yet co'-ne back again. In one or' his walks, he turned 011 Nicholas, who iicod Itupid with grief in a dark corner. What do yon do here, r.lked he, I thought you had returned long ago to Mr. Gruff? I could not go, replied he^ if it was to lave my life, till I know what will become of John. They ail tried to perfuade him; but he could only anfwer, that he could not leave that place till he knew what Vs ould become of John. While they were difputing, Mr. Smith, the lurgeon, en- tered. They ail flocked round him, eager to hear if he thought the poor man had any life in him. We lhall fee, we fnall fee, faid he, and made them relate in a tew words tlic fad accident ; he approach- ed the bed, took aline feather out of the pillow, and held it to John's nofe ; the down on the feather mo- V9d. He lives Ibll, cried he, fee he breathes ; but let us iVrip off his clothes, and open a vain. He open- ed one, and the blood flowed. A moment after he breathed v/'ith more force, opened his eyes, and looked round Yv^kh alfare ef w iidafionirnment — where — where — am I faid he, with a weak voice. By me, by me I cried Nicholas, furely you know me again, dear John? John groaned, and ihut his eyes. The furgeoa examiiied his head ; they all had their eyes fixed on /iim, but he remained filenr, till Mr. Jones, aiked, is h^re anf^hope Then evrry one joined in the enquiry .".it Nicholas, and ills eyes were faflened on the fijr- geon's face, while he itood with his mouth open, ai- molt afraid to b'reathe — Yes, laid the fiirgeon, there is 64 ELEMENTS OF hope, and if noihing uncxpecled happens, he may be able to return to his iiiafter in a few days. They all rejoiced, vvhen they heard this news. God be ch. inked ! cried Nicholas, for fuch good hopes; now I am happy, and ihali go with a ligiit heart and drive Mr. Grutf home. He %vent, and found Mr. G I'll it very uneafy and i mpatien t. A.her John v/as placed comfortably in bed, the Cu- r.ue (ielii-cd the chiMren to be very quiet; we may uilbe content, laid he, lince there is hope. 0^, \i'h.'U a cLKrrmirig thing is hope ! How fatisiiv^d v.-e are, \N'he;i v^. any vexariobs fui;ation we can Ic k forward, to lOaiicLhiug good which liiil awaits us. C H A P T E H XIX. IT nov/ grew late in the evening, and the Curate, witVi reafon, fnppofed that his guefts mnit by this tine to be very hungry. He rec^ueited his wife to let tlie )i quickly have fomethlng to eat ; this was foon done, ilie brought out all tiia-: her pantry contained. It was not much ; but all was good of its kind, and prodiv ed with facli neatsefs and order, that the whole C0(:r)_:ny fac do >vn wiih, a lharp aopotice, and would have enjoined their meal, if the/ had no: been inter- rupted jiift as they began to eat. Jona's room vv-as o- ver the parioitr, and they heard fuch loud groans f d- denly iTiie from ic, that they haiVdy rofe, antl ail ran anxiovdly to alk what was the m.ituer ? What he want- e.A ^ Ah \ my poor wifd, ray poor children ] what \\ V\{ Lkev'thiiik v. hen tliey rkid I do not come home to- night i if they liear of my quarrel, and if they do nor liear that I am dill alive — whatwiU become of them I The whole coinpany felt for him, and looked at each other, not knowin..-; v/hr.t to fay to comfort him, liis grief w 7.S fo reafoiiablc. Mr. Jooes drew his wife a- iide, anj laidj 1 can caiily rcprefent to myfeif the M OR A L I T y. 65 ^- trov.ble this poor man ninii endure — if fi-ch an accident had happened to me — and 1 could not return to yoiu — My love, interrupted ihe, if you were once to ftay - from home, and I heard that you lay at the point of ■ death — dearelV life, I coifid not hear that ! Charles be- gan to weep, and faid, if yon were to die, dear fa- ther, and I not be wich you, i too iijould die with grief ! The poor man, the pour woman, and her c!}ilcren. I wilh i coukl think of lome way to help t! e n, f:iid - Mr. Jones. Dear father, laid Charle-. I a - fare yoii can think of fomething. Mr. Jones r. bbtd hi :or?_ head, and faid, true, 1 could think of fometh ng ; hu^ then it won Id be expenfive. I will not slk fcr fix, pence before Chriitmas, eagerly anfwered Charles if you v,'ill help this poor man^ Well, repH^d Mr' Jones, we will ice what can be done. He then turn- ed to the Curate, to enqi'ire if he could procui-e him a xnedenger, to fet ©tt'd -recti y for John's little hat, and inform his family that he was out of danger, and with people who would take cai^e of him. it-would not be very diincuk, replied the Curate, b,ut as k is late, and the way. long and dreary, he will expect to be well paid for his. troiibie. I would willingly give a guinea, faid -Mr. Jones ; I fiiould think that would be fufRcient?— \es, more than will be expected, iaterrupted the Cu race ; I dare fay I. lliall procure a llrong lad in this i/neiglibourhood for half the money. J ^ K.'t ent our, and loon returned with one, who had fei/ w^d with joy the opportunicy of earning ibme mo- , ney, and promifed to delivei* his melTage v,ery faith- [^ fiiUy. — And the liirgeoa, laid Mr. JoneSj, I will fettle with him, and difcharge all the other expences ; pray let hun want for nothing. I will take care that he Vv-aiLtsfornothing, replied the Curate ; but you. Sir, need not be at any further expence. Nay, interrupt- ed Mr. Jones, you have already ijad ..trouble enough, ^vMtliout Lieing obliged to pay the furgeon ; you, my , good friend, have too much fenfe to indulge falle I l^nde ; your poor parifnioners want all tiie money you. ' F 3 E L E IvI E. N T S OF c n ■ n:;,'; mat^rr. The ^'Vi-; . J,, : ,J ^-^•.^c-r:-.!. T^ey the, ^ a-:pr., -. ^;o::-''5 i^rj, a-;,: " • /' . ■ :..a 3}ie'-:;2;t li:; ^ :.j : lo , , : u;s t.ii^jiiy ;..c tiike^i ..ire.-;:.'. . ^^ l: co work. Indeed, indeed, ci'cd loii.-:. havys Vvui icni to niy %viie and wii! y;yii bt io ki;ul to me ? God reward you yoe nre a ten.lcrhcarted inan ; jj/o^nderiully wife manner, laid he, that a good man always grows fad when he fees another fad ?— that is to iav. he feels compyihon. It is no doubt trje that compaiiion renders many hours unealy, \viheh ydght have been paded pleaiantly, if we were not didrrbed by the mdery which others fuffer. — For in- flanee, v/e ilionld have gone on quietly withonr meal, if John\s groans had not affected ns. But p'ty, the coaipallionate feeling I am deferibing, is very ufeful, as it impels iis to alhit onr fafrering feliow-creaturts. . As loon as Charles lelf couipalhon, he ofFisred to give up the inoney he was to receive till Chrihnias ; but before he felt this emoiion, he did not think of it, — "^'inis we hud, b}^ couipaihon a number of pcrlbns ha\ e been faved, who nf:ght have been ioit, if others had not been dihurbed by their Ihfferings. And when vee have couhbrted an afiiicted man, we pre lb light, fo gay , that every pleaiure has a liucr rciiiii — as Von, Charles, now find that ;q:)ple-pye n..b — am I not right ? Charles fmiled, andfaid, that is very trnc ; I nevei* before thought my fvipper talted fo good — aunl Vvhcn J think that John will ionn be well — I am fo gla^I ! — Good Charles, continued the Curate, aiv» ays ccr- M O II A L I T y. 67 eife yoin* compallion, inftead of trying to ftifl© it for prefent cafe. If in future you fee a man in diitrefsor pain, and } oi.r mind is troubled, do not iboa try to overcome this angiiilh of heart ; hut rather iaiagiae yourfelf in the place of the fuft'erer, and think what vou llipuid feci if you ^vere in the fame iituatlon. — Then woidd your heart foo 11 tell you what you ought to cb ; and pity would procure you jiian/ iuch pleaiant moments as you now enjoy. CHAPTER Xlil. THE Curate would have continued the converfa- tioa, if he had not been interrupied by the maid, V. no whifpered foiritihing in his ear. How?, alked tlie Curate, will he not conie, though I have fo ear- ueitly invited him ? I did not beiieye that there had been in the world a man with fuch an hard unfeehnj heart. — Well, if he will uo;: come to me, I will go to h:ni. ^ He rofe haiTily, took his ftick, and w^as going out — jut tile company feemed dduirbed, and itoppcd him to a^k w hat difagreeable accident had happeaetL I beg yo'-r pardon for leaving you a few moments; I am rui- eafy, but I hope that 1 lhali foon return much eaiier. He then went out, and left them uuable to guefs why he v.ent fo.abrupt'y. The caale was this ; his eldei\ brother, for above half a yeai*. had not behaved to him like a brother, Ke had nor written to him as uiual ; nay, wjien the Curare wrote tvi himv he did not aapNyer his letter, and he had palTcd three-tlmei tlirough the village and jie^. er viiitedhim. Now tids evening the Curate had heard fEomthe C^.srgeon that his brother was there, and inteiifi^ to ilecp at the inn ; he taerefore fcnt his cvaid priva:eiy to entreat him to fpcnd the evuiing at 68 L E M E ,N T S OF his houfe ; but he rudely anfwered, that he would not €ome. The Curate then went to him. When he opened tlie rooiiv door, he faw his bro- ther in deep thought, walking, backwards and forwards with hafcy Itrides andfrightfrl geftures. lie ih^od iWW at the door a few njovueucs, till he was perceived by his brother, wlio, tiirniug fiercely on him, aiked him what he wanted ? Curate. 1 9j.n come to vilit you,. Broiler. Did 1 inyice yo.-. ? Curats. l\o indeed ; but i think it would not have beea right to have had a brother, who once loved me, a'id whom 1 liiil lovr, lb near me, and not to have called to fee him. i invited you, v/hy did you not come ? Brother.. Unworthy, hypocritical man — do you afk why > Curat J. I do ; nay, I afk fTill more — v^hy have you paifed thr^'e cliues through my village, and have not viiued me? Brother. Do you wilh to know ?' Cur {He. Certainly I \vi(h it, and I fnail not leave ycu be tore you have told n:e. Brother. Know it then — / hate you I Car^te. Hate me ! Brctber. Snail I fay it again ? I hate — I deteft you. Ci:rjte. AvA ''ou do not v;iih me any good ? B:--:-hr. v.)/ C:r-jtr^, N^y^. i^erhaps you ^^i^h Ibme iiilsibrLU may befal n-e ? B'-cn.er, I hc:::{\\v wifti that no good my ever- rca::! \ j-,, a:vi , ). r •-•ckcd v/ile ] L-r;;;; :t, c c::re I God hears : y.. I A .:i rho. I - in v hecrr ag-unit me, \<\io ha'/c (jy 2T hcc:i an :;::c^f:r..ate crot^ier — and .L- g a i n i t my in n o c e t \>' ;v; Broi'jtrr. Yes, becarue you .-re iir- bro'.ner ; ArriUTfr had Inr-.n.d me, it v»ouid nof have hurt mei M O Fx A L I T Y. 69 Curate. I injiircu you I — How ? .Brother, I riipi-ole you willi to excufe yoiu-felf. Curate. No, not to excufe luylelf : but to kao\t vliat I have done. Brother. Is it not to you that I owe— T tremble with rage when I think of your wickednefs 1 I can- not go on. Curate. What wickednefs ? Bi^other. Is it not wickednefs to fcparate a brother from his promifed wife ? Curate. What, to whom were you attached ? — I cannot guefs what you mean to fay. Brother. Did you not know that I wiihed to mar- ry yo'jr wife's lilter ? Curate. No, I knew nothing of it. Brother. Did you not know that ihe was inclined to con fen t Curate. I knew nothing of the matter. Brother. Do you not know that you have prejii* diced. her againilme, and perfuaded her to marry ancj* ther } Curate All this is news to me. Brother. Now this is contemptible I firft to injura^ jiie, and then to have the infolence to deny it. Curate. But, dear brother, did I ever injure you before } Brother. Never. Curate. How^ can you then believe that I lliould fi.ddenly become fuch a hypocritical wretch ^ Bi other. It v.'as with great diiiicuity that I conki believe you fo v. icked, but the whole -conduct of your ^iiler-in-law gave rife to my fufpicion againlt 3'ou. Cun^e. And what was there in her conduct to give rife to it ? Brother. I gave her to underftand that I wiihed to hiarry her; (he heard me fo mildly, and promifed in fuch a foft tone of voice to give me ibon a final anf\N er, that I hraily believed Oie would accept of my offered baud. Soon atrer Ihe had fpent a fhort time at your Jioufe, and Vvlic^*: Ihe retLirned ihe fent me an abfolut© 70 ELEMENTS OF refofaU and married Mr. Roberts. What co\^h\ I then li'.ppole, but that iiie went to alk yoiu' advice, and you advifcd Ir r^o ;!i;!r • vo r virnd Roberts, whom you ever ho' i than me? Curate. \ \ ...ci,. : _ v r^j ^/Fopolsl ? Brother. Towards chv f February', i Luraie, But whar VT I cocia ^uc>ve to you that ftic was Ci2 gaged to ?vlr. Roberts the t^rre^oing year ? Brother. I wilhed 1 €Oi-;ld fee that proved I ' Curate. You Ihall iuon fee it.-" ^ Saying To, theCurate haftily left the roorim a'nd re-- turncd iii a fc-A mimiirs with a leccer, which his filler in iavv had wrir-eii io .'•ioi the Novenibi r of the pre-- ceding year ; iij ? r : riv : co him that Ihe was engaged to . , ' ; . . ■:. he wiihed that it liiight liill rei^iam a Je-vr*^: -.iiiie lofvger. ' The an- gry man read this letter ice ever, and itood motion- leisafew ini]iiUes. as if he had been thunder-ilruck, then balmily exriai:i:!;d — is it puliirdc I have I been iQ' virsjuft, and i\:f!3ect^:i v:;ii wuhout a caule ? Curate. You • ' ^tis— ' Brother. Ill-, . . reu you, my brocher. — Ho^j could I harb;'!.'r inch vile fufpicions — belt of men faying fo iie timidly' took his hand. Pray forgive me ;. I will never again, while I Uvt, iadulge luch unjuft'l fuggellions, 'r : \ Curate. *.:fWith his eyes full of tears) What a hap- j py hour is this, in which I again find my brother 1.1 Brother. Good brother, I au:i futhciently puniflied^l Sidpicioii and hatred are terrible things — they havel contiiiissliy tormented me.- Sufpicion produced ha.-j tred ; becaufe I believed ill of you, I vvdihed ill tdi happen to you. Since that time 1 have not had a"" coiitciUcd hour. ifi^boi'giiL of yoa, if I only read your name, I fcit my heart beat quick, I trembled^ and, forgive me, fulrered curfes to efc?pe from my' lips. I was iil-humoured, and rude to the people a-t ])0iu me. At night I had no reft, and if I did ilrimb-r,: in my dreams I quair(rother. Mr, Jones begged him to explain v hat he meant by thefe hints. May I relate it ? ailved the Curate, looking at his brother. O yes, anfwered he ; but I ihould like better to relate it myfelf. And he began 72 E L E M E N T S O F to relate the whole mirimderftancring ; how he had firll nouriiiied iufpicions againll his brother, and af- terwards hated hhn ; what lad days and miferable nights he had paffed fmce, and how comfortable he now found himfelf, becaufe love had taken the place of hatred. During this relation, time ran away wlthovit their perceiving it. They wonld have remained itill longer together; but yM\. as Mr. Jones was beginning to give them another example of a man of his acquaint- ance, who, by norilhing hatred, had deprived him- felf of all his comforts, the clock Ih'uck twelve, and they recolledcd that it was full time to go to reii CHAPTER XIV, TH E whole family rofe very early, and as foon - ' as they weredreffed they went to John's room, ^ to enquire how he found himfelf ? Very well, anfv;er- ed he ; I was in great pain till long after midnight, and could not dole my eyes ; but about two o'clock I fell afleep, and I cannot defcribe hov>' comfortable I found that iieep. All my pain left me ; and now I am awake, I feel as if I were new born. Yes^ fl^^P a charming thing ! it frees us from all care and pain, and gives us \\ new llrengrh and vigour. He that fleeps well has \ always reafon to be thankful ; I never felt, till now, | its full value ! In future, when any one wilhes me a i goodnight, I fhall thank them with all my heart; and | if I have had ^ good night, I Ihall not complain if I am i obliged to work hard in the day. What a lhame it is that men live who abufe lleep ; for when we ileep too long, we are indolent the whole day : I often think of ' Madam, whom I have been coachman to thefe four years ; Ihe lleeps, as true as I aiH here, almoR tea hours on tiie ilretch ; and when Ihe rifes, Ihe finds i nothing right j the fervants are fcolded all round ; and -| I MORALITY, 73 fne has often called me a blockhead when I have tO'd her that my oats were out. Sleep appears to me like beans and bacon ; if we eat moderately, we are flrengta- ened ; but if we are gluttons, bad humours break out, and we are heavy and idle; fo that, in the uhole world, nothing appears right. While the company converfed with John, they heard a noife in Henry's room. Ke went to bed /;rlt, and by fleeping an hour longer than tiie red of the family, became fo Ihipld and hea\'y, that he was at- tacked by a certain diforder called ill-hnmrAir. It is a very difiigreeabie one ; and, in the morning, ariies from that kind of lluggilh ftupidity, which men fe-ei when they have liept longer than nature requires. Thofe who are under the iofiuence of this dilorder, expeci that every thing ihould be direded by their whims; and if the lealt trifle goes contrary to their fooliih humour, they murmur and fcold, though they want nothing. All the family felt the good eitecls of flee p as well as John, and were cheeifully preparing to diicharge the duties of tlie day, except Henry ; but his ill-humour, which arofe from indulging him- felf too long in bed, till he grew ftupid and lick, made him very uncomfortable to himfelf, and troubleiouie to others. While he was in bed, a poor boy brought a quail to fell ; and George, who loved his brother and fliter, bought it for Henry. He h d the bird under his coat, and crep into Henry's room. O, good morn- i:ig, good morning, Mr. Lie-a-bed, faki he, yen have aimoit loll your breakfafl:. Hold your tongue, cried he out peevilhly ; why did you not wake me ? you Vv ere very ill-natured ; you let me fleep on purpofe that you might play alone with Charles. You do not knov/ what you are talking about, interrupted George. 1 have called you above ten time^, and you would not get up ; it is hard to fcold me for your own lazinefs. Then Henry grew flill more ill-humoured, and called out, mother, mother ! — his mother ran. quickly^ almoil afraid that fome accident had happen- 74 ELEMENTS OF ed to him, and aflved him w hat he wanted ? George langhs at me ; he called me a lie-a-bed ; yet, he never waked me. But the mother loon perceived that George was innocent, and that Henry was lliipid and out of humour ; lb llie bade him rile quickly, and Ipcak in a kind manner to his brother ; roufe yourfeif, my child, added liie, or you will Ipend an indolent uncomforta- ble tkiy. Mean time George flipped out of the room with his .quail. Onthelbirshe happened to meet Caroline ; .that affecti<3nate girl began to i'mile vv'hen flie faw him ; he killed her, and faid, guefs what I have under niy coat. The little girl thought ii Nv.'is a cake or an ap- ple; but George laid it was ibmething alive. Is it a frog, 2 {parrow, or a little dog ? alked flie. He then let the head peep out, and llie began to jump for joy when he told her that jhe ihouid have it, becaufe ihe was not out of humour, like Henry. She ran to her jiuother, and told her how good George had been to her. Henry law her with her bird, and longed for it ; but Caroline did not mind him, or his angry Jooks. Scarcely had the tender mother reached the bottom ofthelhiirs, when Ihe heard Henry call out again, ujother : mother ! Mrs. Benfon, who at firlt had fpoken kindly to him, was now difpleafed ; flie returned, and when ihe o- pened the door, Henry faw that flie had no longer a fmiiing face. She frowned, andalTced, what do you want now? naughty boy ! niy half-boots are not here, anfwered he, weeping ; I mult have my half- boots. — They are at the cobi-er's, you muft put on your ihoes to-day ; lb faying, ilie left the room, left the foo'iih child fitting on the fide of his bed; and there Le lat weeping as bitterly as if ibme great misfortune had happened to him. B^.: in the parlour was nothing but cheerfulnefs ; the gu 1^;: were trcatei with coiiee for breakfiiil: ; and, bivvaiile ic was a holiday, the children had each a cup of colfeep and three pieces of white bread and butter. MORALITY. 75 Ii is true, poor Henry had none ; for he hau neicher waihed his face, nor combed his hair. A niiRiber of little ainv-img itories were told, and they rJi joked and laughed. George and Carohne brought out all their pictures and playthings, which were admired by all the guelt. But when they collected them to put them by— they w ere iiirprized, and aiked, in a tone of joy, what is this? where dlil that come from ! for Mrs. Jonc, had, unpercei\ cd by them, flipped fome pretty pictures among their ow n. Poor Henry I had he been tlicre, he woiild certainly have had fome of th©fe pretty pitftures^ The company then prepared to go- in the coach to a neighbouring wood, and pafs the morning there. Ant I to go ? am I to go? ailced George and Caroline,- and their mother looked at them with uich a fmiling face, ^that they foon perceivcvl Ihe did not intend to leave them at home. \Vhat pleaUire did they not promife themfelv es? they killed their mother, and jumped for joy. The horfes were quickly brought out of the Ihi- bie ai^ harncired J and when all but the children had feated themfelves in the coach, George miiled Henry. Is not Henry to go? alked he, addreihng his mother ki a Ibrrowful totie. If he is ready, let him come, an- f\\ ered file." Tlien George fprang up ftairs to tell his brother ; but he was diiappointed in his good-natured hope — there he Itill fat on the fide of the bed fcratching his head — he had not yet drawn on his itockings, and be- caufc he could not have his half-boots he would not put on his clothes. George foon favr that it would be vain to w ai't for him, for he knew his mother would not detain the carriage, till an ill-humoured boy was dreifed ; he therefore returned directly, got into the coach, and oif it drove. When Henry heard the rolling of the coach, and learned that the v-hole company were gone to take an airing, and had left him behind ; he cried bitterly, Itamped w ith his feet, ahd beha\ ed like a foolifh child. ho knows what he might have done, if an old nurfe 76 ELEMENTS OF had not broiiglis: hliii to himfelf ? She advifed him to put on h;3 clotheb directly, and follow the company, to beg hisfaiher arid niother to forj^ive him, and per- haps, a-jtied ihc.^ they may permit you to partake of their plea 1 1 re. Aicci- ft-nc rooLning and encor.ragement, he refolv- | ed CO tuilow her advue ; he then ran acrofs the lields j a-.id met the carriage, b .t not before he was tired and ^ o jt of breath, ilts father and mother did not receive J lii n with tlicir accuilonied kindnefs ; nay, he was oh- i Jigcd to \ to a very fevere reproof f(^r his obitina- } cy ; biiL vSiQi' he had h-ainbly acknowietiged his fault, :j a-.'d prom lied to behave better fc^r the future, they al- 1 ](v-,ved hun to iray with the company. If he had kept t his woid, he miglu Itiii have Ciijoyed much pleafr.re ; -j bnt he looQ let them fee that he had not yet concpjered j his lU hnn^oLir. 1 Georjje propofed a play in which they all might en- \ gage ; they iixed on one called the Hunter, and the open , down before the wood was a fine place for it. But lienry found no pleafure in this game, he infiiled on their playing at bhnd- mail's bufF. The little company • tried to convince him that he was very unrealonable to cxpc'ft them all to do j nil what he pleafed, but he heed- ed theiD not. — And wiien they faw that he v/ouid not p'jrl\\e them, they tried to coax him, till be tiirned rndely from then); then they began to play without him. Charles was the hunter, George the dog, and Caroline the hare. CUarles began the chace, crying- out feveral times leveret, hide thyfelf — the dog is com- ing to felze thee ! — clofe ! — clofe ! The leveret exerted alT her powers to efcape from the dog, and when it ca.ne near, p.retended to cry* like a hare ; at lait Ihe was caught, and they all bisrrt out into a loud laugh. i Henry favy with much vexa^.on their coannon joy; he v/as tired of himfelf and his ill-humour; yet he was fo Ibjbborn and foolifli, that he would not make one in their party. He imagined that Charles or George would again invite him to play with them, and he wouki giadh/Tiave excepted of the invitation ; but they tho^rh; of no fuch thing: — none of them preilcd MORALITY. a little obllinate boy who had been fo loiio- out of hii- mo'.ir to join in their phjy. Then he direw hiinielf, full of ibrrow, under a tree, and lamented his folly : — I am very uncomfortable— unhappy has my ill- hwyvAir muds ms 1 It has to-day already deprived me of the quail my brother bought for me, and my break- fait — befides, 1 have ofFended my parents, and the flrairverb looked black on me — ho-w much pleafure have 1 loft by ill- humour 1 No one wiihes to have . any thing to do with me, though I now am forry ; oh, I wdll Taever again be fo foolifli I V/hiift he was thus be- moaning bimfelf, his father paifed by with Mrs. Jones, who had* hold of his arm: and as foon as he obfervcd- Heary, he went up to him, and alked what was the matter with him ? Why he did not make one in the- play vvith his brother and fnTer ? He was alhaxned to ar.f-.ver, ^i:rned his face ?,way , and held his han^ls before his eyes. Vv hatiiave you done } faid the father again. Speak — I am aihamed of myfcif, anfsvered he, I cannot tell it. Yoy are aihamed, replied the mther, you are afraid of my reproofs, you have done fomething wrong. For thoft vxho f^el Jharnt alivays know that they have ' dcn^ fomd thing -dji-^if:^. Speak, what is it ? Then he re- lated, Ihedding naany tears, how fooliihly and iU-hu- moured he had behaved all day, and how much trou- ble he had brougut on himfeif. The father pitied him : but defired him at the fame time to try to govern his temper, and be for the future a good boy, then he would no more feel that kind of liiame w hich made him afraid to look his father in the face. Do yo.i, continued he, ilill dcilre to play w itli your companions? Very inuch, aniwered he, only I am afraid they will now refufeto play with me. You do not deferve indeed a. kind reception, faid the father ; biit if you v/iih to be more focibl^, if you will- try to give up your own will to others, come with me, I will intercede for you. Then Henry wiped av/ay his tears,, and taking hold of his father's hand, went with do wn- cail eyes to join his play-feilows. They received him gUdiv, when their father affured thenu. that for the I . / 75 E L E M E N T S O F fiit'.u'c, lie wonki no more ceafe tlicin through his ill- huino ;r. He joisicxl them, and cliey went to pby ao^ain with fi-eth pleaiure, now tliey liad bolh a hare and a leveret ) lumt. C H A P T E R XV. Y" E N R- Y made a fine hare, and was fo nhnble, ;^ that: he fpniiig through the buihes, and they c iiiiiiic h;:n with diuicidty after he had advanced far in- t.) tilC v. ood. Biic hy this chance they made a dlfco very y/hich they r yolced at. They cariie fiiddenly on four fnie health}'" ]oo'ari->; boys, who were playing with a ball. They w ere the ions of the forefter, who lived not far from- thence. i""hc hr.ntf nan, do^ and hares, were fo pleaf- cd Vv'itli this ddco very, that they ceafed playing, to look at the fl^'liig ball, Vvdiith thefe hey-, threw from one to another. 'I' ts, it fcemed as if tliey were ail at once tired of hnntiiig, and v.'illied to b-egin to play at bad. Nay, Hen^vy faid alond, if I had my bail here^ ^ve miglil aUb play at ball. Scarcely had Henry faid i\ when o;;c of the boys ca:ne np to them, and faid, if you wi'h for a ball, v/ait a- n-ionient, and 1 will run to the houfe and bring you one; and all the reil faid, O yes^ run quickly an.d bring it. Away lie ran, but ocfore he conld come back, one e!'his brother, odercd to lend them bis ball till he re- turned. The chilfh'ei' ref ided, becanfe they felt thatthey- fiitght r;ot to ("''n-n b tfieir pleafnre to amufe themfelves. Bvit they conrin.ied toprefs thera, till they ail agreed ro play together. This aiibrded them ncv/ pleailire: fome {truck the ball in the air, aKd others received it as ir. fell. Nay, they were quite deHghted wd^ien Charles, Vv/ho V. as very expert at the game, made the ball rife li'rrron ontcf lightj and when George ran to catch it^ MORALITY. 79 as it was falling at a great dlftance from the place it was throne from. They were fo amufed, that they did not think of returning to their parents ; bat play- ed one game after another. Who knows how much longer they m'ght have played, if the Ci.rate had not called them lie came lip to them, and delired them to comeback, becaufe Mr. Jones thought it time to proceed on his joi rney. Seeing the ball they were playing with, he enqi ired where they had found it, or wlio gave it to them ? One of thel'e good-natured boys, anfwered George, we are playing with. You cannot think how good- natured they \\ ere 5 as foon as Henry wili.ed for a ball, one of them ran to their houfe tor it, and another lent us his, that we inigiit not be tired with waiting. And did this civil behaviour pi cafe you ? afked h?. Very much, cried they all ; how we wifh that we could do fomething to pieafe them- I too am glad, continued ihe.Curate, to meet with fuch good children ; pray afli them to walk ivith us, that my wife and giseits may fee them. It wa¬ necefTary to Ipeak twice; they ran to their new friends, and led tiiem a little ip^atnit their Will forward to the comj-'any. The Utile boys .blulhed at being praifed for doing what their father 4iad always told them to do, and what he always did himfeif; for a beggar never -arme thro^:gh the torelt w-iihout receiving a dice of bread, and a draught of fmall beer. He ufcd to fay to his boys, that a child who did not give part of his play-things to another, ihould be left to play alone — and what child can hud pleafnre in playing alone ? One day they had qv»arrelled about a kite; each would infift that it bodosged to him. The father gave them four kites, which they v/ere to call their own, but as they were lo unfaciable, he would not allow them to play toge- ther, and what pleafure was there in looking at a kite, though it mounted almoit to the clouds, when '■hey could not call out fee ! fee i how^ high the kite flies 1 In a few days they begged their father to take back three of the kites, and let them play together. It was E L i: M E. N T S OF the fa?-ne thing wkh their tops, m-'.r'jlss, kc. there was iio amaiem^nc i'l playiii-^ Wiih lUi^ni alone, and when- ever thty qiian elicJ, tiivjir -athi r n ry punifhed thcin, by iiiakino^ the ieliilh hoy play m :\ iiide yard by him- feif. Afcer the coriipaiiy liad alked liie boys fevera] fiLiefli- ons, to wliich they gave modcR aai'vvers, -the Curate faid to his children, next Monday you know you. are to have a little feaf", aker all the cherries arc gathered, and would you lot wi!h for more co'^ii) : 7 ? Yes, in- , deed, anl'weied George; may 1 allv tlic:: -;;od bcs 10 conje ? The father nodded, and lie turned to them — yes, pray eonie next Monday; we ihali Ir.e very hao- py together ; I v^^iil Ihew yo^t my garden, and you lhall eat fonie of the peare ori^my own tree. Yes. yes, cried Henry and Caroline, catching hold of their hands, you niuit promlie to come and fee all oar gar- dens and birds. They faid that they would very glad- ly come, but they mud alk their fatlier's leave before tliey promifed. You are very right, faid the Curate, for a good chiid ought never to promife to go out with- out the conienc of his parents; but I v>'iii call myfelf on your father, and afk him to give you leave. Mrs. Benibn had brought a balket of fruit with her to regale her gueils with ; Ihe now. fet it before tliem, and ga^ e, as may be fuppofed, a fufficieiU quantity to the civil chddren. Mrs-J'-ines, who always had fome- tuing in her pocket for goc'd children, felt for a little parcel — what could it be, wrapped up in paper? She opened it, and let them fee fome pret'cy pictures, very,., pretty piclures, of lions, tigers, and many other an- imals : ll>e 'iivided them, amongit the foreiter's fv^ns,. who at hrlt relided to accept of theiii; but Mrs. Jones prelfed them, faying, take thefj pidures, good, well- behaved children : one civility ii^/drves an'jther. Now came tiie moment when the company mufl fe- parate ; the ieurtration was painful to them ail. W^hen.. they firit met tuey were civil to each other, becaufe it is right to fiew civility to every body ; but when they became acquainted^ they began to love as friends^,. MORALITY. 8t and wiiiied to have remained longer together. Brt Mr. Jones had ibine iiiiportant bulmels -wnich required his prefence, and he was obliged to take iea\'e of the family ; he did it in the moi\ aitectio.^ate manner ; and lhaking the Curate's hand, with a look of regard amd refpect, put five guineas into it for John's ufe, which the Curate allured him was more than fuincient to pay the lurgeon : Mr. Jones then deiired him to iec John have the red in his pocket when he returned to his fa- mily ; and, ftepping into the coach, they v^ ere fooa out of light ; mean while the Curate and his family "turned into the foot path which led to their houie. CHAPTER XVI. ON the road Mr. Jones obferved, with afFedion^ ace intereft, the plentiful harvei\, and the cheer- ful looks of the reapers. He admired, fometimes, the abundance of ears which grew from a few grams of corn; fometimes, the indulfry of the country people ia "cutting it down, making it up into fneaves, and carry- ing it into their hams. He was fo charmed with tho view, that he could not reaiain any longer in the coach ; he (lopped it, and after he had handed out his wife and fon, deiired the coachman to follow them fiowiy. They could, now they were on foot, obferve all the objects far better than when they whirled by them ia a carriage; and tliey were altonilhed to fee that many men might receive nourilhment from a fmgle field of wheat ; and that not only m«n obtained a fubfiitence from it, but likewife a number of birds, beetles, grai- hoppers and field-mice : this aiforded matter for con- •^l^erlation on various fubjecls. Charles remarked that the grain did not appear equal- ly fine in all the fields. In Ibme the ears ilood thick and llrong, like a wood ; in others it appeared thin • and, in ieverai, v^as fo mixed with weeds, that they 82 ELEMENTS OF could fcarcely perceive that any had been fown. Charles could not conceive the reaibii of it : the fields, thought he, have all the lame foil; the blades grow pp near each r-dicr, expofed to the fame weather; from V, hence co-.ne-. thi^ diifereiKe ? He mentioned to his faLiier chib rcnrirk, an^Talked v/hat coidd be the reafon. Had v/e not better eLiqiiire of a countryman? moft people know fomethiniT of their own bufuiefs, faid he^ and L fee one yonder with fuch an honed: countenance as makes me hope that he will readily anfwer our qnefti- ons. ^They went up to him, bowed, and alked why there xvas fuch a g:reat diifcrence in the crops ? They added, that they had feen many fields fo fruitful that they charmed their eyes ; and others almoin covered with thiftles and \veeds. Yes, yes, replied the peafant, fmiling, thefe were certainly my . neighbour Brov^ n 's fields; he has always on his ground traih, not worth carrying home. But how can it be other wife ? \\' hen I and other farmers have been at work lome hours, {)lowing or hoenig, he is itill flooring in bed. \¥hen our corn is almoil: m the ear, he is fowing his feed ; and when our afcer-grafs is fit for mowing, he is only bringing home-his firll loads of hay. There he comes, there becomes I yon will foon fee, by his drefs and gait, what ibrt of a man he is. They turned, and favv^ coming towards them ahorfe. drawing a cart ; but it. was fuch a forry poor crea- ture, it could fcarcely put one foot before the other.. Upon him flit Brown, with, a tattci'ed coat loofely? wrapped round him-, and his hat was fo old and dirty, that it would not have been eafy to- guefs of what colour it. had been.. His hair v^as uncombed, and the feathers which came out of a loft bed, were Ihick in it ; his face was covered with red blotches, and he fat in fuch an indolent ,ni.anner, as if he were fcarcely awake, or ready to fail aileep again. They expreiled their furprize, and Charles d.eclared that he (hould not ha\ c believed that there were fuch idle- people ia the v/orid, if he had not feen it with his M O R A L I T Y. own eyes. Yes, continued the honert countryman the maftej refembles the fields, the horfe the mafter,' the houTe the horfe ; the kitchen, -flee ping -rooms, dairy, fartn-yard and barn — all are alike. He never takes the trouble to drive a fnigle rrail ; and when a ^lick lies in his way in the road, he will Itumble ten I times over it before he vvill Itop to pick it up.^ — But i as he makes his bed, fo he mui\ lie in it : — the fields I produce, every year, lels and lefs ; the hoiife will ! fall down, and the horfe be unable ro drag the crazy- cart any lon^^er — and at lalt he will be obiio;ed to beg. Though he indulges himfeif thus, he is nevef content; nay, fo long as I have known him, I have Rever feen him once lauo-h ; and he has convinced ine, that an idle man wiii never he content. Where- ver he looks, he fees ^vork that he has left undone : he fees his property going to the dogs, whicii always i puts him out of humour ; and by deeping too much, and fitting ftill, his blood grows thick, and his limbs are ftitf and heavy : how can fuch a man be in a good humour? I, for my part, aught to praife work; for I am never fo happy as when I have fomething to do ; I have then no dull hours ; and when I walk over the ground I have turned up Vv'ith the fweat of my brow, and fee my corn waving-^my very heart leaps for joy. You are right, my good friend, faid Mr. Jones ; do not forget this experience ; ftand firm to your plough, be induitrious, aiid not only a ! good harvefl will be the reward of your labour, but you will have health and cheerfulnefs whill\ looking forward to it, and doing your duty in the ftation in which God has placed you. Saying fo, they left him ; and the coachman tel- ling them, a fecond time, that if they wenton at this fate, they Ihould not get home before midnight, they got into the coach again. He fmacked his whip — and away they went full drive. Charles was forry when they got into the carriage ['again, becaafc he could not here lialf fo well enjoy the ' fight of the beautiful fields as when they were walking. 84 E L E M E N T S O F He leaned on the coach door, to look as far as his eye could reach ; and, as the coach whirled along very quick, it appeared to him as if the llicaves, trees, a fields and villages, palled by him ; and thefe moving ] pidurespleafed him. ] But his mother called to him ; child, child, iit' dovv-n. He fat down, but afi<.ed why mult I fit ? When I amfeated, I cannot iee half lb well the fvveet fieltls, and the other fine things, as when I Itand up and lean on the door. You mult, laid Mr. Jones, aKvays obey, when 1 or your mother defire you to dp anything, if you cannot guefs why v/e bid yoa doit; for we are oldsr than you, and mull know better what will be iifeful or hurtful to you. Ai] you grow up and acquire more fenfc, by attending;; to o .r inllr.sclion, and obferying Vv'hat men do, you^ ^vili know the nacure of things yourlelf ; and in-' ftead of commanding I fiiall reafoii with you. At* prefent, you mull truft us, when we tell you that a| thing is not good for you. But if you wilh to knowj ^vhy your moclier refufed to let you lean on the door, ■ 1 will explain it to you, becaufe it is not above ^ your underhanding. Obferve, that the door only | Ihi.ts with an iron fpring ; but much jolting on rough road may — VVhllil he was faying fo, tiie car- riage palled over a rough if on y place, which gave it fucli a jolt, that Charles was thrown forward into his mother's arms, the dooron wdiich he had leaned flew open, and Mr. Jones' cane fell out. The coach- ,[ man was obliged to Hop ; Mr. Jones got out, and ' Charles follow ed him, and there lay the beautiful cane fnapi:cd in two ; the wheel had palled over it. Charlci. t^.ri'ed pale when he faw it, and all his limbs treiiib'ed, he c a' -ght his father's hand — O my dear fa- ther, fjid iie, fro.u what a dreadful accident has my good moihcr faved me I if Ihe had not warned me, or i if I had i-ot oi.cycd her before I knew the reafon, I'"! ilio-Ki li;'ve fallen oat of the coach, and the wheel wo-iid have go le over my head, arms or legs. — Yes, dear lacherj /V/)ik I live^ I -will never difobey you. MORALITY. 85 He fprang into the coach, embraced his niothcr, and proniifed, with tears in his eyes, nevertobe difobdient. They were all fo atteded by this accident, that they fat feme time without Ipeakin^ a wor CHAPTER XVJL THEY might hvixe remained much longer in this ftate, if their filence had not been inter- rupted by a new and unexpeded accident. As the coach mounted i4owly up a hill, Mr. Jones obferved a man very fhabbily dreiTed walking before it. He Ihook his head, and faid, I know that man, yet cannot now recoiled where I have feen him. 1 hope it is not « — no, impoflible ! it cannot be- — he was a very rich man. The coach now overtook him ; the man flop- ped, and made Mr. Jones an humble bow. What dol fee ? cried Mr. Jones. It is he ! it is he ! Hop, Nicholas ! The coachman flopped ; Mr. Jones got out of the carriage, and allowed Charles to follow him. Are you not, allied Mr. Jones, Mr. Noel, whom I knew in London about twenty years ago.^ Mr. Noel, (lighed) Yes, I am he. And you — I fho.dd know you ; — are you — are you not Mr. Jones } Mr. Jones. Right, I am he. But, my old friend, yoM feem to be in a diftreiied Hate. Have you been unfortunate } Have you loil yor.r fortune at fea ; or Jhas a fire confumed your fubitance } Mr. Nod. Alas ! no Mr. Jonss. Have thieves or lharpers plundered you } Mr. Nod. No, no. Mr. Jones. Or h.ivc you loft all by a law-fuit > Mr. Jones. Nothing of all this. It I coi^ld attri'- bute my mlfery to any of thofe caufes, 1 Ihouid AtH H 86 ELEMENTS OF find To me conjfort ; but I caanot— I myfelf am the Cciule : all my railery comes from my own folly. Fro- digality has made me poor, Mr. Tories. Prodigality ? Mr. Noel. Yes, prodigality. My father left roc forty thoufand pounds. 1 married a wife who brou^rht me twenty thoaland more : hut we neither of us knew how diiiicuk it is to acquire money, and how eafy to ipend it. We did not believe that it was pollible tp -diiiipate fi-ch a large fortune, and paid little attention to the expences of our family, or the management of ourhoufe. Every thing tiut pleafed us we purchaled. My w ife followed every nevv' faOiion, and I wore the inoit extravagant clothes. As foon as a drefs was a little out of falhion, or v/orn by the common people, M-e gave it away. Oi;r own countrymen could not make fiirniture to pleafe us ; we lent to Paris for a number of ufeleis things. V/ e drank the moft coliiy \vii>,es. had ihe dearelt dainties,^ a few weeks before our neighbours, who had more prudeiice ; went to a-^ tac piibiic ani- fements, and had continually large card- par l.c?. -It liome ; in fliort, wc had a fij'endid equipage. 1 h \n ieen a noble pleafnre ground belonging to a Duke ; the fooliHi idea of turnmg my meadows into fuch a one came into my Iiead. J expended, in this manner, twenty thoufand pounds of the principal, belides the i'ltercit of the whole. At the end of five years, I rerniu-ked that this extra\'a-ant way of li\'ing €!) iki not iait long, becaufe I had already waked more than half my fortune. I vnentioned our circumkance to my wife; b trnefaid,, that we co dd not retrench 0'. r iijanitsu of li v ing without appearing mean la the eyes of aii Gi;r acq'iainra ICC. We had a large ei'tate • • o ' : r, ^m^le, who could not live long ; u'.rcd his fortvme, we could very ^.^ . u, . v.'y \-. e had done ever 1: . . ^, uiv'felf to be perfuaded : my e— )c.i e a,v. b excte. - u -. i^.e, cind mok par: or dir u \r u ' rchaiuu . .\ l'..pijrik.itie.-> : thr.s Cud A airo uy ' fortune and piimge myieif ia M O p. A L I T Y. «7 debt, always hoping that my iinrle would loon die. He, however, itill lived, atid my debts increa fed every year, till ch^y amounted to iVch a confiderabierum, that vvhea he did die at lalh his noble leo^acy (for, on ac- count of my extravagance, he left the elhue to a dl- i\^nt relation, of whom he had a better opinion) was- not liiaHcient to fa tisfy my creditors ; they now grew impcrtunare, f ifpicion wa£ roufed, and tliey leized my honie, furniture, garden and clorhes, In Ihort, all I had left— -but all was not fufficient to clear me, fo I was fent to prifon. My wife could not long endnre This mifery ; for having^ been accuftomed, from her infancy, to live a life of indolent cafe, and to follow i'einih pleafures, Ihe had not fufilcient lU'ength of mind to bear up againft poverty ; it appeared fo frightful to her, that in a few weeks grief brov:ght her lo her grave. And I — if I had died wirh her, what mifery inould I have efcaped ! I fnould hot have feen the contempt which my old acquaintance have Ihewn me. Here he fighed bitterly — and his voice v/as choaked by his groans. Mr. Jonfs. I pity yon ; yet cannot conceive how you could have acted fo inconlideiateiy. When you law* that you exceeded your income one ^^ear, why- did you not live within bounds the next .^^ For if yon had thought a moment, the confcqucnce mr.lt have oc« curred to von — you muft have forefeen your ruin. Mr. N-jsI, You are in rhe right — you think like a reafonable man ; but I ?.ncl iny v. ife were fpoilt in our yauth. As our parents were rich, we obtained from then: all we defu-c-vi — yes, more than we defired. Vv^e ta: every day a dinner fii.ch as children Ihould never partake ; one coune followed another ; we wore the inoii cxperHive clotiies ; and when we wilhed to pay a ' iiit, two nne hcrfes were liarneiTed to the coaeli to irry i:s in ft.ite. Thus from our infancy we lived a rooliili life ; and as we had not acquired any ufeful knowledge, when v/e grew up we couki not turn to r ore rational purfuits ; we had not Itrength enough o praJiife virtue, nor fenfe to leek for knowledge ; m ELEMENTS OP and our flavery to vanity was fo great, that we could not deny ouri elves any thing our v/eak minds longed for. — How happy I Ihould now be, if my father had been a day-labourer. I Ihouid have been content with homely fare, have thankfully eaten a cruft of brown bread, drank fmali beer, and have made this little journey with pleafure. But, dear Mr. Jones, you cannot fuppofe how Vv'ofiii, how hard it is, to fubmit^ when a man in his youth has pampered his appetite, eaten dainties, drank good wine, and always rode in a coath, to be obliged in his old age to accuitom himfelf to miferable food, and to go miles on foot. Pv'Ir. Jones was atfcded by this relation, particularly as he faw that he did not attempt to deceive him, but ov/ned his folly. He promifed him that he would think cf fome way to help him; but reqnefted him, without hy'mg any m.ore, to come into the coach, and deep that night at his houfe. Mr. Noel looked ftedfallly on him with forrowful eyes, while a bhilh rofe in his cheeks, and faintly afced, if he would net be aihamed to fit by the fide of a begger ? if you are fmcerely lorry for your pafl hfe, and in- tend to begin a new one, I fhaU never be aihamed of you — God borbid ! He was now feated In the carriage, and when he had a litile recovered himielf, recounted many more particulars of his pail life, and prefent mifery ; and earneilly adtireiUag ?vlr. Jones, he laid, if your chil- dren are dear to you, do not let them live a life of i.;rieaefs and Inxnry I Men may at any time, whea they acquire a lorcune, enjoy the pleafures of life, ac- cuitom themfelves to good cheer, and v/ear more colfly clothes; but it is diiiiculr, yes, very dilucult, to bring one's felf to rtlilh coarfe food after wild-fowl and pal- try — to fLrt)mit to vv'ear dirty rags, or even coarfe clothes^ when we have been drefTed in fine linen every day. M O R A L I T Y. 89 CHAPTER XVIII. BEFORE they Iiad finifiiecl this conveiTation, they reached Briftoi. Mary had been along time waiching at the window, waiticg for the arri^'al of her dear parents. Now ihe difcovered the coach ; in a moment llie was on thelteps, anci before her parents and brother got into the door, embraced them %veep- ing, and could crJy bring out, my father ] niy mo- ther I liiy brother ! They killed her very tenderly ! Chailes broi:o;ht her fome fruit which the Curate had gi\'en him, and llie received it %vith pleafure. Mr. Jones coiidr.cled poor Mr. Noel to a room, and begged him to accept of a coat and ibme Unen ; then he returned to his parlour, and laid, this evening I lhall not think of bulinef-. — I Vv iil fpend it ^vith my fa- niily. He afterwards called Mary to him, and began care- fully to enquire how Ihe had em^ployed her time di-ir- ing iheir abfence. She then related ail ; brought dov/u the bonnet which the maid had walhed, fiiewed the w ork that fne had done, and the copies Ijie had writ- ten ; nay, repeated fome liories which fhe had read, in fuch a diftind manner, as proved that ihe had paid attention to them whillt fne was reading. Mrs. Jones examined Jier work, and alked if fhe had done it all lierfelf. No, anfwered ine, my coiUin did the left feam of the fhift, w hiilt I worked at the right. But, aiked her father, ha\ e yon had no one to vifit you ? Yes, Charlotte has been to fee me, and my three coufms, and I w ent out to drink tea yeiierday \vi-,;h m;,' aunt. Mr. Jones. Has any thing elfe happened ? Mary. Be not angry with me^ do not frown^ I have broken fomethiug. Mr. Jo?2^s. Vv'hat H 3 ELEMENTS OF Mary. When my covfins were here, we played at briucl-inan's buff; and when I was blinded, i ran a- gainft the clofet, and knocked down one of the beil china ciips. Mr. Joiiifs. Indeed you fnould not have been fo giddy ; but you Ihew your fenie in not concealing or denying it. Dwring this converfacion, Mary's annt entered, who took care of the hoi.ie while they were abfent, Mrs. Jones enquired how her little charge had behav^- ed ; and received a very particidar account, which pcrfediv agreed with the one they had juft had from Mary hcriell\ Good girl, fald Mr. Jones, you might have told us lies ; but what purpofe would it ha-. e anfwered } \ve I'hould foon have difcovefed that yon toid them, and then we could never again have believed what you laid ; for when I du'covered that a child or fervant has once told me a lie, I cannot trui\ or relped them. B it you have related every thiiig jui't as it happened ; you have fpoken the truth ; and rnroj I fee that you love ^ tr^ith^ I f/.hill ahvays 1)1 future believe you. Then her 1 lather and mother killed iier. While they were expreilmg the pleafcre they felt ,i in findijig that they could conhde in their daughter, \ and that Ihe would tell: truth, though fhe expofed her \ own faults, they were interrupted by the entrance of j & Aranger. — He caught Mr. Jone^ by the hand with \ great warmth, and faid, how^ glad I am, dear Sir, j that after fo many years I can again Hiake your friend- .1 }y hand ! Mr. Jones was not a little furprized by the tendernefs and familiarity of a clergyman, who was eu.tircly unknown to him. I cannot recollect, faid he, that I ever had the lionoiir of knowing yon. No: me laid the clergyman, laughing; d-o you not remember little jack, who ufed to lit by you at the writing-rabie, at fchool } Yes, I remember him well anfwtred I.ir, Jones ; but — But you cannot conceive, intern^pted the clergy- tt^an, how the poor fon of a taylor ihould have ac» MORALITY. quired the appearance of a gentleman ? To be frank, faid Mr. Jones, it does r.;rpnze me ; and I am very delirous co know how it happened — pray be feated, and fatisty my curiofity. He feated himieif on the fopha, and related with great fpirlt the lingular hntory of his life. You know, faid he, that after my father's deaih, my godfather -took me home, intending to have rae taught a mechani- cal trade: but before he conld fix on a malkr, I had been fome time in his horde. I palled great part of my time in his ftndy. I looked into many books, and when I found one that pleated n:ie, I read it through with great attention, and often forgot my meals, I was fo eager to go on. I ufed to copy the molt Arik- ing palTages, and repeat them to my god-father. iVIy desire to know what fhe books contained wasfo great, that a few Lacin words did not frighten me; I took a Latin dictlonaryj and was at the trouble to hunt after them ; and when I could not find them, I afked my god-father. That worthy man finding me one day in his (budy, Ihnt the door, and alked me if I had a deUre tO' apply my felf to learning. 1 replied, that I had in- deed a very Ifrong deiire, but he knew my fituation, and that as 1 \\ as indebted to his boanty for every thing, I mulf be directed by him. ^V^ell, faid he, I will try you for a twelvemonth ; and if you are diligent, I will lend you to a fchool. I do not know what I faid, I was fo pleafed ; I alTared him that I wuuld willingly go without a coat to learn Laris. He delayed not, but next day engaged a mafter for me, whom I every day attended. He was a good, as well as a learned man, and was fo well pleafed with my improvement, that he prevailed on my god-father to let me remain under his care till I was old enough to go to college. Before I went, I IVudied day and night 1 knew that all my time mult be employed to improve my mind, if I wiihed to becoaie a gentleaian. I liken- ed liiently to the converlatton of old men, was atten- tive to my mailer's iniirudion, and never began one book before I had fiiiiihed another. My maiter had E L E M E N T S O F more pupils ; I alFifted to te.ich tliem ; and when I v ent to college, he lO warmly recoiiimendcd i-ic, L.iat I had feveral young meii placed under my c.i^^ to whom I became a private tutor; which I v, as \ary glad of, becaiiie I did not wiih to draw more money from my kind god-father than was ahfolutely neceffary. 1 was'^refpeftcd hy the fuperiors in the college. Bit not to tire you, from being chofeu a feUow, 1 became a profeilbr, a- doclor of divinity; and, in confequence of fome books I pnblilhed, v. hich have been approved of, I obtained a confiderable li\ ing. So you are, then, afkedlVlr. Jones, full of aO-onifii- nieKt, a doiSior of di-\"iiiity, a profc-ucjr, and have a good living? I now perceive that my op^inion is true, fiir I have ahvays thought t/?at a good undi-rftamling •was better than riches. I have now in my houfe a man, who was once worlh near an hundred thoufand pounds, and now he is a beggcrr. And you, who ne- ver had a farthing frOiJi vo.ir p.irents, have, by your luiderllanding and indiihry, ac.^urcd a confiderable fortune, and relprdahle rasik. 1 am entirely of yoiir opinion, replied the Doctor; if in their yonch niea ciiltivaie t)ic;r i.nderilandings and acquire i^fcnd knowledge, they lu.iy afterwards acquire a fortune. Brjt if v/e v ere to gain all the wealth of the Indies, it would jiot purchase underilanding. And how quickly many a man be de prived ol riches ! — Fire, hiundations, v/ars, thieves, luv.fuiis, and o:i]cr n^iU- fortunes, may in a !i;ort time make a rich man poor.— Bat if my houfe ihordd be reduced to alhes, and all my property dcfh'oyed by ilorms, my cultivated under- ita r'ing \..n;lJ iiiii rcnain to Q.o\rSxy;i n:e, and enable x\w Lo ji\e — that no one can roL M^t ofj without de- priving me oivd't. MORALITY. CHAPTER XIX. WHILE Mr. Jones was converfing with the ProfeiTor, Mrs. Jones went into die dining parlour to make fome enquiries about the flipper. She had already given her orders to the cook, and fhe went now to fee how they \^ ere executed ; Ihe found howe- ver, every thing on the table ihe had ordered, except fome prefer ved cherries. Why, faid ihe to the cook, have you not brought the preferv^ed cherries ? Preferved cherries ! preierved cherries ! I did not hear you order any, anfwered Ihe, with a face as red -as fcarlet. jVIrs. Jones then defired her to bring them now, and and Betty left the room, but not returning, Mrs, Jones followed her, and aiked her why ihe did not bring the cherries? There are none, washer anfwer. None I faid ?vlrs. Jones, laft week the jar was half full, for I looked into it, and we have not had ailv brought to table fince. Betty endeavoured to perfuade her miltrefs that fhe was miitaken ; but as ihe always made a point of looking over her houihold matters in a regu- lar manner, Ihe was fure of the fact, and as no one "Went to the ftore-room but Betty, ilie only could have emptied the jar. Mrs. Jones now faid, with a firm tone of voice, that fhe mul\ have ftoien the cheries — • at laif Betty owned ihe had eaten them. But, faid Mrs. Jontshow^ could you be fo inconfide- rate and greedy, when you want for nothing ? you have a part of every tiling that comes to our table— ^ why did you take what did not belorg to you? Now Betty began to cry, and faid, I have been a gVctton from my infancy. Whenever I went to my mother *8 clofet, I took an apple or a pear, though ilie had juft given me one, and if fhe feat me to buy any fweet things, I tailed them before I brought them to her, I ^4 E L E M E N T S O F ' ^ became by degrees fiich a glutton, and fo fond of nicer' things, that 1 ufed to eat them all up from my brothers- and iillers, who never let me partake of their feaib^ becaufc I eat my one cakes aione. Tiiis habit has fol grown upon me, that when I fee v Cniug nice, t cannot heip eating it in a corner, and ca : t'U I am hcki • — 1 eat fo many of thofe chernes, that ni.rfe t]ioiighc'|. I Ihould have died vvith a pain in my ilomach ;. ihe] made me take two er three bafoiis fail of chamomile'; tea; and I have hated the fight of preferved cherries- e-ver fince.— ^ray forgive me, dear mihreisj whilit I- live I will never do it again I How can I believe, aanveved Mr:,. Jores, that it;^ will not happen again, when yoj iKivr. ovvaed thaty^ though it makes you lick, yon cannot conquer this mean^: felfiiii habit ? I muit have fome prciof of your ajnend-^' nient before I trail you again ; — give me the key of the i\GV'e-roQm^ for ivhen I hiovj that a jervayit Is a glutton^ 1 dare r:at confide ar'y ihhig to her care. ] Betty entreated to be fo^gn eii, iheduing many tears/-' a u'i hopea liiat her miitrefs would not expofe her tov her telle w-fer vaults ; for, if they knew-'tbat Ihe was a- glutton , they wov.ld defpile and lai gh at her. I know very vvci-, ai.iwered Mrs. Jo.ies, that gluttony isve-j ry diiW-acefui j but is it my fault that you have ac-j ci'iired fuch an hateful habit r 1 have once or twice re; ro\ cd you gently ;: novr iir ce you have not lilxen-'i t- ; lo me, I mull expofe yor: to the fdaiily, to fee if; that vv'ill cure you. Nay, the pimples on yoiif face" ''-:':T.pofe your gluttony ; v/e Ihouid leiuoni look ugly,-^ or be obliged to take nalty medicines, if we did iiotl greedily ov erload our Itciuachs ; and if we forget onr| fluty ill private, and ciieat oi.r feilow-creatures of thdr J Ihare,, itisbutjufl tliar we Hiould be hii.ghed at in| compi;iy, and called v hat v/e really are^gluttors. * Siie wii,, obligrd immediately to deliver up the key; and, in f'.'t^;re, ivirs. Jones always counted out what- ever Ihe gave her. This difagreeable accidental diifurbcd Mrs. Jones ;^ ■nd Ihe was obliged to Hop a n]oment, to faiooth her' M O R A L I T y. 95 ;lirow, before flie went to fupper, that fhe mi^Iit not interrupt the pleafure of the meal, or let her huiband ,or guei\s fee that Die had been diicompofed by her fcr- -yanc. She enquired for Mr. Noel, but was infornned that •he was afhained to appear, and vvilhed to fup in his i.own roonj. Mr. Jones then went liimfelf to him, and iiaid, youliave ah'eady fpent many fad evenings, la- *' I jiienting ovei* your folly ; come now and partake of our j frugal meal ; it will neither remind you of your former I abundance, nor ypi.r prefent poverty. They now furrounded the table ; snd Mary, who .was with her mother when Ihe reproved Betty, deter- inined not to eat more than her ihare of the plumb- pye, left ihe Ihould aco^uire a habit that would expofe her to lhame and ridicule, befide making hex fiek and : Ugly. The PrpfeOTor related many more remajrkable things which had happened to him tince he law Mr. Jones, and they all heard him with attention, particularly • Mr. Noel ; and Vv'hen. he was informed that the gen- teel man before him, who converfed fo fenfibly, had been a taylor's fon, he fighed bitterly at the recoU let ton of hispwn folly. — iighed to think how much money had been thrown away on his education ; and how foolilh he looked in the prefence of a learned man, becaiife he had negledted to acquire knowledge, and improve his under! tai.ding. 1 fee plainly, lai4 he, that thoie who do nodiing but play and amufe themfelves ni their youth., w ill never in their old age :be relpecled. V/hen the Profefior was going to take leave of them, I he fmiied, and laid, but 1 have not told you all ; I am going to be married to a young lady who lives in your ;ieigabo raood. I became acquanued with her v/hen ihr iiurfea her fadier, who was feveral months con- i fined to h s room at Oxford. 1 found her a lenfible ; good girl, who knew how to manage a houie, and ,Vv as not fond of drefs ; Ihe read to her father, and tau^^ht her two younger fdters to reaa^ write and ^6 E L E M E N T S O F ^ work. After I found flie had an affeilion for me, I alked her father's confent ; he readily gave ic, but we were obliged to defer our marriage till I obtained my living. Now I am in poireirion of it, the day of our marriage is fixed ; it is to be three days hence ; and, as I wllh to have a jovial day, I would gladly have all my friends round me ; and you, my firlt friend, dear Mr. Jones, whom 1 loved when we played at ball to- gether, pray come, and your whole family— you muft not refufe me. That the invitation was agreeable to his wife, a lignificant fmile informed Mr. Jones ; fo,. after willi- ing his fchool -fellow joy, he promifed to be at the wed- ding ; and they parted yery affedionately- CHAPTER XX. MR S. Jones was not fond of drefs ; flie always drefl'ed herfelf and her children in a neat be- coming manner ; but was never eager to be the firlt t adopt a newfalliion, nor did llie ever wear any thing fingular or confpicious. But when ihe was obliged to appear in public, or to pay a vifit, like the prefent, flie thought it decent to conform a little more in her drefs to the tafte of her acquaintance; and this was not very tronblefome, as Ihe leldom paid formal vifits, or went to public places, except now and then when fheat^ tended fome of the pi-bhc breakfaft at the Hot- wells. She refleded. the following morning, how Ihe Ihould drefs herfelf and he children. She found that it was not neceffary to buy many new things ; but foon per- ceived that thofe Ihe had required coniiderable akeraii- on. On thefe occafions Mary had always fome employ- ment; now Ihe had the maiUn to hem which was to- flounce her mother's gown. She was very wdling to do it^ for it was her greateit pieafure to obey and alFift MORALITY. ♦7 lier mother ; but when fhe faw the length of the flounce, an J heard that it mi fl be finitiied by the ne.vt day at noon, llie iLookher head, and laid, dear ruo- ther, it is inipoHible ; 1 cannot, in fo Ihort a lunc^ do «11 that. I will tell yoa, fakl the mother, how you may do it : you miiit novv wotk coriliajciy. and not leave oif when you are a Ikdc rired, or find it trv)j- blefome ; and not rife from yoi r leac every moment, to run here and there ; nay, yo i muft not iook abo.c every minute, but pay attCxit on to yoi r woik ; ac i both to-day and to n:>orro\v morning never quii i:, when you can polhbiy help it- — and, above all, think of what you are abut, and do noc begin any thingelie. Try this plan for an hour or two, and fee what yoii can dp—through perfervance u'f may do many things ivhich we thought impofjihie. Mary laughed, and faid, I will fee what I can doi* During this converfation, Mr. Jones was thinking of very diiFercnt matters. He thought of what he Ihould do elfeclually to ferve Mr. Noel ; he reflected fome time, and at lalt came to a refolution, and fent for him He came with a very humble, fad countenance^ and almoil trembled ; when Mr. Jones called hmi friend, he glanced his eyes on the clothes he had received from him, and feemed to fay, pardon my po- vertv. Air. Jones. Your fituation makes mc very uneafy ; be alfiired I feel for you ; can you think of any thing that I can do to help you. Mr. Noel. Help me ! help me I would to God it were polFible ; but I fee no pollibiliLy. Mr. Jones. Indeed it is nnpofiiDie for you to live in the expenfive manner you did formerly ; for if I were to give you my whole forcune, it would Oiily lail a few yeai*$; and after that- you would be as poor as you aow are. Mr. Noel. Oh. do not kill me. Sir, with remarks on my unpardonable folly ! I am racked when 1 think of my former condiid, and heartily ainamed of it > nay. 9^ E L E M E N T S O F . I cannot believe that 1 iliO-ild eve.' return to my for- mer excelies. I am accnitoii-ed co plain food, and con- tent v/itliit ; and had I decent clothes of my oxu/z, I Ihoidd be quite fatisiied v/ith them. • AI?-. Jorr^s. If yoa w o- dd be feJtisiied with receiv- ing a trifle e\'ery da v, 1 coitld aiibrd to lallow it yoiu But cordd you refoive to hve on charily ? jMr.No^l. On chanty I — (here his voice faukered, ' and tears riifiicd into bio cye;v)— On ciiarity ! — e>vcr.fe { me, Sir ; what an i/if; it ii is, what a bitrrr vii.orcifi- • cation, for a man Vvho h,:{d ifom h;. fadicr i';!-. h a for- tune, and has always lived hi abiind.;::' lo live on i charity I . Mr. Jo-'cs. I readily brieve ic ; b-c how ebb cau 1 I help yon ? Ha\'e you a deiire to earn a ibbiiibcnce ? " Mr. Noel, Yes, gladly-, would I work, do any '■ thing to ax'oid livi:' ^u M .i'ms. It is not a lhanie for an j old or a iiv-k uuiv; tc; :b . c an alms ; but I have heakh j and lirtno-th : how c^n 1 iivc on charirv v» ithoi.t ren^ dering lu) fclf conieuiptiL'e ? Yet how can I earn a ^ fubfilience ! — I huvc learned no trade. I Mr. Jones. I have kcard you f|>eak French — have yon not kari:ed to write and calt accounts? IMr. No:L I can do both tolerably ; bviu I could r.ot vn his. d?.eeks,' ,'aiid , he ey.ciaimeJ, God blel's yoa •^d your^taniily : God has tent yoa to heal a penitent, 'ainirit broken heart— he wss goingon, caliinghiinhis '&nefaaor..aiicj prelerver but Mr. J one. ^^ t: c out, 'fayiiigi cdmpoie yo\u-fe.lf--l will lend your d.n»icr to ■ :you5 and, t^ea, let me lee you become one of my 'iTcuVily-r-let me iiave the pleafure of feeing you grow virtuous and conteVfted. Going out he rnet, his ife, ^vho tenderly took his . . and, ^ and told him 'that dinner was ready. He fol- lowed her, fat down, eat with a tolerable appetite ; but fi?id. very [iittile. She was very defirous to know \the c^lifc of his ilkrice. She afi.>:ed him many C|Uei- tions ; yet^his aniY ers did not fati&fy her. After the cloth was taked awav, Ihe rofe and faid, I Vvill fee if I cannct nihke ) cu talk. Saying fo, ihe look a hall: of fine v.nie, which her mother the day before had made her a prefeiit of. Here, my dear, filent hufband, faid flie, hero is fomething to untie your tongue. She poured out a glafs, he took it with a finile, and tahed it. Well, alked flie, is it good ? Goovl ! very good, my dear, anfwered he; but I have juft tailed fomething nmch fweeter than the molt coltiy, CKquihte wine — :hc pleafure ariiing from benevolence. I haye to-day p;:i Mr. Noel to the teft, and found him an honeft m.un ; and, in confequence of this conviction, I have given him a piace in niy compting hovife, and have promifed him a faiary. If he appears to be induhnous, faiihful and orderly, I hope in a few years to take him into partnerfiiip, or put JOS ELEMENTS OF lu'-ifVlfin a way of trade for hinife]i\ If you had but {:-ciihLb gratit. de ; he wept, he prayed God to blels iiie e.f,d iiry lansily — my Nviie, mychddreii ; faying fo, lli.i: svoriny ima Cinbraced h.s wife and children, and h/s lace was i:gl>re,;l i p wiih lo\-e and benevolent r::cai'irc — :r-,:/;::yjt iili jur fl^drures^ the moft delightful": ir i' iJ 'if i;cjJ. l"Lis Ine, continued he, has an \ s.-rce»l!e t^i'Ie ui iny mouth ; it tickles my palate, a;:., i; . a icw ;,n;r;;tcs, i-: will be over ; but if I am fo Iv/i tu'-'a.ou. r^' lave Ivii". Novl, if I can take him out of ' uiif -ciL. ljfy;_.crv, a. u r.^ake him an induftrions ■ man, \>hj \. iiLo. L a....- may earn a livelihood for : hiiufelf— th's v.ouid b hat they might coiue to. let every creature who comes to fee me v/ants money of me, as if 1 were made of gold. Believe m.e. Madam, I am a poor mife- reble man, almoit torxmented to death, or I lhauid have recoilec^ted you. Madam Bi;t of vviiat value is all your money, afked Mrs. Jones, if you make no ufe of it ? Ought 1 not to be Ccifeful to provide for my old age ? 1 know r^ot how long God may let me li^ e. — AVe can never tell what accidents may befal us ; I may be bed-rid for many years; and who will give me any thing, if 1 do not take care of 'myfelf.'* But, conthiued Mrs. Jones, you appear to m^e to be now a very old man, and to have lived lono.er than men in general do live. On that very account, lliould i not be very careful left I would come to want at laCc ? Beiides, I have a ion and daughter, whom I muif pick up fonjething for. But, alas I I has e no thanks from then] to repay me ! 1 'hey are always plaguing me for money — and why ll:ould they come tome, who am an old man? They are llrong ; cr.r.nct they earn their ov;a livelihood? 104 ELEMENTS OF They are ok! eaovcgh to take care of themfelves. There ] is no more aiied.oii or duty in the world ; I know that they reckon the hours, and wacch for my death. Mi- ' ferable wretch that I am ! forfaken by all the world, and even my own children do not love me. ria\ e yon already given thein a iufficient fortune to • begin the world with? aiked Mrs. Jones. Not a far- ^ thing, replied he, angrily. As long as I live I will ! not gi-'^e uie (hiil ont of my own hands ; when I am de:ui ilicy inay take all ; but I am not dead yet. — if ib, icpiied L\Irs, jonts, yon o;;ght not to won- der if yom' chil(h'en neither love nor reipe'5l yon, and ! \\i''hibr y.v.n' dcach. — B-ic can yon teil mc where I can ^ find hlis. Kjuadtovd ? Yes, niid he, iinduig, glad to j get rid of her ; Ihc lodges up itairs ; yon cannot mifs ! your way. i She then vv'iihed him a good morning, and begged 4 his pardon for having diituroed hnii. JuU as Ihe Ihut .{ the door, he aiked, in a faint voice, if iije would ■ drink a ginf of wine? bnc Ihe cnrthed a refufal, and | conlvd wIlIi diiiicidcy reltntin a laugh as Oie tripped np ' flairs. She now faw a verv dilFereat appearance. She came into a room, in v/hich indeed there v> as no collly far- niture ; b.:t, in every pare of ir, there was a look of cieaniinefs and order, v/hich refreihed her eyes after the ciiaitiber Ihe had juit left. A': a cable fat .rvlrs. ban- ford, and, near iier. tv/o ciieerfal looki.ig daiiglicers ; they were ail dreifed m adcLei. c maiiiier, aiid buiily employed inaking h.\t- and cn..^. Mrs Janes wjs re.-'«\\ ea •■. =. c'r Vi\y ; and, after {he had p;uvhaicd the liungs ;ne came lor. Ihc rctp eii- ed perinuhon to iu and ivil n?r.r:f a mo-;..'nt, it rney wo id go o;i \v'i.:h tn^.r vvor;:. ■ ;\o of con- verfacion, (h.e ad »i'red their h < .; \ taile, and- the order iiie ooiervca ui mcr p nons and ro.)..i. 1 es, laid Mrs. Sandibrd, a good cd-. cation was vhc ke.i for- tune- y rc.cive * from my mother, and a good one it- prjvcd to be when my moiiey aieked av/ay, ' MORALITY. ShcTniift have been a reipectable woman, anAvered IVIrs. joneii, Ycb, Ihe was indeed a refpedlabled woman, conti- nued Mrs. Sandford ; thorgh ihe was my mother, yet murt I praife her now fhe is in her grave. She had a conGderable fcrtune, above ten thoiiiand pounds^; but fhe always reminded me, that proiperity was uncer- tain : Fannys Fanny, fhe woiiki lay, money is a I'lip- pery thing j triid not to yoi.r fortune, the largeit v. iii Hvirf!^ inieniibly away ; improve yoi-rielf : — learn fomething ; if you continue rich, employment will procure y-ou health and content ; and li.Ould any mil- fortune deprive you of yoi^r inheritance, yo^r abili- ties and mdullry will enable yon to- fr.pporc - yoLflelf -Wjithoiit being obL-j^ed lo any body. -I^boiilOund the •ufeiof my hands ; 1 learned plain work, made my fa- ther's fiiirts and n:y liioiher's caps ; in ^lort, i learned cfciiery thing whieh a vvoman cnghc to know whoisde- ^ftiived to be a morher, aud have the care of a family ; «.nd I was as g^y as a lark ; I had time to read, walk^ and dancj^^ and leeujed to enjoy thcle pieaii res niuch 'tnore thaii-chofe who fat iiili, and thought of nothing ■eift*.- I gained, ■ by- ineie means, a ilrong conl'titbtioii. Vv hen I am lick,' I always know v. hat ails me ; I ne- ver am troi bled ^vith thofe nervous complaints \\ hich, I really believe, ie, and fay i Ihouid never come to want ; and, tharxk God ? I never have. But I ihall always reinember, with gratitude, my mother, wli'.> .iq6 E L E M E N T S OF is nov' ill heavoi; , bsicHViie ine giixe me fiich a good i'cli_;c:::;>~n ; b,,i hjr I^cr i .u.-h': mu a liave been a.i iciiC Leg.:r , _ ^ ' _ vou-ig, and letr. 'jie, wken I was only ijx- tecii, lo cake cure of r>y iachcr's IaOoIc. Soon after I v.'as of ;,-e, liiy I'lu r as b-acc]icf a w ay ; b.,.t, be- fore ;:. ••.t.at.b. he a;.: '^- -/ -^ cf a ii»..i.band I had choien,. arc.a. ■. r -f •• . i la jrr'x^vf, hiin, and endea- vouied ^Ouiio.'wac;ie, for I io'>'eU oan. B.-t flio- i.c 'v.-.a ci'/ liidciiierious,' be be;.a»i)e a bard.r • he bad veav red my fortune In a very pro- raa. f a-.: ,e ; i^: vv a:, ' i ba'aLow ed i;p ; and this want oi conudcraiion, ue vvonld la/, lay neareft bis heart.- He did not long luryi-.T hi if ic[S; bo : fell into a con- fumptioii, and died, lie \> as cnc o:t' hi his prime, only lix and d'hrty ; and i Nvas ieit nehlnd. with thel e two da- .■;};hccrs i.o luannani and edncaie, whh;.i a any viiibie aieans. 1 remaiaea at i->rntoi, becaine I lioj'ed,- v/hen my h.nbambs a^hnrs were 'iiettled, . that i Ihoid.d ihll ha\ e iouiethii:>^ caibdcrabie to receive. I w^s. dilappointed, yet I era -nTi veil to nve till i fonnd that I had only a hundred poands to expect, wKieh would fooii have bee.n coniarncil, i/' i Jiad not reme.nibered poor mother's w ords : if ^you-.flmil^ ev:r he ddfriii" of youj- foftune^ you may fnojij!: by your abiliiUs and indujiry. i ipoke ihen to ihy acqnaintance^ bought a liicie hock, and becauie a milliner; — - as 1 whbed to attend to the education of my daneliters, I did not choof^ to keep an open Ihop.— An oki milliner, whom I had formerly alufied, recom- mended her cvdlomers to nie, when Hie left of trade ; beiides, fhe gave me Ibme inlhaic^-ions reipeding the nianao^cnient of my bi.linefs. Siiice that I have had more v/ork oftered to me than I could do : I have ne- ver known want; I have given my children a prop^'r education — good girls ! they now alhll: nie, and are the comfort of my de'clining years. — I have no care ; when I am dead^ they can maintain themfelves. I am content, nay, happier, excepting the lofs of my huf- band^ than when i w:as miiirefs of a large fortune.—- M O R A L I T y. 107 My n^Oney is gone ; but the induflry my mother taught ranalns ivith me jlUl^ afid fut> ports me and ray chil- Ar^n. Mrs. Jones rejoiced at having met witii f. ch a fenfi- ble good woman, and .decermiued to folicir her acquain- taace in her favour. ' She admired the indvJtry of her modeff dai ghcers, und adeireiririg them ma .tnolt friend- ly manner, the aimred thenj that they would never know want or care, v/hiie they follo^ved f;.ich an cx- . ceilent moclier's example. Slie rcqiie:i:ed Mrs. Sand^ ford to viiit her fi tqueudy , and allow the young peO:- . pie, when they had done their work, to come and walk With her and her children. Indeed, my dear Madam, added ihe, I wiih to become intima:e wich yon, and improve by your inJiriictive converfation, \ I lhall find more pleafure in yo':r con)pany, nay,, , .think myiejf more honoured by yoar vifits, than I IhoLiid ever feel from the notice of a lady of quality, j x)rlly diitinguilhed by her rank and fortune. , This converfation was interrnpted by a gentle tap at [ the door. Come in, faid Mrs. Sandford ; the door ^ \vas oj^ened, and a poor woman entered, whoie ap- I pea ranee fpoke her miJcry. Have picy on me ! — have pity on me ! faid Ihe, I am J a poor unfortunate woman. I have never in my life before had occafion to all-: charity of any one — bat ^ now — now necellity impels me to pray you to have . companion on me. My hufoand, who is a taylor, has by his induftry fupported me and my children, in a de- cent manner, for many years. But he has now been iick about a month, and unable to earn a farthing ; ' Hoi* can I for I murt nurfe himxlay and night. I have ; fix young children, who cry all day for bread ; and the poor Tick man requires nourilhnient and medicines, . Iwhrie I Hard by and cannot help him. I am juil come \ I from a man w ho lodges in the room under, this ; — 'J what a hard-hearted man! I did not think that there jj-were fuch cruel people on God's earth. He gave me I nothing, though heapes of gold lay on the table ; he ' even called me names ; he called me aa idle^ wicked ,o3 E L E M E N T ^ O F I woman, and faid that I had fpent all my ma*iey in, drams— -what cuLtino| v/ords ! // is hard tnongh tofuf*, fer uuant ; hut when our fellow creatures (iiut theif ' hearts aga'mit us, or reproach us for our niifery, it be«i comes Uiibearable. V\^hy, afked Mrs. Jones, a little angrily, did you. not come to me, and make known your fituation ? your hufband has long worked for us, and I always thought him an honetl, induilrio-.s man, and fuck, people ought never to futfer want. If fometimes,: through ftcknefs or other unavoidable accidents, they happen to be in trouble, every good man Ihouid be ready to fupport them. From this time, good woman, come every day to may hpufe, and I will give you what is fufficient to feed your family, and the nonriihing; things your hufband requires; and here is fomeihing : to fupply your prefent prellmg wants. She put a gui- ! nea into her hand, and Mrs. Sandford gave her half a ■ crown ; nay, the girls gave her fix pence a piece out of their little favings. The woman was tranfported with joy. Am I, faid Ihe, amongi^ angels ? Yes, now I fee that there are itill good people on the earth ! How I fliall rejoice the heart of my hufband, and quiet my children, when I return home ! — God forever blefs you all/ and give you back a thoufand-fold, what you have beltov/ed on me. — May he pour the fame peace into your bofoms I now feel ! She lifted up her eyes to heaven, and hurried out of the room, leaving them ail with tears in their eyes. Mrs. Jones was now obliged to haften.home, after fhe had once more renewed her alTurance of friend- ihip ; and added, that Ihe was very glad that flie hap- pened to hear of her, becaufe fiie had not only become acquainted with a worthy woman ; but had had an opportunity of aliording comfort to feveral people in diilrefo. MORALITY. CHAPTER XXII. "TTTTHEN Mrs. Jones retvnied honie, f] e fot'ncU-i W Itranger there^ who came frOiii Baih to be prefent at the approaching weduirg. He was the Cii- 'jare of a little neighbouring village, and an I'lhcr at fchool. ,He was juli going to take lea\e, when Mrs. Jones entered, becauie, he faid, that he had ibme ba- linefs-to fettle that afternoon. Mr. Jones did not then attempt to detain him ; but prelied him fo warmly -to fpend a few hours at his houfe, bcfi^re he left Briilol, that he promifed to come and fnp with them, if he could finifii his bnfmefs in time. When he was gone, Mary aftced, in a ridiciiiing tone, why, my dear father, did you prefs fb much a man who looked fo mean and vulgar, that I fhould be afraid to ftay in a room alone with him ? I never faw Inch a ftrange looking man ; he turns his toes in, his ihoulders are up to his ears, he makes mouths when he is not fpeaking ; and then, what an old falhioned coat he has on I he looks like a plough-man. Mary, Mary, anfwered Mr. Jones, be not fo pre- cipitate in your ji dgmenr 1 This man though he were iieglected in his yauth, and acquired habits which I make him look very auk ward, may notwithftanding I be a very wife and good man. If you had been thus ■ negleded, you v\ould now probably have a number of ^ikward tricks, and it would be cruel to lavgh at, or defpife you for them. You have a mother v^ ho fets you a good example, who watches you, i'o that yoii ! have been prevented trom acqiiirmg bad habits : be- \ fides, 'you have learned to dance, and been in well- ! bred company. But, probably, this gentleman had I none of thefe advantages ; perhaps, he had a father I who could HOC aiford to ipend m ch on his education ; perhaps, he fpent his youth in Itudy, without having E I. E M £ N T S OF any oppertr.nity of mixing with the world" ; and, at prcfenc, I believe he has io much to do in his fchool, that \-\c has no time to think of his appearance. IMary Jhll did not like him ; and faid, can h.ch a man be \\ ife ? can he do much good ? Mr. Jones was going to anfwer, and reprove her for her foUy, when Mr. Noeh entered the room, and interrupted the converfation. He was beginning again to thank Mr. Jones for his kindnefs t but hqinicrrV.pt- ed him, faying, fpeak no more of it, dear Sir; the beft way you can thank me, and all that I exped from you, is this, that you will exert yov.rfeif to become an orderly, indulh'ions man; cr all I have done, and mean to do for you, will be idelefs and I lhall be difappointed. Pvlr. Noel allured him. that he intended to exert all his powers to become what he wilhed him to be. He then reqiieixed Mr. Jones to look at what he had done that day,, and freely give his opinion. He had written feveral French and Englilh letters, and call: up fome accounts. Mr. Jones looked the^m over, and found them written with more care than he ex- pelled, an i tlie accounts were perfeftly right, if yeu continue to be fo attentive, I fhall expert to fee you a rich man, faid Mr. Jones, fmiling ; but infpiteof fate you will become refpeclable ; for that depends on your condud:, and not on } our fi.ccefs. Mr. Noel faid, Xhat he felt a little tired, not having been accuflomed to work ; but, from the pleaPure he experienced, and the fee ret fatisfaclion he had feldom tailed at the dole of an Idle d^y, he really beheved he fnould be, in fu- ture, happier living an adive life, than when he en- jo}'ed all the fr.perfluities this world could afford, anxi only thoi.ght of feekin^ for amufement. — Alas, Sir, contini ed he, I have diicovered that no man can enjoy pleafure who does not fulfil fome duty; and purine fome ufefi l objed regularly every day. — We cannot be idle Vvithout being wicked. Now the Ulher returned ; his entrance feemcd to difc oncer t Mr. Noel, and he remained filent fome ^linutes^ Ifaring at him. At laU he faid, pardon v^ie^ M O Pv A L I T y. Sir ; is not yQi'r name Goodimn ? Yes, anfwered he^ but where have X had the plcafiireof knowing you ? \ycrc you not once tutor to the-ibn of a IVJr. Noel, of Yorklhire ? Yes, rephed Mr. Goodman, and I i)io'>id have made fomeihing of that child, if he had not been an only fon jvbut his mother was fo fooiilhly indulgent, that flie never let him lludy half an hour together, left it ihonld make him fick. Mr. Noel then {bned'np and caught his hand, laying, heft of men, my benefactor, do you forget little James, whom^^pu formerly iniiructed r — I am he ? You are 7ny prejerve?-^ my more than father — all my comforts mnit 1 afcribe to you — you are — lie was inierrupted by a f-^rx^ant, who came to tell his mafter that fuppsr w :i3 on the ta- ble. During fupper time, Mr. Noel could fpeak of no- thing but the good inllrudion he had in his youth re- ceived from Mr. Goodman. I remember very well, laid he, how good, hov/ kind you were tome. How many times you defired me to be deligcnt, and not walle ail the precioi s hours of youth in idientfs. You ahvays repreiented to me, that a man who learned no- thing in his youth would ever be contemptible and unhappy ; if 1 had followed my own iiiclujations, I fl-ioidd have done ncfthing but play. V/hea you came and took me from iuy ami-fements to receive my lef- foMS, I was often fo ajigry with yoii, ihat I wilhed you a hundred miles olf. But you had patience widi uie, and continued to remind me that I" Ihould be a ve- ry ignorant gentleman, if 1 did n.ot at leaft learn \vrit- ing, arithmetic, and to fpeak French. You fometinies punilhed me when I neglected my lefTons, and I then thought you a very cri el man; but now, dear Sir, now I fee clearly, that no man in the world has been of the tn'e to me that you have. Let rne tell you, in a few v\ ords, my lituation. My whole fortune is fpent, and my wife's with it ; befides, I was heir to a rich iincle — but it is ail gone, meked away by extra- X agance. I am ilripped of every thing ; only what I Ie^|:neJ from you remains. I can write^ call up a biii, 112 ELEMENTS OF 1 cir.'-l fpeak Freu. ii, — Yes, I dill can do whst yoii tarigl^t Hie:, and tL::;:; .ts prociire me breacl. My beacfjctor, i _ o, : jr this ; I thank yon for eve- ry ht)'..r's isilii* :ili;0:i ircceivcd, for your advice, and the bun- ihiui'n;:^ j,'ou iiuulc tne luide ri-i;o. rvlr. Goodman vv ^is \ cry niwch aitcded by this dif- coi;rre. He i'ald, i: oi'\Cbme the trnert pieafure to find tha: i have contnbiited to the happinei's of a fel- lo\.- creaL 're. I'iic bcii re\vard we fcboohnafters can receive for s'l o r troiible is, that we fornetimes are fo happy as to li^ e ro icc ihc rrood ^ve have done. The ba^lile^s of - vciy iaborioi.s. Children are, in general, - ' htlel^, and give us, through, thc.i' : .: . much trouble ; and tiiey often ha .lU, tiiat they thnik us crr.ei wnen we - - i - • 'earn cheir leilbns, that they may noc g,i'ovv u\) i : a. tcol ignorance, and be una- ble to lake care of tiiCi;i: :1\ es, when theyo' ghtto be | able to take care of ri:c:r ciiiidren. And, for all our tro uble, v.'C fekkvin rcicr/e fidiicient to maintain our families, and lay by fome thing for our old age. When 1 ill inele c^rcumnK.nces, o\ r cUnhes are lhabby ; for, in caies, a man iiab not that time to think of dreis, | ^^ bk:i ix-^i'^^ -"''Y ^p-^i'- ^'^io have nothing eiie to do, i and live in abi;ndance ; if, I fay, he acquires lonie auk- v/ard h abits, from iludy or vcxaiion, people are To un- jnii as to redicule him, nay, defpife hi^n, becaufe he has not the manners of a line geiudeman, who only thiiiks of anuding himlelf. Indeed, Mr. Noel, if we had not ibmetlmes the pieafure to fee that we have done good, our iituation would be a very difagreeable OxiC. Mary conld no longer reRrain her tears; flia rofe from the table, and hid herfelf behind the window curtain, that the coihpany might not fee her weep. Her father went to her, and eno^uired, in a v/hifper, what was the caufe of her tears. I am aihamed of mvfelf, faid Ihe ; I have dons vjrong^ I have rldlcuUd this good man ; — he is a feniible man, has done a great M G R A L 1 T Y. "3 cieaiof good, and has had many things to vex him. — If I did but know how I could inalce an excufe for my folly I would try to forget that I had been fuch a fool but I will never again laugh at an old man, bc- caid'e he has on a lhabby coat. Her father tried toconipofe her, and pcrfaaded her to return to her feat, alter he had feriooily defiredher not to be, in future, fo hal\y in forming an opinion. He added, that the moft ufeful people Ibmetimes ne- gleded their drefs ; and have, in the eyes of children and ignorant perfoHs, an aiikv ard appearance, x'^nd many, who, like officers, ha\ c fiac coats on, ami hav.e aneafy manner of fpeaking and bowing, are very fool- ilh and v/icked people, x^bove all, we ought never to la-igh at bodily deformity or poverty, beeaufe perfons fo afiiided have often more good qualities thah rich and. handfome people, who have not had misforturies to teach them how to improve -their nnderllandirig, and love their nuferable fellow creature^. Beiides, if you ^ had acquired more clifcernment, you would have dif- -covere d in this genteman's face fo miich fenle and goodne fs, that you would have loved and not have ri- dicvded him. Mary now returned to the table, and lldeling in a balliful way to Mr, Goodinan's chair, took his hand and looked at him jbrro vv'f idly , as much as to fay, 1 am very forry that 1 ridiculed f.-ch a wife audufeful man. He kiiicd her, called her a good girl, aud fiie began to fmile again through her tears. > The company then role, after the converfatioa had turned oa the many diuicultles teachers ha\'e to over- ... come who wilh to improve their pupils-; and that chil- dreti, inl'tead o( playing them tricks, and laughing at tiieir appearance, ought to try to pleafe them, and render their talk eafier. A fooliih child laughs at eve- i-y thing it does not underfland ; a good one nevef- forgets that it muit live many years in the "svorld be- fore it can dii'dnguiih right from vvrong. ,114 E L E M E N T S OF T £ K XXIIL TH E next morning they had a very cheerfiTf breakfait ; but no one In company was fo gay _^l;iry. She i\ood fmUiiig at the back of her mother's chair, ilealing a look at lier father, as foe drank her i]]i;k, with eyes fparkiing widi joy, Mary, faicl he, yovt have certainly been very good, becauie you look happy. — Perhaps I have, anfweered Ihe, and ilepping ibiUy into the next room, foon returned with her v/ork-balket full of tiie midiin her mother gavedier ta .kern the day before. She put it on the table, and ikid, you were very right, dear mother ; throi/gb ■p-y^cvcrauce ive may do many things ^vhich njue tkoupht impoifioU. Look, look, here are the flounces which you yeAerday gave me to hem. I did nat think that I ihoidd ever have got to the end; hut through per- J}vtrsnce and attention I have mads it fojfible. Is it not true ? If I had got up from my feat every moment^ had I pkiyed or looked out of the window,- I ihould not ha\e fukuhed half my talk. But I did not do fo ; I minded what you faid, mother; I never left my feat, but when I could not help it. I heard once a French- luan i]i thcRreet, with dancing dogs ; I muf^ own that I did wilh to fee them ; yet I did nat i\ir. My brother came twice to alk mc to come play with him : but I fixed my eyes an my w^ork, thinking how furprized you all woidd be to fecit done by breakfaft time. Yes^ dear mother, I am glad I did as yon badetiie. Mrs. Jones kiiFed her, and gave her the praife fhe had earned by her induflry. Enjoy this praife, my child, faid Ihe ; it is fweet, it is entirely your own; yon have deferved it for praclifing feif-denial, and doing mai:e than was expe£ted from you; but when you are praifed on account of your clothes^ you ought MORALITY. iiot to feel pleafure, becaufe a wooden doll, without a miud, may look well in fine cloches. Yes, continued Mary, 1 am very glad that it is done, and that I conquered myfeif. If. I had now jiiuch to do, I Ihould be very nneafy : and think if it were but done ! if it were but done ? I fliouki have nothing to care for ; for if I had not finilhed it, •I Ihould have been fo vexed — and now here it is all. hemmed — I am fo glad j and as often as I fee ^our gown, I lhali feel new joy, I ihall always remem- ber in future, when I have any thing to do, not ta begin any other work till I have finiilied what I am about. Mr. Jones was equally pleafed with Mary's con- dud, and advifed his children to he very attentive to their work and lelfons ; and net ta allow themfelves to be tired when they fometimes found them difficult. If they follow'^d this advice, he allured ihem that they would have many happy hours in every fituatiort in hfe. When we think of our work, that we Aill have much to do, we are often a little difcou raged : but when it is finilhed, we llaail feel the pleafure Mary now feels. The children liftened attentively to their father's advice, and the family feperated to fulfil the duties of the day. Mary v>'ent with her mother to hear her give orders to the iervants, and regulate her houf-hold mat- ters ; and file did not forget the poor taylor, and his family ; Ihe tafted the lago which ihe intended to fend him, and put the wine into it herfelf ; for, faid Ihe to Mary, it is my duty to fee that what I give to a poor fick man is good; but when a rich man dines with us I am not fo anxious, becaufe he has a good dinner every day at home. Mr. Jones vvent into his compting-houfe, and Charles to his mailer. He had already waited for him, a fe^v minutes, in the fummer-houfe j where he daily inlfrucled him, and two other children. This j udicious mafter had eftablifiied a cuftom among- EL E M E N T S OF his little fcholars, that they flionld writedown, ancT ihew him what appeared nioft remarkabie to them in the lefions they had received the day before. By this ' method he not oaly gave them an opportanity to re-^ peat what they had h^arned; but he quickly perceived who had been attentive or thoughtlefs. Little jaines w as hrft delired to iliew what he had written; and it was done lb orderly, that the mailer vras very weU latished with it. He had, the day be- fore, pointed out to his fchojars many different kinds of ini'ects, and had lliewn thein in how many refpeets they were ufefiil. All this James, had retained, and fet^ (lo\vn. He mentioned the different kinds of food in-.' jlmd led thofe little creatures to feeK for their remarks- . bie chano es from one form to anocher ; their retreat in | the winter; how many little birds lived on them ; and | whatufethey were of to man. ! When he had finiihed his recital, the i7)after expreff- .1 ed how weh pieafed he was wuh him : I fee very clear- j Jy, faid lie, that yon have really been inllni(?ied by' my converiarion ; and that yon tho-ight on what you-, were abo ;t wncn you wrote dosvn the parts you recol- ^: ier>jeci.s about yo:i; on the trees, rlow- ers and herbs, whieh grow near you ; on the buds, bncterfiies and beec, that iiy around you; in Ihort, on every thing v/hlch paues before you. Do this with at- tenc.u:!, aiid yoj v^ull probably becorqts a great man. Every day you wi|l learn fomething more, grow wifer • j and all 3'OL:r undertakings vvull iuccecd like tins exercife. Plealuje will iiow in on yoLi from every lide; for yoa ■will then remark and feel ail that is agreeabie or bcauti- f;d in wha:cver yon tahe, in every dower which you^i i'ee, and in every bird yon hear ling. The mailer thea rook a red booli cut of his pocket^' MORALITY. in which he harl a cuftom of fetting down what he re- marked or his Icholars, and behold what he wrote: the thirtidih of Aitgnjl Jamts has,^ by "^riling a good txer^ cijt^ given a vdry J?; o^g proof of his attention. Then James fin. led : ne was happy to think that his father would hear or his acueRtion, and he ielt lausjied vithhimielf. Now Charles brought his exercife, h t it was not done half fo well. He had not only left ot t many of ; his tutor's obfervations, but alio wri-ten down ma.iy things widiout ihuiking. Keipecting the may- I biig, for inifaiice, he h?d fet do >vn iliac ic lays its eggs on trees; and of the fpider, tiiat it was, dunng lo.ne time, m the itate of a nymph, (achryfahs.) The ma iter was vtrv angry at tnis, and laid, you have cercainly been veiy g'd.iy ; yon have neither paid j attention to my uiih'icton, g • and the weddnig has never been ov.t of my head ever fince I heard i was to go. I have been condnuaiiy thinking what pleafure I fhould have; wliat coinpa:;y I ihould meet, and how I ihould play and dance there. I believe you, faid the mailer. Now, dear Charles, try quickly to cure yourfelf of this faiiit of indtten:ion^ and let not your thoughts ruitter round imaginary pic- tures of pall or future pleafures; elfe you will be good for notlnng ; you-will learn very little and, in aii yojr undertakings, you will be unfuccefsfui, juft as in this exercife, you will not even be in a ikte to enjoy plea- fure. \ou wiy eat and drink, and not tal\e how re- frelhing it is; you Vv' ill walk thro ugh gardens, helds and woods, and not perceive their beauties, if you do not turn your thoughts to them. Poor Charles Charles lifted up his eyes, vet vv as aihamed to look, h'm in the face. . .n I not right, faid the maftec.'* ii3 E L E M E N T S O F '1| Yes, indeed, replied Charles ; yeflerday I could do I nothing. I began to play on my liu^e iiddle; buz no 1 found coiild I briiig out, nry thoughts -were tar olf. | So fi.il \\ as I of tlie \vedc;ri^:, ihat I f^'ailowed my j dinner wicliout chewing my tiieac, and fcarceiy talted what 1 eat. ^ Indeed, continned the inafier, this bad habit is be* : coine very ftron^ ; I fet it down, that I may ob- ferve it, and try if I can cr.re yoa uf It. For it is ab- foivitely neceliary that vou lliv.uid correct this fault, if yoii ever expect to become a feniiOie Paan. .An inatten- t'tve child "Jiiil jidve'f make a p'Ojlciency In any thing, Charles looked iorrowfrdly at his malier, as if he ; would fay, pray, Sir, for<^;ive me only this time, and it iijail licrer bcippen a::yain. . '\ But the maii ^rcid t:u- i^yiTer himlelf to be moved by ; h s eiiireacic3 ; he took out the black book in which he ■ al ways ict down the faults of his cli(.>]ars, and wrote in \ it: the ihtrilcih of AAoufj C'.a-i^s has^ by writing a j V:.\-^y had c'.vc'/r// given a :io>f that hs is very inat* | ientive. i This vexed Charles, for the bla.': book, as well as the red Oi.e, was e^ery we^-^k e-vaiiiii ed by his lather. Now came the tura of ine o.licr iclioiar^ vviilram; h t he had not dor.e his exerciie. AV iien he was a{l<>ed why he iiad been ib neghgent, he faid, as an cxcuie, that his tcJtiier and mother nad gone, the evening be- fore, a Soag vraik ioto the country, and taken hiiii witii c'lrjin, ib thau he had not had time to hniih his exerche. That is certainly a He, interr>-pred the maRer. No. inoeed, faid Vf' ^Uian:,, and wept bitterly, yon may aik my father himfelf, if you will not belle^e me. It is very probable, cont'.x-jed the laaller, that you .^! took a w.dk Vv'ith yo.^r father. If James or Chanes had faid To, I fhould Irave believed tliem without fiir- ther thought, bccaufe I kno.v that they always ipeak the tn.th. B,.t how dars yoa expect that I ihail believe yc/Li, when i have detected yon in fo many lies ! only iaii week^ you told me tnat you could notfinilhyonr MORALITY. 119 /cxerclfe, hecinCe yon had been obliged to do forncrhing; for yovT father. I enquired of him, and found that r: \\as an untruth. Since I know that you are a liar how can 1 depend on what you fay ? u'c cannot eajliy believe him^ luhom ive have once dete6led in a lie. The black book was then taken out again, and though William declared, w ith te^rs in his eyes, that now, indeed, he had cold the truih, his mafcer would let down : the ihirti:fth of Auguft^ IVillia'iri. did not hring his exereife^ and^ to excufe himfdf^ he J aid that he went to take a -walk with his father ; bvt I ccinnot he' lieve himy becjxufe I know that he is a liar, ^til!, if, i during three months, continued the nisUer, I do noc I again detect you in a lie, 1 will forgive you ; and, be- i Jiieviiig that you have learjied to attend to truth, truft: you in future as I do your play-mates. The lellbns being over, the beys were allowed to iamufe tliemfelves in the garden. Charles took his play fellows to the little garden which his father hsd given him, and Ihewed them the flowers and vegeta- tables that he had planted hinifelf. He began then to gather the ripe feed, which he put into a paper bag; to pluck up the v/eeds, and do ^vhatever elfe ^vas ne- ceflary to be done, and his play-fellows helped him. 'When they were a little tired, they rambled about the garden, and gratified themfelves with the light of the yarious plants which grew there. ' Now the clock Ih'uck two. It was the hour when Mr. Jones ufually dined, and ail his family were ob- liged to be pun(ftual, and come immediately to table. Charles told James that they mull now part, and he looked for William to tell him that it was time to o-q home; but he cor. Id not find him any where. They both called out, as loud as they could, William, Wilh- am ; but no William could they hear, or fee. They could then only fuppofe that he was already gone, and :hey left the garden, fbiitting the door after them. James went home, and Charles to dmner. Biit William was not gone home. He had hid him- I'elf a thick arbour^ to play his fchool- fellows a trick j 120 ELEMENTS O T he imagined that they would be imeafy, and not leave the garden till they had fo-.-nd him. But when he no longer heard their voices, he began to be afraid that they might leave him behind; He came then out of h.b hiding place, fought all around for his play-mates, h-Jt none co dd he fand. He fcreamed out, James;. Charles, and no one aiifwered hini. He ran to th«^ garden door, and found it ihut. Now he grew uneafy. He called out in a fretful tone, fometimes James, theiv Charles, Mr. Jones, and all the reit of the names he could recoiled, he repeated them, without flopping to take breath. But how could they hear him ? they -^ere ail at dinner, or preparing for if As he could neither open the door, clime over it^ nor make himfelf heard, the beft thing he could hav^ done, was to have waited quietly, till fome one paifed by. But he did not do fo ; he was inpatient; and though it was entirely owing to himfelf that he was fliut in, yet he looked all romid to fee if he could perceive any living creature to vent his fpleen upon. As he, faw nothing, he turned all his auger againlt the gardenj door, which could not offend him or feel his blows/' He Kicked ag-ainit it with ail his force, and he would certainly have fplit the door, if the pannels had not been very thick. Twenty times had he kicked againft the door, without making any inipretTion on it; at iaft he grew qi.ite frrious, bit his hps, colle6ted all Jiis Arength, and kicked again. But oh I what now ? — his foot liuck to the door, and he roared out with pain. He had kicked againit it with fuch violence, that a great nail, which iXvck out, had run almolt thro' gh his foot. — There hung the impatient boy, unable to draw his fooc back; he tried once or twice, but fcr earn- €d out thro.'gh pain when he attempted it, and gualh- ed his teeth throi gh rage. The blood ran out of his ilioe, and the whole weight of his body reited on one foot — the other was nailed to the door. In this dreadful fituation he remained a quarter of xn hour. He V>Y:,ed pale, his legs and all his iimba^ trembled, and he would certainly haye fainted, ifbyl MORALITY. 121 accklcnt one of the maids had r ot paffed by the garden. — He then cried oi:t in agony, help I help The girl, who was terrified by the found of his voice, ran quickly to the hoiife to fearch for the -key, and hafhly opened the door. By fo doing, indeed, the nail was torn out of his foot ; but the wrenching of it ont caufed Ibch violent pain, that he actually fainted, i and funk fenfeiefs on the ground. The girl r:ui ter- i riiied to her mailer, to tell him that Wiiiiam lay half I dead in the garden. Then Mr. Jones and his whole family haitened ro him, The fad light inftantly filled them all with compjdi- on ; and Mr. Jones fcnt directly for a furgeon. While they waited for him, Mr. Jones enquired how he had received this terrible wound ; and hearing that he brought it on himfelf, gave him a very forci- ble w^arning. My fon faid he, tliy fuftbrings are the confequence of thy impatiincr. When any thing difa* greeable happens tons, we Ihould guard againl\ anger, and rather try to compofe ourfelves, that we may think of a remedy, than give way to palhon : if we can- not hnd one, w e mult wait patiently till circumilances alter. Through irripatiftice -die ahuays make thi-gs ■worfe. If you had waited quietly till Ibme one came by the garden, you might have Ix^gged them to releafe you out of your pnfon, in which you had not been long confined, and tiicn you would not have hurt your I' foot. Now the furgeon came, and bound up the would, and flirugging up his Ihoulders, faid, this little impaiient boy will be confined a fortnight or three weeks at leaft. Three weeks ] faid William, what a foolilh creature I have been I I wiihed not to remain a quarter of an hour^n the garden, now mult I be Ihutup three weeks or more in my room, fuffering great pain I 5 The thing was done, and could not be recalled. He Svas carried home, and forced to fit a month in his room U'ithhis leg upon a (tool ; fuffering great pain, becaufe the- nail was rufly which he drove into his foot, and 1} tiie wound did not readily heal. While his play-fellows i E I. E M E N T S OF were enjoying theaifelves in the garden, he was obhg.- ed to have the wound dreffed, and have ibme powder • 3 apphed to it, to eat away die proud fleih. — Oh ! the powder made it bui-n hke £re. € H A P T E Ft XXiy. THE greater gart* of the following morning was employed in dreiling Mary like a doU. At firit they put her on a pair of itirf Itays, and as ilie had ne- ver v/orn Hays with bones in thein before, fhe feemed in fetters, and could hardly draw her breath. Then I the halr-dreiTer came ; he put her hair in papers, ; which ufed to flow in natural locks on her neck and ; fhoiilders, twiiled them very hard, and pinched theiq Avith hot irons. Poor Mary trembled, becaufe fne ex- peclctl every moment that the hot irons would touch her forehead or cheeks. Every momeer ilie ailved if , it would not loon be done ^ but he begged her to have ^ patience, and after curling and frizzing her hair above an hour, he bid her look in the glafs, and Ihe faw a | little face peeping out of a curled wig. She had then 3 - a liJk flip laced tight to her lhape, and over it a long , gauze drcfs fo lluck out with trimuilngs and artificial i towers that ihe could fcarcely move, Ihe was fo incum- | bered with finery. | All this being over, and Mr. and Mrs. Jones drefied 1 with more care than ufual, out of refped to die pro- ^ fclTor, and that they might appear with propriety in a ; company, vdiere every one tried to outlhine his neigh- : ]>our, by the richnefs and talk difplayed in their . .clothes and ornaments, they flepped into a coach, and j .drove in liate to the wedding. ! There they found a large company, amoundng at | icafl to forty perlbns, all drelTed in the molt fu perb manner. Even Pv'Ir. Goodman had a new wig on,' and a coat he only wore on particwiar occafions. The) ?vl O R A L I T Y. 123 n company waited for the arrival of the profelTor and his bride,, who were gone to proniife before the al- ter to love, fupport, and take care of each o:her, in iicknefsaiid in health. >xO\s- they entered, the profeiTcr led his bride, and rhey both feenied to rejoice that they h:A found a frierid with whom they could divide the forrows and pleafures of life, and all the vilkors rejoyceu vvith thern, and wifhed that they might throuoii a lou^r life enjoy their prefent hnppinefs. — The profei'ior left the room, but foon returned, leading in an old grey-headed man, in whofe coLUitenance, though full of v. riiikles, there appeared more cheerfulnefj. than could have been e>-pected, conlldering li'is advanced sge. Behold ray fatlier, faid he to the company, bowing refj^eflfuliy. The father v. ho gave me life i cannot prefent to vou, for he has been a long time in his grave; but this generous man has, ever iliice his tieath, taken his place, and educated me with all tha care and afi:ection of a father. He noc only (here the tears ran down his cheeks) procured me food and cloathing, but he took care to have me inlrrucled. My fortune, my rank, my dear wife, all, all, I owe to the goodnefs of this excellent man. He v. as fo aifed- ed that he coukj not fay more ; he lilently preifed the refpedable old man's hand, unable to utter another word. The bride approached, and taking from her huf- band the hciiid which he held, Ihe kilfed it, faying, \vorthy man, from yoiu: hands I received my huf- band. The whole company was affecfled, particularly when the prof^dbr addreifed them, faying, my frinds, if to-day you enjoy any pleafure in feeing a fellow crea- turedpppy, you mult afcribe it all to my benefact- or. This benefactor was his godfather, whom he had be- fore mentioned to Mr. Jones ; he was affedled in his ture, and after wiping away a tear v/hich flowed dowa L 2 S24 ELEMENTS O T his venerable cheek, he falci, I have not done more tnuaany nian would have done in 1123^ place. But it gladdens ray old age ; I rejoice that I have lived to fee 3 ujan happy, whom I contributed, in feme meafnre,- . to inake virtuoiife. ■ iijs kneefe ilioak, aad he looked round for a chair on : y>hkh he co'.dd lit. The proieiibr inAantly obfervedl it, and taking hini by the hand into another room, he j conduaedbhi) zo^ioh, :\-id {ut down by him. Par-| dan ; he, tor openly proclaiming^ your be w that yoa feck to hide the ; £,ood ,v .WD ail the world ; but my heart ; .i ; ' r-ib'y that I owed all my happi-j ixels to you, thaf £ could not remain filcnt. O, my Iccord fatljer, 1 have oily lejtihed my gratitude by "Vi^ords; can 1 do any thit^g 10 give you. a' IVibftantial ^ proof, that I have net forgotten what you have done'' for me ? can I give you a pi oof of my grai-'itude I hei good old man iighcd, but did not fpeak. Dearcif Sir, continued the profeifor, if I can ferve ; you in any refpect", give me but a him, and I will fly J to obey you. Oidy procure me the pleafure, this hap- py day, of proving that I am greatful. I want nothing, replied the old man ; I have only a | fhort time to bye. But my relation, Mr. Goodman,! has a large family ; the iticome he receives for being 1 T.ifner of a grammar-fchool is fmall, yet he has taken * care to educate his children in the belt manner. His eldeil fon ought £o go to the univerlity the next year; but how is the poor man to maintain him ? If you could get him placed tiiere on the foundation — Say no more, interrupted the profeffor, holding out. his hand ; I promife to take charge of him, he lhall go^ with me to Oxford, and I will take the fame care of; kini as if he v/as my own fon. The old man was juil beginning to exprefs the plea- ; fore this promife gave him, v, lien IMr, Jcmes entered^ the room. He rclpecttuh)' and cordially fliook the; profeubr by the hand, laying, WvU-thy man, I pray i you allow me to call you irieud : I have already ieit al M O H A L I T Y- fincere efteem for your talents and learning ; hi:t r.o\t , k is increafed to veneration, nov.* I perceive that in your proiperlty you remember the beneiits you received m a itate oi poverty. Gratitd^ exalts a iruin much higher tha-fi Uarning. The pi-ofeiTor then conducted his tsvo gueils to the table, where ihereilof the company waited for them; it was covered with che moft coitly dainties ; but how I taftelefs were thev, compared with thepleafure he had received from the converiation with his benefact- or \ r After fome hours the company rofe from table. To fliake off, by a little mccion, the fatigue of litcing fo long, they divided into parties in the drawing-room, every one chooihio- the companion he v. iihed to clieat ana laugh with. The children foon coUecied together, and they all agreed to go into the garden to amuie themielves. There were ten whom the ^rofeiior had invited with their parents. They yvere all opprefTed by ths ^virmtli of a ciofe room, in which they h«.u been confined above two hours, fciiTw«il',' able to breathe, and iighing for (f eih air, liTce lifh out of water. ^"I'^ow th-^y fan down itairsinto the garden ; and talk- ed of all kinds of plays. The boys propofed a race, and as there were more boys than girls, they agreed to run. But it was not very agreeable to Mary ; her hair, her l^ays, and gauze drefs, all prevented her getting foremost in the courfe. She had fcarcely fet o^"" when her breath, failed, and Ihegot fucha fhrch i^i her fide^ that Ihe was obliged to itop to recover her breatli. Slue made a feeond attempt, and exerted ail her ftrength to overtake her play-feliosvs ; but a rofer huih caught one of her flounces and tore it. She difen- gaged herieif, and advanced a third time, but a bough go: entaiigled in her curls, and difcompofed her hcad- drefs. Moil of the other g-irls lhared the fame fate, for itliey were ad loaded with ornaments. Thefe accidents made Mary look fooliih, the bovs to laugh at the iittie woman, and iiie wiihed L 3 126 ELEMENTS OF her finery a hundred miles off. To avo'd their rl c^i'e, ■ aikedlhc. • We Ibad probably r-main here thr'^e or four houii more, be:ore >.ve think of taking leave of our civil frien(i&. tint why do yon v/iiu to go home lb ibon?; )0 I ba\-e i i ve cQVi^pany and aumieiuent. And of biat ufc is all that, laid Mary, when I can- c .jo\' iijy thing? If I had on my cotton jacke ?nvi itr-.-w bat, then I fliouid be merry, I Ihoukl run S'tr^! I'vu. ; but in th's dref^, I ambonmd like a prifoner*|| Si)'netiti!Co my hr.r Y'- kIcs iiie, my feathers and fiowerJI keep my head iiiii, and my days cc"'*' bnsally hurt me/ W^'hen I begin to pbiy, my bounces or flo\vc»--v are ia fny way, and e^/cry tree catches my frock. — Nay, the boys tread on mv train on purpofe to iee me look fool- liin Prey, dear mctlier, go iiome fo®n, that I may l^et ridof this diiiigreeablc drels ! Poor girl, anl\vercd Mrs. jones. I pity yon. T kiiow very well that a lorig train, Ifays with bones in thein, and tangled hair, are very inconvenient, and that yon cannot be as eafy and gay as yon wiih. Fol! that rcafcn I have not till now teized yon with fuch i.feleis parts of drefs; a good girl requires no orna* ments; if Ihe keeps her perion clean, and puts hei clothes on in «n orderly manner, people will onl; look at her good h uno r<^d cbbging bice. But to-da you even wiihed t.> be Jreiied.. an?.'. 1 i::rl a mind to l€? you feel how nuun more cc . ^^ onld hav been in your muilin frock a;: IVy now Gompofe yourfeh" 5 to iri^:rrc v» at mis tiKie ad yv\li U MORALITY. over I I will comb out your hair, and let you ha\e yoMr little jacket and Ib^aw hat. All! it CO- morrow were but come ! continued ma- ry. But wiihlng will not bring it a moment fooner, in- terrupted Mr*. Jones. "Be patient, go and jo.n your companions, and take care no: to appear o.it ot hu- mour, Jei\ you ihould diibrb their pieafures, which will not eaie you, though you mayteize them ; only complain lo your friends of vexation which cani.ot be reme iicd ; play-fellows are not to be put out of their way by the inconveniences you iuiFer. Mjry prom i fed to govern her temper, and forced herfelf CO look as clieerful as fhe couid with a pain in her head and iide. She went up to Leonora, a rich Baronet's daugh- ter, and taking her good-naturedly by the arm, fhe faid, come, Leonora, let us ta];e a walk round the garden ; the rac« does not iuit well with oar fine holiday dreiit:s. But LeoTxOra was very pro^id, and drew her arm haltily back, fayuij^, pray ,Mifs Jones take care, or you will rumplt tke la=.e on my lleeves. She then drew her head, bridled her chin, and ti.rned up her nofe, as much as co lay, a tradefnian's daughter like you ought nor to be fo familiar with me. The lace on rnv drefs is very rich, and tlie flowers the fineil that have lately couie from France, continued Ihe ; my moiher p^jr^haied them, that I might ha^'e fofnediing to dii\inguilh. mf , ^vhfn I Vvas ibreed to mix with no- body knows \ ^ ; . ,;a a young ia.ly of a good iamily, and it iis iiiJ . p^Ci .c.ble to fee citizens, daughters imitate in every thing people of condition^, laid the lady who ib often vUits , my niotLor, Lady Upi\art. I had ih^Sie p-.rPie bucldes lately fi?nt hoiiae;; they were bo ght of ti"ie Prince of W ales, jeweller :^ what padler fat youKs 1 never fav/ any th^ng fo vul-- ^iir. I put mi -0 o;^ lor tn;lng charmingly j Lord I2o ELEMENTS OF Smoothtongiie, who dined at our hoiiferhe other day, faid, that I had a fine angeac Italian voice. He fpoks iu French to mc too for half an hour, and declared, that I prattled like a native of France. I fliall fooa begin to leard Italian ; it is not very difficult, but no- thing indeed is diiiicalt to me; I lhali be able to fpeak it in fix nioiitlis. Thus did llic run on, till poor Mary was quite wea- ry of her fooiifh pride and chat, and longed to leavtf her, to enjoy her vain thoughts alone* She looked anxioufly round for an opportunity, and faw a young Luly coining whom Ihe had been in company with be- fore. Slieinllantly left Leonora, and joined Charlotte, faying, will you take a walk with me, for this is a fweet garden ? With all my heart, anfwered flie ; and they turned down another wall-:, and left Leono- ra with her fine lace and p;ii\e buckles to count her fleps, and look in vain at the trees ior admirati- on. How came you to walk v/ith that proud Mifs Leo- nora aiked Charlotte. By chance, faid Mary ; but, believe me, I was very glad to leave her. She has been talking as if file alone were wife, and ail the rcit of the v/orld fools. Yes, yes, replied Charlotte, laughing, flie has of- ten fpoken to me in the fame (lyle ; I have known her a long tiinc. ' She can only r^;ik of her accompliih- ments, herfme ciouhes and rank; Ihe dcfpifes ocher people, and all that ihcy. have learned. It is true ihe has acqviired leveral accomplinnntnts, for her fa- ther has a iar^c U)y:\A:-e ; but lenfe llic ctrta.iily wants, cr ilie would not talk lo much. I wiihed to h:r e io- ved her ; biu (iii.c iiie beha'xs to me a;, u' 1 -v. oie no- thijig compared to her, i leave her to her own foily. 'I'he reit of die company gathered round thefe rvvO er haml, hoping that they j would aik to fee it, atKl adtnire its lilver clafp and en- I amelied figures. But inrtead of th«»t, the litcle folks bc^ gan to whifper, and then bi=rft inio a loud laugh, Leonora perceiving that they were laughing at her, ; turned aw.iy bluihing with anger, and at lalt began to ' weep becaufe Ihc could not vent her p^vlhon on them. Then fhe happened to meet her father, who w as a I fenfible man, and faw with pain that his wife fpoiled ! her daughter. What is the matter with you? Why ; do you w^eep ? Has any accident l^fallen you ? Ho\?- I Ciouid I laugh ? anfv/ered fne ; thole children i have no manners. They lit therg together, and largh and play without inviting me. They appear — what they are, poor vulgar creatures ; I ought not to have expeded better from them — would you believe it, w hen I ^I^ailedby, they laughed me out of countenance. Is not that very rude and ill-bred? True, faid her father, it was indeed very rude ; .1, perhips, you offended them firih If anfYrci ed ihe, I have doae uothmg to tiicai. I I3Q E L E M E N T S O F >vo ! • -fv . mvKilf to quarrel with luch. — Sh ih'^: file fiiw a frQwn or her lather's biu\'v, lii.v rncii i tiiited to hn-n, tiuiL ihe had only told then- hi)\^^ j or I Having was adr.rire-.i, aiid that Ihe fpoke Fre. / ^A'cil. I toid ih^m indeed, added fhe, ^ . . - nyon to iearn itaiian, and kfpt them at a diitaace„ that they might. nor tear my lace, they ^ ■ ' • ' I/jonora ! Leojiora ! faidhe, you have Jf y or. w.lh to be rcipeded and lo- - ' ]d like to be in yoar compa- fpeak of yourfeif and your certainly difgult them. You i i:..>; . . - ^^t^ obierve their good Gual: < -^^^r to obtr^ae ibe little yen knov y liiee':.- i a.^i not furprized that ' \in). If 3 V'l.iU were to be m m3/f. if. and took care to . : -^l-jrior, hccacfe J i!>.uld laugh ill- -i::ti ii'id i^cv'i her home,. * - - . Lr. -.iiC carrui're, that he would- ^ :.rL..c . . . ' ':.i,^^. :\rd ieiui her to a little ^ farm-']ui • ' e :;id not (con appear to h'dv-s ■.) I ;ii c . ... = 1.-. i3 loli/ A fjoi uiay t?earfinc clothes; but a foci \^'ili never become wife, j CHAPTER XXV. TH E other children continued playing with the fame cheerfulnefs, and they became quite merry when they drew out the forfeits. One held the forfeit ' over the head of another, v/ho mentioned fome droll ' thing, w4iich the owner was to do to redectn ic, Son^ietimcs they were obliged to turn into rhyme what they had juft faid, nnd to fill up verfes after the rhymes, cr lait words in each line, had been written dow-n Tvith 3 MORALITY. 131 .a pencil ; or to find out Ibmc reiemblance in tv. g things which appeared to be very different ; for inftance, between a carp and a lark ; others' "were commanded to receive fome good advice from each of their play- mates ; thus was the amufemcnt varied. As they ^vere -civil, good natured children, they toc^care not to fay any thing, evea in joke, vv hich could oltend the relt. Endeavouring to pleafe each other, they were fo plea- fed theinielves, that they grew more and more delight- I cd with their fpcrts, and ere'ry moment furnilhed a ^new^ fubject to joke and laugh at. They might have piaycd till they: were tired, if they had not been interrupted. The twilight had already over taken them^ r;nd ibme of them wiihed ihr a light, ! that they might cor. Lin 1.1,6 to play m the fuiiimer-lioufe. But they %vere Itopped ihorc by a fcrvant, who came to tell them that fupper v/aited for them. What, eat fo foon iio-ain ? faid Charles, a. little an- gnly ; I wilh tiiey w ould keep the fupper to themfeives, and allow us to remain together, and play till it is time to gO home. Bvit they were obliged to go, becaufe the fervant reminded them that it would be rude and difrefpectful, if they , did not attend tlie company when they were fent for. They now again ail furrounded the table, and took their feats, with great form. The greater part of the guelis began to eat the various dainiies fpread before them, though they did not feel the leal\ hunger* On- ly Mr. Jones, the pro^lTor and a few others, content- ed themfeives with fome fruit and hght things, and fought for their pleafure in converfation with thofe who fat next to them. But thefe p^rues were foon interrupted by one of the guelts, who itood up with a bumper in his hand, and drank to the health of the bride and bridegroom ; inoft of the company followed his example, and filled out a bumper to the fame toalt ; but a few of them, as well as Mr. Jones, only lifted the giafs to their lips, and tafted a few drops. Aiterwards new toall?, or healths, v/ere called for, ELEMENTS OF ^nd the glalTes were qtiickly emptied , but the moft reafonable part of the company only lipped a httle to every toart, that they mi^ht not injur* their health hj drinking t^o much. A certain young man, who was fo fooiifti as to be- lieve, that the^ was ibmething noble and manly in being able to drink freely, remarked that ]Vli\ Jones had not emptied his glafs when the toart came to him. Very well, Mr. Jone§, laid he, fnecringly, I be- lieve you pafs the bottle without hJiing yoiu* glafs j fie for lhame I Why ihould I be afhamed, anfwercd Mr. Jonei; have I done fomething wrong ? You are very right to be fure, iald the otlier ; but w hen one is in company it is ridiculous to be fuiguUr. But, continued Mr. Jones, why jDuft I drhik? Is it to raife or deprefs my jpihts ? Certainly, faid the drinker, to rai^c roiiX ipirits ; you iee how lively I am, and ail the honeit iellow^ who drink s\ ith me. Allow me then, returned Mr. Jcnes, to drink jui"^ ftg mr:ch as agrees with me, and i liiall be in a very goodhumoi:r; but if I am periuaded to drink more, Ii ihould to-morrow pafs a very uncomfortable day. jl The young man laughed, and ridiculed his pr^ dence ; but he was not to be moved by a foolilh laiigh,^ and let them pufh about the glafs, and drink irelh, toafis, without forgetting his refolution. They had not gone on long at this rate, before thofc who had drank molt loft the ufe of their reafon. They all fpoke loud together, fo that the confjfion of voices in the room foon became almoft infupportable. Some began to chatter, and to tell all their fecrets, which, as long as the were fober, they had very carefully concealed. Others, who were always ferious when they were fober, faid fuch abfurd, foolilh things, that even the children could not help laughing. Several be- gan to quarrel, and it is impoilible to fay where they might have ended, if the profeffor, and a few more ra- ticyial people, had not beea very anxious to calm thefl^ M O R A L I T Y. '33 bot heads. Mrs. Jones was very uneafy during tliis tumult, and looking every now and then at her hiifb- and, file lighed out her wiOi to get away ; for tile boneit fellows were now fo ele^rttted, that no one was fheltei ed from infult. One of her neighbours had ab* ready thrown a glafs of burgundy on her riiftie,Jie- caufe his hand Ihook fo that he could not carry it to liis mouth, and flie was every moment in fear leil he ihouid throw one over . her gow,a. |j • Luckily her unenfuiefs xlid not laft a long time. She [j faw her fervant in the hall, who made iigns that ihe i coach was ready. She then flipped out, quietly with her hulbaud and children, and returned home to xeft. CHAPTER XXVL THE next morning Mr. Jones andhisfamily rofc at their ufual hour, and ail were .cheerful and well. PoorMary only had caufs .to complain, that had paffed a very relUefs night, and rofe with a head- ach. She faid her hair was fo troublefome, that flie could not deep fiv.e minutes together; and ilie added, in a forrowful voice, that Ihe hc^jed Ihe fnoiild not again be put under the hands of the hair-dreiT- cr. Mrs. Jones then v/ent to manage her family affairs, Mary and Charles to their mailer, and Mr., Jones . to the compting-houfe, where he did bafinefs for fome hours. After he had done, he went to the Exchange, and called on fome of the perfons with whom he had been in company the evening before. Jie \^as not admitted at the tirfl houfe, becaufe the fervant faid his mafter was ftill in bed, and was fo fick tliat he was obliged to take feveral draughts of chamomile tea. The fecond ^perfon lie vificed was only juft rifen, though it ^vas V M 134 ^ L E xM E N T S OF near twelve o'clo.ck. He v/as fitdng in an arm chair^ and looked as pale as deaU"^. Mr, Jones alked him how he did this morning ? \' ery, very Tick, faid he ; I drank too much yef- terday. I have often relblved to be moderate, for <\m not very fond of wine, but one is led away by ample. When I am in company where they pulli thel bottle round, and call me a milk-fop, to avoid bein? langhedat, and, to look like a man, I imitate them, . and forget n)y refolution. I drink one glafs, and ano- I rher, and another, thinking always that one more rannot be of much confequence. So I go on till the Ipirit mounts into my brain, and then I fcarcely know or care vhat J do. But I feel it with a vengance after- wards, here, (He now itruck his liit againft his head) faying, am i not a fooliih weak man, who cannot go- vern myfelf ? To tickle my palate foi* a few moments, and to avoid the ridicule of fools,- I make myfelf Tick? and out of hr.monr foi' whole days together, and brin^'j on an early old age. I am .reckoned an .old man before my time ; every day fome feait occurs, and I go to one, to forget the pain I fuffered from the other. Look at my red face-, and fee my legs, th^y begin to fwell ; I am almo{\ afraid I lhall fall into a dropfy ji; this is a unl'erable day for mc ; my head aches as if it'*^ ■\^ ould buril, and 1 am fo Ihipid, that I fball not be able to do any liuiinefs. This morning my ftomach was fo fqueamiih, I could not touch a -bit of breakfaft, and I know I ihall not relifh a mor&l all day; and when I think of the thcughtlefs exprelfions I let drep yellerday, and how many acquaintance I have oifen- ded by my filly jokes, I am ready to lhamp with in- xlignation againft myfelf. — But you look very well/| Yes, anfvv'ered Mr. Jones, I never was in better health in my life. The company and the fight of my rriend's happinefs haveTaifed my ipirits, and the few: g-alTes of wine liirank did uie more good than harm. I' rofe at my i,fual honr, and have already doRe . iiiy bu- finefsin the compting-houfe. Yon are a happy mnw — and I now recollcL's. What do you fay ? You are perfectly right, dear Sir, anfwered Mr^ Jones ; my food is always very fnnple ; I never have dairities, or two lands of meat at my table, except I; have company ; and, even then, I take care not to eat more than iifnai, becanfe there is a variety of dainties ;^ for if tliere are txventy diilics before me, I choofe the ; moit finiple to make my meal of, that I may not be-J come heavy, and unable lo exercife my mind. My| children are acciiftomed to the fame fare, they feldoiit ciriiik tea or coffee ; and I really believe that their.' health and gaiety arife from temperance. j This gave Pvlr. Goodman an opportunity to fpeak o^" his children ,• and, from his children, the converfatiorx inien^ibly turned to his fchooi. For Mr. Goodmar^' being the Ufher of a grammer fchoo], the greater part of ihe labour devolved on him-. Have niar.y learned men been educated at your iViiool ? aiKed Ivlr. Jones. Of learned men, f;^id he, I cannot much boafl:, mf.\ Ip.?S'i:v-9; is net very exterdive ; but this I may fay^l tlic..-; If . ^r^l young men have left our fchooi, of whoiTi; I 'd:A uot alhafi:ed to own that I had a hand in theiir^i c wucation. I have alio c altiiianLS, who are worth/ • ud-j{lrioL:S men ; it would be ib'aage if the boys didv Yivi iiuprove vv i;en they are lb clofely atrended to. \ Mr. Jones received ib much pleaiure from Mr^: Gcodnian's company, that .he would have coaveried; iV'll IvjiAoer with hiin^ if he had not heard the clock^ iL u-ie t wo before he thought it v. as near, dinner time,! lie llarceJ up, and faid, Xam very forry to lea^'ajj you ; but I uji;lt hallen liome to give my family, by" my own exactnels, an example of pauctuality. Good mornif^.g ; pray recollect, whenever bufmef^ calk yoi, to iSriflol^ that I Tuali be glad to fee yau. MORALITY. 137 CHAPTER XXVIL "^ICJHSN Mr. Jones returned, he was witnefs to V V ^ ^'^^y difagreeable fcene. As he paifed b/ tlie parlour door, he heard a very loud voice, anci ^'I'hjn. 0;j, vo ;r krviint — aik fuch .qne'iuons c, ^ ■'■■•^-•i. I aiG iau heJ that I li^d it from: good author - tv ; y I'i y*^^ i^erd hoc troable yo.jriclf to enquire from ^vhonl I ht A- d it. Mr. Jo:i:^. C'jo!] v;o]ua.n, to ci-r the matter lliort, i •> who . . ar.-i : wi'i examine in;:- - : .ao.i of J.; )r, yo-i had bettc . j^t' b'j:iie ; and if e any real coai- yo.; lii.iy : ■ -e wiie; .e vcr \ ; ^. - ■. If ycii iau- It know it — i iiCc-.rd it at llttlr ; Very well, I will enquirve into the : -ad. ?f I dntl that yo-: ha ;e been ceniV.red bii- ' • v'c \\ ill .ry to make you loni^ amends, anc'l wvr v/iie v. iu y;v !- . a/don ; for ihe ne\-er pcriiiis in a errai'. -a-' ■ oi: ....-^licd with this promiic:^ ^ ' - oidd \\v. \ have ?.,, \ a ••. .d far aie ; but jhe was lb carelefs^ aaa r--i w ' d d; an odravagant price for what Ihey ciid, tliat 1 ■ , a_, :aned to' nrake looe enquiries con-- ccraiag htr character, and heard that ihe was a drunk- ard ; ;aal, in fliort, a v, oaian who had no found prin- cij ic b, no notions of order or religion. At the lame- • ti'iic fdrs. dandford, w lioin I menrioned to you; was^ recom amended ro nie as an ijidudrioas refpeclable woman, who had feen better days. I then left her fjiop, and v/eni; to eiDploy Mr?. Sandford j I fappofe .(lie has heard i a M O R A L I T Y. of lIi'., .li w ..-Tiic to vent her fpleen on m«. 'Imay hiive meiiiiop.tjdiieE vices ; fui' I was forry to hear thac 'a woman, whoi.c«uki have raaiiitaliied her family m a creditable iiianner, led fuch adiibrdtrly life. But, if I have fpoken of ic, it niuft have been in this room, for you kuow i never meticioa things .of .this kind oui: of iny owiL fasnily ; beca.de 1 think that the faults of &ur neighbou rs ihoi:M only be.expofed to o^r family and friends,, by v/ay of example:^ and not made the a- .UuUe;nen£ of chofe idle hours when acquaintance meet. I now recoUeif, replied INIr. Jones, that you fald fomerhing of this kind to nie. v^ hen you came hc m& from Mrs. Sandrbrd's; bi-t it makes me very nneafy to find, that v\ hat w£ lav amoncrft ourfelves Ihould be re- peated. ihere mnit be a icU-tale in our houfe, and I 'ihail not be eafy till I iind out wdio it is. lie tlienfat down and wrote to the lather of little James, who was the favourite play-feilov/ of Charles, and relatetl the whole ax:clc(ent, rcqucifing him to en- quire whi(h of his family had told the Itory, and from i\^hom tjiey had heard it. ^ -He returned ibr aniwer, that his maid had been gof- fiping with a woman at her Ihop, and repeatetljo her 'what Jaines hail told her 5 Charles had mentioned it to bim v/hen tliey were playing togetlier. r^Ir. Jones inflantly fent ibr Ciiark^, and related, ^vvith a' (iii'Uirbed countenance and voice, in v.'hat adifa, ati;rceable fituation he fourilfr^ft^poor mother* Charles -13 ready tailied tears When he faw his mother feated, , a:e and tremblino;, on the fofa ; he ran to her, and _lUi^^-^'^.her, laying, pf^y do not yourfelf, left you fliould.grow lick But, afi'ied Mn-Jones, do yon know who is the rcaufe of all this vexation ? — Thou art — dion hail re- peated, out of the lioufe, what thy mother mentioned in confidence to mc. I; anrvvcred Charle?, how could I repeat it out of tlie honfe ? how could you think fuch a thing, dear " her • I have never fpoken a word to this wicked wo- . --;a in my life. 140 E" L £ M E T S O F' I believe you, interrupted his father, but you have repeated that to James, which your mother confidenti- ally imparted to me, v/hich flie fpoke in the ear of her friend. Charles was confufed, and owned that he had men- tioned it to James ; but he did not fuppofe that he would have been fo thoughtlefs as to have told it to the woman again. He merely did v/hat yon had done before, faid Mr, Jones ; he only told the maid, and did not fuppofe that fhe would have mentioned it again. But Ihe carried it to the woman^s ear. This account frightened and aPtoniflied poor Chalers. He wet his fick mother's hand with his tears, and beg- ged hsr to forgive him, for that he did not mean any harm, nor could have gueiled the confequence of his folly. iLfervant then entered, and afi^ed if they would not have the dinner brought up, for that it had been ready above two hours, and wasalmoit dried to a chip before the fire. Mrs. Jones v/aved her hand for him _ to leave the room, and funk again on the fofa, faying, I cannot re- lifli a bit to day— that woman has taken away my ap- petite. Nor do I care for any thing, faid Mr. Jones. Now Charles wept bitterly, and begged his parents^ to tafte fomething. Why, alked Mr. Jones, do yon wilh us to eat ? it. would do us more harm than good. See, thoi-ghtlefs- child, all this vexation has bccnoccajioned by yon f tat- tling^ Charles was ready to fnik into the earth with tro .sble, for he fincerely loved his parer.ts; yet, he now fa\y that he had made his mother fick, and his father unta- fy. This ligiit gave him great pain, and he prornifedi to be more careful, and never to repeat again the con- verfations he heard in the faojiiy. I believe, faid his father, that you are very i'o^VY for the trouble you have caufed us, I perceive aifo^ O R A L I T Y. 14T that you have made a firm refohjtion never to chattel? fo idly any more ; but I do. not yet know whether yoii can keep yonr word. I muft for fome time conUder ' you as a child who lias betrayed his father and mother, and fend you out of the room when we are fpeaking of any thing we wilh to keep fecret. Is not that rea- ■fdnabie I Cliarics acknowledged his fault, fobbing, and again begged his mother not to vex herfeif, or it v. ouid make film cry his eyes out. — -He then v/ent to look for his filter, to tell her all that had happened, how pale hi3 mother looked, and how angry his father ^vas — and prayed her to tai.e care and not tell any family fecrets to her couiin Charlotte, left fhe ihould aifo X*ex her parents. She promifed him, and he gave her his hand, laying, that ia future, he would be careful not to tallc for the fake of talking. They had now ojily to confider how they fiiould filence this troublefome womaii, NIr. Jones knew very well that all his wife had faid was true ; yet he did not wifii to expofe her again to the fury of inch a woman. He went tocher himfelf, and offered her a guinea, ifihe would hold her tongue, and let the mat- ter drop ; but decrared he would proceed againil her to the utmoi\ rigour of the law, if fiie pr3fumed to com(» his houfc again ^ The woman knew very well that her conduct: would not bear examination, aud fearing 'to lofe more^cuftomers, Ihe was glad to accepc of th^ terms, and promil'ed to be (^uiet^ C H A P T E R XX vTIL TH E following morning Mr. Jones received a not(i froiu the prolenbr, ia vvhicn. he requeued him to fpeud that afienioon with them in his father- in-law gard-:^:!. He a Ju red him, that he. had been much mor- ELEMENTS OF tiued on his wedding day, in not being able to enjoy the fociety of his friends. He added, that he now had- Oiily invited his particular friends to pafs one cheerful- arrernoon in friendly converfation before his departure. Mr. Jones had really fome bufmefs to' fettle, and- was not willing to put it oii', vvhile the defire of con~^ verinig with lo many ieniible men, the greater part of whom were to depart the next day, prevailed, and- jnade him accept the invitation. The queition now was, whether he fliould take the children with him. His heart inclined to take them, becaufe he loved them tenderly; but he wiflied firil to- know if they had behaved in fuch a manner as to de« ferve this reward. He applied to his wife. She gava a very favourable accannt of Mary; and added, that for fome days paft ihe had been perfedly fatisfied with her conduct. She had been very induftrious, and oii Xhe watch to pleafe;. nay, that flie had with pleafure remarked her particular attentionin in keeping her per- fan clean, and her clothes in order. Mr. Jones ex- prefled the plea-fure this account gave him, and inftaiit- ly determined that Mary Ihouid be of the party. But ■what ihall vv^e do with Charles? I Ihoiild gladly take him with us too, for he has behaved very well ever fince he promifed to gov era hi^ tonguej but the time of trial is not yet expired. As w^e are to be amongit friends, we may converfe a- bout things which Ihould not be repeated; and if he were to tattle again, we might be involved in freHi troubles. Mrs. jories was of the fame opiuion, and it was agreed that Charles ihouid ftay at home that evening. Mary was now informed that they were going to drink tea in a beautiful garden, and that they would take her with them, if her drawers and ciofet were in order. Oh, faid Ihe, fmiling, you will not catch them in confufion agam, I believe. I hrll tried to keep them in order to pleafe my mother, and to avoid tlie dread- ful pain I felt when I was left at home alone^ MORALITY. I find it To pleafant to knov^ where to find any thing 1 want, that I lhall never be carelefs any more. All my commands have the fame tendency, faid her mother; I aliiit your weak mind, and I am endea- vouring to make you wiie and happy, when I deny yon any prefentpleauire; for yon are yet too young to inovv what is reaiiy good. She then iooked over her drawers, clofet and work bafket, and tiading rhfm all in order, fue Irailed fo good-humoiTedly on Mary, that fhc was delighted^ and catching hold of her hand, faid, 1 will Rjcver be -Carelefs again, that you may alw.ays look at me as you 4o no\V, and that I may never cry as bitterly as I did when I faw the coach drive oif.. — Oh ! — that was a fad ^^day, I lhall never forg^^t it' — no, never I Afrerv, ards they caljcd Charles, and afked him, if ,he fhonld like to be of the party ? O yes, O yes, an- JV'ered Charles in one breath. I believe you, faid his father, and it would add to my pleafur^ if you par* took of it.— But we are to meet a felect company, and _may converfe in an unreferved manner abont many things, which w'e Ihould not choofe to have repeated to mere acquaintance. Charles interrupted him, I ne\^ will-^indeed, I -never will repeat a converfation again. — I am not 9 tattler now. I believe, continued his father, that you are firmly refolved to govern your tongue ; but before I can tv\\i\ you, I mult fee proofs that you have conquered this fault, and as bad habits are notoverconje in a moment, you muft fuller for your folly, or you would foon for- get it. So the difappointed Charles was obliged to re- main at home. He went to walk in the garden alone, and fiiting down under a tree, he wept, and for an hour could think of nothing but his own folly ; then wiping his eyes and bitting his tongue, he faid, I will r^achyou, Mr. Tongue, to keep within my teeth. — I^lhaii remember, how many fad hoi rs I own to my own thoughtieffnefs. IVIr. and Mrs. Jones, with Mary in their hand^ now 1?. LAMENTS OF walked to Cliftor^, and met in a pleafant garden fQine intimate friends ; befide the profeffor's family, they law Mr. Goodman, with his wife -and children, and the refpedable old man, who- had been the profeiTor's bencfacior. They drank coffee and &3.t cakes inthe fummer-houfe, and converfed without obferving the charming garden they came to fee. Mr. Jones found it very clofe, and ftood up, faying, of what ufe is that beautiful garden, if we reDiain ihut up in this room .-^ Would it ixu be better to enjoy the frefli air, and obferve tlie various plants which grc\^' there in fiuh abundance,. The whole company owned they ^viihed to tafte the fweef sir, and breathe with more freedom ; and they each took the companion which aifection or chance threw ia their way. Mr, Jones took the profeiTor^'s arm, and they v/alk- cd up and down, converfing without referVe, for. they were fnicere honeft men, u'ho loved each other- Mr. Jones was heartily glad when the profelTor told him that he intended to take Mr. Goodman's fon with liim to Oxford, and dired his ftudies ; his father, faid lie, appears to me to be a very good man. Yes, an excel Ian t man, indeed ! faid the profelTor ; F all the fchoolmall:ers 1 know did their duty as cori- fcientioufiy as he does, we Ihould foon have another kind of world. He is as anxious abo' st his fcholars as if they were all his own children ; and he never negleds them one day without the moft preifing necefuty. He has fuch an admirable method, that we always rejoice when a ftudent comes from his fchool; for we, in general, find them induftrious, orderly young men, prepared to receive our inllru£tions. But the mafter, and the other alTiftants, they fliould not be forgotten in the praife you bcftow on the fchool. No, anfwered the profeffor ; they deferve fome, tliey are relpedable but Mr. Goodman has made them fo by example and remonilrances — the fchopf was i,^ a lamentable flate when he came to it. And, have M O R A L I T Y. 145 vou not heard of his writings ? he is reckoned one of our belt writers. He has lately pubhlhed a book, which has been iTiiich admired. I am aRoniihed, laid Mr. Jones ; when I converfed with hini, he never boal^ed of his abilities and learn- ing, nor even of the iciiolars he had formed ; but praif- ed thofe who alhiled in conducting the fchool. - Yes, yes, continued the j>rofeiror, that is his way. He is a very modeii man. He fays nothing of hinv felf, and his own abilities ; but dwells on ail the good h& obferves in others ; and, on this very^ accoinu', I particularly efieem him. If lie had Aill more learning and fuperior talents, and was always boaihng of tliCiii, and bringing them tor ward to notice, I Ihouid not, i ^ffure you, either refpecl or lo\'e him as I now do. All the qualities we poflefs, lofe above half their \ah:e when we praifc ourfelves. — And of what ufe is this praile ? Men need only be virtuous and do their du- ty, and others will hear of it without their telling ihem. A good horfe cannot praife himielf ; yet I^dif- .cover his good quahties, if I hav^ only rode him a lingle hour. While they were fpeaking, Mr. Goodman himfelf happened to meet them. Mr. Jones went up to him with refpect ; and, cordially preiling his hand, faid, worthy man, receive the homage due to 3^our good- •nefs ! I have hecird of your many virtues ! I have heard of your talents, your benevolence and indullry, though you were fo lilent ; but even this modelly in- <;reafes my veneration. T/pe praife ive receive from others al-cj ay s refle^l more hoyiour on us than ivhen we boafl of ourfelves. I perceive, anfwered Mr. Good- man, that the profeflor has been talking of me ; h? loves me, and always difcovers more merit in ms than any one elfe can, I fear. They then entered into a friendly difpute ; and Mr.. Goodman turned the converfation, with his ufual modefty, faying, it is our duty and happinefs to be as good as we can, and be more careful to corredt our faults than boaft of our good qualities or virtues, N ^46 E L E M E N T S O F CHAPTER XXIX. MAllY chatted during this time w'uh little Emeha, Mr. Goodman's daughter, who gave her adefcriptloa of every thing remarkable in her vil- lage and houfe. Amungft other things, ihe faid, that her prcfcnt mother was not her own mother, but a itcp-mother : her ov. n mother ihe laid ieriouilv, Ihe Piad never known, bccadic Ihe died when Hie was an infant. A ftep-mother, do yon fay ? replied Mary, c[\utp furprized, a ftep-mother— poor child I I have always, heard that llep-mothers wtre very cruel ; thac they beatpoor children, and do not give them enough to eat. Do not believe fucli fiories, dear Mary, anfwcred Emelia ! 1 rcmcml cr I beard the fame thing, but I found it very diilerent. It is polfiole there may" have been many cruel llep-mothers ; and, for that rejifcn, I ^vi^h that all good children may keep their own par- .ents ; butmy liep-niother is certainly the belt woman in the world. She has her own children, and my another's but Ihe loves us as well as her own. The cakes and frr.it Ihe diUributes amonglt us are aKvays in equal lhares ; Vvhen they are naughty, they are al- ways punilhed as feverely as I am, vv'hen I am carelefs .or neglect ujv work. She has only once given me a ])\o\y ; and I am alhamed to tell yon that I deferved it, for telling her a lie, and perfilting in it', though Ihe took me gently by tlie hand, and toki me w hat a dreadful thing a he was. And this is her ufual me- tliofl ; ihe melts me by h;r kindnefs, and I promiie tor try to become better ; for 1 1-:now now that I acquired :Ur;iie bad habits before my father married agairi. YV hat tjien v>M3uld have become of me if I had not had a jU'p-iuother ? My own mother was gone to Heavpi. M O R A L 1 T Y. ^47 I never knew her, though my father lays I fucked her miik till a few days before Ihe died : but my liep-mo- thcr had pity on me, and has taught me to read and work; nay, to tell truth, and be orderly— my father loves me twice as well as he did— cuid I do love my fa- ther, tho; gh people lay 1 am paihonate and have a bad temper, i willi to be good. And then, when I V.3LS lick, yes, very lick, fl.e fat up with me all night, and was fo kind — who knows where Ifliould have been DOW, hut for her ! While Ihe was fpeaking, they met the gardener John, faid Ihe, ma}^I gather a nofegay ? My mother bade me always aiK yon, left I ihould gather fome flowers your mafter fet a particular value on, or any yoj were faving for feed. You are very good, mifs, replied he ; but yon may pluck ajiy you fee in thefe left-hand beds, only do not touch my carnations I She then fought for iome ©f the iweeteil flowers, and bound them up into a pretty nofegay. She ran to look for her flep-mo:her, and found her fitting on a bank ; flie i\uck the Row- ei's haltily in her bofom, and faid with tears in her eyes, tiea?' mother. Mrs. Jones did not meet with fuch an agreeable companion. She walked v/iih the fifter of the bride, v^hofe converfation fiie found very tirefome ; nay, it gave her great pain. She had been brought up hy a relation; and, in her childhood, been with thonght- kfs, idle people, and had learned from them 'the dreadful cuftom of /larJcrhig^ or fpeaking ill of every bod}'. Mrs jones did not yet know her evil propen- fity ; file took her arm in a friendly manner, and faid, your filter's marriage with fuch a worthy man gave me great p'eafi re. 1 congratulate yon, and fincerely w'ifii that they may all their lives enjoy the happinels they merit, tiannah, for that was the name of this malicious girl, thanked her coldly for the part fr;e took in the happinefs of her family. Bat, continued file, with a fneering laugh, I know not whether the Docl- er's h:;ppinefs, or, if you pleafe. the ProfcHor's will N 2 ' E L ?: M E N T S OF l-.e fc. ycry - - Now it is only the honey-moon, as iVsQ wAgns , v. iky ii. full of Aars. But when he has his Wife home a month or two, he \vili ibon fee wiiat a line choice h? iias made. I really do not know w h.at he v/iil do ^vith her. She knows nothing of the ina:ia^e:nent c: ' f;--^' v, and Ihe has fuch a bad tem- per, God help . ? to live always with her ! tor uvy par:, I a.:- Vc-ry ^ file is out of our hoiife. 'x'ne v/i.rtliy Profcllor ^■ .;• trouble enough with h.r ; bivL then (Ihe laughed a^ain) the worthy Profeir- (ir has no ri^jit to nndi'ault w uh her. I know him, id know all hi3 tricks. — 1 muitnot ujention them — :t — Mrs. Jones, if you knew what I kno\v, you v. o. Idfrrm quite a different opinion of him. Mrs. joiies now tellified her furprive, and airnredr. her a.xt ine had never heard any tlhng but good of hiin and her liiier. Behdes, Mr. Goodman had praifed them, am] he was certainly a worthy, fenfible man. He may be a learned man, anfwered Hannah, but he is nothing more. He leaves all things at fixes and fevens ; and if any one will give him a glafs of wine, . he v.'ill fay a;.l zbwz is kind and good of them for it. I do not loT'c LO cak ill of others; Ixit I know very well what they ia;v of his wnfe; ha! ha! ha! ihe can fl vexed. Slie walked angrily up and down the gar- -.^n ; aiid, niecting her liitcr, would have begun to -P";^k in of Mrs. Jones • but llie would not hear her, • -1 froui her laying, I know yon, lifter; and J ■ - -rs. Jones. I have not tinie to liflen to you. I Ills made hex very angry; when the whole com- ■ v.-erp cheerful, and walked about chatfing and ., . ..nnah fiew to a dark corner, and leated . I he y:-y cf her own malice. C II A P T E R XXX. f| R. S. Jones then Vv-alked round the garden, to J^%' ^ leek I or a coinp;:nion in whole ton vcria lion ihe ?!!i.^tit ■L:d more pleaiure. She nrfi mec T^k.-y, wha ;,)kl her. wich joy, v/bat a good ilep-uiolher Einelia ■ \rid. A litilc after il^e met the proreilor's godfather, • > k(; - a-ked' with her all round the garden, pointed :'K.i: •■.v'u-t wri^. r.ihfk beautiful, CKplained the nature of pk>ri^5, a ■ ;i l-.d* hoAv carefully the feed was . ■ ' :'k, ik-.t nothing might perifh. He . the f:ip circ\nate:d through i. . c a-dikJi:-, ni the lame manner as the blood k '-k.c human body ; and, after converimg in ' : i ;ncr, he went into the fummer-houle r ,. aaJ delircd them to purine their walk, i :n-- ti rvied out of the garden into a little inviting : j\ a .d 'i^w a v,'oman ijcting fpinning, wich three k '•; ctj round iicr. ^.^ar3^ obiervcd them firft, and 10 her motiier, pray look, v/hat anally woman! , r.:.t (krtv children I They have li;ch patcbed clothes, -^re .- ichout itockmo'^ and Ihoes. and their feet are lb MORALITY. Mrs. Jones v/hjfpered her in the ear, you mv.{\ not fo Toon defpii'e thefe-poor people, my child ; they may- be very good, thougn they have llarcei> rags enough to cover them, and are dirty. The br-de's mother now looked out of the' garden gate, and feeing Mrs, Jones, advanced towards her. There is a look of goodnefs and honefty in ihat wo- man's countenance which intereits me, faia ivli's. Jones, addrelling her. t Yes, Madam, I always feel pleafure when I pafs by her. There Ihe iits all day fpmnlng or kaictmg, to earn bread for her children ; and wiien Ihe can gee no- thing to do, ihe comes to me to weed the gardea. Thev have been at work m the garden co-day, or the children would not look fo du*i:y ; for choi gh the}^; have bnt few clothes, Ihe keeps them clean. .Look, there comes her hniband ; poor man, he lo'd the ,ufe of.lhs hands by v/orking at a white-lead manufacto- ry. He went into the hofpital, and his wife fold one thing after another to niaintain him. I heard ot her dilfrei^. You know I aai not rich, and have a large family ; but I let them turn the houfe in which 1 kept iny garden-tools into a little dwelling; and that wo- man now maintains her htuband and children. She is, indeed, a good woman ! I cannot bear to fee the poor defpifed, or that people fliould think themfelves better becaule they wear fine clothes, and have dainties to eat. Ami ivkat ivould the rich do ivithout the poor ? Vv"e Ihould be obliged to do all our work ourf^lves. The garden you have admired would be covered with weeds, but for thefe little hands. What Ihould we do for linen and I'lockings, if the poor did not fpin ? What a q-jantity of work I Ihould have to do ! J muft fpin and knit for my whole family, and take the rake and hoe to keep my garden in order. I fancy T Ihould not have more time to attend to -my drefs than this poor ^\oinan. Indeed, Ihe is m^/ faperior ; how manv idle hours have I fpent, when ihe has been toi-ing to do her d.iity", though def nfed by the world. God, the great F '^■'^^r of us all, fees her virtues^ and will reward 153. E L E M E N T S O F tnem; — nay, he even now rewards them. She has contented heare ; I ofcea hear heSrTinging at work, and (he enjoys good health. I have fome of the comforts of hfe, but they-all come from the iabours of the poor. I h. y the wool they have fpun, have it made into clothes, antl lend it to France and Holland, and the proih whicli arifes from it fiipports my family. P u"dun my Vv-armck, dear jMadam ; I have ftill in niy mind the q sarrel i had this morning with my nnhappv da:;<:;^LLter iiannaii. Vv^ould yon believe it, that" wea girl called tliefe poor people beggars; but I did not ie. her fooli;!! pride pafs unrep-roved. Whom do yon call be'jp ars? laid i. Did vou accmire vour ov/n fortune ? too \ _ ■/ i ^ V If ) our father had not been as ind'iltrous, and luckier than this honeii man, yon would be as poor as theib children, if their clothes are not good, they are well patched, which proves that they fpend their time bet- ter ttian yon do, who (it half the day before the glafs curling your iinir. If they could employ as mijcli tune about their perfous as you do, and v^ere not obiigeci to work from' morning till ni,^hc to earn their bread, their clothes would be in better order than yours are, I will venture to fay. I 0\vn that they want manners; but where fhould thev learn manners, v ho have never converfed with v/eiheducated people? iiov/ever, they a-^ civil and good Uc.t«Ted. and that; ;S far preierablc to tne iniincere compel ,ucur-3 yon ufe, v/ho praue people to their faces, anu i\u.c \e Luem when their backs are" turned, ifyoa caii this good brceciui^;. I hearuly wiih my daughter had never bceu ^- ' " • r-.:d.' Mrs. jc :es drew near . . o-.^an, and en- tered into couvarlatiou ■ adfiaendly inunn-r; e .qiured al : fs, the age other cLiidrnn, aud u iuu iue unended lo do with theai. 'i':/r: .■; ^v;;^ ■ lie -unued w'th her at- tC'niou, . - u iuch ihiu -L V, ;. - - - -....h with tca;-i. 0..:d u - u. .'adam. faid Ihe, an:i V. uc 1 na .^iverano- thi-ev/ 5 hen my lu - . - - . _ > ork MORALITY. 153 (Jam here gave us a ho'.ile, and while I have health my babes fhall not want a bit of bread, prailed be God for it ; and my hufband too earns, a little matter by carry- ing meffages to Brillol : he has no hands to carry par- cels with, for, blefs yonr heart, he is as weak as a child ? We cut his meat for him, and help him 011 with his clothes ; and he richly deferves «11 we can do for him. You w^ould not fee us in thiii plight, if he could work. — Yes, he was always a Ibber man ; I never had to follow -him to an ale-houfe, as feme poor wo- men are obliged to do, with a babe crying at their breaft, thank God for it I And now he cannot work, lie reads-good books to us, fo my children will have a little learning, and not be brought r;p like brutes. Mary was then afbamed of herfelf, for having defpifed , fuch good people, whom her mother treated with fo- much refped ; befides, fhe had liflened attentively to the account which the Lady had given of this poor woman's dil\refs ; how Ihe loved her hufband and chil- dren — and Ihe heard that God loved her : — She- Aen bkiflied for her folly, and trembled left her mo- tiier Ihould mention it, and compare her with the fool- ifli proud Hannah. Creeping behind her m^^ther, ihe «ivanced to the cliildren, began to talk to them^ »nd flipped-all the money ihe bad in her pocket into a Kttle girl's hand, bkidaig her not for the world to fay I a word of it to her mother till Ihe was oat of the gar- den. Mrs. Jones then took leave of this woman, faying, • I will fend your children ibaie clothes before the cold vvcather comes on ; and da you co-ntlai-e to be as ineiuf- ftrious as you have been hitherto, and you will be con- I tent, as content as I am. The things 1 moft value are a good cofifcience and health, a fober hvdband, and igood children — and you liave all thefe : — Money never purchafed contentment. If, with my fortime, I had a weak conftitutio 1, or a bad huihand, I fiio.ud wiih my-fetf in your fitiiation, {pinning at a wheel. The poor woman was affefted — Ihe prefied Mrs. J^es'hand, and laid, Thank you, kind Madam ; may God blefs you and your chiidreii. ELEMENTS OF Mrs. Jones had fcarcely turned her back, when the poor woman fa id to her children, Gracioi.s heart. v>hat a pretty fpoken gentlewoman that is — how good-iiat\ red •^ihe has not a bit of pride in her; and the U:tle M.fs, {lie is as good-tempered as an ang'.e. Do yoii hear, Madam, fiid ihe Lady of the houfe to Mrs. joiies, what that poor woman fays? Yo.,r con- verfaiion with her has raifed you highly in yiiy eAeem;-, yo I have given her more pleafure than if you had ha'-.ghtihy thrown her a guinea. It mull- I'l-eadf. lly mortifying to poor people to fee the rich enjoy fo ma- ny things v. hiciirhey are obliged to do widiout, and to ieel th.-3-: they are ridiculed and deipifci*, Ic.^ai.fe they have the-n not ; and it wordd not be fi r> i izing if fiich fre;iuneni roafed their hatred — for a v-. v-x-m will turn again when it is troddfV'. on.- But a friendly look, a few ,k;ad words, \\ •■ . ;\c',r heart:-, a -.id make their cares lighter. 1 r..ey vwfh i:s to re-nembrrr that we ah ',e!o:iided from the fame parents — all look L'p to the lai^.c God. The day now began to flint in ; it was twilight, and prepera:.jns were mvC^n for a modjrace iVp^er, of which they all parcook, txcept liaa:.:.]:, who retired to her own roOiti, preteiidi\'.g that ii_e nacl ^oi the'- toOLh-ache. Tiiey all feeaied to he giaci of her ab- fence, becanfe they kney/ that in company ihe did no- thing but pry into every ronveriation, to gather iome-, thing which f ie coiiid te'l a .^aiu, and to find matter tei', feed her malicious fpirit. ci:e was a poor nnhappy creatiu'e ; thqfe "ivho eager to Jind faults in other Sy have feldom many good quailttes cf their ovjn. They fpent the evening ib j leafantly, that no one thought of going home till it itruck twelve ; then they were ohhged to feperaie, and took leave of each other, with aifurance of friendihip and remember^ ance. MORALITY. »55 C H A P T E Tx XXXI. TH E frequent amiifenients in which Mr. Jones' family had been eiiL^aged for fome time paU, inter- r. pced too much their regular employments. Charles had not done carefully wiiat his inaiter every day re- Ie to thoie v.' ho had at all times ic^ niiiny hardihlpb to bear. c II A p r E ?v xxxir. JN the l)eginnl,no;of Noverxiher, Mr.. Jones thoiig that a little relaj.atioa would now I e of ufe to his laborioits faiDily. He therefore proniiied to Mrs. jones an exciirriou to xVIr. Bciiibn's (the Curate) wliefe they h?A ?]'[ been fo v-cll picaied The children had beha- ved, ?'-.r 'd I-;::;- Tunc, very wx'l ; fo ti-y rt-blved ta take theoi both wim them Al ^-cnmliey \verc acqi^ainted T^'ith it.— 'What joy there was throughout the hoide when they heard of it i They ioon began to contider v/hat they ihor.ld do to pleale the Curate's children, an.d they both fearched in their cloiets to gather all their play-things together, to find fomething to give to Geoi ge, Henry, ~and Caro- line. Mr. jones ihonght of providing for the table; knowing that the good Cr^rate had a very fmall in- come, and ir;"ny pcrfons to mahitain, iliedidnot v/ifii to put hirn to neediefs expen.ce to enterL-iin them. She made foiie nice paftry heri'eif, and had two fowls, a' l-ani, and a hare, packed. Tip ; belidea hamper of v/ine, which they wiihcd to niake their kind hoW a prefent of. The children thought the time long till they could get into the coach — and faid a hundred times. Oh, if to- morrow was bnt here ! but before to-morrow , they nrril go to rcil — and ^vait the arrival of the fo much deijrt d niorning. M:iry dreamed of nothing but the journey. Some- times Lbe was fcated in the coach, driving away by the hiih and meadows ; Ibn^ctimes ^va]L■:^gm the wood, v/ii/- ]\?d played at bali. Now came httlsr C - ; : L: rbirdi ihe ran forward^ as (he the ugh t^ MORALITY. to kifs her, and found as fhe awoke, that flie had not. little Caroline, but her pillow in her arms. She was a little difappointed, hut glad to fhake olF fleep, be- caufe the day began to dawn. She Iprang out of bed, dreiled herfelf quickly, and ran to the parlour. The whole family was in motion, bufily employed dreflinj and packing up ; but Charles did not appear. Mary ran to roufe the lazy boy, but met him at his room door in a very wretched ftate : he held his hand ro his head, and fighced piteoufly. Mary, in a fright- ed voice, called her uiother. and both Mr. and Mrs. Jones ran up, and alked poor Charles what was the Blatter with him ? Oh, faid he, my pleafure is all over ! I have, during the whole night, been torment- ed with a dreadful tooth-ache j it feels as if my head would bi-rlh They all pitied poor Charles, for in fuch a Itate it woald be dangerous for him to be out long in the a'r ; nor could he en joy the profpecls, and the fight of him, in pain, wordd dillurb the relt of the company, and Ciubitter their pleafure. He alked, indeed, if the ex- curfion could not be put off for a day or two ; but ui'M was iir.poirible, becaufe the coach had been order- vd o\ er night ; the provifioii had been drefied, and all ^. . 3 ready ; lb poor Charles \nui\ Itay at home alone, riie coach came ; Mr. and Mrs. jones, Mary, and hrrle James, who, to render thejaiuit more agreeable to the children, had been invited, iiepped in, and Cnarles faw them depart, with tears in his eyes, — They were all forry to leave him ; and at the end of tlie Ivreet his mother leaned out of the coach, and klf- fcd her hand, to comfort the unlucky fick Charles. He was very nneafy ; and throwing himfelf on the loS^ groaned with pain ; — and his anguiih was increaf- cd by diinking of it, becaufe he had no one to pity or coQjlort him. His mother, before ihe fet off, deiired Cacbanae to go for vv'iiiiam ; but he had fuch a vio- lent cold, that iiis father would not allow him to Itir out. *Iiis mafter foon came to give him his lellbas : he O 3 EL E M E N T G OF tonlolecl liim, and-: iiiid, keep up your fpirits, clenr shades, great pain liever laits ianjv ; to iiiorrow, per- h-iCG, you will beqi^ite v/ell :)-:zmii, Thele kind wore fi^ade Charles liiure iranqiul, though his anguilh conti- libed. However, when his maiier perceived that lie co'.Jd not proSt hy his iniirrdions, the pain was fo great, and that the other chilcrea were not there, iie :.oon iciL biiii alone, and he was now ao;ain cir.ite com- ibrtleis. Ne^ crrhelei's, he did not fit crying all the morning ^ he thoi;g'it of the poor man who had the cancer, and bore it patiently, thoi>(>;h he could not expect to be l-f L'tT to-morrow. lie tried to imitate hia'], and to- V. jfJs ciinner linie the pain a6tcaily abaced, ib tliat he could dine wli'-: ^:r. Noel ; and aiier the meal, it icemed c|i.!ie ^./'^ c. Who was then fo happy as Ch,arles ! He was ready to jianp for joy, and. had only 'c<; Ic; k lor aiiU'jcnient to render his lolitude agreeable. 1 .0 went ilriv into his father's little lindy, and Idnght .for a book a ith pictures in it, to fee if he conld amufe liimfelf ; for his father allowed him to take down the* I)oo]vS, 0!i conJ-icioii that he neither tore nor dirtied. tl:;eni, and carefiiUy replaced them. He foon found' what delighted him, a book full of pidares of animals,' and the ^neLhods rd'ed to catch them. One print repre^' i'enied how they entrapped the elephant ; another,, how they chafed the iion ; and in feyeral others, how tiicy caught and enfnared foxes, hares, patridges,: wild duLKS and geefe, a;id many other animals. - Now, thor.ohi: he, the time will no more feem long ; and for abo'. e a c^narter of an hour, he thus chverted the lone] / moments he was obliged to fpend by himfeif. At laif he turned oii fome prints, which Ihewed him how fome people enfnared apes. When the apes were i'lily obfer\ing the hnntfman, he took a bafon of wa- ter, and wafhed his face ; then he went away, leaving the bafon on the ground ; but, inllead of pure water, he poured thick clayey Vv^atcr into it. As foon as the huntfraan's back was turned, the ape crept cau.tionfly forward to Vv^alh hirnfclf, and plaiftered his eyes up in M O R A L I T r. fuch a manner that he cduW lee nothing, and might be caught with very Uttle trouble.' This cunning trick made him laugh heartily, and he ftarced up to leek for fome one vviuli v^^hom he could talk about the droll loo-ks of the monkey ; but no one could he find - no jNlary, no James, no Wiljam was there, and even Pvlr. Noel was gone out. • lie' had' nosv no niore plea- fure iniooi^ing at the pidUites ; and, full of yexatipn, he ihiit the book and put it in its place. Afterwards he thovight he --would try to play at foinetliing. He fearched for his nine-pines, and fet them up, and knocked them down with the ball ; but as he had no one to conteif with him, he was tired in lefs than ten minutes. He gathered his leaden foidiers together, placed them in order ; -but when they were -placed, he knew not what to do with them, and was i\yon tired of them too. Weary of them, and himl'elf, he pur them into their box, and fat down to conlider wiiac he Ihouid next do. - At lalf he thought of his colours, which had fo often amuied him when James was with him. He put them on the table, took cut the lliells, an(: fought for one of his prettieif prints to colour it. In fact, he be- gan to paint the clothes of two perfons in thepicbu c; but when he went on fi rther, he foon remarket} t^iau he wanted James, vvho could paint very v/eli, and knew how to chfe)ore the proper colours for every tiling] Charles had already met Vv^ith many parts of the pic- ture which he was at a ^ofs how to colour; .and Itill more diliatisfied than ever, flint up his paintiijg box. Now he knew no more what to do. Peeviiiily he threw himfelf again on the fofa, and lamenting, bit- terly lamenting, faid, /oiu fad Is life without afrisnd 1 If I fulter, there is no one here to pity or comfort me; no one who would try to foften my pain. If I am pleafed, there is no one to communicatent to. If I play, I want a companion; or it is not like play ; and, if I work, I have no one to help me, or gi\ e me good advice I Ah me I if my dear T lary^ if Wiiiiam, or i64 E L E M E N T S O F James was here ! Yes, when I am once with them again, I will do all I can to make them love me ; I will be very attentive to find out what they like beftj- and that moment do it — for there is no Hving without^ them. Dear Mary ! James ! William ! will yos not foon return ? They heard not the lamentations of the poor folita- ry Charles ! they came not ! but inftead of them, a, companion he did not find very agreeable ; for the tooth-ache returned. Though his mother had often laid tiiat it was like a pig to eat cakes or nice things alone he looked for fome almondc covered with fugar, a'ld 'red to eat them j but Icarecly had he begun to chew wi.ii the coodi that had a hole in it, than the pain. i'.^r lcj. thror!t,h his whole jaw, and the anguilh was irrcprer iha ^i ever, rie groaned, and v/ould have cri- ed, ..f b .u' r>or chought that a boy ihould have more ^ .'i L.rf pail, jjacientlv. ;n'.;li 111 pii.ed by pain, he threw himfelf . Auuv ; fome o'ac knocked at the room 1 : . i. cried he, hoping he ihoald fee an ac- c ; bv t he was deceived — it was .only a Jcw^ ,rfy besrd, iked, iil-iiumouredly, Avhat he wanted ? r father, laid he; is he not at home ? . e ib n.obody ai home, replied Charles, rather 1 : aud t'.rued from hir.}. /'Ltle 'Daiier lick? allied Ephraim, that he holds^ 1 •i-cf- — Tell ine, my little dear, have you any t u:e matter with your teeth ? .'.-.s. yes, anfn'cred Charles. Tell me, mafter, c .:i'Ai:ed Epliraim, whether there is a hole in your . t )oth. Let uie aook into your mouth ; pei'haps I caa 1 -]p you. (,'harles Vv^as at firft rather unwilling ; but when J ..r.aira aflured him that he had aire idy cured feveral ] ;p;e of the tooth-ache, tho^-gh they were in violent - /. lie let him look into his mouth; and Ephruini:,, i'ied i:nat ne wo il^ Ibo'i bring fomiLhing iro.j his u ,, ii houfe^ Lo Hop the p:.in^ and aiake iuai c^Aze welL MORALITY. 165 Charles had heanl his father fay, that when people iickj they ought not to take every thing recoin- .ded to them as a good remedy ; at lealt whilft / are young and ignorant, and do not know what I- good for the human body, and therefore might rake foinething very hLrrtfnl and improper ; — incieeJ, undentand the nice conitruciion 01 the human .....lie; and ignorant people, by prefcribing the fame remidy for diiferent conftitutions, often do much harm. As fcon as the jew was gone, he ^vent to Mr. Noel, and alked whether he might venture to take wiiat the Jew would gi\ e him. Mr. Noel enquired directly of the clerks, and fome other people who were in the coimting-houfe looking over fovne goods, what fort of a man Ephraim was. They all ga'^ e huii a good char- acter, aiTured him that he was an honeii, feniibieniaa; that he had fome knowledge of phyfic, and often cured both Jews and Cnrutians who conluited him when they were lick. Mr. Noel himfelf then ad- viied Charles to take what he Ihould bring him. In about half an hour the Jew came back, with two little pkiilers, and put them behind his ears ; at the fame time, he niled up the hole in his tooth with wax, to preferx'e it from the cold air, and to prevent his food ificking in it. But, if Charles hadb^en in pain before, he was now in an agony ; it was as if forks were Ifuck into his jaw. He then grew quite impadent, and would have torne the plaiiters from behind his ears ; but the jew would not permit him, and faid. Have a little patience, mafter ; no remedy has an immediate erlect : hov^ever. to-morrow morniao- I will call 0.1 voii ao;ain, and my dear little pitieat will fpeak in another tone, I am lure. Ephraim now left him, reminding him once more, not to tear off the plaiiters. The pain grew to infrpportable, that probably he . ..Id have torn them oif in hizc cf this ca .ition if Mr, 166 ELEMENTS OF Noel had not taken him into his room, and watched hiiTj. To-Aards the end of an hour, theangpiili gradiiallyl aba:ed, aiid at frppcrr he had a little appetite, and re- ' lilheci h;s food. lie went early to bed, and foon feel^' into a fweec lleep ; and as had refted very jittle the' mg'^.t before, he iiept fo foundjy, that he did not wake be-..:,re eli^hr o'clock the foLowiijg morning — And when he dAoke, where was the pain gone? — Ke felt no more of It — and how happy was he] He ran to Mr. Noei, and faid, i am qi ite weil: how glad I am that yo.. did not allow me to tear off the plaiilers — Thank you — chank you. lie then ran to the window, and looked out every moment, longing to fee tlie di^ar jew come. About nine o'clock he came; and the n:oii]fnt Ci^arles car^-rht a giimpie of him, he hew to the itrcet door delighted, and eagerly opened it, to admit the man whom the day before he had received lo rudely. Ke led him into the parlour, faying all th^ ^'^'^Y'l ^ thoufand, 'thonland thanks! my dear good Ephrann, I am quite well — all my pain is gone, i have been often told that the jev/* were wicked people, but now I fee that I was wrong. It was very wrong, indeed, if little mafi:er thought fo, faid Ephraiii^ ; and when he knows more of the Jews, he will fee more clearly hismiilake. I?i every re^ I i/gion there arc good -people^ I do not deny but there- are many wicked people among our nation, and ho\yr many Chriftians lie and t^eal \ —but we are ail men— defcended from the fame father, and ferve the fame God; and he who difpifes his fellow-creatures on ac- count of their being called Jews, flies in the face of his Maker, We are commanded to love all men— - we are all brothers, and fliould only defpifc thofe who fleal, and commit crimes, which render them ufelefs, if not a peft, to foeisty. But continued Charles, y(im cannot fay that there are not many cheats among the Jews. I do not pretend to fay fo, replied Epbraiai; there arc cheats euougli among oi.»r natipn, and ^^monor MORALITY. 167 iMiriftians, for the matter of that — but if o-;r natioa ; heat, the Chriitians themfelves are the caufe of it. They defpife us, and do not allow us gain our live- hood in an hon-eA v/ay ; fo many ignorant Jews are 'erome cheats, becaufe they think that they live a- [K ng enemies ; biit there are many good Jews who trurh, and give money to the poor; and fuch i deferve our love^ whether they are Jews or liriftians. Charles perceived that he was v.Tong in difliking jie Jews, and lappofmg that they were worfe than ):iier men; and he promifed in future to love them as veil as the rel\of mankind. Afterv/ards Ephraim put 1 frelh plaiilers behind his ears, and bade him re- nbcr that a Jew had felt for him when he was in 1, and treated him Uke a fbllow-creature. He went av/ay, but his behaviour had won riuirieb' heart, and from that hour he nev«r fpoke efpclefuliy of a Jew. C H A P T E R XXXIII. ^ yf E A N W H I L E the coach rolled with all the lVX*^°'"P'^^y towards the village where the curate ived. Mr. Jones reckoned that they Ihould arrive here by ten .o'clock, and they all anticipated the happy lOLirs they expeded to enjoy; efpecially the children, ^\ho thought that the horfes never went quick e- lough, Nicholas fmacked his whip, and away they sveat, as if they flew. — Now all wa^ right; the chil- iren clapped their hands, crying, Yes, that is fharm- ng !— -Now we lhall foon be there ! But, in the midft Dt their rejoicin_g — there was a fudden Ihock— -all were filent — what a paufe ! The carriage funk down on one iide. James was thrown into Mrs. Joaes' lap her bulband fell on Mary, and almolt cruihed the poor girl to death. What has happened? cried they all—- i68 ELEMENTS OF What is the matter, Nicholas? Nicholas got off his box, Icratched his head, and laid — A fine job this is to be fure ! Tell us what has happened, called out Mr. Jones, hailily. Why, anlwered Nicholas, one' of the wheels is oif-»— What do you advife me to do? If I had any one to leave with the horles, I would run to the next villaoe for a black-lmith, lo help mend it. Mr. Jones was not of the fame opinion ; he forefaw that the party would find the time very long, if they had to remain an hoar or more ftill in the coach ; he therefore tiiought it belt that Nicholas ihould ftay to take care of the horfes, and they themfeives wor.M walk to the village to feek for a black-lmith. This propoial pleafed them all; and they i'et oft' on foot, defiring Nicholas to follov/ with the coach as foon as he could. ^ The neareft way was a foot patli, through a fiel^ juft ibwn with weat ; and the children Teemed to gain new life, when they came out of the coach into the free air. AH at once James fprang forward, bent down on the ground, then Icarted up again, threw his hat before him, as if to catch fomcthing, and then darted forward again. Mary , who was curious to know what he had ia his eye, ran after him. At lail he caught what h? purfued, as Mary came up with him, and both rejoic* ed at having taken a little prifoner. rvleanwhile Mr, and Mrs. Jones were in converfation, and did not ob- ferve them. However, they were foon oblidged to flop, for they beard Mary fcream out, in a terrified tone, dear James, ah I do not do it— pray! — pray hold your hand ! And thefe entreaties having no ef- fect, Ihe called to her father and mother for help. Mr. Jones could not imagine what the children v/ere dif- puting about, but Vv^aved his head for them to come to him. They came, Mary firit, quite out ot breath. Dear father, faid Ihe, you do not know what a wick- ed boy James is ! he has jull ca^^ght a fieid-moufe, and, for all I can fay, will cut its ears and tail off The poor moufc ! it never did him any harm ! He has aU M O R A L I T Y. 169 ready opened his knife — only look at him ! Jaraescame up fniiiing, holding the moufe in one hand, and the knife in the other. What are you going to do ? afked Mr. Jones. James. I wilh to puniih this iiule thief, who fteais the poor farmer's corn. Mr. Jones. . You are a cruel boy ! Fie, for fname. He -who can tm-mcnt a Utile kar ml efs a?ilm.al., has cer- tainly a had heart. He accuftoms himfelf by degrees to cruelty, and at laft he will find a favage joy in it: and after tormenting animals, will not foil to tor^nent men. J^mes. But could we not do very well without mice ^ They are infignificant creatures, which are of no life in the world. Mr. Jones. Aad is the watch, which your father has given you, fomething infignificant .^^ James. By no means. I would not give it for a thoufand mice. i Mr. Jones. Neverthelefs, there appears in the ftru6ture of this little moufe 's body a thoufand times more contrivance than in your watch. Look at tliis little ear, through whi<:h it hears all that paifes round it : through this organ it was warned when you pur- fued it : and thefe pretty eyes, in which the forms of ill the objects before it are painted ; and thefe lharp :eeth, with which it can gnaw the hardeft grain: and :heie neatly turned paws : this Ikin as foft as velvet. But you would be i\ill more aitonilhed if you could fee Us infide ; if you could obferve how every thing pailes :here topreferve hfe; how^ the little ftomack difiolves :he food ; how it feperates the bel\ juices, and carries ; |:hem by very fine channels ftill further ; how flelh, olood and hones, are formed of them ; and how the excrements pafs through the guts and intelVmes. Put /our hand on its breait, and feel how its heart beats, :o pulh the blood through the little veins. Your w^atch ;nay be made very ingenioufly ; but do you think it iwould ever produce any little watches .^^ You would pe glad of that, for you might loon have plenty of ELEMENTS OF watches to fell and make your fortune. But to tkis de- gree of perfe<^ion they can never be carried. The molt beautiful things made by man are dead, and without fenfe ; God alone can give life and reafon. This moufe has, probably, already brought many litle mice into the world, and will certainly bring forth many more, if you fpare its life. James, Yet, with all this, it is good for nothing. Mr, Jones. That you cannot certainly know. There are a thoufand things in the world very ufeful, no doubt, yet we do not plainly fee their ufefulnefs. If he who made this little moufe certainly knew that it was good for nothing, why has he employed fo much arc in making it? \However, I can |ioi.n,t out to you Ibme things that it is ufefid for. Look at that raven, how gravely it ftalks; what a bautiful black plumage it has ; and thole fine feathers, •which ornament its wings, are very ufeful when we w'lih to write very neatly. For this raven, and hi^ brothers, are mice fent into the world. They hunt ^hem out ; and, when they have caught, they eat them:, ;md find them as reliihing as you think roalted hare : therefore mice are of as much ufe as hares. James. But ftill mice do marni; they devour the poor peafant's wheat and rye. Mr. Jones The injury they do is very trifling. They commonly only gather up the grain which the farmer lets fall ; and the mofl part of it would proba- bly perifli, if thofe little notable mice did not carry it to their nefls. And fuppoling they are fed by hiuiger Ibmetimes to fteal a couple of ears -out of a fheaf of corp, what injury is that ? The farmer will never mifs it. James. But I have heard that they Ibmetimes mul- tiply fo faft, that they ofien ravage a whole field. Mr. Jones. Then, indeed, it is time to deftroy them — but without tormenting them : and they fhould be put to de^ith as quickly as poihble. If the torments they endured would bring back the wheet, or teach them honelty, there would befome excufe for it ; but this moufe will not be lefs a thiefafter you have cut ofi its ears and tail. MORALITY. James.. Well, then, I will kill the little thief be- fore he does any more harm. Ah ! my dear James ! cried Mary, do not kill it ; give mc the little mouie, I pray you give it me I Caa you deny me ? He gave it to her, and, as fooa as llie got it, Ihe let it run away, calling after it, ran, rmi, poor animal^ till you find again your little children. Both Mr. and Mrs. Jones were pleafed with her, Mrs. Jones killed Mary, and faid, good girl ! you have perhaps faved the lives of four or five little niice^ ^vho mnft have perilhecl with hunger if their mother had been killed. Mr,. Jones liiill coTitinued the fubjedl:. He faid, that the fmalleft animals were of fome ufe ; and that a good man ought not to kill the leail worm, unlefs it injured him, or that its death would be ufefrJ to him ; but even in that cafe, it was unjuit and cruel to torment them. He defcribed, in fo aiTeding a manner, what anguifii it would have given the poor moufe if he had cut off its j cars and tail, that it brought tears into both the chil- I dren's eyes. Bat IS it not very wrong, faid Mary, in thofe wick- ! ed butchers to kill the poor ihe p ? They do no harm ! They do no harm, anfwered Mr. Jones, but their death is advantageous to us ; for we eat their fleih, and their wool and Ikln form the moll ufeful part of our cloathing. Some time or other the Iheep mufl die. I Th^y crop the grafs on which infeds live, and drink the water in which rhoufands of little living creatures fv. im. Birds pick up .flies and worms ; and men are fi.pported by animals, birds, filh and vegetables. So tliat the world contains a vail variety of creatures, which are all linked together by mutual wants. The fheep, for along time, enjoyed content before it was brought to the penn; and if the butcher kills it quickly, it does not fuifer near lb much pain as it would dq lilt died by degrees, of ikknefs or old age. P 2 172 ELEMENTS OF CHAPTER XXXiy. /'^ OlWEPvSING in this manner, they reac hed the %^ village. Mr. Jones enqviirecl for a blackiniith ; but the pealants informed him that he was gone to Vvork at thejuitice's houfe, which wss not far oit; and, as he was a very civil gentleman, they were fure that he would allovv' hiin to go and aihfl the coachman the moment he was alked. Mr. Jones went to the magiArate, and fimply told him of their little dil^a-eis ; he inilantly permitted the biackfmith to attend him, who went home for his tools, and hardened to the coach. Meanwhile the par- ty went to the inn, to wait for the arrival of the coach. Though they did not feel any thing like hunger, yet Mr. Jones deiired the landlord to bring them a little refreshment, that they might make a proper re- turn for fnting in his room. The landlord, who was playing with fome farm.ers at cyrds, v/as fo eager abont the game, that he did not give hii.i'cii the leait trouble to pleafe his guefts. He even fce:ned vexed that they called for jbmething; rofe ha Icily from, the tabic with an angry countenance, and called' up tbe llairs, Miilrefs, bring fome bread aJid butter for tiie gentlefolks I Then he quickly feat- ed himfeif again, caught rp the cards, and/aid, coiiic, deal av/ay. His Vv ile brought in the bread and butter, but forv getting a knife, they could not cut their bread, or ipread the butter ; and Mr. Jones was obliged once iiiore to interrupt the landlord's game. He went to hhn, and tapping him gently on the jhoulder, fakl, my friend, v/e have not a knife; a run ofiikluck, as it is called, had already made him very unreafonable ; and^ as if his guelis had been MORALITY. ^73 the caufe of it, he darted a furious look at him, and, fpriiTPHig to the door, alked his wife, with a curfe, why iiie had forviOtten to bring a knife ? His trtajbiing wife brought it in a moment but, as foon as ihe entered the room, her hnfband loaded her with abi ie. and faid, you pre a fine millrels of an inn, indeed! throwing the cards at her head.- That the poor woman was '> ery angry, may nat\ Tally be fuppof- ed. You fhanielefs man, faid fhe ; is it thus you treat your wife? Ml'H I, the whole day, work hke a horlc p — All the buiiiiefs lies on me ; and you — you do nothing elfe but eat, drink and play ; you have al- ready run through my whole property, and now you iiie me like a dog. This ipeech rendered the brutal man fliii more furious ; he ran to feize a whip which hung agaim't the wall, to beat her ; but Ihe not think- ing it prudent to wait for his Itrokes, flew into the flreet. A lu'cle boy would have followed his mother ; biu tumbling over fomething on the floor, began to cry piico.ifiy. His father, inltead of having any com- panion for him, gave him a violent flroke with the whip, and pufhing him into the flreet, Ihut the door-- violently^ The farmers who had been playing with him, fhock— ed at this brutal behaviocir, flipped quietly out of the room, and left Mr. Jpnes and his family alone. The children were half dead- with fear, almoft afraid to breath. At lait James faid, after looking round the j?oom, to be f.;re that the landlord was quite out of hearing, is not rhis a vpry wicked man ? I never iiv my life law fuch a one before. Our man:er has ofteiv told us, that we ought to love all men ; but furely fee did not mean to include fuch a rogue as this. I cannot help hating him. V/hat do you think, Sir Why do you think, afked Mr. Jones, that a man who throrghthe negligence of his parents, or thought-- lefTnefs of a maid, unfortunately made a cripple in his childhood, deierves to be hated ? Certainly not anfwered James. How could the poor jlian help/it ? It ^YOu^d be a great misfortune- to be P 3 ^74 KLEMENl'S OF :ai:ie. — I Ihould pity biiii, and help him, if I could. Yet you dare to hate a v/icked riian interr opted i^'Ir. Jones, whom you ouglit to pity, and help, if you could. For a ivickdd ?nan is lyiuch more an ohjeci- of pity th.it a cripple. In general, his bad habits are caught iroiii his parents, or thofe whom he has hved with: a:-'.' when theie habits have been fixed thirty or forty years, it is often as dilHcult to overcome ri^iem as to make a contracled hmb fcrait. Belides, dear James, beiic'. eme, a wicked nuin fiiiiers more than the molt miierable cripple I W hy then Ihoidd we not pity, him ? I \rill novv' fpeak to the lau'-ilord ; and you Ihall ).car out of his o-.va mouth that he deierves compal:!- Oh I pray do not, dear fir, cried James ; leave the wickecl man aione, he will only veK you ; and Mrs. Jones and iMary ioined in the entreaties; bat Mr. J (mes rilenced them by fay inos tliat we ought not to, t>e too care fid of our i elves vvhen we v.'iihto do ^pody however, do not be imcaly about me ; i am mairer of my temper, and humanity requires that I fnouid give Iqme good counfel to tliis poor man. The landlord now entered, with marks of fury hill in his face. Where is the child ? aihed Mr. Jones. I hope it is not hiu't. Hi-rt, indeed, anfwered the landlord* what harm could come to it ? The brat will livelong enough ; iU '^veeds feldom perifh. Mr. yores. !^-.) he is not your fon ! Landlord. VvMiv, whofe fliould he be ? Mr. yones. If he be, honell friend, pray tell me hovv a father could treat his own child fo barbarouily } I'he child did nothing v/rong, he fell by chance; and, bccauie he was hurt by the fall, began to cry ; and iniiead of pitying it, as you ought to have done, you give it a blew. Landlord. You fpeak juft like our p?n-fon , he often couies to preach a fermon to me after I have given my v/iie a black eye. Stilly Sir, you do not feel where the M O R A L I T y. 175 iiflioe pluches ; for if you did but know how many cares I have, you would not woiider fo much that I fome- tii.ues fly into a palhon. Mr. Jones. And ho'w came you to be fo full of cares-? Yoa feeiii to have a good houfe, well iituated, for cuft- jjom, an honeil: wife, and healthy children, i La-fidlord. You fpeak as if you knew all about it. If you v/ere in my fituation, if you had a wife who [every day reproached you for fquanderlng away her fortune, i£ all your" children cared more for their mo- ; ther than lor you, and if you v/ere afraid every day of being dragged to prifon by your creditors, you would 'ilng in another tone. You know not where the bone lllicks; yet you talk away. It is true, my huufe has tolerable cuito:n ; buc h.vlf a mile from hence l#'es a droll rogue, ho talks over all the formers, i'^ z-icy drink their ale Willi him, wdiile mine grovv S :oL;ri;i Liie callv. Air. "Jones. If Ij, indeed you are to be t"-^:-! ; hut do not laliK^ill what I ai^: ^:oiii^^ to ;.;;/ : ■•. ^ ■ to me as if all your :ri< n M-vu. e5 \. e'"^ o .V ; ; - r-ch^ If you have iquaii'.ti-^.: 1 v> . is it to be wondered ac iha: l^ie rcproac / -^'-'^^i if yoa beat your children v/ichovit a ccr.v', is it not natural that they iliould love their mother better than you } As for your creditors, yovi would no: ha\ e them I- to be afraid of, if you had been careful not 10 run into I debt. If you had properly managed your wife's for- | tane and minded your buiinefs, you miglit have lived quietly in your own houfe, where no one would have dared to moleil you. If your children flv from you, ' and your neighbours let your ale pa'ow four, is it not all- yovir own fault ? Your ill-humour frightens them away ; who will flay ^in a houfe with a man who takes fo little pains to pieafe, ralfes fuclt a riot in the houfe, beats his wife, and kicks his children ? And, Mr» Landlord, I mull tell you freely my determination: if yoii do not alter your behaviour, I will never come to your houfe agaiji. Landlord, As to that^ I believe I wiih to he civil ; E L E 11 E N T S OF yet I cannot help being angry when thir.gs go crofs ; for my father was pailioaate. my brDther was pailion- ate; i really think i ' ; ;\Vciys remain lo : it has run :n our blood f time. Mr. j; ?e ^ r .i,v : given him forae more good ad' 'fv\ . .or hiS brer.d avid bu iter, and got into the r V, iiad aircatiy waited a few minutes for . i^.n. i'ney were aii glad to get away fi'om this an- gry iiian ; but Mr. Jones faid to James, do you not now lee how mr.ch this man deferves your pity? In- llead of loving, every creat\ire delpifes him ; and Ifhe thiiiks of his loriTier life, or his fit are profpects, he iiads flo fatisfadion. And the iirit cavfe of iiis ranery v/as this ; from his infancy ne was brought up by \vicked men. and was always with theai ; did you not near iinu fay, that both his fatiier and brother w ere pciilionate ? James felc tlie truth of the obfei vation, and fmcere- ly pitied the milerable wrecchj who delfroyed all hi^ own comfort. CHAPTER XXXV. THEY now came to the vilkge v7here the Cu- rate lived. Mr. Jones ordered the coachman to godn*eclIy to his houfe. rhe chiidrea Ji tuped fof joy ; it was almoll impoliible to keep them uiry longer quiet ; they knell upon the feat, aad waitcJ, full of impatience , for the moment when the Curate, with his ch-ldre:i, ihoidd come out and embrace them. Af- ter a few mo acmes the coach flopped ; and the chil^ dren aiked Mr, Jon f^s vs/hethcr this was not thehoufe.J^ Yes, anfwer ;d he, there Itands the houfe which you have fo long deiired to fee. Tiiey danced with de- light. But is it not wonderful, faid Mr. Jones, that no one cuQies out to receive us ? ihope they are not from iiome. MORALITY. 177 He got out of tke coach, and helped his wife and chiluren out — but liili no one appeared. He went through the front garden — there was no Hving foul to be ieen, fie entered the houfe — Ihll he faw no- body, fie tapped at the chainber -door — come in ! cried a weak voice. They opened the door — Ah, what a light ; There Aood four beds and a cradle ; George fat on one ; and in the other lay Henry and little Caroline; in the third lay the Curate's wife, and the fo'iirth feerned to be dellined for the Curate ; an infant was deeping in a cradle. In the little corner, [which liill remained, fat the Curate with his head leaning on his hand. And when the guefcs had enter- ed the chainber, they had fcarcely room to move. My dear Sir, cried the Curate, in a forrowfid voice, why do you come into this melancholy place? Iain alinolt overcome by miiery. There lie my poor children in the iniall pox. George is alnioll out of danger ; but: j my dear Henry — my fweet little Caroline ! (here a tear sftole down his cheek.) See, have I not caafe to la- iment ? — There they lie. ^ Their eyes have been clofed already three days. Alas I and I know not whether they will ever open them again. There too lies my dear wife ; it is only a few days fnice ihe was deli- ; vered of that infant, and Ihe is fo w eak that Ihe caa fcarcely fit up in bed ; befides, Ihe has got a badbrealh i The poor woman can fcarcely endur-e fo much pain. I As for me, it is almolt a fortnight fmce I have had any (deep. But, alas! noz two only, bat many v/eeks, wuald I watch ; I would gladly endure ail, if I could only fave the lives of my children. If I could but once fee them well again I My poor little darlings, my Hsn- ry ! my Caroline ! Mr. Jones interrupted him by catching his. hand, on wdiich their tears iilently dropped. They were all excreamiy alreded, and James and Mary wept aloud. Deareft friend, continued the Curate, what can I do with you ? J cannot even offer you a chair. I have ftobody that can drefs you a, Uc of^ men; and, if I 178 ELEMENTSOF had, you could not reiiih it in this hofpital. Wefil I to take you into die parlour, 1 could not be with you ; I cannot leave my lick children. Do not take it ill of me, for if the Bifliop came, I conld not wait on hini. For if one of my children diould die, who could make me amends for its lofs ? Leave then I pray yon, this difrnal abode, and go to the inn. The landlord is a very hooest man ; and, I hope, he will make a point of treadnor you v/elL Mr. Jones now tried to conrfort hini as well as he^ could; and laid, among other things, take courage, your forrow will foon give way to joy ; after a hard winter follows a cheerful fpring. Mrs. Jones feated herfelf near Mrs. Benfon's bed, and cried to comfort her, even v/hile Ihe herfelf Ihed iiv'uy rears. nr-ij and Mary crept to the Tick children's pilloWj a.,., > them how much they pitied them. They .hen all took a mournful leave of this dif- treffed faimly, and went to the iim. They had very little appetite for their meal ; they eat a few bits hailily, and drank a glafs or two of wine; but they fent the hamper to the Curate, beg- ging him to accept of it, and drink a little more than uihal, that he might be able to bear watching and dif- trefs. After two hours had paifed away in compairi-, onate complaints, Mr. Jones faid to his family, it is very pleaiaat to vifit our friends, v/hen all goes well-, and they are happy! but it is Ihll kinder to fuccour them when they are in trouble. Come, let us go ?r- gain to them, and try, as much as is polhble, to fof^- ten their di drefs. 1 will coaverfe with the Curate; yon, my dear, may chat with his. wife; and do you, children, gather all the little prefents together v/hicb you have brojght v/ith you, and carry them to your tick play mates. Thole good people will be pleafed when they lee that we take a part in their forrow. They were all ready to do as he defired, Mrs. Jones dellred the landiad>^ to provide them with a fr/ppei*; and give the brokea viduals which they had brought MORALITY. 179 with them to the poor ; but they took the fowls, thinking that the lick fiimiiy might be tempted to sat. ' They all hurried away; and when they entered the lick room, the poor patients feemed, for a time, to have forgotten their A iierir:gs. Mr. Jones feated himfeif near the Curate, and en- , ideavoured, by his couverfaiion, to raife his fpirits. He related how much his children had futrered when they had the fmall-pox, and talked again and again of the danger they were in ; yet he was able to lay^ [that they had happily gone through it all. During this converfation, the Curate in fome meafure reco- 'v.ered his ufual cheerfulnefs. I Mr. Jones di'ew near to bis wif€, who was fuck- ling her child^ which made her teel fo much pain in jher bread, xhat ilie preiied her teeth together to avoid crying x)ut. Mrs. Jones in a tone of corapaffion told Mier how much Ihe had endured with a bad breaft ; , and pointed our rlie remedy which had foftened her pain, and at lail: healed it. Mrs. Benfon hl^ened at- tentively, pr^ffed her hand, and faid, dear friend, you are an angle, whom God has fent to give me llrengrh to bear my fufferings. My heart is grown lighter fuice you came here. Mary and James went firft to the bed where Henry and Caroline lay, and gave them fome pretty ' play-things which they had brought for them. Mary had got for Caroline a little fet of kitchen furniture, plates, porringers, fpoons, knives, tea-cups, &;c. James put in order, before Henry, a company of leaden dragoons. But v.hat comfort was this to the poor children ? they could fee nothing of them ; and when they attempted to grafp them, the feftcred pim- ■ pies on their hands gave them fo much pain, that - • they immediately threw them all down, and began to weep. But James fpoke very kindly to them, and ^ faid, that they Ihould try to be quiet, and then they ^ would foon be well; and that he would give the little prefents into their father's carej and how great i8o ELEMENTS OF would be their joy, when they left their beds and found theie pretty things. Afterwards they went to George ; he was more cheerfiil, becaufe he was growing well; and he laughed outright when James gave him a whole hunt, liuntfmen and dogs, fiags, boars and foxes, all form- ed in leati ; and Mary fpread before him foine pretty pidiires which Ihe had brought. They foon got acquainted with each other, and chatted very fa- miliarly. ! Dear play -fellows, faid George, I never thought before how good it is of parents to be fo anxious about tiieir children. See now how much my moiher^ endures with that little infant. As often as it lucks,^ it gi\'e3 her as much pain as if a knife were lluck in. her breaft; and iUli flie does not fend it away. Slje: puts it again to the breaft, bears all the pain, radier than tile poor infant ihould feel hunger. Ah ! if iiie was to forfake it, it v/ould foon die. She wafnes it every morning, and puts clean clothes on it feveral times in the day ; and, when Ihe dreffes it, ihe touches it lo tenderly, and holds its head againfl her breaif, watching that nothing injures its weak limbs. At night llie fcarcely fleeps two hours, becaufe the child often cries, and feems always to look to her for help. We have all been fuch little creatures, and given our good parents as much trouble.' And my good father ; you cannot think how dearly he loves us ; fmce we have been lick, he has not left our beds. The 'Squire has twdce invited hini ^o fupper ; but he always refufed, becaufe he would not leave us. How many times has he got out of bed in the cold ; how many nice bits has he put into my mouth ; and how many fpoonfuls of drink has he given jne v/ith his own hand, w hich cooled my poor heart» Every day he fends to the Doctor's for fomething^ which cofcs him money ; but he fays he does not mind any expence, if he coidd but fee us in health once more. I love my dear parents ; I ought to love them. I will do more j I will try to be good, that they may MORALITY. ^nd pleafure la me. IVhat vjicked children mu/I they he ivho can vex their parents 1 Whilit he w as fpeaking in this manner, Mary and James were thhiking of then- parents ; and both determined that they would follow the example of George. Mary recollccled, with fmcere i egret, that Ihe had fometimes vexed i hers ; and James was aflianied of himfelf that he had not before reflected how miich trouble and care he had already given his. Both w ere, from this rime, mor« attentive to their condud ; and did every thing, wheii they v/ere with their parents, to pleafe them ; ami were as careful when they vvere ahfent to obey their 40ramand&, as when they were under their eye. CHAPTER, XXXVI. TH E day beginning to clofe, the company tool: leave of the fuifering family, wifhed them a quiet night ; and that after having overcome fo much for- row, they might again feel joy. They now returned to the inn, and would have en- tered the firil room they came to ; but the hoftefs ran up to them, faying, pray do not go in there ; it is fo near the kitchen, where fome travellers are fmoaking and drinking, that I fear you will find the nolfe very dilagreeable. If you w ifu to be at your eafe, you had better come into this little parlour where my children fit ; you will find a good fire there, and I will go and make the fire burn above llairs, for we did not expert you lo foon. They followed her, and found ever^ thing in good order. — They did not fee, indeed, great glail'es, pidures, or any other kind of coftly furniture ; but every thing befpoke the indultry of thefe good people. The wall was hung with Ikeins of yarn, jpindles ready to be realed, and ftockings with knittino;- needles in them. There lloo . a w heel, here winders ; and on a little ihelf were fome ufeful books. A girl of 122 ELEMENTS fixteea, and another of fourteen, were cutting bread, and piULino Uttle pats of butter on a plate, for the flip- per of the family iliat now entered. A thh'd girl was fpinning, and a boy fat writing at a table. This fight afforded Mrs. Jones great pleafure. I find, faid Ihe, that there are Ifili very induftrious peo- ple^ in the world. Vv^hen we have only a defire to work, anfwered the holtefs, we lhall always find fonie- thing to do ; and there is no pleafure like employment. Befiues, if my children had not always fufficient work to do, they would Hand Itaring in the public room, Avhere they could neither fee nor hear any thing good. But, excufe me, at this hour I have a gr^it deal to do In the kitchen. She went oat, and the hod entered, a cheerful healthy-looking man, with honelly fparkling in his eyes. He had in his arms his youngeft child; and, ap- proaching his little guells, Ihook them cordially vvith his right hand; which labour had fo hardened, that it felt like leather. To-day, faid he, fmill'Tg, I am nurfe. iMy wife, and all my people, have cl;e :r hn.:;:s fo tuU of work, that they could not hold the pv: or ]itt:e bantling, fo I mull take care of it. But I do nor com- plain, I have Hill a hand free and rert,ei how the W'oaiaa called out a hundred times from the cart that God would return it to him. It gives me pleafure to hear all this, faid Mrs. Jones but r have heard him accufed of enticing all the j^rui- ers to his houfe ; yet I can fcarcely believe it., ^ There is fomcihing in ic, however, anfwered the girl ; when any one ileeps here once, they wilibe fure to come agaiii, if they travel this way : nay, I have know foQie travellers go on aa hour cr two after ic gro%'3 d: -/k, -J reiUierc. But there ii-nodiin- svvom ELEMENTS OF in all this, he is fo civil to every body. He alwayt takes care that the bread, beer and meat, are good; and when he is to be paid, he does not overcharge any- body. Is it to be Vv'ondered at that he pleafes peo- ple ? JMr. Jones heard, with aftoniinment, this girl's dif- conrfe ; who, witii the greatelt limplicity, in a fe\f jjniiLucs, related of a man, in a mean condition, irjorc ^ oou than many rich men ha\'e done in the whole cor.rfe of their lives. He could not any longer remain iilcnt ; but faid to his family, — 0 dear children fee hoiM 7iiuch good a Jingle gco<\ vian can do ! His wife, four of his own children, and t-,vo W'hcni he has adopced — fe- \'en perfons have to thank him for their whole comfort and joy. How miferable would they be if he was as carelels as the angry man w e fav/ this morning. How many poor will he have been a comfort to — What a number of fatigued and way-worn travellers will, in his houfe, fpeiid a comfortable evening, and gather new flreno;th. If now, a man hf a lituation reckoned mean can do fo much good to others, how much more ihould be expected from one in an elevated rank r WhiHi he was fpeaking, the honed Inkecper enter- ed, and alked if they would pleafe to go up Itairs, fay- ing, the room is warm, and the fupper on the table. The whole company ftood up, and looked at him with iilent refpeft, as if a nobleman had entered. Mary quickly hung on his arm, and James would gladly have caught the other^ if the uveet babe had not already been enlbided in it; he therefore followed, holding Mr. Jones' hand. ivlrs. Jones was iafl ; and when llie came to the room door, Ihe ti-rned back, faying, Ihe lliould foLm come to them. Scarcely v.'as the door fhut, when ihe went towards the iridnlh-ious little people, tenderly cmlraclng them cue aUcr the other ; and faid, good children, follow the example of your firh::r and micle. and I promile yor, a!l will' do well. She then joinec her faixil v in the otlitr roo n . It was fmali and low, vv-'idi little doors and vnti: M O R A L I T Y. 185 doNVs, but ftili they were all pleafed with k. The wainllot table was covered with a clean cloth, antl plates and dhhes, which looked equally neat ; it is true, the Ipoons were not lllver, nor the knives very handfome ; but every thing was well drelled, and the honeft hoft who chatted with them, and the ruddy girl who waited, pleafed them all. When they wenu to reil they found cle::a beds ; and, in the morning, a good breakfait. Aucr this cheerful repai'^, Mr. Jones went himfelf, once more, to fee the Ci rate, and to enquire how he anil his faafily found themfeives. He ioon came back, an<{ brouo-ht the agreeable news that tliey had all flept: w-ell ; and that he found the lick much better than they were the evening before ; at tJie fame time he ad- ded that the Curate, with his wife and children, had promifed to vifit them as foon as they were vveil. Nicholas was now told to harnefs his horfes, and the holi was delired to bring in his bill. He foon broughc it ; and it was fo reafonable, that Mr. Jones could iioc imagine hovv" the Innkeeper, without injuring himfelf, couid have provided them with fuch good things at fo theap a rate. He Ihook his head, and faid, friend, there mi.il be foine millake in the reckoning. 1 be- lieve not, faid the hoil, a little afioniihed, taking the bhl to look over it again; however^ Mr. Jones did noc vvaitforit, bi5t preiling fomething into his hand, tliere is the amount or the reckoning. He then, turning to hh wife and children^ defired them to be quick and get into the coa':h. What are you thinking of, Sir.^ cried the holt ; why, heaven help me, you have given me t ten guineas. !. Mr. Jones, turning half round, fmiled on him,, and faid, if there is more than your due, yon kno w. how to ufe ir ; when a poor foldier's wife and her children come to lodge with you ; when an orphan w ants clothing, or a 'prentice-fee. The hoft would ftiil have railed iome difficulties, but Mr. Jones was fo full of refpeCl for this good man, that he liiook him heartily by the hand, fprang into %Lq coach^ and 3v, av it roiled; the-children Itiil crying ■ o 3 ELExMENTS OF out, c-ooiroye ! good bye! Mr. HoR ; and when he (o del no longer hear them, they (hii fondly fnook their heads and hiuids at him. CHAPTER XXXVII. ^ |~^' H E horfes mwd have f>ired as well at the inn as? the relt of the party. They fnorted the frellt a^r ; antl v^ ere i'o iively tlurctlie coachman could icarce- ly h' Id them in. They v, ent on at fuch a rate th^u they were all pleafed with the o.ifick motion. They to :tinued this pace for above hah' an hoiir, when the < oachman was obliged to halt, becaufe the road ran lip a hill ; and Mr. Jones wifiied to get out, that he might have, r. more extenhve view of the beautiful couniTy v,h;;.h the hill commanded. When they had gained chj ridrig groLnd, lie ilepped in again, and the travellers ',. c:.t on as quick as before. They faw al- ready, afar o:f, ihe ileeples of the city ; but their dif- ranee made them apr.ear to Mary fo fniall, that flie could fcarcely beheve that they Vvcre the great ftee- ple$ of tiie city. Bat Mr. Jones allured her that Hie v/onld fee them grow hirger and larger as fhe advanced ; and tfiey W'.)u!d i'c^a }ia\'e feen them near enough to j .ulge of their trne height; if a frefn accident had not regarded their progrefs. Sse^me pare of the iiarnefs gave way, and Nicholas Tvas near half an hour before he could get it in order aa;ahi. During that time Mr. Jones walked with his children by the he'ds, and made them obferve the beautiful vercfue of the riiing corn, which decked the £dds, and had attained fuiiicient llrengLh to endure the rigour of the approaching winter. As they were jifpping into the carriage again, they heard, at a dift- arice, a voice cry, ilop, itop I they tUirned round and favv' a girl running tovv ards them, Vv'ho made ligns, and fricvefi ihem fomething v^diicli llie he^d iu her band. MORALITY. 187 Mr. Jones went to meet her, llie came r.p to him quite or. t of breath, v/ith a purfe in her hand, .and I'aid, have you no: loit this, Sir ? I law you get into the coach, and tbimd it yonder, where you were v. alking- juitnow. Mr. Jones telt for his piirfe, and perceived indeed that he had loft it. There were ten guineas in, it, and a great deal of iilver, He wondered at the honefly of the girl, whom, by her drefs, he fuppofed to be v^ery poor. He ftroked her cheeks, alked who were her parents ? whether llie had any brothers and filters ?and u liar Ike had to do in the fields ? I have only an old mother, replied the girl, and file is very poor. For above a year fhe has been tor- mented by the rheunuuifin, and has not been able to do any v/ork. We have nothing to hve on, but wliat I earn by fpinning. I came out now to feek for wood, that I might make her a httle broth; and I come every day to gather a few flicks together, that we may ha\'e ib.iiething in the winter tokeep ourfelves warm v.'irh. And v,'hy then, a Heed Mr, Jones, did you not keep this money r you might have maintcuned your poor mo«. ther a long tirue with it. God keep ine, eKclaimed the girl, from doing fuch a thiug I I knew very well that the money be- longed to you : and if I had kept it, it would have been juft the fame as if I had itolen it. I ihould have been finely received by my mother, if I had carried her heaps of money gotten in this way. Tvlr. Jones then put his hand into his purfe, proba- ' bly to leek for a guinea ; but his wife held it, and faid, will yo'- permit me to reward this good girl ? her hoiztjiy has g'iiued my entire confidence. If you will allo w Die, i v/ii] take her home with me, and teach her every kind of houlhold labour ; in time fhe may become my cook, and take care of my f\ore-room ; I perceive that I can truil: thishoneft girl,- and I have long wiihedfor Inch a uerfon in nry houfe. She ob- tained, as may eafily be fuppofed, her hufoand's con- fentj and allved the girl whether fhe \vas willing to i88 E L E M E N T S OF come and live with her ? proniifed her that (he Ihoiilcl ^ bine enough to eat and drink, and good clothes; and Ihe liiould be treated, in every refpetSt, vefy kindJy. Thegiri, aiioniihed at th;s oifer, wept, ciaiped her hands, and laid, all, kind Madam ! 1 would gladly go with yoa ; bot v.hat would become of niy poor old niotlier ? if 1 left her llie would die of hunger. I will take care of that, faid Tvlr. Jones; I will have her carried to a ho-afe, where ihe will find a warm room, and enoi-gh to eat and drink. Take for the t' prefent this money, anci buy fonie meat to make brotli for your mother ; and afk her whether Ihe will let i you live witii us, and accept of the provifion we offer her. Next week I will fend for you both; tell me exacily v, iierc you live. The girl looked at what Mr. Jones had given her, ^ the momeu-t (he quited them. Good gracious ! cried (lie, how mr.ch money ! half a guinea, a crown, and feveral fh.illings. She counted it over and over again ; Ihe had never in licr life had half ib much. She ran as quickly as Ihe poiiihly cor-ld to ihew it to her motlier, faying to herfelf, all the vvay {he went, yes, this is well ; it was wcW I did not keep the money. How my poor nioiher will be pleafed wiien I bring her all this. She now came to tiie houfe, laid the money ontlie table, and laicL there uiotber, there is a heap of mo- ney, which is all my own; and I aui now going to make yon fbmc ni.:e i:roth. A great Lord gave it to me ; ii^IoM 1 fiiil of gold. 1 really believe there was a h'.Liti'.T.' r; ' '-:.s in it; I found it, and he gave Kie rbit baci! ■ ' y out of ic for ujy honelW. He had J-i id'.: ■ • ;.-;!us], good-natured lady, I can- MORALITY. ling tears of joy) that God would blefs thofe charitable people. The next week a man came -for them. The woman was placed in a comfortable aims-honfe, v^here llie was to be maintained all her Ufe. Mr. Jones brought lip the lioneit girl, who foon became an excel lent cook, manied fome years after an honeft workui^ man, ant] led a very contented life. Mr. Jone* and family now approached the city ; and Mary faw that the fpire« which Ihe had feen at a diftance, were in* deed Ifeeples ; and fhe was not a httie furprized at it. They now fpoke of nothing but Charles and his tooth-ache ; and Mrs. Jones felt her heart bea: wheit flie thonoht on ' the fad ilate in which they fliould )robably find him. But how great was hei' joy when they came to the houfe and faw Charles hirafelf, full of health and fpirits, fpringing out to meet them. Sh« and his father embraced him, and Mary and James did the fame. As foon as Mr. Jones heard that tha Jew Ephraia:! had cured him of his tooth-ache, he be- came dear to him ; and he was not How m teftifying^ his gratitude. CHAPTER XXXVIII. 1\ /T R. JONES* principle merchandize coniiiied of -LVa. woollen cloihs and ftufts, for which purpofe he had ellabliihed a manufactory, and conilantly employ- ed a ni-mber of woinen and children to fpin the wool, whofe labours kept many looms in motion to weave it into cloth. By thofe employments he maintained above three hundred people. The day of his return was Saturday, when all the men, women and children who worked for him, al- ways came to receive the money which they had earned during the week. Ac (ix o'clock the honfe refembied a fair, there was iuch a concourse of peoale. I90 E L E M E N T S OF Mr. Jones ufcd to feat hiuifelf at a table, on which lay two or three bags of money, and callino- them one' "'^ after the other, made eacli of them liiew his account' f which he examined, and paid iheiii whiat they hacj earned. The people who received the money be- haved very differently, fome v/ent o^it with an air^ of I f ftupified indifference, others inormured, and faid| it was much too little, and that they could not fiibfifl on it ; but many received th:eir ^va'^^,es with a cheerfuj countenance, thanked Mr. Jones, aiui laid, that they would drink his health to-raorrow. A certain v/eaver attracted Mr. Jones' attention ; he was one of the lirit v.'ho came into the room, yet Itood ftili without havino; approached to receive his- wages. He placed hi infeli" near Mr. Jones, with the fore finger of his riglit harid relVnr?^ avrainft his nofe^ and obferved, very thoiij^h *:fuliy , ho w lAr. Jones told out his money. iSoinctimes he imiled, and Ibmetimes ihook his head. At lali Mr. Jones alked him what he . was thinking of ? and if he did not valli for his wages ^ I will wait for ii, anfwercd he, if you will contuiue' to reckon with the people. It rejoices me to fee that:' you have fo much money to pay, and I think how happy ii that there are rich mc:?i in the ^Mdrla. Hov/ many people do you uov/ give bread to for the whole week, and many a bit of roalt meat for a Sunday. I really knov/ not how all tiie people in the world' would live, if tliere were not rich nien to fet them to work. They could not buy wool, and it fometimes' theygotafev/ p?nce, and could keep life and foul toge- ther while the)' fpun it^ or made itinto cloth, theynvould lofe half their time in gonig abo^t tofell it, and at laft, perhaps, be obliged to let fome hard-hearted man have it; who, taking advantage of their poverty, would jr-Ai give them enough to buy thebread their chil- Idren might be crying for. But now they want no- thing, neither woolnor work, all the week; andarefiu-e of receiving their vv^ages, when Saturday night comes. Mr, Jones looked at him with furprife, and th.e weaver, who obferved that his dKcouie pleafed him, continued— There are indeed many MORALITY. ich tlieir money, and fee with an envious eye that aey have iuch baiitiful houfes, fuch fine clothe^^nd cep fiich good tables. But A always fcold them, and ay, you are very foclil']! people, who cannot fee a itfurcher than yoiirnofe. The rich cannot eat their ;old, and if they build bautiful houfes, lay out fine ardens, buy grand cloches, and fare better than we an, why, they mail always give money for what hey get, and then it goes through a number of hands* The butcher, the baker, the carpenter, the mafon, |he fmich, the farrier, the glazier, the (hoe-maker, nd all the reil of us, profit by them ; or how would hefe people live, if there were no men who had mo- ley to fpend? 1 know, indeed, that nobody gains a arching from fome of the rich, by their good-will ; hey are always fcraping more and more money toge- her, only to hoard it up. But happily there are not nany fuch in the world. Mr. Jones adnfired this ra- ional man's difcourfe, paid him his wages, and advif- id him always to try and think in this manner ; for uch a contented mind would make his little meal tafle )ettcr than the dainties of the hard-hearted rich, anal le would lead a much happier life than tliofe who con- inually viewed, with an envious eye, the good for- :une of their fuperiors. Scarcely was this weaver gone out of the room than mother drew near, \vho whifped Mr. Jones in the i^ar, that the man, Vv'ho had jult left him, was a lharp land I How fo? allied Mr. Jones. He is a choice inave, anfweredhe; if you knew how he has alrea- dy deceived you, you would certainly not give him a [liuttle-full more work. Mr. Jones expreffed his fur- :3rize at this information, and defired him to wait till .le had paid all the workmeA, when he would fpeak with him more fully about the matter. In the courfe of half an 'hour, Mr. Jones found himfelf alone with the weaver. Now, honeft man, alked he, what more have you to fay to me ? I only fay this , that Mailer Jackfon, who has been talking fo finely to you^ is a knave. I do not like to fpeak E L E M E N T S OF ill of any body, ftiii what is true ought to be told. And it is not proper th:it I Ihould lee fbch a good inaf. ter cheated, without telling him of it, Kis wife fella one piece of (hiff after another, which her hufoand has ipun from the wool that he cheats you of, I fuppofe. Tor where elfe could it come from ? He is always buy- ing new clothes. Laft week he had a new coat made; I cannot do thus, yet I neyer lit with my hands a- crofs. Mr. Jones looked at this man with a penetrating eye, and aflced with a firm tone, is all this true ? He caft his eyes down and anfwered, to be fure it is true^ if I had not been fure of it I lliould not have faid it. And to whom did his wife fell the ftuff? continued Mr. Jones. That I cannot exactly tell, replied the weaver ; but you may be perfectly fatished it is fo, or I Ihould not have told you. i vvould not for all the world tell you an untruth. Mr. Jones let him go, and prom.ifed that he would look carefully into the affair; and he really did lift the biifmefs thoroughly. He mentioned to his wife what this man had faid of Jackfon ; and, from that hour, ihe took various methods to difcover the truth. She weighed the wool and the yarn, and meafurcd the fluff with the fame exaclnefs ; comparing his work with that of the other journeymen. After fiie had watched thus carefully, a whole month, flie came to her hufband, and faid, would you think it, that of all our jotu'neymen the moft honert is Jackfon ? I have now for a fufficient length of time obferved his v/ork, weighed, meafured and compared it with what has been done by the red of the peeple we employ, and found that his was always wove in the belt manner, the quantity equal, and often more than was bro- light home by the others, who had the fame materials given to them. On the contrary, the man who flander- ed him is a rogue ; his ftufF always wants a yard or two, and I have found out the place where, the day before yellerday, he certainly fold a dozen yards. I am glad you have ma4e this difcovery, faid Mr. Jones. MORALITY. »93 This bad man was Toon called, told of his wicked- nefs, and his work taken from him. Jackfon was then fent for, and Mr. Jones faid to him, Friend, you have been a common journeyman long enough, you delerve a more profitable employ- ment, I will make you overleer of my manufadory, you will have lefs work to do, and will gain more money. Be but as faithful an overleer to me as you have been a weaver, and I lhall be content. The joy this unexped:ed offer gave the honeft man may ealily be fuppofed. He held up his hands, and faid , is it polhble I how is all this come about ? You may thank Ned Sly for it, faid Mr. Jones. Marter Sly, Mafter Sly, who would have thought it? faid Jackfon; I always fuppofed that man owed me a grudge; but now I fee I wronged him. You have not wronged him, continued Mr. Jones ; Sly is t wicked man , he complained to me of you, as^if you were a cheat, and kept back part of the yarn I gave you to weave. I did not know enough of you, for bow can I know all the people who work for me? But from that time I have been I'ery attentive: I have carefully meafured and weighed all that you ha\-e done, and difcovered that you were the moi\ honert and indurtrious of all my journeymen. Tears of joy rtarted into Jackfon's eyes, he thankfully prefTed Mr. Jones' hand, and faid, I fee now come to pafs what my poor dead father continually ufed to fay to me. ''Jack, al-ways flick to honeJJy^ and th^n your mqft fpite- ^ul enemies 77iay contribute^ without thinking of it^ t9 vour happinefs.^^ He returned to his houfe, and carried this news to iis wife and children. It is eafy to fuppofe what joy le fpread amongit them. R 194 ELEMENTS OF CHAPTER XXXIX, TH I S act of juftlce afTorded Mr. Jones iincerc pleafure. At dinner he coidd talk of nothing but honeii Jackfon, and aiVured his family that he was better pleaied at having; become acquainted with his real worthy and that he had it in his power to reward him, than if he had gained a thoufand pounds in trade. He ftili continvicd to talk of honeily, and added, that an honeii man was always happier. than a knave. Had Jacldl^u cheated me, c(mtinued Mr. Jones, he wouU not liave gained as much as he has now by his honef- ty. He was very right when he laid that the very enemies of an honef\ man often labour to promote his fortune, becaufe they fpeak ill him, which contri- butes to make other people more attentive to his coa^- duel, and they difcover the good qualities which ^ modelt man is not .eager to bring forward to notice. At the end of a fojrtnight another caufe of joy oc- curred, which gave them even more pleafure. Mr» Jones Itood at the window chatting with his children, fuddenlv Mary cried out, father, father! look, look! what is that coming up the ftreet ? a whole cart-full of people, H'ealiy believe it is the Curate, and all hisfamis- ly. In a moment Charles' head was out of tlie ^vinr dow. It is, it is indeed ! There is dear Mrs. Ben.- fon, there is George and Henry, Mr. Jones was foon convinced that it was them. Now there was a tumult of joy throughout the whole houfe, every one calling out, here comes the Curate ! here comes the curate ! — The door was opened, the g'acfts ftepped out , all freih and in health. But at firiV they could ROt fay much ; they w^ere fo ftarved with cold that they could only bring out, as they tripped into the houfe, hov/ cold it is ! how dreadfully cold ! Mr. M O R A L I T Y. 195 Jones defired his fervant to take care of their horfe, aiici then followed his gueiU into a warm room. The dear travellers thought it very pleafant to come from the frozen iields i-nto fiich a comfortable room, and be received by inch friendly people. Mr Jones and his children hel^x^d them to tai^e oif their great coats and cloaks, -with which they had mnflied tiiem- felves, and Mrs. Jases ordered fome good chocolate to refrefh her friends, whofe teeth ftill chattered with cold. Half an hour paiied before they were faificient- ly. recovered to enter into any regniar converfation ; and iz was not till after they had drunk two cups of chocolate that they began to converfe. They drew their chairs nearer to each other, and Mr. Noel, who came to alk a queftion, was requeued to make one of the party. Nov/, my dear friend, faid Mr. Jones, tell v\s vv'hat has happened to you fmce we left your houfe; didtthe difmal days of ficknefs long endure .'^ ' The Curate related very circumlfantially how much they had afterwards fnlfiered ; but aiTui*ed them, at the lame tiras, that they had never in their lives been bet- ter than they v;ere at prefent; the danger, continued he, of lofnig my wife and children^ who are my fole treafure, maac me very fad ; bai I have myfeif expe- rienced, that there is liothing more vrye, -tiiaa what I have often preached to my parilhcncr*;; ihat Jorr(np is very beneficial. As iong '-as it endures, it indeed occa- fio.is us trouble and pain, bdt when it is pa it, we may plainly fee the great advantages proc\n'ed by it. I can- not exprei's to you how, contentedly we ail now live. Oar children' always loved us, becaufe we ever treated themi^th t€-tidernefs; but when they, in their fick- ncfs, 'f^vv hk!>w careful we ere of them, how much ifv€ fiihered- on" their' account, they then hrii difcover- ed ihc fui4 ec^tent of our aife(ll:ion, and are row fo dif- pofed ta do-'^'every thing which we deiirc, that v. e could ix>t ifh fowhetter children. And even my wife and i- I0V& each t)*her much better fnice we baVe learn- tdiu the Tick chamber how abfolutely neceiri;ry we are R z E L E M E.N T S OF to each other. I my myfelf have been very much im- proved by it, for I an become more mild and forbear- ing ; formerly, I cannot deny it, I was a Hctle halty. — y^'v'v^ell, ^vell, anfwered his wife, holding up her finfi^cr widi an arch look, do not tell of yourfelf :) lofiHcrly continued he, fmiling, I was indeed too hafty, 1 miul acknowledge it. I grew .angry in a moment when anyiittle unlucky accident happined in the family ; but now how inleniibly have I been taught patience, by ehc anxiety which I felt on watching at the fide of the lick bed : when one of them cried, oh, father, I am fo thirfty i another, I muft fit up ; a third, oh, my head ! my head ! it does fo ache ! When the infant cried, and the mother groaned, then I learned to h© patient, then I learned to give foft words. Now I ihould certainly not fo ealily be made angry by any unlucky accident.-— And how much more have I learn- ed ; I know now hov/ we ought to nurfe the Tick, how to heal a bad breaft and how to treat children who have the fmall-pox. Since the illnefs of my children, I have been called in by all the peafants, whofe chil- dren were Tick of the fmall-pox. I gave them the good advice which I had gleaned from experience, and have been fo lucky as to fave the hves of many chil- dren, who laid in a very dangerous Aate, and the eyes of one ; all which I Ihould not have been able to have done, if my own fufferings had not taught me. If we had no forrow, we Ihould be fo accuftomed to the comforts of life, that we fhould no more think of their real value, or enjoy the days of health and peace ; but wlien, now and then, a day or week of anguilh and diiirefs comes, we really rejoice in the pleafant days that follow. Yes, how good does this chocolate taite in the company of fuch dear friends, and with my beloved family, who feem to be fnatched from th« grave. I fhould not have felt the pleafure I now do, if 1 had never known forrow. It is with forrow as with the winter, whilft it endures it is very difagreea- ble ; but when it is oyer, the recollection of it adds to the beauty and frelhnefs of fpring. M O 11 A L I T Y. 197 You have obferved very j'-iftly, dear Curate, faid Mr. Noel ; for ia my youth I had few real cares or Ibrrov/s, every thing v/ent on as I could wiih. ; but I am alhaaied of myfelf, when I look back, when I re- flecl what a man I'have been. — I did, at the moment, %hatcver pleafed.-my foolifh fancy : I was proud, without pity, and treated poor people as if they were no better than brutes. I was a tyrant to my fervants, and ufed them ill for the leall overfight. Employment was a thing I never thought ot; I did nothing but eat, drink, dauce and play ; walk about, redicule people, and deep. It is only fmce my fufferings began, fmce I have endured poverty, hanger and contempt^ that I have become prudent and virtuous. Oh, how ufieful I how ufeful has lorrow been to me ! In fdch friendly convcrfadons a great part of the day palTed away inlenfibly. About three o'clock the Cu- rate ftood up, and taking his great coat, looked as if he nieant, with his family, now to bid them adieu. But they all gathered round him, and oppofed his de- partr.re. Mrs. Jones entreated, her hulbandreprefent- ing that the days v. ere now (liort, and that it was dangerous to travel at night. As for Charles and Ma- ry, they even ufed force, holding the great coat that he might not put it on ; at lai\ his own family deferted h'n\i, and joined in entreating him to ftay. The chil- dren whined and killed his hand ; he took refuge Vvith his wife, and begged her to Ibnd by him; but fne, made the matter ^vorfe. I think, my dear, hiid Ihe, we may as well l\ay ; v/e have left iuch orders at home, that all will go well, though we Ihould not return to- night. There was then a general expreiiion of joy. Tnc Curate faw himfelf overcome, and was obliged to give up the great-coat, which the little folks held fo f Having gained their point, they fprang joyfully .from him, and locked it up carefully in a ciofet. R 3 ^9^ ^, E L E M £ N T S OF CHAPTER XL. A F T E R. the cliildren had been fome time in the- J"\_ room, they ran uito the yard to amufe thein- felves with Hiding. They had two httle fledges with, which they were allowed to play, as long as the yard was covered with fnow The rough wind that had whiftled in the morning, was now laid ; and the wea- ther become quite mild. The children exerciied them- feives fo much by dragging the fledges, that they did not feel the cold ; and were perfectly happy The day now began to dole, and they reiolved to return to the company. But, before they quitted the yard, a plea- limt thought came into Charles' head. He faw the pleafarecart in which the Curate and his family came ; iie got into it, begging his little playmates to follow hini; they did not recjuire many entreaties, and were loon feated ; and then Charles made a motion as if he tlrove the horfe on. Jehu, jehu ! cried he, that we ij]ay foon arrive at George's horde. But there was no horfe to receive encouragement from Charles ; the cart did not mov^e an inch from the place. Upon this the whole party burft out a laughing, and got oat a- gain. Their little driver followed them, though he could fcarcely laugh with them. Could I but once have a ride in fiich a cart; dear me, how pleafant that would be I Do vou really, faid George, wiih to go } If you do, I will run dircclly to my father, and beg him to let the horie be put to. There is the cart, and there ftand the horfe idle ; in the winter he has iutie work to do ; and I have often heard that horfes grow refliiF when they ftand long in the (table : fo it cannot do him much harm if we trot about for half an hour. So, without waiting far an anfwer, he ran into the parlour. AH the little tolks followed him, and furrounded the Curate. MORALITY. George firO whifpered in his ear what they wiflied ; and they all feconded his prayer, either with their looks or words. The Curate Ihook his head, and faid, I know not whether Mr. Jones will be fatisfied. I cannot give you my permilHon without his confent. All the children then fixed their eyes on Mr, Jones — and he faw by their fparkling that they wilhed to afl<. fomething of him ; he cauie up to them, and enquired very good-iiun>ou redly what they w'ere confulting a- bout. The Curate told him in a few words ; and Mr. Jones, who always liked to Ihew that he reluctantly refufed tofatisfy the wifhes of his children, feemed dif- pofed to comply. He looked at the iky, and laid, the Iky is clear, the weather mild, and I have noobjedtion to the party ; but we cannot let them go alone, be- caufe fome accident may happen through their thought- Jeflhefs. It is neceiiary that fome perfon of more years and experience fliould accompany them. But I am afraid, my dear Sir, that this little Jaunt might v. eary you, as you certainly are not quite recovered from the fatigue of your morning's journey. The Curate, how- ever, alTured him. that he would willingly take part in their pleafure ; and added, that his little journey ' had not fatigued him, as he had defigned to return in the e^'ening. The two mothers were now called, and afked whe- ther they would accompany them. This propofal was particularly agreeable to Mrs. Jones, who had not been out of the houfe for above a week, and wiflied for a httle exercife. Mr. Jones then ordered his own horfe to be har- neffed with the curate's, that they might not over- Avork the horfc whilft they were taking their own pleafure ; and the children hopped and jumped for joy. Whilit the horfes were putting to, they drank tea, and then the whole company feated them- felves in the cart ; and they wrapped thefelves up fo warmly, that they had nothing to fear from the cold. They drove directly to the Downs^ from which 200 E L E M E N T S O F they could fee a great way on every fide ; and the icicles, which hung on the rocks and trees, feemed . to be beautifully dilpofed on purpofe to amuie them. I The rokd was beaten, and fo foft, that the cart rolled fmoothly on it without the company feeling any m- couvenience from the motion ; the weather was mild, the air llill, and the whole, heavens ferene and be- fpangled with liars, Mary was particularly pleafcd with this fight ; aad faid to her brother, look at all thofe little lights, how they tvv'inkk ! They are not, anfwered Charles, little lights, but great balls ; the fmalleft of which is faid to be larger than our earth. Mary buril out a laughing, and faid, ©nly think, father, Charles wants to make me believe that thofe Uttle lights above us, in the Iky, are great halls. Charles is right, replied the father ; they are cer« I tainly bails ; and the moit part of them are larger than Gur earth. But how do you know that, dear father, afked Mary? I know it becaufe they are fo far i from us, snd ftili we can fee them. Do you not j remember how little the lleeples of o .r city Appear- ! ed when we were at a ditlance irom them p It is the fame with the ftars, they feem iictle lo us becaLife we ■ are far from them. If they v.' ere no longer than a . flambeau, they v/o'-ld be as invifible to us as the briiifes on the little bulls at the tops of the vlecpies- : you faw v/hen we were removed at the diltance from ■ them. But Is not this Very v/o iderfrl, continued Mary ?■ Who has place ri chc liars fo high ^ it is inipofiible for a : man to rcj.h che-n. ^ l It is indeed ir.\;-o.Tiblc, anfv/ered Mr. Jones 5 and it is for this reaion that v/e o\.ght to be certain, that befide man, th-re itill muil be a being whole power : extends to the liars, as well as to our earth. I will now name tliis being to you: — children, hear his name with reverance ! lie is calietl Go{l ! at thefe \Vo,ds Mr Jones folded his hands, the C rate did the fame, the children imitated their example^ and a pro- MORALITY. 2.01 found iilence enfncd for above a minute ; ^vhich the Curate broke, by laying, there is ever aa awful paufe in my mind, when I think on this fubject. We mult be bund if, m what we fee above, below, and around us, we do not difco^'er God. No mill, no watch, be- gins to move of itlclf. All thefe machines are pro- iduced by the human underftanding ; much lefs can the [great world proceed from itfelf. Every thing goes Ion in it as orderly as in a good watch. The ftars ne- iver go out of their courfe, or drive againrt one ano- i thet ; and all things fpring up in due leaibn ; as I can ' point out beforehand, where the hands of my watch I will ftand as a certain hour, fo I know where the fun ( will be at eight o'clock to-morrow morning , where, to-morrow, will be this great beautiful ftar, which is I called Venus ; nay, in what part of tiie fky the moon I will appear in a few moments. Look where I point i with my finger, there it will foon be viiible. Scarcely had they advanced a few yards, when the , moon arofe ; and they all clapped their hands and cried, Oh the beautiful moon ! How little are w€ when compared to God, continued he. I fometimes i think, with w'onder, on what I poffeis, wheal walk in ray garden. Ifl had a whole village, men would reckon me very rich ; if a large ertate, I fliould be called a great lord ; and ftill greater Ihould I appear, ifl had kingdoms ; as for example, a prince, king, emperor. "^But if I had a thouland kingdoms, if I had the whole earth, what portion Ihould I have of the whole univerfe ? — not more than one of thofe little ftars which glow above us. For to the people who inhabit thofe little l\ars, our earth, with all its moun- tains, cities and fteeples, would not, be viiible. Are there then people then in the liars ? aflied Ma- ry, full ofaftoniihment. Hov/ can we doubt it ? anfwered the Curate ; for do you not fee, my dear children, that on the earth every thing is filled with living creatures ? Dig into t:he earth, tliere all is ahve. Mount upon a tree, Ithere you Y/ili find various infedls. Cut a tree in 201 ELEMENTS OF two, and you will fee that it contains a little, city, in which there is a muiticude of inhabitants! How' many thoiifands ofinfe • After he had got it agaui, be c.^me- baclv-io die ciit^t^ and fa id, do you knosv v.- hat took oft' my' hac, arid made it roll lb far acrofs the doWns ? Oh, ■ you know very well, fays Mary, that it ^ was the ' wind. '^The wind [ anfvvered the Curate ; have you ever feen it ? Mary Having a ^ured him that Ihe never had, you perce^ 3 :hJii, he continued, my good girl, that there are tilings which no one has ever feen, and which Ihll can produce eiiecls. It is the liune with God ; no one fees him J yet he works every v- hcre. M O R A L I T Y. During this converfation the hour deftined for the little jaunt expired, and they turned towards home. The chddren were fo touched by what the Curate had faid of God, thac they were fcarcely arrived at the houfe, when they begged him and Mr. Jones to tell him foniething more of their Creator. Mr. Jones wciit into a adjaceat room, and brought a beautiful magnet with liiin. Pay attention, children, fpid he, and I will ihew you fomething very remarkable. He laid a needle, then a knife upon the table, it foon raifed them both ; he afterwards- laid a bar of iron under it, to which a ring was failened ; it ficw in the fiime manner, hanging to this woiiderfui flone, and fO; firmly adhered to it, chat a ccniiderable weight, .which was fufpended to the ring, could not feparate them. What has raifed the iron ? afl^ed Henry. There is fomething inviffole, anfwered Mr. Jones, always in the magner, which attracts iron. There are many ihings beiidcs which we cannot fee, whofe effects we ftlil feel. Approach the oven, and you willfeelit warm ; go into the frefli air, and you will feel it cold. We have remarked, that cold makes the running water hard ; and that when you carry ice in- to a room, warmth will make it How again. Never- thelefs, you have never feen either heat or cold in the air, which does all this. — So it is with God. — When- ever we call our eyes, we fee his v. orks ; but he him- felf is invifible to us. During thele converfation the evening pafl away : the time of rell approached ; but the children were fo impreffed by what they had heard of God, that they earneftly entreated their parents to can tinute his con- verfation next day. 204 ELEMENTS OF CHAPTER XLI. SCARCELY were die children affembled at breakfaft, the f(jllowmg morning, when they re- peated the requefl: which they had made to their pa- rents the evening before, that they would fay fome- i, thing more of God ; and Mr. Jones defired the Cu- I rate to take the tafk on hinfelf. Dear children, faid he, you may eafily believe that the God who has made thofe great globes in the heavens, and all that we fee on earth, could eafily i torment and injure us, or, in a momet, kill us ; but i! he does not do it; he only employs his power to give ' joy and pleafure to the living creatures whom he has ; created. All the pleafure that you have enjoyed in j your life, and will enjoy, comes from the fame God who made the ftars. For he has produced every thing that affords you pleafure. This chocolate, for example—^ I beg your pardon, Sir, interrupted Mary ; our cook made it. So it feems to you, continued the Cu- rate ; but, in fad, all comes from God. The cocoa, and the fugar cane, of which the chocolate is made, he commanded to grow. He produced the feeds out of which thefe plants fprang ; warmed them with his fun, and moiltened them with his rain. The water, which is necelTary to mix with thefe ingredients, he bade fpring out of a fcource that never fails ; and the cook could not have made this chocolate if God had not given h^r more underftanding than he has given to a cat or a dog. So it is with every thing that we fee ; God has made all. Neverthelcfs it would all be loft on us, if he had not fo formed us that we can enjoy pleafure. Mary, hold your hand out a little; I will fhed . a little chocolate into it ; does it not tafte yery good. MORALITY. / You joke, Sir, faid Mary ; I tafte nothirg. He then ga\ e her half a cup-tull, which Ihe raifed to her mouth ; and alTured him, that now indeed ihe tafteci it. You fee, children, how good God is, continued the Curate. Had he given to our tongue and palace the lame klndof ikin that covers our hand, we (iio-.ijd taltc^oching, nor receive any more pleafure from ^ood rolt mucton, that from chewing ilraw. And, on the contrary, hud he made our hands in inch a roan- wer that we could talie through them, only fuppoie "how uncomfortable it would make lis. Every moment we mult take hold of thino;s which have a difao^reab-c - 1 • taiie ; and that v/ould caufe conltant loathing and .<^ifguft. When we take a walnut out of its green co- vernig, how much bitternefs mufl we tafte before v. e ,come to the fweet nut 1 He took a little almanack out of his pocket, and fhewed the children fome pictures, which they obfer- ved with pleaUire. He then bid them faut their eyes, and held a picture to theai ; but they faw nothing. God could, continued he, ealily have farmed our eyes like our eye-lids ; bow miferable we fliould then ha\'e been ! There would have been for us no beautiful co- lours, no rays of the fun, no flarsin the Iky to pleafe us ; our whole life long would be a black night. Shut 5 our eyes once again ; do you not find it true ? is not all obfcure and black before you ? So would you have been obliged to grope about all your life, if God had not in fuch an ingenious manner formed your eves. But come to me, Henry, and look in my eyes ; what, do you fee ? Myfelf, anfwered Henry. I fee indeed two little Henrys, which appear as like to mc as one egg to another. And I fee in thine, faid the Curate, two little Curates. Our eyes are like fmall looking- glalTes, in which every object is reflected that paffes immediately before us. In this way we may remark every thing beautiful which God has produced in the world ; we fee the mountains, the woods, the flow- ers, the birds, the animals, the ftars in the heavens, and our dear friends. Have you underilood me ? 2o6 ELEMENTS OF The clii](Ji-ed allV.recl him that they had. And now, George, Hop your ears with your fingers. We fee t\H mountauas, the woods, the flowers, the birds^ the ahlinals, the liars in the heavens, and our dear friends ; (hc^ winked that he Ihould open his ears again ;) have you now luiderrtood me ? Not a word, dear father, anfwered he. How much pleafure, rejoined the Cu- rate, ihould we be depi'lved of, if God had not given us ears. Vie Ihould not hear the inRrudive conver- fations of our friends, nor the fweet founds of mufic ; and of what ufe would be the melodious notes of the nightingale, if we did not hear them ?— -all would be ufeiefs to us. What an agreeable odour the rofe, the carnation, the auricula, the hyacinth, have I All thefe pleafures may be afcribed to that wifdom which had formed our nofe different from our eyes, hands and mouth; be- caufe he has formed it in fuch a manner, that through it we can feel the exaltations of things.. It is thus our eyes, our ears, mouth and nofe, are fo many doors through which pleafure enters into our fouls. But oh ] how much pain too, desrPvIr. Cu- rate, faid Charles; if you did but know what r. dreadful pain I had in my teeth when my parents and filler were with you ! Does pain alfo come from God? Undoubtedly, anfwered the Curate, pain alfu comes from God. For God, who has fo fornied w. tliat we can ^eel agreeable feafations, made our na- ture fuch, that we mull alfo teel difagreeable ones But %\ hen he. has fent pain, he only does it tha: thro, gh pain he may procure us more pleafure. Your fatiicr has informed me, that your tooth-ache gav- you an opportunity of becoming acquainted with an honell jew, who freed you from the pain; that this acquaintance had engaged him to advance a confider- able fum, that enabled the Jew to begin a b.ifinels, by which he maintains his family in a decent, honeft manner. When you fee this Jew, what do you thiuk ? I always feel fnicere joy, replied Charles. M O ?. A L I T y.- 207 AiiA this jay, continued the Curate, you have to thank y or, r tooth-ache for. If you had not had the toorh-ache, the Jew co'ald not have cured you, your father would not have become acquainted with hiiu, and of courfe wouUl not have lent him the money, which has been of fo much ufe to him. Your pain k long lince over, but the Jevv's happinefs will for a length of time atibrd you joy. Experience has then ta-^ght you that pain is ibmething good, becaufe it leads to joy. Can you ilill recollect how rhe. Jew looked, who freed you from your pain ? O yes I anfwered Charles, very well ; he liad a large nofe, a grey beard, a Itowu coat, and a very Arange way Gi talking. It feems to me as if I now heard him fpeak, as if X faw him before me. Obferve, faid the Curate, further, that God has fo made us, that we can reprefent to ourielves pall and abfent things, and rclifli our amj^em.ents over again ; he procures i s, in this vv^ay, much pleafure. By this faculty we can reprefent an sbfent friend to pur minds, remember the good we have done, thti pleafures we have enjoyed ; and procure ourielves many agreeable iiours, independent of outward cir- cr.mitanles. Have you never read a book that amufed les, many, anfv/ered they all. Lalt week, faid Charles, i read Young Grandifcn ; it is a charming book, and quite delighted me. But, continued the Curate, if you were 10 put that book before a dog or a cat, it v.ould not uiuierihiud a word of the concents ; and therefore could not re- ceive any amufement from it. If God then had not given you reafon, only think how many pleafures you v,-o\dd be deprived of ; you could neither re^'d a book, nor vvrite a letter : you could not reflect how you-might better your ii:uat!on. No houfcs v/ouJd be built, and you would be obliged to live in holes and caverns like animals.^ Does it not then appear tliat God muil love men, when he has formed them S 2 2oS ELEMENTS OF in inch a manner that they can enjoy lb m. xh p'ea- iVire ? Bi.r, {Ad George, (lo-^s not Gu.l love the poor 'aiiiinai: , :;•;.! >.;ie he lias not cr<.^;..t.ca tiicm in j'uch in.inner. diat tiiey caii tiijoy as much pleauire as lie net anxious about that, aiifwcreti his father ; God has fo formed every aniisral, that the greater part ofitslifeis palled conionicd'v ; its pleauires far ex- ceed its pains. Tfanimciis are deprived of many of the enjoyments that God lois ornnted to man, recol- Ivcl that man is the •> " ••crk ve are acnuainr- ed with, and has th.- .... '..^ to lulhl. ihi the contrary, i-jiimals i-rc porliaps often gratified with things v.'hi,d-i w e pliGg . er with indiherence ; life is a" oleiimg to tiuni, heca ooltis a gift fro:ii God, who, when He called ao. v ( l eatnre into exiltance, deugned to commnnicai-e ioo.cr d-aree of happinels to it ; and Vv hen it fufters pam, it is to render it better, in order that it may enjoy more nlcauire. Lock at Charles* Sancho, who is lieeping yonder. God has particularly delllned for his nonri(ii,;nent tlie bones, which man cannot eat ; he cai: gnaw the griitles, find the mar- row in the bones-, and live on what we cannot cat or reliih. The poor animal would be in a dreadful i\ate if he had a hoof like a horfe, and weak teeth like a ilicep. But von have jnft perceived that his Creator forciaw cUl that he would have need of, to procure his food. Now I iunx' u.^mething fait rn my hand. Come hither, George, and iry ifyoucan gO:eis, by In'clling it, w hat it contains. — You cannot. x\\'v> I w ill hold my hand to Sancho. Eee liow he licks it, how he v/.;gs his tail ; he will foon bark, he gives us now to nnderhand that n:y hlf contains fomething which is proper for him to eat — there, Sancho, you' fnall hava it, you h'ive giiert it ; itvv a.-a criift of bread. You perceive, by this, tliat God b.as g^vcn a finer ienfe of I'melhng to the flog, tlian to us; by which means he jceks for, and dikova's, all the nouriihment around him, which is lit for him. Confider a little his paws. A L I Y. 209 -^how fnppie they nrc, and provided wich TihIi cx- ceileiu naiis, v/iih vhich he can hold fidt the bone he willies to gnaw ; but this could not be done if he had the feet of a horfe or a goat: and thcfe tceth^ ^fee how firm and fpiky they are ; by the help of them he -Jn crack the hardeiUroiies, and lii^d the marrow. Ills the fame \rith all animals — God has taken as much care of them as of the dog — He has given to each all that it required to procure it food and pleafare. If JNIrs. jonf s has in her kitchen a fov. l or a fiih, inten- ded for dinner, and will allow me to obfcrve it a little, . I willlet you yourfelves fee that God has tenderly- thought of it. Mrs. Jones went fmillng out of the room; but foou came^back, and brought vvdth her a pike, and a wild goofe, vv'hjch the cook had jult killed and drawn. Here uill be fomeehing to fee. cried the Curate ; children pay attention ! rh's goofe found its pleafure in the water; and you fee that it is ,fo formed, that it can live as well in the w.izer as a man can on land. See what large feet it has, very unlike thofe of a tur- key ; but thefe kind of feet are neceliary, that it may make its way through the water. It it had not fuch feet, it would with diiiicidty move from the place where it firA began to Uvim. See how thick ana clo- fe the feathers ar-^ together, fo that the v.-ater rolls Oif without x^^ftiing if Throngh the alldfance of this warm frr, the animal can live continually in the wa- ter, wirhoiit a drop coming to its body. Bit the food it finds in ponds and lakes, where it ufu- ally fupports itfelf, might eafily fail. — Vvhat then would the poor anim.al do? its feet are not made for running. If it w^alked on the earth from one pond to another, it would foon be hurt, or carried awav by its ene.\!iies, hut this incoaveuience h is been forefeen and provided for. What it wants in fv% ifcnels of foot has been made up by thofe long and llrong winges. 'With thefe it can raife itfelf in ihe air very high, and can move itleif from one place to aiicrher far quicker than 1 can in mv pleafure- care. Let -a5 now examine-- ■S3 ^ro ELEMENTS OF irscycs, they i-j'c ;;pcIoi.!>^c;!]'/ v-ry cil-Icrcnt froM oi'i'b. Obier\ i\.. ii.u:r t!;e- rcpcl: r ht'Je '.:in. v. Iik li ilils a r. Jural ci'ii iWx-.J over -i:., vy--\ yet can ic^e \cry throi c h it. — Tii.^ ikii], iii'lted, uiuii Lc vtry ulefi.l wheii ii nlui^C^Cb it:, head Into :he v/altr, for it gi arJs the e\ c ill iiich a manner th.it no water ca;i }.'ejerr;iL:: lOIC, anvl yeccioesiioc pr^^ eac its ehierjiiiiiv hi, ihod at the btucopi. its bill aho dtfervcs artnv tio.^. It is armed w ith teeth with which it can brea- ks prey. I'iow let 13 ciuiddcr the pike ; it has neither fcer ro: viiHy. ; hi it i\\i.ie are not necelFary ; it only ]i\e iii ihc vaicr, and ne\ tr letks thr any pleaihre out oi :l ; yet it l!£3 been fonned by its Creator witii the fame m and wihionji as ccher annnals. Feel this armopr - . i. .h ( O .■.-»rs iis body : it is all compofed of fcales, ■mndi l;e io cloiely one over the other, that not a orop of Vx ater can penetrate through then.?. \'on ha\ c cecLain^v leen a ihip, or fonp" other \ eiiel, and remark- ed the rudder, -a Inch the piiot turns to directs its comie. Oi:y pike has likewne this rpdder — it is his tail, in which there is great ilrenoth ; \\ lien lie ilrikcs the water vv-iih it lit can niovc hnafelf Vvdierever he- wiihcs ; yes, he can, by ti:e help of it, lb ftrongly i-.ioe; hiinlelf lorvard, that he gdides through the wa- ror kke a bar:. And b moh be fo, or he \vt)nld not Jive co::do!na!d V , beeaule the nttle fiih are deltinedfbr hisfanporr, antl LvPv couid he catch them, if he had r:OL !;een ma.dc to f\/im qiiicker than they ? i3nt let us ex;;;nii.e ihe oth.er parts (if his body. As the pike vras jnadc p) Ipve bv inantnig fmairfdh, fome of which you tee in bi^ maw i lie had need or arms : lee thefe hook- ed teedi, v.hich are ih funnly fet ; wlien he chafes a ihh, he darts lapcn it open-mouthed — fnaps it — ani alas ! the poor bin that comes into his teeth need not think of efcaping. You may af^, indeed, with fnr- prize. V. by God has abandoned this little filh to tbie voraclops pike ? Bnt conbder, if God wonld give life to a great number of aninials, it could not be other- wife 5 iorne iiiult fnpport others. We hunt the hare MORALITY, 21 1 rtUvi the parrricige, and find them very good ; why thea i%-)uid it feem imrealcncible to us, if the pike cha- fes the hctie ii!h, and fh-engthens kimfelf by devouring; theiii ? Soma time or other rhoi'e animals muii die, and when the pike i\vallo\vs a fiih, it is done in the twink- ling or an eye ; on the contrary, the^^ Wuuidhaveen- dured much more if they had died of old age. 1 fnail only lay a few v/oi ds more of the pike ; he is not en- tirely Vvithout feet. Thefe lirong fins ferve inlleadof them, ar.d muil be very nfeful to him v.'hen he fwims through the water, or glides to the bottom, vvhich he often does. — It is the ilr-iie with all other animals: if you coiJd brin me a tnoiifand diiierent ones, or '"he fmali- elt worm, I coi ld iliew yon in each how God has pro- vided it with the organs or Inlluments neceliliry for its obtaining all the nonrlfhment and pleafure necelFary for it. 0 Cod, Lo-iu c;ooJ art thou I cried Charles, quite affected. Yes, indeed, ad- ed Mr Jones, we have cacfetofay, O Godi, how good art tho'; I When I the u^oi'ks of God, I cannot help beheveing th^ic he is a Mailer, wbofe grcatc::il joy is to reric'er Aappy thole creati^re; v^ liom he has made ; or, to ipeak with more pioprieiy , that he is tke Great FATFfEx of all. — Through the whole world has he diiuded plea- fure ; in every little plant, in every drop of v/ater, does it lurk ; and he has fo formed every living crea- ture, that it can draw irom this common fource its portion of plealure. C H A F T E Fx XLIL WHILE Mr. Jones was fpeaking, the Curate Hipped out of the room. In about a quarter of an hour he returned, and told the company' fome- thing which was not very agreeable to them. The horle. faid he^ is put to, and w^aits for us ; children. 212 ELEMENTS OF we mu{\ now immediately take leav^e. Then they all be^an, as they did tlie eveaing before, to expctulate, coaiplain and entreat But aUer ihe Curate had repre- leined to Mr. Jones that the neceiTary duties of his profeirioii now obhged hiiu to i-c^turii home, he took his part, and faid, 1 dare not deraiii a maa v. ho has iaiportant bufinefs at hoaie. Charier and .vlary had,' at fir ft, refafed to give ip the Curaie's great coat^ . \vhich they had feizcd on ; but as foou as their father defired [hem, they bro ght it to hi!n. They now ftood near a q'.iarrer ofatihoLr, taking leave ; th:^.uk- ing and killing each oUi^r,. Then the gueits llepped into the cart, after having received aii anurance from Mr. Jones and the family, that they would foon come iind fee them ; and oif they drove to their owa vil- lage. After dinner, Mr. Jones returned to his brfmers^ and -encoL.ra^ed his faiiiilv to do the fame. DuriUsT January, and part of Fehrunry, their en)ploi-,ients went on in a regular manner, wirl.oat any thing re- markable happeniiig. It was towards ihe niiudie of February that fomeching occured which at firft made them all very uneafy. One day, as Mr. J-ones was fitting in the nfidfi: of. his family, amuiing himfelf with them, IVlrs. band- f.jrd entered the room; her eyes were red with ween- ii]g, and after a lliort compliment, the bittereft com- phi.its bur{\ from her. Mr. and Mrs. Jones, faid 'hat anguilh it muft have coft' hmi, who groaned when he was obliged to part with a penny. All thofe who were in court fuicereiy re- joiced that God had brought to light a crime that had M O R A L I T Y. £17 been fo cunningly concealed. Afterwards Mrs. Sand- ford gave ten guineas to the girl, as a reward for her honeity. w hich 11:6 bad feme diiiiculty to make her ac- cept. CHAP T E K XLin. WHEN Mr. Jones returned home, he found a poor woman who had already waited for hitn above half an hour. She moi^ earnelUy entreated him to viiit old Martin, one of his weaver , becaufe he had been treated very inhumanly by his fon, v.'ho had left him to ftarve in a garret. What I a fon let a father -die with hunger? afl-^ed Mr. Jones, quite fhocked y and, without laying a word more, he folio v.- ed the woman, who conducted him to the poor man. After having mounted up three pair of flairs, he found him in the moft wretched Hate : old age had ren- dered him fo infirm, that he was unable to get oi;t of his bed ; and this bed fcarcely deferved the name of one, for it only confilfed of rags and a few old ciilhions, with not more than a handful or two of feathers in theai. What ! do you come yourfelf ? cried the wrecched grey-headed man, as foon as he difcovered him. Ah ! will you help me ? You fee now how- cruelly my gracelefs fon has treated me ! I gave him my houfe, with only this condition, that he ihould maintain me till ray death ; but no fooner had he the houfe fecure, than he ufed me like a dog ; he turned me out of my own room, and only allows me this mif- erable garret, where I am almoit frozen with cold — he eats with his wife every day good roaft or boiled meat, and only fends me bread and cheefe, or fome cold fcraps ; and, as if this were not enoi'gh, 1 am often obliged to wait till three or fo..r o'clock betore I can get a. morfel ; and when he brings me fomethiug; he ogives it me with the inoil cutting words j he has evea T 2l8 ELEMENTS OF faid, that he is tired of me — that he co.iIJ not any lo:'ger n.aie iiie — :hai: I had hved long ei;o<:;^h — and that it was thne that i ihoAd leave the VvorKi. Uh 1 Mr. Jones it is hard to hear f. ch things from a chili" whom 1 ha\'e carefwlly hrought up from his infancy, and piu in a way to eary an honeit livelihood.. Mr. jo.^es trenVnled in e\ ery limb when he heard this. 1 could not have believed that there was a moii- ikr in the world, with fuch a hard heart, faid he, as to abandon a father, who had been careful to nou- rilli and educate him d.-ring his childhood DeGre the man to come \ip here, coicinued he, angrily, to the woman v^ho had condiicled him. He came r.p with a Icrocioi^.s look, and Mr. Jones aflced him, very folemnly, w hether he was not afraid that God vvould puniih liim for leaving his father, his greatell benefactor, in want and ibrrow ^ Why, re* plied the rude man, I have children of my own tolV.p^ port, and I iiave enoigh to do to procure them bread ; I know not vvlierc it k to coine from, if this old i;ian nr.iit always have Ibme uainiy to devour ; indeed it is iinpofrible for any man to bear wlcli him. Vv^hen he ig in our room he finds fault with every thing ; iomctimes he fcolds about this, fometimes about that. I do noti like to ha\ e in my houfe fach a noife and vexation ; |^ will be mailer here. The old man interrnpted Thomas, faying, Thomas, v.'hnj; are you talking about Do you not know thap the hoide is mine ? Have I, your father, deferved this of yon ? "\Ve]l, what right have yon to fay fo much ? an- fwered th^ hard-henried n^an ; you did not ufe your father much better ; for oi-r neighboiirs have not fail-; ed to tell me what an u idutiful fon you were in your youth. Do you Piili recoiled how you gathered the fcrapes from yo ^r tab^e for your poor father, which other people gave to their dogs.-^ They grey-headed man trembled with remorfe when lie heard thefe bitter reproaches, and groaned out, 0 GocII—mii artjujl I M O Fx A L I T Y. Mr. Jones then .uefired this ungrateful Ton to leave the rooQi, and afked the old man whether the accufati- o;i which his- foa had hroi>ght agaiail hiin ^^ as true? A i\rt?.m of tears ilarted from his eyes at the q\ eihon. Ah, woe is me ! anfwered he, they are but too trne ! I had alfo my old father in my ho-.fe, and becai.fe he for fome years lay bed ridden, and could no longer earn any thing, I was weary of fupporting him, aiid. indeed often let him fulFer v.* ant — a ad, oh ! I now re- member that 1 fometmies i.fed very hard words when I fpoke to the old man, my faUier. Here, upon thefe Hocks, where I lie, he alio laid for three years, till he died in the greateit mifery. — ies, now 1 fee that my i behavi'our to my poor old father defcrvcd this paniih- ment. Unhappy man, f;iid Mr. Jones, how could you be fo cruel as to abandon yonr father? Did yon never think hovj much trouble he had with you in your in- fancy ? Did ycm not know then that Gog fees all, and that he is jull ? That he rewards the t;ood, and pmiiihes the wdcked here, or hereafter? Could you ^xped your fon to becoa)e good, when you yourfelf were Vv'icked? See in all this the jallice of God-— bear patiently with the punil^ment you ha\ e deferved, and pray to God to have mercy ou you ; mean while • I v.iil endeavoLir to foftea your mifery as much as I can — here is half a guinea ; get fomething to cheer you, and I will goto your fon, and adviie him to a6t more like a man ; — and if you ihew by your patience that you truly repent, God may, perhaps, fofc^n your pu- nilhment. Saying fo, ?vlr. Jones left the old man, whofe tears flow-ed fall as he begged Gcd to pardon him, ! and went to feek for his fon. ; He fpoke very forcibly 'to him; and aCced v/hether ' he did not hope to live to be old ? and whether he did not fear that his children might treat him, in the days I of his weaknefs, as he now treated \iis old father? He. -added, that the God v. ho now punifned his father's lins, world alfo, in his own time, certainly punifh him. For of thii he ojght to convinced, liiice no mail could T 2 2:20 E L E M E r^T T S OF efcape the cheadifment of the all- wife and juft God; a^Hl -'.vn 2" ihll wni- Iv^ continued, that if he ' :'i7 ciay , okl father into a warm «■■• ■•• ■ ' — -• a c---od bed, and fufficicnt ■ ■•■ ■ hv:: . : . ■■ .-.w . lie would take no more iioiicc c-: liiiu, a>ra .vc'. er give him any more employ- nic it ; lor ii a Li.m could be lb wicked as to be im- r his parents, he Oionld never exped him to ay towards other men. Thele v.crds were d thunder- clap to tiie hard heart of thefon, a::-.. .^.rii-enc- ' ' > * 'i ro a promife, thai he would be- have bcucr i.^ ■ .r in future. liicicc-.i the fate of the miferahle wretch V jVir. joncs oficn enquired aficr him, and . :eard that he was no longer hjrrt red to want .; ..i-ng, tlvv; his heart was torn by the keeaeil remorle I'c. ... . ...ment of hi& lather. C Ii A P T E R XLIV. ^ i ^ H E weather, towards the end of February, af- ter the hard v*'intcr, became very ufdd; — the fiui began to Ihine — warm winds to blow — and the fnow~ to rnclc away. Charles and Mary faw with mnch plcafvre liow the earih, and che tiles, v^lru:h till theii hud b-wC-.: all w hiie, now 1 e; 'n to fhew their own colours, 'I'jicv i)elieveu ilia: ihj ]iuiugwas certainly coining — 1 i;uy actually coulu'cr^d how they Ihould alter their f.t^u garden — what they ihould fbw and plant in it — -.uuJ .uready began to gather the feeds together,' which they intended lo low in their little Lt(L. But as, during the winter, an unidual quantity of iiiov/ had fallen, which the i\.dden warmih of the wea- ther dii!bl\ c.i, it co"^ered all die Hekls hke a lea, and the mo iiune:! earth could rot rcatlily imbibe fuch an I ■ ' ' u ;'e of water. Torrents ran from all the iu-^...:u.u.j.^ . v> ell in g the Severn till it overliowed its. MORALITY. 22 r ! banks, and fpread defolation over the whole country. Ic was a Jreadfr.i flood ! j It may be frppofed that ?vlr. Jones' family were in I pain for their beautifid garden^ which lay on the banks of this river. Charles and Mary were continu- ally peeping out to fee ho\v farihc w aters were come. *tVhen ihey v/ent to bed one night, the ikeani feeined to be as high as the bank ; but in the nicrning the maid came inco the roo:n with the fad news, that tli- whole o;ardc;i was under v-aicr, Al the fame time, they hecird from all Tides com- plain :s of the devaitation which the v. ?ucrs had made. One man fpoke of the bridges, mills, and hoiifes, that had been carried av/ay; of the trees which had been torn lip b;^ the roous, an-d of the men that had been drovv'ned. Thefe accoimts ca^vfed great trouble in Mr. Jones fa-nily ; he vv'as forry for his garden, hut Rid more fo for the cahappy v/retches, who by this intuidatlon had proha!):y' lolt all their property. Mary rC'^rected her auriculas, and Chnrlt^s was in pain for hia beds of caboagcs. Mrs. Jones thought of the lit- tle fnniner lio.iie v/hich iiad been b-jiit only a few years at fo ae little diilanc fro.n the r.vcr, and Ihs feared, widi reafon, tliai: tlie water had carried jt a- W'ay, Slia had fcarcely mei"itioaed the fummer-honfe, when Mr. joiics clafpcci Ins hands widi terror, and fald, where is hoiieil Henry? our poor Henry— What is becii'.ie of him? He midt be drowned, or he will die of h-a^er. Tb^ey were all Ihocked, and faid poor He^n-y 1 How co. ld wefo entirely forget him? Vv hat iin ilt we do? Ho^v ihall we refcce him 1 Frnb 1.1. tin., find i -Ir. Jo ies to ms ferva its, this in'da .t ran co a vracei-man. and beti him, with fome of hib men. ro go iii a boac to. lave Henry, ai-.d 1 will gladly pay h<.A whatever he af^s. Tne ierva^it weiu. but Mr. jones was fo anxious, thac nc lo Id noc reninii behind; he ran hinjfelf after the iervanc^ and foon ei;oa,:ed a watennan. by the. 1' 3^ ELEMENTS OF ' ■ V. h lienf}' ik:'':, and ha-: ^ ■ ■ - \ vVhen ihey Ca.i:e n^ar^ ' , o :t of the windosv, extcnd- : u. They then rccio; : ^ - - . — oened vhe boat to the hw i--p to ii\ : iiiight de- — - . ' cai :;!]t : , . To^e, fa{\- ei:.:/d ic to w ' -iv'.ovv, aad Hipped c-owa. As ico.i lie ca:>.ie into the bo:' b- ' d upon his bnec:^, a:i.;i <.nr J or-t, 0 T-c//, T.fy^' cry.i.palfhn- • •' " ■ ■■■ ' ■ ■ f-rayer I 'inen he role, and : • ., : -c: pco';ie \v ho were v\ 1th him ' , ior their takca fuch care to hr-e his A :'!■:•(■ V arc's Mr. : ^r^d hini how he felt wbea ^' ■ A ' 'd ^ ^ r:; L (i ii:'j;er ? nt i iiioijld fbon the with terror, i'ei . ; i lay qiiierly down to reh ; I'u !.;.^i"! C:\' h: - . ■ ch V, v/bcri I b .:^:ird a ih^k- • ill !uy r . inhered a- .. :!i : iioifc M>.i : . _ ^ : , i i ~ i: inroad awalic ; i'i\A^:i;b ■ b;:,;-cr in i.e-, y o;.t^ ' ' ■ " ■ : . . 1 caii- 3 . ^ Ay f..a:Ai- i.e waier tiil I cauie t 1 . L .:r rooiii wbere you and d-A.: r c Ainnier. Bat what did I adv^i v;ar A .0 _ ; d \ :.: \\ irid ra^ed ayaiail the win- dow:;, riid wA ' - d - ':. :^h the ho le ; die waters i]j:::de uich a drcauAl no lie that I baipetted nothing leA than that the gronnd woakl give way under me. 7dhls morning, aboai hve o'clock, tlie water entered the upper room, then I ga e myfeifi'p for loft. It ap- pcu-ed cer'iain that 1 Ihorld periiliby hiuiger or water MORALITY. Athftl thai^ght that. God was with me, and at the fame inonient i be^an thus to pray to Him : gracions God j Thou hait already prcierved me fifty years in this world : Thou hall ^ranted me many blelliags which I ought to thank Thee for ; and Thou wii: not even now abandon me: fave me, if I can be of any vSe in the world — -it is very eafy to Thee. But if it be Thy will that I ihorild now quit the world — behold me — here I am — my God ! I am content. Thou art my dear Father, and I am Thy child. I mult iubmic to whatever Thou thinkeft fit — Do with me vvhat Thou wilt ! — It muR be good, if it come from Thee. — i cannot exprefs to you, Sir, how comfortably 1 felt after this prayer : fuch a pieifant hour have I not had for a great while. I ft^lt, throi-.gh my whole fouJ, that 1 vx'as near God, and my fear vaniJlied. I aimoit died with joy when I thought, ihould my gracious God le;ive me to die. He mul\ know that death is better fur me than life. After Vvards I ftood upon the chair on which I had been fittirrg, and faid, once more, che*=r- f'jlly, "xes, gracioos God, I am here, Do with mc what feemeii beft in Thy light Then I went to the win dow, looked oiu, and faw nothing but wacer a- round me, for no living foiJ could I fee. For about three quarters of an hovr did I look around — my tho ughts, frill turned to God. When I difcovered a boat, and faw that it rowed towards me, it feemed to ir.i ; 5 li God himfelf were coming — for i firmly believ- ed, i;v;c.r mailer, that God fent you to me. i\lv. Jones praifed Henry's behaviour, and aff-jred him that an ardent prayer was the bell means to pro- cure us comfort in trouble, and courage in danger. He added, that as foon as a man prayed to God he mi ii think of Him ; and when he thought that he had fuch a good Mailer, b..ch a tender Father, he would be brought into inch a frame of mind as not to fear any thing. For when we reiign oi rfelves entirely to God's pleaii;re, not preuuning to point out, in the llighteli v/ay, what He fi^o-'dd do wi'h us, but firmly rely on Hia]_, \viio made us^ He wiJ at all times pro- ±74 ELEMENTS OF v'aie what is befl for us. This I have very often ex- perienced, added he, and prayer has frequendy cu.n- forced me, when in the deepeit alHiflion. U I. ring this coaverfacion, the boat had croITed the water. Mr. Jones paid the waterriraii ^ ery generour- iy, a^-.d took lienry v/ith hiui home. A tumuk of jov' rofe in the ho*jfe when he appeared. They bropght him into a warm bed chanfbcr, and Mrs. Jones ran hcrk.';f to bri'.;V Hun fonie broth. The feryant g^ave h.ui dry ciojhcs, arid the chiliren ft a ted themleives by hi.n, and ber;ged him to tell tiiern what he had re- lated to their father. CHAPTER XLV. A T the end of tv/o day?, the miter returned back ii.co ics channel. Ti^-l.' iii'r'J-J.ay a lu'ong wind blew, which dried theearca io q. relay, thiit Oii the fourth Mr. jo.'Cs co-sui tr'.r Mr ch-k'ren iaio the garden ; b tiirre ihry o d / . .' .r.c \va ie ; the water had carried away a»i i-ic iv-v p'arts a. d <. ood ground, and left a quantity of r..bi{]i ard fa.-.d be- hind : fo;nc trees were torne i^p by the rojus, and many that were Railed to the vr.-U vrere bro:-:ea down : the fvunmer iio.wc vvrr \ c r / ni ri ; o.dy by the \vacer, b. t n ^ f . : fridge. thev , r, :rc'.'er IojVcL . ' r]. The chiid-'en \ ' ■ : ' ' : : . -:r inj ry whiv-ii '.. . , J o.-.ieo al'o iooK- c:i ' : r r. r: 'hi- r-,-. I civ y . I . . ;are ;)i).v io - y h.iJ this - 'v-i- ! , : .c li) :re" ...an ,oi;r .■: . iia e bi.'c.i e^ipioy - _ r.. . . t r> : It.—a.id . .■ ■ ■ Cv\-. .-u . .ar.; d.... .i..d iur : . .i. -ir. an hrnU.i-l MORALITY. 125 'men have laboured at it. All this, in lefs than two , days,. has GocUevelled with the ground. What, in this country, has been brought to ibine degree of per- fedion, by thoufands of men, in a cowrie of years^ i He has in a moment, 'as it w ere, delb*oyed. And do you know by what means He has done all this? By iimple flakes of fnow, which He made fall from the clouds, and afterwards become waler. Vvhat He will He can do ! He has MOt only the flakes of fnow under ; His command ; but all that the univerfe contains mui\ ' do His will. With the fmalell: things he can prod.-.ce the greattlt effecis. What, in companion with man, is a caterpillar ? neverthelefs, when He caufes thefe infeds to multiply abundantly. He can, by their means, delh'oy the trees of a whole country. What is nnaller than a drop of blood ? yet, when it does not circulate through my body, but becomes corrupt, it will foon kill me. A fmgle fpark of lire, if it fell into combufiible matter, in a few houi*5 might burn oiir whole city to allies ; but all thefe things are un- der the diredlon of God ? for by thofe fame rays of the fun, by thofe fame drops of water which fall from the clouds. He can in a Ihort time produce fuch an immenfe quantity of vegetaferres, fruits ^nd grain, that mdiions of men and animals are fupportetf by them, without coiifuming all. My dear children, tiie God who can do ail thefe things is your father and friei^d, and as long as 5 0U ad properly. He will never employ His power, but to do you good ; you may live lafely ' under His Vv'ing, if you avoid evil. But, dear nuher, faid Mary, I am not a wicked cliild ; why has the good God dsftroyed my auriculas,^ and you, who are inch a good father, why has Hj laid your garden wafte ^ You believe that I am a good father, anfweredMr. Jones, neverthelefs I do many things which yon do not like. I often do not let you go into company, where you deiire to be — I have often taken fi'om you playthings, which gave you pleafure. You do not always know why, yet you think me a good father. ±26 E L E M E T G C F It is the fame with God ; lie does iiui^iy things \vlii;a vo j. do lioc lihe. b. i: He is as lar i\:r;n (if h - liivir to iiijrre yo.i as 1 aji, wnea i loai^ ci.xi.;-; '^ai^c away ycr playihirgs. Gooi morning, Mr. Jones, good nr^^^\^\g i ^-ood moraing, my dear ch.idreo, cried .a \"o :e l" (i.;e:?iy : they tur.:;e J quickly roMx^d, a.. J law — cs. ih?v' ia-.v the'.r old friend 'the Curare. Mr, jj.ico ca.;^:^Lr u.ie haiid, the children the cc :r. Oh I faid the CuraL'e, yo..r rarde.i prcTi^ir:-. a very nielancholly profpecl, b^^t ni ;,e is IVdi worie. My poor garden is q ate de;lro . ed liv irccs corn rp — - my wad thrown down — a. id che wnole h.rlace cover- ed with land and i tones. Ha\'e your apple.. a''b l'' '.:ti-cd ? v.l^cd Charles. Undoubteaiy, repUed :hj' C rare. Mr. Joites heartny p^i e;i c'ns good man, becaufe lie mud far more leidib.y kli nis lois, iii:."e he v\'asnot rich, and could not eaiiiy j'|iv-ar rhe lii-oney neceffary to rebuild his wall, a r d clear rhe rebbiih out -of his gar- dei. He took him by the hand, and requeued him to walk wirh him into his room, where they could con- vene more freely about this difailer. As foon as they had feared thcmfelsxs, the Curate faid, my dear friend, I will in a few words tell yo'i why I am now come ; I want fome money. If I wilh not to fee my garden a wa(\c the whole year — if I ex- pect to fee nouriihment for my wife and clilldre'i r-gain growing init, it is ablblutely ncce.Tary that I have ic Cleared away this week, and the wall rebuilt ; elie the Isafon will be pail, and I lhall not be eb!e either to fov^,%or plant in time ; hov.'ever, I have not io much m )ne/ before-hand ; I fliall want at leail tv/enty po.nids : will you lend me that fum ? liow can you doubt It, dear friend ? rephed Mr. Jones ; if yon wane a Imndred, yo.i Ihall have it. For this purpcfe has God efpecially given me money, that I ihoalci be able to help others. But, continued Mr. Jones, how hup;.c .s it that you are fo cheerfid ; after having fe ■ fich a p_;reat lols ? You feem as contented as if every thing had gone well. M O II A L I X Y. 227 And why fliould I be troubled ? anfwercd ihe Cn rate Do 1 noc aiiVrdly know by whom my gurcen has been dei\ro ed ? God has doi^e ic ; and v, hen I know that He is o^oodaefs icfeif, can I beheve chat He mearittodo me any harm? Through my whole hfe have I e-'perienced that He cares for me, that Hen rn% ail evil from me, and fo diredls all the difappointments which I have to lirangle with, that in the end they will be ufeful to me. ' When I was a boy I once wiilied to ci't a branch pfF a wiUov/ vhich Ytvng over a Uream, but I went fo carelefsly to work that i fell into it. The current car^ ried me along — I faw the bank once again, and thought it was the hA\ time I Ihould ever fee it. Bat God was tnere, and reicred me by means of a beggar, who fat on the bank mending his tattered clothes. He quickly . jdrew me out of the water — -out of the jaws of death. In my eighteenth year I had fach a fevere tooth- ^iche, that I was quite weary of my life, and, God forgive me for it I I almoin miilrulfed Him ; bnt through this violent pain, God brought me lb to Him- feif that I turned to Him, and learned to pray; and my prayer fo calm.ed my mind, that I patiently en* dured the m.oit excruciating anguifli, till a friend pointed oat a remedy. And how many times have I not fince thanked God that he let hie fiiiier, elfe I fiiovdd never have prayed fo heartly, nor have known the advantage of prayer. When I was at the univerfity, I had a burning fever, which tormented me during fome weeks, anci Vv'ailed all my rtrength ; but when I again recovered, I remarked that this illnefs was feut me as a blelhng from a gracious God ; fori had always before been rather fickly, bnt this violent diforder purified my blood, and I found myfelf in better health than 1 had ever enjoyed. When I came back from the Univerfity, I found in my neighbourhood an enemy, who faid the moft fhaiiiefui things of me, behind my back, and even 228 ELEMENTS OF tried to exafperafe the reclor ap-ainH: me, afTiirinp- him that I N\ as a very ignorant, dllbrderly man. By thefe lies he drew his attention on me, io that he ob- fer^'ed all my actions : and when he foimd that 1 was'a good and orderly man, he gave me tlie cura- cy I now have. Thus God dircded this in fach a manner, that my enemy's mahce contributed *to my benefit. In this curacy I had, indeed, at firil, much care - my httle income was not fufficient for the expences which I thought necelTary ; but I always hoped that God would point out a method for me to get rid of thefe gnowing cares. My hope did not deceive me. I found in my old farmer a deliveier. He gave me fuch wife advice, that through it I was drawn out of all my diflrefs. What 1 laft year endured with my fick family, you know already , and how much w^e may all learn frpm the chamber of ficknefs, you alfo knov/. If I then have fo long experienced the goodnefs of God, and fo clearly perceive that He has ordered ail my diiirelfes for my good, why fliould I not believe that He v/ill do fo Itiii ^ I have no care^ fo?^ God cares for me. C H A P T E R XL VI. NO W they were called to dinner, and the Cu rate was not a little furprized at not linding Mrs. Jones there. He immediately enquired after the ca ufe of her abfence, and was informed that Ihe had caught cold the day before, and found herfeif fo un- well in the morning, that Ihe was obliged to keep her bed. The Curate was very forry ; but, d. ring the meal, he tried to calm Mr. Jones' fears, and aifured hiiu, chat if he would be attentive^ he would certainly experience that this ficknefs alfo would lead to fome good, fince every thing God fends us was good^ how- MORALITY. 229 ever bitter it might appear to i:s. Scarcely was the meal finilhed, when he began to prepare for his de- piiTture, and wovld not let himfelf be detained by Mr. Jones' very preiring entreaties. Mr. Jones then cour- ted out fony pounds ; bv.t he woi.ld not take more than twenty, becaiife. he liiid, more v. as not neceiia- ry. In taking leave, he wiihed once more that Mr. Jones' ^'ear wife's indifpofion might only ter.d to make him better acquainted w ith the r^oodnefs of God. ■ Scarcely v/ashe gone, when Mr. Jones flew to h's wife's bed-fide. He found her v/orie than he had fi.ppofed — her pulfe heat very irregiilany, ai d ihe complained^of a pain in her head. ai:.'l violent thirlt. if Mr. Jones had notcherllLed the comfortable rtfl^ di- cn, that all is gcod v, h:^h gracioi:s Cod lends, this fight would quite ha\ e ovcr.on.e him ; b t h@ recollected himfelf, and ihoiigbt, Mcr'.ii" i i.od I n.y wife is in Thy hands — what I'hou hair deierinu.ed will certainly happen — and nothing h..rtfal wii^ Tnou do tome ! lie then fent immediately for a Phyrician. who gave him very little comfort ; for going av. ay. licfa^.:, cear Sir, do not regard your wile's iliiieil a^ a h^cluoi — . fl:.e wiii require a great deal of our care. On hear.r:g theie words, Mr. jones hnd need of all his fordt de, for his wife v\ as inevrrcilibly dear 10 him, and every pang which uie - v.,.. rea he fehas fcvereiy as if he had bee^i ■: ' r ' i^lu- - , ■ a dreacif.:! one ; the poor patient ne\ er ciolea n^;:' ^ - — Ihe groaned and was reitlels ; and her parses ... 0 :w iietimes 10 violent, that ihe grew dehrior.s, and \voi dd get oiu of bed to go and fee Mrs. Sand ford. Mr. ' rcb nc\ crlefi her bed hde, a?id tried, ill chc r; live accciicc, to compofe her. In the morning ilic svas a liirie heuter, but felt: hcrieif^^xtremiciy weak. The two following nighis were palled in the fame diilrerdng manner, and the day after ihe was fo exaufted that Ihe could fcarcely ip'-ak a word, U 230 ELEMENTS OF The fourth day, when the Phyfician vifited her, ihe laid to him, with a trembling voice, dear Sir, ■ have a reqiieii to make to you; teii me fmcerely, t you behove rr.at I iliali die r — : "..ir not death ! .Th P ■ vasliient, and iiiri^g^evi his fhoidders. — that I iiiall die ? laid Ihe. Well — i am pre- fiii.id- — I'hy \viiA,Ghmy God, be done ! She then made rjp.ns to the i'hylician to leave her, and let her hiiiiband .and childreii drav/ near. They canie, vvith eyes f\^immi^g in tears^ tryir.g to rclh'ain their fobs, and hiding their faces with their .' haadkerchiers. Weep not, nw ioves, laid ihe; do noE di:b rb niv liic ear nelqiraycr 1 Thca fi;e colleded all her ilrength — folded her hands ic^tiher- — raiiisd her eyes to heaven, and prayed aloud ; (}r.icious God ! I thank Thee, for ali the goodnei's Thou haii Ihewed me in this life — for every pleaiiire T hon h'?'"; • rimte J me — for all the difcipline Thou haft . i ;.\o\/ Thou callcit vr,e to Thylelf— ' ] , . ■ \ . i— confiding in I'hy love, 1 come 10 me, Oh I niy Father, be my i' . ; 3 Father. : ptfd, bccauiie her hufDand and chil- . . ;o ,d that her weak voice could not- | 1 rlc a frefi) erxort — turned herfelf ra- I r; i , fihd, i lhauk yon, I thank you^. th-:-.r h: ... • a'i ihe love and eilccni which you- La v'e ihu ... ..r lincc our marriage. God reward^ ti.v lovc ! Go:: tl.ce ! Farewell— — neck, and alniorc hided her v»'ith 1. i Jie children cried, Oh, dear mo- tCcF, do not uiei mo i Her I dear mother I Ah, mother^ do no: leave \is I File nipped oi.t of her hnfoand's arms, and faid, I lhall not die, dear children I I only lay ahde this body, as doth the bntierhy the hull in which is was en- clofed. The fpirit is vrvriortal, and goes to God., to- whom we mult all go, and He will reward each accordr ingly as they have aded in this hfe; the wicked He M O R A L r T Y. will pimifh — the good place in a better fituation, and reward them. Be good, dear children — obey your tender father— oifend no one — be atiedionate to all men — thuxk at all times that God fees you, He to \vhom I, your mother, am now going ; fo lhall we foori in a better world all meet together, and Jrye in eteraalghap- pinefs, God be merclfdi to me ? Pardon, njy faults I I fall into Thy arms Oh Thou great Fa- ther of us all I Here the loR hsr voice, iuid funk motionlefs on her pillow. With much difficulty Mr. Jones, brought her fo far to herfeif, that (he again opened her eyes — but flie could fpeak no more. Her eyes were fixed on her hidband and chiidreii, andflie exerted all her ilreno-th, flill to Hiew them, by ligns, how much llie loved them. Her heart began to beat more violently — Ihe had arattlinp in her throat — her limbs were motionlefs* and a cold iweat was fpreading over her whole body, in this condition Ihe laid two hours — then her fpirit departed. It is impoiiible to defcribe the lamentations wdiich her death caufed. Huiband and children, Mr. Noel and the clerks, men and maids, all wept bitcerly, and exclaimed — Ah, the hei\ of wives ! the good mother I our kind miilreis, have we loft yon ! how lad will the hcLife be when you are no more there 1 Oh milirefs i mother ! The following day her corpfe was laid in thecofna in which ihe was to be buried. Then tlit lamentations grew {till louder. As foon as the news was fpread over the city that Mrs. Jones was departed o - t of the \vorld, a number cf poor collected themfelves from every corner, to fee her corpfe. And when they fciw her, lamented over her — My benefadref^: — My more than niother I — My fupport when I had no one to help me! — Beii of women I Belt of women ! echoed through the whole houfe. A v/oman ruined through the crowd, and feized her cold hand. God, God blefs you I dear woman, for ail the good you have done to liie. You brought me up, a poor orphan — I could-ixot U 2 ^ 232 ELEMENTS OF &c. reward thee ! but God, with whom thou now arr. lie will reward thee ; and when I come to the jvidg nient ieac of God, I will tell how thou educatedit" , helplefs child ; — He alone can blefs thee as thon dcferv- cit to be bleiied. Afterwards the body v/as carried to the grave ; a great crowd of people followed the funeral,' and they followed, refoi nded her praife. 'When Mr. Jones reti^rned from the funeral, he fr.ri... ahnolt hfelefs on a fofa, and his children ran moiirnfr.K ly tohim. Dear children, faid he to them, the g^reat- eft comfort I had in this world God haS taken from me. Yoor dear mother he has called to Himielf, to reward her for ail the love ihe has ihcwn iis, and fuch a nimi-^ her cf}:oor people. Kow there is noihing fo de^ir iiil the world to me as you. If you lliouid become wicked, = I lhall no: long remain in this world ; grief would foon;! bring me alio to the grave. But if you continue to bej good, obediefit, iiKralirious children, and attend to truth, 1 1 ail hill find Ibme coujfort even after the lols of yoiir moLher. The children kilTed his har,ds, bathed them with their rears, ai d i roiuifed him, that they woL.ld impli- citly obey his wul. They kep. uhtir word. They grew up, and Mary became as benevolent, iiuccre a;.d coijv. laifant, as her motlier had been; and lijOi'e who ew her mother uied to Uiy, this is another Mrs. jehc^. Aiici Charles became a worthy man, who by liis i.C:\v\iy ar,d be- nevolence gaintci the alieclion and rciicc;: of all his friends and acci aintance. For a long rin^ie ?/Ir. Jones faw in the condi'vil - of his children the fruits of the good leTibns v, hich he and his wife had given them: and tr.o^igh in the follow- ing years he coi!::. incrca^'rd i:is Ibrt'uie. yet he was ibll more e..., e. j con\iucC(l, thai among -U his vrealure he iowr.d nc' king that axibrdecl him fb mixh piCulVre as the graiit: ce of Lis children. A/'d their gnnd behaviour h. his old ace rewardffd hivz fir tic 1)aiFS u'/jich their cdiicaii'jn had czit him. FINIS' 4