diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:24:48 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:24:48 -0700 |
| commit | 36f733d9fb0df41e683de3d9a21466eb7dceaf88 (patch) | |
| tree | 4a084c1866af284dcd2b513df70920415c9bb47d /5083-h | |
Diffstat (limited to '5083-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 5083-h/5083-h.htm | 4855 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 5083-h/images/coverb.jpg | bin | 0 -> 229210 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 5083-h/images/covers.jpg | bin | 0 -> 39615 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 5083-h/images/tpb.jpg | bin | 0 -> 75259 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 5083-h/images/tps.jpg | bin | 0 -> 5553 bytes |
5 files changed, 4855 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/5083-h/5083-h.htm b/5083-h/5083-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..536721f --- /dev/null +++ b/5083-h/5083-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4855 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>The Man of Feeling, by Henry Mackenzie</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.gutsumm { margin-left: 5%;} + P.poetry {margin-left: 3%; } + .GutSmall { font-size: 0.7em; } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;} + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-weight: normal; + color: gray; + } + img { border: none; } + img.dc { float: left; width: 50px; height: 50px; } + p.gutindent { margin-left: 2em; } + div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; } + div.gapline { height: 0.8em; width: 100%; border-top: 1px solid;} + div.gapmediumline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + div.gapmediumdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; + margin-left: 40%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid; } + div.gapdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 50%; + margin-left: 25%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; margin-left:40%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + img.floatleft { float: left; + margin-right: 1em; + margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.floatright { float: right; + margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.clearcenter {display: block; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em} + --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Man of Feeling, by Henry Mackenzie, +Edited by Henry Morley + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Man of Feeling + + +Author: Henry Mackenzie + +Editor: Henry Morley + +Release Date: July 5, 2014 [eBook #5083] +[This file was first posted on April 18, 2002] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN OF FEELING*** +</pre> +<p>Transcribed from the 1886 Cassell & Company edition by +David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/coverb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Book cover" +title= +"Book cover" +src="images/covers.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center">CASSELL’S NATIONAL +LIBRARY</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<h1><span class="GutSmall">THE</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Man Of Feeling</span></h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><span +class="GutSmall">BY</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center">HENRY MACKENZIE.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/tpb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Decorative graphic" +title= +"Decorative graphic" +src="images/tps.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center">CASSELL & COMPANY, <span +class="smcap">Limited</span>:</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span +class="GutSmall"><i>LONDON</i></span><span class="GutSmall">, +</span><span class="GutSmall"><i>PARIS</i></span><span +class="GutSmall">, </span><span class="GutSmall"><i>NEW YORK +& MELBOURNE</i></span><span class="GutSmall">.</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span +class="GutSmall">1886.</span></p> +<h2><a name="pageiii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +iii</span>EDITOR’S INTRODUCTION</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Henry Mackenzie</span>, the son of an +Edinburgh physician, was born in August, 1745. After +education in the University of Edinburgh he went to London in +1765, at the age of twenty, for law studies, returned to +Edinburgh, and became Crown Attorney in the Scottish Court of +Exchequer. When Mackenzie was in London, Sterne’s +“Tristram Shandy” was in course of publication. +The first two volumes had appeared in 1759, and the ninth +appeared in 1767, followed in 1768, the year of Sterne’s +death, by “The Sentimental Journey.” Young +Mackenzie had a strong bent towards literature, and while +studying law in London, he read Sterne, and falling in with the +tone of sentiment which Sterne himself caught from the spirit of +the time and the example of Rousseau, he wrote “The Man of +Feeling.” This book was published, without +author’s name, in 1771. It was so <a +name="pageiv"></a><span class="pagenum">p. iv</span>popular that +a young clergyman made a copy of it popular with imagined +passages of erasure and correction, on the strength of which he +claimed to be its author, and obliged Henry Mackenzie to declare +himself. In 1773 Mackenzie published a second novel, +“The Man of the World,” and in 1777 a third, +“Julia de Roubigné.” An essay-reading +society in Edinburgh, of which he was a leader, started in +January, 1779, a weekly paper called <i>The Mirror</i>, which he +edited until May, 1780. Its writers afterwards joined in +producing <i>The Lounger</i>, which lasted from February, 1785, +to January, 1787. Henry Mackenzie contributed forty-two +papers to <i>The Mirror</i> and fifty-seven to <i>The +Lounger</i>. When the Royal Society of Edinburgh was +founded Henry Mackenzie was active as one of its first +members. He was also one of the founders of the Highland +Society.</p> +<p>Although his “Man of Feeling” was a serious +reflection of the false sentiment of the Revolution, Mackenzie +joined afterwards in writing tracts to dissuade the people from +faith in the doctrines of the Revolutionists. Mackenzie +wrote also a tragedy, “The Prince of Tunis,” which +was acted with success at Edinburgh, and a comedy, “The <a +name="pagev"></a><span class="pagenum">p. v</span>White +Hypocrite,” which was acted once only at Covent +garden. He died at the age of eighty-six, on the 13th June, +1831, having for many years been regarded as an elder friend of +their own craft by the men of letters who in his days gave +dignity to Edinburgh society, and caused the town to be called +the Modern Athens.</p> +<p>A man of refined taste, who caught the tone of the French +sentiment of his time, has, of course, pleased French critics, +and has been translated into French. “The Man of +Feeling” begins with imitation of Sterne, and proceeds in +due course through so many tears that it is hardly to be called a +dry book. As guide to persons of a calculating disposition +who may read these pages I append an index to the Tears shed in +“The Man of Feeling.”</p> +<h2><a name="pagevi"></a><span class="pagenum">p. vi</span>INDEX +TO TEARS.</h2> +<p style="text-align: center">(<i>Chokings</i>, <i>&c.</i>, +<i>not counted</i>.)</p> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="GutSmall">PAGE</span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>“Odds but should have wept”</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#pagexiii">xiii</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Tear, given, “cordial drop” repeated</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page17">17</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>,, like Cestus of Cytherea</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page26">26</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>,, one on a cheek</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page30">30</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>“I will not weep”</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page31">31</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Tears add energy to benediction</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page31">31</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>,, tribute of some</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page52">52</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>„ blessings on</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page52">52</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>I would weep too</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page52">52</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Not an unmoistened eye</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page53">53</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Do you weep again?</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page53">53</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Hand bathed with tears</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page53">53</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Tears, burst into</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page54">54</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>„ sobbing and shedding</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page74">74</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>,, burst into</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page75">75</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>,, virtue in these</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page75">75</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>„ he wept at the recollection of her</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page80">80</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>,, glister of new-washed</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page81">81</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Sweet girl (here she wept)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page94">94</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>I could only weep</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page95">95</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Tears, saw his</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page97">97</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>,, burst into</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page99">99</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>„ wrung from the heart</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page99">99</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>,, feet bathed with</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page100">100</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p><a name="pagevii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +vii</span>,, mingled, <i>i.e.</i>, his with hers</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page100">100</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>„ voice lost in</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page108">108</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Eye met with a tear</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page108">108</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Tear stood in eye</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page127">127</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Tears, face bathed with</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page130">130</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Dropped one tear, no more</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page131">131</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Tears, press-gang could scarce keep from</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page136">136</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Big drops wetted gray beard</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page137">137</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Tears, shower of</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page138">138</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>,, scarce forced—blubbered like a boy</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page139">139</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Moistened eye</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page141">141</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Tears choked utterance</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page144">144</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>I have wept many a time</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page144">144</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Girl wept, brother sobbed</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page145">145</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Harley kissed off her tears as they flowed, and wept +between every kiss</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page145">145</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Tears flowing down cheeks</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page148">148</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>,, gushed afresh</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page148">148</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Beamy moisture</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page154">154</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>A tear dropped</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page165">165</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Tear in her eye, the sick man kissed it off in its bud, +smiling through the dimness of his own</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page176">176</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Hand wet by tear just fallen</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page185">185</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Tears flowing without control</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page187">187</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Cheek wiped (at the end of the last chapter)</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page189">189</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<h2><a name="pageix"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +ix</span>AUTHOR’S INTRODUCTION</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">My</span> dog had made a point on a piece +of fallow-ground, and led the curate and me two or three hundred +yards over that and some stubble adjoining, in a breathless state +of expectation, on a burning first of September.</p> +<p>It was a false point, and our labour was vain: yet, to do +Rover justice (for he’s an excellent dog, though I have +lost his pedigree), the fault was none of his, the birds were +gone: the curate showed me the spot where they had lain basking, +at the root of an old hedge.</p> +<p>I stopped and cried Hem! The curate is fatter than I; he +wiped the sweat from his brow.</p> +<p>There is no state where one is apter to pause and look round +one, than after such a disappointment. It is even so in +life. When we have been hurrying on, impelled by some warm +wish or other, looking neither to the right hand nor to the <a +name="pagex"></a><span class="pagenum">p. x</span>left—we +find of a sudden that all our gay hopes are flown; and the only +slender consolation that some friend can give us, is to point +where they were once to be found. And lo! if we are not of +that combustible race, who will rather beat their heads in spite, +than wipe their brows with the curate, we look round and say, +with the nauseated listlessness of the king of Israel, “All +is vanity and vexation of spirit.”</p> +<p>I looked round with some such grave apophthegm in my mind when +I discovered, for the first time, a venerable pile, to which the +enclosure belonged. An air of melancholy hung about +it. There was a languid stillness in the day, and a single +crow, that perched on an old tree by the side of the gate, seemed +to delight in the echo of its own croaking.</p> +<p>I leaned on my gun and looked; but I had not breath enough to +ask the curate a question. I observed carving on the bark +of some of the trees: ’twas indeed the only mark of human +art about the place, except that some branches appeared to have +been lopped, to give a view of the cascade, which was formed by a +little rill at some distance.</p> +<p>Just at that instant I saw pass between the <a +name="pagexi"></a><span class="pagenum">p. xi</span>trees a young +lady with a book in her hand. I stood upon a stone to +observe her; but the curate sat him down on the grass, and +leaning his back where I stood, told me, “That was the +daughter of a neighbouring gentleman of the name of <span +class="smcap">Walton</span>, whom he had seen walking there more +than once.</p> +<p>“Some time ago,” he said, “one <span +class="smcap">Harley</span> lived there, a whimsical sort of man +I am told, but I was not then in the cure; though, if I had a +turn for those things, I might know a good deal of his history, +for the greatest part of it is still in my possession.”</p> +<p>“His history!” said I. “Nay, you may +call it what you please,” said the curate; for indeed it is +no more a history than it is a sermon. The way I came by it +was this: some time ago, a grave, oddish kind of a man boarded at +a farmer’s in this parish: the country people called him +The Ghost; and he was known by the slouch in his gait, and the +length of his stride. I was but little acquainted with him, +for he never frequented any of the clubs hereabouts. Yet +for all he used to walk a-nights, he was as gentle as a lamb at +times; for I have seen him playing at teetotum with the <a +name="pagexii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. xii</span>children, +on the great stone at the door of our churchyard.</p> +<p>“Soon after I was made curate, he left the parish, and +went nobody knows whither; and in his room was found a bundle of +papers, which was brought to me by his landlord. I began to +read them, but I soon grew weary of the task; for, besides that +the hand is intolerably bad, I could never find the author in one +strain for two chapters together; and I don’t believe +there’s a single syllogism from beginning to +end.”</p> +<p>“I should be glad to see this medley,” said +I. “You shall see it now,” answered the curate, +“for I always take it along with me +a-shooting.” “How came it so torn?” +“’Tis excellent wadding,” said the +curate.—This was a plea of expediency I was not in a +condition to answer; for I had actually in my pocket great part +of an edition of one of the German Illustrissimi, for the very +same purpose. We exchanged books; and by that means (for +the curate was a strenuous logician) we probably saved both.</p> +<p>When I returned to town, I had leisure to peruse the +acquisition I had made: I found it a bundle of little episodes, +put together without art, <a name="pagexiii"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. xiii</span>and of no importance on the whole, +with something of nature, and little else in them. I was a +good deal affected with some very trifling passages in it; and +had the name of Marmontel, or a Richardson, been on the +title-page—’tis odds that I should have wept: But</p> +<p>One is ashamed to be pleased with the works of one knows not +whom.</p> +<h2><a name="page15"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +15</span>CHAPTER XI. <a name="citation15"></a><a +href="#footnote15" class="citation">[15]</a><br /> +<span class="GutSmall">ON BASHFULNESS.—A +CHARACTER.—HIS OPINION ON THAT SUBJECT.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">There</span> is some rust about every man +at the beginning; though in some nations (among the French for +instance) the ideas of the inhabitants, from climate, or what +other cause you will, are so vivacious, so eternally on the wing, +that they must, even in small societies, have a frequent +collision; the rust therefore will wear off sooner: but in +Britain it often goes with a man to his grave; nay, he dares not +even pen a <i>hic jacet</i> to speak out for him after his +death.</p> +<p>“Let them rub it off by travel,” said the +baronet’s <a name="page16"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +16</span>brother, who was a striking instance of excellent metal, +shamefully rusted. I had drawn my chair near his. Let +me paint the honest old man: ’tis but one passing sentence +to preserve his image in my mind.</p> +<p>He sat in his usual attitude, with his elbow rested on his +knee, and his fingers pressed on his cheek. His face was +shaded by his hand; yet it was a face that might once have been +well accounted handsome; its features were manly and striking, a +dignity resided on his eyebrows, which were the largest I +remember to have seen. His person was tall and well-made; +but the indolence of his nature had now inclined it to +corpulency.</p> +<p>His remarks were few, and made only to his familiar friends; +but they were such as the world might have heard with veneration: +and his heart, uncorrupted by its ways, was ever warm in the +cause of virtue and his friends.</p> +<p>He is now forgotten and gone! The last time I was at +Silton Hall, I saw his chair stand in its corner by the +fire-side; there was an additional cushion on it, and it was +occupied by my young lady’s favourite lap dog. I drew +near unperceived, <a name="page17"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +17</span>and pinched its ears in the bitterness of my soul; the +creature howled, and ran to its mistress. She did not +suspect the author of its misfortune, but she bewailed it in the +most pathetic terms; and kissing its lips, laid it gently on her +lap, and covered it with a cambric handkerchief. I sat in +my old friend’s seat; I heard the roar of mirth and gaiety +around me: poor Ben Silton! I gave thee a tear then: accept +of one cordial drop that falls to thy memory now.</p> +<p>“They should wear it off by travel.”—Why, it +is true, said I, that will go far; but then it will often happen, +that in the velocity of a modern tour, and amidst the materials +through which it is commonly made, the friction is so violent, +that not only the rust, but the metal too, is lost in the +progress.</p> +<p>“Give me leave to correct the expression of your +metaphor,” said Mr. Silton: “that is not always rust +which is acquired by the inactivity of the body on which it +preys; such, perhaps, is the case with me, though indeed I was +never cleared from my youth; but (taking it in its first stage) +it is rather an encrustation, which nature has given for purposes +of the greatest wisdom.”</p> +<p><a name="page18"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +18</span>“You are right,” I returned; “and +sometimes, like certain precious fossils, there may be hid under +it gems of the purest brilliancy.”</p> +<p>“Nay, farther,” continued Mr. Silton, “there +are two distinct sorts of what we call bashfulness; this, the +awkwardness of a booby, which a few steps into the world will +convert into the pertness of a coxcomb; that, a consciousness, +which the most delicate feelings produce, and the most extensive +knowledge cannot always remove.”</p> +<p>From the incidents I have already related, I imagine it will +be concluded that Harley was of the latter species of bashful +animals; at least, if Mr. Silton’s principle is just, it +may be argued on this side; for the gradation of the first +mentioned sort, it is certain, he never attained. Some part +of his external appearance was modelled from the company of those +gentlemen, whom the antiquity of a family, now possessed of bare +£250 a year, entitled its representative to approach: these +indeed were not many; great part of the property in his +neighbourhood being in the hands of merchants, who had got rich +by their lawful calling abroad, and the sons of stewards, who had +got rich by their lawful calling at home: persons so perfectly +versed <a name="page19"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 19</span>in +the ceremonial of thousands, tens of thousands, and hundreds of +thousands (whose degrees of precedency are plainly demonstrable +from the first page of the Complete Accomptant, or Young +Man’s Best Pocket Companion) that a bow at church from them +to such a man as Harley would have made the parson look back into +his sermon for some precept of Christian humility.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">OF WORLDLY INTERESTS.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">There</span> are certain interests which +the world supposes every man to have, and which therefore are +properly enough termed worldly; but the world is apt to make an +erroneous estimate: ignorant of the dispositions which constitute +our happiness or misery, they bring to an undistinguished scale +the means of the one, as connected with power, wealth, or +grandeur, and of the other with their contraries. +Philosophers and poets have often protested against this +decision; but their arguments have <a name="page20"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 20</span>been despised as declamatory, or +ridiculed as romantic.</p> +<p>There are never wanting to a young man some grave and prudent +friends to set him right in this particular, if he need it; to +watch his ideas as they arise, and point them to those objects +which a wise man should never forget.</p> +<p>Harley did not want for some monitors of this sort. He +was frequently told of men whose fortunes enabled them to command +all the luxuries of life, whose fortunes were of their own +acquirement: his envy was invited by a description of their +happiness, and his emulation by a recital of the means which had +procured it.</p> +<p>Harley was apt to hear those lectures with indifference; nay, +sometimes they got the better of his temper; and as the instances +were not always amiable, provoked, on his part, some reflections, +which I am persuaded his good-nature would else have avoided.</p> +<p>Indeed, I have observed one ingredient, somewhat necessary in +a man’s composition towards happiness, which people of +feeling would do well to acquire; a certain respect for the +follies of mankind: for there are so many fools whom the <a +name="page21"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 21</span>opinion of +the world entitles to regard, whom accident has placed in heights +of which they are unworthy, that he who cannot restrain his +contempt or indignation at the sight will be too often +quarrelling with the disposal of things to relish that share +which is allotted to himself. I do not mean, however, to +insinuate this to have been the case with Harley; on the +contrary, if we might rely on his own testimony, the conceptions +he had of pomp and grandeur served to endear the state which +Providence had assigned him.</p> +<p>He lost his father, the last surviving of his parents, as I +have already related, when he was a boy. The good man, from +a fear of offending, as well as a regard to his son, had named +him a variety of guardians; one consequence of which was, that +they seldom met at all to consider the affairs of their ward; and +when they did meet, their opinions were so opposite, that the +only possible method of conciliation was the mediatory power of a +dinner and a bottle, which commonly interrupted, not ended, the +dispute; and after that interruption ceased, left the consulting +parties in a condition not very proper for adjusting it. +His education therefore had been but indifferently attended to; +and <a name="page22"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 22</span>after +being taken from a country school, at which he had been boarded, +the young gentleman was suffered to be his own master in the +subsequent branches of literature, with some assistance from the +parson of the parish in languages and philosophy, and from the +exciseman in arithmetic and book-keeping. One of his +guardians, indeed, who, in his youth, had been an inhabitant of +the Temple, set him to read Coke upon Lyttelton: a book which is +very properly put into the hands of beginners in that science, as +its simplicity is accommodated to their understandings, and its +size to their inclination. He profited but little by the +perusal; but it was not without its use in the family: for his +maiden aunt applied it commonly to the laudable purpose of +pressing her rebellious linens to the folds she had allotted +them.</p> +<p>There were particularly two ways of increasing his fortune, +which might have occurred to people of less foresight than the +counsellors we have mentioned. One of these was, the +prospect of his succeeding to an old lady, a distant relation, +who was known to be possessed of a very large sum in the stocks: +but in this their hopes were disappointed; for the young man was +so untoward in <a name="page23"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +23</span>his disposition, that, notwithstanding the instructions +he daily received, his visits rather tended to alienate than gain +the good-will of his kinswoman. He sometimes looked grave +when the old lady told the jokes of her youth; he often refused +to eat when she pressed him, and was seldom or never provided +with sugar-candy or liquorice when she was seized with a fit of +coughing: nay, he had once the rudeness to fall asleep while she +was describing the composition and virtues of her favourite +cholic-water. In short, be accommodated himself so ill to +her humour, that she died, and did not leave him a farthing.</p> +<p>The other method pointed out to him was an endeavour to get a +lease of some crown-lands, which lay contiguous to his little +paternal estate. This, it was imagined, might be easily +procured, as the crown did not draw so much rent as Harley could +afford to give, with very considerable profit to himself; and the +then lessee had rendered himself so obnoxious to the ministry, by +the disposal of his vote at an election, that he could not expect +a renewal. This, however, needed some interest with the +great, which Harley or his father never possessed.</p> +<p><a name="page24"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 24</span>His +neighbour, Mr. Walton, having heard of this affair, generously +offered his assistance to accomplish it. He told him, that +though he had long been a stranger to courtiers, yet he believed +there were some of them who might pay regard to his +recommendation; and that, if he thought it worth the while to +take a London journey upon the business, he would furnish him +with a letter of introduction to a baronet of his acquaintance, +who had a great deal to say with the first lord of the +treasury.</p> +<p>When his friends heard of this offer, they pressed him with +the utmost earnestness to accept of it.</p> +<p>They did not fail to enumerate the many advantages which a +certain degree of spirit and assurance gives a man who would make +a figure in the world: they repeated their instances of good +fortune in others, ascribed them all to a happy forwardness of +disposition; and made so copious a recital of the disadvantages +which attend the opposite weakness, that a stranger, who had +heard them, would have been led to imagine, that in the British +code there was some disqualifying statute against any citizen who +should be convicted of—modesty.</p> +<p>Harley, though he had no great relish for the attempt, yet +could not resist the torrent of motives <a +name="page25"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 25</span>that +assaulted him; and as he needed but little preparation for his +journey, a day, not very distant, was fixed for his +departure.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE MAN OF FEELING IN LOVE.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> day before that on which he set +out, he went to take leave of Mr. Walton.—We would conceal +nothing;—there was another person of the family to whom +also the visit was intended, on whose account, perhaps, there +were some tenderer feelings in the bosom of Harley than his +gratitude for the friendly notice of that gentleman (though he +was seldom deficient in that virtue) could inspire. Mr. +Walton had a daughter; and such a daughter! we will attempt some +description of her by and by.</p> +<p>Harley’s notions of the +καλον, or beautiful, were not +always to be defined, nor indeed such as the world would always +assent to, though we could define them. A blush, a phrase +of affability to an inferior, a tear at a moving tale, were to +him, like <a name="page26"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +26</span>the Cestus of Cytherea, unequalled in conferring +beauty. For all these Miss Walton was remarkable; but as +these, like the above-mentioned Cestus, are perhaps still more +powerful when the wearer is possessed of some degree of beauty, +commonly so called, it happened, that, from this cause, they had +more than usual power in the person of that young lady.</p> +<p>She was now arrived at that period of life which takes, or is +supposed to take, from the flippancy of girlhood those +sprightlinesses with which some good-natured old maids oblige the +world at three-score. She had been ushered into life (as +that word is used in the dialect of St. James’s) at +seventeen, her father being then in parliament, and living in +London: at seventeen, therefore, she had been a universal toast; +her health, now she was four-and-twenty, was only drank by those +who knew her face at least. Her complexion was mellowed +into a paleness, which certainly took from her beauty; but +agreed, at least Harley used to say so, with the pensive softness +of her mind. Her eyes were of that gentle hazel colour +which is rather mild than piercing; and, except when they were +lighted up by good-humour, which was frequently the case, <a +name="page27"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 27</span>were supposed +by the fine gentlemen to want fire. Her air and manner were +elegant in the highest degree, and were as sure of commanding +respect as their mistress was far from demanding it. Her +voice was inexpressibly soft; it was, according to that +incomparable simile of Otway’s,</p> +<blockquote><p>—“like the shepherd’s pipe upon +the mountains,<br /> +When all his little flock’s at feed before him.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The effect it had upon Harley, himself used to paint +ridiculously enough; and ascribed it to powers, which few +believed, and nobody cared for.</p> +<p>Her conversation was always cheerful, but rarely witty; and +without the smallest affectation of learning, had as much +sentiment in it as would have puzzled a Turk, upon his principles +of female materialism, to account for. Her beneficence was +unbounded; indeed the natural tenderness of her heart might have +been argued, by the frigidity of a casuist, as detracting from +her virtue in this respect, for her humanity was a feeling, not a +principle: but minds like Harley’s are not very apt to make +this distinction, and generally give our virtue credit for all +that benevolence which is instinctive in our nature.</p> +<p>As her father had some years retired to the <a +name="page28"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 28</span>country, +Harley had frequent opportunities of seeing her. He looked +on her for some time merely with that respect and admiration +which her appearance seemed to demand, and the opinion of others +conferred upon her from this cause, perhaps, and from that +extreme sensibility of which we have taken frequent notice, +Harley was remarkably silent in her presence. He heard her +sentiments with peculiar attention, sometimes with looks very +expressive of approbation; but seldom declared his opinion on the +subject, much less made compliments to the lady on the justness +of her remarks.</p> +<p>From this very reason it was that Miss Walton frequently took +more particular notice of him than of other visitors, who, by the +laws of precedency, were better entitled to it: it was a mode of +politeness she had peculiarly studied, to bring to the line of +that equality, which is ever necessary for the ease of our +guests, those whose sensibility had placed them below it.</p> +<p>Harley saw this; for though he was a child in the drama of the +world, yet was it not altogether owing to a want of knowledge on +his part; on the contrary, the most delicate consciousness of +propriety often kindled that blush which marred the <a +name="page29"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 29</span>performance +of it: this raised his esteem something above what the most +sanguine descriptions of her goodness had been able to do; for +certain it is, that notwithstanding the laboured definitions +which very wise men have given us of the inherent beauty of +virtue, we are always inclined to think her handsomest when she +condescends to smile upon ourselves.</p> +<p>It would be trite to observe the easy gradation from esteem to +love: in the bosom of Harley there scarce needed a transition; +for there were certain seasons when his ideas were flushed to a +degree much above their common complexion. In times not +credulous of inspiration, we should account for this from some +natural cause; but we do not mean to account for it at all; it +were sufficient to describe its effects; but they were sometimes +so ludicrous, as might derogate from the dignity of the +sensations which produced them to describe. They were +treated indeed as such by most of Harley’s sober friends, +who often laughed very heartily at the awkward blunders of the +real Harley, when the different faculties, which should have +prevented them, were entirely occupied by the ideal. In +some of these paroxysms of fancy, Miss Walton did not <a +name="page30"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 30</span>fail to be +introduced; and the picture which had been drawn amidst the +surrounding objects of unnoticed levity was now singled out to be +viewed through the medium of romantic imagination: it was +improved of course, and esteem was a word inexpressive of the +feelings which it excited.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">HE SETS OUT ON HIS JOURNEY—THE +BEGGAR AND HIS DOG.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">He</span> had taken leave of his aunt on +the eve of his intended departure; but the good lady’s +affection for her nephew interrupted her sleep, and early as it +was next morning when Harley came downstairs to set out, he found +her in the parlour with a tear on her cheek, and her caudle-cup +in her hand. She knew enough of physic to prescribe against +going abroad of a morning with an empty stomach. She gave +her blessing with the draught; her instructions she had delivered +the night before. They consisted mostly of negatives, for +London, in <a name="page31"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +31</span>her idea, was so replete with temptations that it needed +the whole armour of her friendly cautions to repel their +attacks.</p> +<p>Peter stood at the door. We have mentioned this faithful +fellow formerly: Harley’s father had taken him up an +orphan, and saved him from being cast on the parish; and he had +ever since remained in the service of him and of his son. +Harley shook him by the hand as he passed, smiling, as if he had +said, “I will not weep.” He sprung hastily into +the chaise that waited for him; Peter folded up the step. +“My dear master,” said he, shaking the solitary lock +that hung on either side of his head, “I have been told as +how London is a sad place.” He was choked with the +thought, and his benediction could not be heard:—but it +shall be heard, honest Peter! where these tears will add to its +energy.</p> +<p>In a few hours Harley reached the inn where he proposed +breakfasting, but the fulness of his heart would not suffer him +to eat a morsel. He walked out on the road, and gaining a +little height, stood gazing on that quarter he had left. He +looked for his wonted prospect, his fields, his woods, and his +hills: they were lost in the distant clouds! He <a +name="page32"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 32</span>pencilled +them on the clouds, and bade them farewell with a sigh!</p> +<p>He sat down on a large stone to take out a little pebble from +his shoe, when he saw, at some distance, a beggar approaching +him. He had on a loose sort of coat, mended with +different-coloured rags, amongst which the blue and the russet +were the predominant. He had a short knotty stick in his +hand, and on the top of it was stuck a ram’s horn; his +knees (though he was no pilgrim) had worn the stuff of his +breeches; he wore no shoes, and his stockings had entirely lost +that part of them which should have covered his feet and ankles; +in his face, however, was the plump appearance of good humour; he +walked a good round pace, and a crook-legged dog trotted at his +heels.</p> +<p>“Our delicacies,” said Harley to himself, +“are fantastic; they are not in nature! that beggar walks +over the sharpest of these stones barefooted, whilst I have lost +the most delightful dream in the world, from the smallest of them +happening to get into my shoe.” The beggar had by +this time come up, and, pulling off a piece of hat, asked charity +of Harley; the dog began to beg too:—it was impossible <a +name="page33"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 33</span>to resist +both; and, in truth, the want of shoes and stockings had made +both unnecessary, for Harley had destined sixpence for him +before. The beggar, on receiving it, poured forth blessings +without number; and, with a sort of smile on his countenance, +said to Harley “that if he wanted to have his fortune +told”—Harley turned his eye briskly on the beggar: it +was an unpromising look for the subject of a prediction, and +silenced the prophet immediately. “I would much +rather learn,” said Harley, “what it is in your power +to tell me: your trade must be an entertaining one; sit down on +this stone, and let me know something of your profession; I have +often thought of turning fortune-teller for a week or two +myself.”</p> +<p>“Master,” replied the beggar, “I like your +frankness much; God knows I had the humour of plain-dealing in me +from a child, but there is no doing with it in this world; we +must live as we can, and lying is, as you call it, my profession, +but I was in some sort forced to the trade, for I dealt once in +telling truth.</p> +<p>“I was a labourer, sir, and gained as much as to make me +live: I never laid by indeed: for I was <a +name="page34"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 34</span>reckoned a +piece of a wag, and your wags, I take it, are seldom rich, Mr. +Harley.”</p> +<p>“So,” said Harley, “you seem to know +me.”</p> +<p>“Ay, there are few folks in the country that I +don’t know something of: how should I tell fortunes +else?”</p> +<p>“True; but to go on with your story: you were a +labourer, you say, and a wag; your industry, I suppose, you left +with your old trade, but your humour you preserve to be of use to +you in your new.”</p> +<p>“What signifies sadness, sir? a man grows lean +on’t: but I was brought to my idleness by degrees; first I +could not work, and it went against my stomach to work ever +after. I was seized with a jail fever at the time of the +assizes being in the county where I lived; for I was always +curious to get acquainted with the felons, because they are +commonly fellows of much mirth and little thought, qualities I +had ever an esteem for. In the height of this fever, Mr. +Harley, the house where I lay took fire, and burnt to the ground; +I was carried out in that condition, and lay all the rest of my +illness in a barn. I got the better of my disease, however, +but I was so weak that I spit <a name="page35"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 35</span>blood whenever I attempted to +work. I had no relation living that I knew of, and I never +kept a friend above a week, when I was able to joke; I seldom +remained above six months in a parish, so that I might have died +before I had found a settlement in any: thus I was forced to beg +my bread, and a sorry trade I found it, Mr. Harley. I told +all my misfortunes truly, but they were seldom believed; and the +few who gave me a halfpenny as they passed did it with a shake of +the head, and an injunction not to trouble them with a long +story. In short, I found that people don’t care to +give alms without some security for their money; a wooden leg or +a withered arm is a sort of draught upon heaven for those who +choose to have their money placed to account there; so I changed +my plan, and, instead of telling my own misfortunes, began to +prophesy happiness to others. This I found by much the +better way: folks will always listen when the tale is their own, +and of many who say they do not believe in fortune-telling, I +have known few on whom it had not a very sensible effect. I +pick up the names of their acquaintance; amours and little +squabbles are easily gleaned among servants and neighbours; and +<a name="page36"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 36</span>indeed +people themselves are the best intelligencers in the world for +our purpose: they dare not puzzle us for their own sakes, for +every one is anxious to hear what they wish to believe, and they +who repeat it, to laugh at it when they have done, are generally +more serious than their hearers are apt to imagine. With a +tolerable good memory, and some share of cunning, with the help +of walking a-nights over heaths and church-yards, with this, and +showing the tricks of that there dog, whom I stole from the +serjeant of a marching regiment (and by the way, he can steal too +upon occasion), I make shift to pick up a livelihood. My +trade, indeed, is none of the honestest; yet people are not much +cheated neither who give a few half-pence for a prospect of +happiness, which I have heard some persons say is all a man can +arrive at in this world. But I must bid you good day, sir, +for I have three miles to walk before noon, to inform some +boarding-school young ladies whether their husbands are to be +peers of the realm or captains in the army: a question which I +promised to answer them by that time.”</p> +<p>Harley had drawn a shilling from his pocket; but Virtue bade +him consider on whom he was <a name="page37"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 37</span>going to bestow it. Virtue held +back his arm; but a milder form, a younger sister of +Virtue’s, not so severe as Virtue, nor so serious as Pity, +smiled upon him; his fingers lost their compression, nor did +Virtue offer to catch the money as it fell. It had no +sooner reached the ground than the watchful cur (a trick he had +been taught) snapped it up, and, contrary to the most approved +method of stewardship, delivered it immediately into the hands of +his master.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">HE MAKES A SECOND EXPEDITION TO THE +BARONET’S. THE LAUDABLE AMBITION OF A YOUNG MAN TO BE +THOUGHT SOMETHING BY THE WORLD.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">We</span> have related, in a former +chapter, the little success of his first visit to the great man, +for whom he had the introductory letter from Mr. Walton. To +people of equal sensibility, the influence of those trifles we +mentioned on his deportment will not appear surprising, but to +his friends in the <a name="page38"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +38</span>country they could not be stated, nor would they have +allowed them any place in the account. In some of their +letters, therefore, which he received soon after, they expressed +their surprise at his not having been more urgent in his +application, and again recommended the blushless assiduity of +successful merit.</p> +<p>He resolved to make another attempt at the baronet’s; +fortified with higher notions of his own dignity, and with less +apprehension of repulse. In his way to Grosvenor Square he +began to ruminate on the folly of mankind, who affixed those +ideas of superiority to riches, which reduced the minds of men, +by nature equal with the more fortunate, to that sort of +servility which he felt in his own. By the time he had +reached the Square, and was walking along the pavement which led +to the baronet’s, he had brought his reasoning on the +subject to such a point, that the conclusion, by every rule of +logic, should have led him to a thorough indifference in his +approaches to a fellow-mortal, whether that fellow-mortal was +possessed of six or six thousand pounds a year. It is +probable, however, that the premises had been improperly formed: +for it is certain, that when he <a name="page39"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 39</span>approached the great man’s door +he felt his heart agitated by an unusual pulsation.</p> +<p>He had almost reached it, when he observed among gentleman +coming out, dressed in a white frock and a red laced waistcoat, +with a small switch in his hand, which he seemed to manage with a +particular good grace. As he passed him on the steps, the +stranger very politely made him a bow, which Harley returned, +though he could not remember ever having seen him before. +He asked Harley, in the same civil manner, if he was going to +wait on his friend the baronet. “For I was just +calling,” said he, “and am sorry to find that he is +gone for some days into the country.”</p> +<p>Harley thanked him for his information, and was turning from +the door, when the other observed that it would be proper to +leave his name, and very obligingly knocked for that purpose.</p> +<p>“Here is a gentleman, Tom, who meant to have waited on +your master.”</p> +<p>“Your name, if you please, sir?”</p> +<p>“Harley.”</p> +<p>“You’ll remember, Tom, Harley.”</p> +<p>The door was shut. “Since we are here,” said +<a name="page40"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 40</span>he, +“we shall not lose our walk if we add a little to it by a +turn or two in Hyde Park.”</p> +<p>He accompanied this proposal with a second bow, and Harley +accepted of it by another in return.</p> +<p>The conversation, as they walked, was brilliant on the side of +his companion. The playhouse, the opera, with every +occurrence in high life, he seemed perfectly master of; and +talked of some reigning beauties of quality in a manner the most +feeling in the world. Harley admired the happiness of his +vivacity, and, opposite as it was to the reserve of his own +nature, began to be much pleased with its effects.</p> +<p>Though I am not of opinion with some wise men, that the +existence of objects depends on idea, yet I am convinced that +their appearance is not a little influenced by it. The +optics of some minds are in so unlucky a perspective as to throw +a certain shade on every picture that is presented to them, while +those of others (of which number was Harley), like the mirrors of +the ladies, have a wonderful effect in bettering their +complexions. Through such a medium perhaps he was looking +on his present companion.</p> +<p><a name="page41"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 41</span>When +they had finished their walk, and were returning by the corner of +the Park, they observed a board hung out of a window signifying, +“An excellent <span class="GutSmall">ORDINARY</span> on +Saturdays and Sundays.” It happened to be Saturday, +and the table was covered for the purpose.</p> +<p>“What if we should go in and dine here, if you happen +not to be engaged, sir?” said the young gentleman. +“It is not impossible but we shall meet with some original +or other; it is a sort of humour I like hugely.”</p> +<p>Harley made no objection, and the stranger showed him the way +into the parlour.</p> +<p>He was placed, by the courtesy of his introductor, in an +arm-chair that stood at one side of the fire. Over against +him was seated a man of a grave considering aspect, with that +look of sober prudence which indicates what is commonly called a +warm man. He wore a pretty large wig, which had once been +white, but was now of a brownish yellow; his coat was one of +those modest-coloured drabs which mock the injuries of dust and +dirt; two jack-boots concealed, in part, the well-mended knees of +an old pair of buckskin breeches; while the spotted handkerchief +round his neck preserved <a name="page42"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 42</span>at once its owner from catching cold +and his neck-cloth from being dirtied. Next him sat another +man, with a tankard in his hand and a quid of tobacco in his +cheek, whose eye was rather more vivacious, and whose dress was +something smarter.</p> +<p>The first-mentioned gentleman took notice that the room had +been so lately washed, as not to have had time to dry, and +remarked that wet lodging was unwholesome for man or beast. +He looked round at the same time for a poker to stir the fire +with, which, he at last observed to the company, the people of +the house had removed in order to save their coals. This +difficulty, however, he overcame by the help of Harley’s +stick, saying, “that as they should, no doubt, pay for +their fire in some shape or other, he saw no reason why they +should not have the use of it while they sat.”</p> +<p>The door was now opened for the admission of dinner. +“I don’t know how it is with you, gentlemen,” +said Harley’s new acquaintance, “but I am afraid I +shall not be able to get down a morsel at this horrid mechanical +hour of dining.” He sat down, however, and did not +show any want of appetite by his eating. He took upon him +the <a name="page43"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +43</span>carving of the meat, and criticised on the goodness of +the pudding.</p> +<p>When the table-cloth was removed, he proposed calling for some +punch, which was readily agreed to; he seemed at first inclined +to make it himself, but afterwards changed his mind, and left +that province to the waiter, telling him to have it pure West +Indian, or he could not taste a drop of it.</p> +<p>When the punch was brought he undertook to fill the glasses +and call the toasts. “The King.”—The +toast naturally produced politics. It is the privilege of +Englishmen to drink the king’s health, and to talk of his +conduct. The man who sat opposite to Harley (and who by +this time, partly from himself, and partly from his acquaintance +on his left hand, was discovered to be a grazier) observed, +“That it was a shame for so many pensioners to be allowed +to take the bread out of the mouth of the poor.”</p> +<p>“Ay, and provisions,” said his friend, “were +never so dear in the memory of man; I wish the king and his +counsellors would look to that.”</p> +<p>“As for the matter of provisions, neighbour +Wrightson,” he replied, “I am sure the prices of +cattle—”</p> +<p><a name="page44"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 44</span>A +dispute would have probably ensued, but it was prevented by the +spruce toastmaster, who gave a sentiment, and turning to the two +politicians, “Pray, gentlemen,” said he, “let +us have done with these musty politics: I would always leave them +to the beer-suckers in Butcher Row. Come, let us have +something of the fine arts. That was a damn’d hard +match between Joe the Nailor and Tim Bucket. The knowing +ones were cursedly taken in there! I lost a cool hundred +myself, faith.”</p> +<p>At mention of the cool hundred, the grazier threw his eyes +aslant, with a mingled look of doubt and surprise; while the man +at his elbow looked arch, and gave a short emphatical sort of +cough.</p> +<p>Both seemed to be silenced, however, by this intelligence; and +while the remainder of the punch lasted the conversation was +wholly engrossed by the gentleman with the fine waistcoat, who +told a great many “immense comical stories” and +“confounded smart things,” as he termed them, acted +and spoken by lords, ladies, and young bucks of quality, of his +acquaintance. At last, the grazier, pulling out a watch, of +a very unusual size, and telling the hour, said that he had an +appointment. <a name="page45"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +45</span>“Is it so late?” said the young gentleman; +“then I am afraid I have missed an appointment already; but +the truth is, I am cursedly given to missing of +appointments.”</p> +<p>When the grazier and he were gone, Harley turned to the +remaining personage, and asked him if he knew that young +gentleman. “A gentleman!” said he; “ay, +he is one of your gentlemen at the top of an affidavit. I +knew him, some years ago, in the quality of a footman; and I +believe he had some times the honour to be a pimp. At last, +some of the great folks, to whom he had been serviceable in both +capacities, had him made a gauger; in which station he remains, +and has the assurance to pretend an acquaintance with men of +quality. The impudent dog! with a few shillings in his +pocket, he will talk you three times as much as my friend Mundy +there, who is worth nine thousand if he’s worth a +farthing. But I know the rascal, and despise him, as he +deserves.”</p> +<p>Harley began to despise him too, and to conceive some +indignation at having sat with patience to hear such a fellow +speak nonsense. But he corrected himself by reflecting that +he was perhaps as well entertained, and instructed too, by this +same modest <a name="page46"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +46</span>gauger, as he should have been by such a man as he had +thought proper to personate. And surely the fault may more +properly be imputed to that rank where the futility is real than +where it is feigned: to that rank whose opportunities for nobler +accomplishments have only served to rear a fabric of folly which +the untutored hand of affectation, even among the meanest of +mankind, can imitate with success.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XX.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">HE VISITS BEDLAM.—THE DISTRESSES OF +A DAUGHTER.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Of</span> those things called Sights in +London, which every stranger is supposed desirous to see, Bedlam +is one. To that place, therefore, an acquaintance of +Harley’s, after having accompanied him to several other +shows, proposed a visit. Harley objected to it, +“because,” said he, “I think it an inhuman +practice to expose the greatest misery with which our nature is +afflicted to every idle visitant who can afford a trifling +perquisite to the <a name="page47"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +47</span>keeper; especially as it is a distress which the humane +must see, with the painful reflection, that it is not in their +power to alleviate it.” He was overpowered, however, +by the solicitations of his friend and the other persons of the +party (amongst whom were several ladies); and they went in a body +to Moorfields.</p> +<p>Their conductor led them first to the dismal mansions of those +who are in the most horrid state of incurable madness. The +clanking of chains, the wildness of their cries, and the +imprecations which some of them uttered, formed a scene +inexpressibly shocking. Harley and his companions, +especially the female part of them, begged their guide to return; +he seemed surprised at their uneasiness, and was with difficulty +prevailed on to leave that part of the house without showing them +some others: who, as he expressed it in the phrase of those that +keep wild beasts for show, were much better worth seeing than any +they had passed, being ten times more fierce and +unmanageable.</p> +<p>He led them next to that quarter where those reside who, as +they are not dangerous to themselves or others, enjoy a certain +degree of freedom, according to the state of their distemper.</p> +<p><a name="page48"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 48</span>Harley +had fallen behind his companions, looking at a man who was making +pendulums with bits of thread and little balls of clay. He +had delineated a segment of a circle on the wall with chalk, and +marked their different vibrations by intersecting it with cross +lines. A decent-looking man came up, and smiling at the +maniac, turned to Harley, and told him that gentleman had once +been a very celebrated mathematician. “He fell a +sacrifice,” said he, “to the theory of comets; for +having, with infinite labour, formed a table on the conjectures +of Sir Isaac Newton, he was disappointed in the return of one of +those luminaries, and was very soon after obliged to be placed +here by his friends. If you please to follow me, +sir,” continued the stranger, “I believe I shall be +able to give you a more satisfactory account of the unfortunate +people you see here than the man who attends your +companions.”</p> +<p>Harley bowed, and accepted his offer.</p> +<p>The next person they came up to had scrawled a variety of +figures on a piece of slate. Harley had the curiosity to +take a nearer view of them. They consisted of different +columns, on the top of which were marked South-sea annuities, +India-stock, and Three per cent. annuities consol. +“This,” said <a name="page49"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 49</span>Harley’s instructor, “was +a gentleman well known in Change Alley. He was once worth +fifty thousand pounds, and had actually agreed for the purchase +of an estate in the West, in order to realise his money; but he +quarrelled with the proprietor about the repairs of the garden +wall, and so returned to town, to follow his old trade of +stock-jobbing a little longer; when an unlucky fluctuation of +stock, in which he was engaged to an immense extent, reduced him +at once to poverty and to madness. Poor wretch! he told me +t’other day that against the next payment of differences he +should be some hundreds above a plum.”</p> +<p>“It is a spondee, and I will maintain it,” +interrupted a voice on his left hand. This assertion was +followed by a very rapid recital of some verses from Homer. +“That figure,” said the gentleman, “whose +clothes are so bedaubed with snuff, was a schoolmaster of some +reputation: he came hither to be resolved of some doubts he +entertained concerning the genuine pronunciation of the Greek +vowels. In his highest fits, he makes frequent mention of +one Mr. Bentley.</p> +<p>“But delusive ideas, sir, are the motives of the +greatest part of mankind, and a heated imagination <a +name="page50"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 50</span>the power by +which their actions are incited: the world, in the eye of a +philosopher, may be said to be a large madhouse.” +“It is true,” answered Harley, “the passions of +men are temporary madnesses; and sometimes very fatal in their +effects.</p> +<blockquote><p>From Macedonia’s madman to the +Swede.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>“It was, indeed,” said the stranger, “a very +mad thing in Charles to think of adding so vast a country as +Russia to his dominions: that would have been fatal indeed; the +balance of the North would then have been lost; but the Sultan +and I would never have allowed +it.”—“Sir!” said Harley, with no small +surprise on his countenance.—“Why, yes,” +answered the other, “the Sultan and I; do you know +me? I am the Chan of Tartary.”</p> +<p>Harley was a good deal struck by this discovery; he had +prudence enough, however, to conceal his amazement, and bowing as +low to the monarch as his dignity required, left him immediately, +and joined his companions.</p> +<p>He found them in a quarter of the house set apart for the +insane of the other sex, several of whom had gathered about the +female visitors, and were examining, with rather more accuracy +than might have been expected, the particulars of their +dress.</p> +<p><a name="page51"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +51</span>Separate from the rest stood one whose appearance had +something of superior dignity. Her face, though pale and +wasted, was less squalid than those of the others, and showed a +dejection of that decent kind, which moves our pity unmixed with +horror: upon her, therefore, the eyes of all were immediately +turned. The keeper who accompanied them observed it: +“This,” said he, “is a young lady who was born +to ride in her coach and six. She was beloved, if the story +I have heard is true, by a young gentleman, her equal in birth, +though by no means her match in fortune: but love, they say, is +blind, and so she fancied him as much as he did her. Her +father, it seems, would not hear of their marriage, and +threatened to turn her out of doors if ever she saw him +again. Upon this the young gentleman took a voyage to the +West Indies, in hopes of bettering his fortune, and obtaining his +mistress; but he was scarce landed, when he was seized with one +of the fevers which are common in those islands, and died in a +few days, lamented by every one that knew him. This news +soon reached his mistress, who was at the same time pressed by +her father to marry a rich miserly fellow, who was old enough to +be her grandfather. <a name="page52"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 52</span>The death of her lover had no effect +on her inhuman parent: he was only the more earnest for her +marriage with the man he had provided for her; and what between +her despair at the death of the one, and her aversion to the +other, the poor young lady was reduced to the condition you see +her in. But God would not prosper such cruelty; her +father’s affairs soon after went to wreck, and he died +almost a beggar.”</p> +<p>Though this story was told in very plain language, it had +particularly attracted Harley’s notice; he had given it the +tribute of some tears. The unfortunate young lady had till +now seemed entranced in thought, with her eyes fixed on a little +garnet ring she wore on her finger; she turned them now upon +Harley. “My Billy is no more!” said she; +“do you weep for my Billy? Blessings on your +tears! I would weep too, but my brain is dry; and it burns, +it burns, it burns!”—She drew nearer to +Harley.—“Be comforted, young lady,” said he, +“your Billy is in heaven.”—“Is he, +indeed? and shall we meet again? and shall that frightful man +(pointing to the keeper) not be there!—Alas! I am +grown naughty of late; I have almost forgotten to think of +heaven: yet I pray sometimes; when I <a name="page53"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 53</span>can, I pray; and sometimes I sing; +when I am saddest, I sing:—You shall hear +me—hush!</p> +<blockquote><p>“Light be the earth on Billy’s +breast,<br /> +And green the sod that wraps his grave.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>There was a plaintive wildness in the air not to be withstood; +and, except the keeper’s, there was not an unmoistened eye +around her.</p> +<p>“Do you weep again?” said she. “I +would not have you weep: you are like my Billy; you are, believe +me; just so he looked when he gave me this ring; poor Billy! +’twas the last time ever we met!—</p> +<p>“’Twas when the seas were roaring—I love you +for resembling my Billy; but I shall never love any man like +him.”—She stretched out her hand to Harley; he +pressed it between both of his, and bathed it with his +tears.—“Nay, that is Billy’s ring,” said +she, “you cannot have it, indeed; but here is another, look +here, which I plated to-day of some gold-thread from this bit of +stuff; will you keep it for my sake? I am a strange girl; +but my heart is harmless: my poor heart; it will burst some day; +feel how it beats!” She pressed his hand to her +bosom, then holding her head in the attitude of +listening—“Hark! one, two, three! be <a +name="page54"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 54</span>quiet, thou +little trembler; my Billy is cold!—but I had forgotten the +ring.”—She put it on his finger. +“Farewell! I must leave you now.”—She +would have withdrawn her hand; Harley held it to his +lips.—“I dare not stay longer; my head throbs sadly: +farewell!”—She walked with a hurried step to a little +apartment at some distance. Harley stood fixed in +astonishment and pity; his friend gave money to the +keeper.—Harley looked on his ring.—He put a couple of +guineas into the man’s hand: “Be kind to that +unfortunate.”—He burst into tears, and left them.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE MISANTHROPE.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> friend who had conducted him to +Moorfields called upon him again the next evening. After +some talk on the adventures of the preceding day: “I +carried you yesterday,” said he to Harley, “to visit +the mad; let me introduce you to-night, at supper, to one of the +wise: but you must not look <a name="page55"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 55</span>for anything of the Socratic +pleasantry about him; on the contrary, I warn you to expect the +spirit of a Diogenes. That you may be a little prepared for +his extraordinary manner, I will let you into some particulars of +his history.</p> +<p>“He is the elder of the two sons of a gentleman of +considerable estate in the country. Their father died when +they were young: both were remarkable at school for quickness of +parts and extent of genius; this had been bred to no profession, +because his father’s fortune, which descended to him, was +thought sufficient to set him above it; the other was put +apprentice to an eminent attorney. In this the expectations +of his friends were more consulted than his own inclination; for +both his brother and he had feelings of that warm kind that could +ill brook a study so dry as the law, especially in that +department of it which was allotted to him. But the +difference of their tempers made the characteristical distinction +between them. The younger, from the gentleness of his +nature, bore with patience a situation entirely discordant to his +genius and disposition. At times, indeed, his pride would +suggest of how little importance those talents were which the +partiality of his friends had often extolled: they <a +name="page56"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 56</span>were now +incumbrances in a walk of life where the dull and the ignorant +passed him at every turn; his fancy and his feeling were +invincible obstacles to eminence in a situation where his fancy +had no room for exertion, and his feeling experienced perpetual +disgust. But these murmurings he never suffered to be +heard; and that he might not offend the prudence of those who had +been concerned in the choice of his profession, he continued to +labour in it several years, till, by the death of a relation, he +succeeded to an estate of a little better than £100 a year, +with which, and the small patrimony left him, he retired into the +country, and made a love-match with a young lady of a similar +temper to his own, with whom the sagacious world pitied him for +finding happiness.</p> +<p>“But his elder brother, whom you are to see at supper, +if you will do us the favour of your company, was naturally +impetuous, decisive, and overbearing. He entered into life +with those ardent expectations by which young men are commonly +deluded: in his friendships, warm to excess; and equally violent +in his dislikes. He was on the brink of marriage with a +young lady, when one of those friends, for whose honour he would +have pawned his life, made <a name="page57"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 57</span>an elopement with that very goddess, +and left him besides deeply engaged for sums which that good +friend’s extravagance had squandered.</p> +<p>“The dreams he had formerly enjoyed were now changed for +ideas of a very different nature. He abjured all confidence +in anything of human form; sold his lands, which still produced +him a very large reversion, came to town, and immured himself, +with a woman who had been his nurse, in little better than a +garret; and has ever since applied his talents to the vilifying +of his species. In one thing I must take the liberty to +instruct you; however different your sentiments may be (and +different they must be), you will suffer him to go on without +contradiction; otherwise, he will be silent immediately, and we +shall not get a word from him all the night after.” +Harley promised to remember this injunction, and accepted the +invitation of his friend.</p> +<p>When they arrived at the house, they were informed that the +gentleman was come, and had been shown into the parlour. +They found him sitting with a daughter of his friend’s, +about three years old, on his knee, whom he was teaching the +alphabet from a horn book: at a little distance stood a <a +name="page58"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 58</span>sister of +hers, some years older. “Get you away, miss,” +said he to this last; “you are a pert gossip, and I will +have nothing to do with you.”—“Nay,” +answered she, “Nancy is your favourite; you are quite in +love with Nancy.”—“Take away that girl,” +said he to her father, whom he now observed to have entered the +room; “she has woman about her already.” The +children were accordingly dismissed.</p> +<p>Betwixt that and supper-time he did not utter a +syllable. When supper came, he quarrelled with every dish +at table, but eat of them all; only exempting from his censures a +salad, “which you have not spoiled,” said he, +“because you have not attempted to cook it.”</p> +<p>When the wine was set upon the table, he took from his pocket +a particular smoking apparatus, and filled his pipe, without +taking any more notice of Harley, or his friend, than if no such +persons had been in the room.</p> +<p>Harley could not help stealing a look of surprise at him; but +his friend, who knew his humour, returned it by annihilating his +presence in the like manner, and, leaving him to his own +meditations, addressed himself entirely to Harley.</p> +<p>In their discourse some mention happened to be <a +name="page59"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 59</span>made of an +amiable character, and the words <i>honour</i> and +<i>politeness</i> were applied to it. Upon this, the +gentleman, laying down his pipe, and changing the tone of his +countenance, from an ironical grin to something more intently +contemptuous: “Honour,” said he: “Honour and +Politeness! this is the coin of the world, and passes current +with the fools of it. You have substituted the shadow +Honour, instead of the substance Virtue; and have banished the +reality of friendship for the fictitious semblance which you have +termed Politeness: politeness, which consists in a certain +ceremonious jargon, more ridiculous to the ear of reason than the +voice of a puppet. You have invented sounds, which you +worship, though they tyrannize over your peace; and are +surrounded with empty forms, which take from the honest emotions +of joy, and add to the poignancy of misfortune.” +“Sir!” said Harley—his friend winked to him, to +remind him of the caution he had received. He was silenced +by the thought. The philosopher turned his eye upon him: he +examined him from top to toe, with a sort of triumphant contempt; +Harley’s coat happened to be a new one; the other’s +was as shabby as could <a name="page60"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 60</span>possibly be supposed to be on the +back of a gentleman: there was much significance in his look with +regard to this coat; it spoke of the sleekness of folly and the +threadbareness of wisdom.</p> +<p>“Truth,” continued he, “the most amiable, as +well as the most natural of virtues, you are at pains to +eradicate. Your very nurseries are seminaries of falsehood; +and what is called Fashion in manhood completes the system of +avowed insincerity. Mankind, in the gross, is a gaping +monster, that loves to be deceived, and has seldom been +disappointed: nor is their vanity less fallacious to your +philosophers, who adopt modes of truth to follow them through the +paths of error, and defend paradoxes merely to be singular in +defending them. These are they whom ye term Ingenious; +’tis a phrase of commendation I detest: it implies an +attempt to impose on my judgment, by flattering my imagination; +yet these are they whose works are read by the old with delight, +which the young are taught to look upon as the codes of knowledge +and philosophy.</p> +<p>“Indeed, the education of your youth is every way +preposterous; you waste at school years in improving talents, +without having ever spent an hour <a name="page61"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 61</span>in discovering them; one promiscuous +line of instruction is followed, without regard to genius, +capacity, or probable situation in the commonwealth. From +this bear-garden of the pedagogue, a raw, unprincipled boy is +turned loose upon the world to travel; without any ideas but +those of improving his dress at Paris, or starting into taste by +gazing on some paintings at Rome. Ask him of the manners of +the people, and he will tell you that the skirt is worn much +shorter in France, and that everybody eats macaroni in +Italy. When he returns home, he buys a seat in parliament, +and studies the constitution at Arthur’s.</p> +<p>“Nor are your females trained to any more useful +purpose: they are taught, by the very rewards which their nurses +propose for good behaviour, by the first thing like a jest which +they hear from every male visitor of the family, that a young +woman is a creature to be married; and when they are grown +somewhat older, are instructed that it is the purpose of marriage +to have the enjoyment of pin-money, and the expectation of a +jointure.”</p> +<p>“These, <a name="citation61"></a><a href="#footnote61" +class="citation">[61]</a> indeed, are the effects of luxury, <a +name="page62"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 62</span>which is, +perhaps, inseparable from a certain degree of power and grandeur +in a nation. But it is not simply of the progress of luxury +that we have to complain: did its votaries keep in their own +sphere of thoughtless dissipation, we might despise them without +emotion; but the frivolous pursuits of pleasure are mingled with +the most important concerns of the state; and public enterprise +shall sleep till he who should guide its operation has decided +his bets at Newmarket, or fulfilled his engagement with a +favourite mistress in the country. We want some man of +acknowledged eminence to point our counsels with that firmness +which the counsels of a great people require. We have +hundreds of ministers, who press forward into office without +having ever learned that art which is necessary for every +business: the art of thinking; and mistake the petulance, which +could give <a name="page63"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +63</span>inspiration to smart sarcasms on an obnoxious measure in +a popular assembly, for the ability which is to balance the +interest of kingdoms, and investigate the latent sources of +national superiority. With the administration of such men +the people can never be satisfied; for besides that their +confidence is gained only by the view of superior talents, there +needs that depth of knowledge, which is not only acquainted with +the just extent of power, but can also trace its connection with +the expedient, to preserve its possessors from the contempt which +attends irresolution, or the resentment which follows +temerity.”</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>[Here a considerable part is wanting.]</p> +<p>* * “In short, man is an animal equally selfish and +vain. Vanity, indeed, is but a modification of +selfishness. From the latter, there are some who pretend to +be free: they are generally such as declaim against the lust of +wealth and power, because they have never been able to attain any +high degree in either: they boast of generosity and +feeling. They tell us (perhaps they tell us in rhyme) that +the sensations of an honest heart, of a mind universally +benevolent, make up the quiet <a name="page64"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 64</span>bliss which they enjoy; but they will +not, by this, be exempted from the charge of selfishness. +Whence the luxurious happiness they describe in their little +family-circles? Whence the pleasure which they feel, when +they trim their evening fires, and listen to the howl of +winter’s wind? Whence, but from the secret reflection +of what houseless wretches feel from it? Or do you +administer comfort in affliction—the motive is at hand; I +have had it preached to me in nineteen out of twenty of your +consolatory discourses—the comparative littleness of our +own misfortunes.</p> +<p>“With vanity your best virtues are grossly tainted: your +benevolence, which ye deduce immediately from the natural impulse +of the heart, squints to it for its reward. There are some, +indeed, who tell us of the satisfaction which flows from a secret +consciousness of good actions: this secret satisfaction is truly +excellent—when we have some friend to whom we may discover +its excellence.”</p> +<p>He now paused a moment to re-light his pipe, when a clock, +that stood at his back, struck eleven; he started up at the +sound, took his hat and his cane, and nodding good night with his +<a name="page65"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 65</span>head, +walked out of the room. The gentleman of the house called a +servant to bring the stranger’s surtout. “What +sort of a night is it, fellow?” said he.—“It +rains, sir,” answered the servant, “with an easterly +wind.”—“Easterly for ever!” He made +no other reply; but shrugging up his shoulders till they almost +touched his ears, wrapped himself tight in his great coat, and +disappeared.</p> +<p>“This is a strange creature,” said his friend to +Harley. “I cannot say,” answered he, +“that his remarks are of the pleasant kind: it is curious +to observe how the nature of truth may be changed by the garb it +wears; softened to the admonition of friendship, or soured into +the severity of reproof: yet this severity may be useful to some +tempers; it somewhat resembles a file: disagreeable in its +operation, but hard metals may be the brighter for it.”</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<h2><a name="page66"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +66</span>CHAPTER XXV.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">HIS SKILL IN PHYSIOGNOMY.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> company at the baronet’s +removed to the playhouse accordingly, and Harley took his usual +route into the Park. He observed, as he entered, a +fresh-looking elderly gentleman in conversation with a beggar, +who, leaning on his crutch, was recounting the hardships he had +undergone, and explaining the wretchedness of his present +condition. This was a very interesting dialogue to Harley; +he was rude enough, therefore, to slacken his pace as he +approached, and at last to make a full stop at the +gentleman’s back, who was just then expressing his +compassion for the beggar, and regretting that he had not a +farthing of change about him. At saying this, he looked +piteously on the fellow: there was something in his physiognomy +which caught Harley’s notice: indeed, physiognomy was one +of Harley’s foibles, for which he had been often rebuked by +his aunt in the country, who used to tell him that when he was +come to her years and experience he would know that all’s +not gold that <a name="page67"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +67</span>glitters: and it must be owned that his aunt was a very +sensible, harsh-looking maiden lady of threescore and +upwards. But he was too apt to forget this caution and now, +it seems, it had not occurred to him. Stepping up, +therefore, to the gentleman, who was lamenting the want of +silver, “Your intentions, sir,” said he, “are +so good, that I cannot help lending you my assistance to carry +them into execution,” and gave the beggar a shilling. +The other returned a suitable compliment, and extolled the +benevolence of Harley. They kept walking together, and +benevolence grew the topic of discourse.</p> +<p>The stranger was fluent on the subject. “There is +no use of money,” said he, “equal to that of +beneficence. With the profuse, it is lost; and even with +those who lay it out according to the prudence of the world, the +objects acquired by it pall on the sense, and have scarce become +our own till they lose their value with the power of pleasing; +but here the enjoyment grows on reflection, and our money is most +truly ours when it ceases being in our possession.</p> +<p>“Yet I agree in some measure,” answered Harley, +“with those who think that charity to our <a +name="page68"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 68</span>common +beggars is often misplaced; there are objects less obtrusive +whose title is a better one.”</p> +<p>“We cannot easily distinguish,” said the stranger; +“and even of the worthless, are there not many whose +imprudence, or whose vice, may have been one dreadful consequence +of misfortune?”</p> +<p>Harley looked again in his face, and blessed himself for his +skill in physiognomy.</p> +<p>By this time they had reached the end of the walk, the old +gentleman leaning on the rails to take breath, and in the +meantime they were joined by a younger man, whose figure was much +above the appearance of his dress, which was poor and +shabby. Harley’s former companion addressed him as an +acquaintance, and they turned on the walk together.</p> +<p>The elder of the strangers complained of the closeness of the +evening, and asked the other if he would go with him into a house +hard by, and take one draught of excellent cyder. +“The man who keeps this house,” said he to Harley, +“was once a servant of mine. I could not think of +turning loose upon the world a faithful old fellow, for no other +reason but that his age had incapacitated <a +name="page69"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 69</span>him; so I +gave him an annuity of ten pounds, with the help of which he has +set up this little place here, and his daughter goes and sells +milk in the city, while her father manages his tap-room, as he +calls it, at home. I can’t well ask a gentleman of +your appearance to accompany me to so paltry a +place.” “Sir,” replied Harley, +interrupting him, “I would much rather enter it than the +most celebrated tavern in town. To give to the necessitous +may sometimes be a weakness in the man; to encourage industry is +a duty in the citizen.” They entered the house +accordingly.</p> +<p>On a table at the corner of the room lay a pack of cards, +loosely thrown together. The old gentleman reproved the man +of the house for encouraging so idle an amusement. Harley +attempted to defend him from the necessity of accommodating +himself to the humour of his guests, and taking up the cards, +began to shuffle them backwards and forwards in his hand. +“Nay, I don’t think cards so unpardonable an +amusement as some do,” replied the other; “and now +and then, about this time of the evening, when my eyes begin to +fail me for my book, I divert myself with a game at piquet, +without finding my morals a bit relaxed by it. <a +name="page70"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 70</span>Do you play +piquet, sir?” (to Harley.) Harley answered in the +affirmative; upon which the other proposed playing a pool at a +shilling the game, doubling the stakes; adding, that he never +played higher with anybody.</p> +<p>Harley’s good nature could not refuse the benevolent old +man; and the younger stranger, though he at first pleaded prior +engagements, yet being earnestly solicited by his friend, at last +yielded to solicitation.</p> +<p>When they began to play, the old gentleman, somewhat to the +surprise of Harley, produced ten shillings to serve for markers +of his score. “He had no change for the +beggar,” said Harley to himself; “but I can easily +account for it; it is curious to observe the affection that +inanimate things will create in us by a long acquaintance. +If I may judge from my own feelings, the old man would not part +with one of these counters for ten times its intrinsic value; it +even got the better of his benevolence! I, myself, have a +pair of old brass sleeve buttons.” Here he was +interrupted by being told that the old gentleman had beat the +younger, and that it was his turn to take up the conqueror. +“Your game has been short,” said Harley. +“I re-piqued <a name="page71"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +71</span>him,” answered the old man, with joy sparkling in +his countenance. Harley wished to be re-piqued too, but he +was disappointed; for he had the same good fortune against his +opponent. Indeed, never did fortune, mutable as she is, +delight in mutability so much as at that moment. The +victory was so quick, and so constantly alternate, that the +stake, in a short time, amounted to no less a sum than £12, +Harley’s proportion of which was within half-a-guinea of +the money he had in his pocket. He had before proposed a +division, but the old gentleman opposed it with such a pleasant +warmth in his manner, that it was always over-ruled. Now, +however, he told them that he had an appointment with some +gentlemen, and it was within a few minutes of his hour. The +young stranger had gained one game, and was engaged in the second +with the other; they agreed, therefore, that the stake should be +divided, if the old gentleman won that: which was more than +probable, as his score was 90 to 35, and he was elder hand; but a +momentous re-pique decided it in favour of his adversary, who +seemed to enjoy his victory mingled with regret, for having won +too much, while his friend, with great ebullience of <a +name="page72"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 72</span>passion, many +praises of his own good play, and many malediction’s on the +power of chance, took up the cards, and threw them into the +fire.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">FRUITS OF THE DEAD SEA.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> company he was engaged to meet +were assembled in Fleet Street. He had walked some time +along the Strand, amidst a crowd of those wretches who wait the +uncertain wages of prostitution, with ideas of pity suitable to +the scene around him and the feelings he possessed, and had got +as far as Somerset House, when one of them laid hold of his arm, +and, with a voice tremulous and faint, asked him for a pint of +wine, in a manner more supplicatory than is usual with those whom +the infamy of their profession has deprived of shame. He +turned round at the demand, and looked steadfastly on the person +who made it.</p> +<p>She was above the common size, and elegantly formed; her face +was thin and hollow, and showed <a name="page73"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 73</span>the remains of tarnished +beauty. Her eyes were black, but had little of their lustre +left; her cheeks had some paint laid on without art, and +productive of no advantage to her complexion, which exhibited a +deadly paleness on the other parts of her face.</p> +<p>Harley stood in the attitude of hesitation; which she, +interpreting to her advantage, repeated her request, and +endeavoured to force a leer of invitation into her +countenance. He took her arm, and they walked on to one of +those obsequious taverns in the neighbourhood, where the dearness +of the wine is a discharge in full for the character of the +house. From what impulse he did this we do not mean to +enquire; as it has ever been against our nature to search for +motives where bad ones are to be found. They entered, and a +waiter showed them a room, and placed a bottle of claret on the +table.</p> +<p>Harley filled the lady’s glass: which she had no sooner +tasted, than dropping it on the floor, and eagerly catching his +arm, her eye grew fixed, her lip assumed a clayey whiteness, and +she fell back lifeless in her chair.</p> +<p>Harley started from his seat, and, catching her <a +name="page74"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 74</span>in his arms, +supported her from falling to the ground, looking wildly at the +door, as if he wanted to run for assistance, but durst not leave +the miserable creature. It was not till some minutes after +that it occurred to him to ring the bell, which at last, however, +he thought of, and rung with repeated violence even after the +waiter appeared. Luckily the waiter had his senses somewhat +more about him; and snatching up a bottle of water, which stood +on a buffet at the end of the room, he sprinkled it over the +hands and face of the dying figure before him. She began to +revive, and, with the assistance of some hartshorn drops, which +Harley now for the first time drew from his pocket, was able to +desire the waiter to bring her a crust of bread, of which she +swallowed some mouthfuls with the appearance of the keenest +hunger. The waiter withdrew: when turning to Harley, +sobbing at the same time, and shedding tears, “I am sorry, +sir,” said she, “that I should have given you so much +trouble; but you will pity me when I tell you that till now I +have not tasted a morsel these two days past.”—He +fixed his eyes on hers—every circumstance but the last was +forgotten; and he took her <a name="page75"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 75</span>hand with as much respect as if she +had been a duchess. It was ever the privilege of misfortune +to be revered by him.—“Two days!” said he; +“and I have fared sumptuously every day!”—He +was reaching to the bell; she understood his meaning, and +prevented him. “I beg, sir,” said she, +“that you would give yourself no more trouble about a +wretch who does not wish to live; but, at present, I could not +eat a bit; my stomach even rose at the last mouthful of that +crust.”—He offered to call a chair, saying that he +hoped a little rest would relieve her.—He had one +half-guinea left. “I am sorry,” he said, +“that at present I should be able to make you an offer of +no more than this paltry sum.”—She burst into tears: +“Your generosity, sir, is abused; to bestow it on me is to +take it from the virtuous. I have no title but misery to +plead: misery of my own procuring.” “No more of +that,” answered Harley; “there is virtue in these +tears; let the fruit of them be virtue.”—He rung, and +ordered a chair.—“Though I am the vilest of +beings,” said she, “I have not forgotten every +virtue; gratitude, I hope, I shall still have left, did I but +know who is my benefactor.”—“My name is +Harley.”—<a name="page76"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 76</span>“Could I ever have an +opportunity?”—“You shall, and a glorious one +too! your future conduct—but I do not mean to reproach +you—if, I say—it will be the noblest reward—I +will do myself the pleasure of seeing you +again.”—Here the waiter entered, and told them the +chair was at the door; the lady informed Harley of her lodgings, +and he promised to wait on her at ten next morning.</p> +<p>He led her to the chair, and returned to clear with the +waiter, without ever once reflecting that he had no money in his +pocket. He was ashamed to make an excuse; yet an excuse +must be made: he was beginning to frame one, when the waiter cut +him short by telling him that he could not run scores; but that, +if he would leave his watch, or any other pledge, it would be as +safe as if it lay in his pocket. Harley jumped at the +proposal, and pulling out his watch, delivered it into his hands +immediately, and having, for once, had the precaution to take a +note of the lodging he intended to visit next morning, sallied +forth with a blush of triumph on his face, without taking notice +of the sneer of the waiter, who, twirling the watch in his hand, +made him a profound bow at <a name="page77"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 77</span>the door, and whispered to a girl, +who stood in the passage, something, in which the word <span +class="GutSmall">CULLY</span> was honoured with a particular +emphasis.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">HIS SKILL IN PHYSIOGNOMY IS +DOUBTED.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">After</span> he had been some time with +the company he had appointed to meet, and the last bottle was +called for, he first recollected that he would be again at a loss +how to discharge his share of the reckoning. He applied, +therefore, to one of them, with whom he was most intimate, +acknowledging that he had not a farthing of money about him; and, +upon being jocularly asked the reason, acquainted them with the +two adventures we have just now related. One of the company +asked him if the old man in Hyde Park did not wear a brownish +coat, with a narrow gold edging, and his companion an old green +frock, with a buff-coloured waistcoat. Upon Harley’s +recollecting that they did, “Then,” said he, +“you may be <a name="page78"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +78</span>thankful you have come off so well; they are two as +noted sharpers, in their way, as any in town, and but +t’other night took me in for a much larger sum. I had +some thoughts of applying to a justice, but one does not like to +be seen in those matters.”</p> +<p>Harley answered, “That he could not but fancy the +gentleman was mistaken, as he never saw a face promise more +honesty than that of the old man he had met +with.”—“His face!” said a grave-looking +man, when sat opposite to him, squirting the juice of his tobacco +obliquely into the grate. There was something very +emphatical in the action, for it was followed by a burst of +laughter round the table. “Gentlemen,” said +Harley, “you are disposed to be merry; it may be as you +imagine, for I confess myself ignorant of the town; but there is +one thing which makes me hear the loss of my money with temper: +the young fellow who won it must have been miserably poor; I +observed him borrow money for the stake from his friend: he had +distress and hunger in his countenance: be his character what it +may, his necessities at least plead for him.” At this +there was a louder laugh than before. +“Gentlemen,” <a name="page79"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 79</span>said the lawyer, one of whose +conversations with Harley we have already recorded, +“here’s a pretty fellow for you! to have heard him +talk some nights ago, as I did, you might have sworn he was a +saint; yet now he games with sharpers, and loses his money, and +is bubbled by a fine tale of the Dead Sea, and pawns his watch; +here are sanctified doings with a witness!”</p> +<p>“Young gentleman,” said his friend on the other +side of the table, “let me advise you to be a little more +cautious for the future; and as for faces—you may look into +them to know whether a man’s nose be a long or a short +one.”</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">HE KEEPS HIS APPOINTMENT.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> last night’s raillery of +his companions was recalled to his remembrance when he awoke, and +the colder homilies of prudence began to suggest some things +which were nowise favourable for a performance of his promise to +the unfortunate <a name="page80"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +80</span>female he had met with before. He rose, uncertain +of his purpose; but the torpor of such considerations was seldom +prevalent over the warmth of his nature. He walked some +turns backwards and forwards in his room; he recalled the languid +form of the fainting wretch to his mind; he wept at the +recollection of her tears. “Though I am the vilest of +beings, I have not forgotten every virtue; gratitude, I hope, I +shall still have left.”—He took a larger +stride—“Powers of mercy that surround me!” +cried he, “do ye not smile upon deeds like these? to +calculate the chances of deception is too tedious a business for +the life of man!”—The clock struck ten.—When he +was got down-stairs, he found that he had forgot the note of her +lodgings; he gnawed his lips at the delay: he was fairly on the +pavement, when he recollected having left his purse; he did but +just prevent himself from articulating an imprecation. He +rushed a second time up into his chamber. “What a +wretch I am!” said he; “ere this time, +perhaps—” ’Twas a perhaps not to be +borne;—two vibrations of a pendulum would have served him +to lock his bureau; but they could not be spared.</p> +<p><a name="page81"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 81</span>When he +reached the house, and inquired for Miss Atkins (for that was the +lady’s name), he was shown up three pair of stairs, into a +small room lighted by one narrow lattice, and patched round with +shreds of different-coloured paper. In the darkest corner +stood something like a bed, before which a tattered coverlet hung +by way of curtain. He had not waited long when she +appeared. Her face had the glister of new-washed tears on +it. “I am ashamed, sir,” said she, “that +you should have taken this fresh piece of trouble about one so +little worthy of it; but, to the humane, I know there is a +pleasure in goodness for its own sake: if you have patience for +the recital of my story, it may palliate, though it cannot +excuse, my faults.” Harley bowed, as a sign of +assent; and she began as follows:—</p> +<p>“I am the daughter of an officer, whom a service of +forty years had advanced no higher than the rank of +captain. I have had hints from himself, and been informed +by others, that it was in some measure owing to those principles +of rigid honour, which it was his boast to possess, and which he +early inculcated on me, that he had been able to arrive at no +better station. My <a name="page82"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 82</span>mother died when I was a child: old +enough to grieve for her death, but incapable of remembering her +precepts. Though my father was doatingly fond of her, yet +there were some sentiments in which they materially differed: she +had been bred from her infancy in the strictest principles of +religion, and took the morality of her conduct from the motives +which an adherence to those principles suggested. My +father, who had been in the army from his youth, affixed an idea +of pusillanimity to that virtue, which was formed by the +doctrines, excited by the rewards, or guarded by the terrors of +revelation; his dashing idol was the honour of a soldier: a term +which he held in such reverence, that he used it for his most +sacred asseveration. When my mother died, I was some time +suffered to continue in those sentiments which her instructions +had produced; but soon after, though, from respect to her memory, +my father did not absolutely ridicule them, yet he showed, in his +discourse to others, so little regard to them, and at times +suggested to me motives of action so different, that I was soon +weaned from opinions which I began to consider as the dreams of +superstition, or the artful inventions of designing <a +name="page83"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +83</span>hypocrisy. My mother’s books were left +behind at the different quarters we removed to, and my reading +was principally confined to plays, novels, and those poetical +descriptions of the beauty of virtue and honour, which the +circulating libraries easily afforded.</p> +<p>“As I was generally reckoned handsome, and the quickness +of my parts extolled by all our visitors, my father had a pride +in allowing me to the world. I was young, giddy, open to +adulation, and vain of those talents which acquired it.</p> +<p>“After the last war, my father was reduced to half-pay; +with which we retired to a village in the country, which the +acquaintance of some genteel families who resided in it, and the +cheapness of living, particularly recommended. My father +rented a small house, with a piece of ground sufficient to keep a +horse for him, and a cow for the benefit of his family. An +old man servant managed his ground; while a maid, who had +formerly been my mother’s, and had since been mine, +undertook the care of our little dairy: they were assisted in +each of their provinces by my father and me: and we passed our +time in a state of tranquillity, which he had always talked of +with <a name="page84"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +84</span>delight, and my train of reading had taught me to +admire.</p> +<p>“Though I had never seen the polite circles of the +metropolis, the company my father had introduced me into had +given me a degree of good breeding, which soon discovered a +superiority over the young ladies of our village. I was +quoted as an example of politeness, and my company courted by +most of the considerable families in the neighbourhood.</p> +<p>“Amongst the houses where I was frequently invited was +Sir George Winbrooke’s. He had two daughters nearly +of my age, with whom, though they had been bred up in those +maxims of vulgar doctrine which my superior understanding could +not but despise, yet as their good nature led them to an +imitation of my manners in everything else, I cultivated a +particular friendship.</p> +<p>“Some months after our first acquaintance, Sir +George’s eldest son came home from his travels. His +figure, his address, and conversation, were not unlike those warm +ideas of an accomplished man which my favourite novels had taught +me to form; and his sentiments on the article of religion were as +liberal as my own: when any of these happened <a +name="page85"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 85</span>to be the +topic of our discourse, I, who before had been silent, from a +fear of being single in opposition, now kindled at the fire he +raised, and defended our mutual opinions with all the eloquence I +was mistress of. He would be respectfully attentive all the +while; and when I had ended, would raise his eyes from the +ground, look at me with a gaze of admiration, and express his +applause in the highest strain of encomium. This was an +incense the more pleasing, as I seldom or never had met with it +before; for the young gentlemen who visited Sir George were for +the most part of that athletic order, the pleasure of whose lives +is derived from fox-hunting: these are seldom solicitous to +please the women at all; or if they were, would never think of +applying their flattery to the mind.</p> +<p>“Mr. Winbrooke observed the weakness of my soul, and +took every occasion of improving the esteem he had gained. +He asked my opinion of every author, of every sentiment, with +that submissive diffidence, which showed an unlimited confidence +in my understanding. I saw myself revered, as a superior +being, by one whose judgment my vanity told me was not likely to +err: <a name="page86"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +86</span>preferred by him to all the other visitors of my sex, +whose fortunes and rank should have entitled them to a much +higher degree of notice: I saw their little jealousies at the +distinguished attention he paid me; it was gratitude, it was +pride, it was love! Love which had made too fatal a +progress in my heart, before any declaration on his part should +have warranted a return: but I interpreted every look of +attention, every expression of compliment, to the passion I +imagined him inspired with, and imputed to his sensibility that +silence which was the effect of art and design. At length, +however, he took an opportunity of declaring his love: he now +expressed himself in such ardent terms, that prudence might have +suspected their sincerity: but prudence is rarely found in the +situation I had been unguardedly led into; besides, that the +course of reading to which I had been accustomed, did not lead me +to conclude, that his expressions could be too warm to be +sincere: nor was I even alarmed at the manner in which he talked +of marriage, a subjection, he often hinted, to which genuine love +should scorn to be confined. The woman, he would often say, +who had merit like mine to fix his affection, could easily +command <a name="page87"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 87</span>it +for ever. That honour too which I revered, was often called +in to enforce his sentiments. I did not, however, +absolutely assent to them; but I found my regard for their +opposites diminish by degrees. If it is dangerous to be +convinced, it is dangerous to listen; for our reason is so much +of a machine, that it will not always be able to resist, when the +ear is perpetually assailed.</p> +<p>“In short, Mr. Harley (for I tire you with a relation, +the catastrophe of which you will already have imagined), I fell +a prey to his artifices. He had not been able so thoroughly +to convert me, that my conscience was silent on the subject; but +he was so assiduous to give repeated proofs of unabated +affection, that I hushed its suggestions as they rose. The +world, however, I knew, was not to be silenced; and therefore I +took occasion to express my uneasiness to my seducer, and entreat +him, as he valued the peace of one to whom he professed such +attachment, to remove it by a marriage. He made excuse from +his dependence on the will of his father, but quieted my fears by +the promise of endeavouring to win his assent.</p> +<p>“My father had been some days absent on a visit to a +dying relation, from whom he had considerable <a +name="page88"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +88</span>expectations. I was left at home, with no other +company than my books: my books I found were not now such +companions as they used to be; I was restless, melancholy, +unsatisfied with myself. But judge my situation when I +received a billet from Mr. Winbrooke informing me, that he had +sounded Sir George on the subject we had talked of, and found him +so averse to any match so unequal to his own rank and fortune, +that he was obliged, with whatever reluctance, to bid adieu to a +place, the remembrance of which should ever be dear to him.</p> +<p>“I read this letter a hundred times over. Alone, +helpless, conscious of guilt, and abandoned by every better +thought, my mind was one motley scene of terror, confusion, and +remorse. A thousand expedients suggested themselves, and a +thousand fears told me they would be vain: at last, in an agony +of despair, I packed up a few clothes, took what money and +trinkets were in the house, and set out for London, whither I +understood he was gone; pretending to my maid, that I had +received letters from my father requiring my immediate +attendance. I had no other companion than a boy, a servant +to the man from whom I <a name="page89"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 89</span>hired my horses. I arrived in +London within an hour of Mr. Winbrooke, and accidentally alighted +at the very inn where he was.</p> +<p>“He started and turned pale when he saw me; but +recovered himself in time enough to make many new protestations +of regard, and beg me to make myself easy under a disappointment +which was equally afflicting to him. He procured me +lodgings, where I slept, or rather endeavoured to sleep, for that +night. Next morning I saw him again, he then mildly +observed on the imprudence of my precipitate flight from the +country, and proposed my removing to lodgings at another end of +the town, to elude the search of my father, till he should fall +upon some method of excusing my conduct to him, and reconciling +him to my return. We took a hackney-coach, and drove to the +house he mentioned.</p> +<p>“It was situated in a dirty lane, furnished with a +tawdry affectation of finery, with some old family pictures +hanging on walls which their own cobwebs would better have +suited. I was struck with a secret dread at entering, nor +was it lessened by the appearance of the landlady, who had that +look of selfish shrewdness, which, of all others, is the <a +name="page90"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 90</span>most hateful +to those whose feelings are untinctured with the world. A +girl, who she told us was her niece, sat by her, playing on a +guitar, while herself was at work, with the assistance of +spectacles, and had a prayer-book with the leaves folded down in +several places, lying on the table before her. Perhaps, +sir, I tire you with my minuteness, but the place, and every +circumstance about it, is so impressed on my mind, that I shall +never forget it.</p> +<p>“I dined that day with Mr. Winbrooke alone. He +lost by degrees that restraint which I perceived too well to hang +about him before, and, with his former gaiety and good humour, +repeated the flattering things which, though they had once been +fatal, I durst not now distrust. At last, taking my hand +and kissing it, ‘It is thus,’ said he, ‘that +love will last, while freedom is preserved; thus let us ever be +blessed, without the galling thought that we are tied to a +condition where we may cease to be so.’</p> +<p>“I answered, ‘That the world thought otherwise: +that it had certain ideas of good fame, which it was impossible +not to wish to maintain.’</p> +<p>“‘The world,’ said he, ‘is a tyrant, +they are slaves who obey it; let us be happy without the <a +name="page91"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 91</span>pale of the +world. To-morrow I shall leave this quarter of it, for one +where the talkers of the world shall be foiled, and lose +us. Could not my Emily accompany me? my friend, my +companion, the mistress of my soul! Nay, do not look so, +Emily! Your father may grieve for a while, but your father +shall be taken care of; this bank-bill I intend as the comfort +for his daughter.’</p> +<p>“I could contain myself no longer: ‘Wretch,’ +I exclaimed, ‘dost thou imagine that my father’s +heart could brook dependence on the destroyer of his child, and +tamely accept of a base equivalent for her honour and his +own?’</p> +<p>“‘Honour, my Emily,’ said he, ‘is the +word of fools, or of those wiser men who cheat them. +’Tis a fantastic bauble that does not suit the gravity of +your father’s age; but, whatever it is, I am afraid it can +never be perfectly restored to you: exchange the word then, and +let pleasure be your object now.’</p> +<p>“At these words he clasped me in his arms, and pressed +his lips rudely to my bosom. I started from my seat. +‘Perfidious villain!’ said I, ‘who dar’st +insult the weakness thou hast undone; were that father here, thy +coward soul would shrink <a name="page92"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 92</span>from the vengeance of his +honour! Cursed be that wretch who has deprived him of it! +oh doubly cursed, who has dragged on his hoary head the infamy +which should have crushed her own!’ I snatched a +knife which lay beside me, and would have plunged it in my +breast, but the monster prevented my purpose, and smiling with a +grin of barbarous insult—</p> +<p>“‘Madam,’ said he, ‘I confess you are +rather too much in heroics for me; I am sorry we should differ +about trifles; but as I seem somehow to have offended you, I +would willingly remedy it by taking my leave. You have been +put to some foolish expense in this journey on my account; allow +me to reimburse you.’</p> +<p>“So saying he laid a bank-bill, of what amount I had no +patience to see, upon the table. Shame, grief, and +indignation choked my utterance; unable to speak my wrongs, and +unable to bear them in silence, I fell in a swoon at his +feet.</p> +<p>“What happened in the interval I cannot tell, but when I +came to myself I was in the arms of the landlady, with her niece +chafing my temples, and doing all in her power for my +recovery. She had much compassion in her countenance; the +old <a name="page93"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 93</span>woman +assumed the softest look she was capable of, and both endeavoured +to bring me comfort. They continued to show me many +civilities, and even the aunt began to be less disagreeable in my +sight. To the wretched, to the forlorn, as I was, small +offices of kindness are endearing.</p> +<p>“Meantime my money was far spent, nor did I attempt to +conceal my wants from their knowledge. I had frequent +thoughts of returning to my father; but the dread of a life of +scorn is insurmountable. I avoided, therefore, going abroad +when I had a chance of being seen by any former acquaintance, nor +indeed did my health for a great while permit it; and suffered +the old woman, at her own suggestion, to call me niece at home, +where we now and then saw (when they could prevail on me to leave +my room) one or two other elderly women, and sometimes a grave +business-like man, who showed great compassion for my +indisposition, and made me very obligingly an offer of a room at +his country-house for the recovery of my health. This offer +I did not chose to accept, but told my landlady, ‘that I +should be glad to be employed in any way of business which my +skill in needlework could recommend me to, confessing, at the <a +name="page94"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 94</span>same time, +that I was afraid I should scarce be able to pay her what I +already owed for board and lodging, and that for her other good +offices, I had nothing but thanks to give her.’</p> +<p>“‘My dear child,’ said she, ‘do not +talk of paying; since I lost my own sweet girl’ (here she +wept), ‘your very picture she was, Miss Emily, I have +nobody, except my niece, to whom I should leave any little thing +I have been able to save; you shall live with me, my dear; and I +have sometimes a little millinery work, in which, when you are +inclined to it, you may assist us. By the way, here are a +pair of ruffles we have just finished for that gentleman you saw +here at tea; a distant relation of mine, and a worthy man he +is. ’Twas pity you refused the offer of an apartment +at his country house; my niece, you know, was to have accompanied +you, and you might have fancied yourself at home; a most sweet +place it is, and but a short mile beyond Hampstead. Who +knows, Miss Emily, what effect such a visit might have had! +If I had half your beauty I should not waste it pining after +e’er a worthless fellow of them all.’</p> +<p>“I felt my heart swell at her words; I would <a +name="page95"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 95</span>have been +angry if I could, but I was in that stupid state which is not +easily awakened to anger: when I would have chid her the reproof +stuck in my throat; I could only weep!</p> +<p>“Her want of respect increased, as I had not spirit to +assert it. My work was now rather imposed than offered, and +I became a drudge for the bread I eat: but my dependence and +servility grew in proportion, and I was now in a situation which +could not make any extraordinary exertions to disengage itself +from either—I found myself with child.</p> +<p>“At last the wretch, who had thus trained me to +destruction, hinted the purpose for which those means had been +used. I discovered her to be an artful procuress for the +pleasures of those who are men of decency to the world in the +midst of debauchery.</p> +<p>“I roused every spark of courage within me at the horrid +proposal. She treated my passion at first somewhat mildly, +but when I continued to exert it she resented it with insult, and +told me plainly that if I did not soon comply with her desires I +should pay her every farthing I owed, or rot in a jail for +life. I trembled at the thought; <a name="page96"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 96</span>still, however, I resisted her +importunities, and she put her threats in execution. I was +conveyed to prison, weak from my condition, weaker from that +struggle of grief and misery which for some time I had +suffered. A miscarriage was the consequence.</p> +<p>“Amidst all the horrors of such a state, surrounded with +wretches totally callous, lost alike to humanity and to shame, +think, Mr. Harley, think what I endured; nor wonder that I at +last yielded to the solicitations of that miscreant I had seen at +her house, and sunk to the prostitution which he tempted. +But that was happiness compared to what I have suffered +since. He soon abandoned me to the common use of the town, +and I was cast among those miserable beings in whose society I +have since remained.</p> +<p>“Oh! did the daughters of virtue know our sufferings; +did they see our hearts torn with anguish amidst the affectation +of gaiety which our faces are obliged to assume! our bodies +tortured by disease, our minds with that consciousness which they +cannot lose! Did they know, did they think of this, Mr. +Harley! Their censures are just, but their pity perhaps +might <a name="page97"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +97</span>spare the wretches whom their justice should +condemn.</p> +<p>“Last night, but for an exertion of benevolence which +the infection of our infamy prevents even in the humane, had I +been thrust out from this miserable place which misfortune has +yet left me; exposed to the brutal insults of drunkenness, or +dragged by that justice which I could not bribe, to the +punishment which may correct, but, alas! can never amend the +abandoned objects of its terrors. From that, Mr. Harley, +your goodness has relieved me.”</p> +<p>He beckoned with his hand: he would have stopped the mention +of his favours; but he could not speak, had it been to beg a +diadem.</p> +<p>She saw his tears; her fortitude began to fail at the sight, +when the voice of some stranger on the stairs awakened her +attention. She listened for a moment, then starting up, +exclaimed, “Merciful God! my father’s +voice!”</p> +<p>She had scarce uttered the word, when the door burst open, and +a man entered in the garb of an officer. When he discovered +his daughter and Harley, he started back a few paces; his look +assumed a furious wildness! he laid his hand on <a +name="page98"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 98</span>his +sword. The two objects of his wrath did not utter a +syllable.</p> +<p>“Villain,” he cried, “thou seest a father +who had once a daughter’s honour to preserve; blasted as it +now is, behold him ready to avenge its loss!”</p> +<p>Harley had by this time some power of utterance. +“Sir,” said he, “if you will be a moment +calm—”</p> +<p>“Infamous coward!” interrupted the other, +“dost thou preach calmness to wrongs like mine!”</p> +<p>He drew his sword.</p> +<p>“Sir,” said Harley, “let me tell +you”—the blood ran quicker to his cheek, his pulse +beat one, no more, and regained the temperament of +humanity—“you are deceived, sir,” said he, +“you are much deceived; but I forgive suspicions which your +misfortunes have justified: I would not wrong you, upon my soul I +would not, for the dearest gratification of a thousand worlds; my +heart bleeds for you!”</p> +<p>His daughter was now prostrate at his feet.</p> +<p>“Strike,” said she, “strike here a wretch, +whose misery cannot end but with that death she +deserves.”</p> +<p>Her hair had fallen on her shoulders! her look <a +name="page99"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 99</span>had the +horrid calmness of out-breathed despair! Her father would +have spoken; his lip quivered, his cheek grew pale, his eyes lost +the lightning of their fury! there was a reproach in them, but +with a mingling of pity. He turned them up to heaven, then +on his daughter. He laid his left hand on his heart, the +sword dropped from his right, he burst into tears.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIX.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE DISTRESSES OF A FATHER.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Harley</span> kneeled also at the side of +the unfortunate daughter.</p> +<p>“Allow me, sir,” said he, “to entreat your +pardon for one whose offences have been already so signally +punished. I know, I feel, that those tears, wrung from the +heart of a father, are more dreadful to her than all the +punishments your sword could have inflicted: accept the +contrition of a child whom heaven has restored to you.”</p> +<p>“Is she not lost,” answered he, +“irrecoverably <a name="page100"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 100</span>lost? Damnation! a common +prostitute to the meanest ruffian!”</p> +<p>“Calmly, my dear sir,” said Harley, “did you +know by what complicated misfortunes she had fallen to that +miserable state in which you now behold her, I should have no +need of words to excite your compassion. Think, sir, of +what once she was. Would you abandon her to the insults of +an unfeeling world, deny her opportunity of penitence, and cut +off the little comfort that still remains for your afflictions +and her own!”</p> +<p>“Speak,” said he, addressing himself to his +daughter; “speak; I will hear thee.”</p> +<p>The desperation that supported her was lost; she fell to the +ground, and bathed his feet with her tears.</p> +<p>Harley undertook her cause: he related the treacheries to +which she had fallen a sacrifice, and again solicited the +forgiveness of her father. He looked on her for some time +in silence; the pride of a soldier’s honour checked for a +while the yearnings of his heart; but nature at last prevailed, +he fell on her neck and mingled his tears with hers.</p> +<p>Harley, who discovered from the dress of the <a +name="page101"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 101</span>stranger +that he was just arrived from a journey, begged that they would +both remove to his lodgings, till he could procure others for +them. Atkins looked at him with some marks of +surprise. His daughter now first recovered the power of +speech.</p> +<p>“Wretch as I am,” said she, “yet there is +some gratitude due to the preserver of your child. See him +now before you. To him I owe my life, or at least the +comfort of imploring your forgiveness before I die.”</p> +<p>“Pardon me, young gentleman,” said Atkins, +“I fear my passion wronged you.”</p> +<p>“Never, never, sir,” said Harley “if it had, +your reconciliation to your daughter were an atonement a thousand +fold.” He then repeated his request that he might be +allowed to conduct them to his lodgings, to which Mr. Atkins at +last consented. He took his daughter’s arm.</p> +<p>“Come, my Emily,” said he, “we can never, +never recover that happiness we have lost! but time may teach us +to remember our misfortunes with patience.”</p> +<p>When they arrived at the house where Harley lodged, he was +informed that the first floor was then vacant, and that the +gentleman and his <a name="page102"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +102</span>daughter might be accommodated there. While he +was upon his enquiry, Miss Atkins informed her father more +particularly what she owed to his benevolence. When he +turned into the room where they were Atkins ran and embraced +him;—begged him again to forgive the offence he had given +him, and made the warmest protestations of gratitude for his +favours. We would attempt to describe the joy which Harley +felt on this occasion, did it not occur to us that one half of +the world could not understand it though we did, and the other +half will, by this time, have understood it without any +description at all.</p> +<p>Miss Atkins now retired to her chamber, to take some rest from +the violence of the emotions she had suffered. When she was +gone, her father, addressing himself to Harley, said, “You +have a right, sir, to be informed of the present situation of one +who owes so much to your compassion for his misfortunes. My +daughter I find has informed you what that was at the fatal +juncture when they began. Her distresses you have heard, +you have pitied as they deserved; with mine, perhaps, I cannot so +easily make you acquainted. You have a feeling heart, Mr. +Harley; I bless it <a name="page103"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +103</span>that it has saved my child; but you never were a +father, a father torn by that most dreadful of calamities, the +dishonour of a child he doated on! You have been already +informed of some of the circumstances of her elopement: I was +then from home, called by the death of a relation, who, though he +would never advance me a shilling on the utmost exigency in his +life-time, left me all the gleanings of his frugality at his +death. I would not write this intelligence to my daughter, +because I intended to be the bearer myself; and as soon as my +business would allow me, I set out on my return, winged with all +the haste of paternal affection. I fondly built those +schemes of future happiness, which present prosperity is ever +busy to suggest: my Emily was concerned in them all. As I +approached our little dwelling my heart throbbed with the +anticipation of joy and welcome. I imagined the cheering +fire, the blissful contentment of a frugal meal, made luxurious +by a daughter’s smile, I painted to myself her surprise at +the tidings of our new-acquired riches, our fond disputes about +the disposal of them.</p> +<p>“The road was shortened by the dreams of happiness I +enjoyed, and it began to be dark as I <a name="page104"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 104</span>reached the house: I alighted from +my horse, and walked softly upstairs to the room we commonly sat +in. I was somewhat disappointed at not finding my daughter +there. I rung the bell; her maid appeared, and shewed no +small signs of wonder at the summons. She blessed herself +as she entered the room: I smiled at her surprise. +‘Where is Miss Emily, sir?’ said she.</p> +<p>“‘Emily!’</p> +<p>“‘Yes, sir; she has been gone hence some days, +upon receipt of those letters you sent her.’</p> +<p>“‘Letters!’ said I.</p> +<p>“‘Yes, sir, so she told me, and went off in all +haste that very night.’</p> +<p>“I stood aghast as she spoke, but was able so far to +recollect myself, as to put on the affectation of calmness, and +telling her there was certainly some mistake in the affair, +desired her to leave me.</p> +<p>“When she was gone, I threw myself into a chair, in that +state of uncertainty which is, of all others, the most +dreadful. The gay visions with which I had delighted +myself, vanished in an instant. I was tortured with tracing +back the same circle of doubt and disappointment. My <a +name="page105"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 105</span>head grew +dizzy as I thought. I called the servant again, and asked +her a hundred questions, to no purpose; there was not room even +for conjecture.</p> +<p>“Something at last arose in my mind, which we call Hope, +without knowing what it is. I wished myself deluded by it; +but it could not prevail over my returning fears. I rose +and walked through the room. My Emily’s spinnet stood +at the end of it, open, with a book of music folded down at some +of my favourite lessons. I touched the keys; there was a +vibration in the sound that froze my blood; I looked around, and +methought the family pictures on the walls gazed on me with +compassion in their faces. I sat down again with an attempt +at more composure; I started at every creaking of the door, and +my ears rung with imaginary noises!</p> +<p>“I had not remained long in this situation, when the +arrival of a friend, who had accidentally heard of my return, put +an end to my doubts, by the recital of my daughter’s +dishonour. He told me he had his information from a young +gentleman, to whom Winbrooke had boasted of having seduced +her.</p> +<p>“I started from my seat, with broken curses on <a +name="page106"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 106</span>my lips, +and without knowing whither I should pursue them, ordered my +servant to load my pistols and saddle my horses. My friend, +however, with great difficulty, persuaded me to compose myself +for that night, promising to accompany me on the morrow, to Sir +George Winbrooke’s in quest of his son.</p> +<p>“The morrow came, after a night spent in a state little +distant from madness. We went as early as decency would +allow to Sir George’s. He received me with +politeness, and indeed compassion, protested his abhorrence of +his son’s conduct, and told me that he had set out some +days before for London, on which place he had procured a draft +for a large sum, on pretence of finishing his travels, but that +he had not heard from him since his departure.</p> +<p>“I did not wait for any more, either of information or +comfort, but, against the united remonstrances of Sir George and +my friend, set out instantly for London, with a frantic +uncertainty of purpose; but there, all manner of search was in +vain. I could trace neither of them any farther than the +inn where they first put up on their arrival; and after some days +fruitless inquiry, returned <a name="page107"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 107</span>home destitute of every little hope +that had hitherto supported me. The journeys I had made, +the restless nights I had spent, above all, the perturbation of +my mind, had the effect which naturally might be expected—a +very dangerous fever was the consequence. From this, +however, contrary to the expectation of my physicians, I +recovered. It was now that I first felt something like +calmness of mind: probably from being reduced to a state which +could not produce the exertions of anguish or despair. A +stupid melancholy settled on my soul; I could endure to live with +an apathy of life; at times I forgot my resentment, and wept at +the remembrance of my child.</p> +<p>“Such has been the tenor of my days since that fatal +moment when these misfortunes began, till yesterday, that I +received a letter from a friend in town, acquainting me of her +present situation. Could such tales as mine, Mr. Harley, be +sometimes suggested to the daughters of levity, did they but know +with what anxiety the heart of a parent flutters round the child +he loves, they would be less apt to construe into harshness that +delicate concern for their conduct, which they often complain of +as laying restraint upon things, to the <a +name="page108"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 108</span>young, the +gay, and the thoughtless, seemingly harmless and +indifferent. Alas! I fondly imagined that I needed +not even these common cautions! my Emily was the joy of my age, +and the pride of my soul! Those things are now no more, +they are lost for ever! Her death I could have born, but +the death of her honour has added obloquy and shame to that +sorrow which bends my grey hairs to the dust!”</p> +<p>As he spoke these last words, his voice trembled in his +throat; it was now lost in his tears. He sat with his face +half turned from Harley, as if he would have hid the sorrow which +he felt. Harley was in the same attitude himself; he durst +not meet his eye with a tear, but gathering his stifled breath, +“Let me entreat you, sir,” said he, “to hope +better things. The world is ever tyrannical; it warps our +sorrows to edge them with keener affliction. Let us not be +slaves to the names it affixes to motive or to action. I +know an ingenuous mind cannot help feeling when they sting. +But there are considerations by which it may be overcome. +Its fantastic ideas vanish as they rise; they teach us to look +beyond it.”</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<h3><a name="page109"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 109</span>A +FRAGMENT.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">SHOWING HIS SUCCESS WITH THE +BARONET.</span></h3> +<p>* * <span class="smcap">The</span> card he received was in the +politest style in which disappointment could be +communicated. The baronet “was under a necessity of +giving up his application for Mr. Harley, as he was informed that +the lease was engaged for a gentleman who had long served His +Majesty in another capacity, and whose merit had entitled him to +the first lucrative thing that should be vacant.” +Even Harley could not murmur at such a disposal. +“Perhaps,” said he to himself, “some war-worn +officer, who, like poor Atkins, had been neglected from reasons +which merited the highest advancement; whose honour could not +stoop to solicit the preferment he deserved; perhaps, with a +family, taught the principles of delicacy, without the means of +supporting it; a wife and children—gracious heaven! whom my +wishes would have deprived of bread—”</p> +<p>He was interrupted in his reverie by some one tapping him on +the shoulder, and, on turning round, <a name="page110"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 110</span>he discovered it to be the very man +who had explained to him the condition of his gay companion at +Hyde Park Corner. “I am glad to see you, sir,” +said he; “I believe we are fellows in +disappointment.” Harley started, and said that he was +at a loss to understand him. “Pooh! you need not be +so shy,” answered the other; “every one for himself +is but fair, and I had much rather you had got it than the +rascally gauger.” Harley still protested his +ignorance of what he meant. “Why, the lease of +Bancroft Manor; had not you been applying for it?” +“I confess I was,” replied Harley; “but I +cannot conceive how you should be interested in the +matter.” “Why, I was making interest for it +myself,” said he, “and I think I had some +title. I voted for this same baronet at the last election, +and made some of my friends do so too; though I would not have +you imagine that I sold my vote. No, I scorn it, let me +tell you I scorn it; but I thought as how this man was staunch +and true, and I find he’s but a double-faced fellow after +all, and speechifies in the House for any side he hopes to make +most by. Oh, how many fine speeches and squeezings by the +hand we had of him on the canvas! ‘And if ever <a +name="page111"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 111</span>I shall be +so happy as to have an opportunity of serving you.’ A +murrain on the smooth-tongued knave, and after all to get it for +this pimp of a gauger.” “The gauger! there must +be some mistake,” said Harley. “He writes me, +that it was engaged for one whose long +services—” “Services!” interrupted +the other; “you shall hear. Services! Yes, his +sister arrived in town a few days ago, and is now sempstress to +the baronet. A plague on all rogues, says honest Sam +Wrightson. I shall but just drink damnation to them +to-night, in a crown’s worth of Ashley’s, and leave +London to-morrow by sun-rise.” “I shall leave +it too,” said Harley; and so he accordingly did.</p> +<p>In passing through Piccadilly, he had observed, on the window +of an inn, a notification of the departure of a stage-coach for a +place in his road homewards; in the way back to his lodgings, he +took a seat in it for his return.</p> +<h2><a name="page112"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +112</span>CHAPTER XXXIII.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">HE LEAVES LONDON—CHARACTERS IN A +STAGE-COACH.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> company in the stage-coach +consisted of a grocer and his wife, who were going to pay a visit +to some of their country friends; a young officer, who took this +way of marching to quarters; a middle-aged gentlewoman, who had +been hired as housekeeper to some family in the country; and an +elderly, well-looking man, with a remarkable old-fashioned +periwig.</p> +<p>Harley, upon entering, discovered but one vacant seat, next +the grocer’s wife, which, from his natural shyness of +temper, he made no scruple to occupy, however aware that riding +backwards always disagreed with him.</p> +<p>Though his inclination to physiognomy had met with some rubs +in the metropolis, he had not yet lost his attachment to that +science. He set himself, therefore, to examine, as usual, +the countenances of his companions. Here, indeed, he was +not long in doubt as to the preference; for besides <a +name="page113"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 113</span>that the +elderly gentleman, who sat opposite to him, had features by +nature more expressive of good dispositions, there was something +in that periwig we mentioned, peculiarly attractive of +Harley’s regard.</p> +<p>He had not been long employed in these speculations, when he +found himself attacked with that faintish sickness, which was the +natural consequence of his situation in the coach. The +paleness of his countenance was first observed by the +housekeeper, who immediately made offer of her smelling bottle, +which Harley, however, declined, telling at the same time the +cause of his uneasiness. The gentleman, on the opposite +side of the coach, now first turned his eye from the side +direction in which it had been fixed, and begged Harley to +exchange places with him, expressing his regret that he had not +made the proposal before. Harley thanked him, and, upon +being assured that both seats were alike to him, was about to +accept of his offer, when the young gentleman of the sword, +putting on an arch look, laid hold of the other’s +arm. “So, my old boy,” said he, “I find +you have still some youthful blood about you, but, with your +leave, I will do myself the honour of sitting <a +name="page114"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 114</span>by this +lady;” and took his place accordingly. The grocer +stared him as full in the face as his own short neck would allow, +and his wife, who was a little, round-faced woman, with a great +deal of colour in her cheeks, drew up at the compliment that was +paid her, looking first at the officer, and then at the +housekeeper.</p> +<p>This incident was productive of some discourse; for before, +though there was sometimes a cough or a hem from the grocer, and +the officer now and then humm’d a few notes of a song, +there had not a single word passed the lips of any of the +company.</p> +<p>Mrs. Grocer observed, how ill-convenient it was for people, +who could not be drove backwards, to travel in a stage. +This brought on a dissertation on stage-coaches in general, and +the pleasure of keeping a chay of one’s own; which led to +another, on the great riches of Mr. Deputy Bearskin, who, +according to her, had once been of that industrious order of +youths who sweep the crossings of the streets for the conveniency +of passengers, but, by various fortunate accidents, had now +acquired an immense fortune, and kept his coach and a dozen +livery servants. All this afforded ample fund for <a +name="page115"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +115</span>conversation, if conversation it might be called, that +was carried on solely by the before-mentioned lady, nobody +offering to interrupt her, except that the officer sometimes +signified his approbation by a variety of oaths, a sort of +phraseology in which he seemed extremely versant. She +appealed indeed, frequently, to her husband for the authenticity +of certain facts, of which the good man as often protested his +total ignorance; but as he was always called fool, or something +very like it, for his pains, he at last contrived to support the +credit of his wife without prejudice to his conscience, and +signified his assent by a noise not unlike the grunting of that +animal which in shape and fatness he somewhat resembled.</p> +<p>The housekeeper, and the old gentleman who sat next to Harley, +were now observed to be fast asleep, at which the lady, who had +been at such pains to entertain them, muttered some words of +displeasure, and, upon the officer’s whispering to smoke +the old put, both she and her husband purs’d up their +mouths into a contemptuous smile. Harley looked sternly on +the grocer. “You are come, sir,” said he, +“to those years when you might have learned some reverence +for age. As <a name="page116"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +116</span>for this young man, who has so lately escaped from the +nursery, he may be allowed to divert himself.” +“Dam’me, sir!” said the officer, “do you +call me young?” striking up the front of his hat, and +stretching forward on his seat, till his face almost touched +Harley’s. It is probable, however, that he discovered +something there which tended to pacify him, for, on the ladies +entreating them not to quarrel, he very soon resumed his posture +and calmness together, and was rather less profuse of his oaths +during the rest of the journey.</p> +<p>It is possible the old gentleman had waked time enough to hear +the last part of this discourse; at least (whether from that +cause, or that he too was a physiognomist) he wore a look +remarkably complacent to Harley, who, on his part, shewed a +particular observance of him. Indeed, they had soon a +better opportunity of making their acquaintance, as the coach +arrived that night at the town where the officer’s regiment +lay, and the places of destination of their other +fellow-travellers, it seems, were at no great distance, for, next +morning, the old gentleman and Harley were the only passengers +remaining.</p> +<p>When they left the inn in the morning, Harley, <a +name="page117"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 117</span>pulling out +a little pocket-book, began to examine the contents, and make +some corrections with a pencil. “This,” said +he, turning to his companion, “is an amusement with which I +sometimes pass idle hours at an inn. These are quotations +from those humble poets, who trust their fame to the brittle +tenure of windows and drinking-glasses.” “From +our inn,” returned the gentleman, “a stranger might +imagine that we were a nation of poets; machines, at least, +containing poetry, which the motion of a journey emptied of their +contents. Is it from the vanity of being thought geniuses, +or a mere mechanical imitation of the custom of others, that we +are tempted to scrawl rhyme upon such places?”</p> +<p>“Whether vanity is the cause of our becoming rhymesters +or not,” answered Harley, “it is a pretty certain +effect of it. An old man of my acquaintance, who deals in +apothegms, used to say that he had known few men without envy, +few wits without ill-nature, and no poet without vanity; and I +believe his remark is a pretty just one. Vanity has been +immemorially the charter of poets. In this, the ancients +were more honest than we are. The old poets frequently make +<a name="page118"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 118</span>boastful +predictions of the immortality their works shall acquire them; +ours, in their dedications and prefatory discourses, employ much +eloquence to praise their patrons, and much seeming modesty to +condemn themselves, or at least to apologise for their +productions to the world. But this, in my opinion, is the +more assuming manner of the two; for of all the garbs I ever saw +Pride put on, that of her humility is to me the most +disgusting.”</p> +<p>“It is natural enough for a poet to be vain,” said +the stranger. “The little worlds which he raises, the +inspiration which he claims, may easily be productive of +self-importance; though that inspiration is fabulous, it brings +on egotism, which is always the parent of vanity.”</p> +<p>“It may be supposed,” answered Harley, “that +inspiration of old was an article of religious faith; in modern +times it may be translated a propensity to compose; and I believe +it is not always most readily found where the poets have fixed +its residence, amidst groves and plains, and the scenes of +pastoral retirement. The mind may be there unbent from the +cares of the world, but it will frequently, at the same time, be +unnerved from any <a name="page119"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +119</span>great exertion. It will feel imperfect, and +wander without effort over the regions of reflection.”</p> +<p>“There is at least,” said the stranger, “one +advantage in the poetical inclination, that it is an incentive to +philanthropy. There is a certain poetic ground, on which a +man cannot tread without feelings that enlarge the heart: the +causes of human depravity vanish before the romantic enthusiasm +he professes, and many who are not able to reach the Parnassian +heights, may yet approach so near as to be bettered by the air of +the climate.”</p> +<p>“I have always thought so,” replied Harley; +“but this is an argument with the prudent against it: they +urge the danger of unfitness for the world.”</p> +<p>“I allow it,” returned the other; “but I +believe it is not always rightfully imputed to the bent for +poetry: that is only one effect of the common cause.—Jack, +says his father, is indeed no scholar; nor could all the +drubbings from his master ever bring him one step forward in his +accidence or syntax: but I intend him for a merchant.—Allow +the same indulgence to Tom.—Tom reads Virgil and Horace +when he should be casting accounts; <a name="page120"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 120</span>and but t’other day he pawned +his great-coat for an edition of Shakespeare.—But Tom would +have been as he is, though Virgil and Horace had never been born, +though Shakespeare had died a link-boy; for his nurse will tell +you, that when he was a child, he broke his rattle, to discover +what it was that sounded within it; and burnt the sticks of his +go-cart, because he liked to see the sparkling of timber in the +fire.—’Tis a sad case; but what is to be +done?—Why, Jack shall make a fortune, dine on venison, and +drink claret.—Ay, but Tom—Tom shall dine with his +brother, when his pride will let him; at other times, he shall +bless God over a half-pint of ale and a Welsh-rabbit; and both +shall go to heaven as they may.—That’s a poor +prospect for Tom, says the father.—To go to heaven! I +cannot agree with him.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps,” said Harley, “we now-a-days +discourage the romantic turn a little too much. Our boys +are prudent too soon. Mistake me not, I do not mean to +blame them for want of levity or dissipation; but their pleasures +are those of hackneyed vice, blunted to every finer emotion by +the repetition of debauch; and their desire of pleasure is warped +to the desire of wealth, as the means of procuring <a +name="page121"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 121</span>it. +The immense riches acquired by individuals have erected a +standard of ambition, destructive of private morals, and of +public virtue. The weaknesses of vice are left us; but the +most allowable of our failings we are taught to despise. +Love, the passion most natural to the sensibility of youth, has +lost the plaintive dignity he once possessed, for the unmeaning +simper of a dangling coxcomb; and the only serious concern, that +of a dowry, is settled, even amongst the beardless leaders of the +dancing-school. The Frivolous and the Interested (might a +satirist say) are the characteristical features of the age; they +are visible even in the essays of our philosophers. They +laugh at the pedantry of our fathers, who complained of the times +in which they lived; they are at pains to persuade us how much +those were deceived; they pride themselves in defending things as +they find them, and in exploding the barren sounds which had been +reared into motives for action. To this their style is +suited; and the manly tone of reason is exchanged for perpetual +efforts at sneer and ridicule. This I hold to be an +alarming crisis in the corruption of a state; when not only is +virtue declined, and vice prevailing, but when the praises <a +name="page122"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 122</span>of virtue +are forgotten, and the infamy of vice unfelt.”</p> +<p>They soon after arrived at the next inn upon the route of the +stage-coach, when the stranger told Harley, that his +brother’s house, to which he was returning, lay at no great +distance, and he must therefore unwillingly bid him adieu.</p> +<p>“I should like,” said Harley, taking his hand, +“to have some word to remember so much seeming worth by: my +name is Harley.”</p> +<p>“I shall remember it,” answered the old gentleman, +“in my prayers; mine is Silton.”</p> +<p>And Silton indeed it was! Ben Silton himself! Once +more, my honoured friend, farewell!—Born to be happy +without the world, to that peaceful happiness which the world has +not to bestow! Envy never scowled on thy life, nor hatred +smiled on thy grave.</p> +<h2><a name="page123"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +123</span>CHAPTER XXXIV.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">HE MEETS AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">When</span> the stage-coach arrived at the +place of its destination, Harley began to consider how he should +proceed the remaining part of his journey. He was very +civilly accosted by the master of the inn, who offered to +accommodate him either with a post-chaise or horses, to any +distance he had a mind: but as he did things frequently in a way +different from what other people call natural, he refused these +offers, and set out immediately a-foot, having first put a spare +shirt in his pocket, and given directions for the forwarding of +his portmanteau. This was a method of travelling which he +was accustomed to take: it saved the trouble of provision for any +animal but himself, and left him at liberty to chose his +quarters, either at an inn, or at the first cottage in which he +saw a face he liked: nay, when he was not peculiarly attracted by +the reasonable creation, he would sometimes consort with a +species of inferior rank, and lay himself down to sleep by the +side of a rock, or on <a name="page124"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 124</span>the banks of a rivulet. He did +few things without a motive, but his motives were rather +eccentric: and the useful and expedient were terms which he held +to be very indefinite, and which therefore he did not always +apply to the sense in which they are commonly understood.</p> +<p>The sun was now in his decline, and the evening remarkably +serene, when he entered a hollow part of the road, which winded +between the surrounding banks, and seamed the sward in different +lines, as the choice of travellers had directed them to tread +it. It seemed to be little frequented now, for some of +those had partly recovered their former verdure. The scene +was such as induced Harley to stand and enjoy it; when, turning +round, his notice was attracted by an object, which the fixture +of his eye on the spot he walked had before prevented him from +observing.</p> +<p>An old man, who from his dress seemed to have been a soldier, +lay fast asleep on the ground; a knapsack rested on a stone at +his right hand, while his staff and brass-hilted sword were +crossed at his left.</p> +<p>Harley looked on him with the most earnest attention. He +was one of those figures which <a name="page125"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 125</span>Salvator would have drawn; nor was +the surrounding scenery unlike the wildness of that +painter’s back-grounds. The banks on each side were +covered with fantastic shrub-wood, and at a little distance, on +the top of one of them, stood a finger-post, to mark the +directions of two roads which diverged from the point where it +was placed. A rock, with some dangling wild flowers, jutted +out above where the soldier lay; on which grew the stump of a +large tree, white with age, and a single twisted branch shaded +his face as he slept. His face had the marks of manly +comeliness impaired by time; his forehead was not altogether +bald, but its hairs might have been numbered; while a few white +locks behind crossed the brown of his neck with a contrast the +most venerable to a mind like Harley’s. “Thou +art old,” said he to himself; “but age has not +brought thee rest for its infirmities; I fear those silver hairs +have not found shelter from thy country, though that neck has +been bronzed in its service.” The stranger +waked. He looked at Harley with the appearance of some +confusion: it was a pain the latter knew too well to think of +causing in another; he turned and went on. The old man +re-adjusted his knapsack, and followed <a +name="page126"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 126</span>in one of +the tracks on the opposite side of the road.</p> +<p>When Harley heard the tread of his feet behind him, he could +not help stealing back a glance at his fellow-traveller. He +seemed to bend under the weight of his knapsack; he halted on his +walk, and one of his arms was supported by a sling, and lay +motionless across his breast. He had that steady look of +sorrow, which indicates that its owner has gazed upon his griefs +till he has forgotten to lament them; yet not without those +streaks of complacency which a good mind will sometimes throw +into the countenance, through all the incumbent load of its +depression.</p> +<p>He had now advanced nearer to Harley, and, with an uncertain +sort of voice, begged to know what it was o’clock; “I +fear,” said he, “sleep has beguiled me of my time, +and I shall hardly have light enough left to carry me to the end +of my journey.”</p> +<p>“Father!” said Harley (who by this time found the +romantic enthusiasm rising within him) “how far do you mean +to go?”</p> +<p>“But a little way, sir,” returned the other; +“and indeed it is but a little way I can manage <a +name="page127"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 127</span>now: +’tis just four miles from the height to the village, +thither I am going.”</p> +<p>“I am going there too,” said Harley; “we may +make the road shorter to each other. You seem to have +served your country, sir, to have served it hardly too; +’tis a character I have the highest esteem for.—I +would not be impertinently inquisitive; but there is that in your +appearance which excites my curiosity to know something more of +you; in the meantime, suffer me to carry that +knapsack.”</p> +<p>The old man gazed on him; a tear stood in his eye! +“Young gentleman,” said he, “you are too good; +may Heaven bless you for an old man’s sake, who has nothing +but his blessing to give! but my knapsack is so familiar to my +shoulders, that I should walk the worse for wanting it; and it +would be troublesome to you, who have not been used to its +weight.”</p> +<p>“Far from it,” answered Harley, “I should +tread the lighter; it would be the most honourable badge I ever +wore.”</p> +<p>“Sir,” said the stranger, who had looked earnestly +in Harley’s face during the last part of his discourse, +“is act your name Harley?”</p> +<p><a name="page128"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +128</span>“It is,” replied he; “I am ashamed to +say I have forgotten yours.”</p> +<p>“You may well have forgotten my face,” said the +stranger;—“’tis a long time since you saw it; +but possibly you may remember something of old +Edwards.”</p> +<p>“Edwards!” cried Harley, “oh! +heavens!” and sprung to embrace him; “let me clasp +those knees on which I have sat so often: Edwards!—I shall +never forget that fire-side, round which I have been so +happy! But where, where have you been? where is Jack? where +is your daughter? How has it fared with them, when fortune, +I fear, has been so unkind to you?”</p> +<p>“’Tis a long tale,” replied Edwards; +“but I will try to tell it you as we walk.</p> +<p>“When you were at school in the neighbourhood, you +remember me at South-hill: that farm had been possessed by my +father, grandfather, and great-grandfather, which last was a +younger brother of that very man’s ancestor, who is now +lord of the manor. I thought I managed it, as they had +done, with prudence; I paid my rent regularly as it became due, +and had always as much behind as gave bread to me and my +children. But my <a name="page129"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 129</span>last lease was out soon after you +left that part of the country; and the squire, who had lately got +a London-attorney for his steward, would not renew it, because, +he said, he did not chuse to have any farm under £300 a +year value on his estate; but offered to give me the preference +on the same terms with another, if I chose to take the one he had +marked out, of which mine was a part.</p> +<p>“What could I do, Mr. Harley? I feared the +undertaking was too great for me; yet to leave, at my age, the +house I had lived in from my cradle! I could not, Mr. +Harley, I could not; there was not a tree about it that I did not +look on as my father, my brother, or my child: so I even ran the +risk, and took the squire’s offer of the whole. But +had soon reason to repent of my bargain; the steward had taken +care that my former farm should be the best land of the division: +I was obliged to hire more servants, and I could not have my eye +over them all; some unfavourable seasons followed one another, +and I found my affairs entangling on my hands. To add to my +distress, a considerable corn-factor turned bankrupt with a sum +of mine in his possession: I failed paying my rent so punctually +<a name="page130"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 130</span>as I was +wont to do, and the same steward had my stock taken in execution +in a few days after. So, Mr. Harley, there was an end of my +prosperity. However, there was as much produced from the +sale of my effects as paid my debts and saved me from a jail: I +thank God I wronged no man, and the world could never charge me +with dishonesty.</p> +<p>“Had you seen us, Mr. Harley, when we were turned out of +South-hill, I am sure you would have wept at the sight. You +remember old Trusty, my shag house-dog; I shall never forget it +while I live; the poor creature was blind with age, and could +scarce crawl after us to the door; he went however as far as the +gooseberry-bush that you may remember stood on the left side of +the yard; he was wont to bask in the sun there; when he had +reached that spot, he stopped; we went on: I called to him; he +wagged his tail, but did not stir: I called again; he lay down: I +whistled, and cried Trusty; he gave a short howl, and died! +I could have lain down and died too; but God gave me strength to +live for my children.”</p> +<p>The old man now paused a moment to take breath. He eyed +Harley’s face; it was bathed <a name="page131"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 131</span>with tears: the story was grown +familiar to himself; he dropped one tear, and no more.</p> +<p>“Though I was poor,” continued he, “I was +not altogether without credit. A gentleman in the +neighbourhood, who had a small farm unoccupied at the time, +offered to let me have it, on giving security for the rent; which +I made shift to procure. It was a piece of ground which +required management to make anything of; but it was nearly within +the compass of my son’s labour and my own. We exerted +all our industry to bring it into some heart. We began to +succeed tolerably and lived contented on its produce, when an +unlucky accident brought us under the displeasure of a +neighbouring justice of the peace, and broke all our +family-happiness again.</p> +<p>“My son was a remarkable good shooter; he-had always +kept a pointer on our former farm, and thought no harm in doing +so now; when one day, having sprung a covey in our own ground, +the dog, of his own accord, followed them into the +justice’s. My son laid down his gun, and went after +his dog to bring him back: the game-keeper, who had marked the +birds, came up, and seeing the pointer, shot him just as my son +approached. The creature <a name="page132"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 132</span>fell; my son ran up to him: he died +with a complaining sort of cry at his master’s feet. +Jack could bear it no longer; but, flying at the game-keeper, +wrenched his gun out of his hand, and with the butt end of it, +felled him to the ground.</p> +<p>“He had scarce got home, when a constable came with a +warrant, and dragged him to prison; there he lay, for the +justices would not take bail, till he was tried at the +quarter-sessions for the assault and battery. His fine was +hard upon us to pay: we contrived however to live the worse for +it, and make up the loss by our frugality: but the justice was +not content with that punishment, and soon after had an +opportunity of punishing us indeed.</p> +<p>“An officer with press-orders came down to our county, +and having met with the justices, agreed that they should pitch +on a certain number, who could most easily be spared from the +county, of whom he would take care to clear it: my son’s +name was in the justices’ list.</p> +<p>“’Twas on a Christmas eve, and the birth-day too +of my son’s little boy. The night was piercing cold, +and it blew a storm, with showers of hail and snow. We had +made up a cheering fire in an inner <a name="page133"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 133</span>room; I sat before it in my +wicker-chair; blessing providence, that had still left a shelter +for me and my children. My son’s two little ones were +holding their gambols around us; my heart warmed at the sight: I +brought a bottle of my best ale, and all our misfortunes were +forgotten.</p> +<p>“It had long been our custom to play a game at blind +man’s buff on that night, and it was not omitted now; so to +it we fell, I, and my son, and his wife, the daughter of a +neighbouring farmer, who happened to be with us at the time, the +two children, and an old maid servant, who had lived with me from +a child. The lot fell on my son to be blindfolded: we had +continued some time in our game, when he groped his way into an +outer room in pursuit of some of us, who, he imagined, had taken +shelter there; we kept snug in our places, and enjoyed his +mistake. He had not been long there, when he was suddenly +seized from behind; ‘I shall have you now,’ said he, +and turned about. ‘Shall you so, master?’ +answered the ruffian, who had laid hold of him; ‘we shall +make you play at another sort of game by and +by.’”—At these words Harley started with a +convulsive sort of motion, and grasping Edwards’s sword, +drew it half out of <a name="page134"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 134</span>the scabbard, with a look of the +most frantic wildness. Edwards gently replaced it in its +sheath, and went on with his relation.</p> +<p>“On hearing these words in a strange voice, we all +rushed out to discover the cause; the room by this time was +almost full of the gang. My daughter-in-law fainted at the +sight; the maid and I ran to assist her, while my poor son +remained motionless, gazing by turns on his children and their +mother. We soon recovered her to life, and begged her to +retire and wait the issue of the affair; but she flew to her +husband, and clung round him in an agony of terror and grief.</p> +<p>“In the gang was one of a smoother aspect, whom, by his +dress, we discovered to be a serjeant of foot: he came up to me, +and told me, that my son had his choice of the sea or land +service, whispering at the same time that, if he chose the land, +he might get off, on procuring him another man, and paying a +certain sum for his freedom. The money we could just muster +up in the house, by the assistance of the maid, who produced, in +a green bag, all the little savings of her service; but the man +we could not expect to find. My daughter-in-law gazed upon +her children with a look of the <a name="page135"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 135</span>wildest despair: ‘My poor +infants!’ said she, ‘your father is forced from you; +who shall now labour for your bread? or must your mother beg for +herself and you?’ I prayed her to be patient; but +comfort I had none to give her. At last, calling the +serjeant aside, I asked him, ‘If I was too old to be +accepted in place of my son?’</p> +<p>“‘Why, I don’t know,’ said he; +‘you are rather old to be sure, but yet the money may do +much.’</p> +<p>“I put the money in his hand, and coming back to my +children, ‘Jack,’ said I, ‘you are free; live +to give your wife and these little ones bread; I will go, my +child, in your stead; I have but little life to lose, and if I +staid, I should add one to the wretches you left +behind.’</p> +<p>“‘No,’ replied my son, ‘I am not that +coward you imagine me; heaven forbid that my father’s grey +hairs should be so exposed, while I sat idle at home; I am young +and able to endure much, and God will take care of you and my +family.’</p> +<p>“‘Jack,’ said I, ‘I will put an end to +this matter, you have never hitherto disobeyed me; I will not be +contradicted in this; stay at home, I charge you, and, for my +sake, be kind to my children.’</p> +<p><a name="page136"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +136</span>“Our parting, Mr. Harley, I cannot describe to +you; it was the first time we ever had parted: the very +press-gang could scarce keep from tears; but the serjeant, who +had seemed the softest before, was now the least moved of them +all. He conducted me to a party of new-raised recruits, who +lay at a village in the neighbourhood; and we soon after joined +the regiment. I had not been long with it when we were +ordered to the East Indies, where I was soon made a serjeant, and +might have picked up some money, if my heart had been as hard as +some others were; but my nature was never of that kind, that +could think of getting rich at the expense of my conscience.</p> +<p>“Amongst our prisoners was an old Indian, whom some of +our officers supposed to have a treasure hidden somewhere; which +is no uncommon practice in that country. They pressed him +to discover it. He declared he had none, but that would not +satisfy them, so they ordered him to be tied to a stake, and +suffer fifty lashes every morning till he should learn to speak +out, as they said. Oh! Mr. Harley, had you seen him, as I +did, with his hands bound behind him, suffering in silence, while +the big drops trickled down his <a name="page137"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 137</span>shrivelled cheeks and wet his grey +beard, which some of the inhuman soldiers plucked in scorn! +I could not bear it, I could not for my soul, and one morning, +when the rest of the guard were out of the way, I found means to +let him escape. I was tried by a court-martial for +negligence of my post, and ordered, in compassion of my age, and +having got this wound in my arm and that in my leg in the +service, only to suffer three hundred lashes and be turned out of +the regiment; but my sentence was mitigated as to the lashes, and +I had only two hundred. When I had suffered these I was +turned out of the camp, and had betwixt three and four hundred +miles to travel before I could reach a sea-port, without guide to +conduct me, or money to buy me provisions by the way. I set +out, however, resolved to walk as far as I could, and then to lay +myself down and die. But I had scarce gone a mile when I +was met by the Indian whom I had delivered. He pressed me +in his arms, and kissed the marks of the lashes on my back a +thousand times; he led me to a little hut, where some friend of +his dwelt, and after I was recovered of my wounds conducted me so +far on my journey himself, and sent another Indian to <a +name="page138"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 138</span>guide me +through the rest. When we parted he pulled out a purse with +two hundred pieces of gold in it. ‘Take this,’ +said he, ‘my dear preserver, it is all I have been able to +procure.’</p> +<p>“I begged him not to bring himself to poverty for my +sake, who should probably have no need of it long, but he +insisted on my accepting it. He embraced me. +‘You are an Englishman,’ said he, ‘but the +Great Spirit has given you an Indian heart, may He bear up the +weight of your old age, and blunt the arrow that brings it +rest!’</p> +<p>“We parted, and not long after I made shift to get my +passage to England. ’Tis but about a week since I +landed, and I am going to end my days in the arms of my +son. This sum may be of use to him and his children, +’tis all the value I put upon it. I thank Heaven I +never was covetous of wealth; I never had much, but was always so +happy as to be content with my little.”</p> +<p>When Edwards had ended his relation, Harley stood a while +looking at him in silence; at last he pressed him in his arms, +and when he had given vent to the fulness of his heart by a +shower of tears, “Edwards,” said he, “let me +hold thee to my bosom, let me imprint the virtue of thy +sufferings <a name="page139"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +139</span>on my soul. Come, my honoured veteran! let me +endeavour to soften the last days of a life, worn out in the +service of humanity; call me also thy son, and let me cherish +thee as a father.”’</p> +<p>Edwards, from whom the recollection of his own suffering had +scarced forced a tear, now blubbered like a boy; he could not +speak his gratitude, but by some short exclamations of blessings +upon Harley.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXV.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">HE MISSES AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.—AN +ADVENTURE CONSEQUENT UPON IT.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">When</span> they had arrived within a +little way of the village they journeyed to, Harley stopped +short, and looked steadfastly on the mouldering walls of a ruined +house that stood on the road side. “Oh, +heavens!” he cried, “what do I see: silent, unroofed, +and desolate! Are all thy gay tenants gone? do I hear their +hum no more Edwards, look there, look there? the scene of my +infant joys, my earliest friendships, laid waste and +ruinous! <a name="page140"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +140</span>That was the very school where I was boarded when you +were at South-hill; ’tis but a twelve-month since I saw it +standing, and its benches filled with cherubs: that opposite side +of the road was the green on which they sported; see it now +ploughed up! I would have given fifty times its value to +have saved it from the sacrilege of that plough.”</p> +<p>“Dear sir,” replied Edwards, “perhaps they +have left it from choice, and may have got another spot as +good.”</p> +<p>“They cannot,” said Harley, “they cannot; I +shall never see the sward covered with its daisies, nor pressed +by the dance of the dear innocents: I shall never see that stump +decked with the garlands which their little hands had +gathered. These two long stones, which now lie at the foot +of it, were once the supports of a hut I myself assisted to rear: +I have sat on the sods within it, when we had spread our banquet +of apples before us, and been more blessed—Oh! +Edwards, infinitely more blessed, than ever I shall be +again.”</p> +<p>Just then a woman passed them on the road, and discovered some +signs of wonder at the attitude of Harley, who stood, with his +hands <a name="page141"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +141</span>folded together, looking with a moistened eye on the +fallen pillars of the hut. He was too much entranced in +thought to observe her at all, but Edwards, civilly accosting +her, desired to know if that had not been the school-house, and +how it came into the condition in which they now saw it.</p> +<p>“Alack a day!” said she, “it was the +school-house indeed; but to be sure, sir, the squire has pulled +it down because it stood in the way of his prospects.”</p> +<p>“What! how! prospects! pulled down!” cried +Harley.</p> +<p>“Yes, to be sure, sir; and the green, where the children +used to play, he has ploughed up, because, he said, they hurt his +fence on the other side of it.”</p> +<p>“Curses on his narrow heart,” cried Harley, +“that could violate a right so sacred! Heaven blast +the wretch!</p> +<blockquote><p>“And from his derogate body never spring<br +/> +A babe to honour him!”—</p> +</blockquote> +<p>But I need not, Edwards, I need not” (recovering himself +a little), “he is cursed enough already: to him the noblest +source of happiness is denied, and the cares of his sordid soul +shall gnaw it, while <a name="page142"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 142</span>thou sittest over a brown crust, +smiling on those mangled limbs that have saved thy son and his +children!”</p> +<p>“If you want anything with the school-mistress, +sir,” said the woman, “I can show you the way to her +house.”</p> +<p>He followed her without knowing whither he went.</p> +<p>They stopped at the door of a snug habitation, where sat an +elderly woman with a boy and a girl before her, each of whom held +a supper of bread and milk in their hands.</p> +<p>“There, sir, is the school-mistress.”</p> +<p>“Madam,” said Harley, “was not an old +venerable man school-master here some time ago?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir, he was, poor man; the loss of his former +school-house, I believe, broke his heart, for he died soon after +it was taken down, and as another has not yet been found, I have +that charge in the meantime.”</p> +<p>“And this boy and girl, I presume, are your +pupils?”</p> +<p>“Ay, sir; they are poor orphans, put under my care by +the parish, and more promising children I never saw.”</p> +<p><a name="page143"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +143</span>“Orphans?” said Harley.</p> +<p>“Yes, sir, of honest creditable parents as any in the +parish, and it is a shame for some folks to forget their +relations at a time when they have most need to remember +them.”</p> +<p>“Madam,” said Harley, “let us never forget +that we are all relations.”</p> +<p>He kissed the children.</p> +<p>“Their father, sir,” continued she, “was a +farmer here in the neighbourhood, and a sober industrious man he +was; but nobody can help misfortunes: what with bad crops, and +bad debts, which are worse, his affairs went to wreck, and both +he and his wife died of broken hearts. And a sweet couple +they were, sir; there was not a properer man to look on in the +county than John Edwards, and so indeed were all the +Edwardses.”</p> +<p>“What Edwardses?” cried the old soldier +hastily.</p> +<p>“The Edwardses of South-hill, and a worthy family they +were.”</p> +<p>“South-hill!” said he, in a languid voice, and +fell back into the arms of the astonished Harley. The +school-mistress ran for some water—and a smelling-bottle, +with the assistance of which they <a name="page144"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 144</span>soon recovered the unfortunate +Edwards. He stared wildly for some time, then folding his +orphan grandchildren in his arms,</p> +<p>“Oh! my children, my children,” he cried, +“have I found you thus? My poor Jack, art thou +gone? I thought thou shouldst have carried thy +father’s grey hairs to the grave! and these little +ones”—his tears choked his utterance, and he fell +again on the necks of the children.</p> +<p>“My dear old man,” said Harley, “Providence +has sent you to relieve them; it will bless me if I can be the +means of assisting you.”</p> +<p>“Yes, indeed, sir,” answered the boy; +“father, when he was a-dying, bade God bless us, and prayed +that if grandfather lived he might send him to support +us.”</p> +<p>“Where did they lay my boy?” said Edwards.</p> +<p>“In the Old Churchyard,” replied the woman, +“hard by his mother.”</p> +<p>“I will show it you,” answered the boy, “for +I have wept over it many a time when first I came amongst strange +folks.”</p> +<p>He took the old man’s hand, Harley laid hold of his +sister’s, and they walked in silence to the churchyard.</p> +<p><a name="page145"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 145</span>There +was an old stone, with the corner broken off, and some letters, +half-covered with moss, to denote the names of the dead: there +was a cyphered R. E. plainer than the rest; it was the tomb they +sought.</p> +<p>“Here it is, grandfather,” said the boy.</p> +<p>Edwards gazed upon it without uttering a word: the girl, who +had only sighed before, now wept outright; her brother sobbed, +but he stifled his sobbing.</p> +<p>“I have told sister,” said he, “that she +should not take it so to heart; she can knit already, and I shall +soon be able to dig, we shall not starve, sister, indeed we shall +not, nor shall grandfather neither.”</p> +<p>The girl cried afresh; Harley kissed off her tears as they +flowed, and wept between every kiss.</p> +<h2><a name="page146"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +146</span>CHAPTER XXXVI.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">HE RETURNS HOME.—A DESCRIPTION OF +HIS RETINUE.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was with some difficulty that +Harley prevailed on the old man to leave the spot where the +remains of his son were laid. At last, with the assistance +of the school-mistress, he prevailed; and she accommodated +Edwards and him with beds in her house, there being nothing like +an inn nearer than the distance of some miles.</p> +<p>In the morning Harley persuaded Edwards to come with the +children to his house, which was distant but a short day’s +journey. The boy walked in his grandfather’s hand; +and the name of Edwards procured him a neighbouring +farmer’s horse, on which a servant mounted, with the girl +on a pillow before him.</p> +<p>With this train Harley returned to the abode of his fathers: +and we cannot but think, that his enjoyment was as great as if he +had arrived from the tour of Europe with a Swiss valet for his +companion, and half a dozen snuff-boxes, with invisible <a +name="page147"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 147</span>hinges, in +his pocket. But we take our ideas from sounds which folly +has invented; Fashion, Bon ton, and Vertù, are the names +of certain idols, to which we sacrifice the genuine pleasures of +the soul: in this world of semblance, we are contented with +personating happiness; to feel it is an art beyond us.</p> +<p>It was otherwise with Harley; he ran upstairs to his aunt with +the history of his fellow-travellers glowing on his lips. +His aunt was an economist; but she knew the pleasure of doing +charitable things, and withal was fond of her nephew, and +solicitous to oblige him. She received old Edwards +therefore with a look of more complacency than is perhaps natural +to maiden ladies of three-score, and was remarkably attentive to +his grandchildren: she roasted apples with her own hands for +their supper, and made up a little bed beside her own for the +girl. Edwards made some attempts towards an acknowledgment +for these favours; but his young friend stopped them in their +beginnings.</p> +<p>“Whosoever receiveth any of these children,” said +his aunt; for her acquaintance with her Bible was habitual.</p> +<p><a name="page148"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 148</span>Early +next morning Harley stole into the room where Edwards lay: he +expected to have found him a-bed, but in this he was mistaken: +the old man had risen, and was leaning over his sleeping +grandson, with the tears flowing down his cheeks. At first +he did not perceive Harley; when he did, he endeavoured to hide +his grief, and crossing his eyes with his hand expressed his +surprise at seeing him so early astir.</p> +<p>“I was thinking of you,” said Harley, “and +your children: I learned last night that a small farm of mine in +the neighbourhood is now vacant: if you will occupy it I shall +gain a good neighbour and be able in some measure to repay the +notice you took of me when a boy, and as the furniture of the +house is mine, it will be so much trouble saved.”</p> +<p>Edwards’s tears gushed afresh, and Harley led him to see +the place he intended for him.</p> +<p>The house upon this farm was indeed little better than a hut; +its situation, however, was pleasant, and Edwards, assisted by +the beneficence of Harley, set about improving its neatness and +convenience. He staked out a piece of the green before for +a garden, and Peter, who acted in Harley’s <a +name="page149"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 149</span>family as +valet, butler, and gardener, had orders to furnish him with +parcels of the different seeds he chose to sow in it. I +have seen his master at work in this little spot with his coat +off, and his dibble in his hand: it was a scene of tranquil +virtue to have stopped an angel on his errands of mercy! +Harley had contrived to lead a little bubbling brook through a +green walk in the middle of the ground, upon which he had erected +a mill in miniature for the diversion of Edwards’s infant +grandson, and made shift in its construction to introduce a +pliant bit of wood that answered with its fairy clack to the +murmuring of the rill that turned it. I have seen him +stand, listening to these mingled sounds, with his eye fixed on +the boy, and the smile of conscious satisfaction on his cheek, +while the old man, with a look half turned to Harley and half to +heaven, breathed an ejaculation of gratitude and piety.</p> +<p>Father of mercies! I also would thank thee that not only +hast thou assigned eternal rewards to virtue, but that, even in +this bad world, the lines of our duty and our happiness are so +frequently woven together.</p> +<h3><a name="page150"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 150</span>A +FRAGMENT.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE MAN OF FEELING TALKS OF WHAT HE DOES +NOT UNDERSTAND.—AN INCIDENT.</span></h3> +<p>* * * * “<span class="smcap">Edwards</span>,” said +he, “I have a proper regard for the prosperity of my +country: every native of it appropriates to himself some share of +the power, or the fame, which, as a nation, it acquires, but I +cannot throw off the man so much as to rejoice at our conquests +in India. You tell me of immense territories subject to the +English: I cannot think of their possessions without being led to +inquire by what right they possess them. They came there as +traders, bartering the commodities they brought for others which +their purchasers could spare; and however great their profits +were, they were then equitable. But what title have the +subjects of another kingdom to establish an empire in India? to +give laws to a country where the inhabitants received them on the +terms of friendly commerce? You say they are happier under +our regulations than the tyranny <a name="page151"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 151</span>of their own petty princes. I +must doubt it, from the conduct of those by whom these +regulations have been made. They have drained the +treasuries of Nabobs, who must fill them by oppressing the +industry of their subjects. Nor is this to be wondered at, +when we consider the motive upon which those gentlemen do not +deny their going to India. The fame of conquest, barbarous +as that motive is, is but a secondary consideration: there are +certain stations in wealth to which the warriors of the East +aspire. It is there, indeed, where the wishes of their +friends assign them eminence, where the question of their country +is pointed at their return. When shall I see a commander +return from India in the pride of honourable poverty? You +describe the victories they have gained; they are sullied by the +cause in which they fought: you enumerate the spoils of those +victories; they are covered with the blood of the vanquished.</p> +<p>“Could you tell me of some conqueror giving peace and +happiness to the conquered? did he accept the gifts of their +princes to use them for the comfort of those whose fathers, sons, +or husbands, fell in battle? did he use his power to gain <a +name="page152"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 152</span>security +and freedom to the regions of oppression and slavery? did he +endear the British name by examples of generosity, which the most +barbarous or most depraved are rarely able to resist? did he +return with the consciousness of duty discharged to his country, +and humanity to his fellow-creatures? did he return with no lace +on his coat, no slaves in his retinue, no chariot at his door, +and no burgundy at his table?—these were laurels which +princes might envy—which an honest man would not +condemn!”</p> +<p>“Your maxims, Mr. Harley, are certainly right,” +said Edwards. “I am not capable of arguing with you; +but I imagine there are great temptations in a great degree of +riches, which it is no easy matter to resist: those a poor man +like me cannot describe, because he never knew them; and perhaps +I have reason to bless God that I never did; for then, it is +likely, I should have withstood them no better than my +neighbours. For you know, sir, that it is not the fashion +now, as it was in former times, that I have read of in books, +when your great generals died so poor, that they did not leave +wherewithal to buy them a coffin; and people thought the better +of their <a name="page153"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +153</span>memories for it: if they did so now-a-days, I question +if any body, except yourself, and some few like you, would thank +them.”</p> +<p>“I am sorry,” replied Harley, “that there is +so much truth in what you say; but however the general current of +opinion may point, the feelings are not yet lost that applaud +benevolence, and censure inhumanity. Let us endeavour to +strengthen them in ourselves; and we, who live sequestered from +the noise of the multitude, have better opportunities of +listening undisturbed to their voice.”</p> +<p>They now approached the little dwelling of Edwards. A +maid-servant, whom he had hired to assist him in the care of his +grandchildren met them a little way from the house: “There +is a young lady within with the children,” said she. +Edwards expressed his surprise at the visit: it was however not +the less true; and we mean to account for it.</p> +<p>This young lady then was no other than Miss Walton. She +had heard the old man’s history from Harley, as we have +already related it. Curiosity, or some other motive, made +her desirous to see his grandchildren; this she had an +opportunity <a name="page154"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +154</span>of gratifying soon, the children, in some of their +walks, having strolled as far as her father’s avenue. +She put several questions to both; she was delighted with the +simplicity of their answers, and promised, that if they continued +to be good children, and do as their grandfather bid them, she +would soon see them again, and bring some present or other for +their reward. This promise she had performed now: she came +attended only by her maid, and brought with her a complete suit +of green for the boy, and a chintz gown, a cap, and a suit of +ribbons, for his sister. She had time enough, with her +maid’s assistance, to equip them in their new habiliments +before Harley and Edwards returned. The boy heard his +grandfather’s voice, and, with that silent joy which his +present finery inspired, ran to the door to meet him: putting one +hand in his, with the other pointed to his sister, +“See,” said he, “what Miss Walton has brought +us!”—Edwards gazed on them. Harley fixed his +eyes on Miss Walton; her’s were turned to the +ground;—in Edwards’s was a beamy moisture.—He +folded his hands together—“I cannot speak, young +lady,” said he, “to thank you.” Neither +could Harley. <a name="page155"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 155</span>There were a thousand sentiments; +but they gushed so impetuously on his heart, that he could not +utter a syllable. * * * *</p> +<h2>CHAPTER XL.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE MAN OF FEELING JEALOUS.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> desire of communicating +knowledge or intelligence, is an argument with those who hold +that man is naturally a social animal. It is indeed one of +the earliest propensities we discover; but it may be doubted +whether the pleasure (for pleasure there certainly is) arising +from it be not often more selfish than social: for we frequently +observe the tidings of Ill communicated as eagerly as the +annunciation of Good. Is it that we delight in observing +the effects of the stronger passions? for we are all philosophers +in this respect; and it is perhaps amongst the spectators at +Tyburn that the most genuine are to be found.</p> +<p>Was it from this motive that Peter came one morning into his +master’s room with a meaning face <a +name="page156"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 156</span>of +recital? His master indeed did not at first observe it; for +he was sitting with one shoe buckled, delineating portraits in +the fire. “I have brushed those clothes, sir, as you +ordered me.”—Harley nodded his head but Peter +observed that his hat wanted brushing too: his master nodded +again. At last Peter bethought him that the fire needed +stirring; and taking up the poker, demolished the turban’d +head of a Saracen, while his master was seeking out a body for +it. “The morning is main cold, sir,” said +Peter. “Is it?” said Harley. “Yes, +sir; I have been as far as Tom Dowson’s to fetch some +barberries he had picked for Mrs. Margery. There was a rare +junketting last night at Thomas’s among Sir Harry +Benson’s servants; he lay at Squire Walton’s, but he +would not suffer his servants to trouble the family: so, to be +sure, they were all at Tom’s, and had a fiddle, and a hot +supper in the big room where the justices meet about the +destroying of hares and partridges, and them things; and +Tom’s eyes looked so red and so bleared when I called him +to get the barberries:—And I hear as how Sir Harry is going +to be married to Miss Walton.”—“How! Miss +Walton married!” said Harley. “Why, it <a +name="page157"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +157</span>mayn’t be true, sir, for all that; but +Tom’s wife told it me, and to be sure the servants told +her, and their master told them, as I guess, sir; but it +mayn’t be true for all that, as I said +before.”—“Have done with your idle +information,” said Harley:—“Is my aunt come +down into the parlour to breakfast?”—“Yes, +sir.”—“Tell her I’ll be with her +immediately.”</p> +<p>When Peter was gone, he stood with his eyes fixed on the +ground, and the last words of his intelligence vibrating in his +ears. “Miss Walton married!” he +sighed—and walked down stairs, with his shoe as it was, and +the buckle in his hand. His aunt, however, was pretty well +accustomed to those appearances of absence; besides, that the +natural gravity of her temper, which was commonly called into +exertion by the care of her household concerns, was such as not +easily to be discomposed by any circumstance of accidental +impropriety. She too had been informed of the intended +match between Sir Harry Benson and Miss Walton. “I +have been thinking,” said she, “that they are distant +relations: for the great-grandfather of this Sir Harry Benson, +who was knight of the shire in the reign of Charles the <a +name="page158"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 158</span>First, and +one of the cavaliers of those times, was married to a daughter of +the Walton family.” Harley answered drily, that it +might be so; but that he never troubled himself about those +matters. “Indeed,” said she, “you are to +blame, nephew, for not knowing a little more of them: before I +was near your age I had sewed the pedigree of our family in a set +of chair-bottoms, that were made a present of to my grandmother, +who was a very notable woman, and had a proper regard for +gentility, I’ll assure you; but now-a-days it is money, not +birth, that makes people respected; the more shame for the +times.”</p> +<p>Harley was in no very good humour for entering into a +discussion of this question; but he always entertained so much +filial respect for his aunt, as to attend to her discourse.</p> +<p>“We blame the pride of the rich,” said he, +“but are not we ashamed of our poverty?”</p> +<p>“Why, one would not choose,” replied his aunt, +“to make a much worse figure than one’s neighbours; +but, as I was saying before, the times (as my friend, Mrs. +Dorothy Walton, observes) are shamefully degenerated in this +respect. There was but t’other day at Mr. +Walton’s, that fat fellow’s <a +name="page159"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 159</span>daughter, +the London merchant, as he calls himself, though I have heard +that he was little better than the keeper of a chandler’s +shop. We were leaving the gentlemen to go to tea. She +had a hoop, forsooth, as large and as stiff—and it showed a +pair of bandy legs, as thick as two—I was nearer the door +by an apron’s length, and the pert hussy brushed by me, as +who should say, Make way for your betters, and with one of her +London bobs—but Mrs. Dorothy did not let her pass with it; +for all the time of drinking tea, she spoke of the precedency of +family, and the disparity there is between people who are come of +something and your mushroom gentry who wear their coats of arms +in their purses.”</p> +<p>Her indignation was interrupted by the arrival of her maid +with a damask table-cloth, and a set of napkins, from the loom, +which had been spun by her mistress’s own hand. There +was the family crest in each corner, and in the middle a view of +the battle of Worcester, where one of her ancestors had been a +captain in the king’s forces; and with a sort of poetical +licence in perspective, there was seen the Royal Oak, with more +wig than leaves upon it.</p> +<p><a name="page160"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 160</span>On +all this the good lady was very copious, and took up the +remaining intervals of filling tea, to describe its excellencies +to Harley; adding, that she intended this as a present for his +wife, when he should get one. He sighed and looked foolish, +and commending the serenity of the day, walked out into the +garden.</p> +<p>He sat down on a little seat which commanded an extensive +prospect round the house. He leaned on his hand, and scored +the ground with his stick: “Miss Walton married!” +said he; “but what is that to me? May she be happy! +her virtues deserve it; to me her marriage is otherwise +indifferent: I had romantic dreams? they are fled?—it is +perfectly indifferent.”</p> +<p>Just at that moment he saw a servant with a knot of ribbons in +his hat go into the house. His cheeks grew flushed at the +sight! He kept his eye fixed for some time on the door by +which he had entered, then starting to his feet, hastily followed +him.</p> +<p>When he approached the door of the kitchen where he supposed +the man had entered, his heart throbbed so violently, that when +he would have called Peter, his voice failed in the +attempt. He <a name="page161"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +161</span>stood a moment listening in this breathless state of +palpitation: Peter came out by chance. “Did your +honour want any thing?”—“Where is the servant +that came just now from Mr. +Walton’s?”—“From Mr. Walton’s, sir! +there is none of his servants here that I know +of.”—“Nor of Sir Harry +Benson’s?”—He did not wait for an answer; but +having by this time observed the hat with its parti-coloured +ornament hanging on a peg near the door, he pressed forwards into +the kitchen, and addressing himself to a stranger whom he saw +there, asked him, with no small tremor in his voice, “If he +had any commands for him?” The man looked silly, and +said, “That he had nothing to trouble his honour +with.”—“Are not you a servant of Sir Harry +Benson’s?”—“No, +sir.”—“You’ll pardon me, young man; I +judged by the favour in your hat.”—“Sir, +I’m his majesty’s servant, God bless him! and these +favours we always wear when we are +recruiting.”—“Recruiting!” his eyes +glistened at the word: he seized the soldier’s hand, and +shaking it violently, ordered Peter to fetch a bottle of his +aunt’s best dram. The bottle was brought: “You +shall drink the king’s health,” said Harley, +“in a bumper.”—<a name="page162"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 162</span>“The king and your +honour.”—“Nay, you shall drink the king’s +health by itself; you may drink mine in another.” +Peter looked in his master’s face, and filled with some +little reluctance. “Now to your mistress,” said +Harley; “every soldier has a mistress.” The man +excused himself—“To your mistress! you cannot refuse +it.” ’Twas Mrs. Margery’s best +dram! Peter stood with the bottle a little inclined, but +not so as to discharge a drop of its contents: “Fill it, +Peter,” said his master, “fill it to the +brim.” Peter filled it; and the soldier having named +Suky Simpson, dispatched it in a twinkling. “Thou art +an honest fellow,” said Harley, “and I love +thee;” and shaking his hand again, desired Peter to make +him his guest at dinner, and walked up into his room with a pace +much quicker and more springy than usual.</p> +<p>This agreeable disappointment, however, he was not long +suffered to enjoy. The curate happened that day to dine +with him: his visits, indeed, were more properly to the aunt than +the nephew; and many of the intelligent ladies in the parish, +who, like some very great philosophers, have the happy knack at +accounting for everything, gave out that there was a particular +attachment between them, <a name="page163"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 163</span>which wanted only to be matured by +some more years of courtship to end in the tenderest +connection. In this conclusion, indeed, supposing the +premises to have been true, they were somewhat justified by the +known opinion of the lady, who frequently declared herself a +friend to the ceremonial of former times, when a lover might have +sighed seven years at his mistress’s feet before he was +allowed the liberty of kissing her hand. ’Tis true +Mrs. Margery was now about her grand climacteric; no matter: that +is just the age when we expect to grow younger. But I +verily believe there was nothing in the report; the +curate’s connection was only that of a genealogist; for in +that character he was no way inferior to Mrs. Margery +herself. He dealt also in the present times; for he was a +politician and a news-monger.</p> +<p>He had hardly said grace after dinner, when he told Mrs. +Margery that she might soon expect a pair of white gloves, as Sir +Harry Benson, he was very well informed, was just going to be +married to Miss Walton. Harley spilt the wine he was +carrying to his mouth: he had time, however, to recollect himself +before the curate had finished the <a name="page164"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 164</span>different particulars of his +intelligence, and summing up all the heroism he was master of, +filled a bumper, and drank to Miss Walton. “With all +my heart,” said the curate, “the bride that is to +be.” Harley would have said bride too; but the word +bride stuck in his throat. His confusion, indeed, was +manifest; but the curate began to enter on some point of descent +with Mrs. Margery, and Harley had very soon after an opportunity +of leaving them, while they were deeply engaged in a question, +whether the name of some great man in the time of Henry the +Seventh was Richard or Humphrey.</p> +<p>He did not see his aunt again till supper; the time between he +spent in walking, like some troubled ghost, round the place where +his treasure lay. He went as far as a little gate, that led +into a copse near Mr. Walton’s house, to which that +gentleman had been so obliging as to let him have a key. He +had just begun to open it when he saw, on a terrace below, Miss +Walton walking with a gentleman in a riding-dress, whom he +immediately guessed to be Sir Harry Benson. He stopped of a +sudden; his hand shook so much that he could hardly turn the key; +he opened the <a name="page165"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +165</span>gate, however, and advanced a few paces. The +lady’s lap-dog pricked up its ears, and barked; he stopped +again—</p> +<blockquote><p>—“The little dogs and all,<br /> +Tray, Blanch, and Sweetheart, see they bark at me!”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>His resolution failed; he slunk back, and, locking the gate as +softly as he could, stood on tiptoe looking over the wall till +they were gone. At that instant a shepherd blew his horn: +the romantic melancholy of the sound quite overcame him!—it +was the very note that wanted to be touched—he sighed! he +dropped a tear!—and returned.</p> +<p>At supper his aunt observed that he was graver than usual; but +she did not suspect the cause: indeed, it may seem odd that she +was the only person in the family who had no suspicion of his +attachment to Miss Walton. It was frequently matter of +discourse amongst the servants: perhaps her maiden +coldness—but for those things we need not account.</p> +<p>In a day or two he was so much master of himself as to be able +to rhyme upon the subject. The following pastoral he left, +some time after, on <a name="page166"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 166</span>the handle of a tea-kettle, at a +neighbouring house where we were visiting; and as I filled the +tea-pot after him, I happened to put it in my pocket by a similar +act of forgetfulness. It is such as might be expected from +a man who makes verses for amusement. I am pleased with +somewhat of good nature that runs through it, because I have +commonly observed the writers of those complaints to bestow +epithets on their lost mistresses rather too harsh for the mere +liberty of choice, which led them to prefer another to the poet +himself: I do not doubt the vehemence of their passion; but, +alas! the sensations of love are something more than the returns +of gratitude.</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">LAVINIA.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">A <span +class="smcap">Pastoral</span>.</p> +<p>Why steals from my bosom the sigh?<br /> + Why fixed is my gaze on the ground?<br /> +Come, give me my pipe, and I’ll try<br /> + To banish my cares with the sound.</p> +<p>Erewhile were its notes of accord<br /> + With the smile of the flow’r-footed Muse;<br +/> +Ah! why by its master implored<br /> + Shou’d it now the gay carrol refuse?</p> +<p>’Twas taught by <span +class="smcap">Lavinia’s</span> sweet smile,<br /> + In the mirth-loving chorus to join:<br /> +<a name="page167"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 167</span>Ah, me! +how unweeting the while!<br /> + <span class="smcap">Lavinia</span>—can never +be mine!</p> +<p>Another, more happy, the maid<br /> + By fortune is destin’d to bless—<br /> +’Tho’ the hope has forsook that betray’d,<br /> + Yet why should I love her the less?</p> +<p>Her beauties are bright as the morn,<br /> + With rapture I counted them o’er;<br /> +Such virtues these beauties adorn,<br /> + I knew her, and prais’d them no more.</p> +<p>I term’d her no goddess of love,<br /> + I call’d not her beauty divine:<br /> +These far other passions may prove,<br /> + But they could not be figures of mine.</p> +<p>It ne’er was apparel’d with art,<br /> + On words it could never rely;<br /> +It reign’d in the throb of my heart,<br /> + It gleam’d in the glance of my eye.</p> +<p>Oh fool! in the circle to shine<br /> + That Fashion’s gay daughters approve,<br /> +You must speak as the fashions incline;<br /> + Alas! are there fashions in love?</p> +<p>Yet sure they are simple who prize<br /> + The tongue that is smooth to deceive;<br /> +Yet sure she had sense to despise,<br /> + The tinsel that folly may weave.</p> +<p>When I talk’d, I have seen her recline,<br /> + With an aspect so pensively sweet,—<br /> +Tho’ I spoke what the shepherds opine,<br /> + A fop were ashamed to repeat.</p> +<p><a name="page168"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 168</span>She +is soft as the dew-drops that fall<br /> + From the lip of the sweet-scented pea;<br /> +Perhaps when she smil’d upon all,<br /> + I have thought that she smil’d upon me.</p> +<p>But why of her charms should I tell?<br /> + Ah me! whom her charms have undone<br /> +Yet I love the reflection too well,<br /> + The painful reflection to shun.</p> +<p>Ye souls of more delicate kind,<br /> + Who feast not on pleasure alone,<br /> +Who wear the soft sense of the mind,<br /> + To the sons of the world still unknown.</p> +<p>Ye know, tho’ I cannot express,<br /> + Why I foolishly doat on my pain;<br /> +Nor will ye believe it the less,<br /> + That I have not the skill to complain.</p> +<p>I lean on my hand with a sigh,<br /> + My friends the soft sadness condemn;<br /> +Yet, methinks, tho’ I cannot tell why,<br /> + I should hate to be merry like them.</p> +<p>When I walk’d in the pride of the dawn,<br /> + Methought all the region look’d bright:<br /> +Has sweetness forsaken the lawn?<br /> + For, methinks, I grow sad at the sight.</p> +<p>When I stood by the stream, I have thought<br /> + There was mirth in the gurgling soft sound;<br /> +But now ’tis a sorrowful note,<br /> + And the banks are all gloomy around!</p> +<p>I have laugh’d at the jest of a friend;<br /> + Now they laugh, and I know not the cause,<br /> +<a name="page169"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +169</span>Tho’ I seem with my looks to attend,<br /> + How silly! I ask what it was.</p> +<p>They sing the sweet song of the May,<br /> + They sing it with mirth and with glee;<br /> +Sure I once thought the sonnet was gay,<br /> + But now ’tis all sadness to me.</p> +<p>Oh! give me the dubious light<br /> + That gleams thro’ the quivering shade;<br /> +Oh! give me the horrors of night,<br /> + By gloom and by silence array’d!</p> +<p>Let me walk where the soft-rising wave,<br /> + Has pictur’d the moon on its breast;<br /> +Let me walk where the new cover’d grave<br /> + Allows the pale lover to rest!</p> +<p>When shall I in its peaceable womb,<br /> + Be laid with my sorrows asleep?<br /> +Should <span class="smcap">Lavinia</span> but chance on my +tomb—<br /> + I could die if I thought she would weep.</p> +<p>Perhaps, if the souls of the just<br /> + Revisit these mansions of care,<br /> +It may be my favourite trust<br /> + To watch o’er the fate of the fair.</p> +<p>Perhaps the soft thought of her breast,<br /> + With rapture more favour’d to warm;<br /> +Perhaps, if with sorrow oppress’d,<br /> + Her sorrow with patience to arm.</p> +<p>Then, then, in the tenderest part<br /> + May I whisper, “Poor <span +class="smcap">Colin</span> was true,”<br /> +And mark if a heave of her heart<br /> + The thought of her <span class="smcap">Colin</span> +pursue.</p> +</blockquote> +<h3><a name="page170"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 170</span>THE +PUPIL.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">A FRAGMENT.</span></h3> +<p>* * * “<span class="smcap">But</span> as to the higher +part of education, Mr. Harley, the culture of the mind—let +the feelings be awakened, let the heart be brought forth to its +object, placed in the light in which nature would have it stand, +and its decisions will ever be just. The world</p> +<blockquote><p>Will smile, and smile, and be a villain;</p> +</blockquote> +<p>and the youth, who does not suspect its deceit, will be +content to smile with it. Men will put on the most +forbidding aspect in nature, and tell him of the beauty of +virtue.</p> +<p>“I have not, under these grey hairs, forgotten that I +was once a young man, warm in the pursuit of pleasure, but +meaning to be honest as well as happy. I had ideas of +virtue, of honour, of benevolence, which I had never been at the +pains to define; but I felt my bosom heave at the thoughts of +them, and I made the most delightful soliloquies. It is +impossible, said I, that there can be half so many rogues as are +imagined.</p> +<p><a name="page171"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +171</span>“I travelled, because it is the fashion for young +men of my fortune to travel. I had a travelling tutor, +which is the fashion too; but my tutor was a gentleman, which it +is not always the fashion for tutors to be. His gentility, +indeed, was all he had from his father, whose prodigality had not +left him a shilling to support it.</p> +<p>“‘I have a favour to ask of you, my dear +Mountford,’ said my father, ‘which I will not be +refused. You have travelled as became a man; neither France +nor Italy have made anything of Mountford, which Mountford, +before he left England, would have been ashamed of. My son +Edward goes abroad, would you take him under your +protection?’</p> +<p>“He blushed; my father’s face was scarlet. +He pressed his hand to his bosom, as if he had said, my heart +does not mean to offend you. Mountford sighed twice.</p> +<p>“‘I am a proud fool,’ said he, ‘and +you will pardon it. There! (he sighed again) I can hear of +dependance, since it is dependance on my Sedley.’</p> +<p>“‘Dependance!’ answered my father; +‘there can be no such word between us. What is there +<a name="page172"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 172</span>in +£9,000 a year that should make me unworthy of +Mountford’s friendship?’</p> +<p>“They embraced; and soon after I set out on my travels, +with Mountford for my guardian.</p> +<p>“We were at Milan, where my father happened to have an +Italian friend, to whom he had been of some service in +England. The count, for he was of quality, was solicitous +to return the obligation by a particular attention to his +son. We lived in his palace, visited with his family, were +caressed by his friends, and I began to be so well pleased with +my entertainment, that I thought of England as of some foreign +country.</p> +<p>“The count had a son not much older than myself. +At that age a friend is an easy acquisition; we were friends the +first night of our acquaintance.</p> +<p>“He introduced me into the company of a set of young +gentlemen, whose fortunes gave them the command of pleasure, and +whose inclinations incited them to the purchase. After +having spent some joyous evenings in their society, it became a +sort of habit which I could not miss without uneasiness, and our +meetings, which before were frequent, were now stated and +regular.</p> +<p><a name="page173"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +173</span>“Sometimes, in the pauses of our mirth, gaming +was introduced as an amusement. It was an art in which I +was a novice. I received instruction, as other novices do, +by losing pretty largely to my teachers. Nor was this the +only evil which Mountford foresaw would arise from the connection +I had formed; but a lecture of sour injunctions was not his +method of reclaiming. He sometimes asked me questions about +the company, but they were such as the curiosity of any +indifferent man might have prompted. I told him of their +wit, their eloquence, their warmth of friendship, and their +sensibility of heart. ‘And their honour,’ said +I, laying my hand on my breast, ‘is +unquestionable.’ Mountford seemed to rejoice at my +good fortune, and begged that I would introduce him to their +acquaintance. At the next meeting I introduced him +accordingly.</p> +<p>“The conversation was as animated as usual. They +displayed all that sprightliness and good-humour which my praises +had led Mountford to expect; subjects, too, of sentiment +occurred, and their speeches, particularly those of our friend +the son of Count Respino, glowed with the warmth of honour, and +softened into the tenderness <a name="page174"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 174</span>of feeling. Mountford was +charmed with his companions. When we parted, he made the +highest eulogiums upon them. ‘When shall we see them +again?’ said he. I was delighted with the demand, and +promised to reconduct him on the morrow.</p> +<p>“In going to their place of rendezvous, he took me a +little out of the road, to see, as he told me, the performances +of a young statuary. When we were near the house in which +Mountford said he lived, a boy of about seven years old crossed +us in the street. At sight of Mountford he stopped, and +grasping his hand,</p> +<p>“‘My dearest sir,’ said he, ‘my father +is likely to do well. He will live to pray for you, and to +bless you. Yes, he will bless you, though you are an +Englishman, and some other hard word that the monk talked of this +morning, which I have forgot, but it meant that you should not go +to heaven; but he shall go to heaven, said I, for he has saved my +father. Come and see him, sir, that we may be +happy.’</p> +<p>“‘My dear, I am engaged at present with this +gentleman.’</p> +<p>“‘But he shall come along with you; he is an <a +name="page175"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 175</span>Englishman, +too, I fancy. He shall come and learn how an Englishman may +go to heaven.’</p> +<p>“Mountford smiled, and we followed the boy together.</p> +<p>“After crossing the next street, we arrived at the gate +of a prison. I <a name="page176"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 176</span>seemed surprised at the sight; our +little conductor observed it.</p> +<p>“‘Are you afraid, sir?’ said he. +‘I was afraid once too, but my father and mother are here, +and I am never afraid when I am with them.’</p> +<p>“He took my hand, and led me through a dark passage that +fronted the gate. When we came to a little door at the end, +he tapped. A boy, still younger than himself, opened it to +receive us. Mountford entered with a look in which was +pictured the benign assurance of a superior being. I +followed in silence and amazement.</p> +<p>“On something like a bed, lay a man, with a face +seemingly emaciated with sickness, and a look of patient +dejection. A bundle of dirty shreds served him for a +pillow, but he had a better support—the arm of a female who +kneeled beside him, beautiful as an angel, but with a fading +languor in her countenance, the still life of melancholy, that +seemed to borrow its shade from the object on which she +gazed. There was a tear in her eye—the sick man +kissed it off in its bud, smiling through the dimness of his +own—when she saw Mountford, she crawled forward on the +ground, and clasped his knees. He raised her from the +floor; she threw her arms round his neck, and sobbed out a speech +of thankfulness, eloquent beyond the power of language.</p> +<p>“‘Compose yourself, my love,’ said the man +on the bed; ‘but he, whose goodness has caused that +emotion, will pardon its effects.’</p> +<p>“‘How is this, Mountford?’ said I; +‘what do I see? What must I do?’</p> +<p>“‘You see,’ replied the stranger, ‘a +wretch, sunk in poverty, starving in prison, stretched on a sick +bed. But that is little. There are his wife and +children wanting the bread which he has not to give them! +Yet you cannot easily imagine the conscious serenity of his +mind. In the gripe of affliction, his heart swells with the +pride of virtue; it can even look down with pity on the man whose +cruelty has wrung it almost to bursting. You are, I fancy, +a friend of Mr. Mountford’s. Come nearer, and +I’ll tell you, for, short as my story is, <a +name="page177"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 177</span>I can +hardly command breath enough for a recital. The son of +Count Respino (I started, as if I had trod on a viper) has long +had a criminal passion for my wife. This her prudence had +concealed from me; but he had lately the boldness to declare it +to myself. He promised me affluence in exchange for honour, +and threatened misery as its attendant if I kept it. I +treated him with the contempt he deserved; the consequence was, +that he hired a couple of bravoes (for I am persuaded they acted +under his direction), who attempted to assassinate me in the +street; but I made such a defence as obliged them to fly, after +having given me two or three stabs, none of which, however, were +mortal. But his revenge was not thus to be +disappointed. In the little dealings of my trade I had +contracted some debts, of which he had made himself master for my +ruin. I was confined here at his suit, when not yet +recovered from the wounds I had received; the dear woman, and +these two boys, followed me, that we might starve together; but +Providence interposed, and sent Mr. Mountford to our +support. He has relieved my family from the gnawings of +hunger, and rescued me from death, to which a fever, consequent +on my wounds and <a name="page178"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +178</span>increased by the want of every necessary, had almost +reduced me.’</p> +<p>“‘Inhuman villain!’ I exclaimed, lifting up +my eyes to heaven.</p> +<p>“‘Inhuman indeed!’ said the lovely woman who +stood at my side. ‘Alas! sir, what had we done to +offend him? what had these little ones done, that they should +perish in the toils of his vengeance?’</p> +<p>“I reached a pen which stood in the inkstand dish at the +bed-side.</p> +<p>“‘May I ask what is the amount of the sum for +which you are imprisoned?’</p> +<p>“‘I was able,’ he replied, ‘to pay all +but five hundred crowns.’</p> +<p>“I wrote a draft on the banker with whom I had a credit +from my father for 2,500, and presenting it to the +stranger’s wife,</p> +<p>“‘You will receive, madam, on presenting this +note, a sum more than sufficient for your husband’s +discharge; the remainder I leave for his industry to +improve.’</p> +<p>“I would have left the room. Each of them laid +hold of one of my hands, the children clung to my coat. Oh! +Mr. Harley, methinks I feel their <a name="page179"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 179</span>gentle violence at this moment; it +beats here with delight inexpressible.</p> +<p>“‘Stay, sir,’ said he, ‘I do not mean +attempting to thank you’ (he took a pocket-book from under +his pillow), ‘let me but know what name I shall place here +next to Mr. Mountford!’</p> +<p>“‘Sedley.’</p> +<p>“He writ it down.</p> +<p>“‘An Englishman too, I presume.’</p> +<p>“‘He shall go to heaven, notwithstanding;’ +said the boy who had been our guide.</p> +<p>“It began to be too much for me. I squeezed his +hand that was clasped in mine, his wife’s I pressed to my +lips, and burst from the place, to give vent to the feelings that +laboured within me.</p> +<p>“‘Oh, Mountford!’ said I, when he had +overtaken me at the door.</p> +<p>“‘It is time,’ replied he, ‘that we +should think of our appointment; young Respino and his friends +are waiting us.’</p> +<p>“‘Damn him, damn him!’ said I. +‘Let us leave Milan instantly; but soft—I will be +calm; Mountford, your pencil.’ I wrote on a slip of +paper,</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center"><a +name="page180"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +180</span>“‘To Signor <span +class="smcap">Respino</span>.</p> +<p>“‘When you receive this, I am at a distance from +Milan. Accept of my thanks for the civilities I have +received from you and your family. As to the friendship +with which you were pleased to honour me, the prison, which I +have just left, has exhibited a scene to cancel it for +ever. You may possibly be merry with your companions at my +weakness, as I suppose you will term it. I give you leave +for derision. You may affect a triumph, I shall feel +it.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">“<span class="smcap">Edward +Sedley</span>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>“‘You may send this if you will,’ said +Mountford, coolly, ‘but still Respino is a <i>man of +honour</i>; the world will continue to call him so.’</p> +<p>“‘It is probable,’ I answered, ‘they +may; I envy not the appellation. If this is the +world’s honour, if these men are the guides of its +manners—’</p> +<p>“‘Tut!’ said Mountford, ‘do you eat +macaroni—’”</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>[At this place had the greatest depredations of the curate +begun. There were so very few connected <a +name="page181"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 181</span>passages of +the subsequent chapters remaining, that even the partiality of an +editor could not offer them to the public. I discovered, +from some scattered sentences, that they were of much the same +tenor with the preceding; recitals of little adventures, in which +the dispositions of a man, sensible to judge, and still more warm +to feel, had room to unfold themselves. Some instruction, +and some example, I make no doubt they contained; but it is +likely that many of those, whom chance has led to a perusal of +what I have already presented, may have read it with little +pleasure, and will feel no disappointment from the want of those +parts which I have been unable to procure. To such as may +have expected the intricacies of a novel, a few incidents in a +life undistinguished, except by some features of the heart, +cannot have afforded much entertainment.</p> +<p>Harley’s own story, from the mutilated passages I have +mentioned, as well as from some inquiries I was at the trouble of +making in the country, I found to have been simple to +excess. His mistress, I could perceive, was not married to +Sir Harry Benson; but it would seem, by one of the following +chapters, which is still entire, that Harley had not <a +name="page182"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 182</span>profited on +the occasion by making any declaration of his own passion, after +those of the other had been unsuccessful. The state of his +health, for some part of this period, appears to have been such +as to forbid any thoughts of that kind: he had been seized with a +very dangerous fever, caught by attending old Edwards in one of +an infectious kind. From this he had recovered but +imperfectly, and though he had no formed complaint, his health +was manifestly on the decline.</p> +<p>It appears that the sagacity of some friend had at length +pointed out to his aunt a cause from which this might be supposed +to proceed, to wit, his hopeless love for Miss Walton; for, +according to the conceptions of the world, the love of a man of +Harley’s fortune for the heiress of £4,000 a year is +indeed desperate. Whether it was so in this case may be +gathered from the next chapter, which, with the two subsequent, +concluding the performance, have escaped those accidents that +proved fatal to the rest.]</p> +<h2><a name="page183"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +183</span>CHAPTER LV.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">HE SEES MISS WALTON, AND IS +HAPPY.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Harley</span> was one of those few friends +whom the malevolence of fortune had yet left me; I could not +therefore but be sensibly concerned for his present +indisposition; there seldom passed a day on which I did not make +inquiry about him.</p> +<p>The physician who attended him had informed me the evening +before, that he thought him considerably better than he had been +for some time past. I called next morning to be confirmed +in a piece of intelligence so welcome to me.</p> +<p>When I entered his apartment, I found him sitting on a couch, +leaning on his hand, with his eye turned upwards in the attitude +of thoughtful inspiration. His look had always an open +benignity, which commanded esteem; there was now something +more—a gentle triumph in it.</p> +<p>He rose, and met me with his usual kindness. When I gave +him the good accounts I had had from his physician, “I am +foolish enough,” said he, “to rely but little, in +this instance, upon physic: my <a name="page184"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 184</span>presentiment may be false; but I +think I feel myself approaching to my end, by steps so easy, that +they woo me to approach it.</p> +<p>“There is a certain dignity in retiring from life at a +time, when the infirmities of age have not sapped our +faculties. This world, my dear Charles, was a scene in +which I never much delighted. I was not formed for the +bustle of the busy, nor the dissipation of the gay; a thousand +things occurred, where I blushed for the impropriety of my +conduct when I thought on the world, though my reason told me I +should have blushed to have done otherwise.—It was a scene +of dissimulation, of restraint, of disappointment. I leave +it to enter on that state which I have learned to believe is +replete with the genuine happiness attendant upon virtue. I +look back on the tenor of my life, with the consciousness of few +great offences to account for. There are blemishes, I +confess, which deform in some degree the picture. But I +know the benignity of the Supreme Being, and rejoice at the +thoughts of its exertion in my favour. My mind expands at +the thought I shall enter into the society of the blessed, wise +as angels, with the simplicity of children.” He had +by this time clasped my hand, and found <a +name="page185"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 185</span>it wet by a +tear which had just fallen upon it.—His eye began to +moisten too—we sat for some time silent.—At last, +with an attempt to a look of more composure, “There are +some remembrances,” said Harley, “which rise +involuntary on my heart, and make me almost wish to live. I +have been blessed with a few friends, who redeem my opinion of +mankind. I recollect, with the tenderest emotion, the +scenes of pleasure I have passed among them; but we shall meet +again, my friend, never to be separated. There are some +feelings which perhaps are too tender to be suffered by the +world.—The world is in general selfish, interested, and +unthinking, and throws the imputation of romance or melancholy on +every temper more susceptible than its own. I cannot think +but in those regions which I contemplate, if there is any thing +of mortality left about us, that these feelings will +subsist;—they are called,—perhaps they +are—weaknesses here;—but there may be some better +modifications of them in heaven, which may deserve the name of +virtues.” He sighed as he spoke these last +words. He had scarcely finished them, when the door opened, +and his aunt appeared, leading in Miss Walton. “My +dear,” said she, “here is Miss Walton, <a +name="page186"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 186</span>who has +been so kind as to come and inquire for you herself.” +I could observe a transient glow upon his face. He rose +from his seat—“If to know Miss Walton’s +goodness,” said he, “be a title to deserve it, I have +some claim.” She begged him to resume his seat, and +placed herself on the sofa beside him. I took my +leave. Mrs. Margery accompanied me to the door. He +was left with Miss Walton alone. She inquired anxiously +about his health. “I believe,” said he, +“from the accounts which my physicians unwillingly give me, +that they have no great hopes of my recovery.”—She +started as he spoke; but recollecting herself immediately, +endeavoured to flatter him into a belief that his apprehensions +were groundless. “I know,” said he, “that +it is usual with persons at my time of life to have these hopes, +which your kindness suggests; but I would not wish to be +deceived. To meet death as becomes a man, is a privilege +bestowed on few.—I would endeavour to make it +mine;—nor do I think that I can ever be better prepared for +it than now:—It is that chiefly which determines the +fitness of its approach.” “Those +sentiments,” answered Miss Walton, “are just; but +your good sense, Mr. Harley, will own, that life has its proper +<a name="page187"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +187</span>value.—As the province of virtue, life is +ennobled; as such, it is to be desired.—To virtue has the +Supreme Director of all things assigned rewards enough even here +to fix its attachment.”</p> +<p>The subject began to overpower her.—Harley lifted his +eyes from the ground—“There are,” said he, in a +very low voice, “there are attachments, Miss +Walton”—His glance met hers.—They both betrayed +a confusion, and were both instantly withdrawn.—He paused +some moments—“I am such a state as calls for +sincerity, let that also excuse it—It is perhaps the last +time we shall ever meet. I feel something particularly +solemn in the acknowledgment, yet my heart swells to make it, +awed as it is by a sense of my presumption, by a sense of your +perfections”—He paused again—“Let it not +offend you, to know their power over one so unworthy—It +will, I believe, soon cease to beat, even with that feeling which +it shall lose the latest.—To love Miss Walton could not be +a crime;—if to declare it is one—the expiation will +be made.”—Her tears were now flowing without +control.—“Let me intreat you,” said she, +“to have better hopes—Let not life be so indifferent +to you; if my wishes can put any value on it—I will not <a +name="page188"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 188</span>pretend to +misunderstand you—I know your worth—I have known it +long—I have esteemed it—What would you have me +say?—I have loved it as it deserved.”—He seized +her hand—a languid colour reddened his cheek—a smile +brightened faintly in his eye. As he gazed on her, it grew +dim, it fixed, it closed—He sighed and fell back on his +seat—Miss Walton screamed at the sight—His aunt and +the servants rushed into the room—They found them lying +motionless together.—His physician happened to call at that +instant. Every art was tried to recover them—With +Miss Walton they succeeded—But Harley was gone for +ever.</p> +<h2>CHAPTER LVI.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE EMOTIONS OF THE HEART.</span></h2> +<p>I entered the room where his body lay; I approached it with +reverence, not fear: I looked; the recollection of the past +crowded upon me. I saw that form which, but a little +before, was animated with a soul which did honour to humanity, +stretched without <a name="page189"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +189</span>sense or feeling before me. ’Tis a +connection we cannot easily forget:—I took his hand in +mine; I repeated his name involuntary;—I felt a pulse in +every vein at the sound. I looked earnestly in his face; +his eye was closed, his lip pale and motionless. There is +an enthusiasm in sorrow that forgets impossibility; I wondered +that it was so. The sight drew a prayer from my heart: it +was the voice of frailty and of man! the confusion of my mind +began to subside into thought; I had time to meet!</p> +<p>I turned with the last farewell upon my lips, when I observed +old Edwards standing behind me. I looked him full in the +face; but his eye was fixed on another object: he pressed between +me and the bed, and stood gazing on the breathless remains of his +benefactor. I spoke to him I know not what; but he took no +notice of what I said, and remained in the same attitude as +before. He stood some minutes in that posture, then turned +and walked towards the door. He paused as he went;—he +returned a second time: I could observe his lips move as he +looked: but the voice they would have uttered was lost. He +attempted going again; and a third time he returned as +before.—I saw him wipe his <a name="page190"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 190</span>cheek: then covering his face with +his hands, his breast heaving with the most convulsive throbs, he +flung out of the room.</p> +<h2>THE CONCLUSION.</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">He</span> had hinted that he should like +to be buried in a certain spot near the grave of his +mother. This is a weakness; but it is universally incident +to humanity: ’tis at least a memorial for those who +survive: for some indeed a slender memorial will serve;—and +the soft affections, when they are busy that way, will build +their structures, were it but on the paring of a nail.</p> +<p>He was buried in the place he had desired. It was shaded +by an old tree, the only one in the church-yard, in which was a +cavity worn by time. I have sat with him in it, and counted +the tombs. The last time we passed there, methought he +looked wistfully on the tree: there was a branch of it that bent +towards us waving in the wind; he waved his hand as if he +mimicked its motion. There was something predictive in his +look! perhaps it is <a name="page191"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 191</span>foolish to remark it; but there are +times and places when I am a child at those things.</p> +<p>I sometimes visit his grave; I sit in the hollow of the +tree. It is worth a thousand homilies; every noble feeling +rises within me! every beat of my heart awakens a +virtue!—but it will make you hate the world—No: there +is such an air of gentleness around, that I can hate nothing; +but, as to the world—I pity the men of it.</p> +<h2>FOOTNOTES</h2> +<p><a name="footnote15"></a><a href="#citation15" +class="footnote">[15]</a> The reader will remember that the +Editor is accountable only for scattered chapters and fragments +of chapters; the curate must answer for the rest. The +number at the top, when the chapter was entire, he has given as +it originally stood, with the title which its author had affixed +to it.</p> +<p><a name="footnote61"></a><a href="#citation61" +class="footnote">[61]</a> Though the Curate could not +remember having shown this chapter to anybody, I strongly suspect +that these political observations are the work of a later pen +than the rest of this performance. There seems to have +been, by some accident, a gap in the manuscript, from the words, +“Expectation at a jointure,” to these, “In +short, man is an animal,” where the present blank ends; and +some other person (for the hand is different, and the ink whiter) +has filled part of it with sentiments of his own. Whoever +he was, he seems to have caught some portion of the spirit of the +man he personates.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAN OF FEELING***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 5083-h.htm or 5083-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/0/8/5083 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at + www.gutenberg.org/license. + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 +North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email +contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the +Foundation's web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. +</pre></body> +</html> diff --git a/5083-h/images/coverb.jpg b/5083-h/images/coverb.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4e5bfa2 --- /dev/null +++ b/5083-h/images/coverb.jpg diff --git a/5083-h/images/covers.jpg b/5083-h/images/covers.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..26177c3 --- /dev/null +++ b/5083-h/images/covers.jpg diff --git a/5083-h/images/tpb.jpg b/5083-h/images/tpb.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..61ffd3a --- /dev/null +++ b/5083-h/images/tpb.jpg diff --git a/5083-h/images/tps.jpg b/5083-h/images/tps.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..cd1039d --- /dev/null +++ b/5083-h/images/tps.jpg |
