is not always most readily found where the "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.” "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; 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 halfpint 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." "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 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 it once possessed, for the unmeaning simper of a dangling coxcomb; and the only serious concern, that of a dowery, 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 of virtue are forgotten, and the infamy of vice unfelt." 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. "I should like," said Harley, taking his hand, "to have some word to remember so much seeming worth by my name is Harley."-" I shall remember it," answered the old gentleman, "in my prayers; mine is Silton." 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. CHAP. XXXIV. He meets an old Acquaintance. WHEN 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 chuse 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 attract, ed 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 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. 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. 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. . Harley looked on him with the most earnest attention. He was one of those figures which 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 ano. ther; he turned and went on. The old man readjusted his knapsack, and followed in one of the tracks on the opposite side of the road. 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 in his walk, and one of his arms was VOL. V. 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. 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."-"Father!" said Harley, (who by this time found the romantic enthusiasm rising within him,)" how far do you mean to go?"" But a little way, sir," returned the other; "and indeed it is but a little way I can manage now: 'tis just four miles from the height to the village, whither I am going."—" I am going thither too," said Harley; 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 mean time, suffer me to carry that knapsack.' we may 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."-"Far from it," answered Harley, "I should tread the lighter; it would be the most honourable badge I ever wore." "Sir," said the stranger, who had looked earnestly in Harley's face during the last part of his discourse, "is not your name Harley ?" "It is," replied he; "I am ashamed to say I have forgotten yours." "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." "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?""'Tis a long tale," replied Edwards; " but I will try to tell it you as we walk. "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, 2 c THE MAN OF FEELING. who is now lord of the manor. "What could I do, Mr Harley? I feared the "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, which 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." The old man now paused a moment to take breath. He eyed Harley's face; it was bathed with tears: the story was grown familiar to himself; he dropped one tear, and no more. "Though 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, shift to procure. It was a piece of ground which on giving security for the rent; which I made required management to make any thing of; labour and my own. We exerted all our inbut it was nearly within the compass of my son's dustry 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. 66 he had always kept a pointer on our former My son was a remarkably good shooter; when, one day, having sprung a covey of parfarm, and thought no harm in doing so now; tridges, in our own ground, the dog, of his own accord, followed them into the justice's. My to bring him back: the game-keeper, who had son laid down his gun, and went after his dog marked the birds, came up, and, seeing the pointer, shot him, just as my son approached. The creature 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. "He had scarce got home, when a constable came with a warrant, and dragged him to pritake bail, till he was tried at the quarter-sesson; there he lay, for the justices would not hard upon us to pay; we contrived, however, sions for the assault and battery. His fine was 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. "An officer, with press-orders, came down tices, agreed, that they should pitch on a certo our country, and, having met with the justain number, who could most easily be spared from the county, of whom he would take care list. to clear it my son's name was in the justice's day, too, of my son's little boy. The night was "'Twas on a Christmas eve, and the birthpiercing cold, and it blew a storm, with showers of hail and snow. We had made up a cheering fire in an inner 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. at blind-man's-buff on that night, and it was "It had long been our custom to play a game not omitted now; so to it we fell, I, and my ing farmer, who happened to be with us at the son, and his wife, the daughter of a neighbourtime, the two children, and an old maid-servant, fell on my son to be blindfolded. We had conwho had lived with me from a child. The lot tinued some time at 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' sword, drew it half out of the scabbard, with a look of the most frantic wildness. Edwards gently replaced it in its sheath, and went on with his relation. "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. "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 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.'Why, I don't know,' said he; you are rather old, to be sure, but yet the money may do much. 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.'-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.'-'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.' "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 expence of my conscience. 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 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 on 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 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.' 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!' 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." 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 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." Edwards, from whom the recollection of his own sufferings had scarce forced a tear, now blubbered like a boy; he could not speak his gratitude, but by some short exclamations of blessings upon Harley. CHAP. XXXV. spread our banquet of apples before us, and been more blest-Oh! Edwards! infinitely more blest than ever I shall be again." 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 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. "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."-"What! how! prospects! pulled down!" cried Harley. "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."- "Curses on his narrow heart," cried Harley, "that could violate a right so sacred! Heaven blast the wretch! And from his derogate body never spring 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 He misses an old Acquaintance.-An Adventure gnaw it, while thou sittest over a brown crust, consequent upon it. WHEN they had arrived within a little way of the village they journeyed to, Harley stopped short, and looked stedfastly on the mouldering walls of a ruined house that stood on the roadside. "Oh, heavens!" he cried, "what do I see! silent, unroofed, and desolate! Are all the 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! That was the very school where I was boarded when you were at South-hill; 'tis but a twelvemonth since I saw it standing, and its benches filled with little 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." "Dear sir," replied Edwards, " perhaps they have left it from choice, and may have got another spot as good."-" 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 smiling on those mangled limbs that have saved thy son and his children!"-" If you want any thing with the school-mistress, sir," said the woman, "I can shew you the way to her house." He followed her, without knowing whither he went." 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. "There, sir, is the school-mistress."-" Madam," said Harley, was not an old venerable-looking man schoolmaster here some time ago?"-"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."-" And this boy and girl, I presume, are your pupils?"-" Ay, sir, they are poor orphans, put under my care by the parish; and more promising children I never saw." -" Orphans!” said Harley.-" 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." -"Madam," said Harley, "let us never forget that we are all relations." He kissed the children. "Their father," sir, continued she, "was a farmer here in the neighbourhood, and a sober industrious man he was; but nobody can help |