fhe, turning to me, I will now confefs, that though the hand of heaven is fore upon us in other inftances, it has been favourable here. By the laft letter I • wrote my fon, which was in the bitterness of anger, I defired him, upon his mother's bleffing, and if he had the heart of a man, to fee juftice done his father and fifter, and avenge our caufe. But thanks

be to Him that directs all things, it has mifcarried, ⚫ and I am at reft.'- Woman,' cried I, ⚫ thou haft ⚫ done very ill, and at another time my reproaches might have been more fevere. Oh! what a tremendous gulph haft thou efcaped, that would have buried both thee and hint in endleís ruin. Providence, indeed, has here been kinder to us than we ⚫ to ourselves. It has referved that fon to be the father and protector of my children when I fhall be away. How unjustly did I complain of being stript ' of every comfort, when still I hear that he is happy, ⚫ and infenfible of our afflictions; ftill kept in referve to fupport his widowed mother, and to protect his brothers and fifters! But what fifters has he left, he has no fifters now, they are all gone, robbed from C me, and I am undone !' Father,' interrupted my fon, I beg you will give me leave to read his letter; I know it will please you.' Upon which, with my permiffion, he read as follows:

I

Honoured Sir,

Have called off my imagination a few moments from the pleasures that furround me, to fix it upon objects that are ftill more pleafing, the dear little fire-fide at home. My fancy draws that harmless groupe as liftening to every line of this with great compofure. I view thofe faces with delight which never felt the deforming hand of ambition or distress! But whatever your happiness may be at home, I am fure it will be fome addition to it, to hear that I am perfectly pleased with my fituation, and every way happy here.

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Our

Our regiment is countermanded, and is not to leave the kingdom; the colonel, who profeffes himfelf my friend, takes me with him to all companies where he is acquainted, and after my firft vifit, I generally find myself received with increafed refpect upon repeating it. I danced last night with lady G-, and could I forget you know whom, I might be perhaps fuccefsful. But it is my fate ftill to remember others, while I am myfelf forgotten by moft of my abfent friends, and in this number, I fear, Sir, that I must confider you; for I have long expected the pleasure of a letter from home to no purpose. Olivia, and Sophia too, promised to write, but feem to have forgotten me. Tell them they are two arrant little baggages, and that I am this moment in a most violent paffion with them; yet ftill, I know not how, though I want to blufter a little, my heart is refpondent only to fofter emotions. Then tell them, Sir, that after all, I love them affectionately, and be affured of my ever remaining

Your dutiful Son.

In all our miferies,' cried I, what thanks have we not to return, that one at leaft of our fa⚫mily is exempted from what we suffer. Heaven be his guard, and keep my boy thus happy to be the fupport of his widowed mother, and the father of thefe two babes, which is all the patrimony I can now bequeath him. May he keep their innocence from the temptations of want, and be their conductor in the paths of honour.' I had fcarce faid thefe words, when a noife, like that of a tumult, feemed to proceed from the prifon below; it died away foon after, and a clanking of fetters was heard along the paffage that led to my apartment. The keeper of the prifon entered, holding a man all bloody, wounded, and fettered with the heavieft irons. I looked with compaffion on the wretch as he approached me, but with horror when I found it was my own fon. My George! my George! and do I behold

thee

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thee thus! Wounded! fettered! Is this thy happinefs? Is this the manner you return to me? that this fight could break my heart at once and let me die!'

Where, Sir, is your fortitude?' returned my fon with an intrepid voice. I must fuffer, my life is

forfeited, and let them take it.'

I tried to restrain my paffion for a few minutes in filence, but I thought I should have died with the effort.- O my boy, my heart weeps to behold thee thus, and I cannot, cannot help it. In the moment that I thought thee bleft, and prayed for thy fafety, to behold thee thus again! Chained, wounded! And yet the death of the youthful is happy. But I am old, a very old man, and have lived to fee this day. To fee my children all untimely falling about me, while I continue a wretch⚫ed furvivor in the midft of ruin! May all the curfes that ever funk a foul fall heavy upon the murderer my children! May he live, like me, to fee-' Hold, Sir,' replied my fon, ' or I fhall blush for thec. How, Sir, forgetful of your age, your holy calling, thus to arrogate the juftice of heaven, and fing thofe curfes upward that muft foon defcend to crush thy own grey head with deftruction! No, Sir, let it be your care now to fit me for that vile ⚫ death I must shortly fuffer, to arm me with hope and refolution, to give me courage to drink of that bitternefs which muft fhortly be my portion.'

of

My child, you must not die: I am fure no offence of thine can deferve fo vile a punishment. My George could never be guilty of any crime to make his ancestors afhamed of him.'

Mine, Sir,' returned my fon, is, I fear, an unpardonable one. When I received my mother's letter from home, I immediately came down, determined to punish the betrayer of our honour, and fent him an order to meet me, which he answered, not in perfon, but by difpatching four of his domeftics to feize me. I wounded one who firft af• faulted

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faulted me, and I fear defperately; but the reft made me their prifoner. The coward is determined to put the law in execution against me; the proofs are undeniable; I have fent a challenge, and as I • am the first tranfgreffor upon the ftatute, I fee no hopes of pardon. But you have often charmed me • with your leffons of fortitude; let me now, Sir, find them in your example.'

འ

And, my fon, you shall find them. I am now • raised above this world, and all the pleasures it can produce. From this moment I break from my heart all the ties that held it down to earth, and will prepare to fit us both for eternity. Yes, my fon, I will point out the way, and my foul fhall guide yours in the afcent, for we will take our flight together. I now fee and am convinced you can expect no pardon here, and I can only exhort you to feek it at that great tribunal where we both shall fhortly answer. But let us not be niggardly in our ⚫ exhortation, but let all our fellow-prifoners have a fhare: good gaoler, let them be permitted to stand here, while I attempt to improve them.' faying, I made an effort to rife from my ftraw, but wanted ftrength, and was able only to recline against the wall. The prifoners affembled according to my directions, for they loved to hear my counfel; my fon and his mother fupported me on either fide: I looked and faw that none were wanting, and then addressed them with the following exhortation.

Thus

СНАР.

CHAP. XXIX.

1

The equal dealings of Providence demonftrated with regard to the happy and the miferable here below. That from the nature of pleasure and pain, the wretched must be repaid the balance of their jufferings in the life bereafter.

MY Y friends, my children, and fellow-fufferers,

when I reflect on the diftribution of good and evil here below, I find that much has been given man to enjoy, yet ftill more to fuffer. Though we fhould examine the whole world, we fhall not find one man fo happy as to have nothing left to with for; but we daily fee thousands who by fuicide fhew us they have nothing left to hope. In this life then it appears that we cannot be entirely bleft; but yet we may be completely miferable.

Why man should thus feel pain, why our wretchednefs fhould be requifite in the formation of universal felicity, why, when all other fyftems are made perfect by the perfection of their fubordinate parts, the great fyftem fhould require for its perfection, parts that are not only fubordinate to others, but imperfect in themfelves? Thefe are queftions that never can be explained, and might be useless if known. On this fubject Providence has thought fit to elude our curiofity, fatisfied with granting us motives to confolation.

In this fituation, man has called in the friendly affiftance of philofophy, and heaven, feeing the incapacity of that to confole him, has given him the aid of religion. The confolations of philofophy are very amufing, but often fallacious. It tells us that life is filled with comforts, if we will but enjoy them; and on the other hand, that though we unavoidably have miferies here, life is fhort, and they will foon be over. Thus do these confolations deftroy each other; for if life is a place of comfort, its shortness must be misery,

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and