is almost nothing.

The merchant in town, in whose hands your money was lodged, has gone off, to avoid a statute of bankruptcy; and is thought not to have left a shilling in the pound. I was unwilling to shock you, in the family, with the account, till after the wedding; but now it may serve to moderate your warmth in the argument: for I suppose your own prudence will enforce the necessity of dissembling, at least till your son has the young lady's fortune secure.". "Well," returned I, "if what you tell me be true, and if I am to be a beggar, it shall never make me a rascal, or induce me to disavow my principles. I'll go this moment, and inform the company of my circumstances; and as for the argument, I even here retract my former concessions in the old gentleman's favour; nor will I allow him now to be a husband in any sense of the expression."

It would be endless to describe the different sensations of both families, when I divulged the news of our misfortune: but what others felt was slight, to what the lovers appeared to endure. Mr. Wilmot, who seemed before sufficient. ly inclined to break off the match, was, by this blow, soon determined. One virtue he had in perfection, which was prudence; too often the only one that is left us at seventy-two.

CHAPTER III.

A MIGRATION.

THE FORTUNATE CIRCUMSTANCES OF

OUR LIVES ARE GENERALLY FOUND AT LAST TO BE OF OUR OWN PROCURING.

THE only hope of our family now was, that the report of our misfortune might be malicious or premature: but a letter from my agent in town soon came, with a confirmation of every particular. The loss of fortune, to myself alone, would have been trifling. The only uneasiness I felt was for my family, who were to be humble, without an education to render them callous to contempt.

Near a fortnight had passed, before I attempted to restrain their affliction; for premature consolation is but the remembrancer of sorrow. During this interval, my thoughts were employed on some future means of supporting them; and at last a small cure of fifteen pounds a year, was offered

C

me in a distant neighbourhood, where I could still enjoy my principles without molestation. With this proposal I joyfully closed, having determined to increase my salary by managing a little farm.

Having taken this resolution, my next care was to get together the wrecks of my fortune; and, all debts collected and paid, out of fourteen thousand pounds, we had but four hundred remaining. My chief attention, therefore, was now to bring down the pride of my family to their circumstances: for I well knew, that aspiring beggary is wretchedness itself. "You cannot be ig norant, my children," cried I," that no prudence of ours could have prevented our late misfortune; but prudence may do much in disappointing its effects. We are now poor, my fondlings; and wisdom bids us conform to our humble situation. Let us then, without repining, give up those splendours with which numbers are wretched, and seek, in humbler circumstances, that peace with which all may be happy. The poor live pleasantly without our help; why then should not we learn to live without theirs? No, my children; let us, from this moment, give up all pretensions to gentility. We have still enough left for happiness, if we are wise; and let us draw upon content for the deficiencies of fortune."

As my eldest son was bred a scholar, I determined to send him to town, where his abilities might contribute to our support and his own. The separation of friends and families is, perhaps, one of the most distressful circumstances attendant on penury. The day soon arrived on which we were to disperse for the first time. My son, after taking leave of his mother and the rest, who mingled their tears with their kisses, came to ask a blessing from me. This I gave him from my heart, and which, added to five guineas, was all the patrimony I had now to bestow. "You are going, my boy," cried I, "to London on foot, in the manner Hooker, your great ancestor, travelled there before you. Take from me the same horse that was given him by the good bishop Jewel, this staff, -and take this book too,-it will be your comfort on the way. These two lines in it are worth a million: I have been young, and now am old; yet never saw I the righteous man forsaken, or his seed begging their bread. Let this be your consolation as you travel on. Go, my boy; whatever be thy fortune, let me see thee once a year: still keep a good heart, and farewell." As he was possessed of integrity and honour, I was under no apprehensions from throwing him naked into the amphitheatre of life; for I knew he would act a good part, whether vanquished or victorious.

His departure only prepared the way for our own, which arrived a few days afterwards. The leaving a neighbourhood, in which we had enjoyed so many hours of tranquillity, was not without a tear, which scarce fortitude itself could suppress. Besides, a journey of seventy miles, to a family that had hitherto never been above ten from home, filled us with apprehension: and the cries of the poor, who followed us for some miles, contributed to increase it. The first day's journey brought us in safety within thirty miles of our future retreat; and we put up, for the night, at an obscure inn in a village by the way. When we were shown a room, I desired the landlord, in my usual way, to let us have his company, with which he complied; as what he drank would increase the bill next morning. He knew, however, the whole neighbourhood to which I was removing, particularly squire Thornhill, who was to be my landlord, and who lived within a few miles of the place. This gentleman he described, as one who desired to know little more of the world than its pleasures; being particularly remarkable for his attachment to the fair sex. He observed, that no virtue was able to resist his arts and assiduity, and that scarce a farmer's daughter within ten miles round but what had found him successful and faithless. Though this account gave me some pain, it had a very different effect upon