CHAP. III.

Containing wise Observations of the Author, and other Matters...

THERE is nothing more difficult than to lay down any fixed and certain rules for happiness; or indeed to judge with any precision of the happiness of others, from the knowledge of external circumstances. There is sometimes a little speck of black in the brightest and gayest colours of fortune, which contaminates and deadens the whole. On the contrary, when all without looks dark and dismal, there is often a secret ray of light within the mind, which turns every thing to real joy and gladness.

I have in the course of my life seen many occasions to make this observation; and Mr. Booth was at present a very pregnant instance of its truth. He was just delivered from a prison, and in the possession of his beloved wife and children; and (which might be imagined greatly to augment his joy) fortune had done all this for him within an hour, without giving him the least warning or reasonable expectation of this strange reverse in his circumstances; and yet it is certain, that there were very few men in the world more seriously miserable than he was at this instant. A deep melancholy seized his mind, and cold damp sweats overspread his person, so that he was scarce animated; and poor Amelia, instead of a fond warm husband, bestowed her caresses on a dull lifeless lump of clay. He endeavoured, however, at first, as much as possible, to conceal what he felt, and attempted, what is the hardest of all tasks, to act the part of a happy man; but he found no supply of spirits to carry on this deceit, and would have probably sunk under his attempt, had not poor Amelia's simplicity

helped him to another fallacy, in which he had much better success.

This worthy woman very plainly perceived the disorder in her husband's mind; and having no doubt of the cause of it, especially when she saw the tears stand in his eyes at the sight of his children, threw her arms round his neck, and embracing him with rapturous fondness, cried out, My dear Billy, let nothing make you uneasy. Heaven will, I doubt not, provide for us and these poor babes. Great fortunes are not necessary to happiness. For my own part, I can 'level my mind with any state; and for those poor little things, whatever condition of life we breed them to, that will be sufficient to main'tain them in. How many thousands abound in affluence, whose fortunes are much lower than 'ours! for it is not from nature, but from education and habit, that our wants are chiefly de-. rived. Make yourself easy therefore, my dear 'love; for you have a wife who will think herself happy with you, and endeavour to make you so in any situation. Fear nothing, Billy, industry will always provide us a wholesome meal; and I will take care, that neatness and cheerfulness shall make it a pleasant one.'

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Booth presently took the cue which she had given him. He fixed his eyes on her for a minute with great earnestness and inexpressible tender, ness; and then cried, O my Amelia, how much are you my superior in every perfection! how wise, how great, how noble are your sentiments! why can I not imitate what I so much admire? why can I not look with your constancy, on "those dear little pledges of our loves? All my 'philosophy is baffled with the thought that my Amelia's children are to struggle with a cruel, hard, unfeeling world, and to buffet those waves of fortune which have overwhelmed their father. - Here I own I want your firmness, and am not

'without an excuse for wanting it; for am I not the cruel cause of all your wretchedness? have 'I not stept between you and fortune, and been the cursed obstacle to all your greatness and happiness?'

Say not so, my love,' answered she. 'Great 'I might have been, but never happy with any 'other man. Indeed, dear Billy, I laugh at the 'fears you formerly raised in me; what seemed 'so terrible at a distance, now it approaches 'nearer, appears to have been a mere bugbear' and let this comfort you, that I look on myself at this day as the happiest of women; nor have 'I done any thing which I do not rejoice in, and would, if I had the gift of prescience, do again.' Booth was so overcome with this behaviour, that he had no words to answer. To say the truth, it was difficult to find any worthy of the occasion. He threw himself prostrate at her feet, whence poor Amelia was forced to use all her strength as well as entreaties to raise, and place him in his chair.

Such is ever the fortitude of perfect innocence, and such the depression of guilt in minds not utterly abandoned. Booth was naturally of a sanguine temper; nor would any such apprehensions as he mentioned have been sufficient to have restrained his joy, at meeting with his Amelia. In fact, areflexion on the injury he had done her was the sole cause of his grief. This it was that enervated his heart, and threw him into agonies, which all that profusion of heroic tenderness that the most excellent of women intended for his comfort, served only to heighten and aggravate; as the more she rose in his admiration, the more she quickened his sense of his own unworthiness.

After a disagreeable evening, the first of that kind that he had ever past with his Amelia, in which he had the utmost difficulty to force a little cheerfulness, and in which her spirits were at length

overpowered by discerning the oppression on his, they retired to rest, or rather to misery, which need not be described.

The next morning at breakfast, Booth began to recover a little from his melancholy, and to taste the company of his children. He now first

thought of inquiring of Amelia, by what means she had discovered the place of his confinement. Amelia, after gently rebuking him for not having himself acquainted her with it, informed him, that it was known all over the country, and that she had traced the original of it to her sister; who had spread the news with a malicious joy, and added a circumstance which would have frightened her to death, had not her knowledge of him made her give little credit to it, which was, that he was committed for murder. But though she had discredited this part, she said, the not hearing from him, during several successive posts, made her too apprehensive of the rest: that she got a conveyance therefore for herself and children to Salisbury; from whence the stage-coach had brought them to town, and having deposited the children at his lodging, of which he had sent her an account on his first arrival in town, she took a hack, and came directly to the prison where she heard he was, and where she found him.

Booth excused himself, and with truth, as to his not having writ; for, in fact, he had writ twice from the prison, though he had mentioned nothing of his confinement; but as he sent away his letters after nine at night, the fellow, to whom they were intrusted, had burnt them both for the sake of putting the twopence in his own pocket, or rather in the pocket of the keeper of the next gin-shop.

As to the account which Amelia gave him, it served rather to raise than to satisfy his curiosity. He began to suspect, that some person had seen

both him and Miss Matthews together in the prison, and had confounded her case with his ; and this the circumstance of murder made the more probable. But who this person should be, he could not guess. After giving himself therefore some pains in forming conjectures to no purpose, he was forced to rest contented with his ignorance of the real truth.

Two or three days now past without producing any thing remarkable; unless it were, that Booth more and more recovered his spirits, and had now almost regained his former degree of cheerfulness, when the following letter arrived, again to torment him:

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'DEAR BILLY,

'To convince you I am the most reasonable of women, I have given you up three whole days 'to the unmolested possession of my fortunate rival, I can refrain no longer from letting you 'know that I lodge in Dean-street, not far from 'the church, at the sign of the Pelican and Trumpet; where I expect this evening to see you'Believe me, I am with more affection than any ' other woman in the world can be,

'My dear Billy,

Your affectionate, fond, doating
"F. MATTHEWS,'

Booth tore the letter with rage, and threw it into the fire; resolving never to visit the lady more, unless it was to pay her the money she had lent him, which he was determined to do the very first opportunity; for it was not at present in his power.

This letter threw him back into his fit of dejection, in which he had not continued long, when a packet from the country brought him the fol lowing from his friend Dr. Harrison;