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THE STORY-TELLER.

people and things to love in the world ; and perhaps to fine folks

ihere may be : my lot was different; but my sins began with It is intended that the STORY-TELLER shall remain a children, and so did my punishment.' permanent department in this Miscellany; and that every

This was only the poor girl's talk, sir, for I could never week there shall be a Tale, either moral, domestic, roman- gather that she did any harm at that time, only, I suppose, tic, or biographical ; and also that these Tales shall be of was a little heedless, like those of her age. However, her

mother-in-law and she did not agree. So the father bethought the best kind. There would be no great difficulty in giving himself of an expedient that pleased both parties, tbough Mary an original story every week, and an original story will was best pleased of the two. An aunt of hers was settled at occasionally be given ; but while English, French, Ger- Bristol in the haberdashery line. Her shop drove no mighly

trade ; but she was an infirm single woman, and therefore not man, and American Literature, abound with materials of unwilling to take her niece in, as an assistant. Mary was acfirsl-rate excellence, it is conceived that, in a little work of cordingly fitted out with two new gowns ; great dúings, as this kind, time and pains will be better bestowed in she said, for those days, and I know not how many different

ribands. abridging, translating, and adapting these to our purpose, For a short time she thought Bristol the finest and happiest than in fabricating commodities which must often be so place in the whole globe. Her aunt was not unkind to her ; far inferior in value. It is meant, in short, to do here, on

she herself was naturally of a gay and cheerful character, and

all the new scenes around made her gayer still. But by. a small scale, for Tales, what the Libraries are doing for and-by this novelty began to fade a little; and after being fásVoyages, Travels, Memoirs, and Histories ; to select and miliar with busy streets and close-packed houses, she could not condense, and bring within reasonable compass what nei- help calling to mind the green lanes and clear river of her

native place. Her greatest delight was to walk on a five Suuther ordinary purses nor ordinary leisure can reach ; to do, day to a village not far distant, called Clifton, and to sit on the at a humble distance, for Novels and Stories what Mr. brow of the rocks. Lamb has done for Shakspeare's Plays. This comparison

These walks, however, proved very unlucky for her. A is made in no vain assumption ; but to give a clear notion regiment was at that time quartered at Bristol, and one of the

officers took particular notice of Mary. There are strawberry of what is intended. To her task, the writer to whom this gardens, it seems in that neighbourhood, sir, where common department of the SCHOOL MASTER is entrusted, brings a folks, and sometimes gentry, go to eat fruit

. It was at one of well-stored memory, and some experience of the art of nar

these that Captain Mandeville contrived to make a sort of ac

quaintance with the poor girl. He was at that time about eightration. The first story may serve as a specimen of the and-twenty ; a very fine-looking man, as I understand, (for Heaplan.

ven'knows he was strangely altered when I saw him,) and had all the dashing air that gentlemen of the army affect. Mary's eyes

were treacherous ones; for they played her heart false, and MARY LAWSON:

showed her this gay young officer in his best colours. He was

not wanting to bimself, it was very easy to find out where A STORY FOR YOUNG WOMEN.

she resided; and Captain Mandeville soon became a great cus

tomer for ribands and feathers, which he pretended were beCondensed and adapted to the Schoolmaster, by Mrs. JOHNSTONE. stowed upon recruits. Never did man enlist so many in so (From the Canterbury Tales.)

short a time ; for by-and-by there was hardly a yard of riband

left in the shop. In the meanwhile, vows, promises, letters, * Where, Mary, will you find a character ?"

and presents were lavished upon Mary, though in an underhand

way, you may be sure. The poor girl loved him, and he had Mes. Dixon, the good-hearted and respectable maiden land- discernment enough to perceive it ; nevertheless she was innolads of a Weymouth lodging house, sat one evening, poring over

cent and well-disposed. I do not want to excuse her fault, a large volume, when Mr. Atkinson entered her parlour. Though sir,-it was a great one the greater, as she herself in bitterte bad but very lately become her boarder, they were, from

ness of heart acknowledged, because she had not been brought

But what is to be said to this particular circumstances, already on a footing of easy intimacy. up in ignorance of her duty. * You are a great reader of your Bible,” said Mr. Alkinson, as

man, sir, who saw she was no bold, nor forward creature, his landlady laid aside her spectacles. “ Heaven forbid I should ready to throw herself in his way: for she has ́affirmed to me, not," replied Mrs. Dixon ; " but this, to my shame, is not my

and I will pledge my life she spoke truly, that she has many Bible.” It was, in fact, a story book in manuscript ; and the times shut herself up in the back shop, and avoided her accus story which I am now about to tell from it, in the Schoolmaster tomed walks in order to struggle with her own weak heart, Was that of Crazy Mary Lawson, Mrs. Dixon's old servant, or

and endeavour to forget him. What is to be said to him, Í helper. In doing so, I shall use her own words as often as is ask? Only what he has been obliged since to say to himself: pussible. I could find none half so appropriate.

you will hear it, sir.-All Mary's efforts, however, would not " She was not always old!" said the landlady: “no truly- do. To be short, sir, it was his day of triumph, and the pour por always crazed ; nay, for that matter, she is not so old now! girl became his victim. but poor thing she has had enough to craze her! Mary Law. Melancholy was the change that succeeded. Captain Manson, Sir, was, within my memory, one of the best looking girls in deville must have been a hard man, though Mary's partiality Weymouth, not but that there were different opinions concern

made ber think otherwise. His heart, his pleasures, his foring her. Many of our lodgers used to say, that she would be tune, except when he had some great object in view, were all pretty enough if she would open her eyes; but to my thinking for himself: He had no care for others; nor, for aught I could there was something soft and sorrowful in them when half clos- learn, had he really any for her, when his first passion had subed, as they generally were, ibat was quite out of the common

sided. He was one of those rattling sparks, sir, who dash on way. Mary was born in a village upon the banks of the Dee, in life without looking to the right or the left, through a long not very far from the neighbourhood of Wrexham. Her father, lane of the maimed and the blind, whom they have made so. though he held only a small farm, lived in a very reputable All seemed now at the worst with Mary. She was ruined, way, and Mary's education was therefore not neglected. neglected, and had reason to suppose herself in a situation that

At fourteen Mary lost her mother ; nor was that the great would soon render her disgrace apparent. Sometimes, as she est of her misfortunes; for her father soon married again, and told me, she thought with horror of being a mother. At others, as bis second wife was a careless idling sort of body, the the recollection of the infantine caresses of her little brothers charge of a young family, which quickly caine on, was left al- and sisters, and of the pleasure their parents used to take in must entirely to his eldest daughter. “ I did not at that time them, came to her heart ; till, between that, and conscience, love children,” said Mary afterwards to me, “ I thought them which began every way to afflict her, it nearly burst. To exall noisy and troublesome alike. Oh, Mrs. Dixon, who could piate the sin of baving wished to leave her family, and to be have persuaded me, young and giddy as I then was, that to sit sure that was but a fancied sin, she had almost res sived to make by the cradle of a sick baby, to listen to its little moans, and to a voluntary sacrifice of herself, and carry back her shame and give it the bread that I wanted myself, would be a more pre- her penitence to her father's house, quitting for ever all sight clogs employment to me than all the pleasures of the whole of the man who had wronged her; when another idea more zorld besides! But I then thought there were a great many Aattering to her passion suddenly came across her mind ; lor

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poor Mary's remorse was, I fear, as you will see, sir, only love of kindness from them. Having gratified their curiosity they in disguise.

withdre. as haughtily as they had entered. Captain Mandeville had a very fine estate and house in Nor And here, sir, was an end at once to all the hopes that Mary thumberland. It was a family mansion, and his mother, as his had entertained from the fortune, the fine education, and the serjeant, from whom alone Mary gnt any information concerning tender beart of a great lady !-" I did Aatter myself," said she, him, had told her, resided in it. The wild project of fixing herself that seeing me look sorrowful and sick, and baving nothing to somewhere in the neighbourhood of Mandeville Park, occurred do but to comfort the sick and the sorrowful, she would have to the poor girl. Yet the great effort still remained to be taken some little compassion upon me. I was a young creature made; wbich was to resolve on separating herself for ever from then : she had no reason to think that I was a wicked one, and the only man on earth whom she loved ; and to convince him, I was in circumstances when a woman ought to feel for a woby so doing, that though she had been frail, she was not vicious, inan ; yet, like the Priest and the Levite, she passed over to the nor would consent to continue the disgraceful correspondence, other side, and left me to the poor Samaritan ; and this was dona which, more from habitual libertinism than any particular hoth by the elder and the younger lady ; yet they gave a great fondness, he still would have preserved.

deal of money, I am told, to different charities at Newcastle ; It was a long journey to Newcastle, in the neighbourhood of but they would neither tax their time por their feelings.”which lay Mandeville Park. When the poor unhappy girl first “ To my thinking Mrs. Mandeville looks very sick," said the saw its outward paling, her heart, she often declared to me, woman to her husband, when they were gone.-—" Much as died within her, as though she had at the same moment foreseen usual,” replied he ; "she is always so pale since my knowall the guilt and the sorrow that was to arise from thence. ledge."-"She has Madam Selborne's own complexion,” re

At length she came within view of the house : and, “Oh,” turned the other.-—“And who is Madam Selborne ?" said Mary, said she,“ how great did he seem, and how little did i !”

who had concluded the stranger to be Mr. Mandeville's sister. " What, Mary,” said I, “ were you not yet cured then of "Why my lady's own mother, Bless you, you did not take judging by appearances ?- Was it because he was gay and hand- the elderly gentlewoman for his honour's wife, to be sure ;-the some, and had magnificent houses, and large parks, that he was young one is Mrs. Mandeville.” in reality better than you ? or how were you sure that in the The good folks were sitting at their breakfast, and did not end he would be happier ?”.

look at Mary as they spoke, for she was standing behind them, “Most true," she replied ; " but I had sinned against my near the cradle. Lucky it was that things were so disposed; conscience, and every living being seemed greater and happier for she had time to lean her bead down, and recover herself than I was at that time."

from this last stroke ; which, although her presumptuous heart No wonder Mary was dazzled, however, sir ; for I have been had never whispered to her would be any new affliction, yet told since that it is a very fine house. The ball had grand seemed to double all that she had before felt. She now per. marble statues in it: there was a shrubbery of I can't tell you ceived the extent of Captain Mandeville's art. how many acres extent, and grounds without end. A stately Mrs. Mandeville was with child, and near her time; poor lawn was in front, and vast quantities of deer feeding under the Mary was also near her confinement, which a fright, which trees. Then there was a library, worth I know not how much she got from seeing Mrs. Manderille in danger of an accident, money, with painted glass windows, and curious busts. What prematurely hastened. “Oh, Mrs. Dixon," said she to me, a pity, sir, that these rich gentlemen who set up the heads of 80 “ imagine what my sufferings were, when, after a long and many good and wise folks, can't get a little of their hearts ! painful trial, the first thing I distinctly saw was my own dear For my share, I never saw the Captain, and heard talk of his baby dead: the first feelings that entered my heart were those fine seats, without calling to mind the parable of Nathan and of a mother, and of a mother without a child ! to have been the lamb. How can it be that those who are able to command lodged in the cold grave, where I imagined Mrs. Mandeville, so many pleasures, can, for a temporary gratification, deprive would have been happiness to what I endured." another of their only comfort!

I am afraid poor Mary never knew what she did endure. Under pretence of indisposition, though indeed it could hardly Her child did not come dead into the world, however ; but it be called a pretence, Mary was set down at a decent house, went off, almost immediately in convulsions. She had neverin the neighbourhood of the great estate. And here, what with theless an excellent constitution; and God, sir, could never ayitation of mind and fatigue of body, she found herself really intend that women should die, just when it is most necessary so ill as to be obliged to go to bed. Sleep, however, she could that they should live. not. So after a restless night full of melancholy reflections,

“Well," said Mary's landlady one morning, “God Almighty she was up with the lark, and once more on foot. I need not don't send burdens to common folk alone! there's the young tell, you, sir, which way she turned her steps. It was a clear 'Squire, as the sarvants say, wont live neither. His mother fresh morning. The dew lay on the grass ; bir were singing won't suckle him ; and the dry-nurse, as come from Durham, on every tree, and at a little distance was a fine piece of water, can't manage to make him keep life and soul together, with ali with a hanging wood on one side of it, that dipped its branches her fine silver boats and new-fashioned ways. Old Madam in the stream. The village where she was born, and all her Selborne says, that for self-willedness he is his father's own girlish days, came at once to the recollection of poor Mary; so son, for nothing will he swallow: so you may comfort your. leaning her head on one of the outer green gates, she relieved self that you are not the only poor soul as loses a child." her over-charged heart with a flood of tears. In this situation " Oh that'I could save one!" said Mary, and a thought glanced she was seen by a young woman, who observing her, I suppose, across her mind. “Will he live it he is suckled, do you say?". to make a respectable appearance, for she was in mourning for added she, impatiently? Is it Captain Mandeville's child of her aunt, and interested, perhaps, by her condition, very good which you speak? Is he born ?"-and then the recollection of natnredly invited her to rest herself in a house hard by:. This her own words, is it Captain Mandeville's child, as though no woman was the park-keeper's wife, and the house to which she other than the heir could be his, put her into a second agony invited her was that in which they lived. A pretty place, with of tears. The child had indeed been born several days before, a fine honeysuckle curling all over the windows, but no comfort but it was in no way to live. It was a sickly little thing. The did the sight of it give to Mary, though it was as neat mother never intended to nurse it herself; and if she had bad as a palace. There was a baby in a cradle, and a breakfast set the will, the doctors said she would not have the power ; so for the husband, who was just returning home : they were the poor babe, as they could not rear him with dry-nursing, young people, sir, and had not been married above a twelve, which they had all along intended to do, was like not to be month, which no doubt made them so fond of each other : and reared at all. Well, sir, it does not signify going round about to be sure the father did so caress and dandle the child! Mary's the bush : by the recommendation of the park-keeper's wife, heart was ready to burst. Every thing she saw put her in the babe was put to Mary's bosom. With many a bitter mind of some bappiness that was past, or which she could never heartache, and many a tear, did she receive it. The poor little hope to enjoy; and she began to cry more bitterly than before. thing began from that day to gain strength, and its first smiles,

Well! with much ado she made out, between whiles, the its first looks were Mary's. His mother saw him not, or story of her soldier husband, and supposed widowhood ; blush- very rarely. ing and trembling all the while with the cousciousness of deceit. Mrs. Mandeville, who was of a fretful temper, and a sickly But the good folks took it all for gospel.

habit, became soon after this seriously ill, and her husband was In the course of the morning two fine ladies, one old the sent for in haste, however he made none in coming ; and other young, sauntered in ; and superciliously questioned her, before he arrived another express was despatched to inform hiin and listened to her feigned story from the park-keeper's wife. that his wife was dead. He stopped short at York, and wrote Mary knew that one was the mother, the other might be the from thence to Mrs. Selborne, requesting that she would unsister of Merdeville, and she buoyed herself up with vain hopes dertake to order every thing that was suitable on the occasion,

and informing her that he would be at Mandeville Park within had she been his mother she need never have feared parting a certain time.

with him, would again agitate her heart, and unsettle her spirits. This was a dreadful interval for Mary. She could not resolve Just in the beginning of autumn, when every thing, looked to stay; much less could she resolve to depart. The baby's very full of happiness and beauty, and Mary's heart was daily more life seemed to depend upon her care ; and neither night nor light on seeing her pursling prosper in the way he did, - dear day had she ceased to watch it; and if there was a moment Sir, would you believe it ? One night Mr. Mandeville alighted when she remembered with sorrow that it was not her own, she at his own door! his coming was quite unexpected on all hands. at the same time called to mind that it was Captain Mande Mary's happy days were now at an end.' The woman that Fille's None but a woman, sir, can tell how closely the in- does wrong must, I fear, remember, sir, that she will always be fant creeps into your heart that lies at your bosom ; and, if in exposed to suspicion. Captain Mandeville, it was plain, had no coaninon cases this is daily proved, what wonder that Mary's faith in after-virtue, when he had found it failing in the first infondness exceeded all common measure ! It had even no longer a stance; and although a decent respect for circumstances, or acmother to excite her jealousy, or share her attentions ; and the ridental indifference, had induced him to take no notice of her early loss which it sustained seemed to point out a particular during his first visit to the Park, these motires had ceased to providence in the manner by which that loss was supplied. In operate, and she even perceived that he suspected loer of placing short, sir, love, maternal love, I think we may call it, conquer herself voluntarily within his reach. Humbled by this opied fear, shame, and every other feeling. Mary, therefore, at nion, which she was unable to remove ; finding all remonstrances length resolved to stay, and encounter the man, whom, in any vain, and all efforts to avoid him useless, her life now became as other circumstances, she had determined to fly to the world's miserable as it had before been tranquil. To complete ber end to avoid.

affliction, Mrs. Selborne soon suspected that some particular Captain Mandeville arrived within the time appointed, just pursuit detained her son-in-law at Mandeville Park, and she after the evening had closed. Mary heard the clattering of quickly guessed its object. How Mary passed her days in conthe horse's feet, and soon after his well-known voice and sequence of all this, you may judge, sir. Mr. Mandeville findstep. The many- many occasions when she had listened to ing solicitation and allurement vain, grew insolent and troublethein with a beating heart, interesting as they had been, were some ; the servants sneered; the park-keeper's wife avoided all, she thought, nothing to this. He staid some little time her; there was no security from persecution either in the house below with Mrs. Selborne, and then the feet of both were to or the grounds; and, in short, of all that had soothed or be heard on the staircase.

comforted her poor heart, nothing remained the same but the “ Now," exclaimed Mary, with a palpitating heart,“ now baby. comes the trial !”—and she turned to the infant that was sleep Mary's mind began, I fear to undergo a strange revolution ing sweetly in its cradle."Oh, if it were my child that he was about this time. She grew desperate, as it were, and she has coming to look at,” she softly whispered " but mine sleeps acknowledged to me that she sometimes debated with herselt sounder still !"

whether she should not accept his fine offers; for, rather than Mr. Mandeville came in ; he neither cast his eyes to the be crossed in his inclination, he did offer her liberally, sir ; at right nor the left, but, with a candle in his hand, walked others, she determined to tell the whole story to Mrs. Selstraight to the cradle, and stooping down to see the baby, borne, and throw herself upon her mercy; but against one kissed its little hand.

temptation there was remorse, and a thousand other painful feel"Will he wake, do you think?" said he to Mrs. Selborne, ings, resulting from her experience of the selfishness and cruelty motioning to kiss its cheek." Oh, no, no, no," murmured of the man ; against the other, stood the severe temper and unMary, pursuing, in the anguish of her heart, nothing but her feeling character of the woman. Shame, too, at the thought of own recollections, mine will never wake again." Mr. Man being exposed and degraded in the eyes of the neighbourhood, for deville started at the voice, indistinctly as it reached him, and she feared they would judge hardly of her, made her resolve, turned towards the speaker ; but she was at a remote end of whatever might be the consequence, to keep her own secret. No the room, and the single candle which he beld did not enable third project then remained but that of quitting the family alhim to discern her features. “ Who is that person,” exclaimed together, and this she so nearly determined upon, as to collect he hastily to Mrs. Selborne, “and what is she saying ?"- all her little savings ; so that it driven to extremities, either by "She says that you will not disturb the child; it never wakes, the persecution of Mr. Mandeville or Mrs. Selborne, she might I believe, at this hour.” They then talked together in a low be able to leave the house at a moment's warning'; but how voice of its health, its age, and its mother. You will proba was she to leave the child ? The thought of doing so was litbly recollect the young woman

who nurses him," concluded Mrs. tle less than a death-stroke. Selborne, after saying something which Mary did not distinctly Well, things continued in this way till near the time when hear. " She is the widow of a private who served under you; Mrs. Selborne was to quit the Park: the day was anxiously she owes the place to your recommendation." The abasbed epected by Mary. On the last but one preceding it, she had and unfortunate girl leaned against the chimney; her eyes, te ill-fortune to encounter Mr. Mandeville, as she was returuwhich she raised only for a single moment, swimming in tears. ing to the nursery from her dinner. He insisted on talking

Mr. Mandeville staid but two days longer at the Park, dur- with her; which she positively refused; but finding that he ing wbich time Mary, by substituting in her own place, at cer- prepared to follow her up stairs, she thought it better to listen tain bours, a girl who was sometimes employed as under nursery- to him where she was. 'Mrs. Selborne was abroad. All that maid, contrived that they should meet no more. She learned, Mr. Mandeville could offer or say on such an occasion, for it however, that by means of this girl Mr. Mandeville bad satisfied was his purpose to engage her to remain at the Park with him, himself that her ehild was dead, and she had reason to hope may, as one should think, be easily imagined; but you would that he had gathered enough information as to what related to not easily imagine, sir, that, finding all other efforts fail, he ber, to be assured that she must on this occasion have pur- should, before they parted, strive to alarm the fears of the poor posely shunned him.

girl, by indirectly threatening to publish her former misconduct. And now, after Mary had been so heavily beaten by the I cannot think so ill of him, or of any man, as to believe that storm, an interval of tranquillity seemed to succeed in her life. he was in earnest ; but Mary's agitated heart and distempered

The infant was not robust, but it daily grew stronger, and fancy gave credit to the worst. With what little eloquence she to her daily more precious. It was her care, ber pleasure, her was mistress of, she endeavoured, it seems, to represent to him employment: it engrossed her whole soul, and by degrees, the great disadvantage her loss would prove to his child; but filled up all those fond affections of her heart which had no other be treated it as a matter of no consequence." The infant was object they could venture to dwell upon. The very circumstance nearly weaned,

and any old woman in the parish might nurse of not being a strong child made it only the dearer, hy furnish- it,” he said. Driven to the last extremity, she then positively ing a perpetual succession of hopes and fears : both were al- declared her resolution to quit the country, and find a sitnation ready in some sort rewarded. He began to distinguish ber;

elsewhere. would crow when she appeared ; " and stretch its little arms as And where will you find a character

?” said Mr. Mandeit would fly," when her's opened to receive him. The range of ville, with a speer ; he had little time for more, as the old and country adjoining, were in themselves sources both of health member, Mary, what I say to you ;” a hint from me to Mrs. and delight. She enjoyed almost undisturbed possession of the Selborne dismisses you with disgrace from the house ; where whole." What more could

I gain, had I been born in a rank I say, will you then find a character ?” to have become its mistress," would she sometimes say to her. It was not necessary to bid her remember the words ; they self , " except an ungrateful man!” Tears then would fill her were engraved in letters of fire, as it seemed to Mary, both on

“ But this baby would indeed have been mine.-Well- her heart and her brain. and could I have loved him better?" The recollection that “ W'here, Mary, will you find a character?” exclaimed

she, as she ran up into the nursery, and mechanically took the arch, so sprightly, so diverting, that little Bob was the univerchild in her arms ; for it was her hour of walking with him. sal favourite, He was, withal, very proud ; although nobody

Where will you find a character ?" she continued repeating could tell of what: it could not be of his birth or his great to herself, as she hurried on, without exactly knowing whither; estate, poor child! for, alas, he knew nothing of either ! but in tears, caresses, and every thing that was afflicting succeeded spite of his huinble situation, Bob was a great hoper, and was this tumult of resentinent.- cannot give you an exact ac- always talking of the mighty things he would do when he should count of what followed, sir ; she could never give me one her. grow to be a man:- 1 beg your pardon, sir—iny eyes will fil self: but certain it is, that she continued to walk till she reached with tears at the recollection. His mother encouraged this folly the mouth of the river; and there, ineeting by ill-fortune with a in him. small vessel bound for London, and in the very act of sailing, “M.ry,” said I to her one day," you will totally ruin that she got

directly on board, and still carrying with her the pre- boy."-"Oh, no, no," returned she impatiently." You will cious child, was in a few hours many leagues out at sea.-Now make his mind a great deal too high."-" I do not make it," comes the fearful part of Mary's life ! now comes the time said she ;—“it makes itself.” -“ But ought it to make when she strove to whiten by comparison : to use her little itself? Consider he is growing a great lad.”. “Don't talk to knowledge and experience in justifying a wicked action, and to me, Mrs. Dixon. I cannot control his spirit. If you knew say to herself

, Why should I alone be upright in a worthless how dearly I bought him"." At what price did you buy and cruel world !" Mr. Mandeville, sir, could no longer him?" returned i. She started, and looked at me very eartempt, but his influence had corrupted her, and left her exposed nestly for a moment, but said nothing. I cannot but own that to the temptation within. Mary and the child escaped with. I had my private thoughts. out detection, and she buried herself in London.

Time wore on. Bob was now twelve years old. No longer What Mary's feelings or thoughts were during the period a delicate small-limbed child, but a fine well-grown boy; with that succeeded, it would be difficult precisely to ascertain. She a manly and open countenance, a forward and proud.spirit; full was not without money ; but she had neitlier friends nor con- of frolic, but without any mischief. He had beaten a neighnexion. Industry, sir, is nevertheless a trusty auxiliary, and bour's son much bigger than himself, who persisted in calling either finds or makes its way. By giving security, which her him little Bob ;,80 he was now Robert; and it was laoghable stuck of money enabled her to do, she contrived to get employ- to see the vehemence wih which lie insisted upon this claim. ment in a small but creditable shop, not unlike that in which all our acquaintance blamed us for keeping such a great boy at she had lived with her aunt: her readiness and good qualities home, without any occupation, and I began secretly to be readered her valuable wherever she had an opportunity a little ashamed of the weakness myself ; for, to say truth, sir, of making them known, as she very quickly did. Her I was nearly as weak as Mary on that subject. The child was wants were few : she had neither vanity nor pleasure but in the never idle either, nor was it in bis nature to be so; he made child; and he, little fellow, grew and did well; while her ex- himself useful ten thousand ways. There was nothing so low cessive fondness for him made it impossible for any one to sus- that he disdained to do for those he loved; he has cleaned pect that she was not its mother. He was no longer, indeed, knives, and gone on errands. Good God, little did I think who at Mandeville Park, the heir of a fine estate, and waited upon it was that was so employed! It was not with Mary s appro. by a numerous train of servants ; but he had still one servant bation, however, that he did this; but she could not prevent more anxious, more devoted than any he had left there; he had him; he undertook it all as if it were sport-- all for his dear also the best of everything, however plain : all her leisure was little granny Dixon," as he used to call me. Think of his make employed, as he grew older, in teaching him the little she knew ing me his grandmother, sir !-1 was then a young woman; either of writing, reading, or accounts; his health was still but it was his playful way. The fact was, that he had an in: tender and uncertain; she watched him with the care of a mo- exhaustible stock of health and spirits to spare, and having ther and the fatigue of a nurse. No thought like self-reproach, neither companion nor employment, u as fain to spend both as I believe, ever crossed her mind, with respect to his father; he could. Every one, however, that came to the house noticed her heart was quite hardened towards Mr. Mandeville, and she and spoiled him. “ Gads my life, Sirs. Dixon," said one of was persuaded that Mrs. Selborne would grieve but little for our actor gentlemen, who was drinki'ig tea with me, while Bob, the child when it was once out of her sight. She shut her eyes in tip-top spirits, handed us the tea-kettle, this is a fellow deliberately to the past and the future, and determined to think of whom the world may say that he will ride a bay trotting only of the present day.

horse over a four-inched bridge, and course his on a shadow for Such was her own account of her life in London ; and I a traitor." To be sure, sir, Bub was too fond of riding never had reason to doubt its truth.

strange horses ; but how the child's foible came to be so gaI saw Mary for the first time about eighteen years ago; she nerally known ras what I never could guess. was then nine-and-twenty. It was in the beginning of sum Bob's own mind was quite made up as to his future destinamer, and a very sultry day ; I was sitting during the fore- tion. “ He would be a soldier,” he said, “ like his father.”. noon at work, with my parlour windows open, when a young “ Like his father !" said Mary, and tears came into her eyes. woman, holding a little boy by the hand, walked past the house the soldiers took to him mightily. The master, sering how and returned. She did this more than once without my taking fond he was of horses, taught him to ride ; which Mary did not any particular notice of her, though she, as I afterwards found, object to. They looked upon him as one of themselves, and took a great deal of me; at last she made a little stop close by acted very kindly by him. But still they were men, aad he was the window.

only a boy; so that, without meaning it, they made him for"Did you want an industrious person to assist you in needle- ward and presuming. work, madam ?" said she.

The interval between this time and his fifteenth birth day Mrs. Dixon related at some length all her doubts and per- was the most melancholy we had ever passed since u e lived toplexities, but she said Mary conquered them at last.1

gether. He was almost beyond our control ; yet we knew no “ Your little boy,” said Í, “ seems sickly.” Tears flowed harm of him; but he kept groiing very handsome and very down her cheeks in a moment.--"He has had a fever," she re-tall: every day, therefore, told us that something must be doue plied ; " but thank God he is now likely to do well. The doctor with him. A dreadful gloom came over Mary.

She was no tells me that bathing in the sea will recruit his strength, and I lovger the same creature she had been. No sleep did she get at have therefore brought him here for that purpose." I know not night; no quiet in the day. what there was so taking in her and the child, but for my life About this time. Mary heard of her father, who was become I could not turn them from the door.

very old and feeble; and in the despair of parting with her It was now all plain sailing, sir, and she knew it: for I pre- boy, to which conscience now urged her, she turned to her own sently discovered that my industry and usefulness, on which I family: I believe she soothed her conscience with the hope of valued myself, were nothing to her ingenuity. She did so cut attending her father's age, and watching his death-bcd. In out and contrive!“ And this, Mrs. Dixon," said she, “ is just short, she found it absolutely necessary to hope, if she meant the right pattern for such a thing : and that will do for an to live ; and this w as all she could hope. other. She was like a good fairy.

I tell you merely my own conjectures; for her restlessness, Mary's character was a mystery to Mrs. Dixon; but her her total loss of appetite, and the long fits of alisence that now conduct was unexceptionable: her melancholy and her vary- grew very remarkable in her, were the only symptoms by u hich ing moods wore off in time; her conscience was lulled, as her I could guess that she was privately forming some resolution. heart had been seared ; her only weakness now was excessive I had no clex at that time to ber innost thoughts; but by after fondness for her litile boy.

events I could trace thein. Her health suttered too much to He was, continued the landlady, about eight, when she brought him to Weymouth; the sea air agreed is ith him wonderfully, and he was never sickly from that time ; but grew so

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permit me to ask many questions, for I really could not guess sport than in wickedness ; but it was wickedness, I ain perwhat their effect upon her might prove. Ai length she fixed suadel : he now proposed to secrete several valuable articles ker determination but, like a drowning person catching at that were in this man's possession, on which, he assured Bub, straws, she could not prevail on herself to take the great step he could raise money, and return them without difficulty in the till she had settled everything that concerned her besides. And course of two days; declaring, that should it in the interim be 50, sir, this new delay in entering upon the path of justice and discovered they were missing he would easily face it out for a uprightness was the cause of all the melancholy story that fol- joke. Robert was, as he confessed, in debt: he had besides loxed.

contracted a thousand wants, and a thousand wishes, during Mary was to be away three weeks, and Bob formed the de his intercourse with the worthless crew around him; and tvo light of Mrs. Dixon in her absence, "going and coming," she proud to own to any but his immediate companion that be bad said, " and asking what he could do for me, this and the other." no resources, he fell into the snare which folly, vice, and illAt this time Mrs. Diron's lodgings were taken for the sea. fortune prepared for him. The butler, however, was either so, for a gentleman with a large establishment of servants. - It more subtle, or more watchful, than they had believed him to was Mr. Mandeville!

be. He discovered the fact a very few hours after it was comYa it was Mr. Mandeville himself! but not that Mr. mitted ; nor did he fail to guess at the culprits. Thomas was Mandeville who had robbed Mary of her heart, in all the bloom first secured, and his evidence criminated Bob. The latter was and fire of eight-and-twenty; free-living, and the years that with me when they came to fetch him. Never to the latest bard passed over his head, had left strong traces on his features. moment of my life, sir, shall I forget that!

There was no He had a fixed redness in his face, and had lost the slightness need of accusation nor proof; his countenance told all, and both of his person. One might indeed see that he had been handlads were thrown into prison. tome, for he had a manly character of countenance; and I could I pass over the trial, but cannot pass the tender pleadafterwards recollert that his son greatly resembled him in this : ing of Mrs. Dixon, with the selfish, unconscious father, who but such was then the wide difference in their age and appear- harshly blamed poor Bob for corrupting his favourite groom : ance, that nothing of the sort occurred to me. How indeed Not his fellow left in the stable,” he said ; " I would rather should it ?

he robbed me every day in the year than have lost him." Mr. Mandeville's profusion and vices were imitated by every you would take the trouble to examine into the rights of the servant he bad ; and if they strove a little to conceal this from case, sir," said Mrs. Dixon. A man cannot spend his life in bim, they only added bypocrisy to every other fanlt: hat they examining your rights and your wrongs, Mrs. Dixon.” “ I did not endeavour to conceal it, sir ; or in a very trifling de beg your pardon, sir; I thought that members of Parliament, gree. His own man openly, professed to follow his master's and rich gentlemen, did spend their lives-" « You take example in all things. The butler was several years older, but great liberties," said Mandeville, "justice must have its course ; he was insolent, unfeeling, and extrava rant. The other ser- / justice must and will be executed." And so it was. Mrs. vantu did not fall short of these models : bat. oh, sir! a worse Dixon turned from the dissolute and selfish father, to the congrief than all remained behind, though I did not immediately demined cell of his only child. • To be sure," she continued, know its extent: the groom whom I had been obliged to place “ it was a dismal sight! so promising a boy !-and not yet six

very ill-disposed lad; and the teen! Ah, sir, was this, as I afterwards thought, the little 1 bed effects

of his society were too soon visible in the latter, fellow that had been fondled and caressed at Maorleville Park, tboagh sooner to others than to me.

and for whom so much had been expected !-But is not every The loss of Mary's assistance threw a vast load upon my infant fondled and caressed ?--The poorest outcast that ever spirite and time. Jo truth, where servants were so disorderly went in irons to finish his miserable life, as Bub did, in a dis. wd ill-managed, I had hardly a inoment to spare from my do tant country, has been pressed to some maternal heart, more mestic concerns, or to call my own. Occupied, as I was, how. tenderly perhaps than ever he was." ever, I observed that some alteration had taken place in Bob. "I have been considering, Mrs. Dixon," said the dear fellow, He affected to be the man more than I thought became him ; “ how it happens that all this evil and wickedness lave fallen and began to be very nice in his linen and appearance. He upon me; and I think I have found out the cause. "_" And had been hitherto a fine rough boy, ten thousand times more what is that, my dear Bub?" said I, for I was still accustomed manly than the groom that he admired; yet the latter was a to call him so, and he never took it ill of me, though he would personable lart too ; but there was something of native fire and not suffer any body else to do it: it was the name I used to character about Bob, or I fancied so, that was much above his him when he was a bit of a child on my kore, and I loved it for degree: it could not be fancy either, for every body that saw that reason. “What is that, my dear Bob?" said I.--"Why it him used to say the same thing."

coines from my having no father. My mother, to be sure, was In the meantime Mary wrote, saying she would soon

very good ; but then she was only my mother : and you were return; and make some hearte happy, and then there would very good too; but I was a boy, and I often thought that to myhe some chance for her : but she did not appear, and Mrs. sell

, that boys should not be governed by women and her hand Dixon grew neasy, both on her account and that of her was as gentle as her heart : so I grew up without any other son. My warnings to him, she said, to break off the intimacy guide than my own proud thoughts, and easily fell a prey to the which he had so lately formed were not attended to, and I had wicked suggestions of others.--Now, if I had had a father, Mrs. no power to enforce them. Nor could I send either lad out of Dison, you see I should have been saved from all this; for if he my house. They were constantly together. They rode matches had been a rich man I should not have fallen into the way of on the sands, or else shere. Their companions betted upon temptation ; and if he had been por and industrimus, I should

them: they betted themselves; and I was convinced that Bob have early learned not to be ashamed of poverty, and his exam" bret. I tared him with it. Nothing spoils the temper, sir, ple might have made me industrious too : for indeed I was not

like the consciousness of doing wrong. This boy, this child as naturally wicked ; but God," added he, laying his finger on the I may call him, formerly so complying and open, was capable Testament, which the chaplain left with him, “as His book of being rude and sullen : quite at a loss what to do. I desired assures me, will be a Father to the fatherless; and although I him to write to his mother, and hasten her return. He obeyed have none to apply to in this world, I will put my trust in

ne, though not with a good grace: but she came not, nor did Him."—I thought my heart must have broken : for, with his 9 ve treeive any answer, and I repented that I had not written finger between the leaves of the book, he dropped on his knees, myself; but I was not a ready peq-woman, and had much oc

and bid his face over it ; and when he raised it again, on hearmpatias.- I thought that I was not quite miserable !-I did ing my sobs, there was something so sweet in his eyes that mine Det koow how much more miserable I was to be. Every possi. were quite blind with tears. Oh, what, have 1 since thought, ble way did I turn over in my mind to remedy the mischief I had not Mary to answer for! Dreadfally, sir, did she answer hul so innocently caused : but the mischief

was doing, sir, past for it! Yet, had Bob been Mr. Mapdeville's son by her, would all remedy:-it was done, as I may say, even while I was con

not his fate have been the same! for where, even in that case,

would he have found a father ? Of what nature the extravagance might be of these two boys I The boy was now on the sea, and on his way to his place of excannot tell, but they had been very extravagant. Bub's means ile ;-and where was Mary? " I was sitting," said Mrs. Dixon, were sennty indeed; the other threw money about like dirt; one night very sorrowfully alone with the newspaper in my but I have much reason to believe that he was as ready to take band, waiting for the tea-kettle to boil, and examining, as I

to part with it. At last neither of them had any left, and constantly did, whether I could find any tidings about the vesboth grievously wanted it. My boy would have stopped short; sel that was to carry away poor Bob, when suddenly a voice

tae wickerl one with whom he associated had other ways of that was more like the shriek of a ghost than any human tongue,

ding. The old butler was, in private, his constant theme called me by my name. I looked up, and standing in the dooratsioc and ridicule: and more, as he made it appear, in way bebeld Mary. It was horrible to see her. She was not

bibering.

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