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. ceflity of diffembling, at least till
Ton has the young lady's fortune fecure.'
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 argu:
ment, I even here retract my former • concessions in the old gentleman's favour, • nor will I allow him now to be an hulband in any sense of the expreffion," i
It would be endlefs to describe the dif> ferent sensations of both families when I divulged the news of our misfortune'; but what others felt was flight to what the lovers appeared to endure. Mr. Wilmot, who seemed before fufficiently 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.
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 milfortunes might be malicious or premature : but a letter from my agent in town foon 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 VOL. I. B
last a small Cure of fifteen pounds a year was offered 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 ignorant, my children,' cried I, that no prudence of ours could have prevented our late misfortune ; but pru
dence 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 fplen
dours with which numbers are wretched, and seek in humbler circumstances
that peace with which all may be hap. ‘py. The poor live pleasantly without
our help, why then should not we learn to live without theirs. No, my chil• dren, let us from this moment give up all pretensions to gentility; we have • ftill 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 feparation of friends and families, is, perhaps, one of the most distressful circumstances attendant on penury. The day foon 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 kiffes, 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 Lon• don on foot, in the manner Hooker, ‘your great ancestor, travelled there be. fore you. Take from me the fame 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
bis seed begging their bread. Let this be 'your consolation as you travel on. Go,
my boy, whatever be thy fortune, let me • fee thee once a year; ftill keep a good
heart, and farewell. As he was posseft 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