Chapter II: Part 2

He passed that night in sorrow and contrition, he bedewed his pillow with tears, and sleep was a stranger to his troubled mind. If he happened but to slumber, he suddenly started, imagining he saw the image of his deceased father standing before him in the dreadful garb of death, and thus reproaching him: "Ungenerous youth! is this the manner in which you ought to return my past cares and attention to your interest?--Thou idle sloven, thou ungenerous son! awaken from your state of indolence, and properly improve the little time you have left for the pursuit of science, which you have hitherto so shamefully neglected; and do not, by an unpardonable inattention to yourself, shorten the few remaining days of your dear mother's life!"

I hope my youthful readers are well convinced that there are no such things as ghosts or apparitions, and that they are nothing more than the effects of a troubled imagination. Such was the ease with Marcus, who fancied he saw his father on the one hand, reproaching him for what was past, and his dear mother on the other, exhorting him to better conduct in future. "What a wretch I am," said he to himself, "to act in this manner! When my time for leaving this academy shall arrive, and I must appear before my mother to give proofs of my literary knowledge, what must be the pangs of her maternal heart, when she shall find that the child, on whom she had placed all the prospects of her future felicity, is an ungrateful, ignorant, and unworthy wretch? She will call on the friendly hand of Death to take her from such an insupportable scene!"

Poor Marcus thus lay rolling on the thorny bed of trouble and anxiety, till, at last, totally overcome by grief and despair, he fell asleep. As soon as he awoke in the morning, on his bended knees he implored the assistance of the Almighty in the reformation he intended to make in his conduct. He instantly hastened to his master's chamber, and there threw himself on his knees before him: "Behold, sir," said he, "prostrate before you, an ungrateful wretch, who has hitherto treated, with the most shameful indifference, all the wise lessons you would have bestowed on him. Yet, unworthy as I may be of your future instructions, let me implore you, for the sake of my dear mother, whose life I fear I shall shorten by my unworthy conduct, to extend your bounty to me once more, and I will endeavour to convince you, by my future conduct, how much ashamed I am of what is past."

His master raised him up, took him in his arms, and tenderly embracing him, they shed tears together. "My dear Marcus," said his master to him, "to be sensible of your errors is half way to reformation. You have, it is true, squandered away, in the pursuit of trifles, two years that ought to have been employed in the acquisition of useful science. You have still one year left, and, as you appear to stand self-convicted of the imprudence of your past conduct, I would not wish to drive you to despair; but to encourage you by saying, that, by proper application, great things may be done, even in the remaining year. Begin this moment, lose no more time, and may God give you resolution to proceed suitably to my wishes, and your own interest."

Marcus seized the hand of his master, tenderly kissed it, and then retired, being totally unable to utter a single word. He instantly ran to his chamber, there eased his heart in a flood of tears, and then set about the necessary business. He applied himself so closely to his books, and made therein so rapid a progress, as astonished his master and teachers. His companions, who had hitherto treated him with the utmost contempt, began to love and revere him. Marcus, thus encouraged by the different treatment he now received, pursued his studies with the utmost attention and alacrity. He was no longer despised for his wickedness and perversity, but admired and caressed for the affability and goodness of his temper. Formerly no severities or entreaties could make him attend to his studies; but they were now forced to use some degree of violence to make him partake of necessary recreations.

In this manner his last twelvemonth passed on, and he viewed with regret the approach of that time when he was to leave school, and engage in pursuits of a different nature. He was hereafter to study men, and endeavour to acquire a knowledge of the latent motions of the human heart, perhaps the most difficult study in the commerce of this world.

The time allowed him being expired, his mother ordered him up to London. By the end of the year, the change he had made in his conduct so operated in his favour, that his departure was regretted by all his school companions; and, when he took his leave, sorrow visibly appeared in the countenance of every one. It was a pleasing reflection to his master, that a youth he had given up as lost, should on a sudden reform, and, in the circle of one year, make as great a progress in the sciences as the generality of youths do in three.

The journey afforded Marcus the most pleasing reflections; for he had now nothing to apprehend from the interrogatories of his mother, with respect to his education; and though he sincerely lamented the two years he had lost, yet he could not but feel the effects of the happy employment of the third.

His schoolmaster had before acquainted his mother of the happy reformation in her son, and the great improvement he had made since the death of his father. These considerations, added to the natural feelings of a mother, made their meeting a scene of the most tender delights and heartfelt transports.

Marcus lost only a week in paying visits to his relations and friends, and then applied himself to his father's business with unremitted assiduity and the most flattering success. In a few years he took an amiable partner for life, with whom he lived happy and contented. He was blessed with dutiful children, to whom he would frequently give this lesson: "My dear children, do not forget, that time once lost is not to be recalled; and that those hours you trifle away in your early years, you will severely lament the loss of when you shall have reached the age of maturity. An old age of ignorance is despicable indeed; for he who has neglected properly to cultivate his mind in his youth, will embitter the evening of his life with self-accusations and reproaches. Happy the youth who, having toiled hard during spring in the garden of science, sits down in the autumn at leisure to regale on the fruits of his labour!"

_The Recompence of Virtue._

The northern confines of France boast of a small spot of ground, where virtue renders law unnecessary, and procures the inhabitants a state of peace as pure and unsullied as the air they breathe. In process of time, this territory fell into the hands of a widow, who merited a much more valuable patrimony.

Madam Clarisse, for that was the lady's name, joined benevolence of heart to a cultivated mind and an elevated genius. The place afforded neither physician nor apothecary; but Madam Clarisse supplied the want of them by her own knowledge of the medical qualities of different roots and plants. Her conduct evidently proved how much good a generous heart is capable of doing, even where Fortune has not been lavish of her smiles.

This lady had a servant maid, whose name was Maria, and who had seen twelve revolving suns in her service. Her attachment to her mistress, her disinterested behaviour, affability, and attention, procured her the just esteem of all who lived in the neighbourhood. It was a happiness for this girl, that she had all her life been brought up on this spot of innocence, and had not been exposed to the corrupting and pestiferous air of the metropolis.

Madam Clarisse had the highest opinion of the good qualities of Maria, and had entertained a strong affection for her. Maria, who in her turn tenderly loved her mistress, and was a little older than her, always wished that her good lady might be the longer survivor; but Providence had ordered it otherwise. Madam Clarisse was attacked with a disorder, which, on its first appearance, was supposed to be of no consequence; but, by the improper treatment of her physicians, who mistook her disorder, it at last proved fatal.

The visible approach of death did not disturb the peace and tranquility of the mind of this virtuous lady: her bosom was fortified with religious consolations; her heart had never been the receptacle of evil; and, while every one around her was bewailing her approaching dissolution, she alone seemed peaceful and tranquil. The salutary regimen she exactly followed, protracted her death for a little while, and her courage gave her strength. She was not confined to her bed, but walked about, and had the village girls around her, whom she instructed in the principles of religion and virtue.

One delightful morning, in the blooming month of May, she rose very early, and took a walk in the fields, accompanied by Maria, who never forsook her. She reached the summit of a verdant hill, from whence the eye wandered over the most delightful prospects. She sat down on the enamelled turf, and Maria by her side.

"What a delightful view!" said she. "See, Maria, that verdant meadow, over which we have so frequently walked! It is not long since, if you remember, that we there met the good old Genevive, who bent beneath the load on her back, while she carried in her hand a basket full of apples: you insisted on taking the load from her, and, in spite of all her resistance, I seized her basket of apples. Do you not remember what joy and pleasure every step afforded us, how grateful the good creature seemed, and what a hearty breakfast we ate in her cottage?

"Look a little to the right, and there you see the willow-walk by the lake, in which, when we were young, we used so frequently to angle. How often have we there made ozier baskets, and then filled them with cowslips and violets! You recollect that cottage in front of us, the peaceful habitation of Myrtilla, for whom you in two days made up the wedding clothes I gave her. To the left, see the entrance of the wood, where I used every holiday to keep my evening school in the summer, for the instruction of the peasants' children. How happily those moments glided away, while surrounded by my youthful neighbours! How many sweet and delightful tales has the lovely Priscilla there told, and how many enchanting songs did the sweet Miranda there warble forth, while the feathered songsters seemed to stop their own notes to listen to her divine warblings! Methinks every thing around me brings back something pleasing to my reflection, and gives an inexpressible delight to my present sensations!

"You are sensible, Maria, that there is a school in this village kept by a poor old woman. Many who attend her school can pay for instruction without any inconvenience, while there are others, who, for want of money, are obliged to keep their children at home in ignorance. Had I any hopes of living a few years longer, I should be much pleased with the idea, that I should by that time have saved a hundred crowns, which would have been sufficient to provide education for the children of those who cannot afford to pay for it; but, since it is the will of God that such shall not be the case, I submit without repining."

Here Maria turned her head aside, in order to conceal from her lady the tender tear that stole down her cheeks. Madam Clarisse perceiving the situation of her amiable servant, "My dear Maria," said she, "why do you weep? We shall again meet each other to part no more, and for the present let my serenity console you. I have not a doubt but you will always have a sure asylum in my house long after I shall have left it. Had it pleased God, I should have been happy to have it in my power to make some provision for you; but I cannot; and it is for me to submit."

Lifting up her hands, she exclaimed, "Accept, O gracious God! my most grateful acknowledgments for having placed me in a situation far from the temptations and vanities of this world. A stranger to headstrong passions and delusive pleasures, I have passed my tranquil life on this retired spot of innocence, secure from the tumultuous pursuits of pride and vanity, and a perfect stranger to the gnawing pangs of jealousy or envy. Innocence and peace, and all the tender feelings of friendship and humanity, have been my constant companions. In that critical and awful moment, when the remembrance of past actions is not to be supported by the wicked, my mind enjoys inexpressible serenity and composure."

Madam Clarisse here stopped short, and her head sunk on the bosom of Maria; who, looking on the face of her amiable mistress, found it turned pale, and her eyes closed-never more to be opened!--Thus cracked the cordage of a virtuous heart;--good night, thou amiable woman; may choirs of angels sing you to your rest!

Maria was undoubtedly much afflicted at the death of her lady, and her sorrow on that account, added to the fatigues she had undergone, threw her into a fever, from which her recovery was for a long time doubtful. Nature, however, at last conquered her disorder, when she determined to quit that place, as soon as her strength would permit her. When she found herself capable of pursuing the journey, she packed up the little matter she had, and first repaired to the church-yard where her amiable lady lay buried. Having there paid the tribute of a tear upon her grave, she instantly set out for Charleville, her native place, sincerely regretted by the minister and people, who knew not what was become of her.

Two years had elapsed, and no news was heard of Maria, though every possible enquiry was made in the neighbourhood. About that time, however, the minister of the parish received a parcel containing some money, and the following letter with it:

"At last, my dear reverend sir, I am enabled to send you the
hundred crowns which my worthy lady, in her expiring moments,
so ardently wished to be possessed of, not for her own use,
but for the emolument of others. Her wishes shall now be
fulfilled, and the pious work she projected shall be completed.
Had not this been the all I am possessed of in this world, I
would have brought it myself. I am too poor to support myself
among you; but I am happy in my poverty, and feel no anxieties
but those occasioned by the loss of my dear lady. I beseech
you to put this money out to interest, and inform the mistress
of the school that it is for her use. This I hope will enable
her to take under her care the children of such poor people,
who cannot afford to pay for their education. If I have any
favour to ask of Heaven, it is only this, that I may, before I
am called hence, be enabled to save a little money, in order
to be in a condition to pay you a visit. Should I live to see
this school established on the plan my deceased lady wished
for, I shall then be perfectly happy, and shall quit this world
without envying those who roll in the gifts of fortune, but
have not a heart properly to use them.--MARIA."

The curate, who was a man of generous feelings, read this letter with admiration, and the next day, in the church, communicated the contents of it to his congregation, who could not refrain from tears on the relation of so generous an action. According to Maria's request, he placed the hundred crowns out to interest; and thus, from the produce of two year's incessant labour of this amiable woman, was a foundation laid for the education of the poor children of the parish.

The generous Maria, having thus disposed of every thing she was possessed of, again sat down to work; but not with so much ardour as before, as she had now only to labour for her own maintenance. About this time, however, a relation died and left her ten pounds a year, which to her was a little fortune.

It soon came to the knowledge of Maria, that the curate had read her letter to his congregation, which gave her no small degree of uneasiness, as she wished it to remain unknown. However, it soon became the conversation of every one, and at last reached the place where she lived.

People of the first character and fortune in Charleville, at which place she then lived, were anxious to be acquainted with her; and some of them even went so far as to offer her apartments in their house. But she preferred her present situation to a life of ease and indolence.

The curate, having occasion soon after to visit Paris, mentioned Maria in all companies, and related the affecting story of her charity, which soon became the general subject of conversation in that metropolis, was publicly related in the Paris Gazette, and from thence copied into most of the public papers in Europe.

A young prince, who lived with his parents, at Paris, and who was hardly nine years of age, was so affected, young as he was, with this generous action of Maria, that he talked of nothing else from morning till night. "I wish I were a man," said the little prince one morning in his father's hearing. "And if you were a man," replied the peer, "what then would you do?"

The young prince threw his arms round his father's neck, and having obtained a promise that he would grant him what he asked, "I would," said he, "give Maria a pension." His father embraced him, applauded the generosity of his heart, and instantly settled fifty pounds a year on Maria for life.

We may learn from hence, that virtue often meets with its recompence in the possession of the good things of this life, besides that inexpressible delight it receives from the inward feelings of the heart. Maria received this donation with all becoming gratitude; but she used it as though she were only the steward of it: she fed the hungry, she clothed the naked, and diffused through the whole village a spirit of industry, prudence, and benevolence.

_The Pleasures of Contentment._

Amidst all the objects of our pursuits in this world, in order to acquire happiness, Contentment is the first. Without this, all the parade of grandeur, the possession of the most beautiful villa, and all the studied delicacies of the table are dull and tasteless. When contentment has taken up its seat in the bosom, the straw-built hut is a palace, and the coarsest viands are preferable to the most sumptuous delicacies. The following history of an eastern vizier will contribute to support this opinion.

Alibeg, in his youth, had been a very great favourite of the Sultan Mahmud: he had been the partner of his childish sports, and, as they grew up, the companion of his more manly amusements. He entrusted him with all his secrets, and generally followed his advice in most matters of importance. Mahmud, therefore, out of gratitude, advanced him to the first office of state in the empire.

Alibeg was a man of a noble and generous heart, and of a complexion of mind very different from those who generally flock about royalty, like drones about the hive, only to rob it of its sweets. The inferior ministers of Mahmud were avaricious, cruel, and oppressive, and sacrificed the ease and happiness of the people to gratify their own pleasure, avarice, and ambition. Alibeg was determined, whatever might be the consequences, to set about a reformation of many shameful abuses.

An attempt of this nature naturally brought upon him the united opposition of the imans and grandees. They first endeavoured to ruin Alibeg in the opinion of the sultan, by charging him with those very crimes, which he was in reality endeavouring to correct; but their endeavours were for a long time ineffectual. The sultan loved Alibeg, and well knew that all the accusations against him were false and groundless.

Men in power, who have no other object in view but the gratification of their unbounded passions, dread nothing so much as the influence which wise and virtuous minds sometimes have over good princes. The wicked courtiers finding they could not prevail on the sultan, by fair means, to give up his favourite Alibeg, called in to their aid diabolical rebellion.

The deluded multitude rose against their best friend, whose only wish was to make them happy, by freeing them from the shameful tyranny in which the ministers and great men held them. What a pity it is, that the lower class of people, on whom the prosperity of almost every nation undoubtedly depends, should be so often blind to their own interest, as to be persuaded, by artful and designing men, to forge fetters for themselves!

The sultan, finding he must either give up his empire or his favourite, consented to the disgrace of Alibeg; but not till the leaders of the rebellion had sworn, by the holy Prophet, that Alibeg should be permitted to retire where he pleased, without being insulted or molested.

Alibeg, thus divested of power and all his property, without a friend who dared to give him the least assistance, retired to spend the remainder of his days among the rocks and deserts of the Korasan. Here, on the borders of a limpid and meandering stream, he erected himself a little hut; and here, remote from the converse of ambitious and deceitful man, he passed his time unnoticed by any human being.

He had lived in this solitary retreat, amidst rocks and deserts for upwards of two years, when the virtuous Mentor discovered his gloomy abode. This good man, who was the intimate friend of Alibeg, and who had advised him to attempt the reformation of the state, was thereby instrumental in the ruin of his friend. However, as soon as Alibeg was banished by the people, Mentor banished himself, and retired to a little village at a great distance from the capital.

Mentor sighed for the absence of his friend, and, as he knew he was retired to the Korasan, he determined to set out in search of him. As he was walking on, and at about a furlong distant from the abode of Alibeg, they suddenly met in a winding path. They instantly knew each other, embraced, and wept. When they had wiped away their tears, and had got over the first emotions of joy which so sudden and unexpected a meeting had occasioned, Mentor was astonished to see how much serenity and composure were visible on the countenance of his friend Alibeg, whose bosom was the repository of peace and contentment.

"Blessed be the Eternal," said Mentor, "who gives strength to the weak, and contentment to the unfortunate! He, who had fertile plains at his command in the environs of the capital, is now contented and happy in a cottage, among barren rocks and deserts! But Alibeg has brought virtue with him to these rocks, and he despises the roses that for ever bloom in the garden of Hiera, the diamonds that harden in the rich mines of Nishapous, and the silks that rustle in the manufactories of Mezendran. But tell me, my dear friend, has it taught you to live alone? Is it possible, that any one can live without the converse of a friend? Such a life would be the solitude of a tomb!"

While Mentor was thus addressing his friend, they kept walking on; when they approached the cottage, which Alibeg left that morning before the sun had given light to the eastern parts of the horizon, their ears were first assailed with the neighing of a colt that came to meet them. When the animal approached its master, its motions seemed to express its satisfaction on seeing him again: it turned about either walking or prancing before him all the way home.

Presently two beautiful heifers came running towards them from an adjoining meadow. They moved in a circle round them, then stopped, as it were, to offer him their milk, and holding out their necks to him to be yoked; for nature had taught these animals to be grateful to the hand that fed them.

When they had proceeded a little further, two goats, attended by their kids, as soon as they caught sight of Alibeg, descended from the rocks, and expressed their joy on seeing him again by skipping and sporting round him.

While Mentor was amusing himself with this pleasing scene, his attention was called aside to observe five or six sheep, which had just issued from a neighbouring thicket, and were bleating as they ran. They leaped with joy, and approached to lick their master's hand, who, in return, made much of them, and showed them, by the manner in which he received those marks of their gratitude, how much he was satisfied with their affection for him.

This tender scene engaged much the attention of Mentor, who was still more surprised when he saw a flock of doves surround Alibeg, some of which hovered over his head, and others perched on his shoulders.

By this time he had entered the inclosure of his cottage, when a cock perceiving him, instantly began crowing; and, to complete the concert, the hens flew from their pursuit of food, and endeavoured, in their way, to welcome his return.

But all these marks of attachment were not equal to those shown by two dogs who waited, at the door of the cot, the arrival of Alibeg, their generous master. Neither of them would stir out to meet him, but kept to the post he seemed to have assigned them, that of taking care of his house. However, as soon as he and his friend had entered the cot, they pawed and jumped round him, played a thousand antics, crouched before him, and expressed their joy by their agility; they licked their master's feet, and, when he stretched his hand to pat and stroke them, they would hardly stay to receive the fond mark of approbation, but, rushing through the door-way, sprung forward, and made long circuits over the rocks, and scoured backwards and forwards to express their joy. When they had tired themselves, they returned and lay down at the feet of their beloved master.

Mentor seemed lost in astonishment, and was convinced, in his own mind, that his friend must be happier in this cot, amidst these irrational beings, if they deserved to be so called, than he could possibly be among faithless men, in the palaces of Mahmud.

"You here see, my good friend," said Alibeg, "that I know how to make myself happy, even among the rocks and deserts of Korasan. I endeavoured to teach men the love of virtue, to inspire the subjects of Mahmud with the proper notions of liberty, and to shake off that tyranny they laboured under from the usurpation of the rich and powerful; but they despised my advice, and drove me from my native spot, to seek shelter here, where I have found animals of the brute creation more grateful than men. Thus, you see, my solitude is not a tomb, and that I here enjoy a kind of sovereignty over those animals, which is far more grateful, and less dangerous, than the condition of Mahmud, who reigns over a fickle and inconstant people, who is every hour deceived by them, and who may perhaps one day drive him from his throne."

While they were thus conversing together, they heard the sound of a number of horses' feet on the solid rock. Alibeg was alarmed, and could not conceive that any band of robbers could inhabit those regions; nor could he suppose that any civilized beings would come that way in the pursuit of pleasure.

A few minutes, however, cleared up all his doubts, when he saw about a hundred horsemen approaching his cot. At the head of these Alibeg perceived his old friend Sha-abba, who had been the principal cause of changing Alibeg's sentence, from that of losing his head to perpetual banishment.

Sha-abba leaped from his horse, and caught Alibeg in his arms. Mentor, who was a witness to this scene, could not conceive what all this could mean; but he soon learned, that the people were so wearied out with the oppressions of the great, which had been carried to a more enormous height than ever since the banishment of Alibeg, that they unanimously rose in their defence, and destroyed all the authors of their oppression; but remained firm in their duty and attachment to the Sultan Mahmud.

The sultan had sent these horsemen, a hundred in number, with Sha-abba at their head, in quest of the virtuous Alibeg, whom he was to bring back with him by force, if entreaty could not prevail, to assume his former post of vizier. When Alibeg was informed of this, he wept bitterly, and exclaimed, "After having learned to know in what happiness and contentment consist, why am I thus to be snatched in a moment from them, and again compelled to hazard my peace of mind among men more savage than the rocks and deserts of Korasan? How can I forsake these faithful companions of my retirement, my dogs, my doves, and my cattle? No, if I must go, they shall follow me, that I may have them ready to attend me when Fortune shall again drive me to these deserts."

Sha-abba and Mentor endeavoured to pacify his mind: the former assured him, that all his enemies had been killed by the hands of the oppressed multitude, and the general voice of both the sultan and people was for the return of Alibeg. By these and such like arguments they prevailed on Alibeg to return to the capital, and resume his former exalted employments.

Alibeg mounted his colt, and, after shedding a flood of tears, as a tributary farewell to the rocks and deserts of Korasan, he proceeded on his journey; his two faithful dogs by his side, while the doves fluttered around him, and his kids, sheep, and heifers, followed in the rear.

When they arrived within a few miles of the metropolis, they were met by some thousands of the citizens, who seemed at a loss how properly to express their happiness on the return of their faithful Alibeg, while shame, for having treated him so unjustly, in some measure diminished their joy. Mahmud waited for him at the door of his palace; he received him with open arms; and Alibeg all his life afterwards was equally esteemed by the sultan and his people. Happy is he who, in every various station of life, in prosperity or adversity, can maintain the same equanimity, resolution, and fortitude.

_The happy Effects of Sunday Schools on the Morals of the rising Generation._

Whatever may be said of the increasing luxury and dissipation of Englishmen, their hearts have not yet lost any part of their ancient reputation for the feelings of humanity, and they are still ever ready to provide clothing for the naked, medical assistance for the sick and lame, and education for the untaught children of the poor.

The great number of hospitals, infirmaries, free-schools, and other charitable establishments, with which almost every part of this country abounds, afford an ample display of British benevolence. The institution of Sunday Schools owes its foundation to the humanity of the present times, and will be a credit to it in future ages. The following history of Dorcas and Amarillis may serve as one instance of the happy effects of Sunday Schools.

In a solitary village, far remote from the metropolis, and not near to any capital city, lived the parents of Dorcas and Amarillis. The husband was a shepherd and his wife a shepherdess; but their earnings were so little, that even with their joint labour they could hardly procure bread for themselves and their children, and a morsel of meat once a week was the highest pitch of their luxury, though even that was of the very coarsest kind.

As soon as Dorcas and Amarillis grew up, the former was sent into the fields to frighten birds from the grain, and the latter was kept at home to knit coarse yarn stockings for the use of the family.

Their whole library consisted only of a Testament and a Prayer-book; but these were so injured by the depredations of time, having passed from hand to hand for many years, that what was not torn away, was rendered nearly illegible. However, that was of little consequence, since neither of them could read, and consequently could have no idea of writing. The church was at some distance from them, which served as an excuse to be absent from thence.

Dorcas had neither hat, shirt, shoes, nor stockings; and all the apparel of poor Amarillis was only a straw hat and a coarse gown and petticoat.--These considerations alone were sufficient to keep them from church, admitting they had any inclination to go there. In course, as Sunday was the only day of rest they had from their labour, both boys and girls passed it in such tricks and gambols as were most suitable to their age and taste.

Thus they lived almost in a state of nature, without knowing any thing of the Supreme Being, or of any of the duties we owe to him. They had no idea of prayer, further than, "I thank God we have had a fine season this year, &c." and herein consisted all their devotion. However, amidst all this ignorance and poverty, Dorcas, his sister, and family, were all strictly honest, and never, like others in their village, employed their Sunday in stealing fowls, and other things from their rich neighbours, which they thought it no crime to do: the only dread they had of the commission of these robberies, was the fear of being discovered, and the punishment that would inevitably follow it.

These two children, Dorcas and Amarillis, lived in this state of ignorance till they were ten or eleven years of age. It had been some time a custom with Dorcas and his sister, with a black-lead pencil they had found by chance, to imitate, on the back of a clean white trencher, all the letters they found in the remains of their Common Prayer-book, though they knew not the sound, nor combination of the different letters of the alphabet, in order to form and connect words.

As they were one winter's evening hovering over the fire, Dorcas said to his sister, "How happy are those young people, who, having parents that can afford to pay for their education, are taught to read, write, and cast accounts! and yet how many of those children prefer the most idle pastimes to the more invaluable improvement of their minds? There must be something vastly pretty, in being able to read that Testament and Prayer-book."

"I agree with you, my dear Dorcas," said the blooming Amarillis, "that there must be something uncommonly delightful, to be able to unriddle the meaning of all those words we see in that book. What a hardship it is, that we should be born to spend our days in ignorance, and know none of the pleasures which learning must undoubtedly bring with it!"

The next morning, the principal person in the village, who owned a great part of it, came to their hovel, and acquainted the old folks that they might the next Sunday send their children to church, where they would be instructed in the principles of the Christian religion, and be likewise taught to read, without any expence to themselves.

The next Sunday morning, accompanied by other children in the village, they accordingly repaired to church, where they were all dressed in new apparel, prepared for them by the voluntary subscriptions of the humane and generous. Though their clothes were but of coarse materials, yet Dorcas and Amarillis had never been so fine before; the one thought herself as elegant as Cleopatra, and the other considered himself as great as Cæsar.

Besides clothing, such as could read tolerably well had a Bible, Testament, and Common Prayer given them; while others who could not read, had only a spelling-book. A schoolmaster was appointed in each village to instruct the poor children in the evening; and every Sunday they went regularly to church, to be examined by the parson in public.

It was a pleasing change to behold: instead of noise, riot, and confusion, every Sunday, from one end of the village to the other, peace, order, and decorum were every where seen. Instead of having recourse to mischievous inventions to pass away the time, each was now seen quietly seated on the enamelled turf, with a book in his hand, and either reading to himself or to some others.

Among all these youthful students, Dorcas and Amarillis made the most distinguished figures, and displayed such a genius and attention as attracted the wonder and amazement of every one. In a few months they learned to read with some degree of emphasis, and could write a hand sufficient for any of the common concerns of business.

Such an uncommon display of genius created them many friends, and they frequently received invitations from the younger branches of the neighbouring gentry. From these visits they learned a polite and graceful behaviour, and consequently soon got rid of their awkward rusticity. As they increased in knowledge, so their minds opened and expanded; and, though their wishes were at first only to learn to read, they now sighed after the higher branches of literature.

"What a pleasing thing it must be," said Dorcas one day to his sister, "to read of what passed in the former ages of the world, and trace out the tempers and dispositions of the people in those days! What a narrow span of earth are we confined to, in comparison of what we are told the world is at large! I should like to read those books which give a description of the different parts of the earth and seas; what animals inhabit them, and what curiosities they contain superior to our own."

"I have the same wish," replied Amarillis; "but let us be thankful to that good God, and to the generosity of our opulent neighbours, by whose bounty and goodness we were rescued from a state of ignorance and gloomy despair, have been enabled to read the Sacred Writings, and imbibe the glorious doctrines of salvation."

This conversation was overheard by a gentleman, who immediately bought them some small books of history and geography, of which they made so proper a use, that there were very few young people, within several miles of them, who were able to converse with them on geographical and historical subjects.

Within the course of two years, Dorcas and his sister had made great improvements in the sciences, when it was thought necessary to send them into the world to provide for themselves, as their parents were now engaged in a gentleman's family, in a much better situation than that of a shepherd and shepherdess. Amarillis was taken as a waiting maid, attendant and companion of a young lady of distinction and fortune; and Dorcas thought himself happy in being taken as clerk in the shop of a capital tradesman.

In this situation all parties at present remain, and afford an unanswerable proof of the utility of Sunday Schools. Had it not been for that noble institution, Dorcas and Amarillis must have lived and died in the grossest ignorance, overwhelmed with poverty and despair; their parents must have lingered out a half-starved life in their miserable cot, without being able to bequeath any thing to their children but rags and poverty. What may be the future situation of Dorcas and Amarillis we cannot say; but we need not search the roll of fate to know this, that they are bound to pray, as they undoubtedly do, for the first promoters of Sunday Schools.

Let me advise my youthful readers, whatever their condition in life may be, to imitate the industry of Dorcas and Amarillis. Let them remember that, however painful a few years of hard study may be, how pleasing will be the consequences to them all the rest of their lives, when they will be possessed of that which nothing but their final dissolution can take from them!

_The Happy Villager._

Mr. Jackson had been an eminent tradesman in the city of London, where he by trade acquired an independent fortune, and was now retired into the country to spend the remainder of his days amidst rural retreats, to enjoy the pleasures of rambling through woods and groves, by the side of purling and meandering streams, while the harmony of the feathered songsters would charm the ear, and lull the busy mind into the most tranquil repose.

The retreat Mr. Jackson had chosen was situated in the county of Worcester, and near to the place where he drew his first breath. His house was a well-designed mean between the vast piles raised for magnificence and those smaller ones in which convenience alone is considered. The walk from the back of the house led through a wood, by the side of a delightful stream, which meandered over grass from out of a deep hollow. A gush of water, which fell into it, gurgled through a rocky cavity; and in front you looked down on a fine lawn, terminated with a noble bank of hanging woods.

He would frequently ramble to a great distance from home, to survey the beauties of the surrounding country. He had already visited every neighbouring village, and therefore one day strayed farther than usual in pursuit of new objects. On a sudden he discovered a delightful valley, the appearance of which seemed to correspond with every thing descriptive of a rural scene.

It was surrounded on all sides by hills, at the feet of which were thickly scattered cottages, groves, and gardens, which seemed to be the abode of rural happiness. The silence of the scene was broken only by the dashings of a torrent, which, rushing from an eminence, precipitated, bellowing, into a cavern beneath. Having there vented its rage in foam, it then divided into a multitude of little rills, and forming serpentine sweeps, refreshed the meadows and surrounding gardens with its friendly streams.

However pleased Mr. Jackson was with the natural beauties of the place, he was no less struck with the neatness and simplicity of the many cottages that presented themselves to his view, every house having a garden, an orchard, and some well-cultivated ground about it. Their only fences were hedges of holly, which afforded a convincing proof of two things, the fertility of the soil, and the confidence each one had in his neighbour.

Mr. Jackson was so wholly employed in contemplating this pleasing scene, that he paid no attention to a storm that was gathering around him, till the lightning flashed in his face, the thunder rolled over his head, and the rain began to fall in torrents. He instantly ran to the nearest farm door, and having there knocked, gained immediate admittance.

It was an elderly woman that came to the door, and who, though old, was not decrepid, and appeared to have something venerable in her countenance. "Come in, sir," said she, "and I will make a fire to dry you. I am glad our cottage was so near to you; but you would have met with a kind reception in any of these cottages. There is hardly a house here which is not kept by some of our children or descendants."

Mr. Jackson had sufficient leisure, while the good woman was lighting the fire, to survey the apartment. Every thing appeared uncommonly neat, and it was easy to be seen, from the nature of the furniture, that necessity had no abode under that roof. The novelty of the whole scene, and the particular words the good old woman had dropped in conversation during the lighting of the fire, gave Mr. Jackson a strong desire to know further particulars.

While he was drying his clothes, he heard a voice in the other room, asking if the stranger was taken care of, to which the good woman replied in the affirmative. "I suppose," said Mr. Jackson, "that is your husband in the next room, whose voice I hear. May I go in and thank him for his hospitality and kindness!"

"With all my heart, sir," replied the woman, "you will please to step in, and I believe you will not be dissatisfied with your reception." Mr. Jackson did so; and there found an old man reclining on a bed, of which the clothes and furniture were very neat and clean. He had on a cap, and his snow-white locks hung over his venerable shoulders. His countenance indicated the goodness and serenity of his heart, and even Time had here been more sparing of his devastations than is generally the case.

The appearance of this happy villager had a very great effect upon Mr. Jackson, who could not look on him without being, in some measure, prejudiced in his favour. "What is the matter with you?" said he to the old cottager, "I suppose you are ill, and obliged to keep your bed?"

"God be praised," replied the old man, "that is not the case; though it cannot be expected, that a person turned of fourscore years of age should be free from all kinds of complaints. It is not a long time since I have given up daily labour, which my children obliged me to do; for they said I had worked long enough for them, and that it was now time they should work for me in their turns."

Mr. Jackson highly applauded the conduct of his children; and observed to the old man, that he must have purchased his present repose at the expence of a great deal of labour; but he wished to know, after having passed his life in such active scenes, how he could amuse himself at present.

"My whole life," replied the old man, "has been a constant succession of labour. There are few men who have carried in more hay, or tied more sheaves together than I have; but my labour procured me health, contentment, and happiness. As to time, it never sits heavy on my hands; and, when my body is at rest, my mind is at work. How can any person be at a loss for thoughts who has ten children, and fifty children's children to think for? They every day give me an account of their affairs and labour, and it is I who put every thing in order. There is always one constantly upon my hands that must be married, and matches of that kind are not to be settled in a moment. If those I have provided for in this way are now in a thriving state, it is to me they owe their welfare. I have at this time three marriages in hand, and I hope they will soon be settled to the mutual satisfaction of all parties."

Mr. Jackson observed, that he must be very happy in so numerous a family, and asked him how many he had at home with him. "I have at present only two," replied the old man, "who are my grand-daughters, for I cannot lodge an army here. It is my lands, and not my house, that I wish to enlarge. Thank God, I have been able to give each of my children a tolerable portion; not in gold, but acres, and that without impoverishing myself. For a mere trifle, I bought a large quantity of land, which none of my neighbours thought worth meddling with: but I set about improving it, and gave it to my daughters as so many marriage portions, which are now, in their improved state, of great value.

"Whenever any of my children were ill, I had skill enough to cure them by the use of those few plants I am acquainted with, and of their behaviour to me I never had any reason to complain. I always took care to set them a good example; for though in my youth I was as wild as any other, and there could not be a dance in this or any neighbouring parish but I was sure to be there, yet, as soon as I was married, I left off those pranks. My wife was fortunately handsome, good, and sprightly, and that kept me in awe.

"I took my boys into the fields with me as soon as they could walk, and I presently made them useful in one way or other. I put my youngest son on the plough, and was pleased to see the others frolic round him; and, on my return home in the evening, my little girls would divert me with singing, while they were spinning at their wheel.

"I used to go among my children and grandchildren, to see if every thing went on properly; but now, since old age has prevented me, they come and see me. The sermon is no sooner over on a Sunday, than my daughters and grand-daughters bring their little ones; and it would please you, sir, to behold me in the midst of twenty women dressed as for a marriage, and as pretty as angels. There is a family resemblance in their children, and that charms me."

Mr. Jackson observed, that the other six days of the week must be very tiresome to him, since he could not have the company of his family to amuse him. To this the old man replied, "If I be denied this pleasure, yet I have others to supply its place. I know every inch of ground in this parish, and am as well acquainted with all who live in it. My neighbours, therefore, frequently come to ask my opinion on matters of husbandry, in which they are engaged. I give them my advice with pleasure; and if they be poor people, I provide them with the seed they want, and they repay it me the ensuing harvest. Thus am I serviceable to others, without injuring myself or my family.

"In my endeavours to do good to my neighbours, I am assisted by our vicar, who is a very good man, and of whom I have, in some degree, made a bishop, by the weddings, christenings, and tithes with which I have enriched him. I have even given him some instructions concerning his business in the pulpit; for the country people, in general, like example better than precept. The general rule I taught him to lay down to his congregation was no more than this: _No rest, good neighbours, to your land; but peace among yourselves._"

Mr. Jackson could not help applauding such principles, and told the good old villager, that he apprehended he was of more service to the vicar than he was to the lawyer, if any such professional man lived near them.

The good old man replied, "We have indeed one lawyer among us, but I have pretty well spoiled his trade. Had I taken only sixpence every time I have been consulted, in order to settle disputes, I should at this time have been a very rich man. In all places, there frequently will happen disputes of one kind or other, and principally when the ground of any deceased person is to be parceled out among his successors.

"On these occasions, they generally come to me for my advice; and if there be children to be married, I soon settle the affair. If there be any ground in dispute, and the parties cannot agree about it, they take me in their little cart, and, being on the spot, I have the ground surveyed; I then weigh the good and bad qualities of it in my mind, and endeavour, if I can, to satisfy the different parties.

"When I find the parties are not inclined to agree, the next day I get them all together here, and I always keep a barrel of good ale on the run, such as will soften the most obdurate and flinty heart. I give them a glass or two of it, and in the mean time I tell them, that a lawsuit would cost ten times more than the ground is worth; that if they proceed in it, they will lose a great deal of time as well as money, and ever after be enemies to each other. These arguments and a few glasses of ale, never fail to make up the matter, and bring about a perfect reconciliation. It is true, I lose my ale by such a practice; but then I am amply repaid by the reflection of having done good."