Published by the American Antiquarian Society's Just Teach One Initiative.
IN the suburbs of the city of
ladelphia
year, about one o’clock on a
moon-
shining morning, on the terrace of an
high building, forty feet from
the
ground, appeared a most beautiful
Lady of the age of sixteen—she was
clad in a long white vest, her hair
of a beautiful chesnut colour hanging
carelessly over her shoulders, every
mark of greatness was visible in her
countenance, which was overcast with
a solemn gloom, and now and then,
the unwilling tear unnoticed, rolled
down her cheek.
She cast her eyes around, taking a
survey of the garden below, and the
places adjacent—a fixed melancholy
apparently encreased on her counte-
nance, and now and then the
big sigh
would burst from her labouring bo-
som—more than once
she attempted
to return into the chamber from
which she had made her
appearance—
and then would appear unresolved—
At length, taking a chair, and
seating
herself near the side of the terrace,
and after a few moments of
express-
ive silence she thus uttered herself,
“O
parent!—when shall I again be-
hold my adorable Constantius? but
why do I mention him? why do I
re-
cal his lov’d ideas? He is gone—
I am banished forever from
him, clois-
tered up in this unblessed mansion—
only I could wish to live!—but I must
deface his memory.—O for one
draught from the LetheLethe
tender feelings of my distracted bo-
som might no more be harrowed up
by his recollection! Alas! vain is the
wish, the impression on my heart is so
deep, that it cannot be defaced but
by
annihilation!—can I ever eradicate
from my mind his lovely features, his
charming disposition, his fine sense,
with all his finished accomplishments—
No sooner than that could be the case
the
possibilities will become practicable,
sooner than I could forget that flood
of transport with which I surrender-
ed my heart to him, and took
delivery
of his in exchange, and called on
Heaven to register the
indissoluble
contract.
Oh! the effusion of extacy
of that happy moment, the soft re-
membrance of which serves no other
purpose, than to plant daggers in my
distracted bosom. Why should a fa-
ther be lost to every tender
feeling,
and tear me instantaneously from the
summit of happiness, and place
me
in the
ver more to see him!” The cru-
elest accents which ever
were utter-
ed by one who is totally unworthy
the name of “
sassinated
him? or has he procured
his manumission to some foreign bar-
barous land? O could I but once
more see him, though it were just
long
enough to bid him a final fare-
well—O could I but have the
satisfaction of taking my leave of him,
though it were in the agonies of
death,
how would I wash his mangled limbs
with tears, and kiss the departing
soul
from his quivering lips! How would
my soul burst through the shackles
of
its clay tenement, and bear him com-
pany through the
unexplored regions
of
But what doth my eyes see passing
through the moon shade of the gar-
den? It is my dear lov’d Constanti- , or his spirit returned from the
usElyssiam
fields
his
rit—Once more have my optic
nerves reanimated my almost
deserted body— Con- once more
your
stantius!
beholds you: my eyes are enchanted
at the prospect, though bars of iron
hold me from your embraces! Three
fold bolted doors
—yet I
behold you and never
more will I complain of adverse for-
tune,
if I can but expire before you
are taken from my view, Dear
tius Constantius! He lifted up his
eyes and beheld her—with the strong-
est emotions of elevated
joy, he ex-
claimed, “my Dear
enough! once more I do behold the
object to which in my mind I had
giv-
en a final adieu!—driven from
your arms by a father, who
till the fa-
tal moment had expressed his appro-
bation of me in the most flattering
terms, with a ferocity which I never
before believed human nature capa-
ble of, he drove me from his
house,
after having torn from me the delight
of my eyes, and the ravisher of
my
heart—tell me my dearest Pulche- , what was the cause of this strange
ra
alteration of
conduct in him, whom
once I thought worthy to be called
your father.
The distressed Pulchera, replyed,
Ambition! cruel ambition is the
cause of our misfortune—no man
was ever
better pleased with another,
than my father was with you, until
heir to a rich nobleman in
waited on him, and
offered to make
me his wife, giving a most inchanting
he would advance me to—the
temptation was too great for him
to
withstand—the anticipations of tin-
sel’d greatness took full
possession of
his soul—he promised Monsieur
that I should be his—he soon in-
formed me of my
I could
see joy sparkling in his eyes
when he reflected on the good for-
tune to which he fondly imagined my
good stars had destined me—In
vain did
I remonstrate to him,
that by his own free and voluntary
consent I had
formed an indissoluble
union with my dearest Constantius, and
that love had cemented us beyond
the
power of separation; and while
I was going on with my most
pathetic
lamentation for his conduct,
your approach interrupted me—a
degree of
rancor, which ’till then
I supposed him totally incapable of,
appeared in
his visage, and your own
recollection will furnish you with
ideas of his
conduct, until he drove
you from the garden in which we
were, and gave you the solemn
assurances you never should see me
more.
He then secured me in the cham-
ber communicating with the
on which you see me forty feet
high, and to-morrow is the day when
I am
to embark for
ket,
to be his forever—here her voice
failed her, and she almost dissolved in a
flood of tears. Constantius was on
the rack at this fatal intelligence—
In despair he drew his sword, and was
on the eve of falling on its point,
thereby putting a period to an
existence which he no longer could
consider as a blessing; but fortune
which always favours the virtuous,
suggested to his mind the idea of a
Tow-line he that day had observed
in his store, which had been left there
by accident—he cries out Pulchera,
be contented a few moments and I
will relieve you—so running to his
store which stood not far distant, he
takes the tow-line, and lashing three
oars at the end of each, making
the rope fast to the end of them, he
by
this means communicated the end
of the rope to Pulchera, who disen-
gaged it from the
oar, made it fast to
one of the banisters of the terrass, by
which means she
descended, though
the knot by which she made the rope
fast slipped before
she had got to the
ground, yet she was so near it that
she received no
material damage
thereby—never perhaps was joy
more triumphant than on this
occasion
—he straightway conveyed her to his
chamber where the remainder of
the
night was spent in a far more agreeable
manner than the former part
thereof had To be continued.]”
NEVER was there perhaps a
greater transition from
doleful
anticipations to real joy than had
been experienced by
nothing could be more distressing to
her than the idea of being forever
separated from her
be forced by cruel parental authority
from her home, her friends, and from
every pleasing prospect, into a foreign
land, and there to be shackled for
life to a man to whom she had the
most fixed and irreversable aversion,
and from whom she had no conceiva-
ble way to escape than through the
avenue of death; thus
circumstanced,
to be in a manner bordering on the
invisible world, and
divested of all
her fearful apprehensions, at the same
time to find herself
in the full posses-
sion of him who was dearer to her
than all
things else, was well nigh too
hard for her. They scarcely had
finished
their reciprocal congratula-
tions, when the clock advertised them
that two hours of the last half of the
night were expended, when
tius
quired her to be put in some place
more secure from the
researches of
her father, who would doubtless make
the most vigorous efforts
to recover
her. This piece of information gave
a most surprising shock to
who till that moment had considered
herself
in the most perfect security;
various schemes of safety were pro-
posed by each of them, not one of
which on examination proved admis-
sible, at length the dawn of day ap-
proaching,
necessity obliged them to
leave their present place of retreat,
and conclude
on some place of secu-
rity after their departure from the '
haven.
In this determination they quitted
the chamber, hand in hand through
the
meadows, while invention sup-
plied the place of conversation until
they wandered down on the banks of
some occasion
rods
entering a short turn of the bank,
was
who hurried him on board of a
feeble rays of light
which were retain-
ed by the atmosphere, had a dim
prospect of
this transaction; and al-
though what she esteemed as her
yet so sudden was the onset, and so
complete the
surprize, that it sum-
moned all the tender and fearful feel-
ings which female nature is
ible
the opposite declivity of the bank, out
of the prospect of
the scene, and se-
cure from their view. Dreadful
were the
sensations which she here
experienced; her apprehensions of
personal danger
being at last in some
measure abated, the safety of
stantius
her distracted bosom; she
burst into
a flood of tears, and exclaimed,
“Oh! heavens, where is he! what
have they done with him! he is gone!
he is gone! never more shall my
wretched eyes behold him! he has
fallen a prey to relentless
barbarity
loathsome prisonship, or give up the
ghost in some forlorn, death-impreg-
nated dungeon, without a friendly
hand to close his eyes when
they are
ardly fears prevail on me to leave
him? why did I not
like a true lover
(as I thought I was) press forward
to him and have been a
partner in his
misfortunes? had I been worthy the
name of a lover I should
have done
it; but I was a stranger to love though
I professed it, and now I
am justly
left to suffer torments greater than
would be probable on any
circum-
stances where he was present. But
can I not yet get to
him?—she
ran to the bank of the river where
she was seized by the party, but
noth-
ing of him or his captors could be
discovered—Frantic in
despair
she beat her breast, tore her hair,
cursed her fate and prayed for
anni-
hilation, and was just about com-
mitting her body to the watry grave,
when she was prevented
therefrom,
by her father’s taking hold of her
arm.
The consternation she was now in,
was more easily conjectured than de-
scribed.——Her father, unacquaint-
ed with what had
happened to
stantius
ed from the exclamations of
suffered her to stay there no longer,
but instantly conducted her home, and
confined her to an inner chamber,
leaving her to the reflections of her
own mind, where sleep and comfort
were equally strangers to To be continued.]”
THE next day her father enter-
ed the
chamber in a pleasant
air, inquiring her health, and saying
a variety of
very agreeable things to
her—taking no notice of her late
elopement—At
length, in soft ac-
cents, he observed to her that this
was the
day on which Le Monte
had proposed to embark with her
for his native country, in order to
make her his wife; and that all he
waited for was to be informed of her
readiness to attend him. Her father
was about to proceed, but was inter-
rupted by
ed him, ‘Dear father, the obligati-
on of paternal authority, and
the
duty of filial obedience, are amongst
the first ideas which took place
in
my mind; and with such forcible
lessons have those duties been incul-
cated on my mind, that nothing will
ever be able to deface them;
and I
shall make it my first business as long
as I retain a rational
existence, to
practice the one, and submit cheer-
fully to the
other: But, dear and
respected father, the barely naming
of
my circumstances, cannot fail of giv-
ing me sensations worse than the
most studied torture of
sal,
you, Sir, could command no-
thing which I could hesitate at obey-
ing; but I am not my own—At
your special leave and request I have
in a most solemn manner given up
myself to
more my own—he took full possessi-
on of my heart when
I gave him my
promise, and I have neither power
or inclination to take it
back. You,
Sir, was present, and ratified our
contract by your most explicit
ap-
probation thereof; and therefore
cease to possess the right
or power
of disposing of me again: Pray,
dear Sir, give these considerations
that weight which they deserve—Re-
member that I am under the
most
solemn obligations to my dear
stantius
it, and that a violation thereof would
involve me
in the horrid sin of per-
jury, which would eventually de-
prive me of every species of peace
here, and procure endless misery
to
me hereafter. Consider also, I pray
Sir, that
to me as
that his temper and disposition are
naturally fierce and cruel to
the last
degree—that it is one of the articles
of his religion, that ‘no
faith is to
be kept with hereticks,’ and such,
you are sensible, he esteems
me—
that he despiseth that holy religion,
whose principles, in my early
infan-
cy, you have taught me to have the
highest regard for, as
being insepa-
rably connected with my
fare
bly on these things, and not let the
idea of the
pomp and show of tin-
sel’d greatness, and the place near a
Monarch’s court, induce you to de-
stroy the present peace and
future
welfare of your only child.’
Her father listened to what she
said until she had gone through;
when,
with a stern aspect, he reply-
ed, ‘Poor silly creature, your folly
would be your utter ruin, had you
not a father living to bridle your gid-
dy passions: But to reason with a
person void of rationality is
no part
of my business. Remember you are
under my government, and that my
will is your law—that nothing will
be able to divert me from my pur-
pose of having
in-law, and
you may as well submit
to my pleasure quietly as to be drag-
ged
to it by force, which will be the
case if you prove refractory. As to
your
fortune does not exceed
that to which
you are born; but
inexhaustible fund both of riches
and honour.’ Thus saying, he left
her
to her own doleful reflections.
Sleepless and wearisome moments
were her
companions until the next
morning, when a servant of the fa-
mily
entered the room, informing her
it was her father’s pleasure that she
should prepare herself to breakfast
with
which he left the room,
throwing
into her lap a news-paper of that
day. She took up the paper, and
the
first thing she espied therein was the
fatal intelligence that
after he had been taken prisoner by
the
British, proved to be frantickly re-
fractory, that in a fit of rage
one of
the officers had sheathed his sword in
his heart, and he was dead!—At
the
reading of which, poor
swooned away and fell on the floor;
The noise of which brought the ser-
vant again into the apartment, for
by his master’s order he had
waited
at the door to observe her—He, see-
ing her in that
condition, called up
the family, and a long time it was
before they could
restore her to her
senses; and when at last it was ef-
fected,
with eyes starting with hor-
ror, she exclaimed, ‘He is gone!
He
is gone!
Had it not been for my
cruel father,
he would still have been alive with
me; but untimely death
hath closed
his eyes; and you, Oh! my father,
must be answerable for that
and all
its consequences! But you shall be
disappointed; never will I be
Monte’s
in life, I will
still be his in death—
He has had my heart, and I will ne-
ver
give it to another; I will de-
scend to the grave; I will retire
from the theatre of this world, which
has no longer any thing in it to al-
lure me, and will seek that peace in
the unexplored regions of
futurity,
of which I am deprived here by a
relentless father.’
To no purpose did her father at-
tempt to reason with her, telling
her,
that as
was absolved from
all her obligations
—that she, in consequence thereof,
was again under
parental disposal—
that now she had no excuse of duty
to
which she the day before spoke so
highly of, made it her duty now
to
submit to the dictates of her father,
and that if she refused she must lose
his blessing and her own peace of
conscience here, and be sure of the
indignation of her Maker and Judge
hereafter; and that for her to conti-
nue obstinate would be of
no service
to her, as she was totally in his pow-
er, and that he
was fully determined
she should, that very night approach-
ing,
embark with
observed to him, that to urge the
death of
for her again
coming under his dis-
posal, when at the same time he was
in
reality the guilty cause of it, did
not carry any great matter of force
with
it, and that it was enough for
him to deprive her of
without adding a curse of little less
magnitude to her misfortune; for
the joining her to
add as much to her wretchedness as
the depriving
her of
Her father, finding that expostu-
lation had no kind of effect upon
her, withdrew; making preparation
for her embarkation; and the even-
ing following forced her into a coach
which conveyed her in the
course of
the night to the wharf where lay the
ship in which
turn to
val. She was hurried on board—
and the wind
being favourable, they
hoisted sail, and in a few hours lost
sight of the
American shore.—Grief,
amazement and horror occupied the
breast of
used every effort to recommend him-
self to her; but all to no
purpose.
She replied to him, that it was in
vain for him to attempt what was
to-
tally impossible—that her aversion
to him was so great that
time and
circumstances would never be able to
efface it—that tho’ he had the
pow-
er over her body, yet her mind was,
and should continue
free—that she
never would give him her hand or
heart, and that he might rest
assured
he would never have the satisfaction
of being her husband—that even
the
crown of
toy to have
any effect on her mind.
In discourses like this they passed a
tedious passage of thirty-one days,
when one morning the light present-
ed to their view three British ships
at not more than half a
league’s dis-
tance, at the leeward of them—A
flight was
impossible—and in a few
minutes the nearest of the British
ships fired a
shot across their bow.
The Captain of the French ship call-
ed
his officers together and held a
momentary council of war, the re-
sult of which was to strike their co-
lours and yield themselves
prisoners
of war, which was done immediate-
ly. The Captain and
some of his
principal officers, together with
Monte
on board the Commandant’s ship;
but what was the surprise of
ra
beheld her lost
were the sensations of
less nervous at beholding his adora-
ble
lent, swallowed up
in extacy, while
their expressive countenances decla-
red the
emotions of their hearts more
intelligibly than the most finished
composition of words is capable of
doing.
The Captain of the British ship,
on observing what passed, took
chera
lady, by the
silent messages which
have passed between you and
stantius
cy you have had
some former ac-
quaintance with him, and that by
some means he
has been forced from
you, and your meeting appears to be
unexpected to both;
be so good as to
inform me of the circumstances, as
far as may be proper—You
are both
in my power; I will see you have
ample justice done you.
then went on to inform him that she
was the only daughter of a rich far-
mer in the neighbourhood of
delphia
ery attention to
her education, that
at the age of seventeen her father in-
formed
her that for three years past
he had made it the whole of his stu-
dy to devise means of recommending
her to the only son of a wealthy
merchant in the same neighbourhood,
whose name he said was
and that
had both agreed to the match, and
that he hoped there would be no
ob-
jections thereto on her part—that
with blushes she told her
father she
had no objection to offer to such a
proposal—that she had long
had a
strong prepossession in favour of
stantius
give him a brief history of
the trans-
actions which we have before rela-
ted,
until the then present moment.
The Captain at the end of the
narration called
cabin, saying to him, ‘You have hi-
therto been a
prisoner in my ship—
you from this moment cease to be
one—you are henceforth
at liberty,
and have the freedom of the ship;
I congratulate you on your
fortunate
meeting with your admired
ra
allotted for your use—you and
chera
at
my table, and when we arrive at
of you. You shall have a safe con-
veyance to
your leisure you may return to your
native
country.’—
litely returned him
his warmest thanks
for his offered goodness, and nothing
but harmony
subsisted in the cabin.
soner on board the
same ship, in a
few days was informed of all that
had taken place with
regard to
stantius
with resentment at the
information,
and swore revenge. The next day
he sent
duel, which he accepted; and
that
night met for the purpose; in the
issue of which
had to ask his life of
who magnanimously gave it to To be Continued.)”
his obligation to
that he rose and expressed his warm-
est acknowledgments to him on the
occasion; adding, that after
experi-
encing such a favour from him, he
had too much gratitude
to do any
thing which could in any degree prove
disagreeable to him:—I
therefore,
said he, do relinquish every idea of
any claim to the admirable
—I resign her to you, Sir—Your
conduct has rendered you worthy of
her
who has not an equal on earth—
May you long live mutual blessings
to each
other, and may a beneficent
Providence grant that you may for-
ever be sharers of the best of bless-
ings which heaven has reserved
in
store for its dearest favourites; and
may I hope, that notwithstanding
all
which has passed, that
be recorded
amongst the number of
your friends.
Nothing could exceed the courte-
sy with which
chera
sion; and the
remainder of the voyage
was spent in the most agreeable man-
ner,
until one night, after a most
beautifully serene day, they saw a
prodigiously black cloud make its ap-
pearance in the western
hemisphere,
which was so hurried on by a terrific
gale, that in twenty
minutes time it
totally obscured the whole face of
the heavens, and involved
them in
one solid mass of substantial dark-
ness, while the wind
continued to
rage with the wild madness of the
most violent hurricane, so
that the
greatest skill and exertions of the of-
ficers and
mariners became necessary
to prevent their being totally ingulph-
ed in the bottom of the great deep.
What added to their frightful and
horrid situation was, that after it had
continued without any mitigation for
the space of about two hours, their
ears were saluted with the sound of
distant thunder, which every moment
with astonishing rapidity, brought
nearer and nearer to their astonished
observation, until their ship, by the
flashes of lightning, seemed to be
wrapped in sheets of fire, which were
accompanied by such dreadful peals
of thunder as indicated that the final
dissolution of universal nature was
fast approaching, while torrents of
rain, as though the flood-gates of
heaven were unstopped, fell upon
them with such impetuousity as was
sufficient (one would have thought)
to have overwhelmed them in inevi-
table destruction.
While in this pitiable situation, be-
ing the sport of the enraged
elements,
at one moment tossed up to the clouds,
at the next immerged into
the bot-
tom of the convulsed deep—expect-
ing every
moment to be the last—
when nothing but fruitless cries and
lamentations
were to be heard be-
tween those amazing peals of thun-
der which kept almost constantly
bursting over their devoted heads, in
the
tenth hour of this desperate con-
dition, they felt the shock of the
vessel’s striking on a bar—This was
but a completion of their despair—
the Captain, however, ordered the
long-boat to be thrown out, that any
who chose it might take their chance
in it, as it was more than probable
that the next sea would beat the ship
to pieces, and bury those in the sand
who remained on board; neither was
the prospect of venturing in the boat
any more favourable, as it was bor-
dering hard on impossible for
a boat
to stand it for two minutes. It was
at this time
ra
each other’s hands) by some means
separated;
and in a few minutes
chera
um of the lightning, that she was the
only
person remaining on board.
This circumstance, distressing as it
was, could
add but little to her
wretchedness, which before was com-
plete—She stood still, and resigned
herself to fate. It was not long be-
fore she perceived that the beating of
the seas had made a fatal inroad on
the ship, which threatened every mo-
ment to come to pieces—which in
about five or six hours took place.
pension
of thought, found herself
floating on one of the hatches, on
which she was
soon washed upon the
beach.—The disconsolate
with the small remains of strength
she yet possessed, was just able to
avoid the fury of the succeeding wave,
which if she had not escaped, could
not have failed of proving fatal to
her.—When she found herself be-
yond the reach of the boisterous sur-
ges, she reclined
herself against the
bemoan her disasterous fate—weari-
ness overcame her, and she fell into
a sleep. When she awoke, she found
the storm had subsided, the boister-
ous wind had sunk into a
perfect
calm, the sky was clear, the air was
serene, the face of nature
appeared
smiling, the birds on the boughs fill-
ed the air with
their melody, the sun
shone with peculiar lustre, and eve-
ry
appearance seemed calculated to
inspire the bosom with pleasing sen-
sations; but all these circumstances
had no delights for
gloom occupied her countenance,
and
the most melancholy sensations
rent her distressed breast; she wan-
dered, making an useless moan to
the heedless flowers which
decorated
the wanton soil over which she ram-
bled.—Hours after
hours in successi-
on passed away, while she traversed
the shore,
where lay in forlorn ruins
the shattered remains of the ship;
but no signs
of any of the people,
dead or alive, were to be found.
In unsuccessful researches she spent
the day, in the course of which she
found she was on a small island,
which, though under cultivation, was
destitute of inhabitants. The night
succeeded the day, which she spent
in a manner not less joyless than the
day had been—But on the return of
day, just after bright
sen
from his orient bed, she disco-
vered a vessel coming down from the
northward—As good fortune would
have it, she came within call of the
shore; she therefore, with a voice
as loud as her enfeebled situation
would admit, hailed them; and be-
ing asked what she desired? she
an-
swered, that she was the only survi-
vor from a
ship lately cast away there
in a storm, and wished to come on
board. The
Captain ordered his
boat to bring her on board his ves-
sel,
which was done accordingly.—
This vessel proved to be an American
of
had formerly had a slight acquaint-
ance, and knowing him to be a
gen-
tleman of strict honour, she informed
him of the whole of
her adventure.
her
story, but with no part of it more
than with the hapless fate of his friend
bred at school,
and for whom he en-
tertained the greatest regard: and
nothing in
left unessayed to render
happy: and she experienced every
mark of distinction, as well from all
the officers as the Captain and sea
men, which their situation would ad-
mit of.
ter a few days’
cruise in those parts,
they were bound to
on their arrival there it should be
some of his first business to see her
conducted safely to her friends; and
in a few days they sat out to put
this purpose in effect—Nothing ma-
terial happened the first ten
days—
but on the eleventh day, they found
they were chased by a vessel of
supe-
rior force, and that she gained con-
siderably
upon them—and it was soon
made certain that she was a vessel of
more than
twice their force, conse-
quently a capture (extraordinaries
excepted) was unavoidable.
M.
cape any ill usage
from their captors,
to divest herself of women’s appa-
rel, and
attire herself in a suit of his,
which she accordingly did, putting
on a neat suit of red regimentals, a
gold-laced hat, and a sword by her
side, and took upon her the charac-
ter of a Lieutenant, under
the name
of
pursuer was
within reach of them,
which was announced by the discharge
of one of her bow
guns.
on a more particular inspection of
his enemy, began to conceive some
hope of being able to make good his
defence against them: he according-
ly made ready for an action, which soon
commenced with great fury
on both
sides. In a few moments the com-
batants were at not more
than sixty
feet distance, while an incessant dis-
charge of
cannon, many of which
were loaded with
shot,
ly tried the fortitude of the oldest ve-
terans; and for
a very considerable
time fortune seemed undetermined
in whose favour to
decide, until a
well directed fire from the British
caused
and thereby decided the action.—
The
captor put a
board of the
prize,
cers (amongst whom was
under the character of a lieutenant)
into
his own vessel.
The captor proved to be a sloop
of war from
received as good treatment on
board
the sloop as could reasonably be ex-
pected from the hands
of a captor;
in particular the delicate appearance
of
common degree of
respect from the
under officers and men—she kept her
countenance as smooth
as the unruf-
fled sea, though at the same time her
recollection
of
destroyed every agreeable idea which
was about to rise in her mind, tho’
none but her pillow was a witness to
her immoderate grief on the occa-
sion.
They pursued their voyage for
promise of being liberated, they giv-
ing their
parole not to enter into ac-
tual service against the British until
regularly exchanged: but how fickle
is fortune! When they supposed, by
their reckoning, they were near in
with the land, a terrible storm assail-
ed them, which continued without
intermission day after day,
the wind
rather increasing than diminishing,
till on the night of the third
day af-
ter the commencement of the storm;
when, about one
o’clock, they were
alarmed by the breaking of the sea
them, a sure indication that a bar,
shoal, rocks, or land, was there, and
so nigh was it, that all attempts to
avoid it were made use of in vain—
they had scarcely time to realize their
situation before their vessel was a-
ground—Their fate was apparently
fixed, and their small remains
of
hope seemed to be totally annihilated.
But this suspense lasted not long;
the wind was so violent and the seas
so enormous, that the fourth sea af-
ter the first struck reduced her to a
heap of ruins; and the
hands, by
the violence of the waves, were wash-
ed on the shore,
which was but a
few feet distant from the bow of the
vessel, and they had
the surprising
good fortune to escape a watery tomb,
saving three only, who
were drown-
ed.—They endeavoured to seek a
shelter from the storm
by advancing
up on the land; but all attempts of
this nature were in vain,
for, twenty
feet from the water was the farthest
they could extend, by
reason of a
bank which ascended nearly perpen-
dicular; and the
state of the night
was so dark that they could form no
idea of its height;
and as they tra-
versed to the right hand and the left,
they
found it was not to be avoided
either way, as at a short distance it
butted
down on the water; and they
found they must content themselves
in that
situation until morning: But
they were overwhelmed by one very
melancholy
consideration,
they were
totally ignorant of what
time in the tide it was; if it should
happen to be
any thing near low-wa-
ter, they could not possibly avoid be-
ing swallowed up long before it was
high-water: However, it so happen-
ed that at the time of their
being
cast ashore it was about high-water,
and by keeping a constant
observation
they soon found that the tide was on
the ebb, which eased them
from their
dismal apprehensions on that account.
The night, however, passed
away in
a very joyless manner.—When the
day-light appeared, the storm still
continuing, no very pleasing pros-
pect presented itself to their
view—
The beach on which they were, was
about thirty rods in length, bounded
by an unsurmountable ledge of rocks
to the height of 150 feet, which but-
ted at each extremity into the sea,
the ends of which they in
vain at-
tempted
found crushed in ruins with the re-
mains of
their ship.—Providentially,
amongst the rubbish they found con-
siderable quantities of provisions; but
unfortunately, no kind of tools lar-
ger than a jack-knife could they ob-
tain, though
the most diligent search-
es were made therefor.—They bu-
sied themselves in securing their pro-
vision, by
carrying it above the reach
of the tide. They then secured a few
barrels of
ammunition which they
found undamaged, and some fire-
arms.
Fruitless attempts were then
made to ascend the precipice, until
experience
had taught them that no-
thing was to be expected from their
most
vigorous To be continued.)”
HAVING secured the whole of
the provisions they could
find
among the ruinous remains of their
ship, they began to collect
materials
for building a raft, and immediately
began to erect one, though
this
business went on very slowly for the
want of tools proper to execute it
with, however, they did as well as
they could, and in the course of
two
or three days by their exertions,
they had fabricated sufficient to float
the whole of the unhappy sufferers,
on board of which the next morning
they embarked with a part of their
provisions, their fire arms, and a
quantity of ammunition; with this
they pushed off from the shore, the
weather being very cold, and the
heavens indicated the approach of a
storm.
It was a question at first, which
way they should direct their
course
At last it was agreed to cruise along
shore, to the eastward. They pros-
ecuted this intention, at about three,
and sometimes four rods
distance
from the shore, for five or six miles,
while nothing appeared to
them to
favour their wishes—nothing but a
perpendicular ledge of ragged
rocks
was to be seen; and by this time
the snow began gently to descend.
They kept a constant look out for a
place where it was possible for them
to run their raft ashore, where they
might encamp on dry land; but
this
they long sought in vain, till to-
wards evening, when the snow had
fallen to the depth of twelve or thir-
teen inches, they
discovered a small
declivity in the bank, where they
ran their raft on
shore. And through
this declivity they ascended the
bank, which was about
one hundred
feet in length. When they had at-
tained the summit,
they had an ex-
tensive uncultivated plain in
and not the least sign that any thing
human was ever there before them.
With some difficulty in collecting
materials, they built them a comfort-
able fire, and frying a quantity of
bread and meat, they soon eat a
very hearty supper; by this time
it being dark, they made prepara-
tions for
morning they awoke and beheld a
serene air, and a pleasant
sky—they
consulted what course they should
then take, when it was agreed
vide into a number of small com-
panies, each company to take a dif-
ferent route, taking a quantity of
provisions each, and if
either party
found any inhabitants, to return to
that place and wait for the return
of the rest.
composed one of those small com-
panies, each taking a gun, a quanti-
ty of
ammunition and provisions,
they each took their different route,
the snow
being about six inches
deep. The first day they spent in
exploring the
inhospitable wilder-
ness, without meeting with any thing
worthy
of remark. On the latter
part of the second day they were
overtaken by a
furious storm of snow,
they travelled till almost night, and
seeing no kind
of probability of find-
ing any inhabitants, they concluded
to
stop under the
large rock, and
make as good prepa-
rations for the insuing night as they
could,
which was only to tread down
the snow, and collect such fuel as
they could,
to support a fire. The
storm continued to rage with uncom-
mon
fury during the whole of the
night and the succeeding day, dur-
ing which time, it was with the
greatest difficulty they kept them-
selves from freezing, their fuel be-
ing exhausted, and
it was with the
greatest difficulty that they procured
a small quantity
more. They found
on the abatement of the snow, that
it had fallen between
four or five
feet in depth, and by reason of its
not being capable of
sustaining half
the weight of a man, it was intirely
out of their power to
proceed, either
backward or forward.
In this situation, all they could
do, was to make themselves as com-
fortable as they could where they
were; the weather was so
intencely
cold, that a large fire was indispen-
sibly necessary,
and though they
were surrounded with timber, they
lacked the means of
falling it; how-
ever they collected the small remains
of wood
which they had, and after
incredible pains, they beat a track
to an old
large dry oak tree, at about
a rod’s distance from them, and
kindled a fire
in a fracture at the
bottom thereof, by which means in
less than two hours
they burned
down, which providentially falling
across the rock, broke and split the
main trunk to pieces; this was a
very valuable acquisition, making as
much as
wood.
than three days, when their situation
seemed to arrive to
the height
of wretchedness, the rigor of the
weather not having in any
degree
abated, and their small store of pro-
visions they had
brought with them
being entirely spent, there seemed
nothing but inevitable
death before
their eyes, for although a second
similar attempt had furnished
them
with a very considerable stock of
wood, yet with nothing else to sus-
tain nature, death could not appear
at a very great distance
from them,
especially as their natural strength
by excessive exertions, the
inclemen-
cy of the weather, severe hardships,
and want of food
was greatly ex-
hausted.
In this situation they lived or
rather existed for six days, having
no
kind of sustenance, excepting the
bark of trees which as it was frozen,
they
could get off only in very small
pieces with their knives, and then
thawing
by the fire, chewed and
swallowed it.
At the commencement of the se-
venth day, when their sufferings had
reduced them to a surprising state of
weakness, and it was become certain
that they could subsist but a very little
time longer, they began to
their invention to determine what
they should do next; in vain did
they
then lament that they had not,
as soon as the storm abated have at-
tempted to have forced a way thro’
the snow back to their
rendezvous,
though the prospect was very un-
promising, it being
according to the
best of their judgment, nearly fifty
miles; but it was now
too late to
think of an attempt like that; and
after mutually condoling each
other
on their desperate situation, one of
the party thus addressed his
partners,
situation, a few hours more will
close our eyes, to be opened no
more; we now cease to be any ad-
vantage to each other; and though
life is hard to part with, yet it
is of
little consequence to either of us,
whether we die this day or to-mor-
row; and if
eventually save the life of the
survivors
alone for the other two to live,
than
for all three to die together. For
my part as one, I move that we cast
lots which of us shall die, to save the
other two.—If it falls to my lot, I
will submit to my fate without a
murmur.—Nay, I had rather die
instantly, than to die this lingering-
ly with my two suffering
partners.
The other two seemed well pleased
with the proposal; the lots were
immediately prepared, and it was
the fate of
indulge him so far as to
give him
time to write but a few lines to his
father, which he wished them
to take
the care of, and if ever an opportu-
nity presented, that
they would for-
ward to him, and that then he would
willingly
resign to his fate—they
granted his request, and he wrote
as follows:
FROM the centre of a frozen
wilderness on the borders of
the grave,
please to receive this last
token from your only child—driven
from home,
I have been the sport of
fortune, but fifteen minutes will put
me out of
her power. I shall then
be in a state of changeless retribution.
Had I
not been obliged, by a fa-
ther’s stern command, to forego a
promise I made by his express li-
cence, I might still have
lived and
have been happy—as far as I am
concerned
but pray Sir, see that you are pre-
pared to stand
at the bar of the
scient
the letter, and delivered it,
when one of his woeful partners took
up the fatal gun, well loaded, and
had got it to his face, and was just
pulling the trigger in order to lodge
its contents in his head, when he
chanced to raise his eyes a little, and
discovered a Bear wallowing in the
snow, at about 20 yards distance—
He
exclaimed, “
God you may yet live!” and dis-
charged his piece at the Bear, lodg-
ing two balls
in his head, of which
he died instantly.—If ever joy was
to excess, it was
then so amongst
this little unfortunate company—
whom they both loved equal to
themselves, was still alive—without
going
to their prey, they both fell
upon him, embracing him as one
from the dead,
and the most tender,
expressive congratulations passed on
the occasion—they
all seemed lost
in extacy for some space of time.
After their effusions of joy were
in some measure abated, their small
remains of strength were exerted in
beating a road to their new acquired
provision, which after having with
difficulty proceeded, they made a
small repast upon. By this time it
was night, and the Heavens had
gathered an unusual degree of black-
ness, and very soon a
torrent of rain
began to descend.—They so fixed
their bear-skin (which was a
very
large one) as to be a very consider-
able shelter to them
from the rain,
and kept them tolerably dry thro’
the sleepless night.—The
light of
day at last approached, after the most
rainy night they had ever
known,
when soon the clouds broke away,
the wind sprung up at North-West,
and a very severe cold day ensued.
So much water was in the snow, and
the cold so severe, that by the mid-
dle of the day it was froze
suffi-
ciently to bear them, which they
perceiving, formed an
idea of trying
to regain their place, of general
rendezvous; but their
enfeebled
state was such, that they scarcely
were determined whether to
attempt
it or not; but after mature delib-
eration it was
concluded to set out
in the morning, which accordingly
they put in practice,
taking with
them a quantity of meat, which they
judged sufficient for their use, till
such time as they should arrive at
their place of rendezvous.
It is needless to recount the weari-
some steps which they
experienced
on their journey; suffice it to say,
that on the fifth day, just
before
night, they arrived at the place ex-
ceedingly fatigued,
which they found
in the same situation they had left it,
and no
that
any person having been there since
their departure; but it was so near
the
windward side of the land, that
the wind in the time of the falling
of the
snow, had driven the snow
quite off from that place.—Fatigued
as they were,
they built a fire, and
provided some supper:—Here they
found bread, pork,
beef, tea, sugar,
and some cooking utensils, which
they had left there; and
they pre-
pared and eat a more comfortable
meal than they had
since their being
cast away. The next day they had
recourse to their raft,
which they
found inclosed with ice;—they then
repaired on the ice to the
place of
their shipwreck, which they likewise
found the snow drifted off
from.
Tired of any further researches, they
consulted which was the best
place
to fix their abode at, and when they
had considered that at this place
was
the greater part of the provisions they
had to depend on—that here, from
the ruins of their ship, were materials
for building them a shelter—and that
likewise, here they could draw fuel
from the same resource. They una-
nimously agreed to make that the
place of their residence, hoping
they
had provisions enough to carry them
through the winter, and that in the
spring Providence would find some
way for their deliverance. Under
the
impression of these ideas they went
to work, and fabricated themselves
a
hut, tolerably warm;—and, to
add to their good fortune, amongst
the ruins of
the ship they found
a cask of
of brandy, and about
cash, tho’
very small acquisition, but they se-
cured it:—In this situation
they
but a misfortune now attacked them
which they were in no
measure pre-
pared for.
companions were taken sick of a
risy
so violently that in three days both of
their lives were despaired of by them-
selves and their
companion, who left
nothing unattempted, which he had
reason to hope would
contribute to
their recovery. There was nothing
but what the unfortunate two
un-
derwent, both from the extreme ra-
ging of their
distemper, and also from
the forlorn situation which they were
unfortunately
in; however, contrary
to their own, and their companion’s
expectations, on
the
fever broke,
and by slow degrees they
regained their wonted strength, so
that in about
five weeks they were
able to walk about, and were in a
good measure, able to
do such kind
of business as their circumstances re-
quired to be
done.—They now spent
their time as agreeably as could be
expected for people
in such lonely
circumstances, saving only the discon-
solate
began to be less taken up on
her own
personal safety, the idea of her belov-
ed
ly arising in
her distracted mind. The
horrors of that dreadful night where-
in
they parted by shipwreck, to meet
no more, would keep continually
harrowing
up her mind, and depriv-
ing her of every species of comfort—
her
mind was distracted with terrific
dreams, and her days spent in melan-
choly reflections. At times she was
half resolved to unbosom
herself to
her
forbid the measure:—They still un-
suspecting
but
what he appeared to be—a man.
In this situation they spent their
time, until the return of spring, at
which time their provision was nearly To be continued.)”
WHEN one morning, to their
inexpressable satisfaction,
they espied a small vessel, not more
than a league and an half from
shore. They made use of every
means in their power, to give them
notice
of their situation, by firing
guns of distress, which at last had
the
desired effect, and the vessel stood
in for the shore, till they got within
call, when they hailed them, and asked
what they wished? They gave them
a short account of their disaster, and
that in all probability they were the
only survivors of a large crew. The
vessel sent their boat ashore and took
them on board. She proved to be
a privateer from a port of
county
make known her sex, tho’ she in-
formed them he was an
American,
and that he was a prisoner when he
had the misfortune to be
shipwrecked.
The Captain of the privateer, told
voluntarily, he
should be intitled out
of the dead shares to a Lieutenent’s
proportion of
the prize money, the
hands on board having agreed there-
to,
as for the other two, it was
agreed they should be sat at liberty
the first
sented.
They cruised on this coast about
a week, when they fell in with, and
took
a brigantine from
to
board. The
captain of the privateer
put
ter, with a sufficiency of hands, and
ordered her into
tunately the next day she was captur-
ed by a British
cruiser, and was carried
into
his unacquaintedness with this kind
of business, left the papers which he
had of the captain of the privateer,
on board of her; and when the capt.
demanded his papers, he had no-
thing to shew. In vain did
inform him of the whole of the trans-
action. The captain of the
cruiser
said any one might make as good a
story as that—he accordingly put
rived at
the irons hurted his wrists, they
were taken off) he was put into the
dungeon, and there kept in order for
a trial for
Those who are acquainted
lifax
which
the dungeon is situated, stands
on a rising piece of ground, and
that from a
vault in the bottom of
the dungeon, there is a drain of
about two feet
square, which leads
from the said vault out to the side of
the hill on which
the provost stands.
After
this place about ten days (the ele-
venth being appointed for his
trial)
he got acquainted with this circum-
stance of the drain,
he therefore, in
company with some others, deter-
mined to make
their escape through
that avenue: they therefore, one by
one, let themselves
down into the
vault, and crept out through the
drain on their hands and
knees, it
being about half filled up with filth;
however, they lived through
the
operation, though it was nauseous to
the last degree, and they all got
safe-
ly through, though they were all be-
daub’d in
filth, in order to divest
themselves of it, they had imme-
diate
recourse to the water, where
they found a small
of which they entered, and under
cover of the night
got clear of the
harbour: But their
not yet left them, for the second day
after
their escape they were taken up
by a small vessel of force, bound from
pleasing hopes of seeing home was
once more brought to nothing.
The captain of this little cutter,
proved to be a very good natured
sort
of a man, and
his business to enter as far
into his
good graces as possible, and he had
every success he could wish
for, and
on their arrival at
at liberty.
of the money which he had
saved
out of the wreck, he having about
200
his captors had not taken from him,
he procured himself a
couple of
suits of genteel cloaths, and in a few
days had an opportunity to
embark
for
days more
for
arrived at
ry was, if any
Americans were in
that place or not. As it happened
there was present a
French officer
who understood the English language
tolerably well, who
informed him
that at the next door but one, there
lodged an American
gentleman, who
he believed was of a very considerable
rank in the world.
asked if
he could have lodgings there
till an opportunity presented for him
to ship
for
ed in the affirmative, and entering
the house, he was
conducted into a
parlour, where saw a gentleman
reading a manuscript: the
gentle-
man rose to receive him, but how
great was the
astonishment of
rus
man he recognized every feature of
At first thought,
have made a discovery of who he
was, by making the most
pathetick
acclamations; but a second thought
forbid any thing like that; knowing
that “
est love
hand they passed
mutual & civil com-
pliments, and each took seats.
stantius
some
glasses, and after drinking
to each others health,
quired
rus
belonged to a privateer from
that he was
captured and carried in-
to
his escape, was again taken, carried
into
ted, and had
came to this place in
order to seek a passage home. Just
as this discourse
happened, a French
gentleman entered the parlour, whom
Monte
ble; mutual compliments passed
between
and Miscellaneous discourse passed
away the time until supper was serv-
ed;
his lodging,
and was conducted to
his bed:
afterwards repaired to their lodging,
which was separated from that of
Sleep had in a great measure de-
parted from
to the discourse of
beds. He found there was the most
intimate friendship
subsisting be-
tween them, and that a purpose of
marriage was on
foot between
stantius
Monte
town on the morrow
from
and
were to be
celebrated. Confusion
now took full possession of the dis-
tressed heart of
ed her
her forever; now did she
curse her
unfortunate stars, and lamented the
time she escaped the gaping
liquid
grave, and all the horrors of the dis-
consolate island on
which she had
been shipwrecked; but most of all
the ill fated moments which
again
introduced her to the presence of
rent her heart through the tedious
watches of the night, and her
pillow
was wet with the choicest tears
that ever flowed within the realm of
On the return of the morning they
all arose, and every preparation was
making for the reception of the lady,
at last brought on the table;
Monte
sat down.—
he was from? he replied, from
ladelphia
ever have any acquaintance
with a
gentleman by the name of ——?
name here.)
tius
nance.—Did you know a daughter
of his by the name of
Yes, replied
gree of melancholy in his face,—
Why? continued
you ever acquainted with her? some
years ago, replied
very intimate in the
family, and if I
forget not, when I last knew the fa-
mily she
was the only surviving child
which her father had. Can you in-
form me if ever she married, or
whether she is yet alive or not?
This
question brought tears into the
eyes of
voice which bespoke the perturbation
of his mind, replied—poor
the ornament of her sex, and the
pride of
human nature, is no more:
some misunderstanding with her fa-
ther
with regard to a proposed mar-
riage, caused her to leave her home,
and to cross the
voyage the vessel
was wrecked, and
who was lost!—His
tears prevented
him from proceeding any further,
and
sible to
prosecute the enquiry. Af-
ter breakfast
stantius
den.
saying,
he should be exceeding fond
and proud of an interview, but it
was absolutely necessary for him to
make all the preparation he could to
receive some company of rank which
would attend on him in the after-
noon, in consequence of which,
sir,
said he, I dare say you will excuse
me.
much good nature to urge him to a
measure that was
disagreeable to him,
and retired to his chamber and wrote
a letter to
out to take a view of the town,
giv-
ing the letter to a boy in the street,
making a present to
him of a
guinea to secure the delivery of it to
the lady of the house where
tius
lady, he broke
it open and read as
follows:
THOUGH through the adversity of
fickle fortune, I have for a long time
been deprived of my only happiness,
which consisted in being with the
ami-
able
my name may by this time be obliterated
from your memory, yet yours is
not,
and never will cease to rest in mine;
and no satisfaction or
comfort shall I
enjoy, until we have an opportunity to
fulfil, those
sacred promises which we
have mutually made to each other.
reading these lines,
viewing the writ-
ing he would exclaim—“It must be
so—I am too
well acquainted with
the hand to be capable of being im-
posed
on.—She is still alive, and I
am her’s, and she is mine! an indis-
soluble bond has united us together,
which nothing but death is capable
of
dissolving. O heavens where is
she? I am on the
her! Where can she be? Where is
the post-boy
who delivered the let-
ter? &c.
exclamations until
in, to whom he read the letter.
Monte
hearing it, but on
considering the
subject, he told Constantius it was
impossible for it to be a reality, but
it
was a piece of imposition contrived
by some ill-minded person, in order
to break off his proposed marriage
with his sister; saying, you know,
you positively know, my
tius
possibilities for her to be alive.—She
did not
leave the ship with us, and it
is not in the power even of credu-
lousness itself to form an idea of her
escaping.
maze; at last he replied, “it must
be, you are in the right, it is impossi-
ble she should be alive,
she is long
since paid the great debt of nature,
and is no more.”
to walk the streets, wishing to know
the effect which the letter had on the
mind of
to form a judgment of how his
af-
fections stood towards
about
noon he returns to the house,
closely examining the looks of
stantius
countenance
for certain.—He then
enters into a discourse with him, in
the course of
which he enquires of
him how long since he was in
ladelphia
or eight weeks.—Was the father
of
place? He was—Was
he much af-
fected with the death of his daugh-
ter?
exceedingly, it had like to have
ruined his senses. I think when I
was there
last, continued
certain gentleman by the name of
to
thing with regard to him?
tius
replied, yes I am the person.—I was
once happy in the love of the most
amiable
whole of my soul,
and I believe I had
no less share in the affections of
terrupter of human felicity, forced
her from me, and left me inconsola-
bly to bemoan her hapless fate.—
Shipwrecked on the coast of
having but a moment to avail our-
selves of the boat (which was at best
but a
let go her hand, and in the confusion
I did not perceive it ’till after I
was
in the boat, and the
the vessel.
have thrown myself from the boat
into the water and attempted to
have regained the vessel and mingled
fates with her; but being fully
sensible of the impracticability of
regaining the vessel, I contented
myself to live, expecting though
that
every moment would be the
last, however we floated in a man-
ner
really miraculous, about four
or five miles, when, providentially
we struck
on a small uninhabited
island, two days after which we
were taken off by a
pleasure boat,
who went with us to the island on
which we supposed our
vessel was
wrecked, which proved to be the To be concluded in our next.)”
HERE was I in hopes of finding
my
alive, but my hopes were in vain,
not
a trace of her was to be found; a
small trunk of her’s I found wash’d
up, which I took into possession, out
of which I took this locket, having
her picture set in gold, this I have
ever worn on my breast, and
never
shall it be transfered to any
other place—O thou amiable
chera
erased from my
memory—never shall
I forget the time when we exchang-
ed mutual
vows, and gave ourselves
up to each other, when joys extatic
took full
possession of our enraptured
breasts at anticipating scenes of feli-
city, which we fondly promised our-
selves, but which
cruel fortune never
designed we should realize—here
he gave himself up to a flood of
immoderate
grief, and
scarcely contain himself—at length
in
broken accents he thus accosted him,
“
moderate your grief which can be
of no service to you—your sorrows
can never reanimate
death separates lovers, tho’ it is im-
possible intirely to forget, yet duty
makes it necessary to banish
every
idea as far as is practicable—you
may no doubt find another to supply
the place of
of a mind at
ease—’tis true I cannot
reanimate the admirable
she has bid a final farewell to all
lunary
her will never cease
to exist, neither
I have sought relief in the arms of
another, and
soon, very soon are the
is nothing which can erase that su-
preme affection which I have once for
all placed on the inimitable
ra
Dear Sir, replyed
affections were very
sincere, and pro-
vidence will never admit of such vir-
tues going unrewarded—It must
have in its store of beneficence some
peculiar blessing to bestow upon you,
and tho’ I am no prophet I will ven-
ture to predict that your days of sor-
row are
nearly at an end—something
you have no idea of at present will
soon open
upon you which will inspire
you with such sensations as you have
a long time
been a stranger to—I
pray you to dismiss the subject, and
ask me no further
questions on the
matter—whether ever you see me
again or not, remember what
I now
say to you.—Saying this he bid him
adieu, and could not be prevailed
on
to stay any longer with him—he
walked away into the City, leaving
ing powers to
conclude what the se-
quel of this matter should be; vari-
ous were his conjectures ’tho he
could form
mind—he
walked into the house, sat
down and continued his rumination
on this
inexplicable adventure;
while he was musing came in a boy
and delivering him
a letter retired—
he opened the letter and read,
If you will call at the sign of the Eagle
at half past four precisely,
you will
hear of something you very little expect,
and which concerns
you in the highest
degree, after that it will be too late.
This still served to increase his
wonder—but he
considered it rather
as an unfortunate appointment on
one account, as that
was the time
appointed for the arrival of
receive with all the respect possible—
he at one time
would imagine it was
a stratagem of some enemy of his,
in order to introduce
a friend between
him and his proposed bride, and then
he would determine to
pay no kind of
attention to the message, then again
the anxiety of his mind
would be
such, that he resolved, let the event
be what it would, he would attend
the summons—accordingly at a little
past four he made preparations to go,
and at twenty-five minutes sat out,
but as he had left the door, he look-
ed round and discovered his
proposed
bride, approaching at some distance
attended with a very splendid
retinue,
at the sight of which staggered his
resolution of proceeding—it
could
not fail of striking his mind most
powerfully, that if he absented
him-
self at this time, the lady would con-
ceive such
a dislike at this want of
respect, that she would abandon him
forever, and
that he should draw upon
him the revenge of
his connexions—however, his curio-
sity was so great, and his
anxiety so
irresistible, that his determination to
go, overcame every
consideration to
the contrary.—He therefore turned
his face towards the
Eagle and suffer-
ed nothing to divert his steps—he
arrived at 29
minutes past four, at
the door he met a
woman going out.
hostess if there were any commands
there for him? she answered, that in
the chamber parlour was a young
gentleman waiting for you, if your
name
is
replyed he—she shewed him
the way
to the room, which he entered—but
heavens, what a surprize was he
seiz-
ed with, when he instead of a young
gentleman, found his
eyes fixed
on his adorable
in all the
magnificence which the
city of
rose in the most graceful manner
to receive him, such a sweetness was
in her countenance, as could not fail
of ravishing the heart of the most stu-
pid beholder, her eyes
acquired ad-
ditional lustre, as they met those of
her long
wished for
whose surprise was so great, that
his
organs of speech were totally incapa-
ble (for a while) to
perform their
functions, while
dressed him: “
is long since my heart has been to-
tally in your possession, and
many and
great have been the sufferings which
I have passed through for the sake of
him whom I have now the pleasure
of beholding, and you Sir, and you
been in vain or not—you Sir,
know whether I am to be happy in
your
favour, or whether the sister of
tions.—You Sir, can decide on a ques-
tion
which is of more consequence
to me than the riches of both the
dies
my insuperable
misery, are now sus-
pended in the ballance of your mind,
and as
the one or the other scale prepon-
derates, will my fate be happy or
miserable in the extreme—yet Sir, do
not misunderstand me, perhaps my
language conveys ideas different
from my intentions, notwithstanding
the many terms I have made use
of, I value your repose so
I never can wish
you to do a thing
disagreeable to yourself, in order to
oblige me; and even
an event like
that, was I sensible of it, would only
add to my torment—If
sion of your heart, I shall be thank-
ful for your hand also; but to
have
the
is so foreign from my wish, that it
never can obtain my consent, I plead
no contract, but leave you to the free
determination of your affections.”
in some good degree recovered
of his
and in accents of rapture exclaimed,
“O transcendantly
propitious Hea-
ven, thrice bountiful, inexhausta-
ble, magnificent Providence! inex-
pressibly benevolent and
superlatively
beneficient fates! The most exalted
language is more than
infinitely too
inexpressive to give an idea of the
grateful sensations which
occupy my
breast, which is borne down with
the grateful sense which I have
of your inconceivable benediction
towards me! I arrived at the
summit
of human gratification—I
am lost in extacy, O! ye powers
omniscient, is this real, or the unsubs-
tantial fabrick of an
empty vision? O
transcendently beneficent powers ’tis
no fiction, ’tis no
reverie of an in-
sane mind, for I am above being
imposed on in
this matter, I have
her in my arms the real half adora-
ble
has once more placed her
in my
embraces, and the freeks of wild for-
tune shall never more
separate me
from the object of my delight. No,
no, my admirable angel my
dearest
of a
heart totally incapable of disi-
mulation or change. No—sooner
than I could withdraw my supreme
affection from you, and place it on
another, shall the course of nature
receive a total revolution, the sun
shall cease to communicate light or
heat, darkness shall become the
medium of discerning objects—be-
lieve me, my dearest
as my small affairs in
tled we will cross the
will revisit the
land of freedom—we
will solemnize the long wished for
marriage ceremonies,
and we will live
the remainder of our days in that fe-
licity
which we have so long in vain
sought for.
In this way they exchanged a va-
riety of mutual expressions of the
most fond affections, until time had
insensibly introduced the shades of
the evening, when
began to think of
his appointment
with the sister of
mentioned to
which he had made
to
sister, in consequence of his total-
ly despairing of ever seeing
her
again—that a sense of honour,
made it necessary for him to re-
pair to his lodgings and to inform
her of his situation, and to
make as
good terms with her as he could,
and that he would spend as little
time on this matter as the nature of
the thing would admit of.
place of abode, where he
Monte
patience and anxiety for his return;
on his arrival, joy seemed to sparkle
in their countenances, but rather
decreased as they read in his visage
that every thing was not right in his
mind. However,
thro’ the usual
formalities of wel-
coming the lady with a tolerable
good grace.
But he soon called
Monte
him alone. “My dear friend, said
he, we have long been in strict friend-
ship, together, which I zealously wish
to cultivate and improve,
and there
is a matter which lays with peculiar
weight on my mind, about
which I
wish to ask your advice, I hope you
will give me your sentiments
fully—
speak on, quoth
of my poor
advice is always at your
service, and you cannot lay a greater
obligation
upon me than to command
my best services. For a considera-
ble
time (continued
you have been acquainted with
my
affairs, you was no stranger to my
treaty with
I had for her, and the solemn
obliga-
tions I was under to her, since her
exit you have been
fully let into the
particulars of my negociations with
your amiable sister,
and the length
to which we have carried the matter
—now Sir, supposing that
should prove to be still alive, and
should insist on my fulfilling my en-
gagements, what could you advise
me to do Sir? pray dear Sir,
on the
sacred bonds of friendship by which
we are cemented, give me your im-
partial opinion on the matter.
“
in your mind with
regard to what
you should do? I think it is impossi-
ble there
should—are you not a man
of honour? does not your engage-
ments,
your solemn promises lay
with some degree of weight on your
mind? can you
harbour an idea that
you are at liberty to break thro’ the
solemn and
delicate obligations of a
matrimonial contract? If you do,
how can you
answer to your own
conscience, to the wronged lady who
has placed so much
confidence in
you? can you have the most distant
idea that you can make a second con-
veyance of yourself to one woman be-
fore you are
discharged from the oth-
er? can you lawfully dispose of any ar-
ticle, after you have conveyed away the
whole of your title to it?
If you
cannot, I wish to be informed of the
means by which you were
discharg-
ed from your obligations to
ra
was dead? Is that sufficient
think
you? can your own mistake deprive
her of that right which she had to
you, in consequence of your volun-
tary contract? No, your good
sense
will forbid your harbouring such un-
worthy ideas. If
in the name of common justice mar-
ry her, your engagements to my sis-
ter must in the
nature of things, be
on this implyed condition, that
chera
of your power to
make any other
contract with her, whether that con-
dition was
express or not.
Well, (said
it may appear,
—I have seen her—she is now at
the sign of the Eagle;
interrupted him, saying “Then
marry her, otherwise I should esteem
you
as totally unworthy of any
share in my friendship—you seem to
hesitate, I
will call in my sister—I
will inform her of the circumstances,
and then, if
she will consent to marry
you under this predicament, I shall blush
when I
reflect that I was ever allied
to her, and from henceforth will for-
ever disown her as a relation of mine.
I will call her and inform
her, tho’
I see by your countenance, that your
sentiments correspond with
mine.”
them and informed her of
the whole
affair, who, looking on
with a pleasant and very wishful
countenance, thus said: “Dear sir,
disappointments were never agreea-
ble to my nature, and I have
often
thought that I had the least patience
to bear with them of any mortal
ex-
isting, and I have not a single doubt
but my affections are
as strong to-
wards you as
you are
her’s by right, and your after
engagements to me under the mis-
taken idea of her being dead, cannot
make her claim to you invalid, hesi-
tate not, my dear
your
engagements to her; you will
totally forfeit every claim to my af-
fections and esteem, if you do not—
you have my most fervent prayers
that
you may continue long and last-
ing blessings to each other in the
connubial state, she will always be
sure of a peculiar place in my esteem
for the good-will I bear to you—I
hope you will favour us by introdu-
cing her into our company this eve-
ning, it will afford
me the most sen-
sible pleasure to be in any measure
instrumental
in conducing to her hap-
piness.
a very polite compliment, for her
candid and amiable overture,
expres-
sing his wishes, that providence
would furnish her with
an husband
suitable to her rank in life, and one
that would be much more
worthy
of her than he could have the
arrogance to pretend to be; he
then in company with
waited on
the Eagle, introduced her to the
sister
of
of the evening
was spent in the
greatest conviviality, and nothing
could exceed the
pleasing compli-
ments, which passed between those ri-
val ladies.
this,
made the greatest dispatch pos-
sible in their preparations, for re-
turning home, and in about one
weeks time, they embarked
accord-
ingly, taking an affectionate farewel
of
after a short and pleasant passage,
they arrived safely at
and on the same
day repaired to her
father’s house. The shock was al-
most too
great for her father’s
nerves, he embraced them both ex-
tatically—asking a thousand pardons
for his misconduct towards them,
and
with tears of joy promised to
devote the remainder of his days to
the substantiating their happiness,
about a week from this, they joined
their hands at the altar of
amidst a croud of spectators, whose
pleased countenances bespoke the
inward joy of their hearts, and they
now live the greatest ornaments of
the married state.