YOU know that Mr. Danford, of late, has paid his addresses to me; and you know, likewise, that he is a man worthy of any body's esteem. I am sure he had engaged all my affections; and we had got so far in our courtship, that we had promised marriage to each other: But my father, for some family conve­nience, hath engaged Mr. Stapleton to address me. Now Mr. Stapleton is very wealthy, but he is quite ill looking: I believe you never saw him. Well, I will try to let you know how he looks. He is a tall figure of a man; has very large coarse features, and a dead looking eye; with hollow cheeks, large irreg­ular teeth, and a mouth no ways bespeaking approba­tion. Indeed he is a frightful looking man as to his person. He is, besides, of a violent temper, and hath no consideration in any matter whatsoever. He speaks quick, and talks much, without sense, or method; is quite a libertine; is very fond of company; and no company comes amiss to him. And, indeed, he is altogether a debauchee. Now could you think your Polly could be fond of such an alliance? No. What, to exchange Mr. Danford, who has every personal qualification, for such a creature as this? No, I won't! for I will die first! Besides, I would not break my [Page 6] promise, that is of such a nature, for all the world▪ and there is nothing shall tempt me to break it!

My mother and I have had a long discourse on the subject, and I find I am not to expect much favour from my father in this affair; and my mother seems to side with him, at present. I will send you the dis­course I had with my mother; which was nearly as follows:

My mother called me to her, and upon my seating myself by her, said, Polly, do you intend to favour the addresses of Mr. Danford any longer, or have you dismissed him already? Dear mamma, said I, I have not dismissed him at present; and why should I? I hope you have no objections to his visits; have you? Yes, Polly, said my mother, I have: and if I should only tell you that it is disagreeable to me, it ought to be a sufficient reason for you to dismiss him. But I will give you some reasons why I wish you to break with him. It is high time that you knew your own importance. For prithee, child, don't you know that you are nobly descended; that our family is one of the oldest in the country; and that your father is very wealthy, having a large estate in his hands; is im­mensely rich in money and lands; and carries on an extensive trade at sea; and is called one of the first men on the continent? Now Mr. Danford's circum­stances being but moderate, no ways equal to yours, it cannot be thought that you will stoop so low as to re­ceive his visits; much less to encourage any further alliance with him. It is therefore your father's pleas­ure that you break with him; and so it is mine. For your sister Jenny married a man that was exceeding wealthy, and you was always looked upon above her, both in beauty and accomplishments of mind, and it is in your power to make the richest man in the coun­try happy: So I hope you will not displease your fa­ther nor vex me, for I never had a child that I set more by than I do by you. Neither should try harder to make any child happier in a wealthy marriage, than I should you. And now, I think I have given you sufficient reasons, why I think it will be best for you [Page 7] to break with him. And I am sure I would not ad­vise you to any thing that is not for your good.

Dear ma'am, said I, you greatly surprise me; for I had not the least thought that Mr. Danford was dis­gustful to you; for you never hinted a syllable of it to me before—and he engrosses all my attention. And my inclination is too strongly biassed in his favour to admit of an alteration. Neither can I see why you should despise him: For Mr. Danford is every thing that I could possibly wish for in a man. He is of a noble mind, is above every little action—is of a kind and affable disposition, and has a heart not ungenerous. He seems to be formed both to defend and love the other sex; and indeed there is nothing of meanness in him: For he has acquired great honour in the ser­vice of his country, as a public officer; and is in pos­session of a good estate, his circumstances being quite easy. And indeed great riches never had such charms with me! 'Tis true, where there is riches, it enables one to be kind and benevolent to the poor and needy. But to love riches for the sake of grandeur, and that only, characterizes a low and little mind, and bor­ders on selfish stupidity. But, ma'am, you know that I always was of a serious turn of mind, and I think I have some love for religion; nor do I confine my ideas of happiness to this world; but my schemes of happi­ness are chiefly beyond the grave. Now, Mr. Dan­ford is of a consonant turn of mind, being a great lov­er of religion, which is beautifully mixed in all his discourse; and, in my mind, sets him above the richest man on earth, who is void of his qualifications. And then, when he talks of love, or marriage, it is with that open frankness, that ever denotes the noble mind. And from him, you never hear any of that frantic disorder of speech: but persuasion seems to dwell on his tongue, in a just and noble manner. And can you think, that such an alliance as this can be disagreeable to me? An alliance that will not end at death, but will endure when the sun and moon shall forget to shine? O what a rich thought is this; that we may be mutual helps to each other in this world, and then be removed to the realms of joy and happi­ness, [Page 8] never to be parted again! And would you de­prive me of the anticipation of all this happiness, and sink me below the dust? For I never shall be happy with any other man; because we have pledged ourselves to each other. And as for Mr. Murfee, who married Jenny, 'tis true, he is in possession of a large estate; but then, he is altogether a man of this world. And indeed he is nothing more than a fashionable rake— a professed libertine. If she feels herself happy with him, it is well. But it is hardly supposable that she does? But if we may judge by appearances, she is very uneasy in her mind; and does not rejoice in her noble marriage: And now, would you have me tied to another, such as Mr. Murfee is? If I was, I should bid farewel to all enjoyments in this world; and most set down miserable for life: And then, what avail would riches and grandeur be to me? Why, they would only serve to heighten my misery, and augment the troubles of life to a greater degree.

Polly, said my mother, you seem to branch out ve­ry largely; but I hope you are not in earnest: for your father, of late, had some overtures made to him by Mr. Stapleton on your account; which I think cannot be disagreeable to you. For he is a very wealthy man, indeed; there is hardly any end to his riches. And he is a man well enough as to other qualifications. And now what objections can you have to him?

Dear mamma, said I, don't mention Mr. Stapleton to me for such an alliance; for he is a frightful look­ing man, and has nothing attractive in his behaviour; being quite void of that tenderness to be found in ma­ny others. And then there is nothing noble in his mind, or generous in his temper. And indeed, he seems to be formed by nature for a mere tyrant. For having a churlish ungovernable temper, and not hav­ing sense enough to know right from wrong; he is many times in a passion, without knowing what he is angry at. And, above all, he is a great libertine, car­ing for nothing but debauchery. Now, could you have a single thought of such a man for your Polly? Dear ma'am, you cannot! For I had rather live a [Page 9] single life all my days, or marry a man without any estate at all, provided he is endowed with personal qualifications, than to have him. For it is easier for a poor man, thus qualified, to attain to an estate, than for a rich, selfish clown, to attain to those qualifications. So I hope you won't mention him to me any more.

Well, Polly, said my mother, you had better think seriously of the matter; for your father is determined that Mr. Danford shall not continue his visits; and has wrote him a line to forbid him our house. I I think you had better encourage the addresses of Mr. Stapleton; for your father is set upon it, to give him all the aid in his power. For there is to be some ex­change of property between your father and Mr. Sta­pleton, in consequence of your marriage, which will be very advantageous to our family. And so, I fear, he is too much set to be turned. For Mr. Stapleton being very wealthy, he thinks 'twill reflect great hon­our on the family. But I shall not say any more to you at present.

Dear ma'am, said I, let me just answer you before you withdraw. Then the matter is concluded alrea­dy, I find. And I am to be sold to Mr. Stapleton, to be his slave. For if I am married to him, no other shall I be, I warrant. But I never will be neither his wife, nor slave! For if I cannot have a man of my own choosing, I had rather never alter my con­dition. But if I am ever married, Mr. Danford must be the man: indeed he must! Dear mamma, do stand my friend! And don't insist on my breaking with Mr. Danford, for my life depends upon it! and if you are not my friend, I am wholly destitute of any except Mr. Danford. And you say I am not to see him again. O shocking! Then I am to be plunged into distress and misery at an early age. And how can you say that you love me above any of your rela­tions, when you do not care what befals me? Which denotes you don't love me at all. But you will love your Polly yet, will you not? And will you not try to persuade my father to deal otherwise by me?— But if you will forsake me, I have no where to go but to a merciful God; on whose care and protection I [Page 10] will ever venture myself, hoping he will not lay more on me, than I am able to bear.

At this my mother withdrew, and now what have I to expect but hard treatment? Well, 'tis hard to disobey parents; but, as for my marrying Mr. Staple­ton, I never will, let what will come of it. Neither will I marry any other man whilst Mr. Danford is living. For how can I, we having promised each other not to? which promises I hold to be sacred; and that no body hath a right to revoke them. And so you see, that I am stedfastly set, to hold my pro­mise with Mr. Danford. But I cannot tell yet how it will be brought about.

By this time you will think it is time for me to con­clude, which I do by sending you my kind regards.

AND am I forbidden to visit you? Yes, I received a line from your father, which forbids me his house. On what account I cannot tell; but have heard, by the bye, that it is because my estate is not large enough. And I hear farther, that Mr. Staple­ton is encouraged to visit you; and I suppose his es­tate is sufficient, and that is all he has to recommend him. But I should not think that my Polly (you see that I call you mine yet) would take up with such a wretch as Mr. Stapleton, who is void of every good quality. And then, my dear, what have I done to your father? For if I am guilty of any enormity that [Page 11] is offensive to him, if he will but hint it to me, I will amend; and shall be very proud to gain his affections at any rate, let it cost me what it will. And indeed, I should be willing to seek danger in the face of stub­born foes, if that would reconcile him to me. But I fear his disgust is of another nature. For I believe that nothing but money is wanting. As for an estate, I have enough of that to make us comfortable, and I don't think we ought to let the world engross all our desires.

And now, my dear, are your affections alienated from me? Or have you forgot me? You used to say that you had some esteem for me, and that I was delightful to you. And indeed you promised to be mine, let what would be the consequence. And may not I expect a line from you to inform me of the state of your mind towards me. As to myself, my love to you is, and ever will be, the same it ever was. Don't think that absence will, or can efface it. No; but if the sun should forget to shine, or the rivers for­get to flow, then might I forget my Polly Granville, but not otherwise. Nor will the trials and troubles of this world make me unmindful of you. And I am resolved never to marry any other whilst you are liv­ing. But how you will behave yourself to me, is yet uncertain. But I always did depend on your word and promise, and think I may yet.

As for an estate, don't let that trouble you; for if your father should disinherit you, yet I have a com­petence of this world; and if I can but have your person, I do not care whether your father gives you any thing or not. For riches, abstractly of themselves, will never make a person happy; and I ever loved you more for the beauties of your mind, than any thing else. Your being of an open temper, that ever sets the noble above the low minded, and having a love for virtue and religion, and not confining your ideas of happiness wholly to this world, greatly height­ened you in my esteem, for I am myself, of a conso­nant turn of mind. How pleasing was the anticipa­tion of these things to me; that we should be able to give advice and counsel to one another, which would [Page 12] mutually heighten the thoughts of heaven, even whilst in this state of change and vicissitude; and finally, that our friendship should not end at death, but that we should be partakers of that blessedness which is laid up for those who make virtue their chief aim.— But I cannot, and will not give you up as lost to me yet, For there are many intricate windings in life, which appear to us to be wholly against us; yet at the same time are working together for our good. And the person that puts his trust wholly in a divine Providence, is seldom disappointed. For Providence can overcome all these seemingly untoward obstacles, and make them all turn to our advantage; and then we can can look back with delight on those seeming afflictions, and can see how they did work together for our good.

I shall depend upon a letter from you: and pray write whether your affections are unalterable to me or not; and at the same time you may assure yourself, that I am unalterably your's,

IS it possible that you should distrust the love and fidelity of your Polly? No, I'll not harbour such a thought—I think you are not capable of such a thing. And do you ask whether my love is the same towards you? I answer, no; for the unthought-of trials that I have met with of late, have greatly heightened my love and affection to you. My esteem for you is altogether unalterable, and my heart is fix­ed. [Page 13] Neither is there any thing in this world that shall alienate my affections from you; and you may assure yourself that I am unalterably yours, and never will I marry any other man whilst you are living: Let the trials and trouble I meet with be ever so great, yet I will never break this resolution. For you can­not think that I set so light by the promise I made you as to break it, for any consideration whatsoever. But I have experienced great troubles, and heavy tri­als, since I saw you, which are on your account: and I expect they are not at an end yet. But this considera­tion makes them the lighter, that they are on your ac­count: and I am willing to suffer greater trials for your sake, if I can but obtain your person. So you may see by this that you are no ways indifferent to me; but that you engross my whole attention, as to the things of this world; my worldly happiness being wholly centered in you.

I would give you, if I could, a sketch of my trou­bles. My father hath forbid my receiving your visits, and I suppose forbidden you his house, and hath like­wise proposed Mr. Stapleton to me as a suitor; but I have utterly refused to have any thing to say to Mr. Stapleton on such an account. And have peremtori­ly declared, that if I could not be favored with an alli­ance with you, I would never alter my condition: which seems to raise great anger in my father: for it seems (tho' it is hard to say it of one's parents) that my father sets more by riches, than he does by the peace and quiet of his children. It seems that Mr. Stapleton is to pay me a visit; but it will be labour lost; I can tell them that: for I am determined not to have any thing to say to him on the subject; and I will warrant, he will get nothing but frowns from me. For if my affections were not fixed already, I could not think of Mr. Stapleton for a companion—indeed I could not; for he is no ways engaging to me, nei­ther in person or behaviour. And then his mind is altogether naughty; and, in my view, he is not in pos­session of one good quality. So, if I was not biassed in your favour, you may see he would not be likely to make a conquest of me. But to return; my father [Page 14] hath not confined me to my chamber yet; though he says he will, if I don't comply with his proposal. But I have liberty of the garden, and to visit, having one of the family with me, to see that I am not in your company. I am also allowed to write; and my maid being wholly on my side, I can convey my letters when, and where I please: So you may leave your letters, and she will call for them.

Your letter to me revived my spirits greatly. To think, that you don't despise, nor forget me in this trouble, is a great consolation to me. And your hint, that "they who put their trust in Providence, will not be disappointed," gave me great encouragement; for my whole dependence is on a kind indulgent Providence; in whose hands I am willing to venture myself, and all my concerns. Ever praying that he will not lay greater trials on me than he shall enable me to bear, and that I may, in some measure, be blameless.

I MUST write to you, because to my Miss So­phia I can write without the least reserve. Perhaps you will think that I write without sense or method. But then, when I write to you, I wish to unbosom my whole mind; knowing that you will make proper al­lowances for my imperfections. Well, I have a great many strange things to tell you, for I am used with great severity by my parents; who try all in their pow­er to make me break with Mr. Danford, and favour [Page 15] Mr. Stapleton▪ but I utterly refuse to do either, which vexes them greatly.

Mr. Stapleton has paid us a visit, and you will wish to know how I behaved myself with my new lover, and how he conducted in the business. Why, I be­lieve that we both behaved quite aukwardly. I am sure he did; and I have not much to say for myself. Well, as my mother and I were sitting in the parlour, who should enter but my papa, and Mr. Stapleton with him, which put me in a terrible slutter. My papa introduced him to my mother, and then to me; and I arose to receive him—but tremble, tremble, went my feet, so that I could hardly stand. I hope, said he, I see you well, Miss Polly: very well, Sir, said I; but did not say, at your service, you may well think. Well, he seated himself not far from me, and seemed as if his seat was uneasy to him. Now turning to this side, now to that; and seemed to be at a loss what to say. But my father and mother put him out of his pain, by withdrawing: my father say­ing, as he went out, well, Polly, I have engaged Mr. Stapleton to visit you, and I hope you will receive him kindly; and that you will be agreeable to him, and he to you. While my father addressed himself to me, I stood up, and when he had done, I courtesied, and set down again; and was in hopes, that when I should tell Mr. Stapleton how the matter stood be­tween Mr. Danford and myself, that he would relin­quish all his pretentions to me, and would try to help me out of my present difficulty. But in this I found myself mistaken; for the more I expostulated with him, the more he would claim his right by my father's engagement; so I was resolved to use him very plain­ly, and to let him know, that I was determined to ad­here to my promise to Mr. Danford. Well, as to our discourse; after I had seated myself, he moved his seat nearer to me, and accosted me as follows:

Well, Miss Polly, your father hath engaged me to address you, and I hope that my visits will meet with your approbation; for I should be fond of an alliance with your family; and I hope I shall make myself as agreeable to you, as you are to me.

[Page 16]Sir, said I, if it were in my power to receive your visits, I should be very glad to on my father's account, who hath given you the trouble to call upon me. But as I have a prior engagement, I hope you will ex­cuse me, Sir, when I tell you, that I cannot discourse with you on the subject. And I have more depend­ence on your honour, Sir, than to think that you will try to make a young defenceless creature break her promise with another man. For you know, Sir, that such an engagement is solemn, and ought to be held sacred. And I have great dependence on your hon­our, Sir, in this affair; expecting you will not insist on my favouring your pretensions; and hope you will say no more to me on that subject.

As I said before, he is quite an unpolite gentleman, wherefore breaking in upon me, he said, ma'am▪ ma'am!—if you are agreeable to Mr. Danford, why should not you be so to me? And no doubt, if Mr. Danford is agreeable to you, I can make myself equally agreeable. For we all know that affections are transferable. And besides, I am vastly above Mr. Danford in every point of view. So I am no ways concerned, but that you will like me, in a little time, as well as you do him.

But Mr. Stapleton, said I, what shall I do with the promise I have made to Mr. Danford? for I have pledged myself to him in a solemn manner; and if I should break that promise, I should be afraid that something uncommon would befal me. And what can you say to this?

Love-promises, said he, are nothing but words of course, and I have made a dozen of them in my life­time; but never thought them binding. And if you have made a promise to Mr. Danford, you know the form now: and so you may make another to me, and I will do the same to you, and we will join our hands at the church, and then the matter will be settled, and who can call you to an account about it?

Mr. Stapleton, said I, you surprise me! Do you make thus light of solemn promises? If these are your sentiments, what security could a woman have with you? why you put me quite out of conceit of [Page 17] the other sex. But I hope they are not all of your turn of mind. And I am under the necessity of telling you, that you are no ways pleasing to me; therefore wish you to withdraw, and not disturb me with such discourse—for I must tell you, that I have no liking to you. And indeed, Sir, if I was not engaged, I could not think of a man of your sentiments for a com­panion—indeed I could not! And now, as I have been so plain with you, I hope you will give me no more trouble in this affair: for we being not of a consonant turn of mind, cannot be agreeable to each other.

Well, said Mr. Stapleton, I shall not give up my pretensions to you, for your father and I have settled the whole matter; and he having a right to command you, I shall depend upon his authority, and expect a speedy marriage. For I have engaged so far in the affair, that I cannot easily give it up: and so you may as well comply, as not.

Sir, said I, may not I depend on your honour, when I tell you, that I cannot love you, and that you are wholly disagreeable to me? If I should consent to give you my hand, what a life should we be likely to live together? For, where there is no love, there can be no confidence: and then we might both re­pent our proceedings when it would be too late.

I am, said he, not at all concerned about that. For it is a wife's duty, to obey her husband. And I shall take care of that in the first place, and then look out for your affections afterwards. And it will be strange, if you cannot both love and esteem me—for I have a large estate; and, you know, where there is riches, there must be contentment of mind. So I have no doubt, but, in time, you will both love and respect me; and I am resolved to venture the consequence, and doubt not, that we shall be married soon.

Mr. Stapleton, said I, you may rely upon it, that I will never be your wife whilst I am living—neith­er do I intend to talk any more with you about the matter. Indeed, I did depend some upon your hon­our, but I find that you are void of that qualification. And to show you that I am in earnest in all that I [Page 18] have said, I shall this moment withdraw, and leave you by yourself, hoping you will make proper reflec­tions on what hath been said, and that you will give me no more trouble:

And so I retired to my chamber. But my father and he had a long conference, after I withdrew. And, by what I can find out, by the bye, my father is determined to use all his authority, to make me comply with his proposal. And, I believe, he told Mr. Stapleton as much—for since that time, he uses me more like a stranger than a child: only with this difference, that he is not so polite with me, as he is with others.

When we sat down to tea, after Mr. Stapleton was gone—we having no company, his discourse was whol­ly about the above affair; and he said, I was altogeth­er unpolite to Mr. Stapleton; but if I did not behave myself better to him, the next time he visited me, he would use his authority with me: and if that would not make me bend, he should take such measures with me, as would be very distressing, both for him to in­flict, and for me to bear.

I thought it best for me not to answer him, so made no reply to what he said; but soon retired to my chamber again, and wrote you the result.

And now, ma'am, what must I expect? Nothing but hard words and angry looks from them that ought to deal most kindly and tenderly by me. But I did not think my mother capable of hard-heart­edness: for she used to be very kind to me; indeed, she never gave me an angry word before this affair happened. But I intend to have another discourse with her. Pray, my dear Miss Sophia, write to me, and tell me how one ought to behave to parents in such a case as mine. I know one ought to obey parents in all things: But when Mr. Danford first addressed me, my parents seemed to encourage me in the affair; and now when my inclination has got strongly biassed in his favour, and we have promised marriage to each other—and all done, as it were, through their concur­rence, they can have no right, I think, to insist upon my breaking with him, and admitting the visits of [Page 19] another, who is altogether disagreeable to me. There­fore, I think I shall not be altogether wrong, if I do disobey them in this point, for my worldly happiness does depend on it, and I fear it will go far in breaking my peace with heaven. For, dear ma'am, we should, in all our schemes of worldly happiness, make some provision for the better part; and not let the world infringe on the affairs of the soul and eternal happi­ness. But in my mind, to be joined to such an aban­doned man, is, in effect, to bid farewel to all serious thoughts, and is forsaking religion entirely. But do, dear Miss Sophia, send me your thoughts on this sub­ject; and if I am wrong, don't spare me; but give me your mind upon the matter plainly; for I am a young defenceless creature, and I seem to have no mor­tal to ask advice of but you at present. So I will con­clude by sending you my best wishes.

I RECEIVED your two last letters which gave me much pain for you. And I do lament your case, and heartily sympathize with you in your misfortunes. Your troubles seem to come fast upon you, and from a quarter that I little expected. For your father and mother used to show you all that tenderness, which is the effect of real paternal affection. Nay, I often thought, that they were partial in your favor; and it seemed as if you could not do a wrong thing, in their view. Your mother, especially, was, I thought, a kind and [Page 20] tender hearted woman; and seemed to have a feeling for any who were in distress. But your father, I always thought was a great lover of the world. Indeed, wealth seemed to engross his whole attention; and he could easily forego any thing for riches. But I did not think he was capable of such conduct to his Polly. Indeed I could not have thought it of him. What! reject Mr. Danford, who is in possession of a good estate; is quite a polite gentleman, endowed with every ac­complishment to be found either in the intrepid or gentle? And then to encourage Mr. Stapleton to vis­it you, wholly upon the score of riches, is to me quite unaccountable. And to join his authority with his pro­posal, and try to compel you to break with the one, and to marry the other, is too flagrant to be justified, even in one's father.

Do you, my dear Miss Polly, ask my opinion upon the above affair? Perhaps, I am not so tender hearted, as my Polly is; but I know what I should do, was I in your circumstances. Why, I should write to Mr. Danford, to meet me at some place, and then go off with him, and get married. And to use Mr. Staple­ton's words, who could call you to an account about the matter? For you know that your uncle left you some­thing of an estate, which is wholly at your disposal▪ and which you may join with Mr. Danford's, and then you will be nearly as wealthy as your father.

But I don't suppose that you will follow this advice. Well, this is what I would do. But then, you said I must tell you how you ought to behave; and that, you know is another matter. Well, I think that par­ents ought not to do any more than advise their chil­dren; and that I think, they are in duty bound to do. But I do not think they ought to compel them to mar­ry against their wills; for in such a case, many times, the consequence is fatal. On the other hand, a parent's advice ought to be well weighed; and if it is reasona­ble, it ought be followed, by all means. But then there is such a thing as parents giving unreasonable advice; and then I do not think we ought to obey them. For suppose your parents should command you to murder a certain person, do you think that you ought [Page 21] to obey them? No, by no means. Now in your af­fair—you having solemnly promised marriage to Mr. Danford; your worldly happiness, in a great meas­ure depending upon your fulfilling that promise: and their not advising you to the contrary before you made that promise, when they might well expect that this would be the consequence of his visits; in my mind, fully authorizes you to disobey them in this point, and they have no right to command your obedience in this affair; or to make you revoke your promise

But I must still advise you, to use all the patience that you are capable of; for gentle methods are cer­tainly the best. And do try to gain your mother over upon your side; for that will be as likely a means to ex­tricate you out of your present trouble, as any that I can think of. But I would never give up the main point; nor break with Mr. Danford on any account whatsoever. And so you have my thoughts on the matter, without any reserve. Pray excuse what is not agreeable to your mind; and at the same time assure yourself, that I am your compassionate friend and ser­vant,

P. S. My dear Miss Polly, I may depend upon your continuing your letters—mayn't I? So do not fail of writing, and tell me all your trouble; not wait­ing for me to answer you; for I have not much to write about. But you have a good subject, or a bad one, to write from; and I want to hear all your story.

WILL you not be tired of reading my letters? Well, if you should be, I must write, because to you I can unbosom all my thoughts. And, you [Page 22] know, it is some consolation for one to communicate their afflictions and trials. And then we have promis­ed to write to each other every thing that is worthy of notice. Accordingly I shall make no furth­er apology, but write on as usual. You must expect to hear of nothing but trials and troubles from your Polly; and so I will begin with the first.— My mother and I have had another discourse about Mr. Danford and Mr. Stapleton, which was as fol­lows:

My mother being in her chamber, I happened to step in at her door; she said to me, Polly, come sit down by me, child; for I want to have some dis­course with you. This put me into a flutter, as any thing she says to me on that subject always does; for I was sensible of what she wanted to talk upon. Well, I went in, and sat down by her, and said, what would you say to me, ma'am?

Why, Polly, said she, you quite vexed your father by your behaviour to Mr. Stapleton. He says you did not treat him with common civility. You might have used him with politeness, though you did not in­tend to encourage him any further. You know, Pol­ly, it is the duty of a child to obey their parents; and your father commanded you to receive him kindly; therefore I think you are guilty of disobedience.

Perhaps, ma'am, said I, you are misinformed, as to my behaviour to Mr. Stapleton: for in the first place, I assure you, I treated him with all the politeness I was capable of, and told him of my situation and en­gagements, but he used me with unpolite language; and then I was obliged to be plain with him. And now, ma'am, as to obeying parents, I hold myself bound to obey my parents in all things wherein their commands are not repugnant to the commands of my Supreme Judge, as set forth to us in the word of un­erring truth: where we are informed, that we ought not to be unequally yoked; which, I suppose, implies this— [...] who is of a religious [...] of mind, ought not [...] be married to one that is altogether vain and abandoned —where there can be no hopes of amendment. For if a child should obey her parents [Page 23] in this thing, she must make herself miserable for life; and, perhaps endanger her everlasting happiness there­by. For if a parent has a right to command a child in such a matter, surely a husband has a greater right to command his wife. And, if a child must obey her parents in this thing, then she must be married to an abandoned man, if it is her parents' pleasure. And what if that abandoned husband should command the wife to follow him in all manner of wickedness? — Why, by the same rule, she must obey him, and so must sin unavoidably, besides breaking the above su­preme command: and therefore I think a child is not bound to obey her parents, when they command her to be joined to such a man. And now, dear ma'am, let me tell you, word for word, what passed between Mr. Stapleton and myself, that you may judge whether he or I was most unpolite.

And then I related to her the whole discourse, that past between myself and Mr. Stapleton, nearly as I sent it to you; and when I had ended, I made some remarks on his discourse with me.

For him, said I, to say, that, if I really loved and esteemed Mr. Danford, it was a token that I would love and respect him, would incline one to think, that he never knew what either love or friendship meant. But then his making so light of solemn promises, put me out of all patience with him. A wretch! to say that he had made a dozen of them already! Why do you think, Madam, that I could have any patience with him? Indeed I could not. And now, do you wish your Polly to have such a husband as this is, on whose word there is no dependence; and who might divide his affection between her and another woman? If it might be said that he hath any affection. And would it not be a dreadful thing for one to have a companion, in whom they could have no confidence nor security: one who knows not what religion is, and hath no re­gard to right or wrong?

But Polly, said she, perhaps you are prejudiced against him, and prepossessed in another's favour, which might cause you to construe all that he said to his dis­advantage; [Page 24] and, perhaps, if you were to hear him again, he might appear to you in another point of view. And don't you wish, Polly, to have another conversa­tion with him?

By no means, Madam, said I, if I can avoid it: nor do I desire ever to see him again. And now, dear mamma, if you have any love and affection for your Polly, you will not insist upon our having another in­terview. And, if you have any regard for me, I pray you will give me your sentiments on his discourse with me, without the least reserve; and also tell me, whether I may expect a friend in my mamma, or not.

At this, my mother burst into tears; and I could not avoid joining with her; and indeed, my eyes would be running over all the time I was talking with her do the best I could. Well, after a while my mother said, Polly, you know that my love and affec­tions are strongly biassed in your favour; and I must acknowledge that I never did like or esteem Mr. Sta­pleton, nor do I like his discourse with you at all: which discover neither the gentleman nor the lover.— And I own, he was very unpolite to you, nor can I blame you much for your plainness of speech to him.

But then, what shall we do with your father? For he is obstinately bent upon your having Mr. Staple­ton; I having discoursed with him on the subject, find he is not to be turned. And, he being of such a passion­ate temper, I dare not speak to him any more on the subject. Therefore, you must not let him know that I have let you into these thoughts of mine; but my heart yearned upon you so, that I could not keep my mind from you any longer. And now I will assist you all I can; but I can have but little hopes of helping you much. Yet this will be some consolation to you, that I don't hate you as you thought I did.

My dear Miss Sophia, after this tender declaration from her, do you think I could keep my seat? No; for running to her, and dropping on my knees before her, and with my arms clasped around her, I exclaim­ed, what did you say to your Polly? And do you love me yet? When I thought I had no friend in this house, to find that my dear mamma is yet my friend, fills [Page 25] me with such joy, as is almost insupportable! And in­deed, I cried, till I sobbed again; my mother joining with me. But my father coming home, I withdrew to my chamber, and could do no less than write you the whole affair. My father does not so much as give me a pleasant look; and is always throwing out some word or other, to let me know what to depend upon, if I don't favour Mr. Stapleton; to which I never make any answer. But I understand he intends to have another discourse with me upon the above affair. And, O how I dread the interview! for I shall do nothing but cry, I'll warrant: but that must be the subject of another letter; therefore I'll conclude this, having an opportunity to send it. And shall only say,

I WILL now continue my story; for my father and I have had a discourse together, on the sub­ject of Mr. Stapleton, which was pretty much as follows: Being in my chamber, my father sent for me to attend him in his closet; my maid attending me, I went trembling to him, and when entered▪ sat down in the first chair I came to, and thought I should have fainted, do the best I could. My father, speaking to my maid▪ said, Ann, you may withdraw, for I wish to talk with your mistress in private.

After Ann was gone, my father began, by saying, Polly, what can be the reason, that you did not en­courage [Page 26] Mr. Stapleton, when I engaged him to visit you purely on that account? You knew it was my pleasure that you should use him kindly. And now give me the reasons why you behaved so unpolitely to him, when he visited you.

Dear Sir, said I, I cannot discourse with you on the subject. Indeed I cannot! And fell a crying.

But, Polly, said my father, I will be answered to these questions without the least evasion!

Dear Sir, said I, I did not use him unpolitely. But as for encouraging him in the ideas of marriage with me, it is wholly inadmissible; as I have not the least possible regard for him: and beg you, Sir, to excuse me from ever discoursing with him again on that sub­ject; for I cannot think of him for a companion—in­deed I cannot!

Why, Polly! said my father, you would think well enough of Mr. Stapleton, were it not for Mr. Dan­ford. But I am determined that you never shall see him again; and so you may content yourself; for that affair is at an end.

Well, Sir, said I, if I am never to see Mr. Dan­ford again, I am fully determined never to alter my condition. For, excuse me, Sir, it is impossible for me to think of another man, whilst Mr. Danford is living; as I have pledged myself to him.

I don't care, says my father, any thing about your pledging yourself to Mr. Danford; for you shall not be married to him! And now, tell me, positively, whether you will encourage Mr. Stapleton or not?

Sir, said I, it is not fitting that I should tell my papa that I will not; therefore desire to be excused from saying any thing on the subject.

But, said he, you shall give me a direct answer to the question, without any equivocation.

Then, said I, I must say, I cannot encourage him; and hope you will excuse me, Sir, if I tell you that I think my life depends upon it; and hope you will not insist upon my ever seeing him again▪ and, I am sure if you love your Polly, you will not invite Mr. Sta­pleton here on that account.

[Page 27]Polly, said he, if you are so incorrigible, I shall not give myself any trouble about you; and so, you must not expect any protection from me in any matter what­soever; for I shall wholly give you up for lost: and if you lose my friendship, I don't know what will be­come of you.

Dear papa, said I, will you consent for me to go to my uncle's at Philadelphia, and pay my aunt a visit; she being very earnest to have me visit her this season, and spend the winter with her? If you will give your approbation, Sir, I will immediately set about getting ready to go, as I can have an opportunity to be con­veyed there soon. Dear Sir, won't you consent to my going?

Polly, said my father, you shall not go: and from this time you shall not go out of my house; which, with the garden, shall be your limits, until you submit to my proposals. I have no more to say to you at present, so you may withdraw.

Well, our I went, to my chamber, and cried a good while; for the tears would run down my cheeks all the time my father was talking with me. So you see I am completely confined. Yet under all these afflic­tions, I have some consolation. My Miss Sophia is my friend. Mr. Danford doth not despise me; and my mother loves me still. Besides, I think I have a con­science that doth not accuse me▪ but, above all, my greatest dependence is in him who is able to deliver out of all adversity; religion being my chief support. For, to contemplate seriously on heaven, and heaven­ly things, seems to carry one above the noisy tumults of a busy world; and fills one's soul with quiet, and satisfaction, in the midst of troubles and worldly afflic­tion. But, perhaps, I shall conclude my letter too se­riously for your lively spirits. But it being a time of trouble with me, I expect to be excused by my Miss Sophia; who may assure herself, that I am, in all conditions of life, her friend and servant,

I CAN take no rest or comfort because of your confinement. Must I be the cause of so much trouble and affliction, to the person in whom my worldy happiness is wholly centered? But, my dear, if it was in my power to extricate you out of these difficulties, I should not hesitate one moment: but I don't see that any thing can be done at present, in an honorable way, to deliver you out of your trouble. I find I am whol­ly excluded from seeing you: for, applying to Mr. Granville for leave to discourse with you for the space of ten minutes only, I was denied with contempt. I even expostulated with him, to suffer me to take my leave of you, if no more, but could not prevail. I then told him how deeply I was interested in your welfare; which only put him into a passion; and I was forced to drop the subject: But it touched me to the quick, to think that I must not so much as dis­course with him upon the matter. For he forbid me ever saying any thing about you again. But I don't love you the less for his behaviour to me, no, my dear. You may rest assured, that I am wholly your's, and that my affections are unalterably fixed, and are uncapable of roving. But I am going to propose a thing to you, which is this. The ship Goodspeed now lies at the wharf, ready loaded for the East, and perhaps will pro­ceed as far as Canton, in China: which will be a voyage of a year and a half or two years; and as I own one half of her, the rest of the owners have ap­plied to me to go in her, in the capacity of a super-cargo. I having some inclination to visit those coun­tries; and my affairs being now in a prosperous situa­tion, [Page 29] I think it may be productive of good to us, for me to undertake the voyage. If Providence should still smile upon me, perhaps, in the course of a year or two, I may appear in a less exceptionable point of view to your father than I do at present I think, at least, my going abroad, must effect your liberation. I cannot think of your being confined wholly on my account; and I disdain to use any kind of artifice, to get you into my hands, until every other method is tried: for we ought not to use fraud in any case whatsoever, but trust all our affairs in the hands of a kind Providence; and, be assured, my dear, if we do, we shall not be disappointed. And I verily believe, that we shall be extricated out of these troubles and difficulties, and be happier in each other than if those difficulties had never befallen us. Some things that have come under my observation of late, fully evinces the above observation.

I shall not, however, engage in this undertaking without your approbation; and shall therefore wait your answer to this before I proceed any farther. For it shall be wholly in your power to command me, either to go or stay, as you shall think most conducive to your happiness. At the same time, you may rest assured, that I am wholly your's; and shall remain so, either at home or abroad.

And now, my dearest Miss Polly, let us put our whole trust in that Providence which is able to keep us in all these changes and vicissitudes of life, and bring good out of evil—which I pray may be the happy case with you and me. And I cannot but make some de­pendence on being happy in you, after these storms are overblown.

I RECEIVED your letter with as true af­fection, perhaps, as you wrote it; but language will fail me to describe the gratitude of my heart, for your regard and tenderness to me, after your having expe­rienced such insulting behaviour and outrageous lan­guage from my father. But there is no comparison between virtue and vice: for virtue will ever set a man above resentment at the little foibles of those that have no regard to virtue; causing him to act consistent­ly in every occurrence of life; not even aiming to take the advantage of the low minded; but passing on in qui­et, through the boisterous tumults of a noisy world, with a mind fully fixed, and firmly rested, on a kind Provi­dence; he is willing to wait the determination of that Providence; and not to rush into fraudulent measures to extricate himself out of difficulty. This is the cha­racteristic of my dear Mr. Danford, when, at the same time, those, that are not possessed of your noble mind, would try to retaliate and use every kind of fraud, to be revenged on such as they think are their ene­mies; by which means they often involve themselves in inextricable difficulties, which often end in their ut­ter ruin.

But to return: I think you have pitched upon a noble mode of conduct, which cannot fail of salutary effects. It will, doubtless, be productive of my enlarge­ment. And, in the time of your absence, something, I doubt not, will turn up to our advantage in an honor­able way, which will be vastly preferable to the same end gained in a clandestine manner. For, to use your language, I don't think fraud ought to be used in any [Page 31] case whatsoever. If we trust to Providence, I don't think we shall be disappointed.

I fully acquiesce in your proposal of visiting the eastern part of the world. And may your life and health be preserved, and the best of heaven's blessings attend you, until you return, richly experiencing the kind hand of Providence. In the mean time, I expe­rience great trials, and afflictions on your account: for my father, using me with great severity, has confined me to the house; except that I have the privilege of the garden, with my maid to attend me as usual. But his severity has only this effect, to increase my affec­tions to you: causing me to see the vast disparity be­tween a virtuous character, and a man whose aims are wholly confined to this world. But I must tell you that I have gained my mother over on my side, who no doubt will try all in her power to help me.

I still expect to suffer great trials; but am determin­ed to adhere firmly to the promise I made you. And you may rest assured, that I will prove constant to you even to a punctilio. Neither shall any trouble that I may meet with lessen my attachment to you. I have re­quested of my father to allow me to go to my uncle's at Philadelphia, and was denied. But I shall renew my request when you are gone, and perhaps by the inter­ference of my mother, I may gain his consent. But I hope I shall conduct myself in all these affairs, so as that I may be blameless, and have a conscience void of offence; ever trusting and looking to him for aid, who is able to rescue in the greatest distress.

And so I conclude with my warmest and most unfeigned wishes, and prayers, that you may be re­turned in safety to your friend and humble servant,

IT has been some time since I wrote to you; and longer since I received a line from you. I have a great many things to tell you; for you say you wish to be informed of all the occurrences relative to Mr. Danford. Accordingly, I shall proceed without any apology. And, in the first place, I will inform you that Mr. Danford sent me a letter, informing me of his design of going in the ship Goodspeed, to the East Indies, if agreeable to me. To which I returned an answer, that I had no objection. And now he is gone, having sailed about a fortnight ago; since which, I have had the old story over again; my father having had another discourse with me, in which he told me, that Mr. Danford was now gone to a far distant country, (which plainly shewed, as was always his opinion, that he did not set much by me, notwithstanding all his pro­fessions of esteem;) as he is now gone, said he, the mat­ter is at an end. For now he hath plainly showed what he was after, that he wanted the lamb for the sake of her fleece. For, when he saw that he was not likely to have any of my estate, his love soon came to nothing; and now he has run away. Well, Polly, I can soon make up your loss, for I have invited Mr. Stapleton to pay you another visit, and I hope now he will have better success, since your idol hath forsaken you. And I hope you will receive him in a more polite manner than you did when he was here before; at least, I hope you will receive him with common civility. And what say you, Polly, to another visit from Mr. Staple­ton?

Dear Sir, said I, if I tell you, that I cannot re­ceive his visits, you will be angry with me. But if I [Page 33] must answer you directly to your question, I must say, that I don't desire to see him on any such account. And if he gives himself the trouble of calling upon me, I cannot discourse with him upon the subject you mentioned. Therefore I beg to be excused from see­ing him at all, for it is impossible for me to think of placing him in any other relation to me, than he now stands in.

Polly, said my father, you are of an incorrigible temper, and take more delight in displeasing me than any thing you do. If Mr. Stapleton was ever so agreea­ble to you, yet, I believe you would reject him mere­ly to displease me.

Sir, said I, I should be happy in pleasing my papa, if it was in my power. But as for encouraging Mr. Stapleton, I cannot: for my worldly happiness doth wholly depend upon my not being connected with him. And do you, Sir, wish to make me wretched for life? I cannot think you do—but, dear Sir, let me be excused from seeing Mr. Stapleton, dear Sir, do!

At this, my father broke out into a violent rage, and said, that if I did not receive him kindly, he would turn me out of his house and disinherit me; and nev­er regard me again, any more than he would a stran­ger. He then charged me to mind how I behaved myself, for he would not, he said, bear such treatment from me in future.—And so he dismissed me.

I went to my chamber, and spent the remainder of the day and evening in lamenting my great afflic­tion, and then wrote thus far, and shall still continue, writing, until I have an opportunity to send you what I have written.

My dear Miss Sophia, I will now proceed with my narrative, and relate our further proceedings; for I have had another discourse with my mother, and thus it began. As my mother and I were sitting togeth­er, she bid the maid go down and stay till she should ring for her. She then said to me, Polly, your fath­er is much set upon your receiving another visit from Mr. Stapleton; and perhaps, as Mr. Danford has now [Page 34] left the country, you will think more favourable of Mr. Stapleton than you did before. It being uncer­tain that Mr. Danford will ever come near you again. For it appears to me that he would never have under­taken such a voyage, had he set as high a value upon you as he pretended: for he might well think you would be married to some other man in his ab­sence. And indeed I cannot find that he ever said a word to you about his going so long a voyage: nor that he has ever sent you a letter since your father for­bid him our house. If that is the case, it is very prob­able he has done thinking of you in any other view, than that of a common acquaintance.

Dear ma'am, said I, I cannot think of Mr. Staple­ton; and I wish I might not be under the necessity of seeing him again. But I don't see how I can avoid it: and yet you told me that you would stand my friend; and do, dear mamma, stand by me—for I cannot think of having any body but Mr. Danford.

Well, Polly, said she, has Mr. Danford sent you any letters of late? Upon my acknowledging that he had, she desired me to let her see them; and upon her promising the utmost secresy, I consented; and immediately fetched her two letters that I received from Mr Danford, and copies of the two letters that I sent him, and gave them into her hand. She read them, and gave them to me again — saying, well, Polly, I see now, that the matter is settled between Mr. Danford and you: and it will be in vain for Mr. Stapleton to renew his visits to you. But I think it will be best for you to use him with politeness, on your father's account; for I dread the consequence if you should not—as your father's heart seems to be bound up in Mr. Stapleton; and if you finally reject him, I fear he will turn you off entirely, and wholly disinherit you.

Dear Madam, said I, as for his disinheriting me, it does not trouble me much—for great riches have not the charms with me that they have with some.— My heart is not wholly set on the things of this world. As to an estate, you know, ma'am, that Mr. Dan­ford [Page 35] is in possession of a good estate, and the interest that my uncle left me, is something considerable— which, placed together, will make a fortune, fully an­swering the utmost of my wishes. But then I dread my father's displeasure; and I would do any thing to gain his blessing, consistent with my former solemn promises: for a parent's blessing is an essential thing with me—I prize that above all my father's estate. You don't know, Madam, how many tears it has cost me already; for I do nothing but cry night and day.— But it gives me great consolation, to think you are my friend, because, now I can unbosom my mind to you, which is a great relief to me.

As for my being favourable to Mr. Stapleton, I cannot in any sense of the word: for if I should, and then reject him, it would only exasperate my father the more. And so I think it will be best to use him plainly: for if there must be a storm with my father, it may as well be now, as six months hence. But if matters should be desperate with my father, do be so kind, as to intercede with him to let me go and pay my uncle Finter, of Philadelphia, a visit: my aunt Finter having sent me a letter, desiring me to wait on her this season and spend the winter there. Now, Madam, if you could prevail with my father, to give his consent for me to go; and if I should stay there some time, perhaps, something might turn up that would reconcile my father to me. At least it would have this effect, that I should be out of the way of Mr. Stapleton; and then he would soon address some other person; for one is as good as another, with him. As he is void of any kind of love, or tender feelings, person­al qualifications are not an object with him. Doubt­less, he would be glad of money; for his mind is whol­ly set on the world. If he should marry some other person, it would relieve me of that trouble; and, per­haps, something would turn up, that I might gain my father's affections, and blessing; which would be a happy event to me. And now, Madam, mayn't I de­pend on your aid in this matter? May I not?

Polly, said she, I will think on this matter, and per­haps [Page 36] I may assist you; for I think it best for you to go to your uncle's, and spend the winter there. And after this visit of Mr. Stapleton is over, I will impor­tune your father on your behalf. But you must keep these things to yourself, on my account. For should your father know of this discourse, he would be dis­pleased at me, as well as at you.

Upon this, I went out; and now you see that I must have another interview with Mr. Stapleton. And O, how I dread that interview! But I am re­solved to use him very plainly. Don't you think 'twill be the best way? Well, that must be the subject of another letter; in the mean time, assure yourself that I am, &c.

I WILL now continue my narrative, with­out much regard to method, as I am writing to my Miss Sophia, who will make proper allowances.

Well, Mr. Stapleton has paid me another visit; and the creature came in full assurance of success; being filled with a sense of his own importance. Indeed, he is, naturally, very self-sufficient. Well, I thought I would use him with a little pleasantry, to see if I could not shame him; and, at the same time, divert my self. My father having introduced him to me, in form, immediately withdrew. And he, seating him­self by me, said, well, Miss Polly, I am come to pay you another visit; and I hope it will be more agree­able to you now, than when I called upon you the oth­er day. What say you?

[Page 37]Perhaps, Mr. Stapleton, said I, you and I may be­come acquainted yet, in spite of my best endeavours to the contrary. For you are so good, Sir, as to pay your respects officiously. But I wish to know on what errand you have come; and then I shall know how to discourse with you.

I have come, said he, upon the old score of court­ship; and hope now, you will not say to me, nay: see­ing Mr. Danford is gone; that being your chief ob­jection before. And I expected to have been received now with open arms; and that you would have been more earnestly engaged in the business, than I should myself.

It is a wonder, Sir, said I, that I have not been to your house, before now, on this same business; but I beg you to excuse me, Sir, because it is not agreeable to the rules of decorum, for a maiden to address a man on that subject. But I must tell you, Sir, that I should think much better of you, if you could distinguish be­tween real affection, and real hatred. But I find you are void of quick discernment, or else you are wilful­ly blinded, and won't discern.

Be that as it may, said he, I will not give up my pretensions to you; as your father promises to aid me all in his power. Nay, I will even worry you with my visits, and perhaps, by and bye, you will think more favorably of me. And so I do not despair of success yet.

Well Sir, said I, I am already greatly worried with your visits; and yet you may well despair of success: for I declare positively, that you shall never succeed with me. And if you had the least discernment, you would not have given yourself the trouble to call up­on me, at this time. And, indeed, had you the least sense of honor, you would, now, quit all your pretensions; and try to gain me my father's affection, that you have been the means of alienating from me. Had you a generous heart, you would try to extricate me out of the difficulty you have brought me into. But I can't depend upon your generosity: fearing that you are wholly destitute of that nobleness of mind. But you being an egotist, and self-admirer, are led to think it [Page 38] impossible but that every one must like you: And it is of no avail to use reason with you; because you are not possessed, in any considerable degree of that noble qualification, which raiseth the humane above the bru­tal creation. Perhaps, Sir, I shall raise your choler; and I don't care if I do: because you deserve to be dealt plainly with, at least, from me. For you have been the cause of great trouble and affliction to me. And now, Sir, why won't you be so kind, as to quit all thoughts of me, and let me try to extricate myself out of those entanglements, as well as I can? For 'twill be fruitless, to say any thing more to me on that subject; as I am fully determined in my own mind; and unaltera­bly set against any alliance with you, of such a nature. And, dear Sir, if you will give me no more trouble on this score, I shall ever esteem you as my father's friend, and my benefactor.

But, said he, perhaps I shall get your father's dis­pleasure, if I don't persist. Indeed, I am almost dis­couraged: and if it was not for your father, I would relinquish all pretensions to you; but I don't know how he will like it, if I should. Dear Sir, said I, my father will not resent the matter with you; but I shall feel the weight of his resentment. Then, Sir, you will leave me, won't you? What say you to this?

I will not, said he, insist any more upon it at pres­ent; and so I hope you will think as favourable of me as you can. So taking his leave of me, he went out, and told my father, that he found me wholly averse to any alliance with him; and thought it best to drop the matter; thanked my father for his favour­able opinion of him, took his leave of him, and with­drew.

I have not seen my father since, but I fear his dis­pleasure greatly. Dear Miss Sophia, these are trying scenes; for 'tis hard to disobey parents; but in this thing, I cannot obey my father. Yet I would not wilfully do a wrong thing for the world! And, O that I may so behave myself, as that I may, in some meas­ure, be blameless! But, Miss Sophia, one word to you. I have heard that Mr. Granbe has paid his ad­dresses [Page 39] to you. How is it? Is the account that I had of it true? You must tell me, without any reserve. Well, he is a gentleman, in the true sense of the word; is endowed with a noble mind, and worthy of any body's esteem; and I am sure you will not slight him.

Well now, Miss Sophia, I shall expect a letter from you; for you have a good subject now to write upon, and I want some of your advice. At the same time, you may assure yourself, that

I HAVE read your letters with emotion, and I feel for you in every line. Your trials are truly complicated; having an angry father at home, who ought to give you protection, and endeavour to secure your morals: but who, on the contrary, is turned against you, and is trying to destroy them. And abroad, the man in whom you placed your whole de­light, is abandoning his country on your account.

Well, now let us look on the bright side. I am ex­ceeding glad that you have gained your mother over; and as you are rid of Mr. Stapleton, it is not likely you will meet with any more trouble from that quarter; upon which event I do heartily congratulate you.

Your proposition of going to your uncle's at Phila­delphia, I think, is a good thought of your's; for if you can once get there, perhaps you can easily gain liberty to continue there till Mr. Danford returns; and I doubt not, but, by the help of your mother, you [Page 40] will gain your father's consent to your going. I know you ever had a desire to visit your aunt, and this will be a lucky opportunity, as you will spring two mines at once; you will get clear of these domestic disquie­tudes, and pay your aunt, and cousins, a visit at the same time.

Well, as to what you wrote about my own affairs, do you think I will acquaint you with my love affairs; and let you into those transactions, which delicacy and prudence, in our sex, require us to conceal? Yes, to my Miss Polly, I will write, without any kind of re­serve.

Well, the affair was introduced in the following manner. One day, as I sat in the summer-house, at the end of our garden, I saw my father enter the gar­den, with Mr. Granbe. They walked the garden, and seemed to be engaged in discourse. After taking several winding-walks, but still bending their course towards the summer-house, at length they came to the door. I arose, paid my respects, and was going to withdraw; but my father said to me, Sophia, this gentlemen wishes to have some discourse with you for a few minutes; and then he immediately with­drew. We seated ourselves in the summer-house, and discoursed together for some time; since which he has renewed his visits often. He is a gentleman of a noble mind and generous heart; is very polite, and seems to have a tender regard for me: he is of a serious turn of mind; and, I think, one may fully trust to his honour. But the most fortunate circumstance is, that he is a favourite of my father's. Now, what objection can I have to such a man? Or what objections have you to such an alliance for your Sophia? Will you send me your thoughts on the subject, and at the same time continue your narrative? For I must know all your proceedings; and so you must write without any reserve. And at the same time, you may look upon me as your most faithful friend and servant,

AS it has been some time since I wrote to you, I have several things to inform you of: for I have met with more hard things, and experienced more of my father's displeasure. But now I am all joyous; and so you see I go from one extreme to the other. But to continue my narrative.—My father and I have had another ecclaircissement: for he called upon me to explain to him, the reasons of my conduct of late, and said he would have an answer to his question, without the least evasion.

Sir, said I, what part of my conduct would you wish me to explain to you?

I will have you explain to me, said he, the reasons why you disobeyed me, in not encouraging Mr. Sta­pleton.

There are many reasons, Sir, said I, which I can give, why I could not encourage him. In the first place, he is a man that I could never love or esteem; and then his morals are altogether naughty: for he cares not for right or wrong. He is not possessed of that turn of mind that would be in any degree agreea­ble to me—for he seems to me to be formed for a ty­rant. Why, he once told me, that he should first take care to gain my obedience, and then look out for my love and esteem. Now, Sir, that plainly shows that he means to make a slave of his wife. And would you wish, Sir, that your daughter should live in a state of vassalage all her days, and be in a worse condition than the meanest of your dependants? And, indeed Sir, I should rather be a servant in some families, than to be his wife. And I hope, Sir, you will forgive my seeming disobedience, now you have heard my inducements to reject him.

[Page 42]But he is very rich, said my father, and you know money answers all things; and why need you care about his morals, as long as he has money enough? His morals won't effect you—you may look to your own rectitude, and let his alone. A large estate is all that you ought to look after, when going to be mar­ried.

Dear Sir, said I, I must differ from you in senti­ment relative to the choice of a companion. Are not virtue and nobleness of mind, vastly preferable to rich­es and grandeur? For riches may be suddenly taken from a man, and then if he has nothing else to recom­mend him, he will be in a poor condition indeed. A person of no morals is not to be trusted, but a virtuous person will be trusted and respected in whatever sta­tion of life he may be in. As to a man's bad morals not effecting his wife, I cannot join with you, Sir: for a man's word is his wife's security: but where one cannot trust to her husband's honour, how can she feel herself safe? And then, such an one will bring disgrace upon himself; and how can the man be disgraced without his companion participating in it? For that connection, let me remind you, dear Sir, is, or ought to be, very near.

On the other hand, a virtuous man is ever the hon­our, and glory of his wife. Such a man will ever come into one's presence with that serenity and cheerful­ness in his countenance, which is a true emblem of greatness of mind. And indeed, such men, and such only, are capable of that tenderness, love, and great­ness of soul, that would ever cause me to delight in the other sex. And now, Sir, I hope I have answer­ed your demand, as to this subject.

Well, Polly, said he, you have disobliged me to that degree, that for the future, I shall not give my­self any trouble about you; and you must not expect ever to share in my affections or estate, as you would if you had not disobeyed me.

Dear papa, said I, if I may expect to have your blessing, I will be content, as I shall prize that above any thing. And may not I expect▪ Sir, to have your [Page 43] consent to my spending the winter with my aunt Fin­ter, at Philadelphia? Do, dear Sir, give me your consent to go, will you? I had rather you would go than not, said he, and you may stay there, until you come home more obedient to your father, than you are at present.

I thank you, Sir, said I, and it shall ever be my study to please my papa in all things that I possibly can: for there is nobody that has a greater affection for a father than I have, or would do more for a par­ent than I would. And so I withdrew. But it was a hard task to me, to talk so much to my father on that subject: for I am ever struck with an awe, when I come into his presence, as he has a very stern ma­jestic countenance, and seems to look one through. Well, I am now preparing for my visit, and shall set out in less than a month. I am determined to go in the stage-coach, being quite averse to water carriage. And now you may see I am all life, having gained my point farther than I expected. And who knows but I shall gain a complete deliverance after a while. It is best, I see, not to run ourselves into ruin, but wait upon the movements of Providence, and trust our­selves wholly to a divine care, which I hope to do in some measure. And I will yet venture myself in the hands of that Divine Power, who cannot do amiss.

Well, now, as to your affairs with Mr. Granbe. Why, your courtship goes on swimmingly; and I suppose you have nearly arrived at the haven of matri­mony. Well, look out, if you should arrive there before I do. Do you ask for my objections to Mr. Granbe? I have no objections; but, on the contrary, I think he is a gentleman, in the genuine sense of the word; and that you cannot do better than to receive his visits. And besides, it seems your family are all delighted with him. And your father is a man of quick discernment, and is a good judge of men, and their pretensions.

I AM greatly rejoiced to find you have gain­ed your father's consent to visit your aunt Finter. I am inclined to think, that your sufferings on that score are nearly at an end; for certainly, when Mr. Dan­ford arrives at Philadelphia, and finds you there, he will, doubtless, marry you without waiting for your father's consent. And I don't see where the wrong will be, as he will find you out of your father's pro­tection. And as your father has threatened to disin­herit you, it will make no difference whether you please him, or not. If I was in your place, I should be glad of such an opportunity to steal a march upon them. Indeed, I could not help exulting a little, upon frustrating their views, though they were my parents. But I don't know whether it would be right or not. Perhaps you will send me your thoughts on the sub­ject in your next letter: for I expect to receive letters from you, even from Philadelphia. And you must write all the occurrences relative to your courtship, until you are married. And I shall expect one letter from you soon after you arrive there.

Well, as to my own affairs. You seem to threaten me if I should get married before you; but you don't say what shall be the punishment. And therefore, 'tis ten to one if I don't; for matters go on in as just a train as can be expected. Mr. Granbe continues his visits, and I expect that we shall soon stand in a differ­ent capacity to each other, than what we do at pres­ent. Well, when this event takes place, I will write and inform you of it. And so I conclude, wishing you peace and prosperity, and every enjoyment that life can afford.

I AM now safely arrived at my uncle Finter's house in Philadelphia. My uncle Finter is a very noble minded man indeed. He is an ornament to the age he lives in; being, besides, otherwise qualified, quite a religious man. He has a large estate, and car­ries on an extensive trade; and, of course, has a large family; yet not one of his family is allowed to be ab­sent at the time of prayers, which are constantly per­formed by himself every night and morning. And all under his care are enjoined to attend constantly on public worship, on the Lord's day; except they have such an excuse as they dare appear before their Judge with, at the last day. And all are commanded to let their conversation be modest▪ and to live, as if they expected to give an account of their behaviour and conduct in life. After I have told you this, you may expect that they have a very modest, regular family. And, indeed, I never lived in such a delightful family before. For you know that religion always appeared beautiful to me. And how different is this family from many in the world! And even from my father's! For he being a lover of the world, gave himself no trouble about religious duties; in which I always thought he was faulty. But it is my earnest prayer that he may see his mistake, and reform, before it is too late. 'Tis my opinion, that if a man did not think well of relig­ion, yet he would find his account in setting up such a regulation in his family; if it were only for the sake of the government of his house. But my uncle is quite a thoughtful man; and takes delight in the perform­ance of his duty, which seems to impress one's mind [Page 46] with holy thoughts, that carry one quite out of them­selves, and give one the foretaste of those delights that are reserved for them, who love virtue, and are willing to suffer for religion. My uncle and aunt have been made acquainted with my story; are very kind to me, and try to make me as easy as possible. And, as I am of a sober turn of mind, my uncle takes delight in dis­coursing with me; and often tells me, that I shall not go home again, until Mr. Danford returns He tells me he has seen Mr. Danford, and was delighted with him at their first acquaintance. If Mr. Danford, said my uncle, was not possessed of one copper of estate▪ I should prefer him in every respect, to any rich, selfish clown whatever. But I am informed, said he, that his circumstances are quite easy; and you must make yourself easy with us, Polly, till Mr. Danford returns, who will touch in here, as the ship is partly to unload in this port; and we will write to your father, not doubting but his consent can be obtained to your mar­riage. In the mean time, you must make yourself as easy, and as free, as if you were in your father's house. And furthermore, child, said he, I desire you would look upon me as a father, until your other father is re­conciled to you; which event, I have no doubt, will he brought about in a happy manner. In the mean time, I shall look upon you as one of my daughters. And you must not harbour a thought of being burden­some to us; for we delight to have you in the family, and shall regret your departure, whenever the time comes that we must be deprived of you. And so you see, Miss Sophia, that I may make myself easy; and indeed I should, if I had but my father's blessing. But what do you think I could say to my uncle? Why I could do nothing but cry for joy, I think, which my uncle saw with pleasure: for he is a man of dis­cernment, and can distinguish between tears of joy, and those of a troubled heart. But I recovered my­self as well as I could, and thanked him for his kind­ness to, and tenderness of me. But my heart seemed as if it would have left its orbit, on such a tender dis­course as this was. For having had nothing but rough [Page 47] usage of late, and now having all these tender ex­pressions heaped on me; indeed it was almost too much for me. But my uncle and aunt often discourse on these subjects, and sometimes on religion; and in­deed they try all in their power to make my present situation agreeable to me.

I will now give you some account of my cousins. My uncle has four children, three daughters and a lit­tle son. The oldest daughter is about fourteen; nam­ed Sally, after my aunt. She is a sweet girl, and I take great delight in her company; and indeed we are almost always together. And it seems to please my uncle much, that I set so much by her; for he is very fond of his children; and well enough he may be, they being very promising, and modest behaved.

Now, as to my journey, I came in the stage, attend­ed only by my maid Ann, who has engaged to stay with me until I return. She is a sober, well-behaved girl; is enamoured with the regularity of the family, and wishes she could always live in such an one.

As there was nothing uncommon in our journey, I shall pass it over. But as to what you said, about my marrying without my father's consent, and stealing a march upon them, and then exulting in their mortifi­cation, I shall never agree to it: for I hold myself bound to obey my father still, as much as if he had not used me with such severity; and I shall not be mar­ried without his consent, if it is possible to obtain it. But I can make little dependence on that; although my uncle has promised to gain his consent, if possible. When you are married, I hope you will write to in­form me; and if you write by the post, I shall soon get your letters.

YOUR letter has been received, and has given me very pleasing sensations; to think you was so delightfully received by your uncle and aunt. What a good and amiable man your uncle is! One that is formed to soothe the distressed, ease the burden­ed, and comfort the troubled. You may well feel yourself easy in such a house as his is; it being every way calculated to allay the troubles of the mind. For where there is so much good nature, modesty, regu­larity, and real religion, one cannot help being calm in one's mind. A ship's crew, that for many days, has been beaten, and drove about with a violent storm, and all at once, find themselves in a safe and commo­dious harbour, must feel a satisfaction inexpressible: so it must have been with my dear Miss Polly, after having escaped the rocks and quicksands which you had like to been driven among; to find yourself in so good a harbour as your uncle's is. And I do greatly rejoice that you have got safely at your uncle's house.

But now, as to my own affairs; I have been mar­ried these two months, and have got to house-keeping, if you'll believe me. Perhaps you may think that we were in haste. But Mr. Granbe's circumstances required it; and what objection could I have to it? Well, you will want to know how my—what shall I call him? Why, a husband—and so there you have the word at large. Well, as I was going to say, you will want to know how he behaves to me. Why, very politely. But he is not one of those frantic lovers, that heap all upon one at once; and then have no more to say about love, or affections all their days after­ward. [Page 49] But he leaves something for improvement; and indeed, he does improve in his attentions to me every day. And then, he is always the most complai­sant to me in company: and never says any thing at my expense, in company. There are some men, that will say shocking things of their wives, only to raise a laugh in company; and don't think of what will be the effect; which will inevitably be this, that other men will take the same liberty of speech with them, they do themselves. But Mr. Granbe is not ashamed to be polite to, and tender of me, in company: Indeed he is a very regular, sober man in his house; and keeps up those regulations in his family, that you speak so highly of in your uncle. And he being a man that has all my affections and esteem, I feel myself entirely easy in my situation.

Well now, one word about your father; he has met with some capital losses since you went away, which has considerably perplexed his affairs; and I heard, by the bye, that he applied to your broth­er Murfee for assistance; and that he refused to help him. For Murfee is just such another as himself. And he might well think he would not help him. He will look well at home, and let others shift for them­selves: for he does not care who sinks, if he can swim. But I feel grieved for your mother; for she is cer­tainly a delightful woman! Indeed she is.

AS I have not written you a letter since you have been at your uncle's, except just to inform you of our health, &c.

[Page 50]I will now inform you of our circumstances, which are in a distressful situation. For we have lost a ship, and a brig: both richly loaded. The ship returning from the East-Indies, with a very valuable cargo, was cast away, and all lost. The brig met with the same fate; and the rest of our shipping have made but small returns. In consequence of these losses, your father has been obliged to mortgage the largest part of his landed interest; and in vain has he applied to your brother Murfee for relief; although the estate is mort­gaged for not more than half of its real value; and though he offered to secure the lands to your brother, if he would only take up the mortgage, so that the estate might not go out of the family; yet he refused, and returned him this answer, that he would not in­volve himself to help another out of difficulty. And if he had been so unwise, as to run himself into irre­trievable ruin, he must abide by the consequence.

You and your sister Jenny, are all the children we have left; for Murfee has wholly abandoned us: and your father has used Mr. Danford and you so roughly, that if Mr. Danford was at home, and you were mar­ried, we could not expect any relief from you. The thoughts of which, together with our present distress, is almost too much for me.

But this trouble has had so good effect on your father, that it has opened his eyes, to see the difference between riches and virtue. And he says, that he re­pents heartily of his folly, in using Mr. Danford and you with such severity; and wishes to see Mr. Dan­ford, that he might immediately ask his forgiveness, and make an offer of you to him. He is, also, re­joiced to think, that you escaped Mr. Stapleton.

I can now inform you, that Mr. Stapleton is mar­ried, and to just such another as himself; and, that they live very unhappily together. Indeed they have had their house on fire two or three times, already; and, at such times, she seeks refuge at her father's; and then Mr. Stapleton has nothing to do, but to tackle his coach and go after her. And after some abatement [Page 51] on both sides, she is willing to go home with him a­gain: and thus they must wear out a miserable life together; being never likely to enjoy any peace or happiness in this world. And what a blessing it is, my dear, that you steered clear of this rock!

My dear child, you must forgive your father; in­deed you must! For he loves you as well as a father ought to love a child: and I really believe, that his severity to you, at that time, was designed by him for your good. But your father thinks otherwise now; for he sees there is a great disparity between virtue and vice; and that virtue, with poverty, is preferable to vice accompanied with riches; and so, Polly, you will forgive your father, won't you? And I should be glad if you would send us a letter, and tell us whether you can, and will forgive us, or not. And O, that you was here with us. But all in good time▪ For I sup­pose you look for Mr. Danford, by this time; and I would not deprive you of an interview with him, at his arrival, by desiring you to come home; knowing that his absence has been very tedious to you; your heart, I know, being always with him. For you two seem to be formed for each other: and I hope, ere long, you will stand in a nearer relation to one another, than you have heretofore done.

As to our misfortunes, they are very grievous to the mind; being repugnant to nature, and an idea of grandeur. But, no doubt, they are designed for our good, and, perhaps, will terminate for our happiness in this world, as well as in that which is to come; for it will certainly serve to wean us from the world. And I think it has had a good effect on your father already; who has become a great advocate for virtue, and speaks well of religion. And now, my dear daughter, let us live in this world, as if we expected that this was not our abiding place; and let us use the things of this world as only lent to us, and be willing to part with them at any time, when the great Bestower of every blessing shall think best to deprive us of them. For we, and all we have, are at his disposal. And it is best for us to rejoice at all times, that we are in his hands, who [Page 52] cannot do a wrong thing: "For shall not the God of all the earth do right?" And my dear child, let us so live, as that we shall not be afraid to die.

That you may be returned to us in peace, experience every blessing while in this world, and at last be re­ceived by your Judge in peace, is the earnest prayer of your affectionate mother,

P. S. Your father sends his blessing to you, and wishes you every good that this world can afford; to­gether with peace of mind, which is the best gift of heaven.

I RECEIVED your kind letter; and it greatly rejoiced my heart, to find you so kind to me, and to have you relate your affairs to me, especially my father's reformation. And, dear ma'am, if the loss of his estate has opened his eyes, to see the empti­ness of the things of this world, when compared to virtue; and to see the preference of religion to riches; I think he has gained more than he has lost. And O, ma'am, how acceptable was my father's blessing to me, which I prize above all my father's estate. Upon reading your kind letter, to find my father was well inclined to Mr. Danford, and that he gave his consent to our marriage; and then to receive his blessing in form, was almost too much for me. Tears of joy ran plentifully from my eyes; and, indeed, it seemed to raise me above myself; and I was in such an ecstacy, [Page 53] that 'twas some time before I could find myself de­scended to my proper orbit again.

As for my father, I do most heartily forgive, and will entirely forget whatever he has done, that was grievous to me. And, dear ma'am, tell him that I will do all in my power, to extricate him out of his present embarrassment. You know the estate that my uncle left me, has been let for a number of years, and the rent is now due; which, with the money that I have on interest, will amount to a considerable sum; and, if he chuses, he may call on my trustee for that money, before my return.

But I hope it will not be long before I shall have the happiness of throwing myself before you both, and receiving your blessing from your own mouths. For Mr. Danford has arrived here, having made a capital return; and will accompany this, with a letter to my father.

I showed him the letter that I received from you; and he was much pleased that my father was reconcil­ed to him. My uncle will write, and therefore I shall not say any thing about him. And I suppose you have seen the letter I sent to Mrs. Sophia Granbe; for which reasons, I shall not give you any account of my uncle's family; only that they continue to show me every mark of affection and kindness; and seem to be as tender of me, as if I was one of their daughters. My uncle is set upon it, that I shall be married at his house: he always calls me his eldest daughter; and he says, his eldest daughter shall not be married out of his house.

Dear mamma, you must think of these things, and at the same time, you may assure yourself, that I am your dutiful and affectionate daughter,

PERMIT me to address you with a line on a very tender and interesting subject; and, dear Sir, let it meet with your approbation. When I ar­rived at this place, Mr. Finter informed me that your daughter was at his house; and invited me to wait up­on her, which I did with the greatest pleasure imagi­nable: for I need not inform you, that she engrosses all my attention, and that my heart is wholly her's; and sorry I am, that there was any misunderstanding between you and I. But I flatter myself, that what you did at that time proceeded from a true paternal care of, and affection towards your daughter, and not to any personal dislike to myself. In hopes of a more favourable reception, I venture to address you on that subject again, and ask your consent to our marriage. And if such an alliance will be agreeable to you▪ Sir, may not I expect to have a letter from you? For I must tell you, that I cannot make myself happy with­out I can call her my own; for my worldly happiness doth greatly depend on that alliance.

I hope, Sir, you will forgive me in every particu­lar, wherein I might have incurred your displeasure in times past; and will rest assured of your kind conde­scension towards me, and shall hold myself obliged to obey you in whatsoever commands you shall be pleas­ed to lay upon me. At the same time, Sir, assure yourself, that I am your friend, and humble servant,

WE have heard of your losses and mis­fortunes, and do truly sympathize with you in your troubles. But we must consider that these are all the doings of Providence, whose ways are past finding out, and knows how to lay afflictions on his children; and at the same time, bring good out of evil. For many times he doth try them in the furnace of affliction, that those virtues, which lay buried in the dross of the world, may shine forth and be conspicuous to those that are around them. And I doubt not, but these afflictions of your's will all work for your good. Nay, I am morally certain, that they will. You must be patient, arming your mind with virtue and religion.

But I have another subject to write upon: for Mr. Danford has returned from the East Indies, and has arrived here with the richest cargo I ever saw. He has taken up his lodgings at my house, and I am en­amoured with him. For indeed, brother, he is every thing one could wish for in a gentleman. He has a noble mind, that is above every little action, is sober, virtuous, and well-bred: and, in short, he is endowed with every accomplishment that will be­speak one's esteem and affections. I understand you did not affect Mr. Danford before he went his voyage; but I hope you have thought better of the matter since: for I must tell you, that if he addressed one of my daughters, and had not the tenth part of the estate which he now has, yet I should rather encourage him, than that she should be married to one of an independ­ent fortune, who wanted his endowments. And as [Page 56] Polly has been some time with us, (and indeed I look upon her as one of my own daughters) I must request you to consent, that she may give her hand to Mr. Danford, who is, at present, in possession of her heart. And I intend she shall be married at my house, and you must give your consent to both of these proposals; for indeed, I cannot be denied. After which Mr. Danford will convey her to your house, and in him you will find a son, that you will not be ashamed of. I shall depend upon a letter from you, as soon as you can convey it, for I have begun to prepare for the nup­tials already. And so you see I am set upon having them celebrated at my house, and you must not deny me.

Well, a word in regard to my family, who are in health, and send their love and respects to you and your's, hoping you are enjoying the same blessing; and that you may yet live to see many prosperous days, and at the last enjoy endless happiness, wishes and prays,

I RECEIVED your letter, and am rejoiced that you have arrived in safety to this country again. I want to see you very much; for my behaviour to­wards you before you went your voyage, was altogeth­er exceptionable; and indeed, I am greatly ashamed of my conduct, for which I now ask your forgiveness.

But in your letter, you ask my forgiveness. Does Mr. Danford ask my forgiveness? And for what? [Page 57] I am sure, Sir, you never wronged me in the least— your behaviour, Sir, was ever consistent with virtue, and a religious mind—whilst mine was quite the reverse. For at that time my whole mind was set on riches and grandeur. But since your absence, I have experien­ced such vicissitudes in fortune, as I think hath fully opened my eyes. And now it appears to me, that wealth ought not to be mentioned in comparison of virtue. Indeed, Sir, religion appears beautiful to me. And now I hope you will not look upon me with ab­horrence, as I know you love those who love relig­ion.

You wrote to me for my consent to your entering into an alliance with our family, which I freely grant with pleasure: and you may either bring Polly home before you are married, or may complete your happi­ness at my brother's—as you chuse. For my brother is somewhat earnest that the ceremony should be per­formed at his house. I shall expect you will pay your compliments to us as soon as you conveniently can: for you must not resent my conduct to you. And as I know you are of a kind, forgiving temper, I doubt not but you will overlook those faults I have been guilty of. And do tell Polly, that she should forgive me the wrong I have done her, and not think hard of me. For at that time I did really think, that I was seeking her good. But a person that is blinded with the world, will many times do wrong things; and let her be assured, that I love her as well as a father ought to love a child—Jenny and she, being all the children that we have left.

Mr. Murfee's behaviour towards us, has been quite exceptionable: for he deserted us in the greatest of our difficulty, and has quite forsaken our family. But all is for the best, for it gave me a dislike to those men who make this world their god; and it gave me a rel­ish to virtue and religion. And I do rejoice now that those things have befallen me.

And now, dear Sir, let me commend you to the di­vine care and keeping; and may we live in the exer­cise [Page 58] of those virtues that will recommend us in this world, and that which is to come.

Allow me to conclude, by sending you my blessing,

I RECEIVED your kind letter with pleasure, being rejoiced to hear of your welfare. And O, how acceptable was your kind condolence for our affliction, and your so seasonable advice to us under those misfort­unes! It seemed like a cordial to the fainting heart. And indeed, brother, the letters that we have received from your house, have put new life into us. For the ways of Providence, many times, appear to us to be in­tricate and full of windings, and we can no ways com­prehend them. But how often is it that these things which we think are against us, are the very means designed for our good. And how often is it that those adverse providences towards us, work a change in our minds, and brings the creature to see his dependance on the Supreme Being. When this is the case, the person afflicted, can kiss the rod, and say, "It is good for me that I have been afflicted." And I humbly hope, that this is the effect which trouble hath pro­duced in my mind: for the world doth not appear to me as it used to. And indeed I think I have a real love for virtue and religion. I believe you will re­joice at this declaration, as coming from one that used to make the world his chiefest good. But, dear Sir, you must own me now for a brother, in a double sense. And I flatter myself that you will—for I know that virtue and religion was ever your boast, and you ever [Page 59] seemed to live above the world, although your posses­sions were large in it. This is the more admirable in you, as it is rare, for a very rich man to mind those things which will terminate in true happiness.

As to what you wrote to me, concerning Mr. Danford, and Polly, I have wrote to Mr. Danford, and have given my consent to their union; it will be needless for me to say any thing to you about it. You wrote to me, desiring, that they might be married at your house. I should be very glad to have the cere­mony performed at my house. But, as my daughter Polly found a father in you; I shall submit the mat­ter to have it performed, where it shall be most agree­able to you.

As to your recommendation of Mr. Danford, I must tell you, that he now stands as high in my esteem, as he does, or can do, in yours. And I now see the folly, in doing, as I did, by him and Polly. For I really carried my resentment to an outrageous extremity. But as I now repent of my folly, I hope they will both forgive me. And I am determined to ask their forgiveness in form. You must tell them, that I have fully repented of what I did to them; and try to en­gage them to think well of me; and I know they are both of a kind forgiving temper; therefore, I flatter my­self, that they will be reconciled to me, and that we shall yet be happy in each other.

Your sister desires to join with me, in sending our love to you and your family. That these may find you as they leave us, enjoying health, and peace of mind, prays your affectionate brother, and humble servant,

I MUST write you the particulars of Mr. Danford's arrival, and also of our marriage. As to the first, my uncle came home one day, and said he had been in company with a choice friend of his, and that he had invited him to take tea with us in the afternoon, desiring the family might be properly dressed to re­ceive him. And as he was a particular friend of his, he hoped we would receive him as politely as possible. All this time I did not in the least mistrust who it should be; but my aunt told me afterwards that she did; for, upon her asking my uncle who this friend of his could be, whom he wished us to receive with so much parade? He answered, that perhaps she might know him when he came; and so waved the subject.

Well, after dining, we all dressed anew; and the whole house was so disposed, as to receive the un­known stranger with all the politeness imaginable. My aunt, her daughter, and I, were setting together in the parlour, when my uncle entered, and with him Mr. Danford, Upon seeing him I arose, and immediately run into his arms; for the surprise was so sudden, I knew not what I did. O, Mr. Danford, said I. And indeed that was all I could say; for the interview was too much for my weak frame of body to bear; and I fainted in his arms, which greatly perplexed the com­pany; but they soon recovered me again. My dear, said my aunt to my uncle, you did not do well to sur­prize our niece to this degree. But my uncle said that he did not in the least expect it would have had such an effect on me; and that I must forgive him.

After the first emotion was over, Mr. Danford said [Page 61] a hundred tender things to me, and soothed me in the best manner he could. And indeed, he never appeared to me in such an amiable light before; for he was richly dressed: and besides, there was that nobleness in his looks, which denotes real grandeur, and consci­ous greatness. And he seemed to be more tender of me now, than when I was in prosperity in my fath­er's house; and says, he is glad it is in his power to retrieve my father's affairs, which, he says, he means to do, as soon as he arrives in those parts again, My dear Polly, said he to me, you must not think hard of me, though your sufferings have been great on my ac­count; nor for my leaving this country at the time of your trouble; for it was attended with pungent grief to me; and was wholly on your account in order to gain you your liberty. And I cannot but hope, that your father thinks more favourably of me by this time. Dear Sir, said I, you know my mind relative to your going abroad; and it is matter of joy to me, and ex­alts you in my esteem, that you did not abandon me under the insulting treatment you met with, from my father. But I know, Sir, that you are not capable of any meanness; that your mind is steady and con­sistent; and I ever supposed it was safe trusting to your word. And as to what you said concerning my father's thinking better of you now than formerly, I can assure you, Sir, that he does: for I have a letter, in my hands, which makes it obvious that my father's mind is quite altered from what it used to be.

And indeed, Mrs. Granbe, his eyes glistened with noble sensibility And there seems to be a meaning in every turn of his countenance. Well, after he had seated himself again, I put my mother's letter into his hand which contained the particulars of my father's af­fairs; which he read several times over; and then said, I am exceeding sorry for your father's misfor­tune. But, as your mother writes, it may be all for the best. As for Mr. Murfee, it seems he has behav­ed in a most shocking manner. Not to assist in their distress, the family he is so nearly connected with, dis­covers neither the son, nor the humane heart. How [Page 62] could he be so cruel? Is it possible that the noble crea­ture, man, should be so void of humanity? But your father, my dear Polly, stands high in my esteem; and I love him with a real affection. And it shall be one of my first concerns, when I return home, to set your father on as good a footing as he was before. There ever was a dignity in that man's looks, which excited my veneration. And now to have the gracious mind, joined to his other noble qualifications, will really set him in a sphere above any in those parts. What say you, Polly, to these propositions?

Dear Sir, said I, such generosity, and unmerited kindness, is almost too much for me to bear. And what shall I do on my part, to deserve all this good­ness from you? But it is consistent with your noble turn of mind. You will then forgive my father, and think well of him, and forget what he hath done to you? Yes, my dear, said he, I will. For I ever thought that his severity was owing to his love to you. For, though his aims were wrong, yet, doubtless, his inten­tions were good. And it is our duty to think as well of him now, since he has repented of that evil, as if he had never been guilty of it. Dear Sir, said I, your generosity is without an equal; and it shall be my care to merit as much with you as I can.

My uncle and aunt also gave their minds on this topic; but I have confined myself wholly to what he said on the subject. Well, Mr. Danford took up his lodgings at my uncle's, upon his invitation; so that we were more or less together every day. Mr. Danford wrote to my father for his consent to our mar­riage, and received an answer full of kind expressions, with a cheerful consent to our marriage, which raised every tender emotion in Mr. Danford, and occasioned his saying many tender things to me on that subject. Indeed, he is always full of complacency to me; and is exceeding polite to me in company; ever showing me that preference, when in company, which is cha­racteristic of the real lover, and generous mind.

My uncle wrote to my father for his consent to our being married at his house; which my father gave him, [Page 63] in a letter full of endearing expressions, at least they were so to me, for it was a penitent one; my father condemning himself, and speaking exceeding well of virtue, which was pleasing to us all. But my uncle said, that my father ever stood high in his esteem; and he thought that he never lacked but one thing, which was religion. And now he is possessed of that qualifica­tion, he must, in my esteem, outshine any that I know of.

And Polly, said he, you may, and ought to rejoice, that you have suffered; for that, I believe, has partly been the means of opening his eyes. And you may now return to your father, who will set more by you than if you had never offended him: and I hope nei­ther Mr. Danford, nor you, will retain the least resent­ment against him. But, on the contrary, endeavour to soothe him, mitigate his affliction, and make his mind as easy as possible, under his present difficulties; and you will be richly paid for what you do for him▪ even in worldly interest: for your father is yet in possession of a considerable estate.

Mr. Danford said, that he would make it one of his first concerns after his return home, to deliver my fath­er out of all difficulty. And as for his behaviour to him in times past, he should entirely bury it in oblivion▪ I also assured my uncle, that my parents should have no reason to find fault with my behaviour to them. I am rejoiced, said my uncle, to hear you make this de­claration! And as my brother has consented for you to be married at my house, agreeable to the request I made in my letter to him, you may set the time when the ceremony shall be performed, and we will make prepa­rations accordingly.

Mr. Danford said that he wished to have his happi­ness completed, as soon as it conveniently could be, and so they set the day. After this, my uncle brought home several pieces of silk, for me to choose a suit out of; and would insist on my making a choice, which I accordingly did. He furnished me with a suit com­plete, and Mr. Danford gave me a second-day suit. Now you will think that your Polly was gorgeously apparelled; well, so I was, and they would have it so; for my uncle intended to invite many of his friends, [Page 64] to attend the nuptials. Well, at length the appointed time came; but I did not find myself cheerful as usual; neither could I make myself so for the life of me. In­deed I have often wondered how a person can enter into that solemn covenant, with such gaiety, and thoughtlessness as I have seen some: for it doth ap­pear to me to be a solemn undertaking; and it always used to impress my mind with awe, to see a couple mar­ried. But then, many look upon marriage to be only a ceremony, prefixed by the civil authority, to oblige a man to take care of his wife, and to keep families from separating. But I always looked upon marriage to be a divine ordinance; and it is obvious from the word of truth, that it is so. But now, when I came to enter into that covenant myself, it appeared more awful to me than ever. But I was resolved to hold up as well as I could.

Well, the messenger coming in to inform us, that they were ready to receive us, Mr. Danford took me by the hand, and spake very encouraging to me; so we stepped into the other room; but tremble, trem­ble went my feet all the way! Lay still, said I, you little fool! why should you be so uneasy? For my heart was ready to leave its orbit. After the first flut­ter was over, I held up better, while the ceremony was performing, than I was afraid I should.

As to our guests, my uncle had got together a noble circle of the best gentry in the city; and after the nup­tials were over, they were nobly entertained by him; and all was conducted in a modest, sociable manner; and after we had spent a very agreeable evening to­gether, the company withdrew, about eleven; and the next day we had again a considerable company; and indeed we were obliged to give up the whole week to entertainment and pleasure. We had so much parade, that I was quite tired of it.

Well, the next Sunday I must be dressed to the best advantage, to make our public appearance at church▪ For my uncle is a man of note here, and Mr. Danford is looked upon very highly in this city; all seeming to be fond of an acquaintance with him. After dressing [Page 65] myself very richly, agreeable to their desire, we set out, attended by my uncle and aunt, and a young couple, that my uncle invited for that purpose. When we came to the meeting house, my uncle aided us into his pew; but it gave me another flutter, in spite of all I could do; for the eyes of all the congregation were upon us. But the solemnity of the place awed my mind into a frame of devotion; and so I held up bet­ter than I expected.

There was nothing more occurred that was remark­able, except that the next week we were crowded with company.

Now, I will tell you what preparations we are in to return to my father's. As Mr. Danford did not own a coach, he has bought one here; and so we shall ride home in state. But we shall not be accompanied by any besides my maid and the coachman.

I forgot to tell you, that Mr. Danford, before we were married, presented my maid Ann with a new suit, which mightily pleased her.

Mr. Danford has adjusted all his affairs relative to the cargo he has had unloaded here; and the Captain is to proceed with the ship, whilst we go by land. We shall set out sometime next week, so that you may soon expect us in your part of the country again. I long to receive my father's blessing from his own mouth, and again to embrace my dear So­phia. With which pleasing hopes, I hasten to sub­scribe myself your's,

AS you engaged me to write to you, and inform you of our arrival at my father's house, and how he received us, &c. and as it was ever a pleas­ure to me to obey my second father and mother, as I used to call you, I will proceed, hoping you will make allowances for my imperfections.

Setting out from your house at Philadelphia, we came by easy journies, stopping a day or two at eve­ry town of note, till we arrived at this town, and put up at Mr. Danford's cousin Fitcher's. Mr. Fitcher is a very polite gentleman, but as we did not arrive till dark, we had no company that night, and glad I was that we had not.

Mr. Danford and Mr. Fitcher had much discourse about my father. Mr. Fitcher said, he believed my father would be able to carry on his trade, though he had met with great losses. But his landed interest was mortgaged; and he believed that his farms must be lost to him, as he did not think it possible for him to redeem them, which was a pity—for they were mort­gaged for not more than one half of their real value. And upon Mr. Danford's enquiry, he told him, that the mortgage was not out, and that the man who held the deeds was my father's friend; and wanted nothing more, than to be made whole, and would give them up at any time.

The next morning Mr. Danford went to see the man who had the deeds, and soon after came in and delivered me all the deeds of my father's farms, (and you know he was in possession of several farms.) Up­on handing me the papers, he said, my dear, you may [Page 67] give them to your father, or I will myself, as you shall think proper. But I returned him the papers, chusing he should deliver them himself.

Soon after, Mr. Danford sent a servant to my fath­er's, to inform him that we were in town, and if he wished to see us at his house, and to know when he would have us wait upon him, who returned for answer, that he should expect us in the afternoon. Accord­ingly, after dining, we went in the coach. Mr. Dan­ford would have me dressed in the suit my uncle gave me, and he was charmingly dressed himself.

When we arrived at my father's, we were met at the door, and conducted into the parlour, where my fath­er and mother were waiting, ready to receive us.— When we entered the parlour, my father, rising, said, welcome, Mr. Danford, into these parts again; and thrice welcome to my house! And after Mr. Dan­ford had returned him the usual compliment of thanks, my father, stepping to him, took his hand and said, I ask your forgiveness, Sir, for the ill usage I showed you before you went your Eastern voyage.— Sir, said Mr. Danford, you did nothing uncommon to me—nothing at least, that requires forgiveness: but if you are anxious, Sir, for a further declaration, I am ready to satisfy you. And if you think you have done any thing to me that was unbecoming a gentle­man in your capacity, I do freely forgive you. And shall ever respect and behave towards you, as if there never had been any misunderstanding between us: and hope, Sir, that I shall be enabled to conduct myself towards you and others, that you will not disdain to call me your son. At this, Mr. Danford took me by the hand and presented me to him, saying, dear Sir, your daughter—will you be pleased to receive her in­to favour, and give her your blessing?

My father took me by the hand, and I dropping on my knees before him, said, dear Sir, will you forgive your Polly, and grant her your blessing? At this, my father raising me up, said, stand up, my dear child—for I want to ask you, whether you can, and will forgive me freely from your heart, all the severi­ty [Page 68] that I used towards you? Dear Sir, said I, you must not ask your Polly such a question! But Polly, said he, if you can forgive me, you must say you will. Dear Sir, said I, I do forgive you whatever you may have done amiss to me: and now, Sir, you will give me your blessing and receive me into favour again, won't you?

My blessing you have, said he, and may you both be a blessing to each other! And may you enjoy the best of heaven's blessings; and be an honour to the place you live in! And I am satisfied, because you are returned to us in peace; and do not despise us, but will yet look upon us with love, and filial affections. Then turning to my mother, he said, my dear, here I present you with a son and daughter, that would do honour to any family on earth.

Then my mother took us both by the hand, and wel­comed us to her house. Saying, that she promised herself great comfort in us, seeing the former misun­derstandings were to be buried in oblivion. After we were seated, and had got into conversation, Mr. Dan­ford asked my father concerning the perplexed state of his affairs, which he has hinted at in his letter to him? And whether he had been able to extricate himself out of these difficulties, that he then laboured under?

My father answered, that his affairs were much in the same situation that they were when he wrote; only, that he believed he was rather upon the gaining hand.

At this, Mr. Danford stepped to him, and gave him the mortgage deeds, which he had purchased; and said, there is a small present, Sir; and if you are elsewhere involved, and will notice the matter to me, I shall hold myself obligated to extricate you as soon as possible. But when my father came to see what he gave him, he rose up, and said, Sir, your kindness is too great for me to bear! But as you have done this, I will imme­diately put you into the possession of all those farms that you have restored to me

Sir, said Mr. Danford, I did not present them to you to be repaid again; and I shall not receive any se­curity on that account.

[Page 69]Now I see, said my father, the triumph of the vir­tuous mind over the covetous worldling. For there is no comparison between the man that squares all his doings by the rule of religion; and one that makes this world his idol, and is hurried on by an impetuous de­sire after riches and grandeur. Then turning to my mother, said, how unlike this, was our son Murfee? For we offered him the land, if he would only take up the deeds, so that the estate might not go into the hands of a stranger. But he refused us with contempt; and made himself strange to our family, and forgot the duty of a child to a parent. But then, Murfee is wholly a man of this world, and makes no distinction between virtue and vice; riches and grandeur appearing to be the most essential articles in his creed. And we see, my dear, continued he, in every occurrence of life, the preference of virtue to wealth. And I desire to be thankful, that of late my eyes have been opened in such a measure as to make the distinction. Then turning to Mr. Danford, said, I acknowledge, Sir, that the kindness you have done me is great; and that the prin­ciple from which you govern these actions must be wholly centered in virtue. And, in future, I shall look upon you in as near a relation as if you were my own son: and shall insist upon your joining your inte­rest with mine, that we may carry on an inseparable trade together: and what I have in the world you must look upon as your own. And you must not think of living in any house but mine. It is capacious enough for two families; and you must not deny me this re­quest; for I shall always want your person near me. Your counsel and conduct will be a means to strength­en these good principles, and laudable desires, that be­gin to bud forth in my heart.

And then turning to me he said, happy, thrice hap­py is my dear Polly! who was enabled to withstand my anger, and to despise what then looked promising, as to the things of this world; having her views wholly governed by virtue. You have at last, my dear child, escaped all the snares that were laid for you; and now your perseverance is crowned by an alliance with one [Page 70] of the noblest men this age can produce. May you spend many happy days together; and, finally, may you be unseparated in the world of joy and happiness!

My dear uncle and aunt, you may well think this discourse was pleasing to me. How pleasing indeed must it be, to see my father's eyes glisten with rapture, and his looks full of noble sensibility; every word be­ing spoke with energy, and his countenance carrying a meaning in it, beyond the power of words to express! My mother seemed to indulge the anticipation of what might be the result of this interview; tears of joy sometimes escaping her eyes, though she seemed to strive against it. And, indeed, we all were more or less affected with the interview. But pleasure seemed to pervade all our minds, and brighten each one's coun­tenance.

In the evening, we were waited upon by several of the neighbouring gentry: and we spent a very social evening together. And, the next day, my father in­vited many of them, to dine with us, and welcome us into these parts again. Indeed, the company of so many of my acquaintance, was very entertaining to me. They complimented us highly on our nuptials; and my father related to them what Mr. Danford had done for him. He spoke exceeding highly of him to the company; and would run on in his praise, though evidently against Mr. Danford's inclination. But he is so pleasing to my father, now, that he says, he must speak well of him in all company; and that he doth not think he will be lifted up by it; because, says he▪ Mr. Danford is above pride▪ He also spoke very kindly to me, and shewed me that tenderness before the company, as must convince them, that he was fully re­conciled to me. He likewise took an occasion, to tell the whole circle how much he was delighted with me; and how glad he was, that I had made a virtu­ous man my early choice; and had been enabled to stand against every temptation, and hard treatment, in order to secure to myself one that was as virtuous as I was. And now I do rejoice, continued he, that her happiness is crowned in one that she cannot be more [Page 71] proud in calling her companion, than I am in calling my son. And as they have forgiven me, and all past misunderstandings are to be buried in oblivion, I think there is a prospect of our being very happy together— which happiness, it shall be my endeavour to culti­vate.

The company staid till quite late, and then retired, giving us a thousand good wishes, and seeming to par­ticipate in our happiness.

Well, as the post was to set out the next day, I hurried to get my scribbles ready to send forward to you. And now my dear uncle and aunt, am I not richly repaid for all the trials and troubles that I have met with? For I am now returned to a virtuous▪ and religious father, who is no longer that selfish world­ling he used to be, but is a great advocate for virtue, and religious duties, which will not fail delighting one, who thinks well of these things. And then, to be received by my father with such open cordiality, to have his affections all flowing upon me again; and to see the speaking joy of his countenance, every time we come into his presence, is a matter of great joy and thankfulness with me.

As for the proposal that my father made Mr. Dan­ford, of living with him, I cannot tell whether we shall accept of it or not.

And now, my dear uncle and aunt, accept of my thanks, for the favours I have received from you, and of my best wishes, for your health and happiness.— Please to give my love to your family, and my compli­ments to all inquiring friends.

I AGAIN write, agreeable to your request, and shall inform you of our further proceedings. My father continues to show Mr. Danford every mark of distinction. Soon after I wrote you last, as we were all setting together, my father directing himself to Mr. Danford, said, have you considered of the proposal I made you, relative to our connecting our interest, and becoming but one in estate and family? Perhaps, Sir, said Mr. Danford, if I should join you, as you desire, it might give offence to Mr. Murfee and his wife, and I should be loath to do any thing, that might incur their displeasure. And then I do not know whether it would be right for me to consider your estate as my own—would it, Sir?

Why truly, Mr. Danford, said my father, neither Murfee nor Jenny can expect I should do much for them. For when I applied to him in my difficulty, he turned a deaf ear to my complaint, although I ex­postulated with him, and told him it would not be for the credit of the family, to let the estate go into the hands of a stranger; yet he treated me with insult and contempt. I then made him the offer I now make you; but he refused, and treated me with abusive language, which raised my displeasure and indignation against him, and all those who square all their doings by a view of self-interest, and are making an idol of themselves. But it had this effect on me, that it caus­ed me to think there must be something in religion be­sides a mere form; and that brought me into a course [Page 73] of thinking, which has terminated in the full belief of the reality and importance of a religious course of life, which I hope I practice in some measure. And now I want your assistance in my worldly affairs, and your advice and example in the matters of a spiritual nature. And as to what you said, concerning Mr. Murfee and Jenny, I shall submit the matter to your judgment, to do as you shall think just and right; for I would not wish to do him wrong, though he has displeased me. But you must not deny me the request I have made. Mr. Danford in reply said, if you will do this, Sir, I will come into the measure you proposed, viz. let your estate be valued, and a just inventory taken, of all the estate you was in possession of, at the time I came to your house; and let it stand in a fair manner, to be seen hereafter, and then I will join my estate with your's, and we will carry on but one interest.

At this my father said he would fully acquiesce; and would set about the business as soon as possible. And now, continued he, I can see the preference of virtue to any thing else; for when you could have made my whole estate your own, you refused it from a regard of justice. But what shall I say to you, my dear son and daughter? You will doubtless be blessed in this world, and that which is to come▪ and you will be a blessing to me, lightening my burden, and causing me to spend the remainder of my days in quiet and happiness.

Well, my dear uncle and aunt, we have got all these matters settled, and we now live in one house, and have but one interest. And indeed their stock in trade is very large, which enables them to carry it on to great advantage. We live exceeding happy together, for my father is very fond of Mr. Danford; and Mr. Danford is careful to ask advice of him, in every un­dertaking of any importance. And so you see we are as happy as one could think of being in this world of uncertainty, change and trouble. My dear uncle and aunt, don't you think that many of the troubles we labour under arise from ourselves? and that we bring them on us by our own misconduct? I am led to think [Page 74] that is many times the case. For oftentimes we get uneasy in our minds, and murmur at all we meet with; and we often fault others, when, at the same time, our troubles arise from our own baseness of heart: for our unruly hearts will run into faulty measures, if we don't keep a strict watch over them, and then we shall be led to wrong our fellow-creatures, which will procure us many enemies, and those enemies will try to be reveng­ed on us; which will lead us into many entanglements and troubles; when, at the same time, if we would only trace the matter to its source, we should find it would terminate in our own hearts.

But with our family, every affair is conducted by the rule of strict justice, which gains us many friends.

And now, my dear aunt, as we have got into a reg­ular way of living, you must expect no more adventures from me: and yet, perhaps, I may write you some ac­count of our visits; for we are going to pay Mrs. Granbe one soon.

With my best respects to you, and compliments to all my friends, I hasten to subscribe myself yours, &c.

I AGAIN assume my pen, as I have engag­ed to write you every thing that is worth notice. Since I wrote to you last, I have made several visits; and there are some particulars in our conversations, that I wish to let you into. In the first place, we paid a visit to my dear Mrs. Sophia Granbe; and re­ally Mr. Granbe is a delightful man, indeed he is! [Page 75] Well, I will give you the particulars of our tour. As we went in the coach, he and I had a considerable con­versation together; in which he was pleased to remind me of several things that he wished to have observed in his family. And his discourse was delivered with such love, and tenderness, that I am sure it was very pleas­ing to me. And indeed he ever treats me with that tenderness which denotes the noble mind, and gener­ous heart. This fully secures me in his honour, and leaves me no room to distrust his love or fidelity.

Well, the first thing that he mentioned to me was, that whenever he should invite a friend home with him, or have one call upon him, he wished to have such an one received with every mark of polite atten­tion. Let your business, said he, be what it will, or the person ever so obnoxious to you, yet I shall expect that you will not receive such with indifference. For a woman, continued he, to show by her countenance, words or behaviour, that the person so invited is not welcome, gives the person a very disagreeable feeling, and at the same time reflects dishonour on the man. And the man, you know, cannot be dishonoured with­out his companion's participating in the same dishon­our. For often, my dear, have I been at houses, where the wife's conduct plainly shewed that I was not want­ed; when, at the same time, the gentleman of the house was urgent for me to call upon him. And once in particular I will mention: Falling in company one evening with a gentleman, we soon got acquainted, and he very urgently insisted upon my going home, and spending the night with him. I being at a distance from home, after a little hesitation, accepted his invi­tation. But when we arrived at his house, his wife behaved quite odly; for she never rose from her seat, but fixed her eyes on the fire; and after the first volley at her companion, was quite dumb. He set me a chair, and I seated myself. He then ordered some refresh­ment, but in vain. He then addressed himself to me, and said, it is but a few steps, Sir, to an house of en­tertainment. Upon this, I bid him good by, and with­drew. How the man felt, you may judge; for I must [Page 76] confess it gave me a disagreeable feeling. Indeed, the man and woman were both to blame. He, for not instructing her better; and she, for insulting him to such a degree. Such behaviour reflects disgrace on any family. The wife ought ever to receive her hus­band's acquaintance with an open and cheerful coun­tenance; and use such an one with all the politeness she is capable of. Because, if she respects her hus­band, she must, and will respect his friends. At least, that is the rule which we generally judge by.

I don't think, my dear, said he, you are capable of such an enormity; yet I wanted to express my mind to you on this subject. And there are several other things that I want just to mention. One is, that I should wish to have you always dressed, and the house put in order, early in the day; then company would never find you unprepared to receive them. For, at many places, when one calls in to see a friend, they are wholly unprepared to receive one; and then there is such a running, and dressing, and slutter in the whole family, that it takes off all the pleasure of conversa­tion; and one wishes themselves at home again. And as to the hour of retiring to rest at night, and arising in the morning; I should chuse to go to rest at ten, and rise early in the morning. But perhaps you will say, that this is quite unfashionable; and how will com­pany join with us in this unpolite practice? I answer, that in my opinion, 'tis in the power of every man to prescribe rules for his own family, and adhere to those rules without giving offence. And I shall make it my practice, always, to withdraw from company, and re­turn to my house, at nine in the evening; and when others see that this is my practice, they will do the same when they are at my house. And thus we shall have some time for contemplation. For you know, my dear, that the better part ought not to be neglected, out of mere fashionableness. And then, again, if we arise early, we may call our family to orders, and not be disturbed by company. And now, my dear, I hope you will take this discourse kindly. Indeed I have not a single thought, but that these things are agreea­ble [Page 77] to you; yet I thought it was necessary, that I should express my mind to you on these subjects.

Dear Sir, said I, your discourse is very agreeable, and I am glad you have opened your mind to me on those subjects; and I wish you would often notice to me those rules that are necessary for me to follow. And now, Sir, I wish to ask you a question or two, wanting to have your opinion on the subject. The first question is, how should a man and woman behave to each other, in company, after they are married? For I have often seen those that are married use each other with great freedoms; and seem as if they could not say too much to the expense of each other; which ever looked ridiculous to me; and often made me think, it was best for one not to change their condition, if one could not do it without having all their foolish foibles exposed to the world. For you know, Sir, there are many things which we do, and say, which we don't wish to have exhibited to public view. And the other question is, how is it possible that any man should be so abandoned, as to attempt the chastity of any of our sex that are within the pale, with­out some encouragement from the person so attempted?

As to the first question, my dear, I think the beha­viour of those who are so nearly connected, when in company, ought to be such, as would induce the com­pany to judge, that they were agreeable to each other. And when they discourse with each other, it ought to be done with tenderness, and in as polite a manner, as you would address any other person: but nothing bor­dering on an over-heated fondness; for a person can speak kind and agreeable things to another; and show that their companion has the preference, and that one is no ways dissatisfied with their choice, without that fawning fondness that is ever disgustful to compa­ny, and is to be reprobated by all by-standers: But, as you observed, there are those, who speak shocking things of their companions only to divert themselves and company, not considering that the rest of the com­pany will think themselves authorised to use the same freedoms. And again, they will many times expose [Page 78] the foibles of each other, which should be the care and endeavour of every thinking person to conceal. By which means they are exposed to the contempt and scorn of all that come near them. And how can it otherways be, when those that ought to extenuate the faults of each other, seem to try all in their power to exaggerate them, and to make their bosom friend look as ridiculous as possible.

As to your other question, I do not think there are many men that will attempt the chastity of a married woman, unless she, by some word or action, gives him encouragement. And the greatest thing that one can possibly improve upon, is the woman's speaking slight­ingly of her husband; which the man so attempting, will immediately take advantage of, by joining with her against her husband, and will soon make him appear to her a shocking picture of a man; and so will lead on, from one thing to another, 'till he has insinu­ated himself into her favour, which many times will end in ruin. We ought therefore to speak well of our companion before all company, that none may take advantage of our conversation. Great freedoms in conversation often emboldens the vicious to construe such freedoms as an encouragement. Therefore I think it best to be modest in our conversation; for that will tend to our own honour, as well as satisfac­tion. And now, my dear, I have given you my thoughts on these subjects, without the least reserve.

It is very kind in you, Sir, said I, and very satis­factory to me, for you to discourse on these topics.— And do, dear Sir, continue to instruct me, as occasion shall offer.

And so my dear aunt, we held our discourse, till we arrived at Mr. Granbe's. When we arrived there, we were met at the door by Mr. Granbe, who conducted us into the parlour, where we were met by my dear Mrs. Sophia, who run to me, and we could not refrain from embracing each other. You may easily imagine the meeting was very agreeable to us; for we had not seen each other for the space of two years. After the first emotion was over, we seated [Page 79] ourselves, and entered into conversation; and there was such cheerfulness in each one's countenance, ac­companied with such frankness of behaviour, and the conversation was conducted with such politeness and ease, as made the interview very pleasing to each one of us; and we spent the remainder of the day and evening, greatly to my satisfaction. For, as Mr. Dan­ford and Mr. Granbe are both of a serious turn of mind, their discourse was beautified with some noble remarks on religion. My dear Mrs. Granbe thinks exceeding well of religion, so that their discourse was truly satisfactory to both of us. I cannot forbear mentioning one remark that Mr. Granbe made on what I think is a great duty.

It appeared strange to him, he said, that so many in this land, where we are favoured with a preached gospel, should designedly absent themselves from pub­lic worship, and debar themselves from the benefit of the word of God; and, as it were, shut the door against all conviction; and thereby, in effect, say, "they care for none of these things." And thus, through this fatal neglect, the morals of those unhappy persons become corrupted, and they grow more and more vic­ious, until, perhaps, they grow quite abandoned, and are past all hopes of repentance. But the evil will not stop here; for his children will be apt to follow his example, and so it will be like a great river of death, that flows broader and deeper, till it ends in destruc­tion. And I verily believe, continued he, that it would be to a man's advantage to attend constantly on public worship, if it were only to cultivate the morals of his children. And what, continued he, can be the reason, that so many in these days, are so much ad­dicted to profane language? Can there be any pleas­ure in the use of such language, or any satisfaction to be reaped therefrom? To me it is quite disgustful; and I cannot see what can induce any one to utter such discourse▪ and I would thank you Mr. Danford, continued he, to give us your mind on this subject.

I shall be happy, said Mr. Danford, to oblige you, by delivering my sentiments on that subject: for I [Page 80] think it is a most detestable practice. For in almost all other enormities that we run into, there seems to be some temptation to excite us thereunto: but profane language is a vice which seems to be without the least temptation. For it does not promise either pleasure, profit, or honour: but ever makes those who use it, look contemptible! Indeed, it is quite a foolish prac­tice, and unmans any person who makes use of it.— I cannot imagine what inducement any person can have, for addicting themselves to such infernal language. But, perhaps, some may think, that wounding the ears of many with their profane words, will grace their con­versation in the opinion of others, and set them off in the eyes of the world, causing others to think they are full as important as they really are. But with good characters, they must, and will appear very little, and their words of no consequence; because those that will swear needlessly, will, generally, as needlessly wrong the truth. And I make it a rule, to give but little credit to what such persons say: for a person that will lie, will swear to it, without the least hesita­tion. Therefore, such persons are not to be believed a whit the more for their horrible asseverations. I have often wondered, that any person can be so aband­oned, as to imitate the father of lies, and prince of darkness, and use language which we suppose is agreea­ble to his language, only for the sake of following a foolish practice, which, the most abandoned amongst us, have brought into vogue, by the instigation of the above agent. Some are so vicious and void of good man­ners, that they do not scruple to wound, with their hor­rid expressions, the ears and tender feelings of the fair sex, who, we must suppose, abhor to hear such lan­guage made use of: for we cannot harbour a thought that such discourse is agreeable to them, much less, that any of that sex will make use of it.

The next day, as we were in conversation, Mr. Granbe desired me to give them the history of my suf­ferings, which I accordingly did, with cheerfulness, and much to his satisfaction.

[Page 81]He then asked me to give my opinion upon these questions, viz. How far ought a parent to show resent­ment to their children, when they attempt to marry contrary to their liking? And, also, whether parents ought to use commands in that affair, or not. I have been, perhaps, Sir, said I, too much in the smoke, to give you a clear and impartial account of the fire; and would beg you, Sir, to put that question to Mr. Dan­ford. And then turning to Mr. Danford, said, will you, my dear, give Mr. Granbe an answer to this question?

If you request it, said Mr. Danford, I shall be hap­py to give Mr. Granbe, and the rest of the company, my thoughts on that subject. The rest of the company said, it would be very satisfactory to them, to hear his mind on it.

I will proceed, then, said Mr. Danford, by declar­ing, that, in my opinion, parents ought never to com­mand their children, in point of marriage, against their inclination; nor use any roughness in the matter. But if parents see that a child, in their opinion, is in dan­ger of being ruined in marriage, they ought, by all means, to give them their advice, and tell them of the fatal consequences of their proceedings. But their ad­vice ought to be given, mixed with love, and the ten­derest expressions they are capable of. For, how doth a parent know, but the child's inclination is too strong­ly biassed to admit of an alteration. These are very tender points to meddle with; and the parent, by com­manding the child against its liking, may shock the feelings, change the temper, and even disorder the sen­ses of the child. For commands are very stubborn things, and ought not to be used at all in this matter. And it is my opinion, that advice will go further to­wards making a child break with a person they are attached to, than rough usage: for a dutiful child will have a regard to the tender advice of an affection­ate parent; and if their inclinations are not too strong­ly fixed, will certainly adhere to such advice, for it will then appear to be wholly designed for their good. But when any kind of roughness is used, the child will [Page 82] be apt to say, what! am I not capable of making my own choice? and why may I not have one of my own chusing, instead of being compelled to be joined to one who I cannot like? And then, what has the person that I have set my affections on done, that he must be slighted and abused? I am sure he is not to blame, that I am partial in his favour: and as long as I have a regard for him, it is kind in him to regard me. And I think it very unjust, that he should be persecuted only because he is agreeable to me. And thus the parents, by their rough treatment to their child, will arouse the sentiments of compassion and gratitude in favour of the person beloved, which will have a tendency to heighten their affections for each other.— "Stolen waters are sweet;" and some have gone so far as to suppose, that our first parents would not have preferred the forbidden fruit, if there had been no prohibition on it. How very irksome it is to be con­fined to the company of this, that, or any other person, against our wills and inclination? And to be confined to a person that is not agreeable to us, and that confinement to be for life, in the nearest relation that can possibly subsist, is a very unhappy situation; and ought to engross the most serious consideration of parents as well as children.

Your sentiments, said Mr. Granbe, are exactly agree­able to my mind. For, I think, that parents, in such cases, ought to do nothing but give their advice; and then let their children do as they please. For 'tis they that must abide the consequence, and not the parents. And when they have given their advice, told the child what they think will be the consequences of their pro­ceedings, and mentioned the particular failing of the persons they are advising against, I think they have done their duty; and should suffer the child to consider of the matter, and refuse, or accept the advice, as they think fit. When parents use their power and author­ity in this point, it often has a contrary effect, from what they designed; and is scarcely ever productive of good; but many times will end in the disappoint­ment of them, and damage of the child; and sometimes the consequences prove fatal.

[Page 83]By this, my dear aunt, you may judge, that our visit was very entertaining. And, as I have given you such a lengthy account of our conversation, I shall say no more about this visit.

But I would say one word about my father's con­duct, since our return to his house. Indeed, my dear aunt, he is one of the most exemplary men in these parts; for he is very exact in all the duties of relig­ion, and makes a virtuous life his aim and boast. He is exceeding fond of Mr. Danford, and is very lavish in the praises of him, and his daughter Polly (as he always calls me) to all his acquaintances. And is often telling his friends, what Mr. Danford has done for him; and then condemns himself, for his conduct to us heretofore. But says, as we have forgiven him, he hopes to gain our affections entirely by his conduct to us; and that his endeavours shall not be wanting. But my papa need not be anxious on that score; for, I am sure, he has our love, and respect, and will ever have our best wishes. I feel myself entirely easy; and as contented as is possible for one to be in this world.

Well, if I don't conclude, you will think I am going to write a packet, instead of a letter. Please to give my compliments to all friends; and love to your fam­ily. Dear aunt, assure yourself that I am your most affectionate niece,

I WILL send you another letter. But per­haps I shall trespass on your patience. Yet, as it is to my second mamma; and, as you say, you love to read my scribbles, I will write on without further apology. [Page 84] Well, this letter shall give you some account of Mr. Stapleton and his lady; for we have paid him a visit. Mr. Danford, who had been out, the other day, inform­ed me, that he had been in company with Mr. Staple­ton, who had invited us to pay him a visit. Have you, my dear, said he to me, any inclination to accept of his invitation?

If it is agreeable to you, Sir, said I, I have no ob­jections; and shall attend to your command at any time.

He wished to wait upon us, to-morrow, replied Mr. Danford, and I think we will go; for I have some inclination myself to see his lady; and, perhaps, it will be satisfactory to you to spend an hour or two with her. And I suppose you can discourse with him now with more ease, than you could, when he used to visit you.

I don't know but I can, said I. And, besides, I promised him that I would respect him as my father's friend, if he would relinquish his pretensions to me: and now if I pay him a visit, I shall be as good as my word.

Well, about ten o'clock the next day, we set out on our visit; and as it is some distance to Mr. Stapleton's, we went in the coach.

On our way thither, Mr. Danford told me, that we must not expect to see so polite a family as some; but, continued he, we must not let that disconcert us; on the contrary let our behaviour be as easy, and our con­versation as cheerful, as if we were well pleased with their conduct.

I hope, Sir, said I, that I shall not be so absurd as to trouble myself about their family oeconomy. Nev­ertheless, I am glad you mentioned it to me; for now, I shall keep it in mind, and, therefore, shall not be so likely to show any surprise at their roughness. I have seen Mrs. Stapleton when she was a maiden, and she then appeared to be quite an odd person in her beha­viour. Therefore must not expect to find any thing genteel or polite in them. Well, at length we arrived at their house and Mr. Danford knocked at the door. [Page 85] Come in, said Mrs. Stapleton; but did not come to the door. So in we bolted; and as the parlour door was open, we stept in; where Mrs. Stapleton was sitting. She, without rising to receive us, cried out, lard! here is Mr. Danford come!

Mr. Danford then took my hand, and introduced me to her.

Your servant, ma'am! said she; but you have catch­ed me in my morning dress.

We then seated ourselves, without any further com­pliments. Is Mr. Stapleton at home, ma'am? said Mr. Danford.

No, said she, he is taking his morning ramble, I suppose. Why, Mr. Danford, these men are strange creatures, when they once get married. And I sup­pose they are all alike, ha, ha, ha!

He is doubtless on business, said Mr. Danford: but you expect him soon, don't you, madam?

Yes, Sir, said she. But I believe 'tis time I was dressed, and the room set in order. With that, she got up for the first time, and went to the door, calling out, Nab! you jade! why don't you set this room in order? Because, ma'am, said she, you did not or­der me to do it. Come along, said she, and do as I bid you! And then away she went up stairs to dress, and left us sitting in the parlour alone.

After a while Nab, as Mrs. Stapleton called her, came in; but seemed to be very uneasy at what her mistress had said to her. For she said, the time she had engaged to live with Mr. Stapleton was almost out, after which, she would not live with them one hour. For, said she, when one does all in one's power to please; to have nothing but angry words for their pains, is very discouraging. And this very morning I offered to set this room in order, but she would not let me; and now I must be called a jade, for not doing what she would not allow me to do: and all this only to make me look ill before strangers. I am not used to such treatment; for I was never faulted in any fam­ily before, neither will I be faulted in this much longer.

[Page 86]After she had put the room in order, she went out; and though I did not care to make her any reply, yet Mr. Danford and I had a considerable discourse on the subject. For we were left alone, and could dis­course as privily as if we were in our own chamber.

What means do you think, my dear, said he to me, are the best, to prevent these family feuds, which are so very troublesome, where they are practiced?

I think, Sir, said I, that a family may be governed as well without such a clamour, as with it. And for the most part, a kind word, and a pleasant look will do more towards keeping up good order in a family, than hard words and angry looks. And then, for the head of a family to command, and then countermand their servants, and blame them for not doing what, perhaps, they never commanded them to do, is discouraging, and cannot fail of disagreeable consequences. And then, when there is a continual clamour kept up, the servants don't know when one is in earnest, and when not; and so, by this means, one loses all their author­ity with their servants, and cannot expect any thing but feuds, and disturbances in their family.

After a while, Mr. Stapleton came home, and put on as graceful a face as possible, and was as polite as you ever saw him. When he entered the parlour where we were sitting, he paid his compliments to Mr. Dan­ford, and then to me; which, being returned, and we having seated ourselves, he said, it gives me great sat­isfaction, to see two of my most worthy friends call upon me; and I am sorry that I was not at home when you first came; but I was called away on business, and hope I may be excused.

You are very excusable, said Mr. Danford, for it is often the case, that we are called from home, when we least wish to be absent.

Now, in this place, my dear aunt, I will try to give you some sort of a portrait of Mrs. Stapleton, and a sketch of her character. She is of a dark complexion, with coarse black hair, and black eyes; which, at the first sight, show a degree of brilliance; but it needs but [Page 87] a small degree of physiognomy, to discover, that they are filled with malignant spite. She is full faced, and all her features rather coarse; and being pretty tall and bulky, one would be led to think, that none could like her for her person. Well, now for her character. She is of a ludicrous turn of mind, and affects to be a wit; which leads her to be very loquacious; though for the most part, her prattle is without connexion or sense. And this she generally makes more contemptible, by letting up a large laugh at the end of every sentence, which I think indicates brutality of manners. She is of a dictatorial temper, and therefore cannot bear to be contradicted; which makes it very difficult for one to discourse with her, without offence; and indeed, I did not care to have much conversation with her.

But to return; after a while Mrs. Stapleton came down stairs, dressed out to the best advantage; and seemed to be full of a sense of her own importance. After seating herself, she said to Mr. Stapleton, I think you received your guests in a shocking manner this morning; for you told me, that you expected Mr. Dan­ford and his lady here, and then run away yourself; so as to be out of the way when they came.

But business called me away, ma'am, said he; and I was sorry for it: but I think you might have been dressed before twelve, and not have left Mr. and Mrs. Danford sitting here alone; which was very unpolite in you. And I had rather you should not have been dressed to-day, than to have treated my friends in such a manner. Perhaps, said Mrs, Stapleton, you have been at the tavern, this morning; for I am sure, that you have come home much more nice, than you was when you went away. And what if Mr. Danford did find me in my morning dress? Do you think it was the first time he ever saw a woman in a morning habit? I don't suppose that Mr. Danford is quite so nice as you are. But I believe, these men, the best of them, love to fault their wives, yet we can, for the most part, be up sides with you▪ and so there you have it! ha, ha, ha!

[Page 88]And so, my dear aunt, they sported with each oth­er's characters, 'till they had exposed all their foibles. I believe you may well think this was but a dull en­tertainment to us. But to return.

My dear, said Mr. Stapleton, I believe 'tis time to drop this discourse. Perhaps it is not agreeable to Mr. Danford and his lady.

Well, said she, if they can't join with us, I suppose they can set and hear us. With that she set up a horse laugh again. After this, the conversation became general, and we discoursed on common topics till din­ner.

After dinner, upon Mr. Stapleton and his wife's falling into the same thwarting, reproachful discourse, Mr. Stapleton, addressing himself to Mr. Danford, said, don't you and your lady never get into these fool­ish disputes? Although I cannot approve of such dis­course, yet I think Mrs. Stapleton and I are always at them.

Neither can I approve of such discourse, said Mr. Danford; for I think it is a very disagreeable sight, to see the two that are, or ought to be, but one, contin­ually at variance; even though it is in a jesting way. And many times they begin in jest, and end in earnest. Ah, said Mr. Stapleton, that is often the case with Mrs. Stapleton and myself; for we often get by the ears; and after a little smarting on both sides, we come to an ecclaircissement, and then we jog on in the same path we did before.

Well, said Mrs. Stapleton, I don't care a fig about your refinements: neither do I like such mighty polite­ness between a man and his wife. I love jesting; and if we do disagree at times, what then? After we have had a smart quarrel, we can have a sweet making up; and then we love one another better than ever. And so I don't care whether either of you like it or not, as it is pleasing to me. I suppose I have a right to chuse my discourse. What say you, Mrs. Danford, won't you join with us in this matter?

[Page 89]I must beg leave to differ from you, ma'am, said I, for I always look upon a man and his wife, to be but one. And I think there ought not to be any differ­ence subsisting between them, on any account whatso­ever. And then, a woman ought ever to look upon her husband as the head, and one that has a right to command; and she ought to reverence him according­ly. At this, Mrs. Stapleton broke in upon me, saying, "Reverence to whom reverence is due;" but I think myself as much above the men, as you think yourself below them. And, "as one thinketh, so is he." And so there I have you, ha, ha, ha!

And now, dear aunt, did you ever hear any thing like this? To turn every thing one says into ridicule in this manner? Indeed it quite provoked me, so I did not answer her again.

After this we discoursed on common topics till it was time to return home. And glad was I, when we got into the coach again. After we had got a little from the house, Mr. Danford said to me, well, my dear, how did you like your visit? Did you get any instruction from Mr. and Mrs. Stapleton's discourse? For we ought ever to improve by the conduct of oth­ers. It was not satisfactory to me in the least, said I. On the contrary, their jesting, disputing, and exposing one another, appeared to me ridiculous, and disgustful, in the highest degree. But then, as to my improving by their conduct, I think I never made a visit in my life that I might get more instruction from, than this: for what we see thus strikingly amiss in others, we shall be more apt to avoid ourselves, and thus escape the rock they split upon. May I never be left to conduct in a family as Mrs. Stapleton does! But what do you think of their conduct, Sir?

I agree with you in sentiments, upon that subject, said he, but it is granted by all, that a man and his wife may use freedom of speech to each other, when alone: But you know that I always made it a point with me, when in company, to use you with as much politeness, as I did any in the circle: and this I think [Page 90] ought always to be observed as a rule by married peo­ple. But Mr. and Mrs. Stapleton bid fair to wear out a wretched life together, without peace or con­tentment of mind; while, at the same time, their be­ing in the possession of a considerable estate, seems on­ly to heighten their discontent and misery.

You see, my dear, by what Mrs. Stapleton said to you about the reverence due to husbands, that Mr. Stapleton has lost all authority in his family, and that his wife places but little confidence in him; and when that is the case, you cannot expect much regularity in a family.

But what could Mrs. Stapleton mean, said I, when she hinted to Mr. Stapleton, a suspicion that he had been at the tavern? He does not practice drinking to excess, does he? Indeed, my dear, said he, I be­lieve it is too true to make a test of. But Mr. Sta­pleton did not practice this vice, when he was a sin­gle man: but now having but little peace at home, and not having steadiness of mind to govern his fami­ly, nor resolution enough to guard against that vice, 'twill be well if he does not ruin his reputation. A man cannot follow that vice without an entire loss of his character: for a man must appear in a most detest­able light, that follows such a beastly practice. And then, such an one is not to be trusted in the discharge of any business, as we know not when we may de­pend upon him.

And so, my dear aunt, we discoursed, till we arrived at our own house.

I will now conclude this long epistle, by subscrib­ing myself your affectionate niece, or rather daughter,

AS you engaged me to send you an ac­count of every thing worth notice, and as I love writ­ing, I will send you another letter; and this shall give you some account of my brother and sister Murfee: for Mr. Danford, meeting with Mr. Murfee, had a long discourse with him, who earnestly desired that we would pay him a visit at his house. For he said, that he wished to discourse with us when together. Up­on which, Mr. Danford promised to wait upon him in a day or two.

Well, the next day we went, and were received by them in a very polite and affectionate manner.— Mr. Murfee met us at the door, and received us with an open and cheerful countenance, and conducted us into his parlour, where Jenny was ready to receive us, who, on our entering the room, arose and ran to me, saying, it gives me inexpressible joy and satisfaction, to see you both at our house. After compliments were over, we seated ourselves and conversed on common topics for some time. After which Mr. Murfee said, I have earnestly desired such an oppor­tunity as now presents, to express my mind to you both, my brother and sister; and I feel myself happy that you have condescended to visit me: and hope now, that you will not hate and dispise me, though I have acted a base and foolish part with Mr. Gran­ville, while you was absent. For as you must have [Page 92] felt the injury, I shall endeavour to make you repara­tion:—I do therefore most sincerely ask forgiveness of you both; and hope, that after you have been made sensible how truly I repent of my behaviour to Mr. Granville, you will endeavour to look upon me in the same light, as if I had acted the part of a son to a parent. And if you can look upon me as a broth­er, do be so kind as to assure me of it. Dear Sir, said Mr. Danford, you have done nothing against me; but I am glad you are sensible of your neglect, in not assisting Mr. Granville in his straits: but I dare say, that he waits for nothing but an opportunity to for­give you. And I doubt not, now, but that you will soon give him that pleasing satisfaction: for it is a pleasure to him to forgive an injury.

Well, sister Polly, said Mr. Murfee, can you look upon us the same as if none of these misunderstandings had taken place?

Dear Sir, said I, you need not have asked me such a question, for I shall ever look on you as a brother; and I hope these misunderstandings will soon be com­promised,

I hope then, said Mr. Murfee, that you will both assist me in bringing about this much desired recon­ciliation.

I will try all in my power, said Mr. Danford, to get these differences reconciled.

These differences, said Mr. Murfee, have been the cause of great anxiety of mind to me. But then, I believe they have been a great means of good to me, For many times, good comes out of evil: yet that is not a warrant for us to do wrong. For, believe me, Mr. Danford, though I used to think, there was noth­ing in virtue or religion, but a mere name; yet I think quite otherwise now. And I flatter myself, that you will think the more favourable of me for this confes­sion: seeing you are an advocate for virtue, and delight in it, and in those who endeavour to practice it.

I rejoice, said Mr. Danford, that you are come over to the side of virtue▪ For "her ways are ways of [Page 93] pleasantness, and all her paths are peace." And there is no comparison between a life spent in the ways of virtue, and one wasted in vice. I dare say, this is highly pleasing to Mrs. Murfee. And I cannot but rejoice with her; for I know, that virtue and religion were always her boast.

Dear Sir, said Jenny, no event of my life ever gave me the joy which this has done▪ nor ever did I know what it was to enjoy social happiness, till of late. And now, if my father was but reconciled to Mr. Murfee, I should feel myself without a wish for any thing in this world.

This, my dear aunt, was an agreeable relation to me, you may well think. To see Mrs. Murfee's counte­nance sparkle with sensibility, and to see the cheerful­ness of her looks, and the pleasure which seemed to pervade her mind; every word appearing to be spoken with a feeling sense of the happy turn Mr. Murfee had taken, were scenes truly delightful, and sweetened my visit greatly. But to return; there was nothing else remarkable in our visit, save that, when we set out for home, Mr. Danford invited Mr. and Mrs. Mur­fee to return the visit, and promised them to be an ad­vocate with my father, on their behalf. They thank­ed him, and promised to wait on us soon.

The next day Mr. Danford fell into discourse with my father concerning Mr. Murfee; wherein he told him that Mr. Murfee was exceeding sorry for his be­haviour to him, and earnestly desired his forgiveness. And really, continued Mr. Danford, Mr. Murfee is quite a different man from what he used to be: and I hope, Sir, you will forgive him, and receive him into favour again.

If Mr. Murfee, said my father, is sorry for his be­haviour to me, and repents of his past misconduct, and will ask my forgiveness, I shall think it my duty to forgive him. And then Mr. Danford related to him what Mr. Murfee had said on the subject, which gave him great satisfaction.

[Page 94]The next day, Mr. and Mrs. Murfee called upon us—Mr. Danford met them at the door, and con­ducted them into the parlour, where my father, mother, and myself were sitting. We all arose to receive them, and after the usual salutations on both sides, Mr. Murfee accosted my father as follows:

Dear Sir, I most sincerely beg your forgiveness: For I know I have acted the part of an undutiful son with you, by neglecting to assist you when in distress. And indeed, my conduct at that time was not incon­sistent: for to my shame, I now confess, that I had then no regard to virtue; but considered virtue and vice on a par: and did not trouble myself any further about those nice distinctions (as I then called them) than just to keep up my reputation. But I hope, Sir, you will believe me, when I declare, that such conduct as I then practised, now appears odious to me; and that I now love virtue for virtue's sake▪ for the be­haviour of Mr. Danford and my sister Polly, convinc­ed me, that there must be something in virtue more than an empty name. And I think, I can now say, that virtue and religion appear amiable to me. And now, dear Sir, can you forgive me, and own me for one of our family again. I am glad, said my father, that your eyes are opened; and that you have seen your error. And as you have asked my forgiveness, I freely grant it you, and hope you will stand fast in the ways of virtue: For as vice carries its punishment along with it, so virtue gives its reward, even whilst we are in the practice of it.

And thus, my dear aunt, they discoursed together, for some time; and this you may well think, was a happy period to my mother. Indeed, we all seemed to be highly pleased with this reconciliation; and, in particular, my sister Jenny, who seemed to be all life, upon this occasion. For you may remember, I once mentioned to you, that there seemed to be a la­tent concern in her countenance, ever since she had been married. Though she never spoke of it, yet one might plainly discern it in her face. But now she has [Page 95] that open cheerfulness in her looks, which she used to have in her maiden state. And indeed, she seems to be thrown back to eighteen again. I am, indeed, great­ly rejoiced for Jenny. My heart used formerly to be grieved for her; for she would not open her mind to any; but kept her troubles to herself; and tried to make herself as cheerful as possible. But now she speaks freely of it, and says her happiness is com­plete; and that she did not know, till of late, the sweets of social happiness, &c.

Dear aunt please to give my respects to uncle, and compliments to all friends.

P. S. I had forgot to mention, that Mr. Danford still continues exceeding fond of me. Indeed, he seems to be more kind to, and tender of me, than ever. For, he says, that at this time, I need all the tender­ness he is capable of showing. And accordingly he ever speaks encouragingly to me; which I find to be a great support. For I often get into a melancholy mood, and train of thinking; and when Mr. Danford finds me in such a frame, he endeavours to cheer me, all in his power. And indeed, he is nobly calculated to soothe the distressed, and strenghten the feeble mind­ed. But you will think I am going to write another letter.

MY first devoir I must pay to you. For never does a day pass over me, without the remem­brance of the happy time I spent in your family: which fills me with so grateful a sense of the kindness you then shewed me, as will not be effaced so long as life endures. I have likewise to thank you for your kind letter; from which I received much pleasure and benefit; especially that part where you advised me not to give way to desponding thoughts on my condi­tion, (you having discovered my situation from the postscript of my last) but to "put my trust in that pow­er, who is able to help in time of trouble." You like­wise assured me of your prayers for my safety. Now let me inform you that I have past through the peril­ous hour; and have just got about again. Blessed be the great Disposer of all events, who appeared for me in the hour of distress; and "hath filled my heart with rejoicing and my mouth with praise!" I am now the mother of a noble son; and our family have done nothing but rejoice, ever since this event. And in particular, my father seems to be ten years younger, than he was before.

Mr. Danford, who seeks every opportunity to please my father, said, as soon as our little son was carried to him—this is William Granville Danford. I had al­most said, you might see the bloom of youth flush in my father's face, and with a complacent countenance and looks full of sensibility, he looked at Mr. Danford, and then at me, saying, with ecstacy, how greatly do I rejoice in the birth of this child! He [Page 97] shall be my son, indeed he shall: for, as I have no son left, I shall look upon this as my own, and shall provide for him accordingly. And then, his being the son of my beloved Mr. Danford and Polly, heightens his value in my estimation, and will secure him my affections. And may he live to the age of man, and be a comfort to his parents, a support to the declining age of his grand-parents, and a glory to the land he lives in!

It gave Mr. Danford great satisfaction to find he had pleased my father so well. And, indeed, he is never better satisfied, than when he doth any thing that pleases him. I was likewise as well pleased myself. For I must confess, that the little dear looked charming­ly to me: For I fancy, that I can see all that intrepidity, mixed with gentleness, so conspicuous in the counte­nance of my dear Mr. Danford. But I would not wish to praise the little lamb too much. For, are we not my dear aunt, apt to set too much by our children? We are apt to consider them as our own; indulging the an­ticipation of what may be for many years to come: al­though so very liable to be deprived of them. But then, it is our duty to love our children; and besides; it is natural for us so to do.

Mr. Danford is fonder of me than ever; and my father cannot keep out of the room where our child is: for his heart seems to be bound up in the little dear. He is also very tender of me; and my mother is highly satisfied with all our conduct. And indeed, we are a happy family: for all seem to be emulous to excel in virtue; and vie with each other in acts of duty and friendship. Nor have we any of those bad servants, that many complain of; which, perhaps, is owing more to the wise management, and good examples of Mr. Danford, than to our good fortune in procuring them.

The only earthly wish I can reasonably indulge, is for the happiness of seeing my other parents. For, you know, I always considered you and my uncle as parents; you having always acted the part of parents [Page 98] towards me. Of this kindness, I hope I shall ever retain a grateful sense.

Please to present my love and respects to all friends; and assure yourself, that I am